7 Questions with Amanda Coulson

Dexter Wimberly interviews Amanda Coulson, Executive Director at the National Art Gallery of The Bahamas and Hayama Artist Residency 2021 Selection Committee Member.

1) You co-founded Volta fairs in 2005 and remained its Executive Director until 2012 and Artistic Director until 2019.  Over the past 15 years, what are a couple of the biggest changes you’ve seen in the relationship between art fairs and galleries?

In the early days, the fair felt very joyous, exciting, and we were seen as a true support structure for the so-called “starter” and mid-tier galleries, which was the whole point. To be a platform that elevated and provided access. I had some galleries tell me that they would have closed their doors had it not been for VOLTA because they saw over 50%-60% of their annual sales at the event. The early VOLTAs were also very collaborative: gallerists were helping us build the IKEA booth furniture (in a trade for free beer), we had “family dinners,” they took clients into one another’s booths, we took clients into their booths … it was all very relaxed and enjoyable and organic. As the price of production and participation rose and more fairs came on the market, the industry because very competitive and expected a huge time and financial commitment, not only from the galleries but from the collectors and visitors. Participant numbers rose, so that sense of family became less easy to maintain, and it became difficult to really provide the personal touch and develop the meaningful relationships. “Doing the circuit” became a chore rather than an adventure, both for the galleries and the buyers; everybody was quite exhausted and drained, and the audience was divided. It used to be that you could guarantee certain collectors would attend, because when there were only 5 cities to be in over the course of a year, those collectors would hit each major event. Now there are, perhaps, 35 cities to be in, so it’s a crap shoot as to who will show up—, and it’s hard to build relationships on that.

2) That question leads me to ask your opinion on how the global crisis we’re experiencing might affect the relationship between art galleries and artists?

That’s a really interesting question. Recently, we’ve seen an explosion of work being sold on Instagram or via other means, and we also know brick-and-mortar spaces are hard to maintain, so it might leave artists asking what a gallery could do for them. Still, I think a really good gallery does so much more than just sell. Good galleries protect the artist, teach them how to manage their business, find them opportunities, and allow them to stay in the studio and do the work while the gallerist is busy creating opportunities for them to show the work, as well as constantly sending out offers, keeping key people up to date on their latest output and production. Also, covering productions costs or supporting attendance at Biennales are key areas where an artist really needs the support of a gallery. It’s a logistical and financial nightmare, and partners for large endeavours like that are necessary. Your gallery should be like your spouse: there to support, listen, be a trusted critic who you know will speak truth, help you figure it all out, make you feel great, and be your safe haven. Indeed, so often the bond between an artist and a gallery resembles actually a love relationship (and a break-up can be very emotional).

3) You recently announced your plan to leave your current role as Executive Director at the National Art Gallery of The Bahamas. Why did you think it was important to take on the position in (2010)? What are some of the valuable lessons you learned during your tenure at NAGB?

First of all, folks should know I am a sixth-generation Bahamian; my family came over during the American War of Independence. I think when I was first appointed, there was some consternation on the international circuit that a white lady of unidentifiable origin (my accent really confuses people) was being transplanted to “bring culture” to the islands, or some such misconception. I didn’t formerly talk much about being Bahamian because it often just leads to absurd conversations involving a lot of superficial stereotypes; it was just easier to pass for British, American, Irish … as I said my accent is very confusing! I felt it was important to come home because I saw it as an opportunity to do my part in nation building; the independent country is very young (I am 7 years older than it), and institutions are an important part of that mission. The NAGB was formed in 2003, only 8 years old when I came back, so I knew I could build something and have a tangible impact on a community that was very important to me. I hoped that I could bring my international network, contacts, and knowledge to help Bahamian artists and cultural practitioners move their practise forward. Our local university didn’t have a BA or MA programme in fine art or arts management, so for a long time we were advising and training young people on different career paths in-house. Now, under an MoU with the University of The Bahamas, the NAGB is assisting in building out a whole programme, and that tangibly creates viable opportunities for young Bahamians outside of the tourism industry, where many would otherwise be stuck in rather uninspiring service jobs. 

Also, ten years ago, The Bahamas had—still has in many ways—a nascent art scene and very few local experts working on an international level who were able to either create a pathway for artists to reach a wider audience or to represent the community from a credible platform. Then there are the stereotypes: in 2013, Tavares Strachan represented The Bahamas at the first Bahamian National Pavilion and I actually heard a couple say (before entering) “What’s next? Art from The Amazon?” A curator who did see the extraordinary exhibition, told me “Wow, that was so unexpected. It was so conceptual!” to which I could only reply drily, “Yes, we have concepts there too.” People expected “coconut tourist art” from us; it was very patronizing.

When you are branded as a “sun, sand and sea” or “cocktails and coke” (I do not mean the soft drink) destination, you are also branded with insignificance and shallowness. Add to that, as a majority Black country, most of our artists are of colour, we were marginalised or considered almost a humorous anecdote, or a novelty. I really wanted to change that vision of my home and the Caribbean, precisely so those ridiculous stereotypes and myths could be shattered and discarded. When you say “The Bahamas” what comes to mind? Cocktails, croupiers, Spring Break, money laundering, playground of the “rich and famous”. The Bahamas I know has nothing to do with that. Promoting our art and other cultural achievements is a way to let the world know the real Bahamas.

