This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
|
About the PhotographersMaría Prieto is a Mexican graphic designer and photographer based in New York. Passionate about colors and books, she collects cameras, old boxes, and strange books. She is co-founder of Proyecto Análogo and La Máquina Roja Ediciones, projects that contain the things she likes the most, thanks to which she has lived incredible experiences and met great friends. Pablo Íñigo Argüelles is a Mexican writer and photographer based in New York. He is the co-founder of Proyecto Análogo and La Máquina Roja Ediciones, and he writes a column on photography in the Mexican magazine Este País. |
|
Truth in Photography: Could you talk a little bit about how the Documentary Arts Fellowship has benefited you?
María Prieto: Yes. Of course. I'm doing this project on the Zaragoza Mexican Deli with my partner, Pablo Argüelles. We've been working together for almost ten years. This fellowship helped us a lot because we are trying to publish a book and give the deli owners the money from the book sales. We really want to thank them for the project we're doing. So, with that money, we’re doing an edition of the books. And of course, making an exhibition there.
TiP: Making an exhibition in the deli?
Prieto: Yes. We want to make it in the deli because they've been amazing with us, and we had a great time there. We think the first exhibition has to be there.
María Prieto: Yes. Of course. I'm doing this project on the Zaragoza Mexican Deli with my partner, Pablo Argüelles. We've been working together for almost ten years. This fellowship helped us a lot because we are trying to publish a book and give the deli owners the money from the book sales. We really want to thank them for the project we're doing. So, with that money, we’re doing an edition of the books. And of course, making an exhibition there.
TiP: Making an exhibition in the deli?
Prieto: Yes. We want to make it in the deli because they've been amazing with us, and we had a great time there. We think the first exhibition has to be there.
TiP: Is your partner also a photographer?
Prieto: Yes. His name is Pablo Argüelles, and he's a photographer, too. We both studied at the International Center of Photography (ICP), but we have had this project called Proyecto Análogo since 2017.
TiP: Are you shooting analog? Are you shooting film?
Prieto: Yeah. This project started in 2017. We started using just analog cameras. We didn't know anything about them. Literally nothing. We received some cameras from our uncles, and we started playing with them. We were back in Mexico at the time, and we realized that the analog world was dying there because no one was using it anymore. We tried to search for film, for labs, for everything, and it was really difficult. So, we started doing everything by ourselves, fixing cameras, finding film, developing, and everything.
Then, after the pandemic, the film photography world started being more important in Mexico. It started again and some labs reopened. The project started to grow there. And then we came to New York to study at the ICP. We had a fellowship, also, so we could come.
We've been coming to the Mexican deli for ten years. Pablo has known them since 15 years ago, so we're friends with them. But because we go a lot of times there, we realized that we could make a project. And we talked with them, and they agreed. We're really happy with them.
TiP: Where are you from in Mexico?
Prieto: From the city of Puebla, right next to Mexico City.
TiP: Is your partner also from Puebla?
Prieto: Yes. We're both from Puebla. Pablo’s from downtown Puebla city. I'm from Cholula. Back then, when I was born in Cholula, it was not as big a city as it is right now. He came to New York to study 15 years ago, and he knew the place, Zaragoza Mexican Deli. Zaragoza is a little town in Puebla, in the mountains, and the owners are from Zaragoza.
TiP: Where’s the deli located in New York?
Prieto: The deli is in the East Village at Avenue A and 14th Street.
TiP: So, you've been photographing this deli and the people that interact with the deli and the community that the deli serves for eight years?
Prieto: Yes, kind of. We just moved to New York two years ago. But before that, we've been coming to New York maybe once a year, for 1 or 2 weeks. In that time, we were spending a long time in the deli. We would just go and spend our time there, doing something with the owners, and eating the food. And then, just suddenly, we started photographing. That was how the project started, looking through our photographs and seeing that we have so much documented about that deli, that maybe we could keep doing it and start a project about it.
Prieto: Yes. His name is Pablo Argüelles, and he's a photographer, too. We both studied at the International Center of Photography (ICP), but we have had this project called Proyecto Análogo since 2017.
TiP: Are you shooting analog? Are you shooting film?
