After a decade-long career in fashion in New York City, photographer Juan Brenner returned to his home country of Guatemala to seek peace and reassess his homeland. His new book, Genesis, published by Guest Editions captures a new generation of Guatemalans, offering an extensive study of Highland society, exploring the history, nuance, and complexity of everyday life.
With photography that documents a territory in the midst of great change, Brenner sets out to capture the “process of becoming” for a country still grappling with the remnants of its colonial past. Inspired by Guatemalans who are reimagining their country’s aesthetic codes in the age of social media and the cultural impact of reggaeton, Brenner’s subjects — adorned in streetwear, gold chains, grills, acrylic nails, and colourful hair — recontextualise traditional indigenous garments. Beyond redefining Guatemalan beauty and culture, these young people reflect a new aesthetic, one that heralds the dawn of a pivotal era for Guatemalan youth.
Hi Juan, it’s a pleasure to speak with you again (we first interviewed you back in 2020). Where do you feel you stand now compared to then? Both personally and professionally.
I’m thrilled to be here again! So much has happened in the last four years. I’ve been working nonstop on various projects, mostly up in the mountains here in Guatemala. I think I’m the same curious and hyperactive photographer and even though I still firmly believe in following my gut, I am more centred as an artist nowadays. I’m still planning to enter dangerous places, but I won't bring my camera with me the first time round.
What was the initial inspiration behind Genesis, and how did your return to Guatemala shape the project?
Before publishing Tonatiuh (my first monograph), I envisioned a project centred on Indigenous Power, inspired by the social dynamics I observed in South America, particularly in Peru, Ecuador, and Bolivia. However, I quickly recognised the magnitude of that task and decided to focus on Tonatiuh instead. As I worked on Tonatiuh, I encountered situations that diverged significantly from my initial vision. I discovered images of great complexity — both conceptual and visual — that captured themes of change, technology, and the real people shaping the social fabric of the region. I faced the challenge of separating both projects; it was tempting to dive into everything I was seeing. Yet, I felt I couldn't manage both at once. After completing Tonatiuh, I immediately began shooting Genesis, building on the solid relationships I had established in the Highlands. My connection with the people there allowed me to keep documenting their stories. My time away from Guatemala fundamentally shaped my identity as an artist and an adult. Working on Tonatiuh was challenging, as I wanted to distance myself from my fashion photography background. I struggled against the noise of those preconceived notions. With Genesis, however, I embraced a more open approach, allowing myself to explore without visual or conceptual limitations.
How did the physical and cultural landscape of the Guatemalan Highlands challenge, or influence, the way you shot your subjects?
It’s been an evolving journey. I chose to remain as liquid as possible, understanding that I needed to process many things simultaneously. Instead of trying to construct a narrative in my head while shooting, I focused on the moments unfolding in front of me. I recognised the power of the images and began documenting anything I deemed significant. Shooting in the highlands is complex. The tumultuous last century of our history has made locals feel uneasy and suspicious of outsiders, especially those with cameras. This is compounded by 300 years of colonialism and a violent history of invasion and conquest. Being aware of this context is crucial. I quickly learnt that honesty and transparency are essential tools for opening up conversations. These discussions often led to invaluable insights and resulted in simple portraits that sparked my idea of creating an archive.
How did your process evolve over the five years it took to complete Genesis? Did any unexpected discoveries change your direction?
It was quite a journey. I focused on documenting rather than delving into complex situations. While my narrative is present in the images, I often chose a simpler approach. For this project, I shot more than 300 rolls of film and began with 700 images for sequencing. I started shooting in 2018, and by 2023, I noticed many changes — architecture, infrastructure, colours, and various new dynamics. This realisation overwhelmed me, and I understood I needed to wrap up the image-capturing process. I stopped shooting in mid-2023 and began the sequencing phase.
As someone returning to your homeland after years abroad, how did your perspective as both insider, and outsider, shape your approach to representing Guatemalan culture?
It’s challenging. No matter how deeply I research or how focused I am, I’ll never fully belong to or understand the communities I work with, and that complexity grows as I become more immersed in a place. The more I experience a territory, the more I feel like an active participant in what’s happening. Early in the process, I realised that my work is hard to digest. I am socially and racially mixed, often feeling caught in the middle — neither brown enough for indigenous communities nor white enough to be fully accepted by the Euro-descendant elite. I try to think of Genesis as an archival project, representing what I was able to capture between 2018 and 2023. It reflects a period that I could digest and present as simply as possible. Rather than representing Guatemalan culture wholly, my images reflect my personal context and my journey as an artist grappling with complex topics. One of the most important lessons I’ve learnt is to accept what unfolds in front of me as reality, to push through the anxiety, and to keep capturing without looking back.
