Each gallery has its own program — some cross between the work that it shows and a concept of what the gallery is supposed to be about. As Edward Winkleman explains on his blog, artists must know about and study these programs. The dealer in general takes a dim view of the artist who, with no clue of what the program is about, walks in the gallery door and asks the dealer to have a look at his or her work.
The reason is simple. The program is not really about the artists, even though it consists of the artists’ work. The program is about the dealer’s vision. “I am the program,” says Winkleman in the context of his own gallery. [NOTE, Edward was kind enough to point out that I get the context of his statement incorrect.] The gallery program represents the real and conceptual manifestation of the dealer’s aesthetic goals. If the artist has no idea of what those goals are, it tells the dealer that the artist does not take him or her seriously — a bad start to the artist-dealer relationship.
What this means, according to Winkleman, is that artists need to do a lot of research into the gallery scene they want to break into. This takes time, because a gallery does not present its entire program at once.
Where possible, the artist should engage the dealer in an informed dialog about the program. Yes, about the program, not about the artist’s own work. It is only after the artist has demonstrated a genuine interest in, and respect for, the program that it makes sense to broach the topic of having the dealer look at what the artist does. This initial dialog is a process that will take some time and should not be rushed. The key is, have the dealer get to know you and to hopefully to like you.
Should you bring your actual work into a gallery? Never, never, never, says Winkleman. When the time is right, initiate a discussion about your own work via email, attach digital files for images, or provide a link to a website. Don’t send slides unless the dealer asks for them.
Can the artist fool the dealer with a phony interest in the program? To try to do so shows a misunderstanding of the whole system, according to Winkleman; if the artist is a good fit for the gallery, there will be no need to fake an interest; the mutual admiration will be there.
In sum, the artist needs to devote a serious effort to landing in the right gallery. As Winklemans explains:
if you send your images cold, you end up in a heap of other artists, many just as good as you, and in that context (with equally good work available) the decision to work with this or that artist includes other considerations. If you have a dialog with the gallerist already, you have a leg up over the competition.
So there you have it, how to deal with dealers.
What all of this left me wondering is, how much are our views of art influenced by interaction with the people who made the art? Would the dealers be better off screening themselves from artists’ personalities, looking at those digital images with no names attached, before deciding which to consider for their programs?
If this is the way the system works, how do you feel about it, as an artist? Do you feel inspired to go out and study the programs? How do you feel about being part of a program? Is it better to be a dealer than an artist? Is the dealer a form of artist, after all?
A friend of mine, working for the pharmaceutical industry, had to read:
Perhaps, it is a must for artists too?
However, in a comment on the above referenced post David said…
I vote that the dealer is an artist.
It was funny reading Ed yesterday, because a couple days before I had finally gone in to show a gallery owner my Ghost Light project, after setting a appointment the week before and stopping by occasionally for the past year. I’ve also been checking out other local galleries, and this one was my top choice for several reasons, though one or two others could also make a good match.
I did not make a pitch to get into the gallery. I just wanted to get the owner’s thoughts on my work, both as gallerist and as an artist herself. I wasn’t sure if it was gallery-ready yet. There might be other places to show it or directions it might develop, etc.
To make the story short, it looks like I’ll be showing there in July, the biggest month for Art Walk, and possibly I’ll be showing a much larger set of projects. Some things remain to be worked out, but I’m excited about the prospects.
Ed’s approach is just the way that’s always made sense to me as the way people work best together. Karl has a very good point that some great art by clueless or jerk artists may be missed. But A) a good gallerist will be open to making allowances for the sake of great work, and B) there’s a lot of other great art out there anyway.
From the artist’s perspective, just the chance to have a serious conversation with someone who knows art and the art world can be extremely valuable. People pay art consultants real money for that. If you can get it free from a gallerist, you’re lucky–or you’ve worked hard at it.
