Renell Medrano, 'Untitled', 2019. Courtesy of the artist
Photography is Renell Medrano’s primary mode of communication and has been since she was 14. “Honestly, photography has been everything I wanted to do since I was a kid. I use to steal my mom’s point-and-shoot and take it to school to document my friends. I just felt like that was my voice.” Now, at 27, the medium is her way of responding to the world. Blurring the lines between documentary and fashion, she’s using photography to connect, celebrate and rework the power dynamics in popular culture.
Medrano’s work is deeply personal. Informed by the people and places that have shaped her life, both past and present, she blends her unique take on beauty with real-life circumstances. The textural quality of her photographs recalls the loving gaze of Liz Johnson Artur’s Nineties documentation of black Britain, and the colour play of William Eggleston. Unlike her peers, she’s not interested in limiting her vision to the highlights reel. Flaws and imperfections inspire her. She’s thinking about spaces, intimacy and vulnerability – the stylings are secondary. Her truly unique work serves as a powerful reminder of the importance of telling our own stories.
Finding fame in an era of digital democratisation was a game-changer for Medrano, who has been publishing her work on Tumblr for years. “After graduating, I had that hunger and drive in me, so I just hustled. I would post my work all the time. Sharing to get the word out and have people see my work. In some ways, it was perfect timing for me. When everything started switching up, you could make your Instagram your entire portfolio.”
Renell Medrano, 'Untitled', 2018. Courtesy of the artist.
Medrano is part of a new generation of young black image-makers who create photos that straddle art and fashion with a broader set of intentions. Moving away from the traditional pursuit of glamour, they are telling stories of social and political inclusivity, advocating for a wider celebration of beauty and the self – a powerful antidote for a group previously marginalised in mainstream fashion and culture. “I don’t want us to get put in a category. It’s easy for publications and brands to now be like, ‘Let’s get a black photographer to shoot it so that they can get the exposure.’ I don’t agree with that. We’ve been amazing before this moment.” Self-determination has been both her secret weapon and a necessity for Medrano. In previous interviews, she’s shared the struggles she’s encountered while assisting, and how she felt alien being the only black girl on set. “I just used my inner resources. I’m so happy to be a part of what’s happening now. It’s amazing, breaking barriers every day.”
Growing up in the Bronx shaped Medrano and had a profound effect on her definition of beauty. “Growing up in urbanised communities, you wouldn’t think the people and places I was around were beautiful, but for me, I saw beauty in that rawness, and I take that everywhere with me.” Growing up surrounded by family and friends, she learnt that “self-love is self-acceptance”, an ethos she tries to share with the kids in her community. “I feel like people have this bad perception of the Bronx and I try and make it relatable to everybody. There are a lot of places like that, and I feel like we need to embrace them. I want the world to know there is beauty in everything, in all people.”
Renell Medrano, Dominican Republic. From the exhibition PAMPARA in collaboration with WePresent.
Untitled Youth, an intimate look at the lives of four teenage girls growing up in the Bronx, was her undergraduate thesis project at Parsons School of Design, where she earned her BFA in 2014. The series, which mirrors her uptown upbringing, was an immersive two-year project in which she documented all aspects of her subjects’ daily lives. Medrano imbues these regular girls with agency and strength, championing their ‘perfectly imperfect’ beauty to empower them and ensure they feel seen. She says that Parsons initially felt “far-fetched” for her “as it was so hard to get in. But I decided just to do it, and give it my all”. She tells me, “I even went to the enrolment office and made sure they knew I wanted to go there.” The series established Medrano as one to watch and won the New York Times Lens Blog Award.
It’s been a busy few years for Medrano, who has built up an incredible portfolio collaborating with Nike, Gucci and Jimmy Choo, shooting covers and creating album art for A$AP Ferg, H.E.R. and Chaka Khan. Today, she’s created a short film with music video director Thuan Tran as part of Peluca, her first ever solo show that opened at New York’s Milk Studios this September – the same venue that also hosted her thesis show. I’m curious if she ever worries about over-exposure? “We live in such a fast world. Everything is given to us so fast. It kinda scares me; I keep trying to slow it down,” she tells me. “It does create anxiety for people. Social media is just encouraging us to put so much out to stay relevant. I try not to let that pace define me or my work.” Being conscious of career longevity can often mean making difficult choices: “I think about what will we have left for later. I say no to a lot more now. Even when it’s a great opportunity, sometimes I say no, it can just be so much.”
