Jefferson Hayman is an artist based in Tappan, New York, whose work explores the themes of nostalgia, common symbols, and memory. Through a quiet minimalism, he invites the viewer to partake in the narrative process in a way that is both intimate and deeply personal. Hayman's work is found in numerous private and public collections, notably the Museum of Modern Art Library, The Boston Athenaeum, The New York Public Library, the collection of Sir Elton John, and the collection of Robert DeNiro, amongst many others. In 2015 he was awarded the prestigious Pollock Krasner grant.
Your secret art venue when you seek peace and quiet
The Cloisters, NYC. The fact that you are in what seems to be a Medieval European Abbey that overlooks the Hudson river always helps to calm the nerves. How can you not find peace and quiet while looking at the Unicorn Tapestries?
The best food experience in an art space
I must admit that I rarely dine in museums. I am there for the art and I often find my mind racing after just a few moments in any decent museum.
A museum gift shop that you never leave empty handed
The Metropolitan Museum, NYC. Their book selections are world class.
Your museum with a wow-factor
I am a huge fan of the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam. Dutch 17th century painting is one of my favorite periods and there is no better place to view it. I would live there if they let me ( if you are reading this email me ).
Please share with us a special personal memory related to a museum experience
I am going to break with the standard definition of the museum and say the Père Lachaise cemetery in Paris. It is a museum in its own, very special way I guess. I went there to visit the gravesite of the painter Ingres when an unexpected rainstorm appeared. My film cameras were getting soaked so I ran for the cover of a tree to stay dry. The rain was so strong that even the tree provided minimal protection so I knew I had to seek better shelter. As I looked around at the deserted cemetery, I noticed a small family crypt whose old wooden door was open so I ran into it and found myself in a tiny stone parlor. Undisturbed dust was everywhere; It seemed as though no one had been in there in a hundred years. I waited out the storm there dwelling on the notions of mortality, being forgotten and how ( hopefully ) through my art I might be able to live beyond my years.
