Frida Escobedo Has New Vision For the Met

The greatest museum in the Western Hemisphere, The Metropolitan Museum of Art—an encyclopedia of more than two million objects from all parts of the world—is finally, after more than 150 years, coming to terms with modern and contemporary art. Until the late 1940s, The Met simply ignored it. A few modernist works made their way into the collection, and over the years there were gifts and legacies, such as Picasso’s great portrait of Gertrude Stein, that could not be refused. But The Met’s anti-modernist stance held firm until 1967, when the museum got its first department of contemporary art, headed by the irrepressible curator Henry Geldzahler, in two smallish, unprepossessing rooms on the second floor. 

Two decades later, modern and contemporary art established an entire wing of its own, partially financed by Reader’s Digest cofounder and philanthropist Lila Acheson Wallace, with 40,000 square feet of gallery space. But when it opened, this space did more to highlight the gaps in The Met’s pitifully inadequate collection than showcase its few modern treasures.

That’s no longer the case. A flurry of astute buying has taken place, and many generous gifts have come in, raising The Met’s modern and contemporary collection to the level of the holdings in its 16 other departments. Among them are Leonard Lauder’s 2013 donation, which erased the yawning gap in Cubist paintings; 57 works of African American art from the Souls Grown Deep Foundation, in 2014; and the gift of 220 Philip Gustons by his daughter, Musa Mayer, last year. But the shortcomings of the Wallace Wing—not enough gallery space, isolation from the rest of the museum, poor circulation—became increasingly evident, and in 2015, the renowned British architect David Chipperfield was commissioned to demolish the wing and build a new one from scratch. Soaring costs, a change of directors at The Met, and a host of other problems put the project on hold. Max Hollein, the new director whose strong belief in contemporary art was no secret, invited five architects (including Chipperfield) to come up with a new plan. When the result was announced a year ago, no one was more surprised than the winner, a 42-year-old Mexican architect named Frida Escobedo. For Escobedo, it was one of those moments that can change the trajectory of an architect’s career.

On a rainy Wednesday in January when the museum was closed, Escobedo and I met for lunch in the Patrons Lounge at The Met. She’s a striking young woman, tall and slim with long black hair, a wide smile, and prominent Frida Kahlo–like eyebrows. Stylishly dressed, she’s wearing super-wide-leg black pants with a matching oversized jacket by Bottega Veneta and a bright red sweater by The Row. “The Met knew my firm was doing a residential project in Harlem, and they sent me an email saying they were expanding their portfolio of architects for their files, and could I come in,” Escobedo tells me in her soft-spoken voice. “I thought, Well, of course. I never imagined it was about redoing a wing. So I came in and had a 40-minute meeting with Max Hollein, just sharing ideas. A few weeks later I received an invitation: ‘Would you like to participate in this competition?’ Another surprise. Of course I said yes. I never imagined that I would be competing against Pritzker Prize winners and very established firms.”