Parallel Lines: Paris Photo, Act One
Marina Abramović, Count on Us (Tesla Electricity), 2003, C-Print, 200 x 180 cm, The artist and Wilde.
WILDE
Written by Federica Belli
As if the unpredictability and the emotional intensity of an artist’s life were not enough, the art industry is constellated by subtle behavioral codes and social cues which, though unnoticeable by the rest of the world, have to be meticulously followed. Any newbie in the industry has only two access points: the mental preparation given by an art school – which I gladly avoided – or a good couple years of attentive observation upon entering the system. As a rookie artist at Paris Photo, I had not only the possibility to show my work in the Parisian kermesse, but also a free bootcamp in the delicate workings of the galleries’ circle. Thank me later for some insight gathered through some firsthand bruises.
First things first. Preparation. An artist showing at Paris Photo arrives at the Grand Palais with an agenda already full of meetings – barely accounting for the time taken by toilet runs – most of which build on a shared glass of Ruinart in the VIP terrace. Don’t expect to end up talking face to face with your dream gallerist just because you will walk in the same aisle and attend the same book signings. If you see someone attending an event, it is most probably the result of some difficult tradeoff between this meeting or that one. Don’t even wonder whether they have some free time. They don’t. Either you arrange before the MadWeek or you meet after the MadWeek. No transaction is brought to closure in MadWeek.
Ok, MadWeek is approaching. Should I be present at my booth to discuss the work or should I save some of my mysterious aura? The answer here is extremely subjective, yet decisively assertive. Be there, talk to people, ask questions. Don’t be afraid to interact with the visitors: a simple If you have questions, I’m happy to help! goes a long way. Oh, is this your work? is quite probably the reaction you will get most often, together with a smile. And for how scary it might be to take the first step, the insight offered by exchanges with the collectors is one of the most invaluable assets for an artist. Simply observing passersby you will easily tell apart the ones who might be interested in an in-depth discussion about your work and the ones who wouldn’t. Collectors are just humans, mostly passioned about other humans.
No matter your taste in photography, at least one of the many stands is guaranteed to steal your heart. And at least once you will be tempted to approach the gallerist and show them your work. Why? Because… why not? Well. Don’t. Participating in Paris Photo is an extremely heavy investment for every gallery: thousands and thousands euros for just four business days. Any visitor might be the collector which makes the investment sustainable – maybe even profitable – and every minute wasted on an artist portfolio could be a foregone sale. Thus, even in case a gallerist kindly flips through your photographs or your book and farewells you with a smile, be aware that deep down she is probably just very educated.
Rather, take MadWeek as an opportunity for maybe showing up with an unrequested coffee to the exhausted gallerist, expecting nothing but a heartfelt thank you in return. Take note of the stands curated according to your taste, introduce yourself and ask for their business cards: as soon as MadWeek is over, it will be your moment to reach out to them and maybe propose a meeting.
Last but not least? Enjoy that flute of Ruinart. Or rather… those flutes.
