Chantal Crousel, Liza Essers, Luisa Strina | She Frames

Nov 12

Written By TANG SIYU

In the dynamic world of contemporary art, Chantal Crousel, Liza Essers, and Luisa Strina stand out for their innovative contributions and visionary approaches. Each, through their respective galleries, champions conceptual art while emphasizing its prismatic role—focusing on social impact, innovation, and cross-cultural exchanges that challenge and expand viewer perspectives.

Nestled in the heart of Le Marais, Galerie Chantal Crousel—named after its founder—has been a cornerstone of Paris’s contemporary art scene for over forty years. With Belgian roots and a passion for Classics and Languages, Crousel has introduced France to a range of internationally acclaimed artists whose works resonate deeply with viewers. Her dedication to conceptual art and ability to bring challenging bodies of work to Paris set her apart. Known for its diverse roster, the gallery features artists ranging from established British sculptor Tony Cragg to Mimosa Echard, recent winner of the Marcel Duchamp Art Prize, reflecting Crousel’s commitment to fostering global talent across various mediums and disciplines.

Liza Essers, at the helm of Goodman Gallery, has transformed it into a global hub for artists from diverse cultures and disciplines. Located in South Africa with branches in London and New York, the gallery serves as a niche platform for artworks that catalyze social change and shift perspectives. Essers’ philanthropic efforts and collaborations, such as with the Red Cross Children’s Hospital, underscore her belief in art’s transformative power. She champions female artists, elevating voices like mixed media painter and installation artist Ghada Amer, and the evocative photographs and film installations of Zineb Sedira, integrating art into broader cultural conversations.

Luisa Strina’s gallery in São Paulo celebrates fifty years since opening its doors to groundbreaking exhibitions. As a pioneer in the Brazilian art scene, Strina brought international recognition to Brazilian artists and became the first Latin American gallery to participate in Art Basel Miami. Her gallery’s commitment to conceptual art and fostering a close-knit artistic community has made it a nurturing space for acclaimed artists like Alfredo Jaar and Mira Schendel. Strina’s influence extends beyond Brazil, representing globally renowned artists such as Abstract Expressionist Robert Rauschenberg and emphasizing continuous engagement and development in artistic practices.

Through the prism of their unique experiences and visionary leadership, Crousel, Essers, and Strina have each carved out a niche that reflects their personal journey while contributing significantly to the global art world. Each believes that art should go beyond an aesthetic value, to a place where it can challenge viewers, provoke thought, cross borders, and impact the larger cultural landscape. Their stories and insights offer a rich tapestry of perspectives, illustrating the transformative power of art across cultures and communities. As artists wield their tools to paint, these pioneers have provided spaces in which to conceptualize and materialize artistic reflections on society, politics, and life beyond the gallery walls.

Chantal Crousel

“There is nothing more dangerous for an artist than to give in, and to repeat, instead of investigating other directions.”

Q: You have roots in Belgium and later moved to Paris. Was your move driven by your interest in pursuing art?

A: It were rather private reasons. Originally from the North of Belgium (Flanders) I was living and working in Brussels as an executive assistant for an American company. During lunch time, I went walking along the main avenue: avenue Louise. One day, I was struck by a small “picture” in a huge vitrine. So impressed and attracted, I entered the “shop” and asked the lady about this drawing. I ended up buying it. Not only did she explain to me in detail what it represented and how it was made, but she enlightened me about a new direction in my professional life.

Having met my future husband in Belgium, we moved to Paris shortly after, in 1972, where he had got a new responsibility. I started studying art history and contemporary art at ICART, and finished top of the class, to my big surprise, in 1973. During my studies, I had the chance to do an internship at Alexander Iolas, a famous gallerist of Greek origin, who represented not only major contemporary artists such as Niki de Saint Phalle, Jean-Pierre Raynaud, Jean Tinguely, Oyvind Fahlström, Takis, Roberto Matta, but also Victor Brauner, Max Ernst. It opened horizons, and stimulated the importance of crossing borders and making bridges, which I have always been interested in.

Q: What specifically drew you to Art History? Where was your first gallery?

A: During my childhood, I was surrounded by encyclopedias of Greek and Latin archeology and art history in the library of my father. Besides, we traveled to archeological sites over Europe. In my class at ICART, that was multidisciplinary, I was close to a French student—Jacques Blazy—who specialized in Pre-Columbian and Pre-colonial African art. After long and passionate discussions, we decided that we would open a gallery together, in which we would develop a dialogue between contemporary art and “primitive art.”

