Talk to Gallerist | Rain Lu | Rain Elsewhere | Interview on Art Yourself Atelier

Rain: You’re most welcome. My journey into the art world was rather serendipitous, surely not part of a plan. My father has been a curator and a scholar of Chinese art history for several decades, and my upbringing was deeply influenced by him and the artists contemporary to him, such as Zhang Xiaogang and Zhou Chunya. Growing up with frequent exposure to artists, there has always been a familiarity with this group of people and with their way of working.

Interestingly, however, my education background was originally in music. From elementary school through high school, the emphasis of my education was consistently music, and it has always been thought of as my potential profession. At the time of high school I went to Australia and stayed there through my undergraduate, and postgraduate studies. At Melbourne University, I majored in Media and Art History, and later returned to Sydney for a Master's in International Business.

Upon returning to China, I was first living and working in Beijing. Media industry was still thriving, and I soon made the decision of joining Lifeweekly, an influential magazine on culture, business and social issues. And it was between 2010 and 2011, the industry was undergoing a significant shift from traditional media to new media. Art sector was then very agile in terms of adapting to the new media, and this sparked my interest in transitioning to the art industry. Meanwhile, for some personal reasons I had to move back to Chengdu, where I grew up, and I thought, "Okay, Chengdu then." At that time, Chengdu had only a few international cultural and art institutions. It was more known for its local independent cultural scene, but it also embodied a huge potential for contemporary art if you simply look at the art landscape there: the home for many important artists, close enough to Chongqing, home to the Sichuan Fine Arts Institute, a significantly influential school in modern and contemporary Chinese arts.

My father was then working on the curation of an exhibition featuring international artists, and I’ve taken the chance to join his team. We were a small curatorial team, traveling to places like Fukuoka, Japan, and Barcelona for curating and administrative work. What’s also happening at the same time was the construction of Chengdu Contemporary Art Museum, an institution that would be very influential afterwards. Right behind the museum building, there was an available exhibition space, and the local government was trying to lease it to an art institution, fostering the overall art atmosphere in the region. And for this reason, the space was offered on very favorable rental terms. And I thought this might be a good time to open a gallery of my own.

After wrapping up my work with the curatorial team, I began setting up the gallery space. Long story short: the gallery started operating in July 2011 and remained in Chengdu until 2017, and then it was relocated to New York and known as RAINRAIN Gallery. In retrospect I know I had very limited experience with galleries at the time of the decision. My background in art history and my work on exhibitions in Beijing and Chengdu, alongside the time spent in my father’s curatorial team provided some exposure, but overall, I was quite young and inexperienced.

Rain: Yes, it was essentially a process of learning and gaining experience on the go. I of course enjoy the part of putting together exhibitions and working with artists, but for the other practical parts I only had a vague idea of what that entails. Considering artists for representation, conceiving an exhibition from ground zero, and addressing the commercial aspects of buying and selling art—these were the areas where I had some experience but definitely not sufficient to work as a gallerist on my own. I had to work with what I knew and to navigate the complexities step by step, constantly learning and adapting along the way.

Since Chengdu is close to Sichuan Fine Arts Institute, I had many studio visits at the early stage, and had gathered a not small reservoir of artists. The first member that joined my team was a lady about 5 or 6 years older than me. She had previously worked with my father in the curatorial team before moving to Chengdu for some personal reasons. She previously spent many years working in Beijing’s 798 Art District with a French gallerist, bringing with her invaluable experience in gallery operation, and what’s more, infinite encouragement. With her joining the team, I can focus more on exploring new artists, having studio visits, and connecting with clients, basically the external part of a gallery’s work; and she manages the internal part including operation, execution, etc.

Rain: He surely is. As a matter of fact, it was my father who first brought up the opportunity to me, asking if I would be interested in starting a gallery using that space. I spontaneously agreed, and that was how it all began. Probably because my father is more of a known figure in the industry, many people throughout the years have asked about the extent of my father's involvement and his opinions. The curiosity is understandable. But the truth is given his busy schedule, we rarely discussed the specific details of the gallery’s operations. Our relationship is more like that of friends; we focus more on conceptual and abstract discussions rather than exchanging details. Moreover, the significant difference in the themes and methods of our work also makes very detailed conversation less practical, and this difference is mainly because the artists we work with are at diverging stages of their career: while my father is more engaged with artists who have already had a significant impact on contemporary Chinese art, my gallery’s focus is more on emerging and mid-career artists.

With that being said, my father has after all worked in arts his entire life, and he understands the nuances, particularities, and especially the professional curve in the industry. He gives me reassurance and slows me down when I’m doing things hastily, reminding me that the growth of a gallery takes time, persistent and uncompromising work. He emphasizes that a gallery is not an instant bloom but a long-term endeavor. This insight and philosophy are what I hold most dearly. I think instead of any specific advice or direct instruction on how to manage things, my father’s impact is more subtle, more gradual. It comes from his attitude towards arts and artists, an activist’s revolutionary passion.

Rain: Art writing is more like a personal side project for me. I've always been deeply fascinated by the art industry's mechanism, its commercial models, and management strategies. During my undergraduate studies, I have also considered a career in consulting company as an alternative path. Had I not decided to open a gallery, consulting might have become my primary career. And to write articles on art industry is to resume that part of my endeavor. One of the writing consignments I had was to cover the inaugural Frieze in Seoul, where I was reporting on my observation on the Korean art scene. This is probably an exemplary project of my ongoing curiosity about the broader art world and its various dynamics.

