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Categories / Documentary Portraiture /Tags / documentary photography / Latin America / Mexico / Portraiture / Click here to open comments section, click again when done to close / 3 Comments

3 Responses to “talent selected by abbas (magnum photos), day 1”

1. Nil, on January 1st, 2010 at 2:02 am Said:

   Haven’t we seen this before? :-)

2. Nil, on January 1st, 2010 at 2:03 am Said:

   Oops! Sorry… should have read everything before opening my big mouth… :-)

3. anka, on March 22nd, 2010 at 10:22 am Said:

   i enjoyed very much,the photos are very vivid and tells what it shows….

These are photos of distinct moments taken during several trips in my car in northern Mexico. At the time I was making a photo essay on the disappearance and murder of young women in Chihuahua, Mexico. Disgusted by the violence and appalled by the impunity of the perpetrators in my country, I began these journeys hoping to heal my fears and rediscover a love of photography.

These are excerpts from letters written in hotel rooms during my travels:

I'm lying in my bed: there is a black silence. I am naked, my whole body wet, wet sheets. Is it my sweat? Or my blood? I cannot move. Am I dead? Suddenly, the heat becomes unbearable. With an uncontrollable urge I jump out of bed and find myself in a hotel room in Juárez, Chihuahua, on the United States border, surrounded by a desert that many call "the Labyrinth of Silence."

I go to the bathroom; I look at my naked body reflected in the mirror. In my head I hear the words of the former governor of Chihuahua (1992-1998), Francisco Barrio Terrazas, “I was not surprised at all, the victims were walking in dark places, wore miniskirts and other provocative clothing”. “She was asking for it”. “It wouldn’t have happened if she had bought a longer skirt or stayed at home”. The answers given to the families of girls killed in the state during his tenure in office.

I shower, prepare my camera, my rolls. I have a strong feeling in my chest, oppression, the fucking impunity, pain. How can we continue living with this terrible pain?

It is not difficult to find terror in this city. The previous night, slept in a cheap hotel, just off the avenue. I got the last room. There was no light in the hallway; I hesitated to enter the room. I shut the door, put on the chain and fell asleep. At midnight, mixed dreams, I hear more and more sounds of steps leading to my door; I realize they are putting a key in the lock. I checked the phone and the operator. They open the door, struggle to break the chain. Scream!

I chatted with a school of witches at a party while passing a few days in San Luis Potosi, a small town in the desert, I spent two hours there. I return to the dusty village, alone, ask about the school of witches, they look at me suspiciously and deny the existence of witches. But everyone starts telling anecdotes of witches, their power, their evil, how they fly, how they suck the blood of children, until a man tells me, "I know one, do not tell her I told you where she lives. ... I could be cursed ".

They show me the way "when you reach a door with the flag of Mexico," I knock on the door, an old woman opens. She is making tortillas and quickly invites me in, gives me breakfast and tells me her life story. She lived alone on the outskirts of the village, she used to be in love but it was very hard. A woman different from the women in the village, independent, she enjoyed sex, had no children, strong, rebelled against the rules of the village. This kind of woman scares them; she cannot live inside the village where everyone is suspicious. I think her story and place in the village is similar to the prostitutes with whom she used to work.

Returning a week later, she opened the door, wearing a white dress with dirty stains on the back. She tells me that she had flown all night with the dead, was happy to see me because I had come to cure her; she had powerful visions in the water but was losing. For a moment in her kitchen she was speaking of her relationship with the dead when I felt a cold shiver throughout my body, she was dead, I said, she reassured me and convinced me that she was alive. After drinking tea we entered a room where she cures, makes her spells, I said I would like to take a portrait. The moment I was behind my camera, I looked at her and had no doubt that she was a witch. I understood what you give in exchange for working with the dead and that it was the beginning of a long journey.

Searching for witches that can heal, that reveal a destiny, that seek change, work with illusion, revenge and justice. Seeking salvation. Searching from behind my camera.