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Ricardo Miguel Hernández: When the memory turns to dust and Beyond Pain by Aline SmithsonNovember 28, 2025

©Ricardo Miguel Hernández, Birth, from When the memory turn to dust

I appropriate myself of a found testimony that covers the twenties to the end of the last century; I archive it, classify it and transmute it into a new metaphor.

Ricardo Miguel Hernández is not only a wonderful artist but an excellent writer. In describing his process of working with found photos he states. “I consider myself as a restless prowler, a visual archaeologist who operates technically and discursively on elasticity of a record of reality; an original story that I reactivate through the conception of an aesthetic ontology that encompasses the ideological, the social, the political, the religious, the familiar…”

I pulled this photograph off his instagram to share that the work is not always tiny, precious, and to scale. His collages have a power and beauty that transcend what we can hold in our hands.

An interview with the artist follows.

Ricardo Miguel Hernández, a Cuban visual artist whose work, through photography, video art, collage and installation, explores the elasticity of memory and official discourses. He dismantles hegemonic narratives to propose critical fictions centered on the individual as an act of poetic resistance.

Instagram: @r.miguelon84

©Ricardo Miguel Hernández, Process

©Ricardo Miguel Hernández, Process

©Ricardo Miguel Hernández, Silently she screamed, from When the memory turn to dust

Ricardo Miguel Hernández (Havana, Cuba, 1984)

He studied at the Cátedra de Arte de Conducta created and directed by Tania Bruguera between 2007 and 2009. He has exhibited his work in various solo exhibitions in Spain, Italy and Cuba. Among the exhibitions group, those made at Tampa Museum of Art in Tampa FL, The Museum of Fine Arts in Houston, Harn Museum of Art in Gainesville FL, Contemporary Art Center M17 in Kiev, Le Lieu Centre en Art Actuel in Quebec, PHotoEspaña 2023, 2020 y 2019 in Madrid, FestFoto Brazil 2019 Fundação Ibere Camargo in Porto Alegre, Foto Museo 4 Caminos in Mexico City, PAC Padiglione D Arte Contemporanea in Milan, ZAC Zisa Arti Contemporanee in Palermo, DOX Centre For Contemporary Art in Prague. Among the residencie, scholarship and awards received, include: Arte no es fácil Residencie, Chicago´s Center for Independent Dance and Performance Arts, U.S; Studio 21 Creation Grant from the Development Visual Arts, Havana, Cuba. He has been a collaborator and curator in exhibitions such as Sala Discontinua, in 2014 and Come Together, in 2023. His works have been published in books, magazines and specialized media such as Forgotten Lands. Volume 05, Harper’s Magazine, Faire Monde(s) Magazine, Esfera Pública, your photobook When the memory turns to dust, 89 Books Edition and her artist´s book Ricardo Miguel Hernández. Fragmentos para apuntalar las ruinas. Rialta Edition / Fluxus Collection. He recently gave a lecture on Collage, archival photography and memory, at the University of the Andes in Bogotá, Colombia. Some of his works are in public collections such as The Museum of Fine Arts, Houston; The Heckscher Museum of Art, Huntington, NY; Cuban Heritage Collection, University of Miami Libraries, Florida; Hood Museum of Art, Dartmouth College, Hanover; North Carolina Museum of Art.

Instagram: @r.miguelon84

©Ricardo Miguel Hernández, Possessed Angel, from When the memory turn to dust

When the memory turns to dust

Variable dimensions
Work in progress

“When the memory turns to dust”, for me as an artist it is a reflective process in which I combine empirical, psychological and critical things. I conceive the random gesture between the selection of a certain photographic document and the preconception in invoice of different stories, as a rescue practice where the apparently disposable, old or residual bear the weight of a memory that is presented to me as a pretext to recontextualize and resemantize the frozen story on photographic paper. I appropriate myself of a found testimony that covers the twenties to the end of the last century; I archive it, classify it and transmute it into a new metaphor. I conscientiously manipulate, meticulously elaborate other realities, juxtaposed, assembled, mutilated, where I do not intend to disguise the traces of time on paper, nor the seams resulting from these photo collages.