Renell Medrano, 'Untitled', 2019. Courtesy of the artist.
For Medrano, creating energy and intimacy on demand is tough. “I honestly try and capture moments that mean something to me. Clients freak out sometimes, asking for mood boards. I get it. But you guys hire us; just let us do our thing. In documentary, whatever happens is what you get. I try and explain the vibe I’m going for but it’s on set that the magic happens for me.” I ask how she navigates busy sets. “My team get it,” she tells me. “They don’t hover behind my back. They walk off set and let it happen and then get excited to see the photos a week later.” Her approach is instinctual; she prefers not to direct. “I love to have my subject live in the space we are in and just let things happen. I think that’s why my work feels personal. It’s just about me and the subject.”
Five-years on from her graduate show at Milk Gallery, she returned this autumn with Peluca. Named after the Spanish term for ‘wig’, it’s an immersive exploration of the complex dynamics of wig culture and their recent shift into the mainstream. The 25-image show included the aforementioned collaboration with Tran; an extraordinarily sized wig installation by hairstylist, Evanie Frausto, and – the focal point – a ‘salon experience’ installation with set designer, Lauren Nikrooz, where a model got their hair done in front of the crowd. “Peluca came from me reflecting on my work and questioning the role hair and wigs play in my stories. When I was younger, I’d be in the salon two-to-three times a week surrounded by real women. Salons were always such a private and safe space for us. I feel like back in the day talking about wigs was not a thing. It would be looked down upon, so we were scared to embrace it.”
Renell Medrano, 'Untitled', Harlem, 2017. From The New Black Vanguard (Apeture 2019). Courtesy of the artist.
The show was a defining moment for Medrano, both personally and professionally. Tired of her images only existing on social media, the act of framing them and having her community come out and connect with the work was transformational. “I wanna inspire people and move people, not just with photos. This living thing had a real impact on people.” Personally, the show gave her purpose. “The energy was amazing on the opening. Kids need to see our community like that. I want to keep the community involved and create hope for them as well.”
Grit tempered by tenderness has made her a go-to for musicians. Medrano’s recent portraits of musician Dev Hynes (AKA Blood Orange) are both candid and disarming. Hynes sits casually in a pared-back studio wearing a variety of sculptural wigs that transform how we see him. “I’m very picky about the artists that I photograph. Dev is amazing, he trusts my eye. It was a small set, just the three of us, playing around with wigs. All my favourite shoots tend to happen when we are free. We feel each other’s energy. That’s how I usually do my best work.”
"I want the world to know there is beauty in everything, in all people."
She continues: “I hate the word ‘celebrity’. We are all waiting to see them all glammed up in perfect light. I remember shooting Megan Thee Stallion and people at first were like, ‘This is not her.’ But I love how I took her from that element and brought her to the Bronx, somewhere she’s never been.” This is Medrano’s trademark, she shoots celebrities as regulars. She grounds them in reality, in places and spaces that feel familiar, lived-in and honest. The images she captures are intimate and authentic. Illusive moments where her subjects let go and reveal aspects of their interior personas. They are free to have fun, to nerd out, to inhabit the emotional space usually reserved for family and friends. “I treat my subjects all equally. Honestly, I don’t even ‘fan out’ anymore. In the beginning, I used to feel pressure, I was so nervous. But what I realised is that we are all the same and me not viewing their status changed everything. They know what they’re worth and who they are. I treat them as regulars because they are.”
For photographers, transitioning to being in front of the lens can be a challenging and disorientating encounter. When I ask Medrano about her experience shooting herself for the cover of this issue, she tells me: “I discovered it was interesting.” Aiming to capture the same vulnerability she achieves with her subjects, she explains, “At first I was super nervous, there are so many different ways of doing it. There wasn’t much prepping. I played around with wigs again to explore different aspects of my personality. I was a character that I am only in my head.”
As viewers of her work we experience a lot of Medrano’s inner emotions through her photographs, and in many ways, her creative work is a loving gift to the community who helped make her. With a history of greatness behind her, who knows what her next move will be. But one truth remains: she’s turbocharged and just getting started.
This article originally appeared in SLEEK 64, out now.