Projects · Bogotá, Colombia · 2010
Nobody commissioned it. Nobody paid for it. One photographer’s obsession with Rogelio Salmona’s masterwork — and what it cost to light it.
Photographs & words by Mike Butler
Nobody hired me to photograph this building. I paid for it myself, because it had never been seen the way I knew it could be seen.
The Virgilio Barco Library sits deep in the heart of Bogotá, Colombia, more than eight thousand feet above the sea, in a city held in the palm of the Andes. These are not mountains as backdrop. They are the oldest presence in the frame — ranges that carried civilizations before there was a word for Colombia, that shaped how its people build, gather, and remember. Rogelio Salmona, the greatest Colombian architect of the twentieth century, did not put a building in front of them. He built one that answers them: spiraling ramps that move like the foothills, still water that holds the sky, brick laid with the patience of masonry that expects to outlive everyone who touched it.
Nearly all architecture is photographed in daylight, for the simple reason that nearly all architecture is built for daylight. The sun is the light the architect designed for, so the sun is the light the camera obeys. I wanted to disobey. As an artist, I wanted to see what this building becomes when you go against the grain of its own design — when every beam of light is placed by a human hand, deliberately, where the architect never planned for one. Done right, artificial light doesn’t falsify a building. It reveals a deeper layer of it — the structure beneath the structure. I didn’t come to capture the Virgilio Barco. I came to put my fingerprint on it.
Why
I made these images to put my vision on a building I love. But there was a second reason, and it’s the one that kept us going through the cold nights: I wanted the world to see that Colombia — and countries like it, the ones nobody thinks of — hold architectural monuments of the first rank. A library here is not a box with books in it. It’s an experience. It’s the depth of a country’s culture, built in brick and water, open to anyone who walks in.
The world has noticed, too. Virgilio Barco anchors BibloRed, Bogotá’s public library network — the network the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation honored with its Access to Learning Award, a million-dollar grant recognizing what these libraries do for people who have the least.
I run a business. We’re in it to make money, same as anyone. But you have to find the moments where you can give something back — and if there’s some self-promotion tangled up in it, fine. What I’m promoting is Colombia. What I’m promoting is culture.
The production
Getting access to a Colombian national landmark after hours is not a phone call. It took eight months of planning, working hand in hand with local politician Fernando Rojas, the Ministry of Education, and the library itself, before a single case of equipment came off the truck.
Then five nights on site, running ground-based and drone-mounted lighting systems together — pulling texture out of the brick, tracing the undulating curves of the pathways, balancing lamplight against the mountains behind the building. Ten photographs came out of it. Every one of them built, not found.
And Bogotá in 2010 was not a city where you wandered a dark park at three in the morning with cases of camera equipment. We worked every night under armed security, with guard dogs beside us the whole way through.
The cost
Long, cold nights with very little to eat. Cold coffee. Dan, my first assistant, went down with altitude sickness — Bogotá sits at 2,600 meters and does not care how fit you are. Craig, my second assistant, woke on the third night vomiting and was out of the shoot. Fania, my producer, gutted it through every freezing hour to the end.
I made it through the five nights of shooting. On the sixth, I was in a hospital bed , and I stayed down for a week and a half. That’s what the pictures cost. I’d pay it again.
I self-funded the entire thing and gave it away. Some buildings earn that.
What happened next
The work went up as a major public exhibition at Parque 93 in Bogotá. El Tiempo covered it. So did Caracol Noticias. Canal Capital brought me in to talk about it on air, and Rangefinder ran the project for a photography audience that knows exactly how hard the lighting was.
From the experience came two films: La Foto, a documentary that has screened at festivals internationally, and a behind-the-scenes film shot during those five nights. Both are below.
Thirty years of this
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