My grandmother Rosa was my first connection to clothes. Since I was born, she has shared her love by making beautiful dresses for me. I often encounter myself lost in blurred memories of her in my home country of Venezuela, of the days when she used to bathe and dress me.
Rosa’s mother, Cayetana, was an indigenous black woman who was taken from a young age to serve her own father’s family, relatives who mistreated her for her skin colour and bastard origins. Analphabetic and alone with three kids, she took the brave decision to leave her rural home in Altagracia de Orituco and start a new chapter in the capital Caracas, searching for better opportunities. This project is a love letter to the women of my maternal family tree. With my photographs, I take pride in honouring the women who have shaped me but are not physically with me: My great-grandmother (who passed away in 1961), my grandmother Rosa, and my mother Maria, who live in Venezuela. The
photographs play the role of a window to my childhood memories and my family’s journey. By juxtaposing old
family photos buried in dusty shoeboxes inside my grandmother's drawers, with self-portraits and staged
images with unrelated models, I recreated aspects of their lives that have influenced my identity.
I chose Cayetana as the title of this project because I see her as the beginning of our lineage. Cayetana’s mother was not very present in her life and my grandmother Rosa does not remember her name
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