Galerie Springer, Berlin
Whenever possible, I like to alternate between very different styles of galleries. Naturally, one might think that the intimate, highly curated nature of smaller venues would yield a warmer, more attentive experience.
But occasionally, I have been entirely ignored as a visitor even in tiny gallery spaces, while receiving the most generous welcomes and genuine, in-person interactions from the owners or directors of highly prestigious institutions.
Funny thing is, I know my way around luxury stores and high-end art fairs. I am well-versed in those discreet signals you use upon entering a space to convey that you are a serious collector. And when those fail, I know the slightly less subtle hints you can drop to command attention.
Which is why I was totally dumbfounded when I visited Galerie Springer.
Galerie Springer
The exhibition was genuinely interesting, and several photographs possessed a compelling artistic vibe. The space was compact but impeccably organized, and the outdoor signage promised a high standard of quality. It was late afternoon, and I was still in full business attire, heading to a corporate event after a day of back-to-back meetings. In a nutshell: everything about me screamed “potential collector.”
I explored the entire space undisturbed—which, in a sense, was actually quite nice, as it gave me plenty of time to take in each photograph on display. On a few pieces, I lingered even longer than necessary, fully expecting the owner (whom I could glimpse at his desk in the back room) to come over and greet me.
Nothing.
At some point, it actually became amusing. I found myself wondering how someone could put so much effort into actively ignoring a visitor in such a small space.
Arnold Odermatt Exhibition
Finally, I decided to force the interaction. I stepped deliberately into the office area to say hello and inquire about the photographer featured in the front room. I barely managed to extract a name and a few scarce details, though it was enough to confirm that a language barrier wasn’t the issue.
Deciding to push my luck, I asked if I could take a few pictures for an Instagram story and tag the gallery. I received a brief, indifferent nod.
And that was it.
To this day, I cannot even remember the name of the photographer featured in that exhibition. The chill of the interaction completely eclipsed the art on the walls. It made me realize how easily a cold human experience can erase the creative work on display. Even if I had fallen deeply in love with a print that afternoon, the sheer exhaustion of trying to bridge that gap with someone so deliberately indifferent would have killed any impulse to buy.
Cars
On my way back, I couldn’t help thinking about the numerous beautiful encounters I’ve had while visiting photography galleries and museums around the world : the inspiring conversations with gallery owners, exhibition curators, photographers, and even art students or gallery assistants.