Prieto: Yeah. This project started in 2017. We started using just analog cameras. We didn't know anything about them. Literally nothing. We received some cameras from our uncles, and we started playing with them. We were back in Mexico at the time, and we realized that the analog world was dying there because no one was using it anymore. We tried to search for film, for labs, for everything, and it was really difficult. So, we started doing everything by ourselves, fixing cameras, finding film, developing, and everything.
Then, after the pandemic, the film photography world started being more important in Mexico. It started again and some labs reopened. The project started to grow there. And then we came to New York to study at the ICP. We had a fellowship, also, so we could come.
We've been coming to the Mexican deli for ten years. Pablo has known them since 15 years ago, so we're friends with them. But because we go a lot of times there, we realized that we could make a project. And we talked with them, and they agreed. We're really happy with them.
TiP: Where are you from in Mexico?
Prieto: From the city of Puebla, right next to Mexico City.
TiP: Is your partner also from Puebla?
Prieto: Yes. We're both from Puebla. Pablo’s from downtown Puebla city. I'm from Cholula. Back then, when I was born in Cholula, it was not as big a city as it is right now. He came to New York to study 15 years ago, and he knew the place, Zaragoza Mexican Deli. Zaragoza is a little town in Puebla, in the mountains, and the owners are from Zaragoza.
TiP: Where’s the deli located in New York?
Prieto: The deli is in the East Village at Avenue A and 14th Street.
TiP: So, you've been photographing this deli and the people that interact with the deli and the community that the deli serves for eight years?
Prieto: Yes, kind of. We just moved to New York two years ago. But before that, we've been coming to New York maybe once a year, for 1 or 2 weeks. In that time, we were spending a long time in the deli. We would just go and spend our time there, doing something with the owners, and eating the food. And then, just suddenly, we started photographing. That was how the project started, looking through our photographs and seeing that we have so much documented about that deli, that maybe we could keep doing it and start a project about it.
TiP: For me, if there is truth in photography, it's discovered over a long period of time. Because to really know a place, you have to be there frequently or semi frequently. And over the course of years, you see it evolve. Could you talk about that idea?
Prieto: I think truth in photography is realizing how a place can change and has to change to be alive. If the deli was as it was ten years ago, it wouldn't be as successful. It's adapting to the new places, to the new people that are coming. For example, they really struggled in the pandemic. But after that, social media started growing a lot. Their burrito started to become famous on TikTok. They started gaining younger public, which was really good for them, because they were trying the burrito and taking videos and making them more famous because of that. The fact that the place is changing works a lot with the community sense, because the place is listening to the people that go there and the people that come and go from New York City. They have clients that have been there for a long time, but most of their clients come and go all the time, like us. We've been coming and going for ten years.
TiP: What was the attraction of this deli?
Prieto: I think the attraction was that it feels like home. The place is great. They are like our uncles. While we were going and going and going, it started feeling like it was a safe place to be. If we were feeling homesick, we went to the deli and we drank a beer. And they gave us their food, not even the food that they were selling, but plates they were preparing for them. We were taking mole to go to eat at home for the whole week.
TiP: Wasn't it in Cholula that mole was invented?
Prieto: It was invented in Puebla's downtown. A group of nuns invented it.
TiP: How many different kinds of mole do they have in this deli?
Prieto: I think they just do mole Poblano, because the rest of them are not from Puebla. Mole Oaxaqueño, Mole Negro, these are not from Puebla. Mole Poblano is a sweet one that is maybe the most popular. They have that one, and we eat it with rice and chicken. And they give us that to take home and eat. It's really nice.
TiP: What are you trying to convey through your photographs of the deli?
Prieto: We try to show the community that you can make in a place that is not your home, but it feels like it. This started growing two years ago when we started studying at the ICP. We were new people in New York living here for our first time, knowing New York, but as a tourist. That place felt like a safe place to be, a place that we knew, and a place where people took care of us. This whole project mainly started growing because we started taking our friends there. And our friends loved the deli. I asked the owners, María and Pompeyo Martínez, if I could make my birthday party there. And they were like, “Yes, of course. How many people do you want to bring?” And I don't know, we were like 30, but imagine the deli is tiny. There are just two tables. But he was so happy that we were having a party there that he said, “Yes, of course. You can do it there.”
TiP: Talk about the owners.
