Escape from the White Box Gallery
One of New York’s buzziest shows in recent memory was an exhibition of new work earlier this year by the conceptual artist Christopher Wool, organized by Wool himself in 18,000 square feet of raw office space in the Financial District. Widely hailed as a return to the gritty, do-it-yourself 1970s moment in which Wool first arrived in the city—even though it clearly cost 21st-century megabucks to produce—it drew 12,500 visitors over 19 weeks despite the fact that no dealer was involved and nothing was for sale.
Meanwhile, 65 rare works by the Italian master Giorgio Morandi, the largest survey of the artist in New York in nearly 20 years, are on view through Novmber 27 in an Upper East Side townhouse. The show was set up by the Roman gallerist Mattia De Luca, who chose the venue to suggest Morandi’s modest home and studio, and it swiftly became what Marion Maneker of Puck called “the pilgrimage show of the season.”
In today’s art world it often seems that the most talked-about exhibitions aren’t at galleries or museums but in more surprising locations, from abandoned offices to unassuming residential spaces. Perhaps such shows alleviate the fatigue of the art fair jetset, or they help demonstrate that a specific artist is truly different. “The key is authenticity,” says Allegra LaViola of Sargent’s Daughters gallery in Tribeca. “It is the norm to have a big white box with big artwork that’s polished and sellable. Everything does feel kind of staid.”
At the Morandi show nothing was technically for sale; the five works on offer had traded hands before the opening. But De Luca established himself as a global point of reference for Morandi. To his surprise, even his competitors brought in clients. A show like this, with a few works for sale to cover costs, is not an unusual venture for high-end galleries, which do it periodically for estates they know well or represent. “They have their place in the art market ecosystem,” says Wenty Beaumont, of the art consultancy Beaumont Nathan, which mounted a not-for-sale show of Kandinskys acquired for clients in its New York office last spring. “We feel they can move the needle,” says Dominique Lévy, of Lévy Gorvy Dayan, inspiring artists and “creating desire” in collectors.
That’s the draw of the Brown Collection, a museum opened by the artist Glenn Brown two years ago in London. Brown says, “There’s nothing like having your own space where you can control everything.” In galleries that suggest domestic rooms, Brown installs yearlong shows of his paintings and sculptures together with lesser-known European Old Masters from his collection. The shows have “definitely changed people’s perceptions of my work,” Brown says, and also of the historical material. The Wall Street Journal called the space a “must-see” venue.
Indeed, Wool's show in particular was perceived as a cry against business as usual—"a scream for independence,” says Lévy, “to question, what is the art market? What is the role of the gallery? What is the role of a museum?” Although speculation was rife that some works might have been sold, Wool flatly denies it, saying, “There have been no sales and no discussions of sales. Of course, that doesn't rule out his primary dealer, Luhring Augustine, fielding inquiries for other work. Plus, Wool became the center of the conversation in a way he hadn't been in years. What artist wouldn't like that?
Perhaps, too, there’s a “hungering for experience,” suggests the art consultant Brooke Lynn McGowan. “Not just in artwork but in the context in which it occurred, almost like a hankering for another time or place.”
Maybe what visitors really want are shows that immerse them in art, without much critical or market analysis. The rub is that it still takes deep pockets to put them on.
This story appears in the December 2024/January 2025 issue of Town & Country. SUBSCRIBE NOW
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