White Cube, Blue Chip: Deconstructing Dominant Gallery Culture with Lubov
- Grace Miskovsky
- Jan 16, 2024
- 15 min read
Nestled within New York City's pristine and often intimidating gallery scene, Lubov, run by community leader/curator Francisco Correa Cordero, is a safe haven for artists. With the malleable, ephemeral, and DIY spirit of the space, Francisco allows artists to exercise complete creative autonomy in solo and group exhibitions, invites guest curators to create a multitude of narratives through their selection, and fosters an activated yet comfortable energy for artists and viewers alike to sit back and enjoy. His selection process is intuitive and personal: he shows artists he responds to rather than what might generate fast sales. Yet, this process is driven by his desire to uplift his community and the artists he represents, letting them utilize his resources to achieve the next step in their careers. I sat down with Francisco to hear his thoughts on dominant gallery and museum culture, the art market, art fairs, and the relationship between geopolitical tension and the movement of art.
GRACE MISKOVSKY: To be honest, I’m not sure how I was introduced to your work or Lubov. I’m a friend of Daisy Sanchez’ brother, and I think I found you through her. For the last few years, I’ve watched Lubov through the lens of my iPhone screen, keeping updated on the latest exhibitions via your Instagram page. We’ve exchanged a few DM’s in passing but have never been properly introduced. So, I think it’s time for an introduction: who are you, and what is Lubov?
FRANCISCO CORREA CORDERO: My name is Francisco. I started the gallery Lubov six years ago. I moved to New York to be an artist in 2007, and at some point I realized that making art was not for me. I realized that working with artists was more gratifying than making art, and I decided to commit to that. I never looked back. People ask me if I miss making artwork but I don't. I just wanted to hang out with artists, really. That was one of the reasons why I opened this space. I opened the gallery while I had a full time job at a nonprofit called ICA, the Independent Curators International. I loved that job, it’s a great organization, but I went from working at galleries to working as the executive coordinator for this organization. I went from working directly with artists to working with trustees, curators, and museum directors, and doing a lot of fundraising. I really missed seeing art on a daily basis, or being surrounded by art, because now I was just in an office writing letters and emails all day. At some point I had this realization that I could just do shows anywhere as long as I had a wall or two and that it was accessible to people. I rented a tiny closet space in an office building across the street from my day job. It was by appointment only, and it was enough for me to hang art and start doing shows. That's how it started. It just grew from there. People started paying attention.
GM: Can you define your role at Lubov?
FCC: The gallery is just me. I do everything. I work with the artists directly, conceiving the shows, I install the shows, I deal with clients, with press. It’s a one person operation. It can be a lot. Sometimes I wake up and I think, “Why did I get myself into this?” Ultimately, it’s extremely gratifying to help artists realize their vision. I mostly do solo shows because I want to give full authority over the space to a single artist to conceive and develop a new project or body of work. It’s especially gratifying when press pays attention, we get reviewed, or when it helps an artist get an artist visa to stay in the U.S. permanently. All these little things make it worth it.
GM: In that way, you take on a lot of different roles. Part of that is the role of the curator, so speaking from that perspective, what is the curator’s role in society?
FCC: I sort of have an aversion towards the word “curator.” I dropped out of undergrad, so I don’t have a degree in anything. I feel like it would be unfair to call myself a curator even though a lot of people do. I have that role in different capacities. I have mixed feelings because I think the word has been overused in recent years. When I was working at ICI, the way that they defined “curators” was as “community leaders,” which I think is really interesting. They highlight the curator's role of making art accessible to a general public and contextualizing it. I really like that definition. There’s this individual who is in the middle between the audience and the artist. I’ll stick with that.
GM: I agree - the word is hyper intellectualized and becomes a filler for exactly what you’re talking about, the “community leader,” this person that becomes the glue between art and people. Using that language, what is the “community leader’s” role? What is its importance?
FCC: I find occasionally that artists have a really difficult time figuring out what they’re doing. That’s where the curator's role becomes really useful. Like, how does that fit in contemporary society? We don't understand what we're doing at the moment, and we don't comprehend where it comes from, so having someone that can help articulate that can be very helpful.
