What Does the Future Hold?

[00:00:00] Karena Ingram, host: Welcome to Free Admissions, the Walters Art Museum podcast, where we bring art and people of every background together to inspire creativity, curiosity, and connection. I’m your host, Karena Ingram, and today we’re gazing into our crystal ball to ask one big question: What does the future hold?

Okay, that may seem a bit dramatic. But in museums like ours, with a collection that dates back centuries, we’re often looking to the past.

Today, we’re looking ahead to share with you what we’ve been busy working on behind the scenes. On your recent visit, you may have noticed we’ve debuted several bold and thought-provoking contemporary works in our galleries. When placed alongside our historic collection, these additions present new perspectives and spark exciting dialogue about the works on view.

We’ll chat with three of the artists behind those contemporary interventions: Katherine Tzu-Lan Mann, Stephanie Mercedes, and Jackie Milad. Then we’ll chat with our Manager of Visitor Experience, Ambria Safford, about the friendly faces in the museum that, on your next visit, will guide you through the galleries as part of our revamped volunteer program.

So yes, the future is bright at the Walters, and it’s lit by the creativity and generosity of our local artists and museum volunteers.

No tickets necessary. Free Admissions starts now.

 

[00:01:22] When you hear the words “traditional” and “abstract” in the context of art, you might picture two very different styles—one rooted in centuries of technique, the other in boundless experimentation. But what happens when these worlds collide by drawing on Chinese and European art traditions?

Katherine Tzu-Lan Mann creates a new fantastical landscape: a visual feast of leaf litter, gourds, glass and ceramic chrysanthemums, bats, peaches, orchids, and more.

To learn more about The Pocket, now on view at the Walters, here’s Katherine Mann.

[00:01:56] Katherine Tzu-Lan Mann: My name is Katherine Tzu-Lan Mann. I’m a painter, installation artist, and public artist, and I’m based in Washington, D.C. The Pocket is one of my favorite pieces I’ve ever made. It’s extremely explosive, expansive, very maximalist. There’s a lot going on.

It is a combination of mosaic panels and then very lacily cut rice paper. And I became really interested in this concept of combining these two very ancient materials and ancient art practices in learning mosaic—how to create images in stone, ceramic, and glass mosaic, and grouting them—but also combining that with Sumi ink painting on rice paper.

[The] Pocket was one of the first pieces where I started to combine these two, like, really disparate material elements, each with, like, really long histories in Western art history, and then also in Chinese art history. When I first learned how to do mosaic, and, like, looking at the history of mosaic, I think that a lot of people have this kind of stereotype when they think of mosaic; they think of, like, ancient Rome. And it’s also kind of seen as this pure medium, like you don’t see it combined with other things.

And I got really interested in thinking of it as one layer among many. So in The Pocket, there are these kind of round panels that I’ve mosaiced with imagery. I actually use the mosaic as a substrate, and I paint on top of the mosaic, and then also do this, like, very lacily cut rice paper, Sumi ink painting that I’m collaging back over the mosaic.

And I was originally trained as a traditional Sumi ink painter in Taiwan. And I really loved that idea of, like, taking this hard, earthy material and art practice that is millennia old, and then combining it with airy, water-based rice paper and Sumi ink painting—which is also millennia old—and kind of smashing them together into this one world.

I’m kind of obsessed with taking, like, as different visual languages as I can kind of imagine and smashing them together. Like finding incongruity and using that as an opportunity, and seeing how that they can weave together. And sometimes they’re harmonious and sometimes they’re not. And that’s kind of the joy of it, kind of playing with these dichotomies.

Karena Ingram, host: How do you navigate those moments when you’re like, okay, this isn’t actually molding in the ways that I thought that they were?

Katherine Tzu-Lan Mann: I actually think of that as—that’s a perk, right? Like, I’m actually, I’m really, I’m just as interested in the non-harmonious parts of the piece as the parts that feel like they really fit together.

And I think that that’s kind of part of the concept of all of my work. I am biracial. I also grew up mostly abroad as an American living abroad. And so, like, I’m really interested in that idea that we’re all kind of these conglomerations that are cobbled together and none of us really fit. Like, none of us will fit into this, like, some pure category.

