The Art Detective
Shoptalk: Dealer Mary Sabbatino on Championing Ana Mendieta, Mentoring Her ‘Art Daughters’
'My role is to open history and open doors, so that these artists can go through,' she says.
'My role is to open history and open doors, so that these artists can go through,' she says.
Katya Kazakina ShareShare This Article
Mary Sabbatino has worked at the same gallery since 1991—an eternity in today’s art world. In June, France named her a chevalier of the Order of Arts and Letters, in recognition of her work building the New York program of Paris’s Galerie Lelong, where she has championed artists including Etel Adnan, Ursula von Rydingsvard, Cildo Meireles, and Alfredo Jaar.
Along the way, Sabbatino, a vice president and partner at Lelong, has worked with the estates of artists like Nancy Spero and Mildred Thompson and mentored a generation of younger art world professionals. While serving on the executive board of the Art Dealers Association of America, she initiated and co-authored its first code of ethics. She is also a founding member of the council for the Elizabeth A. Sackler Center for Feminist Art at the Brooklyn Museum.
We talked about selling Matthew Marks his first artwork, helping bring Ana Mendieta‘s work to a wider audience, and why she believes a gallery’s job extends far beyond selling art. Below is my edited and condensed conversation with Sabbatino.
Katya Kazakina: Mary, I looked up your LinkedIn profile, and it shows that you have only worked in one place, Galerie Lelong, since 1991!
Yes, I joke that it’s been a “le long” time. But I worked at other places before that.
How did you get into the art world?
I was always interested in art and my family encouraged that. My grandmother, who didn’t really speak English, took me to the Brooklyn Museum to see the Van Gogh exhibition in 1971. Later, I gave up a full scholarship to study illustration at the Parsons School of Design. I did nine hours of life drawing every week for three years. That was probably the most foundational part of what I learned—other than Excel.
What was your first gallery job?
Do you know Schoelkopf Gallery?
Yes, of course. Andrew Schoelkopf, who specializes in American art.
I worked for his dad, Robert Schoelkopf, who was the preeminent dealer in American art.
That early experience became a model for me because of how deeply he worked with artists and museums. He looked around the edges of history for artists. I hung the shows with Mr. Schoelkopf. I cooked the gallery dinners with Mrs. Schoelkopf.
I sold Matthew Marks his first artwork.
What was it?
It was a print, and I can’t remember what, but he had a small allowance from his father, who was a great collector, Paul Marks.
What a story! How long did you stay with the Schoelkopfs?
For about two and a half years. I still had a relationship with Parsons, and they called me back to be in admissions. We recruited students and reviewed hundreds of portfolios.
I reviewed Leonardo Drew‘s portfolio. He was a star. But he left after the first year to go to Cooper Union, which was a great decision for him, because it was free, and Jack Whitten was teaching there. He became his mentor.
So how did you end up at Galerie Lelong?
A friend of mine saw an ad for a French gallery needing a gallery assistant. She said, “Oh, you love France!” At that time, Galerie Lelong was called Galerie Maeght. It was an American office to support the Paris gallery. It was on West 57th Street. I was the low person on the totem pole, who did everything: bookkeeping, running errands, etcetera.
Then I worked for a German print publisher, Jörg Schellmann. It was a creative time in publishing prints, and it gave me a love for paper and an understanding of production.
In 1990, I got a call from Daniel Lelong, saying that the director, who I had worked under, left the gallery, and would I like to interview for the job. It was a terrible recession at the time. And because the director left, a lot of the artists left as well. They mostly went to Paula Cooper. So, I had to start all over.
The first artist I brought to the gallery was Ana Mendieta.
Whoa! What a get! How did this happen?
I had seen her first retrospective at the New Museum in 1987 and I loved her art.
When I returned to Lelong as a director in 1991, I called the museum and asked for the address of her sister. I wrote her a letter. Then one day I was at the gallery and an assistant said to me, “Your sister’s here.” It was Raquelín, Ana’s sister. At that time, we both had long, curly, dark hair. I guess we looked alike. She heard that and she started laughing, and I started laughing.
She brought this little blue suitcase with thousands of slides of the work Ana Mendieta did in the landscape. Those were her “Silueta” series. In the beginning, she herself was in the landscape, covered with flowers or blood or leaves. And then she took her physical body out, and she used the impression or the shape of her body.
Raquelín and I decided to do a show on the “Silueta” series at the gallery. It ended up traveling to four university art museums in the U.S. Then it became like a chain reaction. There was a show in Spain at Centro Galego de Arte Contemporánea in Santiago de Compostela. It traveled in Europe and Mexico. Olga Viso saw that show, and then she did the big retrospective at the Hirshhorn and the Whitney.
That was one of the great rewarding works of my professional life: bringing Ana Mendieta to the public and giving her the respect she deserved.
And now, of course, the Tate has her big retrospective in London. But Galerie Lelong doesn’t represent the Mendieta estate any longer—it’s with Marian Goodman Gallery, right?
We worked with her estate for 34 years, and they felt they wanted a different chapter somewhere else. It’s a time in the art world of a lot of movement and reevaluation. Artists change galleries. Galleries close.
The past few years have been tough for galleries. How are you doing?
Pushing a rock uphill and having it roll back. Every work that you sell is a gift.
I’ve always wanted to find out how you got to be so involved in the Latin American art scene.
Working with Ana Mendieta’s estate opened me to a huge community of artists from Latin America. I met all these amazing artists: Cildo Meireles, Alfredo Jaar, Gabriel Orozco, Anna Maria Maiolino. And I ended up becoming very involved with Brazil.
In 1994, I did a big show, “Art from Brazil in New York” with 12 different galleries and museums. It was just wonderful. We had this performance of Tunga in January of 1995 in an abandoned place on the Lower East Side. Mira Schendel showed for the first time, at the Drawing Center, which was extraordinary. And the New Museum did Valeska Soares.