GM: I interviewed a Museum Director in Berlin who had an interesting philosophy on the roles of museums and galleries today: she said that galleries and museums should be accessible, social spaces. But, there is a tendency for openings today to turn into DJ sets and parties - for her, this takes away from the academic interests of the museum. Because you place so much value on fostering community spaces, what is your take on this? Is there a way to strike a balance between enticing people, through events and parties, and having people be very engaged and talking to each other about the work in a serious way?
FCC: Something I like to say about the city is that it has so much free culture. Galleries are all free, and there’s hundreds of them, and many of these galleries will have museum quality shows. You will see artists that you would see in museums at blue chip galleries. That’s a role that galleries play that are extremely valuable. When I first moved to the city I was so intimidated by galleries that I would get anxiety just walking in. The spaces are huge, and they're pristine. Like I said earlier, one of the reasons I opened the space was because I wanted to hang out with artists. I want artists and people in general to feel comfortable that they can just come in and hangout. There’s something really special about that. In addition to that, I have shows that happen over the course of two months, and then I’ll have 1-2 weeks in between to de-install and install the next one. Having a space is a huge privilege in New York, so I like to use it as much as possible. I love to activate the space when there’s not shows in view. I like to make it available to colleagues, other artists, to do performances or events, screenings. That allows the space to be more flexible, because those things can happen more spontaneously, as opposed to trying to plan shows a year in advance. I really make an effort to activate the space beyond just the exhibitions - to do something that can be more ephemeral. That allows me to engage a younger generation of artists that may be wouldn't have been able to have the access to larger venues. To me, it’s important to stay connected because I love seeing what younger artists are doing. For that same reason I love doing studio visits. I usually do one or two studio visits a week - a lot of people will ask if I'll do a studio visit, and I’ll usually say yes. I love seeing what people are making, but I also consider these studio visits part of the education that I didn’t have formally. I love hearing artists talk about their work. That sort of fills this gap in my brain.
GM: How are you finding these artists? Are they reaching out to you, or are you always on the radar for emerging people?
FCC: I ask a lot of artists that I already work with if they know anyone that I should be looking at. I try to ask colleagues for recommendations. A lot of people just reach out to me, just send me a cold email. I go to their studio, and I’m like, “Wow. We have to do something.” I try to go to a lot of group shows to see what other galleries are looking at. And, Instagram. I spend an unhealthy amount of time on Instagram. I even reached the limit of people you can follow, which is 7,500. I follow a lot of artists, and a lot of people who maybe live in the middle of nowhere, and maybe they have only five posts on their grid, and maybe they did something that I thought was interesting and I want to know what they make next. It’s amazing to be able to have the pulse on what’s happening anywhere at any time. I never thought that it would be a tool to reach artists in other parts of the world.
GM: I want to move towards your interests when curating. There is a power dynamic present within the process of curation and exhibiting. You have a unique role as a curator and director in that you hold a perceived, or real, ideological power to define the delineation between what is worth and not worth consideration. What is worth or not worth talking and writing about, what is worth or not worth existing in a contemporary canon. Of course, your viewers can contest this, but it is your selection of artists that have a platform in this respected space. How do you distinguish what is worth putting on the platform you have? What are your aesthetic interests?
FCC: People always ask me, “What’s the mission of the gallery? What’s the aesthetic? What unites the artists?” I always felt like having a mission was kind of pretentious in the sense that I’m not here to tell you how things should be, or what the vision should be. There’s something inherent about having a mission that implies a power structure and a dynamic, as if I was “above” and I had some kind of authority. I don’t have a mission. I show work that I respond to. A few months ago, I had a conversation with a collector. The way he explained his collecting habits was that he would buy art that made him feel something inside of him that he didn’t know existed before. I love that answer because it’s driven by curiosity, and wanting to explore something that you don’t fully comprehend. I really align myself with that way of thinking.
GM: Shifting towards the artists that you show, I saw a show this summer featuring a work by Eli Ping that I totally fell in love with. I noticed you’ve shown him a number of times. I find his work so sophisticated and elegant yet slightly subversive - there’s a darker underbelly to it. I was interested to know how you got connected with Eli Ping? How does he specifically embody or extend your curatorial goals?