“La Dérive,” at 17 rue des Saints-Pères, in the 6th arrondissement, opened in 1976. In this uneven confrontation, the French audience was easily seduced by the high quality and already digested “primitive art,” rather than by the mainly unknown contemporary artists (at that time), such as Christian Dotremont, and other artists from the CoBrA movement (1948-1951). So this uneven balance was disassembled after 3 years. We have remained good friends.

Chantal Crousel in Wolfgang Laib’s solo exhibition, 1981. Courtesy of the artist and Galerie Chantal Crousel, Paris

In 1980, I was contacted by someone who wanted to share a space, at 40 rue Quincampoix, Paris 3, a small street parallel to the Piazza Beaubourg, and the Centre Pompidou. A large window and a wide space: a luxury. In those years, I traveled often to Ghent, where I had maintained contacts, among others, with the excellent and inspiring director of the Museum of Contemporary Art: Jan Hoet. During the preparation of one of his highlight exhibitions in Ghent: Art in Europe after ’68, he invited me to discover Tony Cragg’s projects. We were both struck and seduced by the originality of his work. Tony Cragg would present some months later a huge work in this exhibition, that showcased a range of upcoming artists from Europe or Iiving here. That was for me a source of inspiration. I asked Tony if he would like to show his work with me in Paris. He said yes. In 1981, we presented his first solo exhibition in France.

Tony arrived in Paris with empty pockets, one week before the opening of his exhibition. Every preceding evening, we toured in the city. I was at the steering wheel, and he said: “Stop!” I stopped, and he collected objects along the sidewalks before the garbage truck came to pick them up. In one week, the gallery was more than full, and the last night before the opening, he spent in the gallery, composing all his sculptures.

Tony Cragg, ***Untitled (Tree)***, 1980, wood, 600 x 225 cm. © 2024 Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York, Courtesy the artist and Galerie Chantal Crousel. Photo : Bertrand Huet

Q: What was the reception of that exhibition?

A: Amazing. People were amazed and surprised. In France, museum curators were the first who showed concrete interest in Tony Cragg’s work. Followed by some French and Belgian collectors. But it took time to share my enthusiasm and my interest in international artists with the French audience.

Q: When you first opened, you showcased Cindy Sherman, Robert Longo and other Conceptual artists, but these were not well received. How did you overcome these challenges in the beginning?

A: In France, there was a movement of conceptual art, but not in the way of “picturealism,” as it was in New York—linked to attitudes and cinema. Through my connections with New York, I discovered the work of Jenny Holzer, Peter Nadin, Cindy Sherman and Robert Longo in the apartment of Metro Pictures—before they opened their gallery. I was immediately interested in this mirror of society. How could I, as a foreigner, bring a mirror to the French scene? In parallel, in the beginning of the 80s and all through that decade, a huge number of bienniales and documentas brought together people from different countries, and especially a new generation of artists and museum curators. I was very close to the previous director of the Moderna Museet in Stockholm, Pontus Hultén, who had become the director of the Centre Pompidou. He was a great support. This was precious to me.

Q: For artists, it is important to have their work placed in institutions. Your experiences, meeting these curators, helped giving these artists a platform.

A: It places them and their work in the perspective of history of art. This remains the best reason to support museums. They are the true keepers and constructors of the ongoing History of Art through times and whatever changes society undergoes. If a work is good for a museum, it can only be good for a collector.

Q: How do you push artists when they lack inspiration?

A: If they lose inspiration—which is totally human—I advise them to slow down and to take a distance. The interesting artists do it by themselves. But if artists mention their ongoing demand: there is nothing more dangerous for an artist than to give in, and to repeat, instead of investigating other directions.

Q: An artist once shared with me that you cannot simply become an artist. One has to produce work that will stand the test of time, and that will convey a message years from now.

A: Absolutely. An interesting artwork is the result of the need to express a vision, question about society, about who we are, surrounded with elements from history, other cultures and continents.

Q: Do you look for this when approaching an artist?

A: This approach has not changed—even if it is now the responsibility of Niklas. It is a new generation, compared to mine. The artists I have been introducing, and who continue being happy at the gallery, also work alongside a new generation of artists. It is positive for all generations to have this kind of friction and different points of view.