To differ from the independent arts publishing we’ve done at L-Art Gallery, my art writing is not about purely academic content. Instead, they are rooted in my down-to-earth meetings and conversations with people in the industry, such as curators, art consultants, and other professionals. They all bring their individual perspectives and insights, and it’s always good to know what a different individual makes of a new trend, a new model, a new market. I want the writings to be able to share valuable industry knowledge with those who are interested, and for me personally to inspire my own work and thoughts when I return to the gallery. If I keep myself exclusively in the closed door of a gallery, if I am always and solely in the role of a gallerist, the ground for me will be very limited, and the work itself becomes consuming. I want to participate in the industry as a gallerist, but also as an observer, occasionally stepping back and viewing the industry from a third-party perspective. This way I can better understand what my contemporaries are doing and reflect on my own practices, making sure my work can remain current and relevant with the wider conversation.

Rain: The decision-making process was much similar to how I decided to open a gallery in the first place: chances came, I flew with it. Many people would think I had a plan to open a gallery in New York from the outset, and it was not the case at all.

One challenge I faced with running a gallery in Chengdu was the lack of a robust "industry presence," and the challenge only presented itself several years after the gallery had been on track. The art industry atlas in China looks like this: most professionals in the art world seemed to be based in Beijing or Shanghai, and many of the artists I collaborated with were either in Shanghai or Hangzhou. There were only a few contemporary art galleries in Chengdu, with A Thousand Plateaus Art Space (千高原) being the most established. The advantage of this was there’s barely any competition between galleries, as there were very few galleries in total in Chengdu. And this meant L-Art Gallery was surely among the list of must-go exhibitions if any collector or media would care to visit the local art scene. The downside of the same situation was a lack of industry presence, of peers you can interact with, and it made it necessary to frequently travel to the other region to be part of the on-going game. Starting from the third year, L-Art Gallery started participating in art fairs in various cities, and since you’re not naturally located at the center, you would have to travel some extra miles to gain more exposure and attention.

Around 2015, there was a noticeable increase in the international cooperation between Mainland China galleries and galleries overseas, particularly with institutions from the United States. Many overseas galleries, institutions, and curators started projects in China, leading to a more frequent communication. At that time I also wanted to explore the opportunities outside China and to have a global presence. To go to fairs is definitely a choice, and this we’ve explored already. To attend fairs feels like short summer camp. It’s beautiful, but it’s not something organic in the long term. Then what else?

However, unlike people, a gallery does not fly to a place simply with a flight ticket. It does not have the same flexibility for relocation like an individual. Around 2014-2015, I was considering relocating the gallery’s physical space to Shanghai, but practical factors led to some postpones. And it was then the colleague slightly senior than me brought to me the idea, “Why not take a year or two to explore a bit and see what options you have? Returning can always be a choice. You can put a temporary pause to the gallery’s physical space, and if you want to come back, you can immediately resume.”

I felt at that time the most agile way to allow myself several years to explore a city and its art industry was through school, and institutions like Christie's and Sotheby's happen to offer educational programs in New York and London, which also makes the visa process easier. So the plan for me was to complete the studies, use the OPT (Optional Practical Training) period which enables me to work in the States for a while, and return to China afterwards, in general a detour about two years.

My first year in the U.S. was mainly taking classes, and in the second year I interned at art foundations and worked as art consultant. By the end of the second year I already realized New York art scene was something I found truly attractive, and I’d like to work here for longer. Towards the winter of 2019, I submitted my O1 visa application. But shortly thereafter, New York was in lockdown due to the pandemic, and the city came to a standstill. My visa approval was seriously delayed. And for six or seven months, I could barely leave my house and everything was pending. Apart from a translation project I was working on, I suddenly had a lot of time to myself. And then there’s no way to hide from the question: What should I do next?

At that moment I was thinking to myself that if I were to stay in New York long-term, I would want to continue working in the gallery, either by running my own gallery or by working for a gallery that’s already there. The latter seemed like an easier path to start with, so during the pandemic, I spent several months looking for gallery jobs. However, this process was challenging for a couple of reasons: the pandemic itself and the mismatches between the needs of galleries and my own expectations. Many galleries I interviewed with valued my background for roles related to client development in Asia or administrative positions, such as gallery assistant roles. I knew those positions were no longer relevant to my career goals. Additionally, galleries do not operate on a clearly-structured career hierarchy like traditional companies do. There’s no clear upward path, you simply cannot start with an entry level position and climb all the way up to the directorial position. For all these reasons, I put a pause to the job-seeking effort and ultimately began to explore the alternative, believing starting my own gallery might be the better option.

Rain: New York was still quite new to me at that time. I have taken classes and worked there for a while, but I haven’t explored the city enough, at least not enough from a professional perspective. The first I needed to do was to familiarize myself with the art industry here, visiting artists, observing how the galleries work, analyzing what types of galleries are active. By September 2020, the lockdown in New York had largely been lifted. I began reaching out to artists frequently and having frequent studio visits. The artist community in New York is huge and diverse, with artists working in different genre, media, and from varying backgrounds. I also explored various gallery spaces at the same time, from Chelsea to Downtown NYC, and excited to find out that there were many galleries of different sizes and types, some even quite eclectic and bizarre, but all thriving.

