I live at, and photograph, the southern edge of the world. My work moves through Patagonia’s windswept plains, the fjords of Magallanes, and the rugged landscapes of Tierra del Fuego, then north along the spine of the Andes—through the volcanic altiplano, the Atacama Desert, and the salt flats of northern Chile and Bolivia. These are places shaped by distance, weather, and time, where the land sets the terms and people endure across generations.

I have followed light and silence into Tierra del Fuego, the Atacama Desert, the wild coasts of Aysén, and the high passes of the Argentine Puna. I am drawn to landscapes where history still moves in the wind: abandoned estancias, forgotten mining towns, ancient paths, and communities that persist where the land demands everything. In these remote territories, photography becomes less about description and more about attention—about standing still long enough for place, memory, and light to align.

Photography entered my life early. At seventeen, I began studying and copying photographers such as Cartier-Bresson and Ansel Adams, working in black and white film. I later spent time as a newspaper photographer, and gradually photography became more than a practice—first a way to hold on to places and people that moved me, and eventually a language of its own.

For many years, my professional life unfolded far from these landscapes, in boardrooms and financial institutions across multiple countries. Yet whenever I could, I left the noise behind and headed south—traveling by road, boat, and on foot through vast, quiet territories. What began as an escape slowly became a form of belonging.

Much of my work is photographed in infrared—a deliberate choice to move beyond familiar representations and focus on underlying structures: the movement of clouds, the weight of weather, the geometry of terrain, and the marks left by time. Infrared opened a different way of seeing, allowing me to reveal what ordinary light often conceals—the scars carved by wind, the ghosts of abandoned places, and the quiet resilience of landscapes that resist easy definition.

Today, I continue to explore and document the landscapes that have moved me. I am currently working on two long-term projects: one centered on Chile’s abandoned saltpeter mines, and another on Tierra del Fuego—its vast open spaces, deserted estancias, and the Gauchos who continue to live and work where the land allows little margin for survival. These are places where time is not erased, but exposed.

Photography for me is not about recording but about listening - to place, to time and to what remains.