My Experience at the 2025 SuperFine Art Fair

This past April I had the honor of participating in the SuperFine Art Fair at the Brooklyn Navy Yard's Duggal Greenhouse. I was initially looking into space in 2026, but when I applied they let me know space was available due to a venue shift.

So I thought to myself: "why not?"

I'm going to do my best to give a thorough, honest, and measured account of my experience. The good, the bad, and the ugly.

THE GOOD (part 1)

A timelapse of Saturday afternoon.

My space setup. Next time I will edit more, but overall I thought it looked cohesive and laid out okay.

I'm going to start and end my write-up with THE GOOD. Why? Because I believe in the power of the Compliment Sandwich. Without further ado...

1. The venue was genuinely beautiful. It was spacious, bright and airy. I could see why they agreed to switch venues from the previous dark, industrial warehouse. The gallery walls were impeccably assembled, the lighting did a great job showcasing the work. This was, by far, one of the most professional-looking shows I have been in. When it came to the space itself? Visually, at least, it was definitely worthy of the steep price they charged artists in order to participate (I'll get to that later...).

   
   

2. The proximity to home. As someone who tends to travel very long distances with my artwork in tow? I can't emphasize enough just how much of a bonus this was. Being able to go to the venue, set up my art, and then go home after?! Now that is something I could get used to...

   
   

3. They had food options for me. The venue didn't offer a lot of variety, but they made sure everyone had access to something. On the mezzanine level they had a pop-up coffeeshop and a pop-up Acai Bowl place (the latter I heavily relied on during my time there.) The show also had a back room for artists and event staff that provided snacks (chips, granola bars, water, seltzer, etc.).

THE BAD

The traffic in our little corner was often so dead I found myself recording silly videos to pass the time.

I'm going to pause on the good things to delve into THE BAD. I want to make this clear from the outset: this is all my personal experience and, regardless of the following points, am still extremely grateful for the opportunity to be a part of something like this. These events are incredibly hard to organize and I don't want my incoming criticisms to discount all the hard work the people running SuperFine put into it. It is, after all, what you make of it.

Now, onto the bitch-fest:

1. The Cost. Factoring all costs (the space, the “tables,” the extra lighting) SuperFine came to a whopping $2,500.00 for the smallest space they offered. That is steep. That is far more than most shows I participate in. That is “this better have a damn good turn-out” kind of pricing. Spoiler Alert: it, sadly, did not. The fact that the space was the most expensive of any show I’ve been in is outrageous when considering it was also one of the most poorly attended.

   
   

2. The Location.  As I suspected when I first arrived: the location proved to be a giant setback in getting strong attendance. The Duggal Greenhouse, unfortunately, is located in the furthest corner away from the main entrance to the Navy Yards. BNY is already a tough sell for a lot of people in the first place because it isn't close to a single subway stop or anything else to do. Making them walk to the furthest depths of the Yards on top of that? It's bound to lower enthusiasm. Which leads directly into...

   
   

3. The Attendance. I have never been so disappointed in the turnout of an event I’ve been a part of in my life - and I’m still putting my work in the art show of Boskone (a science fiction convention in Boston that is very dear to my heart, but has been dying a slow death for ages. At least gallery space is only $40 there, though.)

   
   

   Thursday felt a bit lively (since it was the Friends/Family night and that was enough to get people in the door). Unfortunately, due to the nature of the people attending, it was not a crowd looking to buy much. They were there to support with their presence, not their pocketbooks.

   
   

   Friday, though? It was dead. There were long swaths of time where I was able to wander off and talk to other artists because no one was there. I don’t think more than 50-100 people looked at my work that night. It was shocking and genuinely a little embarrassing. The show runners were very insistent that this was relatively normal and to get ready for Saturday because THAT is when things "pop the fuck off.”

   
   

   But when Saturday rolled around? Hooooo boy. Just as empty as Friday. Over the course of the weekend I sold around 15/20 micro prints, a few Clavis prints, one Nüdtendo poster and . . . That’s it. Not a single original sold. I clearly didn’t make back ANY of the money spent on the event and I had to convince myself that it was something I could use as a promotional business expense. Never a great silver lining to force oneself to find.

