Sofa Issues Spring 2025
Another Way to Hold Things
Simeen Anjum and Kristan Kennedy
“We don’t preserve; we work with living artists in the moment they’re making.”
Kristan Kennedy is an artist and curator currently working as the co-artistic director at the Portland Institute of Contemporary Art (PICA). In this interview, I speak with her about her artistic journey, the process of defining her core values in her profession, and how she navigates working within an institutional setting while staying true to her own principles. We explore the potential of museums and how we can reimagine these spaces to better serve their communities. Kristan, who came of age in Brooklyn in the 1980s and moved to Portland in 1995, has always been interested in examining the role of artists and creating community around art. Recently, Kristan and the PICA staff undertook a collective reorganization of the organization’s kitchen, transforming it into a more welcoming space for everyone—artists, visitors, and staff alike.
The morning of our interview, I visited Kristan at PICA just as she arrived with bags of groceries for a special event happening later that evening. Kristan and the team at PICA prepared dinner for the event, which included a Turkish tomato lentil soup. While we chopped vegetables and chatted, sitting across from each other, we dove into a conversation about our respective work, the intersection of art and community, and the importance of shared spaces.
Simeen: What were your curiosities when you were a student?
Kristan: When I was a student, my curiosity revolved around how one claims the identity of being an artist. I had always been engaged in art since I was a child. As an only child for six formative years—my sister wasn’t born until I was almost seven—my parents had to keep me occupied, and art was something I really connected with. From a young age, I was fortunate enough to have this identity of being “the kid who was good at art.”
As I moved into college, though, I started questioning what it meant to call yourself an artist. I wondered if it was just about skill, or if it was more about something deeper—maybe a way of being in the world, or a career. I wasn’t really sure, and I had my assumptions, but I wasn’t clear on what that meant for me.
Growing up in Brooklyn, I was lucky enough to be exposed to art through museums, and I even worked at one in high school. I had this idea that being an artist could be a career, and that there were different levels within the art world—maybe one of those levels involved becoming a “famous” artist who had their work in shows or magazines like Artforum. But even with these ideas, I really didn’t know what it all meant or how it would play out in reality.
Simeen: And how did you find an answer to that question?
Kristan: I am probably still doing research on the big project that is called “what does my identity as an artist have to do with my value as a person”. Ha! One way of answering this in the context of my life learning about art through, looking and making and doing especially in the context of art school is that I feel very lucky to have had the teachers I did. Leonard Bellinger my high school art teacher ( in a very small Catholic all girls school) also happened to be one of the very first artists in residence at PS1 in NY and a radical thinker who pushed me to think beyond materials into ideas of visual perception, at Alfred, I worked with Joseph Scheer and Mary Lum, Peer Bode and Ted Morgan they were all so generous and very much into art being a relational practice, one not devoid of humanity… Although they are all serious artists with long careers they also eschewed any obsession with fame or commercial success that came at the cost of their values. They shared information and knowledge, they celebrated each other’s success and were very much into process, collaboration, experimentation and questioning ( your motives, materials, methods). This helped me move towards my own philosophy that the art world should not be separate from the world world. So to be an artist is to be a human in the world who is curious and conscientious – who pushes at the sides of things and offers new perspectives. Who is creating a new language for the future, something that may not be understood in their lifetimes. It isn’t about chasing accolades or about a list of accomplishments.
Simeen: And how was your experience going to an art school? Was it competitive?
Kristan: When I first went to college, there were so many people with different experiences, which was amazing, but it also made me feel a bit lost at times. I was anxious and confused. I threw myself into my work, but I also invested a lot of energy into my relationships, especially with my friends. I think that’s partly from how I was raised, but it also directly relates to what we’re doing right now—chopping vegetables together and making food for artists. Creating a culture around art has always been interesting to me.
At art school, though, there were times when that sense of community didn’t feel as present. It was more about whether or not you did well on an assignment, and I remember feeling like, “Well, I’m not sure how I did on the project, but I do know we helped each other out.” Those kinds of values weren’t always encouraged, and they didn’t really factor into the grading system, but they were important to me.
