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EXPO SELVA - BordersCruzadas
Oscar B. Castillo & Wil Sands

ESPAÑOL

 

Hablar de migración es hablar de humanidad y de los extremos de nuestra propia naturaleza. Es enfrentarse cara a cara con la dicotomía del bien y del mal y deslizarse por todos los tonos existentes entre quien apoya o quien agrede, quien tiende la mano con un pan o con un puñal, quien ayuda a que el camino sea menos espinoso o aquel que pone obstáculos extras más allá de los que desconocidos designios eligieron para cada persona que busca llegar a otras tierras más provechosas.

Caminos que se bifurcan, que se bloquean, que se vuelven un zig zag constante -y muchas veces arbitrario- en el intento de conectar dos puntos. Caminos que serpentean según los humores del tiempo, los intereses del poder de turno, las imposiciones de este cartel o de aquella mafia, la potestad de un teniente en una alcabala o de un agente sin nombre, sin rostro, sin identificación y sin placa pero con la impunidad y el fuego de su lado. Caminos también determinados por ciertas ventajas, ya que no siempre se arranca desde la misma casilla ni se poseen las mismas capacidades o herramientas para poder irse o poder llegar.

De esos caminos va esta exposición, de intentar acompañar junto a los paisajes cambiantes, sean desierto o sean ciudad, sean bonanza o adversidad. De las vidas de hoy y las memorias del ayer, a veces borrosas por lágrimas o diluídas por el agua del río, a veces encandiladas por sonrisas destellantes o por luces de patrullas en medio de la noche. Va de recordar y compartir experiencias tan únicas y variadas como las personas en estas imágenes, sus razones para partir y sus sueños por alcanzar.

 

Pero esta historia se sabe incompleta. Ve hacia atrás y observa que ha sido largo el trayecto recorrido pero ve el ahora -tenso, nublado y amenazante- y sabe que apenas comienza y que, como a estas personas que acompaña, aún le queda mucho por recorrer.


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Desde Borders Cruzadas agradecemos inmensamente su apoyo y su presencia, tanto en este espacio como en cualquier lugar donde se esté dando una lucha por la dignidad, la inclusión y la justicia. Agradecemos a todas y cada una de las personas que son parte de estas imágenes y que nos han ayudado a entender sus ilusiones y las dificultades que se interponen para alcanzarlas. Agradecemos el apoyo, la motivación y la comprensión de familiares y amigXs y de individuos, medios e instituciones que de diferentes maneras han hecho posible creer, querer y hacer, como hoy creen millones de personas en reconstruir sus vidas lejos de su tierra y alcanzar un destino mejor.

 

 

ENGLISH

Talking about migration is talking about humanity and the extremes of our own nature. It is facing, head-on, the dichotomy of good and evil and moving through all the shades that exist between those who support and those who harm, those who extend a hand with bread or with a knife, those who help make the path less thorny or those who place extra obstacles beyond those that unknown forces have already chosen for each person seeking to reach more promising lands.

Paths that split, that are blocked, that become a constant—and often arbitrary—zigzag in the attempt to connect two points. Paths that wind according to the moods of time, the interests of those in power, the impositions of this cartel or that mafia, the authority of a lieutenant at a checkpoint or of an agent without a name, without a face, without identification or badge, yet with impunity and fire on their side. Paths also shaped by certain advantages, since people do not always start from the same place nor possess the same abilities or tools to be able to leave or to arrive.

This exhibition is about those paths, about trying to accompany them alongside shifting landscapes, whether desert or city. It speaks of present lives and past memories—sometimes blurred by tears or dissolved by river water, sometimes illuminated by radiant smiles or by the flashing lights of patrol cars in the night. It is about remembering and sharing experiences as unique and varied as the people in these images, their reasons for leaving and their dreams of what they hope to reach.

But this story is known to be incomplete. It looks back and sees that the road traveled has been long, yet it looks at the present—tense, clouded, and threatening—and knows it is only beginning and that, like the people it accompanies, it still has a long way to go.

