Meet Alexandra Laliberte

We caught up with the brilliant and insightful Alexandra Laliberte a few weeks ago and have shared our conversation below.

Alexandra , thanks so much for taking the time to share your insights and lessons with us today. We’re particularly interested in hearing about how you became such a resilient person. Where do you get your resilience from?

My Type 1 Diabetes. There’s nothing in my life that tests, pressures, teaches, and humbles me more than this chronic illness. This isn’t a sob story, nor is it meant to highlight how much I suffer—quite the opposite. I’ve learned so much from living with it.

Day-to-day life with Type 1 Diabetes is trial and error, and honestly, you fail more often than you succeed. Sugar levels are affected by everything—and I mean everything: how long you sit, stand, or walk; what you eat; whether you’ve slept or stayed hydrated; the protein/fat/carb ratio in anything you consume (yes, even that new restaurant you were excited to try); new activities you take on; the difference between aerobic and anaerobic exercises; whether you meditate; the monthly hormonal roller coaster; if you’re sick, cold, or hot—the list goes on.

Everything impacts this illness, and every day is different. Each day presents a new terrain, requiring you to calculate and hypothesize the right path to take. More often than not, you don’t get it perfect. But that’s where I’ve gained my resilience—because for us diabetics, giving up isn’t an option. There’s no choice but to get back up and try again.

Let’s take a small detour – maybe you can share a bit about yourself before we dive back into some of the other questions we had for you?

I am a Norwegian-American raised in the south of Spain. When people ask where I’m from, I say it this way: My brain is American, my instincts are Norwegian, but my soul is Spanish. The American brain fits my ambitious, go-getter attitude, taught by my dad, an entrepreneur, while my intuition is shaped by my mother, a Norwegian psychologist. The soul part is home. I connect deeply with Spanish people, and having been raised in Málaga, my goal is to die there—and have the remains of my body sprinkled across the Costa del Sol.

I’ve been a dancer since a very young age, later shifting to acting after I moved to NYC 10 years ago. I have also always been a hunter—hunting for opportunities to perform, create, and build ideas with the people around me. During my first five years in the city, I attended AADA acting school and performed in five off-Broadway shows, including a lead role and a theater transfer to the Platonov Festival in Russia. My acting experience has always been on stage. The live aspect of this art is what thrills me most—feeding off the energy of a group of people, my partners on stage, and myself. It’s like living with diabetes: different every day.

Because of my dance training, I’m fascinated by movement and how physicality transforms human expression. In my spare time, I would play around with different characters that, over time, became, in some sense, alter egos of myself. As I’ve learned as an adult, they’re a useful dissociation—moments of forgetting, separating me from the constant thoughts about my illness. Becoming these characters allows me to let go.

My favorite is Bessie Bucket, a stubborn and fabulous 19th-century woman who woke up in 2020. There’s also Sonja (pronounced Son-yah), a big, fat red ball of joy, who was one of the first characters I developed. One notable project involved her roaming the streets of London, bringing joy to strangers—a truly unforgettable experience. I have male characters, like Antonio, inspired by flamenco artists I remember watching in random Málaga bars, singing with smoky voices and big Andalusian personalities. Sandy Smith, a horse breeder from the South, exists simply because I love doing the Southern accent. And then there’s Freya Larson, a ditzy Norwegian who heightens the stereotype of what people think Scandinavians are like.

These creatures of mine are always in my back pocket. Over the years, trying to present myself as an artist and brand this side of me felt impossible. My strange mix of European accents confused people. I’d audition, and they wouldn’t “get” me. I craved to be seen, to bring these characters into auditions for TV and film—but it didn’t work. Plus, I had zero interest in the business side of things; I just wanted to create.

In light of this, I discovered that my love for live production was undeniable. It felt like a much more welcoming space, and I decided to create that kind of space for other emerging artists—regardless of their background.

So, I got to work. Pre-pandemic, I built a project called Actors Hour, where actors could come and read scripts, connect with other creatives, build networks, and have a regular space to express and collaborate. I worked endless hours before and after my full-time job, just me and my laptop, building the brand, the website, the online presence—figuring it all out alone. And one day, I realized it was growing fast.

