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Back in July, Covid numbers were exploding in Barcelona and there was talks of a new lockdown so I got on my bike and escaped the city by myself for a week. I hadn’t really seen nature nature in like… 7 months, so I couldn’t help but film all the plants I saw. Then in December, the procrastination queen that I am finally got around to editing all that footage for a ‘diaporama’ contest. It didn’t make the cut, what else is new, but I had lots of fun doing it, including spending 48h holed up working on it. Time flew. Afterwards, I didn’t post it anywhere because I had recorded audio in French (it was a French contest) and I thought I’d re-record it in English to post it, but after a month of looking for something smart(er) or insightful to say, I had nothing. But then I realized I have this slight rejection of my maternal language. I mean, I enjoy the times when I get to speak it but I almost never use it in my work or to speak about something personal…
So here it is, a video of flowers, with ramblings in French that maybe 5 people will get but who cares, everyone says French is gorgeous…

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De estos momentos que te recuerdan, para lxs como yo que a veces lo olvidan, por qué amas la foto. Hay gente que lleva su cámara siempre o incluso toman todo con su celular pero yo no, y a veces me hace sentir culpable o que no soy una fotógrafa de verdad, pero es que ya todo se ha vuelto en que tiene que ser un proyecto, pensado, elaborado... Y de repente alguien te hace levantar temprano un domingo para tomarle fotos y estás ahí en el MACBA mientras los skaters llegan y el sol transforma su pared blanca en un especie de flash, y esta alegría vuelve, podrías estar horas como niñx ahí 🖤 . . . #skate #skating #barcelona #macba #patinete @girlsshred @thrashermag @fisheyelemag #35mm #flashazo #intheair #yvolo #skateboarders #girlsskate #skateboarding #myfeatureshoot @c41magazine @rocketsciencemagazine #burnmagazine #gupmagazine (at MACBA Museu d'Art Contemporani de Barcelona) https://www.instagram.com/p/CIyTmuFjJSY/?igshid=1lzrmlnmxm68

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Back in the summer there was an open call themed ‘proud’. I wanted to enter with a thing about how we experience queerness in every inch of our body, that it so much more than what we’ve been told all our lives i.e. just who we fuck, that we experience it in how we see the world, in how we hear certain words, in how we do our hair, in how we walk… I never applied but today I saw a post about famous lesbian lovers being described as friends and thought I’d see this through. // There are still people, queer and straight, who think that sexuality is just one private aspect of a person’s life that doesn’t and shouldn’t impact who they are as a person, and 15 years ago, I thought that too, but that is so misguided… How can we have been sold this lie when that “tiny private aspect” of your life can get you assaulted, raped, killed, disowned by your family… and taking it down a notch, when it probably made you feel abnormal as a kid, when you think twice before talking about your weekend, when every new person you meet is a new coming out. Lots of consequences for something so small, no? // I am lucky af. I’ve not been/yet to be beaten up for who I am. But I’ve also *hidden* that part more times than I can count. And yet, I’ve also experienced being looked at like a zoo animal, been told I was causing psychological harm to children, asked, in my previous life as a lawyer, if I ‘had to be so gay’ because some firms would probably not hire me, been asked what lesbians do in bed countless times, had to move out of an apartment after I was told my ‘existence’ was bothersome (see the coping mechanisms? I almost forgot that last one was homophobia). // If you don’t think this tiny range of experiences impacts you in ways that go way beyond your sexuality… Think again, and embrace it because, to me, that is *specifically* the most beautiful part of being queer. That it basically gives you a pair of glasses to see the world differently, why would you not want to? I think I’m a better human for being queer. I would hate so much to be one of those politicians that push actively anti-LGBTQIA agendas only to get caught red-dicked at a gay orgy… It’s just sad. https://www.instagram.com/p/CIqMP71j_ed/?igshid=1dd9y2jvx8z8k

