Running a busy outfit like Oviedo Studios means my calendar is often dominated by large-scale commercial campaigns, executing highly choreographed visions for clients like Virgin Voyages. But there is a specific kind of light in Miami that reveals itself only when you step away from the towering light stands, the monitor villages, and the heavy expectations of a multi-day shoot. I crave the quiet, overcast humidity—a muted wash that turns the entire city into a diffuse, cinematic soft-box, just waiting for a stark hit of color to break through the haze. That was exactly the environment I wanted for this recent session with Flako. No rigid shot lists, no looming art directors, and absolutely no rush. I wanted a profoundly personal afternoon dedicated solely to raw, unfiltered visual play. You cannot force this kind of authenticity through styling or direction; you simply have to clear the room, trust the rhythm of the moment, and be present enough to catch the truth as it naturally unfolds in front of the lens.

Flako arrived dripping with an effortlessly cool aesthetic. His hair was bleached and dyed the exact, electric shade of a processed tangerine, offering a defiant jolt of saturated color that anchored every frame. Paired with a heavy, multi-colored knit sweater, the visual impact was immediate and striking. It was a masterclass in personal expression, right down to the carefully placed ink on his shoulders and arms. We didn’t need a complicated narrative or a sprawling location to make this work; the conceptual goal was just to provide space to capture his distinctly modern vibe. Midway through the session, he began playfully pulling the thick, striped wool garment entirely over his face, hiding within a cozy cocoon of mustard, powder blue, and subdued red. It became this beautiful, impromptu metaphor for how we wear our identities on the street—sometimes boldly revealing who we are, and sometimes securely obscuring ourselves behind layers of texture.

My Cuban-Colombian heritage constantly pulls my eye toward the intersection of warmth, motion, and color, and my grandfather always taught me to look for the quiet dignity in how people instinctively carry themselves. I kept my focal length relatively tight, seeking out the natural geometry and grace in Flako’s subtle movements. When he reached an arm high up into the empty expanse of the pale gray sky, the pastel sleeve slipped back just a few inches, revealing the sharp, confident flash of a thick gold ring against his skin. Turning his back to my camera, he casually laced his long fingers behind his neck. The gesture drew my immediate focus to the dark, clean lines of a triangle tattoo resting exactly at the nape of his neck. Every shifting angle offered a brand new layer of his innate style, a deliberate curation of gleaming metal, permanent ink, and heavy woven yarn.

Any time I am building out a portfolio of colorful lifestyle portraits, I consistently find that the true gravity of the images lives right in the macro details. I found myself completely mesmerized by the chaotic, beautiful symmetry of the jewelry resting casually against his bare collarbone. We paused the flow as he naturally adjusted the layers. A short, delicate strand of small pearls intermingled playfully with a bright green beaded choker. Tucked underneath those tight necklaces was a gold cursive nameplate spelling out the word ‘Jordan,’ entirely anchored by the whimsical, unexpected addition of a tiny enameled mushroom pendant. He touched the delicate chains lightly, his long fingers heavily adorned in stacked silver and diamond-studded bands, totally unbothered and deeply anchored in his own specific aesthetic universe.

Eventually, the intense, quiet concentration broke entirely. A massive, beautiful, and completely uninhibited laugh split across his face, crinkling the corners of his dark eyes and lifting his thin, charismatic mustache. I fired the shutter right as his tattooed hand drifted instinctively toward his smile, the stacked metallic bands on his fingers catching the last, lingering hints of daylight piercing through the Miami humidity. It is exactly this kind of unapologetic joy, this effortless self-possession, that I am always trying to distill in my commercial and editorial work, though here it existed purely for its own sake. The stark, vivid contrast between his electric neon hair and the profound softness of his genuine laughter felt incredibly grounded, deeply human, and perfectly honest.

We wound down the long afternoon in a shared space of quiet, sculptural abstraction. The bold, black lettering of an Acne Studios label peeked out from the rolled collar of his brightly striped sweater, a small typographic detail that ironically anchored the dreamy imagery back into the tangible world of contemporary fashion. He draped the heavy wool knit over his head one final time, mimicking the loose silhouette of a colorful hood. His hand rested softly against the rainbow yarn, naturally framing the painted floral tattoo blooming across his forearm. The daylight finally gave way, and the session faded out beautifully—raw, deeply intimate, and lingering warmly in the salt-tinged air.