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From Borders Cruzadas, we are deeply grateful for your support and your presence, both in this space and in any place where there is a struggle for dignity, inclusion, and justice. We thank each and every one of the people who are part of these images and who have helped us understand their hopes and the difficulties that stand in their way. We are grateful for the support, motivation, and understanding of family members and friends, as well as individuals, media outlets, and institutions who, in different ways, have made it possible to believe, to care, and to act—just as millions of people today believe in rebuilding their lives far from their homeland and reaching a better destination.

 

 

 

 

 

 

CAPTIONS: 

 

1    Arauca, Colombia. 2021. Two men from Venezuela cook over an improvised campfire along the road from Arauquita, on the Colombia–Venezuela border, toward Bogotá—a journey that takes five days on foot.

 

 

2     Necoclí and Capurganá, Colombia. 2023. In the Colombian towns of Necoclí and Capurganá, migrants prepare for the journey through the Darién Gap—a dense jungle separating Colombia and Panama. Many of those photographed cannot afford the boat between the two towns and spend weeks living in makeshift camps along the beaches of Necoclí.

 

3    New York, New York. 2022. Yenis Andrade holds out her hand, proudly showing a collection of coins from the countries she crosses on her journey from Venezuela to the United States—Colombia, Panama, Costa Rica, Nicaragua, Guatemala, and Mexico—each one marking a stretch of the route north.

 

4    Huehuetoca, Mexico. 2023. Eugenio, Alejandra, and their daughter Emily stand for a portrait on the tracks of La Bestia, the freight train used by people on the move traveling north toward the United States.

 

5    Juárez, Mexico. 2023. Jose stands outside the Mexican immigration detention center in Ciudad Juárez, where the night before a fire kills 40 detainees from countries including Venezuela, Colombia, El Salvador, Honduras, Ecuador, and Guatemala.

 

 

6    Juárez, Mexico. 2023. “Hope For All,” a migrant shelter on the outskirts of Ciudad Juárez at the northern border of Mexico and the United States, offers one of the few safer spaces for people on the move in a region heavily affected by criminal groups and corrupt police forces.

 

 

7    Chichicastenango, Guatemala. 2023. The Canil family looks through a photo album of Ventura Pantzay, their missing relative. He leaves for the United States in 2012 and is last heard from in Reynosa, Tamaulipas. They have not received any news of him since.

 

 

8     Aboard La Bestia, northern Mexico. 2023. A young girl watches an industrial landscape slip by as the train she rides rattles north across northern Mexico.

 

9     Huixtla, Mexico. 2023. A group of young Venezuelan men pause to rest after hours of walking along the road out of Tapachula, in southern Mexico near the border with Guatemala.

 

 

10   Juárez, Mexico. 2023. Gustavo Mesa stands for a portrait in the unfinished house he shares with a friend. From his window, less than a mile away, El Paso, Texas, is visible—a constant reminder of how close he is to his destination. After everything he has endured, the final obstacle is U.S. immigration bureaucracy.

 

11   Juárez, Mexico. 2023. Maria stands for a portrait outside the Esperanza Para Todos shelter, where she and Junior wait three months for an appointment scheduled through the overloaded CBP One platform.

 

12   Aboard La Bestia, northern Mexico. Maria and Junior walk atop a train bound for the U.S. border. After initially relocating to Ecuador, they flee again when cartels in the port where Junior works begin threatening him. Months later, the country—long considered relatively peaceful—is overtaken by escalating gang violence.

 

13   Juárez, Mexico. 2023. Junior stands for a portrait. Across shelters along the U.S.–Mexico border, a daily routine takes hold: at 9 a.m., residents open the CBP One app and spend hours refreshing the page, hoping their application will be accepted.

 

14   Northern Mexico. 2023. A young man from Ecuador rides atop a cargo train bound for the border between Mexico and the United States, raising his arm into the wind as it lurches back into motion after a long stop in an unknown stretch of desert.

