Community of Tribeca: CANADA
Founders of CANADA reflect on building a gallery driven by experimentation and openness.
PLUS MAGAZINE: What first drew you to Tribeca, not just as a location, but as a context for the kind of gallery you wanted to build?
JAMES COHAN: Interestingly, my first job in the art world was in Tribeca, back in 1982, at a gallery on Church Street called Della Hunting. They were based in Texas and had just opened a New York branch. I was 23 and grateful to have landed the opportunity. However, I only stayed for a few weeks. I was let go and told that perhaps the contemporary art world wasn’t the right fit for me. That experience stayed with me, it’s a reminder of how important it is to support those just beginning their careers.
Later, when we established our gallery in Chelsea, we had the advantage of a 15-year lease, which gave us stability and allowed us to invest in building out the gallery from what was essentially a garage shell. That long-term security meant I never seriously considered purchasing real estate—a decision that, in hindsight, might have been a missed opportunity, especially as property values in Chelsea rose sharply.
By the time we began looking for a new space, Chelsea had started to feel somewhat uniform. It seemed like the right moment to re-evaluate our direction and consider how we might distinguish ourselves.
We began exploring Tribeca in 2017 and even drafted a lease for a potential space. At the last minute, however, our Chelsea landlord offered to extend our lease, so we stayed. About eighteen months later, we resumed the search and eventually found our current location.
What ultimately drew us to Tribeca was the architecture and the character of the neighborhood. It’s a mixed-use area where people live, work, and gather—with restaurants, retail, and a strong sense of community. The buildings have generous proportions, high ceilings, and a sense of openness that makes them feel like a natural fit.
P: What has it been like to be part of the Tribeca community, both culturally and artistically?
JC: Culturally, what stands out is that many of our peers are now based here—gallery owners in their 50s and early 60s working within a similar segment of the market. Several galleries in the neighborhood adopt what I would call a boutique model, not in a diminutive sense, but as a way to honor a more intimate scale. This approach fosters close, sustained relationships with artists.
That’s one of the things I value most about the community here: a shared ethos among like-minded colleagues. The quality of the exhibitions is consistently high, and there’s an unpredictability that’s become increasingly rare elsewhere. Walking through Chelsea, you often know what to expect—major artists at major galleries. In Tribeca, there’s a greater sense of discovery, of stumbling upon something unexpected and vital.
That atmosphere is possible in part because we’re not burdened by the same overhead as some of the larger galleries. That financial flexibility gives us the freedom to take more risks. Our program has always been driven by a spirit of experimentation rather than a need to reinforce what’s already been affirmed by the market.
DAVID NORR: Being part of the Tribeca community has been energizing, and there’s a real sense of momentum here. Over the past five years, dozens of galleries, including ours, have moved into the neighborhood. This was once a hub for artists but is now a hub for galleries. I also live in Tribeca, just a block from the gallery. There is a lot of new development coming on line in the neighborhood, but it’s limited by the historical character of the architecture—its scale, its materiality, and its history, qualities that Chelsea could never offer. Many artists made Tribeca home in the 60s, 70s, and 80s, and you can feel their legacy in the character of the neighborhood. The NYC artworld seems to thrive on these shifts, and there are certainly positives and negatives that come with this movement and migration, but it also may speak to the need for new contexts to platform the new knowledge that art and artists provide. The last thing I would say about Tribeca is that it feels more human and welcoming, and that is also a core value of our gallery. We want everyone who comes into the gallery to have access to museum-quality experience. Our spaces and all of my colleagues are focused on providing that for our audiences.
P: Having witnessed New York’s art world transformations, from early-2000s Chelsea to today, what shifts in how artists work or approach their practice feel most significant to you?
JC: The art world is always evolving, as it should. What we expect art to do in the world shifts in step with the social and political realities of the time. In recent years, we’ve seen a long-overdue expansion in the scope of contemporary art, with increased attention to artists of color and voices that had been historically sidelined.
Today, contemporary art can emerge from an Indigenous weaving community in northern Argentina, from Ethiopia, or from a student just out of Yale. The channels of access have multiplied, and that widening of the field makes things more dynamic. The conversation is broader, more layered, and more inclusive—and the work is richer for it.
P: Where are your go-to spots in the neighborhood?
JC: I’d say our favorite place is Mostrador, located in the Walker Hotel. I really love the people there; it has such a warm, inviting atmosphere. The acoustics are perfect, and the value is excellent. My staff always laughs when I say that, but it’s true.
