Last time on Sombra Y Cultura, we explored the work of Cuban photographer Lisandra Álvarez and how she uses documentary photography to capture the emotions, connections, and everyday experiences of people in Havana.

One thing I kept thinking about after that episode was how photographers can approach their surroundings in completely different ways, yet still share something in common: the desire to document people, places, and stories that deserve to be seen.

And that's something we'll continue exploring today, but from a different perspective.

This time, we're heading from Cuba to Panama to look at the work of Sofía Verzbolovskis. Her photography takes us through changing neighborhoods, disappearing cultural traditions, and communities whose stories are connected to identity, resilience, and everyday life.

So, let's get into it.

What's up everyone, welcome back to another episode of Sombra Y Cultura. If this is your first time listening, welcome in.

Today, we're taking a closer look at the work of Panamanian photographer Sofía  . Based in New York City, Sofía works in documentary and editorial photography, and her projects often explore the relationship between people, culture, architecture, and the environments they live in.

One thing I find interesting about her work is the range of subjects she has explored. She's photographed the changing streets of Panama, the colorful buses known as Diablos Rojos, and communities of women whose work and livelihoods are connected to economic opportunity and resilience.

Her photographs also remind us that documentary photography doesn't have to focus on one particular subject or style. Sometimes it's about preserving a piece of a city's identity. Other times, it's about understanding how people from different backgrounds share a space, or recognizing the importance of a community that might otherwise receive very little attention.

So today, we'll talk about her background, some of her best-known projects, and how her approach to photography brings together culture, place, and human connection.

Sofía Verzbolovskis was born in Panama in 1987 and is currently based in New York City.

She graduated from New York University in 2009. After finishing university, she decided to take some time away from her studies and traveled to Ghana, where she worked as a volunteer. She later spent time in Paris, taking courses at Parsons and becoming more focused on photography, particularly street photography.

In an interview with Foto-Féminas, Sofía described that period as the beginning of her photographic journey. She started documenting what she saw around her on a daily basis, building a portfolio, and eventually applying to the International Center of Photography in New York.

She attended the Documentary and Photojournalism Program at ICP from 2010 to 2011. During that time, she developed her technical skills and began to understand more clearly what interested her as a photographer.

Her work has since appeared in publications including The New Yorker, The New York Times, The Washington Post, and Musée Magazine. She has also exhibited internationally, with shows and group exhibitions in Panama, the United States, Australia, Spain, Guatemala, and elsewhere.

Sofía is a member of Foto-Féminas and Women Photograph, organizations that support and bring visibility to women and non-binary photographers working across different areas of photography.

Her work has received several recognitions, including being named a finalist for the Smithsonian Photo Contest and the Head On Photo Festival in 2017. In 2019, she received the Mobile Photo Prize in the Wanderlust category from PH Museum, followed by a Juror's Pick in the LensCulture Street Photography Awards in 2020.

But awards and publications only tell us part of the story. To understand what makes her photography interesting, I think it's worth looking at the places and communities she has chosen to photograph.

Sofía's work is rooted in documentary photography, but she also has a strong interest in architecture, color, geometry, and the way people interact with their surroundings.

In an interview with Fathom, she described being drawn to places where different cultures meet. She enjoys wandering through unfamiliar areas, without necessarily having a set itinerary, and allowing unexpected moments to guide her.

That sense of discovery comes through in her street photography. A person walking through a frame, the shape of a building, a painted wall, or the way sunlight falls across a street can all become part of the photograph.

Her ongoing project Street Palette is a good example. The project explores the relationship between color, light, architecture, and the people who move through different environments. The photographs are made in different places, but Sofía looks for visual connections between them.

She has explained that recurring shapes and geometric elements are something she naturally looks for when photographing. A square, a circle, or a triangle might appear in a building, a street corner, or the arrangement of objects in a scene. These forms can create a visual connection between photographs made in completely different parts of the world.

I like that idea because it shows how a photographer can develop a personal way of seeing without needing to photograph the same subject every time.

At the same time, her documentary work isn't limited to formal composition. Her current biography describes a focus on communities of women around the world, particularly stories involving economic empowerment and resilience.

That interest can be seen in projects such as her photographs for Café Femenino, which she made in the highlands of Peru in 2022. The initiative supports women in coffee-growing communities through fair opportunities, economic participation, and a stronger voice within the coffee industry.

Sofía's photographs were commissioned by Bewley's, a partner of Café Femenino. Rather than simply presenting coffee as a product, the work brings attention to the people and communities connected to its production.

One of the projects I want to spend some time on is Diablos Rojos: Fin de una era, which translates to Red Devils: End of an Era.

For those unfamiliar with Panama, Los Diablos Rojos were brightly decorated buses that served as an important form of public transportation. But they were much more than vehicles. Their elaborate paintwork, illustrations, and personal designs made them recognizable pieces of Panamanian visual culture.

In her interview with Foto-Féminas, Sofía described seeing these buses as moving galleries. They traveled through the city carrying their own visual identity, and she became interested in photographing them as Panama was going through a period of modernization.

As newer forms of transportation and development changed the city, many of these buses were taken out of circulation. Sofía photographed some of them after they had reached scrapyards, waiting to be dismantled.

