A Constant State of Becoming Exhibition: Interview with the Artist. Delfina Carmona.
After being part of A Constant State of Becoming exhibition, curated by Marcela Villanueva, Delfina Carmona reflects on her art in an interview with Myriam Martínez.
Who are you?
I believe that the journey of self-discovery is a lifelong process. At this moment, I identify as Delfina: a photographer, an artist and a creative soul. My passion lies in capturing images, often using myself as a subject for exploration and analysis. This approach allows me to delve deeper into my experiences and emotions, creating a dialogue between the art and the self.
Does that create a dichotomy for you, between being a photographer and a model, or is it complementary?
It’s a bit of both for me. My background in theater and stage direction plays a significant role in my work. By interpreting my own images, I can continue to act and create various characters. Many of these personas have an absurd quality, reflecting my playful side. I enjoy crafting these versions of Delfina —characters that are both me and not me — starting as a form of personal exploration.
After years of focusing on self-portraits, this practice serves as a tool for documenting my personal evolution. It captures not only physical changes but also shifts in my interests, tastes, and concerns over time. In essence, it’s a blend of acting and a playful journey of self-discovery.
In all your photographs, this background in stage direction is evident, but in “In-between Worlds”, part of the exhibition A Constant State of Becoming, at Bardo, it’s even more apparent — perhaps because it’s an installation. Does the use of the mirror in this work, which deals with the theme of migration, refer to the fragmentation of identity or to the fact that we are inevitably a reflection of where we are?
Absolutely, it’s both. The mirror has always intrigued me; it recurs throughout my work as a compelling and mysterious element. Ultimately, a mirror reflects a personal construction — it lacks its own gaze. In “In-between Worlds”, it powerfully emphasizes themes of fragmentation and duality, particularly relevant to my experience of leaving my home after so many years.
Living in this state of transition, I often feel caught between two places, with each reflecting aspects of the other. It’s a bittersweet experience; I miss my family and friends who are no longer part of my daily life, yet I’m also in the process of rebuilding here in Berlin with my husband as we expand our careers together. While we have friends in the city, I sometimes feel a bit isolated from the German community, as we’ve created a bubble for ourselves. It often feels like I’m an observer, struggling to fully understand and integrate. I wonder if that feeling of disconnection ever truly fades.
“How does it feel to be floating between worlds? The physical sensation of living divided in the here and there at the same time. To be inhabiting and being that place in between. To feel like a stranger in a completely new culture, hearing familiar echoes and new, unfamiliar sounds of a different language. Belonging and not belonging. Learning that some things stay the same, consolidate and strengthen. Others are reconfigured, lost, mutated or dissolved. Or perhaps they also remain floating for a while in that place in-between worlds.”
In “In-between Worlds”, color plays a pivotal role in distinguishing it from your other works, it’s darker.
You could say it’s darker, but it also has these specific moments of brightness, almost like flashes that draw you in. The main goal was to highlight the subject through the reflection in the mirrors, creating an intriguing interplay between light and shadow.
For me, color is almost everything. I consider editing to be one of the most important parts of the “miracle” of an image, and I genuinely enjoy it. It’s a process that feels very intuitive — almost like choreography—. The photo itself is the planned scene, the moment captured, but when I sit in front of the computer and start editing, that’s when the image truly comes to life. Often, when I compare the “before” and “after” versions, the original photo almost feels like it’s in black and white. That transformation is where I feel most aligned with my work. Color is a key element I stay true to in each project, shaping the emotional and visual language of the piece.
You’ve always done digital photography.
Yes, I’m definitely a digital kid. I’ve always felt more at home with digital photography. There’s a different kind of relationship with it for me, one that’s more intuitive and fluid. With analog, I’ve never quite developed that same connection or consistency. It just never really resonated with me the same way. Digital feels like a natural extension of my creative process.
And you’ve worked for major brands, but you’re also an independent artist. How does one aspect feed into or affect the other?
