Andrea Sarcos

Andrea Sarcos was born in Caracas, Venezuela, and moved to the United States at the age of five. She was raised in Florida and unknowingly lived as an undocumented immigrant for 13 years. Her family encouraged her to marry her high school boyfriend to become a US citizen, which revealed a long process of paperwork, interviews, and life experiences that compelled her to consider her role in society and how documentation plays a fundamental part in our lives. Memory and identity are two of many lenses she views her practice through to process and make meaning of personal and collective narratives surrounding migration, dislocation and acclimatization of new landscapes. Andrea’s personal photographic series documents her family’s migration history through Ecuador, Venezuela and the United States. She began the series in 2016 after assisting her grandma’s transition from the earthly realm and then exploring the land where her grandmother had birthed 13 children: Manta, Ecuador. Each year Andrea would return with questions about her family and images made of other migrant families too. With her most recent journey to Venezuela in 2023, she discovered her family’s archive. In the subtle play of characters and stories imbued within the decaying prints, she is recounting generations of migration patterns and the interweaving connections through time and space between members of her family both living and deceased and the lands which shaped them. Andrea’s photographs subtly unfold how migration has influenced family dynamics, shaped our means of communication, and influenced our self-perceptions.

Walking Into The Fire

3 Lies - 1 Truth

A Century of Harvesting Ciruelas

Venezuelan Migrants on the Rooftop

What Gets Passed Down

Childhood Moment in Venezuela

Holy Intentions

Mother and Sisters

Remember to Forget

Memories of Mamones

Walking Into The Fire

3 Lies - 1 Truth

A Century of Harvesting Ciruelas

Venezuelan Migrants on the Rooftop

What Gets Passed Down

Childhood Moment in Venezuela

Holy Intentions

Mother and Sisters

Remember to Forget

Memories of Mamones