WHO?
If the question “who” refers to who I am, I think I am a good friend, an acceptable partner, and not an entirely clumsy father.
I drag myself through the world in astonishment, using an artifact called a camera that helps me navigate this curious and strange life, which, as Foster Wallace would say, is “supposedly fun but I’ll never do again.”
WHAT?
My work speaks of the incredible resilience, both physical and emotional, of our species. In this resilience, paradoxically, lies the tragedy of being human. Where other species give up, we are able to hold on a little longer.
But I look for that resilience not in exceptional situations but in daily life; my photos speak of the destruction of a catastrophe in which we have settled as a species.
WHERE?
I always play at home, the Iberian Peninsula.
Like all artists, I try to find a personal voice, and probably because I studied science at university—specifically biology—I feel comfortable speaking about things I can understand.
That’s why I take photos of my own culture, people, and landscapes. I need to have a physical connection with the landscapes and an emotional connection with the people.
Being part of this reality helps me be more critical and delve deeper into Spanish culture.
WHEN?
When? Always! Photography is simply a way to capture a way of seeing the world that never leaves me. But if you’re asking when I use the camera, I’ll tell you that every Sunday, at noon, you’ll find me in the Carrefour parking lot, when the supermarket is closed, photographing the emptiness that contains us. And from Easter to the end of June, I travel across Spain in my van, photographing with my Cambo Wide analog camera, while I reflect on how our existence is framed between the highly improbable event of birth and the inevitable event of death.
From this perspective, as Lou Reed would say, every second of life is a Perfect Day.
WHY?
Photography is a state of mind that I cannot renounce.
Photography allows me to experience an intellectual pleasure; it enables me to observe the complexity of our species.
It allows me to be alone, to wander, and to remain in a state of contemplation that sometimes frees me from the need to be the protagonist of my own life.
And that is a great liberation.
