the possibility of an island

Cuba may be facing tough times, but the country's hoteliers, creators, and artists are forging a hopeful and beautiful way forward

- Lydia Bell

Nerea Vera is renovating a house. In the republican-era neighborhood of Vedado, where salty air and hurricane rain and tree roots have gnawed at the façades, it's good to see neoclassical bones and Art Nouveau floors being buffed up. Open to visitors by appointment, Vera's house is a sort of accidental museum. It tells, in microcosm, the story of the Cuban Republic that stretch from 1902, when Cuba grew as an independent country following the end of wars with Spain and the US military occupation, until the rise of Castro in 1959. Utilizing her skills as an engraver, sculptor, illustrator, and painter, Vera restored the house's moldings and murals. There are objects left by the house's previous owners, including a Baccarat lamp, a 1930 Victrola gramo-phone, and a 19th-century chess table, alongside Vera's own work (an intricate drawing of Che Guevara's corpse as a martyr and a series of relic-like blownglass hearts kept in a suitcase), and items she has brought into the house, like a Steinway & Sons grand piano that used to belong to the Havana Cathedral.

The house's original owner, Juan Cruz Bustillo, a mason and mambi (a veteran of the wars of independence), acquired the land in 1902 with war compensation before joining the new republican army. After the 1959 revolution, the state expropriated the ground floor. Over the years, like other once bourgeois families, the Bustillos became impoverished, and they sold their home to Vera. In addition to renovating the house, she is resurrecting the sophisticated society magazine Social 1916, reprinting old content in limited editions produced on a restored vintage printing press. One day, when a free press is finally allowed, she hopes to create a contemporary version of the publication.

Vera was living in Spain when the pandemic hit and she decided to return home.