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Embracing Diasporic Art: Portraits of Joan Agajanian Quinn

  • myglendale
  • Feb 13
  • 13 min read

Updated: May 5


March 22 - August 3, 2025

Extended by popular demand

abstract portrait of woman's face in primarily red oil paint
Huguette Caland, Untitled,1991

Embracing Diasporic Art: Portraits of Joan Agajanian Quinn at ReflectSpace presents thirty-five original portraits of Quinn made by diasporic, immigrant, and culturally diverse artists. Selected from Quinn’s personal art collection and archive of over three hundred works, the exhibition highlights a distinct part of each artists’ unique story and how they capture Quinn’s vital and enduring presence.

 

Often described as the doyenne of the Los Angeles art scene, Joan Agajanian Quinn’s image has been captured by more artists than any other living person. She has been painted, photographed, and sculpted by many of the prolific artists she has befriended throughout her years in Los Angeles and other cities, including Andy Warhol, Jean-Michel Basquiat, David Hockney, Larry Bell, Ed Ruscha, and many more. As West Coast editor of Interview magazine, host of The Joan Quinn Profiles, and throughout her career in journalism, the arts, and philanthropy, Quinn has seamlessly moved between roles as advocate, chronicler, catalyst, and friend, championing artists from diverse cultural backgrounds and across disciplines and generations. Through their work, the artists reflect the richness of cultural exchange and collaboration.

 

The exhibition extends into the PassageWay, where Quinn’s own snapshots reveal her instinct for documenting intimate moments with legendary figures like Andy Warhol and Jean-Michel Basquiat. These spontaneous photographs unveil another facet of Quinn’s artistic orbit, capturing her ability to be both documentarian and active participant in significant artistic circles.

 

Through these portraits and photographs, viewers witness decades of artistic dialogue across communities and cultures. Quinn’s unwavering commitment to connecting artists, particularly those from immigrant and diasporic backgrounds, continues to echo in contemporary art. Embracing Diasporic Art: Portraits of Joan Agajanian Quinn is curated by Ara and Anahid Oshagan.





Artists in Exhibition: 

Ruben Amirian, Vako Armeno, Kalman Aron, Huguette Caland, Pablo Carreño, Silvina Der Meguerditchian, Gregory Wiley Edwards, Elsa Flores Almaraz, Sophia Gasparian, Yolanda González, Nikolas Soren Goodich, Gyurjyan, Chaz Guest,  Marc Guiragosian, Chris Hartunian, Zarko Kalmic, Anna Kostanian, Sheku Kowai, Gilbert “Magu” Luján, Joao Machado, Karine Matsakian, Ramon Ramirez, Stuart Rapeport, Jose “Prime” Reza, Samvel Saghatelian, Aram Saroyan, Wayne Shimabukuro, Reinhard Teichmann, Joey Terrill, Connor Tingley, Ruby Vartan, Don Weinstein, Felix Yegazarian, Firooz Zahedi, Zareh, and Hraztan Zeitlian.


Developing the diasporic context of Embracing Diasporic Art: Portraits of Joan Agajanian Quinn further, the artists were asked to respond to the following question:


Reflecting on your background, how has your diasporic experience shaped, enhanced, informed, or even hindered your art and artistic practice? A diasporic experience may include immigration, forced displacement, movement, or relocation—whether by you or previous generations.


Click on the arrow next to an artist's name to read their response.

Ruben Amirian

Various factors and experiences shape an artist's work. I believe that my environment and life experiences in both Iran and the United States have influenced my art. While being part of a diaspora can also shape an artist’s work, I don’t feel that my experience as part of the Armenian diaspora has had a significant impact on mine.

Vako Armeno

Being born outside of Armenia never kept me away from my Armenian heritage. We spoke Armenian at home, I went to Armenian schools and had Armenian friends, and I was very much involved in the Armenian communities wherever I lived. My father was a painter too, and most of his work was related to Armenia or Armenian topics. Generally, we were very welcome in the diaspora with a deep respect towards Armenians from Armenia and our art. But I always felt I don’t belong outside of Armenia. The longing for the homeland was always present. That was one of the main reasons why I returned to Yerevan. And when I moved to Armenia and earned a master’s degree, I felt a slightly deeper approach to art here. I started painting the people of Yerevan through the eyes of a diasporan. Then I switched to painting Yerevan urban scenes with Mount Ararat often in the background. Even my colors became more Armenian.