Prieto: Pompeyo and Doña Mary were born in Zaragoza, Puebla, in this little town in the mountains, far from the city. I don't know how many people live there, but it's really small. They came together as immigrants in the late ’70s. They crossed the border. Pompeyo started working as a dishwasher. Doña Mary started working as a seamstress. They had to work a lot because they didn't have money to pay their bills. They saved money, and they looked at this deli that was being sold. They bought the deli with everything inside. They changed the name to Zaragoza Mexican Deli, and they started this family business. Now it's been 24 years that they've been there.
Prieto: I think truth in photography is realizing how a place can change and has to change to be alive. If the deli was as it was ten years ago, it wouldn't be as successful. It's adapting to the new places, to the new people that are coming. For example, they really struggled in the pandemic. But after that, social media started growing a lot. Their burrito started to become famous on TikTok. They started gaining younger public, which was really good for them, because they were trying the burrito and taking videos and making them more famous because of that. The fact that the place is changing works a lot with the community sense, because the place is listening to the people that go there and the people that come and go from New York City. They have clients that have been there for a long time, but most of their clients come and go all the time, like us. We've been coming and going for ten years.
TiP: What was the attraction of this deli?
Prieto: I think the attraction was that it feels like home. The place is great. They are like our uncles. While we were going and going and going, it started feeling like it was a safe place to be. If we were feeling homesick, we went to the deli and we drank a beer. And they gave us their food, not even the food that they were selling, but plates they were preparing for them. We were taking mole to go to eat at home for the whole week.
TiP: Wasn't it in Cholula that mole was invented?
Prieto: It was invented in Puebla's downtown. A group of nuns invented it.
TiP: How many different kinds of mole do they have in this deli?
Prieto: I think they just do mole Poblano, because the rest of them are not from Puebla. Mole Oaxaqueño, Mole Negro, these are not from Puebla. Mole Poblano is a sweet one that is maybe the most popular. They have that one, and we eat it with rice and chicken. And they give us that to take home and eat. It's really nice.
TiP: What are you trying to convey through your photographs of the deli?
Prieto: We try to show the community that you can make in a place that is not your home, but it feels like it. This started growing two years ago when we started studying at the ICP. We were new people in New York living here for our first time, knowing New York, but as a tourist. That place felt like a safe place to be, a place that we knew, and a place where people took care of us. This whole project mainly started growing because we started taking our friends there. And our friends loved the deli. I asked the owners, María and Pompeyo Martínez, if I could make my birthday party there. And they were like, “Yes, of course. How many people do you want to bring?” And I don't know, we were like 30, but imagine the deli is tiny. There are just two tables. But he was so happy that we were having a party there that he said, “Yes, of course. You can do it there.”
TiP: Talk about the owners.
Prieto: Pompeyo and Doña Mary were born in Zaragoza, Puebla, in this little town in the mountains, far from the city. I don't know how many people live there, but it's really small. They came together as immigrants in the late ’70s. They crossed the border. Pompeyo started working as a dishwasher. Doña Mary started working as a seamstress. They had to work a lot because they didn't have money to pay their bills. They saved money, and they looked at this deli that was being sold. They bought the deli with everything inside. They changed the name to Zaragoza Mexican Deli, and they started this family business. Now it's been 24 years that they've been there.
TiP: When you're in the deli and you're photographing it, how do you show the sense of community and interaction?
Prieto: The interaction in the deli is interesting because people that works around the deli, and of course most of them are Latin, most of them Mexican, they go to the deli after work at 5-6 p.m. and they drink a beer, and they eat something. Every day this is the interaction of the clients with the deli. So Pompeyo and Doña Mary know all of their clients because they go every day after work. We started going mostly on the weekends because it's the day when there's more movement there. We started going just because we liked it. And if we were enjoying ourselves, people joined us. It's funny because there have been many times we were dancing, drinking, laughing, and the people that were already there joined the table. We started being friends with many people that were there. They invited us for beers, we invited them for beers. It's this sense of community. I think also the fact that the place is really small makes the place a close community.
TiP: What about in terms of photographing it? Do people detach from the camera? Are you able to photograph people as they are rather than them just posing for you? Talk about your approach in photography. What’s the process?
