INTRODUCTION

Originally from Barbados Cat Dunn’s curatorial practice explores migration, memory, and identity across diasporic landscapes. Rooted in Caribbean thought, she curates exhibitions that challenge colonial legacies, embrace fluid notions of self, and center overlooked narratives. By connecting contemporary and archival materials, she uses art to re-map histories, spark dialogue between the Caribbean and the UK, and creates spaces of care, resistance, and belonging for Black diasporic experiences.

INTERVIEW

How did you get into your creative practice? What initially inspired you?

As a Black woman from Barbados now living in Scotland, people often ask me how I got into my creative practice. The truth is, I’ve wanted to be a curator since I was four years old. It began with my grandmother. She was the one who first took me to the Barbados Museum. Walking through those galleries, I watched a woman – I didn’t know she was a curator at the time – use artefacts to tell stories of the Indigenous peoples of the Caribbean, of enslaved Africans, of lives hidden and silenced by history books.

My grandmother then took me to Newton Plantation, an enslaved burial ground. I was so young, but I felt the weight of history. I understood, even then, that objects, land, and silence could hold memory. The way those stories were woven together was ingenious – it wasn’t just history, it was truth-telling. It was art. It was justice. And I knew, standing there, that I wanted to do that. I wanted to curate stories of truth.

Growing up in the Caribbean also taught me that art is never neutral. People use art as a form of critique – sharp, unflinching, rooted in survival. But art is also a form of joy, celebration, and resistance. Carnival is a perfect example: it is laughter, costume, satire, rhythm – but it’s also protest, a refusal to be erased. That duality has shaped me. Of course, like many from marginalised households, I was told the Arts were not for me. The message was clear: be a doctor, a lawyer, a businessperson – something respectable, something that guarantees survival. The Arts were seen as frivolous, a luxury for others, not a viable path for someone like me.

So to become a curator, I had to be determined. Stubborn even. I had to carve out a space that was never offered. I had to insist on a future that nobody around me could see. And that’s what my practice has always been about: insisting on presence. Insisting on truth. Insisting that our histories, our bodies, our labour, and our imaginations belong here too – not on the margins, but at the centre.

What themes do you tend to interrogate in your creative practices?

My creative practice is rooted in storytelling as truth-telling. From that early visit with my grandmother to the Barbados Museum and Newton Plantation, I’ve understood that objects, archives, and spaces are never neutral — they carry memory, power, and politics. As a curator, I’m interested in interrogating what stories are told, who gets to tell them, and who has been written out.

Some of the recurring themes in my practice are:

•Histories of the Enslaved and the Colonised

I return again and again to the legacies of slavery and colonialism, especially their erasures in the Scottish and Caribbean contexts. I’m interested in how museums, collections, and cultural institutions perpetuate silences — and how we can intervene to make those silences visible.

•Diaspora and Belonging

Living in Scotland as a Black Caribbean woman, I interrogate what it means to belong in spaces not designed for us. My practice explores diaspora not only as displacement but also as a site of creativity, solidarity, and reimagining home.

•Power, Access, and Gatekeeping

The art world often claims to be inclusive while replicating deep inequalities. My work challenges the structures that keep Black and marginalised voices at the door — whether that’s through tokenism, systemic underfunding, or the politics of “who is allowed in.”

•Art as Critique and Joy

Growing up in the Caribbean taught me that art is both a weapon and a balm. It’s protest, satire, critique — but also music, dance, carnival, and joy. My curatorial work embraces this duality: art as resistance and art as celebration.

•Care and Survival

As freelancers and cultural workers, many of us balance caring responsibilities, health, financial precarity, and creative labour. My practice acknowledges that reality, making space for conversations around sustainability, equity, and care in artistic work. At its heart, my practice is about weaving together what has been broken, erased, or silenced. It’s about positioning Black, Caribbean, and diasporic narratives not at the margins but at the centre — because our stories shape culture, history, and the future.

What is your favourite project you’ve ever worked on and why?

Oh wow… That's a tough one. There are aspects of every project I’ve done that will forever live in my heart, but if I had to choose, Crafted Selves: The Unfinished Conversation (2023–24) holds a very special place in my career. Curated in partnership with Fife Contemporary, the project brought together 13 artists and was hosted across three institutions: St Andrews Museum, Kirkcaldy Galleries, and Gracefield Galleries. I had the privilege of working with incredible people; from my producers at Fife Contemporary to the artists whose work formed the heart of the exhibition. The exhibition explored craft as a medium for interrogating dual identity, weaving together questions of heritage, belonging, and the unfinished nature of diasporic narratives. What made the project so meaningful was how it merged the intimacy of craft with broader social awareness; showing how making can hold stories of migration, hybridity, and resilience.

For me, Crafted Selves was both important and joyous work. It underscored the power of collaboration, especially with a smaller RFO like Fife Contemporary, where the partnership felt genuinely supportive and respectful of my position as an independent curator. The project demonstrated how independent curators and institutions can co-create exhibitions that are not only meaningful but also equitable, nurturing relationships and amplifying diverse voices.

What advice would you have for creatives of colour looking to get into your creative practices?

First, know that you belong here. Even if the sector often makes you feel like you don’t, your perspective, your history, and your creativity are essential. When I started, I didn’t see people who looked like me in curating, and I was told; like so many of us from marginalised backgrounds; that the Arts weren’t for me. But I knew what I had to say mattered. Hold on to that conviction.

My advice would be:

•Build your own networks. Sometimes the doors won’t open; so make your own. Collaborate with peers, find solidarity, and create the spaces that you need.

•Know your worth. Don’t let institutions exploit your labour under the guise of “opportunity.” Your time, ideas, and lived experience have value.

•Stay rooted in your story. The most powerful work you will ever do comes from your own truth; your heritage, your community, your lived experiences. That’s your compass.

•Look after yourself. This work is deeply rewarding, but it can also be exhausting. Find joy, rest, and support in your practice as much as critique and resistance.

Most of all, remember: you don’t need permission to curate, create, or tell stories. You are already part of a lineage of Black and global majority artists who have always used creativity as critique, as resistance, and as joy. Step into that lineage, and claim your place.

What are you currently working on?

There are a few projects I can’t speak about yet because they haven’t been officially announced — but I can share some of what’s on my desk right now. At the moment, I’m curating a new exhibition for Historic Environment Scotland, due to open next year. This project responds directly to their 2024 report and will feature the work of five incredible artists: Dr Alberta Whittle, Graham Fagen, Matthew Arthur-Williams, Tilda Williams-Kelly, and Harvey Dimond. Each artist will creatively engage with and respond to sites featured in the report, bringing fresh perspectives and critical conversations into dialogue with Scotland’s historic environments. I’m really excited about how this exhibition will weave together history, memory, and contemporary practice. Alongside this, October is quickly approaching, which means I’m also preparing for a number of talks and panel conversations. These moments are important to me, as they allow for dialogue not just about art itself but also about the systems we work within as creatives, and how we can push for change especially in the wake of divisive politics.