Minimalist Photography
Walden 7. En busca de un proyecto
Sant Just Desvern, 2019
March 26th, 2019. A sunny, warm day. Twenty minutes on the road to Sant Just Desvern to find something, something yet undefined.
A concrete labyrinth filled with reds and yellow details, just like the sun that day. The impression of a whole standing against the everyday life around it.
In search of a project. Geometries, colors, shapes. Lights that create harmony. Shadows that wouldn’t exist without this container.
In this space, the temperature drops as you walk in, the feet are cold now. And pleasantly, the color blue appears. Turquoise blue as the Mediterranean Sea.
People inhabiting what escapes the eye; their routines, their morning, afternoon and night walks. My lens seeking that line that says everything with the most exquisite subtlety.
In search of a project. The light. The conquest of form across those sixteen stories. Over 31,000 square meters holding endless possibilities to be found.
A fascinating vertical journey where, on every floor, my lens becomes obsessed with the same fragment of space, where textures and colors transform unexpectedly.
Shot by shot, a beautiful intuition of capturing something. Among countless frames, the language with them is simple. It is subtle. It is natural. A visceral communication.
Nine characters –vertical, like the journey itself– compose this project, unknown until this moment.
Original text by Alejandra Molina
warna-warni
Indonesia, 2018
Choosing a title for this series was easy. These photos were taken during a trip to the Indonesian islands of Bali, Lombok, and the Gilis. I knew I wanted the name to evoke color above all. It’s everywhere, from the coral reefs full of underwater life in all kinds of shapes, colors, and textures, to the surface, where the sea shifts from deep blue to bright turquoise, the trees come in endless shades of green, and the flowers bloom in rich, saturated tones. The houses reflect this same joy, painted in bold colors, as do the local crafts, temple walls, and daily Hindu offerings in Bali. Color is constant, and it brings a smile, whether you’re walking or diving, through every corner of these islands.
warna-warni means colorful in Indonesian, and it’s the word that best captures this selection: twelve simple and joyful moments lived across these islands.
Double Exposure Portraits
Various locations, 2016 - ongoing
A series of double exposure portraits and self-portraits taken with a Fuji Instax. Each frame merges a person with their surroundings, blending body and context into a single image. These layered compositions explore identity, presence, and place, with a quiet tension between intimacy and abstraction.
A Relaxed Mind
Various locations, 2014 - ongoing
There’s an obsession I have with swimming pools: they feel hypnotic, impossible not to photograph. The calm that surrounds them and the movement of the water at once. How sunlight creates endless reflections and shifting shadows. From a single pool, hundreds of different images can emerge. This is a selection of my favorite ones.
Double Exposures
Various locations, 2015 - ongoing
Double exposures captured with a Fuji Instax, layering two perspectives of the same place or fragments of different scenes. A way to merge space, texture and memory into a single frame.
Oaxaca
Oaxaca, México. 2022
These photographs were taken during an artistic residency in Oaxaca. Some served as visual references for the small weavings I created, capturing color palettes, patterns, and the geometry of local façades. Others are fragments of the city itself: its food, textures, vegetation, and everyday details. Oaxaca is a place overflowing with culture, tradition, and visual richness, and this series is a quiet record of how I experienced it.
El último verano en Tongoy
Tongoy, Chile. 2015
The last summer in Tongoy is a personal project.
When I was a little girl, I used to spend the summer vacations in Tongoy, a small coastal town located around 400 km. north of Santiago de Chile, and one of my favorite moments during those warm days was to wait for sunset to visit the fair with my family. My parents took my siblings and I there, with our noses smeared in shining Nivea lotion, and watch us scream and laugh in equal measures from the roller coaster or the Ferris wheel ride. It was a moment of us five, my family circle.
On 2015 we went back, it was emotional to revisit the attractions that I used to ride and that made me scream and laugh with a mix of pure joy and a hint of fear. I was no longer eight years old but they, well they were just as I had left them tucked away in my childhood memories from the 80s. This time, the five of us watched my nephews shout while enjoying the same old rusty friends.
Six months later, a strong earthquake and tsunami lashed the area destroying the majority of the attractions.
These are images of the last summer I spent in Tongoy, which also became the last one for my childhood rides.
Standalone
Various locations, 2011 - ongoing
A collection of standalone photographs captured across different moments and places. Each image exists on its own, outside of a defined series, and is part of a continuous study of form, color, and light. Together, they reflect my ongoing search for beauty in the everyday. They are moments that speak quietly, without the need for context.
Chile Chile lindo
Chile, 2015, 2018
When we live in another country, our reality shifts. We create new routines in new settings, slowly forgetting the everyday life of the place that was once our home. Then, when we go back, we see everything through different eyes. We realize there are things so deeply rooted in our native land that we never stopped to think they only exist there. Things we didn’t even know we missed until we saw them again, and suddenly we cherish them more than ever.
That’s what happened to me with the small towns of Chile. I’m from Santiago de Chile and have lived in Barcelona since 2006. While I lived there, I didn’t notice how charming and beautiful those places were, where most houses are painted in bright colors, shop signs are still hand-painted, and street names are written directly on the walls. Once I moved to Barcelona, I stopped thinking about them. It wasn’t until I returned years later that I saw them again, and missed them deeply.
Now, every time I go back, I try to visit a small town, wander around with my camera, and capture those places so I can revisit them whenever nostalgia hits.
In this series, I wanted to share some of those towns and their colors.
Welcome to this small journey through Chile, Chile lindo!
Eigengrau
Various locations, 2014 - ongoing
Eigengrau is the dark color we see when we close our eyes.
It is the first color we perceive in life, and also the last.
The true color of darkness.
Its faint flickers, an illusion created by the human mind, speak of our need to imagine even where uncertainty prevails.
This series draws on that idea. On light, and above all, on shadow. I’m fascinated by how a flat scene can suddenly fill with shapes, creating a ephemeral universe. That brief moment when everything aligns. Form, shadow, and gaze, is where Eigengrau happens.
