Luis Fabini Photographer

02/12/2025

At the end of spring, Huasos drive their herds through an intricate labyrinth of trails, crossing mountains and valleys to reach the high-altitude grazing lands where sweet, fertile grasses grow in abundance. They leave the animals there until just before the first snowfall, when they return to retrieve them. By then, the livestock has wandered far and wide, requiring a long and meticulous search that stretches across vast, rugged terrain.

To survive in the Cordillera, one must be fearless. As we rode higher into the mountains, the midday sky was cloudless, and the landscape transformed—the lush, humid valleys gave way to shrubs and wild bush. The rocky terrain slowed our passage, forcing us to dismount at times, leading our horses and pack mules on foot. By nightfall, we reached our first campsite along the banks of a river, its icy waters just beginning to thaw with the arrival of spring. We slept in the open, beneath a sky so clear and vast that it felt as though we could reach out and touch the stars.

The next day, we continued our ascent, forging through fast-flowing rivers, navigating the aftermath of the earthquake I had arrived to witness. Massive boulders, shaken loose from the mountains, lay strewn in patterns like skipping stones on a lake, leaving deep craters in the earth. That night, as we sat around a bonfire—singing, drinking wine, and gazing at the endless stretch of stars—the ground trembled once more.

To be a Huaso is more than a profession; it is a way of life, a philosophy, and an honor.

02/09/2025

02/07/2025

My photography is an act of resistance: by immersing myself in the lives of rural communities, by capturing the connection between man and land, by seeking essence rather than surface. Through my vision, I affirm that there is something beyond consumption, something that cannot be reduced to a commodity.

One seeks what one does not have. I searched for myself because I had no idea who I was; that’s why I studied and practiced Zen. I seek people connected to the land because I have always been uprooted. Through my work, I arrive at a certain natural order of things. It is a search born from an inexorable need of the spirit. We all seek what we lack. It is not despite absence, but because of it, as Sábato once said.Emptiness drives movement; lack creates the need for creation. My path—from Zen to a connection with the land, from discipline to creativity—reflects this inevitable law of the spirit.

Art, in this sense, is not a luxury or a whim but a way of reconciling with what we lack. It is the act of bringing inner chaos into order in relation to the external world. It is finding roots when one has grown up without them.That search, I believe, is tangible in my work. My photography does not merely document; it builds a bridge between worlds, between what I have and what I continue to seek.

01/31/2025

Gauchos | Uruguay. For me, identity is an ever-evolving narrative—shaped not only by our connection to the land but also by our capacity to reshape it, just as it reshapes us. It’s a continuous dialogue, one where the environment around us plays a key role, but so do the choices we make in response to it. The faces I capture embody this tension—frozen in a moment, yet brimming with the potential for transformation. Each expression is part of a larger story, one that carries the weight of history while reaching toward the future. The land acts as both a mirror and a mold, shaping us in ways that often elude our understanding, while we, in turn, leave our imprint on it. Through my lens, I aim to uncover this delicate exchange, where identity is never static, but always in flux—alive, evolving, and constantly shifting.

Para mí, la identidad es una narrativa en constante evolución, moldeada no solo por nuestra conexión con la tierra, sino también por nuestra capacidad para transformarla, así como ella nos transforma a nosotros. Es un diálogo continuo, en el que el entorno que nos rodea juega un papel clave, pero también lo hacen las decisiones que tomamos en respuesta a él. Los rostros que capturo encarnan esta tensión: congelados en un momento, pero rebosantes de potencial para la transformación. Cada expresión es parte de una historia más grande, una que lleva el peso de la historia mientras se extiende hacia el futuro. La tierra actúa como un espejo y un molde, moldeándonos de maneras que a menudo escapan a nuestra comprensión, mientras que nosotros, a su vez, dejamos nuestra huella en ella. A través de mi lente, busco desvelar este delicado intercambio, donde la identidad nunca es estática, sino siempre en flujo: viva, en evolución y en constante cambio.

01/30/2025

Dumbo vanishes in the storm, and with it, something deeper fades. The raw, imperfect edges, the history woven into brick and stone, all buried under a fresh layer of erasure. From my window at 68 Jay, I watch the city soften, not just from the snow but from the weight of something heavier—gentrification, displacement, the slow death of character.

The people who made this place what it was—the artists, the workers, the storytellers—are ghosts now, pushed further out, their spaces repurposed into polished dreams for those who never belonged to the struggle. The irony is sharp: they came for the grit, the authenticity, the soul of the place. And in their hunger to claim it, they killed it.

Now, Dumbo is just another playground for the rich, its identity swallowed like the streets beneath the snow. But maybe, underneath it all, something still lingers, waiting for the thaw, waiting to rise again.

01/19/2025

The Brooklyn sessions -2024

01/15/2025

Harvests 2018 The salt ponds of Maras in Peru are more than just a stunning landscape; they are a living testimony to the bond between human beings and the earth

01/11/2025

Caballos criollos de Basalto, Estancia Santa Amelia , Uruguay

01/09/2025

Fabini’s portraits challenge the viewer’s assumptions about identity by restoring autonomy to his subjects. They are not passive symbols of rural authenticity or urban progress. Instead, their direct, often defiant gazes confront the lens, dismantling the voyeuristic tendencies of photography. This act of confrontation redefines the relationship between the viewer and the subject, insisting on recognition of the other as a fully realized individual, rather than as a mere reflection of cultural expectations.

