20 Years and Counting:

Interview with Nancy Lunsford and Shanee Epstein

Nancy Lunsford and Shanee Epstein started 440 Gallery 20 years ago. Here are some of their words about starting the gallery and what it has become.

Nancy Lunsford

Was there an event or situation that inspired you to start this artist-run gallery? Art can be an isolating profession. Was creating community-driven 440 meant to address that?

440 grew out of a pre-existing community of artists who met at my studio once a week to work from the model. One of the artists in the sketch group was moving and suggested that her studio, a storefront in the neighborhood, would make a nice gallery space. She and her husband lived in the small apartment behind the storefront, but they would be moving upstate. She said the landlord was a sweetheart, very easygoing. We started with a pop-up for a month — a group show of all the artists who had ever attended one of the sketch sessions. There were about thirty artists and we all pitched in some money to cover the rent, some paint for spiffing up the place, and an opening reception. We called that first show “The Third Street Sketch Group”. After the very successful opening — I believe nearly everyone sold at least one piece — we began recruiting enough artists who could commit to a monthly contribution so that the gallery could continue. We needed at least ten artists pitching in $150 a month to maintain the collective. It took us a while to get the requisite 10 or so, to maintain momentum and keep the gallery open while we got our group and act together, I had the first solo show “Reclaiming Red” after the pop-up show ended. By March we were in full gear and had our first members’ show. We were learning a lot as we went along. I had run a gallery before, but I had never run a collective.

440 seems to emphasize the artist as much as the art. Did it start like that?

Yes. As we were a collective running everything ourselves, we sought artists who were also collegial and able to work together. We couldn’t accommodate prima donnas. We had to hang the shows, paint the walls, clean the toilet, do the press and marketing ourselves. We also wanted to present the gallery as a professional space with excellent art. We asked applicants about what other practical skills they might contribute. We had a policy in searching for new members that no matter how wonderful their art, if they were not nice, 440 was not the place for them. Also, no matter how nice they were, or how accomplished in computer or other practical skills, their art was paramount. We sought serious, practicing artists whose art was on a professional level. We also had a policy, from the very beginning, that when a member had their solo show, they were the star. They were not expected to clean up the space after the reception. We all pitched in to promote and support the soloist. The ideal was that we all got our chance to shine and be supported by the others.

Did being curators and educators, as well as being artists, influence how you structured 440?

Being curators and educators did influence how we structured 440, but it was not always a conscious influence. Having run a gallery before, I valued professionalism and a critical eye on how we presented ourselves. This was instrumental to how we presented ourselves to prospective clients and other art professionals as well as the general public. Artist members were chosen for their professionalism and seriousness of their practice, so we trusted what they were showing. However, not all artists have an eye for the best way to hang or display their work. We wanted the gallery to not only be a local community space, but to have as sophisticated and professional visual presence as was possible on our budget. We tapped into some of our early members’ experience working in higher end galleries. Over time we developed a hanging committee to help support each artist in their solo shows to curate and install the work to its best advantage. We were always looking for ways to bring new people into the gallery — collectors, prospective new members, or just people in the neighborhood as part of a broader audience. We made Sunday afternoons our outreach day with music and spoken word events, an artists talk, and a children’s workshop. All these regular and other special events had an educational component. The artist talks served our clients and community supporters by explaining ideas, techniques and the process of the work on display. It also served us as artists in becoming comfortable about talking about our own work. This is sometimes difficult for artists to do but it is essential in furthering one’s career. Several members taught art — Susan Greenstein, Jo-Ann Acey, Vicki Behm, and Gail Flanery taught as part of Studio in a School, a program that brought artists into underserved schools to teach art. With their expertise, Vicki in particular, developed a free drop-in children’s workshop in the gallery once a month. The workshop was designed to have the children make some project based on the current exhibition. The exhibiting artist was encouraged to drop in and chat with the children or participate in the workshop. A natural educational outcome of just having a consistent group of artists working together is that we all exchange knowledge and tips among ourselves — where to buy certain tools or products, the best framer, current shows to see or other locales to exhibit.

How did the gallery/membership evolve over the years?

