Interview Sabrina Viéytez : A Conversation about Photography and Memory

On a sunny Saturday, I met with Salvadoran artist Sabrina Viéytez at CÉSURE, a former university campus transformed into a space for cultural gatherings. With a cup of coffee in hand, we discussed her fascination with analog photography and how this technique has taught her to embrace uncertainty and imperfection.
Through stories of love, constancy, and technique, Sabrina reveals how her images capture fragments of memory and humanity that transcend what we see.
Sabrina : When I was in El Salvador recently, I felt this need to do something with my hands, beyond taking photos, something even more tactile. In the past year, we studied many artists who mixed techniques and did it very well. But I don't know why I still seem to box myself into one art form, and I think, how can I do two or three at the same time?
Ayhuma : For me, the desire to play with different techniques came with the pandemic. During the first lockdown, I isolated myself at my aunt's house and couldn't bring all the books I use for my collages.
That blocked me a bit at first, but one day I was looking at her sewing threads and started wondering what would happen if I incorporated them into my collages. Honestly, if it weren't for this situation, I find it very unlikely I would have done it at any other time.
Sabrina : You’re saying if you hadn’t had the need?
Ayhuma : Exactly, because I was limited in my materials and felt like I wasn't able to express what I wanted to say with just what I had available. This led me to a place of allowing myself to think my creations in a different way.
In your university classes, do you feel like they give you space to explore how to tell stories with other media and formats?

Sabrina : Yes, and I feel like that’s why I really enjoyed the experimental cinema class we had in our second year, because you can really do whatever comes from your spirit, and you don’t have to explain it with words. I mean, the film explains it for you.
Ayhuma : And how did your interest in photography come about?
Sabrina : I feel like it comes from what I’ve been studying, and I think what really captivated me was learning to use a camera with all its functions. And I thought that was so cool. Because you can take a photo in automatic mode, and it will take the shot.
But when you know how to use it, you feel like you control the camera, and it’s no longer the camera controlling you. And that’s when you can take the photo the way your eyes want to see it, not how the camera wants to see it.
Ayhuma : Lately, I’ve seen you’ve been doing a lot of analog photography, right?
Sabrina : Yes! I feel like analog photography excites me so much more. There’s a kind of suspense and anxiety that I find very beautiful. Also, everything feels much more tactile, and because it’s riskier, the process tends to be much more exciting.
Right now, I’ve been taking photos for 2 months, and there are some that I haven’t even seen yet, and I don’t know when I’ll see them. Maybe none of the photos from the trip turned out great, I don’t know.
Ayhuma : I love this suspense that comes with shooting on film because, for me, it serves as a reminder that art exists beyond perfection.
Because you can give your best and know your camera very well, but you never really know how the photo will turn out until you develop the roll. And I think that’s really beautiful in the process.
Sabrina : Of course. Sometimes you have a composition in mind for a super cool photo, and it turns out to be the worst photo on the roll. But it doesn’t matter, because you can always go back and take a better one, you know?
Ayhuma : During these holidays, I’ve been learning to get to know my camera, and I feel like the photos that surprised me the most were the ones I thought were going to turn out bad.
I thought about you during the trip because I love how you photograph people on the street. And many times this summer, I wanted to take pictures of people passing by, but I got blocked by not knowing how they’d react. In fact, I’ve taken many photos where they’re only shown from behind.
Sabrina : Well, yes, but I also end up with a lot of backs, you know? I feel like here in Paris it’s risky because people don’t like having their photo taken. But back home (in El Salvador), I feel like people are much more open to it, though you still need to have your technique.
For example, when I went out with my parents recently, I had to tell them : "Go stand here so it looks like I’m taking a picture of you, but I’m actually capturing everything behind you."
Ayhuma : I’m really surprised by what you’re saying because your photos give me the feeling that you’re so close to the people you photograph. I never imagined you felt the same way. How do you manage not to let that stop you from taking the photos you want to take?