We all are just trying to make it through the day. And so this idea of, like, taking these really disparate elements and smashing them together—and sometimes they’re not gonna work—that’s actually part of the point. It’s like a celebration of that impurity.

I feel like everyone can connect with that. That kind of concept. Or no one feels like they fully belong, ever.

Karena Ingram, host: Mm-hmm.

Katherine Tzu-Lan Mann: That’s actually our superpower.

Karena Ingram, host: Would you say that that’s probably one of the takeaways you want people to leave with after seeing your piece?

Katherine Tzu-Lan Mann: I’d say so. I also want all of my work—The Pocket, especially—like, I want them to feel sort of like these sanctuaries or these kind of magical escapes. Portals into another world. It’s part of the reason why the piece is called The Pocket. It’s a reference to the pocket universes in The Three Body Problem trilogy—

Karena Ingram, host: Incredible.

Katherine Tzu-Lan Mann: Yeah. Which is a sci-fi trilogy that is, like, extremely extensive. But in it, there’s this idea of these pocket universes that get built by extremely advanced civilizations as a kind of a lifeboat, or a sanctuary from an extremely dangerous universe. The Pocket is not literally referencing anything from The Three Body Problem, but it’s this kind of idea of—this is an escape pod. This is something that you can get lost in and kind of walk into and find yourself in another fantasy world.

Karena Ingram, host: Would you also say it’s maybe, like, you lose yourself in this work to survive, in a sense?

Katherine Tzu-Lan Mann: Yes. So I’m actually, I’m, like, a great apologist for escapism and romanticism for that reason, like, as a survival mechanism. And I think it’s something that is necessary for all of us and gets a bad rap, but is actually, like, a type of healing.

I was so honored when the Walters and Dany Chan asked me to put this piece in Across Asia, and I— that’s especially true for me because how I was originally trained as a painter, like how I learned how to paint as a teenager was by studying under a traditional Sumi Ink Master.

So I had a teacher, and he was like, “This is how you make cherry blossoms.” And then I would copy his paintings over and over and over again at, like, 15 years old. I have a lot of family in Taiwan, so I lived in Taiwan a little bit when I was a kid. And then even when I was not living in Taiwan, I’d come back every summer, and this is what I would do.

So that’s what painting is for me, especially as a young person. And that history goes back so many—it’s, like, such a long and fluid history. And to be, like, placed into that history is really just an honor. But I’m interested in making these pieces as, like, a way to interrogate these histories of specifically landscape painting. I do think of everything that I make as kind of relating to landscape, or at least world-building and environment-building, and kind of exploring the ideas of landscape painting in that Sumi ink tradition.

But then also, like, looking at the really complicated and often problematic histories of landscape painting in the Western tradition, as well. So some of the work that I make, it’s, like, agonizing—it just isn’t coming together. That kind of dance that we were talking about—

Karena Ingram, host: Mm-hmm.

Katherine Tzu-Lan Mann: Between the parts that fit and the parts that don’t fit. You know, if it’s so much that doesn’t fit, that it’s just like a cacophony, that’s not gonna work. And that can often be a huge struggle. The Pocket was not one of those pieces. It came together really fluidly. It was one of those pieces that just—it knew where it wanted to go.

Karena Ingram, host: Mm-hmm.

Katherine Tzu-Lan Mann: In terms of scale, I work large often. It kind of works with that idea of escapism and immersion. If the piece is larger than you, then it feels more immersive. I wanted to pick The Pocket to go in that particular space because immediately around it, there’s an exhibition of woven basketry.

Karena Ingram, host: Mm-hmm.

Katherine Tzu-Lan Mann: I really wanted to use The Pocket because it also has a sense of weaving—that combination of the mosaic and the rice paper. There are also rice paper streamers that kind of hang down from The Pocket, and I felt like it had a really beautiful conversation with the weaving and basketry that’s around it.

Karena Ingram, host: Yeah. It’s very complimentary in that way. I love hearing that this project felt more fluid than others that you may have worked on. And that this one, like, is like, “Okay, I know exactly what I wanna be.” Does that make the process more thrilling in a way?

