I am an art gallerist. A gallerina, if I’m being flip. A person-behind-the-big-imposing-desk, if I’m being snide. I’ve worked in a handful of art galleries in Seattle over the last few years, and it’s work I deeply enjoy: creative, challenging, and different every day. Art galleries offer knowledgeable staff, help nurture artists, provide a stage for lively cultural discussion, and are a great way to get to know the character of a city. In that way, they are close kin to art museums—except you can take home your favorite piece at the end of your visit.
But being behind the desk has also made me realize that galleries are often seen as intimidating, unwelcoming, and confusing. It’s frustrating for me to know that, sometimes, they can be all of those things. Often the discomfort stems from a gap in perception: visitors are unsure whether they are welcome, whether they can ask questions, and gallerists sometimes aren’t willing to clue them in. I meet people who walk into the gallery assuming that I will ignore them if they aren’t dressed a certain way; I hear people snap “I’m not rich, okay?!” if I so much as smile; I see people smother their questions about the art and not ask them; and, most distressing, I watch as people dither outside the door and choose not to come in at all. I’d like to address some of the most common misconceptions I encounter on a daily basis, in the hope that I can de-mystify the gallery world, and provide solid advice for when you find that piece that you honestly cannot live without. The common denominator in all of this, as you’ll find out, is the simple word: ask.
How do galleries function? Are they museums or stores, or what?
Art galleries operate by representing and selling the work of artists, usually by having rotating exhibits of art through the year. Where they differ widely is what they sell: some galleries will focus on one medium—like glass or photography—others on a specific genre (Native American, abstract expressionist, pop-art, outsider art, etc), or a region, or a time-period. Some are art cooperatives, and the person behind the desk will be artist her or himself, while others will hire staff who have never touched a paintbrush and have skills in arts administration or advertising. The goal of all commercial art galleries is to display the work, educate visitors, and sell the art. To that end, they are a cross between a store and a museum*.
Why should I bother coming in? And will you be snobby if I do?
A gallery is a room filled with Really Cool Stuff. Most of us spend our days using and looking at things that are meant to be useful, utilitarian and necessary. But a gallery is packed with the unusual, the bizarre, the breathtaking, the heartbreaking, the thought-provoking and the downright tantalizing. Come in and have an art break. Nope, there’s no ticket, it’s free**. Bring your lidded beverage, your well-behaved child/pet, and come in. You’re not planning to buy? Come in. You don’t know anything about art? Come in. You’re not an “art person”? Come in, come in, come in.
Now, I am not going to be snobby. I am going to greet you cheerfully, or at least squinch my face at you in that I’m-super-busy-and-stressed-out-but-I’m-still-happy-you’re-here way, or give you a finger wave if I’m on the phone. But, unfortunately, the aloof gallerist stereotype can be a reality—I won’t pretend otherwise. I recently greeted a gallery visitor and she said, “I’ve been to every gallery in this neighborhood, and you are the first one to greet me.” So, on behalf of all the nice, friendly gallerists: I am so sorry, you guys. It’s not all of us, I promise. Come in, come in, come in.
Regardless if they face-squinch you or give you a big howdy, or don’t seem to notice you, that person behind the desk is your gateway to answers. Because you’re about to look at some art, and you’ll probably have questions. Which, oh my gosh, ask them. Art is doing its job if it is making you ask questions. How was this made? What’s it made of? Did the same artist make all of it? What inspired them to make it? Can I see more of this person’s work? Do you have information on the artist that I can have? These are all great questions! Ask them. The person behind the desk has probably just spent the last month working with the artist, writing about the art, and promoting the show, so they will have a lot of answers for you.
Okay, I’m in, and I’ve dished with the gallerist. Or did a mutual ignoring thing with the gallerist. Whatever. Now what?
Now, I want you to consider purchasing something.
But I’m not rich! I hear you cry.
I know. I’m not rich either. (Having any sort of career that touches the arts doesn’t make for a hefty paycheck, Gagosians and Hirsts aside.) And, truthfully, the majority of people who have purchased art from me are not rich. Yes, they have disposable income—I won’t lie and tell you that you should be buying art if you are living hand-to-mouth or have no employment, that’s something for down the road —but they are not millionaires.
