https://wearelisto.com LISTO Mon, 10 Oct 2022 22:07:57 +0000 https://wearelisto.com en https://wearelisto.com/Home Sun, 31 May 2020 17:16:34 +0000 LISTO https://wearelisto.com/Home https://wearelisto.com/Nate-Palmer-Portfolio-Overview Mon, 10 Oct 2022 22:07:57 +0000 LISTO https://wearelisto.com/Nate-Palmer-Portfolio-Overview In conversation with Sara UrbaezEdited for length and clarity Nate Langston Palmer: &nbsp;Portfolio Overview <img width="1500" height="1875" width_o="1500" height_o="1875" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/1cb0220dabace38cbd10a35b3e4449220915edc13e9e8cb3b2a46b83167aa659/11.jpg" data-mid="155425510" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/1cb0220dabace38cbd10a35b3e4449220915edc13e9e8cb3b2a46b83167aa659/11.jpg" /> I can’t recall how I first came across your work, but as soon as I saw it, I was so moved by the images, and the way you documented people. Can you share some context?&nbsp; Where are you from and where are you taking images now? It's funny to me when people tell me that they really like my work, that they see something in it, because it forces me to look up for a minute, which is really nice. I appreciate it. I'm born and raised in Washington DC. I started photography – I think I was about 12 or 13 when I got my first camera. It was&nbsp; a little point-and-shoot digital camera that I would take around. I would carry it in my pocket all the time, take pictures with friends and all that kind of stuff. We were lucky to have a dark room in the high school that I went to. I was also really fortunate to have a great photo teacher who really believed in me. He's a Black man. It was a really powerful relationship, and it definitely helped me grow. I certainly did not understand how powerful that was at the time, but he gave me a lot of guidance and he's been there since day one and he's still a part of my life. We still talk often and catch up. I actually photographed him a few times last year. There's a few of those photos on my Instagram. I got straight into film photography on 35-millimeter black and white. From there, I picked up and after high school, I went to Tisch at NYU. <img width="1500" height="1876" width_o="1500" height_o="1876" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/f6ca0d3245bb48f8f683825a1188b38f2173b5505aacccab5e6e0cb82d5eb259/3.jpg" data-mid="155425882" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/f6ca0d3245bb48f8f683825a1188b38f2173b5505aacccab5e6e0cb82d5eb259/3.jpg" /> <img width="1500" height="1875" width_o="1500" height_o="1875" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/cc0dfa7c1bcc3b3f58abb90fbb39041abc64c0b110faf565d157ceeefeaee406/8.jpg" data-mid="155426001" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/cc0dfa7c1bcc3b3f58abb90fbb39041abc64c0b110faf565d157ceeefeaee406/8.jpg" /> No, way. I was at Gallatin. It's amazing hearing your journey because I had a photo teacher in high school&nbsp; that completely shaped the course of my life -- I spent most of my time in high school in the dark room and it sparked my love for photography. Nice. I graduated, I spent almost two and a half years in Australia and Sydney just living and working .And then two years ago, I moved back to DC and I've been full-time freelance ever since, spending as much of my free time as I can working on personal projects. It's been therapeutic to be back in DC and to be photographing where I came from and the streets and the neighborhoods that are really familiar to me, where I know people and that sort of thing. Being from DC, what does DC mean to you? How do you feel DC plays a role in your art and what does it mean to you to be photographing where you're from?&nbsp; I think that changes all the time because I've discovered so much more about the city in the past few years. The city is changing constantly. When I moved back here, I'd been away for six or seven years, and DC is one of the most gentrified cities in the country. In that time period when I was gone, my neighborhood where I grew up - it was just hit by that wave of gentrification. This area has changed dramatically. There are lots of people who used to be in the area, predominantly Black people, who have either been pushed out, or sold their homes, or moved out for other reasons, or just left the community because it doesn't feel like theirs anymore.&nbsp; It's hard to watch because it feels more and more unfamiliar the more time passes. It's been really nice to engage with the people in my city more and I see photography as that tool to engage with the community that I had grown up in, but not fully explored before. <img width="1800" height="1440" width_o="1800" height_o="1440" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/1c06c06dcd0b95dab37dfa54c988a34c6c7a81549014b4bfdabc31443a472bbe/7.jpg" data-mid="155425553" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/1c06c06dcd0b95dab37dfa54c988a34c6c7a81549014b4bfdabc31443a472bbe/7.jpg" /> Part of the reason I’m compelled is quietness in the images. All that movement you're talking about in those changes, I feel like in the photographs, there's this stillness that urges the viewer to pause and reflect and it gives reverence to a community.&nbsp; It's nice to hear that because it's what I'm trying to find when I am interacting with someone through the camera. I look for those moments that are really still and really quiet and either give room to reflect or&nbsp; show somebody who might be reflecting on something. I was really excited that you asked me to be part of the Embracing Stillness exhibition because that is something that I think, as a society, we do not pay nearly enough attention to – finding that stillness and how important that is, because the amount of chaos that is going on on this planet right now is really, really insane. <img width="1500" height="1875" width_o="1500" height_o="1875" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/62b73ae18541cb06511f58daef56bf6a589d3316e16cbdfec6533d42bf02f15a/10.jpg" data-mid="155425503" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/62b73ae18541cb06511f58daef56bf6a589d3316e16cbdfec6533d42bf02f15a/10.jpg" /> <img width="1500" height="1875" width_o="1500" height_o="1875" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/25105e718e8fe8bb01ac9c390cca7cf255b035723a5eaa9f13c0763c1609a6e3/4.jpg" data-mid="155425502" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/25105e718e8fe8bb01ac9c390cca7cf255b035723a5eaa9f13c0763c1609a6e3/4.jpg" /> I find it so interesting that in the midst of being in a city that is undergoing massive transformation&nbsp; you’re seeking out less dramatic moments within the tumultuous time. There's so many ways to approach the topic of displacement and gentrification. Do you feel like that's a conscientious choice that you're focusing on the Black experience? It definitely is. On one hand, I do photograph what I'm attracted to, like I think all photographers do or should do. I am drawn to, in a more organic sense, photographing the Black community in DC. That being said, it also is a conscientious decision to photograph Black people and to show them in a light that they're not always seen in. I think it's something that has been done over and over again. It's been done more and more frequently, but it still is important. Representation is still really important, and being able to tell our own stories and be represented in a way that we feel brings us dignity and to be able to honor the people who I take pictures of is really important to me. <img width="1800" height="1200" width_o="1800" height_o="1200" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/1235dffc647fcd1fcf592e5c81deae9d09deb4ebc9455eca3b2f945fa65cd579/12.jpg" data-mid="155425505" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/1235dffc647fcd1fcf592e5c81deae9d09deb4ebc9455eca3b2f945fa65cd579/12.jpg" /> That is exactly why I founded LISTO, because it really matters and I don't think there's ever enough of it. There's so much time to make up for. We’ve got to keep it coming. The dignity part, you mentioned. There's such a level of dignity and an honoring of people that you're photographing. It does not feel exploitative. It is really thoughtful, and that's what I want to see more of. You and me both. <img width="1500" height="1875" width_o="1500" height_o="1875" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/ed4cc6018fd5ae4e879ebc2511c8b7162b64f687b21d711e353d70048bd9d35c/5.jpg" data-mid="155425507" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/ed4cc6018fd5ae4e879ebc2511c8b7162b64f687b21d711e353d70048bd9d35c/5.jpg" /> Not just passing through a city for fun. There's a connection in all your images that's happening. I have a really hard time processing the genre of photojournalism, because I don't really know where to box myself in. That's not a bad thing, unless you're writing a bio and then I don't know where to put myself. I think there is a lot of work to be done in the photojournalism industry as a whole -- I don't consider myself -- I do not have the right, even as a Black man, to go into a Black community and take photographs from them. That goes for any photographer no matter what background you come from. The pace in which they expect you to get images and turn them around. That's where I think it can cross a line, where it becomes unethical. Because that room to spend time with the people you're photographing, and to make sure that you're representing them in a way that they want to be represented, that takes time. It is not something that happens overnight. <img width="1800" height="1440" width_o="1800" height_o="1440" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/30bc6ed86e07516a80f2dbfac2b5e8c35f3a17def577c0a6f7a47a3e391f0dee/14.jpg" data-mid="155425509" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/30bc6ed86e07516a80f2dbfac2b5e8c35f3a17def577c0a6f7a47a3e391f0dee/14.jpg" /> It's important for people to understand that even as diverse artists. We're not just automatically boom, walking into space, and then now we have the authority because of our skin color to quickly document people and make money off of those images. Documentary and photojournalism have a complicated history and I can imagine it can be challenging to put yourself in that category of imagery. Exactly. <img width="1500" height="1851" width_o="1500" height_o="1851" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/3cbe9bb3788b8091a24c45b8d51dd2d6f81c7911ead536a3742bbfee216a3051/2.jpg" data-mid="155425883" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/3cbe9bb3788b8091a24c45b8d51dd2d6f81c7911ead536a3742bbfee216a3051/2.jpg" /> I would love for all of us to really rethink what photojournalism is and how we get consent from the people we photograph and these deadlines. One of the things about that is, that I've been thinking about is, all due respect to editors, but editors are sitting in an office in New York City, sitting in an office in DC. If you're going into a community, you're sending a photographer into the community, they are the ones who are being held responsible by the people that they're photographing to represent them in a way that they feel is appropriate.&nbsp;I think a big part of that also the job is to educate photographers who are just coming into the industry. Because even myself in the past two years, I've learned a lot about how stuff works and what kind of information editors should be passing along, and what sort of situation they should be putting you in and not putting you in. I didn't know any of that. I was taking whatever job came to me. I was just stoked that anybody even wanted me to photograph them, but you don't realize that you do have authority. You should be able to feel comfortable asking questions and knowing what you deserve going into certain situations. <img width="1800" height="1445" width_o="1800" height_o="1445" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/670f50361811e3a1df1779c969bdbb51e3685a91a72ea7d66c1565bdc035c94f/17.jpg" data-mid="155425508" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/670f50361811e3a1df1779c969bdbb51e3685a91a72ea7d66c1565bdc035c94f/17.jpg" /> Visit Nate’s website and Instagram.&nbsp; https://wearelisto.com/Ysa-Perez-Portfolio-Overview Thu, 12 Aug 2021 23:54:28 +0000 LISTO https://wearelisto.com/Ysa-Perez-Portfolio-Overview In conversation with Sara UrbaezEdited for length and clarity Ysa Perez: Portfolio Overview <img width="2200" height="1458" width_o="2200" height_o="1458" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/7dc4a6f4e736445a28e062331131f7e645881b998204aa033738a7dd6f769ea1/000003070018.jpg" data-mid="116361109" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/7dc4a6f4e736445a28e062331131f7e645881b998204aa033738a7dd6f769ea1/000003070018.jpg" /> My first question is where are you from? And where are you currently situated? I was born in Puerto Rico and I moved to Rochester, New York, with my mom when I was four. I was raised in Rochester, but at the moment, I'm in Bushwick, New York. <img width="3000" height="2280" width_o="3000" height_o="2280" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/1d1661d873641ad9a816e0112af61bf780b27489df5138de1d7b49ad91e08f57/03190008.jpg" data-mid="117183059" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/1d1661d873641ad9a816e0112af61bf780b27489df5138de1d7b49ad91e08f57/03190008.jpg" /> I know you’re there now but I also have a sense that you’ve led a nomadic life of sorts. What has that been like for you for the past nine years? Where have you been? Where do you frequently travel to? Well, it's been exciting, but also a blur. The blur only came with the pause with COVID. Only in the last six, seven months, I've been in an existential crisis of, "What have I been doing? What am I chasing? Do I feel the happiest when I'm constantly on the move or do I want stability? Do I want this?" My first internship was at Nylon, which was cool. I still learned a lot because their interns did everything — they really worked. When I got to GQ, my boss was photo director Dora Somosi — she was my hero. I was blown away. I learned so much — how photo editors discuss work, how they assign work. It felt really exciting to be a part of those meetings, even though I never said anything. <img width="995" height="1500" width_o="995" height_o="1500" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/a9f46327e589ca01ca02861b4f6b30ba383df61f41dc5404eeefa573e59733b6/09740027.jpg" data-mid="116361253" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/995/i/a9f46327e589ca01ca02861b4f6b30ba383df61f41dc5404eeefa573e59733b6/09740027.jpg" /> <img width="995" height="1500" width_o="995" height_o="1500" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/aeb22cfd644564a7e86810ef4d683ff0f5f8c0cfa03d19fec643813e6444c9f5/29160029.jpg" data-mid="116361243" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/995/i/aeb22cfd644564a7e86810ef4d683ff0f5f8c0cfa03d19fec643813e6444c9f5/29160029.jpg" /> You’ve said you always knew you wanted to be a photographer. I wondered if you could talk about how that knowledge came to be, and coming from a Puerto Rican family, where you saw photography, or were introduced to it? It came late in life. To be fair, my mom was and is very artistic. That's why we moved to Rochester, so she could go to the Rochester Institute of Technology — where, ironically, I went to school for photography. She went for graphic design. I grew up with my mom going to craft art shows. I always remember tangible photographs, and I love those. Now, looking back on them, I realize, “Oh, my mom had an artistic eye, maybe it was somehow in there." All my basis for art was my mom. Up until last year, I never met my biological dad. My stepdad passed away five years ago. I went to the University of Buffalo for a year and was taking basic foundation classes. I had a boyfriend at the time who went to RIT. This was during the MySpace days, and these two girls from RIT’s advertising photography program contacted me. They have a yearly project where they have to do a simulated campaign shoot. Because Rochester isn’t in New York City, RIT students always struggle to find models. There was a weird “aha!” moment when I was in the studio with them and saw all this equipment — the facilities blew my mind. I was like, "What major is this?" They told me they were photography majors, and I knew immediately, "I'm going to go for that." My first day of school was setting up a four-by-five camera. As a transfer student, they gave me no direction. I got a packet that said, "You go to RIT now." I showed up. The kids who went there, they took photography at specialized high schools before and were a little pretentious. Most of them don't do photography now. It's ironic. <img width="2400" height="1824" width_o="2400" height_o="1824" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/341610ffa731cbfd53cd7f1f84aa87ccdc6a8db0417274f29e8bd77af89a1247/03280003.jpg" data-mid="116361420" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/341610ffa731cbfd53cd7f1f84aa87ccdc6a8db0417274f29e8bd77af89a1247/03280003.jpg" /> &nbsp;When you were looking at work during your time in college and GQ, those were all mostly white photographers, right? GQ was Mark Seliger, Peggy Sirota — they were all white. Did you ever think, “I want to bring my own perspective to photography"? Now that you ask me that, I don’t think so. This is a bigger conversation, but I've always had an identity crisis with not being Puerto Rican enough, and then also being really white. Sounding very American and purposely wanting to sound like that to be taken seriously. I didn't grow up with an accent, but I definitely grew up speaking Spanish — but that went away. Everyone in my family sounded and looked different. Seeing that reaction to them left an impression on me, "You need to sound grammatically