If you've ever been to anything to do with art in Sydney, Sebastian Goldspink was probably there too. A Sydney-based curator and a proud descendant of the Burramattagal people of the Dharug Nation, his day-to-day work sits mostly within First Nations exhibitions and public programs at the moment. I called Sebastian one afternoon ahead of Sydney Contemporary's tenth anniversary, where he has curated the Collectors Lounge, a dedicated space gathering works acquired across the fair's previous nine editions. We discussed the discomfort of the word 'collector', the small rituals of buying art for the first time, and the way that becomes a stamp of your taste at the time. What begins as practical advice for first-time buyers of art at a fair becomes something closer to understanding collecting art as a way of keeping a record of who you were when you bought it.
ATIA To begin, tell me a little about yourself and the role you're playing in Sydney Contemporary this year.
SEBASTIAN I'm a Sydney-based curator, and a proud descendant of the Burramattagal people of the Dharug Nation. I work a lot in curating First Nations exhibitions and programs. For Sydney Contemporary this year, I'm curating the Collectors Lounge. It's a dedicated space within the fair and I'm taking over that room to showcase works acquired across the previous nine editions, in celebration of the tenth. I've been involved with the fair in a variety of ways since it first started, as a gallerist, doing talks, and public programs. But this year I get to curate a space of my own.
A For those who aren't yet acquainted, what actually happens at Sydney Contemporary?
S It's one of the largest art fairs in the Asia Pacific, over a hundred galleries from Australia and internationally, gathered at Carriageworks over five days. Galleries have booths showcasing different artists, some individual, some group shows. But it spills well past the halls, with exhibition openings, late nights, collaborations with places like the Ace Hotel and the Eve. It's a proper festival of visual arts, and this edition is going to be bigger than any of the past nine, being the tenth. Inside it, two sections matter most if you're new to this: Works on Paper and Photo Contemporary, where small works can start around a hundred dollars. Genuinely accessible. Bars, music, performances. It doesn't feel like a stuffy affair.
A What is it like walking in as someone who might not have bought art before?
S Daunting, but exhilarating too. Collector is a difficult word for a lot of people. Even someone with three hundred works will say, 'Oh, I'm not a serious collector.' Maybe in the same way you might love a genre of music for years without ever calling yourself a critic. To me, a collector is just someone who stays curious about visual culture and lets that shape how they live a little. It was never really about acquisition. My advice for someone starting out is simple: buy something you can obviously afford, but that resonates with you, that has some meaning. You might wander into Works on Paper and there's a small drawing that just gets you. That's the whole point. We do this thing where we put things on the wall: photos of friends, a signed jersey, whatever. Buying art is just an extension of that same instinct.
A It's a very simple way of thinking about it. We all have collections of things we are drawn to already.
S Exactly, and I think about it that way myself. I'm of the age where I bought records for the covers, drawn to the visuals before I'd even heard a note. Streaming has taken a lot of that away. It's nice to see it creeping back with vinyl reissues, artwork intact, that whole literate, slightly obsessive way of building a taste.
A If someone's working with a genuinely small budget, where do they actually start?
S Graduation shows. And artist-run spaces, like Firstdraft, where the price point is real and the artists are your contemporaries. I did exactly that. I invested in my own generation and watched people go from small artist-run spaces to solo shows at the National Gallery of Australia. I was buying because they were of my world, my age, and something in the work resonated. You get to watch someone's whole career from the very start. That's the appeal nobody talks about enough.
A A little reflection of your world at a point in time.
S Yeah.
A When it comes to buying a work, are there questions worth asking?
S A few basics. If it's a drawing, confirm it's an original. If it's a photograph, ask how many editions exist, sometimes there are ten or twenty. And keep the receipt, always. I tape mine to the back of the frame once it's hung, part certificate of authenticity, part memory aid, the artist's name and the title right there. There's genuinely no pressure to buy on the spot either. Galleries want relationships with new collectors. You can walk past a hundred stands, like the feel of one, join the mailing list, start turning up to openings. That becomes part of your world. There's a great gallery called Nasha, that's only been open a couple of years, run by two people out of this weird space above a Chinese restaurant in Chinatown. Incredible eye, and they keep finding remarkable emerging artists. As soon as I heard about it, I started following them and showing up to their exhibitions. That's part of collecting too, being tied into the artistic life of your own city.
A It really doesn't end when the fair packs up.
S The fair's just the entry point.
A I'm curious to know, what was the first piece of art you bought?
S Honestly, I can't remember. I grew up around art, my mum collected, and though I went to acting school myself, most of my friends went to art school. So whatever it was, it was cheap, and it was really just an act of support. Later, working as a TV actor with a decent income, I started properly, still mostly collecting friends' work, and that's never really stopped. I've got kids now, and I took my son, who was quite young at the time, to a ceramics show. He stopped in front of one piece and said, 'I want that.' It was a couple of hundred dollars, so I bought it for him, and the gallery treated him like a real collector. They even brought him out some mineral water. Now when people visit the house, he'll interrupt whatever I'm showing them and point at his piece. It's genuinely his.
A Proof you can start a collection at any time.
S Any age, any budget. There are so many ways in, and there's real satisfaction in watching young artists grow alongside you.
A I guess there is more to collecting than just putting it on display. It's an archive of your taste, and each piece holds memories with it.
S Exactly.
A Lastly, if this edition of Sydney Contemporary was a song, what would it be and why?
S Movin' On Up by Primal Scream. It has that sense of momentum and positivity. People getting together to celebrate beauty for a week is an important thing.
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Sydney Contemporary begins on Thursday 3 September and runs until Saturday, 6 September at Carriageworks. Tickets are available via their website.
Words by Words by Atia Rahim Photos by Sydney Contemporary