Maya Wright: Curating Inclusivity & Accessibility
What is your background in art, and what drove you to pursue curation as a career?
My background in art goes hand in hand with my career as a journalist. I've always been motivated to explore stories that delve into the interpersonal relationships we share with others and social issues. When I began curating, I realized it was like exercising a different muscle, but it still felt familiar. I’ve had the chance to work with all these unique characters, understand their artwork, and learn why it resonates with them and what's important to them. As a curator, you're responsible for telling and representing that story fairly, which is an equally strong facet of reporting.
Was there a particular artist, exhibition, or movement that shaped your perspective on curation early on?
I was born in Austin but grew up in the Bay Area, living in San Francisco for almost 10 years. During that time, I was fascinated with the DeYoung Museum, the Fine Arts Museum in San Francisco. That was my first experience understanding how pieces get into museums and who gets to decide that. I was also interested in the relationships between the museum and the local community. Living in San Francisco, the museum felt special and personal, like a part of my world. I believe that anyone with a deep connection to a place is naturally drawn to its galleries, museums, clubs — whatever it may be. It feels very personal.
When I think about specific artists or exhibitions that shaped my perspective, one that stands out is from last year’s Summer Salon. I met an artist here in Austin named Rewon Shimray. She creates a lot of self-portraits and works extensively with themes of identity. I had the chance to interview her last year when she participated in the Summer Salon. She was one of the artists I talked to, and I was so moved by her work — especially her exploration of self and what it means to paint self-portraits through a generational lens. Her work is captivating, and she is incredibly talented.
Curation isn’t about playing God; it’s about ensuring that the artists are represented authentically.
How do you balance maintaining artistic integrity while making exhibits more approachable for a broader audience?
It's not so much about my artistic integrity as it is about protecting the artists in this space. Over the past few months, I've been focused on how to protect the integrity of the artists I work with. When we share our exhibitions, projects, and collections with a broader audience, I sometimes worry that the message might get lost.
At Cloud Tree, we have an open-door policy — literally. We have two galleries side by side, and people can just walk in. But that also means there are times when I’m not there to provide context or share information about the artists. We don’t keep a lot of artist statements on hand, so I often feel like I need to be there to explain the artist’s vision. If I’m taking a lunch break or working from home, I stress about whether visitors will understand the artist’s intent. I want to ensure the artists feel cared for and respected in this gallery, but I also understand that art is meant to be experienced in different ways, and not everything can be explained.
You’ve made it a point to make galleries more accessible and representative of a diverse audience. Could you share strategies or initiatives you’ve implemented to achieve this?
Not being afraid to ask for help and being mindful of how I can enter and be allowed into new spaces is crucial. When we think about accessibility and representing a diverse audience, it’s important to feel comfortable enough to ask questions, be curious, and want to engage in those spaces.
At Cloud Tree, maintaining diversity involves ensuring that everyone who walks through the door feels safe and knows that this is a transparent gallery. It might sound unusual, but we have a set of three or four core values that I always refer to when making decisions at the gallery: Does this feel transparent? Does this feel respectful? Does this feel safe? These values guide everything we do. Especially when we consider visual aspects and how strongly images can impact patrons and visitors.
I lean so hard — I'm such a community b*tch.
What challenges have you faced in making the art world more inclusive, and how have you overcome them?
One of the biggest challenges I face is the battle with the 'pay-to-play' balance. It's a tough reality to acknowledge, but to protect and support our artistic communities—whether it's print media, music, zines, or other forms of art — we need to be willing to invest in them. This investment can be financial or energetic.
I don’t want to depend on the capitalistic and sometimes broken governmental system, which means I have to prioritize what it means to be a neighbor, and a community member, and support the places and groups that I want to stay.
This struggle — wanting to break away from the system but needing to participate in it just to make progress — is something I’ve been thinking about a lot. In the for-profit world, it’s particularly difficult. You have to find ways to compromise and shift things.
Your work in the Summer Salon series to bring over forty artists into an established gallery is impressive! What about this series are you most proud of?
I believe that confidence is everything in artistry. Providing artists with space and showing confidence in them can make all the difference. For example, around 50% of the artists I met through Summer Salon were showcasing their art in a gallery for the first time. While our gallery is casual and informal — designed to avoid that intimidating, 'hold your breath' atmosphere — it’s also a renowned space.
What makes me most proud is seeing how proud they are — watching them step back and think, 'Yeah, I did that.' Summer Salon is a workshop that for many allows them to experience installing their work and being in a gallery space for the first time.
We’ve talked a lot about the challenges of balancing financial and artistic perspectives, but at the end of the day, my focus is on giving these artists confidence, happiness, and representation. I’ve made an effort to look each artist in the eye and said, 'I’m so proud of you. Thank you for being in this space and letting us showcase your art.' Meeting these artists and seeing the confidence they gain from the experience is pure magic. It’s like handing out jewels of confidence to people, and it’s a joy I’ll carry with me forever.
What would you like our audience to consider when consuming art, especially in gallery spaces?
The world of art is for you to interact with. You have the right to visit places even without monetary transcription.
Your purchase value does not equal your right to the space.
How do you stay creatively inspired while managing the demands of curating?
I’ve got to be able to play! A lot of my playful reprieve comes from leaning on my community. All of my friends do such beautiful things and have these talented projects in their lives, and I always feel creatively inspired by checking in with them and talking about what they've been up to, and what their focus is on right now. This has managed to keep me inspired, and I think it always will.
I live with a musician — my beautifully talented boyfriend — and when I come home from the gallery with my brain buzzing, I find solace in slowing down and finding him at home, often, playing music. We can learn a lot about our creative endurance by observing another person’s journey in that.
How do you envision your portfolio and accomplishments growing over the next few years?
It’s hard to imagine what will come in the next few years for my portfolio as a curator or participant in the art world. I am enjoying this pace of growth and application. I would like to develop an exhibition that is focused strictly on the neighborhood surrounding Cloud Tree. The history of the east side — primarily East Fifth Street — has changed so much since Cloud Tree opened. Myself, and the owner of Cloud Tree, Brian Johnson, have discussed what it would look like engaging artists and writers of all backgrounds to utilize the space in a way that pays homage to that change.
How can organizations such as Glaze hold themselves accountable for being inclusive and equitable, especially when displaying works of art?
I'm often a fan of the saying, 'If it’s not broken, don’t fix it.' But in the context of your question, I think organizations like Glaze can continue to hold themselves accountable by doing the opposite — by pretending it is broken. Glaze does a beautiful job of this by continuing to be inclusive, encouraging new voices, and inviting new individuals into the fold.
We constantly need to be changing things up. The second we think we have all the right voices at the table, that’s when we’re doing something wrong.
By Aoife Hopkins