 

15   Digital Video. A sequence of video clips sent by people on the move or collected from social media shows fragments of the migrant experience to the United States in recent times.

 

16   Ciudad Juárez, Mexico. 2022. Late at night, at the foot of the wall dividing Mexico and the United States, a migrant man stands with his toddler in his arms, waiting for the chance that Border Patrol might momentarily open the gates and allow migrants to turn themselves in to U.S. authorities.

 

 

17   Mexico City, Mexico. 2024. Ms. K.L. cries with relief seconds after receiving a message from U.S. immigration authorities with the date of her appointment to enter the United States. Her family of five—including her teenage daughter, who lives with spina bifida and paralysis—spends two months sleeping in a tent in an improvised camp in a parking lot in northern Mexico City.

 

18   Piedras Negras, Mexico. 2024. Three men wade across the Rio Grande toward the United States. Contrary to popular narratives about “catch-and-release” programs, CBP reports that 142,000 people are forcibly returned to Mexico or deported to their country of origin in 2023, nearly double the number of removals in 2022.

 

 

19   Juárez, Mexico. 2023. A man checks his phone near a door in the border fence where people surrender to U.S. Border Patrol, often believing they will receive amnesty. At the time, apprehensions rise sharply, though most are voluntary.

 

 

20   Juárez, Mexico. 2023. After rumors spread of a temporary official opening of the border by U.S. authorities, hundreds of people quickly walk miles to reach the wall and wait to cross into the United States from Mexico.

 

21   Piedras Negras, Mexico. 2024. A polyptych panorama captures shipping containers forming a makeshift barrier. Governor Abbott of Texas imposes measures like floating razor wire, container walls, and forced bussing to deter crossings, some of which are deemed unconstitutional.

 

 

22   A makeshift ladder found yards from the border fence in the remote New Mexico desert. The other objects were collected over time from different points along the U.S.–Mexico border: shoes, clothing, family photographs, and letters recovered along the banks of the Rio Grande and other routes north.

 

23   Eagle Pass, Texas. 2023. Migrants who have recently turned themselves in to U.S. authorities are gathered and controlled under the bridge connecting Piedras Negras, Coahuila, and Eagle Pass, Texas. These towns remain a key crossing point for irregular entry into the United States.

 

24    Big Bend State Park, Texas. 2024. A water bottle—the only man-made object found for kilometers—is mounted on a photograph of its discovery location near an open stretch of the U.S.–Mexico border. Human rights advocates argue that the border wall funnels people on the move into more remote and dangerous areas. 25 Big Bend State Park, Texas. 2024. After walking for hours we found a small cave with ashes from a campfire and a bottle of water, no other signs of human life or transit were seen in the area.

 

26   New York, New York. 2022. A man looks through his bus window as it arrives at the Port Authority Bus Terminal. In a political maneuver during that period, Governor Greg Abbott of Texas and other Republican governors send buses to sanctuary cities, with many passengers saying they are not informed of their destination.

 

 

 

27    Chicago, Illinois. 2024. The single public bathroom at the 18th District Police Station serves nearly 200 migrants temporarily sheltering there, sleeping on the floor and sharing one restroom—resulting in long lines each morning as people prepare for work and school.

 

 

28    Indiana. 2024. Gustavo and Fredy, both from Cuba, watch the results of the 2024 presidential election unfold. Donald Trump’s victory brings a wave of fear among migrants at different stages of their regularization process, including those who have followed every required legal step.

 

29    Queens, New York. 2022. Yenis stands for a portrait with her toddler daughter, Diana, outside the migrant shelter where the family lives. Not long after, she gives birth to Arantza, and the family moves out of New York in search of a calmer place with more job opportunities.

 

 

30   Indiana. 2024. Yenis stands for a portrait on a cold November morning at 5 a.m., waiting for the bus that takes her downtown for another day of maintenance work in an office building.

 

 

31    Queens, New York. 2022. Alexis Matos lifts his daughter, Diana, into the air and kisses her while walking with his partner, Yenis, around the shelter.

