Shadow and light: When galleries go dark, art is reborn
The auction room was steeped in a golden half-light, broken only by the beams of spotlights trained on the canvases lined up like ghosts of the past. That evening at Sotheby’s Paris, they weren’t selling a prestigious collection, but the last remnants of a gallery that had closed its doors in silenc
By Artedusa
••12 min read
Shadow and light: when galleries go dark, art is reborn
The auction room was steeped in a golden half-light, broken only by the beams of spotlights trained on the canvases lined up like ghosts of the past. That evening at Sotheby’s Paris, they weren’t selling a prestigious collection, but the last remnants of a gallery that had closed its doors in silence. Among the lots, a small Bernard Frize painting, bought a few years earlier for thirty thousand euros, was now fetching twelve thousand. In the room, a discreet collector murmured to his neighbor: “This is when art becomes a matter of the heart… or calculation.”
Gallery liquidations are not just sales. They are moments when art history tilts, when forgotten works resurface, when fortunes are made—or lost—in the shadow of bankruptcies. They tell another side of the market, less glamorous than Christie’s million-dollar auctions, but just as fascinating. Because behind every canvas sold at a knockdown price lies a story: that of a gallerist who believed in an artist too soon, of a collector who overpaid for a fleeting trend, or of a market that, sometimes, gets it wrong.
What if the most beautiful opportunities were hiding in these moments of crisis?
Galleries have a memory, and it’s written in their archives
There is something poignant about leafing through the records of a liquidated gallery. The yellowed pages, the hasty scribbles, the names of artists now famous alongside those, forgotten, who didn’t survive their time. These archives tell a more intimate story than museums or auction houses. They speak of broken friendships, bold gambles, debts accumulated in the hope of a stroke of genius.
Take Galerie Vallois in Paris. In 2022, after decades of championing artists like Jean-Michel Othoniel and Tatiana Trouvé, it had to lower its shutters. In its storerooms, they found works that had never been exhibited—pieces commissioned from emerging artists who had since joined the walls of the Centre Pompidou. These canvases, sold at reduced prices, carried the weight of an era when the gallery still believed in a more human, less speculative art market.
Liquidations are living archives. They reveal trends before they explode, mistakes before they become lessons. In 2015, when Galerie Michael Janssen in Berlin closed, works by Njideka Akunyili Crosby—then unknown to the general public—ended up on the market at derisory prices. Three years later, one of her paintings reached $3.1 million at Christie’s. Those who had sniffed out the opportunity that evening had done more than make a good deal: they had written a page of art history.
The great clear-out: when storerooms become treasure troves
In the collective imagination, a gallery is a place where masterpieces are displayed under perfect lighting. But the reality is quite different. Behind the carefully arranged walls lie cluttered storerooms, stacked crates, works never hung because they didn’t find a buyer. And it’s there, in these forgotten spaces, that the real liquidations take place.
In 2020, when Galerie Gmurzynska in Zurich closed its doors after sixty years of activity, collectors didn’t rush to its exhibition rooms, but to its warehouses. There, among hundreds of pieces, they discovered Picasso ceramics never shown to the public, Warhol drawings forgotten in boxes, and even a Basquiat canvas bought in the 1980s for a few thousand Swiss francs. These works, sold at prices well below their real value, attracted a crowd of bargain hunters—and a few shrewd speculators.
But beware: not all storerooms hide treasures. Some struggling galleries sell their most commercial stock first, keeping the least marketable pieces for last. Others, on the contrary, liquidate their best assets early, hoping to attract bidders. Knowing the difference is an art in itself.
A good indicator? The smell. Yes, you read that right. A well-maintained storeroom smells of waxed wood, old paper, sometimes a faint hint of mildew—signs that the works have been stored in acceptable conditions. If the air is thick with damp or dust, be wary: the canvases may have suffered, and their value with them.
The silent auction game: who buys, and why?
Liquidations are not like other sales. Here, there’s no charismatic auctioneer, no packed room jostling for a painting. Everything happens in silence, among insiders. Buyers recognize each other by their gaze: the one who scans the room without lingering, the one who takes discreet notes in a Moleskine, the one who whispers a price to the liquidator before disappearing.
Who are these shadow hunters?
First, there are the patient collectors, those who know the market has its cycles and that undervalued works always find their audience eventually. In 2019, an anonymous buyer acquired a Zao Wou-Ki painting at a Paris liquidation for fifty thousand euros. Three years later, he sold it at Christie’s for two million. “I didn’t buy a painting, I bought time,” he later confided.
Then come the opportunistic dealers, professionals who buy in bulk to resell retail. They arrive with precise lists, tight budgets, and leave with crates full of works they’ll later offload in their own galleries. Their strategy? Buying pieces by emerging artists or the secondary market, then placing them in fairs like Art Basel or Frieze. “A liquidation is like an art supermarket: you can find anything, as long as you know what you’re looking for,” explains a New York gallerist.
Finally, there are the institutions—museums or foundations that take advantage of liquidations to enrich their collections at a lower cost. In 2021, the Tate Modern acquired a Bridget Riley work at a liquidation sale for three hundred thousand pounds—a bargain, given that her paintings now fetch between one and two million.
But beware: not all buyers are angels. Some take advantage of galleries’ distress to negotiate indecent prices, others buy works without verifying their authenticity, hoping to resell them quickly. “A liquidation is like a flea market: there are gems, but also fakes and scams,” warns an art expert.
