At the Memorial Art Gallery, Timothy Peterson is building a collection that reflects today’s complexity while helping shape the canon that endures.
Timothy Peterson spends much of his time in places most people never see: under freeway overpasses, inside warehouse studios, in half-finished spaces where artists are still working out ideas and responding in real time to the zeitgeist. He is looking for what isn’t settled yet, for concepts still taking shape.
For the Ģý’s (MAG), those instincts carry remarkable weight. As the inaugural , Peterson isn’t just selecting artworks to acquire; he’s helping shape how the future will understand the present—building a collection that reflects today’s bracing complexity while engaging with MAG’s 5,000 years of holdings.
Upstairs, one finds Egyptian mummies, a Baroque organ, and Monet’s soft washes of color. Descend into the Modern and Contemporary Art Gallery, though, and the aesthetic shift hits immediately. “I give a great deal of attention to sightlines,” Peterson says. Dominating one wall is Erin Shirreff’s Paper Sculpture, a large-scale shadow box composed of magnified scans from vintage photography. From afar, its dots and rosettes coalesce into what appears to be plaster, stone, wood, and metal; up close, the illusion dissolves into curving planes and fragments of printed matter.
“I love that after the long walk to Paper Sculpture, its shadow box format still provides further depth to consider up close,” Peterson says. That layering lets the viewer observe both “three-dimensional forms in a culture mediated by still and moving images” and aspects of collage, sculpture, and dye-sublimation printing—all processes that figure in modern and contemporary art.
Peterson’s other important sightline, leading from an entrance used by local school groups to Wayne Thiebaud’s River Pond, shows how an artist famous for cakes and pies renders landscape with similar pastels and precision. Both works speak to Peterson’s curatorial vision: conversation sparked and sustained through encounters with artists, materials, and ideas still cohering.
It is a vision that extends far beyond Rochester, notes , the Mary W. and Donald R. Clark Director of MAG.
Curating the canon
“Contemporary art is different from all the other categories of art in an encyclopedic museum because every artwork—baroque, impressionist, modernist—was once contemporary,” Jesse says. “When a museum as important as MAG selects what enters its contemporary collection, it is helping determine what artists and artworks enter what we call ‘the canon.’ Think of how important that is.”
Those high stakes animated the search that brought Peterson to Rochester in September 2024 as the museum’s first contemporary art curator, a position endowed by local gallerist Deborah Ronnen in honor of her parents. “Timothy’s position isn’t just important to MAG, or to the arts in Rochester,” Jesse says. “It will have an impact on the art world.”

Peterson—who grew up in Minnesota and earned a bachelor’s in art history at St. Olaf College followed by a master’s in art history at Williams College—has curated more than 150 exhibitions and worked with artists ranging from emerging voices to internationally recognized figures. Over nearly four decades, he has held leadership roles at the Center for Maine Contemporary Art, the SCAD Museum of Art in Savannah, and Franklin Art Works in Minneapolis.
Yet what distinguishes Peterson is not only experience—it is orientation. Over an orange-flavored Celsius in the museum’s pavilion, he speaks in a rhythm that mirrors his approach: connective, passionate, attentive. Even when discussing acquisitions or installations, he returns to the artists and their processes. “You’re not just studying objects,” he says. “You’re trying to understand how something comes into being, and why it matters.”
That inquiry often begins in the studio—many of which are in locations Peterson likens to “no man’s land”—or at gallery openings, where he tracks emerging directions in contemporary practice. It requires a particular kind of judgment: the ability to recognize significance before it is widely acknowledged. On a trip to New York City, for example, he was eager to view the work of Carmen de Monteflores, the mother of artist Andrea Fraser, who has exhibited works in the Whitney Biennial. Though de Monteflores never received widespread recognition, she exemplifies the often-hidden talent Peterson seeks out.
“He’s able to separate the signal from the noise,” Jesse says, “which is arguably one of the most important skills a curator of contemporary art can have.”
Dialogue on display

