Whats up everyone, welcome back to Sombra Y Cultura.

Today we’re diving into the work of a photographer I honestly didn’t know about until I came across one of his award-winning images.

Let me describe it to you.

Imagine a landscape.

A volcano erupting in the background — lava moving through the scene, filling the frame with intensity.

But that’s not what caught my attention.

It was what was happening in the foreground.

A woman standing still, watching the eruption unfold.

And in her hands, a cross.

There was something about that contrast that made me stop and sit with the image longer than I expected.

And from there, I went looking for who created it.

That’s when I came across Esteban Biba.

And once I started going through his work, I realized that photograph wasn’t an isolated moment. It was part of a much larger way of seeing the world.

For more than fifteen years, Esteban has worked as a photojournalist throughout Guatemala and Central America, documenting everything from cultural traditions and religious practices to migration routes and natural disasters as they unfold.

And what stood out to me the most is that his work isn’t about arriving after the story is over.

It’s about being there while it’s still happening.

So today, I want to spend some time looking at his photography, his path in photojournalism, and the kind of stories his images are telling about the region he works in.

Esteban Biba has spent over fifteen years working as a photojournalist in Guatemala.

His work has appeared in international publications including The New York Times, The Wall Street Journal, and El País.

He currently works as a staff photographer for the EFE international news agency and contributes to the European Pressphoto Agency.

On paper, those are major outlets — the kind of places photographers spend years trying to break into.

But what really defines his career isn’t just where his work is published.

It’s the range of situations he’s been part of.

His photography moves between cultural life, religious traditions, migration, environmental events, and everyday moments across Guatemala.

When you look at all of that together, it stops feeling like separate assignments.

It starts feeling like a continuous record of life in motion.

A lot of Esteban’s work begins in moments that might seem ordinary at first glance.

A gathering.

A celebration.

A religious practice that has been carried through generations.

But as you spend more time with the images, you start noticing something else happening inside them.

The way people stand.

The way they look at each other.

The way small gestures sit quietly inside larger scenes.

Guatemala has a deep cultural and Indigenous foundation, and many of those traditions are still present in everyday life.

What Esteban seems to focus on is not just documenting those moments, but staying close enough to notice what sits around them.

Because often, the most meaningful parts of an image aren’t in the center.

They’re happening just outside of it.

And that way of seeing carries into everything else his work touches.

That same approach becomes even more visible when his work shifts toward migration across the Northern Triangle of Central America — Guatemala, Honduras, and El Salvador.

This is a subject that is often discussed in statistics, headlines, and political conversations.

But none of that really captures what it feels like on the ground.

The movement.

The waiting.

The uncertainty of what comes next.

Esteban’s photography focuses on the human side of those journeys.

People in transit.

Families moving forward.

Moments of pause in the middle of long distances.

Some of this work was later included in an exhibition developed with the International Organization for Migration of the United Nations, helping bring a more grounded visual perspective to a subject that is often viewed from afar.

And the more you sit with that, the more you start to see a pattern in his work.

Movement is always present.

Even when nothing seems to be happening.

That idea of movement becomes more intense when the environment itself takes over the story.

Floods.

Storms.

Volcanic eruptions.

Situations where everything changes quickly and unpredictably.

These are moments where photographers don’t have time to shape the story.

They respond to it.

Esteban has covered these kinds of events throughout Guatemala, often in conditions where the situation is unfolding minute by minute.

And in those moments, photography becomes something very direct.

Not interpretation.

Not reflection.

But presence.

One of Esteban Biba’s most recognized photographs comes from the 2021 activity of Pacaya Volcano in Guatemala.

The image shows a woman facing the volcano, holding a cross as lava flows through the landscape in front of her.

Esteban is positioned behind her, capturing the moment as it unfolds.

At first glance, the image is defined by contrast.

The movement of lava in the background.

The stillness of a single person in the foreground.

But the longer you sit with it, the less it feels like contrast and the more it feels like connection.

Because the photograph isn’t really about the volcano itself.

And it isn’t only about faith.

It’s about what it means to stand in front of something you can’t control.

According to reporting from the time, nearby communities had been gathering in prayer during the eruption, hoping the lava would not reach their homes.

That context shifts the image completely.

It becomes less about the eruption.

And more about how people respond when the ground beneath them feels uncertain.

When you look at Esteban’s work as a whole, it starts to become clear that it’s not built around single moments.

It’s built around consistency.

Being present.

Returning to stories that are still unfolding.

Photojournalism, at its core, is about narrowing the distance between what is happening and what we are able to see.

Because most of us experience major events through layers.

Screens.

Headlines.

Clips.

Fragments.

But this kind of work removes some of that distance, even if only briefly.

And in doing so, it creates a record of something that would otherwise move too quickly to fully understand.

MY FINAL THOUGHTS

The thing that stayed with me most about Esteban Biba’s photography is how grounded it feels in presence.

Not just being there physically.

But being aware of what is happening in front of you without trying to turn it into something else.

Most of us don’t experience the world that way.

We see it secondhand.

Filtered.

Seperated by time and distance.

But photojournalism brings some of that back into focus.

And Esteban’s work does that in a very direct way.

It doesn’t try to over-explain what it’s showing.

It just stays close to the moment.

And lets the moment speak for itself.

If you want to explore more of Esteban Biba’s work, you’ll find links to his photography connected to today’s episode here (Lens Culture - Esteban Biba) (Instagram).

Thank you for listening to Sombra Y Cultura.

If you enjoyed this episode, consider following the podcast on Spotify and Apple Podcasts, leaving a rating or review, and sharing it with someone who enjoys photography and visual storytelling.

I appreciate you all being here.

Until next time, keep creating, stay observant, and keep looking for the stories that deserve to be seen.

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