The two aspects really can go hand in hand, and in my experience, they often coexist. There’s this romanticized idea of the artist who creates purely for the love of art — who doesn’t need money to survive or keep creating. On the other hand, there’s a clear distinction between commercial work and more independent, avant-garde creations — those projects driven by pure passion and the desire to make something purely for the sake of creation. But for me, those worlds often merge.
I genuinely enjoy my commercial work because I have a distinct style that attracts certain brands. There’s a kind of natural alignment; most of the time, brands seek me out for what I already do, they want to collaborate based on what I’ve already established in my independent work. Of course, sometimes they request something outside of that scope, and I’ve had to turn down projects that didn’t feel right. There’s always a line I won’t cross, especially when it comes to editorial or commercial work. But overall, I feel that the work I do commercially aligns with my artistic vision, and they approach me because they believe my perspective or aesthetic will add something unique to their projects.
Where does that vision come from?
My inspiration comes from anything that catches my attention, whether it’s a color, an object, a particular light, or even a conversation with a friend that sticks with me long after. New places inspire me a lot too; there’s something about unfamiliar environments that sparks ideas. I also have certain references that shape my vision. For example, the universe of David Lynch deeply influences me: his ability to bring out the absurd, the mysterious, and the uncomfortable resonates with my own approach. I also draw inspiration from Edward Hopper’s paintings, especially his use of natural light and window light, and how he captures those contrasts in a way that feels so rich and atmospheric. These influences and moments are like sediments that accumulate over time, shaping my vision in subtle yet profound ways.
What is your creative process like?
It really depends on the moment. I don’t fully buy into the idea of the ‘muse’ or the artist as a passive vessel waiting for inspiration to strike. Sometimes, ideas come to me almost by chance, inspired by things I’ve mentioned earlier, but other times, they emerge more organically through the act of creating. It’s often a matter of stepping back and thinking, ‘I’m not focused on a specific idea right now, but what’s happening around me?’ I give myself the space to observe, almost like a game, and see where the environment or the moment leads me. I think it’s important to respect your own timing and not force the process. Creativity doesn’t always need to be rushed.
In the case of “A Constant State of Becoming”, this process has been more collaborative.
Yes, absolutely. With the other members of “Mirantes” — a group we formed because we often come together to observe and reflect —, we’ve always maintained an open dialogue, constantly asking questions and sharing our perspectives. Creativity can sometimes feel isolating, so this collaboration is incredibly important. This exhibition is a natural extension of that process. Marcela Villanuva, the curator, and Karne Kunst offered us the opportunity and space to bring our collective vision to life, allowing us to expand our individual practices into something larger and more interconnected.
Do you plan to do something other than photography?
I feel that photography will always be a part of me: it’s deeply embedded in my daily life and feels very innate. I need to create images, capture moments. But at the same time, I’d love to expand my horizons into the performing arts. Not necessarily performing in the traditional sense, as I loved acting and theater in the past, but more in the sense of creating scenes and immersive experiences. For example, in this exhibition at Bardo, I worked with photos and mirrors for the first time, transforming them into objects and installations rather than just photographs. This shift has opened up new possibilities for me, and I’m eager to explore that potential further.
I’ve always enjoyed building “towers” in my work, structures that I photograph to capture how they stand. I want to experiment with that idea on a larger scale, incorporating other objects and materials. I have a small studio at home where I currently work, but I’d love to find a bigger workshop — although that’s a bit of a challenge in Berlin — that would give me the space to expand and bring these new ideas to life.
Aside from installations, what do you want to do in the future?
In the future, I’m really drawn to exploring small performances or video scenes, something closer to cinema or moving images. I want to push beyond static photography and experiment with how I can tell stories through motion. At the same time, I’m also eager to step away from the screen a bit. While Instagram has opened up a lot of opportunities for me, helping me gain visibility and connect with various circuits, I also feel it’s time to look beyond the virtual world.
For example, recently, I was working on two exhibitions simultaneously, which felt a bit crazy, but it also felt like a sign. It made me realize that there are other physical spaces where I can create and interact with audiences in different ways. I’m excited to see what can be done in those spaces, beyond the digital realm.
Myriam Martínez
