Behind the camera.

I’ve watched life go by for as long as I can remember, trying to understand the meaning behind it. A camera gave me a way to hold on to what I saw.

Black and white is where I found my voice. Stripped of distraction, it lets the emotion and the story carry the frame — and gives a picture a kind of timelessness colour rarely allows.

I document everyday life inside youth and subcultures — skaters, rappers, people drinking, smoking, simply living. It’s a tradition as old as the medium: photography as a way to picture identity, community, and the way people belong to one another.

Alongside that run my portraits of people the world tends to look past — and my work on homelessness. I photograph it with a closeness I didn’t choose: both my father and I have lived it. That keeps the work honest. I try to meet everyone I photograph with empathy and respect — never romanticised, never dramatised, just human.

Whether a photograph is “good” has little to do with the work itself. It’s relative — shaped by the Zeitgeist, the audience, the purpose. Each image is a window onto one moment, and what it holds depends on who’s looking.

Social media has brought me collaborators and friends I’d never have met otherwise. But the work has to come first. I’d rather chase the quality of an image than the noise around it.