Here's a real question: did you walk into your first gallery or did they find you?
Genuinely curious about this, because I think we all imagine the "they discovered me" story but I've noticed most people I know actually did the awkward thing themselves.
Mine was terrible. I showed up at a small gallery near MG Road with a folder of prints, no appointment, and the owner looked at me like I'd wandered in to ask for directions. I basically shoved two paintings at her and fled. Nothing came of it for a year. Then she called me out of nowhere asking if I'd show in a group exhibition. Just like that. So I still don't know if it counts as walking in or being found.
Which one was it for you? Did you knock on doors, or did someone come to you?
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The story you tell is the real one, I think. The "discovered" version is a myth we tell ourselves because walking in with the folder feels so undignified. But I've never met a single artist whose career started with a knock on the door from a gallerist. Even the ones who got scouted, it turned out they'd been showing somewhere small first, or someone they knew said their name loudly enough.
Mine was somewhere in between and also embarrassing. I did a residency, and the gallery that hosted it kept one of my etchings for their collection. I assumed that meant nothing because they never said anything or called. Two years later I'm at a print fair in Berlin and the same gallerist walks up to my table and says "we have one of your works, you know." And that was it, that was the opening. So I didn't walk in and they didn't find me. They'd just been holding a piece of me the whole time without telling me.
I think the folder-shoving counts. It's the part that proves you wanted it, and that matters more than the timing.
The "both and neither" is doing heavy lifting for most of us, I think. And no, I never did ask her. I was so stunned the call happened at all that I forgot to be curious. Still haven't, honestly. It's been years now and it feels too late to bring it up, like asking a host how you got invited after the party's long over.
But you're right about walking in with the folder, that's the bit nobody puts in the bio. My version involved sweating through my shirt in MG Road traffic and mispronouncing the gallery's name twice. The call a year later erased all of it, but the memory's still there, and it's funny, it's the part I actually remember most clearly. Not the exhibition. The folder.