ART[MEMO] is thrilled to continue our interview series highlighting LA County-based artists, curators, and industry experts to offer insights into their careers, influences, and contributions to our community. This time we chatted with Debra Scacco.
Debra Scacco is an interdisciplinary research-based artist who creates installations, sculptures, drawings, paintings and cultural happenings to study the ecological and cultural impacts of human-initiated change. By blending academic research with personal narratives, her work highlights histories of land and water and the beings most affected, creating pathways and platforms for public engagement and action.
Scacco’s work has been supported by the National Endowment for the Arts, The Getty Foundation, Mike Kelley Foundation for the Arts, and many others. In 2023-24 she was awarded a City of Los Angeles Individual Master Artist Fellowship (COLA-IMAP). She is the first civic-appointed artist-in-residence embedded in the City of Santa Monica’s Water and Waste divisions (2023-25), and was the inaugural artist-in-residence at Ellis Island Museum and Statue of Liberty National Monument in conjunction with New Jersey City University (2012). Scacco is the founding co-director of the Getty PST ART Climate Impact Program (2022-), a groundbreaking integration of climate action, community building, and data reporting as part of Getty’s landmark recurring arts event, PST ART; and was co-director of Getty PST ART project Brackish Water Los Angeles at California State University, Dominguez Hills.
Q. Unexpected Medium: As an artist who embraces a variety of different media from large-scale drawing to neon lights —What are some of the most unconventional materials or mediums you’ve used in your art? How do you use materials to enhance meaning and clarity in your work? Can we also discuss your practice of installation as an artform?
A: Materiality, process, and scale are critical to my practice. I frequently write about the conceptual platforms of my work — in an effort to both distill and simplify complex ideas, and to get to the core of material principles. The physicality of the work generally reflects the idea: concretized rivers becoming concrete and steel; stories of immigration becoming teak and copper (as per early 20th century marine vessels); portraits of a channelized river are rendered in graphite, sand, and materials transported from the site.
Amongst the most unconventional materials are those for Networks of Power (2020), a piece commissioned by Art in Residence and made in response to —and in collaboration with—Nathaniel Ancheta’s Platform. I thought a lot about what it means to create clean energy infrastructure in the Western Mojave (where the piece was cited). While knowing how desperately we need ‘clean’ energy, we also don’t need to repeat the mistakes of our colonial past. This led me to a series of questions: How much transparency and/or control does the local community have into the process? Where does the energy generated here go? What happens to clean infrastructure at its end of life?
After discussing Platform’s inspiration from local solar fields with Nathaniel, I felt that using the platform as a direct reference to the physical and metaphorical power of solar and wind structures made sense. I wanted the language of industry and construction to be present, so the entire installation was built from Home Depot materials — namely, pressure-treated wood and copper plumbing materials. As visitors approached the piece, it appeared as a mirage, thanks to reused, previously damaged mirrored acrylic lining the front of the wood; from the back, the ‘guts’ were exposed —pressure treated wood laid bare for exactly what it is.
When making works about the history of the Los Angeles River, such as Origins: Los Angeles River 1815/1825 (2017), I sought to combine an organic process (referencing original river flow) with industrial materials (referencing the government-sanctioned channelization of the river). So, I hand-engraved mirror-finish steel supported by concrete. At certain times of day, the engraved drawing is visible only through the way in which it interrupts a reflection, and its triangulated concrete base is inspired by an aerial view of the concretized river.
Q. Artistic Challenges: What’s the biggest challenge you’ve faced in a project, and how did you overcome it?
A: The biggest challenge—-especially with large projects—-is always the logistics of getting started. Having an idea is one thing; finding the partnerships and funding required to make it happen is something else entirely. Many of my projects span multiple years, both because of the depth of the research and because it takes years to develop the infrastructure needed to realize large-scale projects. I wish I had an easy fix for this— but I don’t! In my experience it takes a lot of persistence and a lot of hustle!
Q: Considering the complex logistics, can you summarize your move from concept to completion on large-scale projects?
A: My process of project realization is highly non-linear. It begins with an idea, usually from research — whether through a visit to the river, time spent in an archive or independent reading. I write extensively about the subject, often using a stream-of-consciousness technique, to better understand the intention behind the work, explore material languages, and identify further opportunities and for research and collaboration. From there, I’ll deepen the research by attending community and academic events.
