By Sejin Park and Pam Reyes

The Noguchi Museum’s Teen Advisory Board (TAB) is a paid internship for high school students in New York City. TAB began in 2005 as a year-long after-school program. With the support of Noguchi Museum educators and staff, TAB has always been a program that promotes dialogue and inclusivity at the Museum. Each year, the program culminates in a collaborative project or event generated by relevant topics and the interests of the students and educators. TAB students are considered ambassadors of the Museum. By having their individual perspectives shared through projects or events, we begin to learn about what’s relevant to young people today. In response to the COVID-19 pandemic in March 2020, we—co-educators Sejin Park and Pam Reyes—transitioned mid-program from in-person to virtual meetings. The COVID-19 pandemic made racism, classism, and other inequities more visible and urgent; as educators, we felt compelled to address these inequities outright. During our weekly meetings, we created opportunities for TAB members to speak about and make art in response to these social justice issues. In the following conversation, we delve into our program’s goals, our success in using art to process current events, and how we empowered students to respond to difficult topics through art and activism.

Sejin Park: Pam, it’s so nice to be able to do this with you—to reflect on co-teaching TAB last year. Our paths crossed when we first started our educator training at the Museum six years ago. We both have long-established roots at The Noguchi Museum. I started off as a college intern in 2013 and you as a high school intern in TAB 2009–10.

Pam Reyes: It has been such a pleasure teaching and learning alongside you all these years! There is so much to unpack about our experience teaching TAB, via Zoom, in the midst of the pandemic, and in the context of social unrest. I think this was a really pivotal moment in the history of TAB as a program. Zoom forced us to operate outside the physical Museum, and that allowed so many other things to come into the Museum’s context.

SP: Now, the city feels keen to re-open and return to in-person programs, with initiatives such as Key to NYC. It’s the perfect time to pause and reflect on what we experienced teaching in the virtual realm. Pam, in what ways did TAB 2020–21 operate beyond the Museum?

PR: TAB members not only learned about Isamu Noguchi and his work, but also about using art as a tool for social justice. In the end, each intern designed an anti-racism poster to print and distribute to friends and family. Ten interns tuned in from all over the city: many from Queens, a handful from Brooklyn and one from the Bronx. Only three of them had ever visited The Noguchi Museum before the program. I had just moved from Brooklyn to Austin, Texas, and you from Queens to Manhattan. This was as remote as teaching had ever been for me! Sejin, what was it like for you?

SP: I felt it vital to recognize and acknowledge the trauma of the pandemic, which impacted all of us.

PR: Yes! And acknowledge how the world had changed so quickly, with no finish line for a return to normalcy in sight. That was the most difficult part for me. We had no idea how long this would last.

SP: In March 2020, our TAB cohort experienced the abrupt shift from in-person to virtual. It was clear that we had to hold space for the interns and their grief. We constantly asked each other, how can we make TAB a relevant experience right now?

PR: The TAB 2020-21 cohort started and ended virtually, with the exception of two meetings that took place at the Museum. As facilitators, it felt like we had to reinvent the wheel. Our approach to this changed from week to week. Some weeks, you and I would be so distraught from the news, between incomprehensible COVID death tolls and the ongoing police violence, that we were pulled to deviate from our lesson plan. Instead, we would use art to create a quiet and mindful virtual space that offered TAB members a break from current events. At other times, the unrest and unpredictability of the moment made clear that TAB could not exist in a complete bubble. We used art to create dialogue and inspire action towards social justice.

I think the evolution of TAB over the years has been very influenced by your enthusiasm in social justice, Sejin! Our focus on anti-racism seems like a natural progression considering inclusion has always been a goal for TAB. The program has become more centered on social justice in the past three years. One cohort focused on accessibility and questioned who typically has access to museums and why. The year before that, members interviewed Long Island City residents, and asked them how they were building equity in their community.

SP: Our mutual interest in social justice feels like a given. You and I have spoken about this—to be a first-generation American immigrant and person of color working in a museum has its own intersecting set of concerns—economic, social, and racial.

