On Working with Galleries: A Collage Artist's Journey
When I got started - this was the late 1970s, early 1980s - there wasn’t really a gallery scene in the U.S. the way we know it now, at least not outside of New York. I had just moved from St. Louis to Fort Worth, Texas in ’77. I’d done three years of college in St. Louis, studied painting, drawing, design - my heart was always in the fine arts, not commercial stuff. So when I got to Fort Worth, I set up a little studio and started making art whenever I wasn’t working at a gas station or waiting tables.
Now, keep in mind - this was pre-internet, pre-Instagram, pre-portfolio websites. If you wanted to show your work, you literally walked into a gallery with a physical portfolio under your arm and hoped someone would look at it.
And that’s what I did. I’d walk into a gallery, strike up a conversation with whoever was there - usually the owner - and eventually, if the vibe was right, I’d pull out a few works on paper. Some dealers said no. Some said maybe. But a few said yes. And from those first few connections - one in San Antonio, one in Fort Worth, a private dealer in Dallas - it started to build. One gallery led to another, often through word of mouth or personal recommendation.
By the early ’80s I was invited to show with a new gallery in New York, and from there, things really started moving. Over the years I’ve worked with more than 50 galleries around the country. A lot of them have gone under, which is part of the game, but I’m still with the original gallery in Fort Worth, and I’m still showing in New York. Right now, I have work in about 13 galleries across the U.S., and for the past 15 years or so, I’ve made my full living through art sales alone.
Now, let me pause here and say - having a lot of galleries sounds good, but that’s not the full picture. The real key is this: you have to create work that can sell at a price point that makes a living possible - not just for you, but for the gallery too. Because galleries aren’t retail shops. They don’t have cash registers. People don’t stand in line to buy collage. Most of the time, you’re lucky if they show up to drink wine at the opening.
So, every sale matters. And from the gallery’s perspective, it has to be worth it to keep the lights on. That’s why, for the last couple decades, the industry has leaned heavily toward large paintings. They’re easier to hang, easier to sell, and the price points are high enough to make the numbers work - for everyone involved.
That doesn’t mean there’s no place for smaller works. I love works on paper. And let’s be honest - we’re collagists! We work small, we work intimate. There are collectors who love that scale, and there are still homes and nooks and spaces that need smaller art. But if you only sell small work, it’s tough to make the math work. You’ll likely need more volume, and that’s not always possible given how many works a gallery can reasonably move each year.
So here’s what I’ve learned, and I’ll boil it down:
Start where you are. Get out there. Talk to people. Build relationships with galleries, not just transactions.
Make the best work you can, consistently. Not every piece has to be huge, but some of them probably should be.
Think like a partner. A gallery isn’t your boss and they’re not your customer. They’re your collaborator.
Be easy to work with. Stay professional. Communicate. Deliver on time. Don’t disappear.
And lastly - play the long game. Some connections take years to bear fruit. But if you plant well and stay in motion, it grows.
So that’s a bit of how it worked for me - very much like collage itself: piecemeal, layered, intuitive, and always adapting.