Galleries are about art. We want you to fall in love with a fantastic piece of art that will make your home more beautiful and your heart sing when you encounter it each day. But galleries are also businesses with taxes and rent to pay. And their primary purpose is to sell the art in order to support the artists, recoup the expenses necessary to make/house/promote/exhibit the art, and be able to keep the artist making said art. Therefore, we really want you to purchase something that you have fallen in love with, and we will do everything we can to help make that possible.
Ask about making layaway payments. Don’t be embarrassed. I don’t know a single gallerist who would refuse to break a purchase into monthly payments. (That’s how I afford art when I buy it.) Will that painting dazzle you and make you happy every time you see it? Yes? It’s $1200 and you can’t justify that? Pop $100 down each month for a year, and—Happy New Year!–it’s yours forever. (Yes, precious, all yours.)
Is it totally and completely out of the budget, but you can’t stop thinking about it? Ask if there is other work by the artist. Because, I can almost guarantee you, there is always more. Do you like a piece but it’s too big, too expensive, too orange and stripey? There might be another. There might be ten others. Maybe there’s even a slightly damaged, prototype, or really old version that the gallery would love to sell you for less so that they can stop paying to insure it.
Ask about commissions. Yes, friends, you too can be a bonafide arts patron and commission an artwork from an artist like a power-hungry Medici lord. You might be able to commission a piece that’s similar, smaller, or less involved. And you’ll get to know the total high that is being an arts baller.
I’ve thought about starting an art collection, but I have no idea how to do it.
Oh, you’re about to embark on a magical adventure, with a gallerist as your elven guide! Do some homework, find out a little about what kind of art attracts you—are you a texture and color junkie? Are you drawn to exotic materials? Is the imagery more important than the medium? Do you just really love birds/monsters/naked bodies/blue/triangles?–and then find a gallery with a critical mass of stuff that you like. If you can give a gallerist a good sense of your taste, and a basic budget or criteria, they’ll send interesting things your way and might even let you preview new works before they’re generally available.
Also, if you’re collecting for investment purposes, I have some bad news: not all art will increase in value. Sorry, them’s the breaks. There are ways of collecting for investment, but they’ll involve a lot of careful research and a really great relationship with a gallerist. It’s a viable option, but I suggest just starting by collecting what moves you, makes you laugh, makes you think, and keeps you interested.
Why should I buy from a gallery? I can track down the artist online, buy work from them, and support them directly.
Please don’t do this. Seriously. Cutting the gallery out makes baby Jesus cry. It is super unethical. Galleries devote huge amounts of time and money on promotion, housing and insuring the work, paying rent on a space that is in a high foot-traffic area (read: expensive), and often underwriting the creation of the work itself. Remember how I mentioned that the person behind the big desk is really busy? They’re spending their time designing brochures and catalogs with photography that may have been paid for by the gallery. They’re purchasing ad space in magazines, newspapers and online. They are writing press releases to send to media outlets; conducting artist interviews; updating the website. They are corresponding with museums to secure a show for the artist or to collect a piece, applying to residencies on the artist’s behalf, and cross posting on social media. They are also ordering the paint, vinyl letters, food, power tools, extra light bulbs and new plasterboard that it will take to open the artist’s new exhibit.
You might say, I didn’t even see the work at your gallery, so it doesn’t affect you. That may not be true: if you’re looking at an art display in a hotel lobby, an airport lounge, a salon, a cafe, a convention center, or even in a museum, a gallery may have organized it. So, when someone buys the work straight from the artist, they are not only stealing the sale from the gallery but also negating all of the time and money the gallerist spent. The more it happens, the fewer sales the gallery gets, the more likely the gallery is to close, and that means fewer venues where artists can show their work (and where you can flirt with well-dressed art walk patrons.)
And that’s the final word from this gallerina! Throw your questions and strenuous disagreements into the comments. Happy art-viewing.
*Anyone who wants to get into a slap-fight with me about art museums and art galleries being kissing cousins can go right ahead. I started on one side of the argument and was converted to the other.
**There are non-profit galleries that don’t sell art. They function more like museums, and aren’t really pertinent to this discussion. In those cases you may have to pay a ticket price to enter. And, just to confuse matters, there are museums out there that have the word “gallery” in their titles. Art, man, wow.
