Brian Nigus majored in Sculpture in college, has explored a variety of media and has found his artistic voice as a curator. He celebrates artists through crafting exhibits for the Pacific Northwest Quilt and Fiber Arts Museum in La Conner, Washington.
You are curator for the Pacific Northwest Quilt and Fiber Arts Museum in La Conner, Washington. How did you get started curating art? Why do you do it?
I went to an art college and majored in Sculpture. I enjoyed most of my time, but I ended up with a major case of making work for the assignment. I never developed a mindset to be an artist who could only quench their thirst by making art for themselves. I needed the classroom. I needed assignments. I needed approval. External reasons rather than internal ones. I didn’t really know why I was making work, except to express very specific ideas or stories. I never had a flowing body of work, just responsive gestures. From dancing in the streets in a cardboard costume in the Netherlands, a walking painting performance in China, Bronze Pizzas and other junk food, trading pennies at a market in Papua New Guinea, memorial-like sculpture installations, a cross-country sight-seeing meditation trailer and collaged paintings through moldmaking.
Anyways, art school did provide me with a critical lens, art history and theory, a drive to collaborate on projects and a love for art. This is where curating seemed to really fit the bill. My senior year of college we had a Professional Practice course where we had to emulate some “professional” activity. My friends and I decided to investigate what it took to curate an exhibit, publicize the event and work with artists who were not our peers. There was an anarchist book store in Minneapolis that had been available to rent, but was completely dilapidated. We talked to the owner and worked out a deal to clean up the space and use it for a 1-night art exhibition. He agreed. We cleaned the space, painted the walls white and the floor grey, and installed a large body of work under the title “Pop Saw The Need,” a title we discovered by an artist who generated joke exhibition titles. It also felt appropriate in our high regard for Joseph Beuys at the time, one of the patriarchs, or “pops,” of contemporary art, an artist who developed Performance Art, or “Kunst Aktionen,” combined with our ironic reflections on art education and serious inquiry of community. Our post cards for the show even included an image of Joseph Beuys speaking on a microphone with the caption “Yo momma is so fat,” a nod to dumb humor and Beuy’s signature use of fat as a material in his artworks.
One of my favorite pieces we exhibited was by artist Anouchka Oler, who exhibited her submission for a public art proposal in the Netherlands. She had done an analysis of every country’s major public artwork, creating contour drawings of each one, and then made a composite, averaging them together to what eventually became the outline of a blob. This blob represented the best our world could deliver in terms of public art, representing every country on earth, and symbolic of world peace. She had presented the same materials to the Netherlands’ chamber of public artworks. It was a good, serious laugh.
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The anarchist book store continued to be a space for several more exhibitions, under different artist group directions.
I eventually moved to Wisconsin to work at the Milwaukee Institute of Art and Design, managing their Sculpture workshop and teaching. Outside of the college, I worked with my friend Maura Doyle to renovate a space inside of a shoe factory. It became a live-work space with a small wood shop, living quarters for 3 people and a gallery in the front. The gallery supported emerging artists, hence the gallery’s name, “Present Works.” We hosted 12 exhibitions, an artist in residency program, and a fundraising event that paid for the whole year. It was quite the experience, and at this point, curating was very much a stand-in for my “art practice.”
When I see amazing artists, I want others to see them too. I’m sure that’s how it feels being behind the wheel of Create Whimsy, that you want to share the people you love, and that’s how I view curating.
That’s also probably why I enjoyed teaching, because I enjoyed the chaos of working with students from project to project and helping to develop individuals. My art practice became part demonstration, creating projects that students could learn from in real time, and part curatorial, working with emerging artists to provide them space and platforms to exhibit their work.
