The grand auction ballet: Where and when to join the dance of art fairs

These gatherings are not mere markets, but complex ecosystems where power, passion, and speculation intersect. Their calendar, as precise as an opera’s, sets the rhythm of the art world’s seasons. But how to navigate this waltz of dates and venues? Should you favour the temples of luxury like TEFAF, the laboratories of the avant-garde like Frieze, or the digital playgrounds like Art Basel OVR? It all depends on what you’re seeking: a safe investment, an emerging gem, or simply the thrill of witnessing history in the making.

01When the walls spoke: the legacy of salons past

To understand the mechanics of modern fairs, we must return to the era when art was decided within the gilded walls of the Royal Academy. In the 17th century, the Paris Salon was not just an exhibition—it was a tribunal of taste, where powdered-wig academicians delivered unappealable verdicts on which works deserved to be seen. Those admitted gained glory and royal commissions; the rest vanished into obscurity. This rigid, arbitrary system bred its own revolts. In 1863, Napoleon III, under pressure from the refusés, authorised the Salon des Refusés. Manet exhibited Le Déjeuner sur l’herbe there—a canvas that scandalised as much as it fascinated. The public laughed, critics raged, but something had shifted: for the first time, the art market began slipping from institutional control.

This tension between tradition and rebellion shaped modern fairs. Art Basel, born in 1970, embodies the capitalist version of this story. Its founder, Ernst Beyeler, wanted to create a counterweight to New York’s dominance, a place where European galleries could rival American giants. Today, the fair is more than a market—it’s a barometer of the art world’s economic health. In 2022, as auction sales broke records, Art Basel Hong Kong saw attendance rise by 30%, proof that the appetite for art doesn’t wane, even in uncertain times. But behind the numbers lies a more nuanced reality: fairs are no longer just places to buy—they’re stages where power dynamics play out between collectors, galleries, and artists.

02The auction theatre: where the great manoeuvres unfold

If fairs are stages, then VIP lounges are their backrooms. At Art Basel, the "First Choice" previews, reserved for top collectors, resemble secret meetings. Gallerists present their masterpieces before the official opening, in a hushed atmosphere where deals are sealed with a nod. In 2019, a Gerhard Richter painting sold this way for $30 million—without ever being shown to the public. These privileged moments remind us that in the art world, access often matters more than money.

But not all fairs play in the same league. TEFAF Maastricht, with its green-carpeted aisles and booths arranged like cabinets of curiosities, bets on expertise and rarity. Here, they don’t just sell paintings—they sell fragments of history: a medieval manuscript, a commode once owned by Marie Antoinette, a Ming vase valued at €12 million. The fair enforces draconian vetting: every work is scrutinised by experts for authenticity, provenance, and condition. In 2015, this rigour saved a collector from a costly mistake—a painting presented as a Frans Hals turned out to be a fake, and the gallery had to refund the €10 million already paid.

At the other end of the spectrum, Frieze London cultivates a more relaxed, almost punk aesthetic. Founded in 2003 by the editors of Frieze magazine, the fair upended conventions by mixing contemporary art, performances, and ephemeral installations. In 2013, a gallery presented an interactive work where visitors could urinate on a canvas—only to watch it transform into a painting thanks to a chemical reaction. The artist, Paul McCarthy, wanted to question the limits of the art market. The public mostly wondered if the smell would linger.

03New frontiers: when art leaves the fairs

Long confined to Europe and the United States, fairs have had to adapt to emerging markets. Hong Kong, with its local Art Basel, has become the crossroads of Asian art. In 2013, Zeng Fanzhi’s The Last Supper sold there for $23 million, a record for a contemporary Chinese artist. The fair now attracts collectors from the Middle East and Southeast Asia, eager for works reflecting their cultural identity. But this internationalisation has its downsides. In 2019, a gallery withdrew a piece depicting Chinese president Xi Jinping as Winnie the Pooh after pressure from local authorities. Even in the most prestigious fairs, art remains a political battleground.