Prieto: We used two cameras, a medium format and a point and shoot. Then we realized that the Hasselblad medium format made people pose more, and we didn't want that. So, we made just 2 or 3 portraits of Pompeyo and Doña Mary, then we stopped using that camera because we realized that the feeling of the photos was not the same. Then we started using just the point and shoot camera, a Leica. And people reacted like it was a game, which was really nice. People were like, “Okay, these people are not taking photos to publish anywhere, they are just taking photos because they are having fun.” So, they interact normally. They don’t pose for the camera or anything.
Prieto: The interaction in the deli is interesting because people that works around the deli, and of course most of them are Latin, most of them Mexican, they go to the deli after work at 5-6 p.m. and they drink a beer, and they eat something. Every day this is the interaction of the clients with the deli. So Pompeyo and Doña Mary know all of their clients because they go every day after work. We started going mostly on the weekends because it's the day when there's more movement there. We started going just because we liked it. And if we were enjoying ourselves, people joined us. It's funny because there have been many times we were dancing, drinking, laughing, and the people that were already there joined the table. We started being friends with many people that were there. They invited us for beers, we invited them for beers. It's this sense of community. I think also the fact that the place is really small makes the place a close community.
TiP: What about in terms of photographing it? Do people detach from the camera? Are you able to photograph people as they are rather than them just posing for you? Talk about your approach in photography. What’s the process?
Prieto: We used two cameras, a medium format and a point and shoot. Then we realized that the Hasselblad medium format made people pose more, and we didn't want that. So, we made just 2 or 3 portraits of Pompeyo and Doña Mary, then we stopped using that camera because we realized that the feeling of the photos was not the same. Then we started using just the point and shoot camera, a Leica. And people reacted like it was a game, which was really nice. People were like, “Okay, these people are not taking photos to publish anywhere, they are just taking photos because they are having fun.” So, they interact normally. They don’t pose for the camera or anything.
TiP: Why did you make the choice to use film instead of digital media?
Prieto: For personal projects, we just use film. Because this started as a personal thing, photographing because we wanted to have the memories, we used film. When we realized it could be a project, we just kept going with it.
TiP: Are you also printing analog in a darkroom?
Prieto: We're printing analog in black and white. In color, we're not the best. But I love printing black and white in the darkroom.
TiP: What do you see is the quality of film that is different from digital? What's appealing to you?
Prieto: For me, it's more about the process, not about the look. Because you also can do digital and make it look like film. For me, it's more about putting in the film, developing the film, printing the film. In terms of using it, in the moment that I'm taking a photo, I like that I really can't see what I'm doing. It has to be really spontaneous. I don't know if I will go to the deli for three hours and my film is not working. I'm not gonna know until I develop it. So that's kind of exciting for me.
TiP: When you create these photographs, do you sign them collaboratively?
Prieto: Yes. In this case, of course. Sometimes if we make an exhibition, we do put which of us took each photo. But if we make a book, for example, this project, we would be like, “This is a book by Proyecto Análogo, which is María and Pablo.”
TiP: Tell me about some of the photographs you have made at the deli.
Prieto: We have photographs of a cat, Zorro, which is always there. Sometimes you can't see him. First of all, he's not a “he,” he's a “she.” But they realized this after many years that they've been calling her Zorro. And in Spanish, “zorra” is not a good word. So, they still call her Zorro, even if it’s a female cat. Zorro has been around the deli for almost 7 or 10 years.
Prieto: For personal projects, we just use film. Because this started as a personal thing, photographing because we wanted to have the memories, we used film. When we realized it could be a project, we just kept going with it.
TiP: Are you also printing analog in a darkroom?
Prieto: We're printing analog in black and white. In color, we're not the best. But I love printing black and white in the darkroom.
TiP: What do you see is the quality of film that is different from digital? What's appealing to you?
Prieto: For me, it's more about the process, not about the look. Because you also can do digital and make it look like film. For me, it's more about putting in the film, developing the film, printing the film. In terms of using it, in the moment that I'm taking a photo, I like that I really can't see what I'm doing. It has to be really spontaneous. I don't know if I will go to the deli for three hours and my film is not working. I'm not gonna know until I develop it. So that's kind of exciting for me.
TiP: When you create these photographs, do you sign them collaboratively?
Prieto: Yes. In this case, of course. Sometimes if we make an exhibition, we do put which of us took each photo. But if we make a book, for example, this project, we would be like, “This is a book by Proyecto Análogo, which is María and Pablo.”
