Opening Minds: Curator and Writer Lumi Tan on New Perspectives, Success in Community, and Supporting Artists
Lumi Tan by Isabel Asha Penzlien.
By Julia Gamolina
Lumi Tan is a curator and writer based in New York. She is the curator of the Focus section at Frieze New York, and recently served as the Curatorial Director of Luna Luna, a revival of the art amusement park created by André Heller in 1987. Previously, she was Senior Curator at The Kitchen, New York where she commissioned exhibitions and performances for over a decade. She has also held positions at FRAC Nord-Pas de Calais, France; and Zach Feuer Gallery and MoMA/PS1, New York.
JG: After decades working within institutions, you've been an independent curator for over a year now! I imagine this comes with a big sense of agency in terms of the initiatives you want to put your time and expertise behind. Talk to me about that; what are you looking to do in the world these days, and what are you excited for for the rest of the year and into 2026?
LT: Something I’ve been saying a lot in this first year of being independent is that the term is extremely misleading—you’re dependent on people more than ever, and particularly on the institutions and companies that value your outsider perspective. Institutions will often take more risks with an independent curator, so I’ve been lucky to continue to work with people who put trust in me, my ideas, and the ways I work with artists. What I’m trying to do in the world now is not so different from what I was trying to do inside the institutions—providing audiences with new perspectives, supporting artists who make complex work outside of what the market wants to believe in. And in this political moment when the censorship of art is being weaponized, it’s a responsibility to keep pushing difficult ideas and not just resort to the safest choices.
Coming up, I’m opening an exhibition in Seoul this fall, and finishing my time as Editor-in-Residence at the online magazine Topical Cream with their first ever print edition. And then heading into 2026, I’m co-curating a wide-ranging project on Vietnamese performance art, which has rarely been seen in New York City and introducing an intergenerational group of artists to a new audience. I’ll also be returning to Frieze New York as the curator for their Focus section, and my first city-wide exhibition with over a dozen new commissions in Portland, Oregon follows in August. I cap the year off with a large-scale installation which is the result of a collaboration between a sculptor and sound artist and an astrophysicist. The most rewarding part of being independent has been working in these different scales, in vastly different contexts and cities, with so many dedicated collaborators.
Installation view of Anicka Yi, You Can Call Me F, 2015 at The Kitchen, New York. Photo by Jason Mandella.
Going back a little bit, what did you study, and what did you see yourself doing in the world when you were first thinking about what your career would be?
From a very young age, I was interested in bringing together art and writing. When I was deciding what to pursue in college, I came to the realization that I wasn’t a particularly good or driven artist, so I studied art history instead. Many undergraduate art history programs start off with survey courses, which involve linear timelines and memorization—my program was very theoretical, understanding art history through shared ideas across history and in relation to political movements, which was the most fascinating aspect for me. I don’t think I understood what a curator did until I began interning—I thought it would be mostly reading and researching, which is part of the job, but only one part of it!
When I graduated college, my initial plan was to work in a museum for two years and then return to academia and become an art historian. I arrived in New York without any connections in the industry, and had no clue how to break in or what my day-to-day might look like. So while working at a temp agency and a restaurant, I interviewed at every art related business I could—not just galleries, museums, and art magazines, but artist studios, antique galleries, photo studios, art shipping companies. I finally landed at MoMA/PS1 as an intern before being hired full-time, and I became completely enamored with working directly with artists, alongside the reading and research. I knew I couldn’t return to academia full-time after that.
“...cultivating deeper relationships with both artists and art workers is what is reflected back to audiences in a powerful exhibition. I really believe that the trust and care needs to come through in order for audiences to become invested.”
What was some of the best advice you got early on that has informed your approach to your work and career?
That building long-term relationships is the key to everything. There can be so much emphasis on networking or socializing when you’re starting out—the most misleading advice is to just “go to openings”— but cultivating deeper relationships with both artists and art workers is what is reflected back to audiences in a powerful exhibition. I really believe that the trust and care needs to come through in order for audiences to become invested.
Additionally, learning about the skills that get far less attention than curating— art handling, shipping, lighting, insurance, archiving—is not only valuable, but necessary to achieving ambitious visions. While curators are given the credit, respecting every person who is part of bringing a project to life is a way to ensure success.
I’d love to hear more about your career steps. Tell me about your early days and how you eventually realized you wanted to curate.
My first job as a Curatorial Assistant at MoMA/PS1 definitely gave me the foundation for my entire career. That’s where I learned what it meant to work with living artists to create new commissions, and to push the expectations of the museum to become more of a social experiment.
