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Carving one’s own space in the art world can be daunting. For Paulina Lara, it was a necessity. The curator and producer-turned-gallery director founded LaPau Gallery in 2021 to develop and express her curatorial voice. She had previously organized exhibitions and programming independently with ONE Archives at the USC Libraries, OXY ARTS, and other venues, though she never held a formal curatorial role at an institution.
In a relatively short amount of time—just three years—Lara has established her Koreatown gallery as a vibrant community space and platform that spotlights some of the city’s most cutting-edge talent. She has presented ten exhibitions of artists from Los Angeles and abroad, and also organized music programming and pop-up events at the gallery and elsewhere in collaboration with Nike, Jarritos, and the music collective Mas Exitos.
Lara’s interests are as dynamic and varied as the artists she has shown. Her debut exhibition, Gabriela Ruiz’s Grounding, Prevent from Flying (2021), addressed the idea of grounding oneself amidst an existential crisis. Ruiz’s immersive blue installation invited viewers into her mind, simulating emotional regulation through color-saturated paintings, a sandbox that covered the gallery’s entire floor, and an original soundscape. Lara’s most recent project with Guatemala-based brothers Ángel and Fernando Poyón encapsulates her interests in global cultural exchange and the role of art in preserving ancestral and collective memory. As Tina Barouti wrote, Fernando Poyón’s maize sculpture, carved from yellow pencils, honors Mayan Kaqchikel ancestral knowledge and agricultural practices—the pencils transform the corn stalk into an “instrument of remembrance” and reflect the artists’ efforts to record, preserve, and promote Kaqchikel rituals and beliefs.1
History and memory serve as throughlines across several other exhibitions, including Jazzy Romero’s Servicios Express (2022), which featured a forty-seven-minute film structured around an intimate oral history that highlighted how Romero’s mother’s migration story intersected with histories of labor and food service industries across Mexico and the United States. Similarly, Lara’s project with Jorge G. Balleza of the group Sabotaje Media (2022), revealed the historical moment when Colombian cumbia music hit Monterrey, Mexico in the 1980s and ’90s through the display of rare photographs, footage, and ephemera belonging to cumbia aficionado Toño Estrada. This project is notable in that it engaged Lara’s deep interest in Latin American music histories, offering an excellent example of how her gallery’s program has bridged the visual art and music worlds.
Over a series of phone calls, Lara and I spoke about her curatorial practice, discussing the importance of art, archives, music, and human connection in her work. Our conversation began by reflecting on how we first met in 2014 at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art (LACMA) as part of the inaugural group of fellows in the Mellon Summer Academy. We stayed connected after the program, frequently checking in as we progressed through our undergraduate education, and eventually, we teamed up to curate our first exhibition together, Liberate the Bar! Queer Nightlife, Activism, and Spacemaking, with ONE Archives in 2019.
Joseph Daniel Valencia: What did you study in school?
Paulina Lara: I went to a community college in Oakland called Laney College. I was deeply interested in sociology, political science, and philosophy. It was very transformative because a lot of the professors were from different places. A lot of the students were international students. I was exposed to a lot of different cultures at once. I really didn’t consider art history. I took one art history class, but I didn’t take many art history classes until I transferred [schools].
Right before I transferred, I met my dear friend, San Cha. She was the only person I’d ever known who worked at a museum, at the Yerba Buena Center for the Arts (YBCA), at the box office. I ended up getting a job there, and I just made the decision—I was like, “this is what I always wanted to do.” I’ve always been into art. It just made sense to me, working at a museum. I just love the environment. I love everything about it.
JDV: How did working at YBCA shape your trajectory?
PL: I transferred as an art history major. I went to University of California, San Diego (UCSD). I did Art History, Theory, and Criticism and Ethnic Studies. I remember the first art history class that I took, and being like, “what did I get myself into?” because it was a whole different language! But I learned quickly, and the rest was really history. I did a lot of Latin American art history classes, specifically thinking about these different movements within Mexico, Brazil, and Peru. I felt like, in ways, I had to supplement things I didn’t get in art history with ethnic studies. I took a lot of Native American art history classes as well as theory classes—decolonial theory. Being interested, looking at things from a perspective that’s so broad, with different viewpoints, has shaped where I’m at now, specifically the work that I’m doing right now with my gallery program and my curatorial framework.
JDV: Let’s talk about your first exhibition, which we worked on together, Liberate the Bar! The project explored queer nightlife’s role in both activism and community building.
PL: Liberate the Bar! was a very important show. It was honestly the start of thinking about what my program is as a person that’s invested in art, and artists, and archives, and history. I think that show really put [together] the framework for what I was gonna do in the future.
JDV: What did you enjoy about the show?
PL: I enjoyed telling the stories of people who lived that experience. The exhibition came because it was the fiftieth anniversary of Stonewall, and you asked me if I wanted to co-curate this exhibition. We both agreed that we wanted to include L.A. history as well as honor Stonewall and its legacy. It was about nightlife, and I’ve always connected with nightlife—it was a place that I could be myself, and all my closest friends, we met in queer nightlife. [In the exhibition,] I was able to talk about this legacy of spaces that would discriminate against people who were Black and Brown. And from that, these new venues and spaces started to exist. I organized the archives, and the ephemera was from lived experience. A lot of people shared their stories with me. I was very happy and grateful that you gave me the opportunity to co-curate, because we always said that we would one day. [Laughs.]
JDV: What are some of the factors that led you to create LaPau Gallery?