Next, I’ll invite studio visits—starting with friends, then extending to colleagues whose work feels aligned in some way. Many of my longest-lasting partnerships with researchers, collaborators, and funders have been born from this process.
Q. Influential Experiences: Since your work combines elements of your personal experiences with immigration as well as critical environmental issues— can you pinpoint any particular experience(s) in your life that significantly shaped these artistic directions?
A: A few key experiences have shaped my practice. In 2012, I began researching at the Los Angeles Public Library (LAPL) with map librarian emeritus Glen Creason. I was studying the Los Angeles River and asked about maps from the pre-settlement period. He explained that we don’t have access to many of these, as contemporary maps primarily document ownership. Hearing this simple fact in plain language blew everything open for me—the power and violence of a line on a map came sharply into focus. This applies to immigration, environmental justice, the rights of nature— everything. My practice has been influenced by the power of the line ever since.
UnMapping LA, my current show at the Central Branch of LAPL, is one of the outcomes of this ongoing research.
This experience is combined with years of walking the Los Angeles River—a channelized body that, in its natural form, sustained Indigenous people since time immemorial and gave birth to one of the most recognizable cities in the world. Walking the Los Angeles River and its tributaries reinforces that violence against water is violence against all living beings. It reinforces the concept of human exceptionalism— and the harm this mindset inflicts on all living ecosystems, including ourselves. This embodied research, combined with cartographic study and a drawing practice rooted in the marriage of controlled and organic processes, underscores the fact that everything is connected.
I also grew up first-generation to Italian parents in New York City. Spending my childhood in an interdependent, non-English speaking family made me realize the importance of accessibility. To this day, when I struggle to navigate bureaucracy as a native English speaker, my question is always: Could my Nonna do this? When the answer is no, I feel a responsibility to contribute to a solution. My family is lucky— we have each other. Not every one is so fortunate. Everyone deserves access to living with dignity, regardless of where they come from or their immigration status. Systems should be easy and accessible for everyone.
This is also why I feel tied to communities impacted by environmental injustice. Immigrant and BIPOC communities are often the most burdened by pollution and rezoning. We all deserve access to clean air, clean water, health care, safety, and community.
Lastly, I lived in London (UK) for 16 years: initially as a student, then as an Italian citizen. The European Union afforded me the life I have lived. When Brexit passed in 2016, this privilege was revoked— the life I had lived was no longer possible. Diversity is what made London extraordinary. Diversity is what makes America extraordinary. The fact that Britain—and America shortly thereafter—openly voted against diversity only deepened my commitment to equity in both my life and work.
As I write this, Los Angeles—my home city, the city I love so dearly— is under attack by the current administration (I refuse to write his name). Angelenos are being disappeared with no legal reason. The military has been deployed for use against U.S. residents. Democratic senators are being arrested for asking questions. While my work is deeply rooted in the impacts of systemic abuses of power, art is not a replacement for on-the-ground actions—participating in mutual aid networks, protesting, quite literally protecting one another from violence, and, importantly, making sure to take the lead from those most targeted—BIPOC, immigrant, and LGBTQ+ folks.
Q: Audience Interaction: Given that your work is in part about communicating obscure issues or knowledge about environmental issues —- how much does the viewer need to understand to appreciate your work? Also, what makes for an ideal viewing experience and engagement with your work?
A: I love this question. My work operates on multiple levels, the first being experience with a piece. I see my first job as luring a visitor in with an object or experience—to make them want to dig deeper. It’s up to each individual as to how many layers they want to unravel. People are invited to engage as deeply as time and interest allow, but the first instance has to be initiating curiosity or some form of attraction within the work itself.
Regarding an ideal engagement with the work, this is considered on a site-specific basis. So, in my mind, the ideal time to visit Networks of Power would have been sunrise or sunset, when light is at its highest or lowest. But some people may prefer it when the light is flat and the work somewhat muted. When creating work for galleries or institutions, many are designed so you can visit at any time. The ‘ideal’ varies according to time and circumstance, mostly because each installation is site-relevant and/or site-specific, so the experience of the visitor is highly considered in each case.
Q: Research: Your work — especially the environmental pieces— are extraordinarily detailed where we’ve seen you research themes for a decade or more! Where and how do you source your research?
