Buscar estar perdida
Buscar estar perdida surge de un viaje al sur atravesado por la pérdida. Una publicación donde la fotografía y la poesía se cruzan para intentar decir algo cuando todo se vuelve ausencia.
Frente a lo inmenso solo me dejé atravesar. Conmigo en el fin del mundo, las palabras no siempre fueron suficientes y no todas las preguntas tuvieron respuestas. Pero fue ahí donde encontré el impulso y la fuerza para hacer Buscar estar perdida.
“Con más preguntas que respuestas me encaminé en la pérdida. Ya nada sería lo mismo, la vida se había teñido de ausencia. Tuve el leve impulso de juntar mis restos, los restos del sinsentido y partir.”
La naturaleza acompaña el duelo y la transformación espera al final del camino, porque todo es cíclico.
mi sangre también rebrota, esa sangre a la que todavía perteneces y en donde hoy te encuentro.
Creative process
Seeking to be lost was born from a trip south marked by grief. After an intense year and the loss of my father, which completely devastated me, I needed to leave the city, create some distance, escape for a while to find myself again. I was exhausted, full of questions, angry, and deeply sad. Like I was suspended in a bad dream. In that movement of fleeing and searching, my camera and notebook once again accompanied me, as always, my two ways of navigating life.
It was nature that brought me back down to earth. Faced with its immensity, I understood that life is built upon death. Upon returning from my trip and reviewing the photographs, images of fallen trees, exposed roots, and new shoots sprouting from what was dead emerged powerfully. Nature as a mirror, as a reminder of a cycle that persists even amidst the pain. That's when I knew I had something to say.
At the same time, I was going through an intense writing process in various workshops, as a form of catharsis and expression of what I couldn't find a name for. Texts born from the rawest anguish, from chaos, from the need to bring out what hurt. This intersection of images and words began to take shape and became the impetus for my first publication.
The process was long and complex. Self-publishing during a pandemic meant facing, for the first time, decisions about format, paper, printing, testing, errors, and frustrations. I wanted the materiality to reflect that emotional atmosphere: a rough, opaque, coarse paper that wouldn't make the images shine, that would bear the weight of the moment. I needed the medium to also speak of the pain.
Over time, the pain became collective. The publication began to circulate, responses arrived, echoes, shared stories. I understood that some of that grief found meaning in being transformed into an experience that could accompany others. Doing something with the pain, turning it into another form, into a tangible object, was profoundly healing.
Seeking to be lost marks a beginning for me. The start of a way of working, of seeing, and of presenting myself. A first step of exposure from the most intimate place, confronting fear, understanding that there, in that fragile space, lay enormous power. It was the starting point of a journey I continue to this day.
