We didn’t mean to start an art gallery during a global pandemic. That wasn’t on the vision board. Then again, there was no vision board.
Back in 2017, a few friends and I met up to talk about what was missing in the Ukiah art scene. We had dreams. We had no money. So we let the idea fade. Life moved on. People got busy. Some had to become caregivers for sick family members. Some just drifted. It happens. It doesn’t mean the idea was wrong. It just didn’t fit into the calendar.
But the dream didn’t die. Lillian and I kept bringing it up now and then. Usually late at night in a random text thread or during a meetup at our local coffee spot. Usually with a side of sarcasm. We’d ask: Remember when we were going to start a nonprofit art collective and change the world? Then we’d laugh and go back to whatever real-world problem was in front of us.
Then the pandemic hit.
Lockdown. No jobs. No art shows. No social anything. The world slowed to a crawl, and all the usual distractions vanished. I was home, unemployed, and going stir-crazy. The internet felt louder. Time felt weirder. Everything felt heavier. So we decided to do something that sounded kind of insane: start a nonprofit and host online art shows.
Let’s take all the stress of the pandemic and combine it with a legally binding pile of paperwork. Let’s see how many forms we can misfile while drinking too much whiskey. Let’s learn about bylaws and 501(c)(3) requirements and how to write a mission statement that doesn't sound like a word salad.
But more than that, let’s finally do the thing we said we were going to do. Let’s open a space for artists. One that doesn’t require a cut of their sales. One that doesn’t make them pay to show their work. One that doesn’t care if they’ve got an MFA or a resume full of buzzwords.
In early 2021, we got a lucky break. A strip mall had an empty RadioShack. The owners offered it to us rent-free for a year. We took it before they could change their minds. We installed the floor, built pedestals, patched holes in the walls, and brought the energy of people who didn’t know what they were doing but knew it mattered.
That’s how the Deep Valley Arts Collective got its start. In a defunct electronics store during a year when everything was closed and everyone was hurting.
MEDIUM Art Gallery opened its doors to the public in July 2021. That first show was a mix of paintings, photos, poems, and drawings from people all across Mendocino County. Some were pros. Some were first-timers. Some didn’t even think of themselves as artists until they saw their work on the wall.
And people showed up. Not a huge crowd, but enough. Enough to know that we weren’t crazy. Enough to know that art still mattered. That community still mattered. That even in isolation, people craved connection.
We’re still here four years later, but now we call ourselves an art center. We’ve put on dozens of exhibits. We’ve hosted workshops, open mics, collage nights, and figure drawing classes. We helped kids show their work in a real gallery. We gave emerging artists a chance to be seen.
We don’t require a commission. We leave it optional. We don’t charge submission fees. We run on small grants, donations, blood, sweat, and maybe some tears.
Sometimes we think we should act more like a proper nonprofit. Write bigger grants. Print glossy brochures. Have a five-year plan.
But then we remember what got us here. A little desperation. A lot of heart. And a belief that artists shouldn’t have to jump through hoops to share their work.
It hasn’t been easy. There have been rough patches. Burnout. Financial stress. Moments when we weren’t sure we could keep the lights on. Moments when we didn’t like each other much. That’s real life.
But when someone comes in off the street and tells us this is the first place they’ve ever felt welcome as an artist? That keeps us going.
We didn’t save the world. But we did carve out a corner of it. A place where people feel seen. A place where you can hang your art and maybe, for a minute, believe in yourself.
There’s still a lot to do. We want a bigger space. Better lighting. More programs for people with disabilities. More partnerships. More access.
There’s no shortage of ideas.
But we started with nothing and turned it into something. We took a moment of collapse and built a center of creativity.
If we could do that, there’s no telling what comes next.
Good Job Chris!!
You went out on a limb and the tree kept right on growing, now look how high off the ground you are! I'll see if I can get some friends to carve their initials into the trunk.
I am so grateful to be on this creative journey with you, my friend.