Katherine Tzu-Lan Mann: I mean, they all have their own mind, right? And there’s a really important joy and challenge in the pieces that are of struggle and take years and are failures, and I put them on the side of the studio and forget about them for years, and then they come back and I change them somehow.

Actually, The Pocket even has elements of that in it. There are pieces of it that are kind of these recycled materials from failed paintings from years ago. And I will often cannibalize my own work in that way.

Karena Ingram, host: Mm-hmm.

Katherine Tzu-Lan Mann: So I guess when I said, like, “Oh, everything was so easy!” that’s not 100% true. There’s failure in the history of The Pocket as well.

Karena Ingram, host: Mm-hmm.

Katherine Tzu-Lan Mann: But I think that’s all part of this kind of idea of, like, creating this universe, right? Like that you’re creating this world that’s gotta have inconstancy and failure within it.

So my website is KatherineMann.net, M-A-N-N. I’m on Instagram @ktzulan, which is K-T-Z-U-L-A-N. I’m also putting together, right now, a solo show that’s gonna be in the fall in San Francisco at my gallery that represents me there, which is Dolby Chadwick.

Karena Ingram, host: You can see The Pocket on view in Across Asia: Arts of Asia and the Islamic World on Level Four.

[00:11:20] If you’ve wandered through our Centre Street lobby lately, you might have sensed something different.

Maybe it was the fresh coat of paint or new lobby posters giving you a warm welcome. But let’s be honest, the real showstopper isn’t on the walls or behind the counter. It’s floating above you. A large-scale installation of hundreds of bells forged from spent bullet casings that once echoed violence, now spiraling in a mesmerizing dance of hope and healing.

To talk about We Were Treated Like Numbers Rather Than Stars, here’s Stephanie Mercedes.

[00:11:52] Stephanie Mercedes: So I’m Mercedes. I’m a queer Latinx uncategorized artist. And for me, what that really means is that I work in so many mediums. I work in metal casting, I work in techno, I work in experimental opera, in welding, I melt down weapons, and I also work in sound.

A big thing that drives me to create is rage. I was listening to a text yesterday that was Audre Lorde, and Audre Lorde was talking about, like, these different ideas of survival. And I think that for me, a big reason that I create is, like, both the survival in the sense that includes joy and thriving for myself, my body, my loved ones, and also my community.

And so I think that in a lot of different ways, the work that I make, it’s like not optional. It’s a reflection of, like, who I am and what’s going through my own lived experiences, and also the world around me. I think a big portion of my practice is just really trying to be fluid and to be experimental, and so I’m always trying to expand and think about new mediums that I maybe haven’t explored or approach new different materialities or approach materialities that I’ve worked in the past with, like, fresh eyes.

So I’m currently working on creating a bunch of different experimental power hammers, which will be used in my upcoming opera here at the Walters Museum, which is called Velvet Rage. And I’m gonna program the power hammers to create techno beats. And they’re also gonna be smashing bullets to create bells.

And instead of a hammer, it’s gonna be my head, and probably other different, like, queer folk, their heads as well. And the sculpture, I was originally intending to be mostly made out of metal because that’s the material I’ve worked out of in the past. And I think a lot of it’s gonna be wood, and it’s, like, a totally new material. I haven’t worked with it in the past, but it’s been really beautiful to explore the new way that this material can kind of take shape.

The piece, which is here at the Walters Museum, is called We Were Treated Like Numbers Rather Than Stars. And I think that for so much of my practice, I’ve felt like, because of the nature of my work as an artist who melts down weapons and turns them into musical instruments and these kind of sonic sculptures, of course, people are constantly asking me to create memorials, which is something that I do believe is, like, very important for both those who have passed and the living who remain.

But at the same time, I’ve always felt like it is a little bit of an ethical question. Like, is it ethical for me to make X number of objects, which represent X number of people? Like, can I really reduce people’s lives to, like, a single bell, a single bullet?

And so for this piece, I really wanted to create something that felt more, almost like in a way more celestial. And maybe more connected to, like, the sublime—something that feels both more infinite and expansive, and both from a perspective of, like, grief and from a perspective of, like, liberation. And so the piece is composed of hundreds of bullets which have been hammered into bells through the process of annealing, forging, and using a hydraulic press and power hammers.