It became so popular that I couldn’t sleep from the excitement I felt. I said yes to everything, running it like I was on fire. But the success came with a huge cost. Soon enough, I was globally canceled. My name appeared in almost every major newspaper, tied to the same man who destroyed the acting community. My life crumbled. Famous figures like Emily Ratajkowski and Rose McGowan shamed me publicly on social media. The disappointment, shame, and ignorance of it all consumed me for months.

Then pandemic hit.

So, I moved to Mexico City.

I needed to reset. To learn. To understand what had happened. What I did wrong, what I didn’t, the #MeToo movement, the media, the American PR machine!!, myself, my art. I was so lost, my characters died inside me. They didn’t want to be seen anymore, and I was losing myself.

I had two choices: sit in my thoughts forever, or do what I do best—live resiliently. I chose the latter, because experience was humbling and devastating, but it taught me invaluable lessons about accountability, resilience, and the power of reinvention. I rebuilt my project from scratch, this time in Mexico. Being fluent in Spanish helped, and I quickly noticed a gap in the local industry: no space existed for emerging artists to showcase their work.

Salon de Artistas was born. A monthly event where artists could perform their hearts out. I built the space, the team, the audience, and filmed every event in high quality—all in Spanish. It worked! I remember one artist traveling eight hours by bus to perform on our stage—a testament to their dedication. Folkloric dancers were moved to tears, thanking us for providing a space to share their art during the challenging times of COVID. We felt honored to be able to provide that space. Some artists even asked us how much they would have to pay to perform. My heart sank. Instead, I thanked them for coming.

After almost three years of colorful, surreal life in Mexico—avoiding earthquakes, eating prickly fruits, drinking mezcal—I rebuilt my confidence, and now, I’m back in New York City.

I’m thrilled to announce Salon de Artistas is here in NYC, with 12 events lined up this year. From beatboxers to classical musicians, live painters to actors, we’re building something stronger, safer, and more vibrant than ever.

If you´re an artist looking for a high quality video of your performance, please apply via our website.
If you’re a new yorker looking for a monthly fun event —come check us out!

There is so much advice out there about all the different skills and qualities folks need to develop in order to succeed in today’s highly competitive environment and often it can feel overwhelming. So, if we had to break it down to just the three that matter most, which three skills or qualities would you focus on?

Time management is my number one priority. Although, I prefer to refer it as, “waking up early.” Early birds get the worm—I live by this. Provided you’ve had a good night’s rest and aren’t drinking, there’s no reason not to wake up early in the crisp, silent hours to get ahead on your goals.

Secondly—people. People have always been the most important part of my journey. You can’t build anything without other humans. Having lived in so many different cities, especially while building this project, I can’t stress enough how much I’ve relied on making new connections, friends, meeting new people, taking that meeting, inviting someone to coffee, taking the time to listen—over and over until the web of connections starts to form. That network ends up supporting you more than you realize.

Lastly, I’d say it’s my immense belief—and maybe a touch of ego—that I can accomplish anything I set my mind to. Silently, of course—not obnoxiously. It’s more like a mantra to myself, a quiet momentum built on manifestations and the practice of figuring things out.

With a scientific education background (I hold a bachelor’s in biomedical science and a master’s in nutrigenetics), I’ve always understood that science is an art. And now, I also believe that, in some ways, art is a science. The 10,000-hour rule is a perfect example of this.

How can folks who want to work with you connect?

Yes! We’re looking for artists and storytellers, performers, live painters, and behind-the-scenes creatives like videographers, photographers, set designers, audio specialists, front-of-house staff, marketing pros, and PR experts. Our team is constantly growing!

New Yorkers, neighbors, friends, and family—this is an event for everyone! If you’re looking for a fun night out, don’t miss our monthly shows.

Check out our website, follow us on Instagram, or drop us an email at info@salondeartistas.com. We’d love to hear from you!

Contact Info:

• Website: https://www.salondeartistas.com
• Instagram: @salondeartistas
• Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCLYA-Up3O50t89ydQ2CiSuA