MARIE-EVE LAFONTAINE

Interview Isabelle Benoit Portrait Anna Tomczynska
Photos Arsenal Contemporary New York

Early morning in Manhattan, sipping a well-needed black coffee at the Sister City hotel on Bowery—a home away from home—, a block from Arsenal Contemporary New York. I’m reviewing and reflecting on Laura Findlay’s essay on grief, as the Canadian-American curator Marie-Eve Lafontaine enters the lobby, composed, ethereal, and smiling. We instantly connect and engage in a heart-to-heart conversation on the (challenging) reality of women working in contemporary art, on motherhood, on differences between Montreal and New York when it comes to the art scene and how to, you know, manage the legendary fear of missing out which is the proper of most art professionals (without making any sweeping generalizations). 

IB: I’ve been following you for a little while (your name popped up a lot in the art scene in the last years)—you have quite an impressive background, having worked as a curator in multiple cities around the world, worked on Louise Bourgeois’ "The Empty House" exhibition in Berlin where you collaborated with Bourgeois’ long-time friend Jerry Gorovoy...

MEL: Someone recently created a fake Instagram account in my name—as one of my friends says, I’m instafamous now [laughs]. Its true that I’ve been traveling a lot. I’ve been working on multiple projects over the last years.


IB: There is a well-known disease in the art world—the fear of missing out. How do you deal with it?

MEL: Actually, there’s no way to deal with it. Constant regret! [laughs] But it's okay. There are so many things to do. You have to select wisely.

IB: Maybe I should learn from you [laughs]. So, you just arrived in New York?

MEL: Yes, I was in Canada for one year and in Berlin before that, then in Poland and Berlin again. I was kind of jumping around. I've only been here [in New York] for three weeks.

I’ve been really lucky, I found an apartment on the Upper East Side just one block from Central Park. I couldn’t believe it—I originally wanted to live here in the West Village, but it's actually one of the most expensive districts in Manhattan. So I can't afford to live in the West Village, but I can afford to be on the Upper East Side [laughs]. I would have never guessed.

IB: Where did you prefer to work and live?

« Berlin is my favorite city. There’s just so much freedom there—you can be anyone you want there and do whatever you like. Nobody’s judging. It’s not about consumption—nobody cares what sort of car you drive or what kind of apartment you live in. »

MEL: Berlin is my favorite city. There's just so much freedom there—you can be anyone you want there and do whatever you like. Nobody's judging. It's not about consumption—nobody cares what sort of car you drive or what kind of apartment you live in.

IB: It’s not normative.

MEL: Not at all. And if you want to, you can go out on a Friday and don't have to go back home until Monday morning because the clubs don't close [laughs]. There's no curfew or anything like that. It's very hedonistic. Of course, most people don't do that [laughs]—and, obviously, things change when you have a kid.

IB: Do you miss Canada?

MEL: I do. I really do. The thing I love about Canada is that it's just less intense. People are way friendlier somehow. How do I put it? – they are quicker to recognize the humanity of the person that's talking to them.

IB: Speaking of which: what's the difference between the art scene in New York and in Canada?

MEL: In New York, without a doubt, it's much more commercial. You have all the mega galleries here, like the ones up in Chelsea. And obviously you have one of the largest concentrations of wealth in the world. So it's kind of normal that the entire art market revolves around that.

Because the art market isn't as strong in Canada, there's more room for experimentation and voices that might otherwise be drowned out in the gallery system—especially indigenous artists.

IB: Do you think the artists are also different in Canada than New York?

MEL: I think they are different, yes. My impression is that artists in New York are scrappier... that’s not exactly the word that I'm looking for [laughs]. They're hungrier and more aggressive—they’re more like entrepreneurs I would say. If you meet an artist here, especially a successful one, they're immediately like: "Hey, this is what I do. Take my card. Let’s talk, maybe we can do a collaboration. I have this event, you should come. It's gonna be great." Everything's very upfront.

