At Cecconi’s, the leafy Italian courtyard restaurant tucked inside Soho Beach House, Kate Bryan sips tea and picks at a blueberry muffin, a picture of calm within the chaotic energy of Art Basel Miami Beach. As head of Soho House’s expansive art collection—10,000 works spread across its international outposts—Bryan leverages her sharp curatorial eye and personable demeanor to forge deep connections with the artists she welcomes into the exclusive private members’ club.

The collection itself has been years in the making, originally founded by artist Jonathan Yeo and steered by Francesca Gavin, from whom Bryan took over in 2016. Each artwork, from Lynette Yiadom-Boakye’s little grenades on the wall in London to Damien Hirst’s graffiti shark in Berlin, is acquired through an unconventional barter system: artists trade works for club membership and credits. The strategy not only populates the walls with original artworks, but has the added benefit of ensuring the clubs are always bustling with creatives.

In Miami, the collection includes pieces by leading artists such as Rashid Johnson, Elizabeth Peyton, and KAWS, alongside local artists such as Rose Marie Cromwell and Liene Bosquê—a testament to the club’s commitment to championing regional art scenes around the club’s outposts.

I sat down with Bryan during one of the art world’s busiest weeks to unpack her curatorial process, her perspective on the art market correction, and the unique challenges of acquiring art through a system as old-fashioned as it is radical in today’s commercialized art world.

Soho Beach House, Cecconi’s. Photo: Courtesy Soho House.

Tell me a little bit about your background in arts.

I started my career at the British Museum.

A pretty good place to get your start.

Yes, it was. I worked for Neil MacGregor, the director of the British Museum, who was extraordinary—an insightful thinker, engaging speaker, and great broadcaster. My job was mundane—making coffee and filing—but I’d often wander the museum with him. One moment, he’d be explaining the significance of Rameses II; the next, he’d comment on a dreadful plug socket. That attention to detail became useful later at Soho House, where my role involves balancing art with hospitality—enhancing spaces without disrupting them.

Later, I moved to Hong Kong and ran a commercial gallery before the contemporary art scene there had taken off. There was a very robust scene in China, but not in Hong Kong. I’ve been in contemporary art ever since.

Kate Bryan chatting with artist Typoe. Photo: Courtesy Soho House.

How did you find your way to Soho House? 

I was an art dealer for several years and got to know Soho House through artists. An Australian artist, Paul Davies, introduced me to the collection. He had just moved to L.A. and found his tribe at Soho House West Hollywood. He loved how the space helped him connect with people—whether over the pool table or just chatting in the club.

My artist friend Jonathan Yeo, who’s famous for painting the portrait of King Charles this summer, actually founded the Soho House art collection. He was friends with Nick Jones, the founder of Soho House, who initially wanted to put mirrors along a corridor at Dean Street Townhouse to open up the space. Jonny suggested art instead, saying it could transform the space in a deeper way. He also had the idea of giving artists credit in exchange for their work, so they’d come to eat, drink, and socialize at the clubs. That’s how the concept of the Soho House art collection was born—an incredible idea centered on artist exchanges.

The idea of trading memberships for art—inspired by the beloved Colombe d’Or hotel, where Picasso famously traded paintings for a room—how has that worked out in reality? Are you really acquiring art that way, or do you have an acquisition budget?

About 99 percent of our acquisitions are through exchanges. Artists love it, partly because the collection has grown so much. When I started, we had 2,000 works; now we have 10,000. Artists talk to each other, and there’s a bit of FOMO—they see others being acquired and ask their friends to put in a word for them.

Many artists appreciate that it is a non-commercial exchange. As the art world has become increasingly focused on money and auctions, the idea of exchanging works for memberships feels refreshing and collaborative. The membership offers real benefits too, especially as artists are expected to travel more for fairs and exhibitions. Being able to use Soho House credits for hotel stays, meals, or even wellness offerings like the gym or sauna is a huge draw. Most young artists can’t afford those things otherwise. They can’t even afford a gym membership.

Artwork by Liene Bosquê at Miami Pool House. Photo: Adam Fussell, Courtesy Soho House.

Totally. Private members’ clubs are expensive to access, and the creative industry isn’t always the one that pays the best.

Exactly. That was Nick’s motivation for offering the exchange—it was essential to the DNA of the Houses. If you’re a house for creative people, you need artists to be part of that mix.

Some artists join the collection early in their careers and later become museum-level names. My job can feel surreal—sometimes I’ll get a text from an important artist saying, “I’m about to have a show at the Guggenheim; do you want to visit my studio?” Really, they’re saying, “I’d love some more credit to stay with you.” Soho House has become a key part of their infrastructure.

