The noise around the art market is unmistakable right now. Headlines warn of contraction, dealers shutter their spaces, and collectors move with unusual caution. To many, it feels like crisis. Yet beneath the alarm lies a more layered reality: markets evolve. They always have. What’s unfolding today is transformation. A moment exposing the pressures built up during years of speculative excess and showing, with sometimes uncomfortable clarity, where real adaptation, innovation, and renewal must happen.
As the old model begins to crack, and the so-called “classic system” comes under scrutiny, we who work in marketing don’t just see fracture. We see opportunity. For mid-sized and smaller galleries, for independent artists, for anyone outside the speculative white-top, this is not a threat, it’s an opening. Online sales, digital and AI tools, and new ways of engaging with collectors have become a necessity. And how we use them will define who stays afloat in the coming years.
The data tells the story clearly. Merrill Lynch reports that sales of works priced between $10 million and $100 million fell by almost 45% in 2024. The Art Basel & UBS report showed a 12% overall decline in global sales. Major galleries — Kasmin, Tanya Bonakdar LA, Venus Over Manhattan — have either closed or drastically restructured. Even Clearing admitted that “overexpansion” forced it to shut down its LA and Tokyo outposts.
But zoom out, and the picture shifts. The number of global sales transactions actually rose by 3%. Dealers with annual sales under $250,000 grew by 17%. Even works under $5,000 increased in both value and volume. The speculative top is shrinking, but the middle and lower tiers — more affordable, more accessible, and often digitally driven — are expanding.
The era of endless expansion, inflated auction headlines, and blind speculation is giving way to something quieter — and arguably more honest. Buyers are becoming less delusional and more discerning. What they want now is value. Transparency. Connection.
Yes, the larger ecosystem still needs to be questioned. The concentration of power, the lack of access, the opacity of pricing and process, these are real issues. And we can’t solve geopolitical instability or financial pressure at the top of the market. But there is one thing we can do and this applies to everyone in the art world, from artists to gallerists to consultants:
We can radically improve how we communicate.
And by communication, we mean digital presence: intentional, strategic, and alive. It’s how a gallery translates its atmosphere into online form: through tone, rhythm, visuals, and story. This includes social media, newsletters, websites, digital previews, and even casual DMs. Communication isn’t just output, it’s a system. It’s how your audience feels who you are when they’re not in your space. It’s the online architecture of trust.
It’s not just announcing the next show and available artworks. That’s not enough anymore. In digital space, communication is about curating perception and building the conditions in which people care about it.
Most galleries still treat communication as something secondary, something that happens on-site, if at all. It’s seen as a byproduct of doing the “real work,” rather than a strategy in its own right. But art dealing has always been about relationship-building. Offline, those relationships take form through openings, the atmosphere of a space, the conversations that linger, the quiet moment of being caught by a work for longer than expected. The aura is built over time, through presence and ritual.
Online, of course, feels less intense. There’s no whispered backroom tour, no ritual of champagne and eye contact, no physical closeness to the surface of the canvas. But online isn’t irrelevant. It’s expanding rapidly. Dealers now come directly to artists. Collectors inquire through Instagram. Audiences follow galleries not just to be informed, but to feel proximity. Why? Because online communication is not a substitute for the physical, rather it’s an extension of it. Wealth, scarcity, mystery, aura: the same signals galleries once guarded can be carefully constructed in digital space. Not as illusion, but as continuity with the physical world.
The problem is that many galleries still approach social media like a billboard: static images, vague captions, occasional announcements. They see it as “posting,” not as presence. But social media isn’t about performance for its own sake. It’s one of the simplest, most accessible tools for building and maintaining relationships. It’s cheap. It’s fast. And when used intentionally, it can carry the tone and intelligence of a gallery far beyond its walls. The tools and technology are there; what’s missing is the vision, strategy, or clarity to use them meaningfully.
And this failure to translate presence into the online sphere is striking, especially when compared to brands outside the art world. While many galleries hesitate, worried about seeming too eager or too visible, other industries are building entire ecosystems around a single product , often using provocation, irony, or just plain honesty.
Liquid Death sells water by talking about death. Billie sells razors by telling you not to shave. Patagonia tells you not to buy. IKEA runs ads that celebrate boredom. These brands aren’t afraid of contradiction. They lean into discomfort, absurdity, and tension — and that’s exactly what creates connection.
They’ve understood what the art world seems to have forgotten: contemporary doesn’t just live in the artwork but also in how you communicate.
Real authority doesn’t disappear in digital spaces
Of course, the fear is understandable. For decades, the gallery has not just been a place to view and purchase art — it’s been a gatekeeper. The product wasn’t just the work; it was access. The white cube aesthetic was built on distance: silence, austerity, untouchability. Social media threatens that distance. A Reel doesn’t whisper authority; it interrupts. It places the gallery in the same visual field as memes, influencers, trending audios, and chaos. That feels dangerous, even humiliating. But authority doesn’t disappear online. It mutates. It evolves. It learns how to speak differently.