correct and proper to be taken seriously." Maybe deep down, I always felt more white than Spanish. In those moments, I didn't really put it together. Only in hindsight, especially last year, I started to realize everyone I met in the editorial world was white. It hit me now — I think I was trying to adapt and be included. Did you still feel connected to your Puerto Rican heritage when you were moving all over the world in these spaces? Or is it something where you feel like this identity where you're able to thrive wherever you go? I would say the latter, what you said. Again, only now can I recognize this in hindsight. I've been trying to find myself and understand myself through seeing other places — I felt like I was adapting and that I had no connection with Puerto Rico. That made me feel really guilty. <img width="2400" height="1824" width_o="2400" height_o="1824" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/a414a1dcbc96199bdfc4bac6a0cef30cfc03b377c64f426d855ca7be4c1b1b72/02140010.jpg" data-mid="116362239" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/a414a1dcbc96199bdfc4bac6a0cef30cfc03b377c64f426d855ca7be4c1b1b72/02140010.jpg" /> You're not alone. So much of what you said resonated for me because of being in school and a lot of conditioning, I can speak Spanish, but when I respond to my parents, it's in English. I’ve accepted that this is not by accident — that in order to assimilate in the spaces I was in, I wasn't really encouraged to speak Spanish, because I was also surrounded by white people. Who am I going to speak Spanish to? [laughs]. When I started visiting Mexico in 2017, I felt like I was home. To be fair, I've never been to another Spanish-speaking country. I went to Spain once for work in 2013, but that was some other shit. That’s when I started thinking about going to Puerto Rico, but it always felt so daunting because my mom never talked about living there. <img width="3000" height="3949" width_o="3000" height_o="3949" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/c91942b89ba7ca1d00dd879215d93f4df12494165dcaad195d768ca2a7d68efe/03350012.jpg" data-mid="117181168" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/c91942b89ba7ca1d00dd879215d93f4df12494165dcaad195d768ca2a7d68efe/03350012.jpg" /> <img width="3000" height="3656" width_o="3000" height_o="3656" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/4496971054bc0bcc734fa9642d573c36e427e43556b588c7a3b2cad0df57eb29/03410016.jpg" data-mid="117181171" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/4496971054bc0bcc734fa9642d573c36e427e43556b588c7a3b2cad0df57eb29/03410016.jpg" /> How was it photographing in Puerto Rico while also dealing with deeply personal family history? I started emailing my biological father, who lives in Puerto Rico, after he emailed me out of nowhere in 2016. Every year, I was like, "He seems trustworthy, maybe I should go," but I kept pushing it off. Then Hurricane Maria happened and I didn't hear from my dad for a while. I thought, "Man, if I don't do it now, who knows? My dad is 73." My dad lives off the grid. He doesn't have a phone. He doesn't drive. He rides a bike and works at the University of Puerto Rico. When I got there, I didn’t even know if he was home. I knocked on the door — it was a typical little screen door. I saw some woman's feet. She came to the door and I started speaking in my half-assed Spanish. I said, "Yo no se — la casa” (“I don’t know — the house”), and she immediately started to cry. I started to cry. I was like, "Oh my God, I'm at the house." Four seconds later, she said, "Mira quién está aquí!” (“Look who’s here!”), and my dad pulled up on his bike. He looked like he was going to have a heart attack. I said, "It's me," and he was in shock. Then he came up and hugged me. That felt so weird to me — who's this older man, hugging me? There wasn't enough time in those four weeks — four weeks went fast. Between staying with my dad, seeing aunts I haven't seen and cousins, and driving to the south for three hours with my friend, it was a blur. I really needed six months there. This was before COVID. I thought I’d be back in a few months and I'd stay for longer. That didn't really happen. <img width="2200" height="1458" width_o="2200" height_o="1458" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/10ba600cb7e2be60ca542d638d90ea6c1ec0555636070702467c1d2d5741ac7b/000003020035.jpg" data-mid="117181306" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/10ba600cb7e2be60ca542d638d90ea6c1ec0555636070702467c1d2d5741ac7b/000003020035.jpg" /> You described it as a blur. When you look through photos that you took during that time, does it become clearer? Do you notice what you were drawn to or how did photography help you? Photography for me, it's like armor, it helps me disassociate. I'm a very stimulated person, visually. I’m constantly scanning — ”there's a picture, there's a picture, there's a picture.” When we would drive through these abandoned areas, I was stunned. "Whoa, we drove past six pictures of blown-out windows or a destroyed house.” Then I would have to remember this used to be someone's home. Much of your work is looking, observing other people's lives. Did you have your camera with you the day you met your dad? I always have my Contax 35 millimeter on me. I wanted to take a picture of my dad, but it actually felt very awkward. I would bring up the camera and I couldn’t do it. Before I met my dad, I'd always look at kids on the train with their dad — little girls hugging them and stuff like that — and I'd be very envious. I wanted to know what that was like. So when I had that moment, I had a wall up for the first week. Then it started to break, but, of course, we started getting close when it was time to go. The day I left is when I first heard about COVID. It was January 30. Oh my gosh. I'm crying telling this story, I was trying to talk to avoid crying. I think I haven’t processed the moment of meeting my dad yet. <img width="2200" height="1459" width_o="2200" height_o="1459" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/835191e5aa035a3169cd9e706664cf55cd6a678a5c5e889eb84cddb870b2d629/000003020011.jpg" data-mid="117181788" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/835191e5aa035a3169cd9e706664cf55cd6a678a5c5e889eb84cddb870b2d629/000003020011.jpg" /> Hearing you talk about all of this, I’m feeling so emotional. I was going through the photo series of images of your father, but hearing you talk about the process of meeting him and how it all came together leaves me feeling there is so much more to photograph. The hard part of showing the relationship with my father in a photo series is, do these photos show that I didn't know this person before I came? How do you demonstrate that? I'm still struggling with the photo series. There was a class nearby and I said, "I want to do this jiu-jitsu at six." He asked if he could come watch me. In my head, I was so excited, like a little kid. "Oh wow, my dad's going to see me do sports at 33!" He came, but I was very nervous he was going to leave — the whole time I was there, I kept looking at him in the corner. In my head, I was saying, "Please don't leave me. Please don't desert me." It was funny because the people in the class kept asking "¿Es tu papa?" (“Is that your dad?”). I was like, "Well, I met him yesterday, but yes, it's my dad over there. I guess." It was cool because we could relate on one thing, the physicality. At the end, in the car ride home, he was so proud about it. He said, "Well, you're really good at this," and this and that. I never had that kind of coaching or encouragement before. There’s a lot of things I still need to explore or ask about his life in general. Again, not possible in four weeks and going to the south of the island and photographing. I needed six months there. What was your father’s reaction when you were taking pictures of him? What was the dynamic like once you introduced the camera and you told him that you are a photographer? He did well with it. He was ready for it. He knew at that point what I could do — for four years, I would send my website or work. I think he was excited. Sometimes, I'd give him my camera, and I was like, "Take one of me," and it was nice. <img width="2400" height="1824" width_o="2400" height_o="1824" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/d5640dcd8a83f2c64528f86ab32e0c87f6aa3a2e3f062f3df3de275818f07dd0/03310009.jpg" data-mid="117182184" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/d5640dcd8a83f2c64528f86ab32e0c87f6aa3a2e3f062f3df3de275818f07dd0/03310009.jpg" /> Thank you for being open and for sharing all that. I'm a very nostalgic person. I hate to say it, but I have a very difficult time not living in the past or thinking about all the times, all these moments we didn't have. It's hard to meet someone already old and envision what he would have been like if he was my dad. I liked him. I think it would have been better if it was a negative experience, and he was an asshole. But he was — I wouldn't say cool — but we had very similar personality traits that blew my mind from not living with this person. “We have the same temper. We have the same this, we have the same —" <img width="1065" height="1500" width_o="1065" height_o="1500" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/1df7f82d1143e38366c0c103152392c429c8cf029c9cd251b2b94186e85e5927/29170034.jpg" data-mid="117182864" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/1df7f82d1143e38366c0c103152392c429c8cf029c9cd251b2b94186e85e5927/29170034.jpg" /> <img width="3583" height="2376" width_o="3583" height_o="2376" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/b41ff7289424214cff62e2ed5018a8f54dde8f0d1902794bd5aa3b48d6364c22/09650003.jpg" data-mid="117182883" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/b41ff7289424214cff62e2ed5018a8f54dde8f0d1902794bd5aa3b48d6364c22/09650003.jpg" /> It’s interesting how you brought up nostalgia because, for me, I'm always in the past. Maybe that’s why I am so drawn to photography and portraiture and family photos. I was looking at your work and wondering, how is it that you approach photographing people? Is there a specific way that you approach people or a reason why you like taking portraits? It's not one thing. I like taking pictures of the moments that happen in between. I like being a fly on the wall, I think that's another part of my disassociating thing but I definitely direct, and see the value of directing things. "What am I doing with my photography? Am I evolving? Am I challenging myself? Is the portraiture getting better?" Yes, I'm in that world right now. I want to get better. I'm starting to lessen that anxiety of the comparing my work to things on Instagram, which is fucking impossible. Visit Ysa’s website and Instagram.&nbsp; https://wearelisto.com/Rashod-Taylor-Little-Black-Boy Wed, 14 Apr 2021 23:49:27 +0000 LISTO https://wearelisto.com/Rashod-Taylor-Little-Black-Boy In conversation with Sara UrbaezEdited for length and clarity Rashod Taylor: Little Black Boy&nbsp; <img width="1800" height="2291" width_o="1800" height_o="2291" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/48eb57d42c618b3b023ef381c99b34fcc1024275ef18328151d0735512da70f6/Rashod_Taylor_Reflection-of-me_crop.jpg" data-mid="105292007" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/48eb57d42c618b3b023ef381c99b34fcc1024275ef18328151d0735512da70f6/Rashod_Taylor_Reflection-of-me_crop.jpg" /> I want to start by asking you who you are, where you're from, and where you currently are? I’m Rashod Taylor from Bloomington, Illinois, where I currently reside. I took an interest in photography early on, looking at family albums — my mom and dad always took pictures of every single thing. I still have their old Vivitar 35 mm camera around here somewhere. In high school, I did photojournalism for the school newspaper and yearbook. I ended up doing photography in college, graduating with an art degree with an area of specialization in fine art photography. After college, there were no jobs for a fresh-out-of-college student who’s an artist, so I went back home after school. I worked a bit as an assistant for a commercial photographer and at a portrait studio, but then I got into financial services. I've been there ever since, but I've been doing photography throughout, so I never stopped making images. It’s something I do outside of my 9 to 5. <img width="2000" height="1595" width_o="2000" height_o="1595" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/babf8c4ead63a990a0b825811a2571b01fe3bb275f318a39e4d71612068769d8/Rashod_Taylor_LJ-and-his-Fort.jpg" data-mid="105292045" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/babf8c4ead63a990a0b825811a2571b01fe3bb275f318a39e4d71612068769d8/Rashod_Taylor_LJ-and-his-Fort.jpg" /> It's incredible to see you producing this amazing work while knowing you also have many other things going on. Can you talk a&nbsp; about the project you've been working on, photographing your son? When did it start, and what your intention behind it is? It started with being a first-time father. LJ, my son, is five. I began making photographs when he was born, with a 35 mm camera — the standard dad photos. You take pictures of everything your kids do, essentially. I started to look through all those images, and it dawned on me. There's many things in the photographs — whether it’s the way he's juxtaposed against another kid or what he's wearing or what he's doing —&nbsp;there's nothing in there that you wouldn't see a kid do. But I saw this thread that I wanted to show what it is to be a little Black boy because, on the surface, it's a lot of the same things any kid would do; however, he sees things a different way than other kids. I have to help him learn how to navigate life&nbsp;— in general and as a Black and Dominican boy. As a person of color and what that looks like in this world. I started adding different elements in the images that go along with that journey. It's called Little Black Boy. It's about him, but at the same time, I'm dealing with my insecurities and vulnerabilities as it pertains to raising him. That comes through in some of the imagery. It's this real investigation of his childhood growing up Black in America, and me navigating fatherhood and parenthood, and, in a way, feeding off each other. Every image is not necessarily an image where there's this super-deep underlying meaning, but then there's a lot of pictures that are. Some of the photos are light and reminiscence of childhood. I like that dynamic. I try to do a little bit of both and mix it up a little bit. <img width="1387" height="2000" width_o="1387" height_o="2000" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/607169b69ec7b792fab41cc0b1abdbf53794a13655010b03ec15df0299bb12cc/Rashod_Taylor_LJ-with-ball.jpg" data-mid="105292108" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/607169b69ec7b792fab41cc0b1abdbf53794a13655010b03ec15df0299bb12cc/Rashod_Taylor_LJ-with-ball.jpg" /> <img width="1958" height="2500" width_o="1958" height_o="2500" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/7ec2e1bc5d3d23c908420064af62e865d8482f40d729abd37efb8ccb7597ecab/Rashod_Taylor_Never-Let-Go--1.jpg" data-mid="105292139" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/7ec2e1bc5d3d23c908420064af62e865d8482f40d729abd37efb8ccb7597ecab/Rashod_Taylor_Never-Let-Go--1.jpg" /> <img width="2000" height="1554" width_o="2000" height_o="1554" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/dc55cb1c506eec1f43b7e44c841528b2c611f5690ba5a57c23def7875584f78a/Rashod_Taylor_Bath-time.jpg" data-mid="105292157" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/dc55cb1c506eec1f43b7e44c841528b2c611f5690ba5a57c23def7875584f78a/Rashod_Taylor_Bath-time.jpg" /> I was going to ask about the process you have in terms of the type of&nbsp; camera you use — and how did you keep your son still? 4x5 large format camera, some black and white film. It helps slow me down and take my time, compose an image, look at the light, and put something that I like together in the ground glass. It helps with LJ, too. Early on, it was more challenging because he was three, three-and-a-half. Most of the images on my site, he's probably four in all of these. There are some earlier images that I shot more with a medium format. That's a little easier, he's still four in some of these, so it's a matter of knowing what I want and getting him to do it. "Hey, sit right here, and read this book," or "Sit down for a minute." I get myself together and try to talk to him to keep him occupied. At this point, he knows that we're going to take a photograph, and he does well at sitting and knowing — he's like, "Okay, Daddy, I'm ready for the picture. Go get your big camera.” I’ve got him pretty well-conditioned at this point. It was a lot more challenging at first, but now he's gotten into his own groove — he’s a good little actor. <img width="2000" height="2500" width_o="2000" height_o="2500" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/3aff545c207a0e29bfd362e32a3530a86e3f92a84754d4550fa4ffae15abc066/Rashod_Taylor_Protector.jpg" data-mid="105292203" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/3aff545c207a0e29bfd362e32a3530a86e3f92a84754d4550fa4ffae15abc066/Rashod_Taylor_Protector.jpg" /> Your work is so powerful. It's personal, and it's your son, but I see my own family when I look at these pictures. That's why I love the work so much. I see such tenderness and fragility. Did you see images like that of people who looked like you when you were growing up? Where did this vision come from? &nbsp; We see some things in terms of Black life when looking at Gordon Parks and others, but honestly, there's not really any imagery depicting that. One of my influences and inspirations is Sally Mann. I enjoy her work, but then you think, "Well, I don't see any people of color making work like that." I try to keep things simple — I want to focus on the everyday. I feel like that's where I make the best art, when I focus on the things I love and am passionate about. Photographing everyday life is heightened because it's a Black man photographing his son, which happens, but it's not mainstream in society. A lot of it has to do with people not having any exposure to it. When people interact with the work, it's like, "Wow, this is touching." You don't often see those types of images. It’s more of the opposite — you see the negative connotations and negative stereotypes of the Black family in general, of Black males and Black women. It was important to show the truth. That truth has always been there. You know that, I know that. It's not like when you’re Black, you do different things growing up as a kid — we go on vacations. We play outside. We have friends. We go to our grandparents' house. We wear our parents' clothes. We do all of those things, but in society, no one takes the time to see who you are, that we're here and that we matter. All that's in the work, with some of my fears sprinkled in that go with his life and what I'm feeling. <img width="2000" height="1542" width_o="2000" height_o="1542" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/1374a181a2c5cbf085427276a3ee392243a85ced9f8924c54f1e38a695865799/self-portrait-with-LJ.jpg" data-mid="105292257" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/1374a181a2c5cbf085427276a3ee392243a85ced9f8924c54f1e38a695865799/self-portrait-with-LJ.jpg" /> It's a powerful act, to document your family and share it. It’s going to impact the way people see what family looks like, what childhood looks like, what Black parenting looks like.