Q: Has the ethos of the gallery changed when Niklas Svennung (Chantal’s son, Director of Galerie Chantal Crousel) took over? How would you describe your niche for your gallery?

A: The older artists have a good reason why they have chosen to work with the gallery. They are part of this community of artists, which is important to them. There are many galleries that specialize in one line, such as abstract or figurative painting. What the artists enjoy about our gallery is that they are in dialogue with artists who have very different expressions, including film, music, performances. For a long time, artists like Rirkrit Tiravanija and Danh Vo among others, have always been kind of nomads. Gabriel Orozco lives in five different countries. They all like to come to the gallery when one has an exhibition, or when they are in Paris. They all come like a family. It does not feel like a competition; it is a community.

Wade Guyton, ***Galerie Matthiesen, Ausstellung, Edouard Manet, 1928, 6. Februar bis 18. März, Vol. II, 64 to 72***, 2022. Lithograph on book page, 26.2 × 21 cm — 10 5/16 × 8 1/4 in unframed each; 44.5 × 40.6 cm — 17 1/2 × 16 in framed each; 143.5 × 133.5 cm — 56 1/2 × 52 9/16 in. Courtesy of the artist and Galerie Chantal Crousel, Paris. Photo: Ron Amstutz

Q: What about Wade Guyton?

A: Early on in his career, Wade became almost of victim of the success on the secondary market for his X paintings. People who had no feeling nor understanding about his work acquired these paintings and put them back at auction eventually. Very soon, it became clear that Wade took this seriously. In the course of the following years, his subjects varied from abstract (among other bitmap motives) to figurative (studio photographs, newspaper front pages—with frontal yet refined contents. With the constant, iconic division of the canvas in two halves. The recent series that we presented last October is based on a book on Manet, published in 1928 by Matthiesen, a Berlin Gallery. Wade has been able to buy a number of copies of the original book. He has taken the pages apart, and created a bitmap, transferred by a Swiss lithographer on as many groups of 9 pages as to cover the entire book. A hidden 19th century world behind a contemporary veil.

Q: Did you find that the artists you worked with in the beginning shaped your interests?

A: The construction of the program is based on encounters and experiences. Each new artist adding a different aspect, a new expression, a new vision on our society.

One of the unforgettable encounters happened with Gabriel Orozco. Having participated in in a group exhibition in the Museum of Fine Arts in Antwerp, curated by Benjamin Buchloh and Catherine de Zegher, who was the director of an independent art space “Kanaal,” an abandoned brewery in Kortrijk, she invited Gabriel to stay in residency in her place, in order to create new works on the spot, with  local found objects and materials. After a few weeks, in April 1993, Gabriel had composed a poetic, subtle and surprising group of works, consisting of sculptures in tiles, dust, rubber, hair, and a beautiful series of photographs. A meaningful reading of the past and the present of this once active place. A wonderful encounter.

Gabriel Orozco, ***La DS***, 1993. Altered Citroën DS, 140 x 480 x 114 cm. Courtesy of the artist and Galerie Chantal Crousel, Paris. Collection Fonds national d’art

A few months later, we met again in Venice, where Gabriel participated in “Aperto,” in the XLV Biennale. During one of our many walks, I asked Gabriel if he would accept to come and stay in residency for two months in Paris, and to consider—if inspired—to create a work for the gallery. In September, Gabriel arrived, hands in his pockets. Two weeks later, he bought a toy model of the Citroen DS, and cut it in two lengthwise. Some days later, he asked me if I could find an abandoned Citroen—which I did immediately—by chance. Then I found a garage where to install the car. But most important: I found the person who was skilled to realize the transformation of the Citroen—ideal family car according to Roland Barthes—into the unique, world-famous Citroen DS by Gabriel Orozco. This work was inaugurated on December 4, 1993 and acquired by the French Ministry of Culture...

I don’t calculate the risk. I trust the artist. Things like that keep me going peacefully.

Q: Do you have any advice for people who want to become gallerists now or even art collectors?

A: I think in both cases, you need to be passionate. You need to be ready to learn not to listen to every opinion. The first person you have to trust is yourself. You have to allow yourself to vibrate, to fall in love with the work. For me, this has always been my reference. If the works talks to me, disturbs me positively, if I need to know more about it, if I want to live with it, then I go for it. And then, I want to know the person behind it—which can enrich the context of the work.

