Art Problems: Why Are There So Many Toxic People in the Art World?

Why are there so many toxic people in the art world, and how do I protect myself — professionally and emotionally — from them? —A. Goodman, NY 

Every industry has toxic people, but desperation gives the art-world toxicity its particular flavor. The field is full of people making and supporting art, but the money available from collectors, grants and philanthropy combined can’t sustain most of them. We fight over the scraps. 

Some of us handle scarcity better than others, but nobody is their best self.

When I worked as an art critic, people often asked me to write pieces exposing the bad behavior of professionals they didn’t like. Often the targets deserved a takedown, but the requests never sat well with me (and usually weren’t stories, just gripes). Running down the list of terrible things I’ve seen people do, I wondered whether toxicity was just cluelessness. 

Sometimes it is. But cluelessness often seems willful. One friend told me that she’d had a very productive conversation with a gallerist about a possible show. She shared that with another artist who in turn reached out to the gallerist and secured the show for herself. 

My friend felt betrayed. At minimum, the behavior counts as bad manners, far worse than, say, coming to a friend’s opening and bringing postcards to promote your show. 

On the other hand, I could see the offending artist arguing that no one promised her friend a show and if the gallerist picked someone different, then maybe the first artist was never in the running. Why should friendships block opportunities?

The logic holds up. The behavior stinks. Nobody promised anybody a show, and yet everyone I know would feel betrayed in her situation. 

The art world operates on relationships, so what seems acceptable in some circumstances might not feel that way in others. 

An artist recently asked a friend of mine to keep quiet about purchasing a piece directly from his studio, because his gallery charges much more. The artist in question had a huge amount of inventory and a storefront, so I didn’t think much of it. My friend wouldn’t have been able to afford the piece without the deal, and this was the kind of artist who could replace the work in a couple of hours. 

Context matters. Also relevant: I liked everyone involved and didn’t know the gallery, so the arrangement didn’t bother me. 

Shift the circumstances a bit, though, and the ethics flip. One gallerist I know found out an artist he represented sold directly to a collector the dealer had spent months cultivating. When confronted, the artist yelled at him, saying the dealer had no right to be angry, even though the artist had breached their contract. I took the dealer’s side in this case, viewing the artist’s action as theft. 

That’s barely on the explainable end of fucked-up behavior. Further out still sits the artist-in-residence who mercilessly bullied and harassed his program’s executive director, spreading hatred and lies until she nearly lost her job. In the end, he left, she stayed, and a year later she quit anyway, too traumatized to continue. 

I write about this incident as if it happened to one person I know. It happened to two, in different cities — two of the most skilled administrators I’ve met. Both left the field for other industries. They had worked at nonprofits with fewer than three full-time staff and no one to stop a smear campaign once it started. The small size of our industry often leaves its most dedicated workers exposed. 

Caution is what most professional protection amounts to. Vet your collaborators, put agreements in writing, and accept that neither will catch everything. Almost by definition, toxicity surprises. After all, if you expected it, you wouldn’t have engaged with the person to begin with. 

You need trust to function in the art world. At the same time, it’s sometimes hard to tell who your real friends are because nearly every relationship has some basis in transactional exchange. Most friendships I have would disappear without art. 

Last year, when every week of the second Trump administration brought some new alarm, I asked a dealer how he handled collectors who supported it. He told me he’d had to come to terms with the fact that a lot of collectors weren’t good people. 

Hearing that made me sad. Most of us got into art believing the work contributes something the rest of the world doesn’t, and selling that work to people who make the world worse mocks the premise. As an arts professional, you can lose your sense of purpose. You start making decisions to build social capital and what little profit you can, slowly opting into a life you rejected. 

The emotional protection I can offer is this: Guard your reasons for being here. Toxicity erodes purpose first. Purpose won’t protect you from a smear campaign, but it can anchor your recovery. The art world continuously hands us chances to trade meaning for advantage. Every time you decline, you preserve a little of the world you came here to build, for yourself, and for the people you care about. 

Editor’s Note: If you have a problem you’d like advice on, send your questions to paddy@vvrkshop.art. Include your name and location, or a request to remain anonymous. Letters may be edited.

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