The simplest way to define it might just be pattern recognition, and at this point mine is inherent. I have always been a visual learner. (Not a speller, though. You can thank many rounds of spell check on these newsletters and I hope you’ll forgive me for any I’ve missed.) Strangely, I’m mediocre with facial recognition, but artworks, for some reason, are instantly recallable in my mind.

Pattern recognition has become a bit more commonplace a concept with AI as the most sophisticated, mainstream pattern recognition tool we have. I’ve worked with it directly as a tool in a business context in both of my former art x tech roles. And still, my own visual pattern recognition, that I’ve built over years of looking, is something I believe AI still truly struggles to replicate. That instinct is one of the most important tools I have as an art advisor.

Last month, through RSVP, I hosted a studio visit in Toronto with . She let us into her world of images, the internet, brushstrokes, and color

Sophia is an artist to watch. Her subjects read one way at first glance, then provoke - sometimes entirely different - emotions the longer you sit with them. The titles are lyrical and nostalgic, which adds to their power. Her work is clever and the beautiful paintings, projecting a range of emotions about time, nostalgia, mortality, romance, cliché, and the environment.

Sophia’s process (to insanely summarize) is a relentless search for images that compel her, online or in person at places like the Toronto Reference Library, which are then printed and saved. From there, she “sketches” select compositions on paper as a study. Those studies help her work out scale, composition, and form. Her final nostalgic and fluid paintings are usually bigger, though sometimes smaller, and live on canvas, paper, or metal.

Being invited to look through her source images, stored in plastic sheets, hooked into binders, and categorized by “landscapes,” “vacation,” “animals,” “women,” feels deeply personal and special. It somewhat felt like looking into a diary, but instead it was a catalog of all the paintings before they existed and those that could have been but were not meant to be.

When looking through these images, I couldn’t help but spot ones I’d seen in painted form on her gallery walls from years prior. Pattern recognition, in action yet again.

Connecting an image to a sketch to a painting seems low stakes, sure. But the ability to carry that recognition across artists at different points in their careers is what stays at the forefront of my mind. This volume of “seeing” is what helps me pick out strong work with staying power in the noise. There's something undeniable but elusive about the artworks and images that stay with you, maybe hard to pinpoint, but often impossible to forget.

Interested in Sophia’s work? I’ve included details and pricing on available pieces below the fold for paid subscribers.

Until next time…
xx Bronwyn

Further reading… inspired by studio visits.

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Hear me out, I think an incredible, encyclopedic museum is incredibly important, and I am so glad its the most visited museum in the world, in one of the top 10 most visited cities in the world.

However, as of now I, personally, have little interest in a visit.

I remember having a similar feeling about The Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, but as an art-interested high-schooler I felt I had to go. If you like art, you have to visit the Met. It was overwhelming, to say the least, and when I was ready to leave, I wasn’t able to find my way out. A small nightmare for someone who prides themselves on a being pretty good at navigation.

If you have one weekend, or a week, in an incredible city like New York or Paris, to experience a museum as monolithic as the Met or the Louvre you are bound to be disappointed. With such immense collections and square footage, there is absolutely no way you are going to leave satisfied, if anything you’ll leave feeling disheartened at all the things you missed, or overstimulated with eyes burning from the 1,000 things you did see. How many will you truly remember and will you wish you spent more time with just those things? Going to the Met or the Louvre on vacation, feels to me, like cramming for a test verses actually learning the information.

When I moved to New York, this changed. Having a membership to the Met and being able to pop into different sections of the museum for 30-90 minutes, once a month, gave my brain the freedom to accept the incredible multiplicities that is such an iconic museum holds but also maintain some brain breathing room.

If you want even more of an argument for spending dedicated periods of time with specific works or genres I highly recommend reading All the Beauty in the World: The Metropolitan Museum of Art and Me by former museum guard, Patrick Bringley. His stories about prolonged periods of time with objects was is lovely.

If you read my 34 Hours in New York During Art Week you may challenge me on the lack of ability to see an overwhelming amount of art in a short period of time, and I’ll explain the difference.

Encyclopedic museums are incredible for their immense range from its earliest objects dated 300,000 BCE to contemporary artworks and clothing from across the globe. That is a lot of context, history, and geographic span to understand. The Louvre has similarly impressive stats with its permanent collection of nearly 500,000 objects from 7000 BCE to 1848.

With a niche focus (in my case, almost always contemporary art), you will have a btter chance at understanding the context a bit more clearly, so while you must stop and think to truly understand, you likely won’t have to be a jeopardy contestant to have a baseline.

Also - it should be noted that this threshold for seeing such a large volume of art in a short period of time is part of my job. As an art consultant, I can quickly recognize patterns, themes, technique, precedent, in my field because it is at the forefront of my brain, at all times.

How to Actually Enjoy Visiting a Museum

I find the sheer volume of what museums like the Met and the Louvre hold, can make a lot (the majority?) of visitors feel “this is not for me.” My suggestion for visiting museums in Paris, New York, or anywhere really, in order to develop a love for for museums, is to go a bit niche.

If you are wondering why the Louvre’s collection ends in 1848, they decided that was enough to live under one roof’s, and moved the pieces dated beyond that to the Musée d'Orsay. This museum is located in an incredible former train station building that spans just 66 years, from 1848–1914. The Centre Pompidou (I will admit I’ve visited these two museums on every trip…) showcases 1914 to present. These cross-sections of art history, to me, feel much more manageable.

Alternatively, why not focus on one subject? Jeu de Paume is a museum located in the Tuileries Gardens dedicated to the image, spanning the 19th-21st centuries. Or the Musée Rodin, nestled in another idyllic garden, focuses on the works of the French sculptor Auguste Rodin.

Private collections are also always incredibly interesting to me, the Barnes Foundation in Philadelphia, for example, focuses exclusively on Albert Barnes’ collection of early-20th-century modern European painting, African sculpture, and metal work. While the collection is filled to the brim with examples of some of the most iconic artist from art history (with deep holdings in Renoir, Cézanne, Matisse, and Picasso) - at the time a critic went so far as to call his collection “trash.” Private collections, unlike traditional museums, have no governing body or vetting committee and therefore can push boundaries. Barnes needed a committee of approval there is no way he could have collected at the sheer depth he did.

If art is not selling you, why not go for the architecture? I always recommend the Whitney Museum of American Art in New York as the museum-to-visit in the city, because if you don’t like the art on view, at least you can appreciate the interesting architecture by Renzo Piano (of the Centre Pompidou in Paris, The Shard in London), enjoy the beautiful cafes, or simply take in the 360 views of Manhattan.

Finally - if an art museum still doesn’t do it for you after my tips, why not explore a niche interest? If you are in a major city, there’s probably a museum for it…

• In Paris:

  • Musée d’Histoire de la Médecine - a small medical museum with one of Europe’s oldest collections of surgical and diagnostic instruments.

  • Musée de la Chasse et de la Nature - a private hunting-and-nature museum.

  • Musée de la Contrefaçon - the Museum of Counterfeiting, home to counterfeit products dating from the 16th century to the present, tracing the history and techniques of counterfeiting

• In New York

  • Mmuseumm - a 36-square-foot museum in a converted freight elevator shaft, showing rotating “object journalism” exhibits.

  • The City Reliquary - a jumble of everyday NYC artifacts: subway tokens, vintage toys, World’s Fair remnants, even a rope from City Hall after 9/11.

  • Museum of Interesting Things - a roving antique-gadget collection, where everything is meant to be touched.

  • The Skyscraper Museum - dedicated to tall buildings and the people who build them, with architectural models, blueprints, and data visualizations.

  • Conjuring Arts Research Center - a research library and archive devoted to magic and conjuring history.

Now, all this to say, I am not trying to dissuade you from visiting the iconic and incredible encyclopedic institutions, like the Met and the Louvre, but instead give you permission to NOT see it all, at once. The journey to loving a museum starts instead with picking a few things you are very excited about and visit, and to spend time with those objects so you can learn something new, and march right by the Medieval Art department (if you can resist).

