Mathew: I see you are now "fan free". Last time we talked there were industrial dryers going in every room.

Mirka: I'm fan free and I'm actually in Juarez with my family this weekend, so it's a big win on both counts.

Mathew: I want to go back to the beginning for people reading this. You relocated multiple times, you're finishing your master's at Sotheby's, career in strategy and business development. When did art stop being the side thing and start feeling like the calling?

Mirka: I've always had it. I just didn't have room for it. In my family, I'm the first one to go to college in the US. My dad was the youngest of twelve in a very traditional family — he was actually the first one to go to college himself, back in Mexico, because times were changing and families realized kids had to stop just working in the family business. So when it was my turn, the expectation was clear: doctor, lawyer, or business. I chose business.

But I've always had it. I took a 3000-level art history class as a sophomore on a whim and just picked it up naturally. I did my art history minor, I enjoyed it, it was a writing class, it was something I always kind of fearlessly approached. I just didn't have the capacity to fully say to my parents — I'm not going to do what was expected.

Mathew: But what you ended up studying shaped the lens you bring to it now, from a different place.

Mirka: 100%. No story is ever perfect, right? I'm not a linear thinker at all. I like to learn as wide as possible, and then with my professional experience I've learned to create structures that can continue to work. I realized probably three and a half years ago that conversations in the art world were starting to drift — people were exploring the structures that were in place, the Gagosians, the large gallery systems. It was pretty clear to me that something was opening up. So I just kind of went.

Mathew: You relocated a lot. Where did that start?

Mirka: I'm from Bordertown. My mom used to take us from the El Paso side to school in Mexico because she didn't want us to lose our Spanish. So I always kind of lived my life in two places growing up. The first big move was when they decided I needed to go to boarding school — schools in El Paso were very different and half our life was still in Juarez. I was like fourteen, fifteen. They sent me to Culver, in the Midwest actually. That was my first home away from home. The Midwest has always been very kind to me, very welcoming. Then I went back to Dallas for college, stayed there six or seven years, moved to Guadalajara to work for a Mexican company for a few years, then Chicago, and now back to Texas.

Mathew: How did all that moving affect you?

Mirka: You have to keep a sense of urgency. You can do what you can do now with what you have now, because it might not be there tomorrow. I've always kept that sense of urgency which might not be the healthiest, right? You want to be able to root. You want to learn to appreciate things not as temporary but as what you have. That's something I see differently in my brain. That's why when I finally got to Astor, after so many apartments and so many boxes... I'm a pro at packing, I can pack an apartment in half a day, I know my supplies, I know my quirks. I was like, okay, this is it. I can live here until I'm sixty.

"After so many apartments and so many boxes, I was like: this is it. I can live here until I'm sixty." — Mirka Serrato

Mathew: Are you a connector at heart, or did all that moving make you one?

Mirka: That's always been natural. Because really, the only thing that keeps you strong when you move is the connections you made in the previous place. All my best friends are FaceTime friends — ten, fifteen years. There's a difference between the temporary connections and the ones that continue to hold your life. I have friends from so many different cities. And when you enter a community that embraces you — there is a level of responsibility in being welcomed. That can't be temporary. My main anchor, when I think about what comes next for Neighbors, is that. There's an integrity you need to protect in terms of your community. How do we keep that anchor strong and allow it to transcend to other audiences somewhere else?

Mathew: Scale feels like a bad word for you. What I experienced at Neighbors was intimacy. And scale could be the killer of that.

Mirka: 100%. That's why it was approached the way it was. My family were hosters — we have restaurants on my dad's side. Number one, everyone feels welcome, everyone feels seen. But they also have the privacy and time to take their own conclusions and experience it their own way. You want to go somewhere and have your own moments of awakening while also feeling welcomed. Now that we're talking about it, that's probably the underlying theme in how I've lived my life, and what transpired with Neighbors.

Mathew: Walk me through the moment you decided to actually do it.

Mirka: It was February 2025, before Expo. I was sitting in the garden and I was like — it's time. At that point I'd been two and a half years deep in Excel for a big PR agency, pharmaceutical clients, McDonald's financials, and it was the job I always thought I wanted. And I was like, oh my god. Excel. This is not me. This can't be me.

So I started shooting the garden with a local film photographer, Gabby. I'd seen one full year of that garden and I wanted to start documenting the seasons, because I'd started to see the parallels between the garden and my life. It kept my brain sane while I balanced the corporate job. We did a proof of concept photo shoot, brought in artists and dancers. And it was seeing those creative people — dancers, songwriters — react to the garden, that was like: okay, it's not just me going crazy for this space. Something is really here.