Sabrina : Little by little, you get over the shyness, but I feel like you only get rid of it by doing it more often. If you keep telling yourself, "Oh, I don’t want to go out today because I’m shy, because I’m going alone or they’ll say something to me," then, of course, you’ll keep feeling shy. I think you have to find what works for you.

Ayhuma : Of course, that makes sense. And how was the experience of returning to your country after living in Paris for the past few years to photograph love in El Salvador?
Sabrina : The truth is, when you suggested I do this photographic series, I started thinking about what I would photograph. Because, for example, I really love Paris, but I always wonder why they call it the city of love.
There are beautiful things here, there is love here, but I feel like the other half comes from your eyes. If you want to perceive love, then you will see it, right? And right before I was going to return to El Salvador, I was a little nervous because I was thinking, what am I going to photograph?
I don’t know, when I lived in El Salvador, I used to think there was nothing to do, and especially nothing to take photos of. But now, when I went back and had to take photos from the perspective of love, I feel like I didn’t even have enough film to capture everything I wanted.
Ayhuma : I think that when you’re an immigrant, this can be a very beautiful, but also quite difficult task — to return to your country, and allow yourself to look, through the lens of love, at the people there, who represent your origins and what you bring with you to your new country.
Sabrina : Yes, and also, every city has its ugly sides, but every city has at least one beautiful side. So, I feel like if you look for the beauty, that’s what you’ll find. It depends on your desire.
And that’s what happened when I returned to El Salvador, and that’s why I focused so much on photographing people. I also feel like this perspective of seeking love, even in ugly places, was something my parents instilled in me, because they’ve always loved each other so much, thank God. So, I carry that, I don’t know, that kindness that I inherited from them.
Ayhuma : And now, when you returned, how did you perceive the people? I have to say I was really curious to see how you were going to approach the theme of love in your photos, especially with the current political context.
Because you read the news from afar, but it’s hard to get a real sense of life in the country. And I kept thinking about how people are still living and expressing their love on the streets. How do they occupy the spaces in this turbulent moment in the country’s history?
Sabrina : The truth is, I don’t know if I’m in the best place to talk about politics, so I didn’t want to think of this series as something political. But I do feel like, at the same time, it has something political about it.
When you suggested photographing love, I thought a lot about it: what is love? And looking at all my photos, I realize that I’ve never photographed anything that makes me say, "Well, this reflects my hatred for everything." On the contrary, I feel like I truly create all my work with love. And that starts right at the beginning of the process.
I mean, I chose analog photography because I love it, and the subjects I photograph are also people I like. I feel that from the bottom of my soul, I only photograph things I love. And that’s why I don’t think this is a very political series, you know? Because I don’t photograph harsh things.
And there’s a limit to that, and it led me to a big reflection within myself about how far I can go in taking photos of people on the street, you know? I feel like I’ll never be in a place where I’d feel legitimate taking photos of people in a vulnerable situation.
There are great photographers who dedicated themselves to that, but I personally don’t feel like it’s my place to do it with the perspective and soul that I have.
Ayhuma : When I studied photojournalism in college, this was a big debate. It was there that I first encountered the work, which I find incredible, of Sebastião Salgado Filho. I remember that many classmates saw his work as something negative. They criticized the fact that he did all his work in black and white and photographed people in situations of extreme vulnerability.
Some even said that black and white added a beauty that wasn’t real. And I wonder, from back in college, if he did it that way so that beauty, which naturally exists in any environment, could be more easily shown to those who are less sensitive to other realities.
Sabrina : I feel that among street photographers, some genuinely want to show a harsh reality, and there are people I’ve seen on Instagram who just do it to post it on social media and nothing more. And to me, that feels a bit pretentious and morbid, right?
Ayhuma : Exactly!
Sabrina : It happens a lot on social media that you give a photo a like, and that’s where it ends, there’s no discussion. The debate also comes up with what you do with your photos and whether you’re going to post them on social media.