The pitfalls of the shadows: when a bargain becomes a nightmare
Art history is full of liquidations that went wrong. Over-eager collectors, works bought without verification, unscrupulous galleries—the examples are legion.
In 2012, Galerie Salander-O’Reilly in New York went bankrupt in a resounding scandal. For years, its owner, Lawrence Salander, had sold fake Pollocks, counterfeit Rothkos, and invented Motherwells. The result: dozens of collectors found themselves with worthless canvases, and Salander was sentenced to six to eighteen years in prison. “I thought I was buying a masterpiece, I ended up with a fake and a mountain of debt,” one of them bitterly confessed.
The traps are many. The first? Lack of provenance. A work without a clear history is a risky work. In 2018, a collector bought a “Modigliani” at a Swiss liquidation for two million dollars. Two years later, experts revealed it was a fake. The painting is now worthless.
Another danger: works encumbered by debt. Some galleries, before closing, mortgage their stock to obtain loans. If creditors aren’t repaid, the works can be seized—even after they’ve been sold. In 2019, Galerie Thomas in Munich had to return several Gerhard Richter paintings after the artist discovered his works had been used as collateral without his consent.
Finally, there are copyright issues. In Europe, artists benefit from a “droit de suite”: with each resale of their works, they receive a percentage. If a gallery fails to declare it, the buyer may end up having to pay arrears. In 2019, Christie’s had to settle one million pounds in unpaid royalties to living artists after a series of controversial sales.
So how do you avoid these pitfalls? “The golden rule is patience,” explains an art law specialist. “A liquidation is like a poker game: you have to know when to bet, and when to fold.”
The market of regrets: those works we buy too late
Some liquidations mark history. That of Galerie Maeght in 2021 was one of them. After the death of its founder, Aimé Maeght, the gallery had to sell part of its collection, including works by Miró, Giacometti, and Chagall. The prices were attractive, but the regrets were many.
“I should have bought that Miró,” a collector later confessed. “At the time, I thought the price was too high. Today, I’d give anything to have it.” This sentence is often heard in auction rooms. Because liquidations are also lessons in humility: they remind us that the art market is unpredictable, and that good deals never last.
In 2020, when Galerie Perrotin in Hong Kong closed, a Takashi Murakami painting sold for half its estimated value. Today, it’s worth three times as much. “The problem with liquidations is that you never realize how good a deal you got… until it’s too late,” sighs a dealer.
So should you rush in? No. But you should know how to spot the signs. A work by an artist on the rise, sold at a price well below its market value? A rare piece, never exhibited? An artist whose market is waking up? These are the clues that make the difference between an impulsive purchase and a wise investment.
The art of negotiation: how to talk to liquidators
Liquidators are not like other dealers. Their goal is not to sell at the best price, but to clear stock as quickly as possible. And that changes everything.
“With a liquidator, you have to be direct but polite,” explains an experienced buyer. “No small talk, no endless haggling. You come with an offer, negotiate downward, and pay cash.” In 2022, during the closure of Galerie Chantal Crousel in Paris, a collector obtained a 40% discount on a Tatiana Trouvé work by offering to pay immediately in cash.
Another tip: buy in bulk. Liquidators prefer to sell several pieces at once rather than negotiate one by one. “I bought five paintings at once and got a 50% discount,” recounts a dealer. “The liquidator was delighted: he’d cleared a third of his stock in one transaction.”
Finally, you have to know how to play on emotions. “A liquidation is a sad moment for a gallerist,” explains an expert. “If you show empathy, if you acknowledge the value of what they’ve accomplished, they’ll be more inclined to do you a favor.” In 2020, a collector got an additional discount on a Jean-Michel Othoniel work by promising to exhibit it in a museum. “I didn’t lie: I really did. But the liquidator didn’t know that yet.”
After the purchase: what to do with your treasure?
Once the work is acquired, another question arises: what to do with it? Sell it immediately? Keep it for yourself? Donate it to a museum?
The answer depends on your goals. If you’re looking for a return on investment, a quick resale can be tempting. But beware: “The market doesn’t like flippers,” warns a gallerist. “If you buy a work at a knockdown price and resell it six months later, you risk burning your bridges with serious collectors.”
The best strategy? Patience. “A work bought at a liquidation gains value over time,” explains an expert. “The longer you keep it, the more prestigious its provenance becomes.” In 2010, a collector bought a Gerhard Richter painting at a German liquidation. Ten years later, he sold it at Sotheby’s for five times its purchase price.
Another option: donation. In France, as in many countries, donating artworks to museums entitles you to tax reductions. “It’s an elegant way to do a good deed while optimizing your tax situation,” explains a wealth advisor.
Finally, there are those who buy for pleasure. “A liquidation is an opportunity to live with a work you could never have afforded otherwise,” confides an enthusiast. “Its market value doesn’t matter: what counts is what it brings you.”
Epilogue: will art survive its own crises?
Galleries close, markets collapse, speculators burn their wings… Yet art survives. Always.
Perhaps because a painting, a sculpture, an installation carries something eternal within it. An emotion, an idea, a trace of history. Liquidations are just parentheses in this great adventure. Moments when art, freed from the constraints of the market, rediscovers its true value: that of a dialogue between a creator and the one who looks at it.
So the next time you hear about a struggling gallery, don’t look away. Go take a look. You might find a work that’s been waiting for you all along. A piece that, against all odds, will change your life.
“Art is like love,” an old gallerist once said. “You never know when you’ll encounter it. But when you do, you recognize it immediately.”
Shadow and light: When galleries go dark, art is reborn | Buying Guide