I feel I fulfill role as a “connector” between the diaspora and the motherland through my art, language (I speak both Eastern and Western Armenian fluently) and even cuisine and culture in general. Between 2015 and 2019, I organized ARvesT Expo (an international art exhibition including international and Armenian artists-local and diasporan) for 5 years in Yerevan. I was the recipient of an Honorary Award in 2016 by the Minister of the Diaspora of the Republic of Armenia, acknowledging my efforts in strengthening cultural ties between Armenia and the diaspora.

Silvina Der Meguerditchian

My grandparents' generation were survivors of the Armenian Genocide. They migrated through Syria, Lebanon, and France before settling in Argentina. Their experiences deeply influenced my childhood.


When I left Argentina, I was seeking to broaden my horizons and grow as an individual. I wanted to break free from the constraints of being a young woman in the Armenian diaspora of Buenos Aires—escaping both the challenges of an unbalanced economy and a conservative mindset. My goal was to become independent and carve my own path.

Being an artist of the diaspora has been an enriching experience. I have lived the reality of speaking multiple languages and embracing the openness required to integrate into different societies. This permeability has not only shaped my personal identity but also expanded my engagement with diverse visual languages.


On one hand, the absence of strong cultural institutions within the Armenian diaspora was a significant obstacle, especially since those subjects have always been central to my interests. It took me years to find my voice, claim a space in the public sphere, and secure support for the projects I have developed over the last twenty years. On the other hand, the diaspora’s solidarity networks across different countries have, at times, filled the gaps left by institutional shortcomings.

Gregory Wiley Edwards

I’m a son of a Texas family of the African Diaspora. Our family has always been connected to the African elements of that legacy, though my father insisted that we were descended from the Olmecs (an early Mesoamerican civilization) and subsequent groups of tribal ancestors who lived on the North American continent.


The stolen legacy of my kin, who made their way here in the holds of ships on The Middle Passage, began as a source of negativity in my life. Later, that same feeling transformed me positively, by igniting a desire for authentic knowledge, fueling my passion for the art of my people.


The core principles of African philosophy inspire musicians, dancers, writers and visual artists who make works following the path of magical thinking. I strive to manifest that mystery in my practice.

Yolanda González

The story of my artistic journey is deeply intertwined with the migration, resilience, and cultural pride of my family. In 1951, my parents embarked on a new life, leaving Mexico for California after their marriage. My father first arrived alone in search of work, securing a position as a mechanic for the iconic Red Car transit system before sending for my mother and the rest of his family. With an entrepreneurial spirit, he later established his own interior design company, González Brothers, which eventually became Crown. Together, my parents built a life rooted in both industry and community, raising six children in the heart of Boyle Heights—myself, the youngest among them.

 

Boyle Heights was not just the backdrop of our lives; it was a place where my father’s reputation as both a businessman and a generous community member flourished. He believed in uplifting others, fostering a sense of connection and responsibility that would shape my own path as an artist. Later in life, my parents became U.S. citizens, carrying their cultural heritage with immense pride. They instilled in us a profound reverence for our roots, emphasizing the importance of education, artistic expression, and honoring our ancestors.

 

My lineage is one of artists and musicians, a tradition that extends back to at least 1877. Growing up, I was surrounded by creativity in its most natural form. It never occurred to me that not every family had music filling their homes or art gracing their walls. My grandmother would sit at the piano, her melodies weaving through the air as my father sang, while the works of generations before us stood as silent witnesses to our shared history.

 

This intergenerational legacy came full circle with Sueño de la Familia, an exhibition at the Vincent Price Art Museum in 2019–2020. This five-generation exhibition was a labor of love, the culmination of years spent exploring my ancestral heritage. The experience was made all the more poignant by my mother’s passing while the exhibition was still on view. To have honored her, alongside the artistic lineage she nurtured, was a profound and deeply personal milestone.

 

My commitment to creating art remains unwavering. Most recently, my work was the subject of a widely acclaimed solo exhibition at the Museum of Latin American Art in Long Beach—a multiroom installation that further cemented the storytelling tradition of my ancestors. Through my practice, I continue to honor the narratives of migration, resilience, and cultural memory, ensuring that our histories remain visible, vibrant, and ever evolving.

Nikolas Soren Goodich

My Black grandfather William was the grandson of an enslaved preacher, who himself was the great-grandchild of people stolen from Africa and sold into slavery in the United States. My White, Jewish grandfather William was dressed up as a girl by his mother Rose and taken from his hometown outside Kyiv, Ukraine, running from pogroms, the genocidal destruction of Jewish communities by Russian Cossack’s in the early 20th century, and brought to New York City. Both sides of my family were forced by hate, evil and racism to become part of a diaspora.


