Passionate about art and sports in equal measure, Gardy St. Fleur sketched out a career that’s an ideal mix of both.
It’s an overcast Brooklyn morning, and Haitian-born art advisor Gardy St. Fleur is walking us through his Bed-Stuy office, which, if we didn’t know any better, we would think was a gallery. Works by Alteronce Gumby, Abigail Lucien, and Nathaniel Mary Quinn hang in the front room; Sénèque Obin and André Pierre line the walls around his desk in the back space. Seated on a wooden bench near the entrance is Luis, a lifelike crocheted sculpture by Luis Flores, made in the artist’s likeness. “I love the fact that when people come in here, they always say it’s like a real person,” St. Fleur says of the work.
St. Fleur’s love of art was sparked by his father, who collected and commissioned pieces in Port-au-Prince before his death when St. Fleur was 6. Shortly after his father died, St. Fleur moved to New York with his mother, becoming a Knicks fan as soon as he touched down. At 14, he made his first acquisition: a small painting by Haitian artist Fritz St. Jean. His twin passions for sports and art eventually converged in his career as an art advisor.
Today, St. Fleur advises a roster of current and retired NBA players—Harrison Barnes, Kyrie Irving, and Amar’e Stoudemire among them—and is increasingly working with athletes in other professional leagues. Here, he talks to us about business, his personal art collection, and why Brooklyn—not Manhattan—is the epicenter of his art world.
How did you get into advising athletes?
Athletes were just people in my community. Being from New York, I used to hang out around the courts at West 4th Street and Rucker Park. And it really started off with me believing that athletes were more than just people to capitalize on. Everyone knows these guys have money, so everyone’s trying to sell them something. Instead of being transactional, I focused more on teaching.
It was tough when I first started. I’d send players educational material and they’d say they weren’t interested. But I knew if I could get just one or two to come look at some art, I could start to create a new narrative around athletes as art collectors. So I just didn’t give up.
What is your process like?
I work with players directly, so I’m not working with managers or agents. And I’m always bringing players into artists’ studios—rugged, unrefined walk-up studios where people aren’t pretentious and players can feel comfortable asking any question they want.
I send a newsletter out every other week with information about certain artists and what’s going on in the art world, and a lot of players and artists come by the office to ask questions. The office is strictly for my clients, artists, close friends, and family. I don’t use players’ likenesses or post them on social media; they’ll tell you: “Gardy only talks about art. He’s not texting you to say, ‘Good game.’”
Acquisition comes last for me. I don’t tell the rookies who come into the NBA to buy art. I’m like, “Let’s look and observe first; you’re not there yet.”
You work with a lot of NBA players, partly because so many of them have the means to collect. As women’s sports become increasingly popular, do you think you’ll see more female athletes get into collecting?
For sure, though they obviously don’t make as much money. But I know a lot of female athletes are showing interest, so I think we’ll gradually start to see more and more of them collecting.
Are there any artists your clients are particularly drawn to at the moment?
There are a few. Sydney Cain is one, and there’s a lot of interest in Jay Payton and Ilana Savdie, as well.
Over the past few years, artists have been producing, producing, producing, but my clients aren’t moving fast at the moment. They’re saying, “I’m not going to overhype artists. I’m going to take my time and really figure out what this person is creating—what’s the real substance there?” They’re not buying just to buy.
There are some great works in the front room of this space. What draws you to the pieces you keep in the back around your desk?
I’m interested in high art, but I’m also interested in self-taught artists from the 1930s and ’40s, and women who were making art because they had to—not in a market-driven way, but in a spiritual, personal way. You have David Hammons, you have Sydney Cain, and there’s Paul Gardère, the first Haitian artist in residence at the Studio Museum of Harlem. I’ve been archiving Luce Turnier’s work and life story for the longest. She passed away in 1994.
You have a studio in the same building as your office. How do you use that space, and what do you enjoy about working in Brooklyn?
I have the space downstairs for artists. They can come work for free through a referral. But they can also come talk to me and the players who visit the office. That creates a community.
In Brooklyn, I’m closer to a lot of the artists I work with, and my overhead is low. I’m not trying to chase Manhattan. I accept my practice for what it is, and I want my clients to feel that as well. It’s chill; we can dig in, look through books, and walk to three different artists’ studios. I love it here.
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