In Canada, the artists are a little softer, but being an artist is also more of a lifestyle. They’re not drawing their entire identity solely from the fact that they’re an artist and they have to sell themselves. A lot of them are also baristas, waitresses or studio managers.

« In Canada, the artists are a little softer, but being an artist is also more of a lifestyle. They’re not drawing their entire identity solely from the fact that they’re an artist and they have to sell themselves.  »

If you are juggling a lot of different plates you have to be quick on your feet. You’re forced to try out different ideas and different styles. And it’s a good thing. Artists need to explore. I feel when artists become successful at a very early stage in their career or are selling their work for large amounts of money in their 20’s, it changes a lot. There are, of course, a lot of larger forces at play, like the economics of art, the art market, etc.—especially in New York, where you have these very big auction houses. All of these factors have an influence on an artist's career. More often than not the ‘make or break’ moment is purely a product of chance. It's very difficult.

IB: Do you see the incarnation of the myth of the struggling artist a lot here in New York?

MEL: I don't think it's a myth. I think it's true. Most of the artists I know are struggling, but that depends on how you define struggling... well living, you know? I would say it's much more difficult in New York than in any other city just because the prices here for everything are so much higher. It's almost impossible to find an apartment in Manhattan for less than $3,000 per month. It's crazy. Artists here can’t afford to live in Manhattan nor in Brooklyn.

IB: Even in Bushwick?

MEL: No. They keep moving further. I mean, that's how places like Bushwick started. It's how Brooklyn started in the first place, or Chelsea 60 years ago. That's the way gentrification works: as the city gets richer, safer and cleaner, wealthier people start pushing out the original residents of formerly undesirable neighbourhoods.

IB: Unlike Berlin, where there is a long history of cohabitation between artists and non-artists?

MEL: Yes, in Berlin they actually cohabit a little bit more, but Berlin also has strong regulations for that sort of thing.

IB: Do you miss Berlin?

MEL: Oh yes. I also miss it simply because of the way that the arts and artists are funded there. It makes working in a museum much, much easier.

That's probably the biggest difference with Canada. I feel that in Canada the public could definitely do with a lot more art education, but it's also just because they simply haven't been exposed to things like what you would normally encounter in more densely populated countries. It's harder to do edgier exhibitions in Canada than it is here just because the public is used to more conservative styles of art.

IB: It’s true, the art culture in Canada could be really traditional in some regions—in Ottawa versus Toronto or Montreal, for example—even though there are many galleries that are presenting shows and projects that are shaking things up.

MEL: Absolutely. It's more organic. Maybe there's more pressure to conform, but that also makes the people who really go out of their way to do something different stand out. It’s a sort of round-a-bout way to come to prominence. If you look at someone like Geoffrey Farmer, for example,—he represented Canada at the Canadian pavilion at the Venice Biennale some years ago—I think that if he had grown up in New York, his work might not have been noticed as strongly as it was Canada, which has a considerably smaller market. He also took a very different path to art.


IB: Every artist has a different story which is what interests us, at Résidence—the human behind the artist. Is it what motivated you in creating the podcast you launched a couple of years ago?

MEL: It's the story behind the art that interests me. Listening to artists’ tell their stories is captivating. And that's also my favorite part of working with them. When you do research for a show, you are forced to delve deep into the psyche of someone else. That's where everything creative comes from, and we don't get to see the origin story of artworks very often.

« Listening to artists’ tell their stories is captivating. And that’s also my favorite part of working with them. When you do research for a show, you are forced to delve deep into the psyche of someone else. That’s where everything creative comes from, and we don’t get to see the origin story of artworks very often. »

IB: I agree—we don't hear human stories often enough. Do you plan on continuing your podcast?

MEL: Of course. Right now I only have two episodes up because I’ve been so busy. It's an ongoing thing. I started it as a hobby and it’s been a lot of fun.