&nbsp; I wonder how different it would be if it was someone outside of your community or someone coming in from the outside and photographing your family? How different those pictures would be versus you creating the work yourself? That's an interesting thought. I think you're 100% right, it would be very different. Different photographers have a way of making great images with people they meet, right? However, I think there's this intimacy and presence when dealing with the people you truly love and who are part of your family. It takes the images to the next level because I care and love them so deeply that — I hope —&nbsp;that comes through with the images. I think about him and I try to help him navigate this life and show that through the series. Is documenting your son something that you're continuing to do? Yes. It's an ongoing project. I will be working on it for a while, at least another five to seven years. I want to capture him as he's going through childhood. I'm sure at a certain point, he may not want anything to do with me — that's fine, I'll stop, but up until that point, I'm going to keep shooting. For this project, I'm looking to have a book in as he gets to that past-childhood phase and early adolescence — definitely by his teenage years.. It will have a different meaning at that point. It won't have the innocence that I'm interested in, but I'm excited because I hope to turn it into more once it's a finished piece of work. <img width="2025" height="2500" width_o="2025" height_o="2500" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/ebaa1c5771469ab0e7301a288df06c736a84a80850803a48262ffc5a7526a7c2/Taylor_Papi_s_hat.jpg" data-mid="105748481" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/ebaa1c5771469ab0e7301a288df06c736a84a80850803a48262ffc5a7526a7c2/Taylor_Papi_s_hat.jpg" /> I wanted to ask you how does being a Black artist inform your work?&nbsp; I will say this — it's a huge part of my photography per se, but I like the fact that other Black photographers may not have that as a part of their practice and are interested in other things. I think, sometime we get typecast: "Oh, he's a Black photographer or she's a Black photographer, so they have to photograph the struggle or racism," and those might be only the jobs they get or that's how people see them. I believe that we can do anything we want to do, but it does include this work for me. It's the life I live every day, so it's honest and it's truthful — whether I like it or not, it comes out. Specifically, in this series, that plays a huge role in my son’s upbringing, and obviously a huge role in me being a father, a parent, a husband living in America. I've come to a point where I've embraced it. It's one of those things where you get in those conversations with people and they act like you’re the spokesperson, and you’re not — I'm not speaking for all Black people. I'm not speaking for all Dominicans. At the same time, it is this way that we — people of color —&nbsp;are representative of the larger group, and since we haven't had that voice in so long, and it's been downtrodden and overlooked, I feel responsible for making sure that since this work has to do with that. I want to have it amplified as much as possible because many people can identify with it. It has that way of connecting with people, and I think that is good in terms of continuing these conversations on racism and injustice. <img width="2000" height="1549" width_o="2000" height_o="1549" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/44efededffa628602bc1788e237af0d1de8bc6e5cf4970b6bec5aef81691ed37/Rashod_Taylor_Its-Complicated.jpg" data-mid="105750581" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/44efededffa628602bc1788e237af0d1de8bc6e5cf4970b6bec5aef81691ed37/Rashod_Taylor_Its-Complicated.jpg" /> I want to advocate for artists of color, I'm sick and tired of them only getting assigned certain things, whereas white counterparts get the benefit of the doubt to shoot anything or any race. Why is that?&nbsp; I find such inspiration when I meet with artists like you who are doing artwork in a way that is so true to their lived experience. Your work is inspiring a lot of people. I hope you know that.&nbsp;I get emotional looking through all of your photography.&nbsp; Thank you. I appreciate that.&nbsp;You got me. I was speaking at a conference, and I definitely was emotional —&nbsp; the tears were coming out of me. It was recorded, too. I'm like, "Oh gosh. Let me get through this before crying." <img width="2000" height="1610" width_o="2000" height_o="1610" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/8063d97960afca853c0abdf59c8a631acb8e3514a29394b1f0a13d1839f32600/Rashod_Taylor_Standing-in-my-parents-backyard.jpg" data-mid="105748964" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/8063d97960afca853c0abdf59c8a631acb8e3514a29394b1f0a13d1839f32600/Rashod_Taylor_Standing-in-my-parents-backyard.jpg" /> Visit Rashod’s website and Instagram.&nbsp; https://wearelisto.com/Luis-Manuel-Diaz-Portfolio-Overview Sat, 02 Jan 2021 16:05:15 +0000 LISTO https://wearelisto.com/Luis-Manuel-Diaz-Portfolio-Overview In conversation with Sara UrbaezEdited for length and clarity Luis Manuel Diaz: Portfolio Overview <img width="1920" height="2400" width_o="1920" height_o="2400" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/570766b1580109eab0c57eddd99b2f8351ec664bc8dc552b0c8a5416f7200fce/Diaz_Luis_02.jpg" data-mid="93680743" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/570766b1580109eab0c57eddd99b2f8351ec664bc8dc552b0c8a5416f7200fce/Diaz_Luis_02.jpg" /> This body of work is a collection of what I thought were two separate projects, but have recently come to realize that they need each other in order further contextualize my lived experience. The images were created in the US, where I immigrated to, and of Mexico, where I immigrated from. These works investigate what happens post-migration, what happens to a family when they're reunited in the US, how does one adapt to a new landscape and way of life?&nbsp; What happens to the home you leave behind, who is left behind, who takes care of the landscape that housed previous generations?&nbsp; The images attempt to provide two perspectives on what immigration is and what are causes and effects, that create both of those landscapes. Beautiful. I love that. I was first introduced to your work at the Bronx Documentary Center, the imagery shot in your hometown of Mexico, and your family’s images in the United States — they were both connected, but there were also remarkable differences visually. I think it would be interesting to showcase a mix of both. My use of black and white and color photographs came about wanting to challenge the master narrative surrounding immigration and how we view images in general. When we think about memory, traditionally it's been shown as black and white and super moody. But for me, memory — especially memory of home — is vibrant. That's why my images of Mexico are so vibrant and super specific. They're specific images about locations, objects, textures, smells, and of course my grandparents. All of my images in the US are intentionally black and white. I was initially interested in the history of photography and how images became a colonist tool to promote white supremacy. I wanted to create images that would counter those narratives that had been created for us with the same tools — a camera and black and white film. But eventually it started speaking to this different view about both halves of these spaces, how the black and white images were more real but harsher, and the color images were softer but more aesthetically pleasing. In my opinion, when people immigrate and leave for a long time, when we think of home, we tend to aestheticize home — we long for this beautiful place. We seem to forget why we left, but we remember everything that's left behind, the more beautiful things about the space. But once you're back there and you have the privilege to go back to these spaces, it takes time for you to realize that it's no longer a place for you. Well, at least personally, it wasn't a place where I could thrive, socially or economically. <img width="1920" height="2400" width_o="1920" height_o="2400" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/9e53fd22284e9fbce1937d39a9490c6b6fceb26500520cd1306c205a3083e6d0/Diaz_Luis_01.jpg" data-mid="93682428" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/9e53fd22284e9fbce1937d39a9490c6b6fceb26500520cd1306c205a3083e6d0/Diaz_Luis_01.jpg" /> My family came from the Dominican Republic, but anytime I'm back there, or remember being there, I think of all the colors of vibrancy, the noises and longing for that and what a contrast that is to America in a lot of ways. Tell me about your background. Where is your family from? And your immigration story. My family history — specifically immigration —&nbsp;started with my maternal grandfather. He was part of the Bracero program — he came to the US&nbsp; in the 50s and worked in the fields picking grapes, apples, potatoes. He did everything, a lot of field labor. The Bracero program was initiated in the 1940s by the United States, where they could hire seasonal Mexican workers for cheap, manual labor. It was through the Bracero program that there was this first iteration of the American dream for my family. That first American dream was to come to the US to work, save money, go back home, and buy property. And that was what my grandfather did. He bought a huge piece of land where he raised cows, farmed and re-imagined it for future generations. But later on, this American dream changed. The next generation — my father and mother's generation — they thought they could work the land in Mexico in these larger pieces of fertile land, but because of NAFTA, farm work was no longer profitable — it was back to trying to make life in America on their own. Ever since my father was a teenager in the early 80s, he immigrated to the US and worked for years as a farm worker, gardener, and construction worker. As an undocumented immigrant he wasnt able visit home much, but would try to visit once a year. Later on he was able to become a “legal” resident through Reagan’s amnesty in 1986 — one of the few amnesties that the States has done. I was born and raised in Mexico and all through my childhood, my father would come and go. I would only see him for a month during the holidays, and that would be it. And then the occasional phone calls when he would get out of work and we would get to talk to him for a few minutes. That was our life. I didn't realize how horrible it was until I got older. Growing up, I thought that was the norm. I thought everyone experienced this because everyone in our community went through the same thing. All the fathers would be away and we would have all these mother figures taking care of all the kids. That was our life up until I was nine years old. It took my father years and thousands of dollars in order for us to reunite. (People need to understand that it's extremely difficult and expensive to get a greencard, and not only that but it takes years before all paperwork is approved and you can reunite with your family.) In 2006, we immigrated to the US and for the first time in our life we could enjoy each other's presence without a ticking clock in your head. After immigrating and reuniting, survival mode was activated. That's when we're trying to adapt to this new environment and assimilation hits — you'd go through this out-of-body experience, trying to find people you can relate to. But you can’t relate to anyone, so you start changing to fit in and all these existential issues that immigrants go through while trying to adapt to this new environment. <img width="2400" height="1920" width_o="2400" height_o="1920" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/e00c08ede073a349f419454aa081a7ba2392e24f274dcf92296743ab45d5efbd/Diaz_Luis_08.jpg" data-mid="93682151" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/e00c08ede073a349f419454aa081a7ba2392e24f274dcf92296743ab45d5efbd/Diaz_Luis_08.jpg" /> <img width="2400" height="1920" width_o="2400" height_o="1920" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/834af868651c803950725d27e0f2e9710abd27d54d2f5d413a0877df59727dbf/Diaz_Luis_09.jpg" data-mid="93682088" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/834af868651c803950725d27e0f2e9710abd27d54d2f5d413a0877df59727dbf/Diaz_Luis_09.jpg" /> Thank you so much for sharing that with me, because it is important for people to understand the process and nuances that happen with immigration. And what happens with family history and assimilation is a huge part of our lives as immigrants. It's something that I'm starting to unravel myself because I was born and raised here, it's not something I ever even questioned. It was just like, “you have to assimilate, this is what you do.” Did you see any images when you were growing up that you felt reflected your experience? Coming from a place like Mexico where I’m on the lighter side of a mestizo, I had the privilege of seeing a version of myself represented — TV was filled with the light skin mestizos and white Latinos. But when I came to the United States, I quickly lost that representation. I soon started to experience displacement, I went from seeing myself in mass media to not seeing myself at all. And I went through a lot, because of assimilation and the toxicity that comes along with it. It took me until later in high school that I became self aware of my actions and began to think critically of&nbsp; the consequences of assimilation. It took some time to unlearn who I thought I was, and relearn who I wasn't allowing myself to be. It was through my initial stages of “decolonizing the mind,” that I remember reading articles about biculturalism, and it's importance — specifically for immigrant youth. This meant allowing myself to be part of both cultures and not having to choose one or the other, yet remaining true to my roots. Something thats not really talked alot about in our community is mental health, immigrants specially young immigrants and kids of immigrants go through severe mental health issues brought by assimilation and displacement. And that is why representation matters, when someone feels seen and their experiences validated they no longer feel alone. When I began to explore identity politics in my practice I had a very hard time finding work that spoke about my experience. Later on as an undergrad I was introduced to work by Latoya Ruby Frazier, Laura Aguilar, and Deana Lawson — these innovative artists addressing critical issues about race, family, diaspora, immigration and care. Though their work did not directly address my experience, it provided a fundamental foundation in my image process. Seeing that work grounded me and guided me and ultimately gave me the confidence in how I wanted to approach my narrative reclamation. <img width="2400" height="1920" width_o="2400" height_o="1920" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/64d2493ef4b0e268620656fbecc5e20ef88c22b2407c56a5c1ea81fcff999d7a/Diaz_Luis_16.jpg" data-mid="93682585" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/64d2493ef4b0e268620656fbecc5e20ef88c22b2407c56a5c1ea81fcff999d7a/Diaz_Luis_16.jpg" /> That's what moves me so much about your work, because it is a real direct challenge to how immigration — specifically Mexican immigration — is typically depicted. To me, it’s a meditation on what it means to navigate different cultures, and that's what we need more of — what it means to live our identities and aspire for the American Dream in a quiet, thoughtful way. A lot of the imagery I've seen about immigration is not subtle work. People need to understand the complexity behind all these stories and our families. Historically speaking, in photography, immigrants are either criminalized or victimized. That was part of my frustration, trying to find myself and what work I wanted to see — I wanted to make images about the everyday. I wanted to make images that broke away from this master narrative surrounding