Censored Sensations - Interview with Jean-Paul Mallozzi

Ansiedad: I Can't Get Off, 2024. Oil on canvas. 29.5 x 42.5 in. Photo courtesy of the artist.  

By CLARE GEMIMA February 14, 2025

Ideas of queer love, vulnerability, and intimacy weave throughout Jean-Paul Mallozzi’s visceral, bitter-sweet, and complex oil paintings, like The Fever, 2024, which was recently exhibited at last year’s Untitled Art Fair in Miami. A piece just as elusive, (and arguably as graphic), Ansiedad: I Can’t Get Off, 2024, currently on view at South Florida Cultural Consortium’s group show, Mangroves to Masterpieces, has been subjected to partial modification during the institution’s scheduled K-12 school tours. Throughout our conversation, Mallozzi reflected on the challenges of painting tender, ‘behind-closed-door’ scenes that synthesize personal experiences together with larger cultural shifts, and, in broad brushstrokes, shared his thoughts on the forces of external censorship, inner criticism, and self-imposed restraint.

In response to my inquiry about the decision to obscure Ansiedad: I Can’t Get Off during school tours, Veronique Cote, Director of Galleries at Florida Atlantic University, shared: “This is an issue I care deeply about, so thank you for asking. For those of us working in the arts in Florida, I understand that it’s a particularly sensitive topic in our region. Art has the power to challenge perceptions, ignite dialogue, and transform communities. As a museum leader, curator, and Indigenous artist committed to advancing contemporary art discourse, I do not believe in censoring work simply because it may cause discomfort. I refuse to change my research topics, or the selection of the works I include in an exhibition for example. However, as a museum director operating an approved school tour venue, I must also respect the school district’s policies regarding nudity and sexual content. This creates a complex but necessary dialogue between artistic freedom and community standards.

In the case of Jean-Paul Mallozzi’s work, I was drawn to its intimacy and emotional depth. Rather than removing or altering the piece permanently, the artist and I discussed solutions together. Jean-Paul was really fun to work with in this case, because he was willing to play with the question: “If you were to explain this topic to an eleven year old, which part would be the most important, and which part would you gloss over because of their age?” We decided that when K-12 school tours are scheduled, we would temporarily obscure the nudity in a way that felt intentional, as opposed to reductive. Malozzi chose to use a black satin covering, which further emphasized the painting’s themes of anxiety and vulnerability. While this adaptation shifts the interpretation slightly—since Florida schools have restrictions on discussions of sexuality—it still allows for meaningful conversations about intimacy, solitude, and emotional connection, which are just as relevant for young audiences today.”

Clare Gemima: Jean-Paul, I loved seeing your work recently at Bill Arning’s Untitled Art Fair booth. How was the art fair experience for you, especially being a Miami-based artist? Were you exhausted, have you recovered, and what do those 4 chaotic days offer to your practice once you're back in your studio? 

Jean-Paul Mallozzi: I met a few gallerists who were exhibiting, and welcomed some to my studio. I also met up with several artists that I admire. The fair was exciting – the only glitch that week was getting stuck in a Lyft for 2 hours instead of the usual 20 minute drive. It was annoying, but I survived.

The Fever, 2024. Diptych. Oil on canvas. 40 x 60 in. Photo courtesy of the artist.

Clare Gemima: In your own opinion, what is the most powerful aspect of painting queer life, love, and reality? What is the biggest challenge you face in doing so, and have you felt any changes in your approach to painting since the recent change of administration in the United States? 

Jean-Paul Mallozzi: The most powerful and challenging aspect of painting queer themes is being vulnerable, especially during periods of time (like today) when the political zeitgeist turns against you, and chooses to erase queer identities from public spaces and government websites. The only thing I can do in this position is to continue painting.  

Clare Gemima: Do you feel as though your paintings are misunderstood by professionals in the art industry? Your content is nuanced and specifically queer, and I’m curious if you’ve had to aid awkward conversations with people that aren't so confident in themselves, or their ability to sell your work to their client base. In general, do you feel satisfied with the critical feedback you receive?

Jean-Paul Mallozzi: Thankfully, no. There is always a clientele for all works of art, and people’s tastes evolve and change. What may be misunderstood now, may become better understood later. I find attitudes towards art to be very fluid. Dealing with shifting tides towards art is just part of the business of art and art programming. The conversations I’ve had about my work have been the opposite of awkward. I’ve been able to talk about my paintings without hesitation, and I enjoy sharing the narratives and back stories. I feel positively satisfied with my critical feedback.

Clare Gemima: In describing Ansiedad: I Can't Get Off, you mentioned that the term Ansiedad translates to anxiety in Spanish. The painting seems to offer a voyeuristic glimpse into a deeply tragic, yet sensual and intimate moment—a poignant vignette of a personal and raw experience. Are the characters modelled off of yourself?

Jean-Paul Mallozzi: This painting is rooted in memories of severe anxiety. Before I started to address anxiety by talking to someone professionally, I remember being in my old apartment, and trying to alleviate my stress through masturbation, which would prove futile because I would often struggle to climax. The two overlapping figures are both renditions of myself struggling to position my body, providing an impression of time passing.

