Artistic photography allows me to reinterpret what I observe — drawing from the environment and the subject — to recreate a scene and tell my own story.
Often, certain elements or figures in nature awaken a different vision in me. I begin to imagine how they might be transformed by changing the white balance, applying special filters, experimenting with pictorial techniques, or using vintage lenses. At that moment, a space of inspiration opens where time seems to stand still, and I immerse myself in my thoughts.
Thus, I begin to construct a reinterpretation of the world around me in camera, shaping it according to the vision I imagine.
In this article, I share how I came to create five photographs with their own identity, born from ordinary moments and seemingly ordinary subjects.
The following image is from the photo essay Ephemeral, the Language of Water, in which I portray scenes created by water — compositions that exist for only a few minutes before disappearing forever.
For this photograph, I worked on the sands of Skagsanden beach in Norway in the first light of dawn.
I chose a spot where the water was sliding over the sand, drawing shapes reminiscent of a forest, and began photographing them with a wide-angle lens (16mm) before they disappeared.
I set a slow shutter speed (0.8 sec) to give the moving water at the bottom of the frame a silky effect, contrasting with the rough texture of the sand. I used a tripod to ensure stability and sharpness.
The bluish cast is the result of an intentional white balance setting of 3500 K, giving the scene a cold and ethereal atmosphere.
While photographing, I noticed how the sunlight reflected off the sand, creating glare at the top of the frame. To control this and enrich the composition, I used a Singh-Ray Gold-N-Blue polarizer, which eliminated the glare and infused the upper area with golden tones. This evoked the warmth of sunrise within an essentially cold scene and contributed to the tonal contrast.
This image is part of the essay Plant Designs, in which I use plants as a starting point to construct artistic scenes.
It was a cloudy afternoon, and I was walking along the coast of Viedma in the province of Río Negro, Argentina. The alders (Alnus glutinosa) growing on the riverbank caught my attention. Their small fruits, resembling tiny pinecones, hung from their trunks, standing out against the bright background of the water and seeming to float in perfect balance.
I decided to work with these details and create symmetries.
I crossed the street, mounted a telephoto lens on the tripod to isolate the scene, and began experimenting with the camera’s “double exposure in the shadows” mode, which superimposes the dark areas of each shot onto the next. I set the white balance to 8000 K to accentuate the warmth of the image.
I took a first shot, then rotated the camera 180° using the lens mounting ring before taking the second exposure.
The result was a composition in which the shadows intertwine and the fruits of the alders reflect in an imagined symmetry, transforming reality into an almost abstract plant design with exquisite rhythm and contrast.
One rainy afternoon in Puerto Iguazú, Misiones, Argentina, I found myself walking along a trail in the Misiones jungle.
The fine drizzle moistened the ferns, intensifying their greenness against the ground covered with dry leaves and branches. They were so beautifully lit that I decided to photograph them. However, the background — a tangle of brown plant debris, scattered and chaotic — detracted from the harmony of the scene, diverting attention from what felt essential.
To give the ferns the prominence I was looking for, I needed to remove that background visually. I chose to work with the double exposure technique in camera, in additive mode. In this multiple exposure setting, both images are superimposed, so it is necessary to underexpose each shot to avoid blown highlights.
I created the bokeh surrounding the ferns with a Helios 44-2 lens, focusing on the sky filtered through dense vegetation. I searched for areas where sunlight, softened by the foliage, slipped between the branches to create gentle glints at the edges of the frame, leaving the center darker and without highlights.
Then I made the second exposure with the ferns centered in the frame. The two images combined in camera: the glow enveloped the leaves, the background dissolved, and the ferns acquired the presence and delicacy I had imagined.
The following photograph belongs to the essay Escape and Evasion, a project I have been developing for some time, featuring birds as the main characters. I use them as a way to escape my own daily life, because in their flight I perceive the freedom of those who can lose themselves in infinity.
This image was created at El Cóndor beach resort in Argentina, on cliffs more than fifty meters high that are home to the largest colony of burrowing parrots (Cyanoliseus patagonus) in the world. It is an extraordinary place, where more than 74,000 birds fill the sky in constant movement and sound.
I began working from the top of the cliff, observing the waves and birds with a telephoto lens mounted on a tripod.
I used double exposure in camera, combining two different moments in a single image: on one side, the fury of the waves, and on the other, the birds flying swiftly as if trying to escape from who knows what.
I chose a warm tone, setting the white balance to 8000 K to give everything an ochre tint.
For the first exposure, I used a 400mm telephoto lens and photographed the fury of the sea, timing the moment when violent waves crashed onto the beach.
The second exposure captured birds in backlight against a partly cloudy sky. I opened the aperture to its maximum to achieve a fast shutter speed, removed the camera from the tripod, and photographed freehand, aiming to position the parrots near the bottom of the frame, as if escaping from the threatening waves rising behind them.
In camera, the two images merged — clouds and waves blending — creating a composition in which the birds appear to flee from chaos.
We had just arrived at the cabins where we would spend a few days relaxing with family. When I opened the balcony door, a small moth perched on the glass caught my attention.
We were on the outskirts of Puerto Iguazú, Argentina, on the banks of the Paraná River, surrounded by the Misiones jungle. These tiny creatures appeared everywhere, and their presence felt delicate and new to me. I knew I wanted to photograph them.
Without even unpacking my bags, I got to work.
The glass where the moth rested was covered with dust and dirt, and a scene formed in my mind: that tiny creature suspended in the middle of a galactic universe.
I asked my youngest daughter, Mora, to help illuminate it from behind with a flashlight from the other side of the balcony. The light revealed the dust on the glass, and the background transformed into a constellation of stars.
Using a macro lens and photographing freehand, I underexposed by three stops. I set the white balance to 3000 K to accentuate the cool tones. Then the transformation occurred: the moth became a cosmic figure, suspended between light and shadow in a universe of stars.
I deeply enjoy the possibilities the camera gives me — transforming everyday life into a universe of its own, where a simple subject acquires unexpected beauty.
In each image, I seek to construct a visual metaphor, a small world where the insignificant becomes wonderful.
Through the camera, I learn to see differently. What once went unnoticed — a moth on a dusty windowpane, a fern in the rain, a wave dissolving — becomes essential and sparks my imagination.
In each image, I find a fragment of myself, an emotion, a moment transformed into a visual metaphor. In that transformation, the reality around me ceases to be a tangible limit and becomes a deeply personal creation.