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Back in the summer there was an open call themed ‘proud’. I wanted to enter with a thing about how we experience queerness in every inch of our body, that it so much more than what we’ve been told all our lives i.e. just who we fuck, that we experience it in how we see the world, in how we hear certain words, in how we do our hair, in how we walk… I never applied but today I saw a post about famous lesbian lovers being described as friends and thought I’d see this through. // There are still people, queer and straight, who think that sexuality is just one private aspect of a person’s life that doesn’t and shouldn’t impact who they are as a person, and 15 years ago, I thought that too, but that is so misguided… How can we have been sold this lie when that “tiny private aspect” of your life can get you assaulted, raped, killed, disowned by your family… and taking it down a notch, when it probably made you feel abnormal as a kid, when you think twice before talking about your weekend, when every new person you meet is a new coming out. Lots of consequences for something so small, no? // I am lucky af. I’ve not been/yet to be beaten up for who I am. But I’ve also *hidden* that part more times than I can count. And yet, I’ve also experienced being looked at like a zoo animal, been told I was causing psychological harm to children, asked, in my previous life as a lawyer, if I ‘had to be so gay’ because some firms would probably not hire me, been asked what lesbians do in bed countless times, had to move out of an apartment after I was told my ‘existence’ was bothersome (see the coping mechanisms? I almost forgot that last one was homophobia). // If you don’t think this tiny range of experiences impacts you in ways that go way beyond your sexuality… Think again, and embrace it because, to me, that is *specifically* the most beautiful part of being queer. That it basically gives you a pair of glasses to see the world differently, why would you not want to? I think I’m a better human for being queer. I would hate so much to be one of those politicians that push actively anti-LGBTQIA agendas only to get caught red-dicked at a gay orgy… It’s just sad. https://www.instagram.com/p/CIoMznPjPh0/?igshid=wv682wulvbl7

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Hace una semana, en España se celebró el ‘día de la hispanidad’ para festejar como Colón inició siglos de masacres y destrucciones de pueblos y culturas… o, en versión más aceptable, ‘descubrió America’. Celebrarlo en el país que hizo su fortuna con esta pulverización de una parte de la humanidad, vale, los ’ganadores’ escriben sur mitos, pero que se festeje también por todo el continente ‘descubierto’ me parece otro nivel de fucked up.

Descubrí ese festejo hace unos años, pues en Francia no se celebra –no porque consideramos que no se debería celebrar sino porque todo nuestros intentos de acapararnos de algo allá fueron fallos. Al parecer existe un día de la francofonía pero nada que ver – a Francia le gusta esconder su pasado bajo tapetes. Me encantaría volver a leer mis libros de Historia del colegio.

Estos libros han manufacturado una Historia sencilla, en paquetitos aíslados, fácil de tragar para lxs niñxs, quienes luego se convierten en adultos que piensan que eso pasó hace mucho ya se resolvió la colonización se acabó el racismo. Pero hay que hilar los fragmentos y entender el mundo de hoy como consecuencia del de ayer. La inestabilidad política, los experimentos con la democracia que eeuu lleva decenas haciendo, el racismo ubicuo… Todo parte de ahí… No se habla el español por ser más bello, sino porque una cultura, generación tras generación, destruyó a muchas otras.

Pero la destrucción completa no se logró, thank fucking g*d. Y ahí voy con este post que ya no sirve para ser ‘news’. Música. La manera de moverse y expresarse con ritmos y bailes. Te paras ahí y en unos minutos los golpes sobre los tambores resuenan en tu pecho, la flauta te da piel de gallina. Y entiendes mejor que con cualquier libro. Que se reescriba la Historia y que se cante cada día más fuerte.

Esto texto no tiene mucho punto más allá de ser el stream of consciousness de una chica que tiene raíces tunecinas pero pasó su infancia explicándole a la gente que, aunque su padre había nacido ahí, como en aquel momento Túnez pertenecía a Francia, pues era francesa.

