Every photograph I take begins with a sense of duty, an urgency to document something that I believe the world hasn't seen enough of. Not just a passion. A responsibility.
For me, that something is the full, unhurried, luminous complexity of Black people.
I am a photographer and, in many of these images, I am also the subject. Self-portraiture is my anchor. The practice of placing my own body in the frame, looking directly back at the camera, refusing to disappear. But my work has expanded beyond self-portraiture to include other Black individuals: their stillness, their joy, their power, their quiet.
Representation Is Not a Trend
There has been a long and painful history of Black people being photographed through a white gaze, images that reduced, othered, or exploited the people in the frame. I am not interested in continuing that tradition. Every portrait I create is a collaboration, a conversation, an act of witnessing.
When people hang one of my prints on their wall, I want them to look at it and feel seen or feel a desire to understand something they haven't before. Art has the power to shift the way we see people. That is why I make it. That is why I feel it is my duty to keep making it.
Why Self-Portraiture?
Self-portraiture is an ancient and radical act. From Frida Kahlo to Lorna Simpson to Carrie Mae Weems, artists have used their own bodies as the primary subject to assert identity, claim space, and challenge the viewer. I follow in that tradition.
Photographing myself means I have complete creative control. I can take as long as I need. I can explore emotions that are personal and hard to articulate. And I can show up exactly as I am. No direction, no apology.
The Moment I Understood My Duty
I came to photography later in life. What began as a desire to document my daughter's journey became something I hadn't anticipated - a calling. The moment I looked through my lens at another Black person and saw something true, something unhurried, something that the world rarely stops long enough to notice. I understood that this was not simply something I wanted to do. It was something I needed to do.
Derval was one of those moments. A Rastafarian man in rural Jamaica, face lifted toward the sky, at peace in himself. I was afraid to ask if I could photograph him. He was too intriguing not to. When I delivered his print he was overjoyed, overwhelmed, moved. He told me it was the best thing anyone had ever done for him. I got teary eyed. That exchange confirmed everything. This is my duty.
What I Hope You Feel When You See My Work
I want you to slow down. I want you to notice the quality of the light, the expression in the eyes, the way the frame was composed with intention. I want you to feel that the person in the photograph mattered, because they do.
Every Black person I photograph matters. Every story deserves to be told. Every face deserves to be seen with care, with artistry, with love.
That is my duty. And I intend to keep honoring it.
If you are looking to bring fine art photography into your home, I would love for one of my prints to be there. Browse the collection and find the image that stays with you.