I consider myself as a restless prowler, a visual archaeologist who operates technically and discursively on elasticity of a record of reality; an original story that I reactivate through the conception of an aesthetic ontology that encompasses the ideological, the social, the political, the religious, the familiar… This Series is a kind of built and resurrected testament in which meanings and mixtures of a culture such as the Cuban one, of mixed race and singular are distilled, which delights even today in nostalgia and sustenance of an astonishing and worn out ideal. I assemble landscapes, portraits, customs scenes or abstracts motifs to reformulate that individual/social memory; to enrich that heritage many times found within a Cuban family; and to offer a possible interstice that reminds us of who we are and how we see ourselves from the contemporary artistic debate.

©Ricardo Miguel Hernández, Happy Dead, from When the memory turn to dust

Tell us about your childhood and what led you to become interested in photography.

Photography entered my life in a self-taught way almost twenty years ago, between 2004 and 2005. It attracted me because it was a medium that draws directly from reality and because it had always been present in my family’s domestic archives. My grandfather, at one point, took photographs of birthdays and parties to make a living, and although my father did not follow in his footsteps, he also took pictures as an amateur for our family. I think that’s where my emotional bond with the image and memory began.

©Ricardo Miguel Hernández, Our Dream Home, from When the memory turn to dust

Do you still take photographs, or do you only use them in your art?

Yes, of course. One of my first photographic series was “Viviendo con el enemigo” (Living with the Enemy, 2006), in which I took pictures inside the apartments of my building when they were being fumigated against the Aedes aegypti mosquito, the carrier of dengue fever. From a perspective close to documentary photography, I was interested in capturing those smoke-filled settings without showing the act of fumigation itself, but rather its aftermath: spaces invaded by a thick haze that transformed domestic interiors into almost warlike landscapes.

Later, with the series “Developer” (2012), I began experimenting with color and digital textures, but with the intention of achieving a look very close to the analog. These photographs of old gas stations in Havana speak about the economic stagnation that we still endure. Both series, despite the passage of time, remain relevant because of the subjects they address.

Since 2018, I have returned to the analog world, but this time to rescue and reconfigure photographs from different families, transforming them into collages. For example, in the series “When the Memory Turns to Dust” (2018–ongoing), I use mostly old photographs that I did not take myself to construct the collages. My early photographic practice continues to nourish my artistic work, but the focus is no longer just on “taking the photo,” but on how that image can be transformed, can enter into dialogue, and can build alternative memories.

©Ricardo Miguel Hernández, Our Dream Home (2), from When the memory turn to dust

Tell us what it’s like to be an artist in Cuba. Do you have a community? Do you exhibit your work? Are there collectors?

Being an artist in Cuba is an act of resistance. It means working in a context where resources are scarce, but creativity sharpens. Over the years, I have had the opportunity to exhibit both in my country and abroad. My solo exhibitions have taken place in Italy, Spain, and Cuba, while my most recent group shows were held at the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston; the Tampa Museum of Art, both in the United States; the Casa Museo Quinta de Bolívar in Bogotá, Colombia; and in an urban intervention during the Festival Indiano in Ribadeo, Galicia, Spain.

Some of my works are part of public collections such as the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston, and the Cuban Heritage Collection. These experiences have allowed me to maintain an active relationship with an artistic community that, although dispersed, continues to exist through dialogue and collaboration.

©Ricardo Miguel Hernández, Dada Speech, from When the memory turn to dust

What attracts you to working with other people’s photographs?

I am deeply drawn to the emotional and symbolic weight that anonymous images carry. These photographs of unknown families attract me not only for what they show, but also for their imperfections. I’m interested in the “problems” typical of amateur photography: blurred or shaky images, printing mistakes, or awkward compositions. Far from diminishing their value, these flaws give them a certain humanity. I’m also fascinated by the materiality of photographic paper — its textures, tones, and how it ages over time.

