Lately, the options for what to consume in the culture are overwhelming and the algorithm is making it impossible to figure out what’s actually good. That’s where Cult Following, CULTURED’s new monthly advice column by writer and cultural omnivore Delia Cai, comes in. Did you catch Covid again and need recommendations on what shows to binge? Want pointers on how to get cultured while living in a small town? Or maybe you just want to feel a little more impressive and hold your own at that next dinner party? Cult Following exists not only to narrow down your choices, but also to help all of us confront our deeper anxieties about navigating the wild, beautiful world of art and culture.
This week, Delia offers expert advice on gallery-hopping for a total newbie.
Dear Cult Following,
Okay, I think this a stupid question. In fact, I know it’s a stupid question. But……. how do you go see art? I know galleries exist; I walk by them all the time in New York. But I’ve never been inside one. I’m not a creative or artistic person at all, so I’ve always been scared to go because I’m afraid people will be able to tell immediately that I don’t belong or know how to act. Museums I understand, but not galleries. What is the proper etiquette? Do you have to make an appointment? Where do I find out where the best shows are? Can they tell I’m not actually rich enough to buy anything? In short: How do I not reveal myself to be a total idiot or wannabe as I try to expand my horizons?
-First Time Gallery Hopper
This is not a stupid question! I would rather, a zillion times over, answer a question like this than deal with another AI dork’s rant about how machines can make all the “art” we need. If there is anything I want to get across with this column, it’s that everyone has full permission to not know about stuff. You should never feel embarrassed about being curious, despite all of the snobby messaging to the contrary.
The art world is intimidating. There’s an unimaginable amount of talent and money involved, just as there is an unimaginable amount of smoke-and-mirrors as well. Which is to say: galleries have a vested interest in appearing hallowed and inaccessible. That’s not just in your head. When I first moved to New York, it took a couple of years for my midwestern small town brain to fully understand that galleries were actually free and open to the public to visit, and that it was not “annoying” to the staff if I peeked inside any more than it is “annoying” for like, Macy’s to let me walk around. (Also, when you are a broke 24-year-old hanging around in August, you come to appreciate that galleries have the best free air conditioning.)
So check the hours online, but yes, you can walk right in—no appointment needed. If you want to keep tabs on new show openings, you can either check the arts sections of your favorite magazines/newspapers, arts-focused publications (I recommend CULTURED's This Week in Culture round-ups and Critics' Table reviews, of course) or use resources like the See Saw app, ArtDrunk.com, or the @thirstygallerina Instagram page. You can also Google “art shows” + your location, frankly (There’s one tip for you—call them “shows,” not “exhibitions,” which is more museum-coded). I like to keep a running list of interesting upcoming shows, noting the dates they’ll be on display, and use a free Friday or Saturday (most galleries are closed Sunday and Monday) to hit them in order of neighborhood.
But how to conduct yourself once inside? I called up a few friends in the art world to get some uber-practical advice for you. Kathy Huang, who is a managing director at Jeffrey Deitch, assured me that there are basically no real rules other than the big one: Do not touch the art. “You would be surprised by how many people, especially in a sculpture show, do touch things,” she sighed. You can bring a coffee or your iced matcha in, but it’s good manners to leave it at the front desk to eliminate the possibility of spillage. You can also bring your dog, as long as it’s leashed or well-behaved (many places have their own “gallery dog” in residency). You can also wear whatever you want. (Kathy says she sometimes visits galleries in workout gear.)
When you go inside, you often have the option of signing a guestbook and picking up a copy of the show’s press release to read. But you do not have to do either! “When I’m not familiar with the artist, I go and see the work first, form my own opinion, and then go to the front desk to read the press release,” Kathy says.
Once inside, take your time! You might not connect with the work and find yourself breezing in and out in a few minutes. Or you might find yourself spellbound for an hour. No one will judge you for either. Unless it’s made explicit by the gallery, you can take as many photos as you want. Openings are fun to attend because there’s usually free booze, and you can actually walk around and look at the art (“No one else will be, they’ll all be gossiping with each other,” says a friend who used to be a critic). Just leave your empty beer can or plastic cup by the door on the way out.
At smaller galleries, you can also go up to the front desk and ask for a price list, which lets you see the titles of each work (and what’s already sold). If you’re really into an artist, ask if the gallery has any prints or drawings available, called “flat files,” which can often be purchased for around $1,000. The artist Dominique Fung, who is represented by MASSIMODECARLO, told me that you can also ask the staff at the front desk to explain a specific work to you if you’re truly dying to hear more about it. Again, this works better with smaller galleries; I would not try this at say, Gagosian. Be mindful of the staff’s time, of course.
“It’s always good to do a little bit of the work besides asking ‘What does this mean?’” Dominique added. “You can say, 'Oh I see that there’s a figure here and I like the way that it’s standing, but I don’t understand why it’s positioned that way. Do you know what the intention of the artist was?'” Frame the question in a conversational way. If you’re worried about feeling like a fraud because you’re not like, going to actually buy something, don’t be.
As Dominique put it: “The beautiful thing about looking at art is you’re experiencing what other humans of our time are making. It’s a reflection of what other people are seeing, what other people are feeling, and what other people are experiencing. So if you go in with that perspective, it’s a little less daunting whether you understand it or not. Everybody’s just existing and trying to make sense of our experience.”
Isn’t that lovely? Go forth, my child, and experience. (But once again, we’ll just say it for the back: Whatever you do, do not touch the art! This isn’t the Museum of Ice Cream.)