After thoroughly exploring what’s going on in NYC, I came to the conclusion that it was feasible to continue running a gallery of my own by leasing a space. However, I was also trying to justify why I wanted to open a new space in New York rather than to resume the original space in Chengdu. Practically speaking, starting a gallery in New York would mean to start from scratch: the accumulation of connections, the familiarity with daily operations, these were rarely transferrable between countries while they also required a huge amount of time to build up, no matter how much fund you’d like to commit into the gallery business. Afterall, running a gallery can be boiled down to a very simple recipe: the first step is to have good exhibitions, the second step is to make your exhibitions visible to people.

Debating and preparing took a long while, and after the preliminary research was done it’s already 2022. Though the lockdown in China was not yet fully lifted, traveling back home was finally made possible after two years. I spent three months in China, managed to have a glimpse of Shanghai 021 Art Fair, which only lasted for one day before being abruptly interrupted. I also went to Art Basel in Hong Kong, the first revival after the pandemic. During the trip back home, I was kind of catching up with my previous desire, remembering why several years ago I wanted to explore the wider world so much. While Asia is appealing, and while the familiar places are always calling, New York presents unique challenges. Its diversity and openness are unparalleled, offering a level of complexity but chances of surviving in your own form that few other cities can afford. Like years ago, returning to a familiar place is always an option, but it’s just not the one I will choose for now.

I immediately got into work upon returning to New York. I contacted several real estate agents specializing in commercial properties and site-visited all the potential spaces. The process of securing a gallery space took around a year in total. It wasn't until the summer of 2023 that I finally settled on the space and signed the lease contract for our current space. I feel the entire process unfolded gradually, with each decision leading to the next choice. It wasn't about making a single, definitive choice all at once; it’s a step-by-step journey that you’re always kind of in the clouds, but ultimately led to the RAINRAIN Gallery, New York, as you know now.

Rain: I had very high expectation before traveling back to Chengdu in 2022, especially considering I was still debating between staying in New York and returning to Chengdu. The first thing I’ve noticed is a significant increase in the number of art museums and institutions in Chengdu, including government-funded, private, and corporate-funded, mostly from real-estate companies. There’s also an increase in smaller cultural venues. The A4 Art Museum, which has been in operation for over a decade, had undergone some reconstruction and updates with its internal space. In general, the public sector was seeing many positive changes: the enhanced infrastructure, a growing number of institutions, and also the new Chengdu Biennale, supported by the government. However, that was for the public sector only; little has changed in the art industry. I am a gallerist, and art industry as a business naturally weighs more in my observation. Before I left, Chengdu had a few contemporary galleries, and after all these years, it’s still the same galleries, same players.

I was trying to make sense of my own observation, and I feel the chill lifestyle of Southwest China can better explain it. I’m not sure how everyone feels about Chengdu, but my impression is that Chengdu people are very open-minded. They can smoothly absorb new things, embrace them with passion, and extremely welcoming to subcultures, providing them with precious cultural space. That is when new things come along the way. However, the key is that if new things don’t come along in the first place, it also won’t bother people that much. People will still be fine with it and stay with the old things. It is very typical of the “whatever” Chengdu chill—they’re ok with new things, and if there’s not, they are ok with it, they won’t go out and beyond to explore. This mindset is certainly positive for daily life, but when it comes to the art industry, the industry only thrives with a strong desire for new things. Chengdu is too mild for arts, it has a tendency to passively wait for others to introduce new arts trend, exhibitions. People still go to see new exhibitions and biennales, and this is certainly a good thing. But when it comes to another way of engaging with arts which requires more commitment, when it comes to the art market and art collecting, neither galleries nor collectors have significantly expanded.

As a Chengdu local and a former gallerist here, I would definitely want to see the art market thrive here. But in view of the power dynamics of the global art market I also know that there are and can only be very limited art metropolis worldwide. In the U.S., this would be New York and Los Angeles. And in China, this would be Beijing, Shanghai, and Hong Kong. These are centers are built against a strong background in politics and finance, and they usually enjoy favorable tax treaties and geographical location, which, of course foster global art transaction. And Chengdu cannot match the art centers in these regards. However, many cities outside the central focus have also proved to us that it’s possible to have a lively, healthy art community there too. For instance, Dallas and Chicago, they are definitely not the art hubs in the U.S., but they also manage to develop their own mature art ecosystems, including museums, collection foundations, and systems to support emerging artists. That is what I’m aiming Chengdu for – a city with its own support system to young and emerging artists.

Rain: Interestingly that you’ve mentioned decentralization, and there are many aspects of it. On one hand, collectors, consultants, and artists are indeed dispersed around the world, and they are usually global travelers, flying from one exhibition to another. Chinese collectors might buy arts in Europe, while European collectors are purchasing artworks in Japan or Korea. It’s far beyond a local business and it reflects a truly global art scene. On the other hand, still only a few cities offer the objective conditions like tax treaties, foreign currency convenience, and safe international transaction platforms like the art hubs. Cities like Hong Kong, Singapore, Seoul, and Tokyo provide favorable environments for such high-value, international transactions. Art fairs and exhibitions held in these cities are truly meant for the global market. In this sense, let’s be honest and practical, art transactions are not evenly distributed, they are still centered around these few cities.