Liza Essers

“I believe we are merely custodians, responsible for preserving art history, supporting artists, and reflecting society and aspiring for social equality and change through art.”

Q: Can you tell me about your background and how your family and culture have shaped your interest in art?

A: Growing up in Durban, my family and cultural background greatly shaped my interest in art. However, I’m not sure if Durban itself played a significant role. I’m first-generation South African; my mom was a refugee from Libya who left in 1967. This history has fueled my interest in Middle Eastern art, and I’ve included many artists from South Africa in the gallery’s program over the years. It’s been a way to connect with my family history and personal roots.

My dad was a jazz musician who played the trumpet and worked in men’s fashion. His influence, along with the musical heritage of my family—full of singers, composers, and musicians—has significantly shaped my interest in art. Initially, my passion stemmed from music, which has been a central part of my family’s life.

Q: Are you musical at all? It’s compelling to see how different disciplines, like music and visual art, intertwine to create something unique.

A: I love music, and I think I am musical—it’s about being in an altered state. I believe the best art comes from letting go of the ego and the everyday, being in an altered space where there’s an ability to reflect or be free.

Q: Do you believe the best art also come from pain?

A: It depends on where you are in your own process. Art can come from many different places, including pain. When you reach the other side of pain, you often see the greatest transformation within yourself. No one avoids pain, but it’s about how you deal with it, how you get through to the other side, and how you perceive the world afterward.

Q: And I think that reminds me of Ghada Amer. She works in collaboration with Reza Farkhondeh.

A: Absolutely, and in fact, they are still incredibly close—best, best, best friends. They see each other every day. They created incredible works under the name “RFGA,” which stands for the first two letters of Ghada’s name and Reza Farkhondeh’s surname: G-A from Ghada and R-F from Farkhondeh, making “RFGA.” Reza made the paintings, while Ghada might have done the sewing and layering on the canvas.

Ghada Amer and Reza Farkhondeh in the studio, 2018. Courtesy the artist and Goodman Gallery

Q: Tell me about Ghada Amer’s work and practice.

A: Well, one has to consider Ghada’s background. She comes from a very conservative culture and is passionate about women’s rights and the female body, focusing on feminism. If you look at the language and imagery she uses, they’re centered around the body. She is very much a feminist artist, focused on women’s rights and the female form.

Her work is incredibly brave, especially considering the context of the ‘90s and early 2000s when she was creating it. At that time, many Muslim women in more conservative countries were fully covered, and you certainly wouldn’t see images of two women kissing or a naked body. Ghada’s art challenged these norms and spoke out for women’s rights.

She is an important voice in contemporary discourse, akin to other great feminist artists like Barbara Kruger. Although she may not always be recognized in that same category, her pioneering early works certainly affirm her place there.

Q: Agree. Despite having their work featured in major institutions and receiving significant representation, women artists still often face lower pricing compared to their male counterparts. Why do you think this disparity persists?

A: A hierarchy still exists in the art world, particularly around painting. This holds true especially where materiality or traditional work is used as the medium. On a personal note, I’m deeply obsessed with collecting textiles. You’ll see a piece by Sonia Gomes hanging here in my office. One of my greatest passions is collecting carpets. When it comes to choosing a handbag, it has to be unique—often handcrafted, like exquisite baskets or other artisanal items.

Sonia Gomes, ***Outro Lugar***, 2015, Fabric. Courtesy Goodman Gallery

Q: So you’ve always been drawn to textiles. Have you also brought artists who specialize in textiles into the gallery?

A: Not necessarily although we recently started representing Laura Lima, an artist from Brazil. On a personal level, I’m very drawn to textiles. In my lounge, you’ll see a mix of textile-based works from my personal collection, including pieces by Ghada Amer, Alighiero Boetti, Igshaan Adams, Nicholas Hlobo, and Louise Bourgeois. It’s a reflection of my own collecting choices. The piece that’s hanging in my lounge is probably one of the first works Adams ever made, I bought it probably 15 years ago.

Q: What motivated you to acquire an existing gallery rather than starting one from scratch?

A: I was working as an independent curator and filmmaker when I came across the Goodman Gallery, which started in 1966. As a collector and patron, I had always admired the gallery for its significant role during the apartheid era and its rich history. I valued its importance within the South African and international art scenes. I had collaborated with Linda on independent projects and made a film about William Kentridge and Marlene Dumas, which allowed me to establish a relationship with William.