When I moved to rural, western Washington in 2016, I didn’t think I’d be back with another art institution. I kept making artworks for myself, doing paintings and ceramics, but in 2023, found the curator position at the Pacific Northwest Quilt and Fiber Arts Museum and applied. I interviewed twice with the Executive Director, once with the staff, and once with the Board of Directors. It impressed upon me the seriousness of the position and the importance of finding the right fit for their small team. We discussed my views on Quilts and Fiber Arts, especially since I’m not a quilter or fiber artist myself. I discussed Tracey Emin, the Quilt Show at the Whitney, sculptors I knew working with textiles, but also my mother who is the long-arm quilter for her guild back in Kansas. My interests were contemporary, with an acknowledgement to historic traditions that are the foundation for contemporary artists to speak from. I’m sure I went off on a lot of tangents, but I remember my Executive Director saying “So, you think all this stuff is art… GOOD.” I knew we were on the same page. We’ve had a lot of great conversations since then.
When was the first time that you remember realizing that you are a creative person?
Taking myself seriously as a creative person happened my senior year of high school when I dropped out of every math and science class to enroll in every art course I could. I created a portfolio of ceramics works and I probably scared the students that had been in the art department all 4 years. Who is this guy? I was desperate to make a body of work that could get me into art school. I was in the ceramics room from when the teacher arrived, to when they left. It was my home away from home, and I made friends who I still talk with today (one of whom is also a Museum professional).
The first time I remember “curating” was a small project I did my freshman year of college. I had seen a QVC shopping episode where they were selling REAL, Monet, Water Lilies paintings. Of course, it was not a real Monet. They were printed canvases and someone had painted strokes over the painting to emulate a painted texture. I couldn’t stop watching the presenters exclaim how these were REAL paintings! So, I recorded the TV with my phone camera. I then went through the painting studios of my college and found an artist who I thought made REAL paintings. I asked them if I could project my video onto their artwork for a class critique. They agreed. So, I projected this video of QVC hosts selling fake Monet paintings, exclaiming their REAL-ness, over the top of an actual painting by a real, living artist. Something about capitalism, the art market, home shopping and the idea of being real and honest. Truthiness was a word that would become big a few years later. At any rate, I remember that being the first time someone telling me I curated someone else’s work. I’m sure it grew from there, seeing connections and possibilities in building relationships between artworks, people, institutions, etc.
You’ve traveled the world and studied a variety of mediums. How has that influenced your life?
The biggest thing I developed through travel was empathy. Maybe this is obvious, but the stereotypes we see and hear just aren’t true. I learned this not only by visiting other countries, but by spending significant time living with various communities abroad. People are not the embodiment of their country’s politics, the movies we watch, or other Americanized versions we consume.
I have been very fortunate to travel in very unique ways. My first trip abroad was to Jamaica to volunteer and hand-dig a giant 20’ by 20’ hole for a community septic tank. I mean, that wasn’t the ONLY reason we were there, but I did spend 2 weeks digging a hole with 2 white guys and 5 Jamaicans. They really needed that septic tank and we sure had fun!
My sophomore year of college, I had a good chunk of student loan money left over. I spent the winter holiday in Italy with a friend who had been an international student my freshman year. He was a graphic designer in Florence. We got to be in a television commercial and wear fake mustaches. Otherwise, I spent my days walking through Florence while he was at work, and playing Soccer with him in the evenings.
I studied abroad in Ireland at the Burren College of Art in their studio art program. I spent my days hiking, and our friends won a donkey at the local St. Patrick’s day parade. I had an amazing mentor at the time, Kinji Akagawa, who shaped my view on allowing others to affect me, and the cyclical nature of reflection and growth. I created a time-capsule table that still exists for guests of the college, and will be opened in 2034.
