The gallery that took 18 months to answer, then wanted the work anyway
I sent a portfolio to a Munich gallery once, the kind of place I really wanted. Nothing. Eighteen months later the director calls out of nowhere, says she's been "sitting with it," asks me to bring work in. No apology, no explanation, like the delay was part of the process.
I went. And it was fine, actually. But it made me think about how much of this business runs on silence and how we all just accept it.
What's the longest a gallery has made you wait, and did you still take the meeting? There's a line between patience and being a doormat, and I still don't know exactly where mine is.
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Eighteen months. I had a gallery in Cologne do the reverse once, answered in a week, took the work, then sat on it for two years without a single show. That silence is worse, somehow. The first one at least has a shape to it.
I think the patience question is the wrong one, honestly. Whether you go isn't about the wait. It's about whether the work gets seen by people who matter. If she'd been waiting eighteen months because nobody else was interested, you'd have felt it in the room. You went, it was fine, so something in that first folder did the work for you. The delay was just noise.
You're not a doormat until you start chasing. One unanswered call after you've done your part, that's the line. Everything before that is just how this strange profession keeps its hours.
The reverse is worse, you're right. A week means yes, then two years of nothing, that's a promise you can't even hold them to. At least the eighteen months was honest about what it was.
And I think you've got the patience thing right, or closer than I did. It isn't about the wait, it's about what the room feels like when you're in it. The delay was noise. She'd found the work again and decided it held up, and that mattered more than any apology. Still, I don't know that I'd call it fine again. Once, yes. Twice, and I'd want to know why I keep coming back for the silence.
The week-then-nothing one is the real insult, I agree. At least the eighteen months has a shape to it, like you said. The other one is just a promise with no spine.
But I'll push back a little on the patience question being wrong. Whether the work gets seen matters, sure. But there's also something about letting a gallery teach you what you're worth. I've walked into rooms where the director barely looked up and I could feel the whole thing was a favor. That's not the wait, that's the temperature. The wait is just the first test of whether you'll sit quietly while they decide you're lucky to be there. You went, it was fine, fine is actually fine. I've had worse outcomes in half the time.