Adam Lindemann is shutting down the Venus Over Manhattan gallery, known more recently as simply VENUS, after 13 years of dealing art and hosting some of the most popular art shows in New York. This decision has marked a decisive exit from Lindemann’s role as a notorious collector, dealer, and gallerist.
The closure, set to take effect after the gallery’s last show later this summer, ends a 13-year chapter that saw VENUS evolve from an audacious Upper East Side newcomer into a mainstay of the secondary market and a cultivator of emerging talent. The gallery became known for its unorthodox mix of blue-chip works and rediscovered artists, frequently challenging the cautious conservatism of traditional New York galleries.
Adam Lindemann founded the Venus Over Manhattan art gallery in 2012, despite advice everyone advising him not to. He agreed that it made no sense at the time to leave trophy hunting and playing the art market but he did it anyway. However, Lindemann soon discovered that owning a gallery and curating art shows was no bed of roses, especially if you used to be a renowned art collector. This was because while he was about to have a taste of the other side, people saw him as neither here or there.
“Opening a gallery as a collector really does succeed in alienating both sides”, Lindemann said. “Dealers distrust you, and most collectors don’t get what you’re up to, so they turn up their noses in disapproval, or even worse, they resent you for switching sides.”
Regardless of what people thought, Lindemann’s first few years of owning an art gallery were difficult. Despite marrying his art dealer the Lévy Gorvy Dayanfounder, Amalia Dayan, when he was a collector, he had no experience of his own with running a gallery. Therefore, he was up against seasoned veterans with sharpened skills and razor-sharp elbows and VENUS even shared buildings with some of the biggest art galleries in Manhattan at the time.
However, despite the distrust from collectors and dealers, stiff opposition, and other challenges, claimed he had proud and happy moments at the gallery, describing many of them in his open letter. Lindemann recounted key highlights that defined the gallery's 13-year journey: rediscovering underrecognized figures like Peter Saul, championing artists like Keiichi Tanaami before the market caught on, and even hosting museum-worthy shows that blurred the line between commercial exhibition and curatorial passion project. VENUS became a space where personal taste met market savvy, and its program frequently surprised even the most seasoned art world observers.
True to form, VENUS never tried to fit into the white cube mold. The gallery embraced theatrical presentations, historical context, and a collector’s instinct for what was undervalued or overdue for reappraisal. In doing so, it built a reputation not just for trend-spotting, but for genuinely shaping dialogue around forgotten or overlooked artists.
Its brief expansion to Los Angeles in 2015 and ventures into downtown Manhattan real estate added layers to the VENUS experiment, though Lindemann admits these decisions weren’t always strategically sound. Still, the gallery’s physical presence was always secondary to its conceptual impact. VENUS functioned more like an extension of Lindemann’s collecting ethos than a traditional blue-chip dealership.
Before making the unexpected decision to own a gallery, Lindemann had an obsession with collecting contemporary art. He was so much in love with contemporary art collection that he wrote a book about it titled “Collecting Contemporary” for Taschen in 2006. Unexpectedly, the book became an art world bestseller and this spurred Lindemann to follow up with four years of articles at the New York Observer. Adam Lindemann’s pieces became very popular, especially his bombshell “Occupy Art Basel” parody piece (which divided opinion). However, soon after his writing became popular, he quit. Just like that. Perhaps because, as he would later prove, Lindemann was never one to linger too long in one role.
Despite Lindemann’s resilience, the pressures of the art market eventually began to weigh on him.
In his own words, “I’ve seen it from both sides, and now it’s time to wave the white flag… veni, vidi, but not vici… I didn’t win. But VENUS was never about winning.”
Instead, VENUS was about experimentation. It was about crossing roles, breaking expectations, and creating a platform for artists and exhibitions that didn’t quite fit into New York’s increasingly homogenous gallery system.
Now, with the final show of Brooklyn-based artist, Susumu Kamijo’s Fish & Flowers wrapping up the gallery’s run on 17th July, Lindemann is ready to return to what first drew him to the art world: collecting.
“There will be no pivot to consulting nor private dealing. I’m going back to air kisses, handshakes, fist bumps, side hugs, head nods, winks, waves, big smiles, thumbs up, and good vibes. Can’t wait to see you at the next art fair!”
“I surrounded myself with a great young team who did a lot of the heavy lifting. They have been a great part of the experience. I’ve seen it from both sides, and now it’s time to wave the white flag”
Lindemann’s exit comes at a time when the boundaries between collector, curator, and dealer are more fluid than ever. Lindemann’s career embodies that hybridity, and his decision to walk away from gallery ownership after more than a decade may signal a broader shift among private collectors seeking to reclaim autonomy from the commercial grind of the primary market.
For gallerists and collectors alike, the closure of VENUS is more than the end of a program, it’s a signal. That even in an art world driven by expansion and profile, there is still room to pivot inward, toward personal taste, private engagement, and passion unburdened by sales targets or art fair politics.
As Lindemann signs off from his gallerist chapter it’s worth noting that while VENUS may not have conquered the system, it never played by its rules to begin with.
