The Valley

The Valley is a contemporary art gallery in Taos, New Mexico presenting exhibitions from early career artists both local and national, with a focus on magic and mysticism, craft practices, and connection to place.

The Valley acknowledges the occupied indigenous land we call Taos as the unceded ancestral territories of the Pueblo, Diné, and Apache peoples. The Taos Pueblo, home to the original guardians of this territory, is located less than 5 miles from the gallery, and is one of the oldest continuously inhabited communities in North America. 

We honor the Pueblo people’s committed stewardship of, and sovereignty on this land. We stand in solidarity with indigenous people’s movements, and are committed to supporting indigenous-lead solutions and organizations in our community and worldwide. The Valley pays a monthly voluntary land tax to the Taos Pueblo Foundation and Pueblo Action Alliance. In addition to our monetary support, we will continue to evaluate our role in reconciliation with actions, not just words, that center the lived experiences of the true stewards of this land.

This land acknowledgement was composed using resources from Seeding Sovereignty, Amnesty International Canada, and the Native Governance Center.

Interview with Arielle M. Myers, Owner + Curator at The Valley

Hi Ari! Thank you so much for talking to us about your gallery The Valley in Taos, New Mexico. This series of questions is a followup to our phone conversation earlier this week, which I very much enjoyed. I was so fascinated by your story and journey up to this point, and I feel like I could ask you so many more questions!  

You were inspired to move to Taos from your most recent home base in Denver, based on what you described as a kind of vibration or energy that you felt when you drove through the area. Can you talk more about how this small town called your name?

It’s part of the local lore of Taos that there is an energy vortex here which emanates from the mountain. I’m not sure if that’s what I experienced, but I remember the first time I ever passed through Taos I felt a strong connection here. I just felt like I wanted to wrap myself in the land and learn what it had to teach. 

Taos has a population of around 6,000 people, which is pretty tiny! What was it like moving from the city of Denver to this less populated, rural place? Has the area changed noticeably due to the pandemic?

I lived in Denver for four years after finishing my graduate studies at CU Boulder. Denver was tough for me, I felt like I really tried to fit in and find my stride there, but just never could. The version of Denver I experienced feels pretty unmoored and undefined, whereas my experience of Taos is that it feels very comfortable and sure of itself, there’s so much culture and history to be guided by. The transition has been easy for me, I much prefer rural living to city living. I travel frequently for my work with the gallery so I still get to be in bigger cities regularly, but the exposure can be overwhelming and I always look forward to returning home. 

You have a really long and varied career that gives you so many insights into many different aspects of the art world, from studying art history, writing, running non-profit art programs, curating in a museum context and large high-rise art collections, and working in a blue chip gallery in New York. How have all of these experiences culminated into your current role and perspective with starting and running The Valley?

To be honest, it’s definitely been varied, but it hasn’t been that long! I feel grateful to have experienced many different facets of the industry in a relatively short amount of time. Ten years ago I was finishing up undergrad at Florida State University, and shortly after that I had my first art world job at Paul Kasmin Gallery in New York City. I’ve had a voracious appetite for work for the past ten years and have consistently been involved in several different projects at once, definitely burning the candle at both ends for a lot of that time. It’s been a crash course for sure, but I feel that I’ve gained clarity around what I’m good at, where I can contribute, and where there’s room to do so. A few years ago I started to feel like I was finished experimenting with different options and ready to put my energy into a personal and long term project. This made me question where I would feel most excited and fulfilled to take that on, and where I would be able to make an impact. I knew that Denver wasn’t a fit for me, nor was returning to New York, or to Florida where I grew up. Rather than focusing on what kind of work I wanted to do, I tried to ask myself where I would be happy living for a large part of my life. My heart kept coming back to Taos. 

What inspired you to take the leap and start your own space, after working within and with larger organizations and institutions?

Once I moved to Taos, I had this seed of an idea, and it felt like everything started to align to make it possible. I found a small space that I could afford, I had a runway of a few months with what I had saved. I started putting everything in motion, and opened the space in November 2020. Despite many challenges, I guess it just felt like time to get started.

You represent a very unique roster of artists. I was pleasantly surprised to have the opportunity to be introduced to so much work with which I was not familiar. Thank you for that! Can you talk a bit about the type of work you are most interested in showing? How do you discover artists that you would like to work with?

