Photographing a Mexican Cartel with a Fuji Instax Mini 12

Some background: I’m a photojournalist and a YouTuber. I covered migration and conflict for nearly six years across the Americas and Europe before starting the channel ‘Through the Glass’ this past fall. The basic idea of the channel is that I travel to interesting places, hangout with locals, and snap photos on some kind of film—usually 35mm. 

This past December, I traveled to Michoacán, Mexico, to photograph life in a region completely controlled by organized crime. It wasn’t my first time in Michoacán—I’d made multiple visits several years before for a bigger project about migration in North America. The plan this time was to hangout with a family I know for a few days on the coast before heading deep into the hills for a big wedding where I expected there to be a considerable mafia presence. 

There was a problem, though. I’d burned through almost all my normal 35mm film making a previous video and by the time I got to Michoacán, all I had left was half a roll of Kentmere 400 and a Fuji Instax Mini 12 that I’d picked up in Mexico City as a Christmas gift for my girlfriend. I had no intention of using this Instax camera myself. In fact, I’d never even shot any kind of instant film camera before. 

Within hours of arriving, I finished off the Kentmere 400 during a family outing at the beach. 

Over the next few days, I used the Fuji Instax sporadically—I needed to understand the camera before the event, but I didn’t have many frames to spare. My limited early tests revealed some challenges. First, the camera’s automatic settings don’t allow its shutter speed to go very low. This would be a problem at the nighttime wedding where I’d normally drag the shutter to let in lots of ambient light. Second, the lens’ 35mm-like equivalent focal length is tighter than the 24mm-28mm I’m most comfortable shooting. 

On the night of the party, we all crammed into two old pickup trucks and headed off into the hills. The road was long and rough. We climbed for about three hours. The swampy coastal air turned nippy and pine-scented. There was almost no sign of life along the dirt road. It was pitch dark by the time we arrived. 

We pulled into a clearing in the woods full of pickup trucks and dirt bikes. Off in the distance, there was music and what looked sort of like a rodeo ring—a dusty circular space lit up by floodlights. 

We walked toward the party. On the right hand side, there was this long line of newish Tacomas and F-150s—highly coveted vehicles in rural Mexico. Outside the trucks were lots of young men. They were suited up with tactical gear, walkie talkies, and big assault rifles. 

My hosts, who were normally so carefree, exchanged nervous looks:

“We need to get permission for you to take photos. There are some important people here.”

I turned off my action cam and followed them to a big table. Seated around the table were about a dozen middle-aged men. They wore cowboy hats and drank foreign whiskey—unlike everyone else at the party who drank Modelo and Corona Light. I was very nervous. Luckily, my hosts did the talking. 

The men were surprisingly unconcerned. 

“Of course. Just avoid photographing this table. There are people here who don’t want to be seen…you know what I mean.” 

I was relieved to have their permission, but didn’t really know how to go about shooting this thing. Staying away from that table was easy enough, but this was a party and everyone, including men from that table, was getting up and moving around. It wasn’t as simple as just avoiding the guys with guns either. Guns are a huge part of the culture in this part of Mexico, and almost all the men at the wedding were strapped—mafiosos and law-abiding farmers alike. 

I was also worried about the camera. Rural, gun-carrying Michoacanos are by and large quite macho. The Fuji Instax Mini line is definitely not macho. In fact, its success is usually attributed to the camera’s popularity with Gen Z women and Gen A girls. I was worried the men here would think the camera was ‘girly’ and laugh at me, or worse. 

Eventually, I decided just to go for it. I walked to the middle of the dance with my toy camera and started playing wedding photographer. It didn’t take long, however, for my worst fear to come true. 

“Hey! No photos! Don’t take photos!”

I was being told off by an armed man on the dance floor. I didn’t recognize him from the table, but his message was familiar: There are people here who don’t want to be seen, so be careful with your camera. 

He was polite enough, but I was still too spooked to stay on the dance floor. I made my way back to the sidelines where my hosts were seated, making sure to keep my action cam pointed away from that VIP table. 

It didn’t take long, however, before I found myself talking to more armed men. But these guys were far less guarded and the conversation flowed. They explained why AK-47’s were preferred over AR-15’s and how almost all the guns in this region arrived by mail from the U.S. They were fascinated by the Instax camera and wanted me to photograph them and their guns. They got giddy looking at the developed photos: “That’s a badas* photo!”, exclaimed one. 

Things were going well. I was enjoying talking to these guys and, even though the shots weren’t as candid as I’d hoped, I was getting photos. But then someone started shouting.

“Who came with this guy?! Who brought him!?”

The man sped towards us asking the same question again and again. He didn’t look me in the eye but grabbed me by the arm: “Who came with him!?” 

One of my hosts stepped forward sheepishly. The man, still holding me by the arm, shouted: “He can’t film that table!”, and walked away. 

I didn’t recognize the man as being from the table, but people explained that he was one of the highest ranking people at the party. I knew I hadn’t been filming the table and could prove it, but I was still terrified. Everyone else acted as if nothing had happened. 

A few moments later, the wedding’s MC called on me over the sound system and told me I was needed on the dance floor. It was time for the bouquet toss and other games. 

As soon as the official wedding rituals ended, all the VIPS stood up abruptly and made for their trucks. A dozen or so young men who’d been elsewhere in the party rushed to escort them. 

I don’t know if it was just me, but it seemed like everyone loosened up after they’d left. Still scared, but less so, I returned to the dance floor to finish off my last film cartridge.

Here’s the video if you’re interested! I’ll be uploading more documentary film photography videos similar to this one in the near future!

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