Tags: art galleries, artwork, sarra scherb, sherlock is at a museum not an art gallery so don’t bother pointing that out, the unwashed masses
I didn’t know most galleries would let you pay in installments or on a credit plan.
There’s this gallery in suffolk that did some work I LOVED and I was sad because I couldn’t afford any of it. Galleries always make me sad because I can’t afford it and would love to, but if they’d let me pay in installments I could do it.
We do! And we want you to ask!
Most places have a basic default policy they use, but if you open up a conversation about it, chances are they’ll work with you. Sometimes they’ll ask that it remain on the wall as a part of the gallery collection until you’ve passed the halfway mark. But it gets a lovely red sticker and you can bring all of your friends and show them that it’s yours! (You’re just generously allowing the gallery to keep it on the wall so as not to disrupt the balance of the show… or something.)
We just… we just want the art to go home with people who love it.
Couldn’t have said it better myself!
That’s reassuring! I like to go to the sort of gallery that has odder works by not-so-well-known people rather than the two major ones in my city that stock expensive pictures of cartoon cows that are really not my style but must sell well because they’re everywhere, and I tend to prefer work around £300 anyway, so maybe I could get something nice.
Something I forgot, a lot of the galleries around ehre sell prints too. While not the same as owning the original, it’s much cheaper. I could do that, if I really can’t afford something.
Thanks, Sarra and CurrerBelle, you have made me less afraid to go into galleries clutching my limited funds in my sweaty hands.
Close down the thread, cut the lights; my work here is done.
I didn’t know that either, and I’m REALLY happy to learn it.
Buy art! Support artists! Yay! Also, keep in mind that things that come in editions, like photography and printmaking, tend to be less expensive than, say, oil paintings. Also, look out for young, emerging artists! They’re super cool and really need the support!
This is all really great info! I wish we had gallerists like you around here… It feels like the galleries where I live aren’t interested in you unless you can buy a piece, and sadly that’s not my position right now. Thanks for mentioning the installments plan, though – I think that will come in handy for me in the future!
This is incredible. I am a gallerina too in a smaller, non-arts-oriented town and you have clearly described some of our biggest struggles in ways that I couldn’t articulate.
We get so much resistance from the arts council in town because they loooooove artists’ studios and haaaate galleries. They’re also trapped in that misunderstanding that art galleries “take money away” from artists and don’t give them the full value of the artwork, and you have explained perfectly why galleries work on consignment. Galleries sign with artist who they consider promising (or even established), and they mutually agree on a value for the work that they consider fair for both sides after the split. What this does is essentially increase the *overall* value of that artist’s body of work for the long-term.
Or another way: Galleries are like Farmer’s Markets – how many times do you hear people complaining about how awful Farmer’s Markets are because “well I’ll just drive straight to the farm and give my money directly to the farmer.” No one does that, because Farmer’s Markets are awesome.
So well said! That’s a rough position to be in. I assume you’ve tried to clue them in to this and it hasn’t been successful?
We uh… we don’t… No one here speaks ill of the arts council and expects to live to tell the tale. Let’s uh… let’s forget I said anything.
MOVE ALONG, NOTHING TO SEE HERE.
I assume art galleries want me to come in; only art galleries and my dearest friends will put out trays of wine and cheese as an enticement to draw me closer. Art galleries, you get me.
Come into our world, yesss. Eat our tiny slices of cheeeeese.
The elite-level sneers I got when I stopped in to look at the Deborah Butterfield works the last time she was in Seattle freaked me out so badly I haven’t stepped into a gallery again. I KNOW I can’t afford a six-figure giant found-metal horse, but I think she’s amazing and I just wanted to see it IRL instead of online.
Strangely, the art I’ve had the best luck with, attitude-wise, is concert posters from the artists themselves. We both love Sleater-Kinney and you did a great poster for one of their shows? Yes, I will spend money to buy a print from you.
Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that. Please don’t let a side-eye stop you from enjoying art in your city. First Thursday is tomorrow, it will be 75 degrees, come and enjoy!
wait, y’all do First Thursdays TOO? Mind blown.
We do! The big downtown one is First Thursday, but each neighborhood in Seattle has its own Art Walk, so there’s almost always one going on within the first two weeks of the month.