In some seemingly alchemical mixture of cultural, genetic, social, and historical transmutation of lead into gold, sorrow to joy, pain to healing, my art practices have taken on the ambitious ideals, the big dreams of finding, forging, building ways of connecting people, resolving divisions, and ending the kind of violent othering that so clearly fed the destinies of my ancestors. This healing begins with seeing ourselves, seeing each other for who we really are, respecting difference, and learning from one another to choose to work to create positive change. This is the message, the content, that is embedded within my luminous layered glass artworks.


“When we look into mirrors, what do we see? Who do we see? Can we choose to look deeper? And by making that choice, can we finally begin to heal from trauma? Greek philosopher Socrates said, ‘Know Thyself.’ How can we know ourselves better without both literally and figuratively looking at who we really are...individually, and as a species?” 

Chris Hartunian

I am deeply grateful to my courageous grandparents who fled the Armenian Genocide and built a new life in America with only $20.


From a young age, I was taught that Armenians always stick together and that family is the most important thing in life. Additionally, Armenia—the first Christian nation—sparked my lifelong passion for crosses, symbols of both our suffering and redemption, which I incorporate into my artwork. Painting Joan Agajanian Quinn, adorned with her cherished crosses, connected me deeply to that legacy.


Raised in a mixed Armenian-Latin home, I learned to see the good in everyone— a lesson deepened by my family’s story of a Turkish man who saved my grandfather’s life. Every day, I transform my heritage into art and gratitude, honoring a legacy of courage and hope. My mission is to make the world a more beautiful place for all to enjoy!

Anna Kostanian

I explore being diasporic quite often within myself as I create.  Being an immigrant Armenian American woman I draw from a sense of displacement, dual identity and cultural hybridity. These are both sources of inspiration and challenge. The push and pull between inspiration and challenge, along with the uncertainty, I believe is a common thread with diasporic creatives and it certainly is within my work. It’s like navigating multiple worlds at once – honoring where I came from while figuring out where I fit now. Sometimes it hinders my creativity and other times it fuels it. I think the biggest impact this has had on my work is within the aesthetic. I paint in the abstract minimalist style, I gravitate towards mostly black and white “colors,” giving the viewer very minimal content allowing them to connect the dots and create their own story. 


In the late 80s my parents moved to the U.S. (from Yerevan, Armenia) with the help of my maternal grandparents for a chance at a better life. Around this time most of my paternal side of the family had relocated to Los Angeles. We first landed in Boston—where my grandparents lived—and within a few months we also moved to Los Angeles and have stayed here since.

Ramon Ramirez

I consider myself a Chicano painter who has roots in both Mexico and the United States.  My parents are from Mexico, and I was born in the U.S.  I was educated in the U.S., and I am bilingual, speaking both English and Spanish.  Therefore, my diasporic experience has been very positive in that I am able to navigate and explore both cultures in my art and art practice. 


Of course, there are the “normal” experiences of not belonging to either culture. In the U.S. I’m not considered American and in Mexico, I’m not considered Mexican, but I have learned to embrace that in-between space.  My paintings are rooted in the culture of the city of Los Angeles, where I grew up, but they also have cultural information from both countries. I consider this experience an asset. 

Stuart Rapeport

Some family history from an interview with my mother, Sylvia Segal Rapeport, conducted by my nephew, Lorne Bloch.

 

Q: Where did your family live before they immigrated to the United States?

A: Getoma and Minsk, Russia.

 

Q: Why did they leave?

A: Because my maternal grandfather was going to be drafted into the Russian Army. I'm not sure about why my father’s family left.

 

Q: When did they leave?

A: My mother’s side left around 1888. My father’s side left a little before.

 

While living in New Jersey, my mother was very proud of her uncle’s ability to start a business from scratch. I think this brought some optimism to the family. I felt a need to be a tad rebellious and art provided that opportunity. But my mother was very supportive of my art.

 

I am in constant conflict to fit into the American world and yet continue family respect and traditions.

Wayne Shimabukuro

I am the fortunate grandson of Japanese immigrants who arrived in the U.S. during the late 19th century. They came to further their academic, religious studies and for economic opportunity. They left behind the culture and customs of late 19th century Japan. The qualities they brought with them that I absorbed are resilience, resourcefulness and self-reliance.


As a child, my exposure to my heritage was through my family and the small community, Little Tokyo, adjacent to the L.A. Civic Center. I searched in the gift shops for colorful, square, paper to make origami figures. My mom was a familiar face in “J-town” being a local preacher’s kid and niece of a Presbyterian minister. While still in short pants, my siblings and I had our portrait taken by Toyo Miyatake at his storefront studio on 1st Street. Mr. Miyatake was the only Japanese American who was allowed by the U.S. government to take photographs in the Internment Camps during WWII in which my family was incarcerated while my dad served in the U.S. Coast Guard. I have memories of the site and smell of my grandparents’ wholesale azalea nursery in the dairy farming area of Bell, southwest of the city.