Personally, it’s the only way I, still a small photographer, feel like I can make myself seen. But obviously, there are photos that I’m so proud of that I think, "I wish I could make a magazine or something like that," but I don’t have the money. And sometimes, it saddens me that a photo just ends up on Instagram, getting likes, and that’s it.
Ayhuma : Of course, and all of this can be a bit frustrating too. Because you put so much of your time and who you are into taking a photo, which is a much longer process than the lifespan of your photo on social media.
Sabrina : Exactly, and with analog photography, I feel it’s a bit paradoxical. It’s like I told you, what I like is the tactile experience. The act of loading the film, being careful not to expose it, and then waiting to develop it.
So, I don’t know, all that delicate process with so much suspense, just to end up posting it on Instagram, where it gets mixed in with millions and millions of posts every day.
Ayhuma : I think we’re about to experience a significant change in the way we use social media, and in fact, which social media we use. But in the meantime, I think it’s important to keep posting them, because eventually, what you do will reach those it’s meant for.
And the more you make it accessible to more people, there’s also that effect of sharing something that has the potential to inspire someone else or be a positive message in their day.
Sabrina : Sometimes I wonder where the photos will end up being published later, because Instagram probably won’t exist anymore, and people will say something like, "Wow, 40 years ago, they used to post on this thing called Instagram, and 80 years ago, they put them in these old-fashioned photo albums, right?" I don’t know, that reflection just makes me want to keep taking photos. I mean, to leave a trace of what the world is like right now, even though the tool I use to photograph it is from many years ago too.
Ayhuma : I love making photo albums. I like having that physical memory at home of the trips I’ve taken or the people I love.
And I feel much more connected because it’s different when you know the number of photos you can take is limited, which doesn’t happen with phones. That gives me another perspective on what I want to photograph and how.
Sabrina : Exactly. This summer when I went to El Salvador, I feel like I didn’t take any photos with my phone, unless I didn’t have my camera and thought, well, I want to remember this moment. But I rarely go back to a phone photo and say, "Oh yes, let me see what I did that day." Especially because with a phone, you can take bursts of photos. With an analog camera, it’s just the opposite, and almost always, I take only one or at most two photos of the same scene.
Ayhuma : It’s exactly the same for me.
Sabrina : And I feel like you remember things much more vividly with analog photos, and it doesn’t matter if the photo turned out good or bad. But with analog, I feel like it becomes so much more memorable.
Ayhuma : I completely agree. Even with the photos that didn’t turn out “well.” I find myself looking at them and perfectly remembering what I was trying to photograph and what the scene was like.
Whereas with digital, I have trouble truly connecting and even recalling why I wanted to take that particular photo at the time.
Sabrina : Well, I was doing an internship at a photo lab, and one of my tasks was often scanning people’s rolls of film. And many times, rolls would come in from professionals, and you had to take even greater care with their rolls. And you know what I realized?
Ayhuma : No, what?!
Sabrina : Working there, I never once saw a roll of film from a professional photographer where all 36 shots were perfect. Sometimes, only 10 out of 36 would come out well. So when I mess up, I tell myself: "Well, it happens to the professionals too, right?".
And that’s part of the process and the unpredictable nature of analog photography, even for the most experienced photographers. And that risk doesn’t exist in digital photography, and that’s exactly what makes analog photography so special to me.
Between Latvia and Lithuania, the road unfolds like a thread — carrying moments, faces, and light that linger between one heartbeat and the next.
I photograph as I move, allowing the film to overlap, to forget, to remember differently.
In these double exposures, time folds over itself — past, present, and now merging into a single breath.
Cities become memories, skies become voices, and I become part of the landscapes I try to hold.
These images are not about arrival, but about motion — about the quiet blur where belonging begins to take shape.
Somewhere between the seen and the felt, life dissolves into place, and place becomes a way of seeing oneself again.