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I'm thinking about the moments that surprised you in a good way with a gallery. For me it was maybe ten years ago, first meeting with a gallerist in Berlin. I brought my usual folder, ready for the standard conversation. She'd read my artist statement. Actually read it. Asked me about a line in it about layering as a form of memory, and I realised she'd thought about it more than I had in years. I didn't get the show. Didn't matter. That conversation changed how I thought about the work. What's a gallery interaction that surprised you, something that restored a bit of faith?

So a gallery in my city reached out. They saw my work online. Want me in a group show this spring. This is literally the thing I've been wanting for years and instead of being excited I've spent the last week spiraling. I keep thinking about how I've never been in a studio program, never had a crit, never had anyone teach me how to hang a show or talk to a collector. I don't have a CV. I don't have an artist statement that doesn't sound like a journal entry. And now I'm supposed to show up next to people who did all that the right way. I painted through the anxiety last night and honestly the piece that came out might be the best thing I've made all year. So maybe the fraud feeling is the point? Like if you're not scared you're not pushing it far enough? Anyone else get the thing they wanted and immediately want to run from it? Or maybe I'm just overthinking this.

How did you land your first gallery? Mine was pure dumb persistence. I was fabricating for a sculptor who had a show in a decent space, and I kept coming back to install and fix things. One day the owner asked who did the welding. I said me. She came to my studio a week later and took three pieces. No slideshow, no artist statement, no portfolio. Just the work in front of her. That was thirty years ago. I still think most of it is timing and someone seeing the actual object instead of the paperwork. What about you? Email with a portfolio, a walk-in, someone who knew someone? Or did it never happen the way you planned?

I once sent a portfolio to a small gallery in Warsaw and they said no, politely, but no. And you know what? I was actually okay with it. The process of preparing the submission, getting my slides organised, writing the artist statement, it made me look at my own work properly for the first time. So even the no taught me something. Anyone else have a rejection that ended up being useful somehow? Or am I just trying to make myself feel better 😅

Had a place reach out. Wanted a full portfolio, resume, artist statement, project proposals. All before they'd even agree to a studio visit. I just sent them a link to my website and said that was all I had. Anyone else get requests like this? Feels like a lot of hoops to jump through for a shot in the dark.

I sent my first gallery email with zero idea what I was doing. Didn't even have a proper artist statement, just three photos and a "hola, here's my pots" energy. They said yes anyway somehow. Now I look back and laugh, but also cringe at how unprepared I was on pricing, on commission, on all of it. What's the thing you wish someone had told you before that first conversation? Something nobody warns you about. For me it's that the gallery takes their cut off the top and suddenly your "sold!" celebration is doing math in your head. Worth it still. But I wish I'd had the numbers ready. Tell me I'm not the only one who went in blind.

Had a gallery owner come through the studio last month. Walked around for twenty minutes saying almost nothing. Looked at the welds on a piece I'd done three years ago, ran a hand over the stone base, asked me what grit I finished with. I told her 400 by hand, same as always. She nodded and wrote me a check for a show next spring. Ten years ago I would've prepared a statement, cleaned the studio, rehearsed what to say. This time I had grinder dust on my jeans and half a sandwich on the bench. She didn't care. She wanted to see how the work was actually made. I think the whole performance of being an artist is getting in the way for people who can actually make things. You spend so much time trying to look like an artist you forget to just be the one holding the tool.