Warm light, dust, black soap
The smell of camel leather softening in pigeon excrement mingles with the scent of Ras el hanout and black soap
Dust, warm light
High sun, sharp shadows
Rubbish strewn lay-bys
Crows flying over landfill
Forests with shy monkeys and hungry dogs
Kif in the Rif
Rough wool Berber rugs
Tadelakt
Call to prayer
So many cats
Quiet deserts
Don’t take my photo
For a long time, I wasn’t interested in creating a series of photographs from Morocco. I was content to be a visitor but, despite my lack of intention, I slowly began to collect images. I had no agenda and no preconceived ideas, yet with each subsequent visit something began to grow, almost of its own accord.
What had sparked my fascination with the country and what kept me coming back, was how it felt to me. At times it felt like a punch to the solar plexus and at others, a caress on the cheek.
I was very aware that my reactions to the stimuli were those of an outsider but I’ve always been a photographer who revels in being an outsider. I thrive on not completely understanding what I’m looking at. The mystery keeps me alert, sharpens my senses and fuels my imagination.
Through these photographs, I want to express the sensations of that punch to the stomach, the gentle caress and the many feelings in between. I want to create something the viewer can tune into, emotionally and sensorially.
Morocco
work in progress, from 2004