WORDS + interview BY ANDYOMO
TALENT + CREATIVE DIRECTION BY LUNA LA SIRENA × PHOTO BY DARIO CASTILLO × SPECIAL EFFECTS BY NINA CARELLI × HAIR BY GAULDAN GIO × NAILS BY MYX LEE × FEATURING DESIGNS BY PRINCESS OF CHINATOWN
Luna was raised by her grandmother in San Fransisco, California —
in a big family full of visual artists. Her earliest memories are wrapped in creativity. She grew up surrounded by zines, school plays, after-school theater programs, and the kind of underground art that lived outside of institutions. “I grew up around that, very DIY, community-building kind of art,” she said. “It wasn’t like, I’m trying to be famous or I’m trying to make money off it.” Growing up in San Francisco, art was about expression. People created because they had something to say, not because they were trying to get somewhere. There was no industry to impress, no ladder to climb. It was about finding your people and making something honest.
Her grandmother, a painter who also made clothes, never separated her art from Luna’s world. “She never separated me from her expression,” Luna told me. Creativity wasn’t something Luna had to reach for. It was already part of her, and she never really lost it.
Luna didn’t always have the words. But shes had her creative expression, and that was enough. Drag became the space where she felt most like herself. Not just playing a character, but truly existing. “Whether I was performing or not, I was a woman,” she told me. She didn’t call it transness at the time. She was just doing what felt good. What made her feel alive.
People watched her blossom. “I noticed how people perceived me was so different. It was so much better.” And she felt the shift too. “There’s a certain energy I put out because this is who I really am. Because I feel comfortable.” Drag wasn’t about hiding. It was the first time she could truly be seen.
From there, she found herself at Paragon, one of New York City’s most iconic queer nightlife spots at the time. It was the summer of 2022, just a month after the venue opened, and she was 21 years young. The city was still coming back to life after the pandemic, and Paragon quickly became a place where that energy could land. It was queer-owned, community-focused, and full of intention. The space offered more than a party; it offered possibility. Luna had never worked in nightlife before, but she was out in the scene, making friends, showing face. “I literally asked for a job,” she said plainly. They needed someone at the door, and she stepped into the role. Her connection to the club was immediate. “I always say it felt more spiritual than transactional.”
After Paragon closed, Luna transitioned to working at Bossa Nova. “I became a bartender and I was there for a while.” But internally, she was somewhere else. “I was at a really weird crossroad in my life where I was like, I don't really know what I'm doing,” she said. “Everything I was working for… it just was not working out.”
She was DJing, throwing parties, staying busy. “I was just trying to find myself,” she told me. “Trying to find what I liked, what I didn’t like. I was trying to find my place.” Still, the momentum felt off. “It didn’t feel good. It didn’t feel right. I didn’t feel very aligned with what I was doing.”
That feeling of misalignment lingered until Luna found her way back to Paragon. This time, not as a door girl, but with a new perspective.
“I had this little camcorder my friend gave me,” she said. “And I just started shooting super casually, going out with my friends.” One night, she brought the footage back to the club. “I showed the owner and he really liked it. He was like, would you like to shoot the next weekend? And I said, okay. I really didn’t think anything of it.”
She went, shot again, and turned in the footage. “Then the owner offered me the job and was like, do you wanna do this? And I was like, I don't know what it is, but sure.”
“The universe just kind of sent it my way in the most beautiful, beautiful way,” she said. “Ever since then, I have not looked back, and now it's my whole thing.”
Suddenly, she was capturing the same energy she once stood on the edge of. The camera becoming a tool for reconnecting with her purpose. That return felt like alignment. It reminded her of what she always believed: art doesn’t need to be polished to be powerful. It just needs to be real; a form of true expression and storytelling at its core. And when you follow that belief, the right doors do open, divinely.
Her recent photo series is the visual language of that journey. Inspired by her name, Luna La Sirena, which means ‘Luna The Siren’, the work carries an electric mix of fantasy and rawness, softness and rage. The images are dark and sultry, inviting and unsettling at the same time. Luna wanted to be striking in every way, beautiful and powerful but also fierce and even a little scary. She embodies the siren myth not as a gentle lure but as an untamed force of nature, fully alive and fully herself.
What makes this series so compelling is how it shifted and evolved alongside Luna’s own healing process and transition. The original idea gave way to something more honest and unfiltered; a reminder that transformation is never neat or linear. It holds contradictions and demands vulnerability. The work is as much about rage as it is about rebirth. It speaks to the grief and frustration that come with living in a world that does not always see you, alongside the beauty and power that emerge when you finally see yourself.
The impact of Luna’s art reaches beyond the frame. At her exhibit, the energy in the room was intimate and electric, not just because of the work, but because of the community that showed up to witness it. Artists who have known her for years and people meeting her for the first time came together, united by belief in her vision. That kind of support is a radical form of care. It reminded Luna, and all of us, that what sustains us is not fame or followers, but connection and solidarity.
The images are dark and sultry, inviting and unsettling at the same time. Luna wanted to be striking in every way, beautiful and powerful but also fierce and even a little scary. She embodies the siren myth not as a gentle lure but as an untamed force of nature, fully alive and fully herself.
Luna’s message is clear and urgent. When I asked what she wants people to take from her work and her story, she said simply, “Don’t let people bring you down. Speak up. Start with your own people. Community work is not optional. It is survival.” Her words hold the weight of experience and the lightness of hope. They are a call to action and a reminder that transformation, both personal and collective, takes courage and care.
Her art, her life, and her voice stand as a beacon for those who are still finding their way, for anyone who has ever felt unseen or unheard. Luna is not just creating images – she is shaping space for others to see themselves reflected back fully and unapologetically through their reflections in the moonlight. That is power. That is magic. That is what it means to truly embody La Sirena.
