Creating a Cohesive Art Collection: Tips for Exhibitions
Cohesion is one of those things nobody really talks about when you’re first starting out. You hear about making good work, you hear about finishing things, but not many people actually say hey, you’re going to need your work to hang together if you want it to land right when it’s out in the world. I didn’t really understand how important that was until I saw it firsthand in my own work, and honestly, it changed a lot about how I approach exhibitions.
When I was starting out, I thought if each piece was strong, that was enough. If I poured my heart into a painting, and it held its own weight, that would be all I needed. You just gather a handful of your strongest pieces, hang them up, and call it a show. Right? Turns out...not even close. The first time I pulled together a full body of work for a solo exhibition, I realized just how off I had been. I had pieces made around the same time, but they didn’t feel like they belonged together. One wall was soft and muted, another was heavy and gritty, and another was super clean and graphic. It was jarring. It felt like three different artists were battling it out. Even though I loved each piece on its own, together they didn’t tell a story. They didn’t invite anyone to stay and experience the space.
Someone I trusted told me afterward that it felt like three different shows smashed together. At the time, that stung. I had worked so hard on those pieces. But after I sat with it, I realized they were right. And it ended up being one of the best pieces of feedback I’ve ever gotten. It made me realize that building a collection for an exhibition isn’t just about making good work. It’s about how the work feels when you stand in the middle of it. How it connects. How it talks to itself across the room.
Now, whenever I’m building toward a show, I try to start thinking about cohesion much earlier. You don’t have to map out every piece before you begin, but it helps to pay attention to what’s happening in your work as you’re making it. Even something as simple as laying your pieces out together, stepping back, and asking yourself what connects them can make a huge difference.
When I’m getting ready for a show now, I pull everything into one space and really look. I’m not looking for matches. I’m looking for threads. Are there colors that keep showing up? A certain mood that ties the pieces together? Are there repeated shapes or marks or rhythms happening without me even trying? Noticing the patterns helps me shape the collection. It helps me understand the work better too.
Sometimes it helps to set a loose container for yourself as you’re building the show. It doesn’t have to be formal or heavy-handed. It can be something simple like, “this work feels like late summer” or “this work is about starting over.” You don’t even have to explain it to anyone. It’s just a tool to help you decide what fits and what doesn’t. If a piece feels out of step with the rest, it’s okay to hold it back. It doesn’t mean it’s a bad piece. It just means it might belong to a different conversation.
One of the best lessons I’ve learned is that you don’t have to show everything you make. In fact, you shouldn’t. Curating your own work is part of being an artist. Sometimes I’ll finish a piece I love, but when I look at it with the others, it just doesn’t belong. Instead of forcing it in, I set it aside. Maybe it’ll fit into a future project. Maybe it was just something I needed to make for myself. Either way, the collection gets stronger when you only include the work that belongs together.
When you’re actually installing a show, thinking about cohesion makes the hanging process so much easier. You can pace the room. You can guide people’s experience. Small, quieter pieces can cluster together to create a pause. A bigger, louder piece can anchor a wall or mark a turning point in the space. Changes in color or texture across walls can move people through the gallery without them even realizing why. It’s not about being perfect. It’s about being thoughtful. About creating a rhythm people can feel even if they can’t put it into words.
I like to think about exhibitions almost like building a playlist. You’re creating highs and lows. You’re thinking about flow. You’re giving people space to breathe and space to lean in. You want the experience of walking through your show to feel natural, alive, intentional. You want it to feel like one whole experience, not a bunch of disconnected stops.
Something that has helped me a lot is giving myself small parameters while I’m building the body of work. Not huge rules—just gentle boundaries. Like, “for the next six pieces, I’m sticking with these three colors” or “everything in this collection will stay vertical in format.” It’s not about limiting yourself. It’s about creating a kind of connective tissue while still keeping the work playful and alive.
I also keep a sketchbook page full of loose ideas for future collections. Nothing fancy. Just phrases, moods, little half-formed thoughts. When I’m in between projects or feeling scattered, I flip through it and see what feels like it’s asking to be made. Not every idea turns into a show. But having a library of starting points helps me stay connected to myself as I’m building new work.
The thing is, you don’t have to force cohesion. If you’re making work that’s true to where you are right now, the connections are already there. Sometimes you just have to zoom out and notice them. Trust that if you stay close to your own instincts, the work will start to form its own story. If you’re in the middle of building for a show right now—or even just thinking about your next exhibition—try pulling together your recent work and stepping back. Lay it all out. Look at it from a little distance. What’s already linking these pieces? What’s already speaking across the room? Follow that. Build from there.
And if you’re wrestling with a tricky piece that you love but doesn’t quite fit—it's okay to set it aside. Cohesion isn’t about cramming everything in. It’s about building something that feels strong and alive together.
I’d love to hear if you’re working toward an exhibition right now, or dreaming about one. Are you starting to see threads running through your work? Are there surprises showing up? Let’s talk about it. These conversations always spark new ideas for me, and honestly, it’s good to remember we’re all figuring this out as we go. There’s no perfect formula for building a collection...but there is your own way. And that’s what people really want to experience.
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