And there are all these different kind of, like, spirals. So as you move through the installation, spirals come in and out of focus. And as you move around the piece, I hope that your perspective of the work really shifts as you change your view and your own perspective. And I really do hope that the piece, you know, maybe for some people they walk underneath it and it’s just like a moment to experience the sublime. Maybe for some people they walk underneath it and they realize what it’s made out of, and then there’s this second layer of recognition, and maybe they sit with that for a little bit to experience their own grief or their own catharsis.

I think that the biggest issue of gun violence in this country is really the daily act of gun violence. Is that so many people, if you are, if you’re marginalized, or if you’re other in any way in today’s American society, like you’re living in fear of gun violence just because of who you are and because of the amount of hate that exists in this world.

Maybe for some people, they walk underneath it and they realize what it’s made out of, and then there’s this second layer of recognition, and maybe they sit with that for a little bit to experience their own grief or their own catharsis. I think that the biggest issue of gun violence in this country is really the daily act of gun violence. Is that so many people, if you are, if you’re marginalized, or if you’re other in any way in today’s American society, like you’re living in fear of gun violence just because of who you are and because of the amount of hate that exists in this world.

So I find that a lot of times people have this fear of what might happen to them or to their loved ones, and I’m hoping that the piece is just a way for people to stand underneath it and kind of have this moment of experiencing “what if?” You know, “What if all of the bullets that exist in this world were turned into bells? What type of world would we be living in?” Is that practical? No. But as an artist, I believe it’s my job to kind of live in the realm of the imaginary.

The decision to make the large photograph, the vinyl print, which is on the top of the piece, was kind of a last-minute one. Like all artists, what can I say? I was thinking about how intense the process of making the piece was. And that’s why I do a lot of like these kind of more performative works that respond to sculptural pieces that I’ve done because the process is like so intense and labored. And my assistant, who’s this like incredible Queer metal worker, he and I were just like pounding bullets and bells for like weeks and for months.

And sometimes, like, he wasn’t even using a hammer. He, like, ripped off the section of a leg from a chair and was like pounding the thing. So there was like such intense physicality to it. And I felt like during that period of time, I had so many realizations about, like, myself, about how I felt about these objects that I was making.

In a way that I think required that length of time and maybe isn’t something that a viewer would see if they’re just like walking through it for five seconds. And so I wanted to include an installation, the photograph from the top, to kind of have this sense of like, this kind of like rage or intensity of like how the work is made.

And it was interesting ’cause I was actually driving to Towson University, where I made the shop, and I saw there was this huge truck that was passing me on the highway, and it had this huge advertisement for religion. And then there were, like, multiple of them; they all surrounded me. And it was really interesting because they kind of had all these, like, really succinct phrases that were similar to the phrase that I ended up putting there.

 

And for me personally, I really think about metal as a very important material to me because I think about it as a very inherently queer material. Because as someone who is queer, I have the capability to like shapeshift, to shapeshift my gender constantly and so does metal, right? Metal is one of the few materials in this earth that can turn from like a bullet into a bell, back into a gun, back to like a blob, back to like who knows what. And so I felt like there was some type of connection there, and so that’s why I ended up adding the text on the piece.

I think that for me, I always begin with the material, and then it just becomes more expansive. I would say that every time I make a new work of art, all of the people I work with—my friends, my collaborators, my assistants—will attest to this: I come up with a crazy idea, and then I’m like, “Okay, let’s make this happen.” My assistant, Jeff, who was helping me with this piece, I was actually in Argentina for the portion where we were trying to figure out the technical part, and Jeff was like, “I don’t think anyone’s ever done this before.”

And Jeff was like, “Mercedes, this might be impossible,” because what happens is that, you know, the bullets that we’re using—I really wanted to create this specific shape. There is this long history of people taking bullet casings and turning them into bells and other forms of art. I’m definitely not the first artist to do this. There’s this whole history of French art that exists within metal workers, casters, and blacksmiths. But I think that trying to get the specific shape I wanted was really, really difficult because it required a level of precision with a material that wasn’t necessarily meant to move or create those types of shapes.

