On criticism, London’s changing art scene and why art should be for everyone.
Art critic Tabish Khan has spent more than 15 years exploring London’s exhibition scene, championing emerging artists, questioning the conventions of the art world and encouraging audiences to discover art beyond the major institutions. As visual arts editor at Londonist since 2013, and a regular contributor to FAD and Culture Whisper, Khan has become a familiar voice in contemporary art criticism, known for his direct, accessible approach and his determination to make art less intimidating.
His involvement extends well beyond writing. As a trustee of ArtCan, City & Guilds of London Art School and Discerning Eye, Khan also works to support artists and address some of the barriers facing those trying to establish careers in the arts.
In this conversation with The FLUX Review, Khan reflects on the thousands of exhibitions he has visited, the pressures facing artists and critics, the importance of independent opinions and why, despite its extraordinary creative energy, the art world still has a long way to go before it can genuinely claim to be accessible to everyone.
You have built a career around seeing an extraordinary number of exhibitions each year. Has that volume sharpened your instinct for what makes a show memorable, or made it harder to be genuinely surprised?
I try to see as much art as I can, as there’s no better education in art than seeing lots of it: art you love, art you hate and art that you’re indifferent to. The one year I kept a tally, I visited 1,168 exhibitions. As I never had a formal arts education and discovered London’s thriving art scene in my mid-20s, I always feel like I’m playing catch-up compared to those who have been steeped in art since childhood.
I’m constantly learning about new artists and the concepts and perspectives they weave into their work. My instincts have changed over time, but it’s an iterative process, and there’s definitely room to grow in my criticism, my writing and my appreciation of art and art history.
As I’ve grown, I’ve become more comfortable holding an opinion that contrasts with others. I remember, early in my career, being scared to disagree with more established critics for fear I would be seen as an intruder and made to feel unwelcome. Now that I’ve been writing for over 15 years, I realise it’s important for me to offer my opinions, especially when they go against the mainstream, as there are so few people who write about art without an art history background and, sadly, so few critics of colour.
You have always been very clear about wanting art to feel accessible rather than intimidating. Where do you think the art world still gets accessibility wrong?
Artspeak needs to go in the bin. It’s fine to use art-specific language and terminology in an academic paper, but it shouldn’t be on any handout that members of the public receive when they enter an exhibition. All it does is alienate people who want to engage with art and keep art elitist.
I also don’t like those galleries where you walk in and are made to feel like an intruder; the person at the front desk looks you up and down before returning to their laptop, or you have to ring a bell, and the response is simply ‘yes?’
Art should be for everyone, and yet it still doesn’t feel that way. I have seen some small improvements, with many galleries now changing their ‘private views’ to ‘opening night’ or ‘opening party’. If there’s no guest list, then why does it need to be called private?
You have been visual arts editor at Londonist since 2013. Looking back over that period, what has changed most dramatically in London’s art scene?
I’ll always be a cheerleader for London as one of the world’s greatest cities. We have fantastic institutions, commercial galleries and phenomenal art schools. I’m hopeful that all of those will remain, and that London will continue to be a global arts hub. Many galleries have sadly closed, as they were no longer financially viable, but others are opening, so the gallery scene remains strong in London.
However, the cost of living in London has risen, while earnings for artists and art professionals have stagnated, with many earning around the London Living Wage or less. This puts pressure on those wanting to pursue careers in the arts if they don’t come from generational wealth, and it reduces the number of people from working-class backgrounds and people of colour entering the arts. This has always been a problem, but the cost-of-living crisis is compounding it.
It has also led many to pursue art as a second career after an established career in other sectors, and to the rise of more entrepreneurial artists who are exploring multiple income streams beyond gallery representation and exhibitions. There are definite pros and cons to these developments, which benefit certain types of artists over others, and this trend will likely continue for the foreseeable future.
Your writing covers everything from major museum exhibitions to emerging artists and smaller independent spaces. Do you approach those very different contexts with the same critical expectations?
Major institutional exhibitions are fair game for criticism if they don’t meet my high expectations, and most of these institutions accept critical feedback as part of the review process.
For smaller exhibitions, I tend to be more critical by omission and select the ones I want to write about. I only have limited space to cover exhibitions through my writing and on social media, so covering a show most of my readers won’t have heard of, only to tell them not to go, is not a great use of either of our time.
It’s the main reason my reviews are 90–95% positive. I see a lot of art I think is poor; I just don’t write about it.
You write regular ‘top exhibitions’ lists alongside longer reviews and opinion pieces. Has working across those different formats changed the way you communicate criticism?
As I write almost exclusively online, there is definitely a shorter attention span, and people value short and snappy review and preview pieces, which is what I’m known for. When reading my content, I think people are looking for a guide to what to see rather than a thorough breakdown of an exhibition.
I have the opportunity to see the statistics for my articles, and the top exhibitions to see in a month will have ten times the number of readers that a standalone review of an exhibition would have. This seems to apply to both the art-specific and more generalist websites I write for.
This doesn’t mean there isn’t an audience for long-form criticism, but I imagine they get this writing from other publications, maybe art magazines?
You are willing to publish negative reviews as well as positive ones. Do you think critics have become more cautious about saying when an exhibition simply does not work?
