When the Lights Go Out: What Blum Gallery Closure Is Telling Us About the Future of Art.

by Richard Mudariki

Richard Mudariki, At the Art Fair, oil on canvas

After more than thirty years in the art world, I was not surprised to hear that Tim Blum is closing his gallery. Thirteen other galleries have closed down in New York between 2023 and 2024. What struck me, though, was not the closure itself, but how familiar his reasoning sounded. He said it wasn’t about the market, it was the system. That resonated deeply. For a long time now, many observors have sensed a kind of fatigue in the way galleries operate: the constant rhythm of exhibitions, art fairs, private dinners, studio visits, shipping deadlines. It’s a machine that rarely stops. Blum stepping away from that structure is not a collapse; it feels more like a quiet refusal, maybe even a recalibration.

Many commentators noted that Art Basel 2025 opened with far less noise than usual, making the timing feel significant. According to thoese who were in Basel, this year did not have the buzz, the flash, the Instagram heat of earlier editions (I was meant to attend but had a visa denied by the Swiss, but I had previosly attended some editions in Miami). Instead, it had a murmur. Something hushed. Collectors were not rushing from booth to booth. They were asking questions, spending time. There was more listening than talking. And to me, that is not a sign of weakness in the market, it’s a sign of maturity.

The latest UBS Art Market Report confirmed what I had already sensed, while the overall value of sales has dropped, the number of transactions has gone up. People are still buying art they are just doing it differently. I think we are seeing a shift away from the speculative frenzy of the past decade and toward something more considered. People are not buying just to show they were there. They are buying to live with the work, to understand it. In a world where so much feels uncertain, collectors seem to be seeking meaning, not just material.

Blum’s decision to move toward a project-based model fits into that landscape perfectly. He is not retreating from art; he is moving toward a way of engaging that feels slower, more intentional. And I think that kind of approach will start to define the next chapter of the gallery system. What if the gallery was not just a fixed space with rotating shows? What if it could be flexible, collaborative, rooted in long-term relationships rather than constant churn?

Of course, there are risks. Not everyone can afford to work without the steady rhythm of sales and openings. Galleries and emerging artists often rely on consistent visibility to survive. And the move toward digital engagement while exciting can not fully replace the physical aura of encountering an artwork in person. But I also think there’s opportunity here. A moment, maybe, to reimagine what a gallery can be, not as a machine for visibility, but as a space for care, for reflection, for slow building.

We have entered a cooler market, yes. But that coolness has clarity. The collectors I have met at our artHARARE opening in Cape Town recently are not asking what is hot. They are asking what matters. They are younger, more tech-savvy, more transparent about budgets, and more interested in the artist’s journey than just their auction record. That shift changes the way we as artists and gallerists must think, work, and communicate.

So when I think about Blum’s closure, I do not see it as an ending. I see it as a mirror. It reflects the reality that we are all facing, the old system was exhausting, and the new one has not fully formed yet. But in this in-between space, there is room to imagine something better. Something smaller, slower, but more grounded. It’s a moment to pause, to listen, to ask again why we do this work in the first place.

And maybe that is the point. Maybe this is not a crisis, but a chance.

Richard Mudariki is an artist and cultural producer. He hold a BA honours in Cultural Heritage amd Museum Studies from the Midlands State Univeristy in Zimbabwe.