When Linda, who was elderly, faced uncertainty about the gallery’s future, I impulsively wondered if I should take it over. Despite not having the funds initially, I managed to raise the money, and the rest is history. It turned out to be a great decision. While many of the artists at the gallery today were introduced by me, there are a few, like William Kentridge, David Goldblatt, Sue Williamson, Sam Nhlengethwa and David Koloane, who were part of the original stable. Over the past 16 years, I’ve added new names to the roster, including Shirin Neshat, El Anatsui, Ghada Amer, and Yinka Shonibare CBE RA. The gallery continues to be a vital part of the cultural scene here, and it would have been a tremendous loss if it had closed. I see myself as a custodian of this legacy, which is why I never rebranded it as the Liza Essers Gallery. My hope is that one day someone will come along, eager to continue the journey and take the gallery into its next chapter. I believe we are merely custodians, responsible for preserving art history, supporting artists, and reflecting society and aspiring for social equality and change through art. It’s not about ownership but about stewardship. I was fortunate to inherit a gallery with such a significant platform, but when I took over, we weren’t yet part of major events like Art Basel Miami or Frieze London. Despite the gallery’s established name, I still had to prove myself and become an international gallery.

Liza Essers and William Kentridge in the artist’s studio

Q: Tell me about your galleries in Cape Town, Johannesburg and New York.

A: And London. The New York space is more of a viewing room with focused presentations there. It’s a first-floor space on the Upper East Side on Manhattan. And we recently opened a space at a place called Cheetah Plains, which is in Sabi Sands, which is known for the big five [African mammal species]; it’s essentially a game reserve.

Q: And why did you choose that location?

A: It’s an extension of our gallery’s social responsibility projects. Sabi Sands is the only lodge on the African continent with a negative carbon footprint, utilizing electric vehicles and solar panels for energy. We engage in conversations with artists, philosophers, and writers about conservation and sustainability. My true passion is social change and making a difference in society, and I see the Goodman Gallery as a powerful platform for that. The artists I’m drawn to are fundamentally those who are interested in social change. It’s just who I am. Since its inception, the gallery has supported various NGOs, primarily focusing on healthcare projects.

We engage in long-term projects, like our collaboration with the Red Cross Children’s Hospital, where we’ve spent five to ten years building and improving pediatric wards. Currently, we support a clinic in Johannesburg that assists refugees, with all proceeds from our artist-designed blankets benefiting this cause.

There’s also a strong link between our work and community and conservation. Last year, we began a project focused on water—a critical issue for us. We collaborated on a groundbreaking water system technology that brings clean water to rural communities. This initiative has provided clean water to around 3,500 people for the first time—a real game changer involving boreholes and solar energy. We’re planning to expand this project this year, reinforcing the connection between healthcare and sustainability through access to clean water.

Q: Tell me a bit more about these artist blankets.

A: Here’s one hanging right by my chair. It’s an edition of 50, and it’s actually by Ghada Amer. These pieces are beautifully handmade in South Africa. I believe that the Ghada Amer edition is now sold out. Different artists have contributed to these editions, with all proceeds going to the clinic.

Q: Which other artists have collaborated on this project with you?

A: We’ve made quite a few. Cassi Namoda just made one, and it’s fabulous; William Kentridge is currently working on one. Sue Williamson is the next.

Limited edition series of locally produced woven blankets with Cassi Namoda work. The proceeds from the blanket go towards Witkoppen Clinic—a South African non-profit organisation that provides essential healthcare and social welfare services as well as care for vulnerable children.

Q: Your focus on social change is clear, is it an intuitive sense that draws you to their work, or is this focus always at the back of your mind guiding your decision?

A: It’s definitely an important factor, but it’s a combination of elements. The work itself needs to be strong, and the artist’s intellect and character are crucial. Understanding who they are and what they stand for plays a significant role in my decision-making process.

Q: How do you navigate sharing an artist with other gallerists?

A: It varies with each artist and involves multiple factors. It’s also about the artist’s philosophy. For instance, Yinka Shonibare CBE RA is amazing, he holds regular meetings with all his galleries every few months, creating a collaborative environment. With artists like William Kentridge, the relationship is very collaborative with his other galleries. Although I’m the primary gallery, we maintain a collaborative approach with his other galleries, holding weekly calls and sharing artworks to focus on what’s best for him. Ultimately, we all work for the artist.