De la negación insidiosa de las identidades como practica colonial, post-colonial y de la hegemonía blanca.

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I just had this dream about this guy I lived with for a couple of weeks this year. In the dream we we’re already not cohabitating well and he came to my room to inquire about the fact that I was using his Nutella. No he didn’t come to my room he came from behind and hugged me you know like one does affectionately except I didn’t know this guy and he’d already been weird so I made this weird humph scream sound. His girlfriend was next to him and he asked about it and I said I didn’t like Nutella, as proof I could show this jar I had and hadn’t touched in a year, but he kept asking… I turned to his girlfriend and gave her an imploring look, she held my hand and she somewhat tried to calm him down to no avail, and I just kept asking ‘but why do you say that why do you say that’, because it was so completely unfair and baseless. And now I don’t know if in the time it took me to write this I forgot what happened after or I actually woke up but I awoke in sorts of spasms of tears. I lived with this guy for 2 weeks. After the first week his gf went out of the city for a bit. In that time the girl I was seeing then came over twice. The bed was extremely noisy. He got angry banged the walls and threatened to call the cops on me. The day before I decided to leave the flat, he threatened with killing me and told me my existence bothered him, among a slew of fuckoffs and bitches. This last outburst had started over a knife I had left in the sink. I slept with a table against my bedroom door. Nothing did happen. This tiny experience is nothing compared to people who get beaten up raped killed every day for not fitting into gender or sexual orientation norms, but still it isn’t nothing either. We are just so used to it we dismiss it. I dreamt this today, early September, the events occurred in March. It’s nothing. But also it’s not.

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Les Baigneurs (1/3) . Mañana es septiembre. Se acabó el verano. Como para confirmárnoslo, llovió en Barcelona este finde, por primera vez en meses. Normalmente la lluvia me deprime, pero aquella, con su brisa fresquita, perforó las nubes que llevaban días aplastándonos con el peso de su humedad, y fue más que bienvenida. . . . #fornells #doijump #shyboy #lamer #cebleu #pourtour méditerranéen #mediterranee #dreamermagazine #subjectivelyobjective #somewheremagazine #nowness @natgeo #fisheyelemag (at Fornells) https://www.instagram.com/p/CEj3vEuDW9p/?igshid=164mo5eof1l1s

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Les Baigneurs (2/3) . Hace justo un mes, me subí a mi bici y sali pal’ norte en búsqueda de un mar más azul, menos poblado, más salvaje. Saltando de cala en cala me topaba con otros cazadores de soledad como yo. Familias con niños menos convencidxs que los padres, parejas queriendo estar tranquilas, abuelas que, quiero pensar, han venido toda la vida a tal o tal lugar. . . . #calasalguer #lesbaigneurs #hommageacezanne #foamagazine #broadmag #forevermagazine #rocketscience #burnmagazine @womenphotograph @girlgaze @loeildelaphotographie @rocketsciencemagazine (at Cala De S'alguer) https://www.instagram.com/p/CEj3VZzjrU_/?igshid=rt9ojxnd5cp5

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Les Baigneurs (3/3) . Mi cámara me ha hecho acercar a tantas personas que nunca hubiera conocido si no fuera por esta excusa, pero aún así, todavía me sirve de escudo – si miro por el visor, me vuelvo invisible. O no, por eso mi colección tan impresionante de espaldas, que dice tanto de mí como de la gente a quien le robé una parte de ellxs que les es invisible. . . . #caladelpi #costabrava #50mm #hideandseek #lesbaigneurs #peinture #youngtalent #oftheafternoon #ifyouleave #rentalmag #gupmagazine #dazedandexposed @fisheyelemag @polkamagazine #c41magazine #girlgaze (at Palafrugell) https://www.instagram.com/p/CEj25BajQZs/?igshid=z4u5xj70wbwc