Although my work explores various themes, I’ve recently felt an increasing pull toward what is unsettling, disturbing, even grotesque. I think this reflects the times I’m living through: my work acts as a kind of filter through which my personal anxieties and discomforts pass, shaped by the deep economic, social, political, and sanitary crisis that marks my country today.

In recent years, I’ve also begun incorporating fragments of dedications — or as I prefer to call them, *sweet notes*, since it’s a broader and more evocative term than “dedication.” These texts are mostly found on the back of the photographs I use. The *sweet notes* are integrated into my works in two ways: either as graphic elements visually represented alongside portraits or photographic fragments, or as original paper fragments physically combined with appropriated images. This methodology creates a productive tension between the reality of the dedication and the fiction of the scene, between the tenderness of the text and the disturbance of the image. Although these works belong to the broader body of my main series, they stand out under the recurring title *Disturbing Sweet Notes*, marking a new conceptual direction in my exploration of the dust of memory and the stories that can be born from it.

©Ricardo Miguel Hernández, We Are Captives, from When the memory turn to dust

Do you pre-conceptualize the piece, or do you create it as you go?

In some cases, I work from preliminary sketches, though never from closed ideas. These sketches allow me to glimpse an approximate result of the concept I want to convey. However, my process is mostly intuitive: I start from the images themselves and let them guide me. The pieces take shape as I manipulate, cut, combine, and layer them. There’s a kind of dialogue between the image and me — a silent conversation where decisions arise more from instinct than from reasoning. It’s within that process that the work finds its true meaning.

Beyond pain, 2023-2025

Polaroids intervened, scanned and printed on photographic paper
Variable dimensions

“Beyond pain” is a series in which I intervened Polaroid photographs through a process of destruction and reconstruction: the original images are altered with boiling water, removing layers to preserve only significant fragments. Over these vestiges, I superimpose other photographs, watercolors, and brief texts, transforming each piece into a visual palimpsest where the ephemeral and the perpetual coexist. The process -which oscillates between analog and digital– begins with the physical manipulation of the Polaroid and culminates in its digitalization, allowing for its reproduction at multiple scales without losing the organic texture of the manual process. This technical duality reflects the conceptual core of the work: an exploration of life, death, and the transience of human bonds, where what persists converse on the same surface. The layers of intervened images, along with the added verses, act as metaphors for selective memory; an attempt to rescue the essence of pain in order to transcend it. The result is pieces that, although digitalized, retain the tactile imprint of the irreversible, questioning the permanence of what we decide to keep or let go.

Hernández_From the series - Beyond pain, 1

Where do you get your materials?

I work with materials that come from different sources: flea markets, family archives, private collections, or even exchanges with other people. Each photograph has a story I don’t know, and that fascinates me. The act of appropriation is not only an aesthetic gesture but also a way of rescuing, re-signifying, and giving new life to what has been forgotten.

Hernández_From the series - Beyond pain, 2

Do you have any upcoming projects you’d like to mention? Any book or media feature?

Yes, recently I participated in an urban intervention on San Roque Street during the *Festival Indiano* in Ribadeo, Galicia. From a meticulous selection of my collages, the pieces were turned into large-scale prints — some reaching up to five meters in height. These works recreated portraits and scenes that engaged in dialogue with the surrounding architecture, weaving a bridge between nostalgia and contemporaneity. Twenty ephemeral pieces brought the streets to life again, inviting reflection on identity, travel, and belonging. What I found most interesting was how something originally small and intimate — the collage — became something monumental that interacted directly with the people of the town.

On another note, my artist’s book *Fragmentos para apuntalar las ruinas* (*Fragments to Shore Up the Ruins*), published by **Rialta Ediciones**, was released more than a year ago, but only recently, last July, was I able to have it physically with me. It brings together several of my collages and reflects on memory, domestic archives, and the mark of time on the photographic image.