Q: When an artist like Lisa Brice’s work skyrockets at auction, it can limit the number of collectors who can afford to acquire their pieces. How do you protect the artist and navigate the situation when their work’s value increases so drastically and quickly?

A: I think that what’s been really good is how Thaddaeus Ropac and Sadie Coles have managed the pricing. For instance, Ropac held a show in Paris a few months ago and the primary market pricing remained reasonable. This is obviously crucial for responsibly managing an artist’s career appropriately as a gallery. One swallow doesn’t make a summer. One has to think long-term and be responsible. Pricing shouldn’t be increased to ridiculous levels, work must be accessible and placed in great collections, both institutional and private. Ultimately, institutional placement ensures that an artist’s career has longevity. I always advise young collectors to ask about collections and provenance before paying for the artworks. This is always a good indicator, along with an understanding of the museum shows that an artist might have had in their career. Having the support from curators at institutions or those curating biennales is very critical to the long-term sustainability of an artist’s career and ultimately, their pricing.

Hyundai Commission: El Anatsui:Behind the Red Moon, ***Act II The World***, Installation View, Photo © Tate (Joe Humphrys)

Q: I visited Tate Modern to see the El Anatsui commission. I was captivated.

A: El Anatsui is truly one of the great masters. There’s a huge new yellow piece, six meters long, that was part of the Tate turbine Hall installation.

The Tate installations are designed to drape right onto the floor. El Anatsui loves how the work can be flexible and adapt to the space it inhabits, sometimes extending onto the floor or across a corner. He’s one of my favorite artists; I find him extraordinary. Many artists across the globe have really been inspired and developed their practice based on his influence, similar to the impact of William Kentridge with his animation.

What’s unique about El is that he doesn’t personally craft every part of these works with his own hands. Instead, people work on individual sections and then he assembles these sections together. He is the director, and orchestrates how the work comes together in a large installation. The Tate commission took a good three to four years to make, discussed before COVID. It’s now showing around the world, which is great and parts of it are being readapted for various institutions.

Q: Do you have any advice for younger people and collectors?

A: It varies greatly depending on where you are. In South Africa, the art scene is quite warm and relaxed—people are easygoing, and the environment is less formal, which you can see that in my attire; I’m dressed casually in jeans. At an opening, you might find hundreds of young people mingling. In contrast, the art world in London tends to be more formal. However, I believe one shouldn’t be intimidated. Most gallerists and galleries are open to conversations and questions. You have to go beyond that initial hesitation personally as a first step and follow your soul.

Luisa Strina

“I buy what I sell. I choose artists whose work I personally appreciate and enjoy engaging with.”

Q: Could you share your background in the art world? I understand you initially pursued a career as an artist.

A: I’d like to be an artist, yes, but I realized that wasn’t my true calling. I studied art—painting and engraving—from when I was a young girl, always immersed in the world of art. I loved visiting museums, reading about art, and looking through art magazines. Then, I went to school for it, but realizing I wasn’t cut out to be an artist, I decided to stay close to art in another way, by working alongside artists instead of being one myself.

Q: And how did you start meeting artists? Was it through the academy that you studied art?

A: We had some artist friends, and they were the ones who first invited me to sell their work. I started out selling privately, and eventually, in ’74, I opened my gallery. This year, the gallery celebrates its 50th anniversary. Cildo Meireles was introduced to my gallery through a friend’s recommendation. It took us a whole year to formalize his representation. The situation with José Leonilson was similar in how it started, but the recommendation came from my friend and renowned artist Antonio Dias. However, with Antonio Dias, the process was much quicker; I bought all the works he had in his studio, and we began his representation immediately.

Invitation for opening show of Galeria Luisa Strina in São Paulo, 1974. Photo: Edouard Fraipont. Courtesy Galeria Luisa Strina

Q: That’s quite a milestone. Are you doing anything special to commemorate the anniversary?

A: Yes, we’re hosting very important exhibitions this year. As we speak, Fernando Gomes is on display, and soon Anna Maria Maiolino, who just won the Golden Lion in Venice, will have her work shown. Cildo Meireles will also have a new presentation coming up. Our gallery was the first from Latin America to join Art Basel, and I served on the board of Miami Art Basel for 12 years. I’m also writing a book about the gallery’s history right now.

