Welcome back to Sombra Y Cultura. I’m your host, and today, we’re heading into the heart of Nicaragua to explore the story of one of the country’s most significant yet under recognized photographers — Claudia Gordillo Castellón.

You know, every time I sit down to create an episode, I try to imagine what it must’ve felt like for these photographers to live through the moments they captured. To be behind the camera, watching history unfold, feeling the pulse of their country through a lens. And Claudia Gordillo is one of those people who didn’t just photograph Nicaragua — she translated its reality into images that still speak decades later.

So, who is Claudia Gordillo Castellón?
She was born in Managua, Nicaragua, in 1954, and her journey into photography is one that mirrors the country’s turbulent and creative transformation during the late 20th century. She studied photography and visual arts in Italy — attending the Istituto Europeo di Design, Scuola Dante Alighieri, and Scuola Maldoror. That early European experience shaped her technical understanding and visual discipline. Later, she returned home to Nicaragua and completed studies in Cultural Sciences at the Universidad Centroamericana, known as UCA.

Now, imagine that: a young Nicaraguan woman trained in Italy, coming back to a country that was going through revolutionary change. That context — the tension, the energy, the sense of rebuilding — is where her photographic voice started to take root.

By the early 1980s,Claudia had joined Barricada, the official newspaper of the Sandinista government. She wasn’t a militant or politician herself, but she found herself documenting a nation in transition. Working as a photojournalist between 1982 and 1984, she covered a country emerging from revolution — families, workers, soldiers, communities trying to find normalcy in the middle of transformation.

Her images from this period didn’t shout politics. They whispered humanity. They told stories of resilience, of rebuilding, and of how ordinary people lived through extraordinary times. And that’s something I personally find beautiful — she found emotion and dignity in the smallest details, in a look, a gesture, or a street corner.

One of Claudia’s best-known projects is “Memoria Oculta de Mestizajes,” or “Hidden Memory of Mixed Identities.” In this series, she explored the layers of Nicaragua’s identity — the cultural, indigenous, and Afro-Caribbean roots that often get left out of the country’s mainstream narrative. Another important series is “Estampas del Caribe Nicaragüense,” which focused on the Caribbean coast and its communities — capturing everyday life, traditions, and the essence of belonging.

In my opinion, from viewing her work, what stands out most is her ability to create balance — her photos feel intimate but never invasive. She has this quiet, steady gaze that lets her subjects be themselves. The light in her work feels natural,the framing is deliberate but unpretentious, and her eye always seems to search for connection rather than spectacle.

Claudia’s photography is deeply Nicaraguan, but not in a tourist or political way. It’s cultural memory. She preserves fragments of Nicaragua’s social fabric — from indigenous rituals to modern city streets — all through a perspective that feels grounded, empathetic, and sincere.

Throughout her career, she’s exhibited internationally and contributed to preserving Nicaragua’s photographic history through her work with the Fototeca of the Institute of History of Nicaragua and Central America (IHNCA), based at UCA. Her role there helped safeguard archives that might have other wise disappeared — making her not just a documentarian but also an archivist of national memory.

And something I find truly special about Claudia’s photography is how it captures Nicaragua with honesty — never leaning toward politics or propaganda, but rather toward humanity. Her work doesn’t try to take sides; it reflects life as it is. You can sense the empathy in every frame — the way she observes without judging, how she documents the resilience of people rebuilding their lives, celebrating their traditions, and finding beauty in everyday strength.

That’s what makes Claudia’s photography so powerful — it connects with people beyond time and circumstance. It shows that even through change, what truly endures are the faces, the emotions, and the stories that define who we are.

When I look at Claudia Gordillo’s body of work, I see someone who represents what it means to stay rooted in your craft and your culture. She reminds us that photography isn’t always about the loudest image or the most dramatic frame —sometimes, it’s about quiet honesty. In her photographs, the history of Nicaragua breathes. And even though she’s not a household name internationally, she deserves to be one. Because through her lens, we get to see the beauty of persistence — the poetry of survival.

Before I go, just a quick note — Sombra Y Cultura is now open for listener support (by clicking here). It’s something small, nothing pressured or expected, just a way to help this project keep growing. But honestly, the best way you can support this show is by listening, sharing, and spreading the word.

And if you enjoyed today’s episode, please take a moment to leave a review on Apple Podcasts or Spotify, give it a like, or share it with someone who loves photography and culture as much as you do. It really helps more than you might think.

I’m your host Chris, and this was Sombra Y Cultura. Until next time — stay inspired, stay grounded, and never stop capturing your world.

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