The art that whispers to collectors: how to spot the next Basquiat before anyone else
Imagine an exhibition hall in Basel, a summer afternoon in 2024. The white walls of Liste Art Fair, dedicated to emerging artists, are bathed in golden light filtering through the skylights. Amid the hum of conversations and the clink of champagne glasses, one painting draws every eye. It’s a work b
By Artedusa
••12 min read
The art that whispers to collectors: how to spot the next Basquiat before anyone else
Imagine an exhibition hall in Basel, a summer afternoon in 2024. The white walls of Liste Art Fair, dedicated to emerging artists, are bathed in golden light filtering through the skylights. Amid the hum of conversations and the clink of champagne glasses, one painting draws every eye. It’s a work by Louis Eisner, a young New York artist whose paintings—somewhere between surrealism and comic books—seem to capture the anxiety of a generation raised between screens and climate crises. A collector approaches, eyes shining: "It’s as if Magritte met the Simpsons in a nightmare." A few hours later, the gallery announces that all the artist’s pieces have sold. Eisner isn’t even thirty, but his name is already circulating in the most exclusive circles of contemporary art. In two years, his canvases might be worth ten times more. Or maybe nothing.
That’s the paradox of emerging art: a playground as thrilling as it is perilous, where fortunes are made and lost on the whims of trends, algorithms, and billionaires’ caprices. Yet behind the media noise and auction records lie subtle, almost imperceptible signals that distinguish true talent from a mere flash in the pan. How do you spot, in 2026, the artist whose work will appreciate like fine wine aging in a cellar? The answer isn’t in auction catalogs or influencer rankings, but in a complex alchemy of intuition, network savvy, and a deep understanding of the forces shaping the world.
When museums bet before the markets
There’s something magical about the moment a museum decides to acquire a work by an unknown artist. This quiet gesture is, in fact, a strong signal: curators, those guardians of institutional taste, have sniffed out lasting potential. Take Jadé Fadojutimi, a British painter of Nigerian descent. In 2021, Tate Modern buys one of her abstract canvases, Jesture, for its permanent collection. At the time, her works sell for between $50,000 and $100,000. Three years later, they exceed a million. This isn’t a coincidence: museums don’t collect trends, they collect narratives. Fadojutimi, with her explosions of color and layers of paint that seem to breathe, embodies a new form of expressionism blending personal memory and postcolonial heritage.
Institutions play a key role in legitimizing artists. New York’s Whitney Museum is renowned for spotting talent before it explodes. In 2022, it dedicates an entire gallery to Simone Leigh, an African American sculptor whose monumental works, inspired by African traditions, instantly become icons. Two years later, Leigh represents the United States at the Venice Biennale, and her pieces reach record prices at auction. The message is clear: if a museum buys, it means the artist has already passed the test of time.
But beware: not all museums are equal. An acquisition by MoMA or the Centre Pompidou carries far more weight than an exhibition in a small regional museum. Similarly, biennials—Venice, Documenta, the Gwangju Biennale—are invaluable springboards. An artist exhibited in Venice in 2024 will likely see their market value soar in the next two years. Savvy collectors know this: they monitor museum schedules like stock market tickers.
Galleries, the alchemists of taste
Behind every breakthrough artist lies a gallery, often discreet but devastatingly effective. Some galleries have a legendary knack for discovering talent. Hauser & Wirth launched Mark Bradford and Rashid Johnson long before they became stars. David Zwirner bet on Yayoi Kusama and Marlene Dumas when their works sold for just a few thousand dollars. But for emerging artists, it’s often the smaller, bolder galleries that make the difference.
In New York, Company Gallery has become a reference for spotting artists before they explode. In 2020, it hosts Julie Curtiss’s first solo exhibition. The French painter’s works—populated by women with long hair and oversized fingers—go viral on Instagram. Two years later, her canvases sell for hundreds of thousands of dollars. In Berlin, Kraupa-Tuskany Zeidler launched Anne Imhof, whose glacial performances conquered the Venice Biennale in 2017. In Hong Kong, Empty Gallery backs hybrid artists like Tau Lewis, whose sculptures made from recycled textiles appeal to both collectors and environmental activists.
