ARTIST CONVO: CHARISSA SORIANO
DISCUSSING CHARISA’S RECENT PROJECT “LIMINAL” AND HOW HER EXPERIENCE WITH THE US IMMIGRATION PROCESS INFLUENCES HER WORK.
INTERVIEW & PHOTOGRAPHY BY MERON MENGHISTAB
When I asked Charissa to meet for an interview, I was in the middle of a personal challenge to take public transportation as much as I could that week, so I offered Seattle’s most obvious transport-friendly centralized hangout spot ( study pending ) THE Seattle Central Public Library. While waiting for Charissa, I enjoyed the classic pastime of people watching and stood in awe of the collective force that is public resources. Reading, writing, studying, computing, while simultaneously hearing a half dozen languages whispered around me. I wax poetically about the library in this interview introduction because I have always been inspired by the collective act of care - and when I saw the work Charissa was doing around immigration with her multimedia project “Liminal,” I wanted to hear more about how she is structuring the narrative around her experience with the ideas hope instead of fear.
The following has been edited for length and clarity.
Meron Menghistab: Something that drew me to your project, “Limenal,” is the idea of harnessing the feeling of hope one can have when working through the immigration process. Can you expand on that? And do you feel challenged to continue this project with the current trajectory of American politics — or, in a way, do you feel like you need hope to continue through a scary time?
Charissa Soriano: I think for any immigrant in the US right now, I think we all want to feel hope. We all want to be able to hold onto hope. There's just so much fear and anxiety and uncertainty being sown into widespread messaging, and it can be hard to live life on a daily basis, especially if you know there's something like deportation or the possibility of getting detained. But this project for me has been a way to go back to things that have rooted me, and I know will continue to root me.
I had to leave the US in 2023, because I was laid off from my job, and so I didn't have a sponsor anymore for my student visa, or for a work visa that my previous company had promised to give me. And so when I left the US, I didn't know if I'd be able to come back, and I had already built a community here; my now-husband was already my partner at that time, and I wanted a future with him, but I was so scared of how things would turn out with my visa situation. So yeah, there was just so much uncertainty and change that I had to navigate during that time. Even going back to the Philippines was a shock to me, because I wanted to go back there feeling like I had accomplished something in the US, and I knew that I did —
MM: But it wasn’t on your own terms —
CS: Right, it wasn't on my own terms. I had to leave, but I didn't want to hurt my family in the process: maybe not being present to them, or maybe, putting out my frustrations on them. I didn't want to do any of that, and so I turned to photography. I turned to noticing their love by documenting it through images and notes and, over time, drawings, and, slowly, those practices grounded me to the reality of their love as well as the love of my partner. And yeah, I was able to go through the process of getting my work visa, which I have now.
MM: When you did your undergrad in the Philippines, was it in the arts? Or did you move into the arts later?
CS: I actually pursued economics in undergrad. It seemed like the practical choice to me. It's what my mom took when she was at that age, but I did start to work in photography professionally, because I had met other photographers during undergrad in the Philippines, and they were starting their own production companies: covering events like weddings and birthday parties and corporate functions. And they knew that I was into photography, so they invited me to join them, and that really expanded my experience with photography. I was really just doing it for myself to express myself. I would also say that I was a shy kid and I didn't really know how to express myself verbally, but through photography, I was able to understand my emotions better, or at least connect with the world better.
I was slowly understanding the business behind photography, which is important. And to be a professional photographer is to be able to relate to people. I started to learn. Photography was sort of what paved way to that for me to get out of my shell and be comfortable talking to people.
INSTILLATION OF “LIMINAL” AT HER CURRENT RESIDENCY, AT 5TH AND PIKE STUDIOS
MM: When did you come to the US?
CS: I came here as an international student in 2018; I did my Master's at the University of Washington. I was part of the Master of Communication in Communities & Networks program, which is very much rooted in community building and storytelling. I had applied for a visual journalism scholarship through the Asian American Journalists Association (AAJA), and that connected me with Erika Schultz at the Seattle Times. I also knew coming to the US that I wanted to explore photojournalism, and so I reached out to Jovelle Tamayo about doing a mentorship with her, and she was open to that. So I got to do photo projects with her, really learn from her as another photographer, and then I got to do a fellowship with the Seattle Globalist.
MM: Within the program, did you feel like people’s understanding of the concept of community was different from yours? I feel like people deal with the concept of community differently, and cultural background plays a role in that.