Thank you :) I’m very interested in the idea of showing work that feels connected to the spirit of Taos (or my perception of it), regardless of the location where the artists I show live and work. To me that manifests in three tenets that I use a lot in describing the connecting thread between the work we show: magic and mysticism, craft practices, and connection to place. These are the threads that draw me to an artist's work, and usually I can pick up on it quickly - I have been building an archive of artists I’d like to work with for years, often discovering them through Instagram or through recommendations from other artists I work with. I try to stay plugged in to artists working in this way, it’s a kind of current that I’m looking for, and I hope that this creates a cohesive vision that comes through from exhibition to exhibition at the gallery. 

On your website, you describe The Valley as exhibiting "early career artists both local and national, with a focus on magic and mysticism, craft practices, and connection to place." I find this so intriguing as someone who is interested in mysticism myself. Can you tell us more about your interest in showing work that draws from these ideas?

Some of my interest in this comes from a desire to be connected to the history and legacy of the arts in Taos, but on a personal level, I was raised in a very religious environment and have always been very curious about spiritual and esoteric matters. I always struggled with the values of the church, but for a time when I was younger I think I dove deeper into it looking for a way to resolve the dissonance I felt. I was drawn to the imagery, the storytelling, the ritual, the pageantry, the feeling of being attuned with something cosmic. I find that in other ways now, mostly through the land, through objects, through other spiritual tools and practices. It’s something I’m still fascinated by, and so I find myself drawn to artists and artworks that are exploring their connections with both the tangible and intangible parts of our lives that bring us closer to some essence of spirit. 

Many of the artists you work with have a lean toward subject matter that highlights the natural world—like the amazing mushroom paintings by Travis Boyer. Does living in the beautiful New Mexico landscape inspire this proclivity or was this always a thread in your curatorial projects? How have your curatorial tastes and interests changed throughout your career?

Many of the artists I admire most make works that address their relationships with the land, whether personal or ancestral, or from a perspective of stewardship or conservation. Living in relationship with the land is something I have become more curious about and worked towards personally while living in the West, which at this point has been for the majority of my career in the arts as well, so I’d say it has become part of the core of my curatorial work as well. My curatorial interests probably haven’t changed that much over the course of my career, but what has changed is my ability to execute projects that I feel fully connected to personally. In the past, working with other organizations and institutions, I’ve often done projects that (while I certainly connected to in some ways) were designed to fulfill a brief or to serve the mission and values of the host organization rather than my own personal interests. What’s really funny is that when I look back at early indicators, like images I was posting on Tumblr in high school or in my early 20s, it still feels like the same thread I’m chasing today. With The Valley, I can say that each exhibition or art fair presentation I’ve collaborated on so far has felt like it’s in that current I was describing previously. 

Art fairs have begun to play a really crucial role for smaller galleries, particularly galleries located outside of major cities, such as The Valley. I love the short video you posted on IG showing your road trip to Miami for NADA! Can you describe your relationship to art fairs and how they have facilitated connecting your artists with a wider audience globally?

At this stage of the gallery’s growth, I’m really excited by the opportunity to use art fairs as a way to share what we are doing here in Taos and take the artists’ that we work with to audiences in different and larger cities. The pace in Taos between exhibitions is very mellow and comfortable for the most part, so the high energy of the fairs is a welcome change. At the time of writing, we’ve only done one fair (NADA Miami), but I’ve already seen an immense positive impact in our relationships with collectors and with other galleries, which translates into more opportunities for our artists and more funds to support the work that they are doing. We have three art fairs on the books for 2021, and likely will take on more in coming years in some of the markets that I’m interested in building more support in- like Los Angeles and Mexico City. 

Being far from New York and LA, do you find that you tend to participate in more regional fairs and shows, like the upcoming Marfa Invitational? Are these types of opportunities growing faster nowadays, or have they been around but perhaps overlooked by those who find themselves more caught up in the scenes on either coast? I know from personal experience that it can be hard to break out of the bubble of your own network in the internet age, and I am interested in the midwest and what's going on there.

There aren’t a lot of regional opportunities in the Southwest at the moment which is why I value the invitation to participate in the Marfa Invitational this year so much, we are by far the smallest gallery and one of the newest to be included. I am so excited about that organization and about Marfa in general, another magic desert town and creative bastion that I’ve enjoyed spending time in and always welcome an opportunity to visit. We were also invited to participate in the Dallas Art Fair this year, so we will be spending a couple of weeks in the Lone Star state, which is the largest art market in close proximity to Taos. I think the reality is that the large coastal cities will always dominate the art world/art market to an extent, but there’s a lot of freedom that comes with not having to work in the same way as galleries in those larger metropolitan areas do. I’m interested in finding a sustainable way of working that prioritizes a regional focus and yet remains connected to the global contemporary art market. 