TiP: Tell me about some of the photographs you have made at the deli.
Prieto: We have photographs of a cat, Zorro, which is always there. Sometimes you can't see him. First of all, he's not a “he,” he's a “she.” But they realized this after many years that they've been calling her Zorro. And in Spanish, “zorra” is not a good word. So, they still call her Zorro, even if it’s a female cat. Zorro has been around the deli for almost 7 or 10 years.
TiP: Tell me about your photographs of the cat Zorro. What interests you about this cat?
Prieto: Zorro doesn't like too many people. But she actually likes me a lot. When I go to the deli, Zorro just appears, and she's with me. And I also don't like cats. I don't know how to treat cats, but I like Zorro, and Zorro likes me. I've been photographing Zorro a lot because she's very sweet and she goes all over the deli, on top of the refrigerators, in the kitchen, like it's her place. Actually, she lives there. She sleeps there when they close. She’s their pet.
TiP: What are some of your other photos?
Prieto: In the bigger wall they have in this deli, they have a mural made by Chico. Chico was this artist who was around in the ’90s. Chico is kind of like Banksy, no one really knows him physically or personally. But a lot of murals around this village and in the Lower East Side are signed by Chico. Pompeyo told me, “Yes, this guy came once and asked me if he could paint something on my wall. And I said, ‘Yes, of course you can do whatever you want. It's all for you.’” So, they have this amazing mural of the Aztecs in the deli that makes the place look really kitsch and really Mexican and amazing.
Prieto: Zorro doesn't like too many people. But she actually likes me a lot. When I go to the deli, Zorro just appears, and she's with me. And I also don't like cats. I don't know how to treat cats, but I like Zorro, and Zorro likes me. I've been photographing Zorro a lot because she's very sweet and she goes all over the deli, on top of the refrigerators, in the kitchen, like it's her place. Actually, she lives there. She sleeps there when they close. She’s their pet.
TiP: What are some of your other photos?
Prieto: In the bigger wall they have in this deli, they have a mural made by Chico. Chico was this artist who was around in the ’90s. Chico is kind of like Banksy, no one really knows him physically or personally. But a lot of murals around this village and in the Lower East Side are signed by Chico. Pompeyo told me, “Yes, this guy came once and asked me if he could paint something on my wall. And I said, ‘Yes, of course you can do whatever you want. It's all for you.’” So, they have this amazing mural of the Aztecs in the deli that makes the place look really kitsch and really Mexican and amazing.
Tons of murals of Chico are being painted over. It's not something that people know is important, I feel. It's also part of the culture of graffiti and of murals. Someone makes one, and then another person comes and paints over it. So, in the Mexican deli, there's this mural of Chico, and for me it's like you were drinking a beer in a museum, because you can just sit next to the mural that Chico painted, and it's great. Now, when we talked with Pompeyo about this, he always says, “Okay, maybe I should put plexiglass on top, so it doesn't get dirty or something.” That's another part of the Mexican deli that I love. When I saw that they had this Chico mural, I was really excited.
TiP: Do you also do photographs on the street?
Prieto: Yes. We photographed the outside of the deli, but now there is a scaffolding there that is covering half of the deli. So, it's a difficult thing to do. But we mostly photograph inside where this world and magic happens.
TiP: Do you feel like you're trying to convey the truth of this deli?
Prieto: Yes. Totally. For example, when we took photos of a person that was there eating, we asked him if we could take a photo. The mural was there, and this person was eating something from the deli. He said yes to the photo, and then joined our table and joined the beers and everything. I think that's the truth in photography. Not posing things. And if it's not a good photo, I think that doesn't matter if it works for the subject.
TiP: Could you talk about how the interactions with the people affect the images that you make?
Prieto: I think most of my practice is about that, interacting with people. Maybe the photo is just the act that I do because I am a photographer, but the part that I most enjoy is the interaction with the people. It's not just like they know the camera. They really know that you are the person that goes to the same place they go, to the deli in this case. I don't explain to the people that I'm making a project about the deli, but we just interact as if we were normal clients in the deli, which I am. I just like to go and if I feel like photographing, I do it, and if I don’t feel like photographing, I don't do it. I don't go specifically to photograph. I think that's the magic and the truth about all of this.
