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MMy parents encouraged me to go Venezuela. The situation in the country at that time, in the mid-2010s, had become very difficult, with shortages of food and medicine – and brutal robbery became a regular occurrence. Many people had started leaving and my parents were worried that if I stayed something bad would happen. I had seen my mother kidnapped and a gun held to my head before, but this was unusual. I had the opportunity to go to England. But when I arrived, to study at the University of Huddersfield, I had the feeling of many immigrants – not being normal, questioning who I was and where I came from. I understood what I was losing, too, and it hurt.
I am very connected to Venezuela and when I visit my parents we go to the beach. My whole family loves the sea: that’s how I spent most of my childhood. I started shooting there again, interacting with children, interacting with young people and seeing what they were going through, but I also felt that I could give back. Children had a lot of fun during those shoots.
On one trip in 2018, a group of friends who were about to leave the country were planning a farewell trip, and they invited me to go with them. We drove through the mountains to Playa Medina, which is an amazing beach with Japanese wild grass that is full of vultures. I used to wake up at 5 in the morning and there was a very soft light, which was green colored water. It’s a surreal place. One morning I saw the two brothers coming back from fishing with their father. I could see that they were tired, tired of helping their father, but they were just playing with each other. I started talking to them. I only took one photo on my Mamiya camera – which is like a tank!
Back in Huddersfield, when I saw the picture, I thought: “Wow, that’s it.” An ambiguous place – between reality and a place of hope for young people. That was the image that started my work, Venezuelan Youth, trying to understand what it means to grow up in a troubled country, where there are no opportunities to grow in the future and the main goal of many young people is to leave. I was trying to find something between this painful truth and feeling innocent. That surreal place, with two of them looking so beautiful, a relationship, made all my work for the next 10 years, which is now published in a book.
I used to go back to Venezuela twice a year, as much as I could, and every time I went, especially to the beach, I always tried to find a place to join the children. In the first few years, I didn’t need photos: they just happened. But as the project began to evolve, I also began to collaborate with Venezuelan art directors who were keen to remain anonymous. Fashion became something else, as well as other aspects, such as my photographs of Joropo, a traditional dance that is being lost.
At the same time, I felt the need to show Venezuela through other eyes. Photography is important but I also wanted to leave all kinds of pictures, without ignoring the problems – to show what I experienced with children, to show the beauty we have, how our identity is not only defined by problems. All of us, whether we stayed or left, are familiar with this problem. It’s part of who we are, especially for my generation, who grew up with it. But there are some good things that we forget. I hope this book will bring this back to young people, remind them that we are strong and brave, and celebrate our traditions and people. I don’t want to forget where I come from – and this book is my love letter to Venezuela.
Venezuelan youth published by Guest publications
CV of Silvana Trevale
Born: 1993, Caracas, Venezuela.
Above: I’m holding my book Venezuelan youth in my hands.
Top tips: See what is true for you, whether it makes you angry, happy or sad.