When I booked my airline ticket for studying abroad in Ireland, I booked the return flight for 6 months after my studies had ended. I thought I would backpack through Europe, but that didn’t really work out. I only had a few hundred dollars, so I took an apprenticeship with a celebrity artist in the Netherlands. His name was Joep (pronounced Yoop) Van Lieshout, and his studio was called “Atelier Van Lieshout.” I found an apartment for $300 a month and booked it. When I arrived from Ireland, the apartment and the $300 in my account no longer existed. I had been scammed. Joep’s atelier was nice enough to let me sleep in a shipping container at his studio in the harbor. (Looking back… was this the nicest thing?) Anyways, it was of course illegal, and it was NOT the fancy shipping container, home renovation project you may have seen in design magazines. It was in fact, a shipping container that was a pseudo sculpture/hospital unit for one of his larger bodies of work. When immigration police visited, wondering why there was a bed and clothing in one of the studio’s shipping containers, we said that we often had drinks after work, and we didn’t want anyone to risk driving home. The police thought we were very responsible Dutch citizens and they left.
My final two months in Europe were spent in the Alsace region of France, where I volunteered to restore a historic horse-driven Oil Mill with a small group of individuals I had met. In the evenings I taught locals how to harvest clay, make pottery, and build pit fires. We also all took turns learning from locals how to cook traditional Alsace meals.
After college, I was an artist in residence in Beijing, China. I learned how to BBQ with local street vendors. I was given a Chinese name. I created paintings and photographs. I attended language school, and by the end of my trip, was teaching classes in Chinese, though not fluently. In fact, one time I was working with kids who were painting farm animals and I wanted them to paint the grass. So, I said “Hua cao” or “paint the grass,” but with improper intonation, one of those words is actually a curse word. Let’s just say I learned very quickly the nuances of intonation and all the parents forgave me. It was a blast, the people were amazing and it was the best food I’ve ever eaten. I still talk to some of the Chinese artists I met.
When I returned to the states, I was invited to be an assistant to Bethany Kalk, one of my college instructors, on her trip to Papua New Guinea where we lived with the tribe that she grew up in. I raised money through Kickstarter and produced a book that documented my travels up to that point. The book is actually a free PDF on my website if you want more of these ramblings. We taught the tribe members how to use cameras and sound equipment to produce their own documentary. It was a wild trip, and I even got a tattoo made from battery acid. I made friendships that will never be forgotten.
Do you currently have a regular art practice? Which mediums do you use in your current work?
Not really. Just erratic responses to moments when I need the outlet. For example, during the Pandemic I needed to do something, so I did a photo series on Instagram. Taking pictures of plants and manipulating them. It became a way to reflect and meditate on current affairs, sharing social justice sites associated with Black Lives Matter, Breonna Taylor, Elijah McClain, George Floyd and more. I didn’t start posting again until I became the Curator at the Museum. I’m not really big on Social Media unless I can use it as a tool to support others.
I hope to get my painting practice back to work, but for now, I’m having fun with my daughters, watching them grow, seeing them engage with creative processes, visiting museums and trying new things with them.
Your first curated exhibit for the Pacific Northwest Quilt and Fiber Museum is now open. What do you expect visitors to gain by visiting?
Shift Change opened on March 6, 2024. It’s exciting and I’m very proud! Though, it’s not the FIRST exhibit I curated for the Museum, as I’ve been here since February 2023, but it is the first exhibition to introduce my personal interests as a curator more broadly, and to acknowledge the shift that is taking place at the Museum with a new curator. The joke leading up to the exhibit (for me) was that I hoped I would still get to have my job. That is, I was new to the Museum when I started planning the exhibit, the artists were all new to the museum, and some of the themes and content were also new. I wasn’t able to present every artist to the Museum team, so it was a bit of a trust fall exercise. That being said, I had gotten to know the Museum’s community over the past year, finding where our interests intersected, and took that into consideration when curating the artworks. I also made sure our audience members would be able to access the immense successes that these artists have all earned, by creating artist bios for each exhibitor. This was a 2-fold strategy. First, in case I needed to defend my choices, I could point to the fact that other major institutions have celebrated these artists, so why can’t we? But even more so, I feel like audiences are forced to take for granted the curator’s choices, so I wanted to be as transparent and persuasive as possible.
