For Jacqueline Sullivan, curatorial work has always been about expressing a point of view. She shares her own when we speak on a brisk February afternoon: “I’ve been thinking a lot about lightness and heaviness. I take my curatorial work really seriously, and it gives me a sense of purpose - but I believe being heavy all of the time can hinder us from freely showing our personality.”
Jacqueline cites a recent conversation with a friend about childhood bedrooms and how they provide a kind of self-expression that can get lost later in life. “My childhood room was an explosion of whatever brought me joy. I love that idea of feeling playful and unencumbered by what we’re supposed to do... There's something really interesting about people who just go for it without being concerned about what it looks like to others. It's about surrounding yourself with things you love and being serious when it matters.”
This interplay of ideas has endured since Jacqueline’s youth. Visiting historical homes and museums with her mother is one of her earliest memories of treating design with reverence. “I grew up ten minutes from Concord, Massachusetts. We spent a lot of time at The Orchard House, which is Louisa May Alcott's home … I fell in love with what I used to call ‘olden times.’ I would dress up in hoop skirts and crush dried herbs in my living room and write with a quill pen by candlelight - I originally wanted to be a writer.”
Following a gap year in Buenos Aires and Mendoza after high school to climb Mt. Aconcagua, Jacqueline pursued a degree in poetry with a minor in film history at the University of Southern California. Later, her creative curiosity took her to London, where she enrolled in Sotheby's Decorative Arts program. “It was incredible. We probably spent three days a week at the Victoria and Albert Museum. We went to Paris. It was so fun meeting specialists who devoted their lives to some very specific materials, like porcelain or glass.”
Upon moving to New York City, Jacqueline continued to explore the art world with positions at renowned institutions like the Whitney Museum of American Art and RoAndCo, a leading branding agency. “I learned a lot and made some really great friends [in those roles], but I knew I always wanted to go to graduate school.” She enrolled at Parsons School of Design and in Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum's Master's in History of Design and Curatorial Studies, becoming the curatorial fellow in Cooper Hewitt’s textiles department.
After a brief stint in San Francisco, working with famed interior designer Charles de Lisle, Jacqueline returned to New York and began plotting out her gallery in collaboration with her colleague and now close friend, Ruby Woodhouse. “It's hard to describe when the gallery was born,” she reflects. “I knew I wanted a brick-and-mortar space; I've always wanted to do my own thing. Seeing people like Charles and Roanne [Adams, the founder of RoAndCo], there was something really exciting to me about leading a company. And I love the beginnings of projects—I have a lot of energy and excitement at the beginning stages.”
Nestled in the heart of Tribeca, Jacqueline’s eponymous decorative arts and design gallery has become a destination for thoughtful, concept-driven collections. Ascending the stairs of 52 Walker Street, visitors are pulled into an airy space filled with striking artifacts. To the right, there is an assemblage of furniture and bookcases where Jacqueline and her team work. To the left, an exhibition setup draws the eye all the way to the space’s massive windows. “You always fantasize about living different lives and if you made different choices,” Jacqueline says. “I feel that the gallery is a view into my life if I decided to live downtown in a loft.”
The gallery itself has enjoyed many lives—from textile factory to tech office—with its latest aesthetic brought to life in partnership with architectural designer Nick Poe. A collaborative spirit is at the heart of Jacqueline’s newest show, The Loving Cup, inspired by the decorative vessel of the same name. An artifact that commemorates marriage unions, The Loving Cup aims to “explore how these traditional vessels become a means of archival stewardship, honoring relationships of all kinds” and features a selection of contemporary works rendered in glass, ceramic, fibre, metal, and wood.
With a nod to her love of beginnings, Jacqueline notes that The Loving Cup was one of her earliest ideas for a show. “I like the idea of an artifact as a means of memory-making or record-keeping. If you think about it, an object has no feelings—we imbue these pieces, trying to embody this expansive notion of what love is.”
She continues: “These loving cups were tokens of affection—but you find them at estate sales and auctions; [art] dealers have them forever. They're kind of maligned and alone, and many are broken. What's interesting on the other side is that people repair, mend, or collect them—so you have these two truths at once.”
As we walk through the space, I take in the arrangement of tapestries, furniture, and, of course, loving cups adorned or reimagined by the show’s participating artists. My gaze keeps drifting to a cluster of three small vessels covered with doilies made by Sophie Stone. Here, the past and present collide once again. “Sophie is actually from the same town as me, and we grew up together, which is funny,” Jacqueline shares.
While Jacqueline contends she has no personal connection to The Loving Cup’s themes, her thoughtful relationship to curatorial work continues to inform the gallery’s communal essence. During a quiet moment, Jacqueline guides me to the stainless steel kitchen in the centre of the room, where we take in the exhibit from afar. “I've had people ask me if this kitchen is a work and if it’s for sale,” she remarks. “I think the kitchen is the most important part of a home.” A comfortable pause ensues. “I wanted the gallery to be a community space. I wanted people to gather here.”
Jacqueline wears the Lia Garment Dyed Boat Neck Tee, Wool Linen Patch Pocket Cardigan, and Twisted Seam Japanese Denim Trousers.
Words by Rachel Schwartzmann.
Photography by Youn Jung Kim.
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