PR: Right. This field of work, especially for freelance museum educators, takes some amount of privilege. Work hours fluctuate, pay differs among institutions, and basic benefits like health insurance are rare. The insecurity of museum jobs is not conducive to supporting people of color. A survey conducted by The Andrew W. Mellon Foundation in 2018 reveals a severe lack of racial diversity in U.S. art museums.¹ The reported numbers are far from being proportional to the racial makeup of the communities that museums are supposed to engage.

And yet, it’s so important for us to reflect the many identities of our students. Our presence as museum educators communicates to our students of various socio-economic and racial backgrounds that “there is a place for you here,” and change towards a truly inclusive space is possible.

SP: Our motivations to create cultural equity in museums have guided us to look closely at themes of accessibility and inclusivity in TAB. It has always felt organic to use Noguchi’s space to nurture a sense of belonging in TAB because Noguchi struggled with this his whole life: “belonging anywhere but nowhere.”² Noguchi Museum educators often share the fact that he wanted the Museum to be a public resource and inviting to the local community.

PR: When interviewed for ARTnews in 1985, the year the Museum opened, Noguchi was asked, “What do you hope visitors will take away from your museum? For example, the people who live nearby in Long Island City or Woodside, Queens?” He replied, “Well, that this is their place. They can come here whenever they want to; this is their place to reflect and see an alternative existence to the one they have now.”³

SP: It was a luxury to spend a full two hours each week on-site at the Museum in previous TAB years. The Museum felt like a truly welcoming space. In 2021–22, when we were fully virtual, we really had a lot of ground to cover in twenty-two sessions, each of which were shortened to seventy-five minutes.

PR: So much! Looking back, we allocated our time strategically. Anti-racist activism requires a safe and brave space. We needed to take our time with introductions and foster a sense of community. Who is everyone in this virtual classroom? What are our goals? What is the Teen Advisory Board? What is The Noguchi Museum? Who was Isamu Noguchi? 

Sejin, how would you say we made Isamu Noguchi relevant during the first few weeks of introductions?

SP: We had to be strategic about how we introduced Noguchi and how we talked about The Noguchi Museum, especially since we had limited access to the Museum’s building during lockdown. The first few weeks were full of nerves and excitement. TAB members were shy and hesitant to share, and understandably so. Noguchi’s art helped us spark conversations and gain a solid sense of ourselves as a group.

PR: I felt so fortunate to have Noguchi’s writing and artwork as teaching tools. Noguchi modeled how one’s art can be a reflection on one’s identity. Noguchi’s sculpture Fudo (1966–67) was a perfect entryway into Noguchi’s biracial identity. Materially, the sculpture is succinct—made only of two materials held together by gravity. A hand-carved granite stone sits wedged atop a sheet of steel bent into a triangular base. In the Museum catalogue, Noguchi wrote, “The piece has a dual history—Japan (Mannari), where I carved the sculpture, and America (New York), where the base was made. The conception is as indivisible as I am.”⁴

SP: Using this sculpture, we prompted TAB members to consider different aspects of their own identity and share them with one another. The activity really built up connections among the students. TAB members Tony and Hira discovered that they’re both from Asian American immigrant families. They connected over feeling alienated when visiting their respective home countries, and being frustrated that they couldn’t speak the same language as their relatives. At the end of the year, we learned from Hira’s written reflection that this moment “made [her] feel heard and less alone in [her] struggle of being a person of color in America.” Hira’s experience was emblematic of the way that Noguchi’s sculpture prompted TAB members to see their identities through an intersectional lens and develop a more nuanced perspective of their positionality in the world.

PR: While learning from a single artist has its limitations, Noguchi is an ideal artist to motivate complex conversations about identity. We decided to share the story of Noguchi’s experience voluntarily entering the “Poston War Relocation Center,” a prison camp for Japanese Americans during World War II. This is the time in Noguchi’s life where he felt compelled to advocate for an issue that was truly personal to him. In an effort to help the incarcerated community, Noguchi arrived in Poston with plans to improve the camp’s facilities—to build schools, gardens, and recreational facilities. But these plans were never supported and Noguchi realized the dire situation he was in. He made pleas to friends and officials to administer his release. He was finally able to leave because he learned that prisoners who were mixed race or married to a white male could petition for release. In the context of this racist system, Noguchi leveraged this privilege as a person of mixed race with white heritage to leave on furlough after being incarcerated for six months, never to return.

