We have something here worth saving
En Matanzas, Cuba, el Museo de Arte Lorenzo Padilla abrió sus puertas por un solo día en mayo de 2026, no desde su edificio habitual, sino desde un espacio en Calle Medio donde podría renacer. Con más de tres mil piezas guardadas en almacenes —entre ellas una de las colecciones de arte africano más completas de América Latina— el personal del museo eligió la forma del arte para hacer una pregunta urgente: ¿cómo salimos de esto? Era, a la vez, una exposición y un llamado a la ciudad.
- Un museo con miles de obras valiosas lleva tiempo invisible al público, atrapado entre paredes que necesitan reparación urgente.
- El personal organizó una exposición de un solo día bajo el título '¿Cómo salimos de esto?', convirtiendo la precariedad en declaración artística y política.
- Las piezas rescatadas del almacén —pinturas, esculturas, fotografías— compartieron espacio con obras de tres artistas invitados, demostrando que la colección sigue viva aunque el edificio no la sostenga.
- La fragilidad del espacio obligó a cerrar la muestra al cabo de unas horas: las condiciones del inmueble no permitían que las obras permanecieran más tiempo.
- La exposición fue concebida como el primer movimiento de un proyecto mayor: reubicar el museo en el edificio restaurado de Calle Medio y devolverle a Matanzas una institución cultural a la altura de su patrimonio.
El Museo de Arte Lorenzo Padilla, en Matanzas, enfrenta un dilema que conocen muchas instituciones culturales: un edificio deteriorado y miles de obras guardadas en la oscuridad, lejos del público que debería verlas. Para no rendirse ante esa realidad, el personal del museo tomó una decisión: abrir, aunque fuera por un día.
En mayo de 2026, habilitaron un espacio en Calle Medio —la calle céntrica donde sueñan reubicar el museo— y montaron una exposición que llamaron '¿Cómo salimos de esto?'. El título era literal y simbólico al mismo tiempo. Daniela Daniel Gómez, encargada de la documentación y el inventario, explicó que reunieron pinturas, esculturas y fotografías sacadas del almacén, junto a obras de tres artistas invitados. La muestra duró un solo día: el estado del edificio no permitía más.
Yamila Gordillo Rodríguez, especialista del museo, aclaró el verdadero propósito del título: era una forma de nombrar el deseo colectivo del equipo, de mover conciencias, de hacer visible lo que habían estado protegiendo en silencio. Bielka Cantillo González, directora del centro provincial de patrimonio cultural, lo enmarcó como el primer paso de un proyecto de desarrollo local que busca trasladar el museo definitivamente al edificio restaurado de Calle Medio.
Lo que estaban protegiendo justifica el esfuerzo: más de tres mil piezas, entre ellas quinientas cincuenta y siete obras de arte africano tradicional que conforman una de las colecciones más completas de su tipo en toda América Latina, y la única de esa envergadura en Cuba. Por un día, la ciudad pudo ver lo que sus trabajadores han custodiado. Era una ventana pequeña, pero también un mensaje claro: aquí hay algo que vale la pena salvar.
The Lorenzo Padilla Art Museum in Matanzas faced a problem that many institutions know well: a building in need of serious repair, and thousands of artworks locked away in storage, invisible to the public. The staff decided to do something about it. On a single day in May, they opened the doors of a future museum space on Calle Medio, a central street in the city, and hung an exhibition they called "How Do We Get Out of This?" — a title that was both practical and pointed. The show was their answer to the question.
Daniela Daniel Gómez, who manages the museum's documentation and inventory systems, explained what they had assembled: paintings, sculptures, and photographs pulled from the warehouse, alongside work by three invited artists — Osmany Betancourt, Adrián Gómez Sancho, and Adrián Socorro. The exhibition would last only one day. The building's condition simply would not allow the pieces to remain longer. It was a temporary gesture, a one-time opening of the vault.
Gómez noted that this approach was not unusual. Around the world, museums and cultural institutions mount exhibitions in abandoned buildings, construction sites, and spaces undergoing renovation. The idea is the same: show people what you have, even if the circumstances are not ideal. Even if it's only for a day.
Yamila Gordillo Rodríguez, another specialist at the museum, underscored what the title really meant. "How Do We Get Out of This?" was the staff's way of naming their desire — to push the city to repair the building, to move people's hearts, to make visible the works they had been protecting in the dark. It was a call, wrapped in the form of an exhibition.
Bielka Cantillo González, director of the provincial cultural heritage center, saw the show as the opening move in a larger plan. The goal was to relocate the museum entirely to the restored building on Calle Medio, making it the new home of the Lorenzo Padilla Art Museum and anchoring a local development project around it. Yusef Hernández Delgado, an animator at the museum, spoke of it as a dream shared by the entire staff and by Padilla himself — to move the institution to a space worthy of its collection and its history. To do so would be the finest tribute the city could offer to Padilla in his lifetime, a painter who had given everything he created to Matanzas.
The collection they were protecting numbered more than three thousand pieces. Among them was a collection of traditional African art that stood out even by international standards: five hundred and fifty-seven original works representing one of the most complete assemblies of its kind in all of Latin America, and the only collection of such breadth in Cuba. The pieces came from multiple ethnic groups and countries across the continent, a archive of cultural knowledge and artistic achievement that had taken years to gather and preserve.
For one day, the public could see what the museum's workers had been holding in trust. It was a small opening, a temporary window. But it was also a statement: we have something here worth saving. The building needs repair. The collection needs a home. And the city needs to know what it has.
Notable Quotes
The exhibition title underscores the staff's desire to push for the building's repair, move people's hearts, and make visible the works they have been protecting.— Yamila Gordillo Rodríguez, museum specialist
Relocating the museum to a restored space on Calle Medio would be the finest tribute the city could offer to Padilla in his lifetime, a painter who gave everything he created to Matanzas.— Yusef Hernández Delgado, museum animator
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why did they choose to do this exhibition now, in the middle of repairs?
Because the collection was invisible. Three thousand pieces sitting in storage while the building was closed — that's not serving anyone. They wanted to remind the city what was at stake, what needed protecting.
And they could only keep it open for one day?
The building itself wouldn't allow it. The conditions were too fragile. So they made that limitation part of the message — "How Do We Get Out of This?" — a title that works on two levels. How do we show these works? How do we save this institution?
What made the African art collection so significant?
Five hundred and fifty-seven original pieces from across the continent, representing dozens of ethnic groups and countries. There's nothing like it in Cuba, and very few collections of that scope anywhere in Latin America. It's a historical record, not just art.
Was this exhibition just a one-time gesture, or does it point toward something larger?
It's the beginning of a real plan. They want to move the entire museum to a restored building on Calle Medio. This exhibition was proof of concept — showing what's possible, what the city could have if it commits to the restoration.
And Lorenzo Padilla — the museum is named for him. Was he involved?
He's still alive. He gave his entire body of work to Matanzas decades ago. Moving the museum to a proper space would be a way of honoring that gift while he's still here to see it.