As Mexican photographer José de Jesús “Chucho” León Hernández delves into the recesses of his memory, rooting through the experiences of his formative years, the impressions emerge, shining brightly for a moment before fading to black like scenes from an old movie, with the occasional still image sometimes appearing, perfectly crystallizing the beauty, horror, joy, and despair of his youth.
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Born in the Colonia Doctores neighborhood of Mexico City, Chucho was raised by his aunts, two devout Catholic women who adorned their home with vivid images of suffering: the Passion of Christ covered in blood and souls burning in Purgatory. Surrounded by altars and daily prayers, reminders of the Apocalypse lingered and perfumed the air, hovering like a shadow ready to cast out the light.
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“I remember fear in every sense of the early knowledge of my homosexuality,” Chucho says. “My aunts were obsessed with the end of days and searching for a better afterlife because they were convinced that people are in this one just to suffer. [The doctrine] is called Valle de Lágrimas (Latin vallis lacrimarum or ‘vale of tears’), which seems so sad and beautiful to me, due to the classic Catholic paraphernalia of saints being tortured. Oddly, the Devil was never mentioned at home.”
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