

At Cohart, we are always interested in the stories behind how people collect. Terrell Estime’s collection is built through studio visits, long conversations, and real relationships with artists. During our conversation, he shares how those moments shape the way he chooses, lives with, and supports the work he brings into his life. 

Want to hear more from Terrell?  [Watch the full video conversation on YouTube](https://youtu.be/A0h1WLoqOdw?si=-rjoDIs9rCmOpwjN)

#### When you think about collecting, what draws you to a piece beyond how it looks?
I get asked this question often. I care deeply about choosing a piece that speaks directly to how I’m feeling and how I view the world at the time. Most of the acquisitions I’ve made have happened after meeting the artist and having a conversation about their work. It’s kind of like a match-making process of finding work that both speaks to me and best represents the artist’s voice. 

I turned 30 last month and have close to 40 works in my collection. The pieces are a visual journal of my twenties.






#### Is there a work here that immediately tells that story for you?
_Apparition (2022)_ by Tim Kent was the first oil painting I acquired. The work was unstretched and in a flat file in his Bushwick studio, and I immediately felt a connection to it. The figure sitting in the chair, who Tim later identified as Thelonious Monk, evokes a feeling of comfort and complacency, as well as the difficulty of getting up and changing my situation. The figure is in a transitional state, walking towards the next room, but there’s no way to know what’s around the corner. 

That ambiguity mirrored how I felt early in my career in finance, which was a period marked by both stability and growing curiosity of what might come next. I ran marathons, spent evenings at gallery openings, and weekends visiting art studios, and over time built a community of creative people working in finance, brilliant artists, and individuals who think outside the box.



Apparition (2022) - Photo by Hollis Taggart Gallery.jpeg

#### Tell us about the first piece you ever collected. Is that work here, and what do you remember about encountering it?

_Scenery in Green #1 (2020_) by William Buchina was the first piece I ever collected. I saw his work at his solo show at Hollis Taggart in 2021, and hadn’t met him in person. I went through his Instagram page and saw that he liked Mobb Deep and seemed like a cool guy. He was also friends with Tim Kent. I spent close to an hour looking at works and eventually asked if there were any works on paper available. Seeing his work in that moment mirrored a phase of my life where I was learning to accept the absurd and let go of conventional logic. Also, I’ve always been drawn to filmmakers like Stanley Kubrick who explore speculative, psychological, or satirical realities and films such as Interstellar, The Matrix, and Idiocracy, so the piece felt like a visual representation of my taste in movies. 

Looking back, I’m grateful that my first piece didn’t feel impulsive. It felt intuitive and set a strong foundation for how I collect art.



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#### You come from a family of creatives. Do you think growing up around that shaped how you look at art or trust your instincts as a collector today?

Definitely. I grew up in Connecticut in a family where creativity was present on both sides. On my mother’s side, my grandparents studied at Pratt Institute in the 1960s and have been collectors for decades, and my mother is an artist and a collector. One of my brothers is a tattoo artist, and the other is a sports photographer. Many on my dad’s side of the family are also creative, so it has been ingrained in me. 

That environment made creativity feel normal. Growing up, I was always drawing, painting, playing instruments, producing music, and experimenting with graphic design. I stepped away from that practice for a period while running track and cross country in high school and later at the University of Georgia, where athletics became my primary focus.

In 2020, after visiting The Armory Show with my grandfather, I had a clear realization that my eye for art, shaped by years of exposure and practice, could translate naturally into collecting. I was 24 at the time, and from that moment on, collecting felt less like a new pursuit and more like a continuation of something deeply ingrained.


#### You spend a lot of time visiting artists in their studios. What shifts for you when you experience work in that setting and connect directly with the artist, rather than seeing it in a gallery?

I’ve done many studio visits over the years and I think of studios as sacred spaces where I can appreciate the artists’ process and work ethic firsthand. We can get to know each other on a much deeper level in this environment. 
 
However, there’s also benefits of seeing work in a gallery. I remember visiting Demetrius Wilson’s studio for the first time while he was an MFA student at Hunter College. I had stopped by during my lunch break, but being mentally split between my job in finance and being in such a creative space made it difficult to engage with the work. 

A few months later, Harper’s Gallery opened Demetrius’ solo exhibition, and I acquired _I Miss When the Sky Was Blue (2021-2023)_, a 60-by-60-inch oil painting, a piece I saw in the studio but couldn’t process at the moment. Seeing the work in a gallery context, within a curated presentation, and with the physical space to be fully present, I could understand it differently than I had in the studio.


