Casa Duarte
AKA the Normal House
Artist Studio as third space
I have always believed that artist studios are, by their creative nature, inherently third spaces—not as isolated zones for individual production, but as active gathering grounds. These are places where painters, poets, educators, community leaders, cultural workers, farmers, musicians, activists, academics, and laborers come together, dismantling hierarchies of cultural production. These are not categories to be separated, but roles to be blurred in the shared pursuit of living a creative life—one grounded in radical imagination and collective possibility. I also believe that the categorization of public, private, and communal life under capitalist modes of production is harmful to our well-being and our capacity to bond with the larger self—our collective selves.
Casa Duarte is our main family residence, where we host artists in working residencies, as well as poetry readings, book launches, fundraisers, workshops, and political panels and discussions. These events arise informally, often shaped by need and the moment—gatherings that are mostly spontaneous, formulating organically in response to the call for space, conversation, or community—operating outside the bounds of institutional validation or formal structures.
Past resident artists include Carlos Rojas, a New York-based Mexican artist and professor of performing arts at Cornell University; Saul Kak, a Zoque Indigenous artist and activist based in El Rallón, Chiapas, Mexico; and Mia Eve Rollow, a nomadic artist currently working out of Chiapas, with previous projects in Chile.
The original name, Normal House, came from our street address, Normal Avenue, but also played on the idea of questioning “normalities”—challenging culturally accepted forms of collective organizing and agreed-upon truths. It nodded to the Normalistas in Mexico—students whose socialist and communist ideals reimagined the communal and the revolutionary role of education.
We have recently renamed Normal House to Casa Duarte, in memory of my father, Francisco Duarte (b. 1946 - 2025 )—a poet, activist, immigrant from northern Mexico, and a lifelong learner of the wonders of being alive.
Apa, you will not be missed—because I have not loved you with my eyes, but with my heart. You are my spirit guide, my best friend, and the one who has shown me what it means to love unconditionally. You have guided me toward justice, toward the belief that anything is possible, and toward a deeper understanding of what it means to truly live.
