Today we’d like to introduce you to Fer Millán.
Hi Fer, we’d love for you to start by introducing yourself.
Hi, I’m Fer. I’m 29 years old, and I’m from Culiacán, Sinaloa. I’m a photographer, audiovisual artist, and creative director in independent projects.
My story began long before I ever held a camera in my hands.
Since I was very young, I’ve felt a deep connection with the way I see the world. I’ve always been an observant person, not so much a perfectionist, but rather someone whose soul notices the details: the subtle things, the glances, the colors, the gestures that you feel almost no one else sees. Many times, I wished I could take pictures with my eyes, because everything seemed so beautiful, so unique, that I felt a genuine need to preserve it in my mind.
And I think that’s where my story as an artist began, in the desire to capture what made me feel alive.
Over the years, that led me to become a collector of other people’s images: from magazines, editorials, photographers, paintings, films, scenes. I deeply admired the people who managed to translate their vision of the world into powerful, poetic, and beautiful images. And even though I didn’t know exactly how or when, I always felt that someday I would find my own way to do it too.
I studied Communication Sciences and Techniques, and even though I still hadn’t found my focus, I began working in television for over three years, combining that with my university responsibilities. I worked both in front of and behind the camera.
My job was to film famous artists at concerts and interviews for a local morning TV show. For a while, I even had my own segment where I talked about topics like homophobia, racism and classism, always with the intention that adults watching TV could access those conversations, no matter where they were watching from.
I truly loved what I did. I had the chance to talk to people I had admired since I was a child, people I had only seen on screen and that left a mark on me. But even then, I felt something was missing.
Through my camera, I was representing artists and public figures, but while doing so, I kept asking myself: will I ever be seen the way my camera sees others? As an artist?
Life, with all its turns, led me to search for my own path and dedicate myself to what I truly loved: editorial photography and creative direction.
I started by photographing people in my city to build a client portfolio and everything was going well. But then the pandemic hit… and everything got more complicated.
During that time, we lost almost everything emotionally and physically. Many businesses shut down, people close to us passed away, and for a while, I even lost the desire to take pictures. I stepped away from my camera and focused entirely on myself and my mental health.
About six months before the pandemic ended, I started working for one of the most important news outlets in the state. I developed journalistic projects and mini-documentaries about pressing issues in my hometown: violence, drug trafficking, scarcity, public health. All from a cinematic and experimental lens.
That experience shaped my judgment, challenged me professionally, and helped me grow. I photographed and filmed many prominent political figures, including the former president and current president of Mexico. I told hard stories and accompanied deeply human moments. Likewise, I learned to see with depth, to narrate with sensitivity, to hold what is fragile guided by admirable journalists who had devoted years of their lives to a profession that’s often undervalued.
And I’m deeply proud of that work. I had the opportunity to witness stories that marked me forever.
But it was also a hard process. Because when you live in a place where human life stops being valuable in the eyes of power, everything changes.
My city is incredible. If you looked it up online, it wouldn’t do it justice. Culiacán is full of talented, hardworking, warm people. But sadly, in recent years, the war between criminal groups has overshadowed the version of this place that locals know. It has also put journalists’ lives at risk, those who bravely decide, every day, to keep telling the truth, even if doing so, could cost them everything.
There’s a serious lack of protection for people doing this work. And while none of us have tomorrow guaranteed, telling true stories in a place at war risks your life every time you write, record or publish. Sometimes you must do it anonymously, just to stay safe.
So eventually, I realized that even though I deeply admired that profession, it wasn’t where I was meant to stay long-term. It was a time of immense emotional exhaustion, where I started to feel like I couldn’t be free.
And although it was hard to accept, I decided to resign.
Not because I lacked passion or ability, but because I needed to protect my emotional well-being and recover my voice doing what truly sets my soul on fire.
And as they say, you always return to where you were once happy.
I came back to photography, but this time with a different lens: one that was clearer and more conscious. I came back from a place of love and from the desire to create images that not only portray people but reflect them. That speak to who we are when we feel free, seen and validated.
I started from scratch again: photographing my friends, building scenes, imagining worlds, finding beauty in the everyday.
And I think people felt that. They connected with how I saw the world, and that gave me strength.
A few months after I left my job and started my photography business, I received an unexpected and joyful invitation: the Tecnológico de Monterrey, one of the most prestigious universities in my country, reached out to offer me the opportunity to teach cinematography, photography and storytelling to high school students.
Saying yes to that opportunity has been one of the most meaningful decisions in this new chapter of my life.
My students helped me reconnect with myself, with passions I had forgotten, and with the authenticity of simply being who I am.
Soon, I’ll be celebrating one year of teaching. And even though I don’t know how long I’ll walk this path, I know for sure that it has been a deeply valuable part of my journey. It reminded me that teaching is also a powerful form of creation.
One of my greatest goals with my work is precisely that: to represent myself, to honor my ability to create, and to never forget that I’ll keep learning for as long as I live. To make every piece a declaration:
“This exists too. This deserves to be seen. This deserves to be created.”
