Building trust in ART

Trust has always been one of the invisible foundations of art—less discussed than technique or theory, yet essential to everything from creation to exhibition. Across centuries, the way trust operates in the art world has evolved, but its importance has remained constant.

In the time of Caravaggio (one of my favourite artist! ... oh medusa medusa .... ), trust was often bound to patronage. Artists depended on wealthy patrons, religious institutions, and powerful families not only for financial survival but also for validation. Caravaggio’s dramatic, often controversial works required patrons who trusted his vision, even when it challenged conventions. In return, patrons expected reliability, productivity, and a certain alignment with their values or prestige. Trust here was hierarchical, sometimes fragile, and deeply tied to power.

Fast forward to the late 20th century, and figures like Jean-Michel Basquiat redefined these dynamics. Emerging from street culture into elite gallery spaces, Basquiat’s career relied on a different kind of trust—one that bridged worlds. Galleries had to trust the raw, unfiltered energy of a young artist who did not fit traditional molds. At the same time, Basquiat had to trust galleries and curators to represent his work authentically without diluting its voice for commercial appeal. This period exposed both the possibilities and tensions of trust, especially when rapid fame and market forces entered the equation.

Today, trust in the art world is even more complex. Or is just another space in time? Emerging artists often navigate a decentralised landscape of galleries, independent curators, online platforms, and global audiences. For young artists, trust is not just about representation but about alignment—finding galleries that respect their identity, curators who understand their narrative, and collaborators who support long-term growth rather than short-term visibility.

The relationship between artists and galleries remains central. Galleries invest time, space, and reputation into artists, while artists entrust galleries with the stewardship of their work and career trajectory. This mutual dependence requires transparency: clear communication about sales, pricing, and opportunities. When trust breaks down, it can damage not just individual careers but reputations across the network.

Curators, too, play a critical role as intermediaries of trust. They interpret, contextualise, and present artworks to the public. Artists must trust curators to engage with their work thoughtfully, without misrepresentation. Meanwhile, galleries rely on curators to build credible, compelling exhibitions that attract audiences and reinforce artistic value. The relationship between curators and galleries is therefore a balancing act—curatorial independence must coexist with institutional or commercial goals. It is my task to crack it. Which I do by visiting different galleries and learning the environment. Every weekend is a moment for a specific gallery in Luzern.

What has changed most over time is not the need for trust, but its structure. At least what I believe... Where once it was vertical and patron-driven, it is now more distributed, negotiated across multiple relationships. Yet at its core, trust in art still rests on belief: belief in vision, in integrity, and in the shared commitment to bring something meaningful into the world.

In every era—from Caravaggio’s shadowed canvases to Basquiat’s urgent symbols to today’s emerging voices—trust remains the quiet agreement that allows art to exist, be seen, and endure.