 

 

32   Sterling, Virginia. 2024. Junior and Maria walk through the suburban streets after their first asylum appointment. For the couple, the meeting marks the first step toward regularizing their situation by following the official process.

 

 

33   New York, New York. 2022. Yenis passes beneath the Statue of Liberty on her way to a meeting at the Ellis Island Immigration Museum, marking her family’s application for asylum in the United States.

 

 

34   Chicago, Illinois, 2024. A collection of instant portraits of people temporarily sheltered at the 18th District Police Station in Chicago.

 

35   Jasper, Indiana. 2023. A row of houses lines a quiet street in Jasper. A simple, stable life—with work that provides a roof, food, and the possibility of freedom and social mobility—is what migrants’ dreams are often made of.

 

 

36   New York, New York. 2024. Alexis slips a wedding ring onto Yenis’s finger during their civil ceremony.

 

 

37   El Paso, Texas. 2022. Kailanys is born at a Border Patrol station while her mother is being processed by U.S. immigration authorities. At the time, Donald Trump’s campaign promises to revoke birthright citizenship, among other policies.

 

 

38   Chicago, Illinois. 2023. A Venezuelan migrant family stands for a portrait outside the 18th District Police Station, where they live for several weeks.

 

 

39   Ciudad Juárez, Mexico. 2022. “Everything for the American Dream” is written on a fence along the banks of the Rio Bravo, at a common crossing point directly in front of the wall dividing Mexico and the United States.

 

40    Arkansas. 2024. Junior waits in his car for an order to come through on the delivery app he works with. The couple stabilizes their situation with permits and steady work and feels welcomed by both the local community and migrants who arrive before them.

 

 

 

40b  Digital Video. A sequence of video clips collected from social media shows instances of excessive—and at times lethal and unlawful—actions carried out by ICE and other federal agents against migrant communities and U.S. citizens. During Donald Trump’s second term, immigration enforcement expands sharply, marked by aggressive raids, increased detention, and mounting allegations of due process violations.

 

41   New York, New York. 2022. Diana, the eldest daughter of Alexis and Yenis, plays at a store near their shelter in Queens. She is in a situation often referred to as a “Dreamer”—a term used for migrants brought to the United States as children.

 

 

42   Rural Arkansas, 2024. Junior, Maria, and several friends meet on a Friday evening for a barbecue after a week of work.

 

43   Fort Snelling, Minnesota, 2026. A demonstrator wears a shirt asking for ICE to leave the state of Minnesota. The presence and actions of the agency are seen by local residents as disproportionate and as an attack on their communities. Widespread protests take over the area and are met with force, at times with lethal consequences, including the killings of Renee Good and Alex Pretti.

44    Minneapolis, Minnesota, 2026. Nicole F. stands for a portrait in her hometown of Minneapolis. During the surge of ICE activity in the area, she and her brothers decide it is best for their parents to leave the country after 27 years in the United States. In a letter marked by both grief and pride, she writes: “May one day everyone recognize how honorable my ‘illegal’ family is.”

 

 

45   Laura Mitchell, a grassroots organizer in South Minneapolis, stands for a portrait at a social center she collaborates with during a community breakfast organized to raise funds for neighbors in need. Migrant members of the community remain hidden in their homes, forced from public life amid increased ICE activity in the Twin Cities.

 

46   Ciudad Juárez, Mexico. 2023. After a fire inside a migrant detention center in Ciudad Juárez claims the lives of 40 migrants from Guatemala, Venezuela, Colombia, Honduras, and El Salvador, friends and family gather outside, waiting anxiously for news. Video footage later shows that officers at the scene fail to assist those inside, leaving detainees locked in their cells as the fire spreads.

 

 

 

47   Chichicastenango, Guatemala. 2023. The grave of Gustavo Nájera, a migrant who has been missing for years, is identified in 2015 in a mass grave in Tamaulipas alongside 15 other murdered migrants. The killing is part of the violence that marks migrant routes through the region. His body is eventually returned to his family—a rare outcome in an area where many relatives continue searching for their missing loved ones.

