We caught up with the brilliant and insightful Alexis Mendoza a few weeks ago and have shared our conversation below.

Alexis, thanks for taking the time to share your stories with us today I’m sure there have been days where the challenges of being an artist or creative force you to think about what it would be like to just have a regular job. When’s the last time you felt that way? Did you have any insights from the experience?

The question of happiness—whether as an artist, curator, or someone outside the chaos of creativity—is one I wrestle with often. There are days when the weight of it all makes me fantasize about the simplicity of a “regular job.” A life where my work stays at the office, where my income doesn’t depend on the whims of grants or gallery sales, where I’m not constantly dissecting the world for meaning or fuel for the next project.

The last time this thought gripped me was during a particularly brutal stretch last winter. I was juggling three deadlines: an installation piece on Afro-Cuban spiritual resistance, a curatorial proposal on climate displacement, and a grant application that kept dissolving into bureaucratic jargon. Meanwhile, my bank account was hemorrhaging from unpaid invoices, and my studio heater had given up—again. That morning, I’d gotten a rejection email from a residency I’d pinned my hopes on. The tone was polite, almost cheerful in its dismissal.

I remember standing in line at the bodega, watching the barista next door laugh with a customer as she steamed milk. She looked light. No existential debates, no justifying her worth to a panel of strangers, no sleepless nights wondering if her work mattered. Just coffee, small talk, a paycheck. For a moment, I envied her. What would it be like to clock out, to not carry the weight of history, identity, and activism in every brushstroke or exhibition plan?

But then—I got home, and opened my sketchbook. There was a half-finished drawing of Elleguá, the trickster orisha, his crooked grin emerging from the red and black charcoal smudges. Suddenly, I was laughing. Because of course this life was harder. Art and curation, for me, aren’t just careers; they’re rituals. They demand everything because they are everything: my lineage, my rebellion, my way of stitching broken narratives back together. A “regular job” wouldn’t just be simpler; it’d be a kind of silence. And I’ve spent too long learning to roar to ever settle for that.

The insight? Happiness here isn’t steady—it’s a feverish, cyclical thing. Some days, I crave stability. But the moment I imagine abandoning this path, I feel the loss like a phantom limb. The chaos is the price, but the alchemy—turning pain into dialogue, memory into movement—is the only compass I trust.

So no, I don’t quit. I stoke the fire instead. Even when it burns.

As always, we appreciate you sharing your insights and we’ve got a few more questions for you, but before we get to all of that can you take a minute to introduce yourself and give our readers some of your back background and context?

My Journey as an Artist, Curator, and Writer

My name is Alexis Mendoza, and I am a Cuban-born interdisciplinary artist, independent curator, and author. My life and work have been shaped by the vibrant cultural landscapes of Havana, where I was born, and New York City, where I now live and create. Art has always been my way of understanding the world—a bridge between memory, identity, and the ever-shifting realities of migration and belonging.

Education and Early Influences

My formal artistic training began at the National School of Fine Art San Alejandro in Havana, where I studied from 1988 to 1994. This prestigious institution, known for nurturing some of Cuba’s most renowned artists, provided me with a strong foundation in classical techniques while also encouraging experimentation. Later, I pursued Art History at Havana University, deepening my understanding of global artistic movements and their socio-political contexts. These years were crucial in shaping my perspective—not just as a painter, but as a thinker who sees art as both a personal expression and a cultural dialogue.

A Global Artistic Journey

Since my early career, I’ve had the privilege of exhibiting my work across the Americas, Europe, and beyond. My art has been shown in Argentina, Brazil, Chile, Costa Rica, Cuba, England, France, Germany, Mexico, the Netherlands, Peru, Puerto Rico, Romania, Spain, Switzerland, and the United States. Each exhibition has been a conversation—sometimes about identity, sometimes about displacement, and often about the universal human experience.

My works are part of public and private collections worldwide, including:

Museo de Arte Contemporáneo (MAC), Santiago de Chile
Museum of Contemporary Art, São Paulo, Brazil
Museo de Arte de Ponce, Puerto Rico
El Museo del Barrio, New York
Museum of Modern Art (MoMA), New York (Latin American Art Collection)
Museo Nacional de Bellas Artes, Havana, Cuba
Knowing that my art resides in these spaces is humbling; it reminds me that creativity transcends borders.

Writing and Cultural Reflection

Beyond visual art, I am also an author, driven by a need to document and analyze the cultural forces that shape Latin American art. My books include:

“Latin America, The Culture and the New Men”
“Objective Reference of Painting: The Work of Ismael Checo, 1986-2006”
“Reflections: The Sensationalism of the Art from Cuba” (all published by Wasteland Press)
“Rigo Peralta: Revelaciones de un Universo Místico” (Argos Publications, Dominican Republic)
Writing allows me to explore the philosophical and historical dimensions of art, something I see as an extension of my studio practice.
“Dear Democracy, A love Letter.