The digital realm has opened another frontier. During the pandemic, Art Basel’s "Online Viewing Rooms" allowed collectors to keep buying from their living rooms. Some saw a revolution; others, a pale imitation of the physical experience. Yet these platforms democratised access to art. In 2021, a Julie Mehretu painting sold for $6.5 million in a few clicks—without the buyer ever setting foot in a gallery. NFTs, meanwhile, created a parallel market where traditional rules no longer apply. In 2022, a collector bought a Beeple NFT for $69 million at a Christie’s auction—only to resell it six months later for $28 million. The bubble burst, but the experiment showed that fairs must now contend with the virtual.

04The game of appearances: who buys what, and why?

Behind every acquisition lies a strategy. Institutional collectors—museums, foundations—favour fairs where quality is guaranteed, like TEFAF or Art Basel. In 2017, the Louvre Abu Dhabi acquired a Giovanni Bellini painting at TEFAF Maastricht for €12 million. The Virgin and Child joined a collection where it now dialogues with works by Mondrian and Cy Twombly. For these buyers, art is heritage to preserve, not an investment.

Private collectors often play a double game. Some, like François Pinault or Bernard Arnault, buy major pieces for their museums (the Palazzo Grassi in Venice, the Fondation Louis Vuitton in Paris) while speculating on emerging artists. Others, like American billionaire Steve Cohen, bet on safe bets: in 2021, he acquired a Picasso for $103 million in a private sale organised by Christie’s. These transactions, often concluded on the sidelines of fairs, remind us that the real art market unfolds as much in backrooms as on the floor.

But fairs aren’t just for the ultra-rich. "Affordable art fairs," like those in London or New York, offer works starting at €100. In 2023, a young British artist sold a series of prints for €5,000 each, funding her next project. These fairs attract a younger crowd, less interested in speculation than in emotion. For them, buying a work is about connecting with the artist, joining a community.

05The backrooms of power: who really pulls the strings?

Though fairs appear open to all, access is controlled by a handful of players. "Blue-chip" galleries—Gagosian, Hauser & Wirth, David Zwirner—dominate Art Basel’s central aisles, while younger galleries are relegated to less visible spots. In 2022, an African gallery cancelled its participation in Art Basel Miami after learning its booth would be in the basement, far from the action. Organisers cited "logistical constraints," but many saw it as a lack of openness to emerging markets.

Curators also play a key role. Hans Ulrich Obrist, artistic director of London’s Serpentine Gallery, is known for spotting talent before it explodes. In 2010, he invited Pakistani artist Huma Bhabha to exhibit at Frieze Masters when she was still relatively unknown. Today, her sculptures sell for hundreds of thousands of dollars. These "discoverers" are the new arbiters of taste, capable of making or breaking a career with a single spotlight.

But the real power may belong to collectors. In 2018, Qatar acquired a Cézanne for $250 million, a record for a work of art. This private deal showed that fairs are no longer the only places where big business happens. Today, private sales account for nearly 60% of the art market, compared to 40% for auctions and fairs. Galleries and auction houses organise discreet "viewing rooms," where works are shown to a select few. In this world, information is currency: knowing a collector is after a Rothko, or that a museum is planning a retrospective on an artist, can make the difference between a good deal and a bad one.

06The future of fairs: between tradition and revolution

As the art world digitises and globalises, fairs must reinvent themselves. Some bet on hybridisation: Art Basel now offers augmented reality experiences, while Frieze has launched artist residencies. Others explore new formats. In 2023, 1-54, a fair dedicated to contemporary African art, held an edition in Marrakech, drawing collectors from around the world. Its founder, Touria El Glaoui, wants to make Africa a major player in the art market—not just a source of inspiration for Western artists.

Sustainability is another challenge. Fairs leave a hefty carbon footprint: in 2019, Art Basel emitted over 2,000 tonnes of CO₂, the equivalent of 400 Paris-New York flights. To address this, TEFAF launched a "sustainability task force," while Frieze offsets emissions by planting trees. But will these measures satisfy a new generation of eco-conscious collectors?

One thing is certain: fairs won’t disappear. They remain unique places where art is lived, discussed, and negotiated. Whether you’re a seasoned collector, a passionate amateur, or simply curious, there’s a fair for you. The key is choosing the right moment, the right place—and above all, the right work. The one that might, just maybe, change how you see the world.

Because in the end, buying a work of art is more than a transaction. It’s an encounter, a gamble, the start of a story. And in this grand auction ballet, every step counts.