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I have been gnawing at portraying my haven, Bogotá, Colombia. I have an extensive budget, of this I am aware, which permits me to study in Rotterdam and visualise different quotidian realities. So, when I go back home, I am confused of who I am.
Engaging in a pseudo-anthropological study of the city and its chaotic behaviours I realised a series of photographs and poems by her influence. I find a certain awe when I inhabit Bogotá as well as an enhancement in my behaviours. Although, she’s cold, harsh and everyone seems roboticised in movement, I focus on irreplaceable interactions of rich human existence. The intense chaos of being back in the onion (onion because she’s so big, there is always a layer to uncover) overwhelms me with psychological conflicts such as who am I? What is my position in the city? Am I foreign or immersed?
Poetry helps. Poetry helps a lot bringing impression together. This, like photography, is new medium for me. I get to practice my dialect when writing. When I go back, for the first couple of days my Spanish is rusty. When settling I re-speak my dialogue, or slang if you will, and begin to dream in Spanish again. Now writing this, I confess that last night I dreamt in English, and during the dream I corrected myself to think in Spanish. Language plays a big factor in my emotions and expression, for this poetry was a cathartic medium while understanding the onion.
Discovering new words, engaging in the anatomy of words, and putting them together to elaborate a non-fictional expression of catharsis is poetry. Es rico escribir, es rico. I get immediate satisfaction when writing unlike with analog photography, which is a more extensive process.

In the series of photographs, I capture raw moments of the city on the go while myself being on the go as well. It is a series of street photographs, by me an amateur and advocate of street life ;). I used an analog camera. There is no certainty in how the image will come out, whether images are blurry or not, if the exposure was right or not, and did I mention my camera is broken? Simultaneously these factors are metaphors for city life. Moments in Bogotá to me always seem like a haze upon reflection. An opportunity in the onion is not only mine. I capture the quotidian, when in awe.
Thus, after unlocking my subconsience with influence from the city, what have I produced? A series of photographs and poems with my positioning in the city. What I was able to discover from her, moments where I felt safe enough to photograph, where I wanted to capture and solidify instances. I gained respect from the city. I lived her, every day, and survived her. She studied me and I made art from her.

Bogotá 30/08/2021

Me entrego a la metrópolis,
Y todas sus dogmas,
Que me hunden las jorobas de camello.

Sigo armándome con su sol inesperado.
Tal cómo su maltrato me enperica,
Yo acelero, afano y aguanto.

Me entrego a la metrópolis,
Y me separo del dogma estratal,
Aprieto mis senos y me desnudo
Frente al portero

Perforando lo cotidiano
Me entrego a la metrópolis,
Para que me discutas sus fundamentos,
Y tus dogmas por cambiar.

Bogotá 30/08/2021

I give myself to the metropolis,
And all her dogmas,
That sink in me the hunchback of a camel.

I continue to arm myself with her unexpected sun,
Just as her wrongdoings excite me,
I speed up, accelerate, and resist.


I give myself to the metropolis,
And I separate myself from social dogmas.
I squeeze my breasts and undress
In front of the doorman.

Piercing the quotidian,
I give myself to the metropolis,
So that her fundamentals are discussed,
And your dogmas change.

Pasar Hambre

Dejar que tu ausencia afecte mi presencia
Es una alarma de vulnerabilidad.
Dónde prefiero encevíchearme en el caldo
De tus besos fríos,
A pasar hambre.

Pasar Hambre

To let your abscence affect my presence,
Is a vulnerability alarm.
Where I prefer to linger in the broth
Of your cold kisses,
Than starve.

La Invitada de la Invitada

Ponerme en contexto
La colada de la colada.
Así si mi sonrisa es excesiva,
Es señal de humildes.

“Gracias por la invitación”
Tan bien cuidadas tienes las matas
Disque silencio incomoda
En mi casa tenemos la mismita,
Aunque no tan avanzada cómo la suya.

Todo lo mío es sincero, su merece.
Mentiras no cargo, mugre entre las uñas ¡si!
Tal cómo un gran escarabajo
Escarbé tan profundo que descubrí petróleo

Colada ya no soy, y el contexto ahora es el mío.
Y cómo dicen por ahí. Indio comido,
Indio ido.

Plus 1 of The Plus 1

Putting myself in context
As the plus 1 of the plus 1.
So, like this if my smile is excessive
It’s a humble sign.

“Thank you for this invitation
Your plants are so well kept”
Uncomfortable scilence,
“In my home we have the same one,
Although not so advanced as yours”.

All that is mine is sincere, Goodness.
I do not carry lies. Dirt in my nails I do.
Like a grand beetle,
I dug so deep that I discovered oil.

No longer am I a plus 1, alas I am now in context.
And so the saying goes,
Once I’ve eaten, I am gone.