immigration. Part of that was I wanted to share these intimate moments that I knew were happening but weren't being talked about. What does it mean to take care of your family? What does it mean to reconnect with your family? Because you lose connection when you immigrate, you assimilate, you lose that connection, but what happens when you go back and try to connect — or, more literal, reconnect — when you're separated and get back together, trying to get to know each other again. I wanted to create images to speak of our everyday life that people don't tend to assume happened. Especially when people think about Latino men — there's more tender moments. My dad, he can seem like an intimidating guy, but he just doesn't like smiling. He's serious in a lot of pictures, but he's sweet and tender and caring — especially with my mother now that he’s no longer working. He’s handicapped due to a construction incident. My mother is essentially the breadwinner and he takes good care of her. He cooks for her, he cleans for her. He rubs her feet when she's tired — there are so many of these soft, gentle, deep moments that I want to shine a light on. There are also more complex issues when you're talking about identity — how do you see yourself within your family? How do I view myself with my older brother and my father — where do I play in between? Who am I? I am trying to disect what brings us together and what sets us apart. <img width="1920" height="2400" width_o="1920" height_o="2400" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/42769bd56f14892ce47db353dfbeb29403d81f9887e2e84764ee746856c7edf5/Diaz_Luis_03.jpg" data-mid="93684307" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/42769bd56f14892ce47db353dfbeb29403d81f9887e2e84764ee746856c7edf5/Diaz_Luis_03.jpg" /> <img width="1920" height="2400" width_o="1920" height_o="2400" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/5ae8c67338007e97219f2a58c897033024dc8dfa458a36f9ddbe11a9a9497bb4/Diaz_Luis_06.jpg" data-mid="93683151" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/5ae8c67338007e97219f2a58c897033024dc8dfa458a36f9ddbe11a9a9497bb4/Diaz_Luis_06.jpg" /> I'm blown away by your work. These are all taken on a large format film camera, 4x5, which is a whole process. It is not a handheld camera. It's not a process where you can quickly take a lot of images in a short amount of time. What is it like for you working with a 4x5 camera? How do you feel that informs the work that you're doing? I initially started shooting 4x5 because it's a tool that slows you down and makes you think about the images you're creating. You have to question yourself, “Why am I creating this image?” It takes me anywhere from 15 to 20 minutes to create an exposure, to set everything up and adjust it. In a way, I like to think its a sneaky way that allows me to connect with my family and spend more time with them and really get to know them even more, especially when you're looking through the camera. It's also a testament to the care that goes into the work not only by the photographer but by the subject, someone that is willing to sit for that long truly cares for you and the work. For me, it also goes back to the history of photography as I had mentioned. It's a camera that was used to colonize us&nbsp; and was used to create these false narratives surrounding us. I'm reclaiming the same tool to create new images, creating a new archive of images that talk about our experiences in a more adequate way. <img width="1920" height="2400" width_o="1920" height_o="2400" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/f92737d880e1f58762e59d90c995d104413d3097b75ca19ebbe3928571dc3349/Diaz_Luis_17.jpg" data-mid="93682710" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/f92737d880e1f58762e59d90c995d104413d3097b75ca19ebbe3928571dc3349/Diaz_Luis_17.jpg" /> <img width="1920" height="2400" width_o="1920" height_o="2400" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/ae4206bf314cad6f977c33cd46782517889b14349792e2bd4cc4faf8ac2dc253/Diaz_Luis_19.jpg" data-mid="93682726" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/ae4206bf314cad6f977c33cd46782517889b14349792e2bd4cc4faf8ac2dc253/Diaz_Luis_19.jpg" /> It’s a form of activism really. Reclaiming images of our family, of our culture and all while doing the medium, that for so long has oppressed us. I am excited for people to know this about your process, because it's something where if you're looking online you probably assume it's digital, right.&nbsp; When you're talking about your intentions behind this work for people to understand just how much work is going into this process. Right — it just takes a lot of time and patience. For me, it's important for people to understand that there's a whole process behind making photos. There are images that I think about, and sketch out, but I still allow air to flow in between image making to create flexibility. There's also images that happen by complete accident, where everything aligns and you just press your shutter.&nbsp; It's also important to mention that my subjects also collaborators in the image process — specifically with my family work —&nbsp; because it's no longer my story, it's our family story. Between shooting we talk about visualization and how they want to be depicted or what they want the world to know about them.&nbsp; <img width="1895" height="2400" width_o="1895" height_o="2400" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/1cc670828ab5961205078b5c74846d8acfcfd6fd4665a3c8c345b9bbb0f3016e/Diaz_Luis_11.jpg" data-mid="93684327" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/1cc670828ab5961205078b5c74846d8acfcfd6fd4665a3c8c345b9bbb0f3016e/Diaz_Luis_11.jpg" /> Through this work, what do you want people to know about your family and about your lived experience? I want them to know that even though I'm talking about my specific family, there's hundreds of thousands of families who are going through this — my story is just one of them. I want to invite the viewer to think about their own ideas of what immigration looks like and to challenge those ideas. There needs to be more intersectionality when we talk about immigration, because it's not only about crossing borders, but it's also what happens when you get here. What happens to the rest of the family? There needs to be more conversations surrounding identity, trauma, care and mental health. That's something our community doesn't talk a lot about is mental health — even sexuality and all these other topics that just get swept under the rug when we talk about immigration. <img width="2400" height="1920" width_o="2400" height_o="1920" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/e2c52394ceab3a4c04c0826c2a25dcd01c15bc3696f90e85172cd03e8cd875d0/Diaz_Luis_15.jpg" data-mid="93685626" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/e2c52394ceab3a4c04c0826c2a25dcd01c15bc3696f90e85172cd03e8cd875d0/Diaz_Luis_15.jpg" /> <img width="2400" height="1920" width_o="2400" height_o="1920" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/03a5307d694487fd410f82e74695f8bcd1b52dce24cc2e7a8a51c525a30cb92f/Diaz_Luis_18.jpg" data-mid="93685654" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/03a5307d694487fd410f82e74695f8bcd1b52dce24cc2e7a8a51c525a30cb92f/Diaz_Luis_18.jpg" /> What are your hopes and dreams for the future in terms of your photography? I want to get more people involved in my current series. I'm working on another side project where I work with more community members. I want to take it outside of my family and expand this narrative and get more stories into what it means to immigrate and talk with first generation Americans. I want to talk to kids of immigrants and what their experience is. I would like to publish a book with my family work. Books for me in undergrad became so important because they were this physical source of knowledge that I could take. I want someone to eventually connect to my work, that they could go and spend time and look through my work — and my work becomes this widely available source for people. <img width="2400" height="1920" width_o="2400" height_o="1920" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/80a07394efd4de316ea8b119824b77ff8f99084956e2100ab362a64f66513b5e/Diaz_Luis_14.jpg" data-mid="93686051" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/80a07394efd4de316ea8b119824b77ff8f99084956e2100ab362a64f66513b5e/Diaz_Luis_14.jpg" /> <img width="1920" height="2400" width_o="1920" height_o="2400" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/851a2c3fe48507d0869148c60d048c0c8f6059b89176f2fe460fc7250225d926/Diaz_Luis_13.jpg" data-mid="93686128" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/851a2c3fe48507d0869148c60d048c0c8f6059b89176f2fe460fc7250225d926/Diaz_Luis_13.jpg" /> Visit Luis’s website and Instagram.&nbsp; https://wearelisto.com/INDUSTRY-TALK-with-Oriana-Koren Sun, 08 Nov 2020 16:25:37 +0000 LISTO https://wearelisto.com/INDUSTRY-TALK-with-Oriana-Koren In conversation with Sara UrbaezEdited for length and clarity INDUSTRY TALK with Oriana Koren <img width="3000" height="2000" width_o="3000" height_o="2000" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/dd51eac51820b119954bc484b8d303db073c9f204fe641f893441417498c87ec/centerpiece-bts-finals_oriana-koren-2978.jpg" data-mid="88114172" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/dd51eac51820b119954bc484b8d303db073c9f204fe641f893441417498c87ec/centerpiece-bts-finals_oriana-koren-2978.jpg" /> [Note to our readers: This is our first Industry Talk feature, where we dive in with artists and reflect on our experiences navigating the photography industry. A huge thank you to Oriana for their fierce candidness. - Sara] &nbsp; Oriana, where would you like to start, what would you want our readers to know about you? I grew up bilingual, speaking Haitian Creole and English. I come from a half-Black immigrant family, half-Black American family. For both groups, education is incredibly important, but specifically for West Indian and Caribbean immigrants — people who sacrifice a lot to leave the islands to come here to build better futures for their kids. The Dominican Republic is where I am from, and Haiti shares the same island— what an interesting connection!&nbsp; My mother copied her Haitian experience onto her American experience. This is a woman who comes from a country that's been colonized, so whether or not she can articulate it, she has an understanding of what it is like to live and move around in a world with colonizers as a colonized person. I think it was a comfortable, easy fit for her because certain things come with the idea of success, right? And for her American mind, it was, “My kids have to go to all the best schools from pre-K through college.” The way that I approach my photographic work, it's with the same sort of rigor I learned in Montessori, in private prep, in the baccalaureate program. I've never been able to separate that kind of thinking and learning from making pictures. <img width="2000" height="3000" width_o="2000" height_o="3000" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/0dfc8ccebf4604ec7aa41f21fe957f5476e34f499644c4f078b825dbf30e7dda/centerpiece-bts-finals_oriana-koren-2762.jpg" data-mid="88114733" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/0dfc8ccebf4604ec7aa41f21fe957f5476e34f499644c4f078b825dbf30e7dda/centerpiece-bts-finals_oriana-koren-2762.jpg" /> In what ways has the industry failed you to the point where you are no longer interested in doing assignment photography? It's important for people in the industry to understand how their actions impact BIPOC creatives. Even if you have all the credentials, all the education, you're still confronted with so much racism. I was talking to a friend about this yesterday. I'm not working in galleries because of this. And I decided I wasn't going to work as a wedding photography editor because I ended up getting fired from that job. Not because I did anything wrong, but because I became my boss’ target whenever she got pissed off about something. So her husband pissed her off one day and I ended up losing my job off of that. I’ve gotten to the point where I can't do assignment photography anymore. Every time I have to invoice someone, some white person talks crazy to me about money that I worked hard for, that I earned — they talk to me as though I didn't earn that money, like I’m not entitled to that money. They act like I'm annoying them because I'm asking for money owed to me. Imagine having to do that every assignment for five years. The economics of it all is a huge part. Some artists do not have generational wealth and rely on their creative work as their main source of income. How do you feel about the hiring editors you’ve worked with previously? Do you feel they're informed about how they're assigning work? I have a handful of Black and or non-Black of color editors I've worked with — it's a handful, maybe five.I would say 98% of my work comes directly from white decision-makers and photo editors. That's when I started to recognize this might end up being a very similar situation to weddings, except you have to deal with lots of different people in lots of different places at lots of different companies. But the one thing that's always been consistent is — and I hate to say it — this recent generation of photo editors is lacking all the way around. Many of them don't study photography. They don't do anything about it until they have a photo editing job. That's unacceptable. <img width="3000" height="2000" width_o="3000" height_o="2000" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/ae2cb4bcefb284273280b763950258b9b58b098cf1f7b79e768f25977b3a0393/centerpiece-bts-finals_oriana-koren-3402.jpg" data-mid="88115167" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/ae2cb4bcefb284273280b763950258b9b58b098cf1f7b79e768f25977b3a0393/centerpiece-bts-finals_oriana-koren-3402.jpg" /> That resonates with me&nbsp; I got a college degree in art history and photography. I put in years of work and study then to see people just waltz in: “Oh, this seems like an easy job and field to move into and not to hold people across the industry to any sort of standard!” It’s demoralizing. I have seen some incredibly horrible, lazy, complacent ways of doing work from extremely privileged and unqualified editors. Privilege — yep. Last year I shot my first national food magazine feature. I have been working for five years. I had to shoot two cookbooks before I got a national feature magazine. This is how backward the industry is when it comes to this idea that Black people especially have to prove that they should get the jobs. This is important to talk about. Who's given opportunities, and what is it based on? Yes — for me, whenever it came for any sort of a job, if I didn't have examples of it in my portfolio, I would get passed on for assignments. Yet many white male photographers are just given the benefit of the doubt that their work is great: “We'll hire them!” It's the sort of thinking that comes when you're a person who has not in any way, shape or form deeply engaged in intimate relationships with Black people. Because if these people were actually in a relationship with us, they would know our capacities and capabilities before assigning us to work. These practices of hiring the same photographers repeatedly is such a disservice to photography. This is the reason why people don't understand what photo editing is and don't take our work seriously — they think anyone can do our jobs because the industry is filled with people who never studied photography, express no interest expanding their understanding of art, and aren't capable of doing their jobs. It makes it hard for me as a photographer to do my job properly. A lot of what is running me out of assignment photography is that they’re not paying me enough to do my job well. And they’re certainly not paying me enough to do my job, their job, and probably two or three other people's jobs. Before assigning me work, there is a certain amount of work that they’re required to do as a photo editor. They don't get to then just push that off on their freelancers. And that's not specific to me as a Black freelancer. For the last six or seven years, all freelancers have been doing additional work because the photo editors they are working with are not trained. By the time you are working as an assignment photographer and working on the front lines, you should be a master at your craft. That's what I was told you needed to be in order to get to those positions. So when I'm talking to people who've been in the business for years and I'm telling them shit that they don't know — that is unacceptable to me. You have the Pulitzers, you get $10,000 to speak at conferences, but you actually don't know anything about the medium or the genre you're working in? How does that happen? I have to be the one who knows everything. I have to be able to speak in perfect paragraphs so people can quote me for their inclusion and diversity initiatives. And I get a pat on the back for being rigorous, but what's going on with Joe Blow? Why aren't you challenging him in that same way? You're the person who's reading the images to decide whether or not it makes sense to the narrative that is being pushed, if it matches the text that it's being put next to, if it's going to cause any ethical or moral issues in terms of the general public viewing the imagery — these are the things that photo editors are supposed to be thinking about. A lot of them are very lucky to be working with photographers who are already a step ahead and thinking that way, but that's not every photographer. And that's an issue for me — the number of people who are succeeding at this work, who don't care about it, who don't understand the medium’s history, who don't engage with the theory of the medium. I have seen