
Gaby Messina and Fernando Entin enjoy friendship and work both. (Photo: Beatrice Murch)
“In my opinion, she’s one of the best artists in the region.” Fernando Entin, a Buenos Aires’ gallery owner who works with photographer Gaby Messina, says it like he means it.
“When he’s telling people about my work, he gives his time, his dedication and his love – you don’t get that with everybody,” says Messina, returning the compliment.
Sitting in a café in Belgrano, with the sun streaming through the window, there’s a whiff of suspicion that this lunch-date could turn into a PR event. But it doesn’t take long to realise that the exchanges of flattery are authentic and the warmth between the two is genuine.
Throughout the conversation the pair flash sideways glances at one another, sharing jokes and grabbing each other’s arms in a typically Latin display of affection. Beyond the obvious respect they have for each other’s work, they also seem to enjoy one another’s company.
Embracing the last of summer in a blue floral dress, Messina is personable and engaging. The 41-year-old photographer from Buenos Aires province has exhibited internationally and currently has work hanging in the city’s Museum of Latin American Art (MALBA).
Entin has thick black curly hair and smiles with his whole face. His ebullient personality is infectious and belies his position as the president of the Argentine Association of Contemporary Art Galleries (GALAAC).
In 2010 the pair collaborated for the first time when Messina exhibited her photography series, ‘Lima, Kilometro 100’, at Entin’s Palermo gallery, Elsi Del Rio.

'Hosepipe' courtesy of Gaby Messina
In ‘Lima, Kilometro 100’ Messina took her camera to a small town 100km from Buenos Aires and, over the course of two years, shot portraits of its inhabitants.
“Lima is a small, traditional town in the province where one of the most important nuclear power plants in the country is situated,” she explains. And it’s this contrast between a sleepy town and the enormous nuclear power station that grabbed her attention: “It’s a great location with the perfect cast.”
The series saw the photographer introduce a surreal twist to her portraiture style. Bold, clean and well composed, her photographs make good use of strong colours and geometric shapes. “I love mixing natural light with artificial light,” she says of her technique, which often sees her using beams of light to dissect her images.
Her photographs are sometimes humorous, but many have a darker, more melancholic edge. “My images aren’t decorative. A lot of these photos come from stories that aren’t the most light-hearted.”
The Lima series hints ever so slightly at the work of North American photographer Diane Arbus, famous for photographing the weird and the wonderful on the margins of society.

'Gaucho' courtesy of Gaby Messina
In this case, the transformation of the ordinary to the extraordinary is helped by Messina’s surreal use of props and strange poses, but it’s perhaps the quieter compositions that stand out from the series. Between the more attention grabbing images of a man dressed in a garden hose and a middle aged woman sitting atop a papier-mâché camel, you’ll find subtler shots of a gaucho leaning on a fence, or an old man sitting in a chair holding a pitchfork.
Having previously worked in advertising, Messina finds it easy to work with people. “You’ve got to be a people person but you’ve also got to be a little pushy. If you’re shy and too respectful, you won’t get any good photos.”
But the photographic process isn’t an easy one. “I don’t steal the photos, I have to work for them, and it’s tiring,” she explains. “I have to be switched on and alert all the time so I don’t miss anything.
“Sometimes I get a bit nervous because I’m setting everything up and I don’t have a clue what I’m going to do. People will ask me, ‘Should I be like this, or like that?’ and I’ll answer, ‘I’ve got no idea!’ But I know I’ll find something, because everyone has their own light and their own stories to tell.”
Throughout the conversation, Entin makes a point to highlight Messina’s tireless work ethic: “She never stops producing. Sometimes I’ve got to hold her back and say, ‘Look, you’ve just brought out your second book. Let people digest it a little’, but she’s got so much energy…”
In her latest project Messina turns the camera on her own life for the first time: “At one point I thought, I always tell other people’s stories, now I’m going to get it together and tell my own.”
For Messina, approaching the subject of her father’s death through photography was a way of addressing his death and exploring larger religious issues: “When my father died I stopped believing in the God that, until I was 18, was with me all the time. When my real guardian died, my spiritual guardian died too. And now I’m taking them both with me into the images.
“It’s very intense and very personal,” she says of the new project, which will also launch at Entin’s Elsi del Rio gallery.
“It was a strange place to open a gallery,” Entin says of his decision to open the gallery in Palermo Hollywood back in the year 2000.
“These days it’s Palermo Hollywood, back then it was just Palermo. People looked at me like I was a Martian when I took an old grocery store, recycled it and turned it into a space for contemporary art.”

Fernando in front of his gallery Elsi del Rio in Pallermo Hollywood. (Courtesy of Elsi)
The gallery was expected to hit its own turbulent waters when Argentina’s economic crisis struck, but its success surprised everyone: “People were in such a bad state when the banks took their money that they bought artwork with what they had left. In 2001, 2002 and 2003 we had record sales,” says Entin, still seeming surprised.
Despite the commercial success the crash brought the gallery, Entin and Messina are glad a semblance of normality has returned to the country, but know they can never get too comfortable. “We keep falling down, then getting up again, falling down, getting up, falling down, getting up – It’s part of being Argentine,” comments Messina.
But by all accounts, the tumultuous nature of Argentine life seems to suit their working styles. Entin says Messina is always looking to challenge and do new things in her projects, and she thinks the two work well together: “He’s always searching for new ideas, for change and for – I know it’s an overused word but, transformation.”
For people who enjoy being challenging and pushing the boundaries, these two seem remarkably easy-going and, as the arrival of dessert signals the end of lunch, I’m reminded that there’s nothing that binds Argentines, even the movers and shakers of the art world, like dulce de leche.