CS: I think I've talked about this with my husband, but I feel like — maybe in school settings, maybe also outside of school settings — people tend to gravitate towards others that look like them. That was my observation. A lot of the international students, like me, maybe East Asian, Southeast Asian, kind of formed groups. And a lot of white folks also formed their own groups. Part of me wanted to get to know people from different backgrounds. I was here in the US, wanting to experience the diversity of it all, but I found that it was difficult to just get into any community. I felt like there had to be some common touchpoints, and I didn't really know how to do that at that time. I mean, I was coming from the Philippines, and I knew nothing about American culture outside of what I had seen on TV and cinema. So yeah, I didn't really know how to engage with people that I thought looked different from me.
But going beyond the physicality of it, I think it was also easier to connect with international students, because we were going through the same thing: We all had to go through the process that the USCIS has for international students. So that was a common touchpoint for us.
MM: Something you touched on is using photography as a meditation point: to focus on stuff that gives you hope, carrying you through a tough time. Photography can be a tool of self-focus, and, no matter how much the technology advances, it’s the romantic-ness of photography that seems like a good reason to make work. At the same time, I’m curious what made you start shifting into multimedia work, instead of just photo documentation.
CS: I realized that sometimes making pictures just did not feel enough in terms of expressing a breadth of emotion. And I think another thing is that sometimes out of respect for my own self and my family, taking photos had to take a step back, especially if it was a really hard moment where, for example, it's me crying with my mom or something like that. I know that a lot of photographers can cross that boundary and photograph moments of grief like that, or moments of sadness like that, but I've come to realize that that’s not something that I want to do as a photographer: I would rather stay in that moment with myself or with my family or whomever, than try to pick up my camera and photograph that moment. Sometimes it just feels really invasive that way. So instead of picking up my camera, I've learned to maybe write about that moment. I've learned to maybe draw it. I've learned to maybe use other found items to create an image that shows a moment.
MM: People tend to obsess over the image that no one else could make in a way that's invasive to me sometimes — where it's like, there's a reason why certain people don’t want to make that.
CS: That's right, there's so much discomfort.
“It's a very personal work, and I'm always reminded by what my values are: I’m not pursuing photography to just make a name for myself, just to be recognized for doing something.”
“UNTITLED” - NAHOM GHIRMAY, 2025
MM: How does your family feel about the work — what's their relationship with it? Are they seeing themselves differently through it?
CS: I do show my family the pictures that I make. Sometimes their actions are like, Wait, no, don't include that photo, or Don't show anyone that photo, which I get, because maybe in their eyes they look awkward in a picture, but in my eyes it's beautiful. So sometimes I talk them through it, but sometimes I'm like, Okay, yeah, I'll respect what they want and not show a picture publicly. There are always conversations happening between me and my family when it comes to sharing their pictures. It's a very personal work, and I'm always reminded by what my values are: I’m not pursuing photography to just make a name for myself, just to be recognized for doing something. So yeah, I try to go back to why I'm doing photography, and it's really to create a safe space for people to express themselves and share their stories, and that includes my family.
MM: Do you feel like they're expanding their understanding of your immigration experience through this project? And has there been some reaction to it from a specific person?
CS: I think my mom specifically is always trying to understand what the immigration process is like, and sometimes she asks me questions that she's asked me before. Sometimes I have to really explain to her what I need to do, or why I'm doing it. But I feel like, because I've engaged with her so much on that level — I've not, like, pushed her away from asking these questions — she's come to better understand what the immigration process is like, and because I've also shown her documents of my work visa application or of my green card application, she has a better understanding of what's going on.
In terms of the photo process, I walk her through it. I tell her why, for example, I'm photographing my passport, or why I'm photographing archival images of my family, and what that means to me as an immigrant. I actually showed them a presentation that I did for a workshop that I'm part of, and she and my dad and my husband were really happy to see the images. It's their images, you know, it's images that I've made over time for “Liminal” and, yeah, I think my mom has been the most supportive out of everyone. She really wants me to thrive as a photographer. I'm just thankful for that.
MM: The immigration process is already so difficult, so I can't imagine going through it as an artist. What has it been like to explain your career as a way to justify your status? Have you had to effectively write a thesis to send to immigration authorities? How do you tangibly explain what you do through such a formal process?
