All mortals are the same in the sunlight, but are we the same in the depths?
Black is a journey through the landscapes that the forgotten rule and inhabit. It documents the questions offered by the people, moments and presences that cling to the edge of the light in the streets of Caracas, in hotels, hospitals, ruins, even in the tousled tops of trees or in the black foliage. The possibility of losing or redeeming our faith is equivalent to the feeling of embrace or shame of these visions, which want to sneak in for us to see deep inside ourselves.
BLACK is a journey. A silent testimony, an infinite rage, a look at my impossible nostalgia, at the monsters that inhabit me when all the lights go out and I hide behind the camera. BLACK is an opaque, concave, cracked mirror, my most painful and rainy photograph, the argument of invisible lives portrayed in an act of profound irreverence and humility.