Q: Are you writing a memoir?

A: It’s about the gallery, not about me personally.

Q: Did you collect archives over the years since you first started the gallery?

A: Yes, I’ve put together a collection of both Art and Brazilian furniture from the ’50s.

Q: How did you get into collecting furniture?

A: It started with needing to furnish my house. I began buying pieces, and it just grew from there. Now, I make it a point to acquire very good pieces from the designers of the ’50s.

Q: That’s quite fascinating. What specifically drew you to build your art collection? Are there particular aspects of an artist’s process that compel you to acquire their work for your collection?

A: I didn’t initially plan to create a collection; it just happened organically. I started by purchasing pieces that I personally liked, and before I knew it, I had amassed a significant collection. There was no intentional theme or direction; my acquisitions span various styles and forms of art.

Mira Schendel (left), Luisa Strina (center) and Antonio Dias (right). Photo: Edouard Fraipont. Courtesy Galeria Luisa Strina

Q: It’s refreshing to hear that, especially in a time when many people collect art primarily as an investment, focusing on the business aspect. Would you advise young collectors to follow a similar path, building their collections based on what truly resonates with them?

A: That’s exactly what I do, but I’m not sure everyone believes me. Many are more interested in the aspect of buying and selling for profit.

Q: Do you feel that the art world, with its emphasis on auctions and the commercial side, sometimes overlooks the essence of the art itself?

A: Absolutely, there’s too much emphasis on evaluating art nowadays. It’s quite absurd—artworks selling for a million dollars after just two or three years, and then suddenly, they’re out of favor. The focus has shifted significantly.

Q: Have you observed similar trends in your gallery? What steps do you take to prevent artists’ works from experiencing these rapid price escalations?

A: I try to temper expectations, and while some artists agree, many do not. It’s a complex issue, but that’s the current reality of the market.

Q: Social media seems to have changed the dynamics, with certain artists becoming overnight sensations, which spikes their prices and restricts the collector base. Then, a few years later, they fade into obscurity. Would you say this is markedly different from the art world you entered?

A: The landscape was completely different back then. We bought art simply because we loved it, without concern for its future valuation or market price.

Q: Could you describe the early days of your gallery, how things have changed since then, and how your role as a gallerist has evolved over time?

A: It was a different world when I started. In the beginning, my gallery didn’t even have a telephone for the first year because they were so hard to obtain, and the street where my gallery is located didn’t have public phones either.

Luis Strina and Cildo Meireles at 20th São Paulo Bienal with the artist’s installation *Olvido (Oblivion)* in the background, 1989. Courtesy Galeria Luisa Strina

Q: Was your initial client interaction primarily based on visitors to the gallery purchasing artwork?

A: Yes, initially. At home, I would make phone calls to connect directly with potential buyers. But at the gallery, we handled everything over the phone and documented it all on paper. The process was quite different back then, especially in Brazil.

Q: How did you find the transition from the traditional methods to engaging with public relations firms and using platforms like Instagram for exposure?

A: It might sound silly, but I actually preferred the old ways. They were more enjoyable. In the afternoons, artists would drop by the gallery, and we’d chat over drinks—it felt so much more personal. Now, everything is managed through digital devices and online platforms. While it’s efficient and practical, it lacks the charm and personal connection we had in those earlier days.

Q: There’s a unique energy in face-to-face interactions that can’t quite be replicated online. Could you tell us about the first show at your gallery? I understand there were some pop-up shows before you established a permanent space?

A: The first official show at my gallery was in December 1974. I was still an art student then, and the gallery was a collaboration with four artist friends from my school. They were the featured artists at that inaugural exhibition. It was a very grassroots beginning, built directly from our personal and professional connections.

Q: After establishing your gallery, how did you go about selecting artists to feature?

A: Initially, my focus was on Brazilian artists. Then, I met Antoni Muntadas, a Catalan artist, and we’ve been working together ever since. I held a show for him and then started connecting with artists from Rio, which was quite uncommon at the time. Gradually, my scope expanded to include international artists as well. I often visit group exhibitions to discover new talent. When a piece catches my eye, I reach out to the artist for a discussion. My ambition has always been to bring Brazilian art onto the global stage, but during the dictatorship, with strict controls on exports and imports, that was a significant challenge.

Q: How did you navigate those challenges during the dictatorship?