PL: I wanted to continue to keep curating and be in conversation with artists. And I just wasn’t seeing the opportunities. I wanted to see the work that I wanted to see in the world, and I felt like I had to create a space for that. I couldn’t wait around for those opportunities to come. I just had to create them for myself, or I would be waiting forever.
JDV: Tell me about your program at LaPau Gallery. How does it reflect your interests and experiences?
PL: My program is thinking about my experience being born here in the U.S., my parents being born in Latin America. I constantly think about my exchanges between these countries—my home and my parent’s home countries—but also through a lens of music, film, and art, actively remembering and constantly preserving. I do it by thinking about materials that are common or familiar to the artist—I think about how we relate to something that’s familiar.
JDV: I have noticed that many of your shows have a multidisciplinary focus. They include art, archives, music, and more. Can you talk about where that comes from?
PL: I come from a family of musicians on both sides. My grandpa plays the marimba—I actually had a marimba band play for this last show [featuring the work of the Poyón brothers]—but also, my uncle played in a couple of bands. So I come from deep roots of music. I will always include that, as well as film. That’s how I see the world, in all those different mediums. And the more I think about archives and the way I’m reimagining them—I’m working on several projects this year really thinking about the archive—I feel like it’s important for me and my family because my family moved from their countries to the U.S., and in that, you lose a lot of material, you lose a lot of things. The photos, archives, and videos are really important.
JDV: How does music shape your curatorial practice?
PL: I didn’t realize until later that I’ve actually programmed music for every show that I’ve had, or incorporated original sound. It’s so natural to me. And I feel like that’s what throws people off. Usually, if you’re into something, you’re in one scene, you just focus on that. I focus on a lot of things—different types of music, and different types of people, at the same time. I can exist in all those realms and spaces. We don’t have to confine ourselves to certain molds, stereotypes, or tropes. I’m all about breaking those, because they don’t really exist to me.
JDV: I have seen how dedicated you are to the artists you work with. For example, Gary “Ganas” Garay is someone you have known for a long time. You have supported him from his days in graduate school, exhibited his work at LaPau, and more recently helped stage his work for Made in L.A. 2023. Tell me about how you met, and how you have collaborated.
PL: Gary and I met at UCSD. He was a grad student on his way out of the MFA program, but we connected over music. I told him that I liked this one DJ [who] at the time was super underground. Once I said that, we just knew that we would stay in touch, that we were homies. We just rocked with each other in that way. Gary had collaborated with [some of] my good friends from the Bay Area, and it just grew from that. We’ve all been in conversation and supported each other and have created this little network of music nerds [laughs]. It’s been a beautiful thing to unfold. Gary has a label called Discos Rolas, and he art directs it with Alexandra Lippman. We are all involved in music, concerts, and producing.
JDV: What have been the main themes of your projects at LaPau, such as with your first show by Gabriela Ruiz?
PL: That [show] was the future, past, and present all at the same time. You’re looking at yourself in the future, and then you’re looking at your past with the sound. The sandbox was about thinking about memory and childhood. It’s in this liminal space. And then Jorge [G. Balleza] was working in archives, starting with archival material about these histories of working-class people—our histories. I pushed to have everything digitized so that it could be shown, [preserving] the story of how that [cumbia] music scene in Monterrey became what it is now.
JDV: I like how you are describing these projects in terms of thinking about interrelated ideas over a longer period of time.
PL: Yeah, because it’s all of the themes in the shows. [The themes of LaPau shows] still connect to our past, but also contemplate and acknowledge our position of being born here, and still try to honor histories that we forgot. I hold space for people too. I’m proud of that. I’m proud of all those things because it goes back to the core of why I opened the gallery. It was to have a space to exist, but also to have a space to relate to the art in different ways. I feel like people like my space because they’re able to do that. There’s no right or wrong way to engage with art.
JDV: It is amazing to think that you have nearly single-handedly organized ten exhibitions in the past three years. That’s almost one show for every season of the year. How did you do it?
PL: I’m very fortunate to have a lot of people who believe in the gallery but also supported me along the way. Those ten shows have been incredible, but also very difficult. And I’m not shy to say that. It’s the reality, and it’s the truth.
JDV: You have shared with me privately that this conversation comes at a significant time for you and LaPau Gallery. You have organized so many meaningful projects and refined your voice, but you are also at a point of reflection. What is on your mind?
PL: Well, when I think about it, when you and I curated [Liberate the Bar!], that was a moment for me when things changed because I didn’t believe that I could be a curator. I didn’t see it within me even though others had seen it. And I think at that moment, I had lost loved ones, and I just was like, “life is too short to just be scared.” It propelled me to do all those shows, to not really have fear and just keep going. But, realistically, the amount of work that goes into the shows is not sustainable for anybody, not just me, you know? For everybody in the art world. I am taking a moment to think about that and also ground myself in what is really important to me or what fills my soul. What’s my spirit tapped into, with my ancestors, what is that guiding me to? It’s guiding me to music, and it’s an incredible realization and path that I’m on. So I’m excited.
Paulina Lara is an independent curator, event producer, and art and music consultant born and based in Los Angeles. LaPau Gallery, which she opened in 2021, has been featured in Artforum, ArtNews, Aperture, Los Angeles Times, and Latina Magazine. She is the co-curator of We Live! Memories of Resistance (Oxy Arts, 2021); Liberate the Bar! Queer Nightlife, Activism, and Spacemaking (ONE Archives at USC Libraries, 2019); and is serving on the curatorial team of Make Amerika Red Again, the first complete survey of James Luna (MOCA Tucson, forthcoming 2026). She holds a BA in Art History Theory, Criticism and Ethnic Studies from UC San Diego.
This interview was originally published in Carla issue 36.