Let’s go together! I want to buy aaaaaaaart!
first I have to buy a minivaaaaan (definitely not art, but sadly more necessary). But yes, i want to buy art in my hood or your hood.
Oh, this reminds me of the only time in my life so far that I have nearly purchased something. It would have been my entire savings, but I would have done so if I had somewhere to put it. My “thing” apparently is sculpture. Someday I will have space for you, Olympia.
My friend made that, and I hadn’t seen it before. So cool!
No. Way. I’m a big fan of hers, wow.
The pictures don’t do it justice, it was much more… creepy crawly… in person. Tiny hands, tiny tiny hands.
I love this article! Yes! Yes to having beautiful, original art in the home!
I bought my first piece of art (an Elizabeth Layton lithograph) when I was 20 years old. I was in college, living in a scholarship hall (basically discounted dorm housing for smarty-pants kids) and I saw that piece hanging in the gallery of the local public arts center. I gazed at it for a long time, asked the price at the desk, was told $250, and walked out. I think I was making ~$400 a week at my student hourly job. There was no way I could afford over half a month’s salary for a piece of art. I made it halfway down the steps of the building before I turned back around to ask about a payment plan.
I now have a good collection of original art from independent artists and I love every single piece. But that first purchase was the most important $250 I’ve ever spent. I still have it and I am so proud of my 20-year-old self for not giving up when there was no $20 repro-poster available.
Thank you, gallery-worker who didn’t smirk or make fun of me for trying to purchase something I couldn’t afford outright. Thank you for not rolling your eyes at someone barely out of her teens who saw something she loved but couldn’t afford. Thank you, galleries everywhere, who work hard to make art accessible and affordable to as many people as possible. Thank you.
This is so interesting; thank you for sharing all this great information. It never occurred to me to consider a commissioned piece, but why not? And the idea of breaking payments into a few chunks instantly makes it seem within reach.
This is such a comforting piece – and inspiring! I really like the behind-the-desk perspective on what’s happening & am thinking those ‘hey, I should buy art sometime’ fleeting thoughts of mine are a lot more likely to be acted upon now.
Framing, though. What’s the deal with framing? Why does framing scare me? Do I have to know anything about framing to buy art? (I realize this is a dumbass question but I vote that this is a safe space to ask it.)
yes what about framing
some of the arts I want to buy come with frames but others don’t. Do I need to frame? How do I frame best?
I used to be good friends with a framer (we’ve since lost touch), and she convinced me that framing is an art in and of itself. She once framed a poster for me with the coolest custom mat (multi-layer, with elegant arches that subtly emphasized elements of the art). She did the labor for free or it would easily have several hundreds of dollars to frame a $35 poster. As it was it cost double the poster cost (almost 20 years ago) just for the relatively inexpensive materials she used but I loooove it.
On the other hand, my mom has a giant oil pastel (roughly as tall as me and just as wide) that her artist friend put up on her wall with thumb tacks and it looks great.
I paid (I think) about $100 (that’s 1990 dollars) for the frame I had made for the lithograph I mentioned, above. I worked with a local frame shop who let me pay in installments. I highly recommend a locally-owned frame shop for original art if you can possibly afford it. Chains like Michael’s…I just don’t know if they are as respectful to the original art. You know? I suppose it depends on the individual store/employee.
Most of the stuff I buy now is on stretched canvas and so doesn’t need framing. Thankfully. Because, yeah, a quality frame job is $$$$$$$$.
Thank you so much, glad you enjoyed.
Really good question. Framing is super duper expensive if you are doing with high-grade materials. Those high-grade materials are absolutely worth it–to protect your art for your lifetime and beyond–but they are crazy spendy. Therefore, it’s good to keep in mind that even though the print you’re buying is a steal at $100, it will cost as much (or double) to frame it professionally.
For my own collecting, I often try to circumvent framing entirely, and I look for works on canvas or on board. Pay for it, get it home, bang a nail in the wall, DONE.
If you’re in love with an unframed work on paper, see if the gallery does its own framing, and then roll the cost of framing into your layaway payment.