And if someone else feels reflected or understood through my images or my words, then it all makes sense.
Today I have a small studio that grows with every story I tell, with projects that started in Culiacán and are now reaching other cities across Mexico, the United States and one day, I hope, beyond oceans and into other parts of the world.
I want my vision to travel far not for ego or recognition, but because I believe that every image is a way of saying: “we are here.”
An invitation to exist without asking for permission to show up in the world from the most authentic place within us.
That said, I don’t want my work to be remembered only for what I find beautiful, but also for what I believe needs to be seen and talked about. This year, during the Women’s March, one of my images was exhibited in the heart of my city. A powerful photograph I created with the intention of honoring my voice and the voices of many others.
To me, that moment was more than just a professional achievement. It was a statement: that art can also be an act of resistance, of memory and of truth.
My deepest wish is for my work to transcend. To speak for itself. To invite others to see themselves, to recognize themselves, to feel valid.
Because I’ve searched for that too, to know that I belong, that my perspective matters, that the way I feel the world is enough.
Of course, nothing I’ve accomplished has been on my own.
Along the way, I’ve been held, supported, and inspired by people I love deeply.
My family has always been a safe space, and my sister, a professional makeup artist, has walked with me in so many parts of this journey, collaborating and creating alongside me with so much talent and heart.
My friends have not only been an emotional support through the hard moments, but also a constant source of inspiration. They’ve reminded me of who I am when I forget, and have pushed me to keep growing, both as an artist and as a person.
And although I’m not yet where I want to be, and I’m not sure if I’ve already become who I want to be, I know with certainty that I’m on the right path. Because I believe that every person who creates from the soul is building a map for others who are still looking for signs, directions and possibilities.
And that’s what keeps me going. Not just to create, but to believe.
Because maybe one day, this interview will just be the first page in the story of someone who no longer needs an introduction.
Because their work will have already said everything it needed to say.
This is only one part of my story. One that keeps unfolding with every image, with every decision to choose myself and begin again.
And if someone reading this today is afraid to start or to return to something that once made them happy, I want to tell you: it’s okay to be afraid.
But it’s also okay to come back.
To come back with more clarity, more truth, more self-love.
Because starting over doesn’t always mean going backward.
Sometimes, it means returning to the place where, finally, you can be fully yourself.
Would you say it’s been a smooth road, and if not what are some of the biggest challenges you’ve faced along the way?
No, it definitely hasn’t been a smooth road. There have been many moments of uncertainty, loss, and emotional exhaustion. When the pandemic hit, everything I had started to build with my photography fell apart. Like many others, I lost clients, motivation, and even the desire to keep creating. It was a time of grieving, not just for work, but for the world we once knew.
Later, while working as a visual storyteller in a local news outlet, I faced another kind of challenge: the emotional weight of telling difficult stories in a city marked by violence and fear. Documenting reality in a place where truth can be dangerous took a toll on my mental health. It made me question how much of myself I could give without losing my voice in the process.
Choosing to leave that job was one of the hardest but most necessary decisions I’ve made. I had to relearn how to trust my path and return to what truly made me feel alive: creating from a place of love, not survival.
But even in the hardest chapters, I’ve found beauty. I’ve met people who’ve inspired me, worked on projects that reignited my purpose, and learned that starting over isn’t failure. It’s freedom.
Appreciate you sharing that. What else should we know about what you do?
I’m a photographer, audiovisual artist, and creative director. My work is rooted in editorial and fashion photography, as well as creative storytelling. I specialize in crafting cinematic and expressive imagery that reflects identity, memory, and presence for both brands and individuals who seek to tell their stories with authenticity and depth.
What I do goes beyond just taking beautiful photos; I try to create spaces where people can be fully seen, without filters or expectations. Each session is carefully crafted with intention and a deep respect for the individual in front of my lens. I’m most known for my ability to evoke emotion through color, light, and composition, and for creating portraits that feel personal, honest, and empowering.
One of the things I’m most proud of is that my work has become a form of resistance and truth-telling. This year, one of my photographs was exhibited during the Women’s March in the heart of my city, an image I created to honor my own voice and the voices of many others who are often silenced. That moment reminded me that art can move people, open conversations, and hold space for healing.
What sets me apart is that I don’t just aim to capture how people look, I want to show how they feel. I create from a place of deep observation, emotion, and authenticity. My work is for those who want to be seen as they truly are, raw, beautiful, powerful.
What matters most to you?
What matters most to me is creating with honesty and intention.
I believe that every image we create has the power to connect, to heal, and to make space for others to feel seen. What drives me is not just the visual result, but the emotional truth behind it, the process of slowing down, observing, and honoring what’s real.
I care deeply about telling stories that resonate, that go beyond the surface and speak to who we are when we feel free, safe, and accepted.
Because for me, art is not just a career, it’s a way of remembering, resisting and belonging.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://fermillan.mypixieset.com/
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/fermillanfoto
Image Credits
Fer Millán only.