So it was a lot of experimentation, and we ended up having to create steel mandrels that were handmade at my lathe shop in order to create that cone shape. Specifically, the big bells were really hard to make because they’re made out of aluminum, and that’s a material that does not want to expand. I would say I broke maybe as many bells as I made for that portion.

Karena Ingram, host: That was honestly gonna be my question: How many bells did you go through before you were like, “This is the effect, this is the shape?”

Stephanie Mercedes: I probably went through a couple hundred.

Karena Ingram, host: Wow.

Stephanie Mercedes: Yeah. And, but something that I did, which I don’t know if you’ve noticed in the installation, is that within the sculpture itself, I have included some of the quote-unquote “fucked up” bells, which I think about as the queer bells, because it would be so strange for me to just be machining hundreds of bells that all look exactly the same. Like, they all are truly unique, and I think at the end of the day, the queer bells were kind of some of my favorites.

This is something that’s so important and very specific to the type of work that I do, that these are ancient traditions and crafts and techniques, and this was not done by a machine. This was done by, like, queer hands.

Please check me out on Instagram. I’m @mercedes_theartist, and my website is StephanieMercedes.com. We’re gonna be creating a two-part opera here at the Walters Museum next summer, and the opera will be in response and thinking about We Were Treated Like Numbers Rather Than Stars, and it’s called Velvet Rage.

And I’ll be taking the process of creating these bells made out of bullets through power hammers and hydraulic presses, and responding with dancers, percussionists, sound designers, DJs, techno, and opera singers. And I also have a solo show at the Art Museum of the Americas, which is opening up January.

Karena Ingram, host: You can see We Were Treated Like Numbers Rather Than Stars in our Centre Street lobby. You can’t miss it.

[00:20:50] Modeled after the serenity of an ancient tomb, our Egyptian galleries are typically grounded in a palette of tans, grays, and sandy browns—colors that evoke tradition and timelessness. But now, there’s a striking pop of color in these galleries.

Two large-scale collages have been installed as vibrant backdrops behind several busts from our collection. These contemporary works introduce bold color and layered imagery, creating a visual and cultural dialogue that bridges centuries.

to talk about Abracadabra (Abuelita’s Bowl) and Ya Habibti, Ta’ala, here’s Jackie Milad.

[00:21:28] Jackie Milad: My name is Jackie Milad. I am a Baltimore-based artist. I mostly work in collage painting. I think of my work as tapestries, also collage. I work large-scale, and I’m very interested in bringing in ancient history into sort of a tapestry of my own work and my life as an artist—and my history as an artist.

There are two works, and they’re about—oh goodness. They’re huge. But at least like eight or nine feet tall, and eight or nine feet wide when they’re put together. I could be totally wrong about that, but they’re big. They’re large.

Karena Ingram, host: Very large scale.

Jackie Milad: Yeah. The works are very bright. I would say the predominant color is fluorescent pinks and reds. I mean, there are a lot of other colors too in the works, but they have a lot of vibration colors, and they’re painted and collaged on canvas. They’re super dense with information and textures, patterns. And then there are some three-dimensional elements that are coming off of the work that are meant to allude to lots of different things—some snakes, rope, string.

When I walked into the gallery—you know, we were doing a site visit with the curator—I was immediately drawn to the busts of the kings. Those were what I was, you know, attracted to, and so I thought, well, that collection of busts will definitely be in the work.

I wanted to have an echo of what I was seeing in the gallery. For me, in terms of busts that are coming from that time period, there’s a real sense of humanness. You know, like you can look into the eyes of these sculptures and look at the sort of the face of these individuals and almost see relatives, see you, see the people, right?

And so that kind of experience or that relationship is really important to me—to be able to look face to face, in a sense. The busts were what I was gravitated to, and I knew that that’s what I wanted to include in the work. But there are also some other objects that are in the collection that I just, again, was like intuitively drawn to.

I like the idea of there being this echo of the space. I don’t know, I think it’s kind of a playful thing that happens for people. As they’re looking at the work, they’re able to also see like, “Oh, that object that’s over in the other gallery,” or, you know, and have that kind of, you know—for lack of a better term—scavenger hunt experience.

Karena Ingram, host: Mm-hmm.

