Is There Such Thing as a Chilean Art Market?

“I don’t think there’s anything in Chile that could be called an art market,” says artist Joaquín Cociña, one half of artist duo León & Cociña. Perhaps this article could end here, but I think that statement requires further explanation. It is very difficult to be a visual artist and make a living from what you produce in your studio. Cociña offers some insight: “Perhaps the lack of clear rules is part of the reason why there isn’t a proper market.” And indeed, the few art sales that do occur are opaque, sometimes without any signed documents. Artist Germán Tagle agrees with this assessment: “Artists are completely outside the legal system,” and adds a somber note: “Ninety-five percent of artists live off their partner’s salary, inheritance or some other benefactor. This means that an artist who can’t even pay their electrical bill can be part of a circuit that calls itself professional.”

The Santiago art scene is, shall we say, peculiar. There are independent art spaces that exhibit and sell work at art fairs. The main contemporary art museum, the Museum of Contemporary Art, is dependent on the University of Chile; the National Museum of Fine Arts shares the space and exhibits contemporary art. Every so often, a new largescale art space opens, while the existing ones suffer from chronic financial hardships. There is very little buying of art, and it is confined to the area where the main art galleries are located, the wealthy neighbourhoods. It is in this small bubble that exchanges take place – which, according to curator and critic Mariairis Flores, is not appropriate: “The relationship between artists and galleries is often precarious; exhibitions are commissioned without any investment in production, 50 percent is requested as a percentage of sales; there are no receipts.” Artist Camila Ramírez shares a critical view of gallery practices: “In general, galleries don’t invest in their artists or commit to long-term projects. This ultimately creates a rather informal market, which often depends on each artist’s ability to remain focused on their creative work despite all the difficulties they face.”

Courtesy Antenna Foundation

The good news – finally – is that there are many artists, and they are developing work that is gaining international attention. The bad news is that there are too many, at least for the weak market structure. Every year, hundreds of potential artists graduate from art schools… only to reenter. It’s a closed circuit: the first income for many art graduates is as a teaching assistant in the same faculty they came from, and their first exhibition is in the art gallery affiliated with that same university. The public sector does not seem to favour significant change. There is an annual grant, called Fondart, which occasionally funds exhibition projects, but little else. There is no state policy that promotes buying and selling, or even regulates it. Artist Nicolás Franco proposes an idea: “I believe that the Ministry of Cultures should allocate part of its resources to the creation of an event of international scope – for example a biennial – that allows the local scene to be effectively linked with the global circuit.”

“Among the deficiencies of the Chilean art market are: weak institutions, little state support and not enough collectors.” These are the three notes that compose the blues for critic and curator Christian Viveros-Fauné, who frequently collaborates with Chilean art galleries when they are participating in fairs both within and outside the country. For him, one way of increasing state support “is by reducing VAT. It can also do the same by providing additional incentives for private patronage – to create an effective patronage law.” Viveros-Fauné is a regular at Ch.ACO, the city’s main art fair, which, for gallery owners like Isabel Croxatto, has lost steam: “Its impact on the market – in strictly commercial terms or in terms of international projection – has been more limited than that of equivalent fairs in other countries of the region.”

Ch.ACO-16, 2026. Courtesy Chile Arte Contemporáneo

The few art collectors in Santiago are not major buyers, and almost none have professional-grade storage facilities. As a result, they often display some of their acquired works in the hallways of the apartment buildings where they live. A stroll down Avenida Presidente Riesco can be more rewarding for an art enthusiast than a visit to a museum. There are exceptions: Claudio Engel, for example, is opening a museum to showcase his extensive collection. These local initiatives do not directly benefit the artists financially and do not increase their market value. That only happens when artists sell or donate their work to internationally renowned museums. As critic and curator Amalia Cross states, commercial success occurs when the artist has international visibility: “The progress made in recent years in terms of the market has not been thanks to a local fair, but to private collectors and the emergence of Chilean artists at fairs and events outside of Chile (first the external valuation… the Pago de Chile[1]).”

‘We believe we are a country, but the truth is we are barely a landscape’ is a sorrowful verse by the poet Nicanor Parra. Chile is a country historically affected by its geographical position, isolated between the Andes and the Pacific Ocean. Very few foreign collectors visit Santiago. The most effective approach has proven to be when Chilean artworks go to foreign collectors’ homes. According to Alfonso Díaz, director of the Antenna Foundation, whose mission it is to promote Chilean art, sales by Santiago artists are made “primarily in international markets and with foreign institutions”. Faced with an excess of landscape and an absence of country, it seems that the best thing a Santiago artist can do is cruzar el charco (cross the pond).

[1] El Pago de Chile (‘the Chilean payment’) is an expression that dates to the colonial era and refers to the fact that recognition and success for a Chilean must first take place outside the country.