Then I pressure-tested every model. Single artist show. Residency. Nothing was landing. And then I went to Art Week in Chicago that year and it clicked. I've done large conferences for big companies — I'm not comparing an art fair to a corporate conference, but it gave me a top layer to work with. After that I was like: I'm going to travel the full circuit this year. I'm going to understand the pain points for galleries and audiences. Put on my creative business development cap for something I actually care about.

Mathew: And then Basel.

Mirka: Johnny and I met in Switzerland. We were just waiting for a drink and he was next to me, and he said, so what are you doing here? I said I'm traveling the circuit because I want to start something in Chicago. He looked at me like, oh. I didn't know he had a fair in London. I had no idea. I said I think it's going to be a small fair, but I don't know. And the rest is history.

Mathew: It was just shooting the shit, and you said it out loud maybe for the first time.

Mirka: Yeah. And he didn't push me to get any validation before we started moving. I developed everything before I told people it was going to be a neutral platform. I didn't tell anyone it was mine to keep. The planning, who to invite, which galleries — it was just Johnny and me. He's really unapologetic in himself, the way he runs his program, the way he operates in different markets. And when we sent the first pitch deck, it was anonymous. An anonymous email with all the galleries we wanted to invite. People were like, where is this coming from? Who is this person? Is this real?

Mathew: Then Mark LeBlanc. Then Abby.

Mirka: Mark came to the house — there was still snow. I opened the gate to the garden and he said, this is really cool. That was it. I thought: if I have my two most experienced Chicago people ready to go, we'll be fine. And when Abby passed me the ball to John from Green Gallery, and he was keen — I knew the more skeptical younger galleries would have a backbone to stand on. It wouldn't feel like a risk to their reputation. February to April. Game time, baby.

Mathew: Before any of that... you had to clear out your apartment. Your safe space.

Mirka: So much came up. So much. One of my best friends was like, I'm coming to your apartment and we're tearing it down today. I'm a very visual person — I had a lot of visuals up, my books, my closet, all these sentimental things. I couldn't do it myself. She came and physically started taking things down, gathered everything on the dining table, and said: that's it, it's done.

But I think it didn't feel as painful as it could have, because I recognized it was a moment of transition in my life anyway. I'd just gotten engaged, I was moving back to Texas. Part of the fuel was finding a greater purpose for this space that wasn't just for myself. Crossing that barrier of: this is my space, it's only me in here and it's mine. I had to get myself to that point. Envisioning a larger purpose for the space was what made it worth it. It had to be more than me.

Mathew: Tell us about the building itself.

Mirka: It was built in the 1930s — the architect designed it for the Goodman family, the Goodman Theater family, they were huge patrons of the arts. I truly believe the property was built to host. To wow people. It's a clear snapshot of what Chicago's great patronage families were doing in the 1930s as the city was rebuilding after the fire — the motifs, the grandness, the romantic bones. When I first moved in I wasn't aware of any of that history. I just thought: someone really cool lived here. And that sent me down a rabbit hole. It's a beautiful, romantic property. So feminine but so powerful. It really awakened a lot of things inside of me.

Mathew: You said...every gallery sold a piece. But you said you're still figuring out how to brag about it.

Mirka: It proved that it worked because galleries had a level of autonomy in terms of their performance. We stripped out the volume, the size of a booth, the unnecessary conversations over four days with thousands and thousands of people. It was really down to them. Could they have that level of autonomy in a commercial performance? And everyone over-delivered. My job was to give them the platform and the space. They over-delivered. That proves the Midwest was ready. The younger galleries are ready. The caliber of work is there.

Mathew: So, why the hesitation?

Mirka: Because I don't want to fall back on the way success is reported in the art world right now. I don't want a market report to tell me it's working. That's not apples to apples. A market report doesn't feel authentic to what we accomplished — we accomplished way more than that. I much rather have street cred than ticker credit. But we're going to have to follow suit eventually, show that we're disciplined, that we understand the language, even while doing things differently. It's not shade. It's just a different way in.

Mathew: It's also harder when it's yours. I'm a publicist and I hate talking about myself.

Mirka: 100%. It's not about me, it's about what we all did. And I have a really tough time with digital presence. I read a book about Gala Dalí — the wife of Salvador Dalí — and I was fascinated by how she never gave interviews. Everything people knew of her was what Salvador himself said about her. I think we're going back to ways of building stories that have a little more depth and mysticism. We've been through ten years of just digital first, get ready with me, let me show you what's in my bathroom. I want to have fun with it. I want to explore it.

Mathew: The mirror. I have to ask about the mirror.