Curatorial Work and Community Building

Art, for me, is not just about individual expression—it’s about community. In New York, I co-founded the Bronx Latin American Art Biennial, which later evolved into the New York Latin American Art Triennial, a platform celebrating the richness of Latino and Latin American artists. I am also a founding member of BxArts Factory, an organization dedicated to empowering Bronx-based artists through exhibitions, workshops, and public projects.

My Artistic Vision

As an artist, I am fascinated by layers—both literal and metaphorical. My work often blends figuration and abstraction, exploring themes of memory, migration, and cultural hybridity. I experiment with mixed media, digital techniques, and traditional painting, always searching for new ways to express the complexities of human experience.

Living in New York has deepened my appreciation for diversity and resilience. Here, I continue to create, curate, and write, guided by the belief that art is not just what we see—it’s what we feel, remember, and imagine together.

What do you find most rewarding about being a creative?

As an artist, the greatest reward is the moment when a viewer connects deeply with my work—when something I’ve painted or sculpted resonates with their own memories, struggles, or dreams. Art is a silent conversation, and when someone tells me that one of my pieces moved them, or made them see something differently, I feel that my purpose has been fulfilled. There’s also the personal joy of discovery—the act of creating is like solving a mystery where the answer is always evolving.

As a curator, the reward is different but just as profound. It’s about amplifying voices—especially those that have been overlooked. Organizing exhibitions allows me to bring together artists from different backgrounds, creating a space where their work can be seen, discussed, and celebrated. There’s a special kind of fulfillment in seeing an exhibition come to life, watching audiences engage with the art, and knowing that I helped make those connections possible.

But perhaps the most meaningful part of doing both is the intersection between the two roles. As an artist, I understand the vulnerability of putting your work into the world. As a curator, I get to support other artists in that same journey. It’s a cycle of giving and receiving—one that keeps me inspired and constantly learning.

In the end, whether through my own art or through curating, the true reward is connection—to people, to ideas, and to the ever-changing story of who we are.

In your view, what can society to do to best support artists, creatives and a thriving creative ecosystem?

A thriving creative ecosystem doesn’t just benefit artists—it enriches everyone, fostering innovation, empathy, and cultural vitality. But for that to happen, society must move beyond just admiring art and actively cultivate the conditions where creativity can flourish. Here’s what I believe is essential:

1. Invest in Arts Education (Early & Ongoing)

Schools: Prioritize arts funding in K-12 education—not as an “extra” but as a core discipline that teaches critical thinking, problem-solving, and emotional intelligence.
Lifelong access: Support community workshops, public studios, and affordable classes so creativity isn’t limited by age or economic status.
2. Fair Pay & Sustainable Opportunities

End the “exposure” myth: Galleries, publications, and institutions must pay artists fairly for exhibitions, commissions, and lectures—no more “free work for visibility.”
Grants & residencies: Expand public/private funding for individual artists, especially those outside elite networks. Programs like NYFA or Creative Capital are lifelines.
3. Affordable Spaces & Anti-Gentrification Policies

Protect studios: Cities need zoning laws that preserve live-work spaces (like NYC’s old loft laws) and resist displacing artists due to rising rents.
Empty spaces as creative hubs: Governments and developers should convert vacant buildings into subsidized studios or pop-up galleries (e.g., London’s Meanwhile Spaces).
4. Democratize Access to Audiences

Public art funding: More murals, installations, and performances in streets, parks, and transit systems—art should belong to the public, not just white-cube galleries.
Digital platforms: Support open-access archives, virtual exhibitions, and tools that help artists reach global audiences without gatekeepers.
5. Collectors & Institutions: Diversify & Redistribute

Museums/galleries: Showcase underrepresented voices (women, BIPOC, LGBTQ+, disabled, and working-class artists) without tokenism.
Collectors: Buy from emerging artists directly, not just blue-chip names. Consider patron models (e.g., subscriptions or micro-commissions).
6. Mental Health & Community Support

Healthcare for freelancers: Creative work is unstable—universal healthcare or guild-based systems (like Freelancers Union) are crucial.
Peer networks: Foster artist unions, co-ops, and mentorship programs to combat isolation and share resources.
7. Respect Art as Labor (Not Just a “Passion”)

Shift the narrative: Artists aren’t “lucky to do what they love”—they’re workers contributing to the economy and culture. Tax incentives, unemployment protections, and retirement plans should reflect that.
8. Cross-Sector Collaborations

Partner with scientists, activists, and technologists (e.g., Art + Climate Justice initiatives). Creativity solves problems beyond aesthetics.
Why It Matters

When artists thrive, society gets:

Stronger communities (public art reduces crime and increases civic pride).
Better innovation (design thinking starts with creativity).
Deeper empathy (art challenges biases and connects disparate experiences).
Supporting art isn’t charity—it’s investing in a more imaginative, resilient world. The key is systemic change, not just goodwill.

Contact Info:

• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/alexismendoza.art/
• Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/artcurated/
• Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/alexis-mendoza-7635591a6
• Other: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alexis_Mendoza_(artist)

Image Credits

Artworks from the series of sculptures,”FRAGILE”, 2024-2025 Cast Iron and Steel.
Photographer Klara Lopera-Sánchez