We really learned and adapted as we went along. Every time we had a crisis or a problem, we talked it out at meetings and in committees; sometimes things worked out quickly and sometimes it took months. But usually, these knotty issues resulted in “new rules”. One example: an early show was still being hung on the day it was to open. This delayed printing up a price list and gave the artist little time to prepare for the opening reception. It was stressful for everyone involved. The new rule was that all shows had to be completely hung, the work numbered, and a price list and supporting material printed by the day before the official opening date. The postcard for the next show should also be printed and available as well. There may be a few last-minute changes but setting this deadline really helped keep things running smoothly with less anxiety for everyone. We also began with a solo show in the front of the gallery and a group show of all other members in the back gallery — the members’ contracts stipulating that any member would always have a piece hanging in the gallery. This made for a very crowded group show of mostly small work. Some artists wanted to show bigger work between their solo shows. So we eventually dropped the continuous group show of 10 or 12 artists and began the current system of three-person shows running concurrently with the solo show. Some artists protested about the loss of continuous wall presence, so we developed our flat files as an opportunity for artists to have more work at the gallery available for visitors to see.

When did you leave 440 Gallery? Why did you step away?

My last solo show at 440 opened in 2020. The day before the opening reception, New York City shut down for the pandemic. We managed to stay open, shifting, like a lot of storefront businesses, to an online presence and socially distanced, masked, in-person visits by appointment. At that time my mother’s health was failing and I began traveling back and forth to Tennessee to care for her. I decided to move permanently, and Shanee was also moving out of the city. We both decided that after 15 years the gallery was flourishing and strong enough to survive the pandemic. It was time for us to step aside for others to take the helm.

What is a favorite memory from your time at 440?

There are so many wonderful memories, it’s hard to choose just one. I remember when we had our first open call group show. At our planning meeting, I set a goal to get 100 applicants. At $30 for each application fee, that would give us enough money to pay some bills and buy some essential things for the new space — in particular some flat files and a computer. It seemed an impossible goal — we were a new unknown gallery — the other members laughed at my ambitious target. A few months later, minutes before the deadline, I triumphantly processed the 100th applicant.

I remember conspiring with Todd Erickson to move the center wall for my show, promising to move it back afterward but gambling that everyone would like the new configuration once we moved it. A few shows are burned into my memory: Vicki Behm’s exhibit, 1000 Views of New York, with an incredible installation by our hanging committee was just stunning. Amy Williams painted the gallery walls red for her Petit Fours exhibition and hosted a day of flamenco dancers. A very traumatic but deep and poignant memory was the show honoring Shanee’s young son Ezra who died by suicide. As a collective, we were all devastated by his death. It marked the emotional nadir of all our lives on this ship of artistic survival in life’s turbulent ocean.

I think my fondest memories are small vignettes of joy: of lunches at Bar Toto with a few members of the gallery while prepping for a new show. Christmas parties at Ellen Chuse. Interviewing prospective members with Shanee. Laughing with Susan Greenstein as we googled how to shape tissue paper into perfect fillers for her hand-printed 440 gift bags for our Matrons and Patrons party.

Shanee Esptein

Was there an event or situation that inspired you to start this artist-run gallery?

Nancy Lunsford and I were already great art buddies. Nancy was running figure drawing sessions. I finished my MFA at Pratt and was working as an educator and part time in the studio, producing a lot of work and just putting them in my flat files. I was working and creating art, but didn’t have showing opportunities. Since I also worked, I didn’t have time for ourtreach, gallery searching, etc. I had the choice to make art or market my art, not both. I remarked to Nancy that I just keep making art and putting it away. I’d rather make spaghetti sauce and have people enjoy it! Very soon after, another artist in our figure group was leaving her space on 9th street. Like serendipity, the place became available. Nancy and I jumped in. Sanding the floors, fixing the walls, trying to find 10 other artists to help pay the rent!

Art can be an isolating profession. Was creating community-driven 440 meant to address that?

I craved art community, and the 440 artists became mine. We were making an exhibition space for artists, run by us. It was great. Nancy and I were a really good team. Nancy always reaching up, me a bit more practical, but we shared a vision and loved working together and had skills that 440 needed. As we built the gallery there was a lot of attention to maintaining high art standards and building common vision. We also addressed personal issues — when you have a dozen artists, with very different styles and personalities, issues come up. I didn’t want talk or gossip, between us. Working out interpersonal issues helped create a culture of support and a super cooperative gallery. 440 became a family, a community of artists and a super high-quality neighborhood gallery.

When did you leave 440 Gallery? Why did you step away?

I left in 2020. My family left Brooklyn after 32 years and moved up to Western Massachusetts. Coincidentally, Nancy was also moving to Tennessee. We thought carefully about the turnover. 440 was 15 years old, strong and ready for new leadership. What I feel most proud about is that 440 keeps going and getting stronger.

What is a favorite memory from your time at 440?

I have SO, SO many. 15 wonderful years of great art, friends, neighbors, building a gallery in Park Slope, still thriving. Warms my heart.

For press and sales inquiries, including interviews with our artists, please contact info@440gallery.com or 718-499-3844.