   
   

   There were giant chunks of time where no one walked past our area. It was SO bad that the guy that was showing across from me packed up and left Saturday night (a day early). They sold maybe one or two prints and that was IT. They had showcased their work in several previous SuperFines and made it very clear this was by far the worst attended.

   
   

   Sunday was the best day for turnout... but that was in spite of one of the points in THE UGLY that made getting to the BNY even MORE impossible for the entire morning.

   
   

   After all is said and done, the event organizers claimed roughly 3000 people attended all weekend. In contrast: Dragoncon's art show booth space costs $750 with around 75-90,000 attendees. 30-40k of which likely visit the art show.

   
   

4. The Location of My Space Was Terrible. I was initially enthusiastic about my placement. My work was facing forward and relatively close to the left entrance. You could see my space clearly when walking in from that side... but this turned out to be the problem. The main entrance for most of the people attending was the right entrance - and my space was completely blocked from that view by my neighbor's wall (a wall that also made for the most narrow choke in the entire venue). The left entry was exclusively for VIP people to skip the regular line...which turned out to be unnecessary because there wasn't a single line the entire weekend. This meant 99% of people entered on the side where I was invisible, and then proceeded to make their way in a clockwise fashion through the show. To add salt to the wound: this route meant that by the time they would reach my area attendees were often tired and ready to make a beeline to the exit. They would also come down my aisle from the rear- which made my forward-facing space easy to overlook completely.

   
   

   I noticed countless people walk swiftly by without even glancing to the side, clearly ready to go and not wanting to get distracted in their efforts to leave. I will gladly entertain the possibility that my work wasn't what these attendees were into- but that would imply they looked. Which, frequently, they did not. The show was very big- I assume these people had been there for hours already. I totally get "Gallery Fatigue" and don't fault anyone for skipping some potentially great art because they were ready to go. It's just frustrating that I was, unfortunately, placed right where that burnout would set in.

   
   

   It turned out the best place to be was in the middle of the show. That’s where most of the interesting additional shit was happening. The musicians playing. The installations. The blow up bubble chairs. Even on the busiest day (Sunday afternoon) our little corner of the show was relatively dead. I only knew it was a bit busy because when I went to get another açaí bowl from the upstairs mezzanine I got a full view of the venue and noticed the crowds of people milling about the middle area. I also noticed the artists in the middle had the most sold stickers - further proving this point. They weren’t exceptionally better or more interesting than the artists on the outskirts- they were simply the ones people saw the most.

   
   

   So what I first thought was a primo location turned out to be one of the worst places for exposure in the entire venue. Something the artists around me commiserated about.

   
   

   Do I think I would have sold any originals if I had been placed somewhere in the center near the events? Not necessarily. But there would have been more potential to. I possibly could have sold more prints, even. Something. Anything would have been better.

   
   

5. The Add-Ons Were Not Worth It. The initial cost of the smallest option only accounted for the wall and a single spotlight. If you needed a table? That was $50. Another light? $125. I had a lot of things I planned to place on a table so I reserved two. When I was given them, however? They were barely coffee tables, extremely low to the ground and incredibly tiny. Utterly useless for anything beyond possibly putting some business cards on. They also had a rule that you couldn't bring your own tables (though there were at least a couple artists who clearly were allowed to, so that felt funny).

THE UGLY

I am placing the things here that were especially egregious. Not all of these were the direct fault of the organizers - but hopefully they will make a note of these issues and factor them into future events.

1. Construction Closed The Main Entrance To The Navy Yards Starting Friday. When I drove over to get set up on Wednesday the main entrance was working fine. We arrived at the gate, explained to the attendant why we were there and made our way to the venue. The Greenhouse was located in the opposite corner from this entrance, but getting over there wasn't too bad (in a car). On Thursday I took an Uber instead with no problems. I noticed that Uber directed drivers to this particular entrance every time, but at this point it was still open so I didn't think much of it.

