Art Basel Miami, the centerpiece of Miami Art Week, ended Sunday, Dec. 4, 2016. The art fair was held at the Miami Beach Convention Center and featured 269 galleries from 29 countries. Works by modern masters were presented as well as those from top contemporary artists and newcomers to the fine art world. Spanning five days, the fair attracted 77,000 art lovers, including private collectors, museum directors and curators.

With all the works for sale, many had been purchased and removed before public viewing began on Friday. Some galleries, however, continued to display sold works such as Jean-Michel Basquiat’s painting "Made in Japan I" which sold for $15 million on Thursday, Dec. 1.

The special thing about Art Basel – from the perspective of one who enjoys viewing (but not collecting or investing in) fine art – is that Art Basel presents the chance to get up close with a ginormous variety of works outside of museums. The fair is a fleeting moment between the time when art ownership passes from gallery to private hand, where a person can view works before they are (mostly) gone from the public sphere.  

So I soaked it in, as much as I could take. For me, that meant 6 hours on Saturday and another round on Sunday. I attended events at the convention center and in Wynwood on the weekend.

Decay was a common theme. Political statements were entwined into art. Fear was a thematic undercurrent, and its counterpoint was whimsy. (Parents had their hands full keeping children from touching, even playing with the whimsical pieces.)

Art Basel Miami is guaranteed to warp the senses and make one question the essence of reality, the relevance of art. Works that made me scratch my head included stacked mesh crates, Ikea-style shelving, brick towers. Silver doodle lines made of silver or neon snaked across walls. A sixteen-foot tall stack of pickles was a popular selfie spot. A crown of black pearls with black diamonds, spinning slowly, by Fred Wilson, could be yours for $115,000. All these objects were viewed in a rarified gallery setting, to be appreciated as art.

Anonymous eavesdropping at the convention center:

Woman: “We’re here now, and it’s SOOO crowded!”
Friend: “Yeah, isn’t it fabulous?”

“They were creative, but they weren’t talented, you know what I mean?”

“That looks like the stain Dinky left on the carpet. Puh-leezze.”

Woman: “Yesterday at Art Miami I saw some works I would like to put in my home, but here at the convention center, nothing.”
Friend: “You wouldn’t want to own a Picasso?”
Woman: “Oh. Well, yeah.”

On looking at plaster sculptures by Benedicte Gyldenstierne Sehested, a spectator called them "both very disturbing, and very wonderful. The children are carrying the weight of the world on their insufficient bodies.”

About the brass sculpture of a figure crawling on ground by Artur Lescher, a gallery agent said, “This is a strong piece about art, design, architecture. You can actually sit on the sculpture.” Me: “Would you let someone sit on the sculpture?” Answer: “No.”

So many pieces simply could not be photographed properly, especially if the work included glass or had suspended pieces dependent on space and air. One particular piece, a wall of light by James Turrell, was clearly impossible to photograph, but not impossible to purchase, for $580,000.

Speaking of money, when talking to staff working the galleries at the art fair, they reported sales were very good at this, the 15th Art Basel Miami.

Saturday was extremely busy, full of couples and young families with children. People decked themselves out as art -- eclectic costumes with capes and fur were common, as were mesh tops, spike heels, spikier hair. Sunday seemed less crowded, although the most-crowded space of the fair remained the collaborative booth between Swiss museum Fondation Beyeler and Toilet Paper, the magazine project by Italian artists Maurizio Cattelan and Pierpaolo Ferrari. The booth was a recreation of a kitschy city apartment. Real spaghetti, flown in from Milan, was everywhere.

Winding toward the exit, and finally walking out of the convention center felt like coming up for air. Spending time absorbing so much art certainly changes perceptions. The visual world -- and the world of art -- seemed to merge. But not long after exiting the fair, I realized the art was continuing because after all, I was in Miami Beach, with the ocean breeze, the Deco lines, the sun over Biscayne Bay, the mass of traffic entwined with the colors of Florida.