Or move to Paris and get a membership to the Louvre! The choice is yours…

Until next time…

xx Bronwyn

Further reading…

It is probably repetitive at this point to note that I have a real soft spot for small paintings. There’s something about that scale that feels more intimate, less like the work is performing for the room, however, I understand why clients don’t always see it that way. A lot of you come to me looking for one decisive all-encompassing, special piece, that can live next to your dining table or above your sofa, all on its own.

So here’s a great group of large-scale works, mostly in the 40–60 inch wide range, for anyone hunting for that statement piece. Scroll on for something vibrant, a vivid landscape, a relaxing slice of minimalism — I went for a bit of everything. And I did sneak in a few small works in series, because, old habits.

Prices run from $3,500 to $24,000. As always, for paid subscribers, you’ll find the specifics below the fold.

Maxine McCrann (You can find on Substack!)
Setting Up For A Party
Acrylic on canvas | 30 × 60 inches

Claire Milbrath
Mt cook, 2025
Acrylic on canvas | 46 x 59 inches

Sophie Treppendahl
Dinner by Candlelight, 2026
Acrylic and oil on canvas | 44 x 50 in

Lorna Bauer
(Selection of 4 Works), 2024
Hand poured liquid mirror, kiln-formed glass, silver gelatin, polaroid | 14 × 11 inches each, 14 x 50 inches installed

Conor Rothe
With Limp Arms I Can Feel Most of You, 2024
Acrylic on canvas | 36 x 42 inches

John Riepenhoff
Skies (ku), 2026
Acrylic paint, gouache, oil on linen | 48 x 60 inches

Ava McDonough
Sleeper’s Fence, 2026
Oil on canvas | 30 x 40 inches

Cody Jonathan Dyck
Smoke and Glass
Glasspowder, acrylic, vintage chiffon | 48 x 48 inches

Balint Zsako
Untitled (Carne Series) (Selection of 3 Works), 2026
watercolour, gouache on paper | 30 x 22 inches each, 30 x 70 inches installed

Any questions on the above or otherwise, don’t hesitate to reach out.

Until next time…

xx Bronwyn

Further reading…

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The back of a painting is one of the most revealing places to look. The older the work, the more layered the story. Labels from galleries and exhibitions, handwritten notes, inventory numbers, old framing marks, stickers from previous owners or auction sales so many small traces build a compelling history.

Even art forgers understand the importance of this space. A convincing back can be just as important (if not more so) than the front.

At Independent New York Art Fair this past May, I saw a series of works by Michael Bühler-Rose at STEMS Gallery, that immediately caught my attention (which I shared in a previous newsletter). They were intricate wood intarsia works — meticulously constructed images of everyday objects and surfaces.

One of the pieces in particular, required a closer look. It was a 1:1 scale recreation of the back of a painting. Not the artwork itself, not the image that made it famous, but the back. I loved it!

The work:

Michael Bühler-Rose
Verso (Richard Prince, #14 Untitled (Cowboy Watering Horses), 1983), 2025
Wood Intarsia/Inlay: Akshaya, Champa, Mukurche, Slate matti, Rosewood, Padauk, Aale and Kadyakshe woods
27 ½ x 21 ½ x 1 ½ in.

Bühler-Rose’s practice explores how collections reveal something about our inner lives, and how the objects we surround ourselves with become biographies of who we are. Here, he chose to recreate the evidence of an artwork’s life rather than the artwork itself by depciting the the labels, handwriting, inventory numbers, and sicker residue.

The front of this photograph is part of Prince’s iconic Cowboys series, the body of work that brought Prince major critical attention and became central to discussions around appropriation in contemporary art.

The documentary photograph of the back of the depicted work from Sotheby’s website:

Richard Prince
#14 Untitled (Cowboy Watering Horses), 1983
chromogenic print
signed, dated, and editioned ‘1/2’ in ink on the reverse, framed, a Baskerville+Watson, New York, label on the reverse, 1983

And the front of the work:

First shown at the pioneering New York gallery, Baskerville + Watson, in 1984, the series featured Prince re-photographing and cropping existing images of the iconic “Marlboro Man,” questioning ideas around authorship, originality, and advertising imagery.

Each movement of a work becomes part of its story, carefully documented in the auction catalogue’s provenance section, which records where a work has been, who has owned it, and how it has moved through the world.

Provenance (as per Sotheby’s London Modern & Contemporary Day Auction, 28 June 2023):

Baskerville + Watson, New York
Private Collection
Phillips, New York, 11 November 2005, Lot 177
Private Collection, Europe
Sotheby’s, New York, 6 April 2011, Lot 167
Acquired from the above by the present owner

But the real history of a photograph can also appear in the evidence on its reverse:

A Baskerville + Watson, New York label
Artwork and edition details
A Phillips auction label
Inventory markings
Sticker residue

The front tells us what the artwork is. The back tells us what it has lived through.

In many ways, the back of a painting is its own kind of portrait.

We are often taught when looking at art, to focus on the image, but sometimes the most interesting stories sit just outside the image. This could be in the form of a verbal narrative of an artists’ story and practice, the contextualization of a series, or simply on the back of the work itself.

Because more often than not, an artwork isn’t only what you see. It’s where it has been, and the stories it has created, and in this case, the back of a painting tells you exactly that. So next time you have the opportunity to turn a painting over, DO IT, you won’t be disappointed.

Until next time…

xx, Bronwyn

Share First Edition: Art Market Insights

Further reading…

ART HOTLINE: All Episodes — Overview & Links

Hosted by Tatum Dooley and Bronwyn Hunter-Shortly, answer real questions about the art world — from artists’ concerns to the nuances of collecting. Released bi-weekly.

🎙 Listen on Spotify | Apple Podcasts
💌 Submit your questions here.

EPISODE 9: Rapid fire art questions

On this episode, we answer SIX of your questions from Reddit. We touch on topics including: is it rude not to attend an art opening, how to present your work to a museum curator, travelling for art events, how much money do you need to make to collect art, what art exhibition we’d like to see from the past.

EPISODE 8: Is art a good investment?

On this episode, we answer: Is art a good investment? (It’s complicated!). Also, how collecting art is a muscle; the difference between art being popular and actually liking it; does context matter when looking at art; conviction certainley does.

EPISODE 7: Wanting art you can’t have

What artists listen to in the studio, whether an artist should lower their prices, how finding a gallery is like dating, the Hermès model of collecting, and the agony of the waitlist.

EPISODE 6: We get honest about the NYC fairs

Art fair gimmicks, our favourite Chelsea exhibitions, why solo booths are better, how (and whether) to network at a fair, and where artists should actually live.

EPISODE 5: The danger of selfies in museums

What happened at Dallas Art Fair, the importance of insurance, kids in museums, Tatum's accidental sculpture-breaking (twice), why editions are easier to replace, and Bronwyn's love of small art.

EPISODE 4: Shopping for prints on eBay and where to buy art in Toronto

Reactions to the discount episode, a big auction price discrepancy, collecting ephemera, where to find art in Toronto, and what's the deal with posthumous prints?

EPISODE 3: The discount debate in the art world

Charging art to your credit card, normal discount ranges in the art world, why you shouldn't ask for a discount if you can afford full price, a funny Sheila Hicks and Josef Albers story, and the role of art consultants.

EPISODE 2: Buying art materials on Temu & the ethics of buying directly from artists

Shipping paintings in plastic bags, why lightfast materials matter, the ethics of buying from a gallery vs. directly from an artist, buying art supplies on Temu, and Bronwyn's favourite piece at the Whitney Biennial.

EPISODE 1: Introducing Art Hotline

The inaugural episode tackles big questions: destroying artwork vs. book burning, auction bidding vs. gambling, disinheriting your artwork.