SP: Noguchi was understandably disenchanted with politics after this experience. We shared an unpublished article called I Become a Nisei that Noguchi wrote for Reader’s Digest about his experience in Poston and the complexities of identity and belonging. TAB members connected with Noguchi’s desire to grapple with his biracial identity and navigate the tension between his Japanese and American identities.

PR: And TABers were inspired by Noguchi’s desire to incite change for the Japanese American community through art.

SP: Bringing this conversation into dialogue with more overtly anti-racist artwork was our next step. Before continuing, we slowed down to learn vocabulary for unpacking racism.

PR: This time was well spent! The concept of anti-racism was best expressed by Dr. Ibram X. Kendi, “The only way to undo racism is to consistently identify and describe it — and then dismantle it.”⁵

SP: As a group, we learned and reviewed the definitions of terms including “discrimination,” “prejudice,” “bias,” “stereotype,” “privilege,” and “inequity.” We asked ourselves: What are the essential ideas that would empower TAB members to bear witness to and take a stand against injustice?

PR: And we wanted TAB members to feel equipped with language and an understanding of anti-racism as an action. Kendi argues that there is no such thing as “not racist” only “anti-racist” or “racist.”⁶

SP: We often reminded our interns throughout the year that you and I were learning alongside them. In fact, The Noguchi Museum’s entire staff was attending a series of anti-racist workshops facilitated by Dr. Marit Dewhurst and Keonna Hendrick. Dr. Dewhurst and Hendrick deepened our understanding of anti-racism as an action. They argue that anti-racism is an “active interrogation” and “ongoing process;” it is a constant effort to dismantle racism “with the intention for equitable redistribution of power.”⁷ The duo also emphasizes that anti-racism considers the economic, sociological, historical, and political frameworks of racism.

PR: And so in an effort to model anti-racism, you and I were wary of omitting information or avoiding sensitive topics. At the same time, we were careful not to retraumatize and overwhelm the TABers.

SP: For example, when planning a meeting to discuss anti-Black racism in America, you presented artworks that have rich historical contexts as opposed to giving a historical lecture. I love how you chose to focus on paintings by Betye Saar and Horace Pippin. Their artworks proved to be great mediators for discussing racism.

PR: We had to be considerate of how we conveyed information and of what we asked TABers to do with said information. Saar’s The Liberation of Aunt Jemima (1972) and Pippin’s Mr. Prejudice (1941) helped us apply our newly learned terminology while in conversation about art. First, I modelled close looking and described Saar’s painting in great detail. I mentioned that the work is vibrant, with colors red, yellow, black, and employs patterns that activate the entire piece. That it is composed of found materials: a figurine of a “mammy” (an offensive caricature of a Black nursemaid or nanny in the United States), a postcard illustrating a Black nanny holding a white child, and a print transfer of the Aunt Jemima logo for baking products. I stated clearly that Aunt Jemima was a racist caricature of a Black woman. Equipped with this information, we divided TABers into breakout rooms to discuss their own interpretations of The Liberation of Aunt Jemima.

SP: You posed the questions, “What stereotypes is Saar showing us here?” and “How does Saar speak out against racism with this work of art?” TAB members identified Saar’s decision to arm the Black figurine with a rifle.

PR: As a group, we discussed how this restores Aunt Jemima’s agency and gives her a chance to fight for her freedom. This anti-racist artwork upends the static, racist iconography of the obedient Black woman.

SP: TABers made connections between the artwork and the ways racism operates today. I remember how TAB member Unmu shared that after many decades of controversy, the brand formerly known as Aunt Jemima had finally discontinued the use of the racist image and name.

PR: And Pippin’s Mr. Prejudice pushed the group even further, guiding us through conversations about discrimination. The anti-racist messaging in Pippin’s work lies in his composition. Members noticed immediately that the canvas was split into two, unequal parts. Through this painting, TABers learned about the discrimination against Black American soldiers when they returned home after serving in World War I.

