When I was a child, the dominant theme at home was photography. The family’s camera collection were among my toys, and on weekends I helped my father with the lighting for bridal portraits in his studio garden, with a sun reflector. I come from a family of four generations of portrait photographers, which had developed the fine art of lighting, retouching, and eliciting certain expressions that captured the beauty and range of each subject.
For several decades I did what I had do to: take photographs according to my family tradition. I learned a lot, but the cost was high. Little by little I felt my essence evaporating and falling into a kind of darkness, in which I was losing myself as a person and an artist. Curiously, it was death, and other losses, that brought me back to life, back to the light, and I began to rediscover myself.
Today I am obsessed with giving form to the soul, of finding out what it is that makes people reflect life, capturing that inner light that is extinguished with death.
In my series called “Photo ID,” portraits do not have backgrounds, props or any retouching. The intention is to seek out the beauty of imperfection. With them, I try to provoke reflection about the individuality of each human being, and show that it is only ignorance or economic interest that prompts us to reduce ourselves to a reading of DNA.
I also feel a deep need to deconstruct what has been constructed. In my photographs, I take apart bodies, lop off heads, and tear printed photographs to see how they decompose over time.