many people with hiring power throw money and assignments at their privileged friends who don’t need it — that's money and opportunity a different artist could have. I think there's a disconnect of not understanding how that perpetuates racism and furthers the gap. What makes this moment in time interesting is about five months ago, we all found out that we were broke. I know lots of people in the industry who, because of the way they were curating their Instagrams and because of what they were telling and what they were omitting, seemed like they were doing pretty good. And then the economy fails and we're told that we can't go to work. And all of a sudden everybody doesn't have money, which means no one was making money in the industry to begin with. I do this because of survival. I don't do this because I particularly like calling people out on their bullshit. I can't do your job, do mine, be underpaid, and then also have to walk around with years of PTSD. I can't do all of those things — something's got to give. So for me, one way of removing pressure and stress from the work that I'm doing is to talk about the reasons why there is pressure and stress. It's also not lost on me that the handful of Black photographers who have been doing this work for years did not necessarily matriculate into an industry where they could openly air grievances and not be severely punished for it. <img width="2000" height="3000" width_o="2000" height_o="3000" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/234915d3dcf64a84186654e97c52806e10c4d0bb1e8930cafe511e9c3945fb50/centerpiece-bts-finals_oriana-koren-4070.jpg" data-mid="89618645" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/234915d3dcf64a84186654e97c52806e10c4d0bb1e8930cafe511e9c3945fb50/centerpiece-bts-finals_oriana-koren-4070.jpg" /> So all these experiences — how do they connect to colonialism for you? The pictures we think about when we think about the civil war — pictures that were manipulated to bolster the conspiracy theory of the lost cause — give you the backbone for American white supremacy, which is part and parcel with colonialism and imperialism. I think about the fact that the camera was used to help build illustrations of differences in humans for the junk science that is eugenics. I just don't know how anyone can pick up a camera and not think about the fact that the camera has been an exploitative tool. People who say they “take pictures” are people who are highly suspicious to me, because I know you're not engaging in your practice in an ethical or moral way — you're taking versus collaborating with people. I just don't know how you look at the history over time and not see that colonialists and imperialism have weaponized the medium&nbsp; for white supremacy. Gordon Parks brought humanity to his images. He made very specific decisions, which shows me how engaged he was both with the history of photography and the ways in which photography has been used. In&nbsp; the Atmosphere of Crime assignment, He chose to focus on the behavior of the policeman versus the “criminals” they were supposed to be capturing. the way he obscured faces, the way he protected the anonymity of the people that he was in collaboration with, and the nuance in which he also observed the policeman is startling. It's unlike anything you've ever seen in regards to crime photography. This man gets no due for what he has done when it comes to the work that he's put behind a camera. We don't talk about Gordon Parks the way we talk about Henri Cartier-Bresson. We don't talk about James Van Der Zee the way we talk about fucking Annie Liebowitz. It’s the kind of aggravation I felt in college — constantly having the same white photographers shoved down my throat. I loved Bresson, but why the fuck did it take until I turned 30 to find out that Zora Neale Hurston was also a photo-ethnographer? That's great that editors are starting to assign Black photographers, but what are you doing to enhance your visual references, your understanding of history? Black photographers have been doing this for a long time. They didn’t just appear this year, and photography is also in conversation with many talented artists over hundreds of years. Without the kind of knowledge, it's reactive and it's not for the long haul — it has to be a much bigger shift. It's not just about hiring this one photographer, right? It's about what are you doing to build your connection with them? What are your visual references? What does your team look like? Your team is all white and you're just suddenly trying to hire all these photographers of color. Something is not right. It's tied very much to this constant centering of white experiences. What concerns me is that it is a lack of seeing other people's humanity because there's no interest or curiosity. I have done so much work to learn about white culture. I constantly am navigating different worlds. It's disappointing that it doesn’t go both ways — why aren't you interested? Why aren't you asking me who my heroes are? We have to know these things about white people because it's part of our survival. It behooves me to understand who they are and what makes their brains tick. On top of that, whiteness is the default — you have a bunch of white people running around thinking that everyone experiences the world the way they experience the world. And that is not true. We don't live in a society in which I just get to be a human being. Our society has always been a secret caste system — I am the lowest caste. And what comes with being the lowest caste is not so much invisibility of humanity, but that you don't have humanity at all. We forget that when our people were brought here, white people decided to indoctrinate themselves into thinking that we were objects, not even human, not even subhuman -- objects. I'm not surprised that we are where we are right now, because that means the cognitive leap is just occurring — they recognized I might be human —&nbsp;and that's not good enough. Subhuman is not better than an object. I want my full personhood. I want my full humanity, but you as a white person have to do the unlearning. So that way you can recognize that I am as human as you are. <img width="3000" height="2000" width_o="3000" height_o="2000" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/8f5e761c748355e655617ec48078fb67a04d66f245f7a0914f939041790efaa5/centerpiece-bts-finals_oriana-koren-2148.jpg" data-mid="88117299" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/8f5e761c748355e655617ec48078fb67a04d66f245f7a0914f939041790efaa5/centerpiece-bts-finals_oriana-koren-2148.jpg" /> Is there anything else that you think needs to happen for there to be a meaningful shift? I do. I'm taking a break from the industry because it is unconscionable for me to work in an industry that doesn't care about my humanity. I can't do it. There is not enough money, there are not enough accolades, there are not enough heroes for me to meet, to actively participate in my dehumanization. It is dehumanizing when I am simply asking about a payment, that's 180 days late. It is dehumanizing to constantly have to beg for work and pitch stories to get any semblance of work. I cannot do it anymore. I would venture to say that if this industry is going to change, everyone needs to take a six month break and get real about their personal struggles and challenges — what makes it difficult for them to show their humanity at work. Nothing changes until everyone in the industry does the personal work, and now is the time. This is a moment of mass learning. There are lots of opportunities and lots of tools at your disposal. As a white person, there are a couple of things that you need to be aware of. If you plan to turn toward anti-racist consciousness, you need to work on your fragility. The things that cause you great emotional distress are things I have to deal with on a regular basis that I don't have time to allow to cause me great emotional distress. I know how to function. If I can survive abuse, you can survive a conversation around the language of white supremacy. I promise you, you can. I am not accepting the excuses anymore. Enough is enough. Pick up a journal and start writing. You need to learn to form opinions outside of your echo chamber and need to learn to form opinions outside of white supremacy. Some of those very messy, necessary conversations are “What does my moral and ethical compass look like? What are the behaviors that I will abide by? What are the behaviors I cannot abide by in myself and in others?” You need to know this. If you intend to work with humans in any way, shape or form, these things should not be dictated to you by ideology.&nbsp; If you happen to be a white American, most of the media you consume only bolsters these ideas you have about me. It might behoove you to remove yourself from that — for probably the first time in your life — to think for yourself. If you are going to assign work to people who live making images, you need to think critically. The work that we do has an impact on how people think. And as such, it has an impact on how they behave. We have a great responsibility to our society, and we need to start fucking acting like this is not just about making pictures of where the light looks pretty enough. If you're working at this level, that is not enough of a reason for you to take a photograph. If you’re not thinking about how the people in your frame will be affected over the long run when you hit that shutter button, you don't need to be a photographer. You can quote me on that shit. It's a lot of people saying how they’re photojournalists and editors and photographers, and they’re this and that — but they don't know how to treat human beings.&nbsp; I think we also have to be very real about the fact that we're all patting our backs about the work we make — and a lot of the work made is not particularly very good. It's not thoughtful. It's not nuanced. At some point, decision-makers, editors, you all have to think about whether or not it's more important for you to do exactly what you say to your clients you're going to do or if it's more important for you to hang out with your friends on set. <img width="2400" height="1600" width_o="2400" height_o="1600" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/f7693cec28af92be473f4b08bd80d4e182f67153443afd65905299ceefc7e559/centerpiece-bts-finals_oriana-koren-1856.jpg" data-mid="89620517" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/f7693cec28af92be473f4b08bd80d4e182f67153443afd65905299ceefc7e559/centerpiece-bts-finals_oriana-koren-1856.jpg" /> This is something I have witnessed countless times — gatekeepers hiring based on who they are friends with! That’s how racism is perpetuated. It's a strange inner circle that's not based on merit or work. It's based on your own bias of who you think is likable and capable. Yes, it's cronyism and nepotism in action. I would hope that we are all getting a very clear picture of what it looks like when your business runs on cronyism and nepotism in this moment in time under this administration. I know this is going to sound weird — especially to white people, because whether they can articulate it or not, white people think that someone like me should feel lucky that I'm doing this. I have been working as a photographer for the last 13 years of my life. I went to college for photography. I went to all these highly specialized schools so I could be a good college student so I could get my degree. To take it a step further, by the time I got to college, I understood what college was supposed to do for me. It was to give me the tools that I then needed to refine so I could become a professional. That is what I have done. Nothing was handed to me. I don't know anyone in this industry. My parents don't know anybody in this industry. And if I was capable of doing that and if I'm capable of doing all of the things I've done in my industry — with all of the barriers and limitations I have to face — imagine what it would look like if I didn’t have those barriers or limitations. I have moments of extreme doubt where I wonder why I’m even doing this. Some people were just given positions of power. I'm working hard — honestly, at times it feels as though I'm crawling. I don’t know what the end goal is for me. How do you deal with moments of doubt? Those moments for me are when I pivot, which is what I'm doing right now. I'm stepping away from assignment photography because assignment photography is not where I can be effective at this moment in time. I want to come back to photography, which means I have to help build the sort of industry I want to be a part of. That also means I have to figure out what the dominant thinking is that has caused this industry to stagnate. And for me, it's just a deep lack of curiosity and a deep lack of education. <img width="3000" height="2000" width_o="3000" height_o="2000" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/f5b2c9e8cf11bd5ade6a40033cb5018c8e3910062ab57447843d4bfcf6e98122/centerpiece-bts-finals_oriana-koren-2463.jpg" data-mid="89618600" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/f5b2c9e8cf11bd5ade6a40033cb5018c8e3910062ab57447843d4bfcf6e98122/centerpiece-bts-finals_oriana-koren-2463.jpg" /> That's exactly what it is. I think long game because I’m Black — I got nothing else but the long game. I don't get my rewards immediately. That’s how this country is set up. But I know that if I work in the moment for something bigger down the road, I will actually get to see that. I am a person who, especially as a Black person, defies all expectations. I'm not supposed to be doing this — I'm not supposed to be running my mouth, I'm not supposed to be getting paid to make photographs, I'm not supposed to be traveling the world. At this point in my life, I've done everything that I've wanted to do in my journey in photography, then it feels like for me, as someone who's stepping into their eldership, it's time for me to open all the doors that were not open to me for other people. That's what I've been focused on. I'm not taking food pictures, I'm not taking traveling pictures, but you better believe I'm working on a group of people who can do it. What an uplifting reminder for those of us who are in the industry, to uplift others. It’s important not just to say, “I’m leaving, this industry is a mess. Good luck.” I'm taking a break, and by the time I come back, it's going to be very different. There's going to be a lot of people who are not going to be working in the industry. Not because I have anything to do with it, but because they will have to sit down and get real about the fact that they have been taking up space. They are working in places they don't even want to work in or give a fuck about except for the fact that it puts money in their pocket and allows them some social mobility. They need to go and they will go because the industry that returns is not going to be that kind of industry for them. You don't get to sit on your ass and make six figures doing nothing. That's not what this moment requires. <img width="3000" height="2000" width_o="3000" height_o="2000" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/89ec9738bac17f7071755f28faac5d022daf4066abce2502cebd0ccc0f6c7bdb/centerpiece-bts-finals_oriana-koren-4049.jpg" data-mid="89616550" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/89ec9738bac17f7071755f28faac5d022daf4066abce2502cebd0ccc0f6c7bdb/centerpiece-bts-finals_oriana-koren-4049.jpg" /> Visit Oriana’s website.