Art within reach: When regional fairs reinvent the art market
Imagine an April morning in Brussels. The sky is a pearly gray, typical of those days when the city seems to hold its breath. Outside Hall 3 of Brussels Expo, a line stretches out, but no one is fidgeting. Here, no impatient VIPs, no gallery owners in three-piece suits checking their watches. Instead, art students, local collectors, curious passersby strolling between the booths. Inside, the atmosphere is electric, but without the palpable tension of the big international fairs. The works aren’t cordoned off by velvet ropes, the prices don’t make you dizzy, and conversations between artists and visitors flow naturally, like a chat between friends in a neighborhood café.
By Artedusa
••13 min readThis is the miracle of regional fairs. Places where art isn’t an inaccessible commodity, but a living, almost intimate experience. Where you can fall in love with an €800 canvas just as much as an €80,000 piece, without anyone judging you. Where gallery owners take the time to explain why that young artist from Strasbourg deserves your attention. Where, sometimes, a work "chooses" you long before you even think about buying it.
But how did these fairs—often born from a rebellion against Parisian centralism or the elitism of major events—manage to establish themselves as key players in the market? And why should you, too, make room for them in your journey as a collector or art lover?
01The provinces’ cry from the heart: when art refuses to be Parisian
It all began in the 1970s, in a France where Paris reigned supreme over the art world. Back then, if you were an artist living in Strasbourg, Lyon, or Marseille, your chances of exhibiting in a Parisian gallery were about as high as seeing a Soulages painting hanging in a police station. The art market was a pyramid whose dazzling peak crushed everything beneath it.
It was in this context that a group of Strasbourg gallery owners, exasperated by this domination, decided to create their own fair in 1972. Their motto? "Art isn’t just for Paris." The first edition of the Strasbourg Contemporary Art Fair took place in a former slaughterhouse—a symbolic venue if ever there was one. The raw brick walls, the dim neon lights, the smell of fresh paint and strong coffee: everything breathed rebellion. The works on display—often conceptual pieces or abstract paintings—clashed with the classicism of Parisian salons. And above all, the prices were affordable. For the first time, local collectors could buy art without going broke, and regional artists found an audience without having to go through Paris.
This Strasbourg fair wasn’t an isolated case. Around the same time, in Brussels, a small group of gallery owners organized an exhibition in a downtown hotel. No one expected this improvised event to give birth, in 1968, to Art Brussels, one of Europe’s most respected regional fairs. In Cologne, in 1967, art dealers created the Kölner Kunstmarkt, which would later become Art Cologne, the oldest contemporary art fair. Across Europe, the regions were waking up, refusing to let Paris and Basel dictate the rules.
What stands out in these beginnings is the almost militant energy driving the founders. It wasn’t just about selling art; it was about giving art back its local, human, accessible dimension. As Bernard Ceysson, one of the pillars of Art Lyon, would later say: "A regional fair isn’t a watered-down version of Art Basel. It’s a different model, where art isn’t a luxury product but a common good."
02The talent lab: when regional fairs play the role of talent scouts
If you had visited the booth of the Brussels gallery Greta Meert in 2000, you might have noticed a series of small canvases in muted, almost monochrome colors. Their creator? A young Belgian artist named Luc Tuymans, now considered one of the most influential painters of his generation. At the time, he was just one name among others in Art Brussels’ "Discovery" section. No one suspected that these works, sold for a few thousand euros, would one day be worth millions.
This story isn’t unique. Regional fairs have often served as springboards for artists who, without them, might have remained in the shadows. Nicolas Party, the Swiss painter whose dreamlike landscapes and stylized portraits now delight collectors, cut his teeth at Art Brussels. Claire Tabouret, whose melancholic canvases explore adolescence and memory, was spotted at Drawing Now Paris, a fair specializing in contemporary drawing.
But how do these fairs manage to unearth talent before anyone else? The secret lies in their curatorial approach, which differs greatly from that of major international events. While Art Basel or FIAC bet on established galleries and bankable artists, regional fairs take risks. They set aside spaces for young galleries, organize sections dedicated to emerging artists, and don’t hesitate to highlight works that stand out.