Eventually, I found my way into the printmaking department, which allowed me to engage in a more collaborative practice. Printmaking, the way we were doing it, required you to work with others—whether you were on a press with someone or participating in group critiques. That wasn’t the case with more isolating practices like painting. Even though I now identify as a painter, my time in printmaking felt more collective, and that sense of community was something I really valued during my time in school.
Simeen: As a curator now, What are the values you bring into the culture you’re creating, both within the institution and beyond?
Kristan: Yeah, absolutely. The first thing I’d say is that I’m a curator without an MFA, and without a formal background in art history. I do have some background in social history ( which was my minor in college) , and now I teach in a graduate program, but when I first started, it was really about being an artist who knew how to work with other artists. My mentors, Kristy Edmunds and Victoria Frey, who founded PICA, were the ones who helped me understand that curating is about care. They reminded me that the word “curate” comes from the Latin word “curare,” meaning to care for. Historically, curators were people who worked in institutions like mental hospitals or zoos, caring for people or animals. So, they said to me, “Your job is to care for the artist, first and foremost—their well-being, their ideas, and helping them figure out what comes next.”
This philosophy really resonated with me, as it aligns with my values around relational practices. Even though I had to learn a lot on the job—like how to install a show—I’ve always been comfortable in relationships, asking questions, and bringing curiosity into institutional spaces. I came from a generation and art-making moment that was deeply influenced by identity politics, political work, and movements like those surrounding the AIDS crisis, Reagan’s policies, and other forms of oppression and fascism. That kind of work was very direct, sometimes didactic, and often took place in the public realm.
As practice has evolved, my interests have shifted, but I’ve always carried that questioning of systems and authority with me. That’s a big part of what I bring into my work at PICA—asking myself what kind of institution we are and what we’re doing. There are things we just can’t avoid, like being part of a capitalist system, operating within a nonprofit structure, and grappling with the effects of whiteness. When I started, we didn’t really have the language to articulate these things, but the questions were always present. I’m really fortunate to have had the mentors I did and to work with the artists I do.
Simeen: How has your experience been working with other artists and curating their work with this understanding?
Kristan: One of the key lessons I learnt was that, despite the common belief that curators are somehow “above” the artists, the value at PICA was that curators were on the same level as the artists—or sometimes even below. The core idea that was instilled in me was: follow the artist’s lead. This fundamentally shifts the role of the curator away from a top-down approach. It was really helpful to learn while in that environment. So, curating is like a mentor role for me here. It’s also about truly understanding what the artist is trying to express and where they might not be seen or understood. A good example of this is the show I did with the artist Storm Tharp, who currently has an exhibition at PDX Contemporary Art. A monograph of their work was just published—it’s an incredible catalog that took five years to complete.
When Storm and I worked together, they were facing a challenge in their practice. Storm has an incredibly diverse approach to art—they’re a talented draftsman, capable of rendering incredibly detailed garments and facial features. But they also have an interest in a variety of mediums, from making clothes to creating more abstract paintings, sculptures, and videos. This diversity in practice presented a challenge for their gallerist, who was very supportive but found it difficult to define who Storm was as an artist to collectors. To some, it seemed like seven different artists were involved in the work.
But to me, it was clear: this was all made by the same person. It was about ideas, color, and form. So when Storm and I discussed the possibility of having a show, I wanted to approach it from that perspective. I didn’t want to narrow the focus to just one aspect of their work, like the drawings, because that’s what was most commercially viable. Instead, we created a show called High House that was a more expansive representation of Storm’s practice. We moved a lot of their studio into the gallery—pedestals, plants, paint jars, and other materials—blurring the line between studio and gallery space. It also included all the forms of Storm’s work.
The exhibition was an installation that gave visitors an immersive experience of Storm’s creative world—essentially, an inside look at their mind.
