Why I think less might be more in the art world
In a system built on volume, we risk losing what made art meaningful in the first place.
After more than three decades in the art world, Tim Blum recently closed his gallery. His reason? Not the market, but the system. “It’s not working. And it hasn’t been working,” he said. Those words have stayed with me.
I’m not an art dealer, but I have worked as a photographer, publisher, and artist for over a decade. My work has been exhibited at major art fairs and museums, auctioned internationally, and collected worldwide. I’ve built books, platforms, and relationships. Yet, like Blum, I increasingly feel that the structure we all move through no longer serves the art or the people making it.
The contemporary gallery system runs on pressure: There's pressure to produce more, show more, and sell faster. There are dozens of artists on a single roster. Multiple exhibitions each year. There's a constant cycle of fairs, dinners, previews, and shipping deadlines. This creates the illusion of momentum but rarely allows for reflection, risk, or meaningful dialogue. The result is efficiency without intimacy and visibility without engagement.
This isn’t a criticism of the galleries I work with. Many of them support my vision with care and conviction. However, I'm speaking more broadly about the dominant model across the industry. I think it’s time we ask whether that model still makes sense at a time when both artists and audiences crave something slower, more intentional, and more human.
What if we reimagined the gallery not as a distributor but as a collaborator? Imagine a gallery that works with just a handful of artists each year. One that co-publishes books. That replaces the grind of the art fair circuit with traveling exhibitions or residency programs. A gallery that invests in fewer relationships but cultivates each one deeply. That slows down to matter more.
As an artist, I have not only considered this shift; I have actively built my career around it. Through 1605 Collective, I publish my own books and the books of others. My studio is not only my creative home, but also a place where other artists can work, reflect, and exchange ideas. I’ve also established direct relationships with collectors, institutions, and printers. This is not to bypass the gallery model, but to expand it. I want to shape an ecosystem that prioritizes quality and clarity over volume and speed.
Collectors want more than transactions. They want to feel something. They want to know the story behind the work and be connected to the process, not just the price. When the art world becomes too fast-paced, crowded, and driven by spectacle, we all lose something. Not just artists, but also the people who care about what we create.
I remember standing in a room where everything had sold. The fair was technically a success. But no one was talking about the art. No one asked about the process or the intention behind it. There was no energy or curiosity. Just red dots and champagne. I thought, "Is this really the point?"
This isn't a call to dismantle the system. It's a call to evolve it. There are already galleries working in more focused and intentional ways. I see them, and I deeply respect them. However, across the industry, the default setting still seems to favor scale over substance. That is something worth rethinking.
So, the question becomes: Do we continue to move faster, hoping that the structure will somehow start to feel right again? Or should we stop for a moment and build something more sustainable that reflects how we actually want to live and create?
Art does not need more speed. It needs more meaning. Maybe now is the right time to choose that.
— Bastiaan
It’s a great time to re imagine what the new art economy could look like. In many ways, social media has challenged the traditional distribution dynamics of galleries. But art still remains a physical object so experiencing it in real life still matters. Be that art fairs or exhibitions. Galleries like any business have costs and incentives to grow and maximize revenue. But perhaps there could be other ways. Paying a ton of money somewhere like Paris Photo to show the work is a big cost for many so of course that puts pressure. Maybe a slower art fair. Les Rencontres d’Arles is more in that direction already. But I think we inevitably run into the questions about the larger model of capitalism anyway, and the art industry existing within it.
Reading this studio note I dare to ask: How about slowing down at the Fotoboeken Festival in Amersfoort in November? It feels like this event is in the line of what you are writing.
First of all, we are not a gallery but a unique exhibition paviljon, once designed by Rietveld to facilitate art. And that is what is still happening here, in a very accessible way. And here we want to give a platform to the art of making photobooks with the Fotoboeken Festival.
Would you consider joining the festival? The festival is not a place for publishers but for the makers. Books that in most cases have been self published, with passion, creativity, to find the best way possible to get the story, the photographs across. Books that you want to see, feel and experience. And because we want to give the best attention possible for the books, we offer visitors not an overload of 1000s of books but the opportunity to carefully admire a mere 100 special photobooks.
Visitors can come and browse, enjoy the exhibition of some of the photos from the books, listen to Artist Talks and get advice, insights into the process for their own plans or just curiosity in 1-on-1 Artist Consults.
Here we are slowing down with a focus on quality, not quantity. As you state: Art does not need more speed. It needs more meaning.
We would be honoured if you’d join.