Capturing the Ephemeral: An Interview on Migration, Identity, and Urban Memory
In this interview, we explore the work of Caso Perdido, a Venezuelan photographer whose lens is drawn to the overlooked details of urban life—handwritten signs, graffiti, and the subtle traces left by migrant communities.
Through projects like "SÍ HAY PRODUCTO LATINO", he documents the intersection of memory, adaptation, and presence in the cityscape. We discuss how photography preserves the ephemeral, the layers of Barcelona beyond its tourist image, and the role of everyday objects in shaping migrant identity.
Your work documents urban elements such as posters and graffiti. How do you think photography can capture the essence of the ephemeral in the city?
Photography is the perfect tool to capture the ephemeral. Posters, graffiti, and improvised street advertisements are temporary messages that reflect a very specific context. Documenting them is a way of giving them permanence, of turning them into a testimony. For me, photographing these elements is like archiving a collective memory, especially in the case of migrant communities or marginalized scenes that often remain outside official records.
Barcelona is a city with many layers: tourist, everyday, migrant, underground. How do you choose which aspects of the city to showcase in your work?
I’m interested in what may seem invisible or secondary at first glance. I’m not drawn to Barcelona’s tourist postcards, but rather to the signs left behind by the communities that inhabit it and are sometimes ignored. Latin shops, neighborhood markets, graffiti on the margins, and handwritten posters speak to me of life, adaptation, and presence.
You mentioned that the exhibition "SÍ HAY PRODUCTO LATINO" stems from a fanzine. How was the "Producto Latino" fanzine born, and what role does it play in your visual narrative?
The fanzine was my first attempt to capture these ideas in an accessible format—something that could circulate from hand to hand and reach different people. It’s a visual diary that documents the migrant and urban experience, allowing me to intimately explore the stories that emerge from the streets. In this way, the fanzine becomes a bridge between the immediacy of photography and the depth of personal narrative.
Tell us about the origin of the exhibition. How did the idea for "SÍ HAY PRODUCTO LATINO" come about?
The idea was born from a very personal experience. In Venezuela, “SÍ HAY” signs are part of the urban landscape—a statement that challenges scarcity and reinforces hope. When I arrived in Barcelona, I came across a similar sign in a supermarket, marking a space where Latin American products were grouped together. That echo of Venezuela, but with a different meaning in Barcelona’s migratory context, became the foundation for creating the exhibition as a testimony of that dual experience.
The exhibition talks about "comings and goings, absence and presence." How are these concepts reflected in your work?
My work plays with the idea of what we leave behind and what we carry with us. In Venezuela, signs become a necessity to mark existence, while in Barcelona, they transform into a code of identity and belonging. The installation materializes this tension: absences that turn into presences, spaces redefined to narrate the constant movement of migration.
In your opinion, what role do these everyday elements play in shaping the identity of migrants?
They are fundamental. Products, posters, and graffiti are not mere objects or messages; they are symbolic anchors that help us situate ourselves in a new context without losing sight of our origins. They function as meeting points and markers of recognition that strengthen the identity of the migrant community.
Finally, what do you hope the audience will take away from this exhibition and the fanzine?
I want the audience to confront the idea of presence. To see in the posters, images, and pages of the fanzine a testimony that we exist and that the migrant community leaves its mark on the places it inhabits. Beyond nostalgia, this work is an affirmation of how we adapt without losing our identity and how we transform spaces to make them our own. I hope that those who visit the exhibition or read the fanzine develop a more attentive gaze toward the details of the city and discover stories of resistance and belonging.