From there, I became a director at a commercial gallery which primarily represented emerging artists who were experiencing their first big successes. That’s where I learned all the practical skills—how to pack art works, to install lighting, to negotiate with shippers, properly document artwork, plan opening receptions and afterparties, and, at times, to be everything to artists—their therapist and best friend, but also their business manager, PR rep, and archivist.
I also learned that I really wanted to be a curator, not a salesperson. So I went to work in France as a Guest Curator at a state-run museum centered around a contemporary art collection, which taught me about acquisitions and conservation, as well as working in a country that placed a very different value on artists than the United States.
How did you end up back in the States?
I came back to New York knowing that working at an institution which treated artists like professionals who should be paid for their work, rather than hobbyists or people who could be paid merely from opportunities, was a priority for me. I landed at The Kitchen, a legendary alternative space that had both a gallery and a theater. I started as a part-time fellow and ended up staying for twelve years. I was able to stay that long because I was working in so many different disciplines—not just curating exhibitions, but also theater, music, dance and performance art. Every day was new— risk-taking and experimentation was inherent to the institution’s history and mission, and I learned how to embrace the unknown in every respect.
But after over a decade of constantly producing and commissioning, I felt I reached my limit of what I could do, and who I was speaking to in the incredible, tight-knit community that the institution had built over decades. Instead of going deeper into the art world, I then went to a commercial start-up with a treasure of art history at its center— Luna Luna. It was a challenge working outside the comfortable confines of the art world, but one I really needed. I wanted to reach new audiences who never visit museums, and work with a large team coming from other industries. It was a crash course in scaling up, business, marketing, and being a more effective communicator and leader.
Installation view of Meriem Bennani, Siham & Hafida, 2017 at The Kitchen, New York. Photo by Jason Mandella.
Installation view of Luna Luna, Forgotten Fantasy, 2023, Los Angeles. Photo by Joshua White.
Looking back at it all, what have been the biggest challenges? How did you both manage through perceived disappointments or setbacks?
I never see an exhibition turning out differently than expected as a challenge. Usually that’s a positive! There are so many logistic or financial setbacks everyday that to me the biggest challenges are much larger and systemic. Why do we continue to work in a field that feels so unsustainable, where too many people are underpaid, and sexism and racism continue to persist alongside promises of visionary cultural leadership? These are the disappointments that truly affect me. I have managed to keep pushing through them because of the colleagues and artists around me with common values, and a shared refusal to leave the art world to a privileged inner-circle.
Who were your mentors through it all?
I didn’t have any traditional mentors, which is why I put so much priority in supporting younger generations of cultural workers, particularly women of color. I have met and stayed in touch with so many incredible young curators simply by being open to cold emails seeking advice. I have enormous respect and gratitude for those leaders I’ve worked under who were honest about the challenges of their careers and invested in learning together. I’ve carried those lessons into my own concept of mentorship.
“For women in particular, it’s necessary to find a circle of people who you really trust, who will be honest about their experiences and treatment, and will share success in community rather than keep believing in the scarcity of opportunity.”
Who are you admiring now and why?
I am admiring artists and workers in our field who have a desire to reach large audiences without compromising the experimental nature of their work. The Moroccan artist Meriem Bennani, whose incredibly moving animated film Bouchra (co-directed by Orian Barki) is now touring festivals after premiering at the Fondazione Prada last year, is an example. And Taja Cheek, the artistic director of Performance Space New York, is bringing together installation, performance, fashion, and music in a really organic way that is meaningfully bridging new audiences. On top of all of that, she is an amazing musician known as L’Rain.
What is the impact you’d like to have on the world in general? What is your core mission? And, what does success in that look like to you?
My core mission is to make the traditional structures of the art word less intimidating and more open. I say traditional structures because younger generations are defining their own art worlds, and we need not to merely catch up and emulate, but simply not to be afraid of change, and to let go of certain values of permanence and authority. Success is opening someone’s mind—I feel most successful when I can feel the excitement and curiosity from strangers encountering an artwork for the first time. Receiving support and praise from my peers is wonderful, but hearing that from school groups and grandparents is even better.
Tan speaking at Kiaf SEOUL X KAMS X Frieze Seoul Talks, 2024 with Andrew Russeth, Daisy Nam, and Sung Woo Kim. Photo courtesy KAMS (Korean Arts Management Services).
Finally, what advice do you have for those starting their career? Would your advice be any different for women?
Do not let your predetermined markers of success determine your path. Allow yourself time to understand what really drives you, spend time learning what spaces accept you for who you are and might become, and if it doesn’t exist, find like-minded people to create that space together. There are many different art worlds and you never have to remain in just one. For women in particular, it’s necessary to find a circle of people who you really trust, who will be honest about their experiences and treatment, and will share success in community rather than keep believing in the scarcity of opportunity.
This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.