Permanence | POY Latam

Escaping violent relationships in my parents’ home, I grew up with my maternal grandmother Clemencia, an ultra-Catholic woman. Little by little, through photography and the body, I built a space in which my grandmother unraveled the teachings of submission, violence, and machismo to which she was subjected for years; she appropriates her body, attempts to reconfigure her identity, and transforms mine.
Escaping violent relationships in my parents’ home, I grew up with my maternal grandmother Clemencia, an ultra-Catholic woman. Little by little, through photography and the body, I built a space in which my grandmother unraveled the teachings of submission, violence, and machismo to which she was subjected for years; she appropriates her body, attempts to reconfigure her identity, and transforms mine.
Escaping violent relationships in my parents’ home, I grew up with my maternal grandmother Clemencia, an ultra-Catholic woman. Little by little, through photography and the body, I built a space in which my grandmother unraveled the teachings of submission, violence, and machismo to which she was subjected for years; she appropriates her body, attempts to reconfigure her identity, and transforms mine.
Escaping violent relationships in my parents’ home, I grew up with my maternal grandmother Clemencia, an ultra-Catholic woman. Little by little, through photography and the body, I built a space in which my grandmother unraveled the teachings of submission, violence, and machismo to which she was subjected for years; she appropriates her body, attempts to reconfigure her identity, and transforms mine.
Escaping violent relationships in my parents’ home, I grew up with my maternal grandmother Clemencia, an ultra-Catholic woman. Little by little, through photography and the body, I built a space in which my grandmother unraveled the teachings of submission, violence, and machismo to which she was subjected for years; she appropriates her body, attempts to reconfigure her identity, and transforms mine.
Escaping violent relationships in my parents’ home, I grew up with my maternal grandmother Clemencia, an ultra-Catholic woman. Little by little, through photography and the body, I built a space in which my grandmother unraveled the teachings of submission, violence, and machismo to which she was subjected for years; she appropriates her body, attempts to reconfigure her identity, and transforms mine.
Escaping violent relationships in my parents’ home, I grew up with my maternal grandmother Clemencia, an ultra-Catholic woman. Little by little, through photography and the body, I built a space in which my grandmother unraveled the teachings of submission, violence, and machismo to which she was subjected for years; she appropriates her body, attempts to reconfigure her identity, and transforms mine.
Escaping violent relationships in my parents’ home, I grew up with my maternal grandmother Clemencia, an ultra-Catholic woman. Little by little, through photography and the body, I built a space in which my grandmother unraveled the teachings of submission, violence, and machismo to which she was subjected for years; she appropriates her body, attempts to reconfigure her identity, and transforms mine.
Escaping violent relationships in my parents’ home, I grew up with my maternal grandmother Clemencia, an ultra-Catholic woman. Little by little, through photography and the body, I built a space in which my grandmother unraveled the teachings of submission, violence, and machismo to which she was subjected for years; she appropriates her body, attempts to reconfigure her identity, and transforms mine.
Escaping violent relationships in my parents’ home, I grew up with my maternal grandmother Clemencia, an ultra-Catholic woman. Little by little, through photography and the body, I built a space in which my grandmother unraveled the teachings of submission, violence, and machismo to which she was subjected for years; she appropriates her body, attempts to reconfigure her identity, and transforms mine.

Escaping violent relationships in my parents’ home, I grew up with my maternal grandmother Clemencia, an ultra-Catholic woman. Little by little, through photography and the body, I built a space in which my grandmother unraveled the teachings of submission, violence, and machismo to which she was subjected for years; she appropriates her body, attempts to reconfigure her identity, and transforms mine. Helping me to build a present far removed from violence. The act of photography becomes a terrain where, through play and complicity, our deepest desires are condensed.

These fragments are nothing more than a reminder of how we save each other in the hostile present, opening up a universal space to reflect on the complexity of the human condition and to realize the capacity of photography to rewrite our stories.