Through her eponymous gallery,
Paula Cooper has been conceptual art’s most steadfast champion for
nearly 50 years. But unlike many of her contemporaries, the elegant
Cooper has done it without clamoring for attention or headlines. Rather,
she has quietly powered through with undiminished passion for the
people she has represented: Carl Andre, Sol LeWitt, Sophie Calle, Zoe
Leonard, Christian Marclay, Robert Gober, Rudolf Stingel, Kelley Walker,
Mark di Suvero and Tauba Auerbach among them.
When
she opened at 96 Prince Street in 1968, it was the first significant
gallery south of Houston Street. “I went because that’s where the
artists were,” she says simply. If she were a man, she might have been
called bold or courageous; instead, people called her crazy. We all know
how that story ends: Many dealers followed, the galleries piled up and
by 1977 the formerly deserted neighborhood of SoHo was an art mecca.
“That’s around the time dealers started hiring publicists,” Cooper says
with a small smile. “Nobody did before, then suddenly so many galleries
did. It was evolving into the industry it has become.”
When
Cooper decamped to Chelsea in 1996, it was enough of a leap that this
time even her own artists called her crazy. We know how that story ends,
too.
Of all the dealers
known to me, I have
the liveliest respect
for Sidney Janis. His
unusually important
and unrestricted gift
to MoMA was proof
of his generosity
and passion for art.
Cooper’s
classic New York dealer approach, one that places the artist first,
began to seem almost quaint as art became a commodity and auction
houses, business-savvy artists and aggressive big-box gallerists began
to rule the scene. Some of her artists left, she left some of her
artists. “What has always motivated me,” Cooper says, “is to be of help
to living artists. Other rewards are living with and being intimate with
the art. When it gets to be about money, that’s when it gets
difficult.”
Cooper
has weathered storms — one literal (Hurricane Sandy), as well as
multiple recessions — ending up with a second gallery on 21st Street and
a bookstore (with her husband, the publisher Jack Macrae) around the
corner. “We’re no Gagosian, though,” she laughs. “We don’t have the same
ambitions.”
Indeed,
another Cooper mainstay is her reputation for unrelenting integrity.
She mentions the painter Cecily Brown, who having left Gagosian after 15
years, will have a show at the gallery next year. “I didn’t steal her,”
she adds emphatically.
At
78, Cooper still evokes the young woman, full of enthusiasm, adventure
and grit, who sparked a revolution in contemporary art. “I love coming
to work every day,” she says.
T Magazine Newsletter
A version of this article appears in print on October 23, 2016, on page M280 of T Magazine with the headline: Paula Cooper. Today's Paper|Subscribe
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