What should visitors expect to gain? I’ve been saying two things. One is, “Here’s what’s to come at our Museum!” That is, several of the artists have solo shows coming to the Museum, and the second takeaway is, our Museum is a platform for ALL types of quilt and fiber artists.
Lastly, if you’ve never been to La Conner before, you’ll simply gain a new favorite place to visit. It’s an amazing gem of a town with so much to do!
What are the important elements in curating an exhibit of fiber and textile arts?
I am reading this as a very technical question. Like I’m a parent going to my kid’s school for career day. So this answer may not be that exciting or revealing.
Having a clear vision of what the exhibition is trying to communicate is key. Sometimes this vision happens right away, or presents itself during research. Maybe you could use the word theme, but that word feels very surface level to me. What do we want the audience to think about? What is the concept? If it’s a solo exhibit, how does that artist fit into our contemporary conversation of quilt and fiber arts, why does our Museum care and why should our audience care? I need to be able to answer those questions. Maybe too, the artist has a specific message they are trying to convey through their work. In a group exhibit, the question becomes, “how do these artists and artworks come together for something larger than themselves,” and then balancing all of the parts (the artists) in relation to the exhibit’s sum (the exhibition title, manifesto, etc.). I really want artists to shine no matter what. As much as I appreciate a good group message, the artists are the ones laying the foundation for that message, so there needs to be a sense that the audience can still engage artists’ works on a singular level, as well as within the group context.
Research and knowing your artists and their artworks is probably the next highest priority. When it comes to the exhibit being on display, I am the conduit for the audience. I need to be able to defend the artists, share their stories, and be sure of myself in how I’m communicating their works. So it starts there, because you really want to be intentional with everything you do as a curator. Your choices affect the artists and they are putting their trust in you.
Those are the two big ones. I think there’s plenty of room in the world for all kinds of exhibits and all kinds of artists, so if you can check those two boxes above, you’d have a good reason to curate or propose an exhibit, you just need to find the right platform, or create your own.
What was the biggest challenge that you encountered on your creative journey? What did you learn from it?
I have yet to learn anything valuable from having student loans.
If you could interview a creative person (past or present), who would that person be? What is it about that person that intrigues you?
I would have loved to meet Ana Mendieta. Her work is undeniably important to Contemporary Artists. Her journey to America from Cuba. Her time in refugee camps. Her rise in the art scenes of New York and Rome. Her premature death. I would just want to hear her tell her own story. There’s been so much said by others.
What is the biggest challenge to being successful in a creative field?
First, being true to yourself. This is something I strive for, and the Shift Change exhibition exemplifies my true self. I feel comfortable at the Museum, but in the past, I know I’ve had to contort and learn to be the best version of the person a boss wanted me to be. It was a recipe for burnout. When you’re an employee of an organization, this feeling is a blessing.
Two, not comparing yourself and your levels of success to others. Stay in your lane, keep moving forward. Recognize others’ successes, but don’t let it dampen your confidence. We all have our own stories we’re building.
Three, surrounding yourself with others who support you, and LETTING them support you. The artists I know who are successful have surrounded themselves with a community of support. It can be very direct, planned support in the sense of hiring a grant writer, or artist manager, to organizing an informal community critique night that fosters continued conversation.
How have other people supported or inspired you?
My wife supports our family big time and is the bread winner for myself and our two daughters. She is the reason I can be a curator.
My daughters support me with their hugs and smiles, and every time my toddler yells “Daddy Daddy!” when I get home, it fills me with joy.
My Executive Director this first year at the Museum has been very “hands-off” and open to letting me do my thing. It’s the first time I’ve had a boss like her, and it’s an energy I hope I can have some day, allowing others to grow into being themselves while still being a mentor.
I also have an amazing Preparator that I get to work with 3 days a week. I rely on her for her knowledge of textiles and we both share the same high standards and level of scrutiny when installing shows. It’s great to be on the same page with your right-hand person at work!