 In your view, how has the balance shifted from primarily in-person interactions with art to a mix of in-person and virtual? Have you experienced both pros and cons as a result of these shifts?

Absolutely. I don’t think that the way I’m building the gallery would be possible without the increased interest in experiencing art virtually. But ultimately I see those virtual experiences as a proxy, which can’t replace the real thing, but can help to supplement it. 

On the same note, how important is it for you to connect with the local community as well as the broader national and international art communities? Are in-person events and openings more difficult in a post-COVID environment?

In person events were definitely challenging in our first year, navigating changing COVID restrictions and trying to do what is best to protect people in our small community. We still have relatively limited hours and gatherings as a result, but this also means that I can place a lot of personal attention on each visitor to the gallery. The relationship with the community in Taos is something very precious to me, I wanted to take my time to build it authentically, and to be mindful about how much space I am taking up in a place where I am still very much a guest. It’s been easier in some ways to gain credibility elsewhere, especially because of our digital presence. I think that moving slowly and intentionally feels more authentic to me in either case! 

What have been some of the biggest challenges in starting The Valley? Are there any aspects of the role of gallery director that you didn't expect or that might surprise people?

Well, I opened the gallery without a collector base, in the midst of a global pandemic, with just under $5,000 that I saved from unemployment benefits that I received during the early months of covid after losing my previous job. Resources were challenging in the beginning, but now things are starting to feel more in flow. I’m very grateful for the support we’ve received both locally and nationally, and very grateful for folks who have served as mentors and allowed me to ask a lot of questions during this first year. I have to shout out Madeline Ehrlich and Quang Bao of 1969 Gallery specifically, as well as Max Marshall from Deli Gallery. And my partner Johnny DeFeo who does much of our preparator work and install, and is always a sounding board for me. And my gallery manager Celeste who has helped me immensely since she started with the gallery. I’ve never been the best at delegating and tend to want to shoulder it all on my own, I’m learning to be better about that. It’s been a welcome surprise that asking for help can often show that you trust someone enough to ask, and starting from that place of trust you’re likely to get the support you need. 

Do you have any advice for others who might be interested in starting up a gallery or project space?

There are so many different models for galleries and exhibition spaces, and such a diverse range of communities and artists they are serving. I think my advice would be to really absorb and do your research first, to approach the undertaking with sincerity, and to look for a way where you can address a need or bring something different to the table. 

Is time management something you think about? With so many moving parts involved in your role—planning, travel, shows to plan, studio visits, social media, website updates, writing, collaborations with artists and photographers, etc—how do you approach managing so much activity?

Time management can be really challenging for me, it’s easy for me to become addicted to my work, often at the expense of relationships, hobbies, and rest. I’m doing my best to be more balanced. I recently brought on a gallery manager, she’s the absolute best, and handles a lot of logistics, shipping, contracts, website updates, bookkeeping, etc. My most important roles are the curatorial work, writing, research, and relationship building with artists, collectors, and other organizations, so that’s what I’m trying to prioritize. But there’s a lot of emails and coordination that still falls on my plate too. Over time I hope to have more boundaries between work and life, but that just hasn’t been the case for me for the past ~10 years so I’m still adjusting.  

You and I share a love of horses and horseback-riding, which we didn't get the chance to talk about! Are riding and horses part of your life in New Mexico? Have you always been an equestrian? Give us the lowdown on your riding adventures in Taos!

This is a great companion to the question about work/life balance. Owning a horse and learning more about both training and riding has definitely been a place where I’ve had to compromise with work and carve out time to do other things that are important to me. We are coming up on a year since my partner Johnny and I bought our first horse, Cowboy. We made a brave move and bought him from a killpen in Texas. He wasn’t in the greatest shape at the time but he has a great temperament and we were able to get him into good health quickly. We got extremely lucky with how unscathed he is by whatever his previous life must have been like, and have been able to jump right into training and riding consistently. We board at a barn that’s just 5 minutes down the road from our house, our closest friends here in Taos also board their horses there so we all work together on care and training. I had some exposure to horses growing up but I never got to fulfill my childhood horse girl dreams due to where I lived and the expense of participating in equestrian sports. Since getting Cowboy, I’ve taken some lessons in Cowboy/Vaquero dressage, and will probably continue working in that discipline because I love the focus on horsemanship, communication, and softness; but don’t really have the interest in competing. I do love rodeo; I learned to barrel race when I was younger at a summer camp I attended and have been hooked ever since. Cowboy must have tried it before too, he knows the pattern and we’ve tried it out at our home arena, but no immediate plans to give up art dealing for the rodeo circuit quite yet.