Karl,
I think you’re leaving out a very important context for the discussion on my blog in your summary here. Namely, that this was advice to artists who were going out in search of a gallery because none were knocking on their door. My intent was simply to give the artists meeting with little success in that endeavor some insight into how to get a leg up on the other artists doing the same. It’s not meant to be read as a unified view of the artist-gallerist relationship the way you’re suggesting it does here. It’s very different if the dealer is chasing after the artist.
Also, you’ve quoted me out of context here:
What you’re quoting was not in the original post, but rather in the comments in response to the question:
meaning, essentially, that if you don’t respect a gallerist’s program you don’t truly respect them as a gallerists and if you had any self-respect for youself and your work you wouldn’t want to show with them. You should place much more importance on context than that. It’s not only about the how nice the dealer seems to you. You want your work to be viewed in the best light.
Karl and Steve are like the bad and the good cop. I love it.
Ed,
You are absolutely right, I didn’t get the context right. It’s not so much a mistake about the post verses the comment section, but that your context is intended to be limited to the hypothetical situation that I posed. I’ll put a note about that in the post. I think I did capture your essential point that when a dealer and an artist are a good match, there is no need for one to be fooling the other. For me that was one of the most important insights from your post yesterday. In one’s own personal experience I guess it is obvious, but it is not obvious when thinking about the art world in general.
What about the shop-keeper concept, Ed? Just the other day a sculptor friend of mine was insisting that dealers are just shop keepers. I found that ridiculous. But it is hard to say exactly what dealers are — except dealers of course. You are not quite like a film director, or a concert conductor, or a shop keeper, but there are elements of all of these combined. It is confusing.
As for the question, are dealers artists? I definitely see the dealer as a form of artist. The program is the creation, a kind of meta-art, in the sense of art above the level of the individual piece. I’m surprised more artists aren’t trying to become dealers themselves. I find curious is that there should be so much misunderstanding about what dealers do, and how artists should interact with them. Your blog for that reason has been valuable to me, and I can read that same response in the other comment writers there.
Steve,
I’m glad to hear about your upcoming show. I’ve become a fan of your work, and been inspired by it. I was out taking pictures most of the day today, starting at sunrise.
I was also out in Haarlem trying out Ed’s advice today, I enjoyed it. It was not a gallery were I was really thinking of showing anything, but I think that made it easier to focus on trying to learn about the dealer’s perspective. I learned a lot. From this one limited experience, I think it is a good idea to practice talking to dealers that you don’t have any intention working with. It takes away the pressure from the artist, but it doesn’t reduce the validity of the conversation — since that is supposed to be about the program.
Birgit,
I read How to Win Friends & Influence People a few years ago. It’s a great book. Dale Carnegie’s big inspiration was Abraham Lincoln, who was an expert at making friends and influencing people. But Lincoln didn’t start out that way, he got there through a learning process. So maybe there is hope for me also…
I think if I were a dealer, I would be very cautious engaging artists in the way Ed does. I would like to talk to them of course, but when I looked at the work, I would very much like to evaluate it “cold,” without the personal context. The reason is that this is the way that the buyers (or not-buyers) will see it when they walk into the gallery.
What about the shop-keeper concept, Ed? Just the other day a sculptor friend of mine was insisting that dealers are just shop keepers. I found that ridiculous. But it is hard to say exactly what dealers are — except dealers of course. You are not quite like a film director, or a concert conductor, or a shop keeper, but there are elements of all of these combined. It is confusing.
Saying a dealer is just a shopkeeper might make someone feel superior, but it hardly accurately describes the job. Leo Castelli changed art history…name a shopkeeper who’s done that.
The reason is that this is the way that the buyers (or not-buyers) will see it when they walk into the gallery.
Only the first time they walk in. From that point onward they see it in an ever-expanding context of what other work they’ve seen there.
Dealers are not artists. Dealers make the deal and thank goodness for them because I am glad it is not me.