The sensibility Jesse describes is immediately visible in Peterson’s reimagining of MAG’s contemporary gallery. One of his first acts upon arriving was to remove 13 interior walls, opening the space to natural light and continuous sightlines. Sculpture, photography, and painting now coexist in an environment that encourages visual and conceptual connections.
“We’re leaning into openness,” Peterson says. “The goal is to create an environment where works can speak to each other, and to visitors, without being confined by strict categories.”
Within that environment, materials become a starting point for conversation. Hugo McCloud’s Blue Zone, constructed from hand-cut and ironed single-use plastic bags, transforms a ubiquitous byproduct of global commerce into a monumental depiction of physical labor on a street in India. The work underscores both environmental degradation and the invisibility of manual work while posing a practical question for the museum: How will such materials endure?
“No material is off-limits now,” Peterson says. “The question is how it survives.” That tension between experimentation and preservation reflects a broader shift in contemporary art, where artists increasingly work with unconventional materials that challenge traditional museum practices.
In Paul Mpagi Sepuya’sDarkroom Mirror, two partially unclothed men share a camera, their faces obscured. “In many ways, photography offers visitors the most immediate opportunity to see themselves reflected in an artwork,” Peterson says. “In this case, the artist and his friend offer queer visibility, and animate Sepuya’s notion of the artist’s studio as a social and cultural space for interaction and artmaking.” MAG’s collection of more than 12,000 objects includes over 250 works in photography, the majority dating from 1950 and later.
Expanding the frame
“My goal is to expand the conversation,” Peterson says. “To create new ways of thinking, new points of entry.” That means, in part, acquiring more works by women, artists of color, and LGBTQ+ artists—ensuring, as he puts it, that “a wider world” exists within the gallery’s walls.
In Caroline Kent’s Timely movements match hidden motivations, abstract shapes and patterns glide across layered black backgrounds. Using cut-paper techniques, Kent treats abstraction as a form of visual language that resists fixed meaning while inviting viewers into the interpretive process. To extend Kent’s sensibility beyond the canvas, Peterson will work with her to create a large-scale wall drawing in MAG’s pavilion that he hopes will generate an immersive, chromatic energy.

Hanging across from Kent’s piece and next to McCloud’s Blue Zone, Euphemism (Knot Stories) gives sculptural form to tension and resilience. The black-glazed ceramic box by Paul S. Briggs is densely threaded with coiled, knotted tubes that push against and pierce its structure. Drawing on Black poetry and the realities of mass incarceration, the work transforms traditional ceramic techniques into a meditation on constraint and endurance—historical form pressed into urgent contemporary service.
A pink marble statue on a cedar plinth, Sanford Biggers’s The Cantor similarly layers histories and visual traditions. By combining a female ancestor mask from the African Chokwe people with a classical Greek maiden, Biggers connects three of MAG’s collection areas—classical sculpture, African art, and contemporary art—while prompting new conversations about identity, materiality, and cultural inheritance.
Louis Fratino’s The young father, meanwhile, offers “an exceptionally rare image of fatherhood in the museum’s collection, as well as a rare male nude sculpture—which were key points in acquiring it,” Peterson says. The bronze figure expands the emotional and representational range of the collection, foregrounding intimacy, vulnerability, and care in ways that feel both timeless and newly visible.
Collecting contemporary art means making decisions before consensus has formed and before an artist’s place in history is secure. “You’re making a judgment about what will last,” Peterson says. “And history shows us how unpredictable that can be—Vincent van Gogh only sold one painting in his lifetime.”
An anchor for regional culture
Peterson’s endowed position places him within a longer institutional history shaped by visionary women.
“Uniquely among American museums, strong women have been instrumental at every point in MAG’s history,” Jesse says. “Emily Sibley Watson founded the institution; Hannah Durand Gould created the first acquisition fund; the Herdle sisters built MAG into a nationally important encyclopedic museum. And now Deborah Ronnen has given us our largest gift and established an endowment that will make us a significant player in contemporary art.”
That foundation frees Peterson to do the work he considers essential: learning about the community, supporting other creative people, and nurturing vital relationships. Since his arrival, he has connected with institutions such as the George Eastman Museum and Visual Studies Workshop, a nonprofit organization dedicated to arts education. And he is conducting studio visits throughout the region, from Buffalo to the Finger Lakes, to build coalitions of regional artists.
Because the endowment exists in perpetuity, so does the mandate. “Our challenge is to show up not only for artists who have already proven themselves,” Peterson says, “but for those whose work will resonate when we look back.”