It’s also reassuring for artists. Being an artist is actually quite lonely. Like Paul Davies, the Australian artist who first introduced me to Soho House, they find a sense of community here—not just with other artists, but also art dealers, collectors, or people in creative industries who might help them in unexpected ways.

Does the system work for everyone? 

There are some artists who it doesn’t suit to take the membership in contra. Then of course, we just buy it as you would ordinarily. Sometimes this is the case when the artist is Indigenous or neurodivergent [and doesn’t like crowded spaces], or of an age where they don’t think they’ll use the house much. Although I will say that every single octogenarian that we’ve ever done an exchange with has used their membership. They’ve got less qualms about being in the studio and being as rigid as maybe an artist in their 40s or their 50s, who are in a different modality. Sometimes some of our most party-hard artists are the older artists for sure, which is quite funny.

Mural by Carolina Cueva at Miami Pool House. Photo: Adam Fussell, Courtesy Soho House.

The collection’s growing and growing. Is it always acquisition, or do you ever de-acquisition?

We never de-acquisition. Although we’re not a private trust, we operate like one—we’ve never sold anything. We do lend to museums, but otherwise, we keep all the works.

That said, we do refresh older collections. Over time, certain pieces can feel tired or don’t meet the rigor we have now for quotas. All our houses are 50 percent men, 50 percent women. We have a huge percentage of diverse artists and queer artists. And so oftentimes when we refresh a collection, the motivation is to really make sure that it’s up to the standards we have now.

We always keep the artwork, though. It might be reinstalled in the same building in a new way or placed in another site. But we don’t sell anything.

What was your first acquisition for Soho House?

That’s such a good question. I remember the first collection that I put together was for DUMBO’s Cecconi’s, the restaurant. It was all portraits, and there was the great Antony Micallef in that, and the great Tai-Shan Schierenberg, and a really lovely tapestry by a young artist called Henry Hussey…

When I started, it was in a particularly busy moment for Soho House. We reopened 40 Greek Street. We did White City, Amsterdam, Barcelona Beach House, Mumbai, DUMBO House, in an 18-month window. So it was thousands of things quite quickly.

What about for your own personal collection? 

For myself it was a painting by Paul Davies, the Australian artist. I used to represent him when I ran a gallery in Hong Kong, and we just fell in love with his painting. It was totally beyond our financial means. And we had it on layaway for a year. I still have it as pride of place in my house. It’s very exciting. And I remember buying my husband a Peter Blake print that said “I Love You” with diamond dust. And that’s one of my most-cherished things now.

Soho House Artist Lunch. Photo: Courtesy Soho House.

How do you approach a week like this one? Do you acquire works from Art Basel?

My main priority this week is to create a space where the art world comes together. Soho House serves as an unofficial HQ, and one key tradition is our great artists’ lunch—a long-standing end-of-year ritual. We also have installations at the house, like Rose Marie Cromwell’s vinyl photography upstairs and Typoe’s sculptures in the lobby and beach tent.

Externally, when I do get to the fairs, it’s mostly about research. For example, when preparing for the Mexico City House, we spent time at fairs identifying Mexican and Latinx artists, using Miami as a starting point. I follow a two-pronged approach: reconnecting with galleries I know to stay updated on the market and discovering new artists. I note where they were born, based, or trained—sometimes thinking ahead to cities where we might open houses.

We also maintain a list called Artists Without Houses (AWH): artists we love but don’t yet have a place for. Conversely, we tell galleries about upcoming houses and ask if they represent artists connected to those locations.

Who’s on the AWH list right now?

Cecilia Vicuña is at the top of our list—she’s an artist we’re dying to acquire. Some artists are on the list because we don’t have the right house for them yet, others because we haven’t found a way to connect with them.

The list also includes young artists we’ve spotted at graduate shows. For example, we just acquired Xanthe Burdett, who we saw this summer. She recently joined Wilder Gallery, and when they reached out, we fell in love with her work. She’ll feature in a Shoreditch refresh we’re planning.

The AWH list really runs the gamut—from major names like Cindy Sherman, whom we hope to acquire someday, to emerging graduates we’re keeping an eye on as they develop.

Artwork by Alejandro Piñeiro-Bello at Miami Pool House. Photo: Adam Fussell, Courtesy Soho House.

So what are you looking forward to at Art Basel Miami Beach?

At Art Basel Miami Beach, there’s no single booth that I’m that excited about, because I think it’s a pretty conservative market this year. I think people are going to play it pretty safe. So in previous years, you would know that so-and-so is taking over this whole booth and they’re doing something wild, or this artist is curating this booth. And as far as I’m aware, that’s not really happening this year.

