There’s a new garage-fronted gallery in East Williamsburg—one that aims to be more than just an exhibition venue. While Gallery ATARAH is as much a practical endeavor as it is a passion project, founder Atarah Atkinson says she’s drawn to the ethos of early art galleries, where the focus was on creators and their creations rather than the maneuverings of an extractive art market. And so, as legacy dealers reckon with the transactional world they helped create, Atkinson is embracing the gallery-as-salon concept: an exhibition space that doubles as a communal hub, where on any given day she might host portfolio reviews, after-school workshops, mentorship meetups or community happenings.
“Gallery ATARAH represents a chance to establish a curatorial vision that is entirely my own—a creative home where I can channel my passion for connection into celebrating authentic artistic expression,” she tells Observer. To that end, the light-filled 700-square-foot space will also function as her personal studio. She has experience developing hybrid spaces, having co-founded The Atrium, a 2,500-square-foot creative production studio, in 2017. It, too, played host to a range of gatherings, from community events and movie nights to industry networking sessions.
The first exhibition in the new space, “Bright Ruin,” presents 35 new mixed-media works and sculptural installations by Atkinson that explore themes of decay and renewal, beauty and destruction and the cyclical nature of death and rebirth as it relates to the self. She curated the show—her first foray into curation, and putting together “Bright Ruin” was not only a curatorial challenge but also a level-setting exercise. “Leading with my own work was a deliberate choice,” she says. “This is my creative home, and I wanted to establish its foundational energy by modeling the level of care and attention artists can expect when collaborating with me.”
We caught up with Atkinson not long after the opening of the gallery’s inaugural exhibition to learn more about her motivations, what it means to have an intentionally porous gallery and how she plans to measure success.
What inspired you to found Gallery ATARAH? Does what you’re creating now build on your earlier work with The Atrium?
Gallery ATARAH definitely builds on The Atrium in some foundational ways. Both ventures grew from a shared impulse: to elevate not only ourselves but our peers—to create infrastructure and resources where artistic communities could thrive. I co-founded The Atrium studio with close friend and fellow photographer Alicia Henderson when we were both finding our footing in New York. We identified a significant gap in Brooklyn for affordable, professional studio spaces that were clean, organized and genuinely client-worthy—something emerging creatives could sustain financially while building their practices. Like Gallery ATARAH, The Atrium was always about more than just the physical space; we invested in cultivating creative community. The Atrium hosted community gatherings, movie nights and organized industry networking. That experience only strengthened my understanding of what’s possible when you build spaces where artists can genuinely support one another.
Having my own gallery has been a goal since studying at the Brooks Institute, but the driving force was always about creating a platform where voices, mine and my peers’, could truly resonate without compromise or external pressure to conform. I’m drawn to the ethos of early galleries, where the focus centered on the work and the makers rather than celebrity or the market. Gallery ATARAH represents a chance to establish a curatorial vision that is entirely my own—a creative home where I can channel my passion for connection into celebrating authentic artistic expression. Where The Atrium was beautifully collaborative, this gallery allows me to expand my own creative practice while bringing other artists into a space designed for mutual growth.
Your inaugural show “Bright Ruin” features your own work—how do you see the gallery’s programming evolving as you bring in other artists?
Leading with my own work was a deliberate choice. This is my creative home, and I wanted to establish its foundational energy by modeling the level of care and attention artists can expect when collaborating with me. When artists work with Gallery ATARAH, they’re not simply engaging with a curator or business owner–they’re connecting with a fellow artist who understands the language of this life, the realities of the commitment and the nature of the work itself. “Bright Ruin” also sets a precedent for what I seek from the artists I represent, not in a stylistic sense but in the thematic undercurrents of their work. I’m interested in creatives, whether self-taught or early in their careers, who are committed to producing authentic works that delve into their unique personal experiences.
As I bring in artists with aligned values and dedication to their craft, I am excited for our programming to evolve and create layered conversations, both literally on the walls and among the people in the space. I’m particularly interested in positioning contemporary work alongside vintage and antique pieces to explore how meaningful art transcends its moment of creation. I want to encourage today’s creatives to consider their work’s longevity. I believe that when something speaks through truth, it never loses its voice, and I am drawn to art whose impact transcends time and outlasts trends. This approach naturally fosters dialogue between different practices and perspectives.
Showing multiple artists together, as we’ll do regularly at the salon nights, creates opportunities for peer connection, for learning about varied processes and for voices to be heard collectively rather than in isolation. It also offers an open invitation for diverse audiences to engage, connect and feel through the work we present together. I am also excited to eventually develop partnerships with other local Brooklyn spaces so that we can cross-promote complementary resources, events and programming.
Will the gallery have an open submission process, or will you curate primarily through relationships and networks?
Both, absolutely. Multiple entry points allow for more dynamic programming. Much of our initial programming features creative peers I’ve admired and collaborated with throughout my career and I’m drawing on relationships cultivated over 11+ years working as a freelance photographer in New York. For example, our winter solo exhibition features my friend and local artist Clara Rae, who will present her mixed-media practice spanning ceramics, textiles and painting.