Congrats Steve! That’s a pretty good return rate (100%:)
Thanks, Leslie. I think it’s going to be fun and a learning experience. Of course, it may not last long if my work doesn’t sell there…
The problem is, it will derail plans to offer some of my work on the Internet, since I’m sure the gallery owner will want higher prices than I currently ask, and obviously I can’t undersell her. My web sales are miniscule so far, but I had plans for an online gallery that would be more focused than my low-key web site. I’m currently thinking I’ll have some lower-priced web-only series and some gallery series; hopefully, if the work is different enough, that won’t constitute competing against my gallery. But I’d love to hear ideas on how others have handled this issue.
Karl: Would the dealers be better off screening themselves from artists’ personalities, looking at those digital images with no names attached…
Dealers are not selling artwork. They are selling personalities, with the artwork attached.
Birgit: However, in a comment on the above referenced post David said…”I’ve narrowed my list down to about ten galleries that I visit on a regular basis. Whenever I show up I bring donuts.”
Birgit, I assume you know I was kidding. I could never afford all those donuts.
Steve: To make the story short, it looks like I’ll be showing there in July…
Steve, congratulations!
David,
I appreciated your saying something poignant (in the original sense of ‘to prick’) disguised with your marvelous sense of humor.
My question to the pope
went unanswered. I suppose that it did not fit the thread of the conversation. Did you read Tracy’s comment?
Steve,
congratulations from me too.
here is Tracy’s polite comment:
Dealers are not selling artwork. They are selling personalities, with the artwork attached.
David,
That’s just plain cynical, it sounds like something I would say.
Hey, do you really bring the dealers donuts? The story is even more funny if you made it up.
…it sounds like something I would say.
I’ll take that as a compliment :)
…do you really bring the dealers donuts?
No, I made it up. It’s considered bad form to just walk in cold with donuts (even worse if they’re cold donuts). First you have to become familiar with the gallery and make sure they even like donuts, then casually strike up a conversation and find out what kind they prefer (don’t just assume if you see a box of glazed on their desk that they want more of them). Next you send jpegs of the donuts, and only after many years maybe you’ll get to bring the actual donuts. But don’t bring old donuts, they need to be fresh.
As I had commented on Ed’s blog on this topic before, the approach suggested by Ed would work a better if you had some kind of a resource (online or print) that tells you the categories/type of art that the galleries would be interested in…
Doing the rounds aimlessly in Chelsea/Haarlem hoping that you would hit on the right kind of gallery for the artwork that you pursue is indeed a tall order. Of course at this point that is my only recourse.
I have an idea for a book: Maybe spend the next couple of years trudging around Manhattan, find out all the galleries and the kind of work they exhibit – write a good book that categorizes the galleries with respect to work they exhibit (with copious coffee table color examples), make money off the book (and make money by exhibiting at the gallery – since by that time I would know exactly which gallery/gallerist would be symbiotic).
Steve,
Good luck on your project. Happy for you.
David,
You are a star!
Sunil,
I think that the galleries would not appreciate your book. If they wanted to be easily categorized, they could come up with a coding system and each gallery could post their stats on the door. The galleries are looking for magic, not transparency.
The other thing to remember about what Ed was saying (and which he points out above) is that this approach of trudging around is for the artists who are having difficulty getting recognized. I think you could put your time and talents to much better use on your artwork than on admiring the art programs of dozens of galleries. Reread comment 15 above.
Karl,
Yes, you are right about the book. I like that line there: “The galleries are looking for magic, not transparency.”
I did read Tracy’s comment. However hard I work on my art, if I do not trudge around, I am not going to find the gallery that best suits my art and vice versa… I know I am neither recognized nor heard of as far as galleries out here in NYC are concerned… (Which brings me back to the book – if there was a book that offered this kind of advice to ‘trudgers’ that might not be a bad thing)…
Congradts Steve!!!!!!
Grazie tanto, Bambino.