   
   

   Friday, however? Uber took me to the same entrance... only to be met with construction tape, wire fencing and a sign that read "This Entrance is Closed For Construction." The Uber driver didn't know what to do so they let me off there and I had to walk along the gates of the Navy Yard until I found my way to the side-entrance behind the Wegman's down the street. It was easily an extra twenty-five minutes to reach the venue. I was . . . not thrilled.

   
   

   Why does this make THE UGLY list, you ask? Because I have a fairly reasonable hunch that this construction contributed to the turnout of the event. The Navy Yards are hard enough to get to (as I described earlier) but then factor in the one entrance Uber directs its drivers to being suddenly closed all weekend with zero signs directing people on how to get to the side-entrance? Unacceptable. I guarantee many people arrived at that entrance in their Uber (or walking from various subways), saw the construction barring their way, shrugged and turned around.

   
   

   "But this isn't the fault of the organizers!" I hear you say. And to that I respond with: I agree!

   
   

   However: this feels like something they should ask the venue operators about before agreeing to that particular weekend or location. Construction isn't just poofed into existence on a whim. This was planned more than long enough in advance that the organizers could have known if they had asked. It would have allowed them to either create a ton of signs to direct people where to go or to simply request a different date for the event. The fact that this wasn't accounted for or addressed at all (as far as I heard when I asked around - I'm open to being corrected on this.) feels like a glaring error that ended up costing the artists money. And speaking of not asking the right questions...

   
   

2. The Half Marathon That Went Right Past The Navy Yards On Sunday Morning. To add insult to injury the weekend of the show also had a half marathon whose route cut off all traffic around the Navy Yards by several blocks. I had to get out of my Uber a full mile and a half from the venue because, not only were all the streets blocked off, but the traffic was horrendous due to that blockade. I guarantee this had a major effect on turnout Sunday morning - which was about as empty as you'd imagine until a few hours before take-down. It was a major factor in my neighbor's packing up and escaping back to Toronto Saturday night. They didn't see the chaos of the marathon being worth the likely abysmal turnout.

   
   

   This was the second issue that could have been avoided or addressed simply by asking the right questions. And it didn't even have to be specifically about marathons.

   
   

   In the future all it will take is asking "before we sign the papers for this venue could we get a complete list of all other known events/construction happening in or around the Brooklyn Navy Yards that weekend?" That way they won't be blindsided by all these factors that deflate turnout to an event you are asking your artists to shell out a LOT of money to participate in. Again: this half-marathon was not the organizers' fault - but the fact that it wasn't really addressed at all certainly was their fault. I have to imagine that they got a really sweet deal for the Greenhouse for that specific reason and didn't bother asking why it may have been so good.

   
   

   Pure speculation on my part . . . but seems likely.

   
   

3. The Duggal Greenhouse Was Not Waterproof. Now this one is definitely not the organizers' fault. There is simply no way they could have known about this. I blame the venue operators for this one and they should be ashamed. There was storm Saturday with heavy rain and after a couple hours the ceiling began to leak. One of the bigger leaks was luckily near the stairs to the mezzanine (so nowhere near the artists) but another leak was literally directly behind my wall, only a couple feet from my paintings. If the leak had shifted slightly over it would have drenched my water-soluble originals. Even then I was storing boxes and supplies back there and a bunch of things got wet. For a venue meant to host these kinds of events? That is unforgivable.

   
   

4. It's the economy, stupid! This one is an easy point that doesn't take a lot to explain: we are in tough economic times. We are barrelling towards, and possibly already in, a crisis. Inflation due to tariffs mixed with greedflation is ever-climbing while average salaries continue to stagnate. Massive layoffs are occurring everywhere across all industries fueled by a desire to increase profit margins, stock buybacks, deregulation, and the AI bubble. We have a government run by the most corrupt, sociopathic, incompetent idiots we could find. All this amounts to a simple truth: most people don't have the funds to buy something considered frivolous like art. The enthusiasm may be there- but the wallets are not.

