How did you end up becoming a curator?

Becoming a curator is something I’ve evolved into. 

When I was little, I used to draw floorplans of fictitious homes and imagine the ‘mood’ in each room. I loved making art. I also loved debating, especially having to think on my feet and build an argument for a particular cause. Growing up in a family of scientists I wasn’t exposed to the ‘art world’ so didn’t know what a curator was let alone that I could become one. I went to Law School right after graduation but picked London because the city offered me space to pursue my love for art in tandem through museums, evening schools at The Courtauld and Imperial College London, and a summer school at The Slade.

In my final year of Law, though, I reflected on the fact I’d found something I really loved and decided to do something about it. I applied to different schools to study History of Art and got into my top choice: Cambridge. I skipped straight into electives, which was amazing because one of our courses, which particularly struck me, was ‘Display of Art’. We studied how art is shown, why, where – the politics and nuances of display. It also fuelled a hunger to work with contemporary artists, people who are making and creating. And so I set off post graduation, navigating the extremely unclear waters of how to create a liveable career in the art world. 

I’ve worked in an auction house, two galleries, got incredible jobs and also been let go by two; eventually in 2020 I decided to become independent. I had worked for eight years, lived in Hong Kong for five of those, and done exhibitions all over the world. It was equally the time of the pandemic and I decided, “I have a choice”: either join another gallery or museum or strike it out on my own. I went for the latter, and in that moment of pivot and ‘removing the training wheels’ I affirmed to myself that I was a curator. I’d been writing about exhibitions and making them happen for nearly a decade but I didn’t own the term, so there was a matter of facing my imposter syndrome and leaning into what I was already doing.  

In 2021 I launched my curatorial studio, Apsara, the logic being: artists, designers, architects have studios – why not curators? We don’t create in silos. I’m now joined by four other incredible team members, whose expertises range from exhibition design to scholarly research, and jointly we work on exhibitions all over the world. In 2024 we then launched our project space, which we think of as a laboratory, where artists and curators are welcome to come experiment, exhibit, and workshop around the theme of “hosting and being hosted”.  A real local to global programme of projects.

What’s feeling exciting or interesting in the art world right now?

There is currently a shift in the traditional art world order – such shifts are difficult, but through them I think exciting and interesting things emerge. 

If you look at the news in our industry, galleries are closing, and there are reports of dwindling sales and fewer collectors. This is very hard for the people affected – artists, staff, etc – but it also makes way for other ways of working, making and supporting. For example, perhaps there are other spaces where an artist’s work can be shown meaningfully, that carry credibility and weight? Perhaps there are other collecting bodies that can acquire work with intention, that artists are proud of? Maybe there are other ways that art can be discovered, in spaces that have history or are lived in? I think this ‘breakdown’ opens up conversations about ways of working, displaying and also forms of patronage. I highlight the latter term because I think there’s been so much volume and speed in our industry, which ultimately has given way to transaction over connection. 

Maybe with less it’s a time to do more thoughtfully and consider other avenues.

What’s feeling tricky or worrying in the art world at the moment?

In a first instance, I’d say a culture of performativity. What I mean by this is finding the delicate balance between honouring the content of what you’re working on, whether it be as an artist in your studio or a curator on a show or project you’re working on, and balancing that with the importance of sharing it. The tricky part being: are you letting the ideas and process really form and take their necessary time before it goes out there? Or is it a means to an end? With all the benefits of social media and the modern world there also comes a lot of pressure, especially when you’re putting parts of your soul out in the public domain. I find myself feeling protective of the process, and trying to find a balance with our industry’s need to amplify. 

Tied to the above is also the ‘threat’ of missing what is quiet and authentic. I don’t feel the art world at the moment really celebrates quiet or subtle as it should. That being said, it’s on us as a curator to look out and in, to be nearly forensic in our fastidious and careful research. So while I worry about the noise and the noisiest getting seen, I feel what I and my peers need to do is develop the tools to navigate through it and take the time to truly identify authentic talent. The responsibility is on us.

If you could change one thing about art or how people engage with it, what would it be?

I would urge people to look at a work, truly look at it, in person if possible, before taking a photo of it or reading the plaque. Let your eyes inform you, listen to them, feel what’s in front of you, and then take the digital memory or read the intellectual blurb. I think this is such an important lesson for life as a whole, too: observing for yourself, thinking/seeing/feeling on your own two feet, then processing whether it be through expanding your understanding of the work or capturing it for posterity.

How has motherhood influenced the way you work now?

For a while now I’ve been thinking about themes such as time, heritage and place – interests that have been amplified since becoming a mother. Time in particular –  such a fickle thing – the emotions tied to it and how it swells with the mood and tide of the day or moment or period. So naturally, I’ve gravitated towards projects that account for these day to day fascinations. 

On a more practical level, motherhood has also put a hard stop on anything I didn’t quite feel like doing but somehow felt an obligation to. It’s helped me be much sharper in my discerning of what is a fit for me and the studio, and meritorious of our energy. As there’s less to go around, I need to ensure alignment and clarity, these two elements being the foundations of harmonious and growing relationships, in my view.

I think finally, quite bluntly, I ask myself, “is this worth it”? I’ve been increasingly thinking about legacy and impact, for lack of a better set of terms. “Why this, why here, why now?”. Does this project actually make a difference? If it does, then I’m drawn to it. It’s worth me showing up even if my baby didn’t sleep the night before and took me for the ride, or I had to call on our proverbial village for help. It’s worth it, to me, because it’s moving the dial in a way that is meaningful and long-lasting.

If you could change something about the art system in relation to women who are caring for their children and their families, what would it be?

I think, in a first instance, it would be to recognise that what could change for women applies to men as well, reframing our thinking as one of parenthood rather than motherhood or indeed fatherhood. Having a partner I really share responsibility with has been the single greatest factor in me being able to do what I do in the way I’m doing it since becoming a parent. This, to me, is foundational. 

Then, I think something that plagues people that are freelance – of which that art system is predominantly composed of – is that there is no maternity or paternity leave. It was the single biggest trigger point for me when I became a mother, that I didn’t have the choice but to go back to work. A scheme that would support some time off would be a huge pivotal change for our ecosystem, and I’m sure other creative industries, too. 

I would then say though that we have the power to change the system from within. To pick and set our boundaries. For me, I decided that since I couldn’t take maternity leave in a ‘traditional’ sense I would space it out. Take blocks of time at intervals. Normalise daytime openings so I don’t miss out on bathtime. And, not work Fridays. The latter has since become a special day for me and my son where we do an activity together and really soak it in, not just go through the motions. It’s pure gold.