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god you’re hot

that’s it that’s the tweet. I know it’s not a tweet. and that’s not just it. i have no idea how i feel about you, like, it’s not a gimmick, i really don’t know. i know i’m not in love with you, i think i know i like you but i’m not even really sure cause i don’t know how much of you i actually know. i know you make me laugh – well it makes me laugh to hear your stories. i know i like that maybe you like me a little because never in a million years would i ever think a girl as beautiful as you could find me attractive. so i think the teenager in me definitely likes you, might even be hopelessly in love with you. but i’m not, thank god, cause it would be creepy and you’d probably break my heart. i like seeing you. i like it a lot when we touch hands as if we didn’t know how to do more than that but we both do so why don’t we... i don’t know but i like it, i think it’s sexier than a lot of actual all the way sex i’ve had. i like when i get a message from you and i like when you say you want to see me. but i don’t like when afterwards you diss me, i’m not after you so why. i like your lips. i like that one memory when we went to the beach and we kissed and i had no idea what to do because this is all so strange and i like that you did something. i would like to think i like we have this bond but then i think maybe not. i went to that beach again for the first time last week. i like your skin. i like that you’re queer. i like that you’re gorgeous and shy and completely insecure, it gives perspective. i like that i’ve met you. i think i like that i like you. i like that when i was so down you were the one person that made me forget i was down, because i didn’t have to tell you about why i was down, i would just laugh at the stuff you’d tell me. i like that this thing doesn’t make sense. i like that wow we met more than a year ago and... i guess i just like that i know you. what’s the difference between that and just liking you? i’m not sure but i’m sure there’s one. 

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Le Train de la Plage (especie de homenaje a Paul Fusco) // A este tren nadie lo mira. En su recorrido hay un tramo pegado a la playa – es más, se comió la arena para pegarse al mar. El fin de semana, mientras el tren vuela por las vías saladas, los pasajeros pueden ver su futuro del otro lado del cristal, tan cerca que las playas nudistas no dejan nada para la imaginación. ¿Por qué tan cerca, fue para favorecer el boom del turismo de masa? Resulta que no, que estos raíles tienen casi dos siglos, fueron el segundo tren de España – el primero salió de La Habana, que en este momento ‘era española’… las cosas que unx aprende. El tren de RFK que fotografió Fusco fue excepcional, una ocasión única. Estos vagones de la línea R1 son lo mas trivial y normal del m… *os recordamos que la mascarilla es obligatoria*… ¿Qué decíamos? La trivial normalidad. Pero aquella nueva, que aquí en verano viene con miedo derretido. Te tiras al agua, y tiras la máscara, la paranoia, tu consciencia, tu voluntad, tu alegría… El mar lo cura todo. ¿Cómo no? . . . @fisheyelemag @polkamagazine @womenphotograph @girlgaze @thejournal_collective @c41magazine @rocketsciencemagazine @burnmagazine #broadmag #subjectivelyobjective #costabrava #tren #rodalies #catalunya #surlesrails #paulfusco #pontelamascarilla #covid (at Costa Brava, Spain) https://www.instagram.com/p/CDwT5AWjPXW/?igshid=1fytb7d6dv1ai

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I called this video break because I inserted so many glass breaking sounds in it... but I think I also liked the ambiguity or rather the multiple acceptions of this word. It’s a pause. It’s a separation. It’s a meltdown. It’s a nice time. I filmed this literally a week after dislocating my shoulder and I edited it in lockdown. Filmed broken, edited on a break.

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la calle puede hacer todos los ruidos que quiera,

los coches pasar, los perros ladrar,

la gente gritar, las motos acelerar,

los camiones pitar, los timbres sonar,

nunca logran tapar el lamento lancinante

del odio que me tengo, de lo inútil que mi cerebro me afirma que soy, de lo invisible que me siento, de lo mucho que no importo, para nadie, nada, nunca.

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Portrait of a Bored Photographer

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