With this being said, beyond the central hubs many countries and cities are having their own art exhibitions, which often focus on local and regional art. And this is an equally important component of the art ecosystem. I remember when I was commissioned to report in South Korea, I strongly felt that their museums and local galleries were working very hard on promoting local artists and crafts. Similarly, this year’s Art Basel in Hong Kong saw a noticeable increase in galleries and museums focusing on local art. Local art there started to be more popular and impactful. That’s an aspect I think Shanghai still has a long way to go. In Shanghai, many well-resourced large museums are showcasing international artists, which is undoubtedly a benefit for local art lovers. But very few high quality exhibitions have been made about local artists and local narrative. Imagine if Shanghai is aiming for becoming an Asian art center, and a visitor coming from U.S. or Europe will be encountered with the same exhibitions and artists he/she sees at home while what they are truly looking for is novel artists and works unseen before. And that is to say a city has to cater to both the centralized and decentralized perspective, and a balance between the two is a tricky thing.

And this also adds on to my earlier view on Chengdu. Each city finds its own balance between globalization and localization, playing a unique role within the broader art ecosystem. Chengdu, with its own mix of established and emerging artists and local institutions and events, may be highly localized. However, this localization is not a disadvantage. Chengdu does not need to take the responsibility of a global art center. Instead, its role could be to cultivate and support its local art scene while contributing to the diversity of the global art landscape in its own way. The city's focus on nurturing local talents and fostering its unique cultural environment is valuable and contributes to the rich tapestry of global art. Each city, with its distinctive character and strengths and cultural history, adds a new narrative to the international art community.

Rain: I would say it’s a new start. Of course, there is a consistency, but more in terms of my own experience and thinking. Having run a gallery in China for 7 years, spending another 6 years in New York, and having been in the industry for more than a decade, I have maintained a continuous observation of the art scenes in both areas. This background informs my current work, but founding RAINRAIN Gallery in New York feels like a fresh start. While our website for RAINRAIN Gallery still exhibits the archives from my time in Chengdu, the artists we now collaborate with and the market we engage with are entirely different. I continue to stay in touch with collectors and artists from China and Asia, but the primary focus now is on the market and community here in New York.

Rain: We just opened our nineth exhibition at the current location and will open a solo exhibition for artist Jun Li very soon in September. Currently, the artists we feature are those I've been engaged with in conversations over the past two to three years. They are emerging and mid-career artists, which aligns with our overall direction. As an Asian gallery owner, I also aspire to bring more Asian artists and those from diverse cultural backgrounds and artistic practices into our gallery space. I envision the gallery as a salon that fosters communication and exchange. Regarding the gallery’s long-term program, I think it still requires more time to brew to satisfaction. My expectation for it is to be diverse and dynamic, reflecting a range of perspectives and approaches.

Rain: I’m most likely to discover new artists through group exhibitions where the galleries bring to our vision a bunch of new names and works. Occasionally, friends will recommend artists to me as well. I have also been intrigued by artists who I saw in articles or magazines, and I reached out to them directly. Additionally, platforms like Instagram are also a valuable source for me to browse the artists’ profile initially, and if I become interested, I will try to have a studio visit afterwards. Throughout the process I am just trying to keep an open mind and not confining myself to any specific genre or style.

To me, art and the artist are inseparable; the artwork is not only a visual presentation but a reflection of the artist’s personality and philosophy that’s cultivated over time. Therefore, meeting the artist and having a conversation with them in person, to feel the artist in person is very important. I want to see for myself how they live their life and work, to hear their thoughts and observations on art and other life issues as these aspects will always find their way to influence the creative process. In the long term, how artists perceive their identity and social role also influences their work. Sometimes, a piece might initially seem fascinating, but after a conversation with the artist, the glam might fade away and it feels just like fast food. Conversely, a work that appears obscure or incomprehensible at first might reveal its true depth and complexity through dialogue. “Being moved” for me is this long and comprehensive process of feeling both the work and the person behind it. It is rarely an immediate, spontaneous reaction, but rather a gradual understanding and long-term relationship.

Rain: I guess almost. Each gallery has its own unique positioning and program, with different approaches to selecting artists and delivering exhibitions, which in turn shapes its distinct character and taste. When comparing two galleries, if their expertise and focus are more or less the same, it becomes challenging to objectively determine which is superior or inferior. The differences are often more about personal taste, reflecting the subjective aesthetic preferences of the gallery owner.

Rain: It’s probably because I had experienced the whole process in Chengdu before opening the new space in New York, I have already been mentally prepared for the difficulties of bringing a gallery into being from ground zero, and, of course, the extreme patience required throughout the process. Speaking of difficulties, there are numerous, changing difficulties every day, for every different exhibition, minor ones, major ones. But when there’s an issue, there’s a solution, you just have to find it, make things work, put things together, and I do not consider this part that challenging. I think the truly difficult part is not with opening a gallery but with keeping the gallery run for a long time. This is something a gallerist needs to be concerned with constantly, for as long as the gallery is alive. And this is not a particular difficulty, but a difficult, resilient mindset that allows you to deal with anything that comes up.

I think this stands with every small gallery, big gallery, new gallery, and galleries that have been running for generations. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been there, how well the gallery is doing, the gallerist will still be concerned about running the gallery for longer. Because arts - for an artwork to find its proper audience, for an age to do an artist justice – take not only money but time, and that’s why a gallery has to be long-living. In the many many years of running the gallery, a gallerist considers how to balance the short-term program with long-term goal, to tiptoe between the market’s trend, the collector’s taste, and the gallerist’s personal vision and principle. All these involve issues and choices minor and major. Therefore, when it comes to running a gallery, I think there’s nothing particularly difficult whereas everything’s not that easy.

