From London with Love: The Thursday Gallery Crawl
My dearest artlings,
It’s 6 o’clock on a Thursday. I waddle out of Green Park and cross to Dover Street. My heels sink into the occasional puddle, and my fresh blowout is already as wild as Warhol’s. You’d laugh if you could see me. But honestly? It’s all part of the vibe. This is what arriving at an art opening looks like when you’re a university student.
London is THE CITY for art openings. Every Thursday, different galleries, from household names like Saatchi and Gagosian to indie exhibition spaces nestled in Hackney, present new shows. Invitations are sent to everyone on their mailing lists; you could sign up on their website. It’s not as exclusive as it sounds. You attend to dress up and socialize whilst half-gazing at displays you don’t necessarily understand. Often, neither do I.
(I’m not a fan of contemporary art. I like form, and I like order. It’s no wonder I studied Renaissance art. But perhaps you’d like it more modern.)
One final turn and I’m there. A suited security guy pulls the door open, beckoning me into Rele, a contemporary art gallery with locations in London, Lagos, and the US. It deals on the primary art market—meaning it’s selling work straight from living artists. If it worked on the secondary market, it’d be reselling art that’s already been bought before—think big auction houses like Christie’s and Sotheby’s.
But back to my evening. Rele’s packed. People hover near the entrance, chatting with colleagues, friends, and maybe even new love interests. A friend nudges me toward the text on the wall. “Pink//Blue,” it reads, is “an exhibition by Ameh Egwuh.” According to the gallery, “It explores the complexities of masculinity, challenging the limitations of traditional, non-normative narratives.”
I stifle a scoff. Contemporary art creates a lot of buzz, but most of it feels unjustified. Take this show—pink and blue canvases filled with male figures? Hardly groundbreaking. The subject isn’t innovative, and neither is the execution, so why do these works come with so many zeros? The contemporary art world thrives on hype, driving up prices until the bubble bursts, leaving careers in ruin.
Before I realise it, my friend is pulling my still-wet sleeve. We’re off to stop #2. It’s like a pub crawl—but we’ve swapped pubs for galleries and pints for canvases. (Pro tip: wear comfortable shoes.)
A turn down Grafton Street takes us to David Zwirner, another contemporary art gallery with locations worldwide. The show’s titled “Thomas Ruff: expériences lumineuses.” It’s more crowded than the first, with guests nursing bottles of pale ale as they stare at canvases. Ruff’s work explores the photographic image to picture pure light. His technique is interesting: he places a number of glass objects—lenses, mirrors, and prisms—on top of a whiteboard and passes through them multiple beams of light. Honestly, I’m not sure I love the product; but it does sell for thousands—tens of thousands—at auction.
A gallerista’s eyes glitter as she talks about his work, and a young collector’s do too—he just haggled 10% off a canvas. They’re both searching for validation: one through passion, the other through possession.
The art market attracts peculiar personalities. There’s the people who love the art; those who want to show off; those who love the glamour; and those who need the network. The more openings you attend, the more you’ll understand the art world and its crowds. So, next Thursday, why not sneak into a gallery yourself? Who knows—you might find a piece, a conversation, or at the very least, a story to tell.
From London with love,
Maya