By Bill Church
May 10, 2026
Gabriela Campos is proof that curiosity can turn into a career. A shy kid into a visual star. No doubt.
The Santa Fe New Mexican photographer’s career has gained a national following, yet no one who knows her is surprised.
Gabriela recently was named the inaugural recipient of the national Nick Oza Visual Fellowship as selected by Altavoz Lab, founded by award-winning journalist Valeria Fernández on the belief that “strong local journalism strengthens democracy.” The fellowship is named after Oza, the Pulitzer-winning photojournalist known for mentoring others and forging important connections in Arizona’s immigrant communities before his death in 2021.
Gabriela will continue to work for The New Mexican during her fellowship while also tackling a 12-month project of documenting the “unsung women of New Mexico’s lowrider culture.”
Gabriela’s project work landed her on the May 2025 cover of High Country News magazine. And National Geographic recently selected her work for inclusion.
For those traveling to Washington, D.C., this summer, spend time at the Smithsonian’s National Museum of American History along the National Mall. You’ll find Gabriela’s images prominently displayed in the Marcia and Frank Carlucci Hall of Culture and the Arts located on 3 West.
If you go online to the Corazón y vida: Lowriding Culture site, you’ll immediately find one of Gabriela’s photos. The exhibit describes lowriding culture as “artistic expression, technological innovations, and storytelling that reflects Mexican American and Chicano culture and identity.” (Educators and anyone curious will find plenty of media-rich resources in the Smithsonian’s Learning Lab tied to the exhibit.)
I recently took a trip to Washington, D.C., where seeing Gabriela’s art was a must-see, must-smile moment. I also sent Gabriela a short list of questions, which she responded to between assignments and everything else going on in her life.
Her answers were so illuminating that I shifted from a typical column about Gabriela and the exhibit to this Q&A format (with some light editing).
Not surprising, Gabriela’s story is best told by Gabriela:
How did you learn your work had been accepted by the Smithsonian?
The process started years ago. I had just gotten home from a shift at the newspaper when my phone buzzed — it was an email from Steve Velasquez, a curator at the Smithsonian. He was interested in talking about my lowrider work in New Mexico. That was June 2021. After a few emails and calls, I submitted a portfolio. From there, everything fell into place.
Why has lowrider culture interested you? Has it influenced how you tell stories through your images?
Growing up in New Mexico, lowrider culture is always there, just at the edges of everyday life. You see cars cruising the Plaza, and it becomes part of your visual memory. I remember in kindergarten, my friend Domino brought in the song “Low Rider” by War for show and tell — that moment stuck with me.
As I got older, especially in high school, I became more drawn to cruise culture. Growing up in Santa Fe, you have to be creative to entertain yourself as a teenager. My friends and I would spend hours driving around town and hanging out in parking lots — not in particularly cool cars, but there was something freeing about it. That sense of movement, community and expression continues to shape how I tell stories through my images.
What was it like for you to see the exhibit in Washington, D.C.?
The exhibit was postponed for a couple of years due to COVID and the complexity of putting a show like that together. For a while, I wasn’t sure it would happen at all. So when the date was finally set, it felt unreal — and being there in person was even more surreal.
Seeing my photos on the wall brought me back to the exact moments they were taken: my first hopping competition in Española, Holy Thursday outside the Santuario de Chimayó, chasing a gold Impala down East San Francisco Street to catch it perfectly framed against the cathedral — while my mom followed behind me to make sure I didn’t get hit by a car.
Looking at the images, I saw friends and familiar faces. I didn’t feel far from home.
One of my favorite moments happened during the rollout after the festivities of opening day at the museum came to a close. A car club from Virginia lined up outside the museum. A rollout is when cars leave together — horns blaring, hopping, riding on three wheels — it’s a moment to show off. I was on the sidewalk taking photos, like I do at home, but this felt different. To my left were Estevan Oriol and Lou Dematteis — legends in lowrider photography. To my right was my 7-year-old nephew, Henry, crouched down, filming the cars weaving down the street. My mom, sister, and best friend were nearby, taking it all in.
The car club had blocked off the street, and the cars performed in front of these grand, pillared buildings. It felt like a collision of worlds — New Mexico lowrider culture meeting Washington, D.C. — and it was beautiful.
As the cars disappeared down the road, Oriol and Dematteis turned to me and asked if I’d take a photo with them. I couldn’t believe it — that they would want a picture with me, a newspaper photographer from New Mexico.
How did you become a photographer? What sparked this passion?
Up until about fifth or sixth grade, the world was a blur. Then I got glasses, and suddenly everything changed. Trees that once looked like green smudges had definition — I could see individual leaves, texture, detail. That shift gave me a deep appreciation for the visual world, and I think it’s part of why I became a photographer.
During my senior year of high school, I took my first photography class, and right away I knew it was something I wanted to pursue. It just felt right. Having a camera felt like being handed a key — a way to open doors and connect with people.
As a shy kid, I was just as curious — and my camera became a way to step into conversations, explore the world around me, and tell stories I otherwise wouldn’t have been part of. After that first class, I never stopped taking pictures.
For years after, I tried to convince myself photography wasn’t a practical path. How would I make it? How could I survive as a photographer? But every road kept leading me back to photojournalism. Eventually, I stopped resisting and accepted that this is what I’m meant to do. I’m grateful it worked out and that I kept going when it wasn’t always easy.
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