It’s no secret that the art world loves food: artists have set up their own restaurants, such as Rasheed Araeen’s Shamiyaana in Stoke Newington, and Jamian Juliano-Villani’s short-lived O’Flaherty’s cafe; galleries have established on-site eateries, such as Gagosian’s Kappo Masa and Hauser & Wirth’s Manuela (and the rest of Artfarm’s global art-hospitality takeover); collectors and dealers have even opened their own venues: at Ivor Braka’s eccentric Norfolk pub, The Gunton Arms, punters can eat venison sausages with mash while sitting amongst art by Tracey Emin and Sarah Lucas.
At fairs, conversation will invariably turn towards the subject of restaurants: Miami’s Puerto Sagua is a favourite of New York dealers like Miguel Abreu and Will Shott; Kiki’s and Pastis are well-trodden Manhattan spots; and in London, you have Quo Vadis and Toklas, the latter, owned by Frieze co-founders Amanda Sharp and Matthew Slotover, hosts parties and dinners every night during the city’s Frieze Week; and the ‘Messeplatz meal deal’ served at Art Basel – bratwurst, bread roll and mustard, swilled down with a glass of champagne or beer – is something of a ritualistic communion meal for collectors and the visiting public alike.
So it’s unsurprising that the meal following an exhibition private view is an important moment. For galleries operating a certain financial level, celebrating an artist’s show with a group dinner has become standard practice. The choice of venue is important in reflecting brand values and/or emphasise an alignment with the artist’s avant-garde / radical / overlooked / genre-defining (insert superfluous buzzword here) practice. In London, St. John is the obvious choice for its classic-yet-quirky hospitality that reignites tradition in unexpected ways. While some galleries, like Emalin, work regularly with chefs that bridge food with art – Imogen Kwok, whose elegantly precise, minimalist presentation recalls the work of sculptors like Donald Judd. Alcides Gauto is a veteran art world maître d’, currently at Toklas and formerly of Rochelle Canteen, who has hosted hundreds of art-world dinners, says “the main difference between a gallery dinner and a regular event is that it takes weeks, sometimes months, of preparation – it really takes detailed planning and creativity.” They also run late into the night, he adds. From his perspective, certain vital mechanics of the art world might actually take place over food and wine served at tables – not at desks, behind screens.
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But, beyond feeding guests courtesy of the gallery owner’s chequebook, what is the purpose of these events and what do they achieve? “Dinners function as less intense environments to build and foster relationships across the industry,” says Jennifer Kibazo of Strobel Lall communications, who works with galleries like Rose Easton, Gathering and Wschód. “With a broad range of arts professionals – artists, curators, collectors, sales directors and writers – in attendance, the dinner is more about giving guests a sense of a gallery’s ethos and guiding principles, as well as physically introducing guests to the staff actually running the gallery.”
Indeed, outside of the dinner context, it is rare for certain parts of the industry to mingle. Studio managers meeting auction house specialists; collectors meeting museum curators; writers meeting the artist’s friends, family and fling-du jour. “Like an informal think tank, the sharing of information, ideas, opinions sway minds after the dinner and therefore influences culture and art,” adds art advisor, curator and collector Daniel Malarkey. “I have met artists at gallery dinners and been so impressed by their practice that we have ended up collecting their work year on year and plan to keep doing so.”
Malarkey notes that dinners are also a chance “to see images on gallerist and artist’s phones of works just completed or in progress. When the crowd, food, timings, are right, there is a magic to the evening. It’s important to have plenty of artists and several very funny people to make sure the evening is entertaining and full of possibility.” Indeed, as one anonymous fashion editor tells me, “Writing is hard and quite lonesome, and events are a perk of the job. They’re a good excuse to have fun with people you know via the industry, have a few drinks, get the gossip and enjoy a nice meal you don’t have to pay for. They’re usually swanky and the conversation is good (and when it’s awful at least it’s funny to look back on). Some people completely shock you, some are wild, some are calmer than you might expect: it’s a vibe. Have too many drinks, wake up feeling fuzzy while finding an excuse to file your copy late to your editor (a week later)…”
But what about from the perspective of an artist? London-based artist Rhys Coren says, “As a younger artist, the concept of a gallery dinner annoyed me. They felt divisive – because it felt like some of your artist community were plucked out of the post-private view pub session with a golden ticket to dine with proper adults – and elitist. But perhaps that was just a reverse snobbishness which was born out of naivety and a fear of multiple rows of cutlery. It was The Sunday Painter – when they were an artist-led gallery and studio complex in Peckham – who helped change that perception by organising several great feasts, fuelled by curries they themselves cooked, or catered for by their neighbouring Sierra Leone or Jamaican neighbours. Everyone huddled around plinth-benches and ate from mix-and-match plates. It was there I realised that, actually, food was a great, democratising way to bring the different classes that make up the art world together.”
And from a gallerist? “Before I ran Union Pacific, I had a Gagosian events job, and sometimes a guest wanted to add a plus one last minute which was chaotic and frustrating,” says Grace Schofield. “But you just had to make it work, especially if they were a big client – you never say no. So when I did my first gallery dinner with my own gallery (a home cooked affair in a warehouse) and a prospective client asked to add a plus one, I huffed and puffed, but we made room, and this extra guest ended up being instrumental in the gallery. So the moral of the story is… sometimes the guests who aren’t the most obviously important have something very significant to offer. Maybe everyone should have a plus one as a standard to keep it interesting!”
So what are the dos and don’ts of attending such events? Naomi Rea, acting editor-in-chief of Artnet says: “Do try to go to the opening beforehand – even if just to catch the last ten minutes. If you get stuck at work or in traffic, people will understand if you could only make the dinner, but do bring good chat to make up for it. Do acknowledge your seat mates the moment they sit down, and engage in conversation with the person on either side of you.”
Kabir Jhala, deputy art market editor at The Art Newspaper, says: “Do: eat beforehand if it’s a standing dinner. If it’s seated but unassigned, get there early(ish) to scope out people you want to sit with. At least glance at the sales PDF or press release before showing up so you can feign interest in the show. Don’t: bring up heavy politics before the main course. Talk during the speeches, no matter how boring and gratuitous they are. Go for a cigarette without offering the person you’re sitting next to to join you.”
Rea continues with caution: “Don’t monopolise anyone’s attention, even if you’re sat next to Tracey Emin or Robbie Williams. And as tempting as it may be to capture all the juicy gossip you will get in real time – don’t take notes. At all times, one must keep up the charade that this is not work. If you absolutely need to, excuse yourself for a bathroom break and dump the intel on your phone before the free-flowing wine starts to play tricks on your memory. Gallery dinners can go on forever and it can be hard to politely excuse oneself. If you happen to be a journalist there’s one sure fire way to escape: ‘I’m on deadline’ works like a charm, every time.” Bon appétit!
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