Building Community Through Independent Curation
Sanctuary: Reflections on Home. Booth presentation at Umbrella Art Fair, 2024. Photo by Albert Ting.
If anyone has a pulse on what’s next for Latinx art, it’s curators. To learn more about the trends they’re seeing and what they find themselves drawn to, we interviewed several Latinx curators.
Fabiola R. Delgado is a Venezuelan curator whose work focuses on justice. She has worked with the Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden, Times Square Arts, Washington Project for the Arts, and the National Museum of American History. Some of her curatorial projects include Build what we hate. Destroy what we love; Intersection: Identity and Culture; and To dream con los cuerpos.
Here’s what Delgado had to say about working as an independent curator, the art scene in Washington, D.C., and the type of art inspiring her today.
Intervenxions editors edited this interview for concision and clarity.
What are some salient currents you are witnessing in contemporary art today?
Portrait of Fabiola R. Delgado. Photo by Samoel González.
I see a repossessing of not only historical and traditional narratives but also practices that have long been integral to originary identities: ceramics, weaving, beading, metalsmithing, and leatherwork.
There’s a tight closeness to earth and a shift in how art engages with collective healing, social, and environmental justice. I also notice a strong move toward interdisciplinarity, with artists blending mediums like digital technologies, performance, and traditional crafting techniques to create immersive and multi-layered works.
I think of artists like Stephanie Mercedes, who transforms mourning into ritual by melting weapons to create sonic instruments; Armando López-Bircann, who engineers eco-feminist performances through XR (extended reality) wearable sculptures; Cassandra Mayela, who preserves migration stories by weaving tactile narratives with displaced people’s clothing; Gerardo Camargo, who retraces Latinx labor and architectural legacies through collaborations with construction workers; or Amber Robles-Gordon, who excavates and reaffirms Afro-Caribbean histories through communal symbols of identity.
Many artists aren’t simply creating for galleries or institutions but actively building community and addressing urgent global concerns.
Reynier Leyva Novo, Federal Cleaning, 2024, Presented at Untitled Art, Miami Beach 2024. Curated by Omar López Chahoud. Photo courtesy of the artist and El Apartamento.
Reynier Leyva Novo, Federal Trade Commission Building, 2024. Presented at Untitled Art, Miami Beach 2024. Curated by Omar López Chahoud. Photo courtesy of the artist and El Apartamento.
Reynier Leyva Novo, Robert F. Kennedy Department of Justice Building, 2024. Presented at Untitled Art, Miami Beach 2024. Curated by Omar López Chahoud. Photo courtesy of the artist and El Apartamento.
Reynier Leyva Novo, United States Capitol Building, 2024. Presented at Untitled Art, Miami Beach 2024. Curated by Omar López Chahoud. Photo courtesy of the artist and El Apartamento.
Does the work ever feel isolating, or do you feel like you are a part of an artistic community? If so, how would you describe that community?
Despite the solitary aspects of things like research, logistical planning, or writing, my work is never done alone. As an independent curator, I rely on others to bring my vision to life—whether it's the artists, other curators, gallerists, writers, museum workers, installers, or even last-minute emergency helpers. (That's not even mentioning family and friends’ emotional support.)
The artistic community I’m part of thrives on mutual assistance, encouragement, and a shared commitment to cooperation over competition. I’m fortunate to be surrounded by people who exchange ideas and resources generously and who genuinely want to see all of us succeed.
As an independent laborer, how do you establish and maintain links of solidarity with other arts workers in the field? In terms of labor, what do you think are some of the most pressing concerns we are facing today?
Being extroverted is certainly a plus in helping me build connections. But beyond personal interactions, some recent things I’ve done include creating a WhatsApp group with artist Stephanie Mercedes to address the lack of a centralized space for local art communications in the DC area––we exchange events info, open calls, funding opportunities, general advice, and even offer direct support and expertise. For example, if someone needs a photographer for a weekend shoot, the group quickly steps up with recommendations or even volunteers their services. We passed 100 members in just a few days. I also started a social media account for my project, Future Forebears, which seeks to highlight contemporary Latinx artists’ work and connect them with institutional spaces through public programming.
As for concerns in labor, I believe that fair compensation, access to resources, and equitable representation in formal artistic spaces are still some of the most urgent issues we face today. The financial instability and insufficient systemic support for many in the arts means that solidarity is not just a principle to follow but a necessity.
Between, Through, Across. Exhibition at The DC Arts Center, 2024. Photo by Albert Ting.
How do the arts intersect with other areas in your city? How do you like to work with artists, institutions, and the public?
Washington, D.C., is a city where the arts intersect deeply with ideas of justice and community-building. The city’s history, diversity, constant flux, and proximity to power (at least the illusion of it) make it a unique place where art often addresses social issues and connects people across different backgrounds.
I love working with artists who approach their practice with an understanding of their work as a tool for dialogue, education, and transformation. Institutions play a critical role in amplifying those conversations, and there needs to be an active investment in supporting and showcasing local artists to ensure their voices are part of broader cultural narratives. That’s why I love cultivation work.
Having worked with multiple Smithsonian museums over the years, I’m proud of the initiatives I’ve led to promote local voices: from featuring local bands in the soundtrack of a national traveling exhibit, hosting local artist–led workshops, and securing creative partnerships with local libraries, to creating a city-wide scavenger hunt highlighting history and policy through art and food.
I may not have the same authority now as an independent curator, but I still hold onto the influence I’ve built through good relationships and the trust of those who believe in my work. We all have influence in our respective worlds — no matter how big or small — and I’m hopeful that my connections and experiences will continue to help open doors for others in the community. Every city has its own cultural heartbeat, and D.C. is no exception; its stories deserve to be recognized.
Lisu Vega, A momentary whole, 2024. From “Ebb and Flow: Exploring Womanhood Continuum Exhibition, The Frank C. Ortis Gallery, Courtesy of the City of Pembroke Pines. Image by Dream Focus Photography.
What kind of artwork inspires you lately?
I’m inspired by art that’s both urgent and poetic. One piece that has stayed with me for a while is Composición Abierta by artist Juan Diego Pérez la Cruz. The work—a lyrical collage—recomposes stanzas from the Venezuelan national anthem, selecting only lines that highlight the immeasurable abundance and splendor of the land and its nature, while leaving behind the machista, violent, and nationalistic elements of this musical identity document.
Studio visits and conversations with artists Lisu Vega and Reynier Leyva Novo have deepened my admiration for their work as well, reminding me of the power of art to connect us in ways we often overlook.
While their practices are distinct, they share a common goal to materialize memory and rescue it from collective oblivion. Their work emphasizes the importance of salvaging archives, materials, and memories, reconstructing moments from fragments of the past, and putting historical narratives into new perspectives.
Recent artworks like Vega's A Momentary Whole and Leyva Novo’s Federal Cleaning, explore the magnitude and impermanence of structures-–whether those of the mind or those of power. Both pieces repurpose and resignify remnants: Lisu uses residual material from her zero-waste fashion practice, while Reynier meticulously arranges dust collected from Federal buildings in Washington, D.C. Creating such significant works from such modest materials never fails to amaze me.