Rain: Keep it real. Be real to arts, to yourself, to the things you do, and to the people that you work with. Patience is also important. Everything else can be flexible – there’s no pattern, no extant path that you have to follow. Gallery as a business model has been there for centuries, it boils down to presenting exhibitions, and selling the artworks. And since it is an old business, and there are so many different galleries out there, it’s important to consider how to make a gallery truly of your own, of your own taste, and of your own methods. Every gallerist has a different background, with their own connection, resources, and things they are good at, and more importantly their own take on arts. And consequently, it’s hard to imitate the ways the other galleries work. Be real, be patient, be flexible, and do things your own way.

Rain: 其实我的经历是比较机缘巧合的。我的父亲在艺术行业工作，从事策展和偏向学术类的艺术史写作，所以我从小到大的环境就是由他与他那一辈艺术家，比如张晓刚、周春芽组成的。因为长大的过程中会非常频繁地接触到艺术家，我也比较自然地对这个身份或者这一类人群没有陌生感。

不过说来奇怪，我从小学到是音乐，后来留学，去澳大利亚读了高中、本科、研究生，一直到高中阶段我都还在学音乐，想着或许可能往音乐方向发展。我本科在墨尔本大学学习大众传媒与艺术史，结束之后又回悉尼读了国际商务的研究生。回国后的第一年我在北京工作，因为很喜欢媒体类的工作，所以入职了当时的《三联生活周刊》。那是2010到2011年，一年之后，我又因为一些个人原因搬回了成都。

在当时成都文化艺术类的国际机构并不多，更多的是一些本地的独立文化。但同时成都其实并不缺乏当代艺术的土壤，有很多艺术家居住在成都，城市也背靠川美。回到成都一段时间后，我的父亲正好在做一个国际展览的策展项目，我也顺势加入了他。那是一个很小的策展团队，我们因为策展项目去到了日本福冈、巴塞罗那，在这些地方进行策展和执行工作。也是同一时间，成都当代美术馆正在修建。而在美术馆建筑的背后有一个空的空间，政府希望可以把这个空间也出租给一个艺术机构，所以给了比较好的租金政策。我得知了这个契机，就想着那就做个画廊吧。

其实当时我对画廊没有太多的概念。我大学学习了艺术史，在北京成都都会看展览，跟着父亲的策展团队工作了一段时间，但整体来说就是很年轻，没有什么经验。结束了策展团队的工作之后，我就开始筹办这个画廊空间了。画廊是11年7月份开始运营的，2011年到2017年间画廊一直在成都，直到2022年搬到纽约。故事大概就是这样。

Rain: 是的，基本上是一个边做边学习边积累经验的过程。刚开始的时候只是觉得做展览、找艺术家是一个很有趣的过程，但也只有能够和艺术家一起工作这样一个模糊的概念。怎么去挑选艺术家，要选什么样的艺术家，要做什么样的展览，包括更商业的买卖这一块儿，不能说完全没有概念，但的确是没有想得那么深入。就觉得说先开始，摸着石头过河，边做边琢磨。

那时候我研究生刚毕业不久，回国也才两年，十足的没有经验。但我觉得在无知的状态下做事情是最容易开始的，因为不知道所以敢去做，对吧？不会想太多，其实就很简单，那就开始做。成都和川美所在的重庆很近，所以在最开始的阶段走访了很多艺术家的工作室。加入我团队的第一位同事是一位比我大5、6岁的女生，她也曾在我父亲的策展团队，后来因为个人原因搬来了成都。在成都之前她在北京798和一位法国画廊主共事了很多年，带来了很多画廊运营方面的经验以及非常宝贵的鼓励。她总是鼓励我多出去走走，向外走访艺术家结识客户，所以在画廊运营的前几年中一般是我负责外部的工作，她主理内部的管理，包括展览与执行。

Rain: 对呀，其实是他最开始向我提出来有这样一个机会并且问我要不要试试看，他就告诉我有这样一个空间，要不要做画廊。我说哦，那好，就做。就这样很简单。其实在整个过程中很多人会问我的父亲有没有参与，他的意见有多少。我爸爸他的工作也很忙，我很少跟他聊到这个过程的具体部分；我和他的关系也更接近于朋友，他很少和我讨论事情具体的内容和方法，比起密切具体的交流我们更喜欢聊思维和一些抽象的事情。同时，我们相处的艺术家是有代际差异的，像他更多关注的是已经对中国现当代艺术产生了显著影响的艺术家，而我的画廊一直关注的是处于职业生涯中、早期的艺术家。

不过作为一个在艺术行业工作了一辈子的人，他也会更了解这个行业的状态和属性，他常常会安慰我说不要着急，说这件事情没那么容易，画廊是一个细水长流的事业。这是我爸提供一些更形而上的鼓励和提示，这其中当然也包含一些潜移默化的影响，来自他做事情的一种态度和状态。他对艺术、艺术家有着一种充满革命热情的状态，这也是对我影响最大的部分。

Rain: 我从事艺术写作类的工作更多的是源于我自己的兴趣。一直以来我对艺术行业的生态、对于它的商业模式、经营策略都有很强的兴趣，包括在本科阶段我设想的另一个工作方向就是进入咨询行业。如果当时我没有决定开画廊，这可能便会成为我的主业。我还记得我的一个写作项目之一就是去到当时还是第一届的Frieze首尔艺术节，去报道首尔的艺术生态。

