“My aesthetic identity is a translation of these two worlds coexisting—a "Cuban coffee, French spoon" sensibility. Because I belong to both and neither, my lens is uniquely calibrated to spot the hidden intersections where transient human life collides with permanent stone.”

Alex M. Bustillo: The Art of the Lens

Alex M. Bustillo is a distinguished Cuban-American photographer, graphic designer, and international artist based in France. Having lived in countries such as the USA, Puerto Rico, and Italy, he incorporates multicultural influences into his work, transforming classical photography into a postmodern art form. His approach evokes painting and classical collage, as he experiments with digital compositions and prints on aluminum sheets and plexiglass. Deeply influenced by philosophy, cinema, and literature, his subject matter ranges from street photography in European cities like Paris and Venice to highly symbolic conceptual projects.

(Photo: Alex M. Bustillo)

Among his most recognizable works is Story of the Eye, a visual interpretation of Georges Bataille's book that explores social taboos. Bridging different art forms, Bustillo has also collaborated with figures from the music scene, such as Garland Jeffreys, creating a unique visual universe that is exhibited internationally.

Interview by Michael Limnios         Special Thanks: Alex M. Bustillo, 2012 Interview 

You have stated that you treat your photographs as painted canvases. How did the need to push past the boundaries of traditional photography and turn to digital collage first arise?

The desire to push past traditional boundaries arose from a deliberate embrace of my identity as an autodidact. When I began making images, I lacked formal graphic training or drawing discipline. I was looking for a raw, technical vehicle to express the textures of my internal world. Photoshop was not a utility for correction; it was a digital sandbox where I could play with images, textures, and layers to see what might emerge.

In my early phase (2012–2020), this impulse manifested as literal, dense superposition. In works like L'enchevêtrement des Decipheration après Bataille and my Story of the Eye series, I treated the screen as a tactile canvas, overlaying disparate visual elements to escape the flat documentative quality of traditional photography.

Over the years, this "painterly" instinct has undergone a massive evolution. While I began working strictly from a digital perspective, late 2021 and early 2022 marked a decisive turning point. I stepped out of the digital studio to become a flâneur in the classic French sense. I no longer rely on digital overlays to create texture. Instead, since 2022, I slowly stroll through the physical streets, waiting patiently for the image to arrive. I am still painting, but I am now doing it by carving with natural light and structural form at the moment of capture.

Collage often bridges the past with the present. How do you manage to combine the rich history of European monuments with a modern, postmodern aesthetic into a single image?

Collage is a tool of temporal collision. In my early work, bridging the past and present was achieved through deliberate, graphic juxtapositions. I took classical iconography and shattered its context using bold color manipulation and textured layers.

Today, that collision of eras is captured entirely in-camera, a skill I have refined since the 2022 pivot. A prime example is Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa And Vigil, Museo Archeologico Nazionale di Venezia(published July 2026). Here, the ancient, stoic marble bust of Agrippa is placed in direct conversation with a contemporary guardian figure. There is no digital blending here; the juxtaposition is achieved purely through frame composition. By capturing these echoes in-camera, I treat the city as a living palimpsest where multiple eras constantly fold into a single, unmanipulated frame.

“The desire to push past traditional boundaries arose from a deliberate embrace of my identity as an autodidact. When I began making images, I lacked formal graphic training or drawing discipline. I was looking for a raw, technical vehicle to express the textures of my internal world.” (Photo © by Alex M. Bustillo)

Much of your work is inspired by literature and philosophy, such as the writings of Georges Bataille and Dante. What is your process for translating a complex written idea into a visual composition?

My creative process always begins with an obsession. I do not "illustrate" literature; I let myself be haunted by it until a specific set of images arrives as a response.

Historically, this translation was highly conceptual and layered. However, my work since late 2021 translates these heavy philosophical concepts through a process of radical simplification. In Firenze: The Book of Dante or The Book of Pasolini, I search the physical streets for the visual atmosphere created by those writers. I am now working from an implicit perspective, applying these philosophical concepts visually through structure and the weight of light. From this point of capture, the creative contract shifts: it is entirely up to the viewers to interpret the frame explicitly through its literary coordinates, or implicitly through their own sensory appreciation.

You have created portrait tributes to artists like Tom Waits and Bob Dylan. How does music influence the rhythm and atmosphere of your work during the creative process?

