“Preheat the oven …”

My story doesn’t begin with a: ” At the first moment I touched a camera I knew it was a happily every after”. Actually, I couldn’t care less about photography. It was just something that existed, like Justin Bieber or purslane. 

The vintage selfie: camera with timer on table, pillow, glass, etc.

The first pictures I took were totally indifferent to the art of it. Just photos of me and my friends at our trips, parties, b-days. Simple snapshots without narrative or aesthetics, which only please those who appear on them.

I think it was until I flew over the ocean that I started to OBSERVE the world. I was fascinated by all I saw and I wanted to have it forever. My post-puberty life started to understand that everything comes to an end, and my nostalgic personality wasn’t agreeing with that. The buildings, my often visits to Musée D’Orsay (best place in the world for sure), sharp season changes I’ve never witnessed before, alien personalities and emotions, foreign smells and flavors and enjoying my solitude crossing Paris by foot … all those experiences took a hold of me, and I wanted to keep them forever.

Sacré Coeur seen from Musée D’Orsay.

Being alone in a country where Spanish or English were barely spoken, and surrounded by the famous Parisian rudeness (which is actually lovely), made me felt like an explorer in an urban Kilimanjaro. When I visited the place of my literary fantasies, it actually made me felt Edmon Dantes’ frustrations, made me obsessed with having it all forever, but how could I do that?

Château D’If: French prison located in a small island at Marseille. Became famous during the 17th century after the publication of Alexandre Dumas’ “The Count of Monte Cristo”.

When I came back to Mexico, I felt that same awakening and I started to observe my country as I observed the foreign. I felt new emotions and I knew something was cooking. I stopped writing (coming back to it now), so I needed a new way to share my vision of the world, with its ups and downs, but I didn’t know how. It wasn’t until years later at moments of total obscurity that the oven’s bell rang …

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