我的艺术写作无关纯学术的内容，我喜欢去和人见面，与人聊天，比如之前采访策展人、艺术顾问，以及其他艺术行业中的从业者。他们都是这个行业中的一部分，我可以通过和他们聊天的过程更好地了解个体是如何参与到艺术中，他们都有怎样的观点和见解。这样的写作一方面是能够与希望对行业有了解的人进行分享，另一方面也是对我自己工作上、思想上的一种启发。我希望既是这个行业的参与者，也是一部分的观察者。在某种程度上我希望能和自己的行业保持一定的距离，因为当你完全深陷在某一个角色里时，你的视野就会被遮盖。反而有的时候你跳出来一点看一看，从第三方的角度看看其他人在干什么，再回头看看自己在做什么，你的想法、你的观察是需要实时更新的。

Rain: 这个决定的契机和状态其实和我决定在成都开画廊有些类似，就是没有计划，但它真切地在某一个点上发生了。其实很多人问我是不是在来纽约的时候就有开画廊的这个计划了，其实真的不是。一直以来在成都开画廊有一点不是特别理想的是成都没有艺术的“行业感”，所有做艺术行业的人似乎都在北京、上海，我合作的艺术家也大多在外地，常住上海、杭州。成都做当代艺术的画廊就那么两三家，其中有一家叫做千高原的画廊历史最为悠久。这样的好处是在成都做画廊几乎没有任何竞争，因为几乎也没有其他的画廊。人们如果来成都看展、逛画廊，或者媒体如果报道成都的艺术行业，大家都必然会来到我的画廊。但这样的弊端是几乎没有可以交流的行业内的人，也因为没有在行业的地理中心，很多时候不得不走出去。所以在画廊成立的第三年我们就开始去不同的城市参加博览会。

大概是从2015年开始，国内艺术行业和海外尤其是美国的行业交流开始多了起来，很多海外的画廊、机构、策展人都会来中国做一些项目，大家的交流也就逐渐增多。那时我想要出去看看的想法已经很强烈了，但画廊不像人一样具有非常灵活的流动性，人况且不能说走就走，画廊的搬迁就更需要时间。在14、15年的时候有考虑过把画廊的实体空间搬去上海，不过由于一些实际的因素这个想法被搁置了一段时间。当时画廊里之前有提到的那位前辈就和我说：“诶，你要不出去再晃一两年，再去看一看，看有没有什么新的想法。反正你随时可以回来，画廊空间可以暂时关一关，或者以什么方式稍微暂停一下。只要是在成都，回来就可以继续，也没有太大的影响。”

于是我想着就先去纽约读书吧，看看当地的艺术行业是怎么回事。我来美国的第一年都是在佳士得上课，第二年在基金会和艺术咨询机构（Advisory）实习之后觉得纽约的艺术行业好像还挺有意思的，就开始申请新的签证。接着大概在19年底的时候就把签证材料递交了上去，这之后大概2、3个月纽约就开始疫情封锁了，整个城市就停滞了。因为疫情的原因签证申请的进展也格外的缓慢，相当于我的个人生活是处于停滞等待的状态，纽约整个城市也是。有6、7个月的时间大家在纽约几乎都不怎么能出门，我除了手头在做的翻译工作之外突然就多了很多自己思考的时间，也就被迫面临这个很庞大的问题：我接下来到底要做什么。

我当时想的是如果接下来要在纽约长待待话，那我其实是想要继续做画廊的，或者能去画廊工作也可以。后者听起来像是更容易开始的一条路，所以疫情期间有大半年的时间我都在找画廊的工作。但是这个过程并不顺利，一方面是因为疫情；另一方面是很多画廊对我的需求和我自己的期待有错位。接到的很多面试画廊会觉得说我是从中国来的，想让我回去亚洲做客户开发方面的工作，或者有一些类似于行政或者画廊助理的岗位，我觉得这一部分的工作经验又好像不再需要了。我拒绝这一部分工作机会还有一个原因是画廊这门生意不像常规的公司有一个成型的体系，好像做了几年助理的岗位就可以做总监。画廊没有这样一个一直往上走的流程，所以我觉得这些机会不合适，也就停止了找工作。要不就还是自己办画廊吧——就开始摸索当时设想的第二种可能性。

Rain: 纽约这个地方当时对我来说还是很新的，我在这个城市上过课，工作过一段时间，但我没有和这个城市长时间的相处。并且因为来得比较突然又仓促，也不像长期留学那样有着和本地广阔的连结。对我来说我需要的是一方面开始慢慢接触艺术家，另一方面是观察纽约的画廊生态，看看到底是怎样一回事，有什么类型的画廊在活动。那是2020年，到了9月份之后纽约的封锁基本上是放开了，也没有像之前一样的管制，我便开始频繁联络艺术家，并且做了很多的studio visit。纽约的艺术家群体确实非常庞大，各种文化背景的艺术家都有，我也逐渐去密集地逛各种画廊场所，从Chelsea到Downtown，有很多大大小小种类繁多甚至很诡异的空间。

一番浏览下来我觉得在纽约租下来一个空间继续做画廊这件事是可行的。但当时另一个让我矛盾的点是如果要继续做画廊的话，为什么要在纽约重新开始而不是回成都呢？实际而言在纽约做画廊就是一个从头开始的工作，一切都是新的；而国内有更多的connection，在实际操作方面也都很熟悉。艺术行业需要积累很多的资源和人脉，这一部分和钱多钱少没有关系，是没有捷径真正需要时间去累积的。你需要做事情、把事情做出来，这是第一步，第二步是你要有人看到，慢慢地让大家知道你在做什么。