How do you identify a gallery that matters? First, by observing its programming: a gallery that only shows established artists isn’t necessarily a good indicator. But one that takes risks, that mounts solo exhibitions for unknown artists, is often a harbinger. Next, by following emerging art fairs: Liste Basel, NADA Miami, Frieze LA. These events are goldmines for discovering tomorrow’s talents.
But the real secret lies in relationships. Gallerists talk to each other, share information, invite one another to their spaces. An artist represented by a respected gallery has a better chance of breaking through than an isolated one. Art, after all, is a network.
The Instagram effect: when algorithms make and break reputations
In 2019, a young Ghanaian painter named Amoako Boafo posts a series of portraits on Instagram. His canvases—vibrant colors, expressive brushstrokes—immediately draw attention. An American collector, Stefan Simchowitz, falls under the spell and buys several works before Boafo even has gallery representation. Within months, his prices skyrocket: from $10,000 to $1 million. In 2020, one of his paintings sells for $3.4 million at Phillips. Boafo becomes a star in less than two years, thanks to a social network.
Instagram has revolutionized artist discovery. Today, a painting can go viral in hours, propelled by hashtags like #EmergingArtists or #ContemporaryPainting. Artists like Louis Eisner or Genesis Belanger owe part of their success to their online presence. Eisner, with his dreamlike paintings and acidic colors, has captivated a community of young collectors through videos of his creative process. Belanger plays with the codes of advertising and pop culture, creating sculptures that seem straight out of a surrealist dream. Her works, often shared on TikTok, have caught the attention of gallerists and museums.
But caution: Instagram can also kill a career. An artist too present on social media risks being seen as a marketing product rather than an authentic creator. Algorithms favor eye-catching images, not necessarily profound works. A colorful, easily digestible portrait will get more likes than a complex abstract painting. Yet it’s often in that complexity that long-term value lies.
Savvy collectors know the difference. They follow artists on social media, but they also visit their studios, read their interviews, analyze their evolution. A work that pleases Instagram isn’t necessarily one that will stand the test of time.
The studio, a laboratory of the future
There’s something fascinating about stepping into an emerging artist’s studio. It’s here, among paint pots, failed sketches, and improbable tools, that the future of art takes shape. A well-organized studio, where materials are chosen with care and experiments abound, often signals a serious artist. Conversely, a deserted workshop with a few generic canvases should raise red flags.
Take Tau Lewis, a Canadian artist whose textile sculptures made from recycled materials have conquered the art world. Her Toronto studio resembles a post-apocalyptic sewing workshop. Pieces of leather, plastic, and metal pile up in joyful disarray. Each work is hand-stitched, assembled with infinite patience. Her work is both political and poetic: it speaks of memory, identity, repair. In 2022, Beyoncé draws inspiration from her pieces for her album Renaissance, and prices soar. But what strikes most is the rigor of her process: she doesn’t create for the market, she creates because she can’t do otherwise.
At the opposite end of the spectrum, some artists produce in series, like painting factories. Their studios resemble assembly lines, where assistants reproduce standardized patterns. These works, often sold at exorbitant prices, eventually saturate the market. Collectors buy them as speculative assets, without regard for their real artistic value. By 2026, these artists may well be forgotten.
How do you tell a real studio from a dream factory? By asking the right questions: Does the artist work alone or with assistants? Do they use innovative materials or ready-made formulas? Do their works evolve, or do they repeat endlessly? An artist who innovates, who takes risks, who explores new techniques, has a better chance of lasting than one who simply reproduces what works.
The collectors who see before others
In the art world, some collectors have legendary intuition. François Pinault, the French magnate, bought works by Marlene Dumas and Urs Fischer long before they became stars. Bernard Arnault, head of LVMH, supported Takashi Murakami and Jeff Koons from their early days. Steve Cohen, the American billionaire, owns one of the finest contemporary art collections in the world, with pieces by Gerhard Richter and Julie Mehretu bought at bargain prices.
