In the rarefied, often opaque world of fine art, Rhonda Long-Sharp and Nicole ML Sharp of the Long-Sharp Gallery operate with the kind of forensic precision and unwavering integrity one might expect from their first careers: law. Rhonda, a veteran defense attorney who spent over two decades representing clients on death row, and her daughter Nicole, who followed her into the legal profession before joining the gallery, have created a unique path. They’ve built an internationally recognized institution on a foundation of rigorous ethics, championing both modern masters and a new guard of “artistic scientists.”
Their gallery, with outposts in Indianapolis and New York, is a regular at the world’s most prestigious fairs, from Art Miami to London’s elite Treasure House. Their approach is both a passion and a corrective—a direct response to an industry that Rhonda found lacking in transparency when she first entered as a collector. As the contemporary art market navigates post-pandemic inflation, geopolitical uncertainty, and a digital revolution, the Long-Sharps offer a compelling perspective on where the art world is, and where it is headed. I sat down with the formidable mother-daughter duo to discuss the shifting global landscape, the psychology of the modern collector, and their improbable journey from the courtroom to the gallery.
Sreerupa: You’ve often travelled for fairs. Why did you first start going to Masterpiece London?
Rhonda: We started going to Masterpiece London because of the vetting. In the States, most fairs just select galleries. There may be some curation, but there’s no real check on what the consumer sees. Masterpiece London, and now Treasure House, are different. Every single piece is vetted. Committees examine everything first virtually, and then in person, to ensure it’s authentic and in the condition it’s represented to be. At Masterpiece, the vetting committee could be 200 experts from all over the world. If they said no, the work was taken off the floor immediately and the public never even saw it. In addition, every artwork had to go through the Art Loss Register to make sure it hadn’t been stolen or wasn’t someone else’s property. That level of integrity was what drew us to Masterpiece in the first place.
When Treasure House, before its first edition, managed to bring in the head of Masterpiece’s vetting committee, we said yes. That was enough to convince us. It’s one of the reasons we continue to go. And the fact that Tarik, as a living artist, made it through both committees—that says something about the superior quality of his work.
And then, of course, London itself. It’s such a sophisticated market. People grow up going to museums; they understand art and its history. The collectors are sophisticated. And the food is great in London, so we enjoy it all the more. That’s why we went at the beginning, and it’s why we still go. Roughly 70 percent of our business is in the States, and 30 percent elsewhere, with a large portion of that in the UK and a percentage in the EU.
Sreerupa: Beyond London, are you looking at other markets as collectors and dealers?
Rhonda: Yes. South Korea was a surprise when it opened up about five or six years ago. Right now, the Middle East is probably one of the hottest markets in the world. We are seeing a slowdown in the UK and the EU—something that’s been happening over the last two or three years. It’s cyclical, it happens. But the Middle East right now is extremely strong. Not only are people living there buying, but people outside the region are looking closely at the artists there.
Sreerupa: How was the energy and momentum for your gallery at Treasure House?
Rhonda: Tarik’s large-scale sculptures are always favourites. That’s not unusual. His work is beautiful. Nicole owns his work. I own his work. People engage with it, love it, and respond to it. So it wasn’t surprising that he sold works in London. But our booth was also energised by Moira Cameron’s paintings. She won the top prize at the National Portrait Gallery about a week after the fair, and we sold out of her works. It was an exciting time for her. We also pay attention to who is collecting at each fair. Are they existing clients, or are they new? At London this year, we had more new clients than existing ones. That’s a very good sign for us.
But overall, it’s still a challenging market. In the U.S., major galleries are closing their doors entirely. They’re not moving elsewhere, they’re shutting down. That makes things daunting. While there are pockets of energy, it’s also a difficult time.
Sreerupa: With clients across jurisdictions—for example, selling a Warhol to an Indian buyer—how do taxation and regulation affect art sales?
Rhonda: Governments always want their share, whether through VAT or other taxes, and it applies to every transaction. No collector wants to pay it, but they have to. And the rates differ depending on the country. Someone who owns homes in different places may decide to ship their artwork to their UK residence instead of their home in Bombay simply to avoid higher taxes.
There are also new anti–money laundering laws. Even though we don’t have a physical space in the UK, since we exhibit there, we have to comply with UK regulations. That means getting passports and a lot of personal information from clients—information I once thought was too intrusive to ask for. The first year, it was daunting. But now clients are used to it. Nobody loves it, but everyone knows it’s required. It’s a bit like shipping—nobody likes paying those bills either, but no one wants their art carted across the ocean on a mule. They want it flown in safely.
Sreerupa: And this must influence your pricing strategy as well?
Rhonda: Absolutely. With Warhols, for example, we usually own the pieces ourselves, so we know the cost and the fair market value. Once we settle on that, the extras kick in. Shipping, transport, framing—all of it. Shipping costs post-pandemic are outrageous. Hundreds of percent higher than before. Framing costs today are almost twice what they were six years ago. Those bills are staggering. Some costs the client pays directly. Some we absorb. If I’ve already framed a piece and a buyer wants the frame, I’ve already paid that cost, even if it’s doubled. But it’s not a profit centre for us. It’s just part of the reality of putting art into crates and moving it safely around the world.
Sreerupa: Have you noticed changes in collector profiles, especially since the pandemic?