I had to convince Marian Goodman to show Hélio Oiticica. I said, “You’re the most important gallery, and Oiticica is the most important artist of Brazil.” And she agreed, even though she didn’t know me or Oiticica.
You must have been very persuasive. How was the show received?
Really well. Many of the artists became part of galleries. We got a lot of press. There was a big New York Times article on it.
Were there also sales?
Some. Robert Storr from MoMA bought a couple of pieces. But it wasn’t only about the sales. It opened people to a country that had such a rich artistic tradition.
I was one of the first contemporary dealers who saw that there was an important group of voices to integrate into art of the United States. And so, organically, the gallery developed a strong Latin American component. It became my expertise.
You’ve been also an early champion of female artists. By my count, women account for two-thirds of Galerie Lelong’s roster in New York, 22 out of 32 artists. Was that a strategy?
It also developed organically, but then it became an opportunity. There were many artists who needed representation, that people weren’t looking at. My role is to open history and open doors, so that these artists can go through.
Let me use the example of Mildred Thompson, one of the estates we’ve had on for almost 10 years. I became aware of her work through a curator friend.
She grew up in a very modest Black family in the South in 1936. She knew she wanted to be a painter as a child, but a reference for a painter in her community was a house painter, not an artist. She lived for many years in Germany and later in France. She taught at art schools and had small shows here and there. But she never doubted her ability.
And so, it’s a great satisfaction, when you have someone like Mildred, who never had what we call “recognition” in their life and then is on the world stage. We sold her work to major museums like the Pompidou and Glenstone. She will have a solo exhibition at the gallery in October.
Galerie Lelong has spaces in Paris and New York. How do they work together?
Galerie Lelong in Paris is the mothership. It was founded in 1981 by three partners, including Daniel Lelong. It showed Miró, Calder, and other heroes of 20th-century art. They did the first European solo show of Louise Bourgeois in 1985.
I brought to the collaboration new artists, like all the artists from Latin America. And the Paris gallery brought its history, and prestige, and intellectual weight.
But does each branch operate independently as a business?
Yes, we are two independent businesses, each with its own board of directors. Jean Frémon is the CEO of both galleries. I’m the vice president and a partner in New York, but I’m not part of the executive leadership team in Paris.
Do the two galleries ever collaborate?
We speak every day multiple times—even during the vacations! We do Art Basel fairs together. Sometimes we work on exhibitions and acquisitions together. They organized the acquisition of Mildred Thompson’s painting Radiation Explorations 8 (1994) by the Pompidou.
Let’s talk about museums. Many of your artists have institutional shows this year. Alfredo Jaar in Venice. Jaume Plensa is at three different museums. Yoko Ono is at the Broad.
Museums exhibitions are a huge part of our efforts, so that people can have a wide view of an artist or a focus on one area of the work. They can be transformative.
For example, last year, the Royal Scottish Academy in Edinburgh did “Andy Goldsworthy: Fifty Years.” It was a complete game changer in how people understood his work. They didn’t understand his work—that’s the thing. We always knew he was a genius, and that show convinced many people of his achievements.
Good for him—and for you! I presume that selling to museums is also a focus of your work?
That’s always been a big part of our business. We’ve always worked super hard to make museum sales.
It took me eight years to sell Alfredo Jaar’s Lament of the Images (2002) to MoMA. It’s a major, major work. It was in the Documenta in 2002. Glenn Lowry saw it there and he told me, ‘This is for MoMA.’ Then it took years because other people had to get involved and they had to raise the money and other priorities came up.
How do you not lose faith and how do you not pull out your hair?
You can pull out your hair without losing faith. In this profession you need stamina and grit—besides an eye to identify talent, besides courage to go with your instincts, even if they’re against the “prevailing” market.
I don’t know how you do it. And speaking of grit: One thing we haven’t talked about is public art. Many of your gallery’s artists have done ambitious public projects all over the world. They must be grueling to bring to life.
About 50 percent of our efforts are for artists working outside the gallery. We’ve developed a lot of expertise in that area: moving things that are many tons, working with different entities. I have so much arcane knowledge. I know a lot about stone from Andy Goldsworthy and about rigging from Jaume Plensa.
Every time I go to Miami and I see Jaume Plensa’s sculpture Looking Into My Dreams, Awilda (2012) in front of the Pérez Art Museum Miami, I remember how we spent three nights on the beach trying to install it.
That piece was commissioned for a public art show in Rio de Janeiro. Jaume had a vision of this white figure coming out of the water. Awilda was fabricated in Brazil, which is a very complicated place to work in terms of technical things.
For three nights we were watching the tide so we could drop the work on the plinth in the bay. Three trucks got stuck going across the sand with such a heavy load. Finally, I had to tell the truck driver to take air out of his tires. It was really a miracle. Then Mr. Pérez bought it and it’s installed outside the museum. In Miami, everything went normally.
You are incredible. Who are your role models?
I’ve had many teachers, even if they didn’t know they were my teachers. I’ve learned all from the artists like Yoko Ono and Etel Adnan, from my peers like Kathy Halbreich, watching how Paula Cooper worked in the world.
Do you mentor the younger generation?
Yes, mentoring has been a great satisfaction. Young people who have passed through the gallery, starting as gallery assistants and now they run other galleries, or they’re at MoMA, or they’re IP lawyers at big white-shoe firms.
I call them my art daughters—my art daughters and sons, but mostly, in this business, they’ve been daughters. To know that they are in the world and doing good, and that I’ve been able to train them in the right, ethical way to do business—I think that’s an equal legacy to all the artists I’ve brought to people’s consciousness.