Petrarca is another regular stop for us. It’s a family-run restaurant, and there’s something special about knowing everyone who works there. It feels like a neighborhood commissary, almost like something out of old-school Hollywood. It’s just a fun, familiar place.
DN: Quarters is an utterly unique, gorgeous setting for contemporary design, but also a sumptuous place to meet for a drink or snack. Happier Grocery is technically on the SoHo side of Canal, but is something like a small Erewhon imported to NY with a daily selection of prepared foods and hard to find items you can’t get at Gourmet Garage. Rigor Hill for any baked good or sandwich, or salad for lunch. Frenchette still wins for best bar, and it’s a place where you can have a delicious meal any time of day and be greeted like a regular, even if you’re just visiting.
P: Last year, you joined fellow NYC galleries, including Andrew Kreps and Bortolami, to launch The Campus—a 78,000 sq ft former school in Columbia County. How do you see this collective redefining ideas of community, artist development, and audience engagement?
JC: Absolutely, 100%. As dealers, part of our responsibility is to create new venues: dynamic, generative spaces where artists can present their work and where audiences can meaningfully engage with it. One of the most exciting aspects of The Campus is the potential for artists to be shown in dialogue with others they might not typically be associated with, whether across generations, geographies, or conceptual frameworks.
The art world continues to grow like any other industry, but sometimes the language around it, especially when it’s framed as an “asset class,” misses the point entirely. That’s not the conversation we want to be having. We’re here because we care deeply about the art and the artists. Artists are our lifeblood; without them, there’s nothing to support. So creating platforms like The Campus is not just valuable; it’s necessary.
With The Campus, we’re embracing a more collaborative approach. It’s about working together with artists and peers to broaden the conversation.
DN: The Campus is unique in that it provides the rare opportunity for galleries you may consider competitors to collaborate in a meaningful and transformative way. There is a real need for new models across our industry and this provides one that is deeply satisfying, creatively fulfilling, and makes absolute sense from a business perspective. Collectively, we operate a fine art storage facility there as well as a crating business. For the last two summers, we have staged monumental group exhibitions that stretch through the building’s classrooms and library, gymnasium, and surrounding grounds. This year, the exhibition features projects by over 80 artists, including Kiki Smith, Katharina Grosse, Richard Tuttle, Ming Fey, Dana Schutz, and Naudline Pierre. It’s a dream project that keeps deepening and unfolding. If you haven’t gone, you should – it’s open every weekend through October 26.
P: How do you define collaboration, and why do you think it holds such importance right now?
JC: When you’re operating as a sole provider, it can feel isolating. You’re often navigating everything on your own, and building a sense of community is not always easy. That’s why hearing how others work, what challenges they face, and how they adapt can be incredibly reassuring and even inspiring.
That is the value of collaboration. I often think back to when we were on 26th Street. There were dealers right across from me for nearly 18 years, and I believe some of them stepped into my gallery only once or twice. This illustrates how siloed the art world can be. So the chance to step outside of that and be part of something more connected is not just refreshing; it is essential.
P: What do you hope visitors, collectors, and the broader art community take away from the gallery’s work today?
JC: Honestly, not much has changed since I first opened the gallery in 1999. And I think it’s worth saying: we’re only ever as good as our next move. I actually find that idea exciting.
A great example is David Norr, who joined the gallery ten years ago after a long career as a museum curator. He became an equity partner five years ago, just as I was going through a major transition in my own life. What makes our partnership so meaningful is that we both believe in the gallery as a space where ideas are tested, where artists, and we, too, are thinking out loud. There’s a real openness in that process, a kind of vulnerability, because you’re putting something into the world before it’s fully formed. And in doing so, you often discover something unexpected.
That sense of discovery is what continues to drive us, whether through exhibitions, publications, acquisitions, or simply showing work in the space. That has always defined the gallery, and I don’t see that changing anytime soon.
DN: More than ever, we hope visitors, collectors, and the broader art community experience the gallery not just as a commercial space, but as a site of intellectual and emotional resonance. What we offer is not simply access to artworks, but an opportunity for sustained reflection, discovery, and dialogue. Fundamentally, we are here for our artists, and we hope the gallery functions as a place that champions both rigor and openness—where artistic voices are amplified with care and historical context is never an afterthought. Collectors should feel that they are participating in something enduring—that what they take home is not just an object, but a relationship with an artist’s evolving vision. Art still has the vital capacity to surprise us, to shift our perspectives, to stay with us long after we’ve left the room. We need this now more than ever, and it’s our greatest privilege to make this our primary concern.
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