SP: We were able to touch upon American history without overwhelming TABers. I could feel that the group was gaining confidence in talking about racism while learning how to talk about art. I think each made the other more navigable.

PR: So, first we talked about Noguchi and his experiences with race. Then we talked about some of Noguchi’s contemporaries and their experiences. Slowly, but surely, we made our way to the present moment. We really hit the jackpot with our visiting contemporary artists, Kambui Olujimi and Amanda Phingbodhipakkiya. How did we get so lucky, Sejin?

SP: Not only are they amazing artists, they are generous educators and genuine-hearted humans.

PR: I loved Olujimi’s visit. Again, we explored the artist as a complex and multi-dimensional creator—a product of his identities, but more than the sum. Olujimi started his hour-long visit with an ice breaker. He shared with everyone that his most recent favorite artwork was sci-fi blockbuster “The Martian” (2015)—a Hollywood film—which started to unravel our preconceived idea of art! Olujimi talked about his wide-reaching art practice, from his interest in space travel and science, to his love for his guardian angel, mentor, and dear friend Catherine Arline, to his desperate and successful search for a horse head to complete an artwork. His message was clear—art can be about anything.

SP: You asked Olujimi, “What is an artist’s role in society? Do you think that they have an obligation to make political art?” He answered, “That’s a hard ‘no’ for me.”

PR: His answer was so direct that we could see laughter in the Zoom boxes. He continued,

SP: TABers were inspired by his candor. We also had the privilege of welcoming visiting artist Amanda Phingbodhipakkiya. TAB member Melanie discovered Phingbodhipakkiya while researching artwork made in response to anti-Asian racism. Melanie found the artist’s Instagram account and, without hesitation, wrote a direct message to request an interview. We were all so excited when Phingbodhipakkiya responded and agreed to join us at our next meeting.

PR: As an educator, moments like these when students take initiative are so rewarding. Phingbodhipakkiya’s most recent work was an anti-racist public art campaign; relevant to TAB members’ cumulative poster project, this was an enlightening and encouraging visit for us all.

SP: Many of the TABers were already familiar with the series I Still Believe in Our City. During her visit, they asked about her motivations behind advocating for the Asian American and Pacific Islander (AAPI) community through large posters displayed in public spaces.

Amanda Phingbodhipakkiya said,

PR: This was so powerful. I think our TAB members, many of whom had chosen to echo messages of the Stop Asian Hate movement in their posters, were struck by Phingbodhipakkiya’s idea of taking up space as an overlooked person, using large, vibrant posters.

SP: When asked how she identifies, the artist answered beautifully,

SP: Reflecting on both Olujimi and Phingbodhipakkiya’s visits, TABers noted how both artists emphasized being human above all identifiers.

PR: We really needed to focus on the quality of humanness, because there was so much brutality at that time. Amanda’s visit came after the Atlanta spa shootings, when eight people were murdered, six of whom were East Asian women. It felt as if something harrowing was occurring every week. We asked TAB members to join us in saying the names of victims of hate crimes, and of those murdered in acts of anti-Black police brutality: Adam Toledo, Daunte Wright, Ma’Khia Bryant.

SP: As educators engaging young people in social justice, we needed to model vulnerability. Whether it was through email in between meetings or through chat during meetings, you and I would share our anger, frustration, sorrow, and distress about these hate crimes. And we encouraged TABers to voice their own.

PR: We emphasized self-care as an essential counterpart to activism. Every single meeting started with two minutes of contemplative practices. We took inspiration from The Nap Ministry’s philosophy of rest as resistance; we learned various breathing techniques; we watched a video of water flowing through Noguchi’s sculpture The Well. It was so important to me to practice feeling grounded, even as we floated in the ether of Zoom. It seems to have had an impact on TABers too. TAB member ChuYi wrote in her reflection that she continues to use the box breathing technique before entering stressful situations, like taking a test.

SP: When thinking about the role of self-care in social justice, I found inspiration in “The Future of Healing: Shifting From Trauma Informed Care to Healing Centered Engagement” by Dr. Shawn Ginwright. In this article, Dr. Ginwright argues that trauma informed care “focuse[s] only on . . . harm, injury, and trauma” whereas healing centered learning creates opportunities for young people to advocate for policies that directly affect their lives.