Look at luxury fashion. A decade ago, houses like Gucci, Balenciaga, and Hermès feared Instagram would cheapen their image. Instead, they leaned in. Gucci posted surreal memes. Balenciaga built an entire identity around irony and alienation. Hermès translated exclusivity into cryptic digital codes and precise visual worlds. Their authority was redefined. Galleries can do the same. But they have to be willing to let go of the fantasy that silence equals prestige. Silence now means absence.
And here lies the painful irony: the art world, built on creativity, is among the most cautious when it comes to communication. Many still fear looking ridiculous by participating in trends, especially on platforms like TikTok. But the trend has already shifted. We’re past the era of mimicry and repetition. What’s rewarded now is not polish, but presence. Not authority through distance, but through voice. Audiences no longer want perfection, they want contradiction, rough edges, something that feels alive.
And paradox, after all, is where art thrives. A well-crafted Reel can hold contradiction, hierarchy, voice, and feel more charged, more intimate, more surprising than any white wall.
Social media continues to grow across all ages, including those who once dismissed it entirely. Collectors are no longer quietly waiting in white cubes. They’re online: scrolling, observing, ready to connect when something feels real. The galleries that find a way to speak with presence and authority in this space will be the ones that survive the collapse of the old model. And content does matter. Not in the shallow, trend-chasing way many fear, but in ways that build trust, visibility, and narrative continuity. It doesn’t need to be complicated.
Delivery gap
According to Artsy, 46% of collectors value educational content, yet only 15% of galleries currently provide it. Meanwhile, 54% want behind-the-scenes access, and 76% of Gen Z collectors are already buying art online. This generation is asking for process, for honesty, for context.
That’s the real gap: not in demand, but in delivery. People are willing to buy online, they just aren’t receiving the level of communication and transparency that aligns with how they engage with everything else in life. And yet, when it comes to something as basic as educational content, many galleries still treat it as “extra” or even “too low-brow.” But education doesn’t mean long texts or didactic lectures. It can be as simple as a short video explaining why an artist uses a specific material, or a carousel that shows the scale of a work and invites viewers into the making process. Even a single caption, if it holds intention, can shift the experience from passive viewing to meaningful connection.
Curated online presence
Beyond education, there’s enormous potential in expanding how a gallery’s presence lives online. Social media shouldn’t be seen as a marketing tool separate from the gallery’s curatorial vision. It is the continuation of it. The same way we think about space, light, rhythm, and narrative in a physical exhibition, we can think that way digitally. A gallery’s online presence can be curated with just as much care and strategy (!). Image choices, text tone, the sequence of posts, even the pacing across weeks or months contribute to a narrative. Instead of dropping random images with captions, we can build stories. Document the details. Show process, not just outcomes. Let materials and space speak. Use ambient sound, video fragments, fragments of artist interviews. Or even given to the artist the social media space to show their vision. Let the gallery have a voice. A voice that feels alive, even a bit contradictory.
Authenticity means intention and coherence. It means carrying the gallery’s aura into digital space through tone, through visuals, through rhythm. That rhythm matters. Just like with physical exhibitions, you can build anticipation, hold attention, create moments of pause and return. Presence can be translated. It’s not about looking trendy. It’s about being felt.
Yes, galleries already have a lot on their plate — high rents, dependence on art fairs, unequal access to collectors — and now, on top of that, they’re being asked to care about communication too. But there’s a way to make it manageable, even affordable. The key is strategy. Communication isn’t about constant output, it’s a system. It starts with clarity: What does the gallery stand for? What symbols, language, or relationships does it want to cultivate? With that foundation, even low-budget content can work. A phone-shot video can resonate deeply if it sits within a coherent framework. If you build the structure first (themes, tone, rhythm), content becomes a process of filling in, not reinventing.
The goal is not to be everywhere, or to chase every trend. The goal is to curate presence — to show up for the right people, in the right way. And once the structure is set, it’s not only scalable — it’s delegable. An intern or office manager can follow it, because the voice, rhythm, and message are already clear.
This is not about turning galleries into online shops or making art “affordable” again.
It’s about unpacking communication so people can feel the gallery. The same way we instantly recognize a post from Balenciaga or Gucci, Nike or Adidas. The aura goes beyond the physical. And galleries already know how to create that magic, they’ve done it for decades through curating shows, building experiences, crafting worlds inside their walls. The task now is to translate that presence digitally.
The world is shifting, and the market is being reshaped. But within that, there is still agency. Galleries can adapt — and not just survive, but evolve — by developing a communication strategy that meets collectors where they are. And they are online.
At SciArt Agency, we’re building content and creative strategies that combine authenticity with knowledge, helping art galleries craft their voice, curate their presence, and grow in this new reality. Book a call.
