What does artistic independence actually cost?
DEEP DIVE: Inside PALOS
Building an independent art space means balancing curatorial vision, funding, logistics, and community — all at once.

On a cool, overcast Saturday afternoon — with the historic streets of La Boca strangely quiet and expectant just hours before an Argentina–Switzerland match —
I rang the bell of a weathered old portal. In Argentina, football is more than a sport. It is a shared language, a source of identity, belonging, and collective possibility. On a day like this, when an entire country seems to move to the rhythm of a match, the unusual stillness of La Boca felt almost surreal.

From the outside, the building looks like a classic, time-worn fragment of old Buenos Aires. But stepping through the door felt like crossing a threshold into another world: a wild, surprisingly alive ecosystem that a visitor would later describe to me as a selva (jungle). It is here, inside this captivating and unexpected space, that we sat down with Julián Perrone Sibilia, founder of PALOS, to discuss the complexities of artistic freedom, the challenges of financial sustainability, and what it really takes to build an independent art space from scratch.
PALOS is a deeply personal project. How did the idea begin, and when did you realize you needed to create your own space instead of continuing to work within existing institutions?

Julián:
The main reason was the need for more places where sculpture could be exhibited. In almost every exhibition we organize, we make a conscious effort to give sculpture a meaningful place, because it often takes a back seat to other disciplines.
At the same time, I wanted to create a space that worked with emerging artists without focusing exclusively on them. I'm interested in bringing together emerging practitioners and artists with more established careers. That mix attracts a broader audience and creates richer conversations.
Another important factor was the space itself. We found a venue large enough to develop projects that simply wouldn't be possible in many other places.
Running an independent art space requires an enormous investment of time, energy and resources. How does PALOS sustain itself today? Is there a commercial side to the project, or how do you support production and day-to-day operations?

Julián:
From our very first exhibition, we've produced exhibition catalogues. The idea is to make them available for sale while also encouraging artists to properly value and price their work. When needed, we work through that process together.
We also try to get these catalogues into the hands of collectors, although that's not always easy. To be honest, PALOS is sustained primarily through my other job, which allows me to cover most of the expenses. Living in the space also keeps our fixed costs relatively low. During exhibition openings and closing events, we run a small bar, which helps cover practical expenses like photography, food and drinks. We always try to keep prices as affordable as possible.
What kinds of curatorial freedom does independence give you that would be difficult — or even impossible — within an institution?

Julián:
Freedom is the most important thing.
It allows us to create works that break away from conventional scales or challenge the traditional logic of the exhibition space by experimenting with height, scale and spatial relationships. What matters most to me is that artists feel involved in that process and experience the same freedom to experiment.
In many institutions there are so many layers of approval and decision-making that projects inevitably slow down. Here, we try to keep everything as horizontal as possible.
Being completely honest, how do you see the current contemporary art scene in Buenos Aires? What excites you most, and what do you feel is still missing?

Julián:
I think we're seeing more artist-run and self-managed spaces emerging, and that's really encouraging.
At the same time, institutions seem increasingly willing to engage with contemporary practices and younger audiences.
What's still missing? Funding.
Very often I feel limited by financial constraints. An institution can repaint an entire gallery for a single exhibition, while for us that would mean cutting the budget somewhere else.
I'd love to see more funding opportunities that support independent spaces over the long term—not just individual exhibitions, but the ongoing development of projects like PALOS.
Beyond PALOS, which institutions, independent spaces or projects are you following most closely today?

Julián:
Recently I visited a project called Plegable. They transformed two disused bathrooms into an exhibition space of roughly 3 × 2 metres.
What fascinates me is how, despite having very limited resources, each exhibition completely transforms the space and gives it a new identity.
It's a great example of how imagination, commitment and thoughtful exhibition-making can overcome a lack of funding and still produce something genuinely powerful.

Your exhibitions bring together artists working with very different languages and practices. What curatorial approach allows those differences to create a dialogue rather than compete with one another?

Julián:
That's exactly what we're trying to achieve. The current exhibition, for example, brings together everything from textile works to ceramics. One of the most important parts of the process happens before installation. We meet with all of the participating artists, everyone presents their proposal, and each artist chooses where they want their work to be placed.

Dominique and I often say that the space almost "curates itself," because the dialogue between the works develops very naturally.
Quite often, without even planning it, artists arrive at similar ideas or visual solutions. In the end, the exhibition surprises us just as much as it surprises the audience.
El Jardín de las Delicias was conceived as a ten-part cycle dedicated to site-specific works. Why did you choose this structure, and what do you hope to build throughout these ten editions?

Julián:
We conceived it as a cycle of ten editions because we wanted the project to have a clear trajectory and a defined conclusion.
It's a way of generating momentum around a young space while continuously opening it up to new proposals.
By the end of the cycle, we'd like the project to grow beyond its current format and, ideally, develop collaborations with larger institutions.
For me, it's also important that PALOS remains open to what artists bring into the space. Your own ideas eventually reach their limits, but collaboration always introduces something unexpected.

Your programme spans exhibitions indoors, interventions in public space and site-specific projects. What kind of artistic experience are you trying to create through this approach

Julián:
I want every work to reveal the thought and effort behind it, whether that's visible in the piece itself or in the artist's broader practice.
With site-specific works, that becomes even more important. A work truly succeeds when it feels inseparable from the place where it exists.
What conversation do you think contemporary art most urgently needs today?

Julián:
I'd come back to the question of funding.
Right now, the sale of artworks remains accessible to a relatively small group of collectors.
I think we need a broader conversation about alternative ways of supporting artistic practice.
Should artworks be priced differently to make collecting more accessible? How can exchanges between artists become part of the ecosystem?
At the moment, too much depends on a handful of major collectors and institutions. There's still a lot to rethink.
When you encounter an artist's work for the first time, what makes you stop and pay attention?

Julián:
It's difficult to explain.
For me, it begins with a sense of wonder.
I'm drawn to works that make you want to come back to them—works that reveal something new every time you look at them.
It's not necessarily about technical skill. It's about a work's ability to sustain curiosity and make you want to keep looking.
You know many artists personally. How do you balance personal relationships with curatorial decision-making?

Julián:
So far, it hasn't really been an issue.
In the beginning, it's natural that your first exhibitions involve friends—they're the people who believe in the project before anyone else does.
As PALOS has grown, the programme has become much more open. Today, artists can submit proposals regardless of whether we know each other personally, and that's made the selection process much more transparent.
Beyond the quality of the work itself, what qualities make you want to work with an artist?

Julián:
Responsibility. If I know that other curators or gallerists have had serious difficulties working with someone, that's something I always take into account.
It doesn't necessarily mean I wouldn't collaborate with that artist, but trust and professionalism are essential. An exhibition is always a collective effort.
How do you and Dominique Vispo complement each other in shaping the identity of PALOS?

Julián:
Dominique curated one of our exhibitions, and we’ve collaborated on different aspects of PALOS. The project has grown through an ongoing exchange of ideas about exhibitions, artists, and the development of the space, and I think that collaborative process has been one of its strengths.
If an artist or curator wanted to start an independent art space today, what's the most important lesson PALOS has taught you?

Julián:
Start.

It sounds obvious, but I spent a long time postponing the idea because I was waiting for the right moment. Eventually, we simply decided to begin—and once we did, everything started to fall into place. You don't need perfect conditions or a large budget to start something meaningful. You can make art anywhere.
The most important thing is to take the first step.