Samuel Riera talks about Luis Manuel Otero: “an artist in every sense of the word.”
Cuban artist Luis Manuel Otero has been in jail since July 11, 2021. His “crime” is having peacefully and actively opposed laws that infringe on artistic freedom as well as citizens’ civil rights in general.
By the Observatory of Cultural Rights / El Estornudo
HAVANA TIMES – More than a decade ago, Samuel Riera and Luis Manuel Otero Alcántara (LMOA) met. LMOA started attending Riera Studio, a gallery and workshop run by the artist, art professor, and project developer, in the Cerro district. Even then, LMOA had a critical and nonconformist outlook, which began to develop and expand as he connected with people in the Havana art scene, held exhibitions, and intervened in official spaces.
Riera and LMOA established both artistic and friendly bonds, which continued to expand LMOA’s work, particularly concerning community art and its influence on the residents of the most vulnerable and forgotten neighborhoods of the city. Riera Studio, located in Cerro, has been doing commendable work involving neighbors, local school students, self-taught artists, and outsiders, among other collaborators and visitors, contributing to the physical and mental well-being of community members.
Over the years, Riera has tried to preserve some of the work resulting from LMOA’s creative process, make it visible, and place it in the rightful space it deserves. In this interview Riera discusses LMOA’s artistic journey, an artist who is serving an arbitrary five-year prison sentence for his irreverent work and political activism.
When and how did you meet LMOA?
I met Luis around 2011. I had returned to Cuba after two years abroad and was focused on opening my studio as an exhibition space. I began searching for young art, particularly with a peripheral, local appeal, free from conventional, polished, and commercial constraints. I was looking for art outside of officialdom, art that sought new concerns or objectives to focus on.
Around that time, a good friend, Carlos Pimentel, a sculptor from Santiago, came to my door with Luis. We introduced ourselves, and we quickly began discussing his artistic intentions. By then, Luis had already opened his first solo exhibition, “Los héroes no pesan,” (“Heros are not Heavy”) at the municipal gallery “Teodoro Ramos Blanco.” This was a space that had always focused on sculpture; it hosted the First Cerro Sculpture Biennial, which I think only continued until its fifth iteration, as these local initiatives often have a short lifespan, unfortunately. But during that time, Luis was already recognized among the young artists in the area.
From then on, we had a very specific artistic focus and a friendship based on shared interests. Later, I decided to visit Luis at his home and see his world with my own eyes.
The year 2012 marked another stage. The 11th Havana Biennial took place, and I launched Riera Studio as a space with the performance “Carretillas en la ciudad” (Wheelbarrows in the City). For this, I sent out an email invitation, inviting people to sell art from wheelbarrows. I was experimenting with new forms of entrepreneurship: street vendors selling fruits, root vegetables, and vegetables on the street out of wheelbarrows. The decision to turn art into a basic necessity, or as essential as food, but at very affordable prices, was an attractive impulse for Luis, who saw it as an opportunity for his social discourse and to reach more people. That’s when our first collaboration was born. I still remember seeing Luis walking down Belascoaín Street, at the intersection of San Lázaro Avenue, with a cart that looked like a slushie vendor, but it was filled with Mickey Mouse figures. Everyone who was there was very amazed to see it.
That project also encountered resistance from the institution. We were obstructed by the Office of the Historian, and the work was questioned by Rubén del Valle in the National Council of Plastic Arts. At that time, Rubén asked me who Luis Manuel was and about his presence in the performance because he was the only one who hadn’t graduated from an official art institute.
However, Luis was able to reorient that performance very effectively for the point in time in which it occurred. His participation played an important role in showcasing a Cuba where Fidel Castro’s personalism was fading, where economic activities were being decriminalized, and where there was a sense of a certain splendor. Street vending was a new form of business in the tourism industry, and Luis took the opportunity to appear with a slushie cart selling an iconic figure like Mickey Mouse.
What was your impression of his artistic interest? What can you say about his art at that time? Was it as provocative and dissenting as it later became?
Luis’s work always displayed a constant social concern. At that time, it was an interest in what concerned his surroundings, his community, and his locality, which was very complex. It was close to Calzada de Monte and Calzada del Cerro, with marked peculiarities of marginalization, crime, unsafe housing, overcrowded living conditions, in addition to cultural and racial complexity. Like many of his neighbors, he lived in a partially renovated house with a large family. All this social weight would become a breeding ground, a spark for the subsequent development of his work.
During that time, I remember that Luis always had friends who helped him in his community. Luis is very family-oriented, warm, and affectionate. I think of the presence of a young boy who always accompanied him, having as much fun as Luis in creating the art pieces. He was marginalized in his community, and Luis guided him in actions that took him out of his difficult daily life.
I remember going to Luis’s house; he always had wooden boards and other discarded items that these young men brought to him. They would ask him what he wanted them for, and he would always respond, “I’m going to make an art piece,” and everyone would conspire in the creative process. I also recall one of Luis’s uncles who was heavily involved in the production of these artworks. I watched Luis, and he reminded me of the figure and gesture of Robin Hood because he always had the star quality of a popular leader with a special ability to unite, without arrogance, and without hidden agendas.
Luis’s early works, especially those carved from wood and stone or created using materials like Cellular Lightweight Concrete (CLC), known as “siporex” in Cuba, had a distinct rawness. He crafted faces that conveyed suffering and need, and his use of humble materials added a richness both in terms of form and concept. Luis used raw wood salvaged from demolished or burnt construction materials, often with exposed nails. It presented a poignant image of everyd
