BmoreArt

Name: Liz Faust

Number of Exhibitions Curated/Installed to Date: 93 (and counting)

First Exhibit Curated: Solo exhibition of Evan Summers, a printmaker out of Kutztown, PA, which featured his drawings, collages, collagraphs, and lithographs. 

Curatorial Philosophy: Curating involves the intentional acts of inclusion and exclusion, and this practice examines how exclusion has occurred historically, subconsciously, socially, and psychologically. With a focus on connecting art and audience, it requires a deep understanding of human behavior and the justifications people have historically used to shape their perceptions.

Favorite Color: Dark green 

How did you start down the path of a curator and gallerist—was there an a-ha moment, or was it something you always knew you wanted to do? 

 Ever since I knew how to talk, I somehow had the idea in my head that I wanted to work in a museum. I vividly remember one of those career fairs in elementary school where the teacher called us up in front of the class and asked us what we wanted to be when we grew up. I said boldly, “I want to be a curator.” 

The teacher thought I made up the word and patted my head with a “there, there.” 

You mentioned that you wanted to work in a museum. It’s not a huge leap to galleries and contemporary curation, but it is a shift. How did you end up working with contemporary arts? 

I teetered between being an historian and an art historian until I completed an internship at the Smithsonian American History Museum. It was there that I realized I couldn’t have history without art. My time there confirmed that while I am an art historian, I also wanted to work with the art of here and now. 

I went and studied under George Ciscle in his last year as Director of the Curatorial Practice Program at MICA. It was there, and also under Jose Ruiz, who took over the program afterwards, that I rounded out and expanded my skills of working with contemporary artists but also with a focus on education and community. 

I started making exhibitions in grad school but continued to do so afterwards. Thankfully, my post-grad-school boss (a barista job at Dooby’s in Mount Vernon) allowed me to install and curate shows in the restaurant.  

It was at that time I was reaching out to professional artists, some of whom I still work with today, and said “Hey, I can’t offer a stipend or even sales, but I can offer you photographs of your work installed and an opening reception.” Looking back at that now still makes me cringe but sometimes that is what you have to do to make a show happen. 

Walk me through a normal day in the life of Liz as gallerist and curator? What are some of the varied tasks you handle on a daily basis as a gallerist?  

Every day, week, month, and moment is different and varied which is both invigorating and challenging. I think my teaching schedule is the most rigorous part of my week. But depending on the time of the year and what projects I’m working on, a day could look like the following: I normally wake up between 7 – 9 AM. After some breakfast, I go through my emails, prepare for my day and then either head to a Zoom room, a classroom, or an in-person meeting. Afterwards, I normally grab some food and then back into a meeting or head home to work on my projects. 

Normally then there is dinner, and then back to work some more. I’m in bed between midnight and 2 AM. Rinse and repeat with a lot of variation. 

Some days however, I’m traveling to go install a show, visit a studio, or attend an art fair. With this schedule it is hard to make it out to opening receptions which is why I try to get a lot of studio visits in, but I keep an eye on who is showing where. 

In your experience, what does it take to bring an exhibition from concept to reality? Can you describe the behind-the-scenes efforts that go into making things happen? 

I will start off by saying a phrase I think my students are tired of hearing; it depends. Each show has different needs, but it generally follows this path: 

Concept -> Research -> Artists -> Budget -> Space restrictions -> Reality smacking you in the face -> Install – > Opening -> Documentation -> Deinstall -> Post-production. 

In this timeline, anything can happen and, oh, does it happen. Since I’m working with the art of the here and now, I don’t get the luxury of time that a museum show would typically get. Sometimes a majority of this process takes place in a week. 

I think the shortest turn-around time was when an artist had a solo show and dropped out the week before. I called up three other artists making similar works, and they agreed to bring their work in. We reprinted the vinyl, took down our social media posts, and did a complete 180 in two days. 

Can you share a memorable “it’s always something” story where things went wrong, and how you managed to turn it around? 

It is always something. And oh, I have many a story to tell. From art arriving shattered, arriving at a massively different size (was told 8×10 inches—it was 8×10 feet), artists changing their mind about a show, a show being canceled at the last minute by higher ups, walls falling down, etc. 

I remember we notified the landlord for months that there was a leaking pipe in one of the walls as the floorboards were very soft even after we replaced them. He sent someone in to cut open the wall and fix the pipe (in the gallery space) during our opening reception. There was dust everywhere and it was a mess. The plumber then took a mop and mopped up all the dust which just pushed it all into the floor which went from dark gray to a streaky white. We had to repaint the floor afterward because we couldn’t get it clean again.  

In that case, there wasn’t much we could do besides shifting everyone to the front of the gallery and pretend it wasn’t happening. 

How do you see your role as a gallerist contributing to the art community in Baltimore? What makes the city’s art scene unique, and how do you help to strengthen and connect it? 

Baltimore has a rich diversity of styles, philosophies, and types of art and artists. No one here can ever be told that they are not an artist or that they don’t make art. It’s not even a part of the local vernacular to ask the question: what is art? We’ve moved beyond that. You say you’re an artist and you are one. There are no restrictions on who and what can be art. 

Because of this, I’ve had a lot of artists who had their 1st show with me (when they were older), then went on to art school, and continued on to an art career. Or artists who haven’t shown in years or sometimes decades. But with such saturations, comes fragmentation and segregation. Baltimore as a whole has a lot of divisions, something that is also reflected in the art community here. 