Music is the emotional spine of my visual language. Music dictates the rhythm, tempo, and texture of my composition. In my early psychedelic color works, like Bistrot De La Gare at Gare de Lyon, the saturated colors mirrored the electric atmosphere of classic rock.

As I pivoted aggressively into monochrome street photography starting in 2022, the relationship between music and image has stripped down to its barest elements. In 5 Terre Afternoon Worlds Apart or Sébastopol Symphony, the stark contrast between deep black and brilliant white functions exactly like sound and silence. Stripping away color allows me to capture the raw "grit and grain" of the street, translating the auditory weight of the blues directly into visual contrast.

You were born in Miami to Cuban parents and now live in France. How has this multicultural journey shaped your artistic vision and aesthetic identity?

My multicultural trajectory has made me a perpetual outsider. This duality is constantly playing out on my canvas. You have the vibrant, sun-drenched rhythm of my roots, captured in works like Pedro Bello Sr. & Indian Portrait, Cuba Tobacco Cigar Co. On the other hand, you have the quiet, stone-carved elegance of my European experiences, seen in Strolling in Venice with Maria Grazia Galatà or Galerie Vivienne Portrait.

My aesthetic identity is a translation of these two worlds coexisting—a "Cuban coffee, French spoon" sensibility. Because I belong to both and neither, my lens is uniquely calibrated to spot the hidden intersections where transient human life collides with permanent stone.

“Music is the emotional spine of my visual language. Music dictates the rhythm, tempo, and texture of my composition. In my early psychedelic color works, like Bistrot De La Gare at Gare de Lyon, the saturated colors mirrored the electric atmosphere of classic rock.” (Photo © by Alex M. Bustillo)

In the street portraits you create, what is it that draws you to a random stranger and makes you want to turn them into the central subject of your artwork?

The focus on portraiture represents one of the most profound evolutions in my work, and the development of this skill over the years has completely reshaped my creative identity.

In my early career, portraiture was an archival, conceptual, and highly structured exercise. I was working with historical icons—reconstructing faces like Beckett, Rothko, or Hendrix in a digital vacuum using layers of texture and color. My skill then was purely graphic, mediated by a screen, which allowed me to maintain a safe, intellectual distance from my subjects.

The shift to live street portraiture starting in late 2021 and early 2022 shattered that distance. Transitioning to the streets forced me to develop an entirely new, active, and vulnerable skillset. I had to learn how to read human geography in real time—spotting an unmistakable, uncompromised sense of reality in a passing stranger’s face, anticipating how natural light would contour their features, and mastering the delicate social art of the personal approach.

In works like Mahi - The Sunshine Portrait or Meditation : Bakary, you see the result of this multi-year development. I am no longer constructing a portrait; I am discovering it.

I deeply enjoy having a genuine conversation with the people I photograph when they wish to interact. This human connection shifts the entire creative process, acting as an invisible, narrative layer. It directly shapes how I think about the composition of the image and its eventual presentation. Knowing even a fragment of their story allows me to present them with the dignity of their lived experience, transforming a transient street capture into a shared, deeply human monument.

Paris, Venice, and Florence feature heavily in your work. What is it that you look for in the architecture and streets of these historic cities that you cannot find anywhere else?

I look for the physical manifestation of time. These cities are architectural labyrinths built on a scale that forces us to confront our own transience.

During my May 2026 photowalk in Venice—a continuation of the journey that began with the 2022 pivot—I captured pieces like Stone & Shadow and Sotoportego de la Madoneta. I was looking for the way ancient corridors compress light. In Paris, as seen in Parisian Palimpsest, I look for the way the historic architecture frames modern transit. These cities offer a dramatic stage that you cannot find anywhere else in the world.

Looking back at your career, how do you feel your relationship with light and shadow has evolved over the years?

My relationship with light and shadow has evolved from digital construction to raw, real-time discovery.

In my early career, shadow was something I constructed digitally in Photoshop to build a painterly depth. Today, following the 2021-2022 methodological pivot, shadow has become a physical, structural element. In works like the high-contrast frame of Tour Eiffel Graffiti Black and White, shadow is no longer a texture—it is a physical void.

I am now working from an implicit perspective. Shadow is the silent partner that gives light its meaning. I build the frame with quiet visual hints, leaving it entirely to the viewer's appreciation to interpret the final image—whether explicitly, deciphering the reality of the streets, or implicitly, feeling their way through the wordless poetry of what has been left in the dark.

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(Photos © by Alex M. Bustillo)