New episodes drop every two weeks. Questions? Email us: bronwyn@shortlycontemporary.com / tatum@artforecast.info

☎️ ✨ ☎️ ✨ ☎️ ✨ ☎️

THANKS FOR LISTENING !

☎️ ✨ ☎️ ✨ ☎️ ✨ ☎️

Flowers were one, which I wrote about recently, another is interiors, and I can’t help but wonder why I’m so drawn to them.

During Keiran Brennan Hinton’s studio visit last month, we briefly chatted about how much I love that I have a painting of his and Tatum’s living room hanging in my own living room — a bit meta, maybe a bit strange. But I love it, and I’ve been thinking about why.

When I think about what consistently draws me to art, it’s often ephemera or expressions of a very specific moment in time, captured for much longer than they were ever meant to exist.

I love art historical references hidden within artworks for similar reasons. They take a moment from the past and bring it into the present, only to become a moment in time once again.

Like flowers, interiors are temporary. A room only exists exactly as it is for a moment. A pillow on the couch, a half-read book, afternoon light hitting the corner of a room, these things feel permanent when we’re living among them, but they’re constantly changing. That’s what I find so compelling about painted interiors. They preserve evidence of everyday life.

Unlike portraits, which tell us who someone is, interiors often tell us how someone lives. What they collect, read, or what they return to every day without thinking.

Once again, I find myself returning to the Dutch Golden Age, a period that understood interiors remarkably well. Thinking this through, the Dutch painting course I took in university was one of the most rigorous art history classes I’ve ever taken, but it was also my favorite. Even though I’m a contemporary art person through and through, if I had to choose another period of art history, it would be the Dutch Golden Age, and reflecting on my personal collecting has made this, retrospectively, crystal clear.

The more I think about it, the more contemporary it feels. Still lifes, interiors, contemporary clothing, everyday life. While much of art history focused on religion, mythology, landscapes, or historical events, Dutch painters turned their attention to the world directly around them. They made ordinary moments worthy of observation.

Centuries later, I find myself drawn to contemporary painters doing something similar.

Not because I care about the exact chair or lamp being depicted, but because interiors reveal people indirectly, and often more honestly than a portrait can. A room can tell you what someone values, what they’ve inherited, what they’ve chosen to keep close. And unlike photographs, paintings require decisions. The artist chooses what deserves attention and every object becomes intentional.

Perhaps that’s why I love having a painting of someone else’s living room hanging in my own. It’s not really about the room itself. It’s about being invited into a particular moment, one that would otherwise have disappeared.

The older I get, the more I appreciate art that encourages me to notice these small things. Art continues to remind me that life is largely made up of easily overlooked moments, the split second we have to take something in before it changes into something else.

Below are a few contemporary painters, several of whom I live with, whose interiors I am constantly thinking about.

Brian Rideout | American Collection Painting 75 (Judd, Warhol, Fontana), 2026

Chloe Chlumecky | Going to Sleep Early, 2025

Keiran Brennan Hinton | Late Morning, 2025

Dike Blair | Untitled, 2025

Michelle Paterok | July Rain, 2025

Sophie Treppendahl | Breakfast With Vuillard and Candles, Gray, 2026

So, what do you think? Would you live with an interior?

Any questions on the above or otherwise, don’t hesitate to reach out. And thank you, as always, for supporting my work!

Until next time…
xx Bronwyn

Further reading…

Read more

Mid-May, New York’s art world is in overdrive. Over a few days, half a dozen fairs run at once (Frieze, Independent, NADA, TEFAF, 1:54, Future Fair), alongside gallery openings, auction previews, and the big museum shows (this year, the Whitney Biennial).

New York is my old stomping ground so I knew what I was getting into: two days of back-to-back fairs, gallery hops, and the kind of run-ins that only happen when everyone in your industry is in the same zip code.

I tend to go into an art week with a loose brief (this year: mid-size paintings, textured or unconventional material works, new discoveries) and let the rest happen.

Fairs are a standing part of my job, year round and all over the map, and they only get bigger. So here’s the condensed version of what one of these weeks feels like from the inside: my time-stamped whirlwind, plus highlights from everything I saw.

DAY ONE

Billy Bishop Airport — 6:12am

The downtown Toronto airport is the best. My one gripe: the new public art program in the tunnel from the city to the terminal leaves… much… to be… desired. Very sweet artists selected, very rough execution (it reads like billboards at the wrong scale).

LaGuardia — 9:24am

Landed at LaGuardia was pretty thrilled to encounter a strong art program right away. I am used to landing in Newark, where I'm lucky to spot a mural. Here: a cluster of Jeppe Hein's mirror balloons up in the rafters, a Sarah Sze sculpture suspended near the ticketing counters, and a Laura Owens tiled mural running along the escalators.

As I made my way past the art towards the exit, I remembered that traffic into Manhattan is a form of punishment at this time of day. As a former New Yorker, I did what I had to do and hopped the subway instead. While sitting in one of the cars, I spotted work by Marcel Dzama as part of the metro public art program commissioned by MTA Arts & Design, another good omen.

Finally made it to 23rd and 8th, my old neighborhood, so a bacon, egg and cheese from the corner bodega was essential.

NADA — 10:34am

NADA is one of the most discovery-driven fairs on the itinerary. I’ve written about it before in the context of Art Basel and Miami’s Art Week, as it tends to be where I find exciting new galleries and artists (this year’s edition brought together 121 galleries from 46 cities). The work tends to be fresh, and the prices are (often) still sensible.

Met and her husband, Keiran Brennan Hinton, here, and spent almost all our subsequent art viewing hours together, which is the best company you can keep during a fair blitz like this.

This year felt a little quieter and I wasn’t drawn to as many booths as I am usually. There were lots of great galleries showing great work, it just felt a little less sophisticated. However, of course, there were discoveries!

I loved finding a Philadelphia-based gallery called Blah Blah which I hadn’t encountered before was showing some small works made of beads or cross-stich and wax. They were affordable, tactile, completely their own thing.

Another new gallery discovery was Sarah Crown’s booth. A New York-based gallery with a three person presentation — each work was interesting and different yet somehow worked cohesively.

Did my final rounds of the booths and headed out into Chelsea for some gallery shows. Fair weeks are the best because all the surrounding galleries tend to put on their top shows of the season.

Chelsea — 12:49pm

Moving from NADA’s quickly built plywood walls straight into these cathedral-sized spaces hit differently this year.

Lasting impressions:

• Helen Frankenthaler at Gagosian

• Gerhard Richter at David Zwirner

• Danielle McKinney’s intimate paintings and the sculpture and installation by Sanford Biggers at Marianne Boesky

All work that has very much earned its place in art history, hanging in immense, monumental rooms, commanding and demanding attention. Epic!

Empire Diner — 1:43pm

Quick stop between galleries to rest our feet for a bit. This re-vamped old-school diner is the best and has pretty great people watching.

Once we finished the galleries, we walked the High Line up to Frieze, because this public art filled above-ground park is a non-negotiable.

Frieze at the Shed — 4:07pm

Frieze New York is the most elite (blue-chip) of the contemporary fairs this week. TEFAF is a different animal (also on view this week), equally elite but with a bit more range in the periods of art on view.

I have to say, the Shed, where the fair takes place, is a strange building. I think it was built “for the arts,” but it’s hard to really understand its utility.

The art was strong, but the booths felt, for the most part, a bit chaotic, without a clear point of view. Lots of pieces and lots of strong artists from every reputable gallery’s program (maybe too many artists at once?). A great place to start, but having been to hundreds of fairs, it ended up being a little forgettable.

However, as always, there are some standouts:

• Night Gallery with Hayley Barker, dreamy, as always.

• Mor Charpentier had some lovely paintings of people sleeping by Anas Albraehe. I noticed sleeping figures as a recurring motif across the fair, either it’s a genuine theme this season or I was simply drawn to the stillness of them in the middle of a very loud two days.

• The work I keep thinking about: Ming Fay’s decoupage fruit mobile-like sculpture at Kurimanzutto. Delightful.

