WHAT WE ARE, WHAT WE DO
Culture lives where art and community meet, and in this space Alejandro Dávila’s photographs reveal the unseen labor and devotion that sustain creation.
November 2, 2025
INTERVIEW
PHOTOGRAPHY Alejandro Davila
INTERVIEW Melanie Meggs
Alejandro Davila’s photographic practice examines the relationship between identity and cultural visibility. Based in Pachuca, Mexico, he has developed a sustained engagement with the artists of his own community. His ongoing project What We Are, What We Do is conceived as a visual archive, documenting the presence of dancers, musicians, actors, artisans, and writers who contribute to the cultural life of the city yet often remain absent from dominant narratives. The project positions photography not only as a documentary record but as an act of recognition, affirming the value of practices that exist outside the circuits of mainstream visibility.
His path to this work carries its own story of transformation. For years, music had been Alejandro’s language, the medium through which he expressed rhythm and emotion. An injury ended that path, silencing performance but opening another. Photography arrived not as replacement but as refuge, carrying the sensibility of music into the visual field. This shift is central to the tone of his photographs, which reflect the discipline and structure of an artist's life redirected.
The archival dimension of What We Are, What We Do is significant. By accumulating portraits across disciplines — musicians mid-performance, dancers in rehearsal, actors on stage — Alejandro constructs a collective image of cultural life in Pachuca. His incidental backdrops are integral to meaning, situating art within the everyday and emphasizing processes of preparation, repetition, and interaction. At the same time, his subjects are acutely aware of the camera’s presence. Theatrical gestures, choreographed movements, and deliberate postures introduce an element of performance even within documentary settings. The project thus resists both individual heroization and anonymous generalization, placing each subject within a network of relationships that together define community life.
The project engages with questions central to documentary practice: who is seen, how visibility is granted, and what forms of recognition are possible. Through careful attention to form, environment, and gesture, he articulates the way identity and practice are bound together. His work affirms that cultural value resides not only in celebrated achievements but in the daily, sustained labor of those who create. In the following conversation, Alejandro Davila reflects on this journey, the role of photography in his community, and the evolving vision behind What We Are, What We Do.
“My project seeks to make visible those who are often left out of dominant narratives, creating images that honor their voices and rhythms. Photography becomes a space of encounter, where representation is questioned and transformed.
The local is my starting point: a living territory of memory, affection, and everyday life. From there, stories gain strength and meaning, connecting the familiar with the universal without losing their singularity.”
IN CONVERSATION WITH
ALEJANDRO DAVILA
TPL: Your portraits often capture the “process” of art — rehearsal, repetition, discipline — rather than only its finished form. How does this focus alter our understanding of artistic identity? Do you believe that showing labor and practice reshapes how audiences interpret the meaning of art itself?
ALEJANDRO: In many parts of the world, art is still undervalued, and where I live is a clear example of this. It doesn’t matter the discipline — whether dancer, painter, musician, or photographer — people often think it’s a game or something easy. That’s why I believe it’s essential to show the world the hard work behind every artistic creation, so that the dedication, meaning, and beauty of these important works are truly understood.
TPL: You describe your project as both an archive and act of recognition. From a critical perspective, how do you reconcile the documentary impulse to preserve with the interpretive role of the photographer as author?
ALEJANDRO: Through my experience as both a viewer and a photographer, I’ve realized that photography isn’t just about creating pretty images or simply recording reality. The best photography transforms what we see into images with meaning — something that truly captures attention and emotion. I aim for my photographs to feel like scenes from a film or a museum: deeply grounded in reality, yet visually powerful, where each person appears important, imposing, and worthy of being seen.
TPL: How do you envision the role of What We Are, What We Do in ten or twenty years — both for the community you document and for broader audiences? Do you imagine the project functioning primarily as a historical record for the community, or as an ongoing dialogue that continues to evolve with new generations of artists?
ALEJANDRO: I imagine What We Are, What We Do will have a dual role in the future. On one hand, it will function as a historical record, an archive that preserves the memory of the community and the value of their artistic work, so that new generations can understand where they come from and how those who came before lived.
At the same time, I hope it remains a living dialogue, evolving over time to include new voices, forms of expression, and artists. It should not only be a mirror of the past but also a space where art and community continue to create meaning together.
TPL: Do you prefer to work in black-and-white, and if so, what draws you to it as your primary mode of expression? If you were to work in color, how do you think it might shift the ethical or interpretive weight of your images?
ALEJANDRO: Honestly, I enjoy working in both color and black-and-white, but I chose black-and-white for this first stage of the project because I wanted to emphasize shapes, contrasts, and expressions. I wanted to remove the weight of color so that the focus would be more on how the scenes feel rather than how they look. In color, the photographs would be more descriptive; although I believe they could also work, I conceived this part of the project in black-and-white from the start for its ability to convey emotion and depth.
