Hola mi gente, y bienvenidos. Welcome back to Sombra Y Cultura, the podcast that brings attention to the photographers whose work carries light, shadow, and truth from across Latin America and the Spanish-speaking world.

I’m your host,Chris—and today’s episode is a journey. A journey through devotion, identity,memory, and the unseen forces that shape how we see the world.

We’re stepping into the work of Alinka Echeverría—a photographer, anthropologist, and storyteller whose images speak louder than headlines and linger long after you’ve looked away.

This episode is more than just a biography. It’s an invitation—to slow down, to reflect, and to look a little closer at the stories behind the lens.

The Journey Begins

Alinka Echeverría was born in Mexico City in 1981, and like many of the artists we’ve explored on this show, her path wasn’t linear.

She didn’t start in a darkroom or art school—she started with social anthropology. She earned her Master’s from the University of Edinburgh, where her focus on how societies form meaning laid the groundwork for everything she would later do with a camera.

That foundation in anthropology is what makes her work so layered. She doesn’t just capture moments—she interrogates the cultural systems behind them. She’s interested in symbols,belief, migration, and how images shape our understanding of who we are.

After spending time working on development projects across East Africa, Alinka pursued formal training at the International Center of Photography in New York.That’s when the two worlds—anthropology and photography—merged. And what emerged from that intersection is nothing short of profound.

The Road to Tepeyac

Let’s talk about the project that introduced many to her name: “The Road to Tepeyac” (2010).

This series was captured during Mexico’s annual pilgrimage to the Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe, one of the largest and most emotionally charged religious gatherings in the world. Millions of people travel—some barefoot, some for days—to pay tribute to the Virgin.

But Alinka made a quiet yet powerful choice.Instead of photographing pilgrims from the front, she captured them from behind—each person carrying an image of the Virgin on their backs. These aren’t typical portraits. They’re visual meditations on faith, devotion, and cultural identity.

You don’t just see people—you feel the weight they carry. Physically, emotionally, spiritually.

Now, if you’d like to see the full series for yourself, I’ve made it easy for you. I’ve included a link to The Road to Tepeyac right here. Just click on the hyperlink  and take your time with it. Every photo invites you to pause, to reflect, and to feel.

Becoming South Sudan

In 2011, Alinka found herself in the middle of history—literally. She traveled to South Sudan as the country declared independence after decades of civil war.

While many journalists covered the event with urgency, Alinka did something quieter: she created a series of portraits titled “Becoming South Sudan.”

These portraits aren’t loud. They don’t scream celebration or despair. They whisper stories of becoming—of national identity being born in real time.

Her subjects—young men, mothers, elders—look directly into the lens. Their gazes are steady.There’s pride, there’s exhaustion, and above all, there’s humanity.

Alinka doesn’t reduce people to their suffering or their triumph. She shows them becoming.

Nicephora and the Power of Archives

Another ongoing project of Alinka’s is called "Nicephora"—a name inspired by one of the early inventors of photography, the Frenchman often credited with creating the first permanent photograph. Instead of getting caught up in the complicated pronunciation, what matters here is what Alinka does with the idea.

In Nicephora, she dives deep into the way women have historically been represented in photography. She revisits and reimagines archival images, challenging the old narratives—many of which were shaped by colonial and patriarchal points of view. It’s a thoughtful, critical exploration of how visual history was built and who it was built for.

This work has been shown at major international photo festivals and museums, including a renowned photography event in the south of France, and at Foam, a leading photography museum in Amsterdam. Most recently, pieces from this series were featured at a major art and photography gathering supported by the Luma Foundation in Arles, France.

But even with that level of international exposure, Alinka's focus remains grounded. She’s not chasing prestige—she’s building bridges between the past and present, between image and meaning.

Her Work in the Present

Alinka Echeverría doesn’t just take photographs—she opens windows into how we think and see. Her images don’t simply document; they disrupt. They ask you to return to them, again and again, not because you missed something the first time, but because there’s always more to uncover.

Across her body of work, there's a steady commitment: to question, to listen, and to reframe. She doesn’t follow visual trends or cater to what’s fashionable in the art world. And yet, her photographs have earned a place on some of the world’s most respected stages—not because she seeks the spotlight, but because her vision is impossible to ignore.

Still, what resonates most isn’t the exhibitions or awards—it’s the ideas. The challenge she offers all of us: to see beyond the surface and into the structures that shape meaning.

As someone who documents emotion and movement through photography—especially in boxing—I feel that challenge deeply. There’s so much more to every frame than what’s visible at first glance. The hesitation in a fighter’s eyes. The silence between punches. The cultural weight behind a single moment.

If you're curious to explore how Alinka’s ideas influence my own photography, aside from this short blog post about her work, you’ll find much more of my own work throughout my galleries and other blog posts. So take some time and feel free to browse around.

MY FINAL THOUGHTS

Alinka Echeverría challenges what it means to document.

Her work isn’t about capturing perfection—it’s about capturing context. About seeing the frameworks we live inside. About asking what it means to belong, to believe, to become.

She invites us to stop consuming images passively—and start interrogating them actively.

She reminds us that photography isn’t just a visual art—it’s a philosophical one.

So whether you're a photographer, a pilgrim, a scholar, or someone simply seeking meaning in the world around you—Alinka’s work offers a lens through which to see deeper, feel stronger, and think harder.

If this episode moved you, I hope you’ll check out her work. Let it challenge you. Let it inspire you.

And if Sombra Y Cultura brings value to your week, please rate the show on Apple Podcasts or Spotify. Leave a quick review. Share the episode with someone you care about.

Every listen helps keep these stories alive. Every share helps someone see the world a little differently.

Until next time—stay reflective, stay inquisitive, and never stop questioning the frame.

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