A: Research is a critical part of my process. The relationship between ecology, history, and human-driven change is at the heart of everything I do. Over the past two decades, I’ve built a personal library on this topic and have worked with multiple cartographers, activists, historians, and many others. Much of my research comes from being in dialogue with interdisciplinary professionals and community activists, in tandem with lots of reading—and, of course, the standard Google black hole of learning random information on a subject of interest.
A lot of my work takes years—for example, trying to find a map that overlays previous courses of the Los Angeles River onto present-day Los Angeles. The fact that it took six years to source this map led to Procession (2023)—a collaboration with Joel Garcia and Meztli Projects that involved 300 community members walking three previous courses of the Los Angeles River. Once I finally located the map, I thought: How can I share this in the most generative and generous way possible? How can we create an experience that is meaningful to Angelenos, and might impact the way we view the ground beneath our feet? Procession was our attempt to respond to this question.
Q: Research cont.: Can you also tell us a bit about your climate-focused creative research program, Air Projects?
A: Founding Air Projects was one of the most important evolutions of my practice. As a research-based artist, I need support for research time, access to expertise, and want to do this work in community. These are all at the heart of Air Projects (2016-2020), a program for LA-based, climate-focused artists. I directed three resident cohorts who investigated everything from bark beetles to disappearing wetlands. I connected artists with subject-matter experts in their field —whether scientists or community activists (oftentimes both). I met so many wonderful people who have become friends and collaborators. Without this experience, my work would not be what it is, and I would not have the privilege of participating in this incredible community of artists and thinkers.
Following my work on Air Projects and the onset of the 2016 administration, I felt an urgent need to engage more deeply in systemic change. While serving as co-director of the Getty PST ART project Brackish Water Los Angeles, I began collaborating with Artists Commit—a volunteer-led group focused on fostering a climate-conscious future in the arts. With PST ART: Art + Science Collide uniting dozens of cultural institutions across Southern California, we saw a powerful opportunity to catalyze change at scale. In response, Laura Lupton and I co-founded and now co-direct the PST ART Climate Impact Program. Through this initiative, participating institutions have committed their time, creativity, and resources to reducing their climate impact and building community in transformative ways. A report of our findings will be published by the Getty this fall.
Q: Creative Inspiration: What non-art sources—books, music, films, poetry, philosophy, nature—have inspired your work?
A: In no particular order and definitely not comprehensive:
- Walks on the Los Angeles River
- The Serviceberry by Robin Wall Kimmerer
- Maps of all kinds
- Cocteau Twins
- Architecture of Four Ecologies by Reyner Banham
- All We Can Save by Dr. Ayana Elizabeth Johnson and Dr. Katherine Wilkinson
- Alice Coltrane
- My friends
- The Rachels
- The Sea Around Us by Rachel Carson
- Infinite Cities: A Trilogy of Atlases—San Francisco, New Orleans, New York by Rebecca Solnit
Q: The Pipeline: Please share with our readers where they can see your latest work, and let us know about any upcoming or current projects.
A: Only seven years in the making (ha!), my exhibition UnMapping LA is at the Los Angeles Public Library (Central Branch) through September 21, 2025. This exhibition brings together long-studied archival materials with newly commissioned artwork to better understand layers of the city. From attempts at mapping Indigenous villages to oil-commissioned freeway maps and oral histories, the exhibition both studies and reimagines what the city is—and what it can be.
New works include a gridded 13’ x 7’ drawing overlaying water and freeway routes, as well as clay and neon chandeliers inspired by early drawings of freeway interchanges. I’ll also be showing, for the first time, a 2015 collaboration with Hamilton Press, printed by master lithographer Ed Hamilton. When I made the work 10 years ago, I felt that my practice wasn’t ready for it. In preparing for this exhibition, I realized this was the project it had been waiting for.
UnMapping LA: Concrete Landscapes and ReImagined Futures
June 7 – September 21, 2025
Los Angeles Public Library
Central Library, Annenberg Gallery
630 W. 5th Street
Los Angeles, CA 90071
I will also be sharing results of my two-year Santa Monica Public Works residency in October this year. Look out for more details on dates relating to this!
The ART[MEMO] editorial team would like to thank Debra Scacco for discussing her research-driven work and remarkable career. Her story and activism is an inspiration to us all!
To learn more about Debra Scacco you can visit her website at www.debrascacco.com or follow her Instagram @debrascaccostudio