That said, our website features a comprehensive open submission portal outlining various opportunities—salon nights, exhibitions, workshops, artist talks—and I actively encourage artists to indicate interest in multiple formats. It matters to me that submission carries no financial barrier. I’ve long viewed submission fees to art shows as problematic within the art industry. When artists apply to work with us, I commit to responding with equal care and I personally review every submission because I understand intimately how vulnerable it feels to put forth work for consideration.
I also welcome informal artist meetings—if an artist is curious about showing with us, I encourage them to reach out to arrange coffee at the gallery. We can discuss their practice, explore ideas and talk shop without any application pressure. Given that I’m drawn to personal, emotionally resonant work, I recognize that some artists need time and trust before opening up about their process. Establishing that foundation of safety matters deeply to me.
You’ve mentioned salon nights. Can you tell us more about what formats you’re most excited to pilot first?
I’m genuinely excited about all our winter programming coming together. We have some wonderful events planned that each serve different purposes in building community and supporting artists, including workshops led by various creatives across different disciplines and artist talks that give space to hear directly from makers about their processes and experiences.
I’m particularly excited about a floral workshop we have in the works for October. I think community workshops and hands-on experiences let people create something of their own, connect with themselves through making and learn new skills in a supportive setting.
Even with all these different things in motion, my primary focus is getting our first salon night off the ground; I’m hoping to hold it in November. These gatherings will provide lower-pressure opportunities for multiple artists to show work simultaneously in an intimate setting, sparking creative dialogue and peer connection without the demands of a full solo exhibition.
I believe there is something powerful about the kind of open dialogue where artists can share their journeys and audiences can ask questions in a welcoming environment. What excites me most about all these different formats is the variety of conversations they’ll generate—from the hands-on making in workshops to the reflective discussions in artist talks to the visual dialogue on the walls during salon nights. Each format welcomes different people into the creative conversation in its own way.
So many galleries operate as exclusive spaces. What does it mean for you to create a gallery that is intentionally porous and accessible?
For me, it means returning to what galleries were originally created for: prioritizing longevity and community building over immediate commercial success. Early galleries were hubs of creative conversation where artists could connect with other artists, not just sell work. As a new gallerist, I’m in this to build a sustainable model that places artists’ voices and visitor engagement at the forefront.
I want to move away from the white walls and hushed-tones approach. Galleries shouldn’t feel like spaces where you need to be silent or make yourself as small as possible. I don’t want visitors feeling like they’re an inconvenience because they’re filling the space with their energy. I want conversation in this space. When people walk in off the street, I invite them to talk with me about what they’re experiencing and how they’re feeling about the art.
When I meet with artists seeking representation, I’m more concerned with asking, “What does your work mean to you? Why are you making it? How does it impact your life?” rather than getting caught up in, “How can we market this?” While I absolutely want collectors to visit and acquire work, I’m building on the philosophy that if you create something meaningful, they will come. Authentic work speaks powerfully when given space to resonate on its own terms. By cultivating an intentionally open, welcoming and accessible environment, the focus remains on the work itself—and in that environment, both artists and audiences can build lasting connections.
How will you measure success—sales, attendance, or something less tangible?
I suppose metrics for success will be less tangible. For me, the real measure is whether participating artists feel they’re gaining something meaningful—whether that’s through artistic inspiration or collector interest. If artists engaging with the gallery feel successful on an individual level—that participating in Gallery ATARAH’s programming through an exhibition, artist talk, workshop, or salon night was a positive experience that opened new doors, introduced new ways of thinking, sparked new questions, or inspired new work—then that’s success to me.
Additionally, I truly care about how much the artwork moves people in the community and how deeply it is engaged with. I think about a woman who recently walked in off the street. After experiencing the “Bright Ruin” exhibition, she told me how serendipitous and uplifting it felt to discover the gallery, how much the work resonated with her in that exact moment when she needed it. She felt seen. That, to me, is also success. When people experience the work and carry it with them—when it moves them in a way that stays with them personally—that’s success. And if they then share how the work made them think or feel, that impact ripples outward.
Obviously, financial viability matters—Williamsburg rent being what it is—and business success means maintaining operations, supporting a robust artist roster and hosting well-attended exhibitions where genuine engagement happens. But Gallery ATARAH’s ability to inspire connection remains the primary success metric.
How do you plan to sustain the balance between your own artistic practice and the demands of being a gallerist? Or do you see them as being complementary?
I absolutely see them as complementary. I feel as though this space might hold more value for me than it might for a typical gallery owner because it is also the home of my personal practice. That investment keeps the gallery pointed toward its true north and the best way I can uphold Gallery ATARAH’s mission of fostering connection is by activating it through my own work—serving as a strong curatorial compass grounded in my creative practice.
Being an artist first gives me insight into what other artists are navigating professionally and what they need. I understand the business development challenges because I am working through them myself. I can support others in raising themselves up as business people because I am engaged in that same process. I speak their language—the language of the reality of being self-funded, the sacrifices, commitment and all of the hard work that goes along with being an artist. Rather than being just a curator or gallery owner, artists are connecting with someone who truly understands their journey because I’m walking the same path. This is my creative home, and I’m extending an invitation to others to participate in building it with me.
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