Photos + Q&A by Domenica Bucalo
How old are you?
I’m 51. Just over half a century in, which feels both surreal and earned. Old enough to trust my instincts. Young enough to still be surprised, and occasionally undone, by what’s possible.
What did you want to be when you were a child?
A veterinarian or a singer. Neither worked out. I’m not great at science and I’m tone deaf, but care and expression have always been constant threads in my life. Those instincts never went away. They just found a different form.
What has been an influential experience in your life?
One of the most influential lessons in my life came from my mother. Long before answers were instant, she taught me that you cannot and do not need to know everything yourself. What matters is knowing how to think, how to listen, and where to go for the knowledge, you need. That lesson stayed with me. Over time, gathering information, learning through experience, and developing discernment shaped how I navigate systems, and uncertainty. I think about it often now as I lead a nonprofit through very real economic and cultural shifts. It reminds me that curiosity, humility, and collaboration, paired with the collectsive intelligence of a community, are what move things forward.
Can you talk about the historical arc of Pen + Brush Gallery?
Pen + Brush was founded in 1894 as a space for women and gender expansive artists and writers, at a time when very few institutions were willing to take their work seriously. What continues to feel radical is how relevant those founding values still are. Access, community, and equity remain at the core of our work. While the organization has evolved structurally and programmatically, its original purpose to make space for voices that have been overlooked feels not only intact, but more urgent than ever.
Do we activate better chances at positive change when history is brought into the conversation?
Yes, when history is treated as something alive. When we relocated from 10th Street to 22nd Street and reenvisioned Pen + Brush over a decade ago, we knew history alone was not enough. Reverence without action doesn’t create change. We had to be fully present and doing the work now and statically creating programming that can respond to 21st century stakes. Since then, we’ve grown alongside hundreds of artists like Michela Martello, Lola Flash, Deborah Jack, Michela Griffo, and now Pyaari Azaadi. For us, it’s less about legacy as a static concept and more about shared, ongoing growth. About what happens when artists and institutions evolve together in real time.
How would you describe Pen + Brush’s impact today?
We help artists be seen within an art historical context that has too often excluded them, not because the work wasn’t there, but because markets and institutions failed to hold it.
That landscape has been shifting, but not fast enough. Our goal is simple and deeply felt. To present and make space for work that we would all be diminished by not encountering.
How do you approach mission driven curating? And what do institutions like yours need to thrive?
Mission driven curating means making space for work that doesn’t bend to trends, but instead speaks honestly to the moment we’re living in. It requires listening deeply to artists, advocating for their vision, and protecting the conditions that allow that vision to grow with integrity.
For institutions like ours to thrive, we need real support from funders, partners, and collectsors who understand that early investment in artists is not speculative. It’s foundational. When collectsors engage early and intentionally, they help sustain artistic voices long enough for those artists to enter broader institutional and market conversations with strength and agency. That long view matters.
How do independent galleries navigate flexibility, funding, innovation, and community today?
By staying values led. Innovation isn’t just about new models. It’s about relationships. Community is what sustains independent spaces. We’re not competing with the market. We’re offering an incubator that strengthens artists across generations and supports a shared, long-term commitment to the health of our cultural landscape.
Can you tell us about upcoming projects at Pen + Brush?
The photographs were actually taken during Pyaari Azaadi’s solo exhibition Talkin’ Bout a Revolution at Pen + Brush, which closed on February 14 with a catalogue filled with essay’s from our peers speaking to the significance of Azaadi’s lifetime work. As we are now celebrating Women’s History Month, we have just opened a new chapter by hosting the Every Woman Biennial, the world’s largest biennial dedicated to women and non-binary artists. The collaboration brings together two organizations that share a commitment to advancing women and gender expansive voices in the arts. Through the Biennial’s democratic open call model and Pen + Brush’s long standing artist incubation platform, the partnership creates a space where artists across generations, mediums, and backgrounds can connect, cross pollinate, gain meaningful visibility, and sell their works. We’re also launching a Curatorial Squad and a new advisory board, both designed to bring more voices into our decision making and expand how we support artists and audiences alike. These initiatives reflect how we work best. Collectively, with care, and with an eye toward sustainability.We are also continuing to champion Pyaari’s work and will be presenting a body of her work this spring at Conductor, the art fair hosted
by Powerhouse Arts in Brooklyn. On April 30th we will open The NOW After, a group exhibition reflecting on what remains materially, emotionally, and politically after moments of rupture and transformation and our inaugural Curatorial Squad show that brings together more of our peers who are committed to championing undiscovered artists. Across all of this work, our focus remains the same: creating artist first platforms where powerful voices can be seen, supported, and allowed to shape the cultural conversation.
Your favorite place in New York?
Anywhere near the water, where the city thins out just enough to let you breathe and the scale of the sky puts everything back in perspective.
Would you agree that a dance floor is never simply a dance floor?
Absolutely. A dance floor is a site of collectsive release, resistance, joy, and possibility. It’s where bodies gather, hierarchies soften, and something shared takes shape, even if only for a moment.
Will you ever leave New York?
I don’t think so. I’m drawn to oceans and to seeing more of the world, but New York lives in my nervous system, for better and for worse. I don’t see myself leaving. New York or nowhere still feels true.
Domenica Bucalo and Dawn Delikat in conversation, March 2026
