alvaradista
@alvaradista

My craft is the narrative, first and foremost, whether it’s written, shot or cut.

I am a writer as I am a photographer as I am a filmmaker caught in crossfire in an oil, clean water and some blood flooded country where, in times of late capitalism, everything comes with a toll in hope.

Therefore I am.

Down to earth, dusty and rugged; quite often bellow surface level, deep in the caves where darkness dwells. Rough around the edges, working class, gut trusty, silent and yet chaotic, shade reflections of my darkest lights.

I write about my passions and nightmares, my everyday endurance in the middle of an odd war zone, the recognition of myself through alter egos in loneliness and silences, the truth and other truths, and that beautiful noise called heavy metal.

Then I cast lights and shadows all over. Helium, tungsten and arch flows, burns, bounces, lacks. I just let it through, hand held frame it, narrowly focus it… I don’t take credit for the forces of nature that make photography possible.

Then I cut like the formalist in the tradition of Eisenstein, Vertov and Kuleshov. Sound, silence, stares [always stares], movement, pace and juxtaposition. In the matters of the guts I’m just a medium for telling to find its way.

My only virtue is showing you what others willingly seem to ignore. I’m not an expert on anything, just a beholder of the smallest things.

As an outcast banned from the western world as a punishment for daring embracing other than liberalism, I came here looking for some resonance, to explore communities and find a place for my work to belong.