Her first solo exhibition, Diablos Rojos: Fin de una era, opened in New York in 2012. The series was later exhibited in Panama under the title Cementerio de Diablos, or Cemetery of the Red Devils.

What makes this work interesting is that it documents more than a transportation system. It captures a piece of everyday Panamanian culture at a moment when that culture was changing. These buses had become familiar parts of the city, and photographing them was also a way of preserving something that was disappearing from the streets.

Another important project is La Tacita de Oro, which translates to The Little Cup of Gold.

This series focuses on the city of Colón, located on Panama's Caribbean coast. Founded in 1852, Colón has a history tied to the Panama Canal, international trade, and a distinctive mix of cultural and architectural influences.

Sofía first became interested in the city after meeting Panamanians from Colón who were living in New York. Through conversations with them, she began hearing about a place that was very different from the Panama City she had grown up around.

She visited Colón in 2013 and became fascinated by its architecture and its history.

The name La Tacita de Oro refers to the city's former reputation as a prosperous and culturally rich place. Its streets once featured impressive buildings, hotels, theaters, bakeries, parks, and avenues. By the time Sofía began photographing there, many buildings and streets showed visible signs of deterioration.

But her photographs aren't simply about documenting decay. She was interested in the contrast between the city's present condition and the history still visible in its architecture, colors, and facades.

In an interview with Musée Magazine, she discussed how the color throughout Colón remained striking even against the deteriorating buildings. That contrast helped her connect the city's past with the place she was photographing in the present.

She continued returning to Colón over the years, making the project an ongoing effort to document a city in transition.

More recently, her work has continued to explore communities and the people behind larger social and economic stories.

Her photographs for Café Femenino in Peru, for example, focus on women involved in coffee-growing communities. Another project on her website, created with Le Korsa and the Josef and Anni Albers Foundation, is connected to initiatives supporting Senegalese communities through education, healthcare, and the arts.

These projects show how her documentary practice can move between personal street photography, cultural history, and commissioned work with a broader social purpose.

What I find valuable about Sofía's work is that it demonstrates how documentary photography can preserve things that are easy to overlook while also making us reconsider places we think we already understand.

Take La Tacita de Oro. Someone could photograph Colón simply by pointing a camera at its deteriorating buildings. But Sofía's project asks us to consider what those buildings represent. They hold traces of a city's former prosperity, its architecture, and the people who remember what it once was.

The same idea applies to Diablos Rojos. These buses were part of everyday transportation, but they also carried a visual identity that belonged to Panama. By photographing them as they disappeared from circulation, Sofía helped preserve a record of something that was culturally meaningful.

Her work with women and communities adds another dimension. It brings attention to people whose contributions and experiences deserve to be documented, especially when the subject involves economic opportunity and resilience.

I also think her recognition in the photography world is worth mentioning. Being featured by publications such as The New Yorker, The New York Times, and The Washington Post, alongside her exhibitions and awards, has helped bring her work to audiences beyond Panama.

But the importance of her photography isn't simply where it has been published. It's the attention she gives to the subjects themselves and the way she uses visual details to connect different stories.

There are a few things I think photographers can take away from Sofía's work.

First, pay attention to the places you know. You don't always need to travel somewhere unfamiliar to find a meaningful story. Sometimes the most interesting subjects are in places you've passed a hundred times without really looking.

Second, learn to recognize the relationship between people and their surroundings. Architecture, color, light, and the environment can tell us a great deal about the people who live in a place. They don't have to be separate elements in a photograph.

Third, don't be afraid to explore different subjects. Sofía's work moves between street photography, architecture, cultural documentation, and stories about women and economic empowerment. Those interests might seem different at first, but they're connected by her curiosity about people and the environments they inhabit.

And finally, remember that documenting change is important. Cities evolve, traditions disappear, buildings are renovated or demolished, and familiar parts of everyday life can vanish. Photography gives us a way to create a record of those changes, not just for ourselves, but for people who may never have experienced them.

MY FINAL THOUGHTS

What stood out to me most while learning about Sofía's work was the idea of photographing a place before it changes beyond recognition.

I think about the Diablos Rojos and the photographs she made of them as they were being taken out of circulation. Something that might have seemed ordinary to people who saw those buses every day eventually became part of Panama's visual history.

And then there's Colón. I find it interesting that Sofía approached the city through conversations with people living in New York. They shared memories of a place she had grown up relatively close to, but didn't really know. That curiosity led her to visit, explore, and continue returning to photograph it.

It reminds me that sometimes a story begins with simply listening to someone describe a place or an experience that we haven't taken the time to understand.

I also appreciate the range of her work. Whether she's photographing a city, a street scene, or women working within a community, there's an interest in looking beyond the obvious and finding the details that connect people to their surroundings.

For me, that's one of the things photography does best. It gives us a reason to slow down, look closer, and recognize that even familiar places have stories worth telling.

That brings us to the end of this episode on Sofía Verzbolovskis. I hope you enjoyed learning about her photography and some of the stories behind her work.

I'll have links here to Sofía's official website, Instagram, lens culture profile, and foto feminas page for anyone who wants to explore her photography further.

If you enjoyed this episode, follow Sombra Y Cultura on your favorite podcast platform, leave a rating or review, and share it with another photographer or someone who enjoys photography and visual culture.

Thanks for listening, and I'll see you next time.