&nbsp; https://wearelisto.com/Bethany-Mollenkof-Birthing-in-Alabama-New-Work Sun, 06 Sep 2020 03:51:45 +0000 LISTO https://wearelisto.com/Bethany-Mollenkof-Birthing-in-Alabama-New-Work In conversation with Sara UrbaezEdited for length and clarity Bethany Mollenkof: Birthing in Alabama + New Work <img width="2400" height="2400" width_o="2400" height_o="2400" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/2214849dab89269ce4d2d80ecdf82663de90476a53aa97a5fe05b5ed8a9c5dc6/1_LISTO_MOLLENKOF011.JPG" data-mid="85277026" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/2214849dab89269ce4d2d80ecdf82663de90476a53aa97a5fe05b5ed8a9c5dc6/1_LISTO_MOLLENKOF011.JPG" /> [Note to our readers: Bethany originally received a grant from We, Women to document midwives and birthing in Alabama. She was set to go back and photograph the community. However, due to her pregnancy and the spread of COVID-19, she was forced to put her project on hold and chose instead to focus on documenting her pregnancy at her home in Los Angeles. This conversation took place over a period of three months: a month before Bethany gave birth and two months after her daughter was born. -Sara] I've never seen anything quite like your personal project on pregnancy, especially with the black and white imagery, I love the tones and the shadows and light coming through. For me, as someone who does doula work, I feel the photo industry and that work is so separate that I've never been able to merge them. I wanted to talk with you about what this project [taking self-portraits while pregnant] means to you right now, and what it's been like working on it. It's been super interesting — she's a surprise baby. My husband and I wanted kids but weren’t in a rush, so we decided to start trying and figured we’d have kids in the next couple of years. By December [2019] I was already pregnant, so we thought, "2020 seems a good year." I wasn't super focused on photographing my pregnancy. I thought, "Cool, I'll take pictures,” but I didn’t feel I had a story I needed to tell. We were excited about having a family. Then as soon as the COVID stuff started happening, I realized I wouldn’t be able to work on my birthing project. I was really excited to go back to Alabama pregnant, to work while I was pregnant with other pregnant people. My focus was this was going to be a really cool experience to share with other pregnant women while I'm photographing them. I wasn't the focus of it at all, because I've never done that before. I've never put myself in a story. I have the grant from the We, Women, and they're going to publish some of the photos. I still have to figure out all the details because I haven't fully — it's so crazy to be living through all this and then to be thinking about it as work, too. <img width="2400" height="2403" width_o="2400" height_o="2403" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/953966bf47d5c118ffd893d5846982e04d6c93d415ed32fab25f210f85e0ccfd/2_LISTO_MOLLENKOF015.JPG" data-mid="85277871" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/953966bf47d5c118ffd893d5846982e04d6c93d415ed32fab25f210f85e0ccfd/2_LISTO_MOLLENKOF015.JPG" /> Yes, it's not something that you can freely do, there's parameters. Yes, so it's been weird to try to navigate that, but I haven't been able to go to Alabama. I still want to photograph the community in Alabama because I haven't seen any information about coronavirus and pregnancy — there's not a lot of good stories. The New York Times had one that was animated. It was cool, but I wanted to see what this experience is like, especally because we already know all the statistics for Black women and birth, and this feels like a very important story to tell. I'm a journalist, so I need to figure out how to tell it. I started taking pictures of myself and my husband. Those pictures now mean even more because we didn't think that coronavirus was going to be such an isolating thing. I'm trying to get my mind around it — my mom was supposed to come visit, my sister was supposed to come visit. Now my husband can't even go into the appointments. It's a very isolating experience. I wanted to create imagery that shows how isolating it is. That's where the light and the shadows and fragmented images of different parts of myself and the writing. Then the Black Lives Matter movement started. We had already chosen her name, Luna Pearl. Pearl is my grandma's name, my Black grandma. Pearl is really important to us because — I don't know what Luna is going to look like — carrying on that name is really important to us. My middle name is Randolph, which is my Black family's last name. They were enslaved, that's their enslaved last name. There's this idea of resistance and her whole birth has taken on a whole new meaning for me and her importance in the world and who she will become. All of it feels so counter to everything that's happening. Coronavirus, isolation, all these things — we're still here and we're going to keep persisting. That's how I've had to cope with it, because all of my expectations, I could never have thought any of this would happen as well. <img width="2400" height="2400" width_o="2400" height_o="2400" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/17fbbecc9a59e77203b140aeac590fb76dd47311c827e0bd4d154d36ed3ea1da/5_LISTO_MOLLENKOF010.JPG" data-mid="85277539" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/17fbbecc9a59e77203b140aeac590fb76dd47311c827e0bd4d154d36ed3ea1da/5_LISTO_MOLLENKOF010.JPG" /> <img width="3840" height="3840" width_o="3840" height_o="3840" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/7913bfe0695159007ee2a52236f726fc0ece2b825aa7c6849b972f277d102189/LISTO_MOLLENKOF002.JPG" data-mid="85279017" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/7913bfe0695159007ee2a52236f726fc0ece2b825aa7c6849b972f277d102189/LISTO_MOLLENKOF002.JPG" /> I know for me, what really interested me in doing birth work and being a doula was about connection to my ancestry, to the women in my lineage who were midwives and who, in the midst of a dictatorship, supported women in giving birth — the radical act of resistance that it is to be a person of color and to bring life and what it means.&nbsp;Is that something you were thinking about when you were working on the “Birthing in Alabama” project? Yes, and that's where I've been trying to reconcile the two. The Alabama work is all in color and it's a different tone, but the reason why I started working in that is because my sister had a baby three years ago in Tennessee. I saw the racism she experienced and how people didn't listen to her because their son is special needs. It still happens. She was at the doctor two weeks ago and they asked her if she was the foster mom because he’s very fair. It's ridiculous stuff that we have to go through. Having talked to my mom, this whole birthing thing really made a lot of sense for me to start pursuing before I even thought about having kids. I really wanted to understand this — it feels like the ultimate act of resistance. We've had these things in our histories for so long that have been erased. I wanted to go to the places where we are still persisting and photograph these women. That was the premise for how I started the birth work in Alabama. Then I did the abortion work for the New York Times and it all made so much sense. As soon as I started working on it, I knew it was what I needed to do. It all clicked spiritually and mentally — everything made sense to me. <img width="2400" height="2400" width_o="2400" height_o="2400" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/8ecea068f118b8b30711e248f645ebc5e8335616427dfd95decf6ba7e107f688/6_LISTO_MOLLENKOF009.JPG" data-mid="85277555" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/8ecea068f118b8b30711e248f645ebc5e8335616427dfd95decf6ba7e107f688/6_LISTO_MOLLENKOF009.JPG" /> That's what I felt when I started volunteering as a doula work. I was like, "Of course, of course this is the work I am meant to do." Exactly. As soon as I traveled to Mississippi, I was "Oh, this is it." I would say that it was almost three years ago that I started thinking that and reading and really investing in my own understanding of the past and of women — how we've always been there, and how it's always been denied. Women helping women has always been something that’s been taken away from us and institutionalized so that men are the ones who get credit — It's crazy. All of that connects, and then me being pregnant has been this whole other aspect of it. Now I’m the one experiencing a lot of stuff. The cool thing though is all three of my doctors have been Black women. So my experience has been really good, medical-wise, other than the coronavirus keeping Gabe from being able to go to the hospital with me and the isolation aspect of it. I'm so glad to hear that you are supported, because I've been a witness in many rooms where I've heard horrible things doctors said. As women of color, our own perceptions, and our own lived experience, aren’t listened to or respected in medical spaces, and in pregnancy. No, they are not. <img width="2400" height="2400" width_o="2400" height_o="2400" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/fc9d0b8e5a858273f0bb47ac48a5cc730310ebfaeb634d909248541ef755d67c/7_LISTO_MOLLENKOF007.JPG" data-mid="85278676" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/fc9d0b8e5a858273f0bb47ac48a5cc730310ebfaeb634d909248541ef755d67c/7_LISTO_MOLLENKOF007.JPG" /> It's not taken seriously, and part of me has been thinking about how that also happens in photography, because so many times, it's a white outsider who was sent to document the South or some of these experiences, places they have no connections to rather than letting artists really speak to their lived experience. That's something I've been reflecting on — photography adds another layer of resistance to your work because it's your body, it's your pregnancy and you're documenting it. Yes, and that to me has been so interesting, because if you look at any sort of personal essays that get published or stories about people, very personal love stories or anything, it's never centered around Black women. The only people we know are the super famous ones. That's what I've been thinking a lot about, how this is published or how I put this out in the world –– I think even that is an act of resistance. Me continuing to work and document this is resisting the industry that says, "We don't really care about that." It's been fascinating. I want to make sure when I put this in the world that it's very intentional. That people understand that I'm actually saying something with this — that I continued to work on my narrative and I worked in the field this entire pregnancy because that's me pushing back against an industry that says, “Women can't be pregnant. Women can't have kids, women can't be in it." Every aspect of what I'm doing is very resistant to white supremacy and all of this stuff. I have a photographer friend on Instagram, and we were talking — she didn't know I was pregnant and she said, "I'm so inspired. I've been afraid to talk to my partner because we didn't want to open that can of worms about having kids." She messaged me a month later and said, "After I talked to you, I felt empowered to talk about it with him — I actually felt like, 'Oh, there's a chance I could do this. This could be possible.'" I feel that with this whole story I'm trying to figure out what's the best platform and what's the best place to get it out there so women can actually feel like it’s possible. This fight, all of this shit, you can still make your life what you want. You get to dictate that, don't let all these people dictate your experience for you. The visibility is so important because imagery is so crucial to how we understand culture, what we expect, and to see images of a woman photographer working in the midst of it — it changes people's perceptions. Yes, I thought about it. it's so hard to get my mind around all of this because I'm used to telling other people's narratives. Part of me is really protective because it is our lived experience and my child. I want to make sure it's the way that I want it to be. I've had to think about how I want this to actually exist in the world. I'm a private person in general. Part of me wants it to be mine, but my husband always tells me that my story is unique and powerful — it's so universal. * * * &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; * * <img width="2400" height="2400" width_o="2400" height_o="2400" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/5c749f80b49fe194d52f0b7962d10d4f39f71a82beb7079731f9ff8a3a0f59dd/3_LISTO_MOLLENKOF013.JPG" data-mid="85277869" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/5c749f80b49fe194d52f0b7962d10d4f39f71a82beb7079731f9ff8a3a0f59dd/3_LISTO_MOLLENKOF013.JPG" /> When we first had our conversation, Luna Pearl had not yet been born. Two months later, can you describe how life has shifted for you? Our baby is here! She is the most wonderful, curious little being and she is teaching me so much about patience. Being a mom is incredible. My labor and delivery was intense and I came out the other side truly wrecked. I am finally feeling healed but it has been a big transition — I am finally processing the last 10 months. My photo essay called “Giving Birth in a Time of Death: A Love Letter to My Daughter'' published in National Geographic and I have been blown away by the response. I worked with some incredible women on the edit and copy, and felt truly supported in the process. I couldn’t be happier with how this all came together. The moment I saw the story go live, I was holding Luna and burst into tears. I feel very at peace with the work existing and the space it is creating. <img width="2400" height="2393" width_o="2400" height_o="2393" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/c68cddcacdb061c7ef6d5897b554a2e9855d1e09976caa46531d1c2799f62f19/11_LISTO_MOLLENKOF014.JPG" data-mid="85278090" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/c68cddcacdb061c7ef6d5897b554a2e9855d1e09976caa46531d1c2799f62f19/11_LISTO_MOLLENKOF014.JPG" /> <img width="2400" height="2393" width_o="2400" height_o="2393" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/251d3e96416993a2f0d30bc518b29607adbd7f53f504e0a68e5c2bb08c85ca5b/4_LISTO_MOLLENKOF012.JPG" data-mid="85283319" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/251d3e96416993a2f0d30bc518b29607adbd7f53f504e0a68e5c2bb08c85ca5b/4_LISTO_MOLLENKOF012.JPG" /> Do you think along with this major life transition that how you view and create photographs is now different? Is there anything you are noticing about the work that you had not considered before? For the first few weeks after Luna arrived, I couldn’t look at the photos without crying. Pregnancy to delivery to motherhood is such a fast process and I needed some time to transition. I was scared I wasn’t going to be able to get the work out there. So, I let them sit for a few weeks and then started working with editors at National Geographic. I now can look at the photos in a more objective way, because, in a lot of ways, I am no longer that person. Being Luna’s mom has unlocked so many different new parts of my identity. Which has been surprising and lovely, and I can feel myself approaching all of my work in a new way. <img width="2400" height="2400" width_o="2400" height_o="2400" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/e4701abb919392f8574c283dbccd0f2f3c928e19ad4cc4f3c3f9bd4c26035d6a/9_LISTO_MOLLENKOF016.JPG" data-mid="85277029" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/e4701abb919392f8574c283dbccd0f2f3c928e19ad4cc4f3c3f9bd4c26035d6a/9_LISTO_MOLLENKOF016.JPG" /> What are you now hoping to communicate with this imagery, and the future work you will do on the series? Women’s stories make up just 0.5 percent of recorded history. My hope for this work is to create space for other voices and legitimize experiences like mine. The U.S. has incredibly unfair family policy with the pressure of raising kids being put more on women. For us to begin to tackle these issues, we need space for women to talk about their experiences of pregnancy, birth and motherhood. <img width="2400" height="2400" width_o="2400" height_o="2400" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/7ea66fd151e66b7e3ae14af9f2705e4742d67e696422703c6a5bd6d9dacc4109/10_LISTO_MOLLENKOF018.JPG" data-mid="85280240" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/7ea66fd151e66b7e3ae14af9f2705e4742d67e696422703c6a5bd6d9dacc4109/10_LISTO_MOLLENKOF018.JPG" /> Visit Bethany’s website and Instagram.&nbsp; https://wearelisto.com/Adriana-Loureiro-Fernandez-Paraiso-Perdido Sun, 11 Oct 2020 18:53:13 +0000 LISTO https://wearelisto.com/Adriana-Loureiro-Fernandez-Paraiso-Perdido In conversation with Sara UrbaezEdited for length and clarity Adriana Loureiro Fernández: Paraíso Perdido <img width="2400" height="1600" width_o="2400" height_o="1600" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/c631468051f1634443d7da5c8606ad898f52eef3f1a8a5e5565667304755ca97/Adriana-Loureiro-Fernandez---Portfolio-2020---07.jpg" data-mid="85276802" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/c631468051f1634443d7da5c8606ad898f52eef3f1a8a5e5565667304755ca97/Adriana-Loureiro-Fernandez---Portfolio-2020---07.jpg" /> Where are you right now? Where are you from? I'm Venezuelan, which is where I'm based. I've lived here most of my life but I went to New York for postgraduate studies in 2017. I was born and raised in Caracas. <img width="2400" height="1600" width_o="2400" height_o="1600" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/2708952c1780ba7d72e29ed36bb258885c2e680421edc1e07f9ec3e474722566/Adriana-Loureiro-Fernandez---Portfolio-2020---25.jpg" data-mid="85276811" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/2708952c1780ba7d72e29ed36bb258885c2e680421edc1e07f9ec3e474722566/Adriana-Loureiro-Fernandez---Portfolio-2020---25.jpg" /> How does being from Venezuela inform the work that you do? How does that impact your photography? I was always seeing my country from an outsider’s eye on the news. I was always asking myself if I could identify my culture with all these things that I saw being put out into the world. Most of the time I did see my culture there. But then at some point, I think the circumstances were so overwhelming, that I had to become a part of it. When I was in college, I wanted to do advertising photography, but my reality became so overwhelming. Politics got in the way of everyone's life. Part of growing up in Venezuela means that you will eventually be in some form of protest — that was my generation's case. I didn't really see much of an option other than me actually being there and seeing things for myself. That's how it all began. At some point, I think a friend told me, "Ariana you're always photographing everything, why aren't you photographing this?" My first protest was over democracy and freedom of speech. I went there the next day with my camera and then I never stopped. That day, everything clicked — this is what I'm going to do now. <img width="2400" height="1600" width_o="2400" height_o="1600" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/509472e1931b9eecbee0b5bc66276d60110d27d9f01a0ea66d3c48d49a1de366/Adriana-Loureiro-Fernandez---Portfolio-2020---11.jpg" data-mid="85276803" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/509472e1931b9eecbee0b5bc66276d60110d27d9f01a0ea66d3c48d49a1de366/Adriana-Loureiro-Fernandez---Portfolio-2020---11.jpg" /> What do you think some of the narratives about Venezuela — especially in the news cycle — are missing? That's a tough question for me to answer. Before, I would say the subculture —&nbsp;the things that weren’t news but were a really strong part of our identity and our current affairs. Then the crisis became so bad that it dried out all of our culture. You need money for culture and arts — even if it's just a little bit, you need it. I had a lot of friends who were musicians and most of their instruments were eventually stolen. The music started to die out and artists who were friends of mine couldn't find jobs or couldn't