Feeling Blue at the 13th San Francisco Art Fair

The 13th San Francisco Art Fair opened last night at Fort Mason, with thousands weaving through the industrial halls—collectors, critics, wanderers, and the curious—seeking something. Beauty, maybe. Meaning. Proof. Or just distraction.The fair offers the usual: international galleries, panel talks, polished curations, and enough abstraction to lose yourself in.

But if you’ve stood still long enough in this city, you start to notice the loop. Styles cycle, names change, but the dance is familiar. The art may be new, but the hunger in the room is ancient.

No one even checked my ticket. Not quite a Jedi mind trick, but more a charming drift through the entrance, unnoticed. The world’s too caught in chaos to really see anything, let alone carry a true conversation. Everyone’s trying to shout over a noise only they can hear.

I walked through it quietly, like watching echoes try to form new sounds. The work was competent, even brilliant at times. But what stayed with me wasn’t on canvas—it was the collisions between strangers. Like listening to a man explain artistic integrity to his date while fumbling over the concept of a stretcher bar. Or meeting a massive British dude with two shepherds like John Wick, who wanted to freestyle rap in the middle of the show.

Creative to his core. His dog leapt up on me out of nowhere near a sculpture, and for a moment I thought, That’s it. He’s gonna get 86’d. But no one noticed. No one cared. Too immersed, showing the display of carrying caviar. Sometimes the most alive moments slip through without a ripple.

Art shows up in all ways of life—in how the wind blows leaves and leaves them laying, or how a mollusk decorates itself with detritus from the ocean floor. Unconscious. Instinctual. Unaware it’s crafting something transcendent until an observer says: That’s beautiful.

And last night, everything felt as though it had a tone of blue. Not just in the palette—though there was plenty of that—but in the undercurrent. The city carries a heaviness these days. Not mourning, exactly. More like a dream where you’re yelling for help in a city too loud and busy to hear you. San Francisco, the place once lit by wild flames of experimentation and soul, now flickers quieter. But not out.

There’s something forming in the silence. Not a collapse. Not quite a rebirth. But a choice.Humanity’s been offered two roads: the spiral downward, or the octave leap. And whatever comes next, artists will be the first to feel it. We always are—it’s our blessing and our curse.

All photos by Justin Kerson [San Francisco Art Fair 2025]

Justin Kerson is a multidisciplinary artist, author, filmmaker, and cannabis pioneer with over two decades of experience at the intersection of culture, healing, and innovation. A graduate of Humboldt State University (BFA Studio Arts, Botany minor), he studied under legendary canopy biologist Dr. Stephen C. Sillett, grounding his creative practice in ecological consciousness. justinkerson.com