The first day I opened my exhibition, On Brown & Violet Grounds, to the public was at 1pm on an average Wednesday afternoon in Manchester. Thankfully, I didn’t have to go around with a bin bag collecting used wine glasses from the party the night before. Why? Because I didn’t have a private view.
People were astonished when I told them I wasn’t having a preview, as if it were artistic suicide. The most common comment was: “When will visitors come?” Well, they did come, in their hundreds, and crucially they looked and engaged critically with the work. They came to see the exhibition in their own time and stayed for longer; they watched the 10-minute documentary about my current practice, stopped and considered the work, and spent time discussing it with me.
I had eight show days to indulge in this feedback, rather than an intense 2-3 hour preview where everyone gathers, the artist(s) inevitably can’t get around to speak to all the people, and few of them actually look at the work.
By not having a preview, I saved £150 because I didn’t have to hire the on-site security and spend yet more money on booze. Through saving this money I was able to pay travel expenses for selected art professionals, curators and critics to view the work in-situ and give me critical feedback during show days. I made valuable connections and started (long-lasting) conversations with people from as far away as London and the North-East, to the galleries on my doorstep.
Meaningful conversations
A private view is often an opportunity for the artist/curator/staff to celebrate and have a knees-up after long, tiring days (and occasionally nights) installing and promoting the exhibition. I am sometimes too exhausted after this to waltz around energetically endorsing the work.
A preview is also an important opportunity to meet those who might commission/show your work in the future, and as such should be treated as ‘work’. Yet I have known many artists who drink too much and make a fool out of themselves at their openings.
In my experience, the vast majority of attendees at previews are often a mixture of friends of the artist(s), students vying for a free drink, and a scattering of industry professionals. Consider what a London gallery insider told me about looking after potential clients and future collaborators; they want to be among an elite bunch engaging with the work, not scrabbling with a student for a glass of red.
Artists need to benefit from exhibiting work as well as the visitors. This benefit is drawn from meaningful conversations about the work rather than quick chats and congrats – an artist needs to be making new connections instead of extending already cemented contacts. With this in mind, maybe more gallery spaces and pop-up shows should take note of this model.
Was not having a preview the right thing to do? Yes, absolutely. After all, as artists we want our work to be looked at and digested – not casually dismissed in exchange for booze and a schmooze.
Read Liz West’s Artists’ Talking blog here.
www.liz-west.com