THE GOOD (Part Deux)

That was a lot of bad. And a lot of words for those bad things. So lets end this post on a high note:

1. The Staff & Show Organizers. Questionable decisions aside: the people who ran this event were all absolutely wonderful to work with. The people setting up the show, the encouraging women I spoke to while applying, the guy I corresponded with via email in the weeks leading up to the event - they were all fantastic and seemed to genuinely want to make this an event where everyone succeeded. I truly hope that they take the various setbacks experienced this year and tackle them with abandon next year - because they deserve all the success in the world.

   
   

2. The other artists. One of the biggest reasons I prefer group shows is that I get to meet, network, and hopefully befriend a ton of other talented, driven artists. SuperFine definitely did not disappoint in this regard. Even better: because this was a very a-typical event for me the attending artists were entirely new. This meant more opportunities for new friends. It was wonderful getting to know my booth neighbors as well as many of the other artists that ended up escaping their space and roaming around periodically.

   
   

3. On a related note: the broad range of styles and mediums. I don't think I've ever been in a show that had a larger array of styles, mediums and skills than this one. Collage artists, oil painters, abstract painters, photographers, sculptors, landscape artists, rug art, installations... no two artists had anything even remotely similar to each other. There was something for everyone here and I found that extremely refreshing.

   
   

4. The reception of my work. The few people who did see my art were all extremely encouraging and complimentary. I got a lot of good feedback.

   
   

5. The show was a fantastic motivator. I was able to use SuperFine as motivation to get a lot of work done that I otherwise would not have. While adderall has been a godsend when it comes to keeping me drawing throughout my normal creative hibernation (IE the winter months), it turns out having a big art show in the spring is a massive help getting me to paint. I was even able to figure out how best to utilize my micro paintings to create pendants, something I had been meaning to do for ages and kept putting off for other works.

   
   

6. I learned a LOT about what I can do to sell better in future shows. My failure to sell any originals at least came with a fantastic silver lining. From this experience I was able to observe what other artists were doing to adjust their practices in these economically fraught times and make plans of my own. As of the writing of this post many of those plans have proven extremely successful!

Was SuperFine worth it for me? After giving it some time to gain some distance from the negative aspects? I would say so.

Would I recommend it to other artists? That is . . . much more complicated. As long as they know what they are getting into, the potential pitfalls, and have the funds to toss into a "you may not sell anything" furnace? Sure. But if spending $2,500.00 and not selling anything would be devastating? Probably not.

I will likely be forgoing re-applying next year since I've been told they will be using the exact same venue. However I am planning to go as a guest and will be dragging all my friends with me. If it looks like they've worked out the kinks and attendance is high again? Or they decide to shift to an easier-access venue for 2027? I'll be first in line to participate, and hopefully they will have me again.

I will end this post with a genuine "Thank You" to the event organizers and staff of SuperFine. If they ever find themselves here and reading this review: you are all amazing, hard working, talented people and deserve a lot of credit for pulling something like this off. Artists are cats, notoriously difficult to herd, and you did so with style. I'll do all I can to support future shows and cheer for your success. My criticisms are only written up here in hopes that, should any of you see this, they can help improve future shows.

Aedan out!

My Battle With Social Media

Earlier this year I officially deleted my Facebook, Instagram and Twitter.

Twitter was nothing more than a burner account I used for porn, so no huge loss there. However: Facebook and Instagram? They were particularly hard for me. As an artist it felt like I was cutting off my digital nose to spite my internet face. While Instagram seemed to be capping my follower count (I peaked around 4,000 and somehow stayed that way for over a decade) I was still able to use it to showcase newer works and upcoming shows. On top of that I soon discovered that most networking among artists and galleries/venues these days happen through the social media app - which posed a problem for me. Yes, I had recently begun using BlueSky (AedanRoberts.bsky.social) to fill the social media vacuum- but the platform is still new and many people have yet to hop on it. I have many theories why - but that's a topic for a different post...

So why did I leave META's platforms, then? The answer is a bit complicated but can be broken into two categories: their policies and their sociopathic, evil billionaire owner.

On the policy side of things: META changed their ToS at some point to state that antything you post to their various platforms are given implicit permission to be used to train their AI Algorithm. Which means that they can steal art from hundreds of thousands of artists (who rely on their shitty platforms to promote their work) and chuck it all directly into something that is meant to mimic, and ultimately replace, them. And here's the important part: they can claim to be doing it legally.