That’s all the art for day one. Uptown for a wholesome evening with my high school best friend and her two kids.

DAY TWO

Upper West Side — 6:11am

Reviewing photos from yesterday, I always find looking back makes looking forward more clear.

Independent doesn’t open until 11, so the morning was nice and slow in the best way — visited a friend awaiting her baby in a hopsital uptown and and discovered the hospital she’s staying in has a great art collection on display throughout. I know this is my bias, but I think it matters enormously!!

Independent — 11:08am

Ubered downtown to Independent moved to a new home at Pier 36 on Manhattan’s Lower East Side.

The energy was immediately different from NADA and Frieze. More focused (70%+ of presentations were solo exhibitions) and more polished.

[artwork image]

We did a few laps, ran into former colleagues and collaborators, grabbed a quick coffee, went around again.

Some highlights:

• Silvia Heyden’s tapestries at Charles Moffett

• Matt Kleberg’s shaped paintings at SOCO Gallery

• Dianna Settles portrait of motherhood at March

On our way out we almost missed (but not really): U-Haul Gallery — a pop-up inside an actual U-Haul truck parked outside the fair. Clever concept, for sure, but what surprised me was how sophisticated the work was. Diego Miro Rivera’s peices on the plywood walls were serious art!

Walked towards TiBeCa and grabbed a pizza slice at Hots and sat on a park bench. So very New York.

15 Orient, TriBeCa — 2:12pm

Doris Guo’s “Still Human” — intriguing and mysterious. A setting where the work just felt like it belonged! Worth every step downtown.

Onwards to Charles Moffett and Jack Shainman, where we went specifically to see more Lynette Yiadom-Boakye, but I think Shainman's former bank vault space is a must-visit on every trip.

Thai Diner — 3:26pm

Mostly to sit and have a little snack. Back on the subway uptown.

ESTHER III — 4:18pm

In its third and final installment, ESTHER III offered something increasingly rare during fair week: discovery without spectacle. Held inside the Estonian House in Midtown, art on every floor, in every room, tucked into corners and up staircases. It has that rare fair quality of making you feel like you could actually live with the work — the way hotel-based fairs like Felix do, or Basel Social Club in Switzerland. Hidden gems everywhere.

The perfect note to end on.

Two days, four fairs, a lot of subway rides. My job is to know what’s worth your attention before you have to figure it out yourself, and this week reminded me why I love doing it.

As I was leaving New York, the week somehow got bigger. News broke that the Neue Galerie will merge with the Met, bringing Ronald Lauder’s collection, Klimt’s Woman in Gold included, to the Met by 2028. And while I didn’t make it to the auction previews this year, and focused on the fairs, this recap would not be honest without a mention. The evening sales resulted in a real spectacle, with Christie’s alone selling roughly $1.1 billion of art on Monday night! A huge week for art, all around.

Paid subscribers, keep reading for details on the works above, including pricing, plus a few additional works I wanted to take home!

Until next time,
xx Bronwyn

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As a result, we live with two extremes: a 60 x 72 inch painting by Anders Lindseth, and a Jonathan Monk receipt painting that is just 4 1/4 x 2 1/4 inches. Both hold their own, play different roles, and feel equally important. But I’m here to make the case for small scale.

I often find myself recommending smaller works, especially as an entry point. If there’s an artist you love but their market has moved beyond reach, smaller pieces can offer a way in without compromising on quality or connection.

Earlier this month, I stopped by Russna Kaur’s exhibition at Cooper Cole in Toronto. There were massive paintings stretching across double-height walls, but also tiny works placed unexpectedly throughout. It got me thinking, quite intentionally, about scale.

Scale is something that feels instinctive to me, but I know can be surprisingly difficult to navigate. For me, it’s actually the most fun challenge - when moving artwork into a new house, re-curating a corporate collection, or finding the perfect spot for the artwork you need to have, and will find a place for later.

Lately, this conversation around scale seems to be everywhere in my algorithm (perhaps a result of working on this newsletter, or just confirmation bias). Tatum and I also got into this on the last episode of ART HOTLINE, which felt very serendipitous given where my head has been. If you haven’t listened yet, start there.

Most design newsletters, more often than not, insist that bigger is better when it comes to art. I don’t agree. There was one quote in particular that made me stop and think, and ultimately made me write this. It said: “when it comes to art, go bigger than you think, by at least 20%.” AH.

I understand it, from a design point of view. When artwork is treated as a finishing element rather than a statement, the goal is harmony. Not necessarily personality, nor reflection of the humans in the space. A large work can feel easy, even obvious. If the goal is decoration, that logic holds. But if the goal is to add personality, to create a point of view, that’s where art operates differently. And scale, both large and small, becomes a tool rather than a rule.

Where I do agree with much of the design advice, is on asymmetry. While this logic is almost always applied to objects, but it very much applies to art. Small works especially benefit from it. Unexpected groupings, off-centre placements, and pairings that don’t try too hard. Asymmetry adds interest.

A favorite placement from a Pearl Rowe project we worked on last year was a small Luca Sold piece above a rather large banquette, off-centre and intentionally asymmetrical.

Another example that I keep coming back to is something Merie Subryan wrote about. She discusses how her purchase of a Malick Sidibé print ultimately led her home to be featured in Dwell, and how it was placed instinctively, not decoratively, and what happened as a result:

The photograph first lived in our bedroom. It wasn’t a deliberate placement so much as an instinctive one. It felt like something I wanted near me, not presented... The photograph didn’t just hang there. It participated… Eventually, I moved the photograph onto our string shelves, where it remains in clear view for anyone who enters our home. I arranged the shelves to house the photograph, giving it clarity and allowing it to set the tone for everything around it. You see it immediately.

It’s what the right work in the right place does, regardless of size.

Of course, we have several large artworks in fairly predictable places — above our bed (though I am thinking of switching this up…), and in the living room above one of the couches. However, the larger wall in the living room is intentionally blank. A small work sits on the narrow wall beside our bedroom window, while another work leans on the large wall above the dresser. In the dining room, where there is significant wall space, it is only small works, including two photographs not even hung, just leaning against the sideboard. In the kitchen, a pair of small of different portions works sit behind the island. And about 15 artworks are clustered throughout my daughter’s room.

The various tensions between scale and placement are actually quite intentional.

Scale isn’t about filling space. A piece that’s “too small” can be exactly right if it’s placed with conviction. A monumental work can stop you in your tracks in the best way. Neither is wrong, but defaulting to “go bigger” skips over something that can be much more compelling.

Colin King put it well in his design newsletter on the connective thread throughout his favourite interior inspo images:

Something slightly too big or slightly too small that shifts the authority of the entire composition… An art hang that feels slightly too low until you stand there long enough to realize it’s exactly right.

What I keep coming back to is that, to me, scale is most interesting when it subverts expectation. A tiny work commanding a large wall. A single piece hung asymmetrically above a sofa rather than dead center. A gallery wall, but not in the predictable sense: maybe three unexpected works together, unified in concept or execution rather than matching frames and tidy, even spacing. These are the arrangements that make a room feel personal rather than cookie cutter.

If this has you reconsidering small works, I’ve pulled together a few I’m currently eyeing below the paywall.

Until next time…
xx, Bronwyn

Share First Edition: Art Market Insights

Further reading…

Art Forecast

Ep 4: Shopping for prints on eBay and where to buy art in Toronto

In today’s episode: we improve the audio quality, reactions to our episode on discounts in the art world, a big price difference at auction, the art of collecting ephemera, where to find art to buy in Toronto, we insist you do your own research before collecting a piece, excitement around our sold-out studio visit with Ella Gonzales, our upcoming travel…

Listen now

5 months ago · 10 likes · 2 comments · Tatum Dooley and Bronwyn Hunter-Shortly

Section Plane

The Art Piece That Landed Our Home in Dwell Magazine

Most homes can be traced back to one early decision: a sofa that sets the scale, a rug that locks in the palette, or a slab of metal or stone that establishes the rules of the room…

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8 months ago · 18 likes · 4 comments · Merie Subryan

The Last Layer by Colin King

I Finally Made the Folder

I finally made the folder…

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5 months ago · 80 likes · 10 comments · Colin King

Eight killer small works I’d love to find a wall for:

Russna Kaur
Overview, 2026

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With our RSVP events, we like to open each visit with a ritual meaningful to the artist, something that sets the tone with immediacy and intimacy, from a place of comfort. For Ella, that’s a moment on her patio watching the sunset, listening to the playlist that fuels both her studio time and her long runs. It was the right entry point. Resetting outside, music, movement, these aren’t adjacent to Ella’s practice. They’re part of it.

