Ryan Frigillana’s latest series and self-published photobook Visions of Eden takes an open-ended visual journey through his family’s experience as first-generation Filipino immigrants in the United States.

New York-based photographer and writer Ryan Frigillana sequences his own photographs among archival family photos, video stills, letters from his grandparents in the Philippines, and pages from illustrated children's Bible storybooks to understand his complicated relationship with religion and the American Dream.

Frigillana balances and re-contextualizes these images to build a poetic narrative loosely structured on the Hebrew Bible. Two wasps sitting on a decaying apple; a video still of Frigillana's older brother using a camcorder to capture his family in a bedroom mirror; underexposed family portraits from gatherings and graduations; light beaming into a dark room through cracks in an open door. Time and faith feel scattered yet comforting.

We spoke to learn more about his work and personal history.

Jon Feinstein in conversation with Ryan Frigillana

Jon Feinstein: You parallel the idea of "Eden" to the utopian idea of American promise - there's an implied longing and trepidation but it's somewhat ambiguous. Still-lifes of fruit, portraits of family members, faded biblical illustrations, and so on. What does the "American dream" mean to you? And how did you "select" these images to represent your experience?

Ryan Frigillana: The idea of Eden or paradise is a theme that runs in dual facets within the project—the visuals you mention were intended to question or challenge this notion of promise that is implied in Christian doctrine as well as the American Dream.

Eternal life, prosperity, salvation, success, and opportunity—all of these ideological propositions are bundled into one big question mark illustrated through recurring motifs of decay and, in the case of the Biblical pictures, visual dissonance.

I feel very fortunate as an immigrant to have grown up with opportunities afforded through the sacrifice of my parents, but nothing came easy. I also understand that this same opportunity has been denied to other countless immigrant families seeking a better life in this country.

Feinstein: Beyond the title, the Bible is a continuous thread, metaphor, and parallel to the immigration experience. Can you expand on this?

Frigillana: In the Bible, the garden of Eden was described as mankind’s first home before Adam and Eve sinned and were banished. In weaving together aspects of my family history with these Biblical references, I was looking to touch on the experience of leaving a motherland and having to grow the "fruits" of your labor elsewhere.

At the very beginning of my book, I include a verse from Genesis which states, “Therefore the Lord God sent him forth from the garden of Eden to till the ground from whence he was taken.” This excerpt was meant to establish a thematic tone of departures from both physical spaces as well as spiritual ones (God himself).

Mom’s Pinning Ceremony © Ryan Frigillana

Jon Feinstein: There is a non-linear hopping around between different kinds of images that effectively breaks from the beginning-middle-end structure. Yes, it's about the American dream, but the way you photograph and sequence the images is poetically disjointed….at least on the surface.

Ryan Frigillana: Lately, I’ve found myself thinking more about the way photographs can function outside of aesthetics or utilitarian purposes. So much is possible by simply placing something into a new context which is what I did with the various source materials of the book. The disjointed nature of the visuals were meant to be more evocative of a particular tone rather than a flat-out description of thoughts and experiences, so yes, like poetry.

I think good poetry excels when it doesn’t guide you by the hand but leaves enough room for you to wander around. I love photography that invites the viewer to walk in and complete the engagement in their own unique way. With that said, I’m more invested in what occurs in the spaces between images and the relationships formed from one to another.

Though a traditional narrative arc may not appear evident at first glance, the project does loosely follow the chronological structure of the Hebrew Bible from the story of creation to Christ’s return.

Feinstein: What draws you to mixing archival images with your own photos?

Frigillana: This came more so as a necessity to balance out the often detached and people-less images of the project. As much as I adore them, my family is notoriously difficult to photograph, often putting up barriers as soon as they see my camera (I love you guys!). This explains the sparse presence of portraiture in relation to the still-lifes.

But in the end, I actually feel that it worked out in my favor for the tone I was trying to achieve. I like to think of the archival images (photographs, video stills, and letters) as the emotional backbone to the project—the thread that fleshes out who we are as people, where we’ve been, and what we hold dear to us. The other tangential images may pull you away here or there, but this thread is what ropes you back in.

Feinstein: What's the story behind the image of the bowling trophy gathering dust?

Frigillana: That trophy has actually been sitting in the basement of my family’s home since we first moved in many years ago. Funny thing is no one in my family actually bowls, at least not competitively. It was left there by the previous home-owners. When creating work, I like to photograph intuitively, reacting to things I’m attracted to or that pique my curiosity.

Later on, in the editing process, statements are made or suggested through sequence or pairing. The trophy, caked in dust and cobwebs, felt like such a contradiction—the idea of this shiny golden prize, a token of success meant to be proudly displayed, now stuffed away and forgotten in a dark basement.

