True Story: ‘How an art critic came to be so disenfranchised with the system that she went back to what’s important: Art and $profit.’

This is the genesis of www.45projects.com.

About 3 years ago, I conceived of a place that doesn’t exist, and named it “the market project.” This ‘project’ would turn the art world on its ear; it would be a new way of doing business. Artists and curators and dealers and collectors would all be part of a giant consortium—a constellation of arts professionals, if you will. And all would be equal.

Roberta Smith (my favorite arts journalist)

People in one branch of this constellation (to sloppily mix my metaphors) would get folded into the whole, their skill sets appreciated, and used to non-competitive, mutual, and personal benefit.

Roberta Smith--as depicted in the "Fortress to Solitude" show by Phong Bui

Critic and Dealer and Practitioner wouldn’t jockey for prominence. No sir. In my ‘project,’ everyone would make a profit. And they’d all, somehow, be regulated by me. Well, at least for starters.

"Prostoglandin synthesis regulation" courtesy of nugo.org

It’d be easy, right?

I consulted friends, business people for feedback. I had a business card made up; I made ‘themarketproject’ my e-mail address; and so generally, whenever I did some cool, art-centered, artist-empowering, Sarah-empowering thing (like run my own artist-writing collective–”CoLab”–as I did, for a time) I considered it my quiet little branch of ‘the market project.’

I continued to do all sorts of boundary-blurring projects, both creatively, and to earn a living. Ghost writing and consulting for a longtime photo collector and dealer. Collaborating with my artist-writer group on a show. Lecturing artists on how write about themselves. Going to artist’s studios and writing for them, empowering them. I’d help artists get grants, get into good schools, get their act together. I’d give my opinion to any dealer or curator or rich collector who asked on what was worthy, and what was dross.

All the while, watching print journalism die.

Why write on pieces of paper anymore—I asked myself? The Internet is where it’s at. Why must I help artists write proposals for tiny shows in not-for-profit spaces with no heat or hot water, when I can CREATE A GALLERY AROUND THEM.

Actually, that latter idea wasn’t mine at all. It came about when I had a chat or two with a fine artist and graphic designer whose work impressed me in his studio. (Now he’s my business partner.)

Turns out, he’d be willing to create these spaces ‘for’ me; I just have to choose the art. He’d be willing to work with me: as long as we make a profit all ’round.

Is this ‘the market project’ come to life, or what?

After a data- (as in, visual data) finding foray to Paula Cooper, the gallery in which I later mounted “The Space Between Us” was born.

works by artists Chris Spinelli and Erik Sanner, 'installed'

After a data-finding mission to the Lower East Side’s envoy gallery, et al, the next show at 45projects—”The Guilt Show”—is currently being, um, hewn. In zeros and ones.

I figure out what works in the art world; I figure out what doesn’t—but should. I try to combine them. That’s my plan for now.

The boundaries are totally blurring. And the limitations are falling away.

I don’t believe in limitations. Do you?

45projects.com.