The New Rules of Building Cultural Capital

When I walk into a booth at an art fair, I try not to look at the name of the gallery. If I know an artist is represented by Continua or David Zwirner, I've already been given a signal about how seriously I’m supposed to take them.

I'd rather encounter the work first and ask myself: Do I respond viscerally to the work? Only afterwards do I want to know who the artist is and which gallery represents them.

The point is to give myself a chance to form my own reaction before inheriting someone else's.

If you're always operating in one market and dealing with one type of customer, you don't get challenged enough. I think the first step is to make sure you have a diverse team and a diverse customer base, then listen to the different voices and be comfortable with the possibility that you're wrong. There will always be areas where your customers know more than you.

We used to think frictionless, intuitive experiences were primarily what younger customers wanted. Then we listened to our older customers and realized they wanted exactly the same thing. That was an important reminder for me: sometimes the categories we use to understand people can make differences look bigger than they really are.

In many cities, I know exactly where I want to go. But if you want to keep things interesting, you have to deliberately make room for things you haven't done for years, or better still, things you've never done at all.

Go back to the gallery that did nothing for you ten years ago. Perhaps that institution has changed, but perhaps you have too.

Taste isn't a permanent record of what you liked when you were 25. If you're serious about developing it, you have to occasionally retest your old dislikes.

The same applies to algorithms. When I was in Japan, I asked ChatGPT which of three art institutions in Hakone I should prioritize. It confidently told me one of them probably wasn't for me. I went anyway, and it turned out to be the one I enjoyed the most.

That's the limitation of recommendation engines: they're extremely good at giving you more of what they already know you like. But if you're trying to develop your cultural palate, sometimes what you need is exactly the opposite.

In Dubai and London, I know much of the art ecosystem, but in Buenos Aires or São Paulo, I'm a complete stranger, starting from scratch.

I used to think I needed to research important names beforehand so I could sound credible. I approach it quite differently now, not least because anyone can sound reasonably well-informed with five minutes on Claude, so that’s actually not what distinguishes you.

I find it much more interesting to approach these conversations with humility and genuine curiosity: I actually know very little. Tell me. Let me start from the beginning.

It's uncomfortable. But pretending you know wastes the opportunity to learn.

What's fascinating is that many places attracting international attention today were already well established within their own communities years earlier. Often the earliest signs of cultural significance aren't about scale or publicity, but about the respect a place earns from local chefs, bartenders, hoteliers and hospitality professionals before you see it expand to an international audience.

A restaurant, bar or hotel doesn't need to imitate international trends to be exceptional. In fact, the most memorable experiences are often those that are unapologetically local.

When working on cultural partnerships, don't purely look at the immediate commercial value. Often the temptation is to look at the immediate KPI: how many sales did this event or partnership bring?

Sometimes the lingering impact is subtle, but even more powerful. Take a longer-term view and go back to the customer to ask what value the experience created for them. Ultimately, what is good for customers is also good for the business.