TiP: Do you also do photographs on the street?
Prieto: Yes. We photographed the outside of the deli, but now there is a scaffolding there that is covering half of the deli. So, it's a difficult thing to do. But we mostly photograph inside where this world and magic happens.
TiP: Do you feel like you're trying to convey the truth of this deli?
Prieto: Yes. Totally. For example, when we took photos of a person that was there eating, we asked him if we could take a photo. The mural was there, and this person was eating something from the deli. He said yes to the photo, and then joined our table and joined the beers and everything. I think that's the truth in photography. Not posing things. And if it's not a good photo, I think that doesn't matter if it works for the subject.
TiP: Could you talk about how the interactions with the people affect the images that you make?
Prieto: I think most of my practice is about that, interacting with people. Maybe the photo is just the act that I do because I am a photographer, but the part that I most enjoy is the interaction with the people. It's not just like they know the camera. They really know that you are the person that goes to the same place they go, to the deli in this case. I don't explain to the people that I'm making a project about the deli, but we just interact as if we were normal clients in the deli, which I am. I just like to go and if I feel like photographing, I do it, and if I don’t feel like photographing, I don't do it. I don't go specifically to photograph. I think that's the magic and the truth about all of this.
TiP: Are you also doing interviews with the people there? Do you record conversations?
Prieto: Yes. Pablo is a writer, so he does that part. We're not doing that many, but we really want to have some testimonies about the people that have been going to the deli for a long time. So, yes, he did one with a person who is always there. This is, of course, also for the book.
TiP: Is Pablo with you now?
Prieto: He is.
TiP: Could I talk with him for a minute, too?
Prieto: Of course.
Pablo Íñigo Argüelles: Hi, how are you? Nice to meet you.
Prieto: I didn't tell your story about how you met the people from the deli.
Argüelles: In 2010, I first came to study cinema. I had just finished school in Mexico. I said to my family, “I really want to go to New York.”
My father told me, “Give me a reason.”
I always liked photography and cinema and everything. I found this one-year program for studying cinema, which was not always my passion, but was the only way I could come to New York and photograph, which was the thing I like, because at the moment, the International Center of Photography was unreachable for me. I came here, and I was 18 years old, and I used to live in a very, very small, apartment on 12th Street between Avenue A and B in the East Village. One Friday after class, it was Independence Day in Mexico, September 15th. It was one of my first weeks here in New York, and I was adapting. I felt kind of lonely and everything. The first thing I did was walk home from school, which was in Union Square. I walked back home, and I found this mariachi band outside a place in Avenue A, maybe 5 or 6 mariachis playing Mexican music. And I saw these people dressed in typical Mexican costumes and everything.
I said, “What is this place so near my home?” This was the first time I saw it. I went inside, and everyone was dancing, everyone was talking, drinking. I took some of the free food that they had for the special occasion. I opened the fridge, and I took a beer, because in Mexico we can drink from 18. So, I grabbed a Pacífico or something like that. And this lady, who later I knew was Doña Mary, stared from the door to me, and then she came and then she told me in this very aggressive little town attitude, “Listen to me, cabrón. How old are you? Why do you have a beer?”
I said, “I'm 21.”
And she said, “No, you are not 21. How old are you?”
“Okay. I'm 18.”
“Okay. This is the last beer you can drink here. It's only because it's Independence Day.”
That was my first encounter with Doña Mary. Immediately she started having this motherly attitude towards me, which felt like home for me, because that day she told me, “Pablo, come by every Monday, and I will have food for you.”
Since that moment, every week for the whole year when I was here studying from 2010-2011, I stopped by, and she used to save me some rice, some beans, some Mole Poblano, some tinga. And this was for free. She was not charging for this. So that was the immediate connection I had. We started being friends. I think at first Doña Mary and Pompeyo, the owners, looked at me as a small child, like a son. And our relationship grew, years passed, and María and I came together for the first time in 2017, by the time we started our project. The moment Doña Mary met María, it was like, “Okay, now I know that María is my favorite one.”
They have a special connection, María and Doña Mary. I think it's because their name is the same. They share different contexts, but they can talk for hours, María and Doña Mary. And every time it’s like, “You can’t listen to our conversations. Go, go.”
TiP: Could you say, truth in photography is, and tell me your view on that as it relates to this?
