The 32-year-old New York-based consultant, who serves on the advisory board of RxArt, a nonprofit that invites artists to create work for pediatric hospitals, has built a collection that reflects her personal journey as a woman and a mother.

What was the first work of art you ever bought?

One of the first works of art I ever bought was Tracey Emin’s Be Brave. I was instantly drawn to Emin, a feminist icon who uses art to push boundaries around taboos, relationships, vulnerability, and authentic emotional expression. This mantra has evolved with me—from my time as a single twentysomething in New York to now, as a married woman with two children. Having children has taught me a lot about bravery, so this artwork is more resonant than ever.

Every collector has made a rookie mistake or two. What was your most memorable?

I eagerly bid on what I thought was a Keith Haring at an art charity auction, only to realize after winning that it was actually attributed as “after Keith Haring.” Lesson learned: Always read the fine print. Still, it’s a playful animation inspired by Haring’s work on Sesame Street, and I was glad to support a good cause. After that, watching Sesame Street with my children took on a new meaning. In the wise words of Grover, “Mistakes are how we learn, yes, yes, yes.”

Which work in your collection provokes the most conversation from visitors?

Probably the Camille Henrot watercolor of three dogs humping each other in my powder room. It’s a guaranteed conversation starter at a dinner party and always gets a laugh, especially when I ask guests what they would title this ménage-à-paw. (Top answer: “The Trickle-Down Effect.”)

Name three artists you are particularly excited about right now.

Mickalene Thomas, Hilary Pecis, and Shara Hughes—all of whom have major upcoming projects with RxArt, for which I serve on the advisory committee. Having navigated the challenges of having a child in emergency rooms and the pediatric intensive care unit, [my husband] Judah and I can attest that anything that helps ease the fear, anxiety, helplessness, and pain of that experience is a profound blessing that is difficult to express.

Do you have any art in your bathroom? If so, what?

I have a sweet handkerchief by Louise Bourgeois. The embroidered fabric has a domestic, nostalgic quality to it—a soft offering that contrasts with her monumental bronze spiders. Yet both speak to the meaning of motherhood—challenging ideas of what we consider signs of strength and fragility. There’s a lot packed into this little cloth and its delicate L.B. stitch.

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