Dr. Ginwright further wrote,

SP: That is exactly what we wanted to do! And we were so fortunate to have another educator working with us to create a space of healing and activism. Museum educator Naima Dobbs presented a variety of artists who used visual language to advocate for their beliefs. She shared the 50 State Initiative organized by For Freedoms, an arts organization that commissions billboards from artists across the United States.

PR: This was a helpful series for TAB members to see, and it operates in a way parallel to Amanda Phingbodhipakkiya‘s posters, and the posters TABers would eventually make. The 50 State Initiative helped students see how artists combined text and visuals in creative ways. Notice, for example, how the text in Kameelah Janan Rasheed’s What Have You (Un)learned Today? billboard forces you to learn how to read the poster in an unconventional way—a cross between a typewriter and chalkboard—with large pauses, addendums, annotations and an emphasis on the word “you.” The artist’s formal decisions complement the meaning of the text.

SP: TABers learned a lot from analyzing examples of the billboards from For Freedoms. And even more so when we asked TABers to discuss free anti-racist posters digitally accessible on Printed Matter, an organization dedicated to disseminating artist books and posters. To illustrate the many facets of anti-racism, we assigned posters that tackled very specific issues—one poster addressed the history of racist monuments, another advocated defunding the police in order to fund community growth, and one commemorated Black trans activists.

PR: Sejin, I remember how TAB member, Hira, returned from her small group after discussing a poster titled Support Black Trans People by Serena Hocharoen. Hira shared aloud that, prior to her group’s discussion, she was not familiar with the names mentioned in the poster: Riah Milton, Dominique Fells, Tony McDade, and Nina Pop. Hira’s group member, Sidonie, taught her that these were names of Black trans folks who had been recently murdered. Sidonie also shared how the poster shone a light on the importance of the Black Trans Lives Matter movement, and all of the contributions made by the community.

SP: It was inspiring to see TAB members teach one another with courage and without shame. It exemplified that work towards change cannot be done alone.

PR: The posters acted as a common ground upon which TABers could stand and discuss difficult topics—such as the disproportionate policing and murdering of Black trans people. These discussions about art were effective tools for learning and building trust. At the same time, TAB members experienced the elements of design that make up an effective poster—text, images, fonts, color, composition. At this point, they felt excited to start working on their individual anti-racist posters.

SP: Finding a starting point was overwhelming for the TABers. We demonstrated and modeled different ways of conducting research. I had just read Dr. Marit Dewhurst’s Social Justice Art: A Framework for Activist Art Pedagogy, in which Dr. Dewhurst recounts how a group of teen participants in a social justice art program investigated a topic of their choice through many different ways. The teens looked up newspaper articles, interviewed family and friends, and visited organizations related to their cause. We felt TAB would benefit from this method of research in ultimately “seeing it everywhere,”⁹ or seeing their chosen anti-racist topic activated in different areas of their lives.

PR: These research methods led to most TAB members discovering anti-racist topics that spoke to their identities. TAB member Emily, who is biracial and Puerto Rican, felt compelled to investigate the Telegramgate protests which successfully pressured the resignation of Ricardo Rosselló, former Governor of Puerto Rico—whose private chat log filled with sexist, homophobic, and racist comments was leaked to the public. Benjamin, another TAB member, recalled personal experiences of enduring microaggressions as a Korean American, and collected resources advocating for #StopAsianHate. Atika reflected on her identity as a South Asian woman and explored the intersection between the ‘model minority’ stereotype and sexism. TAB member Litzy, critical of the hyper surveillance of Black hair, delved into her research on the Black is Beautiful movement.

At this point, TAB members were ready to visually synthesize their findings into poster form. To create our anti-racist posters digitally, we relied on free image manipulation applications such as GIMP and FireAlpaca. Some students had limited access to a computer and stable internet, but had smartphones, so we introduced the digital app Canva. We had to work around with the technology that the students had access to, which was a creative feat in itself.