You can also look at purchasing the art and then framing it as two separate expense projects: pay for the piece, then save up your pennies for a few months until you have a chunk of change to pay for the framing (as long as you or the gallery can keep the art safely until then). You may even want to find a framer who can shrink-wrap your piece for safekeeping, and then it can go in your closet, under your bed, etc. while you save up for framing.
Not even close to a dumb question.
It’s also worth asking the gallery if they have a specific relationship with a local framer that they would be willing to share with you, if you want to reframe a piece. For example, the place we use doesn’t function as a retail shop for individual customers, but for galleries, artists, and other large corporate organizations who tend to buy in bulk. Occasionally, we can leverage that connection, but it’s more for really large pieces that need to be handled with particular care. But ask! Ask away!
And it’s perfectly legit to hang some pieces unframed – some are intended to be displayed that way. If it’s a canvas/linen piece, look for the “gallery wrap.” That means that the paint continues around onto the sides, and you can’t see any visible staples or tacks holding it on the wooden understructure. If it’s a piece done on board or on panel, you typically* want to make sure that you don’t see any of the woodgrain underneath the paint. That means that the board/panel has been primed correctly and that the paint isn’t getting soaked up into the wood.
*I say typically, because the art world is a funny place, and sometimes artists deliberately include elements in their composition that some people might consider flaws, or taboo, or incorrect. Sometimes art is all about breaking established rules in very deliberate and calculated ways to make specific statements. Sometimes artists just forget to prepare the panel.
I’m so grateful for this article.
Once, on a visit to Boston, I saw a Dali in a gallery that I still, years later, think about. Now, I’m not a Dali fan. I don’t care if I never see any of his famous stuff, or the stuff that looks like his famous stuff, or his banal portrait commissions, again. But this little color illustration (or study or something), this Minor Work, haunts me. It was a biblical illustration of some people doing something, I don’t remember, but when you looked at the abstract-ish background colors you saw that they resolved into looming Angels, so the background and the foreground swapped places. It was a little out of my price range, but if I’d known I could do installments, that bad boy’d be on my wall, making me happy. A gallery employee gently tried to coax me into buying, and I bounced out of there like a scared bunny rabbit without asking about payment plans. Next time I’ll know better.
Once upon a time I was wandering through the local arts district, and I went into a gallery, and I did not know about payment plans, so I stopped and looked around. It was a new show by an abstract colourist. Every was incredibly tasteful except for this one enormous red thing with a tiny blue spark, and I loved it right away and pictured it in pretty much every apartment I ever owned, and I spent the last of my savings on it. I have absolutely never regretted the painting.
The next year at the major art fair, the painter had at least half-a-dozen large red things. So I felt good about what had clearly been positive feedback, too. Buy art! It will change your world, in minor but really noticeable ways.
I understand the value of galleries. I loved popping into them when I lived in the Twin Cities (the ones in DC are not as welcoming, though I do go to some shows) and I think they’re a real benefit for neighborhoods. But I take issue with the idea that if I didn’t even see the work in a gallery I should go out of my way to support one. I’ve purchased small pieces from mixed use spaces like coffee shops before – where else was I supposed to get that work? If I’m attending an art fair (whoo Uptown Art Fair) am I supposed to ask the artist for a list of galleries when their pieces are right in front of me and I know they paid $$$ for the booth? And, in the case of my most recent art purchase, if I had literally never heard of the artist until Emily Henderson showed the work on her blog why shouldn’t she get the referral credit from my clicking through to the artist’s website?
I don’t get the impression that the author was saying never buy from anything other than a gallery. I understood her to mean don’t try to sneak around and buy a piece being shown in a gallery directly from the artist in order to save the gallery fee. Heck, one of my favorite pieces I ever bought (that I FOOLISHLY GAVE TO MY BFFS BECAUSE I LOVE THEM OR SOMETHING) I bought at a freakin’ hair salon.
I hope I’m not overstepping here, but if this is one of your favorites, you may also really like Joe Sorren, or Nathan Durfee.
Thanks for bringing this up!
Chances are that an artist who is showing at a fair, on Etsy, or at a very public venue (like a cafe) does not have a gallery, and is representing themselves. Buy away!