The image made me think of success, at least the way it is defined here in America, as this false idol. We as Americans are steeped in a culture that grooms us to elevate the individual, to "win" at all costs, to look out for ourselves. What does that really get us in the end?

The first edition of Visions of Eden sold out …let’s hope a second is in the works….

Feinstein: There’s another image that stopped me - the photo of a praying mantis sitting on a person’s outstretched hand. I see it as a metaphor for stilted flight - the hand/ arm is outstretched yet the praying mantis faces an obstacle - freedom is being offered, but wood walls surround it.... would you agree?

Frigillana: Absolutely. For me, the image not only touches on the holes found in the ideology of the American Dream (of equal opportunity and freedom), but also the ideology of organized religion. My heavy Christian upbringing is something that I really grapple with through this work. The notion of an omniscient being (the shadow with only the hand visible) presenting you with this illusion of freedom is an image that succinctly encapsulates my feelings as a young man growing up in the church. I never really felt free despite that message being drilled into my head. This image, and many others like it in the book, try to express what I’m still finding words to describe.

Feinstein: Looking through a lot of your family photos, specifically the family portraits, I think a lot about the idea of the American dream and success. Of photographing one's self with this kind of "panopticon" of the outside gaze - trying to self-capture pride, idealization, and upward mobility that builds off of "smile for the camera."

I see this throughout, but heavily in the video stills of you and your mom and older brother in front of the mirror....And the mirror itself as an immediate metaphor. What do you think?

Frigillana: This idea of reflection and introspection runs deep in Visions. Why do we photograph ourselves and our families? Why do we memorialize significant events or even mundane ones, if not to look back one day and see how far we’ve come, where we’ve been, and what that all means to the path we’re on now? I remember first coming here to the States with my older brother and being in awe of everything: the landscape, the people, the culture.

It was literally a new world for us, and the camera was our way of exploring and celebrating this new life. That camcorder my brother is holding, at the time an expensive piece of technology (something we could never own in the Philippines), speaks to the newfound tools and opportunity afforded to us by the sacrifice of those who laid the path. Those video stills are a reflection on movement, both physical and metaphorical.

Feinstein: Did sorting through your family's archive influence how you make your own photographs, how you think about images, how you "see"?

Frigillana: In a sense, yes, working with the archive only reinforced within me the potential images have to transmute and shift in meaning. The possibilities are always there. When making photographs, I’m constantly aware that the image I make at that point may signify something else tomorrow, a week from now, or even years down the line. In that spirit, I try to stay open and receptive to everything around me. Anything, even the most banal sight, can speak volumes when placed in the right context.

Feinstein: Has making this work changed how you think about your family experience?

Frigillana: For a long time, photography and my family have been inseparable experiences. Pictures open doors, they reveal what we often miss or overlook in life, and remind us to be grateful for the people we hold dear. The relationships I have with my family are partly informed through photographs, through seeing and learning. We can only grasp where we go from here if we know where we’ve been, as the saying goes, right?

Am I My Brother’s Keeper? © Ryan Frigillana

A spread from Ryan Frigillana’s new book Visions of Eden

Feinstein: Has it impacted your relationship with religion?

Frigillana: I feel religion is something I will always have to contend with; it is a part of my history and therefore a part of my identity whether I like it or not. Making this project has provided me the vessel to unburden myself of a weight I’ve been carrying. And like a focused lens, my work serves to bring me closer to some semblance of clarity and understanding. That is an ongoing process.

Feinstein: Does it influence how you think about the world right now?

Frigillana: Thinking of the great uncertainty and pain in the world today, I am comforted by the power of love, community, and hope because it does exist, and it exists everywhere—in the embrace of a mother, in the innocence of children, in the kind words we express to each other. I hope Visions of Eden reminds us of that.

Seeking Whom He May Devour © Ryan Frigillana

And The Earth Did Quake © Ryan Frigillana

Feinstein: Do you consider this work to be political?

Frigillana: When making this work, I simply wanted to tell my family’s story in a unique way, a way that could be engaging on the surface yet touch on deeper themes once you start to peel at the layers. To answer your question, yes, I do feel parts of the work are politically engaged but they weren’t necessarily politically motivated at the time they were made.

The project is, in part, a tribute to the resilience and endurance of the immigrant spirit and what we can achieve despite our obstacles. I simply wanted our family’s story to be heard and acknowledged and now perhaps other people, despite their background or walk-of-life, can find within it a reflection of themselves—a recognition of personal yet universal pursuits for health and happiness.

Visions of Eden and The American Dream