Casa Caché, an Artist Residency at the Beating Heart of Havana
Filippo Vogliazzo works on a site-specific installation as part of Casa Caché Artist Residency.
Situated in a cozy, historic house in Havana, Cuba, Casa Caché is a nascent month-long artist residency founded by multidisciplinary artist Jorge Villarreal with Nelson Ramirez as collaborator. Concurrent with the 15th Havana Biennial that opened mid-November this year, the residency’s second run houses Sandrine Sanos, Constanze Han, and Filippo Vogliazzo in Centro Habana, offering an opportunity for deep engagement with a dynamic local community of curators, gallerists, and artists.
Filippo Vogliazzo, whose “shapeless” practice is joined by a love for the sensual, the uncertain, and the site-specific, shares that his experience at Casa Caché has felt liberating and enriching. He navigates surrounding streets and neighborhoods, interacts with welcoming locals who may just be sitting on their patios, and sources materials from scratch. In this conversation with IMPULSE, Villareal and Vogliazzo share their perspectives on the residency’s structure, mission, and path forward in an age of political tension and globalization.
Sandrine Sanos, Constanze Han, Filippo Vogliazzo, and Nelson Ramirez. Courtesy of Casa Caché.
Xuezhu Jenny Wang: Jorge, could you tell us a little more about yourself and how you started the residency? Why did you choose Havana as the location for this residency?
Jorge Villarreal: I’m a multidisciplinary artist born and raised in McAllen, Texas, a border town that shaped my identity through its cultural duality. Growing up, I often felt a sense of “otherness” on both sides of the US-Mexico border. However, over time, I came to see this duality as a strength—something that profoundly informs my art practice.
My connection to Cuba began in 2009 when I first traveled to Havana with my father. That trip sparked a profound interest in photography, and I soon found myself returning annually, sometimes multiple times a year.
In 2018, I was invited by Nelson Ramírez to exhibit at La Fototeca Nacional de Cuba—he was the museum’s director at the time. This experience made me realize how much there is to learn from Havana’s rich artistic landscape. The year after, I began looking for programs that allowed artists to immerse themselves in Havana and participate free of charge. There weren’t many. So, I wanted to create a residency program for artists to engage deeply with the local community, build cultural bridges, and form collaborations that could lead to future projects. I began conversations with Nelson, who had by then become the director of the Havana Biennial and the Wilfredo Lam Center. We shared a vision for an artist residency that would not only benefit visiting artists but also enrich Cuba’s artistic community.
While the pandemic in 2020 temporarily paused our plans, now in 2024, we have successfully launched the second cohort of the Casa Caché Artist Residency.
Photo of Jorge Villarreal, artist and founder of Casa Caché.
XJW: Why is the program called Casa Caché?
JV: Around 2016, my father started a printed social magazine in Havana, circulated throughout the embassies, covering art events, local artists, diplomats, musicians, etc.; it stopped after the pandemic happened, and we are still taking baby steps to try and relaunch the magazine. But the original idea was to tie the residency to the publication, which is where the name came from. “Caché” is Cuban slang meaning “hip” or “trendy,” but it can also mean “hidden” or “hard to find,” which adds a playful, layered meaning.
XJW: Filippo, a lot of your work is about objects—their history and futurity, their making and finality. How do you select the subjects of your artistic investigation? Can you tell me more about some throughlines that guide your thinking? What are you working on right now?
Filippo Vogliazzo: I work with objects because they allow me to talk about different topics. Certain objects have the power to signal meaning at the crossroads of different paths. I focus on objects with narrative potential—they are tools for storytelling rather than static symbols of meaning. I’m less interested in producing definitive knowledge and more in creating personal, physical experiences. For example, here in Havana, I’m making lamps from recycled materials for the garden of Pulido, an 83-year-old local legend who has run free art workshops for neighborhood kids for decades. The lamps will light up at night via motion sensors, showcasing his and the kids' artworks in this beautiful garden with a lot of meaning for the neighborhood and community.
I prefer working to express uncertainties and create moments of activation and reflection through subtle, interactive elements. For instance, I’ve created exhibitions with homemade liquors for visitors to drink while performers respond to project themes. These physical, sensory elements are central to my practice. Here in Cuba, there’s a saying that it’s like el pollo en arroz con pollo—the chicken in chicken with rice.
Filippo Vogliazzo, detail of Light Sleepers (2024). Photo by Jorge Villarreal, courtesy of Casa Caché.
XJW: What’s your experience in this residency like so far? Did something unexpected come up?
FV: I didn’t walk in with specific expectations about how the residency would unfold. It’s very interesting exploring the artistic network and interrelated disciplines here—from architecture to visual arts; there is so much here. During the residency, I’ve had to interact with people, walk around neighborhoods, and ask locals who were just sitting on their patios about where to get materials. Everybody is super helpful and extremely welcoming. People are excited to hear that I’m a visual artist—unlike in Berlin, where everyone is an artist [laughs]. Lots of locals even offered materials for free. I feel that there’s a different approach here when it comes to creativity and visual arts.
Also, the rhythm is very different. We are used to this capitalistic approach to productivity, but here, things get done at a different rhythm. You don’t have to prove anything to anybody. It feels much more special moving within a community.
XJW: Jorge, which aspect of Filippo’s work struck you the most during the selection process? Has this residency and working more closely with him revealed something about his work previously unknown to you?
