For nearly a decade, I have returned to Salinas de Pullally, a coastal landscape of salt ponds and shifting skies. My intention on this visit was to capture water under clouds. However, the sky remained clear, and the harsh light carved sharp shadows across the ponds.
As a result, my attention shifted toward an unexpected subject: cactus formations rising from stone. With them, a new chapter in my Chilean cactus photography quietly began.
Along the shoreline grows the Quisquito Rosado (Eriosyce subgibbosa). Its red blossoms stand vivid against granite, and their fragile appearance hides a reservoir of stored water. Although the air is salty and dry, these cacti endure.
Their flowers bring contrast to the coastline’s silence, reminding me that resilience is often modest and easily overlooked.
One week later, after a snowstorm cleared at Quebrada de la Madera, I encountered a second species: the Quisco (Echinopsis chiloensis). These tall forms rose against a cloudless sky. When rendered in black and white, they appeared almost sculptural — silent sentinels holding water deep within, guardians of a stark yet living landscape.
Although water remains the central thread in my work, these encounters opened a parallel reflection. Cactus store water in stillness, offering life to surrounding species.
Through them, I learned how endurance becomes architecture — and how Chilean cactus photography reveals strength in places where almost nothing else endures.
Explore more works at gcs.photo — fine art photography where water, memory, and time become poetic meditation.
