Last May, after a student exhibition with pro-Palestinian sentiments stoked furor among some state Republican legislators, the University of North Texas adopted a new policy to safeguard on-campus artistic expression.
Decisions around a work of art could not infringe upon an artist’s free-speech rights “solely because a viewer is offended by the idea or opinion portrayed in a work of art,” the policy stated.
The efficacy of that measure has been scrutinized in recent weeks after the university abruptly closed an exhibition that veered into political terrain with works critical of U.S. Immigrations and Custom Enforcement (ICE).
The decision, enacted with no public explanation, spurred immediate protest among students who believed the university buckled under political pressure.
The solo show, from Dallas-raised Mexican-American artist Victor “Marka 27” Quiñonez, was displayed at UNT’s College of Visual Arts & Design in early February until its closure roughly a week later, months before its scheduled end in May.
Called Ni de Aquí, Ni de Allá (Not from Here, Not from There), the exhibition centered around the immigrant experience in America. Some of Quiñonez’s sculptures resembled paletas, ice pops typically sold by Hispanic street vendors, and were inscribed with a criticism on the stick-like end: “U.S. Inhumane and Cruelty Enforcement.”
Victor “Marka27” Quiñonez, the artist behind “Ni de Aquí, Ni de Allá.”
Tim Correira
During President Donald Trump’s second term, raids and arrests targeting undocumented immigrants have soared. The crackdown has been divisive, with detractors citing the separation of relatives and violent clashes between agents and protesters. Supporters regard the enforcement tactics as the administration delivering on its promise to seal the border.
As of Monday, Quiñonez still had not received an explanation from the university for the cancellation of his show, his publicist, Amber LaFrance, told The Dallas Morning News. “I’m really just disappointed that so many people weren’t able to see the exhibition in person that I feel needed to feel seen and needed to feel represented,” Quiñonez previously told The News. School spokespeople did not reply to several emails seeking clarity about the decision.
The UNT episode is the latest evidence of the political battle roiling the culture world. The Trump administration has waged a campaign to purge “ideological indoctrination” from preeminent art and historical institutions in the nation’s capital. The White House has, for example, lambasted the Smithsonian Institution in D.C. for promoting “divisive” racial narratives. In 2025, the National Endowment for the Arts rescinded hundreds of grants, citing new priorities from the administration that included celebrating the 250th anniversary of U.S. independence.
As UNT’s leadership remains silent regarding Ni de Aquí, Ni de Allá, students, faculty members and other art world professionals who spoke to The News expressed alarm over the precedent the closure may set and the broader tumultuous arts landscape.
“This is not unique to Texas,” said Maggie Adler, a former curator at Fort Worth’s Amon Carter Museum. There’s a “larger phenomenon of arts and culture being under threat in this country.”
Censorship concerns
That perceived threat is raising a host of questions about the definition of free speech, free expression and what sorts of art should and shouldn’t be put on public display.
“What is censorship if anything but an attempt to control or limit what people access and see?” said Elizabeth Larison, director of the arts and culture advocacy program at the National Coalition against Censorship, an alliance of nonprofits dedicated to First Amendment rights.
“It’s so clear what this administration wants to see — in society and culture — be uplifted and what it wants to see eradicated,” Larison continued. “Threats to withdraw funding to universities or to investigate for any number of questionable things — these are all ways in which the government is throwing around its power.”
Last year, at the behest of Tarrant County Republican officials, police seized photographs by artist Sally Mann from the Modern Art Museum of Fort Worth. Critics of the decades-old works, which showed Mann’s then-young children in the nude, said they amounted to child pornography. Police launched an investigation into the allegations, but a grand jury ultimately did not file charges against Mann or the museum.
While privately funded art museums and institutions are not controlled by federal directives, they may be influenced by the political climate. For example, Larison said a board member at an institution could take fault with work they don’t want to see and exercise their power. Corporate funders of a museum, who may have government contracts, could also have sway over programming.
Adler, who worked at the Amon Carter for 10 years, said the museum’s board did not determine which exhibitions were shown during her tenure, and that she never had a show proposal rejected.
Still, she said, “it can be hard, as a curator, to balance your own belief system, your own point of view with what is the most welcoming to the broadest range of audiences.”
The final exhibition she worked on at the Amon Carter was an expansive look at the mythology around cowboys. The exhibition stirred controversy after it temporarily closed and reopened with a “mature content” advisory. The museum did not specify if a particular work prompted the decision, but characterized the note as stemming from community feedback. Artist Rafa Esparza, who had a painting on view showing men in cowboy hats dancing closely and kissing, called the content advisory censorship.
In the crosshairs
In recent months, UNT has been in the crosshairs of Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton, who said he was investigating the university for being a hotbed for “left-wing extremism” where “militant” student groups directed violent rhetoric toward conservative students.
State Rep. Andy Hopper, whose district includes portions of Denton, said he applauded the school’s move to close the show.
“Publicly funded universities exist to advance the public interest in an educated populace,” Hopper said in a statement. “These institutions do not exist to provide a publicly funded platform for those who despise our republic and the defense of our laws.”
Hopper was among the five Republican legislators who last spring criticized a student show at UNT with pro-Palestinian art.
Past scrutiny from state officials, some students said, has created a culture of fear where faculty are treading cautiously when it comes to discussing Ni de Aquí, Ni de Allá.
School administrators may also be playing it safe with the cancellation, said Kael Alford, a studio art graduate student. “Maybe this is them just trying to keep their heads down.”
The campus is also bracing for sweeping budget cuts to address a $45 million deficit.
“It’s been communicated that what’s happening at UNT right now with the funding being cut very significantly is that we as a college are in a very precarious position,” said studio art associate professor Alicia Eggert, referring to messaging from Karen Hutzel, dean of the university’s art school. Hutzel did not immediately respond to a request for comment via email. “The impression that I was given,” Eggert said, “is that if we handled this situation the wrong way by saying the wrong thing to students or to the press, we might lose even more.”
“The most concerning aspect of what’s happening right now is that there’s so much silence. Students have a lot of questions, and no one’s answering them.”
A photograph from “Ni de Aquí, Ni de Allá.”
Courtesy of Steve Visneau
Students still searching for answers
Calls continue for transparency around the closure. A group of students staged a sit-in at a recent Board of Regents meeting, requesting insight into the school’s decision.
“Students are afraid that their work could be removed as well,” Eggert said. Referencing the policy created to protect artistic expression at the university, she added “it doesn’t seem like policies are being upheld.”
Meanwhile, in the absence of a public explanation, some students are seeking to distance themselves from the university.
Nine graduate students in the art school have moved their thesis shows off-campus to express solidarity with Quiñonez. Among those students was interdisciplinary artist Robyn Rozelle, who said the choice to move her work “came out of a deep love for the program and a need to protect it.” Considering the university’s sizable Latino population, she called the closure “blatantly harmful.”
Undergraduate senior Sierra Dominguez, who is of Mexican descent, does not want to exhibit work on campus unless the situation is remedied.
“If you don’t exhibit one of us,” Dominguez said, “you don’t exhibit all of us.”
Ni de Aquí, Ni de Allá may find a new exhibitor, according to Quiñonez’s publicist, although no concrete plan has emerged.