Studio visits are my favourite thing. When you hear from an artist directly, you get to peek behind the curtain into the thinking, the process, and the why. And this one proved to shine light on just how much endurance is involved. Much like an athlete, artists work tirelessly in pursuit of something they can’t always name in advance.

As a result of Thursday, I’ll never look at the silk Ella uses the same way again. What I saw as a simply gorgeous material, she carries as identity. She works primarily with acrylic paint on piña silk, a traditional Filipino textile, one I learned I would have recognized instantly, had I grown up with it. Hearing about this alongside so many other touchstones from her childhood and culture felt like being welcomed into her community and her memories. That’s so often the power of art, it builds your understanding of the world around you and lets you in. We could always use more of that.

Her paintings are layered, both visually and conceptually. Subtle but graphic. The wooden stretchers behind the painted silk surface are visible. So is the hand. There’s precision, but also an honesty to the surface being unpredictable. She works to trace paths and reconstruct spaces from her memory, sometimes with computer software retraced by her hand. We learned that some early experimentation on unprimed canvas led to what she’s become recognized for: pigment that seeps into the surface rather than sitting on top of it. It feels like a metaphor for what she’s after. You don’t need to know she’s Filipino to appreciate her work, but she’d love it if you did.

Then there’s the running.

Ella runs, reads about running, thinks about running, and talking about it with her was one of the more useful frameworks I’ve found for understanding an artist’s practice.

Before spending real time with artists in their studios, I didn’t fully grasp (and probably still don’t) the conditioning required, the discipline of preparing for a show when the deadline is fixed but the work is deeply personal and, in many ways, unknown. How do you balance that?

Ella gets a studio high. Like a runner’s high, where creating becomes the only thing. Not the grant applications, not the emails, not the logistics, but undivided attention to making. Time stands still.

Every artist has their own version of this. Their own rituals, their own entry points into that state. And doesn’t that also make art feel undeniably, essentially human?

That’s the point of all of this, the closer you get to an artist’s practice, the more you see. The material, the culture behind it, the endurance it took to get there. It changes art from something you look at to something you understand, and want to live with.

📍 To visit her work in person, Ella Gonzales has a show coming up in Toronto at Susan Hobbs Gallery at the end of May.

For more on Ella’s work, I’ve included details and pricing on available pieces below the fold for paid subscribers.

Until next time…
xx Bronwyn

Further reading…

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I’ve bought and sold works at auction. I love the hunt, the challenge, and the unexpected finds that find me. I love to see how things are framed, reading condition reports, and watch bidding wars takeover. During the spring and fall sales at Christie’s or Sotheby’s, I’ll often have the evening auction sales playing in the background like a sporting event. I like sharing exciting results.

Auctions can feel a bit mysterious, kind of sexy, and a little daunting. But once you understand how they work, they’re also one of the more accessible entry points into collecting.

I actually started my career at Christie’s Auction House, so the auction process has always felt like a natural part of the art world to me. I learned the mechanics early, how prices land, what drives competition, and where to look for opportunities.

That said, auction isn’t usually the first place I go when sourcing for clients. There’s a lot of chance involved and you have to be decisive in a way that doesn’t always align with majority of my client’s goals. So these days, I mostly return to it as a personal pursuit, but I think about it often.

Case and point — and I recorded the first episode of our (now bi-monthly) podcast, ART HOTLINE (listen on Spotify or Apple Podcasts), last month and we talked bidding protocol. After that conversation, I went down a bit of a rabbit hole, which almost always results in bookmarking a few things for myself that I probably shouldn’t. So I figured, if I am going to bid on some things for myself, why not do a deeper dive on the subject?

Why Buy at Auction?

For me, auction is a place for the unexpected. An artist I’ve loved and followed but couldn’t quite afford? Maybe there’s a piece available. A large wall that really needs something great but there isn’t anything of the scale available int he galleries that quite fits the bill? Why not keep an eye out.

Even modest budgets can lead to wins if you play it smart. This is where auctions really shine as an accessible entry point, you might just get lucky!

Core Principals for Buying at Auction

Set a maximum
The pace of bidding is designed to push you, so decide your number in advance. Stick to it! Emotions are no joke when the bidding starts.

Factor in buyers premiums.
They vary by auction house, and on lower-priced lots, this typically lands in the 25–35% range. It can materially change your final price, so always calculate your true max with that in mind.

Consider the additional asks.
Sometimes, the framing is already done. Nice! How is the condition? Great? Great. Shipping (especially to Canada) can sting… consider getting quotes in advance.

Between transport, duties, and logistics, costs can climb. That said, for the right work, it’s often still worth it.

Don’t reveal your cards (on the internet)!
Resist the urge to use reminder tools, make a personal calendar event with the link instead. Similarly, don’t bid too far in advanced of the live auction.

Want to see what I’m bidding on? Below the paywall you’ll find in-depth bidding advice, including:

• What I’m currently watching, and how I find works to bid on

• Where I’m finding the best value right now (and where I check regularly)

• How I actually set my max bid

• A case study for a work I’m bidding on this week

Craig, if you’re reading this—wish *us* luck!

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Flowers are delicate, beautiful, and temporary. They might grow in your yard or arrive from far away places. The path of an off-season flower is fascinating, how it is preserved, who handles it, what it costs. A body of Luis Mora’s work focuses on the flower markets in Colombia, the vibrancy at their source, and then their long journey to our corner stores. Even after that journey, they maintain their shape, simultaneously delicate and resilient.

I’m drawn to flowers because they’re so tied to a specific moment in time, and that’s what attracts me to contemporary art in the first place, the moment a work is created feels immediate, but time reveals its true meaning.

To look at the history of art for a moment…

In early, medieval period, flowers were depicted as decorative ornament, on buildings or tombstones. With time they became symbolic, playing specific roles in religious iconography and storytelling. My favorite period of florals in art is the Dutch Golden Age, when the subject became the focus, not just a background detail.

Dutch masters painted bouquets that could never exist together in real life. Flowers of different seasons, or exotic imports paired with local varieties. It’s hard to imagine ourselves in a time before global shipping and refrigerated transport, before you could access anything at any moment. With that context in mind, 17th century viewers were asked viewers to accept something impossible.

To that end, the bouquets weren’t just pretty, they told stories; tulips referenced speculative markets and trade, exotic flowers signalled wealth, insects and wilting petals hinted at decay. The message these florals brought is clear… beauty, luxury, and life itself are fleeting.

A seemingly simple arrangement in paint carries centuries of art-historical symbolism. That tension, between beauty and mortality, is what continues to pull me in to paintings about flowers.

The works you’re repeatedly pulled toward often reveal a pattern, though that pattern usually only becomes clear in hindsight. For me, flowers freeze a moment, and with that I imagine the artists in their studios, capturing the light shifting across petals that might not be there tomorrow. Frankly, I don’t love thinking about time passing, and as sentimental as this may sound, flowers feel like a subconscious reminder of how precious and temporary everything is.

🌸

Below you’ll find a few floral works that have caught my eye recently. As always, pricing for these works can be found below the paywall for paid subscribers!