My work is a distillation of these childhood experiences and my imaginings of a Japan I’ve never seen. I feel a strong connection to nature, to the visual approach that the Japanese have to composition and pattern, subtlety and simplicity. This is fused with the American culture of today of which I am a member.

Joey Terrill

Growing up in the late 1950s and 1960s, I was a fan of visual popular culture and devoured magazines, books, comic strips, television programs, cartoons, and movies. But I realized that I didn’t see myself, as a Chicano and as a gay man, reflected in these stories and narratives. I decided to pursue my intersecting identities as the basis for my art making. My work, while containing a personal narrative, also allowed me to recognize and celebrate the stories of the broader Latino diaspora. Living in Los Angeles also provided me access to a multiplicity of other communities and their stories, especially the immigrant populations that have contributed to making L.A. and California the dynamic force (with all its complexities) that it is today.


As Chicano artists, we found ourselves marginalized or rejected by the dominant white art world and its infrastructure of galleries and museums. So, we forged our own path.

Ruby Vartan

I am a diasporic artist and my journey from war-torn Beirut to Los Angeles is deeply embedded in my art.


Carrying the memories and traumas of a childhood shaped by conflict, I arrived in a new world with twin babies, navigating the dual roles of mother and artist with unyielding passion.


Art became my bridge between past and present, a space where I could process loss, resilience, and transformation. My layered canvases—torn, stitched, and infused with movement—mirror my own experience of rebuilding and renewal. Through bold colors and the physicality of my process, I reclaim my narrative, embodying both survival and rebirth.

Now deeply rooted in my artistic life, I channel the strength of my heritage and the fluidity of my evolving identity, painting not just for myself but for the echoes of my past and the future I am shaping.

Firooz Zahedi

My diasporic experience and the various cultures I have lived in have only helped enhance my creative abilities. I was born in Iran in 1949 and at the age of 9 moved to England for schooling and in 1969 came to the U.S. to go to university. With a degree in International Relations and another in Visual Communication I had enough education under my belt to indulge in exploring my creative talents in various areas—always influenced by experiences of the various cultures I had lived in.

Zareh

An artist of Armenian descent, I was born in 1956 in Aleppo, Syria. My family relocated to Beirut, Lebanon, in 1963, where I spent my formative years. Growing up in a region with a rich cultural tapestry, I developed an early appreciation for art and heritage. However, the Lebanese Civil War profoundly impacted my life, prompting me to emigrate to the United States in 1983 to join my twin brother Hovig.


My artistic journey is deeply intertwined with my identity and experiences, as I explore themes of resilience, identity, and memory in my work. My unique style combines traditional and contemporary elements, emphasizing emotive storytelling through visual art.

Hraztan Zeitlian

DIASPORA is an unmitigated catastrophic COLLAPSE of the cultural experience itself: the loss of authenticity of a wholesome (Armenian) culture (perhaps always already an imagined trope). It’s a complete cultural breakdown and it's a situation where it is utterly useless to try to glue the fragments together, to unify the dispersed fragments of a Diaspora, or even partake in the practice of a unified or unifying culture.


There have been two well-entrenched modalities of coming to terms with the Diasporan collapse.


Retreat into an obsolete culture and impossibly resist the collapse.


Or in contradistinction, embrace the notion that the purpose of Diasporan cultural production is coming to terms with the Diasporan collapse as a disappearance. Diasporan culture as the thinking and writing of a terminal culture.


My position is the rejection of these nihilistic positions. It is time to re-imagine dispersal LIVE and liberate/unleash a radically NEW (Armenian) Diasporan culture.


Accompanying Book List

Explore selected books that reflect Quinn's patronage of art from diverse communities, and the lasting impact of her friendships with artists through the years.


Exhibit-Related Program

Tuesday, April 22, 2025, 7:00 PM: "Embracing Diasporic Art" Artist Panel Discussion - Former Director of USC Dornsife Institute of Armenian Studies Salpi Ghazarian will moderate a discussion with exhibition artists Gregory Wiley Edwards, Yolanda Gonzalez, Anna Kostanian, Aram Saroyan, and Hraztan Zeitlian.


Exhibit-Related Press


ReflectSpace

Glendale Central Library

222 East Harvard Street

Glendale, CA 91205

3 free hours of parking is available with validation at the Marketplace parking structure across the street from the Harvard Street entrance. Accessible parking is available on the east side of the building. View the Visit page for public transit information.










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