As a curator, I’m interested in bridging divides—something I have the skill, experience, and privilege to do. A lot of my shows pair artists who’ve never shown together or whose identities may have historically divided them. I am interested in not just the art but the artists themselves as well. 

How do you support and nurture artists in your gallery? Can you share an example of a particularly successful collaboration that had a significant impact?  

I meet with my artists and ask them what they need and want. Some of them need me to add pressure—set deadlines, hold them accountable—others just need a casual chat here or there—still others need help with specific projects or to carry some really heavy stuff. 

I think a really successful collaboration example would be a specific artist who I started working with in my Dooby’s days—Sanzi Kermes. From there, I showed some of her prints and I learned of a series she did with repurposed wedding dresses. After talking for a few years about it with her, one day she told me she wanted the dresses to speak their stories. I suggested why not have sound then? She loved the idea and from there has created this amazing multimedia community project that is growing. I highly recommend you check it out. 

I’ve been able to see these types of changes from casual conversations with artists which is why studio visits are so important to me. I love seeing artists push their work in new directions and love being able to be the sounding board for these ideas. 

What advice would you give to artists when approaching a gallerist or curator? 

My advice to artists would be to be respectful when approaching a curator or gallerist that doesn’t owe you their time. However, I like getting portfolios in my inbox with an artist statement attached. I would not suggest lugging everything into the gallery and forcing them to look at everything, especially if they’re alone. It makes it feel unsafe when that happens. Just say, “Hey, I like your work, and I think my work fits in with your mission. Please find a pdf attached with my portfolio, artist statement, website. Thank you for your time.” Then drop the line, “I am also available for a studio visit if you would like.” 

I would also suggest that you don’t follow up. I know this seems counter intuitive, but I keep all the portfolios sent to me and I reference them every now and then. 

One time, it took three years to find a space and a show that fit a particular artist. I have them and I keep them. Be open and honest, but don’t expect anything to happen just because someone listens. Let it cook. 

What advice would you give to young, aspiring curators? What are some key lessons you’ve learned along the way? 

From personal experience? Always, always measure and re-measure everything. The walls, the art, the hang. The artists may provide you with the measurements and you may have a floorplan of the space but half the measurements will be off by an eighth to sometimes a whole inch. Which may seem small, but it makes a world of difference. 

Something always happens. Out of my 93 exhibitions, something has always gone wrong, or an obstacle emerged. After my 40th exhibition, which I think was the show at Baltimore City Hall (Flightless Cranes | Tobenai Tsuru—sponsored by the Baltimore Kawasaki Sister City Committee), I just had to make peace with that. 

My main advice would be to keep doing it. Don’t wait for a dream venue, a dream artist, the perfect time, or perfect budget. If you don’t know where to start, start by making friends with artists; hang out with them, go to their studios, talk about art. 

After you’ve made a community, start curating their work in your apartment, in a restaurant, in a park—wherever you can find a space. And then document it. Always document it, no matter the trials or tribulations that occurred to get you there. 

Communicate clearly and ask if you don’t understand something. The main thing about this field is managing expectations—yours included. Curators are depicted as glamorous and chic—which we are in the opening receptions—but we’re all tired, overworked, and sometimes have to clean human waste from the entrance of our gallery. 

I always tell my students that they don’t have to be as productive as me since art is my whole life and fills my entire day—not everyone can or wants to do this. No matter how long you work on a show, it won’t be perfect.  

So, in the words of Shia Labeouf, “Just do it!” 

What project or topic, initiative, or dream would you love to accomplish in your career? 

 My top goal is to be a curator at the Venice Biennial. 

Outside of this, I also am working on texts to help center and develop the curatorial field. I’ve taught my Introduction to Curatorial Studies course a lot of times at different schools. What I’ve realized is that there are loads of specialized texts and deep dives on certain curatorial realms, techniques, and interests, but almost no beginner materials. I plan to make a textbook that covers the basics: history, theory, and ethics of curating. 

The way I teach it is centered around one idea; that the act of curating is about inclusion and exclusion. My pedagogy focuses on the why and how exclusion happens consciously and subconsciously. To me, exclusion is vital and it’s important to know why. My dream is to have a generation of curators addressing this issue which is also why I teach it. 

Current and upcoming exhibitions curated by Liz Faust:

Rooted Shadows, a convergence of six Asian and Asian American artists, whose works interrogate the complex interplay between identity, place, and the self. Artists—Riya Devi-Ashby, Lucia Shuyu Li, Bao Nguyen, Azumi O E, Setsuhi Shiraishi, and Ni Xin. 
November 14th – January 30th at Rosenberg Gallery, Goucher College.

Unraveling Narrative: A Dialogue in Toile, brings together Kate Norris and Jennifer McBrien in an exploration of identity, environmentalism, and femininity through the reimagined motif of toile. 
December 6, 2024 – January 12, 2025, Gallery B, Bethesda 

Soil to Skin, a collaboration with Goucher College Art Galleries and Pellis /\ Terra, unveils a powerful synthesis of art, science, and community dialogue to address the legacies of land use, pollution, climate change, and environmental justice.
February 13 – March 28, 2025 with an opening reception on February 13, 6-8 PM. Silber Gallery, Goucher College.