Jackie Milad: It’s just a matter of intuition and being attracted to certain objects, and, you know, I’m speaking about my own heritage, and there is something that happens—a sort of recognition of ancestors in sort of a very surprising way. You know, when you see the sort of sculptural representations—a sarcophagus, you know, a funerary mask—to come in contact with objects in that way that are representations of the face, it changes you.

Kind of taking it—taking us back to when I started doing this kind of work and research—you know, I was just using icons that were, you know, known, sort of cliché, recognizable Egyptian and Mesoamerican references, and that’s what I was kind of doing in my early work. When I say early, I’m talking maybe 10 years ago.

I kind of hit this point where I really wanted more specificity, and I listened to a really great podcast or a talk about dispersed heritage, specifically in reference to Egyptian heritage. You know, just the sort of vastness and expanse—ness, if that’s a word—of, you know, how heritage, Egyptian heritage, is just dispersed quite literally all over the globe.

It made me think, okay, well how do I connect with this on a personal level? And so I started to do a lot of drawing in museums—and the drawing of objects that are held in not just the display, like in this case, but in the back rooms of museums. And that was really important to me. And so I started at the British Museum, where I was drawing objects and spending a lot of time with those particular objects.

Those drawings then made their way into the collages that I was making back in the studio. And along with that, those collages contain my own personal history as an artist, my history as a person and living diasporically, and references to the music that I listen to on a regular basis—the poetry, personal letters, my son’s drawings, my father’s metalsmith workings.

And so I have found this sort of way, at this point in my art-making, to blend and layer and collage the history of me as an individual in the sort of micro way—and how I relate to my own heritage, not just as an Egyptian, but as an American, as an artist, as a Baltimorean—but then also bringing in all of these drawings that are of actual Egyptian and Honduran objects. Those drawings—bringing them into the frame and sort of mixing and blending.

I’m really trying to create this yearning that I, as someone that grew up in the States—you know, like not being from one place or another—and just this sort of, these disconnections, this yearning to connect and gather and bring together onto one surface all of these really important cultural references to me.

But I’m also speaking to this idea of collection and archive. Yeah. And just how heritage is vital. The art-making, the actual process of—how should I put it? It’s like, almost like improvisation? The process of constantly going into the work. I do a lot of repurposing—so, cutting up older works and repositioning and repurposing those older works to make new works—and it’s just this constant conversation and improvisation.

And I would say that the roadblock is—hmm… roadblock? I dunno if I have roadblocks.

 

Karena Ingram, host: That’s great, honestly!

Jackie Milad: I think that I go into it like, “Okay, if this is a roadblock, how do I—” or I don’t even think of it, you know? I’m just constantly like, yeah, riffing, you know? So, in response to my own marks, in response to an object that I got to see, and if it’s not working, then I cut it up and reuse it. So I don’t know.

Karena Ingram, host: But that’s really good. It’s like, do you think that the medium lends itself to that? I mean, like in collaging, it is very freeing in that way.

Jackie Milad: Totally.

Karena Ingram, host: That I could see how it would be hard to have a roadblock where you’re like, “there’s nothing but opportunity here.”

Jackie Milad: Correct. Yeah.

So the work is mostly canvas, and there’s chiffon, which is the printed material. I take my drawings and I print them onto chiffon, paper, and fringe. I mean, there’s lots of different little things in there, you know, in terms of the chaos and the tactility of it. I really want to have people feel, at first glance, a feeling of being overwhelmed by the work.

There’s no break in art school. They tell you to like “give the eye a break” or “give the viewer time to rest.” I am pushing against that. For me, this idea of like complete chaos—or you could say that it is abundance—I want this sort of analogy there of like what, in terms of Egyptian heritage and Mesoamerican heritage, is dispersed not in the country of origin, but all over the world.

For me, it just seems like that’s the best way to kind of make that analogy: this is a surface, a painted surface that keeps giving. You know, you’re looking up at the work and there might be a sort of vignette or a detail that you are attracted to, and you walk away, and then maybe it’s hard to find that vignette again or that detail because something else is popping out.

So that constant reveal, that’s something that’s super exciting to me. And I just can’t think of any other way to do it but to make the work as crazy and chaotic as possible. And then the tactility, I think, also lends to the sort of like, there’s too much information. You know.

