I chose this photograph because it was a quiet moment when Auntie Ntombekhaya was tucked away from the main path of the tour. It portrays care and attention through the activity being engaged in, grace in her posture, seated position and how the needle is held, while also giving context to the community within which this is unfolding.

This image was my favorite from the day’s photographs. It draws you into a private moment. A tension between three people you’re not fully let into. You don’t get the full story. You’re left with what you can gather.

The photograph was taken in Kariakoo, Dar es Salaam, Tanzania, on 29 October 2025 during the general election. I went there to document the atmosphere in this densely populated area amid online calls from Gen Z for a peaceful protest against the current constitution. While moving through the streets, I encountered a security guard at this moment, which resonated with me, so I quietly captured the image without disturbing him.

The photograph was taken in The Gambia, during a visit to see family and friends. I worked slowly and attentively, often returning to the same spaces, allowing moments to unfold rather than staging them. The image emerged through this process of observation, guided by my interest in impermanence and the subtle tensions between memory and the present.

This photograph was taken in the homestead of my Xhosa family in Eastern Cape. We were all celebrating the end of a ceremony, and I was sitting in the corner with another Makhoti, a new family member, brought into the husband’s family through marriage (I am one of the two in the home).

This photo was taken in Abidjan, two days before the end of a skate tour organized by SurfGhana in October 2022. The goal of the tour, lasting a little over a week, was to bring together Ghanaian and Ivorian skate communities. I was tasked with documenting the journey. Initially, I was just going to take a group photo with all the skaters, but I am fascinated by movements. By instinct, I started moving my camera, getting closer to try to capture less frozen, less sought-after moments.

I captured this portrait of my parents in 2015. My aim was to explore the complexity of relationships and the challenges of communication, while highlighting the attachment and family values of my parent’s generation. During that time, I enjoyed performing in front of the camera, using simple props around the house to stage scenes. I liked to focus on personal narratives, relying on natural light and my DSLR camera.

This week, we are highlighting portraits from our inaugural year. We invite newer subscribers to learn more about talented photographers who have contributed to the Tender Photo newsletter. Features by our current editorial fellows will return next week.

The image is instantly recognizable to anyone who has done any roadside shopping in the CBD, where vendors and the city inspectorate are regularly engaged in a battle for control of sidewalks and paved pathways.

NOIR 40 is restrained and intimate, quite minimalistic and close to the skin. I set aside all accessories used in earlier works. Contrasts remain, but white exists only within black—to express Black identity in its purest, most intimate form and reveal the individuality of the sitter. My aim is to deconstruct and break stereotypes about the identity of the black woman by showing her dignity and inner strength.

This photograph was taken in the village of Ozaga, Ait Heddou Youssef in the heart of the Atlas Mountains. It is a part of my first series, «A journey into nature where time stops to play», a project that reflects my inner child by documenting the daily lives of Amazigh children.

My images oscillate between a desire to hold onto a particular moment or emotion and more deliberately orchestrated compositions. My work exists in that space between what we see and how we perceive the things we see. They are a way to catalogue experience and show evidence that I have interacted with the world around me.

Taken in 2018, this photograph is part of a documentary project, Au Quartier, which explores life in Rwandan neighborhoods. The project began in 2012 as a street photography project, capturing candid moments. It has since evolved to include interviews and personal stories, allowing me to engage directly with my subjects.

The photograph shows a person sitting on the stairway in front of a faded yellow building, wearing a mask with an elongated oval shape, adorned with what appears to be cowrie shells and raffia materials at the top. With hands clasped together between their lap, they are dressed in a layer of colourful clothes—a jacket with a vibrant checkered design, a black shirt with white details underneath, and a bright blue trouser with circular patterns and white sneakers.

This photograph was taken in Garowe in April 2023. It was a spur of the moment shot – I had been driving around with my cousin on one of the roads in Garowe where this market is located. This scene came upon us; these people standing near this market that’s closed, illuminated by its light and the streetlight, the dead tree. There’s a man I didn’t see at first sitting on the ground on the phone, oblivious to the road and its happenings.

These two men, appearing to take a break from the busy market section of the festival, sat across one another with a box of goods between them. They looked as though suspended in their own world, the warm light of the afternoon sun setting shadows that provided them with brief respite from the chaos around us. You can see in the background a motorbike; many travel from nearby towns on motorbikes to attend the festival and the roads are filled with the sound of their engines and the smoke. This image stood out to me in the symbols it contains …

I took the photo in a rural area in southern Madagascar. I was talking with another young mother when I saw her. There was something striking about the way she stood, looking out toward the horizon. It felt like a moment I couldn’t miss. I raised my camera and captured it instinctively—no setup, no pose. Just a raw, honest moment that said everything without words.

This photo was taken at the port of Boulbinet after a crossing from Kassa Island. I conducted interviews and took some photos with my friend Djiba. During these crossings, an experienced adult steers the boat, while a younger person at the front assists with docking. This young man impressed me with his confidence: shirtless, muscular, standing tall at the edge of the boat, unafraid.

This photograph was taken in Ivory Coast, precisely in a village on the Ivory Coast-Ghana border. It reflects the state of mind of humankind. We seek God, whether through churches, mosques, or in nature, to honor our traditions. God occupies a central place in our existence. Ultimately, no one knows what God looks like.

The photographs were taken in Ibadan, Oyo state, Nigeria during an art residency program where I revisited the concept of Rust and Gold in Ibadan from an agricultural perspective. My project highlights the decline of agriculture in Oyo state, with a major challenge being the lack of youth interest. Many young people are shifting away from farming in favour of white-collar jobs, contributing to the sector’s gradual decline.

The photo was taken at Entebbe-Lake Victoria. I was having lunch with friends, enjoying some of the best potatoes I've ever had. The beach had this uniquely beautiful vibe—Marabou storks by the shore were scaring some people while others remained in awe. I grew up by the Indian Ocean, and the birdlife there hardly compares in size. I thought the mix of everything going on was beautiful, and I see my photos as a dialogue with my future self. I didn't have time to compose a shot with my DSLR, so I just used my phone. It's a lovely surprise …

This photo was taken in Praia do Soba, in Namibe, Angola’s southernmost province. There wasn’t much of a process, just awe. I happened to be in awe at finally seeing a place I had only ever heard about, never properly pictured, and realising no photo could truly do it justice.

As I look back and attempt to measure my impulse, I might say I was compelled by the relative ease of turning my lens towards that view. It seemed unlikely anyone could see me or hear the click of the shutter, and I liked the monologue. Since I rarely pictured people I felt no guilt. The painted wall on the right suggests this as the backyard of a nursery or primary school, and on a number of occasions there was a mass assembling of cars, perhaps for a parents and teachers meeting.

In my work, I've always had this fascination with what Roland Barthes described as “that has been”—the thing in front of the camera that was, once upon a time, real. Before that experience, I had an intimate interest in the Acacia species and their depiction on the pyramids in the Nile Valley civilization, but also their presence in the city and their integral part of being of that place, so the photograph is a vessel of that interest to some extent.