FCC: I’ve always been a huge fan of Eli. He talks about his work in a similar way: it’s driven by instinct rather than some kind of logic. It’s more intimate, rather than calculated. There’s something minimal and elegant but also organic about it. It never occurred to me to work with him, because he is represented by Ramiken here in New York. He’s close with another artist, Covey Gong. He had been to the gallery several times, and every time I see him, I tell him how much I love his work, I just can’t resist it. He also works with another gallery called Darosia, and these two artists have galleries that have been around for way longer, so I never thought of working with the two of them. They just asked me if I wanted to do a show with them, and it was a no brainer! I like that they feel comfortable, that they can approach me in such a candid way. Maybe it was because they both had galleries, so they felt like they couldn’t do it at either of theirs, so they came to me. I find that really special. I’m glad that I can create a safe space that people feel comfortable in but that they also respect, that attracts people of that caliber. It was great to get to know both of them in a completely different capacity, to work with them one on one.
GM: The format and organic nature of your gallery is very intriguing to artists. It sounds like they felt with you, they had this space to experiment and do things they wouldn't have been able to with a more established institution.
FCC: What you’re saying is right. I’ve been trying to preserve that about the gallery, how flexible it is. I don't like feeling precious about the space. I want artists to feel confident and comfortable transforming it. When it started, it was just a room, and I just had a table and a chair. That was it. I want to keep that spirit, that DIY spirit. It allows me to give artists full authority of the space. I want them to feel like they can do things they wouldn't be able to do in other types of spaces. For example, I did a show two years ago which was an installation artist who had radishes growing in the gallery. There were seeds embedded in a paste in this pulp made of shredded paper that I was watering every day throughout the show. The floor was warped, and it was a huge mess - there was mold everywhere at the end of the show. It would have been difficult to do something like that, so unconventional. Someone asked me if I ever say “no” to an artist, and I realized that I had never said that, which at first I thought was a problem. I was like, “I have no boundaries with myself, I let anyone do whatever they want.” It’s always been important too, if an artist has a specific vision, to preserve the integrity of that vision. It’s not my work to make, so I don’t want to tell artists how they should make the work.
GM: It’s funny you say that you don’t want your space to be precious, because there is something so sacred about what you’re doing. You are fostering this very inclusive, real environment that is increasingly rare, especially in New York. I’m interested in what your take is on gallery or museum culture in New York, and how you see the importance of that versus what you’re doing, which is saying “yes,” and letting artists explore, experiment, and transform your space.
FCC: I prioritize doing interesting shows rather than saving up and trying to grow into a larger, prettier space. Bigger galleries that are the more polished, white cube, I totally acknowledge that they just have a different role in the careers of artists. I collaborate a lot with larger galleries that are more established. To me, that’s part of my role in working with emerging artists. It’s helping them achieve the next step in their careers, because there’s only so much I can do myself with what I have. I’ve had a lot of artists that I represent be approached by bigger galleries for representation and they would rather stay with me. I’m very grateful and touched, but I want them to show in larger spaces. By “larger” or “more established,” I don't mean that they will have a nicer space, though sometimes their work needs that, but not always. By “larger” I mean, they'll have a larger reach than I have, to perhaps more clients that can sell their work and help them make money, but also, relationships with institutions and museums that I may not necessarily have. In recent years, especially since COVID, galleries realized that there was a lot of value in collaborating rather than competing with each other. Instead of trying to feel territorial or protective of them, how can I collaborate with other spaces to help them grow?
GM: How are you doing business? How are you connecting with clients? Are art fairs where things are happening for you, or do you find clients are more attracted to being in the space and connecting with you at your home base?
FCC: I love having clients in the gallery. That’s always the best because I can have a proper conversation with them. I don’t love art fairs. They’re so stressful because they’re huge investments of resources that has to be put up front without knowing if you’re going to make that money back. This past fair in Miami in December, I participated in NADA, the New Art Dealers Alliance Fair. It did moderately well. That was the general sentiment from colleagues that I talked to. It was not a great year because of the political climate. I find fairs in general to be useful in terms of meeting new people because they’re destinations for collectors who will come from all over the world to buy art. Everyone is in one huge room, basically. I have come to meet people that became very loyal over the years.
