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February 25, 2021

Opinion | The Masks of Mexico

Photographs by Russell Monk with Text by Valerie Mejer Caso
Mr. Monk is a photographer. Ms. Mejer Caso is a Mexican poet and visual artist.

SAN MIGUEL DE ALLENDE, Mexico — We Mexicans live behind masks of our own creation, even if in these portraits they are more a symbolic gesture of futility than protection.

Masks have long been a part of our cultural history, from the Lucha Libre masks to those worn for la Danza de los Viejitos, a traditional folk dance from the State of Michoacán.

They are like a garment that protects our vulnerabilities and allows us to express ourselves.

The city of San Miguel de Allende, Guanajuato, where we live, was quick to enact a strong response to the coronavirus and, as a result, the city has one of the lowest case rates in Mexico. But its citizens, already economically battered, have been depleted by the pandemic.

A young construction worker, preacher and butcher wear masks that are representative of the tools used to make a living, liberate us, and to fix things. A versatility borne out of hardship and necessity.

In a year where everything has been turned on its head, there appears to be nothing out of the ordinary about wearing a mask made of a chicharrón, a tin heart or the husk of a tamal.

There can be beauty in resistance.

Read the article on The New York Times website
View an additional version in Italy’s Internazionale Magazine

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December 12, 2018

Portraits from a Caravan

Photographs by Russell Monk

Has any other word in 2018 been as responsible for so much as “caravan”?

By definition, a caravan is a company of people traveling through a hostile region. You travel in a caravan for protection. When you feel powerless, traveling in a group gives you some sense of power. But there is no protecting the caravan of migrants who have journeyed to Donald Trump’s America.

See the portraits on the New York Times website.

VIEW THE GALLERY HERE

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November 11, 2015

Roof Dogs

Photographs by Russell Monk

San Miguel de Allende, Mexico — TO wander among the working-class neighborhoods here is to think, at times, that the world is a cacophony of barking dogs. When the sun goes down, in the middle of the night and at first light, they bark. “How long can they keep it up?” I have often asked myself.

Read the article on the New York Times Sunday Review.

VIEW GALLERY HERE

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May 07, 2015

Havana Nights

Photographs by Russell Monk

To wander through the dimly lit streets of Old Havana after dark is to enter a world of shadows and silhouettes. Many, in their homes, are illuminated by the pulsing glow of their televisions, intensely watching the latest telenovela. Others are forced by the cramped environment and heat out onto the streets and sidewalks. Laughing, eating, shouting, arguing, dancing, crying, they live like open books for all to see. Lovers kiss on stoops and embrace under street lamps. Neighbors play dominoes and chess on corners. Rambunctious kids kick soccer balls and swing makeshift baseball bats.