The Intimate and Emotional Photography of Livier Miroslava

By Sorayda D. León

In Livier Miroslava’s photographs, the female figure does not appear merely as a visual subject. She appears as an emotional presence, as an identity, and, often, as a space of shared trust between the photographer and her subject.

“I focus mainly on women,” Livier explains during our conversation. “I connect with them in a completely different way. I feel like we’re on the same wavelength.”

His work, which has recently begun to expand into cities such as Los Angeles and Chicago, straddles the line between the artistic and the everyday, between urban maximalism and emotional vulnerability.

But beyond aesthetics, there is something that runs through much of her work: the need to create safe spaces for women in front of the camera.

“When I do photo shoots, I want them to be spaces where they feel safe,” she says. “I don’t want them to be worrying about how they look or constantly trying to put on a good face. Instead, I want to be the pair of eyes they need to tell them: ‘Trust me.’”

That sensibility does not seem to stem solely from an artistic choice, but rather from personal experiences. Livier began taking photographs around the age of 13, at a time when, as she recounts, she was going through difficult emotions related to adolescence, insecurity, and sadness.

“I’m not good at writing,” she says with a laugh. “I couldn’t put what I was feeling into words.”

So he found another way to do it.

He clearly remembers one of the first photos he took with a semi-professional camera that one of his brothers had brought back from the United States. He set the self-timer, sat down in front of the camera, and began taking pictures of himself crying.

“I wanted to express how I felt without having to literally say ‘I’m sad,’” she recalls.

That moment ended up shaping much of his relationship with photography. For Livier, taking pictures was never just about producing something “pretty.” From the very beginning, it was tied to emotions, vulnerability, and the need to convey things that cannot always be expressed directly.

And perhaps that's why so many women connect with her so easily on camera.

His portraits possess a rare emotional intimacy. Even when he uses color-saturated urban settings—such as markets or chaotic streets—the images retain a certain intimacy. His subjects do not appear to be “posing” to meet an aesthetic expectation; they seem to exist comfortably within the photograph.

Livier believes that has to do with the way he builds trust.

“It doesn’t matter if you’ve never modeled before,” she explains. “I’ll help you make this work.”

In a field where very specific beauty standards often prevail, Livier is committed to portraying diversity.

That quest is also evident in his spaces and settings. His recent work has shifted toward a maximalist aesthetic in which colors, markets, street markets, and elements of Mexican popular culture take center stage.

“We often try to make everything look European,” he says. “And we fail to see the beauty of the everyday spaces that already exist here.”

One of the most significant series from this new phase was a photo shoot featuring a friend dressed as a clown in a local market. The project, which blends theatricality, popular culture, and street photography, recently earned her second place at the Sony Awards, one of the most prestigious international photography competitions.

However, even amid that visual explosion, there remains a clear focus on female emotionality.

Livier often talks about clowns as figures who project joy while hiding sadness. It’s a duality with which he deeply identifies.

“I think I’m the kind of person who always tries to make everyone laugh, no matter how I’m feeling,” she says.

There is something of that in his photographs as well: visually striking images that, upon closer inspection, reveal a certain melancholy, vulnerability, or emotional unease.

All that coming and going has led her to reflect deeply on identity, aesthetics, and representation. “To me, the United States feels gray,” she says. “That’s why I try to bring color and everything I do there.”

And within that very spectrum, women take center stage. Mexican women, Latina women, women of all backgrounds—far removed from traditional standards and portrayed from a much more intimate and human perspective.

Her photography thus seems to function as a kind of conversation between women: one behind the camera and the other in front of it, working together to create an image in which both can recognize themselves.

“I don’t want anyone to come in worrying all the time about how they look,” she says. “I want them to feel confident.”

The power of her work is reflected not only in its aesthetics, colors, or international recognition, but also in her ability to look at other women without trying to correct them, tone them down, or transform them into something else.

Simply let them exist within the image.

Photos: Courtesy of the artist

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