Photography has the power to capture the intangible, to transform emotions and memories into something visual we can share. My project, "Gordo", was born from that place—from love, grief, and the need to keep my brother Carlos's memory alive.
Carlos left us on April 18, 2023, and this April 25, 2025, he would have turned 50. This project is my gift to him, my way of honoring his life and our connection. Through photography, I find a space to remember
The Project: "Gordo"
"Gordo" is the overarching title of this photographic series, a name born from the affection and familiarity we shared. It’s a nickname brimming with personal meaning, with laughter and moments that only we understood.
This project isn’t meant to be a solemn or perfect tribute. It’s something alive, just like our relationship was. Each year, I will add a new chapter to this series, each one reflecting how I carry him with me, how love and grief transform and evolve over time.
The first chapter, the beginning of this journey, is titled "Cielo de Cemento" ("Concrete Sky").
Cielo de Cemento: Photographing Emptiness to Find Him
The images in "Cielo de Cemento" are not technically perfect—gray, flat skies, without contrast or points of interest. And yet, in their apparent emptiness lies everything I want to express.
Ever since Carlos left, the sky has become the only place where I search for him. It’s where I greet him, where I try to find him. This gray sky, as hard as concrete, symbolizes the harshness of grief, the weight of his absence. But it also represents the connection I feel when I look up—the sense that, even though intangible, he is still somehow there.
The title "Cielo de Cemento" comes from a song by Los Suaves that we used to listen to together:"Hoy el cielo es de cemento, parece que Dios está muerto..."("Today the sky is made of concrete; it feels like God is dead…")
It was our soundtrack for so many shared moments: truck rides, trips home, swimming lessons, or simply being together. Now I listen to it while I train, and every time, it takes me back to him.
Photos Don’t Have to Be Perfect to Communicate
This project is a reminder of something fundamental: in photography (and art in general), it’s not always about technical perfection. A vibrant sky or flawless composition isn’t necessary for an image to communicate something profound.
What matters is knowing what you want to express. In "Cielo de Cemento", what I want to convey isn’t in the details of the sky but in what it means to me. It’s the only place where I can search for him, the only space where I feel I might find him.
The emotional connection behind an image can be far more powerful than any technical element. These photographs, though simple and seemingly empty, are full of meaning. They speak of love, of loss, and of the need to keep looking up, even when the sky feels gray.
"Gordo": A Living Project
"Gordo" will always be the heart of this project. It’s my way of keeping my brother’s memory alive, of transforming absence into something tangible.
Each chapter of this series will be another page in the story we continue to write together, albeit in a different way. "Cielo de Cemento" is just the beginning—a reminder that even in emptiness, there is space for love and memories.
Conclusion
The phrase that defines this project says it all:"The sky holds what the heart cannot let go."
I don’t know if I’ll find answers by looking at the sky, but I do know that I will keep searching there. And in every photograph, in every chapter of this project, I hope to share what I feel: that love transcends, that grief can transform, and that even in chaos or imperfection, there is beauty.
If you’ve ever lost someone, if you’ve ever felt the need to search for them in the most unexpected places, I hope this project resonates with you too.
Thank you for joining me on this journey.
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