For years—from the time I was a kid with a 35mm point-and-shoot—my grandmother was the only one I could consistently persuade to get in front of my camera. And in the era in my life in which I thought Alexander McQueen was the most amazing man to ever to walk on earth and that I would be the next David Lachapelle, my abuelita would let me dress her up too.
But as her memory is slowly taken over with new anxious ideas it gets harder to get her in front of a camera to sit still. Until today. With the help of Libertad Lamarque.