Kate Zimmerman Turpin
Moth and Rust II, 2026
Acrylic and pastel on canvas | 36 x 30 in

Rosie Clements
Calyx, 2026
UV printed photograph on bubble wrap, framed in clear plexiglass lid with canvas backing | 20 x 16 x 2 inches
$3,500 USD

Alexandre Kasproviez
Étude VII (Fleurs, Jardin de l’Etat, La Réunion)
Oil on canvas | 9.5 x 12 inches
$2,000 USD

Keiran Brennan Hinton
Texas Sky (Sunrise), 2024
Oil on linen | 56 x 44 inches

Phoebe Helander
Cold Rose in a Warm Room, 2024
Oil on wood | 12 x 12 x 2 inches

Claire Milbrath
Green Fuse, 2024
Acrylic on canvas | 10 x 8 inches

Hilary Pecis
Kitchen Lilies, 2024
Silkscreen, Edition of 50 | 40 x 30 inch edition of 50

Jonas Wood
Poppies 5, Poppies 6, Poppies 7, 2024
Oil and acrylic on canvas and linen in 3 parts | 18 x 14 inches; 16 x 16 inches; 24 x 18 inches

Julien Lischka
Le Bouquet , 2025
Oil on canvas | 23 3/5 × 19 7/10 in

And finally… And while my appreciation for flowers is hardly unique, Karma has published an especially thoughtful curation of floral paintings that I return to often for inspiration, if you too can’t get enough. (I have this Dike Blair cover but choose your own adventure!)

PAID SUBSCRIBERS: Read on for more insight and details on the above flower paintings 🌸

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Valentine’s can feel a bit trite, but I’ll take any excuse to distract myself from winter right now. So I’ve gathered a group of romantic works I’ve come across lately, pieces that say love without feeling too on-the-nose (however, no judgement).

If you’ve been following my round ups for a while now, you won’t be surprised that several of works feature flowers. I love paintings of flowers, and this feels like an extra excuse to share just how versatile the subject can be. Flowers are fleeting; paintings last forever (in theory). There’s something quite romantic in the contrast. I might just have to do a little more writing about that…

For now, here’s a selection of works to get you in the mood for the day. As always, for paid subscribers, you’ll find pricing below the fold! xx

Owen Westburg
blossoms, 2024
Oil on aluminum flashing | 7 3/4 x 5 3/4 inches

Sophia Lapres
Hotel, 2025
Oil on aluminum panel | 13 3⁄4 x 8 3⁄4 in.

Darby Milbrath
Wild Crocuses, 2025
oil on linen | 18 x 14 in

Conor Rothe
Not, 2025
Acrylic on canvas | 8 x 10 in

Katelyn Eichwald
Love Song, 2025
oil on canvas | 8 x 6 in

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During the visit, a few attendees had never seen her work before and joined simply hoping to learn something new (which I love). It was so rewarding to hear their experience unfold, from initial reaction to a more nuanced, insight-supported understanding by the end of the visit.

This understanding of a first-encounter I try to return to again and again. I’m very familiar with how to look, where to find information, how to contextualize and understand art, but it matters deeply to me that experiences with art feel welcoming and interesting, not overcomplicated or overly academic. Honestly, there are gallery texts I don’t want to read, or interpretations that feel completely over my head, and even as someone who works in this space, I often wonder who those messages are really for. But I digress. (One of my favorite people in the world to listen to and read from is Tatum, and, of course, she wrote a great piece on this exact topic.)

Art Forecast

Can we please make art writing easier to understand?

Many years ago, I was talking to a woman when she abruptly stopped the conversation to say, “I apologize for speaking so plainly. I’m a bit under the weather. I usually only use polysyllabic words…

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8 months ago · 19 likes · 2 comments · Tatum Dooley

Back to Luca’s work.

I remember the first time I saw it. Her soft, monochromatic pieces felt ephemeral, blurry, and photorealistic all at once. The texture was interesting, and kept me lingering. After a few moments of looking, it was pointed out that the forms I was looking at were made of collected household dust. Dust as medium.

I’ve seen her work countless times since, and the list of materials has become such an integral part of the experience. I rush or scroll to the cataloging that accompanies the piece to see what it’s made of right away — powdered material… a girls shoe size 6 within a painting of footprints, a pack of sweet and low composing a painting of a strawberry bush.

While that desire to understand mateiral adds a layer to the looking experience, even more layers are added on when you hear from the artist herself.

I found it fascinating to learn that while Luca is very comfortable creating forms from dust, and titling or writing about her pieces, it’s actually selecting the image itself that she struggles with most - despite that being most people’s first point of entry into her work.

The process itself, grinding down objects like car hoods, bedframes, necklaces, and birdbaths to make a “paint,” is so inherently masculine and utilitarian, yet it results in remarkably soft surfaces. Luca has become an expert in construction tools, alongside her sensitivity and skill for image-making.

Her process is incredibly unique. With a background in sculpture and a method that feels closer to printmaking than painting, there’s an interesting juxtaposition at play. The initial encounter with her pieces feels like looking at a painting, yet the depth of the process behind the work can’t be fully grasped on a first, second, or even third look.

This tension between perception and reality is exactly why I love writing and sharing my thoughts about art, what a privileged position it is to learn these insights and anecdotes firsthand and share them more broadly.

The point is: viewing art should be fun. It should spark curiosity. Questions. A desire to learn, to grow, to feel something (or a few things). It doesn’t have to feel like a chore. It can feel like being a kid listening to a great bedtime story, or the thrill of learning something new.

Not every artist or artwork you encounter will do this for you, and that’s okay. Art isn’t one-size-fits-all, and not every piece is for everyone. But there is something out there for everyone that can be all of these things and more.

For more on Luca’s work, I’ve included details and pricing on available pieces below the fold for paid subscribers.

Until next time…
xx Bronwyn

Hang Sweet and Low, 2025
adhesive and powdered material (tabletop laminate, cup, spoon, Sweet ‘N Low packet, ballpoint pen on napkin) on panel

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With that in mind, this edition’s painting round-up starts a bit differently than usual. I’m opening with two historical works coming up for auction, neither particularly contemporary, but both deeply rooted in that tradition of Canadian winter landscapes. I don’t normally share historical works but given the theme of this newsletter, it felt like the right place to start.

Plus, what kind of Canada-based art advisor would I be if I didn’t include a few classic depictions of winter?

Maud Lewis
Winter Sleigh
mixed media on paper
Estimate: $5,000 - $7,000 CAD | Current bid: $7,500

René Jean Richard
Paysage
oil on board
18 x 24 in
Estimate: $2,000 - $3,000 CAD | Current bid: $1,900

Both of these works are coming up at auction next week, on January 29, in Heffel’s online sale, The Canadian Winter.

Now for some contemporary works I’ve got my eye on…

Read more

January | Dan Flavin, SCAD Museum of Art, Savannah, Georgia

I try to see art in person every single week, which is why my January so often starts in the same place - at SCAD in Savannah, Georgia.

This installation, brought from Dia:Beacon in New York, felt especially fresh in a new context. I also have to say, the docents at SCAD are some of the best, so engaging and deeply knowledgeable. The docent in this install offered a few new ways of looking at a work I’d seen a few times before. Such a great reminder to revisit things you’ve seen before, you can always learn something new. Effie and my mom loved it too!

February | Hugh Hayden, Art Gallery of Ontario, Henry Moore Centre, Toronto

With the AGO just around the corner, I’m there often, especially in the winter. I loved visiting Hugh Hayden’s sculpture, which interrupts the permanent installation of Henry Moore works. I’m a sucker for contemporary pieces placed in dialogue with historical works, and this was an A+ example of how powerful that contrast can be.

March | Laura Owens, Matthew Marks Gallery, New York

It’s always hard to pick just one highlight from a great art trip, but if I had to choose, this was it. It might even be my highlight of the entire year. Laura Owens proves, again and again, that art can be fun, whimsical, and surprising. She plays with the traditions of painting in ways that make you feel like you’re inside the work, while still inviting you to touch the art itself, from the walls to the book pages.

