This series is multiple exposures that mix people with landscapes. Most of the photos were taken between San José and Cartago, Costa Rica.

Photography, direction and modeling:
Juliana Quesada
& Esteban Pérez

DOÑA EIDA ROSA DÍAZ

Doña Eida, at 84 years old, stands every day on the bridge at the entrance of a small town called Escazú, from 6:00 a.m. until the first drop of rain falls. She holds kitchen cloths with vegetable prints in one hand and, in the other, a bag of mangoes. She sets her plants on the ground and asks God for good sales.

Every person who passes by greets her as “abuela.” They hug her with affection, exchange a smile, and ask how she’s doing.

Her way of dressing is excessive: layers of hand-sewn fabrics, prints, colors, flowers, stockings, scarves, hats, bibs. All at the same time. All intertwined. A braid with a white ribbon. Soft hands inside a pink apron.

With a single greeting, her universe opens, saturated with stories from the street, plant advice, and relationship counsel.

Doña Eida marks the waning Tuesday on her calendar to cut plants, harnessing the lunar magic. Before leaving her spot, she says goodbye to the security guard at the shopping center next to where she works. She cracks a few jokes and hugs him. He’s the one who calls her a taxi when it starts to drizzle.

She returns her chair to the Fresh across the street like every day, where the guards have nicknamed her “Perlita.” She puts two plants in a cloth bag, three mangoes in another, and the small change from the day in her apron.

The entrance to her house is tangled in plants. What at first glance looks like weeds quickly becomes the most exquisite nursery. She starts pulling out onion, sweet potato, lilies, and plants that only she has, because everything “takes” for her.

You must use rue for virtue, but keep it away from envious people. Rosemary for abundance. A pink flower at the entrance.

Among children's toys and hanging clothes rests an altar to the Virgin at the back of her house. Religious images, plastic flowers, photos of Jesus, sculptures of apostles, candles, and a green tablecloth with sweets and Saints.

Her house was given to her, then it burned down, and was repaired. Some of her grandchildren live with her and others don’t. The neighbor reports her to her children if she leaves too early. Her children lock her in her room when she’s sick so she won’t go out to work on the street. Because if they wake up too late, Doña Eida will have already escaped.

A woman who never stopped working. She sold cold coconut water, Swiss cookies, pupusas, mangoes, tamales. She worked for years at the elderly care home, where they still keep a spot for her, just in case she ever needs it.

But her real place is on the street, in her chair, on the bridge, every day, waiting for people to pass by and have a good time.

OLD BUT GOLD

The photos that got me hooked on photography, shot on an old digital camera I found in my dad’s closet.

I shot whatever caught my eye and messed with the settings until I knew what I liked. These days I’m more into film, but this stage is how I learned fast.