JV: I actually wasn’t part of the selection committee for Casa Caché. Nelson selects artists who can not only benefit from experiencing Cuba but also bring something valuable to the local art scene in return. When Nelson shared the list of selected artists, I was immediately excited to see how Filippo’s practice would interact with Havana’s urban landscape. The city’s vernacular culture thrives on resourcefulness—people work with what they have and make the most out of limited resources. I had a strong sense that Filippo’s approach to art-making would integrate seamlessly with this environment.
What struck me most during the residency was witnessing Filippo’s adaptability and ingenuity in real time. His ability to self-adjust, navigate the city, and engage with local communities has been fascinating. Watching him source materials and collaborate with talleres (workshops) to find the space and resources he needs has been so inspiring.
Filippo’s interactions with Havana reflect a deep respect for its culture and people. He’s not just creating work in the city but with the city—its materials, its challenges, and its energy. This level of immersion and flexibility has been a joy to witness and reinforces the value of cross-cultural artistic exchange that Casa Caché strives to cultivate.
Filippo Vogliazzo, detail of Light Sleepers (2024). Photo by Jorge Villarreal, courtesy of Casa Caché.
XJW: What, in your opinion, are the hallmarks of a good artist residency?
JV: I design residencies as if I were the artist participating. I think about the challenges they encounter: leaving obligations and responsibilities behind, like rent or bills back home. Therefore, offering stipends, free housing, some meals, and other amenities makes a big difference.
Another hallmark is facilitating connections to the local art scene—introducing artists to local creatives, curators, and galleries. This puts them at the heart of the community and allows them to experience the cultural landscape in a meaningful way. The residency should be as comfortable as possible while providing an immersive, enriching artistic experience.
FV: I value the ability to engage with the context—moving through new environments and gaining a fresh perspective on my work. I have a complicated relationship with being forced to produce things. I prefer residencies that are more reflective, with workshops or talks that feel educational rather than forcing output. For me, these experiences are about interacting with a new context rather than producing work like I would in my studio.
It’s stressful to see artists treated as producers of objects. Overproduction of images and objects isn’t necessary. Maybe I’m more comfortable with the idea of producing less but having something strong to say in each, or having a participative setup that’s conducive to conversations and human interaction.
Residencies like this allow me to work with subtraction—removing elements until I find something that feels right. It’s hard to adopt a slower pace in environments like New York or London, where the rhythm is so fast. That’s why experiences like Havana are invaluable.
JV: I agree, especially thinking about the timing of this residency cohort, which coincides with not only the Havana Biennial but also Miami Art Week. The contrast really stands out—on one hand you have the oversaturation and mass consumption of images and data, while on the other hand, here in Havana, what’s on view feels more conceptual. Lots of artists are working with the vernacular and existing landscapes; many works have a poetic lean—a sensibility I’m becoming increasingly attracted to.
Courtesy of Casa Caché.
XJW: The residency focuses so much on international cultural exchange, and IMPULSE, too, is a platform for highlighting diverse voices, especially those of immigrants. What’s on your mind today when we talk about borders, migration, and globalism?
FV: Right now in Europe, this is a huge topic. Honestly, the outlook feels bleak. There’s a rise in xenophobic, right-wing parties that exploit displaced people for political agendas. It’s alarming how quickly the Western world is moving toward isolationism—faster than I ever imagined. This direction feels anachronistic and self-destructive.
Being here in Cuba highlights this contrast. Cuba is a place where people are constantly leaving, while Europe, where I’m from, is considered a destination for many trying to move in. It’s fascinating to experience this dynamic firsthand. But the hyper-capitalist mode of economy I grew up with seems to be failing. The only way to envision a better future is through solidarity, not isolation. This could well be an opportunity for positive change, but I’m not seeing that shift. Look at what’s happening in Syria—European countries shut down asylum requests within 24 hours. It’s inhumane. Sadly, I think things will get worse before they get better.
As an artist, I feel incredibly privileged to travel, work, and engage with different cultures. Meeting Cuban artists and locals provides invaluable perspectives on these issues. It’s something I deeply cherish.
JV: Similarly, these topics weigh heavily on my mind, particularly given my upbringing in a border town where two cultures are always in motion and through my work at Casa Caché. Borders have always represented more than physical divides; they encapsulate psychological, cultural, and political barriers that shape our identities and limit our freedoms. In the context of Casa Caché, these barriers become painfully real. Our mission is to foster cross-cultural dialogue and create a space where artists from around the world can engage with Cuba’s vibrant artistic landscape. However, the future of this mission feels increasingly uncertain.
With the upcoming change in US leadership, the potential for stricter foreign policies, xenophobic rhetoric, and harsher sanctions looms large. The possibility of figures like Marco Rubio—who has consistently advocated for intensifying the embargo on Cuba—assuming positions of influence poses a serious threat. These sanctions have long impacted Cuba’s economy and cultural exchange, and further restrictions could push the island to the brink of collapse.
Filippo is right to observe that many are moving out—for many Cuban artists, migration is not just a desire for opportunity but a necessary escape from these escalating pressures. Spain, Mexico, and the US have become destinations for those seeking creative freedom and stability. The fear is that future US policies will not only ignore the struggles of our Caribbean neighbors but actively worsen them. In such an environment, I can’t fault any artist for seeking refuge and opportunities elsewhere.
We should be living in a world where globalism means connection and exchange. Borders should be places of conversation and collaboration, not confrontation. We are at risk of losing the richness that comes from cultural exchange. At Casa Caché, we’re committed to pushing back against these barriers—holding space for artists, ideas, and communities to come together, no matter how difficult it gets. The reality is tough, but the art we make and the connections we build matter. They are a form of resistance in themselves.
This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