在考察和犹豫的过程中其实也就到了2022年了，那个时候国内的封禁还没有完全放开，不过终归是可以回国了。那一趟我回国内待了3个月，正好碰上了上海的021博览会，但因为疫情的原因只线下开了一天就关了，也去了香港巴塞尔，是疫情过后的第一届。这趟回国的旅程让我觉得还是在纽约做画廊好了。亚洲感觉非常好，但是纽约更有挑战性，并且纽约的多元性和开放性也是很特别的，几乎没有其他任何城市可以和纽约这种称得上是乱七八糟的多元性相比。再有就是往回走终归是容易的，回去是一个选项，但当我可以不选择这个选项的时候我也想要珍惜。

2022年从国内回纽约后我就开始联络各种专门做商业地产的小的房屋中介，然后去实地看这种空间。看空间这件事其实持续了一年多的时间，直到2023年的夏天我才选定签约了画廊现在所在的空间。整个过程基本就是这样，不是说一下子就做了最终的决定，而是一步一步，一个决定导向了下一个决定，最后形成了纽约的RAINRAIN画廊。

Rain: 2022年我是带着很大的期待回成都的，毕竟那时候也还在成都和纽约之间犹豫。我和之前画廊的团队还保持着联络，其中有一位男性同事是我很好的朋友，他也一直在进行和文化艺术相关的商业和媒体项目。回成都之后四处逛了逛，发现成都多了不少美术馆和机构，这里面有政府的、私人的，也有地产项目的，一些小的文化类空间也多了不少。A4美术馆运营了很久，十多年了，他们内部空间的一些结构也有了变化和更新。硬件增加了、机构变多了，这些都是很好的变化。包括成都现在也有自己的双年展，听说政府也很支持艺术双年展，这对于成都公众来说都是很好的变化。

但除此之外，转了一圈下来总觉得实质性的变化还是少的。回到艺术市场，有关艺术收藏，这一部分的人群并没有显著地扩大，还处于一个比较初级的阶段。因为我做画廊，我的观察更多是关于这个行业，我会观察这个市场有没有实质性的变化，而要判断这一点你也只需要观察画廊的数量、看画廊数量到底有没有增加，便可以大致感知大家对这个市场的判断。我走之前成都是这些画廊，走之后也还是这些画廊，没有太多实质性的变化。我想这和西南地区的本土文化和生活态度都是有关的。

我不知道你对成都是一种什么样的感受，我的感觉是成都人是非常开放非常包容的。有新的东西进来会立刻吸收，也非常乐于吸纳、包容亚文化，并且给它们生存的空间。但关键在于对成都人而言如果没有这种新的东西进来，那也无所谓。成都的状态是whatever，你来也挺好，不来我也很开心，这样一种很乐呵很平和的状态。这作为一种生活心态当然是很好的，但如果放在艺术行业精神里就会缺少好奇心，没有动力去主动捕捉、能动地学习，是等待其他人来哺育的这样一种状态。

当然，对于任何一个国家而言能称得上艺术中心的城市也只有一两个，美国有纽约、洛杉矶，但在艺术中心之外的地区，比如达拉斯、芝加哥，这些城市也有自己成熟的艺术生态，可以有美术馆、收藏基金会、以及能够支持新兴艺术家的收藏系统。在中国这样的城市还仅限于北京、上海、香港，这三个市场之外的艺术行业还有很长的路要走。你看上海的私人美术馆有龙美术馆、余德耀美术馆，资金也很多聚集在此；像香港是一个很好的亚洲艺术品交易的地方，有税收方面的好的政策，地理位置也很方便。一个艺术中心城市的形成是很多因素叠加在一起的结果。那回看成都，它可能是一个很好的艺术家能工作、生活的城市，但它不是一个很好的艺术交易的地方，对吧？每个城市都有自己的特点，能对艺术领域的特定环节提供支撑，艺术交易是这其中的一个环节，它的落地有赖于一些具体的支撑。

Rain: 我觉得去中心化，或者说全球化可以分成两方面来看待。一方面藏家和艺术家确实是分散在世界各地，并不一定局限于中心城市。中国的藏家可能去欧洲参与艺术交易，欧洲的藏家也可能来日本、韩国买画，这是一个很全球化的景象。但另一方面只有很少的几个城市提供了良好的艺术交易的环境和条件，例如香港、新加坡、首尔，包括现在的东京。而我想只有在这样有良好艺术交易条件的城市举办的艺术展才是真正具有国际性特质的。这是一个很实际的问题，艺术交易的分布并不是那么均匀的，不是每个国家每个地方都能形成这样的中心。

在中心之外，很多国家很多城市都有自己的艺术展，但这些艺术展更多的是聚焦于本土性、在地性，我觉得这个也是很重要的。当时我去韩国进行报道一个很强烈的感受就是他们的美术馆、本地画廊都很注重推广本土的艺术和文化；包括今年香港的巴塞尔，我朋友去了之后回来的感受也是多了很多建设本土艺术生态的美术馆和画廊，它们的声量比以往更大，机构数量也有所增加。在上海很多资源丰富的大型美术馆都在做国际艺术家的展览，这是一件很好的事情，对本地的观众而言都是宝贵的艺术教育，也提供了很多信息。但在对本地文化、本土艺术家的推广上，我觉得是可以做得更好的。想象一个美国的观众来到上海或者北京，他看到的展览是那些他在自己国家已经看到过的，这就没有太多的意义，他可能对本地的情况也有好奇，想要获得新的灵感。