How did growing up in Guatemala shape your artistic sensibilities, and in what ways do you see echoes of your upbringing in the images of Genesis?
I grew up travelling to the Highlands through the 80s and 90s, but I never fully grasped how important that territory was in shaping our reality. Beyond its undeniable beauty, the energy from the mountains and volcanoes is palpable. When you’re there, the multitude of messages can be overwhelming. Guatemala is an intricate mix of beauty and a stark, sombre reality. As a developing country, we often feel overlooked by global decision-makers, and at times it feels like we’ve been abandoned to our fate. I was always taught that we’re poor, weak, and misunderstood. Carrying that baggage was challenging while working on my projects. Now, though, I believe I can achieve almost anything. I’ve never struggled with insecurity or fear regarding my work, but delving deep into our history and reality forced me to reevaluate everything I thought I knew about myself, both personally and as an artist.
Recurrent motifs in your work include grills, gold-jewellery, vibrant street signs and contemporary clothing within the context of Guatemala, and remnants of its Mayan past. How did you approach capturing the exploration of the tension between the preservation of indigenous cultural traditions and embracing modern, global influences and aesthetics in Genesis?
You’re right — tension is present. I can’t fully explain how new generations are grappling with their past, present, and traditions. I believe we should give youth the space to experiment and redefine established ideas of aesthetics and the quote unquote right way to do things. My perspective probably stems from my own tumultuous teenage years, when I felt overwhelmed by rules and tradition. All I wanted was to express myself through music, fashion, and partying, and I found my place within those communities. Everyone finds their own path, whether it becomes transcendent or not. I’ve never understood why there’s so much worry about so-called traditions being lost. It feels insulting to assume that new generations will apparently ruin things or let history fade away. Today’s youth are incredibly intelligent. Kids in the highlands are just like anyone else, and a significant part of this project reflects my connection with my subjects through personal style and taste.
What does it mean for you to be capturing evolving notions of beauty, class, and cultural identity in Guatemala?
I feel extremely lucky to document this moment in history. I used to take time and the reality of change for granted, but I’m learning a lot and making mistakes along the way. I focus on learning from those mistakes and correcting them, though sadly, that process isn’t always visible in the work. It’s about understanding and navigating the images without preconceived notions or fixed ideas. I believe this body of work will evolve over time. We’ll see what happens in 20 years; I think this project will grow and gain importance as time goes on. I would love to continue examining these images, discovering connections to the ideas you mentioned, and adjusting my approach to better digest my own work.
In the context of Genesis, how do you think Guatemala’s cultural memory is evolving amidst the pressures of global neoliberalism and migration? How does this struggle between retaining heritage and embracing change appear in your photographic narrative?
It’s all about priorities. It’s easy to create narratives and try to adhere to them or force the work to fit preconceived ideas; this feels like the most comfortable approach when making this type of work. However, the reality is quite different, and you grasp that better when you’re out in the field, navigating the territory in search of answers. It’s in these situations that things become real.
I learned that it’s challenging to start a conversation about history and heritage when your subjects are focused on immediate concerns, like their next meal or their safety. The situation is intense; Guatemala’s fragile socio-political climate complicates the ability to concentrate on solid concepts. Our cultural identity is shaped by our complex history, and it’s this hybrid reality that I most want to convey through my work. One of my favourite aspects of Genesis is the opportunity to present a wide array of realities.
The rural context often clashes with life in larger towns, and traditions are interpreted in various ways from one community to another. Concepts of wealth and richness differ significantly from Western perspectives. In many places, smartphones and worship candles coexist, creating a unique blend of modernity and tradition. It’s hard to explain, but this chaos has an underlying structure that no one fully understands, yet it exists.
I learned that it’s challenging to start a conversation about history and heritage when your subjects are focused on immediate concerns, like their next meal or their safety. The situation is intense; Guatemala’s fragile socio-political climate complicates the ability to concentrate on solid concepts. Our cultural identity is shaped by our complex history, and it’s this hybrid reality that I most want to convey through my work. One of my favourite aspects of Genesis is the opportunity to present a wide array of realities.
The rural context often clashes with life in larger towns, and traditions are interpreted in various ways from one community to another. Concepts of wealth and richness differ significantly from Western perspectives. In many places, smartphones and worship candles coexist, creating a unique blend of modernity and tradition. It’s hard to explain, but this chaos has an underlying structure that no one fully understands, yet it exists.
Fashion plays a significant role in your images. What does fashion symbolise for the young Guatemalans you photograph, and how do you think it ties into their broader cultural expression?
