Think Pink

Written by Emily Lyons Photography by Valerie Acosta, Aimee Narol, and Robin Garber

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Philippa Hughes is a shape-shifter. She was once a lawyer; now her business card reads “chief creative contrarian.” She’s the newest member of the DC Commission on Arts & Humanities. And she calls herself an “art evangelist.” Hughes’ latest launch, Pink Line Project, with its timely compendium of regional art events, has become the go-to for what’s happening art-wise, like, now. She zips between openings on a bubblegum-hued Buddy scooter bearing her message: Out with the beige, in with the pink.

There’s no better reflection of her personality than her self-styled perch in the 14th Street arts corridor. The condo, which is base camp for Pink Line Project, is refreshingly high-energy. The art cuts from crisp photography to recycled phonebook sculpture to a cresting pink tsunami painted directly on the wall. When asked about that piece’s resale value, Hughes shrugs and counters, “But what about living here?”

Embracing the Present

The layout of the Union Row flat wasn’t perfect, but the gallery-centric location was. When Hughes saw the walk-out terrace (which is nearly the size of the interior space) she was hooked, so she made it work. The walls of the second bedroom were taken down for more open space. A giant projection screen descends from behind the ductwork in the ceiling. The location is home to many different-sized gatherings: salons, fundraisers, and brainstorming with her Pink Line Project team. The colors are unusually bold – electric green and (what else?) pink feature prominently – and eye-catching fabrics provide texture and movement between the artwork.

Much like her career, the design of her place evolves according to the needs of the day. Her collection, too, lacks a master plan. Rather, it offers a layered, panoramic view of her passions – which include such disparate themes as intimacy, tension, surfing, pop culture, and the identity politics of Asian-American women. Almost all of the work feels immediate, ephemeral. Surprising pieces surface in every corner – in one hallway, two darkly comic painted figures play out an intriguing scene; a cheeky but sardonic sentiment shows up as a reflection in the bathroom mirror. Art is even tucked between books on the shelf.

Living space, she says, should “reflect who you are, your values, what you find important.” Visitors should see evidence of personality, of minds at work when they drop by, rather than being mired in predictable pleasantries. Anything less, Hughes says, would undermine the present.