Through the lens, I am reclaiming the camera to tell stories from a queer and brown perspective. I call this practice the Brown Gaze. It disrupts the consumption of bodies and conquering of territory and allows for an openness to what wants to be seen.
Where were you born and raised?
I was born in Boyle Heights/East Los Angeles, but my teen years were spent in Tampa, FL. Moving to a white suburb and attending majority-white schools was difficult and confusing. I often questioned who I was and felt caught between cultures and class. My sense of self was in conflict because my being queer and brown was othered.
What called you to photography?
The first images that changed my life were war and documentary photography. There was so much pain in people’s faces I felt they were communicating with me. I could understand something that was not in my world. My family life was unstable and there was not always space for my feelings. Through photography it was possible to have a range of emotions, since it was not my life, it was safe. I learned empathy through photography.
What is something unique to your art practice?
The film camera I use is from 1954, it is not equipped with a light meter or able to focus. I cannot force the camera to do what it is not capable of doing. Because of this, I must slow down and open myself to what wants to be photographed. This practice also informs my digital work.
Most of the time I’m photographing the outsiders of an already marginalized group. I collaborate with sex workers, the undocumented, punks, and the trans community. There’s a lot of violence and not feeling safe around queer BIPOC bodies. I asked myself how do I navigate the work without further exploiting my community. I decided to meet them where they are. If people are in the pit, I’m jumping in the pit. If people are hanging out in an alley or under bridges so am I. I am not trying to master my surroundings or make myself distant, it’s collaborative and personal.
Through the lens, I am reclaiming the camera to tell stories from a queer and brown perspective. I call this practice the Brown Gaze. It disrupts the consumption of bodies and conquering of territory and allows for an openness to what wants to be seen. Through the Brown Gaze, my photography practice is in collaboration with others and a part of a larger emancipatory strategy of centering and humanizing QTPOC lives. It's not only my work but a joint communication with people or the land, a spiritual practice.
Who are some of your influences, artist or otherwise?
I find anyone who stands in their truth inspiring.
During my teens, I was obsessed with the Surrealists, especially Man Ray and Claude Cahun. As my practice grew, I became interested in Minor White, Ana Mendieta, and Belkis Ayón. The first time I saw and heard about Laura Aguilar was at her retrospective, Show and Tell. I cried, it was the first time I saw myself not only on the walls but as the maker of images.
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