Like other kids, as a child I was part school, part summer. Part Christmas, too.
I was born in Madrid, Spain, the only child of a teacher and a civil servant.
Life was little. Life was quiet. My parents loved books.
Books were my first companions. I read beyond my age. At 12, I gave a school talk on the Ebola virus. My curiosity knew no limits.
In 2001, during my first-year History of Architecture class, news came of the Twin Towers’ destruction. Our teacher cried. Only later did I learn that the towers' architect, Minoru Yamasaki, had vertigo—a fear that led him to reinforce the structure, saving lives.
Offered a scholarship to Delft, I chose Paris instead, to learn French and explore being alive beyond architecture. That decision gave me a third language and new partners for life.
In Paris, I fell in love, made friends, and discovered photography. Self-taught, I spent hours shooting and editing. I printed albums when print was fading.
Back in Madrid, I earned my Architecture degree but rejected a corporate job. Instead, I pursued photography. At 27, Jean Paul Gaultier became my first client. More designers followed, along with editorial work and travel.
At 30, I fell in love with Hong Kong—its streets, people, and neon signs. I returned often and created a photo project about the city's disappearing lights, guided by a mentor and supported by friends. Thank you, Wing.
At 34, I started photographing queer nightlife. I worked for modest fees but found creative freedom. Marched over heartbreak at a new party called Tragedy and found my voice. That voice became @generationXXY, and brought exhibitions in Paris, Hong Kong, and Madrid.
In 2020, lockdowns halted work. I stayed afloat by selling prints in a solidarity sale. Generous souls supported my art and others.
Photography gave me a new language. Trained as an architect, I work with rigor; with the camera, I connect through feeling. The best validation comes from within.
I rarely feel lonely. Instead, sometimes I feel I’m still 12, reading with joy about Sapiens, Socrates or germs. I find comfort in reading that the full plot of the evolution of life on Earth is in a book. It’s called DNA and our bodies store many copies. It’s the oldest book known to men: four letters and a written story old of 3.5 billion years.
I know I will die. Not tonight, eventually. Everyone I know will die, too. Even those I don't know will die. And that includes you, anonymous reader. But there is no need to live in fear. This too shall pass.
Rainer Torrado Amo is an artist. Born in Madrid, he has lived in Paris, Rome, and Hong Kong. He now lives and works in Porto.