Argüelles: Truth in photography is using the camera as a third eye, without making it interrupt the interaction between humans. I think that's one of the hardest things being a photographer, making the camera invisible. Not using the camera as a weapon, not using it as a reason.
Prieto: Yes. Pablo is a writer, so he does that part. We're not doing that many, but we really want to have some testimonies about the people that have been going to the deli for a long time. So, yes, he did one with a person who is always there. This is, of course, also for the book.
TiP: Is Pablo with you now?
Prieto: He is.
TiP: Could I talk with him for a minute, too?
Prieto: Of course.
Pablo Íñigo Argüelles: Hi, how are you? Nice to meet you.
Prieto: I didn't tell your story about how you met the people from the deli.
Argüelles: In 2010, I first came to study cinema. I had just finished school in Mexico. I said to my family, “I really want to go to New York.”
My father told me, “Give me a reason.”
I always liked photography and cinema and everything. I found this one-year program for studying cinema, which was not always my passion, but was the only way I could come to New York and photograph, which was the thing I like, because at the moment, the International Center of Photography was unreachable for me. I came here, and I was 18 years old, and I used to live in a very, very small, apartment on 12th Street between Avenue A and B in the East Village. One Friday after class, it was Independence Day in Mexico, September 15th. It was one of my first weeks here in New York, and I was adapting. I felt kind of lonely and everything. The first thing I did was walk home from school, which was in Union Square. I walked back home, and I found this mariachi band outside a place in Avenue A, maybe 5 or 6 mariachis playing Mexican music. And I saw these people dressed in typical Mexican costumes and everything.
I said, “What is this place so near my home?” This was the first time I saw it. I went inside, and everyone was dancing, everyone was talking, drinking. I took some of the free food that they had for the special occasion. I opened the fridge, and I took a beer, because in Mexico we can drink from 18. So, I grabbed a Pacífico or something like that. And this lady, who later I knew was Doña Mary, stared from the door to me, and then she came and then she told me in this very aggressive little town attitude, “Listen to me, cabrón. How old are you? Why do you have a beer?”
I said, “I'm 21.”
And she said, “No, you are not 21. How old are you?”
“Okay. I'm 18.”
“Okay. This is the last beer you can drink here. It's only because it's Independence Day.”
That was my first encounter with Doña Mary. Immediately she started having this motherly attitude towards me, which felt like home for me, because that day she told me, “Pablo, come by every Monday, and I will have food for you.”
Since that moment, every week for the whole year when I was here studying from 2010-2011, I stopped by, and she used to save me some rice, some beans, some Mole Poblano, some tinga. And this was for free. She was not charging for this. So that was the immediate connection I had. We started being friends. I think at first Doña Mary and Pompeyo, the owners, looked at me as a small child, like a son. And our relationship grew, years passed, and María and I came together for the first time in 2017, by the time we started our project. The moment Doña Mary met María, it was like, “Okay, now I know that María is my favorite one.”
They have a special connection, María and Doña Mary. I think it's because their name is the same. They share different contexts, but they can talk for hours, María and Doña Mary. And every time it’s like, “You can’t listen to our conversations. Go, go.”
TiP: Could you say, truth in photography is, and tell me your view on that as it relates to this?
Argüelles: Truth in photography is using the camera as a third eye, without making it interrupt the interaction between humans. I think that's one of the hardest things being a photographer, making the camera invisible. Not using the camera as a weapon, not using it as a reason.
TiP: Since both of you are making photographs, talk about your collaboration. If you're both there making photographs, how does that work?
Argüelles: We started taking photographs together when our relationship started, eight years ago. It's impossible not to talk about our personal relationship as partners when talking about our photographic relationship as photographic partners. It all starts from that. Our way of collaborating together is from messy to just having fights to just creating together and just dreaming together.
Since the first moment we knew that what this is for us had a name, which is Proyecto Análogo, this ongoing project we are doing since 2017, since that moment, we knew that María had her place in the project, and I had my place. Usually, I am the messy one. Usually, I am the one that shoots maybe four or five rolls in one hour. María usually is the one that has that designer eye and says, “Pablo, stop. Don't shoot anymore. We have enough.”
María makes our pictures with her designer eye, looking properly, because I like to scan. I like to have my immediate results. María is more an artist. “No, we have to wait. This has to have a process.”
