Jennifer McGregor

Nicolás Dumit Estévez Raful Espejo Ovalles Morel: Dear Jennifer, this feels like the right moment to have this conversation. The sensation I have is that of the layers that have been forming throughout the years as result of our creative engagements. Our first connection was through Wave Hill and, while you just rewired from working at this space, I can still see your presence in Wave Hill’s gardens and galleries. I am happy to hear from you as to how you are and where you are at the moment, metaphorically speaking.

Jennifer McGregor: Dear Nicolás, thank you for inviting me into this conversation. It’s an honor and an occasion to look back and forward. Yes, I distinctly recall meeting with you on Wave Hill’s Sun Porch as we selected artists for Survive, Thrive, Alive, but instead we included your videos La Fritura and USA Paradisciaca, in the exhibition Transplant/Transculture. Later, while you were part of the Winter Workspace, you lay among the lush tropical plants in the greenhouse on a freezing cold day. Visitors were perplexed and intrigued to find you there, so peaceful, breathing in sync with plants. It was a first time an artist was did a performance in that space. So, thank you for opening that window of opportunity.

 At the end of 2020, I “rewired” from Wave Hill. The new voices and perspectives that Gabriel de Guzman and his team have introduced bring me great joy.  My present chapter has involved curating and arts planning with a range of organizations including Korea Art Forum where our curatorial paths crossed through Shared Dialogue Shared Space.  I’m also expanding my creative practice based on my own archive and experiences.

NDEREOM: Your focus has been public art, a field that has been changing rapidly in the last decades. For so long public art was mainly defined by the modernist monuments that populated urban spaces and that were in many cases planted into a place without any or very dialogue with communities. Now the talk is about social practice or socially engaged art. How have you navigated these waves in the arts and what have you learned from them?

JM: Yes, I’ve been thinking about how my practice has involved opening possibilities for artists to work in the built environment through public art, as well as the natural environment through curating at Wave Hill. In the 1980s I was initiated into the public art field as debates raged around the notion of site-specificity and the removal of Tilted Arch by Richard Serra. Facilitating guidelines and projects for the newly formed Percent for Art Program I regularly met with New York City agency liaisons who knew about the sculpture since their offices were steps away from Federal Plaza. As it turned out, the controversy and discussion about the sculpture was a way to bring people up to speed on contemporary art. It also broadened thinking about ways to approach public space through a more inclusive and responsive process, one that wasn’t based in the idea of imposition (aka plop art) that is often associated with Modernism.

The seeds for social practice or socially engaged art were certainly being sown during that time. I observed how artists (often female and/or younger) emphasized their interest in broader aspects of the site including its relationship to a neighborhood rather the physical proportions of the architecture. Mierle Laderman Ukeles was a particularly compelling force as Artist in Residence at the Department of Sanitation, she embodied an alternative role for artists which made a big impression on the other city agencies.

Later curating at Wave Hill allowed me to facilitate a creative ecosystem with varied entry points for artists to experiment, create new work for the site or a theme, engage directly with visitors through a residency or a workshop. In the context of the garden, we generated ways for visitors to connect with artists and learn about contemporary art. I continue to connect with landscapes in other places through my consulting projects. For example, I’ve been learning about Bay Ridge where I’m curating Permeable Shoreline/Essential Future at Stand4 Gallery & Community Space that opens in April 2025.

NDEREOM: I must say that the fixation with monuments in the arts have not gone away and that organizations and artists in the United States continue to deal with the vestiges of modernity as it pertains to public art. My experience working in places like Catalonia has been so different, as result of the emphasis on what organizations like IDENSITAT call art in social spaces, or arte en espacios sociales. For organizations like IDESITAT and people like Ramón Parramón, the focus is on interactions and on the territory as it pertains to social engagements. I feel that I am not asking questions to you, but more prompting responses from your wealth of wisdom.

JM:  You are right, we are dealing with modernity, but also with the ideals of the Beaux Arts and the City Beautiful Movement when it comes to monuments. Commemorative projects are often funded privately by a group of people who support the cause or purpose, and are frequently on public property and part of the civic landscape.  Friction can occur with the public and private interests are not aligned. Following the actions sparked by the murder of George Floyd and the outcry against repressive monuments and markers, the monument landscape has changed throughout the country. It's encouraging to see the work that Monument Lab and other organizations are doing to support projects that address events, people, and situations that have been overlooked, bringing them into civic discourse through art.

It’s helpful to consider the difference between “permanent public art” that is intended to endure for many decades, including monuments as a subset, and “temporary public art” that can also involve temporary memorials. It seems that organizations like IDESITAT are implementing the broadest definition of art that goes beyond visual to include music, performance, film/video, multimedia, spoken and written word.  Once you move into the realm of temporary art, there are many more possibilities and strategies. I think about “art in social space” engaging relationships in the moment that might not endure the burden of permanence.

