In my photography series “You Are a Reflection of Me”, I dive into the shadows, chasing the memory of a father I never fully knew. All I have is a single "souvenir" –a photograph of me as a child, that my father took before he was assassinated and violently taken from me. I grew up without the most important figure I treasure. I grew up with a ghost, a set of memories that were not mine, comments, pieces and portraits that I could not put together as easily as I did with my Legos or my puzzles. An aspect of who I am is a question mark, a deep intrigue that not even a genie can answer. The moment you learn you have no father, is the moment you recognize a deep feeling of orphanage. And the quest begins right there, through the memories of others and one only picture sealed with his imprint, as if the lens of his camera were the embrace I long for. Looking for answers, I took my father as a hostage with the only gun I will ever use: my camera. This unique and fragile connection, a bond founded in the pillars of a void I as a grown man can hardly understand yet and the millions of whys, has grown into an obsession, drawing me into this journey of self-portraiture, searching for traces of him in my own face.
Each picture is steeped in monochrome, the shadows heavy and enveloping, as though they hold pieces of him just beyond my reach. Some images are blurry, broken, or hidden in reflections, capturing my own fear, self-doubt, and the quiet ache that comes with trying to hold onto someone who’s no longer here. I’m barely visible in some frames, just a figure lost in the darkness, as if the reflections themselves are telling the story.
Through blurred frames and layered reflections, I confront the emptiness he left behind, and in facing that absence, I begin to see myself more clearly. Searching for my father, I keep discovering parts of me, piece-by-piece, raw and unfinished, like the images I capture. Each photograph reflects fragments of my own longing, shaped by my father's absence, yet revealing slivers of him woven into me. With each shadowed reflection, I realize that this journey isn’t just about finding him; it’s also about understanding who I am without him. Slowly, I see that my reflection holds more than just the pain of loss—it holds a presence I can carry forward, something of him still alive within me beyond grief.
Each picture is steeped in monochrome, the shadows heavy and enveloping, as though they hold pieces of him just beyond my reach. Some images are blurry, broken, or hidden in reflections, capturing my own fear, self-doubt, and the quiet ache that comes with trying to hold onto someone who’s no longer here. I’m barely visible in some frames, just a figure lost in the darkness, as if the reflections themselves are telling the story.
Through blurred frames and layered reflections, I confront the emptiness he left behind, and in facing that absence, I begin to see myself more clearly. Searching for my father, I keep discovering parts of me, piece-by-piece, raw and unfinished, like the images I capture. Each photograph reflects fragments of my own longing, shaped by my father's absence, yet revealing slivers of him woven into me. With each shadowed reflection, I realize that this journey isn’t just about finding him; it’s also about understanding who I am without him. Slowly, I see that my reflection holds more than just the pain of loss—it holds a presence I can carry forward, something of him still alive within me beyond grief.