I think that I'm truly fortunate to be able to say that I really love my job—and it's not just the job, it’s everything around it. If you're in art, it's your whole life: you wake up thinking about art and you fall asleep thinking about it. This project came about because I wanted to find a way to branch out into that and to make art more accessible to non-art people.

To make a long story short I actually started this podcast because of my dad. My father was an Olympic trainer, so he never had a creative background, he was always very into sports. The sort of guy who would yell at hockey players on TV! When I started to go to museums I would drag him with me. I would tell him: "Dad, you have to come and see this great Monet show”. Everything just went over his head [laughs]. He was all "I don't get it. Okay, it looks pretty, but what's the point?" And I would say: "it doesn’t have one. It doesn't serve any practical purpose. It’s just art, you know?". It was hard to communicate that the value of a picture has so much more to do than with just the way it looks.

« You have to show the human behind the art. People are always interested in other people. It’s like a basic biological programming, a very primitive determination. »

Because of experiences like these I am always wondering how I can help people who may not ‘get’ art at first glance. How can I get them interested? The answer is: you have to show them the human behind the art. People are always interested in other people. It's like a basic biological programming, a very primitive determination.


IB: Exactly. Curiosity.

MEL: Yes. And I love making this podcast because I love the people that I talk to.


IB: Art can be intimidating sometimes, which is sad because art is, you know, basically emotions, and almost everyone can relate to emotions. It’s like André Malraux’s quote: "Art is the shortest path from human to human."

MEL: Absolutely. Totally. And I think that's also the biggest problem when it comes to working in a museum or in a gallery. I see that so much more here in New York than anywhere else. There's a wall, a barrier, somehow, and I think it’s because art here is tied so much to money and social class.

If you go into a gallery in Chelsea, there's usually a girl with dark glasses sitting behind the desk. She’s playing a persona. She lifts her eyebrow and she kind of glances at you and she decides—yeah, she definitely decides—whether or not you're worth her time. Usually, you're not [laughs]. And then she goes back to typing and you feel immediately like you made the effort to go through these big, heavy, very intimidating glass doors for nothing. Then you're trying to fight your way through the exhibition text, which can be very difficult to comprehend for an average joe.

This atmosphere it's not something that I want to promote. And it's something that I've also tried to actively fight against.

IB: Is there a room for a new mentality when it comes to arts here in New York?

MEL: Yes. But we have to work to open that door. Culture should not be elitist. For example, at the TRAFO Center for Contemporary Art in Poland where I was before, the museum was located in Stettin (Szczecin), a rundown industrial city port which went into bankruptcy after the fall of the iron curtain. The city took a look around and said "okay, we're a little city in Poland. We're extremely poor. How are we going to revitalize our image? Let's do it through culture." Through European Union funds they were able to renovate an opera house, build a couple of new museums and revitalize their public spaces. TRAFO was built out of an abandoned electrical building on the waterfront. I came into that almost from the beginning of the project, a year after it opened.

« Culture should not be elitist. »

IB: And how did you manage to do it, to get people interested, pick their curiosity, get them to want to connect?

MEL: I asked myself: "how to make a connection between these people who have never seen a contemporary art museum in their lives? How can we get them to come to the exhibitions? How do we get them to feel welcome?". First we connected with a great group of very ambitious young adults and creatives who were born and raised in the city. We hired them for the cafe, to help run the museum and to work in our education department. And then we started to encourage programs that would go beyond the museum walls. We were part of the drive to create a community garden next door with a playground and public events for families. It was an unused lot that was just sitting empty next to the museum.

We also always tried to do exhibitions that were a bit more ‘pop’. They were not really intellectual. And that’s totally fine. As a curator, you always have to keep in mind the milieu that you're working in. And in that case, it was also vital that we did shows which would be interesting for schools so we could get students to connect with the art.

IB: Is this the same mission and vision Arsenal Contemporary New York is pursuing?

MEL: There is so much possible here in New York. Even though Arsenal is a private arts initiative, it is still a part of a huge organization. Our two other branches are in Montreal and Toronto.

