How to buy art better

It is Frieze week in London, and there are two tents in Regent’s Park the size of small principalities, with a sculpture garden between them, in which almost 300 galleries from 48 countries have unpacked their most exalted artworks. The collectors came through on Wednesday with their advisers and their cheque books, and a great many of the best things already belong to somebody with a yacht.

This matters less than you’d think. The walk between the stands is still a peregrination of retina-tickling moments, Old Masters and Alice Neel at one end of the park, Gagosian, Hauser & Wirth, and White Cube at the other, and it lends itself to a window-shopping frame of mind and a mental Pinterest board titled ‘Divine In The Sitting Room’.

Most of us sit somewhere between the two camps the week caters for: not quite the novice who has never set foot in a commercial gallery, not yet the collector who speaks fluent art-world and has a framer on speed dial. We can tell a print from an edition, we have opinions, and perhaps we have bought a thing or two, mostly on the strength of a very long look and a feeling.

We asked two people who have turned that feeling into a method, and who now help others do the same, to tell us how to buy art better.

Give yourself permission to be a collector

“If [art] isn’t a world you grew up in, it just feels so opaque and foreign, and somehow like someone would need to descend from the heavens to give you permission to start your own collection,” says Marie Le Conte, a journalist and writer who founded the Outsiders Arts Club, a quarterly London event for people who would like to own original work by emerging artists and have never known where to begin.

For Le Conte, that permission came by way of an Instagram post from a friend who had been to a graduate show and bought a small, modestly priced piece. “Reading it made me realise that I could maybe get in on the action too,” she says. “I went to that same show later that day, and did end up finding two brilliant drawings there, which remain on my walls to this day.” She has spent the years since handing the permission on.

Ask the gallerist “Why do you love this work?”

For Hugo Barclay, UK fair director of Affordable Art Fair, this is the question he wishes buyers asked, and almost never do. “We’re very used to being asked about price, edition, and the artist’s career, but I’d encourage people to ask the gallerist what draws them to the work,” he says. “They have chosen to represent that artist for a reason, and understanding that can open up a much more interesting conversation about the work and what makes it special.”

Ask all of your burning questions

“Ask about whatever you’re curious about,” says Barclay. “Find out about the artist and their story, and the story behind the body of work on show. You’re buying into the gallery’s expertise and the identity of their programme, as well as the artist.” Then the practical side: where the artist has exhibited before, and, for a print or photograph, the edition size and which number you’re buying.

But don’t get bogged down in the details

The most common mistake Barclay sees first-time buyers make is overthinking the sale. “The practical side – things like provenance, exhibition history, and price – is there to back up your instinct, not replace it. It’s easy to get stuck waiting for every last piece of information,” he says. “I’m not saying rush. But buying art is emotional, and that’s the part to lean into. Learn to trust your gut. If a work stops you in your tracks, that’s worth listening to.”

Buy it because you love it

“You should absolutely buy a piece of art purely because you like it,” exhorts Le Conte. “Realistically, being able to buy art as an investment requires either having a large budget, getting lucky, or usually both. Most people don’t have either, so the only question they should ask themselves is: ‘Would it make me happy to wake up every morning and walk into my living room to see this piece on the wall?’”

Barclay agrees. “You’re going to live with it, so a personal connection matters far more than buying something simply because it seems fashionable or like a good investment.” His practical advice is to spend time with the work, then “walk away, see what else catches your eye, and come back to it. If you’re still thinking about it, that instinct is worth listening to.”

Hone your tastes as you would your palate

“If you wanted to try and figure out what kind of wines you like, you’d obviously set out to try as many as possible, in order to develop your palate,” says Le Conte, who has no formal training in art history but has spent the past few years going to “well over a hundred exhibitions a year, from graduate shows to all the massive showstoppers at the big museums, and everything in between. Over time, it’s allowed me to figure out what I enjoy, what I hate, and what I’ll always want to see more of.”

At an art fair, Barclay’s advice is to drop the completism. “Don’t feel you have to see everything. Give yourself plenty of time, perhaps identify a few galleries or artists you want to see first, and leave room for discovery too. Come with an open mind, bring curious friends, and make it a dialogue.”

IRL trumps screen every time

Le Conte’s one regret is a category. “There’s a very clear split in the pieces I own, between the ones I bought after seeing them in person and the ones I bought online. I still love all of the former but ended up only liking a portion of the latter.” It shouldn’t have surprised her. “A painting just cannot look the same on a screen, and you miss out on so much, from colour to texture, by not looking at it in real life first.” She hasn’t bought a single piece online in some time and has “no regrets.”

Stay in touch; it’s how collections happen

The fair ends on Sunday; the relationship needn’t. “Keep the conversation going,” says Barclay. “Follow the gallery, join their mailing list to receive information about their upcoming exhibitions. If you saw something at the fair that stayed with you, get back in touch. Galleries are there to have those conversations.” It is, he says, how collections are actually built, one gallery at a time. “Building a collection isn’t just about buying individual works; it’s about building a deeper relationship with the gallery, their programme, becoming part of their community.” The walk-away test, in other words, has a second half: walking back.

Sloane Street’s in-store galleries

On Sloane Street, you can start training your eye while shopping for a coat: many of the Street’s boutiques are hung like galleries. The ERDEM boutique is arranged as a collector’s studio and has featured works by Tracey Emin and Nan Goldin. At Ulla Johnson, the gallerist Sarah Myerscough curates a rotating selection of contemporary British craft with the designer, and everything on the walls is for sale. Zimmermann opened with Peter Cooley’s majolica-glazed sooty owl at the door, and Louis Vuitton has hung Robert Kelly’s Nocturne Grande V and Chords XII among the trunks. And The Cadogan, A Belmond Hotel, has an exceptional collection of artwork throughout the property.

This week in Chelsea, visit FOCUS at the Saatchi Gallery, a fair of contemporary Asian art from Thursday to Sunday, where the galleries are younger, the stands are less crowded, and the gallerists have time to answer the question. When you’re ready to restore the tissues after a day of perusing the walls, the three best places for a post-Frieze dinner in London are Martino’s, Cantinetta Antinori, and Willett’s.