Since many of the artists you work with are based outside of Taos and must travel to reach you, is there an element of intimacy and relationship building that comes from doing a solo exhibition? Is the trip itself and being in such a different, unique environment part of the experience?

Yes absolutely! I encourage the artists that I work with to come visit whenever possible, but especially for their openings. So far they’ve all seemed to really enjoy connecting with the community here and taking in all the light and space of Taos. It’s a long term goal of mine to have a residency component to the gallery where I can host artists for longer periods of time so that they can appreciate how special this place is and see how working here might influence their practice. 

I imagine traveling to Taos as being a sort of time warp into another world of sorts. I have spent some time in New Mexico (and other dry areas like the Mojave desert in CA) and coming from the East Coast they certainly have a very otherworldly effect for me. "Desert time" or a sense that time moves very slowly in the desert, felt real to me. Can you describe some of the things about Taos that one might enjoy or aspects that might feel different from other places?

I totally agree that there’s something “otherworldly” about the landscape of the high desert, but I resist the idea that rural places are slower or more crude or simple than bigger metropolitan areas. This idea comes from a colonial perspective that the work that takes place in metropolitan areas is more valuable or more intellectual than the work that takes place in rural places, and centers whiteness. I don’t think Taos is left in the past in some way, as I’ve heard it characterized at times. There is just as much activity and sensory information in rural spaces if you’re able or willing to perceive it. (I know that’s not at all what you meant by “desert time” by the way!! Just something I often have to point out because I’ve experienced this kind of rhetoric in action in the art world previously!) 

One of the reasons I think Taos feels so different from many places is because there are still large sections of agricultural land and open space interspersed within and just outside town. It hasn’t been filled in or developed to a point where the original character, architecture, and layout of the town has been watered down or lost. In my experience, both new and old Taoseños are very protective and resistant to that kind of change. Taos is a place with a rich history and culture and the legacy of artists here looms large- from the Taos Pueblo people who have lived and worked here for centuries, to more recent visitors, like early 20th century groups the Taos Society of Artists and the Taos Moderns, to Mabel Dodge Lujan, Millicent Rogers, D.H. Lawrence, Agnes Martin, Larry Bell, Ken Price, and Dennis Hopper. There’s definitely something that pulls people in to this place and makes them want to stay, some say it’s the mountain that ultimately decides.

Do you have any advice for early-career artists for getting work out there, working with galleries, and showing that might be helpful?

I think my biggest piece of advice would be to build authentic relationships with your peers in the industry, and seek out connections with those who share a similar perspective and are having similar conversations in their work- from emerging curators to art historians to fellow artists. You can do this through school programs, professional organizations, open calls, social media, curating shows in your garage or basement, or just by making an effort to attend exhibition openings and talking to people you don’t already know. The art world is much smaller and more connected than people think. Being good at your job, true to your word, supportive of others, and having a collaborative spirit goes a really long way. 

What's up next for you and The Valley?

At the moment we are just focused on continuing to build momentum around our program- so we will present six exhibitions at our physical location here in Taos in 2022, and will participate in three art fairs. I’m in studio visit mode right now, starting to build relationships with artists whose work I’ve come across more recently, and also continuing to work towards shows with some artists that have been on my mind for some time. Really looking forward to the summer, my favorite time to be in Taos, and hopefully a lot of floating on the river, laying in the sun, camping trips, warm evenings, dinners outdoors with friends, and of course lots of long trail rides too.

Anything else you would like to share?

In spending time in Taos before moving here, I noticed that there were not many art galleries that seemed to be in dialogue with the contemporary art world more broadly. There’s a ton of variety when it comes to galleries that present a local and regional selection of artists, but much of it feels tethered to a time gone by (read: a lot of cowboy paintings). I also noticed a lack of galleries from the Southwest at art fairs, which I tend to think of like the Olympics of the art world in a way, and therefore a lack of representation of artists from the region in that context as well. I felt that I could carve out a little space in Taos to create something that offered a connection to the art world while also embodying the spirit of this place. In the early offerings from the gallery, I’ve worked with a lot of artists outside of Taos and outside of New Mexico, hoping to bring something different to the table in terms of what kind of artwork you can see in Taos. In the long term, I hope to to build a roster that represents indigenous artists, outsider artists, and promising new talent based in the Western United States. By presenting high quality artworks and curatorial concepts in Taos and elsewhere, I hope to demonstrate that it is possible to innovate and actively participate in the conversations in the contemporary art market, while standing at the crossroads of an art historically significant location in the Southwest.

To find out more about The Valley, check them out on Instagram or on their website.