Coming into the job, the biggest issue was creating connection. How do we build our audience? Or, as a more traditional PR [public relations] person would say, how do we build our “brand"? An arts space strongest asset, after it’s art, is its brand recognition.

Arsenal’s focus is representing Canadian culture. There's no other space in New York that's doing what Arsenal is doing. It should be representative of the Canadian culture, Canadian artists, and really drive that message home, while managing a collection and program of events.


IB: I think Arsenal Contemporary is actually the first one. Congrats on that, by the way, and thank you—Canada needed an institution like this one.

MEL: I’m really proud. This is something the owners and I have agreed on since I met them: this is our niche and we have to focus on it. It's not just about knowing the art world, it's also knowing how you need to promote yourself so that you can have a place that no one else can claim, and then do something really special with that. That's the only way that you can break out of boundaries.

We really want to try and steer our focus to things that are going to not just making a big splash, but that are also new. The shows that we have coming up next year are great examples. They’re going to be with artists that were quite prominent in the past but had little attention in the last decades. And all of them have a connection to Canada, either they're Canadian, or they spend part of their life in Canada, or they have a strong connection to a particular Canadian city or the art world or museums there.

Rachel McLean, Native Animals, 2019, arsenal Contemporary New York, curated by Marie-Eve Lafontaine

IB: And do you feel like the public here in New York is open to convene and be part of this movement, and to open up to Canadian art?

MEL: I don't think they are quite open now, actually. The issue lies with the question of Canadian identity. When I was working in Europe I would always say "He's a Canadian artist" or "I'm from Canada", and the people there kind of look at you like "What does that mean?". If you think of a French artist, you know what you're thinking about. It's called the soft power of a country. So when you think of Britain, Britain's soft power is afternoon tea, a certain level of politeness and diplomacy, or the BBC—all these things helps them project an image of how they want to be seen in a non-aggressive, and in fact very agreeable way.

Arsenal is part of Canada’s soft power. But first, we have to help define what Canada’s soft power is. And one of the things that are really under-utilized in Canada is the incredibly rich and varied Canadian culture. The fact that such amazing diversity exists in the second-largest country in the world is just incredible when you think about it. And so many of these resources are just untapped because they are not exported in an effective manner. I don't think that the Canadian government has quite come up with an efficient plan of how we’re going to promote ourselves abroad yet.

« We have to help define what Canada’s soft power is. And one of the things that are really under-utilized in Canada is the incredibly rich and varied Canadian culture. The fact that such amazing diversity exists in the second-largest country in the world is just incredible when you think about it. And so many of these resources are just untapped because they are not exported in an effective manner.  »

IB: Is it because of the Canadian-syndrome: extreme shyness, always apologizing and all?

MEL: Yes, it's really hard to stand out because we're so shy, but I think that you have to take stock of what you have and then go with it. Yes, we might be shy, but this also means that we're polite and agreeable. Yes, we’re shy, but it also means that we're not going to be in your face about anything that we're doing in a way that might feel threatening to you, another country or another part of the art world. And because we're shy, we're also able to be more in touch with, as I mentioned earlier, our own humanity and have more empathy for other people.

It's really a radical sort of openness, compared to everything else going on in the world at the moment, and the art that we make—whether it's dance or music or visual art—reflects that.

IB: What is your life like as a mother in the contemporary art world living in New York? Do you manage to find a balance between having a family and working? Is that balance possible to find?

MEL: I don't know how I would do without my family's support. And also without the luxury of having been able to work the past few years and to have a well-paying job now. I have no idea how other single mothers do it. It's impossible. It's simply impossible. And... well... I have a small army of babysitters [laughs]. That's the only way I can do all the work. And then of course, there's also those times, especially on the weekends, where I set aside like an eight hour block and try to put my phone away.

IB: You're able to do that? Really?