其实这也一定程度上补充了我之前对于成都的观点，在全球化和本土化的维度上每个城市或许都有自己的平衡，每个城市也都在艺术的整个环节上有自己的角色。成都有很多的老艺术家和年轻艺术家，也有一些本地的机构、本地的活动，对于画廊行业而言这或许太本地了一些，但这也不成其为一个问题，成都也不需要担负一个艺术行业中心、交易中心的责任。

Rain: 我觉得更像重新开始。延续的地方更多的是我自己经验的一个连接，我在国内做了6、7年的画廊，在这个行业也有十多年了，包括在纽约也待了5、6年，这其中对两个地区行业的观察一直持续到现在，这是延续到部分，但就画廊本身来说更像是重新开始。当然在现在纽约RAINRAIN Gallery的网站上展览历史和档案中包含着曾经在成都做过的展览，但现在我们要合作的艺术家、所面对的市场和群体与从前是完全不同的。我依旧和国内以及亚洲的藏家、艺术家保持着联络，不过当下主要面对的市场和环境是以我的所在地为主的。

Rain: 目前画廊的第九个展览刚刚开幕，九月中旬还将迎来艺术家李钧的个展。目前我们展出的艺术家都是在过去两到三年的时间里我一直有接触和对话的艺术家，他们也都处于自己职业的中、早期，这是我们大方向的定位。同时作为亚洲画廊主我也希望能把更多亚洲艺术家或是来自不同文化背景、用不同艺术形式进行创作的艺术家带到画廊空间来，让画廊能像沙龙一样促进交流和交换。至于画廊长期的program我觉得这是需要时间慢慢形成的，我对它的期待是多元的、灵动的。

Rain: 我一般了解艺术家的渠道是通过看不同的群展发现新的艺术家，偶尔也会有一些朋友推荐新的艺术家给我。我也可能会从一些媒体上看到对艺术家的报道，觉得感兴趣的话去和艺术家进行接触；再来就是像Instagram，翻到他们的社交媒体，看到作品的照片，如果喜欢的话再去和艺术家联络、安排studio visit。我尽量让自己在观看中保持敞开，不把自己限定在某一类特定的作品和风格里。

我想艺术作品和人是一体的，它一方面是视觉上的呈现，另一方面其实也是人格的体现。所以对我来说能够真的见到艺术家并且和他们进行对话是很重要的。艺术家本人是一种什么状态？他们对艺术或是其他生活议题有着怎样的思考和观察？我认为这会直接影响到创作。以及长期下来他/她对艺术家身份和职业生涯有什么想法？有的时候可能看到一件作品，初见觉得很有意思，但和艺术家聊了之后也许会觉得好像有些空虚，有些扁平；或者是通过社交媒体看到作品的图片觉得还不错，但实际看下来又觉得没有那么好，这样的情况都会发生。还有的作品初看觉得很晦涩，不知道是在干什么，但和艺术家聊了之后觉得天地广阔。“被打动”对我而言就是这样一个对作品和人的综合判断的过程，它很难是一个迅速的判断，更多的还是一个慢慢了解、长期相处的过程。

Rain: 我觉得差不多是可以的。每个画廊的定位不同，选择艺术家的方式、呈现出来的展览不同，就会形成自己的气质和趣味。当对比两个画廊的时候，如果它们的专业性和关注点都相对一致，很难客观说哪家画廊好一点，哪家差一点，更多的就是趣味上的差异，也就是画廊老板自己审美的主观性嘛。

Rain: 或许是因为成都已经经历过一遍的缘故，我对于新的画廊从无到有的这个过程以及发展的节奏是有心理预期的。在纽约重新做一个画廊，说难的地方其实每天都在解决大大小小不同的问题，但是有问题想办法解决就是了。我觉得可能真正难的部分是怎么样能把画廊持续地经营下去，这是一个很长久不间断的事情，很难说是一个困难，但就是一间画廊需要一直一直去面对的、不容易的事情。

无论是小画廊、大画廊、新画廊或是已经传承了很多代的画廊，不管做了多久，都还是处于这样一种状态。因为艺术不仅仅是耗钱，也非常的耗时间。如何安排短期的计划，如何思考长线的经营并且把握这个结构，画廊如何应对市场，如何平衡个人的艺术判断和原则，这都是大大小小的问题和选择。所以我觉得很难说有什么具体的很大的困难，其实这就是经营画廊生意的一部分。

Rain: 对待艺术尽量保持一种真实的态度，对自己的内心、对你要做的事情、面对的人和事都保持一种真实的态度。耐心也很重要。其余的都可以保持灵活，没有模版，没有范式。画廊其实是一个很传统的生意，也就是办展览卖画，那既然很传统，又有那么多的画廊，怎样能够做出你自己的画廊、自己的风格、自己的方法，这就是值得琢磨的事情。其他画廊的运营方式是很难去效仿的，每个画廊主的背景、资源、擅长的事情是不一样的，审美也会大相径庭。还是真实、耐心、灵活，慢慢按照自己想要的方式去运营。