SP: Here’s where all the trust building throughout the year paid off: Students comfortably gave each other feedback during critique—a natural transition from sharing their personal experiences and research. After a few rounds of peer reviews, we printed the posters and held our last TAB meeting in-person at the museum to celebrate. Some Museum staff members even designed their own anti-racist posters in solidarity with the TABers.

PR: And I attended via FaceTime! They all looked so happy and I could almost see their smiles through their masks.

SP: Yes! We held this meeting as safely as we could—enforcing social distancing and masks. It felt amazing to gather in the Museum as a group—like long-lost friends playing catch up. The conversation immediately erupted into sharing future plans. Some TAB members spoke excitedly about starting college after the summer; two members even found out that they would be attending the same school. Needing no prompt, TAB members swapped copies of their posters, and shared their plans of passing out their posters to their friends, teachers, and classmates. TABers took turns in small groups walking into the Museum shop to see their poster exhibition, and it was a proud moment for them to see their work installed on the walls of the Museum.

PR: From our conversations since then, I know we both agree that TAB members proved anti-racism is not just a word, but a constant action. In their year-end reflections, many TAB members shared that they felt empowered to use art as a way to “spread awareness” and advocate for anti-racism. The success of the program was that it was built around a shared purpose and action—creating an anti-racist poster to distribute to their communities.

SP: Agreed, Pam! Cheers to a rewarding year full of learning and growth. In the end, our relationships to each other are what matter, especially the relationship we have with ourselves. TAB members returned to a Noguchi sculpture they chose at the beginning of the program and wrote about their growth. They realized the power of art to inspire change and envision a future of radical love: uplifting and supporting each other through their respective journeys, and collaboratively working towards a world that is abundant with care.

Pam Reyes (she/her) is passionate about inquiry-based approaches to art education that allow students to exercise their curiosity and deepen their empathy. Pam is an artist, musician, and educator born in the Philippines and raised in Queens, New York. She obtained a BFA in Studio Art at CUNY Hunter College and has taught as a freelance art educator at Socrates Sculpture Park, at The Noguchi Museum, and at the New Museum of Contemporary Art. Pam is currently teaching art in a private school for grades K-8 in Austin, Texas.

As an educator and artist, Sejin Park (she/her) is invested in social justice and participating in community based actions that lead to sustainable equity. Sejin obtained a BFA in Studio Art at New York University and worked at various schools and art institutions, including The Noguchi Museum as the Education Coordinator for six years. She is currently Manager of Teen Programs at the Studio Institute, and is pursuing an MA in Art Education at CUNY City College. 

Feature produced by Alex Miller.

Transcripts of archival materials are available by request to accessibility@noguchi.org.

¹ Mariët Westermann, Roger C. Schonfeld, and Liam Sweeney, “Art Museum Staff Demographic Survey 2018,” The Andrew W. Mellon Foundation, January 28, 2019, https://mellon.org/programs/arts-and-cultural-heritage/art-history-conservation-museums/demographic-survey/.

² Isamu Noguchi, Isamu Noguchi: A Sculptor’s World (Göttingen, Germany: Steidl, 2015), 39.

³ Milton Esterow and Sylvia Hochfield, interview with Isamu Noguchi, “The Courage to Desecrate Emptiness,” ARTnews 85, no. 3 (March 1986): 103.

⁴ Isamu Noguchi, The Isamu Noguchi Garden Museum (New York: Harry N. Abrams, 1999), 116.

⁵ Ibram X. Kendi, How to Be an Antiracist (New York: One World, 2019), 9.

⁶ Ibid., 10.

⁷ Keonna Hendrick and Marit Dewhurst, “Anti-Racist Education Terminology,” 2017.

⁸ Shawn Ginwright, “The Future of Healing: Shifting from Trauma Informed Care to Healing Centered Engagement.” Medium, December 9, 2020. https://ginwright.medium.com/the-future-of-healing-shifting-from-trauma-informed-care-to-healing-centered-engagement-634f557ce69c.

⁹ Marit Dewhurst, Social Justice Art: A Framework for Activist Art Pedagogy. United States: Harvard Education Press, 2014.