afford instruments. Now the media is more interested in the in-between of the conflict and there's more space for that. It’s challenging — I know that sometimes my work is redundant, but it's a matter of persistently denouncing the really harsh realities that most people here live in until it stops, until it gets better. <img width="2400" height="1600" width_o="2400" height_o="1600" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/67ce18c1da1073a60c9632b38653fe4d2a9c152a67453c2461edaa9dce10bdbd/Adriana-Loureiro-Fernandez---Portfolio-2020---14.JPG" data-mid="85276805" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/67ce18c1da1073a60c9632b38653fe4d2a9c152a67453c2461edaa9dce10bdbd/Adriana-Loureiro-Fernandez---Portfolio-2020---14.JPG" /> What's so moving about your work to me — what adds a whole other layer to it — is that you're rooted there. You know your country, you know your place, you've seen it in all its different forms. Whereas that's really different than just a one-off photo in the newspaper — your whole body of work is a powerful homage to Venezuela. I think the value of life and our idea of what life is worth has been so transformed. Dying here is so easy and an everyday matter. With the years it's been really embedded in people's minds if they're here or not, no one cares. That's especially true for very poor people. They just get killed and the idea of justice is disappearing, if not completely gone. This is me trying to tell them that at least I'm here for them. As long as they want to talk to all of us and show all of us the really harsh realities that they're going through, I'm going to be there for them. That weighs on me — I need to do this, I can't be shy about it. At the end of last year, I put out a story with The New York Times about how Caracas is having this crazy uptick in spending money and wealth. When that story came out, a lot of subjects I have visited for years told me, "You can't keep doing this. Don't get distracted, this is still happening. We're dying here." Literally, people telling me, "We're dying here.” They're seeing their children die. That was very sobering — the entire experience refocused me to get back to the really critical stuff. <img width="2400" height="1600" width_o="2400" height_o="1600" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/8937898238479926dddc71ab0b5317cbae5e8988b93ad9e24dae2a6c821a37d2/Adriana-Loureiro-Fernandez---Portfolio-2020---02.jpg" data-mid="85276801" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/8937898238479926dddc71ab0b5317cbae5e8988b93ad9e24dae2a6c821a37d2/Adriana-Loureiro-Fernandez---Portfolio-2020---02.jpg" /> You were talking about your subjects. What kind of relationship do you have with some of the people you photograph? How have you built that over time? At the beginning, in “Paradise Lost,” which is my ongoing project here, a lot of them were my friends or friends of friends, people who I grew up with. But all of those people in images from 2014 and 2015 have left — they're not here anymore. When they left, I started to reach out more to my network and people I knew. I like to listen a lot and people find comfort in that. Most of the people in “Paradise Lost” are yearslong relationships, people I continue to visit monthly. Well, now, it's a little bit tougher because of the quarantine, but I'm still talking to them at least weekly just to check on them and see how they're doing. I think it's important here in countries like this because we do have a history of a lot of foreigners coming in and taking. <img width="2400" height="1600" width_o="2400" height_o="1600" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/c8daf169f567401f81b115ac3a31d5b7deb70190e498b944801e3736e36e30eb/Adriana-Loureiro-Fernandez---Portfolio-2020---18.JPG" data-mid="85276807" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/c8daf169f567401f81b115ac3a31d5b7deb70190e498b944801e3736e36e30eb/Adriana-Loureiro-Fernandez---Portfolio-2020---18.JPG" /> I can imagine, how your country’s suffering could be turned in an exploitiative opportunity for foreign photographers.&nbsp; Yes. I do think we all take as photographers and then have struggled with that, but I've had to come to terms with the idea and be honest with myself about it. My way of dealing, and maybe this is just me trying to make myself feel better. I don't know if it's working. I hope it is, but just letting them know that I genuinely care. I'm not there for photos, I care. I really care about their stories coming out. I really care that some of the things I witness don't go unnoticed. I think it's important that even though there's no justice here, it's important to build memory for the future, kind of a what-not-to-do guide for us. <img width="2400" height="1600" width_o="2400" height_o="1600" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/f50a51823fa1cb70797d22fd354b6d0cddc8569a03cff67696157d8b1c1e723c/Adriana-Loureiro-Fernandez---Portfolio-2020---24.jpg" data-mid="85276810" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/f50a51823fa1cb70797d22fd354b6d0cddc8569a03cff67696157d8b1c1e723c/Adriana-Loureiro-Fernandez---Portfolio-2020---24.jpg" /> The way people are photographed and shown, there's a real depth to it. For me, I'm so excited and just relieved to know that you have relationships with some of the people you photograph and you talk with them. I keep meeting people that remind me of my family. Just this week, I was photographing an extremely malnourished old woman. She reminded me of my grandmother so much. This kind of idea has taught me to be really respectful, but it's a thin line because you're photographing these extreme conditions and just horrible things. How do you touch upon those topics because you have to, they're important? How do you do that, respecting the humanity of the people in front of you, even though this is probably the worst time in their life? I have that reminder with me all the time. Even when I photograph outside of Venezuela, this could be your mom, your dad, your brother. Do it respectfully. Do it in a way that if it happened to your mother, you would feel okay with that. You empathize with them on a next-level — a lot of what they're suffering is what we're all suffering. Of course, there's levels to it. I'm super privileged, I know that, but there's some things that you can't escape, no matter the privilege. I still have issues with running water, but I need to be grateful. I have running water every day for at least a couple of hours, whereas I know communities that haven't had running water for literally years. In some of my work, it's almost like a self-portrait in many ways. Only that I'm not there, I'm just doing it to others, but it's I think a shared feeling and a shared experience in many ways. <img width="2400" height="1600" width_o="2400" height_o="1600" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/0f41a2b7dd3cb38f581c6a7557b8b2b20d0e9cc06b408f0cc2cbe4ab769135a7/Adriana-Loureiro-Fernandez---Portfolio-2020---20.jpg" data-mid="85276808" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/0f41a2b7dd3cb38f581c6a7557b8b2b20d0e9cc06b408f0cc2cbe4ab769135a7/Adriana-Loureiro-Fernandez---Portfolio-2020---20.jpg" /> It gives me chills. It's not separate. You're not removed from it. It's affecting every person.&nbsp; That's why I haven't ended that project — my idea is that the end to it is going to be the time when I can re-photograph all of these people in a better condition, one that's a little bit more normal. When that moment comes, I'll think my work is probably going to be done. So this a mission-based project. You're not giving up on it until these people are in a better place and you can show that. It's exactly it. <img width="2400" height="1600" width_o="2400" height_o="1600" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/8941af4cb10fb00703db1bf4fb30f5a9f99ba6df0fcaf20c744293e716deeee2/Adriana-Loureiro---Paraiso-Perdido-2020--25.JPG" data-mid="85276799" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/8941af4cb10fb00703db1bf4fb30f5a9f99ba6df0fcaf20c744293e716deeee2/Adriana-Loureiro---Paraiso-Perdido-2020--25.JPG" /> Having grown up there, do you feel nostalgia informs your work? Because I feel so immersed when I'm looking at your images and it feels so in the present moment. When you're creating the work, do you have nostalgia about different time periods in your country? That's a huge part. That's where the name came from. My generation grew up hearing, "This used to be a paradise, and we used to do this, and we used to do that." This is the image of our country that our parents chose to remember and hold onto, yet when I started to grow up, I couldn't find that place anywhere. I think my generation has a feeling we were robbed, like this place was stolen from us. With Paradise Lost, it's exactly that. It's trying to parallel our beauty, which is always here. We don't even have a winter. It's summer here all year round. We're in the Caribbean essentially. Food is still wonderful. I try to incorporate all these things that could make a perfect country and then juxtapose them with what we're actually living in, which is heartbreaking and very somber. I think the entire project is based on the idea of, “When is it that we get the opportunity to go back to this place? How do we earn it back? <img width="2400" height="1600" width_o="2400" height_o="1600" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/e213d435781a0f933f858b20267889260dfe0f54623d65cd4745325c1f5d4929/Adriana-Loureiro-Fernandez---Portfolio-2020---01.jpg" data-mid="85276800" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/e213d435781a0f933f858b20267889260dfe0f54623d65cd4745325c1f5d4929/Adriana-Loureiro-Fernandez---Portfolio-2020---01.jpg" /> Visit Adrianna’s website and Instagram.&nbsp; https://wearelisto.com/Melissa-Alcena-Portfolio-Overview Sun, 23 Aug 2020 16:20:23 +0000 LISTO https://wearelisto.com/Melissa-Alcena-Portfolio-Overview In conversation with Sara UrbaezEdited for length and clarity Melissa Alcena: Portfolio Overview <img width="828" height="1080" width_o="828" height_o="1080" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/db242310307f01bb83125c9539dea8a22ae201f1e3885ffd872842ab15d94ae7/Lincoln-and-Kai.jpg" data-mid="80632606" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/828/i/db242310307f01bb83125c9539dea8a22ae201f1e3885ffd872842ab15d94ae7/Lincoln-and-Kai.jpg" /> I want to start off by talking about your connection to the island of the Bahamas is this where you were born and grew up? I was born and raised here in Nassau, Bahamas. I didn't have a strong connection to my culture growing up. My family wasn’t super huge and all of us weren't that connected at that time, which was unusual for a Caribbean family, to be honest — but that's what my situation was. I didn't feel a connection to my country at all. Also, when your accent isn't as strong, there is this feeling: "Oh, you don't sound Bahamian. You're not one of us. You can't relate to us." I was introduced to photography early on through my father’s coffee table book. They were predominantly in all these different countries in Africa. I knew that whoever the photographers were — most likely white men — they were trying to bring attention to these different cultures, and I appreciated that at least. As a hobby, I would take pictures of people because I wanted to know their stories. A camera was a way of exploring that. <img width="2549" height="1700" width_o="2549" height_o="1700" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/9033b99fadcdeaf351629fd1d027ca65a83c4b42eca01ebbdb8ccebfe087cb7a/Goombay.jpg" data-mid="80632598" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/9033b99fadcdeaf351629fd1d027ca65a83c4b42eca01ebbdb8ccebfe087cb7a/Goombay.jpg" /> When did this shift happen for you where you became interested in learning about the beauty of your own culture? I took a photography course at a school in Canada. When my visa was up, I was in the process of applying for a new one, and I found out the protocol had changed. I was coming to grips with the realities of having to move back to the Bahamas. I didn't know what that meant for me because I had no connection there — I didn't feel like that was home. I was devastated. I was exploring myself as an artist, still learning about myself. I felt like I had work to do in Canada.&nbsp; I slowly started meeting people, being reintroduced to my culture through my photography. I started to learn the language of my people. I started to understand our culture a lot more, the dynamics, the politics. Before I was reacting, I wasn't engaging. Then I fell in love with my country.&nbsp; I talked to people about our different perspectives and classes — in this country, there's a lot of classism. When you meet someone, they ask who your people are. They'll ask your last name&nbsp;— it's the leftover from colonialism. We got our independence in the 70s — that's not too long ago. <img width="720" height="1080" width_o="720" height_o="1080" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/a1b893b3d3b002e5ee0c535a9ef90becdcdbfc4c970056f71b2700fed2c2b991/BJ-Horse-Standing.jpg" data-mid="80632587" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/720/i/a1b893b3d3b002e5ee0c535a9ef90becdcdbfc4c970056f71b2700fed2c2b991/BJ-Horse-Standing.jpg" /> <img width="720" height="1080" width_o="720" height_o="1080" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/7a748ef93c0c294e372a2749684091ae9de64d8b6429d36b699dfd27048e7031/Alcena_Marty2.jpg" data-mid="80632584" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/720/i/7a748ef93c0c294e372a2749684091ae9de64d8b6429d36b699dfd27048e7031/Alcena_Marty2.jpg" /> You talk about perspective. When I look at your work, there is a sense of wonder and a deep appreciation. I noticed how beautiful the skin tones look — there's so many different types of skin tone in your imagery. It’s not something I’ve seen in work documenting the islands. What do you want people to know about the Bahamas? Because I have never seen much of any representation of the island. There's not enough current documentation of the Bahamas at all. There's definitely a lot of older documentation when there was an interest in the 50s to the 70s. You had a lot of the “Life” magazine collection, things like that, the idyllic. What I noticed is a lot of the documentation that I've personally seen about the Bahamas has to do with the people who will take care of you while you're here. I don't see a lot imagery representing the actual person, it’s more of an outside perspective looking in. There are some Bahamian photographers who have collections and some of their grandkids — who are also into the visual arts — are bringing those back out. Other than family members' photos, you don't see Bahamians being photographed eye-to-eye, in a way that’s representing them, saying, "This is us.” <img width="720" height="1080" width_o="720" height_o="1080" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/6dffb6c96928a0211303aec802e69f502b0179e76b1a0f7128b563bdd9a03ebc/Sunday-Shape-up.jpg" data-mid="80632621" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/720/i/6dffb6c96928a0211303aec802e69f502b0179e76b1a0f7128b563bdd9a03ebc/Sunday-Shape-up.jpg" /> On a level playing field. Exactly. I am so against any images of Black people where the perspective is looking down on them. I avoid those angles. I never look down on a Black person in my images. To me, especially a Bahamian, when the person sees it, I'm already giving them a perspective of superiority over that person. You know what those images remind me of? Those Feed The Children commercials — and Africa is depicted as full of famine and poverty, these little children are covered in flies. and there's always images with a child looking up, saying “Help us.” <img width="5304" height="7952" width_o="5304" height_o="7952" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/a06ee8fe31e9fe6138ff82630edb23995c267aef23cd132e91a8cb306d9d2500/Fonzforwebsite.jpg" data-mid="80632590" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/a06ee8fe31e9fe6138ff82630edb23995c267aef23cd132e91a8cb306d9d2500/Fonzforwebsite.jpg" /> Yes, I agree. That's what is so pervasive. Do you think the way that you are treating skin tones and your attention to that is, in a way, also challenging stereotypes? First of all, if you want to talk about the history of skin tones and photography, film wasn't even invented to capture our complexions in all of their glory. There's so many shades to being a Black person. It wasn’t until the very last five years I’ve been able to get a foundation that matched my skin tone — I had to mix color. Prior to that, people would be lucky if you found three shades. When it comes to skin tones, I definitely pay attention. Personally, as a Black woman, I’ve struggled with my own complexion and trying to not only photograph that as correctly as possible. I did not grow up with an accurate representation of my complexion, anywhere. <img width="758" height="1080" width_o="758" height_o="1080" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/be63710702ec33230f24a1eeba7079ac21eda2a05de0a45afac5fc3c41d20285/Roston.jpg" data-mid="80632618" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/758/i/be63710702ec33230f24a1eeba7079ac21eda2a05de0a45afac5fc3c41d20285/Roston.jpg" /> There's so many nuances. There's so much complexity to our beautiful skin colors. There's so much going on — what do we have to do for people to realize that there's so much to the spectrum that is Blackness. I pay attention to that. I try to remember what my experience was with that person, what their complexion was. Sometimes, if I'm attracted to a person's darker tones, I may try to bring that out, because there's still a lot of colorism within the Black community — darker skin is not as celebrated as it should be. <img width="961" height="1120" width_o="961" height_o="1120" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/014375a4adfdbcaa2454c8d4cd9a800f0db551e664db03d92f1907fd1bf87228/Alexiou.jpg" data-mid="80632585" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/961/i/014375a4adfdbcaa2454c8d4cd9a800f0db551e664db03d92f1907fd1bf87228/Alexiou.jpg" /> Your portraits feel so intimate. It's interesting that these are not your immediate family members. I literally meet a lot of these people the first time — a lot of these images will be during a holiday weekend. Holiday weekends in the Bahamas are lots of people going to the beach, lots of traffic, lots of barbecues outside, lots of base music playing. I'll be looking around and observing, see somebody and the way they move themselves and how they present themselves, and I'm like, "Oh, my God." I'll know — I got to take a picture of that person. I start talking to them, ask them questions about themselves, hang out with them, and then when it's time to take a photo, after I've asked their permission, I've only got at this point maybe 10, sometimes 15 minutes to take their picture, because I've already spent this time annoying them with questions. <img width="812" height="1080" width_o="812" height_o="1080" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/aefd79d531e3933d74ab100bc415481424627db77a09a3135bcd8c1b746b7c92/ellie.jpg" data-mid="80632589" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/812/i/aefd79d531e3933d74ab100bc415481424627db77a09a3135bcd8c1b746b7c92/ellie.jpg" /> I love hearing about this because this is why I wanted to talk to you and feature this work on LISTO, because it is almost a documentary style approach, but it's very different from parachute journalism, or some outsider coming in and taking a picture quickly of someone. The work takes on different meaning because you are rooted there.