NDEREOM: There is money to be made in huge sculptures and monuments like the ones that still prevail in the United Sates art circuit. The opposite can be said about social experiences centered on the ephemeral. I am wondering how this dynamic continues to imbue public art in the U.S. within a capitalist system, independently of the subjects that the artists seek to address, whether race, class, gender…

JM: There are different support systems and motivations for creating art in the public realm, which can contribute to a dynamic art ecosystem providing a range of opportunities for expression and engagement. Funding for permanent public art often comes from a percentage of the capital budget of a large construction project, so it is tied to public or private development. These “percent for art” projects may be funded by the government (local, state, federal) or developers. To the extent that the prosperous capitalist system is funding growth, the commitment to include art in the mix results in these projects.

Artwork acquired by purchase or commission for these sites must satisfy multiple  entities (government, community, people working or living near the project.) The range of locations – airports, transit, parks, libraries, water treatment plants, prisons – each come with the challenge of how the public is engaging in that place. Making art for these facilities comes with limitations, challenges and rewards.  Some artists work well in this context, they can flourish with the constraints and operate like a small business to cooperate with design professionals, fabricators, contractors and others to get the job done and not lose money.

In the realm of temporary art, numerous organizations have found ways to support art in various contexts that can be more open ended and offer opportunities for work that is topical. Tracing the funding for these projects finds a mix of support from government, foundations, individuals, businesses.

NDEREOM: I attended the City College at 137th Street in Manhattan and that was such a great time in my life. I was younger and full of the curiosity that a cultural exile would manifest in a city like New York. I was in heaven while in contact with so many immigrants and BIPOC students like me. I have been in school for 4 decades and no other place has surpassed the joy I experienced at City College. You went to the Graduate Center. How was it for you in terms of communities? I am asking because in the new corporate educational and academic model in general there is very little community spirit and professors are meant to provide a service to consumers (students).

JM: Your experience at City College is inspiring, and that it served as an important springboard for you. I attended CUNY Graduate Center from 1994 to 1996 so I can’t speak for what it’s like today. I connected with the other students, most were actively working in the arts, so we shared interests and enthusiasm, but lacked time. There I studied the underpinnings of public art in America and focused on art and architecture in the Renaissance, Beaux Arts, City Beautiful and WPA movements.  The professors were incredibly supportive, and I did independent studies each semester based on projects that I was already working on.

In the early 2000s I taught “Urban Development and Visual Arts” at NYU Steinert School in the Arts Administration department. In addition to the prescribed curriculum, the course drew on how rebuilding lower Manhattan in the aftermath of September 11th was shaping the city. My experiences seem quaint in relationship to the sprawling field of higher education and the increase in types of degrees that are available. Ultimately, there’s no substitute for experiences creating, producing, making, curating art and programming.

NDEREOM: Tell me about your tapestries, and the weaving of some of the papers that you wrote while at the Graduate Center. How did this come to be? Tell me about this creative act of composting fields and times.

JM: In 2021, I made an autobiographical chart of my working life. I laid down a timeline with blue painters’ tape, marking each year on my 8’ x 30’ workplace wall. It was filled with post-it notes about projects, places I traveled, catalogues and reports written, along with miscellaneous milestones. This exercise revealed relationships between the art planning and curatorial work that I hadn’t recognized. This reflective journey has led to creative projects using materials at hand.

One of the realizations although my time studying art history in graduate school had felt like a black hole, it actually was a formative time. Revisiting the research papers on subjects ranging from “Expressions of Power, Technology and Gender in the Sixteenth-Century Garden” to “Definition by Contrast, The Urban Frame of Prospect Park” helped me understand that it was indeed a foundational experience that had shaped and improved my research and writing. I daylighted each paper in a new form by weaving it into a tapestry. While reading each text with the professor’s comments I highlighted significant points or original thoughts on the page. These marks served as a guide to cut the paper which I wove into gridded packing material.  The physical act of weaving parallels the original researching and writing. There is something anachronistic about seeing the actual paper with its poor reproductions. The result is Finding My Voice, (2022-2023) was presented on a painted background using colors from Benjamin Moore 2023 Color Trends.

Shredded notebook paper found its way into a series of handmade paper series Listening to you, 2023, which I made at the Women’s Studio Workshop. More recently I have made “slide shows” that mirror topics of previous talks and hang in the windows of my workspace. Again tapping into the analogue visualization that was so time consuming to undertake during the first two decades of my career. Finding it hard to throw away these useless slides I transformed them into a framework to perceive the industrial Port Morris waterfront where I work.

Domiciles 1958-2023, is a textural landscape memoir that emerged from the autobiographical chart. I created it at a residency at Hambidge Center. While in residence I sketched floor plans from memory, revisited dreams and remembered the sensations of each place. I created 18 emblems ranging from 5” to 29” in diameter, sized to represent the number of years lived in each dwelling, starting with my birthplace in Concord, MA to my current home in New York. These were made from repurposed sweaters, cut into strips and formed as interdependent coils, combining a variety of textures and colors influenced by my recollections. I created the piece in the Appalachian mountains of Georgia where my studio near a creek heightened my relationship to bodies of water in my previous homes and was a platform to observe the regenerative processes of the forest.

