Cocktails and realism

From the fan-dancing women wearing python costumes to the multimedia display that projected David Hockney’s image around the walls, MOCA’s gala celebrating the opening of the Lucian Freud retrospective was -- to say the least -- memorable.

It started humbly enough early Friday night, with a cocktail reception at the museum on South Grand Avenue downtown. Museum patrons, board members and their out-of-town guests congregated in the galleries for a first look at the 110 nudes, portraits and other paintings on their only U.S. stop. No one seemed to mind that Freud himself didn’t show -- it’s well-known that the octogenarian artist rarely travels.

Many among this entitled group appeared to be slightly uncomfortable with the intensity of the work, images nearly too powerful to be contained by the museum’s walls. People stopped to study the almost sculptural paintings, but moved along quickly, a bit unsteadied by Freud’s penetrating eye. “He has great perception, but [there is] a tremendous intensity of the suffering of everybody,” said Marion Selig, a petite woman with white hair who flew in from New York for the show. “There’s occasionally a little joy, but not much. Even in the small ones.”

Hockney, in a pinstriped suit with a polka dot kerchief, ambled in, gamely greeting a constant stream of well-wishers. He brightened as a tall man approached wearing a big smile and a fuchsia tie. “We miss you!” said MOCA’s chairman of the board of trustees, Bob Tuttle, referring to Hockney’s extended stay in London. “Why’d you leave us?” Hockney explained he’d never really left Los Angeles, just had other obligations -- primarily, sitting for a portrait by Freud and visiting Norway.

There was a small storm of flashes as the gala’s honorees arrived. Leonard Nimoy and his wife, Susan Bay-Nimoy, were being celebrated for their commitment to the museum and for contributing $1 million to a new fund for emerging artists.

Rene Russo adjusted the strap on a high-heeled sandal and then took in the art. “It would be such a powerful piece in your home. You’d really have to be careful how you positioned it,” she said, referring to no painting in particular, but as if shopping for one of the works, the cheapest of which is valued at $500,000.

Around 8, the crowd of hundreds piled onto shuttle buses bound for MOCA’s annex, the Geffen Contemporary, a few blocks away. During the ride, Julian Sands, who attended with his wife, Evgenia (whose mother, Caroline Blackwood, was once married to Freud and is featured in at least one portrait on display), praised the museum for its handling of the “fantastically intimate” work. “In London, it was so crammed,” he said. “Here, the level they’re hung is so domestic.”

Guests were deposited at the Geffen entrance, which was framed by a small forest of “snow”-sprayed tree branches. Everyone gathered around a large bar, taking in the candlelight, white gauzy curtains and two women, wearing short black wigs, seemingly rooted in realistic python costumes. “It’s all Hollywood!” said one guest as she made her way through.

On a white platform in the center of the enormous dining room, two other women, apparently depicting flames or Furies, shook feather-tipped fingers at guests and moved as much as possible in their limiting red get-ups, reminiscent of the work of Sid and Marty Croft. The words “Lucian Freud” were projected about a dozen times around the room.

Finally, the meal commenced and the dancers disappeared. As the salads were cleared away, Hockney stepped up on the platform. A spotlight illuminated him and, via projector, the place was surrounded by several more Hockneys. He told the story of being painted by Freud at his London studio, recalling the smell from his uncapped paint tubes. Each time he mentioned the name of his fellow painter, the words “Lucian Freud” traveled over Hockney’s images. “It’s like some kind of weird media conference,” said a film development executive.

“I’m just here as an artist’s model this evening,” Hockney said. “I sat for Lucian for about 120 hours. I always assumed I didn’t stay there long enough.”