Tender Weather was photographed in Havana during a period of deepening fuel shortages, rolling blackouts, and increasing economic hardship. As daily life became more difficult, I found myself moving away from the streets and into the kitchens, bedrooms, and improvised living spaces where people negotiated the routines of everyday life.
Over multiple visits to Cuba between 2025 and 2026, I photographed inside homes across the city, drawn less to the public narrative of crisis than to the quieter ways people continued to live within it. I became interested in what remains when the world closes in: the routines, gestures, conversations, and acts of care that give shape to ordinary life. Hands rose and fell, faces brightened briefly with humor or affection, and people moved through familiar rooms as if the air itself had learned their patterns.
As I worked, I kept searching for the place where a room ends and a person begins, but the boundary often dissolved. The homes in these photographs felt less like backdrops than extensions of the lives unfolding within them. What emerged was a portrait not of Cuba as idea or postcard, but of people holding life together through proximity, habit, family, faith, and mutual care.
Outside these rooms, conditions continued to tighten. Inside, the weather remained tender.