Simeen: This sounds so exciting! I also just started working as a curator at Littman and White, a student-run exhibition space at Portland State. Lately, I’ve been really interested in learning and engagement in a gallery setting. A lot of times, when you go to a museum or an art show, it’s unclear what’s going on. Do you have any concerns about that when curating a show, or hosting something in this space? How do you make sure that the average person can be a part of the experience?
Kristan: Yeah, that position is always shifting depending on the project. But I’d say I try not to underestimate the audience. I’m not a fan of shows that are overly didactic. What I really hope for is to create an experience with the artist, the crew, and the entire team here that engages curiosity. This word—curiosity—is really important, it’s a core value for me. I hear it a lot here, like when we talk about who PICA is for, the answer is: curious people. That doesn’t just mean artists or people who “get” art—it’s for anyone who’s interested in things that are compelling or challenging.
Now, making a show that’s not heavily didactic can sometimes feel exclusionary, right? Because you’re not handing people a bunch of information as soon as they walk in the door. You’re not guiding them through the experience step by step. But my desire is to create an environment where people can walk in, observe, and be curious. What makes someone comfortable enough to walk through the door is a whole different question, though, and that’s what a lot of audience engagement programs are working to address.
I absolutely think about accessibility. Over the years, I’ve created more or fewer access points depending on the show, but it’s still something I’m always considering. For example, earlier this year, we had an exhibit called Policing Justice, which focused on police brutality and activism. The exhibit featured multiple artists. You might assume that a show like this would need context or explanation for visitors to understand the works, especially since much of the content was really challenging and could be triggering. There were discussions about whether we should write a statement explaining what people were going to see. But the artists were very clear—they didn’t want a statement on the wall. They said, “Nothing happening here isn’t already happening in the world.”
And that brings me back to the conversation around engagement. Nothing in an art exhibit happens in isolation from the world. Art just takes a different form and uses different materials.
I do think we want to get people in to see the work, especially those who might not have encountered these issues before, and that may require more development and understanding of the work. But for the most part, I believe that people already have the capacity for this kind of imagination and understanding. It’s about providing the space for them to connect with it in their own way.
Simeen: That’s really interesting. I have one last question. Since you mentioned that you grew up going to a lot of museums, dDo you have a favourite? And if you were to work in that museum, what event would you want to host?
Kristan: I may never work in a museum and to be honest Museum’s and the work of upholding the colonial project that most museums are is not interesting to me. PICA is not a museum. We’re intentionally a non-collecting institution. We don’t preserve; we work with living artists in the moment they’re making. If I had to pick someplace… I have always been inspired by Marsha Tucker, who founded the New Museum and I wish I could go back in time and work for her in that time and place…
As for an event, it’s very similar to what you experienced today. I think it’s essential that everyone in art spaces, regardless of their position, feels acknowledged as an important contributor to the work. That’s a tough system to break down, but I’d absolutely initiate a family meal or something centered around food. I cook for my crew, staff, and artists at PICA because it’s something I love, it calms me, and it allows for connection in a different way. Bringing food into a space that is often cold and about preservation can break down barriers between people. This isn’t a new idea, but I think it’s essential. My dream job in a museum would be to have an open kitchen, and as a curator, I’d just work in that kitchen where people could come in, talk to me, and share a meal. What we’re doing here with food is really about hospitality, and I think that kind of warmth inside an institution is so important. Not just through the education department, but from the top down. I want to see every director in every art space making someone a sandwich.
Kristan Kennedy is an artist, curator, educator and arts administrator. Kennedy is co-artistic director and curator of visual art at the Portland Institute for Contemporary Art (PICA). She is based in Portland, Oregon, and has exhibited internationally, working with various media including sculpture and painting.
Simeen Anjum is an artist and curator based in Portland, Oregon. She is currently interested in exploring the possibilities of education and learning within art spaces. As a curator, she works with artists to create shows that are engaging, inclusive, and provide space for people to connect with artists about their larger practices, thoughts, and processes, rather than just viewing art as objects. As an artist, she imagines alternative modes of existence and belonging in public spaces, which often take the form of singing groups, building a nap room in a mall, hosting a sky-watching party, among many other things.