&nbsp; Even when I approach people to take their photos, I don't carry my camera with me when I go to ask them, because that alone to me is the assumption that I am going to get a yes from them. It's psychological to me. If someone came up to me and there's a camera, I feel pressured because I have to act a certain way. I approach people the way that I would like to be respected as well. A lot of documentary photography is snap, snap, snap, but why can't we document people on their terms? There are communities in the Bahamas that are very historical — some are areas where slaves first settled in the Bahamas. There was a walk that the National Art Gallery did here where we went around in these communities. We had a well-versed historian walk with us and tell us about the history of these neighborhoods. People had cameras and phones with them, and they were taking pictures. I ended up on this woman's porch and I asked her permission to take her picture. She said, “I will only allow you to take my picture because you asked." I asked what she meant. She said, “We have so many tourists that come up in these areas looking around and taking pictures of us. I'm sitting on my porch, I have a bonnet on my head, my hair is not done, I'm enjoying my space, and they take my picture without my permission. I don't want to be represented that way." There's this aspect of being Caribbean and being Black — we take a lot of pride in our appearances and the way that we want to present ourselves, we adorn ourselves a lot. When you have people coming from a white gaze taking images of Black people on their porches without their permission— if you know if your granny didn't want to be photographed like that, why would you photograph that woman like that? <img width="720" height="1080" width_o="720" height_o="1080" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/e4f0bccbb3e4c77f1c79753a62000425f396c3466e75b9c7c8802a1a64cc111f/Shano.jpg" data-mid="80632620" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/720/i/e4f0bccbb3e4c77f1c79753a62000425f396c3466e75b9c7c8802a1a64cc111f/Shano.jpg" /> That entitlement of photographers entering a foreign space and treating it as though it is purely there for your entertainment, and for you to take whatever you want from it — is deeply problematic and colonial. If you're genuinely interested, talk to the person you are photographing and get to know their story. That's what we need more of in the photo industry. We need people to understand consent and permission, empathy, intention. What does it look like when you photograph people in a way that's meaningful — in a way that serves to honor them, their truth and their life, and is not voyeuristic? I have a problem when people go to other people's countries and they don't connect. If you are sent on an assignment and you get to live in another place for a few weeks and you try your best to meet people on a certain level and see what they're doing and understand what they're doing. That’s different. Then from there, you get these meaningful, beautiful portraits and I love that.&nbsp; <img width="1080" height="1619" width_o="1080" height_o="1619" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/824525179966e191fbf62bc5d43410873e2994e02545fcac55a3e69fd05918f6/BJfeel.jpg" data-mid="80632588" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/824525179966e191fbf62bc5d43410873e2994e02545fcac55a3e69fd05918f6/BJfeel.jpg" /> Visit Melissa’s website and Instagram.&nbsp; https://wearelisto.com/Juan-Brenner-Tonatiuh-New-Work Sat, 08 Aug 2020 17:21:07 +0000 LISTO https://wearelisto.com/Juan-Brenner-Tonatiuh-New-Work In conversation with Sara UrbaezEdited for length and clarity Juan Brenner: &nbsp;Portfolio Overview <img width="1971" height="2400" width_o="1971" height_o="2400" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/cc74f1b479544b36494383e30977475ba198ee9f53a9596f4eeb1413ea1013f2/1N.jpg" data-mid="79410287" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/cc74f1b479544b36494383e30977475ba198ee9f53a9596f4eeb1413ea1013f2/1N.jpg" /> I'm so excited to talk with you because I have been thinking about your work for some time and I'm just amazed by it,&nbsp; I feel transported to Guatemala. Has your photography always been connected to Guatemala? I started doing photography in the late 90s here in Guatemala, and I'm 42. I was really young when I started. I've always been inclined to street culture — skate, hip hop, electronic music. I knew I wanted to be an artist since I was like 12 years old — I just didn't know what I was going to do. I accidentally picked up a camera and started doing photography here in Guatemala. After a year or so, I knew I didn't want to be here — I didn't like what was going on here. I wanted to embark on an adventure. I had nothing to lose — I went to New York. One thing led to another and I became a fashion photographer — I was there for 10 years. So I was really into fashion photography, doing a lot, working a lot. The fashion scene, the parties and bad influences took over, so I came back to Guatemala. At first, I didn't want to do anything with photography — I focused on doing a bunch of different things and just creating. But it was inevitable that I would gravitate back to photography, through different clients from the studio to my photo books. I'm addicted to photo books — my partner and I started a collection of them, a little bit fashion oriented, but also contemporary photography. And then I'm like, “Who am I kidding? I need to shoot, I need to do something — a project.” <img width="1920" height="2400" width_o="1920" height_o="2400" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/ab53501dcd948e2d3f773578c4128547651a84766aae25f2e1ff0e94b956703a/2.jpg" data-mid="79410288" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/ab53501dcd948e2d3f773578c4128547651a84766aae25f2e1ff0e94b956703a/2.jpg" /> <img width="1920" height="2400" width_o="1920" height_o="2400" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/74dd2b93c45286bdab56101483f431d7a442760ed0abdf36d9a3ebb552bd6fb1/3.jpg" data-mid="79410289" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/74dd2b93c45286bdab56101483f431d7a442760ed0abdf36d9a3ebb552bd6fb1/3.jpg" /> What was the feeling like of returning, after wanting so badly to get away from where you come from? I ran away from Guatemala when I left. I didn't want anything to do with this place at all. I've always had bad blood with the whole Latin American photography concept. I don't like it. I'm a photographer, not a Latin American photographer. I happen to be from Latin America. No one talks about, “Oh, he's a European photographer.” Come on now. I understand why people did it, but at the time, I just didn’t want to — it was important for me to blend. I had to blend in, and I wanted people to see my work and be appreciative of it without knowing, without that factor. When I started thinking about what I was going to do in Guatemala, I knew that disconnection was a really important part of my formation. When you’re disconnected, you don't know anything about your history, you're ignorant because you wanted to blend in. You were successful at blending, learning the language, you were successful at being accepted. You just left all that behind, but the place where you are from — the territory — it is important. <img width="1946" height="2400" width_o="1946" height_o="2400" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/d28744ecd84e57edfef45195dc86c8264ec57996ca6b7ac06c9965b1e3f685e0/4.jpg" data-mid="79410290" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/d28744ecd84e57edfef45195dc86c8264ec57996ca6b7ac06c9965b1e3f685e0/4.jpg" /> I'm curious about the shift that happened once you were back in Guatemala. How did you start embracing your heritage?&nbsp; I really wanted to reconnect and I started to do very formal, investigative research on the conquest of the Americas. I decided that I was going to do this project and spend a lot of time talking, investigating, and dissecting the topic of conquest. It’s called Tōnatiuh. “Tōnatiuh” means the sun and that was how the pre-columbian inhabitants of the territory nicknamed Pedro the Alvarado, conqueror of Guatemala. For me, this project is really somber. It's a dark project, especially seeing the effects of globalization on Guatemala.&nbsp; I based my photography locations on the same path of the conquistadors from 500 years ago. There's so many details — the technology from this image above is from 3,000 years ago. With the mecapal, you put it on your forehead and you carry stuff. That's technology from 3,000 years ago that's still being used 500 years after the conquest. That's about 180 pounds that someone has to carry every day to have fuel and heat. <img width="2400" height="1920" width_o="2400" height_o="1920" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/fac8bc8e6304b23de0c51cb3ce8de9340b4f16acb5547c551524ebf7637d39d3/5.jpg" data-mid="79410291" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/fac8bc8e6304b23de0c51cb3ce8de9340b4f16acb5547c551524ebf7637d39d3/5.jpg" /> Where was this image taken? This is where the four lords of the K’iche empire were burned alive by the conquistadors — just weird things that happened here in Guatemala. <img width="1920" height="2400" width_o="1920" height_o="2400" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/8c080adf29d78f7cb67da450bdc3ffcb729365fbddee6833cabd39bdea438221/6.jpg" data-mid="79410292" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/8c080adf29d78f7cb67da450bdc3ffcb729365fbddee6833cabd39bdea438221/6.jpg" /> <img width="1920" height="2400" width_o="1920" height_o="2400" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/7b41051cdce9d86178a3f9413f8631df9e770953d65dc53b2e841ac61db91685/7.jpg" data-mid="79410693" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/7b41051cdce9d86178a3f9413f8631df9e770953d65dc53b2e841ac61db91685/7.jpg" /> I noticed a lot of teeth and emphasis on that in the imagery. Can you tell me a bit about that? One of the things I do in my practice is work around circular stories. What's going on with the gold teeth? 2,000 years ago, Mayan royalty started embellishing their teeth with jade, conch, and bone. The Mayan culture disappeared around 800, 900 years ago. The Spanish came in to conquer, destroy, genocide, death, slavery — colonization — maybe a hundred years ago. Suddenly, In the 20th century, a new economy started developing in&nbsp; the Highlands, and people started putting gold in their mouth again, just because they had the money. It's beautiful how history repeats. Now they have money and they put in the gold teeth — the thing that the Spaniards came to the Americas for. And sometimes I felt like I was hunting for gold while shooting the project. <img width="1920" height="2400" width_o="1920" height_o="2400" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/e136df837456a91fc5164b04ab01aa95b8243f0913ceeec41bca42bb79611870/8.jpg" data-mid="79410694" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/e136df837456a91fc5164b04ab01aa95b8243f0913ceeec41bca42bb79611870/8.jpg" /> <img width="1913" height="2400" width_o="1913" height_o="2400" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/ee4f452d0524217be9c8e30307a79184d553c4e921263e83468f980e0576c26e/9.jpg" data-mid="79410695" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/ee4f452d0524217be9c8e30307a79184d553c4e921263e83468f980e0576c26e/9.jpg" /> Some of the most moving imagery shows how materialism and labels sneak their way in. The labels are small details, but once you see them in the image, it completely takes over.&nbsp; It's just this post-colonial thing. I feel like Now the new invader is the American empire. The United States of America has reshaped our history — they started reshaping our history in the 40s, right after the second world war, when they started becoming scared about communism. They’ve reshaped our history in really bad ways.&nbsp; <img width="2400" height="3000" width_o="2400" height_o="3000" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/8d1bf26cf395cb9a468acf8173ea46bf328be946c0de9b75a62c5288d46eedb2/10.jpg" data-mid="79411555" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/8d1bf26cf395cb9a468acf8173ea46bf328be946c0de9b75a62c5288d46eedb2/10.jpg" /> For example, in this image, the young man is the first Catholic priest in his family, but his father is a Mayan priest priest — so this is insane. It's just so special for me. <img width="1921" height="2400" width_o="1921" height_o="2400" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/2ef3d1bb42380a8cb688b283149c83cc441cb0c78adbe8cbf0e2b656ddca57b2/14N.jpg" data-mid="79410700" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/2ef3d1bb42380a8cb688b283149c83cc441cb0c78adbe8cbf0e2b656ddca57b2/14N.jpg" /> <img width="1920" height="2400" width_o="1920" height_o="2400" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/09fb8f1626a74379c91c14a4b761e7027422052aa1aad42eb573ae8a1820d9fb/11N.jpg" data-mid="79410697" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/09fb8f1626a74379c91c14a4b761e7027422052aa1aad42eb573ae8a1820d9fb/11N.jpg" /> How is your new project and how it's different from the Tōnatiuh project?&nbsp; When I was shooting Tōnatiuh, I was in a really bad, dark place. I spent so much time investigating the conquest of Guatemala — all the information was so horrible, it was overwhelming. I was pissed off. That's why the book is really dark and somber, but at the same time, while I was making pictures, you see beautiful things happening. And one of the things I see is how the new generation is reshaping their own aesthetic, and how they are embracing globalization in their&nbsp;own way — it's so cool to see. <img width="1920" height="2400" width_o="1920" height_o="2400" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/97376599d3044a4a94a25e9bb0e103a561c6095ad17a1e247d64041771b9e069/12N.jpg" data-mid="79410698" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/97376599d3044a4a94a25e9bb0e103a561c6095ad17a1e247d64041771b9e069/12N.jpg" /> <img width="1920" height="2400" width_o="1920" height_o="2400" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/f20417128280d66eb4f949049e214928be079f3c1464acc94108115465be3160/15N.jpg" data-mid="79410701" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/f20417128280d66eb4f949049e214928be079f3c1464acc94108115465be3160/15N.jpg" /> The newer series has this spirit of revolt. It feels like a “fuck you.” It feels as though jewelry and different status symbols are being used in a proud and subversive way. It’s absolutely thrilling to me. What the colonists did and continue to do to us is horrible. That's what I want to talk about in my work. I also want to do it in a very blunt, stylish, digestible way. It's my obligation to show the other phase of the story, the next generation, but at the same time criticize and raise questions, because this is all very deep. The white man wants to have all of us under his boot. And that's what happened for the last 500 years. You have to understand that we were conquered and made slaves in our own land. This image of car rims was taken in the middle of nowhere in the mountains. The highlands have had a noticeable boom in economy in the last two decades, Money sent from USA, Agriculture and Religion are probably the 3 most important pillars of the economy, it's known that drug money is being laundered in many ways, and definitely thru those pillars, so I'm very carefully investigating and trying to understand how much of this boom is tied to illicit Cartel money. <img width="1920" height="2400" width_o="1920" height_o="2400" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/beba95c30336ccff5a709e27e504e7dd9a36922419044e54147f1a814575e476/16.jpg" data-mid="79410702" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/beba95c30336ccff5a709e27e504e7dd9a36922419044e54147f1a814575e476/16.jpg" /> Visit Juan’s website and Instagram.&nbsp;