Art Matters by Paula Abreu
Growing up in a family that owned an independent bookstore in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, I have always been curious about the unknown and humbled by discoveries. Yet, perhaps predictably, I followed my parents’ academic path and became an engineer. Still, I knew there was more.
At my first job as a management consultant with Accenture in Brazil, I was assigned to a project in Luanda, Angola. It was my first experience on the African continent, and it proved to be life-changing. In Luanda, I found light through shared culture. Brazil and Angola are deeply intertwined through history, music, language, and spirit. The resilience and the vibrancy of daily life felt both familiar and revelatory.
My work arrangement allowed me to return home every six weeks. It was easier (though not shorter) to fly between Luanda and Rio through Europe, and I took full advantage of those stopovers. I visited some of the world’s most iconic museums: the Louvre, Reina Sofía, Centro Cultural de Belém, and Van Gogh Museum. These experiences left a profound impression on me. And yet, something felt incomplete.
The cultural richness I was experiencing in Luanda was barely present in these vast institutions. Of course, this was the early 2000s, and the art world has since evolved in meaningful ways. But moving between Angola and Europe during that period sharpened my awareness of whose stories were being told and whose were not. That tension stayed with me.
Fast forward to today. After working in the performing arts in New York City for nearly fifteen years and now in Princeton, I continue to embrace a personal and professional mission: to use the power of the arts to communicate shared experiences across cultures. I believe deeply that art helps us feel grounded and connected, and that through shared artistic experiences we can imagine better futures together.
I am also convinced that the arts are far more interconnected than we often acknowledge. One of the first works that truly blew my mind was Koyaanisqatsi (1982), the visionary collaboration between filmmaker Godfrey Reggio and composer Philip Glass. The marriage of image, music, and rhythm created something entirely new, an experience greater than the sum of its parts. When artistic disciplines collide, they amplify one another.
For 2026 the Museum and McCarter Theatre have partnered to commission The Center Will Not Hold by Michelle Dorrance and Ephrat Asherie, premiering in Princeton this April. For me, dance is an art form in which visual and performing arts meet. In this work, Dorrance and Asherie, alongside their collaborators, bring contemporary dance into conversation with multiple styles, original music, and striking lighting design. The result is a multisensory experience that highlights the power of artistic collaboration.
My role at McCarter involves bringing artists to campus to perform, and I often imagine how their time in Princeton will be enriched by visits to the Museum, just as I envision the many collaborations still to come between these two institutions. Together, they form a cultural ecosystem that encourages curiosity, dialogue, and cross-pollination.
From my very first visit to the new Princeton University Art Museum, I felt embraced. The building itself is an architectural work of art transporting you in and out with its magnificent windows. Its dynamic galleries and diverse artworks invite discovery across cultures while also encouraging reflection. Standing at its entrance, greeted by Nick Cave’s mosaic, I felt elevated, invited into a space that understands art as something alive, expansive, and deeply human.
I recently brought my five-year-old daughter to the Museum. I watched her gasp when she saw Monet’s Water Lilies and Japanese Bridge (1899)—she recognized it from her school project, for which she created her own version. She was equally captivated by Sedna Legend (1968), a sculpture featuring a narwhal by the Inuit artist Peter Pitseolak, and of course, by the Egyptian sarcophagi (though she was disappointed not to see a real mummy). In those moments, I could almost see her idea of the world expanding and new portals opening. Witnessing that process feels like watching light move.
Art matters because it opens those portals. Museums matter because they hold space for discovery, connection, and transformation across generations, geographies, and disciplines. They remind us that culture is not still or singular but living, layered, and shared. And I that shared experience, we find reflection, hope, and possibility.