48   Manhattan, New York. 2025. Zip ties lie scattered in the street after a protest against ICE erupts in Manhattan’s Chinatown. Federal agents use a nearby parking lot to stage vehicles and coordinate raids when members of the community, along with migrant rights organizations, block the exit.

 

49  Chicago, Illinois. 2025. Gabe González stands for a portrait in Rogers Park. A longtime community organizer, he is at the center of his neighborhood’s grassroots response to immigration raids, working alongside a growing network of neighbors.

 

 

50    Minneapolis, Minnesota. 2026. Paintings of George Floyd, Renee Good, and Alex Pretti—victims of police and federal violence—are displayed at a memorial built at the site where Renee Good is fatally shot by ICE agent Jonathan Ross. Her killing sparks widespread protests, fueled by the perceived disproportionate use of force and the official handling of its aftermath. Community members draw on the legacy of the George Floyd uprisings as a point of unity and coordination that continues to shape resistance.

 

 

51    Texas. 2023. In the woods along the U.S.–Mexico border, a photograph of Mrs. Juana Canil Santiago holding an image of her son, Ventura Pantzay Canil, is installed. At 23, Pantzay Canil leaves his hometown of Chichicastenango, Guatemala, for the United States. His family last hears from him in 2012, when he is in Reynosa, Tamaulipas.

 

 

 

52    Mexico City, Mexico. 2024. Louise-Marie Dominique, from Haiti, prays at the central altar of La Soledad church, mourning her 17-year-old son, who disappears months earlier amid escalating violence in their homeland.

 

 

53    Huehuetoca, Mexico. 2024. A cross stands beside the train tracks, marking the spot where a security guard is killed in an ambush by members of a local criminal group who disguise themselves as migrants and sleep among those waiting to board the train north.

 

 

 

54    Piedras Negras, Mexico. 2023. Graves lie in a remote corner of the Villa de Fuente Municipal Cemetery, where unidentified and unclaimed migrants found dead in the area are buried.

 

 

55    Minneapolis, Minnesota. 2026. People visit a memorial dedicated to Alex Pretti, a local resident who is fatally shot at that site by federal immigration agents during a chaotic and widely contested encounter.

 

 

56    Brooklyn, New York. 2025. A vigil and collective prayer organized by migrant rights supporters takes place outside the Metropolitan Detention Center, where migrants are held before being transferred elsewhere in the country for processing and possible deportation.

 

 

57   A flower found in the street close to the memorial of Renee Good in Minneapolis, Minnesota.

58    Ciudad Juárez, Mexico. 2023. Candles and flowers fill an improvised altar built by friends and relatives of the 40 migrants killed in a fire at a detention center.

 

 

59    Eagle Pass, Texas. 2024. Hidden in plain sight, in a far corner of the cemetery, lie the graves of people on the move who drown in the Rio Grande. A surge in repressive border policies parallels a rise in deaths across the region.

 

 

 

60   Brooklyn, New York. 2025. The Metropolitan Detention Center stands as a holding site for migrants awaiting transfer across the country for processing and possible deportation. At the same time, the facility holds Venezuelan President Nicolás Maduro in U.S. custody following his capture and transfer to New York.

 

61   Manhattan, New York. 2025. A demonstrator holds a sign during a “No Kings” protest in New York. Donald Trump’s second term is marked by an increasingly authoritarian and confrontational approach to political life. His handling of migration is often described as abusive and, at times, unlawful, while his broader posture draws criticism for its tone and aggressiveness—even from some of his own supporters.

 

 

62   Fort Snelling, Minnesota. 2026. Outside the Whipple Federal Building, members of the local community gather to protest ICE and the implementation of “Metro Surge,” an operation that aggressively targets migrants in the area and is marked by the killing of two local residents, Renee Good and Alex Pretti, at the hands of federal agents.

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