Years ago, I did the fair and I brought photography, which wasn’t a wise move - it sells for a lower price point, and it requires framing. I met someone that was really into the photographer that I brought, and he didn’t buy anything at the fair, but he lived in New York - that’s the funny thing too, everyone is from New York, so why do we have to travel to Miami to meet people who live in New York? It’s ridiculous. But I stayed in touch with this guy, and would update him on the artist that he liked. A year later, I do a show with this photographer, and he ended up buying seven pieces from her. He came through in a major way. The return on that investment took a whole year to manifest into something. It was transformative.
GM: It’s hard to bridge the gap between a dealer and a collector. And these investments sometimes take a long time to come to fruition. I’m wondering what your relationship is to this social game that art dealing is - is that something that is draining for you, or exciting?
FCC: I enjoy meeting new people always. When I first opened the space, it was tiny, and I didn’t know any collectors. I didn’t want to have to rely on sales to do shows. I used to work for a publicist, so I thought, “What are the two main things that I can do for artists?” It’s either helping them make money through selling their work, and getting them press. That’s something that is going to last. They’ll put it on their resume, they'll put it on their website, and that becomes a sales tool also, as evidence of them doing something relevant and important. I focused on what I actually do know how to do, which is reaching out to press and writers and critics. Shows started getting reviewed, and that eventually brought the attention of collectors, because they would see it on the New York Times, or Art Forum. In that sense, they started coming to me. There was a time where I would get very anxious about knowing that they come from a completely different background that I felt inferior to. I was like, “How can we relate?” We have nothing in common. I had to get over that and realize that they’re people, and that I have something that they want. Realizing that helped me change the dynamic.
GM: At the end of the day, you are the safekeeper of things that are very, not only valuable, but sacred. Art is sacred. And people want proximity to this. It’s a two way street. Shifting back to the fairs, I was interested to hear your take on the art market generally. You mentioned it was an “okay” season. The geopolitical climate can definitely impact this. When talking about the art market, this year especially, people will dance around the subject of what we mean when we say “geopolitical conflict.” Let’s just outright say it: there is a tragedy going on in Palestine. It’s kind of a grubby thing to say, like this humanitarian crisis is making us think about if our artwork is going to be worth $1 or $2 million this year. We don’t want to have to think about how real human suffering is going to impact our material possessions. I’m interested to hear your take on where the market is generally, and also how the genocide in Palestine is impacting this. What is that doing to collectors?
FCC: What is happening in Palestine is creating a lot of division between artists and patrons. I have never seen anything like this. It’s all occurring through social media, because we can see what their opinions are. What happened with Art Forum was very unfortunate. Art Forum published this open letter that was signed by many prominent artists denouncing what was happening. The media company that owns Art Forum, which is owned by a collector, got in touch with some of the artists that had signed the letter and asked them to remove their names. Eventually, a lot of editors from Art Forum resigned in protest, and the magazine is not going to be what it was. It probably has a skeleton staff at this point. Everyone that I knew there that I had a relationship with quit. It’s sad that this is such a divisive issue, but at the same time, it was obvious it was going to happen. That’s one of the reasons why this year wasn’t so great. Everytime there’s some kind of awful thing happening in the world, someone is benefiting, too. During the economic crash in 2006, a lot of people became very rich, too. There were a handful of collectors that became way more wealthy and used that to buy a lot of art. It was awful for a lot of people, but there were a lot of people who made a lot out of it. These are people that have created their wealth through many different types of investment, so whatever happens in the world is just going to affect things in a different way.
GM: What advice would you give for a young person wanting to break into this gallery space?
FCC: Just start doing shows. You don’t need a pristine, white cube of a space. You can do it anywhere. Before I opened the space, I was doing shows at different locations that would let me do that. Don’t be afraid to approach a space and pitch something, or just do it yourself. I’ve done shows with artists that have approached me out of the blue, with a cold email or a DM. I did a show once in the basement of a fruit market in Chinatown, and that was a lot of fun. I did a show on the rooftop of the gallery once. I’ve done shows in bathrooms. It doesn’t matter where you do it as long as you take it seriously. Because then other people will take you seriously. And don’t forget to document it.
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