Los retratos de Fabini desafían las suposiciones del espectador sobre la identidad al devolverles poder a sus sujetos. No son símbolos pasivos de autenticidad rural o progreso urbano. En cambio, sus miradas directas, a menudo desafiantes, confrontan la lente, desmantelando las tendencias voyeurísticas de la fotografía. Este acto de confrontación redefine la relación entre el espectador y el sujeto, insistiendo en el reconocimiento del otro como un individuo plenamente realizado, en lugar de ser una mera reflexión de las expectativas culturales

01/07/2025

As I watched Roshi, I realized that Zen wasn’t about escaping life—it was about embracing it fully, as it is, in all its messiness and beauty.

I wanted to capture that. I wanted to document the life of a Zen master, someone who embodied that presence, that stillness, that way of being. I started my first long-term project: The Life of a Zen Master.

This project was not just about photography—it was my own Zen practice, in a different form. Through my camera, I was learning to see more clearly, to see the world with the same openness and attention that Zen practice encouraged me to bring to my own experience. The more I observed, the more I realized that Zen wasn’t just a practice; it was a way of being, of being in the world with full attention, without clinging to outcomes, without getting caught up in judgments.

Over the course of three years, I followed Roshi, photographing his life as he led retreats and guided his students. Through those images, I began to capture not just his form, but the essence of his being. I saw how his life was a continuous expression of Zen—not separate from the world but deeply interconnected with it. Every gesture, every look, every step he took seemed imbued with the wisdom of the practice.

Through this entire journey, I’ve learned that Zen is not about achieving some ultimate state of perfection or enlightenment. It’s about showing up fully for life, as it is, moment by moment. It’s about embracing the joy, the pain, the beauty, and the mess—all of it. And through that embrace, finding a kind of peace that doesn’t depend on external circumstances but arises from within.

As I continue to walk this path, both in Zen and through my photography, I carry Moriyama Roshi’s teachings with me—not just in my mind, but in the way I live and the way I see the world. Zen, I’ve learned, is not something you do; it’s something you are. And through it, I’ve found a deeper, more authentic way to live my life, to express myself, and to be at peace with the present moment, as it is.

01/04/2025

And through all of this, Moriyama Roshi was there—teaching, guiding, but never imposing. His presence was the perfect mirror for my own practice. When he sat, he was like a rock—unmovable, deeply rooted in the present moment. Yet, in his interactions with others, he was one of the most sensitive, compassionate people I have ever met. He didn’t just talk about Zen; he lived it, in the most ordinary and extraordinary ways. His entire life was an expression of the teachings. There was no separation between his meditation and his daily actions. He was Zen in motion.

It was during this time that I felt a pull to pick up my camera again. Photography had been my life’s passion before everything fell apart, but after my personal collapse, I had lost the urge to create. Yet, as I watched Roshi, I realized that Zen wasn’t about escaping life—it was about embracing it fully, as it is, in all its messiness and beauty.

I wanted to capture that. I wanted to document the life of a Zen master, someone who embodied that presence, that stillness, that way of being. I started my first long-term project: The Life of a Zen Master.

This project was not just about photography—it was my own Zen practice, in a different form. Through my camera, I was learning to see more clearly, to see the world with the same openness and attention that Zen practice encouraged me to bring to my own experience. The more I observed, the more I realized that Zen wasn’t just a practice; it was a way of being, of being in the world with full attention, without clinging to outcomes, without getting caught up in judgments.

Over the course of three years, I followed Roshi, photographing his life as he led retreats and guided his students. Through those images, I began to capture not just his form, but the essence of his being. I saw how his life was a continuous expression of Zen—not separate from the world but deeply interconnected with it. Every gesture, every look, every step he took seemed imbued with the wisdom of the practice.

01/02/2025

During the cattle roundup at Hacienda El Tambo, in the Ecuadorian páramo, at over 4,000 meters above sea level, I was galloping with the intention of getting closer to a herd of wild horses to photograph them. The icy air and the imposing geography of the area, with its vast horizons, created a unique atmosphere that can only be experienced in such remote places. Suddenly, my companion Gabriel shouted at me urgently. I quickly looked to my left and, with my heart racing, saw a dozen wild black bulls charging toward us at the speed of a gust of wind. In an instant, fear paralyzed me, but fortunately, both my horse and I remained completely still. The bulls passed by us with such force it seemed as though they would run us over, but, to our surprise, they didn’t even graze us. It was a moment of tension, almost surreal, that left an indelible mark on my memory, but it also reminded me of the imposing presence of nature and wildlife that still exists in those remote corners of the earth.

Durante el rodeo de ganado salvaje en la Hacienda El Tambo, en el páramo ecuatoriano, a más de 4.000 metros de altura, galopaba con la intención de acercarme a una manada de caballos salvajes fotografiarlos . El aire helado y la imponente geografía de la zona, con sus vastos horizontes, creaban una atmósfera única que solo se puede experimentar en lugares tan remotos. De repente, mi compañero Gabriel me gritó con urgencia. Miré rápidamente a mi izquierda y, con el corazón acelerado, vi una docena de toros negros salvajes cargando hacia nosotros a la velocidad de una rafaga viento. En un instante, el miedo me paralizó, pero afortunadamente, tanto mi caballo como yo quedamos completamente estáticos. Los toros pasaron a nuestro lado con tal fuerza que parecía que nos iban a arrollar pero, para nuestra sorpresa, ni nos rozaron. Fue un momento de tensión, casi surrealista, pero que también me recordó la imponente presencia de la naturaleza y la vida salvaje que sigue existiendo en esos rincones remotos de la tierra.