I was born at a very young age in San José, Costa Rica. My grandma—who wasn’t really mine—kept telling me I was the son of a Gypsy, I didn’t own much, and whatever I did own, I’m pretty sure I lost during one of the many moves.

Eventually, in the early nineties I ended up in Amsterdam, where I decided to become a photographer. Not long after, I started my own metal fanzine, which somehow landed me on TV, and then into film.

In the year 2000 I scored an honorable mention at the Costa Rican Film Festival for a short film I directed, which opened the doors to Film School at Cinecittà Studios in Rome and later Dutch TV.

After a while, life pulled me back to Costa Rica, where I worked as the photo editor for the political and financial newspaper La República. After a million photos (and way too much coffee), I took off again—this time for Greece, where I intended to grow a beard and live off the sea. But the 2018 crisis had other plans.

So once again, I packed my bags and with a little push from B, I moved to New York and joined ICP (no, not the Insane Clown Posse). Having finished and well aware of the monumental task I had taken on, it took me two full years to recover. Out of that whirlwind came this collection of images and thoughts you now hold in your hands (If your haven’t purchased Blind Spots, what are you waiting for?).

As the little Gypsy kid, I never imagined the road would twist this way. Yet every detour left me with scars, stories to tell, and a few decent pictures. This work is not about arriving.
It’s about moving, losing, returning, and learning how to look long enough for something honest to appear.