Clare Gemima: From January 16 to March 12, 2025 you’ll be exhibiting several paintings in South Florida’s Cultural Consortium: Mangroves to Masterpieces, which also features works by Alián Rives, Amy Schissel, Angelica Clyman, Ania Moussawel, Denise Treizman, Greko Sklavounos, Jillian Mayer, Katlin Spain, Kandy Lopez, Laura Tanner, Roscoe B. Thicke III, Rose Marie Cromwell, and William Cordova. I understand there has been concern regarding one of your exhibiting paintings,  Ansiedad: I Can't Get Off, leading to a decision to partially censor the work during the show. Could you share how this decision impacts you personally as an artist? Also, how did you respond to such requests, and what made you decide to keep the work in the show? 

Jean-Paul Mallozzi: I understand the need to censor content for certain audiences such as young children, but not for adults. I’m happy that this painting engages with issues of censorship, especially in Florida where prohibition of art works and books have taken center stage in recent times. It’s baffling to me that the argument for censorship is still being used in 2025 to silence writers and artists. In this case, the museum’s administration team told me the painting would have a piece of black satin cloth covering the genitals during school trips. Initially I was annoyed, but kids are curious and I’d want them to engage with this issue. Even if they can’t see the whole painting, they can construct a critical analysis of the rationale behind censorship. The painting may allow them to think it through. Questions for me arise; Should we provide audiences with disclaimers? Who defines what is ‘appropriate,’ and why? 

In 1966, my mother was 19 when she and her family fled the dictatorship in Cuba. One of her older sisters already had 2 toddlers and a baby. It wasn’t until I was mature enough to begin to understand the severity of their situation, and why they left everything they knew to come to the United States – with no mastery of the English language and zero job prospects. By that time, Castro implemented a country wide act of censorship by dismantling all but one newspaper which specifically supported him. He also developed the Comité, which was a watchdog committee appointed on every block by the government, where neighbours would report people if they suspected they were suspicious, or were speaking out against the government. 

My grandfather Armando was even afraid to buy food that wasn’t available to the public, because the Comité would ask how he’d obtained it, since everything was rationed. If you received a visitor that was not from that particular neighborhood, they would ask “who is this person, and why are they visiting you?” It was extremely uncomfortable knowing that you were being watched all day and night. My grandfather witnessed Cuba changing, but not for the better. There was absolutely no freedom. If a person was not part of the communist party and applied to leave the country,  that person couldn't work a job while waiting for their approval. Once my family left, the Inventario came to their working class home, took everything inside, and claimed that it belonged to the state. My grandfather was already in his 60’s, retired, and left his pension behind to bring his wife, my mom, aunts, and uncles to the States. My mom would say, in hindsight, how much she admired the courage of her parents to leave everything for their children, especially while knowing there was no future worth having in Cuba.

Installation of Jean Paul Mallozzi’s Mangroves to Masterpieces, 2025. Ansiedad: I Can't Get Off, censored while school groups are touring the gallery. Photo:Helen Edmunds

Clare Gemima: In light of this controversy, I am curious as to what your painting has specifically been accused of. Is it a matter of violating ‘child-safe’ spaces, disregarding modesty in public spaces, rendering sexually provocative narratives, or something else altogether? 

Jean-Paul Mallozzi: It’s a tricky line to walk when you are working with public programming. It’s not my space, nor is it a private collection or gallery. I suggested that we include a statement next to the work to provide the viewer context in light of the politically charged environment we all find ourselves in today. I don’t necessarily think it takes away from the work. It’s been interesting watching viewers go back and forth between the work and the statement. I remember going to my first life drawing class in high school. It was hosted every Friday at the Parsons School of Design, and some of the other students' parents didn’t allow them to attend because there were nude models. It was a formative experience for me, and made me grow up to appreciate the body in ways I wouldn't have been able to if my parents didn’t allow me to go.

Clare Gemima: Have you faced a situation like this throughout your painting career before? 

Jean-Paul Mallozzi: Only through social media trolls that occasionally post hateful comments.

Clare Gemima: What advice would you offer to fellow artists currently facing similar censoring of their work from institutions, galleries, or individuals in the art industry? 

Jean-Paul Mallozzi: Be true to yourself, but also observe and experiment, and silence your inner critic. Open the doors to critique, and if you don’t find pleasure in what you’re doing, don’t be afraid to mix it up, or give yourself a break. There’s enough pressure in the world, so don’t burden yourself with wild expectations. You can always just walk away and come back when you’re ready. 

A-House Red, 2024. Oil and acrylic on canvas. 36 x 36 in. Photo courtesy of the artist.

 South Florida’s Cultural Consortium: Mangroves to Masterpieces features works by Alián Rives, Amy Schissel, Angelica Clyman, Ania Moussawel, Denise Treizman, Greko Sklavounos, Jillian Mayer, Katlin Spain, Kandy Lopez, Laura Tanner, Roscoe B. Thicke III, Rose Marie Cromwell, and William Cordova, and will be open through March 12, 2025. 

@jeanpaulmallozzi https://www.jeanpaulmallozzi.com