Mirka: It has been one of the craziest things that has ever happened in my life. Truly. It was right when I got engaged. I went to Dallas with my fiancé to start figuring out where we were going to live. I was gone for about a month, my first extended time away from the apartment. I came back, rolled my bags in, left them at the door, went straight to my room and lay down on my bed. Thirty seconds later... a mirror I'd had in that room for almost two and a half years fell. It didn't fall down. It fell forward, and landed face up, shattered, staring at the ceiling. There was no reason for that mirror to fall that way. No reason.

That was the first night I was actually afraid in that apartment. I had never been afraid there. And I said out loud: if I've pissed you off, I'm so sorry. But it's for the best. Something is coming. This is the end of an era. Let it go.

Mathew: And then later...the mirror showed up again.

Mirka: I called Cody from Dallas in Turin (his program is amazing) and in that first conversation he said: I have an artist who's going to do something in that room, and we're going to put a mirror in there, and the word on it is going to be release. He had no idea about the mirror that fell. The artist had no idea. My heart just dropped. It was a full circle. A little wink from the universe, or God, or however people choose to find that. But those things exist. I know it.

Mathew: Someone called Neighbors the Fyre Festival of the Chicago art world. Before it happened.

Mirka: Rage. Just rage. There is nothing scarier than someone with rage and motive, and I had both. I was determined and I was mad and I was not going to let anyone take that away from me. What made it more hurtful was how early it was — months before we were even in real planning, before I'd had a single conversation about what we were going to do to make this a success. You don't know me. You don't know what you don't know. It was actually one of my first calls, someone I was reaching out to as a potential partner. So I said: you're not going to believe in me. And I moved on.

Mathew: Bye-bye

Mirka: But it does suck. It's a sucker punch. I guess to you I'm just a pretty face with a dumb idea. Fine.

Mathew: Anna Delvey also came up.

Mirka: That one stung differently. I don't go around presenting my resume to people. I don't think I should have to. Apparently for some, not announcing yourself is suspicious. I always tell my younger sister: no one is going to tell you the cold hard facts about yourself. No one. You have to be able to look at yourself in the mirror and be true to yourself. Own your mistakes, own your weaknesses, know where you can be stronger. How do you constantly tweak and adjust to truly come out on the other side? Because if you don't, you're just going about it blindly. There is nothing scarier to me than living a life that isn't real.

Mathew: Midwesterners are less trusting than LA or New York. In LA you could start a business over a drink.

Mirka: Chicago is excellent, and they protect their excellence. The city has rebuilt itself multiple times — politically, natural disasters, a lot of things. There is a level of excellency they protect, and that is the bottom line. Once you're able to embody that — not demonstrate, embody — they will welcome you completely. Once you're able to show up to the plate and defend Chicago the same way any Midwesterner would, you're in. I'm Latina, I'm culturally very aware of how much it took me to get here, I understand there are levels of history and academia and things we have to own up to in order to truly represent this city. But I have that in me. I do. And I think that's what really made it okay.

Mathew: Where does the table go from here?

Mirka: The table has to be round. The moment we can't speak to each other from one end to the other, it's not going to work. And I don't think it has a specific number of chairs. We have to be okay with letting our neighbor have a chair. If one gallery can't come back next year — who are they going to pass the torch to? And how do we keep building that with accountability, while also staying willing to keep exploring different venues, different paths? We had collectors raise their hands and say, do you want to do this at my house? So maybe it's not Astor again. Maybe it's a park, maybe it's the aquarium. The world is our oyster.

Mathew: Chicago stays the mothership though.

Mirka: Always. My goal — and I want this on the record, because it's true — is that if the Midwest can have a Met Gala, I want it to be Neighbors. Once a year. Something you would never miss. I'm going to work very hard for that.

Mathew: What would you never sacrifice to get there?

Mirka: The people running it. I would not be okay with: go do something in LA, call me when you're done with it. No way. We're a team of five right now. It's going to take finding the right people and enabling my team to grow in a way that also opens the door for what comes next. If we don't find that, we're not going to grow. Period.

Mathew: The Astor building is for sale. You said you'd write a check.

Mirka: I would buy it. That's the bottom line. I think about it almost every night before I go to bed. I want all of our shows to be art, not exhibitions — so it has to retain that ephemeral nature. I don't think of Astor as the Neighbors venue for a show 24/7. I think of it more as a part of Chicago history that we get to hold as an anchor. What the programming looks like beyond that, I don't know yet. Truly. But I would hate to see it build out into complexes, into just apartments. When I saw people sitting in that garden, I was like — this property was just meant to hold all of us.

Mathew: Last one. Neighbors is a little seed. What's the tree?

Mirka: I'm a big flower girl. So I keep asking myself: is it an evergreen tree? Is it seasonal? Does it lose its leaves? Do I need to prune it sometime? I think the tree is scaling it back — with a level of inclusiveness and accountability that allows us to be present in multiple markets, at different times of the year, without budging to what the art world deems successful.