Outsiders Art Club by Marie le Conte
Description of the House and Museum of Sir John Soane, 1835, from the Public Domain Image Archive / Internet Archive / The Getty
Exhausted by the elitist art world? Marie Le Conte has your back. She takes us behind the scenes of her new Outsiders Art Club — London’s first quarterly gathering for art obsessives, or those keen to become one, where you can discover contemporary art, snap up exceptional, affordable works from emerging talent, and, naturally, drink copious amounts of wine.
Technically it started with a break-up, if we're to take the long view. It was spring 2022, and I'd been seeing this man for a few months, and we both knew it wasn't really going anywhere, even though we were both enjoying ourselves. I'd booked myself a two-month stay in Venice in March and April, to finally try and write this novel which had been gnawing at me, and I felt it offered us a neat point at which to end things.
Of course, life ended up being messier than that. I got to my little flat in Dorsoduro and quickly realised that I was feeling more forlorn than expected. A few weeks later, a worse epiphany occurred: As it turned out, my Venetian friends were especially unreliable, and I couldn't count on them to distract me from my wounded heart.
In the end, two things happened. At first I went quite, quite mad from the isolation, which reminded me too much of lockdown. After that, I dragged my sorry carcass around town, up and down the bridges, checking out every Biennale exhibition I could find. I'd never quite been one for contemporary art — never really got it, never really saw the point — but something changed on that trip.
Left feeling vulnerable and in dire need of human connection, I finally approached pieces with the honesty and earnestness they deserved. I didn't shrug and move on, assuming the artist was a charlatan, and instead I stood there, in front of various works, trying hard to figure out what they meant, and whether it appealed to me.
Somehow, it helped: It made me feel less alone and closer to some sort of universal human experience. I went home at the end of my eight weeks, and I just wasn't the same. Somehow, I'd built this hunger within myself which now needed to be frequently sated. I needed to look at art, and I needed to do so as regularly as I could get away with.
The only problem was that — well, I didn't really know where to start. Where do you start? I took the tube, walked out of Green Park station, typed "art gallery" on Google Maps and followed the direction to the closest one, then the one after that, and again until my feet ached. I looked at good art and bad art: stuff that left me completely cold and works which brought me close to tears.
By the end of that afternoon, I somehow felt both lighter and fuller. I ended up recreating the experience, like a pilgrimage, whenever time allowed. Even now, I usually walk around the streets of Mayfair, often in the same order, every six weeks or so. I also started bringing some art closer to home — literally — when I moved flats in 2023.
Though I didn't quite have the budget to, say, walk into the Royal Academy's Summer Show and walk off with an original or three, I scoured both the internet and graduate shows to try and find pieces I could afford and which spoke to me. My collection was — and is — still small, but it's perfectly formed: On my walls are half a dozen works from early career artists, and I love them all very much.
Will they become famous over time? Will I become rich? Honestly: I don't really care. That's not why I bought them. I just enjoyed the idea of existing alongside their points of view, their own little worlds. It made me feel less alone, at a time when my romantic life was, for the most part, non-existent. I didn't have anyone to share my life with back then, but at least I could have these reminders that other lives did exist. Oh, and they made my flat look real nice.
Friends who came to visit often said so, and that made me feel good but a bit guilty. Mine is the life of a dilettante, and I have all this free time which I can use to find these pieces, endlessly dig through the earth like a truffle pig. Who else can afford to do that?
This question is what led me to the Outsiders Arts Club. At first it was a vague idea, hiding at the back of my head. I knew plenty of people who clearly wanted to care more about art but found the whole bubble too hermetic, and I wondered if I could help. Art has, after all, brought me so much: Like an enthusiastic cult member, I was eager to share my passion with the world.
Slowly, the plan took shape: It would be an evening, happening as often as I could manage, and it would be fun. That was important to me: I wanted people to have a good time. I wanted them to connect with art, sure, but I also knew that intimidated people often tend to stay hiding in their shell. There's a reason why dates often happen in restaurants, around drinks and food and music.
The OAC wouldn't have small plates, but it would definitely have lashings of wine, and an enticing playlist. On the walls would be drawings and paintings from artists who, for whatever reason, don't currently have formal representation, making their work affordable. I would be in charge of finding those artists, putting all that free time to good use.
I plotted for weeks and months then went public with it; all one hundred tickets for the first edition sold out in under twenty-four hours. Clearly, I'd hit a nerve. Though I was obviously happy not to have failed or bankrupted myself, I mostly kept going back to those very beginnings and smiling. How wonderful that my own crushing loneliness had eventually led to all these entertaining, brilliant, curious people spending an evening together, and choosing to make their lives that little bit bigger. How joyous and perfect!
This article was written by Marie Le Conte, French-Moroccan journalist, art dealer, and cultural commentator based in London. She writes the weekly Dilettante column for The New World and contributes regularly to The Observer. Marie also publishes a Substack newsletter here. She is the creator of the Outsiders Arts Club (OAC), a quarterly London night for discovering and buying affordable art from emerging artists. The next OAC event is on April 28. Tickets are £23, including free wine and drinks. Follow @outsidersartsclub on Instagram or visit outsidersartsclub.com for tickets.
This article originally appeared in Issue 01, the debut issue of The Lonely Hearts Club, published in January 2026. It was published online on March 12, 2026.