Unveiled this past November, the new home of the Studio Museum in Harlem cuts a fine figure on the local skyline, its stacked form, clad in dark-gray cast concrete, spanning the depth of a block. But look up from 125th Street and you might just spy a banana leaf waving above, where AD100 landscape architect Sara Zewde has designed a must-see garden for the beloved 58-year-old institution, dedicated to the work of Black and African diaspora artists. On its rooftop, surrounded by sweeping city views, flora both familiar and unexpected now converge in homage to the neighborhood—its legacy and its future.
“Gardens aren’t just things to look at,” reflects Zewde. “They’re important to how communities evolve and social movements happen.” She is speaking from her parlor-level office at the corner of West 121st Street and Malcolm X Boulevard, where her conference room’s broad window frames the bustling streetscape. “I always say I moved to Harlem, not New York City,” notes the Louisiana native, who arrived in 2019 after stints in Seattle, Washington, DC, and a monthslong cross-country research trip. She now lives a short walk from her studio. Neighbors regularly wave from the sidewalk. Curious eyes peer inside.
Proximity has its perks. Zewde’s first meeting with museum leadership took place at a nearby coffee shop. Subsequent conversations with Thelma Golden, the museum’s celebrated director and chief curator since 2005, have unfolded both on-site, at Zewde’s office, and in passing, as the two crossed paths. “Thelma talked about the space as a gift to the neighborhood,” recalls Zewde. “Thelma pushed us to not just think about Harlem as the Harlem Renaissance, but as a place creating its history every day. That conversation really shifted my thinking.”
Golden, meanwhile, gravitated to Zewde’s human-centric approach. “Her designs are attuned to the ways in which people move through and give meaning to space, while acknowledging the histories that shape each site. Before I even met her, I was captivated by her sensitivity to the relationship between people and land and her understanding of how architecture impacts Black communities.”
When designing a garden for the rooftop, Zewde found inspiration in Sharifa Rhodes-Pitts’s 2011 book Harlem Is Nowhere, which, she says, “talks about Harlem as a place and as an idea.” (The title refers to Gordon Parks’s 1948 series of photographs and accompanying essay by Ralph Ellison.) That duality has underpinned her own inquiry, inspiring deep dives into past depictions of Harlem, whether real or symbolic. Those include movies like Paris Is Burning and Harlem Nights; the essays of Alain Locke, the so-called Dean of the Harlem Renaissance; the poems of his peer Effie Lee Newsome; and the paintings of Aaron Douglas, whose work represents the African diaspora through tropical and subtropical plants.
Just walking the blocks around her office and home, meanwhile, helped Zewde crystallize her understanding of the neighborhood’s botanical vernacular. Lining the perimeter of the rooftop, her plantings echo the rhythm of local stoops, with distinct schemes spaced at similar intervals and custom-made benches modeled after brownstone steps. In just one bed, hostas, junipers, and ferns offer a leafy green base to three different kinds of lilies: Peruvian, torch, and African Queen. Another bed combines pincushions, blue cardinals, and blazing stars. On the space’s north side, meanwhile, the arrangements take on a more dramatic scale, in keeping with the panoramic vista of the towering Adam Clayton Powell Jr. State Office Building.
The myriad plant varieties were all chosen in response to the range of light conditions, with bloom schedules meticulously planned. Some areas are in full shade, others in full sun. (The museum itself was designed by Adjaye Associates with Cooper Robertson.) But the palette also expands that of typical New York City rooftops. Those banana plants—Musa basjoo to be exact—recall the fronds of Douglas’s paintings; exuberant swaths of amaranth recontextualize a nutrient-rich crop of Africa and the Americas; and carnations nod to the bouquets that, Zewde learned, local women have historically sold in pursuit of financial independence.
These days, Zewde can monitor it all from close by. On a recent morning, prior to opening day, Zewde made the short stroll from her office to the museum, where she eschewed the elevator in favor of the dramatic terrazzo staircase. (“I love the ascent.”) Watered by an irrigation system, the plants were all thriving. And, just as she envisioned, museum employees had made the benches their own. “Sara has transformed the idea of gathering into an act of care, weaving Harlem’s scenery into every detail,” says Golden. “Her practice, which is rooted in place, memory, and imagination, embodies the spirit of our museum and our work.”
This story appears in the AD100 issue. Never miss a story when you subscribe to AD.