Karena Ingram, host: It’s interesting, you’re saying “too much,” [Jackie laughs] but in my eyes?

Jackie Milad: Yeah.

Karena Ingram, host: This work is almost like permission to take space in ways that culturally, like, we are told we are not meant to, you know?

Jackie Milad: Yeah, absolutely.

Karena Ingram, host: It really forces a visitor who may have had a limited scope of these spaces, of these places.

Jackie Milad: Mm-hmm.

Karena Ingram, host: And have a slightly wider scope going through the collection itself and learning, you know, ancient history, but then it shows the today.

Jackie Milad: Mm-hmm.

Karena Ingram, host: Which I think gets overlooked a lot or diminished in some way.

Jackie Milad: For sure.

Karena Ingram, host: That this is like, “no, we are allowed to take up the space.”

Jackie Milad: Yeah.

Karena Ingram, host: We’re allowed to share our cultures in this way and celebrate it.

Jackie Milad: Yeah.

Karena Ingram, host: That I find to be refreshing in those galleries.

Jackie Milad: Oh, that’s so good to hear.

Karena Ingram, host: No, absolutely. Yeah. It’s one of my favorite things about the second floor. You walk off the elevator,

Jackie Milad: That’s great.

Karena Ingram, host: And you’re presented with- it’s a visual feast. It really is.

Jackie Milad: Mm-hmm.

Karena Ingram, host: Like, like you said, I’m always finding something new.

Jackie Milad: Mm-hmm.

Karena Ingram, host: But then knowing these cultural ties, and then putting it in context in this museum space, and it’s like,

Jackie Milad: Yeah.

Karena Ingram, host: We are allowed to be here.

Jackie Milad: Yeah.

Karena Ingram, host: We’re allowed to be here and be celebrated.

Jackie Milad: Yeah. I appreciate that. I, you know, museums are kind of a temple space in and of themselves, you know. Like you go in and you have hush voices and, you know, all of the sort of behaviors that we kind of take on when we go into a museum.

I wanted to kind of upend that a little bit. Yes, the sort of celebratory, I think, is there, but also, there’s a mischievousness and sort of a reverence to the museum space. I think I was at this talk and one of the audience members, you know, they assumed that the Egyptian tombs were of the sort of gray-brown.

You know, “Where did I get the colors that I’m using?” And frankly, the colors are inspired by the tombs that I visited when I was in Egypt. And so, you know, there’s so much color in Egyptian antiquities. You know, the sort of chroma experience is super important as well, but it also adds to the chaos.”

Karena Ingram, host: Mm-hmm.

Jackie Milad: Like the fluorescence and all of that, like I want this feverish energy. Yeah, so there are a lot of references that a specific group could get. That’s Arabic or Spanish or rap lyrics or whatever, like somebody in the room’s gonna get it, you’re gonna get something. I don’t have an agenda, necessarily, except that the sort of taking up space and that Egyptians are living modern people.

I’m not really speaking to the general public in a way. I really think about myself as a child and what I needed. I didn’t really see myself in museums. I saw my heritage. I saw the way that these ancient objects were on display and treated, but I didn’t have a connection to it.

If anything, it’s like, how can I communicate that here you have an Egyptian, modern Egyptian American, making these connections and taking up a lot of space in the museum? Like how wonderful that would’ve been for me as a child, you know? So I think if anything, yeah, it’s that. For anyone, you know, like that this sort of feeling of belonging or not belonging, maybe this word kind of answers that a little bit.”

Karena Ingram, host: Where can people find you?

Jackie Milad: Yeah, @jackie_milad_. It’s complicated, but if you just look up Jackie Milad, you’ll probably find it. So that’s Instagram. I do have a solo exhibition coming up, opening September 12th at Goucher College, where I will have large canvas works, similar in style, and also sculptural pieces. And my book is coming out, and that will be the book release date as well, in mid-September.

 

Karena Ingram, host: You can see both Abracadabra (Abuelita’s Bowl) and Ya Habibti, Ta’ala in our Ancient World galleries on Level Two.

