Glenda León's borderless love
'I believe we need poetry more than ever—not to escape from reality, but to face it,' Glenda León
Are we humans recurrent pessimists? Neuroscience says yes1. Yet, through her work, conceptual artist Glenda León invites us to consider the opposite—to pause, to see, and to listen to her messages of love and interconnectedness. She believes that love leads to compassion, which is vital for a better world. Its absence fuels wars, overexploitation, and intolerance, while recognizing our interconnectedness fosters respect and reveals the absurdity of divisiveness—like trying to partition air or water. For León, making the world a better place is more important than making art, a belief that shapes both her philosophy and creative process. Time and sound are central to her work, appearing in various forms throughout her practice. “Time is a sound we don’t hear. Silence and sound are like materials that I am constantly transforming. Sometimes I use sound to sculpt an image; at others, I use an image to draw the silence,” she states.
In my recently published article at toomuchlovemagazine.com, Love Beyond Borders: Glenda León’s ‘Only Lovers’ as a Vision for a Compassionate World I explore her background and some of the works in that exhibition. While researching and interviewing her for that piece, I gathered a wealth of insights that couldn’t all fit into the article. Here’s the entire conversation we had.
Carmen de Terenzio: How do you approach the concept of interconnectedness in your work, central to the theme of Only Lovers, and what role do you think love plays as a force for dismantling divisions?
Glenda León: I believe that love is a way to arrive at compassion, and compassion is what we desperately need to make this a better world. It is because of the lack of these feelings that wars start (both small and big), that the overexploitation of the Earth happens, and that intolerance takes place. Becoming aware of and experiencing the interconnectedness of all living creatures is the key to respecting others and refraining from harming a single living being. This awareness can also lead us to realize how absurd it is to divide the Earth for political reasons—it’s like dividing the air or the water.
CT: Your exploration of the imagined Havana in Miami highlights the duality of being in two places at once. How do you think this duality shapes the identities and emotions of Cuban immigrants?
GL: As someone who has lived in different places around the world, I learned early on that only by loving the new place you move to and being open to it can you create a better, happier, and more harmonious life. Of course, this doesn’t mean erasing the past or forgetting your beautiful memories. However, constantly longing for the past prevents you from living in the present and, as a result, fully embracing the future.
I’ve met many Cubans living outside the island who remain deeply attached to their cultural habits, often comparing their new surroundings to what they left behind. Unfortunately, this attachment can cause them to miss the opportunity to discover and experience the rich diversity of other cultures—through food, art, and so much more—that their new home has to offer.
CT: Borders—whether physical, emotional, or conceptual—are a recurring theme in your work. How do you envision art as a tool to challenge or dissolve these boundaries.
GL: When I created the architectural model of a pool between Miami and Havana (Summer Dream, 2005), I intended to make an ironic comment on the political relationship between the U.S. and Cuba. Like a game of actions and reactions—common in many tense relationships—it has become a perpetual chain.
In 2012, I brought this idea to life on a larger scale by intervening in a pool in Havana. I placed photographic enlargements of the Miami and Havana coastlines on opposite sides of the pool. By drawing a connection between the sea and a pool, we altered the swimmers' perception and projection of the space. Swimming, then, transcends its usual meaning of entertainment or sport, becoming an act of re-encounter and a symbolic breaking of invisible, imposed barriers. After all, the horizon is an illusion.
Through the maps, even the simple act of sitting and having a drink took on a new meaning, as though one were sitting on a street corner in either city. Works like this, which address these themes, also act as a form of healing—a way to mend the wounds caused by the absurd situation between two countries so geographically close yet so divided.
CT: I read in an interview that someone defined you not as conceptualist artist but as a lyrical conceptualist artist. I thought it was a perfect definition. What do you think of it? How would you define yourself of your practice?
GL: I believe we need poetry more than ever—not to escape from reality, but to face it, especially in the times we are living in. We need hope now more than ever. I often say that if the news is so disappointing and negative, should we, as creators, contribute yet another negative thing to this world? Our social role should be to uplift and inspire, and to add, even if only with a small grain of sand, to the spiritual evolution that I believe is what will ultimately save humanity. I am certain Félix Gonzalez-Torres would feel the same.
CT: In one of your interviews, you speak about sound, silence and on how being close to nature helps dissolve the ego. Could you elaborate on this idea and how it shapes your artistic practice and spiritual perspective?
GL: Through long-term practice and under certain circumstances, I have experienced a dissolution of the ego—transmutations, synchronicity, compassion, and other profound events. These experiences became the source of inspiration for many of my early works, such as the video series Every Breath (2003–2018). They also deepened my understanding of how essential it is for humanity to undergo such experiences. While this shift is already happening, and many people are becoming aware of it, there are still not enough to drive a radical change in how we care for the Earth and perceive it as a living entity. Breaking the natural balance can trigger a chain of irreparable damage, and we must recognize this urgently.
Perhaps the word “nature” itself created this division; we think of it as an “it” rather than as “us.” For example, the Japanese language didn’t historically have a word for “nature” because there was no separation between the outside world and the self.
I explored this concept further in my installation Mundo Interpretado (2009), where the names of five gods were translated into Braille and then into musical notation, played by five music boxes. The aim was to focus on the spiritual essence shared by these deities rather than the differences religions have created—differences that have led to wars and countless injustices. A recent version of this work is now installed at OK in Linz, Austria. In this iteration, an automatic piano plays the names of 214 gods who, according to various cultures, are credited with creating the world.
CT: Tiempo Perdido II that greets us at the entrance of the show seems to be the only “pessimistic” piece in the exhibition. Could you please expand on this work and its origins?
GL: This work dates back to 2003, when I began creating a series of objects embedded in the wall, such as a book (Secret Words) or a butterfly (Longing). These works were a commentary on the lack of freedom I was experiencing at the time, which felt suffocating. They were deeply autobiographical (though I believe all works are, in a way), but these pieces were a bit more direct.
Then I thought of embedding a clock, which led me to replace the cement with sand. As with most of my works, this one also aims to make us pause: to stop, be silent, and reflect. It is only with awareness that one can evolve. This work invites us to contemplate the concept of wasted time. What does wasted time look like in our personal lives? And what does it mean at a bigger dimension, at a national level? Can we change our behavior in the future and avoid repeating the same mistakes?
As I’ve shown this piece in different venues and heard feedback from various people, I’ve realized it can be painful to revisit the idea of lost time. While it’s true that wasted time cannot be recovered, we can always make a turn, reshape the present, and create a different future, once we recognize the source of this lost time
Boom. Love it and thx a bunch!!