What’s up, mi gente. Welcome back to Sombra Y Cultura, where we highlight photographers from Latin America and the Spanish-speaking world who deserve way more love than they’ve received.

I’m your host Chris, and today… we’re traveling to the Caribbean coast of Panama to a little town called Portobelo to talk about an artist whose work is intimate, poetic, and quietly radical. Her name is Sandra Eleta. And if you’ve never heard of her, don’t worry, most people haven’t. That’s part of the problem. And exactly why we’re here.

This episode is for the ones who value substance over flash, depth over spectacle, and art that feels rooted in real community. Let’s get into it.

So let’s start at the beginning.

Sandra Eleta was born in 1942, in Panama City. She came from a family of writers and thinkers, and you can feel that influence in her work. The storytelling, the care with words and images. She studied art in the U.S. and photography in Paris, but none of those experiences shaped her the way Portobelo did.

Portobelo is a town with a complex and beautiful history. It was once a colonial port under Spanish rule a place where gold was shipped and enslaved Africans were brought to the Americas. But out of that painful legacy, an incredibly rich Afro-Panamanian culture took root. One that has survived and evolved through ritual, music,and performance.

This is where Sandra chose to live. Not just to photograph, but to live.

She wasn’t a visitor passing through. She wasn’t an outsider parachuting in for a story. She moved into the community. She listened. She built relationships. And it shows in her work.

Her most celebrated project is “Los Congos de Portobelo.”
This series is all about the Congo tradition a mix of African, Indigenous, and colonial influences that lives on through dance, theater, and song. It’s resistance made ritual. It’s history passed down through bodies and gestures and costumes.

Sandra’s portraits of the Congo dancers aren’t flashy. They’re not exaggerated. They're honest.

One of her most iconic photographs from the series is a black-and-white portrait of a Congo dancer (seen down below). His face painted, his eyes locked with the camera. There’s this unshakable presence in his stare. It’s not aggressive, it’s not pleading, it’s just there, grounded. It says, “I exist. I have always existed.”

You don’t need a caption to feel it.

But what I admire most about Sandra’s work is how much she refused to perform.
She wasn’t interested in putting on a show. She wasn’t chasing trends or awards. Her focus was always on dignity. Showing people as they are, not how the world thinks they should be seen.

And that’s consistent across all of her series.

She did a powerful project on domestic workers, mostly Indigenous and Afro-Panamanian women who work behind the scenes in homes all across the country. These are the women who cook, clean, raise children, and carry the emotional weight of families that aren’t their own. And yet, they’re often invisible. Completely erased from conversations about art, class, or care.

Sandra didn’t just take pictures of them, she honored them. She created space for their presence to speak. No dramatics, no victim narrative. Just honesty, empathy, and a camera held at eye level.

Let’s be real for a second.
Why don’t more people know her name?

Why isn’t Sandra Eleta talked about the way other Latin American photographers are? Why isn’t her work taught more widely, featured in major retrospectives, celebrated the way it deserves to be?

There are a few answers.

First, she’s from Panama. And let’s be honest: when people talk about art from Latin America, they usually default to Mexico, Brazil, or Argentina. Countries with bigger economies, bigger art scenes, bigger export pipelines. Panama, especially Afro-Panamanian culture, is rarely at the center.

Second, Sandra’s work doesn’t play the game. She wasn’t out there networking with curators, trying to fit her vision into a global art market. She stayed rooted in Portobelo. She made work on her terms. And sometimes, that means flying under the radar.

And third, and this one stings, she’s a woman in a field that has long prioritized male voices. Even today, female photographers who center care and community over conflict or shock value often get dismissed as “less serious.”

But here’s the thing: Sandra’s work is serious. It’s just not loud. And in a world full of noise, that kind of quiet resistance can go unnoticed.

As someone who spends a lot of time behind the lens, Sandra’s work makes me pause.
It reminds me that photography isn’t just about the image, it’s about the intention behind it.

She didn’t just shoot photos. She built relationships. She paid attention. She waited.

And that challenges me in my own work to do the same. To slow down. To ask better questions. To make the kind of images that come from trust, not just timing.

If you’re curious about how that shows up in my own photography, I invite you to browse around my website and take a look at my galleries. I also share stories, blog posts, and photo galleries that are all inspired by artists like Sandra who remind me to lead with purpose, not ego.

My final thoughts, Sandra Eleta reminds us that photography isn’t just about seeing. it’s about witnessing.
Witnessing culture, memory, joy, pain, all of it. Without trying to control it or dress it up for an audience.

She shows us that it’s okay to be small, local, deeply personal. That not every story needs to shout to be heard.

And while the art world might’ve slept on her, we don’t have to.
We can choose to pay attention. To seek out her work. To share it. To say her name.

So if today’s episode resonated with you, take a moment to look up Sandra Eleta. Spend some time with her images. Let them sink in. Let them challenge the way you see your own surroundings, your own community.

If you made it this far, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. If you’re enjoying this journey through under recognized photographers and their stories, do me a favor, take a second to rate the show, write a review, or share it with someone you think would vibe with it.

You can find the show on Spotify or Apple Podcasts.
Your support keeps this thing going and again, I’m grateful for it.

Until next time. Stay grounded, stay curious, and keep honoring the stories that often get left in the shadows.

Peace.