The endless flow of souls out of Cuba today can be called an exodus — not only from a formal point of view, but also because of its biblical proportions. Nearly 740,000 have arrived at the southern border of the United States between 2021 and April 2024.

They also leave for Spain, Mexico, and almost any other place on the planet that, like the island, has not yet sunk. In that human surge, César Castillo went into exile, a young painter who was not afraid to tell with his work the truth of living under the socialist tyranny that others, to the surprise of many expatriates, want to copy here in North America.

Without a victim narrative and grateful for the opportunities of a free society, Castillo has reconnected his work with the visual arts circuits, now in the United States. After two years of exile, he has not forgotten the price of telling the truth in a country that detests it, and he is preparing for his first solo exhibition in the voracious city of Chicago.

Here is my interview with César.

Your initial journey as an artist was marked by a first migration: from eastern Cuba to the capital.

I studied at the Carlos Enrique Academy of Plastic Arts in Manzanillo, where I graduated in 2009. After graduating, I did my mandatory social service for two years at a House of Culture in Niquero, Granma.

After finishing my service, I decided to move to Havana, where there were more opportunities to grow as an independent artist.

In Havana, I had the opportunity to participate in a project with artists from Cincinnati, Ohio, which resulted in a collective exhibition both in Havana and in Cincinnati.

I have always had concerns and desires to express my truth about my experiences and the reality of Cuba, and the meeting with the artist Julio Lorente was key. His experience at the Higher Institute of Art helped me a lot to develop as an artist.

In 2019, we held a collective exhibition at the former Presidential Palace in Havana, now the Museum of the Revolution, entitled “Three Stories,” together with Alberto and Julio Lorente. The intention was always to take advantage of that space to convey a clear message. My work, “Tribute to the Unknown Combatant,” which included a camouflaged image of Huber Matos under the Fidelista concept of Revolution, was removed and censored the next day.

The piece generated many questions among the attendees, but its censorship marked the beginning of a total ban on my work. Despite this, my work continued to maintain a political focus and has been published in magazines such as CdeCuba Art Magazine and Artepoli and platforms such as Hypermedia Magazine and Incubadora.

You have worked on criticizing the Cuban socialist system from an ironic perspective. What do you think is the role of an artist in a totalitarian regime like Cuba?

The role of an artist in a totalitarian regime like Cuba is, without a doubt, an act of resistance and defiance. Cuba resembles a pool of stagnant water, a space where ideas and life are trapped in a cycle of decomposition. The experience of living and creating in a totalitarian dictatorship, where censorship and repression are the norm, has led me to explore criticism of the socialist system from irony, yes, as an antidote that counteracts the toxicity of the environment.

Irony becomes a powerful resource, an acid that erodes the layers of oxidation that cover the national reality, unmasking the contradictions inherent in a system that proclaims freedom while constricting individuality and critical thinking. In this context, my work becomes an act of purification, a way of getting rid of the ideological corrosion that permeates the reality of Cuba.

Why and when did you leave Cuba?

I left Cuba largely because of the censorship and restrictions I faced as an artist, an experience that is not unique to me, but something that many Cuban artists have lived through. The Cuban State’s control over artistic expressions in Cuba has always been very strict, especially when the work touches on political issues or questions power structures.

Those of us who try to use art as a platform to dispute the Cuban totalitarian system and express uncomfortable truths or challenge the official narrative are often silenced. Living under this constant scrutiny generates a feeling of suffocation. Leaving Cuba was a decision forced by these circumstances.

I did it in 2022.

What are the themes that attract you most as a visual artist?

The themes that attract me as a visual artist are, in essence, a constant struggle against the ghosts of power. I was born and raised in a Cuba where control sneaks into every corner of life, and that has left an indelible mark on my work.

I am obsessed with exploring how ideologies, those great invisible machines, suppress individuality, corner critical thinking, and mold us at will. For me, producing art is an act of contempt, a way of desecrating those sacred icons that official history has elevated to marble pedestals.

Tell me about your migration process. What experiences have you had outside the island that have marked you in this new stage?

My migration process has been a complex and transformative journey, driven by the desire for freedom and the search for a space where I could express my ideas without the restrictions I faced in Cuba.

When I left the island, I found myself in a new environment full of possibilities. One of the most enriching experiences has been the opportunity to meet other artists in the United States.

Although I am grateful for the opportunities I have found, I still carry with me the deep sense of loss that comes with exile. Through my work, I continue to ask for the freedom of Cuba.

How have you managed to insert yourself in the artistic world here? You have already participated in some collective exhibitions in the United States.

Getting into the American art world has been a gradual and enjoyable process, a journey that, like a labyrinth, is full of unexpected twists and revealing encounters.

I have attended events and exhibitions that have been true learning classrooms. I have had the opportunity to meet a vibrant and diverse community of creators, each with their own stories and struggles. These interactions have been essential; I have not only shared my work, but I have also absorbed new ideas and approaches.

The last exhibition was at the Ford Gallery PDX. There I had the opportunity to show my work “The Magic Mountain.” Bringing that painting I made in 2020 to an installation had always been a dream I had since my days in Havana.

A solo exhibition is coming soon. Give me details of that event. What themes and techniques will you deploy on this occasion?

I am pleased to announce that my first solo exhibition, “Soul,” will be held at Chicago’s 345 Art Gallery, an iconic space sponsored by OHC Architecture Center, which promotes dialogue between contemporary art and architecture. On this occasion, I will be presenting 10 oil-on-canvas works.

“Soul” is a meticulous immersion into the human journey, stripping the experience bare through the eyes of a child whose existence has been forged in the heat of hardship. Through this series, I aspire to weave a narrative that unravels the complexities of his reality, revealing a landscape where struggle and hope cohabit intrinsically and palpably.

Each work is a mirror that reflects his world, an open window to his soul, inviting the viewer to decipher the intricacies of the child’s experience, I hope, from a place of deep empathy and reflection.