Our Museum is a very small team so I would be remiss to not mention our Gift Shop Manager who has helped me get to know all of our volunteers, and been encouraging when I needed a pep-talk to reach out to all-star artists. Yes, I still get nervous when reaching out to people I admire!
All that’s to say, I’m surrounded by amazing women at home and at work!
What advice would you give to emerging artists and curators?
Go to as many art openings and exhibitions as possible! Find the free shows. Go to them. Look at art. Say hi to people at art openings. Meet the volunteers, the interns, the curators, the directors etc. Surround your free time with art happenings!
Next, be intentional in setting aside time to create and be with your work. This is the best way to grow and get to know your work and its effect on you.
Don’t be afraid to share your work with curators. We aren’t aware of everything happening, and speaking for myself and our small Museum, I’m always willing to read through someone’s proposal to see if it could be a good fit for our space.
Adding onto that, don’t be afraid to make your own opportunities. I loved building DIY gallery spaces and hosting events on my own terms with my friends. It was freeing, to define my own successes, without the governance of institutions. I’ve seen amazing backyard exhibitions, and artists who curate the front windows of their house, inviting artists to hang their work like a small gallery. Don’t wait for people to allow you to do what you want!
For curators, in addition to going to openings and seeing exhibitions, I would suggest reading as much art criticism and essays on art as possible, especially in the field you are pursuing. This not only bolsters your own opinions, but when you disagree, it can either introduce new ideas or galvanize your stance further. Being able to verbalize and express the connections you see amidst artists, their works and the culture at large is indispensable, and at a certain point, when you feel confident, you should start writing your own articles to connect art and culture. Prove to the world why the artworks you love are worth celebrating!
Finally, this comes from art critic Jerry Saltz, “Criticizing and attacking someone else does not define who they are. It defines you. (…) When I critique, I am essentially revealing my self.”
This felt like an uplifting message to keep in mind in regards to the subjectivity of art and the path to finding one’s audience. Art is undefinable in its exhibited state. Artworks are mirrors for individuals, vessels of image, color and connotation, personal experiences that the artist had no intention of ever bringing to the work, but can be uncovered by an audience member who felt something. The artwork’s meaning and value molds and changes to the varying souls who see it.
So, that’s just to say, don’t get down on yourself with negative criticism, it doesn’t define you, it defines the critic. If you happen to be a curator, this quote can be a good reminder to reflect on your own values when you choose to say no to something you don’t like, how that choice defines you, your institution, the community you represent, and whether or not it’s necessary to make programmatic change.
I know Jerry Saltz wrote this in a specific context for a specific person, but I find it worth reflecting on.
What do you hope the next year will bring?
My Executive Director is retiring and our Museum is looking for a new Executive Director. I know we’ll find a good fit!
In terms of exhibits, I’m looking forward to the 16th Quilt Nihon from the Japan Handicraft Instructor’s Association, a two-person exhibit of silk paintings and weavings from Melissa Paré and Audrey Ducas, local artist Julie Sevilla Drake will be having a solo exhibit of her quilts, and Kendall Ross (aka @id.knit.that on Instagram) will be having a major showing of her knitted artworks! We will also have an exhibition of Judy Niemeyer originals. Judy’s kits are sold all over the world. They are ENORMOUS and will be amazing to see in person. A special tribute to her.
Lastly, our open call for the 17th Annual International Quilt & Fiber Arts Festival will be opening April 1! It’s an exciting event that we work on year-round.
Where can people see your work and the Museum?
My personal artwork can be found at www.briannigus.com
My Instagram, which shows highlights of my curatorial work, is @plants_by_brian
The Fiber Art Now Article on the Shift Change Exhibit is at: https://www.fiberartnow.net/blog/shift-change/
The archive of Present Works gallery can be found at: https://cargocollective.com/presentworks
The website for the Pacific Northwest Quilt & Fiber Arts Museum is: www.qfamuseum.org
The Museum’s Instagram is @qfamuseum
Interview posted March 2024