In the quiet Oak Park streets, Abel Berumen sits in his home studio, moving his hands carefully along his half-finished sculpture. Sunlight glistened off his tools, tools he can no longer see but still knows by touch. Once a celebrated photographer, Beruman now creates through texture, memory and sound, finding new ways to see in the dark. 

“Everyone I knew, knew me as a photographer, and all of a sudden, the photographer is blind. It’s like a sad joke,” he said.

Amid the height of his artistic endeavors, in 2016, after what seemed like an ordinary night’s sleep, Berumen woke up blind. The cause was a rare hereditary condition called pseudoxanthoma elasticum. The disorder progressively deteriorates eyesight: “It looks like the person I am looking at is under murky water,” he said. 

This changed everything for Berumen. 

“The loss of vision for me was like losing a person,” he said. “But it was a person that I identified with; it was how I made my living, using my vision. This person was everything.”

Grief-stricken, Berumen faced a dramatic shift in daily life. His livelihood, found in his art, was gone. Friends found themselves not knowing how to continue their relationship due to his condition. Even his relationship with food suffered, realizing his vision had played a huge role in his appetite.

“I lost dozens and dozens of friends because of it,” Berumen said. “We would go out and they just didn’t know what to say, and I could feel them being extremely uncomfortable.”

But through learning to live with his disability, optimism soon kicked in. He learned to interact with people and perceive the world through sound, finding beauty in people’s kindness.

“It’s a different way to absorb life,” Berumen said. “Because you’re absorbing life regardless, it’s just that the way you capture and make sense of it is different.”

With the help of his partner, Gia Gallegos, he relearned how to navigate the world one step and one sound at a time. She noted how inspiring it has been to be side-by-side with him through this journey of rediscovering his art. 

“Many people would not pursue art at all if they lost their vision, and their career was all around the visual arts,” Gallegos said, “but he’s actually gone more into it.”

Long before blindness reshaped his life, Abel Berumen grew up in Lincoln Square, in the ‘70s, back when it was a working-class, culturally diverse place where Latino immigrants like Abel call home. He remembers it as an inspiring melting pot of cultures, but also recalls the widespread violence, leaving him wanting to escape to new worlds. 

“There were a lot of gangs. As a kid, you had to be careful, you couldn’t go down certain streets, you had to be home at a certain time,” Beruman said.

That’s how Berumen found the Logan Square Theater.

Movies were Berumen’s first love — windows into worlds far beyond his own. He didn’t realize it at the time, but now understands he was already training his eye, absorbing the composition and color of every frame. 

“As a kid, when you would see a movie, there would be a neighborhood that looked very different from your own,” Berumen said. “It would be like seeing another planet.”

However, Berumen’s aptitude for photography never clicked until he stumbled across Columbia College’s registration day. He walked in, took a look around, thought to himself, “This is it,” and immediately registered as a photography major. 

With guidance from art professors like Arthur Lazar, Berumen learned his connection with photography went beyond the physical. 

“I’m not religious, but I’m spiritual, and his images were so spiritual,” Berumen said. 

This realization drove him to excel academically while he paid for his education as a restaurant dishwasher and as a valet.

Graduating debt-free and quickly landing a job as a fashion photographer’s assistant, he said, “I chose this gig because of the fabulous meals provided at the shoots.” But little did he know that soon he would get his big break when a photographer failed to show up for a shoot, allowing Berumen to step in.

His 30-year long career is highlighted by shoots with high-fashion brands like Marc Jacobs and commercial success with companies like Sears. 

Although he was able to find financial success, he still longed for deeper artistic expression.

“I think art is essential. It’s like water. Without water, we die, and without art, we die as well,” Berumen said.

Out of this desire to create art, Red Door Studio was founded, a creative space where his artistic expression could flourish on his own terms. Working primarily in portraiture, he focused on showcasing alternative aesthetics through expressive piercings and tattoos. He invited friends, performers, and writers to his studio, never charging a dollar.

This chapter in his life, brimming with creativity and community, was forever changed after waking up blind. But the story does not end here. 

His relentless creative drive found new ways to express itself. With Gallegos by his side, he learned how to create using touch and sound. Shortly after enrolling in DePaul University’s Film and Cinema Studies program, it was here that he met professor and interdisciplinary artist Brian Zahm.

Zahm and Berumen instantly connected, exchanging messages and meeting for coffee. After several years of friendship, Zahm began working on a documentary about Berumen’s life. Following numerous interviews and a long, detailed process of exploring Berumen’s photography archive, Zahm released the film titled “Abel.”

Zahm created a beautiful display of Berumen’s portraiture, showcasing his personal work from the Red Door Studio alongside his commercial photography. Berumen narrates the film himself,  connecting the images to his words in an effortless narrative that celebrates both Burman and his art.

“You have a real responsibility to your subject; you cannot betray your subject,” Zahm said. “I wanted to represent the breadth and scope of his art, and just as importantly, I wanted to show his story before and after losing sight to help audiences understand and empathize with someone who is sightless.”

Today, Berumen continues to pursue art but in new forms. He now paints, draws, makes films, sculpts and writes poetry. He lives on the quiet streets of Oak Park with Gallegos, where he was recently nominated as best director in the Oak Park Film Festival for his short titled “My Name Is Gia.” He also gives away hand-sculpted flowers with a message emblematic of his philosophy and the kindness that defines him.

“Love is love. Please stop the hate. Take this flower and help spread the word,” he said.

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