I remember sitting in my back office in 2004, staring at a ledger and realizing that a young painter in my stable had just sold a piece for three thousand pounds, yet she was still struggling to pay her studio rent. She looked at me with such wide-eyed, naive trust, never once questioning the mechanics […]
I remember sitting in my back office in 2008, staring at a mountain of invoices and a very frustrated painter who felt I was “stealing” from him. He had just sold a large-scale oil on canvas for three thousand pounds, and seeing my commission check felt like a personal affront to his soul. He didn’t […]
I remember sitting on a rickety stool in a drafty warehouse in East London, clutching a lukewarm espresso and watching a young painter sweat through his shirt because he thought he had to perform a choreographed dance of “artistic mystery.” He was so busy trying to sound profound that he completely missed the fact that […]
I remember sitting in my gallery back in the late nineties, nursing a lukewarm espresso and staring at a folder a young painter had practically shoved under my nose. It was a chaotic, heartbreaking mess of half-finished studies, blurry photographs of canvases leaning against studio walls, and more “process” than any serious collector would ever […]
I remember sitting in my small market town gallery, clutching a lukewarm glass of Chardonnay, staring at a portfolio from a young painter who had “the look” but absolutely no sense of how to actually exist in a room. Everyone tells you that there’s some mystical, divine spark that triggers a gallerist’s interest, or that […]
I remember sitting in my small market town gallery back in ’98, nursing a lukewarm Earl Grey and staring at a stack of unsolicited portfolios that looked more like ransom notes than professional submissions. One young painter, quite talented but utterly lost, had practically burst through my door, demanding to know why I wasn’t “discovering” […]
I remember sitting in my back office in 2008, nursing a lukewarm Earl Grey and staring at a contract a young painter had brought me, looking like he was handing over his firstborn child. He thought a representation agreement was a sacred, mystical bond—a sort of spiritual marriage between creator and curator. He didn’t realize […]
I remember sitting in my back office in 2004, staring at a ledger and feeling a profound sense of guilt as I calculated the cut I was taking from a young painter’s first major sale. The industry loves to shroud the math in a certain kind of prestige, acting as if the numbers are some […]
I remember sitting in a drafty studio in 2004, watching a young painter cry because a local gallery owner had just told him his work was “too precious” for the market. The owner hadn’t even looked at the canvas; he was just looking at the artist’s lack of a price list. People love to shroud […]