Change moves like the wind in the highlands, sometimes gentle, sometimes relentless. When I first arrived in the remote alpaca herding communities of the Cusco region, I had no project in mind. I carried a camera, not an intention. I was simply drawn to the otherworldly landscapes and the quiet rhythm of life of the Quechua people and a culture I had yet to discover.

For years, I photographed without knowing why. I captured moments instinctively: a herder checking his phone against a backdrop of snowy peaks, a newly built road cutting through the valley, an isolated settlement in the vastness of the mountains. It wasn’t until I took a step back and put my images into perspective that I saw a thread running through them all. Without realizing it, I had been documenting a silent negotiation between past and future, tradition and modernity. What I thought were disparate moments were, in fact, fragments of the same story.

This project revealed itself to me rather than the other way around. I did not set out to explore the theme of modernity’s breath in the highlands of Cusco; it slowly emerged through my lens over time. The more I observed, the more I recognized a pattern. Modernity did not arrive abruptly in these mountains but seeped in like mist over the hills, settling in ways both subtle and undeniable.

As a guide in these regions, I had the privilege of getting a rare access that few outsiders do. Over the years, I witnessed slow yet profound shifts: solar panels appearing on rooftops, motorbikes replacing horses, smartphones connecting herders to distant relatives while also pulling them away from the land.

At first, photography served me. It allowed me to explore my artistic vision, to capture the tension between tradition and progress. But as my awareness grew, so did my understanding of what photography could offer to those I was photographing. Could these images become more than just a record? Could they serve as a way to preserve, reflect, and spark conversations about the value of what is changing? This project has become a 128-page monograph published by Eyeshot. I recently brought a copy to a Quechua family I’ve become close to, people who welcomed me into their world and whose lives are at the heart of this work. I took time to listen to their insights and perspectives, and I know that their reflections will be invaluable to the way I understand and carry this project forward.

Photography is never neutral. Every frame is a choice, and my gaze became part of the Breath of Modernity. Every change comes with its set of pros and cons. Progress brings new opportunities, but some things, once lost, cannot be reclaimed. The question is not whether change is good or bad, but rather, what is worth holding onto?

This project is not a statement or a resolution. It is a meditation, a conversation between past and present, between what is disappearing and what is emerging.

Breath of Modernity is not just what I witnessed; it is also what I became a part of.