A: It’s quite a story. Until 1985, Brazil was under a dictatorship. Back then, art fairs didn’t accept applications; they extended invitations. I was initially invited to a fair in Cologne, but then the director of Art Basel invited me for the following year. Due to the high costs, I had to choose, so I opted for Basel over Cologne and have been involved with Basel ever since.

Q: Did you collaborate with Samuel Keller in establishing Art Basel in Miami?

A: No, I wasn’t directly involved in setting up Art Basel in Miami like that. When the decision was made to launch the fair there, I traveled to Miami to lend a hand. Samuel Keller worked closely with other dealers to garner support from local patrons, secure funding, and organize events to help shape the fair. I played a more supportive role, contributing as a member of the community rather than in any official capacity.

Q: Do you believe art fairs play a positive role in the art world? Have they been beneficial for your gallery’s exposure?

A: Absolutely, art fairs have been incredibly positive for me. They have been welcoming environments where I’ve made many good friends and established valuable connections with other galleries, all of which have been crucial for my gallery’s success.

Q: Is that how you came to represent Robert Rauschenberg’s estate, which started in 2015? What led to that collaboration?

A: Yes, the Rauschenberg estate was looking for representation in South America, Paris, and the United States, and I was recommended by someone at Art Basel. That recommendation enabled me to connect with the estate and begin representing them in 2015, alongside Thaddaeus Ropac and Pace Gallery.

Q: How do you view the practice of sharing artists with other galleries? Do you find it advantageous?

A: It’s definitely beneficial. Sharing artists with other galleries allows us to collaborate on sales to museums and enhances the work’s quality and visibility. It’s a practice that enriches both the artists’ profiles and our gallery’s offerings.

Adriano Pedrosa (left), Luisa Strina (center) and Leonilson (right), 1989. Courtesy Galeria Luisa Strina

Q: Do you encounter any challenges when sharing artists among multiple galleries?

A: Generally, it’s manageable. The dynamics can vary, though. For instance, Ropac might focus on selling larger paintings, while I might specialize in smaller works. The success lies in how well we coordinate and collaborate.

Q: Have you noticed significant differences between various art fairs?

A: Certainly. Art Basel in Basel and Art Basel Miami cater to distinct audiences. Basel is known for featuring more sophisticated, high-quality works, where galleries showcase their premier pieces. In contrast, Art Basel Miami tends to present more decorative items.

Q: Is there a particular medium or type of work that particularly attracts you when evaluating an artist’s work?

A: It really varies with each artist. It’s a complex process, hard to pin down exactly.

Q: Conceptual art is a major focus of your gallery. Is its appeal due to the way it challenges viewers to engage more deeply, or is there another reason it’s so central?

A: It’s really about the engagement it demands. With paintings, the interaction is more immediate—you see it, and you get it. Conceptual art, however, invites you to delve deeper, to think and interact with the art on a more profound level. That depth of engagement is what draws me to it.

Q: Does this quality also influence your choices when adding to your own collection?

A: Absolutely, I buy what I sell. I choose artists whose work I personally appreciate and enjoy engaging with.

Q: You recently featured Fernanda Gomez in a show. Could you share how your collaboration with her began and describe the process?

A: Fernanda has a unique approach to her art. She collects materials from a variety of sources, including the street, and transforms these found objects into artwork. What fascinates me is the history embedded in these materials—each piece tells a story, and she weaves these narratives into her creations. It’s the histories these objects carry and her method of integrating them into her art that I find so compelling.

Q: How did you first meet her and come to represent her work?

A: The specifics elude me now; it was quite some time ago. She came to me with her work, and I was instantly captivated. Her approach was unlike anything else at the time.

Luisa Strina (center) styled as Tarsila do Amaral’s *1926 self-portrait* (left) for *Gallery Around* magazine, 1986. Courtesy Galeria Luisa Strina

Q: Reflecting on the inception of your gallery, are you satisfied with what you’ve achieved, or do you see more to accomplish in the art world?

A: While I believe I could have achieved more, I am content with what I have accomplished. There’s always room for growth and ways things could have been done better.

Q: Have you ever considered expanding your gallery?

A: No, the size and scope of my gallery as it is now are sufficient. I’ve never felt the need to expand beyond this.

This story was published in noisé 04 Prism Fall/Winter 24 issue.

Words and interview by Tia Tanna.

TANG SIYU