For more than twenty-five years, photography has been both my refuge and my compass—an art form that has accompanied me through cycles of discovery and rediscovery. My path as an artist has not been linear. It has been interrupted by profound personal shifts, by periods of absence and return, yet photography has remained the thread I use to re-frame my connection with my homeland, Puerto Rico, and more recently with the broader landscapes of Latin America.

My work has always been shaped by a transient nature. Since childhood, my relationship with my country and my family was marked by long separations, followed by moments of intense reconnection. Each return to the island carried with it a sense of estrangement and rediscovery. I began photographing to hold onto what seemed to be disappearing: the house I grew up in, the presence of my grandmother, the landscapes weathered by time and memory. This impulse gave rise to Barceló #61, a series of images that explored decay and the fragility of remembrance. At the time, I saw the work as poetic documentation. But in retrospect, it was also the beginning of a shift—from photography as a means of preserving what was, to photography as a way of constructing what might endure.

Over the years, I have moved from documenting to staging, from observation to creation. The people and places of my past no longer asked simply to be recorded; they demanded a kind of immortality that could only be invented. Fiction, for me, became a form of truth. Today, I blend film lighting, digital technology, and traditional large-format photography to build visual narratives that hover between fact and imagination. My images have become stages where personal memory, psychological space, and cultural history intersect.

Living and working in Puerto Rico for the past decade has sharpened this exploration, pushing me toward a more conceptual language. My photographs now unfold as intimate vignettes—part portrait, part landscape, part dream. They are less about what is visible, and more about what lingers beneath: the psychological and mnemonic underworld that shapes our perception of place.

This inquiry has carried me beyond the Caribbean into South America, where I am developing Sur: A Journey Through Intangible Landscapes. This project is a continuation of questions first raised in El Espacio que Habito: How do people inhabit space? How do memory, history, and trauma inscribe themselves upon the landscapes we traverse? In Argentina, these questions are intensified by a history marked by rupture and resilience. While Sur does not focus explicitly on Argentina’s political past, the traces of the 1970s and 80s linger in the landscapes and in the lives of those I photograph. Each image becomes a fragment of a larger narrative, intertwining the personal with the collective.

Ultimately, my goal is to construct a personal mythology through photography—a visual language that is subjective, mysterious, and deeply human. My images invite viewers into a space where memory and psychology entwine, where landscapes are both real and imagined, where the past is continually reshaped in the act of looking. I am drawn to the gaps between what is remembered and what is lost, between presence and absence, between the concrete and the fictional.

Photography, for me, is not only about making images. It is about building a world—one that reflects the fractures and continuities of my own journey, but also resonates with a larger, shared experience.