These collectors don’t just follow trends—they create them. They visit studios, talk to gallerists, read critics, analyze emerging movements. They know art isn’t just a financial investment, but a passion, a bet on the future.
In 2026, the collectors to watch are those betting on still-unknown artists whose work resonates with the issues of the moment. The favored themes? Ecology, artificial intelligence, identity questions, postcolonial memory. Artists who tackle these subjects with originality and depth have every chance of breaking through.
But caution: not all collectors are equal. Some buy out of snobbery, others out of speculation. The true connoisseurs are those who buy a work because it moves them, not because it’s fashionable. An artist supported by a passionate collector has a better chance of lasting than one bought by a speculator.
Pitfalls to avoid: when art becomes a fool’s gold
The history of art is littered with meteoric careers that faded as quickly as they began. In 2014, Oscar Murillo, a young Colombian painter, saw his canvases jump from $10,000 to $400,000 in months. Collectors fought over them, galleries courted him, museums exhibited him. Then, in 2016, the market turned. Prices collapsed, critics grew harsher. Murillo didn’t disappear, but his star dimmed.
What happened to Murillo could happen to any emerging artist. The art market is cyclical, and trends pass. In 2021, NFTs exploded, with record sales like Beeple’s Everydays: The First 5000 Days, which sold for $69 million at Christie’s. Two years later, the NFT market collapsed, and many digital artists saw their works lose 90% of their value.
How do you avoid these pitfalls? First, by distrusting media hype. A work that makes headlines isn’t necessarily a good deal. Next, by diversifying purchases: don’t bet everything on one artist or movement. Finally, by favoring artists whose work has conceptual depth, not just eye-catching aesthetics.
Another trap to avoid: vanity galleries, those spaces that charge artists to exhibit their work. Often located in trendy neighborhoods, these galleries promise visibility but don’t guarantee a career. A serious artist is represented by a gallery that believes in them, not one that makes them pay for their own opening.
2026: the artists whispering to the future
So, who are the artists to watch in 2026? Here are a few names already circulating in enlightened circles:
Ewa Juszkiewicz: This Polish painter, whose female portraits reimagine classical painting codes, has already seduced collectors. Her works, selling for between $500,000 and $1.5 million, could reach new heights in the coming years.
Meriem Bennani: A Moroccan artist based in New York, Bennani explores identity and technology through videos and immersive installations. Her work, both funny and profound, has already been acquired by MoMA.
Tau Lewis: Her sculptures made from recycled textiles, blending craftsmanship and ecological activism, have conquered the art world. In 2024, she exhibits at the Venice Biennale, a sign her star is still rising.
Ian Cheng: A pioneer of generative art, Cheng creates digital simulations that evolve in real time. His works, at the frontier of art and science, appeal to tech-savvy collectors.
But beyond names, what matters is developing an eye. Visit studios, talk to gallerists, read critics, analyze trends. Emerging art isn’t an exact science, but an adventure. And like any adventure, it demands courage, curiosity, and a healthy dose of intuition.
Art as a bet on the future
In 2026, the art market will be more than ever a mirror of our time. The artists who break through will be those who capture the anxieties and hopes of a generation. Those who speak of ecology, artificial intelligence, memory, and identity. Those who, like Basquiat or Mehretu before them, transform their obsessions into universal works.
But caution: art isn’t a lottery. Behind every work that gains value lies a network of galleries, collectors, critics, and museums that believed in it. Spotting an emerging artist is like guessing the next great vintage: you need to know the terroirs, understand the grapes, and have a little luck.
So next time you visit an art fair or scroll through Instagram, take the time to look. Sometimes, it’s in the details—a brushstroke, a color choice, an enigmatic title—that the next masterpiece hides. And who knows? Maybe you’ll be the one who, in 2026, discovers the artist everyone will be talking about in 2030.
The art that whispers to collectors: how to spot the next Basquiat before anyone else | Buying Guide
