A Day in the Life of Michael Reid.
From Berlin to Murrurundi, Michael Reid’s empire runs on ideas, instinct and espresso—an irresistible first subject for our day-in-the-life series.
I have long thought Michael Reid OAM has more great ideas by nine in the morning than I have in a week. (Actually, make that a month.) The man is a walking, talking, high-voltage neural network in horn-rimmed glasses, with a mind for business and an eye for art. With galleries in Sydney and Berlin; provincial offshoots in Murrurundi, the Northern Beaches and the Southern Highlands; the moveable offsite project space Beyond; the shapely side hustle Clay; and—if he has anything to do with it—a bricks-and-mortar shopfront soon to open in Los Angeles, he commands the largest gallery platform in Australia. It’s a good thing, too. By his own account, he’d go stark-raving mad without this galaxy of activity.
I first met Michael with Belle’s then deputy editor (now editor) Tanya Buchanan at one of the magazine’s art dinners, c.2014, blown away by his dexterity as a public speaker. A couple of years later, I was looking to buy a property in the country and settled on Murrurundi. It ticked my boxes (cheap, beautiful and not too far from Sydney), but with no connection to the town and my city friends asking, where the fuck’s Murrurundi?, there were moments of doubt. But then I thought, here is this guy with a gallery in Berlin that has chosen this town as his home. It must be ok.
My place is one sprawling country block from Michael and his wife Nellie, whom I now count among my closest Murrurundi friends. I love that they have worked at Christie’s and travelled the world, but now spend most of their time in muddy work boots tending the garden, Michael slipping behind the coffee machine when the rush hits. He has also been an incredible support and mentor. I could write paragraphs on that, but it’s enough to say I can’t imagine anyone better to begin this day-in-the-life series. It was, after all, his idea.
A Day in the Life of Michael Reid.
Like Sherlock Holmes, my mornings begin with an investigative pick-me-up. His came in the form of a 7% cocaine injection mixed with saline—an alarmingly publicised recipe, swiftly excised from the 1890 first edition of The Sign of Four. Holmes, and his medically trained creator Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, were questionably fashionable before that fashion, and controversial at the dawn of that controversy. My own, far less invasive, morning jolt involves three macchiatos and feeding my goldfish. I was born to be mild.
A blessed life is one with a commercial coffee machine. I down my caffeine jolts while answering emails, then Bunty and I feed the goldfish in my nine-metre-long concrete garden trough. I have become a big fan of water lillies.
I live in Murrurundi, in the Upper Hunter of NSW. Bunty, my nearly six-year-old Border Collie, waits at the foot of the bed for sunrise, ready for play until my wife Nellie is left in peace. I shower, then cross the road to the gallery, Concept Store, and kiosk for my first coffee. A blessed life is one with a commercial espresso machine. I down my caffeine jolts while answering emails, then Bunty and I feed the goldfish in my nine-metre-long concrete garden trough. I have become a big fan of water lilies.
At about 8:15 a.m., my business partner and Managing Director, Toby Meagher, calls on his way to our Sydney gallery, and the day is off and racing. Beyond this ritual, no two days resemble each other. With five galleries and two online sales platforms across two hemispheres, something is open every day—and most nights. One week each month I’m in Sydney or travelling to meet clients, attend openings, or simply to eat Japanese.
I remain across every aspect of my business, though I do not bury myself in day-to-day weeds. For me, creative business-building demands distance from the immediate. My singular focus is new business development. At present, following a successful Washington DC exhibition in November last year, I am working with Director Toby Meagher on an exhibition in Los Angeles in late February, using this as a springboard to further explore a new permanent space in the city. Having already secured the importation rights for US outdoor clothing brand Filson, I am now importing the Detroit quality watch manufacturer Shinola into the Murrurundi Concept Store.
I am reviewing the rollout of this year’s National Emerging Art Prize and generating changes for the 2026 launch. I am establishing a nationwide gallery representative program across Melbourne, Perth and Brisbane. At Murrurundi, the new Pizza Shed—conceived as an early 20th-century Australian walk-in meat room with a butcher’s block—is near opening. A vegetable-garden rotation is due, and at month’s end I return to Sydney to onboard photographer Murray Fredericks.
On my tombstone the epitath will read: Michael Reid… he got shit done. Then, as my ahes are scattered across the Murrurundi garden, I—like almost all of us—will be absolutely forgotten by history.
Work-life balance. Please. Show me someone with work–life balance, and I’ll show you someone who’s never built anything. There is an old English saying to the effect: “Show me a gentleman, and I’ll show you someone who’s never done anything.” Put the two together. I neither seek nor believe in work–life balance. I am not a gentle man. As I age, I want to work. Certainly, I work differently now compared to when I was fifty, but I still work seven days a week—and I loathe the forced downtime between Christmas and New Year when all my galleries are shut.
I am work. On my tombstone the epitaph will read: Michael Reid… he got shit done. Then, as my ashes are scattered across the Murrurundi garden, I—like almost all of us—will be absolutely forgotten by history forever. That’s absolutely fine by me, because right now I have plenty to do.
Discover the world of Michael Reid.
Words: Michael Reid and Jason Mowen.
Photography: Pip Farquarson ℅ Michael Reid.