I’m pretty sure it symbolises something very similar to what it would to a kid in Mongolia, Denmark or Brazil, I often say that the youth of the Highlands are the first generation to effectively establish an intelligible dialogue with their contemporaries around the world. Self-expression is sometimes taken for granted, but kids in Guatemala now have access to all the fast fashion they desire, along with a thriving second-hand clothing industry — primarily sourced from places like the Salvation Army in the USA. This has transformed how young people engage with fashion and experiment with their aesthetics. Understanding how cultural codes change from town to town, such as traditions and food, is very important. Fashion varies significantly around the Highlands. The colonial process created a rich array of textiles and fabric-making techniques, with each town’s habitants striving to differentiate themselves (a legacy from the feudal era). This need for distinction has always been part of our fashion dynamics. Today, it’s easy to see how references circulate globally and end up on kids’ phones through TikTok or Instagram. We are at a unique moment where technology and tradition can coexist, and I believe that everything will be okay.
How do you think social media has impacted the cultural and aesthetic shifts you're documenting in the Highlands?
As we all know, social media plays a pivotal role in shaping communication among the new generations around the world; it’s not any different here. I follow TikTok and Instagram accounts with over 100,000 followers coming out of the Highlands, including cooking enthusiasts, travel influencers, dancers, and gossip platforms. This highlights a complicated and diverse communication landscape. It's also noteworthy that this region is among the most densely populated areas in our country, facilitating the rapid and effective dissemination of ideas and messages. Moreover, the new generation increasingly recognises the importance of learning English for commercial opportunities. Many become trilingual, speaking their Mayan language, Spanish, and English. This multilingualism provides them with a significant advantage in our interconnected world.
Personally, learning English has transformed my life. However, it is frustrating that those in power often overlook a fundamental principle: everyone should have the right and support to learn at least one Mayan language; the impact would be profound. This underscores how systemic racism has been a cornerstone of a corrupt and unfair system. Every aspect of this system has been designed to keep the working class, particularly the indigenous population, at a perpetual disadvantage relative to the ruling class.
Personally, learning English has transformed my life. However, it is frustrating that those in power often overlook a fundamental principle: everyone should have the right and support to learn at least one Mayan language; the impact would be profound. This underscores how systemic racism has been a cornerstone of a corrupt and unfair system. Every aspect of this system has been designed to keep the working class, particularly the indigenous population, at a perpetual disadvantage relative to the ruling class.
You describe Genesis as a “study” of the Guatemalan Highlands. How did you approach the visual storytelling to ensure the complexity of that society came through?
When I began working in the Highlands, I quickly realised the importance of understanding history as a multilayered yet nuanced narrative. Our history is marked by violence, injustice, and corruption, and it reflects a carefully crafted process of mass dominance. This realisation led me to accept that I could not approach my work as a director, as I had done in fashion photography. Instead, my own experiences and narratives have become integral to my work. Each visit deepens my understanding of my own situation and the people I collaborate with.
While I have guiding principles that shape my work, adopting a more fluid and sometimes passive role within this context has resulted in greater accuracy and authenticity. I often confront the reality that I will never fully belong to or completely understand this place. At times, I face misunderstanding or even criticism regarding my work and how it is perceived by others. My project, Genesis, is fundamentally mestizo, reflecting a pragmatic understanding of the term: mestizo (a person of mixed heritage, particularly of European and Indigenous American ancestry). I embrace this identity, as I am aware of my Indigenous ancestry from the Guatemalan Highlands. This heritage grounds my work, and I am dedicated to exploring it in depth; it is the only reality I can genuinely claim as my own at this time.
While I have guiding principles that shape my work, adopting a more fluid and sometimes passive role within this context has resulted in greater accuracy and authenticity. I often confront the reality that I will never fully belong to or completely understand this place. At times, I face misunderstanding or even criticism regarding my work and how it is perceived by others. My project, Genesis, is fundamentally mestizo, reflecting a pragmatic understanding of the term: mestizo (a person of mixed heritage, particularly of European and Indigenous American ancestry). I embrace this identity, as I am aware of my Indigenous ancestry from the Guatemalan Highlands. This heritage grounds my work, and I am dedicated to exploring it in depth; it is the only reality I can genuinely claim as my own at this time.
You describe Genesis as documenting the “process of becoming.” What does that phrase mean to you in the context of both your subjects and your own work, and what were the most challenging aspects of documenting a region in transition?