At Untitled, I’m really excited to see Vanessa Raw, who is showing with Carl Freedman. And she’s got the Rubell Museum show opening. It’s quite unusual when you get a fairytale story like hers: she was a professional triathlete plucked out of obscurity. She had big support from Tracey Emin, and then a big solo show last year at Frieze which sold out. And then a year later, a residency at the Rubell and a museum show in Miami during Basel. Obviously I’m British, she’s British, she’s based in Margate …

Also, there’s Marguerite Humeau, who’s going to be at the ICA, and just an incredible artist.

Has there ever been an artwork that you regret not purchasing? 

Well, for myself personally, yes, so many. I was at one of Hilary Pecis’s first shows, and all the paintings were $6,000. And I was like, “These are really freaky and weird, and kind of quite unfashionable in a way that makes them really interesting to me.” I got one for Soho House. I still have the PDF, and it was obviously just too much money for me personally. And then I remember seeing this newspaper article being like, “Hilary Pecis, young L.A. painter, sells for $350,000.” This was two years later, and it was from the exhibition that I bought from.

I mean, I’m not interested in buying things because they go up in value. As you can imagine, that happens to me all the time. Like Flora Yukhnovich. She lived on the same road as me in Balham. I went to her studio years ago, and I got works for Soho House, but I never got a big painting. Then the pandemic happened and these extraordinary prices happened to her. Now her galleries have to work really carefully to protect her market. So I don’t know that we’ll ever get a big painting now.

Sometimes it just happens so fast for an artist. That’s why I am quite pleased there’s a bit of a market correction. I don’t like the fact that artists on the bottom of the food chain aren’t making that much money at the moment, but I also think there was a bit of a fetishization for certain artists at the top, especially for young women artists, especially for young women artists of color as well, like Jadé Fadojutimi. It’s very detrimental to their careers, and you worry about them. It would be nice if that leveled off a bit.

Soho Beach House Pool. Photo: Tato Gomez, Courtesy Soho House.

It’s an interesting comment because you’ve talked about thinking about identity, having quotas, when curating for the houses.

I think it’s just very easy for people to think this is the market doing the right kind of work to correct prejudice over decades. But it’s not really the right kind of work if the artists aren’t benefiting from it and it’s putting them under undue pressure. And they don’t see that auction money.

That’s what’s quite nice about what we do. It operates outside of all of that. So I don’t ever really think how much an artwork is going to be valued at, because I never have to worry about that. I think that lets us build a more robust collection, and actually hopefully a collection that lasts a lot longer into the future.

How do you approach curation for a private experience in a different way than you would for a public collection?

Accessibility and interpretation are key differences. In a public space, you guide the viewer with information. At Soho House, the idea is to create a home-away-from-home experience, so wall text would feel out of place—and could even give the impression that artworks are for sale.

To address this, we’ve created art maps for every house, a project we started two years ago. Members can use them to explore the collection and learn about each artist and work, but the information isn’t intrusive.

I’ve also realized the importance of letting art stand on its own. I think sometimes we spoon-feed people too much. At the British Museum, I worked in interpretation, telling viewers how to understand works. But I’ve since done a U-turn. Everyone has their own response to art, just like music or movies. We don’t buy a Beyoncé album and get told what to think.

People don’t need to like everything, and there’s no single “right” answer to a piece of art. It’s about giving them space to engage with it on their own terms.

The downside is people eat, drink, bring their baby in, next to all of these artworks. And we don’t have security guards for the art. We have to think about those kind of issues really carefully behind the scenes, so that members can have the maximum art experience, and that we have hedged our bets as much as we possibly can to make the art safe.

Any horror stories to share?

Well, most things are glazed, but there was one incident where a painting was damaged by a pool cue. It happened because a pool table was added after the initial design, and we wouldn’t have placed that painting unglazed if we’d known. It was a miscommunication. The artist, who visits the house daily, replaced the work quickly, and we chalked it up to experience.

Given we have 10,000 artworks, that’s not bad. Members are very respectful, and staff regularly check if anything needs attention. We have a global network, with someone in each house overseeing the collection and keeping us updated on insurance.

We would never be able to employ someone who used to do conservation in a museum. They’d have a heart attack. They just wouldn’t be used to the kind of trust that we have to operate on. Most art in the world is bought and put in storage. That’s the saddest thing in the world. So we have to be careful.

Even when an artwork gets incredibly valuable out of nowhere, and any other company probably would just rip it away and put it in a safe, we don’t store it. I think that’s a credit to Soho House. The art should be seen.

It’s nice to stay focused on the intrinsic value of art. 

Exactly. The real value. And also, the artists are our friends. If there was ever—God forbid—a flood or a fire, we would tell the artist what happened. Better than it all being stuck in a vault.