April | Rita Mawuena Benissan, Zeitz MOCA, Cape Town

Art creates such an important portal into culture - some familiar, others less so. I always make a point of visiting museums when I’m somewhere new, it’s one of the best ways to feel more connected to a place. The Zeitz was no exception.

I only recognized an artist or two on view, so I loved spending time in the various exhibitions and learning more about the traditions and cultural production of the contemporary African artists who were new to me. Rita Mawuena Benissan’s exhibition, in particular, offered a powerful window into the ethos of Indigenous populations in Ghana and was a real highlight of the visit.

May | Issy Wood, Michael Werner Gallery, Los Angeles

Some paintings can almost translate on screen, Issy’s cannot. The materiality is so sumptuous, in blatant contrast with the mundane (and sometimes startling) subject matter. The works feel intimate, and the gallery itself, tucked away in the heart of Beverly Hills, made the whole visit feel like a little jewel-box experience.

June | Olga de Amaral, ICA, Miami

In my first role out of grad school, the advisory team I worked on organized a selling exhibition of Latin American artists, and Olga de Amaral was a standout. Seeing her work at this scale was incredible - the quality, the materiality (a theme of 2025?), and the elevation of six decades of work by a senior, textile-based artist. Experiencing it all within the beautifully polished space of the ICA was quite special.

July | A special Jake Santos commission

Discovering Jake’s work this year felt kismet, he was the perfect artist to create a work celebrating a special milestone. Working with a combination of memory and source material, Jake felt like exactly the right artist to give free rein for something so personal and meaningful. If you’re looking for a sign that art makes the perfect gift, this is it.

August | A Keiran Brennan Hinton studio visit before his New York exhibition

I’m very lucky to call Kieran a close friend, and even luckier to be invited into his studio this summer. Seeing his paintings in Toronto before they headed to New York for his exhibition at Charles Moffett was a special behind-the-scenes moment.

September | Zoe Koke, Franz Kaka, Toronto

Zoe’s work was a highlight of 2024, so I was eagerly awaiting her Toronto exhibition. The works did not disappoint, lingering in my mind long after I left the gallery. The idea that this series captures the memory of a landscape, almost like the image that stays on the back of your eyelids, is now permanently lodged in my brain.

October | Isabel Okoro, Studio Ninth, Toronto

A highlight of the RSVP series I started this year was this intimate artist talk with Isabel Okoro. The evening began with a conversation about Isabel’s background and practice and ended with Nigerian snacks. Connecting passion, culture, conversation, and food felt incredibly special, and reaffirmed what this whole project is really about.

November | Jeff Wall, MOCA, Toronto

As a longtime lover of Jeff Wall, felt very lucky to have such an expansive exhibiton of his work on view nearby.

As a longtime admirer of Jeff Wall, I felt very lucky to have such an expansive exhibition of his work on view nearby. I wrote earlier this year about photography, how it consistently draws me in and Jeff Wall played a large role in that initial connection. To see the extent of his work and the progression of his pratice was a highlight.

December | A little Brian Rideout finding a place at home in Toronto

Ending the year with these small works that felt especially meaningful as I’m lucky enough to live with the piece on the right every day. To me, this work encapsulates 2025: a continued love of art history in action, practicing what I preach by living with art that makes you feel something, taking risks and starting new things (Brian was one of our early RSVP events!), supporting galleries and artists, putting into words why art matters, and working with truly amazing people.

Here’s to everything that’s in store, in art and otherwise, in 2026.

xx
Bronwyn

Further reading…

Looking back on 2024, it felt very different from where I am in 2025, both personally and professionally.

This year I made a pretty dramatic pivot away from offering ways to experience art online and back toward encouraging art experiences in person. Why? Because I missed it. Screens weren’t doing it for me and I found myself craving seeing art in real space and having face to face conversations about it.

Still, I’m not anti-online, I think the internet is an incredible tool and I am excited about the potential collaborations between the art world and thoughtful technology. The right tool could truly help more people support art. But I think anything meaningful here will require patience and genuine passion. And above all, it needs to benefit the storytellers who matter most: galleries and artists. Collectors will always find great work in any format - the infrastructure has to help the people creating and presenting the art in the first place.

As I focused more on collectors in my consulting practice, it became clearer than ever that online tools are most powerful when they bring people to in-person experiences. Ironically, this was also the year I attended the fewest art fairs since I started working in art. Just one. A steep drop from my peak: seventeen fairs across seven cities in a single year.

You can making meaningful connections to art from home. The internet is a necessary tool: great for staying connected internationally, invaluable for following artists you already know, and surprisingly helpful for finding new names to seek out in the wild. But it doesn’t replace the feeling of walking into a booth and suddenly remembering why you care about any of this, or the community that forms around those encounters.

However, what I lacked in art fair encounters, I made up for in local collaboration. Working with Tatum of to create our RSVP event series and consulting for with Laura Mann reminded me how energizing it is to build things with people whose goals run parallel to mine = to expose people to art, in any and as many ways possible.

Finally, a little thank you to those following along. This newsletter grew a lot. It almost doubled in readership (!!). There are now 20 paid subscribers (❤️). And I somehow wrote 29 newsletters.

Here’s to whatever shape art takes in 2025 - writing about it here, seeking it out online when helpful, and in the spaces where we can stand in front of it together!

xx
Bronwyn

Top posts of 2025…

When we talk about art, we often think of it as something precious and fragile. But in reality, the point is for artworks to live ordinary lives alongside us. They’ve hung above fireplaces, situated in sunny windows, and occasionally surviving a bump from an enthusiastic viewer. (Or in a specific case of mine, sit behind my toddler’s highchair… wish us luck!)

It’s funny to think about how an artwork moves through its own life. I’ve seen pieces barely wrapped in the back seat of a car eventually handled with white gloves in custom-built shipping crates to travel across the ocean for auction. Even works by Monet or Picasso, now untouchable, once hung in smoky living rooms, softened and yellowed by years of being lived with. That’s the real beauty: the layers of life embedded in the object.

A recent conversation with Kendra Yee (through our RSVP event series) brought this even more into focus. She talked about the different ways people engage with her sculptural work, with some people treating her objects like tiny icons that should never be moved, while others put flowers in her vases or keep them within reach, expecting visitors to touch them. She didn’t flinch at the idea of people handling her work, she fully embraced it. I loved her thought that hands “activate” the clay, that the material is somehow completed by handling and use.

There’s something refreshing and worth emphasizing about that.

I’m a firm believer in arranging art so it feels special but still fully livable. What’s the point of owning something you can’t actually be around or use in a real way? Beautiful and meaningful things should be part of your everyday environment, not kept at a distance.

Inspired by Kendra’s outlook, here are a few ceramic pieces to inspire you, that also happen to be perfect for everyday living.

Julie Moon
Canister, 2023
glazed stoneware | 5”h x 4.75”w x 4.75”d
$400

Julie Moon
Holding, 2024
Stoneware, glaze | 18.5 x 10 x 12 inches
$3,200

Erica Eyres
Candy Cigarettes (Lucky Lights), 2024
glazed stoneware, lifesize
$800

Alex Sheriff
Bronto, 2018
Ceramic
$125

David Migwans
Assorted Whale Bowls
Painted ceramic
$55

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For the artsy host

There is nothing better that a good gift for a great host.

By purchasing one of these limited-edition dinner plates from the Artist Plate Project, over 100 meals are provided to homeless and hungry individuals. Created by leading contemporary artists, there is truly one for any and every aesthetic. Every year they release new collaborations and this one by Cecily Brown is my favorite of 2025!
$250 USD

If you have money to burn… and need something for someone who has everything, why not choose a $300 &Sons chocolate bar created in collaboration with Ed Ruscha?
$295 USD

For the artsy friend’s and/or thier kiddo

The below are perfect for a little one, but could realistically could suit any age.

