Kieran Behan —
Places My Head Was At
N°2: A Two-Part Series on
the Sordid Splendors of Mexico (Part1)

Kieran Behan spent the last couple of weeks deep down in Mexico’s jungle where she shot this series on Impossible Project sx-70 and 600 film. It’s an undeniable reminiscence of the beat generation’s hedonistic lust for life. Make a journey into Kieran’s surreal travel diary!

After a messy, chaotic and beautiful session tour-managing a band we ended up in Tulum surrounded by an assortment of shady hustlers and various freaks of nature. Moral was low and sweet Sally saved us from certain doom. Those moments we shared stay secret because we took all the photos with our eyes.

Publicly, Fabi does prefer to unwind with Hunter S. Thompson and his private parts.


Phillip went swimming with the turtles. Germans like to take their clothing off so they can properly air themselves out for fresh things to come.


To stir up something we made face masks from Ai scarves and tried our luck up the Coba ruins.

I had to lay down and feel the pyramid instead.


Fabi just stood above and stared at the people.

Little insects clutching the rope on their way down in sports sneakers and tourist sombreros to protect from the heat. I bet they were wishing they had face masks like us.


Residencia Gorilla let us stay with them.

We met Vish there, he could pose at any moment with items of emotional significance.


He took us to private land that held cenotes with tiny fish inside.

They clean all the skin you didn’t need anymore.


The inside of the soft rock caves that got eaten up by the fresh water look like this.


When the palm leaves move with the wind and you smell electricity in the air, that’s when you can trust that the moon comes out.


Face masks and murderous pasts inside small servings of guacamole.


Andrea saved us in Mexico City. She is a treasure for us so we hold her very close to our hearts. Anyone with a bit of sense would.

She permeates the air with that special sensitive force that everything SPECIAL is about to transpire.

We are all born one day apart in March, therefore Fabi myself and herself form some sort of intensive and explosive pyramid. I heard if you stack all of us on top of each other you get a free trip to the moon. Or under the sea, dependent on the weather conditions at said time of stacking.


Mango’s were in season this time of the year.


So were motorcycle rides.


After one particularly wild night a group of us piled into a car with a bottle of mezcal and the sunrise.

With a friend.

We drove to his ancient villa outside of DF. He has a very emotional job, arriving at natural disasters and major accidents to decide who is right and who is wrong.

In his spare time he comes to this place for peace.

He owns a collection of rare books. I know because I touched their pages with my own hands.


We got some sun.


And we made some jumps.


When I got sleepy I had to explore the garden and fall asleep between the palms. Mosquitoes feasted on me but I paid them no mind.


Very old and carved right there for everyone to see.


And sitting atop the mantel too. Anyone with half a sense could feel them staring back.

These objects had seen the glory days and the days in between.


In Mexico old crashes with the new and every little particle counts as qualified for your attention.

I saw two ghosts like glimmering light before we left.

The rooftop cut surreal patterns across my eyelids, like something I had been waiting for.