NDEREOM: I can’t help it but to ask the curator in you about lineages. I am heading into my sixties and into full elderhood, and I see the lack of connection weaving generations of curators. I do get irritated when younger curators in New York City ask me about the work that I do or if I am an artist. It is as if the art industry only favors the new and is meant to dismiss the histories/herstories/theirstories that have taken decades to shape. This fascination with newness and youth is so connected to a model in the arts that that seems counter to the honoring of ancestors that I see happening now, at least in theory. All of the sudden, everyone is speaking about ancestors. So, why not honor and bring the ancestors to center stage and walk the walk? Perhaps a balance between the old and the new, the younger and the older would be great, but as it is now, I see an imbalance to the point where younger generations of curators have not idea at all of who has been doing the work for years. This seems so “American” to me.

JM: This concept of “ancestors” seems to be having a moment. There are positive aspects such as bringing artists to light who have been working diligently away from the mainstream. I also think about how when I was in my twenties Pop Art seemed so old school to say nothing about Jackson Pollock that from forty years prior.  Now, I think about the art of the 1980s which is what I was coming up with, which is now forty years ago and might be someone else’s ancestor.  

Yesterday I saw Legacies: Asian American Art Movements in New York City (1969-2001) at 80WSE (80 Washington Square East/NYU), which I consider a positive example of referencing “ancestors”. The show is loosely organized over the three decades and covers three influential collectives and organizations: Godzilla: Asian American Art Network; the Basement Workshop; and Asian American Arts Centre. In gives context to the dynamism of “Asian American art” during a period that was fluid and experimental and is an excellent guide for people who were not in New York at the time (or those who were and may need a refresher.)

At this point in my own trajectory, I am more conscious of my ancestors, more open to their wisdom, and more curious about their paths than I was in my youth. Also, understanding there are more of them than I previously realized.

NDEREOM: Would you share about a project in the public that you reminisce with a smile on your face; that you enjoyed thoroughly as a curator and consultant.

JM: I’m exciting to be working again with Jeannine Bardo at Stand4 Gallery & Community Center in Brooklyn. In 2023 we presented Bay Ridge Through an Ecological Lens, a series of public art and activities throughout the neighborhood.  Now we’re planning for the 2025 version, working with 15 artists who will be activating places in the community and the gallery through performances, workshops and artwork. Everyone submitted their proposals earlier this month and there is great synergy between the work. As compared to the public art planning that I do, it’s very hands-on, working closely with artists to realize their vision.

NDEREO: You seem to embody calmness and express that in the curatorial work that you do. What do you do to care for yourself on an ongoing basis? How do you encourage others to care for themselves when working in the arts? I recall the yoga mat that you lent me when I slept with the tropicals at the greenhouse at Wave Hill. That was very helpful and it allowed my back to feel comfortable. Thank you for caring.

JM: Thank you for saying that I embody calmness. I don’t always feel that way. I loved Wave Hill’s Winter Workspace Program because it was a way to engage with artists in an ongoing dialogue over the six weeks they were in residence and to continue those conversations beyond that time and place as we are doing today. To answer your question about encouraging care, I want create ways for people to engage with things that bring them joy rather than from obligation. This means that not every opportunity is right for someone at any given time. I recognize this in myself but also respect that the time might not be right for others. 

I’ve made a concerted effort to rebalance my time and energy, and to bring curiosity to each day. An anchor for my practice is daily journaling that builds time for monthly reflection and looking ahead.

 NDEREOM: Is there anything that you would like to add or ask?

 JM: You are as person who embodies both calmness and kindness. Through The Interior Beauty Salon connect with so many people and offer a space for so many voices. Are there places whre you would like to take The Interior Beauty Salon, or projects that dream of doing? 

NDEREOM: Thank you for your words, your time and for asking this question. I would like for The Interior Beauty Salon to become a full fledged organization that serves hundred of creatives and thinkers without become institutionalize. I know it will happen and that its legacy will endure. Thank you again.

All images and videos courtesy of Jennifer McGregor

Jennifer McGregor’s links: Website / Instagram / Contact

New York-based curator and arts planner Jennifer McGregor brings deep expertise in the areas of art, ecology, gardens, public engagement and placemaking. Visionary thinking combined with a realistic approach is key to planning projects that engage communities, diverse sites and multiple art forms. Through McGregor Consulting, she collaborates with a range of clients to plan, curate and implement artwork in the public realm.  She writes and speaks regularly about public and environmental art.

From 1999 to 2020, she conceived place-based arts programming at Wave Hill, a world-renowned public garden and cultural center in the Bronx. She activated connections to the environment by producing adventurous exhibitions, performances and a residency program that explore nature, culture and site.

She founded McGregor Consulting in 1990 as a platform to engage non-traditional public spaces, diverse audiences, and amazing artists through commissions, forums, reports and exhibitions. Clients and collaborators include non-profits, museums, park advocacy groups, government agencies, and architects and landscape architects.

She established her expertise in public realm as the first director of New York City’s Percent for Art Program from 1983 to 1990, where she wrote the operating guidelines and initiated the first sixty projects.

McGregor Consulting maintains general and professional liability policies and is a MWBE certified business with the Port Authority of New York & New Jersey.