As soon as you enter the Crocker Museum, sitting at the top of a staircase, a vast, larger-than-life video projection flips through a carousel of nostalgic photographs with scenes of children playing jump rope, excerpts of text and physical images of the ocean waves and flowers. These are contrasted with historical video and images of activism, protest, violence and, notably, the American flag.

Framed by her Afro, the self-portrait invites viewers to question the politicization of Black bodies, particularly Black hair. The tender images of play and scenes of meditation evoke love, joy and compassion. This is artist Jessica Wimbley’s moving-image series “True Story of Edges,” which premiered in the 2022 exhibition “Coordinates,” organized by Site(s) of Vacancy, a nomadic curatorial project founded by Faith McKinnie.

That single installation has since expanded into a growing body of public artworks, including a commission for the Los Angeles Metro’s K Line at Leimert Park and a new piece for the City of West Hollywood’s Moving Image program on Sunset Boulevard.

Originally from Illinois, Wimbley earned her undergraduate degree at the Rhode Island School of Design and completed her MFA at UC Davis, which she describes as her “gateway” into California. She settled in Southern California after her MFA and lived there for 13 years, teaching and working for museums.

She completed an M.A. in arts management at Claremont Graduate University before moving back to Sacramento in 2018. Her practice often begins with deeply personal experiences, including major surgery and navigating health care as a Black woman. Her work radiates outward to address reproductive justice, public health and the complexities of contemporary political life.

To begin, can you describe your work and what you are focused on right now?

Currently, I’m working on another public art project that I’m really excited about. It’s part of the City of West Hollywood’s Moving Image program along Sunset Boulevard, using their digital billboards. This piece is a continuation of “True Story of Edges” and will be titled “True Story of Edges: Sunset Boulevard.” It will explore the history of the site and the surrounding region through hair.

In October, I opened a new public artwork with L.A. Metro at the Leimert Park K Station. It’s part of the Love Leimert curated video exhibition for the new K Line. And now “True Story of Edges: Sunset Boulevard,” which I am currently working on. Both works are sited in prominent public locations in Southern California. The series began with a piece that was at the Crocker Art Museum, first shown in “Coordinates” in Sacramento.

What motivates your practice? In particular, how did your hysterectomy and recovery shape the direction of your work?

It’s interesting to look back on having made that work after having some time to heal. The process itself was intense because I created it right after my surgery, in the middle of recovery. The personal really radiates out into the universal. The piece begins from a deeply personal place, but it touches on broader issues that many people face, especially women’s health and reproductive care.

There was a charged and painful irony in the fact that I had a hysterectomy, and just a few months later Roe v. Wade was overturned. I was having my own real, physical, visceral experience, thinking about my health, what it means to be a Black woman in medical spaces, how my body is seen and treated, while, at the same time, the politics around reproductive health were being publicly contested in real time.

Can you share a bit about your background and how you came to California?

I’m originally from Illinois. I did my undergrad on the East Coast at RISD and went straight from undergrad into grad school, which I’ve realized over time is a bit untraditional. I went to an all-girls Catholic high school, and I think that shaped how I understand feminism. To me, it’s just logical if you believe in your own humanity, it doesn’t feel radical. In an all-female educational space, that belief is a given. Your humanity is more fully seen, and it creates a different environment in which to thrive.

I went to UC Davis for my MFA, so my introduction to California was through this region. Davis was my gateway. From RISD, I came to UC Davis and spent two years here in grad school. There’s a lot about this area that reminds me of where I grew up in the Midwest. It’s an agricultural region. I grew up in a place that was transitioning from farmlands and orchards into a real estate boom. Many farmers could no longer afford the taxes on their land, and developers were buying it up to build McMansions. I witnessed those shifts growing up, and I see parallels here. I like seeing the green fields and being in a rural setting that feels familiar, and I appreciate the history of artists coming to this region because of the environment.

You maintain a career in both Northern and Southern California. What has made that possible, and how do you think about working across regions?

I think I was fortunate in how things unfolded after finishing school. One major influence on my work and on connecting with scientists has been the science fiction writer Octavia Butler. She’s been huge for me in terms of thinking about how you tell your own story, or tell a story that’s more inclusive.

In terms of maintaining a career in both Southern and Northern California, I think it helped that I first established myself in Southern California. I lived there for about 15 years, so I already had connections and a reputation as an artist, which made it easier to reconnect and keep working there even after moving. When you build yourself up in one region, it can give you a foundation to branch out and expand your professional footprint. Now I feel like a true California artist because I’ve worked across the state.

And the vibes are all great! When I first moved to California and heard Northern and Southern Californians talk about each other, I thought it was funny. I’m from Illinois; to me, you’re all great. I like the different flavors everyone brings to the table. There are different personalities, and there are definitely some kooky things about Southern California, but every part of the state is flavorful, interesting and full of character. I’m totally here for it.

Your work has been collected by museums, and you have also worked inside institutions. How has that shaped the way you navigate the art world?

I worked with museums and did programming, and I served on the board of Museum Educators of Southern California. I was on the public art committee for the city of Claremont. I have a master’s in arts management. There was a lot of receipt-building just to even get to the point of accessing those spaces. I had to be recognized and differentiated in the field, and I did that without mentorship or support, in a very entrepreneurial way.

So my whole mindset around galleries, museums, all of that, was very hands-on. When I graduated with my MFA, I didn’t understand how galleries worked, so I went and worked at a gallery. I wanted to learn more about museums, so while I was in grad school, I interned at the Museum of Craft and Folk Art in San Francisco. If I didn’t know about something, I took a job, an internship, or a position to engage and learn.

That made it all feel less intimidating and mysterious, otherwise it’s like “The Wizard of Oz” behind the curtain, and you don’t know what’s going on. A lot of programs don’t really explain that ecosystem to you. Understanding the field not just as an artist, but as someone who wants to contribute to it, is what allows me to navigate it with intention and meaning.

What contributions from your career so far are you most proud of?

There are several things I’m really proud of from working in the arts in different capacities. Early in my career, one of the big ones was starting the Art After Hours program at the Pomona College Museum of Art. This was back in 2008, before late-night museum programs were widely popular and before institutions were really using social media the way they do now. I’m proud that we created a legacy program for the museum. It’s still running today! The goal was to make the museum a space where students could feel ownership and build community, and it means a lot to know that this is now embedded in the institution.

I’m also very proud of the curatorial work I’ve done with my husband through our project “Biomythography.” Biomythography is a term coined by Audre Lorde, a combination of biography, history and myth, and we used it as a framework for our curatorial practice. Through this project, we organized over 10 exhibitions and worked with more than 30 artists, including bringing artists from Costa Rica. One of our main goals was to challenge how shows are often, frankly, segregated — an “Asian show,” a “Latinx show,” a “Black show” or white artists doing abstraction. We wanted to create integrated conversations, bringing artists of different backgrounds together around shared themes so their work could be in dialogue.

An important part of Audre Lorde’s teachings is expanding and diversifying the conversation. I think when queer people and Black women are doing the hard work of imagining more inclusive futures, that responsibility shouldn’t fall on them alone. It’s work we need to take on collectively. I’m proud of the work the artists produced, the community that formed, and the fact that many of those artists are still in contact. We created a context for dialogue, for the work, for the artists, and for the ideas, especially for people at different points in their careers who needed more than just talking into a vacuum. I’m really glad we documented it all and have a website for it.

And then there’s the COVID-19 project with the Sierra Health Foundation. That was huge for me. It felt like getting to do a WPA-style public art project in the 21st century, which is a dream job making art in ways that can meaningfully impact people.

This Q&A has been edited for length and clarity.

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