Mónica RiveiroFirst encounter with photography
Nothing is random. Everything has a cause.
The universe doesn’t make mistakes (or at least that’s what I like to believe, because otherwise—what a mess).
Sometimes I wonder whether destiny really exists. Whether we are born with an assigned mission. Whether there is something—or someone—leaving clues along our path, like breadcrumbs for professionally lost souls.
It may sound crazy, but every now and then life puts a situation in your path that changes everything. A small gesture. An apparently innocent decision… and—bam—a 180-degree turn.
I know quite a bit about that.
My life has basically been a series of forks in the road. And every path I chose—or accepted without thinking too much—became a turning point.
Some hit me like a raging cyclone. Others swept over me with gentle affection.
One of them happened when I was in high school.
Discovering Creative Solitude
I wasn’t a bad science student, but I wasn’t brilliant either. Let’s just say I got by with dignity.
That day, a friend suggested that I join her for a black-and-white photography workshop. The schedule worked for me, and I have always enjoyed trying new things.
I agreed without any expectations. After all, what could go wrong?
I had never been good at crafts. Or drawing. Or anything that remotely sounded like ‘creative.’ I was sure that wasn’t my thing (spoiler: I was wrong).
That workshop felt like opening a window and breathing fresh air for the first time. From the very first moment. From the exact instant they placed a black-and-white roll in my hand and I loaded it into a simple camera that belonged to my father… without asking for his permission.
Creativity sometimes starts with small domestic crimes.
It wasn’t the first time I’d taken photos. I enjoyed bringing the camera on mountain trips with my friends. But this was something else. Another level. I had to do everything myself: from loading the roll of film, framing, shooting, developing, to making prints.
Magic
Going out to take photos after just a few basic lessons was thrilling. But stepping into the darkroom… that was a game-changer.
Watching the image gradually appear in the developing tray was my real turning point. I had taken those photographs. and now I was making them come to life.
I didn’t want to stop. I didn’t want it to be over. And it wasn’t.
That makeshift darkroom at school moved to my parents’ bathroom. Every time it became a laboratory, that space felt sacred every time it turned into a darkroom.
I had finally found something I truly enjoyed. And, to my surprise, I was good at it.
What a thrill.
I also discovered something unexpected: I loved going out alone to photograph my city. Alone. Quietly. without needing to justify myself.
I learned to embrace solitude. To engage all my senses in what I was doing. To remain fully present.
Without realizing it, I was already training something that would take me years to understand.
The creative loop: filling and emptying
And… what captivated me about photography?
Several things.
Telling stories in my own way. Being able to stop time. Knowing that each image is unique and unrepeatable.
Each image fills me. Editing empties me. And then, the cycle begins again.
It’s a perfect loop (or a little creative addiction).
Editing allows me to shape the story, give it meaning, and reinterpret the moment.
The professional crossroads
And without realizing it, the road split once more. Professional Photography knocked on my door.
I embraced it with curiosity, enthusiasm, and responsibility. For more than twenty years, I gave everything I had. Professionalism and doing my best were always my goals.
But something began to fall out of balance.
Professional photography came to occupy nearly all my time, while that other photography—more personal, artistic, and honest—only appeared from time to time.
Not enough.
Dwelling in the threshold: photography between dreams and reality
After twenty years, another turning point arrived: leaving everything behind, starting from scratch, and returning to a more intimate form of photography..
A type of photography that, without me realizing it, was a search for myself.
It wasn’t intentional. Nor premeditated. It simply happened.
As I studied my own images closely, I began to notice codes, patterns, and silences.
Photographs that spoke to me about things I still didn’t know how to articulate. Until I understood something essential: My photography exists on a threshold.
A space between dreams and reality. A realm of pause, attentive listening, and silences beyond explanation.
It was here that I discovered my passion for photography between dreams and reality: a place where each image allows me to explore, feel, and communicate without the need for words.
The camera and lens don’t matter to me.
Those discussions bore me senseless.
I care about freezing time with a click and then conversing with that instant. Lingering in that undefined space where something resonates, even if I cannot yet put it into words.
Every photograph is a self-portrait. We watch the world, unaware that we are watching ourselves in the process.
That threshold teaches us to pause, observe, feel, smell, remember, and imagine.
It’s memory. It’s learning.
Learning a new language
And yes, one can discover very surprising things about oneself.
The journey from that first black-and-white workshop to today has been long, winding, complex, and, luckily, enjoyable. Like relearning to speak. To read. To understand a new language.
And that learning never ends.
What might have happened had photography never come into my life?
I don’t know. I never will.
Yet I continue to believe that nothing happens by chance. Everything has a cause.
And from that very first roll of film to the present, I’ve learned to linger in that in-between space. On the threshold.
Where the universe, at least in this, didn’t make a mistake.
Es complicado demostrar que causa y efecto están directamente relacionados, pero es evidente que lo están.
http://fernanfotos.blogspot.com
https://encimadelastablas.blogspot.com
Sí, es complicado por no decir imposible. Pero algunos intuimos (correctamente o no) que alguna relación hay. Gracias por leer y comentar. Un saludo.