Take Art Cologne’s "New Positions" section, created in 2013. Each year, a handful of artists are given an individual booth, without a gallery to represent them. The idea? To give them maximum visibility and allow collectors to discover them without intermediaries. In 2015, one of these artists, Julian Charrière, presented a striking installation: blocks of ice slowly melting under spotlights, a poignant metaphor for global warming. Today, Charrière is represented by galleries in Berlin, New York, and Seoul, and his works are collected by institutions like MoMA.
At Artissima in Turin, the "Present Future" section plays a similar role. Since 2002, it has showcased artists under 35, often from local or emerging scenes. In 2018, it was there that the young Italian artist Giulia Cenci first exhibited her hybrid sculptures—half-organic, half-mechanical—which have since conquered the market. "Regional fairs are laboratories," explains Ilaria Bonacossa, Artissima’s director. "Ideas are tested, risks are taken. That’s where tomorrow’s trends are born."
03The art of connection: when fairs become literary salons
It’s 4 p.m. at Art Karlsruhe, and in the Thomas Gallery booth, a lively discussion is taking place between a collector, an artist, and an art critic. Around them, Georg Baselitz canvases sit alongside more recent works, and no one seems in a hurry. The collector, a man in his sixties, listens attentively as the artist explains his approach. The critic takes notes, asks questions. The atmosphere is both studious and relaxed, like a university seminar where PowerPoint presentations have been replaced by works of art.
This scene captures one of the great strengths of regional fairs: their ability to transform a simple market into a place of encounter, debate, and exchange. Unlike major international fairs, where visitors rush through like shoppers in a luxury supermarket, regional fairs take their time. They organize conferences, performances, workshops. They create spaces for conviviality—cafés, lounges, even pop-up bars—where artists, gallery owners, and collectors can chat without the pressure of sales.
At Drawing Now Paris, the "Drawing Lab" section takes this logic even further. Here, no traditional booths, but open spaces where artists work live, engage with the public, and explain their techniques. In 2022, the French artist Eva Jospin spent three days drawing a miniature forest on sheets of paper, under the fascinated gaze of visitors. "It’s a way to demystify art," explains Claire Burrus, the fair’s director. "To show that drawing isn’t a minor medium, but a living language, constantly evolving."
This human dimension is all the more valuable as it contrasts with the coldness often criticized in major fairs. At Art Basel, a gallery owner might grant you five minutes before moving on to the next client. At Art Brussels or Artissima, you can talk to an artist for an hour without anyone rushing you. "Regional fairs are places where you come as much to buy as to learn," confirms a Lyon-based collector. "You meet passionate people, discover stories, leave with ideas. It’s far more enriching than a simple purchase."
04The price of freedom: when art becomes accessible again
How much does a work of art cost? At FIAC, the answer is often: "Far too much." Between exorbitant booth fees, prices inflated by speculation, and assumed elitism, major international fairs can give the impression that art is reserved for a privileged few. Regional fairs, on the other hand, play by different rules.
Take Art Karlsruhe. In the "Young Art" section, works are sold for between €500 and €5,000. Prices that allow young collectors, art students, or simply enlightened amateurs to start a collection without going broke. "Our goal isn’t to sell pieces for a million euros," explains the fair’s director. "It’s to allow people to live with art, to hang it in their homes, to look at it every day."
This accessibility isn’t limited to prices. It’s also reflected in a more transparent, less intimidating approach. At Drawing Now Paris, works are often accompanied by detailed explanatory sheets, like in a museum. At Art Brussels, gallery owners don’t hesitate to talk about the artists they represent, their influences, their projects. "At a major fair, you feel like an intruder if you don’t know the codes," confides a visitor. "Here, you feel welcome, even if you’re a beginner."
This democratization has a concrete impact on the market. According to a recent study, 60% of Art Brussels buyers are under 40, compared to only 30% at FIAC. "Regional fairs attract a new generation of collectors," explains a gallery owner. "People who don’t just want to own art, but to understand it, live with it, share it."
And then there are those life-changing moments of serendipity. Like the young woman who, in 2019, bought a small abstract canvas for €800 at an Art Karlsruhe booth. The artist? An unknown named Jonas Wood, now valued at several hundred thousand dollars. "I didn’t know I was buying a future star," she says. "I just fell in love with that canvas. And today, it hangs in my living room, and I look at it every day, thinking how lucky I was."
