EDGES OF RESILIENCE

EDGES OF RESILIENCE
'Curating Art, Living with MS, and Finding Meaning in the Spaces Between'
Exclusive Interview with Sima Familant
Featured in 'Innerviews'
Hosted by Allié McGuire

​Art often lives at the edge—between what’s seen and unseen, past and present, concept and emotion. For Sima and me, that edge is also personal. We both share a love of art and the reality of living with multiple sclerosis. MS doesn’t define us, but it does sharpen our perspective—on patience, on resilience, and on the value of spaces that hold more than meets the eye. This is Sima’s story: where it began, how it shifted, and how she continues to curate both collections and meaning at the edge of art and life.

ALLIÉ: Let’s start out this way, Sima. What’s your earliest memory—the earliest moment that you remember realizing art wasn’t just something to look at, not just something to view, but something to experience, something to live with? Do you remember what that moment was?

SIMA: Well, I talk often about this because I sort of riffed off of it when I was in 4th grade. We had this thing called Art in a Suitcase, where people’s mothers would come in with a little suitcase and share things about an artist.

The first one I remember was Art in a Suitcase and she was talking to us about Van Gogh. I remember thinking, This is the coolest thing—I love learning. Later, I used that title, Art in a Suitcase, when I first started my company and was traveling to different cities. I wrote a column called Art in a Suitcase, where I’d share what I saw on my trips. I’ve always gone back to that moment. I thought it was amazing to learn about these artists—their lives and what they created.

Also, my parents were very good about taking us to Washington, DC. We lived in southern Virginia, and DC was the closest big city. They’d take us to the Smithsonian. They didn’t know anything about art—they weren’t art connoisseurs—but they still brought us.

I remember one painting in the National Gallery. I don’t even know what it was, but it was of a woman. I thought,          “I really like this painting, but I don’t know why. And I don’t know why it’s here. But it must be important because it’s in this huge museum.” That moment made me want to understand why we live with art, why certain pieces resonate, and why they’re chosen to become part of our lives.

ALLIÉ: I love how you just said ‘why’. Not “What is this piece of art?” but, “Why is this piece of art?”

SIMA: It’s always been about the why for me. People often ask, “Why don’t you make art? You could do this.” But that’s not my jam. I’m not interested in how to create. I want to know why somebody else did. Why they chose certain colors, why they made those decisions.

Even the piece behind me—why did the artist decide to throw three balls in the air and see what happens? For me, it’s always about why and how—how can someone take an image from their head and bring it onto paper?

ALLIÉ: And with that ‘why’, you suddenly get this level of depth. It’s not just what you’re seeing—it’s the intention behind it. That weight is really powerful.

SIMA: Yes. That’s been the fun part for me. It’s kept my curiosity alive and helped me choose artists who really capture the pulse of their time. That’s why their work gets pulled out of the pack and ends up in museums.

When I work with clients, I try to help them create homes filled with art, books, and things that have meaning—spaces they love being in. My husband and I always say, “I never want to leave home. I love what I have here.” That’s what I want for my clients too—to live with things that make them feel at home, make them think, or make them happy.

ALLIÉ: That’s awesome. And in your work, curating for collectors and exhibitions, there’s so much depth. Let’s switch gears and talk about something else we share in common: multiple sclerosis. When MS entered your story, how did it change your relationship with art—or even with yourself?

SIMA: When I studied at Christie’s in London, one of the biggest lessons was that you need to see art—lots of art. To feel it. To notice how it affects you. That’s always stayed with me.

But when I was diagnosed with MS, my big fear was, “Oh my God, I’ll never be able to travel again. I’ll be stuck in my house, in a chair.” That thought made me cry. I love the chase—the finding, the figuring out. Art gave me puzzles to solve, and I didn’t want to lose that.

I had just come back from a big trip to Europe, and that’s when I started noticing weird symptoms. By the time I got home, I had to see doctors. My biggest fear was, Was that my last trip? Art had always expanded my world. The diagnosis suddenly made it feel like my world was getting smaller. That was my biggest hurdle—figuring out how to overcome that.

ALLIÉ: Has there ever been a piece of art where you saw your diagnosis reflected back at you? Something that seemed to hold MS within it?

SIMA: Yes. The piece behind me, by John Baldessari, is about chance. He threw three balls in the air, and if they landed in a line, his wife photographed them. It’s about chaos, chance, and trying to create order. MS is like that—you don’t know why things happen. Even doctors can’t always explain it. You can have a perfect MRI and still have symptoms, or the opposite. You keep asking “Why?” and the answer is often, “We don’t know.”

That’s why this piece resonates with me. It reflects the chaos of MS, but also the human attempt to find some sense of control or logic within it.

ALLIÉ: What a beautiful metaphor for MS—finding controlled understanding within chaos and chance.

SIMA: Exactly.

ALLIÉ: Let’s talk about curation. It’s more than building collections—it’s about balancing expression and connection. How has MS shaped the way you build relationships with artists, collectors, and yourself?

SIMA: Because of my fear of things getting small, I’ve made sure that doesn’t happen. I’ve traveled to India, Russia, across Europe, and throughout the U.S. I’ve built connections across ages, cultures, and nationalities.

When I curate, I look for connections between artworks you wouldn’t expect. Maybe it’s color, form, or concept—but when they’re installed perfectly, they sing. And when an exhibition sings together, it’s magic. I don’t have children, so in many ways, these artworks are my kids. I love watching how they “talk” to each other when displayed together.

ALLIÉ: It’s almost like your curating invites people to be curious—not just, “Here’s what you like,” but, “Let’s get curious about what else might resonate.”

SIMA: Yes, exactly.

ALLIÉ: One last question. Today, when you think about who you are—beyond the titles, the career, the diagnosis—how do you define yourself? And what edge are you most excited to step into next?

SIMA: Big question! My birthday is this Sunday, and birthdays always feel like a new chapter. I’m turning 53. My MS is under control. I feel lucky, I feel stable, and yes, very middle-aged.

Being in the middle is funny—I’m a middle child, I’ve always been in “threes,” and now I’m in midlife. That place makes me reflect a lot: where am I in life, in my career, in my relationships, with aging parents and friends facing illness?

I’ve realized that what matters most is authenticity, connection, and joy. Life is short—we need to make sure it’s what we want it to be. For me, art feeds my soul. that’s how I define myself—someone who seeks and creates meaning, joy, and connection. ∎

Find & Follow Sima on Instagram:
@simafamilant
Learn more about her work here:
​www.simafamilant.com