CS: I had to work with a lawyer to prove my work as a photographer, to prove that I'm worthy of coming to the US as a photographer. I had to apply for an O-1 visa, which is a visa for people with extraordinary ability. And there's so much that the USCIS asks for an artist or a journalist or anybody that wants to come to the US through that visa process to prove, and so I knew right off the bat that I wouldn't be able to do it by myself. I had a friend who walked me through the process of it. Because of that, I decided to work with a lawyer, and he explained to me everything that I needed to do. I needed to get press [clips], letters of recommendation from photographers, and then either a sponsorship from a company or from an individual who was willing to petition me. Daniela Zalcman, who is the founder of Women Photograph and whom I met a couple years ago, was willing to petition me. I love her, and I’m so thankful that she was willing to petition me.
Because she petitioned me, I'm able to work as a freelance photographer. I'm not attached to a specific company, and I don't have to work for a specific company because of the route that my lawyer and I ended up taking. Photographer friends and co-workers were also really helpful in writing letters of recommendation. And I just had to do my part in getting the press [clips] and just continuing to share my work in public spaces, because the USCIS wants to see that I have work that people have seen. My lawyer compiled all the documents that we gathered over about six months, and then he submitted them on my behalf.
MM: It sounds like a very long process; I’m curious if it sparked creativity. Did this arduous process inspire you to make things?
CS: I think it's a valid question, but I think it was more of the opposite, where, because it was so overwhelming to have to do all of those things, I needed to find a way to get through it. And for me, that was focusing on something different: It was focusing on my family's life, my family's love. It was focusing on my own strength as I went through that process. And I think that's why “Liminal” is different. Even though it's about my perspective as an immigrant, it's less about the immigration process per se: It's about what has grounded me, and perhaps what has grounded many immigrant families here. It's the things that we don't see. It’s love, it’s non-tangibles, it’s resilience, it’s everything else except the US immigration.
MM: Heard. I think that it's very clear that your family's at the center of the work. I grew up writing sponsorship letters. My mom would just say, Hey, your aunt needs you to write. I don't think people realize how many people it takes to get someone to wherever they want their home to be.
People really don't understand the nuance behind the immigration process. It’s strange that most people don't know how long it takes for someone to gain stability in the US. And a lot of immigrants, yeah, end up sacrificing so much to be in a place that makes it hard for them to also leave the country. I don't want that for myself; I've already missed out on so much of my family's life in the Philippines. I am grateful that I was there for about a year when I had to apply for a new visa, but moving forward, I definitely want to be able to see their life there, and for them to see my life here, and not have to worry about losing my status, or things like that.
MM: As you look back at your work, do you feel like you're almost reproving to yourself some of the stability that's in your life, or realizing the support structure you have here?
CS: First of all, I'm thankful that I ended up getting an O-1 visa. I don't know how my project would have ended up if I didn't get an O-1 visa, and if I didn't get to come back here in the US. So I feel very fortunate that those things happened for me. I was in the Philippines from November 2023 to October 2024, so I've been here since October 2024. I've been able to look back on the memories that I made with my family, and recreate those images that I made with them. I'm lucky that I've seen my story progress: It could have ended differently, and that maybe would have taken my project in a different direction.
The time that I've had here in the US has allowed me to miss my family. It has allowed me to look back at the work that I did in the Philippines and recreate it and share it with people that I've met here in Seattle. It's allowed me to expand on my own photo work. I've always believed that I could grow in photography, and because I've been back here in the US and been given a chance to work as a photographer, I've kept that promise to myself, and have just been doing what I can to learn and expand my own view of photography.
MM: Where do you see “Liminal” heading next?
CS: I want to do more of it, but having my family, my husband, and his family participate in the process of image making. I'm still learning how to go about that, because it's a totally different thing: perhaps, like, having my husband use one of my cameras to photograph our daily life, seeing a different perspective of the project, since he’s witnessed my struggles with immigration, something like that. Or having my parents reflect on their own feelings about me being away from home.
I think another thing that I want to do is also bring this to immigrant families, sharing with them the practice of memory keeping and reflecting, which I've done as an immigrant. It’s helped me through such a difficult time, and it's actually deepened my resilience, and that's something that I want to give to immigrant families, to just be able to share that power that I've gotten From this experience with immigrant families that maybe are looking for. How do I say this, like places of, like safety or care, or hope?
See more of Charissa Soriano’s work on her website.
Also keep an eye out to see her work in person at the 5th and Pike Studios residency