A couple of weeks ago I did an interview on The Jabari show about my transition from analogue to digital photography. In that interview I was asked what I consider to be one of the most difficult questions. What’s your favourite photograph to date? I answered at the time what I thought people may consider to be my best but generally I have found a way to detach myself from images once I’ve completed my edits. Well, until I’m inspired to revisit. 

This made think to myself, should I have a favourite photograph? Do other photographers or artists have a favourite? This came up recently over drinks with a friend  Dr. Kevin Adonis Browne, an artist and academic who also uses photography as his medium; the conversation led us to a mutual conclusion that as an artist it is next to impossible.

 I think that’s because as we learn more within our craft we see the potential to do more and become better.  This dynamic interaction with my art is part of the creative process; things move, the world moves, nothing remains steady, least of all the artist. Your taste may vary based on particular projects, you might be in a different place in your life so you connect to different elements of a piece or the narrative holds different meaning.

I cannot determine how to pick a top five much less a single one without changing my answer each time someone asks me.  

I’ve found at times that I’m quite shy with sharing what I consider to be an amazing image, similar to how it’s difficult for me to express my emotions. Mainly because I have my own mantra that I dwell on daily;

                                             “no one cares about your photographs.”

Some may say or think it’s a negative thing to think or say to yourself but for me it’s not negative self-talk, it keeps me in check. As an artist, you create for yourself first and foremost.  The image is your voice, your story, your point. It may not connect with others or it might do so in a way you didn’t conceive of, that’s just the nature of art. There’s no control, only subjectivity. Holding on to the philosophy might in some small ways be self-preservation, but for the most part it really is an understanding of the nature of the beast, your work is yours but it is not who you are. The work, the images they don’t define you. They may help to shape you and intersect with all things external, but they are only part of the parcel. So I have opted to detach myself for the most part; when it comes enjoy the praise and even if you don’t like the critique, take it in stride. It is part of the process. 

So, in adapting this approach I treat my work as external sometimes. I like to revisit bodies of work; depending on my mood or frame of mind I see different things, I experiment, I trouble, I change and at times I leave well alone. While there should be some amount of reverence to an image and its story, it doesn’t have to be static. Feelings change, tastes evolve, learning occurs. So attaching too much care to an image can be restrictive I have found. But I tip my hat to the artist who can choose, the artist who has managed to connect to a piece of work so deeply, what a beautiful thing.

With all of that said, here are a few shots I’ve been enjoying recently:

Follow the locals. We settled at one of the most recommended beach spots frequented by locals in Grand Cayman. I captured this by happenstance on a compact camera as I made my way to the water. It was the definition of idyllic and immediately transported me to my childhood feelings of carefree abandon and fun. 

Decadent. The epitome of tall dark and handsome, I was enamoured by Trevor’s dark skin and his ease in front of the camera. This made the task of photographing him feel almost effortless. I was pleased to be given some leeway to shoot the fashion editorial for Mark Eastman 2025 The Journey Clothing. It was a good reminder of why I fell in love with fashion photography and the beauty of dark skinned people.

A Fi Me Turn. In 2019 I was blessed with the honour of working with Ma’am Samba, an NGO in Senegal. As with any new space, I went wandering around Dakar with my TLR(Twin Lens Reflex) Rolleiflex. As I stopped to document a seemingly quiet and empty space in a boatyard it was punctuated by a dash of movement, a photobomb if you will. I didn’t remember this moment until I developed the film, but I felt like her command of the photo was telling “A Fi Me Time Now!”. Not sure how I could top this moment and this image but only time will tell and show me if I’m wrong or right.