05Behind the scenes of creation: when fairs become works of art
Behind every regional fair lies a story, a personality, a vision. And sometimes, these stories are as fascinating as the works on display.
Take Artissima in Turin. Founded in 1994 by a group of local gallery owners, the fair was long considered the poor relation of Art Basel. Until 2002, when its director, Ilaria Bonacossa, decided to shake things up. She created the "Present Future" section, dedicated to young artists, and "Back to the Future," which revisited forgotten works from the 1990s. "I wanted to show that Turin could be a laboratory of ideas, not just a market," she explains.
Her bold approach paid off. In 2016, Artissima became the first fair in the world to include a section dedicated to performances, "Per4m." In 2022, it innovated again by welcoming booths dedicated to NFTs, long before the major fairs took an interest. "Regional fairs have a freedom that big events don’t," Bonacossa continues. "They can take risks, test formats, shake up habits."
At Art Cologne, a different philosophy prevails. Since 2013, the fair has reserved a space for "New Positions," where emerging artists exhibit without gallery representation. "The idea is to give them maximum visibility," explains the director. "To offer them a chance to be noticed by collectors and institutions." In 2021, Art Cologne became the first carbon-neutral fair, an initiative that inspired other events.
And then there are the details that make all the difference. At Drawing Now Paris, the booths are lit by a soft, almost dim light to highlight works on paper. At Art Brussels, the "Prime" booths, located near the entrances, are reserved for the most prestigious galleries, creating a subtle hierarchy. At Artissima, the black walls of the "Per4m" section contrast with the white spaces of the other halls, as if to mark the boundary between traditional art and performances.
These choices aren’t trivial. They reflect a desire to create a unique, almost immersive experience. "A fair isn’t just a market; it’s a work of art in itself," explains a gallery owner. "The architecture, the lighting, the layout of the booths: everything should tell a story."
06The future of art: when regional fairs show the way
In 2020, as the world came to a halt due to the pandemic, regional fairs innovated once again. Art Brussels launched "Art Brussels Week," a hybrid event combining physical exhibitions and an online platform. Artissima created "Artissima XYZ," a series of virtual meetings between artists and collectors. Drawing Now Paris offered guided tours in augmented reality, allowing visitors to discover works from their living rooms.
These initiatives aren’t just adaptations; they’re responses to a crucial question: what will the art of tomorrow look like? Because they’re more agile and closer to artists and audiences, regional fairs are often the first to provide answers.
Take the issue of sustainability. While Art Basel and FIAC struggle to reduce their carbon footprint, Art Cologne became carbon-neutral as early as 2021. At Artissima, booths are built with recycled materials, and visitors are encouraged to use public transport. "Regional fairs have a responsibility," explains Art Karlsruhe’s director. "We can’t keep organizing events that destroy the planet. We need to rethink our model."
Another challenge: inclusion. Major fairs are often criticized for their lack of diversity, both in the artists exhibited and the audiences they attract. Regional fairs, on the other hand, are making concrete efforts. At Art Brussels, the "Discovery" section highlights artists from diverse backgrounds. At the Marseille Fair, partnerships with local associations allow underprivileged audiences to discover contemporary art. "Our role isn’t just to sell works; it’s to make art accessible to everyone," explains an organizer.
And then there’s the question that has haunted the art world for years: how to reconcile market and creation? Regional fairs offer an original answer. By focusing on affordable prices, taking risks on emerging artists, and creating spaces for dialogue, they show that it’s possible to sell art without draining it of its substance.
"Regional fairs are like secret gardens," concludes a collector. "You find treasures that the big fairs ignore. Artists who haven’t yet been spotted by the market. Works that speak to the soul, not just the wallet. And above all, that rare feeling, in the art world, of being in the right place at the right time."
So the next time you hear about Art Basel or FIAC, remember that another world exists—quieter, more human, more accessible. A world where art isn’t a commodity, but an adventure. Where every visit can be the start of a story. Where, sometimes, a work is waiting for you, even if you don’t know it yet.