Critics have to be more cautious today, as most can’t make a living from it; a top UK critic has confessed to me that he doesn’t earn the London Living Wage from criticism alone, so you can imagine emerging critics are in the same boat.
If your income comes from other sources in the art world, i.e. panels, talks or catalogue essays, then most writers can’t afford to offend potential future clients. It’s why you often only see negative criticism from major broadsheet newspaper critics, as they can afford not to be in debt to anyone other than the publication they write for.
I would also add that anyone can give an exhibition a glowing review without fear of backlash, but if you say something negative about a well-loved artist or exhibition, you’re likely to get a lot of hate. I’ve received emails of complaint and angry, abusive comments for my negative stances, though never for a positive review.
However, I do think it’s important to leave a negative review, especially if no one else is. It’s important to have different viewpoints on art, even if they are opinions that many people disagree with. If a fellow critic disparages an exhibition I love, then I may disagree with them, but I will always defend their right to say it.
You have judged and selected for a wide range of prizes and open calls. When looking at a large volume of work quickly, what tends to make one artist stay in your mind?
When judging large volumes of applications, I often have only a couple of minutes per entry; sometimes it’s only seconds. In those instances, the image has to grab me straight away so I stop and examine it for longer. If I know the artist, it also helps as I recognise the work quickly and am already familiar with its concept.
I am also human, with all the same flaws we all have. Therefore, factors such as whether I’ve had a good night’s sleep or if I’m hungry can, of course, affect my judgement, particularly when I see so much art. That’s why it’s the artists who persist and keep showing up who have the highest chance of success in their careers, because it means I’m seeing their work as often as I can, and one day it may have the desired impact on me.
As artists have an emotional attachment to each work, I often suggest they have a trusted friend look over their portfolio and help them select the lead image that will most likely grab the judges’ attention.
You also mentor artists and work directly with galleries and fairs. Has seeing the art world from the artist’s side changed anything about the way you write criticism?
Being an artist often feels like being the least attractive person on a dating app; you’re saying yes to everyone and not getting anything back. For that reason, I feel for the slog of trying to get noticed, and unfortunately, that is the case for most creative professions.
I have limited resources, but I try to help artists however I can. Some need advice on where to take their work next, how to present it, how to build a better online presence, and approval to keep going; others just need to be heard. It varies from artist to artist, and mentoring often feels like a cross between advice and therapy. I always let the conversation be guided by the artist and their needs, so that they get the most out of any mentoring session.
It has further cemented my decision not to punch down in my criticism and to avoid posting or writing anything negative about an emerging artist.
Social media has made everyone capable of publishing an immediate opinion about an exhibition. What do you think professional criticism still offers that a quick online reaction cannot?
I think there is a place for the immediacy of social media in forming a first impression, where people can digest a short soundbite and decide whether to attend an exhibition. It’s often quicker to turn around and gives a platform to those who don’t write for major websites, magazines or newspapers.
It also allows more diverse voices to gain traction in an art world that’s still, sadly, largely driven by who you know and who you went to school or university with.
That being said, there’s still an important role for deeper, more reflective pieces that provide a more considered take, where writers have had the chance to mull over an exhibition for several days before putting virtual pen to paper.
There are also new platforms, such as Substack, that offer writers an avenue to gain exposure and attract new readers, using a hybrid model that pairs writing with social media.
You regularly champion smaller galleries and emerging artists alongside major institutions. Do you think some of the most interesting art in London is now happening outside the traditional museum and blue-chip gallery system?
I think there are interesting exhibitions happening at every level. The big blue-chip galleries have the budgets and the big-name artists to mount ambitious installations and exhibitions that rival those at museums.
Smaller galleries are where I discover new artists with fresh ideas in their work, and, from a purely selfish perspective, they’re where I find artists I can afford to buy from. I’m always discovering new galleries, often via artists, and it’s always great to come across new gallery spaces in London, sometimes in unexpected parts of the city.
We’ve also seen an influx of private art foundations in London, and one of my favourites is Ibraaz, which has put on politically powerful artworks across multiple storeys in its space in Fitzrovia.
As a trustee of organisations including ArtCan, City & Guilds of London Art School and Discerning Eye, you see the art world from several different angles. What issue within the sector do you think deserves far more attention than it currently receives?
The fact that coming from a privileged background is still one of the key contributors to success, for both artists and arts professionals. The cost-of-living crisis, high university fees and poor pay in the arts have compounded this, and while it is discussed, it’s often put in the too-difficult-to-address bucket.
It’s why there’s a decreasing representation of working-class people and people of colour in the arts, and until that’s fixed, the arts will remain elitist and unwelcoming to so many people who could have flourishing careers in the arts if they could afford to be there.
Art should be for all; it isn’t, but it could be.
After seeing so much art over the years, what can still make you walk into an exhibition and immediately feel excited?
It’s been 15 years, and I still love it. I feel privileged to do a job I love every day. Every new artist and exhibition has a new story to tell, which may show me what it’s like to be a person from a background different from mine, to have grown up in another country, and to face different personal obstacles.
Experiencing art means I’m always learning and trying to see the world through a different lens. I like to think it’s made me more well-rounded, tolerant and less materialistic in life. It’s been a beautiful friendship, and long may it continue.
For more information visit Tabish’s website and Instagram
