How did you first get into photography?
My obsession with photography and memory began in childhood, shaped by absence. I didn’t grow up living with my mother, but I had tons of photographs of her, images I would pore over for hours. They became my way of remembering her, of memorising her. Those photographs were not just pictures; they were a language, a map back to someone I loved. Over time, I realised that the act of looking, of studying and preserving, was a way of holding onto what might otherwise drift away.
That instinct to preserve carried into my own life. I began documenting my family, especially during cultural functions where memory and tradition met in such vivid, textured ways. My longest-running personal project has been photographing my three nieces since birth, a living archive of their growth, our shared rituals, and the invisible threads that bind us together.
When I reached university, my focus widened. I started capturing Johannesburg’s city streets and taxi life during my commutes from my commune, moments of movement, rhythm, and human choreography that felt as rich as any family album. At first, I worked entirely on my iPhone, but discovering film photography changed my relationship to the craft; it slowed me down, demanded more intention, and deepened my attention to light, timing, and detail.
Today, while film remains my love, I’m also exploring videography, not just to extend my visual storytelling, but to work with sound as memory. The way a voice rises, a street hums, or a song drifts through a space can preserve a moment as vividly as an image. For me, photography and video are both ways of ensuring that the people, places, and textures I love are never lost to time.