But if they do have a gallery and you are seriously inquiring about their work outside of the framework, the onus is on THEM to tell you, “great, please call my gallery and they can take care of payment arrangements.” I am definitely not asking you to Sherlock out whether they have a gallery — it’s part of an artist’s contract to direct you to their gallery.
My main frustration is when people are surfing the web, see a gallery site (or something on Pinterest, Facebook, etc), and then try to contact the artist directly in a misguided apprehension that the artist will receive more money that way, or that the gallery is somehow taking money from the artist and that direct purchasing is better.
Ah, I see. Thanks for replying.
Ah! I’ve never even thought about asking about instalments! Now I feel like I need a time machine.
I remember once I saw these GORGEOUS watercolours by a group of Russian artists, all fantasy landscapes and strange creatures. The gallerina* was lovely, she took the time to tell me all about the artists and the methods they used, how they couldn’t get textured papers in Russia so they’d scrunch up the paper or do things to it and how a married couple had done one of the paintings together**. By the time she was finished I was in love. Now I can’t remember any of the artists names but I wish I’d bought something.
*I will use this word forever.
**If any of this sounds familiar I;d very grateful for any hints!
MOVE ALONG, NOTHING TO SEE HERE.
Thank you so much, glad you enjoyed.
Really good question. Framing is super duper expensive if you are doing with high-grade materials. Those high-grade materials are absolutely worth it–to protect your art for your lifetime and beyond–but they are crazy spendy. Therefore, it's good to keep in mind that even though the print you're buying is a steal at $100, it will cost as much (or double) to frame it professionally.
For my own collecting, I often try to circumvent framing entirely, and I look for works on canvas or on board. Pay for it, get it home, bang a nail in the wall, DONE.
If you're in love with an unframed work on paper, see if the gallery does its own framing, and then roll the cost of framing into your layaway payment.
You can also look at purchasing the art and then framing it as two separate expense projects: pay for the piece, then save up your pennies for a few months until you have a chunk of change to pay for the framing (as long as you or the gallery can keep the art safely until then). You may even want to find a framer who can shrink-wrap your piece for safekeeping, and then it can go in your closet, under your bed, etc. while you save up for framing.
Thanks for bringing this up!
Chances are that an artist who is showing at a fair, on Etsy, or at a very public venue (like a cafe) does not have a gallery, and is representing themselves. Buy away!
But if they do have a gallery and you are seriously inquiring about their work outside of the framework, the onus is on THEM to tell you, "great, please call my gallery and they can take care of payment arrangements." I am definitely not asking you to Sherlock out whether they have a gallery — it's part of an artist's contract to direct you to their gallery.
My main frustration is when people are surfing the web, see a gallery site (or something on Pinterest, Facebook, etc), and then try to contact the artist directly in a misguided apprehension that the artist will receive more money that way, or that the gallery is somehow taking money from the artist and that direct purchasing is better.
We do! The big downtown one is First Thursday, but each neighborhood in Seattle has its own Art Walk, so there's almost always one going on within the first two weeks of the month.
Late to this party but I wanted to chime in because I feel like the reason I don’t go in high street galleries (as opposed to museums) and the reason they are intimidating to a lot of people wasn’t really addressed;
I am one of those who dithers and decides not to go in… and the reason is that I’m very acutely aware of you watching me dither! And you guys do seem to like to watch. It’s similar in small, empty stores of other types but very consistent in galleries.
My experience with art gallery staff has varied from “oh thank god a customer, it’s been weeks!” to open and unabashed expressions of haughty disgust that I dared to show my filthy plebian face, but either way the problem is /how focused they are on me/. I have never been into a gallery where the attendant didn’t sit behind that desk (or even blatantly follow me sometimes, like I’m a teenage shoplifter) with their eyes fixed on me, watching every move I make. I walk awkwardly around the room and quickly walk out because I just can’t handle the hawk-eyed stare!
The last time I went into a gallery all three members of staff at the desk stopped their conversation when I entered, and six unblinking eyes followed me silently as I walked around the room, clearly annoyed and waiting for me to leave before carrying on with what they were doing. I can’t seriously consider making financial investments under those conditions!
I am an artist and I’d really like to see more of what other local people are doing that are not in my immediate circle (and I wouldn’t mind owning more of it either) but I guess I must have a freaky vestigial second head that is only visible to people who work in galleries.