Tell Me Lies
I don’t call myself a photographer.
I use a camera, but not to document reality. I’m after images that leave room for doubt.
Not the obvious kind, but the kind that hides in plain sight:
A shadow that could be sorrow or surrender,
A gaze that suggests devotion—or deception.
I want a picture to make you pause, to ask your own questions rather than give answers.
After a shoot, I might describe the model’s energy, the mood—but that’s just my version.
Memory distorts. Emotion distorts.
The facts are rarely as interesting as the stories we tell ourselves.
People say photography is truth.
I prefer its lies—the beautiful ones, the ones that show you something deeper than facts.
Life’s surface bores me. I want what hums beneath: the contradictions, the half-felt things, whatever slips away when you try to name it.
I’m not here to make records.
I’m here to make you wonder.
Sometimes I go in with a plan.
It usually falls flat.
The best pictures come from trust.
When the models and I know each other well enough that the shoot feels like a conversation.
When the scene isn’t just mine—it’s theirs too.
In Medellín, I staged a bold scene: a woman, confident and composed, dressed with precision, encircled by undressed men—power inverted.
But the room worked against us. Cramped walls. Bad angles.
I packed bodies together, hoping a wide lens would fix it. It didn’t.
The shots were a disaster.
The men didn’t look vulnerable—they looked hungry.
The woman wasn’t commanding—she was cornered.
The whole thing felt violent. I discarded every frame.
You can’t demand honesty from a photograph.
You can only set the stage—then wait.
Wait for the picture to lie—and in lying tell you everything
Tell me lies.
The kind that matter.
I ask my models to show me their vulnerable sides. This is me showing mine.
This frame is all I will show from that composition.
Not every picture becomes what you hope.
You can prepare, you can plan—but truth either comes freely or not at all.
This is part of Skin and Under too: The failures. The near-misses.
The proof that control is the biggest lie of all.
