The Art World I Know

By peter Koloff

I’ve lived on both ends of the art world where myth begins in borrowed spaces and where money crowns the myth in back rooms.
In Los Angeles, in my early days, I ran what I loosely called a gallery. In truth, it was a series of one night pop-ups, borrowed warehouses, vacant storefronts, and raw spaces turned into makeshift shows. I featured friends, strangers, anyone whose vision felt urgent. Some of those artists would go on to sell for six figures. But back then, we just needed a wall and a moment. What I learned was simple: the art world rewards momentum, but it immortalizes myth.

When I first moved to New York about 11 years ago, I stepped into the orbit of Maria Brito a curator, advisor, and cultural strategist with a sharp instinct for what was next. Through her I glimpsed the upper-tier machinery: pristine galleries, collectors with museum influence, careers mapped like architectural plans. I saw how the system worked. I respected it but I also knew I’d never be part of it in the traditional sense.

With Maria Brito and KAWS in New York, while shooting for her Greek Gotham catalogue

Several years later, in 2018, I met Eleonora Brizi. By then, I had already been in New York for years, but that encounter shifted my perspective. She had worked closely with the legendary Ai Weiwei before turning her focus to digital culture memes, early PEPE NFTs, and emergent forms of myth-making. Soft-spoken yet sharp, she told me: ‘These aren’t just memes. They’re myth in motion.’ The words felt prophetic. They reframed my sense of value not just as market, but as memory and myth before commodification

Earlier this year, I found myself inside the Gagosian Gallery, not the public facing exhibition, but the back room. The private gate.

I was accompanying a dealer with deep access, the kind you don’t get through RSVPs or press lists. There, in the silence, hung a rare Clyfford Still raw, uncompromising, untouched by signage or spectacle. In another room, I stood before a Maurizio Cattelan piece that had literally been shot with a gun violence embedded in the material, myth turned physical trauma.

No one was watching. No one was posting. I took a photo not for validation, but to mark the moment I saw the machinery up close. Myth, here, wasn’t theorized. It was priced, protected, and privately traded.

If you want to understand how the market moves, study Picasso. He wasn’t just an artist. He was a strategist. His line was a brand. He curated proximity, manipulated supply, and built a myth as valuable as the work itself.

The primary market is where legacy is born. First sales. Strategic placements. Galleries that think in decades, not quarters. Scarcity isn’t a side effect it’s policy.

The secondary market is about liquidity. Resales. Auctions. Inventory moving fast, chasing headlines. It can push prices higher in the short term, but it rarely builds long-term value.

Both can bring money. Only one builds history.

Take Alec Monopoly. His model is all liquidity, celebrities, murals, high-visibility plays. It’s fast, flashy, and built for the now.

Damien Hirst, on the other hand, began with legacy in mind part of the YBAs, championed by institutions. Then he engineered a pivot: direct-to-collector sales, industrial-scale production, and brand iconography as strong as any logo. He straddles both sides legacy and liquidity without collapsing into either.

Then there’s Allison Zuckerman, another example I happened to document closely. I photographed her first solo show at Kravets Wehby Gallery in New York a space that felt intimate but charged. That day, I was there thanks to an invite from Maria Brito.

A few days later, the Rubell Family Collection acquired 22 of her works in one visit. I photographed her again soon after, this time painting inside the Rubell Museum in Miami just days before her solo exhibition opened.

What struck me then, and still does, was how her path reflected the same dynamics I’d already witnessed many times before. It wasn’t just fast; it was deliberate. As Artnet later noted, “The Rubells bought 22 pieces… they were almost embarrassed to love them because they’re so easy to like. But when you spend time with Allison, you understand that it’s extremely sophisticated.”

Her rise was one more confirmation of the pattern: the path isn’t accidental. It’s curated, paced, and built to last.

Left image (first solo show):
Allison Zuckerman at her first solo show, Kravets Wehby Gallery, New York.

Right image (Rubells, Miami):
Allison Zuckerman at the Rubell Museum, Miami

I’m not a dealer. I’m not selling stories. I’m documenting when the arc bends.

To build lasting value, you can’t chase both liquidity and legacy full speed. Here’s what I’ve learned:

Your work needs a fingerprint. Style that’s instantly yours.

Your debut must land like a strike. First impressions echo.

Get in front of the right people. The ones who build careers, not just hype.

Release work like currency. Supply must be deliberate.

Your myth matters. When you’re not in the room, your story has to speak.

Most artists think they can balance both ends. They’re wrong.

Flooding the secondary market too soon kills scarcity. It makes it harder to keep prices stable, harder to attract institutions, harder to be taken seriously.

Liquidity pays rent. Legacy pays respect.

The next Picasso won’t be found flipping canvases out of a Chelsea storage unit. They’ll be the one shaping scarcity, protecting their myth, and making the market move around them not the other way around.

The artist who plays both games usually loses both.

Frequently Asked Questions

Q: What is the difference between the primary and secondary art market?
A: The primary market refers to the first sale of an artwork, typically through a gallery, directly from the artist. The secondary market involves resale through auction houses or private collectors after that initial sale.

Q: How do artists build long-term value in the art world?
A: Artists build lasting value by creating distinctive work, debuting strategically, limiting supply to maintain scarcity, and shaping their own mythology.

Q: Why is liquidity risky for emerging artists?
A: Too much resale too early can flood the market, reduce perceived value, and make it harder for institutions to take the artist seriously.

If you’re a collector, curator, or advisor who understands the value of the before, not just the after get in touch.
I’m always open to collaborations that document the arc in real time.
📩 contact@peterkoloff.com