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#### What do those studio conversations give you that you can’t get from seeing work on a wall?
Time seems to pause when I’m in a studio. I enter a flow state where conversation unfolds naturally, without an agenda. Those moments allow me to understand not just the work, but the thinking, intuition, and lived experience behind it.

#### Can you share a piece here that feels inseparable from the moment you first saw it?
Allen-Golder Carpenter’s _I Googled Myself (2024)_ represents the beauty of outgrowing a past version of yourself. I first saw the work at No Gallery in 2024, and it ended up being the last piece I acquired before leaving New York for business school in Philadelphia.

I listened to a lot of Chief Keef in high school and have always considered him to be a prodigy. Rappers who become successful often struggle with remaining authentic while also elevating themselves. That tension resonated deeply with me. The piece reminded me that at every stage of life, it’s important to stay humble and avoid becoming out of touch or performative, rather than telling people to “Google me.”

Before I acquired the piece, I had dinner with Allen and his gallerist, where I learned about his decision to forgo art school and carve his own path as an artist. It left a strong impression on me. As I was preparing to leave a comfortable life in New York and step into something more uncertain, the work felt inseparable from that transition. It became a way of memorializing who I was at that moment, while acknowledging who I was becoming.




I_Googled_Myself_(2024).jpg

#### You’ve built meaningful relationships with artists you collect. How does that connection change the way you live with and understand their work?

I enjoy listening to music when I’m at home and taking in the walls. Each piece brings a unique energy that reminds me of the friendships I’ve built over time. Will Maxen is a close friend of mine, and his piece, _Heat Condenses in my Soles (2023)_, feels personal because his mom is in it, along with his brother. We’re both from Connecticut, mixed race, and have brothers, so the piece feels personal. 


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#### Is there a piece in your collection that feels especially connected to an artist you know personally?

I’m actually the subject of a painting, _Take Five (2024)_ by Tim Kent that hangs above my TV. The day before I left for Philadelphia, Tim took a series of photographs of me without mentioning that I would later appear in two paintings in his 2024 solo exhibition at Hollis Taggart.

When I eventually saw the work, it felt like a sequel to _Apparition (2022)_. The room is filled with Tim’s paintings and immediately reminds me of spending time in his studio over the years. There are a few details, such as a chessboard, a landscape, and a suit jacket hanging on the chair.

The second painting, _Legacy (2024)_, presents me in a suit, situated in a more regal, formal space. Together, the two works feel like parallel portraits of transition, reflecting different versions of myself at the same moment in time.



Installation view- Tim Kent- Edges Off a Model, Hollis Taggart, New York, 2024. Photo from Hollis Taggart, New York..webp

Take Five (2024) - Photo by Hollis Taggart.jpeg

Legacy (2024) - Photo by Hollis Taggart Gallery.png

#### When you support an artist, especially an emerging one, do you feel a sense of responsibility in that choice?

I do. Early in an artist’s career, collectors play an important role. The right support at the right moment can help an artist make meaningful connections, whether that’s meeting other collectors, being introduced to galleries, or entering conversations with curators.

I take that responsibility seriously, which is why I make a point of getting to know the artist before acquiring a work. It’s important to me that I feel aligned with them and confident that they’re someone I genuinely want to champion over time. When they have a show, I’ll send a DM to friends and invite them to the opening. At that point, it feels less like a purchase and more like a celebration, just a bunch of friends showing up together.



#### Do you think acquiring work by a younger or emerging artist can influence how they see their own practice or help shape their future?

I don’t set out to influence an artist’s practice from a visual or creative standpoint. That said, I’m transparent about how the art world works, certain collectors are connected to galleries, and those galleries often plug into broader ecosystems like specific fairs or institutions.

I also try to support artists in simple, organic ways. When I acquire a new piece, I’ll often share it on my Instagram story so people who follow me can get a glimpse of the work and the artists I’m excited about. It’s less about shaping direction and more about helping create visibility and momentum where it feels appropriate.


#### Is there an artist in your collection that represents taking a chance on an artist early? 
I’ve just talked about him, but, Allen-Golder Carpenter. Before acquiring _I Googled Myself (2024)_, I had first come across Allen’s work on Instagram. The work immediately stood out. His commentary on hip-hop and Black culture felt incredibly authentic, honest, and thought-provoking. I believe he was around 24 or 25 at the time.

Since then, I’ve watched him grow his performance art practice, become a lecturer, and really find his place within the contemporary art scene. 