[00:34:35] Let’s take another look into our crystal ball. Hmm. We’re seeing visions of a new and improved visitor experience thanks to the museum’s expanded volunteer program.

Sure, our museum map can help you find your way. But if you’re looking for a truly enriching visit, our volunteers are there to guide you along the way. Visitors often tell us that it’s the helpful moments with our volunteers that make their time at the Walters truly memorable. This new volunteer program offers visitors even more ways to connect with, learn about, and explore the works on view in our galleries.

Introduced earlier this summer, our expanded volunteer program  offers several opportunities for folks who wish to donate their time to the museum. Volunteers are here for you (the visitor)  to welcome you to the museum proactively, positively, and personally; help you explore our collection to make the most of your visit; chat with you about the artists, cultural themes, and materials on view; ask you questions about the Walters and your visit so that we can evaluate your essential feedback and make changes based on it; and represent the museum at community festivals and events, expanding our reach in Baltimore and beyond.

 

If you’re interested in volunteering at the Walters and curious about what to expect, here’s our Manager of Visitor Experience, Ambria Safford.

[00:36:05] Ambria Safford, Manager of Visitor Experience: Hi everyone. My name’s Ambria Safford. I’m the Manager of Visitor Experience, and I’ve been at the Walters for 11 months. I work directly with a lot of departments in the museum, so I update signage in the atrium and in the elevators, serve on our museum’s accessibility team, coordinate with other teams to think about the intended visitor experience for programs, and I supervise two wonderful Walters staff members, who are some of the first faces that you see when you enter the museum.

I was specifically brought into this role to reimagine the volunteer program. A significant part of my work over this past year has involved meeting with volunteers and staff to really develop a program that everyone feels proud of, and a program that’ll make visitors feel like they belong in our museum.

This revamped volunteer program is made up of one main role, welcoming, and additional actions that can be opted into. You’ll be able to explore, host, represent, or evaluate in the galleries or out in the community. Volunteers will be able to work with a variety of different age groups, backgrounds, and also get some hands-on art and conversation facilitation experience.

Volunteers will engage with visitors in ways that may feel both familiar to visitors and also in ways that are brand new. The main theme across all of the ways that volunteers may engage with visitors is in that welcoming role.

You’ll also be able to spot a volunteer from a mile away, as they’ll have lovely orange lanyards. Everyone has a different motivation for volunteering here at the Walters, but something that really draws all of our volunteers together is their love for art here at the museum, as well as connecting with people.

Something that means a ton to our volunteers and also our staff is when visitors leave comments in the comment bank about the fabulous job they’re doing. Come meet our volunteers and get a wonderful Walters welcome.”

[00:37:53] Karena Ingram, host: Thanks so much, Ambria. Want to become a Walters volunteer? We’ll recruit a new class in March 2026. Learn more at thewalters.org/volunteer.

The installation of The Pocket by Katherine Mann is supported by the National Endowment for the Arts.

We Were Treated Like Numbers Rather Than Stars, by Stephanie Mercedes, is generously supported by the Estate of Toney Hopkins.

The installation of Abracadabra (Abuelita’s Bowl) and Ya Habibti, Ta’ala is generously supported by The Boshell Foundation and Betsey and David Todd.

Free access to the Walters Art Museum online and in person is made possible through the combined generosity of individual donors, foundations, corporations and grants from the City of Baltimore, Maryland State Arts Council, Citizens of Baltimore County, Howard County Government, and Howard County Arts Council. To learn more about engaging with or supporting the Walters, visit the walters.org/give.

A big thanks to Katherine Tzu Lan Mann, Stephanie Mercedes, Jackie Milad and Ambria Safford for chatting with us today. Free Admissions, the Walters Art Museum podcast, is made possible by Marketing and Communications Director Connie McAllister, Communications Manager Sydney Adamson, Head of Graphic Design Tony Venne, Graphic Designer Rachel Minier, Manager of Web Dylan Kinnett, Content Writer Erin Branigan, IT Specialist Frank Dickerson, and edited and hosted by me, Karena Ingram.

We hope you enjoyed this episode. If you did, please leave us a review and share this episode with your friends. You can visit TheWalters.org for more information and to plan your visit.

Hope to see you at the museum soon.