TPL: You’ve described photography as a “refuge” after your injury. Had you engaged with photography before that turning point, and why did you choose it as the medium to continue expressing yourself? Has this shift changed the way you think about fragility, resilience, and expression in art? And what has photography ultimately taught you about yourself — about what you are, and what you do?
ALEJANDRO: Yes, photography had always interested me, even though I first dedicated myself to music and thought of it more as a hobby. After my injury, I had to take different jobs in my hometown, but I didn’t feel happy or fulfilled. It was photography that gave me hope that things could get better — and they did. Through this noble practice, I found a way to remain connected to art and to keep expressing myself in a deep and authentic way.
Yes, it changed everything. I came to understand that life is fleeting, and that through photography I could leave a part of myself behind. I also realized that everything could change in an instant, that nothing is guaranteed. From my previous profession, only photographs remained as memories, and it was there that I discovered in photography a profoundly powerful source of expression — one that preserves memory while also giving meaning to who we are.
Photography taught me to trust myself. When I had to let go of my previous dream, I lost a lot of confidence in myself and in my abilities. But with every photograph I took, I found something that made me feel good. At first, I didn’t believe people when they told me I was good, but eventually I accepted that this path was meant for me.
I realized that I want to spend the rest of my life with a camera in my hands, sharing with the world what I feel and what I see.
TPL: What were your first learning resources or influences? Did you follow specific photographers, books, or platforms that shaped your vision?
ALEJANDRO: At first, I turned to YouTube tutorials; although they covered very basic lessons, they sparked my curiosity to go further. I then decided to explore the work of important photographers in history: watching their interviews, reading their books, and engaging with their ideas. Artists like Sebastião Salgado, Letizia Battaglia, Tom Wood, Arnold Newman, Fan Ho, Ansel Adams, David Hurn and others were a great inspiration.
Yet, without a doubt, my influences also came from music and my interest in cinema. These experiences opened my mind to understand that photography is not just about “taking pictures,” but a language with the power to tell stories, evoke emotions, and give meaning.
TPL: When photographing peers in your own community, what responsibilities do you feel toward them as both participants in the image and collaborators in its meaning? Has their feedback ever reshaped how you think about authorship or shifted the direction of your project?
ALEJANDRO: When I photograph these talented artists, and people in general, I feel a responsibility to capture their essence and convey, through their image, a message that reflects the importance of their work. I want them to be seen in a way that highlights the value of what they do. Additionally, spending time with them allows me to understand what they value most in their practice and what they wish to express, which enriches my vision and guides how I create each photograph.
TPL: How do you understand the ethical responsibilities of photographing people you know, and how does this differ from photographing strangers?
ALEJANDRO: Photography is a deeply human activity; it’s not just about taking pictures, but also about having a genuine interest in people, their lives, and their work. It involves approaching them with curiosity and respect, getting to know them at least a little, admiring them, and valuing what they do. This helps build trust and an authentic relationship through photography. It may be easier with people you already know, but the same care and attention apply to those you don’t, because ethics and respect are not determined by familiarity.
TPL: Can you walk us through what’s typically in your photography bag? Are there tools or objects you never leave behind, even if they’re not technical? Anything on your WishList?
ALEJANDRO: I always carry my camera, and the more versatile it is, the better. I believe that the less equipment you have and the lighter your load, the better you work. Still, my backpack always includes my 35mm and 50mm lenses, a water bottle, and several batteries. Even though I don’t use it often, I also carry a variable ND filter and a Pro-Mist. Additionally, I always bring a small violin keychain my girlfriend gave me, which serves as a personal reminder of her.
TPL: When you are not working or photographing, what else could we find Alejandro doing?
ALEJANDRO: I really enjoy going out for bike rides and getting some exercise. I also love spending time with my girlfriend, watching films with excellent cinematography, and listening to music, especially jazz. Overall, I like to make the most of my days and enjoy them fully.
TPL: Is there a question I haven’t asked that you feel is essential to understanding your project or your journey as a photographer?
ALEJANDRO: I think something important I would like to say is that I would love to become a well-known photographer, but not for fame or superficial reasons. I want people to be inspired to learn photography with me, so I can share everything I know and help beginners discover the deeper meaning of the craft. I also hope that, when I am no longer here, my work will not disappear. I want my photographs to continue existing and endure over time, leaving a testament to what I saw, felt, and learned.
Alejandro Davila’s work insists that culture is built not only in institutions but in the daily gestures of artists who create, often without recognition. What We Are, What We Do affirms that these practices — the rehearsals, the repetitions, the labors of craft — are as vital to cultural memory as any celebrated performance. His photographs are not simply documents but acts of acknowledgment, preserving the presence of those who give form to community life. In bringing these artists into view, Alejandro also offers us a reminder: what we are is inseparable from what we do, and what we do carries the traces of who we are.