So, in 2025, I acquired another conceptual work by him titled _Sipper’s Price (2025)_. I was drawn to the materials, Styrofoam cups, acrylic, and paper ash, and how layered they felt. The work made me think about how environments and expectations can shape behavior. What I find hopeful is that Allen’s practice doesn’t dwell there, he transforms those references into reflection and agency.


Sipper's Price (2024) - Photo by Derosia Gallery.jpeg

#### You share a lot of art on Instagram and often invite people to reach out when something resonates. What do you hope comes out of those conversations? 

I hope it encourages people, especially those in white-collar, competitive careers, to slow down and really immerse themselves in art and find a creative outlet of their own. Careers are long, and having something creative alongside your work helps keep things in balance.

If I can help someone start collecting art a decade earlier than they otherwise would have, that feels meaningful to me. The cultural fulfillment that comes from living with art compounds over time. I also think it’s easier to connect with emerging artists when you’re closer in age, you grow alongside them, follow their evolution, and build relationships that feel natural rather than retrospective.


#### You’re also actively creating and participating in community-based art events. Do you want to elaborate on that? What role does bringing people together around art play in how you think about collecting?

While at Wharton, I’m one of the co-presidents of the Wharton Art Club, and over the past three semesters I’ve helped organize roughly twenty-two events. Those have ranged from taking classmates to major fairs like Art Basel Miami and ZONAMACO in Mexico City, to leading three New York gallery treks where we visited sites such as Phillips Auction House and Silver Art Projects, and hosting conversations that sit at the intersection of art, economics, and institutions.

That includes moderating a talk with Matthew Newton from UBS Art Advisory, a conversation on art and economics with Wharton professor Gizem Saka and Yale professor Magnus Resch, and hosting an American Friends of the Louvre event, where I moderated a panel with its founder Kip Forbes, director Thomas Moore, and treasurer Vladimir Galiothe. Today, the club includes more than 200 MBA students interested in art.

The Wharton Art Club has been a natural extension of what I was already doing in New York. Bringing people together around art shapes how I think about collecting because it reinforces that art isn’t just something to own, it’s something to experience collectively.


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#### Which piece is your most recent acquisition?

While visiting my family in Georgia over the holidays, I visited Aineki Traverso’s studio and acquired an oil on panel, _Jardin (2025)_, from Wolfgang Gallery. I first discovered her work during a show my friend Xandra Beverlin curated over the summer, then encountered it again at The Armory Show in the fall.

During the studio visit, the energy of the work was overwhelming in the best way. Being in that space with them made it feel immediately clear that I wanted to acquire a piece.

There was something about the architectural quality of the painting, the white plastic chair, and the eyes embedded within it that felt deeply familiar. It brought me back to my childhood and made the work feel personal from the moment I saw it.


Jardin (2025)

#### Thanks for inviting us into your space. Before we wrap, is there anything we didn’t touch on that feels important to how you think about collecting?

As I always tell people, there’s no need to rush into collecting. Start by really spending time with the local museums in your city, then gradually move into galleries. Large galleries like Pace Gallery, Gagosian, Hauser & Wirth, and David Zwirner often present museum-caliber exhibitions and can be great places to train your eye.

From there, explore more emerging galleries and make a point of attending openings. That’s where you meet artists, build relationships, and develop a real connection to the work. Taking your time helps you avoid becoming the person who rushes into buying a big painting just to fill the space above the couch, only to regret it later. The best collections, like careers or relationships, reveal themselves slowly.


>**“Collecting as a way of marking time, building relationships, and staying grounded while moving through different chapters of life.”**




A Conversation with Collector Terrell Estime

Tim Kent, Apparition (2022) - Photo by Hollis Taggart Gallery

William Buchina, Scenery in Green #1 (2020) - Courtesy of Hollis Taggart Gallery

Demetrius Wilson, I Miss When the Sky Was Blue (2021-2023)

Allen-Golder Carpenter, I Googled Myself (2024)

Will Maxen, Heat Condenses in my Soles (2023)

Installation view - Tim Kent, Edges Off a Model, Hollis Taggart Gallery, New York, 2024

Tim kent, Take Five (2024) - Photo by Hollis Taggart Gallery

Tim Kent, Legacy (2024) - Photo by Hollis Taggart Gallery

Allen-Golder Carpenter, Sipper's Price (2024) - Photo by Derosia Gallery

Photo with Professor Gizem Saka and Professor Magnus Resch

Aineki Traverso, Jardin (2025)

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