When I refer to this concept, I envision young people around thirteen or fourteen years old — an age when they begin to recognise their own power. It's a pivotal moment when they realise their need for attention and start to uncover the nuances that enable them to communicate effectively. They become aware of how others perceive them and begin to decode the reasons behind that attention. Style and taste enter the conversation in a sophisticated manner, as many of my subjects are acutely aware of the power of photography, largely due to their experiences with smartphones. They understand the significance of images in shaping their identities and the world around them. I find it particularly rewarding that my work resonates deeply with Gen Z and younger audiences. However, I also recognise the importance of connecting with the older generation to provide balance and perspective in this ever-evolving landscape.
You mention the cultural force of reggaeton as an influence on the younger generation. Can you talk more about how music influences their identity and how you sought to capture that visually?
The Internet empowers us with choice and options. Coming from a pre-Internet era, I learned to navigate life without it as a tool. When I first encountered the Internet in the mid-90s, I was struck by the beauty of being able to connect with peers around the world — an experience my parents couldn’t fully grasp. My understanding of culture and my enduring curiosity about not growing up equipped me with the skills needed for learning, researching, and making meaningful statements. Genres like reggaeton, hip hop, cumbia rebajada, and corridos tumbados reign supreme in the Highlands, as they do throughout Latin America today. For many young people, these musical movements and the aesthetic that comes with them resonate more deeply than their traditional realities. It is truly inspiring to witness how these youths navigate their identities, skilfully balancing culture, tradition, and technology. The future of ancestral ideas and traditions is undoubtedly in great hands.
How do you see Guatemalan youth redefining or reshaping the cultural codes of their society, and how do you think their cultural shifts will impact future generations?
I’ve mentioned this before, my dream is for one of the young people I photographed for Genesis to become president of Guatemala in 30 or 40 years.
I envision indigenous movements reclaiming some of the power, the land, and the rights that were taken from them during the colonial era. Real change in Guatemala will occur when we begin to listen to the mountains, the rivers, and the wise people who safeguard them. They hold invaluable answers and guidance for our future. I believe this will happen; we just need to be patient. Guatemala is a nation of diverse ethnic groups.
I envision indigenous movements reclaiming some of the power, the land, and the rights that were taken from them during the colonial era. Real change in Guatemala will occur when we begin to listen to the mountains, the rivers, and the wise people who safeguard them. They hold invaluable answers and guidance for our future. I believe this will happen; we just need to be patient. Guatemala is a nation of diverse ethnic groups.
How do you think the country's multiculturalism is being challenged or reshaped by globalisation and modern influences, and what impact do you hope Genesis will have on how people inside and outside Guatemala view the country’s evolving cultural identity?
Yes, Guatemala is home to more than 20 ethnic groups, with at least two of them having over a million speakers of their original Mayan languages. This is significant! Globalisation can sometimes obscure the reality that Mayan culture is alive. I find it frustrating when people claim it’s dead, especially considering that the Mayan civilisation had to adapt and evolve over time. Mayan culture is very much alive, supported by nearly 10 million people — almost 50% of our population identifies as Indigenous.
Our socio-political climate makes it challenging for work like mine to gain traction. The topics I address are not simple and require people to invest time and effort to understand them. This often limits my audience to those who could truly appreciate my work. Additionally, communicating my personal perspectives outside of Guatemala is a nuanced responsibility. I hope that through my vision, I can encourage others to reflect on the unique history and makeup of our society. That is all I seek — to inspire even one person to think differently about our cultural landscape.
Our socio-political climate makes it challenging for work like mine to gain traction. The topics I address are not simple and require people to invest time and effort to understand them. This often limits my audience to those who could truly appreciate my work. Additionally, communicating my personal perspectives outside of Guatemala is a nuanced responsibility. I hope that through my vision, I can encourage others to reflect on the unique history and makeup of our society. That is all I seek — to inspire even one person to think differently about our cultural landscape.
Now that Genesis is complete, what new themes or projects are you excited to explore next?
I feel a deep connection to the Guatemalan Highlands and cannot imagine being away from this territory and its people. Currently, I am working on a project focused on the occult and a unique form of syncretism that exists only here. This project is a work in progress, and I am in the process of planning our next trip in three weeks. In addition, I have completed the shooting for another project about the Andean Highlands, specifically in Ecuador, where I follow Pedro de Alvarado in his ongoing quest for glory.
These two projects occupy most of my time right now, though I typically manage four to five projects simultaneously. Each project evolves uniquely over time. One of the most important lessons I've learned at this stage of my career is that I don’t have complete control or understanding of what each project needs. Each one has its own distinct personality and rhythm, and mastering these variables is my primary focus in the coming years.
These two projects occupy most of my time right now, though I typically manage four to five projects simultaneously. Each project evolves uniquely over time. One of the most important lessons I've learned at this stage of my career is that I don’t have complete control or understanding of what each project needs. Each one has its own distinct personality and rhythm, and mastering these variables is my primary focus in the coming years.
