You have to keep shooting as often as you can to stay inspired. If you keep practicing photography, you’ll be able to get out of the rut and find inspiration and motivation.

Every time I hear that someone used to be vegan but gave up, I lose a bit more faith in humanity.

I observed how the music settled into people’s hearts and understood what the most compelling order was—so they wouldn’t let go of our hands and could move lightly and effortlessly through the journey of Corre y suelta a los perros.

You have to learn to fully live an experience, even while being far from love. Love is everywhere—perhaps in a more ephemeral form, but it is still love. The process is truly slow, and you have to enjoy it.

I have been working on visually documenting patron saint festivals, Day of the Dead traditions, and the lives of working women from different towns in Mexico City and its outskirts, accompanied by report-style texts for publication in media outlets.

I don’t have a conceptual approach to art. Almost provocatively, I would say I have no ideas. In reality, I try not to have any. I would like to simply make a image randomly, throwing pieces of paper onto a blank sheet.

I’m drawn to the collaborative nature of lifestyle, portrait and brand projects, and the process of developing ideas together. Turning an idea into visuals that evoke feelings and tell a story is what I find most fulfilling.

I love movement, discovery, and trying new things. As a photographer, I’m constantly working on different and diverse projects, which suits my personality perfectly.

In this series of paintings, I recreate family photographs and experiences from my childhood. I represent memories as something subjective, idealized, and gradually losing clarity over time.

I aim to create a personal archive that allows me to show—and show myself—a vast and diverse Mexico, through spontaneous stories that emerge from the simplest moments of life.

I enjoy shooting portraits in everyday environments, trying to convey the emotions the subject might feel, and I’m working on building this into a series.

In general, since I produce and create every detail myself, I’ve gotten used to not depending creatively on anyone. It’s something that’s hard for me to let go of, but I’m learning little by little.

I feel most like myself at sunset. I think sunset light is what attracts me most visually. The world around me becomes more vibrant and I feel more present. It’s my favorite time to take photos.

Landscapes are my jam. I have been lucky enough to source some legendary Kodak Aerochrome film in both 35mm and 120 formats. I have shot two test rolls so far, and plan to shoot more in the next few years.

I’ve spent years writing for myself about this topic: how different works of art (literature, film, photography, music, street art) have changed the narratives around violence in Mexico and have become vehicles for protest and memory.

I would love to exhibit my work in a solo show, and more than ever I’m thinking about how it could scale up and take on a different dimension. I dream of giant sculptures, inflatables, and murals.

Setting the frame, adjusting the light, listening to the quiet before pressing the shutter. It has given me the distance to see myself differently and to slowly learn to love and accept myself as a whole. These are moments when I feel aligned.

Unlike other albums, this one deals with topics that still hurt or worry us. The process was very fast, and the album reflects our lives, which never stop and are always changing. The songs are like that too.

I’ve felt out of place in moments when certainty dissolved. When projects shifted, relationships suddenly changed tone, and what I thought I understood no longer held.

Nació de la idea de un personaje que emprende una investigación en torno a un amigo de sus padres desaparecido hace muchos años. También nació de una curiosidad por reconstruir la historia del proyecto original de Ciudad Satélite. Y en cierto sentido también nació del hecho de que mi padre se estaba muriendo en Veracruz…

Durante la construcción visual y narrativa he logrado aprender a apreciar cómo el transporte público brinda un espacio de “no lugar”, donde se simula cierta renuncia a la identidad y solo se vive la espera.

The brief snow season we experience in Australia became a quiet way of thinking about the nature of temporary connections, including the one with the person I went on that road trip with, who I have since parted ways with.

The entire recording flowed as if every gesture we made had already been predetermined. I think it has been one of the most peaceful recordings of my life. Every stage of the album—mixing, design, and videos—felt completely natural.

My main project is motherhood. In the coming months, I hope to return to the ceramic project and refocus on developing editorial projects, which remain the central axis of my practice and the space where I most enjoy working.

Extrañamente, algo le dice que tiene que ir a donde está. Intentando perseguirla, se enfrenta a varios peligros que tiene que saltar y “volar” sobre ellos; tiene que dejar sus miedos, ver hacia atrás con amor y darse cuenta de lo efímero que es el pasado, para así ir con el viento, morir, y resurgir…

Even though I work on letting it go, there’s still some subconscious inner expectation that life can be like it used to be before the war. The expectation that life can be calm and consist only of positive moments. No anxiety, no worries—just a simple life.

I try to carry a camera with me to document my walks, the rhythms of the places I move through, the colors of everyday life, and the gestures of the ordinary that catch my attention. Added to this is the “discovery” of how everything expresses itself unpredictably when shooting with expired film.

I’ve always been fascinated by photographing abandoned or empty buildings, and over the course of my photography it has evolved from being very literal into something more nuanced (that’s not to say I don’t get super excited about abandoned buildings, because I definitely do).

As in a haiku, the content of a photograph is minimal. We don’t know the context, the smell, or the circumstances that led to the creation of the image. As viewers, it’s up to us to fill in that information.

Sometimes a good photograph appears when I stop looking for it so desperately. I’ve also learned that I don’t always have to be creating something new to feel like I’m moving forward.