An upside down American flag waves at a healing gathering. Fort Yates, North Dakota, USA. September, 2017.

Heidi: You drove 1,400 miles to Standing Rock and committed seven months of your life to being in the community, serving as a witness and documentarian to ensure that Indigenous perspectives were included in the narrative. Eight years later, the images made in “Standing Strong” remain iconic and impactful. How has this body of work informed your creative evolution?
Josue: In retrospect, I gained a deeper understanding of the significance of a movement transcending traditional creative practices. The protocols and prayers I experienced, led by both elders and youth at Standing Rock, were integral to this transformation. Addressing the question of creative evolution, it’s fascinating to reflect on how this large gathering was inherently infused with conflict. The challenge lies in honoring these moments through spiritual practice while still innovating the narrative. My approach to creating that work was rooted in intention—seeking to create a space where we could tell our own stories, which I believe is a fundamental human right. I think there’s something we can all learn from Indigenous stories, especially in this current time.

Two of your illustrated images appear in “Protecting the Right to Protest,” written by Annie Leonard. Can you share the story behind the weather conditions on the night when two water protectors were sprayed by police with high-pressure hoses? The image holds a tension between peace and violence, appearing almost magical at first glance.
On November 20, water protectors were sprayed with freezing water by law enforcement. Standing Rock represented a moment in time we probably won’t relieve in a while. These impactful moments served as a portal—through my documentation I hoped to document an awakening for both Indigenous peoples and society at large.

One of my mentors, Nick Tilsen who is the president and CEO of NDNdescribed this as the “curb cut effect.” When certain groups are treated with dignity, it leads to broader societal and cultural shifts in how we treat one another. The stories I create aim to ignite a piece of this curb effect by honoring Indigenous sovereignty.

Looking at Standing Rock and the lasting value of that work in society, I see how it can continue to evolve. It was during my time in the Magnum Foundation Fellowship with Fred Ritchin that he encouraged me to let go of the pressure to be overly precious about my images. He reminded me that I don’t have to be a traditional photojournalist or win a Pulitzer Prize to create images that are a cultural currency to society. This approach has influenced how I approach my later projects. The collaboration with Patagonia was a reflection of this, layering existing images with elements not visible through the lens.

How did your storytelling process align with current cultural narratives?
During my time at Standing Rock, I began to grasp the longevity of the experience and its stories. Storytelling should not merely document a fleeting moment or platform, nor should it reside solely in a viral image. The iconic image had a profound societal impact, yet it can be exchanged for something more immediate—a viral video or story that shifts perceptions and cultures. Layering images creates a new toolkit for storytellers. We are shifting away from the notion that an award represents the pinnacle of achievement, and embracing how short form videos or images from a smartphone can profoundly influence communities and society.

Purpose, collective healing, and the power of community are central to your work. Why do you believe this story held purpose and power?
In an era where social media dominates our lives, it’s crucial to remember that it can serve as a transformative tool—regenerative instead of exploitative. My intent is to reveal through this work that transformation is possible when you share your story.I’ve always appreciated the added layers of context that photography and storytelling can provide.
With the Patagonia project, we layered images, granting the process its own significance while remaining open to how it might be perceived.
For “The Right To Protest” project, I collaborated closely with artist Tekpatl from our creative agency INDÍGENA. Despite my busy schedule, we leaned on one another to showcase various layers of the story. This collaboration was particularly poignant since the images we illustrated were created on Thanksgiving Day about seven years prior. Tekpatl brought balance to our work, grounding it by representing unseen energies in the images—using a technique Yael Martínez introduced in photojournalism, who has been a significant inspiration

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When did you begin incorporating AR into your photography? “Was”Be a Good Ancestor” the starting point for your multimedia and motion work?
I’ve always seen myself as more than a photographer and more of a conduit to something bigger than myself. My intention is to be of service. What happens when we accept that images are tools for society, not mere illusions; they can convey truths. Can one story carry a universal truth?

To try and find the answer to some of these questions we created “Standing Strong,” a multi-disciplinary visual project using augmented reality and community intervention. This project showed how we can innovate within our imagery while embracing new technologies—the message continues to evolve and spread.

Empowering Indigenous youth and refining journalism to be more inclusive and collaborative are essential values ​​in your work. Fast forward to 2022; as a juror for the World Press Photo Contest and with your recent inclusion in the ICP’s exhibit “We Are Here: Scenes from the Streets,” have you noticed increased representation among storytellers?
Yes and no, at times I see the intention for collective change and it’s also a process. I think our days are ahead as we build systems to transform visual storytelling. I think it’s the beginning of the blossoming of years worth of work by people that came before us, we just keep doing the work.

You founded INDÍGENA. Are you returning to your role as a witness and documentarian, ensuring Indigenous perspectives are part of the narrative—especially in light of recent election results?
Social Justice Documentary work is always going to be part of my creative practice, it’s also limiting. I see this practice as an evolving song, an offering. Currently, I am co-documenting stories from boarding school survivors through a trauma informed lens. We are also innovating the way we tell those stories. Reflecting on the recent election results, I see how images will be powerful tools for communication and change but also confusion. We have reached a point where images serve not only as interpretations but as instruments for shifting societal consciousness. Ultimately, I hope my work demonstrates that transformation is possible when you share your story.