Rhonda: I wouldn’t say collectors have changed completely, but we’re seeing more younger buyers than before. What’s clear is that collectors today are more cautious. With wars, tariffs, and so much unrest, there’s a lot of fear. Some who once bought purely for the love of art now hold back. There’s sadness in that. Still, some people buy for joy. They find pieces that make them happy. What we don’t see much of anymore are people buying art just to put it under their bed as an investment. Collectors today want to love the work, and yes, they hope it will appreciate, but love comes first.
In the U.S., art buying even tracks the stock market. When the market is strong, people buy less art. When it weakens, they turn to art as another asset.
Sreerupa: Considering newer artists like Tarik, how do collectors react?
Rhonda: Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. People rarely buy art they dislike. For us, when we take on a new artist, it’s a serious commitment. It’s expensive, it’s time-consuming, and we take our responsibility to represent them very seriously. We put the artist’s interests before ours. That’s why we’re careful. We only commit if we truly love the art and also love the artist as a person. It’s like a marriage—we’ll be working together closely. With Tarik and his wife, we love both the work and the people. They’re wonderful to work with.
Sreerupa: Which of your artists are experiencing growing demand?
Rhonda: Moira Cameron, without doubt. She and her late husband were both artists in the 1980s. His career took off, and she managed it. After he died in 2018, she returned to her own work. At 62, she has built her first solo career. Her first body of work has already won awards and sold out at fairs and at Vigo Gallery in London. It’s a remarkable story of resilience and success. Another is Julia Ibbini, who lives and works in Abu Dhabi. Her works in paper are astonishing. They’re intricate, technically complex, and we can barely keep them in stock.
Nicole: Julia even won the Van Cleef & Arpels design prize. Her vessels made out of paper are mind-blowing. In photographs, you can’t tell what you’re looking at. In person, the layers and precision are magical. She reminds me of Tarik. Math and science inform her work. She’s technical, meticulous. Collectors, especially engineers, are fascinated. They’ll stand in front of her work or Tarik’s and ask, “How is this possible?” That sense of wonder appeals across the spectrum. Patrick Hurst is another. His craftsmanship is extraordinary. His works defy understanding—they make you stop and marvel at how they were created. We’re seeing a serious appreciation for craft in art today. Artists like Julia, Tarik, and Patrick are artistic scientists.
Sreerupa: Does this mean collectors are moving away from abstraction and surrealism towards craft and science-driven work?
Rhonda: I’d say collectors are becoming more eclectic. Abstraction still has passionate followers. Surrealism too. But the trend is that people are mixing more—curating collections that cross genres, cultures, and disciplines. Some are fascinated by the science–art overlap. Others just collect sculpture, regardless of style. The shift is toward variety and curiosity.
Sreerupa: Could you give an idea of price ranges for these artists?
Nicole: Of course. For Tarik’s smaller tabletop works, prices range from around $4,500 up to $30,000. Larger, human-scale works go for $80,000 to $100,000. Julia’s smaller wall works range from $3,200 to $10,000. Larger wall pieces or sculptures go from $6,500 to $15,000. Her monumental palace commissions in the UAE are in a much higher bracket, though we don’t handle those. Patrick Hurst’s sculptures range from around $28,000 to $90,000, depending on scale and complexity.
Sreerupa: Do demographics influence collector interest?
Rhonda: Not really in a systematic way. We’ve shipped art all over the world—every continent except Antarctica. But there is a joy in watching someone connect with art from their own culture. A Southeast Asian collector might look at Tarik’s work and say, “These are my people.” That connection is real.
Nicole: Sometimes there are regional cues. Julia’s work, for example, often reminds people of Middle Eastern architecture. Collectors with experience in that region recognise it. But the art speaks first, then the biography comes into play. People walk up, are captivated, and only then ask about the artist.
Sreerupa: What about NFTs and digital art?
Rhonda: NFTs? That moment has passed. What’s more significant is how technology connects the art world now. We can reach out to collectors across the globe, bring South Africa to Indiana, or take Indiana to London. Instagram, email, collaborations—these have made the world smaller and more accessible for art.
Sreerupa: Rhonda, you’ve said you’re a collector first. What drives that passion?
Rhonda: For as long as I can remember, art has given me joy. During my years as a death row defense lawyer, art literally saved me. There were paintings that gave me peace when everything else was unbearable. When I married, my husband and I were buried in student debt. I told him my wedding gift wish was that when we finally paid it off, we’d buy fine art. Eight years later, we did. And I got ripped off. I thought the art world was full of integrity and truth. Realising it wasn’t made me furious. They had stolen my joy in art. And you never want to anger a street lawyer.
So I started small—educating people, pointing them to resources. I never intended to start an art business. But then collectors and even major institutions started contacting me. Suddenly, I was no longer “little old me, the death row lawyer.” I was part of the art world. After 22 years of defending people on death row, I had lost a lot of faith in humanity. Art gave it back. It brings me joy, and I need that.
Sreerupa: Finally, where do you think the art world is heading?
Rhonda: The art world is like a phoenix. It rises again and again. Right now, globally, it’s hurting—with the exception of the Middle East. But it will recover. It always does. As long as humans exist, there will be art. The ways of engaging with it—through galleries, fairs, online platforms—keep expanding. That won’t stop.
Nicole: I think we’re also seeing grassroots support grow, especially as arts funding is cut in the U.S. Communities are finding new ways to support artists. I often discover artists through organisations and publications that champion living artists. Without them, I might never have found someone like Julia.
Art will continue to be sustained by communities—small and global. Even when people argue otherwise, the truth is clear: a world without art is a much less beautiful place. And those who think art doesn’t matter—they’re wrong.
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