The Groove 227 - From Medicis to Mega Galleries: The Art World’s Oldest Hustle
Welcome to the 227h issue of The Groove.
I am Maria Brito, an art advisor, curator, and author based in New York City.
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FROM MEDICIS TO MEGA GALLERIES: THE ART WORLD’S OLDEST HUSTLE
There’s a comforting myth we like to tell ourselves about art history: that talent naturally rises. That museums exist to recognize pure genius. That the best artists eventually find their way to the top.
It’s a beautiful story. It’s also completely false. Every major name, every immortal genius, every so-called revolutionary had something far less romantic working behind the scenes: money, power, access, and patronage.
Last Sunday, The New York Times published a piece sounding the alarm: mega-galleries like Hauser & Wirth, Gagosian and David Zwirner are increasingly bankrolling museum shows, helping to fund, organize, and promote the very exhibitions that can supercharge an artist’s reputation and price.
The tone was almost scandalized. Galleries and museums, working together? Can you believe it? Yes. Yes, we can. Because anyone who’s actually studied art history knows that patronage has always shaped the story of art.
What’s happening today isn’t some shocking corruption of pure institutions by greedy dealers.
It’s just the latest version of a very old game that built the Renaissance, fueled Modernism, and made Picasso a household name. The only thing that’s changed is the branding.
If you want to understand how artists become legends and how markets bless or betray them, you must look at the hands behind the canvas.
From Palazzos to Private Jets: Same Game, New Players
The opening of Rashid Johnson: A Poem for Deep Thinkers at the Guggenheim Museum on April 16, 2025. (c) Maria Brito
In 15th-century Florence, the Medici family funded Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, Botticelli, and Donatello. They didn’t do this just out of a pure love of art, but as a way to consolidate power, project refinement, and leave a legacy that outlived their banking scandals.
In 17th-century Spain, King Philip IV personally elevated Diego Velázquez. Velázquez didn’t just paint; he constructed the monarchy’s self-image at a time when political symbolism was survival.
Peggy Guggenheim did it for the Abstract Expressionists, paying Jackson Pollock a stipend when he was still scraping paint in a barn. Without her backing and taste-shaping, American postwar art might have never overtaken Paris.
Even the story of Modernism, the supposed rebellion against the Academy, was built on a very familiar formula: money, influence, and strategic storytelling.
Daniel-Henry Kahnweiler signed a broke Picasso to an exclusive contract in 1912, shielding him from the humiliations of the open market and helping package Cubism for skeptical collectors. Gertrude and Leo Stein collected Picasso early, introduced him to Parisian intellectuals, and turned their salon into a platform that whispered (then shouted) his greatness.
Dealer Paul Rosenberg took over professionalizing Picasso’s career after World War I, managing sales, orchestrating museum placements, and opening the American market. Finally, Alfred H. Barr Jr., founding director of MoMA, canonized Picasso with the museum’s first major retrospective of a living artist in 1939-40. But Barr wouldn’t have been able to do this without Rosenberg’s involvement.
In fact, Hugh Eakin’s book, Picasso’s War: How Modern Art Came to America, tells us that Barr was reluctant to cooperate with dealers, thinking that any mix between art and money was a conflict of interest. Eventually, he learned that he could not function without dealer help, as Rosenberg controlled Picasso’s market. So after a few failed attempts, Barr caved and secured the cooperation of Rosenberg. Only then did Picasso come on board and, with loans from dozens of sources throughout Europe and the United States, the first great Picasso retrospective opened at the Museum of Modern Art on November 15, 1939.
The dance hasn’t changed. Only the DJs.
The Real Twist: Museum Shows and the Market Myths
Another narrative making the rounds (see Artnet two weeks ago) suggests that a Guggenheim Museum retrospective is a “kiss of death” for an artist’s market. This came out a few days before Rashid Johnson’s excellent retrospective opened in said museum. (Notably another Hauser & Wirth artist mentioned in The New York Times report.)
Artnet points out that after the Guggenheim shows, artists like Richard Prince, Christopher Wool, Alex Katz and Danh Vo saw dips in auction sales. But market dynamics are more complicated and frankly, require a deeper analysis, than these soundbites suggest.
Alex Katz, for example, was 95 years old when his Guggenheim retrospective opened two years ago. By that point, the retrospective wasn’t a market springboard; it was a celebration of a towering lifetime achievement. His place in history, and the market, was already locked.
Richard Prince has built a career on refusing to be boxed into a single style or series. His “Nurse” paintings continue to command millions at auction, and other series (from hippie paintings to cowboys) sell out shows at Gagosian with ease. Auction fluctuations don’t capture the depth or breadth of Prince’s market or his cultural influence.
Funny then to think that according to The Times, Hauser & Wirth bought Rashid’s way in (completely false since the artist has had an almost 30-year career slowly building long before H&W became a global juggernaut), and according to Artnet, his success may be over because he just had a blockbuster retrospective at the pinnacle of his career.
Museum shows matter.
Auction results fluctuate.
But true value runs deeper than the clickbait graphs.
Let’s Stop Pretending the Art World Was Ever Pure
The drama over gallery influence misses a much bigger, much more uncomfortable truth: There has never been a clean separation between art, money, and power. Not in Renaissance Florence. Not in 19th-century Paris. Not today.
Pretending museums were once pure, unsullied spaces of high-minded neutrality is historical fantasy. They were built by monarchs, heiresses, and power players who saw art as a way to project influence across time.
The real question isn’t whether galleries are too involved. It’s whether institutions today have enough courage to balance patronage with risk and whether collectors and audiences are savvy enough to recognize who’s telling the story, and why.
Art Needs Money. History Needs Patrons. Awareness Is Not Optional
Patronage never died. It just swapped velvet doublets for Gucci sneakers, palazzos for private art foundations, popes for billionaires.
If you love art, you don’t have to resent this. You just have to stay awake.
Understand the forces. Follow the money. Champion the voices who might not have the biggest machine behind them yet.
Because the truth is: Art history is not just written by the winners. It’s paid for by them.
And today, if you listen carefully, you can still hear the sound of crowns being forged and occasionally dropped.
The Mega-Galleries are just playing the same game the Medicis, monarchs, and robber barons perfected centuries ago. Only now they have slicker branding and better champagne.