This My Art Books series of books published by Phaidon are so cute. You can expect full color reproductions of contemporary paintings, organized around different themes — friendship, love, sleep, happiness — chose your adventure!
$25 USD

The RxArt Coloring Book is produced every other year and given as a gift to pediatric patients and their families in hospitals. You can buy one as well, with proceeds supporting their mission of outfitting hospitals with incredible contemporary art. A win win.
RXArt US Edition $25 USD | RxArt Canada Edition $35 CAD

This Goodnight Moon writing kit issued by the US Postal Service would work as a perfect gift for kids or stationary-addicted adults in my mind.
$28 USD

Art but make it fashion

Adding a little something *unique* to a wardrobe is never a bad idea.

For those with cold feet and dream of the desert, a pair of art slippers by Gabriel Rico could be a nice fit.
$93 USD

Still not sure what to make of this collaboration, but in the realm of merch, it is hard to deny the results are pretty chic. FRAME x Sotheby’s collab sweater for someone EXTREMELY special.
$1,900 CAD

Games and art

Art can be anywhere, even on the cardtable.

Why not this frameworthy puzzle by Alex Prager?
$75 USD

Playing cards that celebrate the history of women artists sold at the MoMA Design store. A not-so-subtle reminder of the impact women have had on art history!
$17 USD

A little art, gifted

Small artworks that make meaningful, lifelong presents.

A clever little sculpture or two…
Kelly Mark
To Do: Drawing of a Pencil, 2011
8B graphite pencil on wood, matte spray varnish & Corian®
Edition of 15 + 2 AP
28 × 22 × 5 cm
$800 CAD

Greg Ito
Night Light, 2019
Edition of 50
16 x 20
$1,200

A gem of a painting by Heather Goodchild.
Mid-Winter Bouquet Black, 2025
Oil on canvas | 16 x 20 inches
$ 1,500 — contact for availability

Have any gifts you love to give? I want to hear!

In the meantime, here’s to giving things that feel thoughtful, personal, and a little bit fun.

Until next time…
xx Bronwyn

This year includes a special Arte Sur focus section, curated by Karen Huber, the incredible Mexico City based gallerist I’ve had the pleasure of working with several times. Karen has a sharp curatorial eye and I can’t wait to see the energy she brings to this new section highlighting galleries from South America.

There’s nothing like seeing art in person. If you’re planning to visit Art Toronto, don’t hesitate to reach out, I’d love to point you toward a few highlights. And if you’re in the city next week, Tatum and I are hosting another RSVP event in a beautiful West End space featuring photographer Isabel Okoro and curator and Ninth Editions founder, Ash Mulvihill in conversation. I promise it will be a good one!

Tickets are available here. Paid subscribers can access a special promo link below the paywall.

Now, without further ado, here are 8 works to see at Art Toronto, pieces that stood out from the previews and promise to be even better in person.

Art Toronto 2025 Highlights: 8 Works Worth Seeing in Person

Larissa Tiggelers at Norberg Hall
Silent Sway, 2023
acrylic on wood board | 9 5/8 x 10 15/16 in. framed
$1,100 CAD

Scoop: this is so sweet. I love a little work and a big frame moment.

Isabel Okoro at Olga Korper Gallery
Tell me, what is it? 2024
screenprint on canvas, edition 2/3, 1AP | 18” x 18” each, diptych
$4,600 CAD

Scoop: living with this would make me very happy, it feels like friendship, depicted.

Shannon Bool at Daniel Faria
Peach Splinter Pane, 2023
Porcelain | 10¼ x 7⅛ inches
$ 5,500 CAD

Scoop: this ceramic study is the perfect mix of graphic and organic.

Chantal Khoury at Bradley Ertaskiran
Finjān Zahra, 2025
Oil on canvas | 24 x 20 in.
$ 6,000 CAD

Scoop: the brushwork here is mesmerizing and the color palette is to die for. Finjān means coffee cup, and this work feels like the calm and chaotic first sips of caffeine.

Laura Findlay at Norberg Hall
Crowd, 2025
oil on panel | 14 x 18 in.
$3,200 CAD

Scoop: moody florals that look and feel ephemeral.

Jaspal Birdi | Trotter & Sholer
16h18m (3), 2025
Oil paint and photo-transfer on emergency blanket | 37 x 50 in.

Read more

The second question, after hearing I work in art, is almost always: who is your favorite artist? It’s the hardest to answer because there are so many incredible artists, each with unique perspectives that deserve a moment as the favorite. However, I do find I return to two painters most often, Zoe Koke and Keiran Brennan Hinton. Their paintings are, in many ways, masterclasses in how to see contemporary art.

Using their practices as a case study, I want to break down how I look at contemporary painting, what draws me in and keeps me there day after day.

Where to Start

When I think about how to look at painting, I’m guided by three principles: story, technique, and interpretation. What is the story a painting holds? How does the artist use technique to tell it? And why are they telling it that way?

Keiran Brennan Hinton and Zoe Koke are both remarkable painters, yet their work moves in very different directions. Zoe leans toward the abstract and atmospheric, while Keiran stays rooted in the intimate and observed. Each begins from a distinct motivation, which shapes the stories they tell.

Story

Zoe’s paintings draw on her relationship with land, from Calgary to Los Angeles -specifically places reshaped by industry and time. She paints from memory, aligning herself with Impressionist traditions while reframing them for today.

How do we see landscape? How did the Impressionists see it? A helpful analogy is to think of the moment you take in a view, close your eyes, and the light flickers on the back of your eyelids. This is what Zoe captures, impressions of landscape, situated between memory and feeling. The act of closing your eyes becomes its own moment of calm, which is re-iterated in painted form.

Keiran’s story is even more directly autobiographical. He paints from life, making each work a record of a moment in time. These scenes, never to appear the same way twice, are what make his paintings so special to me - light dancing across the water in Martha’s Vineyard, the sun shining into the apartment he shares with my friend Tatum in Toronto, a snowstorm in Connecticut. His works make me feel nostalgic and grateful for each mundane moment.

Full disclosure: I first discovered Keiran’s paintings in an online viewing room during COVID, before we knew each other. Today, he is a great friend, and I feel grateful to learn from his practice through studio visits, gallery openings, and his own insights.

While personal experience shapes their narratives, both artists tell their stories through art historical traditions: Zoe leans into Impressionist sentiments, and Keiran draws on the “au plein air” tradition - working from life, in situ. In both cases, light is central, not just as a technical element, but as a means of conveying memory and atmosphere. It is through the presence of light that their stories become distinctly their own.

Technique

When looking at painting, I ask: Does the artist have mastery of their technique? Can they do things others can’t? Are they doing something new? Is their message carried through in their execution?

Zoe’s brushstrokes are soft and layered, building atmosphere and memory. Her paintings often appear monochromatic at first glance. But with a moment of pause, what looks blue reveals yellows, pinks, greens, and purples. The nuance of memory, translated.

Keiran paints with strokes that are direct and grounded, capturing light as it actually falls on a room or a patch of ground. His mark-making has the intimacy of a diary entry, full of secrets and embedded stories: a hockey player multiplying across the TV screen, blades of grass shaped by a gust of wind that knocked a wet canvas to the ground.

Both artists make clear how much a single brushstroke can hold.

Interpretation

Light is central to both Zoe and Keiran, though expressed differently—flickering candlelight in his case, atmosphere and memory in hers. Their works remind us that painting isn’t just about what you see, but about how you see it, and why.

So how to look at art? Slowly. Curiously. With openness to what brushstrokes, light, and story can reveal.

And if you want a place to start, spend time with Zoe Koke and Keiran Brennan Hinton. Their work will teach you more about seeing than I ever could.

See the Work

I’d highly encourage a visit to both of the below shows. And if you get the chance, I’d love to hear your thoughts!

In Toronto: Zoe Koke’s tide is currently on view at in Toronto through Saturday October 25th.

In New York: Keiran Brennan Hinton’s Change of Scenery opens at next month, on Friday, October 17th.

Until next time…
xx Bronwyn

Further reading…