I was always aware that I lived in a different country from an early age, even if I couldn’t articulate it or find the right adjectives or images to express it. Without access to other cultures beyond those permitted, I could sense that I was growing up in a society where concepts such as country, social dynamics, and logic no longer made sense.
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In my teens, I realized I needed a way to express my thoughts and desires. That’s when art entered my life—not as a choice, but as a necessity. It became a language to communicate, and even a way to embrace the turmoil in which I lived. I stopped asking why things happened and began to chronicle those questions with my camera. I learned to perceive Cuba as a canvas, and my first brush was an ancient Soviet camera.
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Later, I began to travel and live in other parts of the world, encountering different cultures. That vision through a lens—once my cry and my refuge—became an inseparable part of me. I document everything around me through the viewfinder, whether a naked body or a massive factory, from a desert to the heart of New York.
I define myself as a hunter, an eternalizer of moments that, through my lens, become stories.