As for what I learned? Be humble. We have so much to learn from one another. When you have a skill to pass on, and one that you are extremely passionate about, it’s easy to come off as a know-it-all or a zealot. I learned to give others the space and the opportunity to teach me too, to expect to find knowledge and wisdom in the most unexpected places, and to listen to my elders. You don’t always have to agree, but there is knowledge in stories and experience. 

4) What advice do you have for emerging artists who feel vulnerable or unable to navigate their career during our current times?

Find a mentor, which is not as daunting as it sounds. The art world also suffers from stereotypes. Every time it is represented on TV or in a film, we are all portrayed as hoity-toity, white wine-swilling snobs. Most people go into it, however, because they are passionate, because they believe in the power of art to heal, to unite, to pacify, to enrage, to stimulate… so I think the majority of people in the field are approachable because of this shared passion. I think artists would be surprised at how open and accessible an older professional might be, someone who can be your art world Grammy or Grampy, dole out sage advice. A mentor is not the same as a friend or peer; they should offer a different perspective from yours, whether through age, experience or specialty, and this can be really helpful to get another angle, to have a sounding board to offer guidance. A very big part of my own work is being as supportive as I can to emerging artists, and I will always make time for someone who reaches out. I think artists would be surprised to find that if they muster the courage, they could form relationships that could really sustain them through this time and into the future.

5) In addition to your aforementioned roles, you’ve had an international career as a writer and art critic for the contemporary art magazine Tema Celeste out of Milan, Italy, and lived in Frankfurt, Germany, writing for a wide variety of international art magazines. Why is travel so essential to you? How has travel impacted your career?

Travel is essential because it changes one’s perspective. I truly believe that so many of the word’s problems would be solved if you could just get people off their well-worn path, which leads to a kind of tunnel vision, and allow them to experience being the other, whatever that might mean in the context. While we are all capable to intellectually comprehend differences, it is only through experience that we reach true understanding, where the fear or discomfort of another set of experiences or beliefs can be grasped. In terms of art, I do think that having an understanding of the context of a work also can provide deeper insight and being well informed globally brings depth to one’s own perception. Travel does not have to be radical or extravagant, necessitating movement across thousands of miles, to leave the States, for example, to go to China. It can be sometimes as simple as taking the Greyhound bus and having a conversation with your random seatmate. Get out of your usual routine, meet people who are outside of your standard posse, and listen to their stories.

Travel has impacted my career enormously because it’s given me an edge. If I would have stayed in London, covering the same galleries and art spaces as all my peers, I would have been another writer clamouring to get published. However, because I travelled so extensively, I was one of the very few English-speaking critics covering many locations. Art magazines can rarely afford translators, so being able to deliver criticism from other locations was an asset, and it was valuable also for the international art spaces who could get shows reviewed and published in major English-speaking journals and magazines, like Frieze, Art Review, Art News, Modern Painters, etc. Since I also speak three other languages from all this travel, I was able to write and translate for other art journals in Germany, Spain, France, and Italy. That gave me a wide range, kept me very busy and financially afloat for several years.

6) Once unrestricted international travel resumes, where’s your dream place to visit?

I’ve got two major spots on my wish list. First: various countries in Africa, both to see the art scene first-hand, but also to go on a safari and see all the great beasts in their natural habitat. It’s corny, but it’s definitely a bucket list activity. I did participate in the Paris to Dakar Rally once, so I went through a lot of West Africa and fell completely in love with the scenery—and had some very insane adventures! — but there wasn’t much chance to stop and see the local art, except in Dakar. That was also almost 25 years ago, so it’s definitely time for another visit. I’m especially interested to discover connections and roots with The Bahamas.

The second place--and I’m not saying this just because of the Hayama Artist Residency—is Japan. I’ve been to Tokyo, when I worked for an Italian Fashion house, Ruffo (I’ve lived many lives…), but I would love to go for a much longer trip and see other spaces, specifically some areas of the countryside, sample the different regional cuisines, and see the range of landscape. 

7) What’s next for Amanda Coulson? Are there new projects on the horizon that you can talk about now?

Yes! I’ve realised some truths about myself, which is that I love to envision, build, set in motion and then I am very hands-on … but I don’t love sitting in an office delegating and administrating. I also work best in very small teams where everybody is really working together. VOLTA was thrilling when we were creating it, building the brand, coming up with new ideas (or locations!) every year … but when it became almost a machine with a huge structure and large team around it, it became less engaging for me. I’ve been at the NAGB now ten years, and the institution has changed exponentially. I’m proud of what it has become, but my role is increasingly administrative. I am rarely talking to artists, or writing about art, or meeting students and constituents, and those are the things that nourish me and bring me joy. So, I am getting back to that! What The Bahamas still lacks is a top-level commercial space working on the international circuit to global standards, so despite the pandemic and all the risks, this is going to be my next project! Also: residencies, which is why I was excited to be part of the Hayama Residency, to get my feet wet. I feel we could lure a lot of talent—whether for writers, critics, curators or artists—with a residency. Who doesn’t want to spend a few weeks or months in The Bahamas? We should at least let the stereotype work occasionally in our favour, so if the sun, sand, and sea can bring down some experts who can assist us with building and advancing and then become ambassadors for us in the world, that’s sounds like a win-win!