Ojos que conocieron la misma guerra (Eyes that knew the same war)

  • Dates
    2022 - Ongoing
  • Author
  • Topics Archive, Contemporary Issues, Landscape, Nature & Environment, Portrait, Social Issues
  • Locations Mexico City, Oaxaca, Hidalgo

This project explores my brother's and my relationship with my mother which fluctuated from twisted love to violence. I took photographs and wrote texts through my memories, transmuting the perception I had of my mother as a child once I reached adulthood

The first war is, sometimes, home. The first lost homeland, the family.

Alaíde Ventura. Entre los rotos

Ojos que conocieron la misma guerra (Eyes that knew the same war) is a written, performative, and photographic exploration of my family’s history within a context of violence. This exploration combines written memory, family archive, constructed photography, and those transmutations that my memories underwent in adulthood, and focuses on the notion of home and family as a group of remnants, as well as the persistent quest to collect and abstract those fragments of what was once destroyed to build a new home with them. Through these explorations, I seek to shape this jigsaw pieces that have always remained disrupted and in chaos.

Her love was my alert not to move, to hide, to move everything with the utmost care. I learned to coexist with mother both good and bad. A mom who takes care of me. A mom who punishes my puppy by plucking it's fur out with pliers until it bleeds. A mom who helps me do awesome homework for school. A mom who orders my brother to catch the cats that get into the house and electrocute them to death. A mom who bathes me carefully. A mom who punishes me by locking me out in the rain naked. A mom who tucks me in when it's cold. A mom who whips my brother with wires. A mom who hugs me and tells me I'm the most beautiful thing in her life. A mom who burns all our childhood photos. A mom who...

© Sandra Loza - Image from the Ojos que conocieron la misma guerra (Eyes that knew the same war) photography project
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Alejandro and me in the late 1990s. "It's important to have an accomplice. It is not indispensable, but it seems a good idea to have someone who also comes from that place. Eyes that knew the same war, that lost the same homeland." Alaíde Ventura.

© Sandra Loza - My mom wrote about  how two strong pillars were needed to build a strong bridge. The sign reads “destroy the bridges”
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My mom wrote about how two strong pillars were needed to build a strong bridge. The sign reads “destroy the bridges”

© Sandra Loza - Image from the Ojos que conocieron la misma guerra (Eyes that knew the same war) photography project
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“A husband can be a good partner. A son can be also a partner. The dog needs the gift of the gab. But the role of the primary partner is reserved for the brother, the only true witness of the massacre.”

© Sandra Loza - "...I began to see blood dripping from my brother's eye, the blood mixing with the tears and falling on his clothes."
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"...I began to see blood dripping from my brother's eye, the blood mixing with the tears and falling on his clothes."

© Sandra Loza - Image from the Ojos que conocieron la misma guerra (Eyes that knew the same war) photography project
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I hate how the sound of breaking bones infiltrates my head when I think of our dog’s death. If our family’s fracture had produced a sound, how would have it sounded?

© Sandra Loza - Image from the Ojos que conocieron la misma guerra (Eyes that knew the same war) photography project
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There’s only one photo of my mom as a child in existance. It hurts not being able to know what mom was like at 5 years old, at 7 years old, at 9 years old. To be able to think of her as human, vulnerable, so I could forgive her more easily.

© Sandra Loza - My family tree has no more living branches. The roots are dying or already dead.
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My family tree has no more living branches. The roots are dying or already dead.

© Sandra Loza - Mom kept a red sweater for me to wear when it fitted me. It still doesn’t fit, but I know it’s not a matter of size.
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Mom kept a red sweater for me to wear when it fitted me. It still doesn’t fit, but I know it’s not a matter of size.

© Sandra Loza - Alejandro and me as kids. The key to the house we used to live in and mom's old keychain.
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Alejandro and me as kids. The key to the house we used to live in and mom's old keychain.