Would that legality hold up in court? To be honest: in this case I'm sure it would. Their ToS changes were very clear and well-reported. So unlike ChatGPT/Dall-E/Midjourney/etc. (who scrape the entirety of the internet for images to illegally steal work from countless artists/sources without permission), META gets to take advantage of the fact that they have a near-monopoly on good social media outreach for artists and remove any legal repercussions for stealing their style or images. All the while most artists continue to use the platform because what else can they do?

Now I know I'm not a prolific, famous artist like James Jean. I'm not out here with casual AI "Artists" prompting Instagram's algorithm to "make a picture of two dudes kissing in the style of Aedan Roberts." Miyazaki has a teeeeensie bit more reason to fear AI Art than I do...

...But I have a hard time being okay with it regardless. And it was becoming untenable to continue using a platform that had such contempt for the very people making it so successful.

So I did the thing. I posted a farewell, downloaded all my info, and jumped through all the hoops to completely obliterate myself from Meta's problematic platforms.

(As for the evil billionaire side of things? That one is far less complicated and a lot more cut and dry. Mark Zuckerburg is a bad person. Full stop. He's a sociopath whose uncanny-valley-esque mask has been slipping for years now. He was never particularly good at hiding his general contempt for everyone but himself- but since the idiot currently rotting in the White House slithered onto the political scene and dragged everything into the mire with him? Zuckerburg has become increasingly right-wing radicalized and quite open about it. It was around the time that he began to attack his own LGBTQIA employees that I decided it was way overdue to remove myself from any opportunity for him to gather more data on me. It contributed to my haste to delete everything.)

So here I am, months later.

And what is my current situation?

Well...

Soon after I deleted everything I participated in the Superfine Art Fair in the Brooklyn Navy Yard. It was there that the sudden lack of Instagram came into bold, striking contrast. Everyone - and I mean everyone (from the people viewing the art, to fellow artists, to prospective gallery/event reps) - did all their correspondence on Instagram. It was so ubiquitous that by the second day I had re-acquired my recently obliterated username (@aedanroberts) and set up a brand new, empty account.

I thought "well I can re-claim my name, make a single post explaining where to go to view my art and keep it active for DM purposes."

And for the past several months that's exactly what I did.

However this tactic still had problems. Many people did not have BlueSky- which is where I have been showcasing newer works that even my website hasn't been given yet. Which means many people simply were not seeing newer work from me. Long story short: the lack of any work on Instagram was felt near-daily.

Cut to now. Tactics have shifted.

If I can't beat them? I can rejoin them inside a lovely Digital Trojan Horse. You see, I finally did the proper research and figured out how I could have my digital cakes and squat them too:

Glaze & Nightshade (https://glaze.cs.uchicago.edu/)

These two programs allow me to put images of my work through two kinds of filters: one that is defensive against AI training models (Glaze) and one that offensively poisons training data that tries to use your images (Nightshade)*. And while they are a bit slow and tedious- for the first time in months I am once again posting work to my recently obliterated-then-reacquired Instagram account (@aedanroberts).

I'm not thrilled that the answer to "get off Instagram" is "Go back on Instagram but with a twist." It genuinely makes me frustrated that, as an artist, I find myself backed into a corner where I am forced to utilize websites/companies that are genuinely evil. But that is where we are at. It's where we've been for DECADES. At least in this instance I can fight back in my own tiny way. Hopefully.

*for more information on Glaze and Nightshade click the link provided above. The more artists utilizing this tech the more damage we can do to the AI training data that these companies are hoping will eventually completely replace us.

In Development | A New Art Book!

For years now - YEARS - I've had plans for various different books. I used to come out with them almost annually. The problem became: the effort it took to make these books myself ate up far too much time and resources. I eventually had to put the ideas on hold until I could find a way to get them published, or at the very least professionally printed.

I've finally decided it's time. While my plans for a continuation of "FLOW" is still in the works- this one will be a bit different. A bit more . . . shiny.

I can't wait to reveal more! Stay tuned...