These cyanotypes are not prints—they are apparitions.
Each layer is a record of presence, of motion, of breath—marked through repetition, imperfection, and process. They are also a recording of my experience with light: how it touches the body, how it remembers shape, how it reveals without demanding clarity.
I build my own tools and work slowly, letting each exposure trace the way memory resists resolution. What you see are not portraits, but returns: to the body, to the quiet, to the space between seeing and being seen.
The process is rooted in rasquachismo—using what’s available, what’s intuitive, what’s left behind—and shaped by a need to witness myself gently. These pieces began in stillness and became a ritual of recognition. A way of saying: I was here. I am still becoming.