She's an expert in color, and she's an expert in editing color. I think the way that we collaborate is, we don't have rules. We just understand.
Maybe this is going to be very corny, but our best friends always tell us, “It's amazing how you don't talk whenever you are shooting. You just see each other's eyes and you know that Pablo has to stand up there, and María has to hold the flash, or vice versa.” Or we are scanning and María arrives to the lab, and I know that María is waiting for me to give her the drive. It's full of interactions.
TiP: So, the photographs are about interaction, and are made through interaction between the two of you.
Prieto: Yeah. It's true.
Argüelles: The Zaragoza Mexican Deli project is the best example of how we collaborate. I've known the place way before María. I was 18 years old when I first found it, but then María and I arrived to New York, and María met Doña Mary, and suddenly María was naturally a part of my friendship with them. And now, thanks to María, it’s stronger. Because Doña Mary shares things with María that she would never share with me: about her story, about her life, about the business itself. The reason I think that this is a great example is Zaragoza Mexican Deli is super small. The way of working there is either you are in the way of the photographer, or you collaborate with the photographer, because you cannot stand without being in the way of the camera. You have to be comfortable with your partner to interact in that very tiny place.
TiP: This project on the Mexican deli is ongoing. How long does it continue?
Argüelles: I think the natural thing would be stop or at least do a checkpoint when Zaragoza Mexican Deli turns 25 years old, which is later this year. They are not sure exactly when. Pompeyo says it was in July, Doña Mary says it was in December. But definitely it’s this year that they turn 25 years old. I think that would be a great checkpoint to revise all the pictures.
It's so tiny, but at the same time, nothing repeats there all the time. Always new people, always new music. So as long as we still go there, we're going to keep photographing it.
Argüelles: We started taking photographs together when our relationship started, eight years ago. It's impossible not to talk about our personal relationship as partners when talking about our photographic relationship as photographic partners. It all starts from that. Our way of collaborating together is from messy to just having fights to just creating together and just dreaming together.
Since the first moment we knew that what this is for us had a name, which is Proyecto Análogo, this ongoing project we are doing since 2017, since that moment, we knew that María had her place in the project, and I had my place. Usually, I am the messy one. Usually, I am the one that shoots maybe four or five rolls in one hour. María usually is the one that has that designer eye and says, “Pablo, stop. Don't shoot anymore. We have enough.”
María makes our pictures with her designer eye, looking properly, because I like to scan. I like to have my immediate results. María is more an artist. “No, we have to wait. This has to have a process.”
She's an expert in color, and she's an expert in editing color. I think the way that we collaborate is, we don't have rules. We just understand.
Maybe this is going to be very corny, but our best friends always tell us, “It's amazing how you don't talk whenever you are shooting. You just see each other's eyes and you know that Pablo has to stand up there, and María has to hold the flash, or vice versa.” Or we are scanning and María arrives to the lab, and I know that María is waiting for me to give her the drive. It's full of interactions.
TiP: So, the photographs are about interaction, and are made through interaction between the two of you.
Prieto: Yeah. It's true.
Argüelles: The Zaragoza Mexican Deli project is the best example of how we collaborate. I've known the place way before María. I was 18 years old when I first found it, but then María and I arrived to New York, and María met Doña Mary, and suddenly María was naturally a part of my friendship with them. And now, thanks to María, it’s stronger. Because Doña Mary shares things with María that she would never share with me: about her story, about her life, about the business itself. The reason I think that this is a great example is Zaragoza Mexican Deli is super small. The way of working there is either you are in the way of the photographer, or you collaborate with the photographer, because you cannot stand without being in the way of the camera. You have to be comfortable with your partner to interact in that very tiny place.
TiP: This project on the Mexican deli is ongoing. How long does it continue?
Argüelles: I think the natural thing would be stop or at least do a checkpoint when Zaragoza Mexican Deli turns 25 years old, which is later this year. They are not sure exactly when. Pompeyo says it was in July, Doña Mary says it was in December. But definitely it’s this year that they turn 25 years old. I think that would be a great checkpoint to revise all the pictures.
It's so tiny, but at the same time, nothing repeats there all the time. Always new people, always new music. So as long as we still go there, we're going to keep photographing it.
|
Delve deeper |