MEL: [laughs] You just have to. When my daughter was a baby, I simply took her to everything. Even when I was in labour, I was answering emails on my laptop because I had an exhibition I needed to finish. Two days after giving birth, I started working again. Because I really love what I do. It's hard to let go. But I've also definitely learned, especially as my daughter got older, that you really need to take the time away from, I wouldn't say your job, but just from any other distractions and really focus on connecting with your kid 110%.

It’s something that my father told me: 99% of parenting is showing up. It's just being there. It doesn't matter whether it's a soccer game or the school play or maybe you cook a terrible Kraft Dinner or something like that. But the only things your kid is really going to remember are the times you were there, and the times you weren’t. Do you have kids?

IB: My partner and I are actually discussing this—I’m on the verge of turning 40, so it’s kind of now or never [laughs], but being an entrepreneur—even worse, an entrepreneur in contemporary art where there are no boundaries between your work and your passion—can be overwhelming. The frontier between your work and, basically, your life is so permeable.

MEL: So true. When you love art, you don’t just love art, you LOVE art. There's nothing in between. You have shows, you have to travel. It's the travel that is the worst part for me. Like I said before, I just had a baby carrier—thank God. Two weeks after my daughter was born I was already going on trips. I would just pack her in it, and then I would just get on the plane and go. After all, if you're breastfeeding, the food is portable—you just have to make sure you have enough diapers for three days [laughs]. And you can always buy diapers wherever you go. So you simply get on with it. But then, when the kid is too big, or when they start to be really independent or to run around, this is when it gets really difficult because then you have to think "How am I going to manage this trip?". Maybe you just take the first flight in the morning and then fly back in the evening and arrange for childcare during the daytime. Because you can't go to, I don't know, Art Basel, for one week away from your child anymore. It just doesn’t work. Not only does your kid miss you, but you'll miss your kid a lot. Your life has changed. Your priorities as a woman have also changed.


IB: What do women working in the contemporary art world need now?

MEL: Equal pay. Definitely. And that's also something that I’ve encountered a lot. I have to actually point out often that the women, even though they may have a different position in the gallery, for example, are doing a lot more. They are the ones that remember all the meetings, the ones that make sure that when you come into the office in the morning, there's always coffee, even though it's not part of their job description.

I think that we need to just simply recognize a lot more of the type of tasks that women do in general. In the art world, I usually encounter women who are way more talented than their male counterparts in making sure that they have a handle on everything. Very often, you have a director who’s very charismatic, very outgoing, has a vision. Maybe he's not that intelligent but simply because he feels that he has the right to put himself in front of an organization and he doesn't have a shaky self-confidence, he is able to work well in that position.

Often, a woman is much more likely to be uncomfortable doing these things and she doesn't want to stick herself out because she’s worried about retribution—"Look at her. Who does she think she is? She needs to stop being so bossy". I’ve hear it from other people, men and women, all the time.

I dream of an art world which is run by a woman. It would definitely be more human and I think there'd be a lot fewer egos involved. But you know, who am I to say that? Another thing, I've been to several different exhibitions where I was with someone, usually an art advisor or a collector, and the artist was female and they would say: "Oh, it's woman art." I heard that line too often. So, so many times. It’s not women art, it’s ART. For example, ceramics or textiles—just because something isn't shiny and loud and super colorful and in your face doesn't mean that it doesn't also have value in its message. Women need to stick together and take little steps to make changes. After all, it’s easier to climb a mountain with a group of friends than all alone.

« I dream of an art world which is run by a woman. It would definitely be more human and I think there’d be a lot fewer egos involved... Women need to stick together and take little steps to make changes. After all, it’s easier to climb a mountain with a group of friends than all alone. »

IB: Definitely. Let’s do that together.

Rachel McLean, Native Animals, 2019, arsenal Contemporary New York, curated by Marie-Eve Lafontaine

Now independent curator, Marie-Eve Lafontaine was, at the time of the interview, Managing Director at Arsenal Contemporary New York.