Art Market

Holly Solomon, the Glamorous Collector Who Became an Influential Dealer

Portrait of American art dealer Holly Solomon in her Soho gallery, 1982. Photo by Michel Delsol/Getty Images.

Portrait of American art dealer Holly Solomon in her Soho gallery, 1982. Photo by Michel Delsol/Getty Images.

When artist was looking for a house to cut up with power tools, he knew exactly who to turn to for help.
“He called me one day [in the early 1970s] and said, ‘Holly, I need a house,’” gallerist Holly Solomon recalled decades later in an interview. “And I, like a nice housewife, called [my husband] Horace and said, ‘Gordon needs a house.’” It took a week, but Horace found a two-story clapboard residence slated for demolition in Englewood, New Jersey. It was just what the young artist had in mind.
“Gordon took the house and cut it in half,” Solomon said. “Literally, with a hacksaw, cut the house in half. He was a master architect, so when he cut a house in half, it stood.”
Solomon chartered a school bus to bring SoHo artists on a field trip to Englewood, to see and celebrate Splitting (1974)—now considered one of Matta-Clark’s most iconic works. The bohemian crowd descended upon the house-turned-sculpture at 322 Humphrey Street, walking in and around it.
The art scene was also somewhat split around this time. and —considered radical just a decade earlier—had already become art-world establishment. Few gallerists were willing to take a chance on the growing number of artists producing highly decorative pieces as a reaction against the severity of Minimalism, or hard-to-commodify pieces (like houses hacksawed in half). More intangible art forms such as Conceptual art were emerging, along with and . The artists making this boundary-pushing work needed a champion, and a place to show their work.
Portrait of Holly Solomon and Andy Warhol at ICA, Boston, 1966. Courtesy of Thomas Solomon.

Portrait of Holly Solomon and Andy Warhol at ICA, Boston, 1966. Courtesy of Thomas Solomon.

“The artists really needed an avant-garde gallery,” Solomon said of those years. She and her husband, who were established Upper East Side patrons and collectors of mostly Pop art and knew many artists personally, decided to open a noncommercial exhibition space at 98 Greene Street in SoHo in 1969. Using wealth from the bobby pin manufacturing business Horace had inherited, the Solomons took a second-floor loft for a cheap, $158-per-month rent at a time when there were very few galleries in the neighborhood.
Portrait of Holly Solomon at 98 Green Street circa 1976. Courtesy of Thomas Solomon.

Portrait of Holly Solomon at 98 Green Street circa 1976. Courtesy of Thomas Solomon.

“My mother decided to do something brave and difficult, which was to find a space down in SoHo,” said Solomon’s son, Thomas, an art dealer and the curator of a new exhibition devoted to his mother’s personal art collection at Marlborough Contemporary in London. “Basically, the idea was she still collected, but she supported for three years this alternative space for poets and writers, and performance and art exhibitions. It was an experimental sort of space to support what she believed was important.”
Installation view of “Selected Works from the Collection of Holly Solomon 1968-1981” at Marlborough Contemporary. Courtesy of Marlborough, New York and London. Photo by Luke Walker.

Installation view of “Selected Works from the Collection of Holly Solomon 1968-1981” at Marlborough Contemporary. Courtesy of Marlborough, New York and London. Photo by Luke Walker.

Holly Solomon’s experimental space hosted an eclectic and wide range of art. Artist could experiment with choreographing fabric-clad performers at 98 Greene Street; New Yorker art critic Peter Schjeldahl recited poetry there; and Solomon (once an aspiring actress) staged conceptual plays she had written. It was not a gallery in the traditional, commercial sense, and far from a traditional museum.
“For me, 98 Greene was something that added to the system,” Solomon told artist Jacki Apple in 1981. “[It] allowed for work to happen that the organizations and institutions at that time couldn’t or wouldn’t do.”
Holly Solomon hanging work by Robert Kushner at the Holly Solomon Gallery, 1981. Courtesy of Thomas Solomon.

Holly Solomon hanging work by Robert Kushner at the Holly Solomon Gallery, 1981. Courtesy of Thomas Solomon.

Within a few years, though, SoHo became an art gallery district, and museums were participating more actively in the contemporary art scene. The Solomons felt that 98 Greene Street had served its purpose, and closed the space.
For the next two years, the couple continued to support artists as they always had, by buying their work. Then, in 1975, Solomon decided to branch out by opening an eponymous commercial gallery showcasing young and often unknown artists. The Holly Solomon Gallery at 392 West Broadway in SoHo refused to accept the prevalent idea that painting was dead, exhibiting artists who were painting unapologetically representative and decorative canvases.
Portrait of Holly Solomon at her gallery 392 West Broadway circa 1976. Courtesy of Thomas Solomon.

Portrait of Holly Solomon at her gallery 392 West Broadway circa 1976. Courtesy of Thomas Solomon.

“You can’t imagine how supportive she was, always telling artists, ‘Do it!’” Robert Kushner told Hyperallergic in 2014. “With Holly, who was interested in whatever was new and different, I didn’t have to make excuses for using glitter.” In some circles, this gave Solomon a reputation for being the doyenne of ; she didn’t care.
Solomon gave installation artists free reign and exhibited video art, organizing some of new media art pioneer ’s first shows. She also made a point of representing women artists, such as assemblage artist and multidisciplinary artist , at a time when they were fighting for equal exhibition opportunities.
“By starting a gallery, [she was] stating that as a collector and supporter, it was worth the energy, effort, [and] money to represent artists like , like , , , ,” Thomas Solomon added. “She was really about the furtherment of the culture that you take from. That you give back, and that you have a responsibility to give back and to help move things in a forward, good way that helps other people—besides living with art and enjoying art.”
Holly, John, and Thomas Solomon in New York apartment 1969. Courtesy of Thomas Solomon.

Holly, John, and Thomas Solomon in New York apartment 1969. Courtesy of Thomas Solomon.

In her uptown home, Solomon lived with portraits of herself that she commissioned from some of Pop art’s greats, including (which sold at auction after Solomon’s death) and (now in the collection of The Broad in Los Angeles). She frequently asked artists to create portraits of her in their trademark styles, such as ’s photographic portrait triptych now on view at Marlborough Contemporary. But at her gallery, she wanted to promote artistic pluralism and make space for the next generation.
Portrait of Holly Solomon at home with Andy Warhol portrait circa 1966. Courtesy of Thomas Solomon.

Portrait of Holly Solomon at home with Andy Warhol portrait circa 1966. Courtesy of Thomas Solomon.

Up until Solomon’s death in 2002, she was welcoming to all artists. The Holly Solomon Gallery migrated a few times, moving between downtown and midtown Manhattan, and finally back to SoHo. In the final years of her life, as New York’s gallery scene shifted once more, Solomon converted a guestroom at the famed Chelsea Hotel into an appointment-only space.
Just as Holly Solomon had found a house for Gordon Matta-Clark to destroy, she created a home for young artists to build their careers and thrive. As Alexis Smith, who exhibited with Solomon when she was starting out in the 1970s, said: “She had a lot of moxie.”
Karen Chernick

Correction: An earlier version of this article included Kim MacConnel among the female artists represented by Holly Solomon, but MacConnel is male. The article has been updated to reflect this.