The ruins give way to renewal, to the promise of progress, to the shimmering face of a country in motion. I tell myself not to judge, only to witness. Yet questions echo within me, doubts gather in the silence. I should rejoice at this vision of growth, I should feel pride—but something falters, a dissonant note, a bitter taste I cannot ignore.

“I’m—I’m—here for the same reason as the others,” Lamin Momodu says. He averts his eyes. “We’re all here—to—to play Bubu music at America’s Got Talent. Our music came from the underworld.” He laughs and adjusts his suit, revealing sweat patches under his arms. “Well, that’s according to a historic myth. Centuries ago, someone had a dream, and in that dream, he saw a band like ours, playing horns. He was taught to play Bubu music in the underworld. It would be an honor to share it with the world.”

Kanu’s photographic practice asks: to what end do we make these pictures? The photographer’s proximity to the Temne, as one of them himself, is a powerful corrective gesture. It shifts the project from anthropological claims to collaborative memory-making. A photograph could be, in part, a gift.

This project documents Bubu music and its communities in northern Sierra Leone, capturing the people and everyday moments that keep the tradition alive. Rooted in Abdul Hamid Kanu's Temne heritage, it engages with music as a living practice connecting generations through sound, memory, and belonging.

There are no people in Lidudumalingani’s images, but there are ghosts everywhere. The dead haunt suburban sidewalks, highways, city parks, rivers, bridges, dams, illegal dumpsites, hotel rooms, all where human lives collide. Sites of Mourning is primarily shot in Johannesburg and follows the trail of South African newspaper reports.

By one estimate, South Africa leads in femicide rates, five times higher than the global average. These sombre images are focused on sites where women were either killed or dumped after being killed. Accompanied by ruminative captions by the photographer, Sites of Mourning serves as a monument to the women's lives.

Ada had been travelling on this road for far too long. Six hours must have passed already, and she was still in the tightly packed, overly warm bus. Even then, her excitement was high. Being in the bus that was taking her towards her hometown from the city made her giddy. The plan was to get home and drop her bags, then Cousin Justice would take her to the market to familiarise herself with the women there. After that they would walk around the village a little to see where she could set up a makeshift photo studio.

A small town in Anambra State, southeastern Nigeria, Neni is a neighbouring community to Adazi-Ani, where Amarachi Nnoli’s photography project Anwuli: An Invitation to Joy is staged. For the project, Nnoli moves from home to home, her mobile studio in tow, making portraits of those who have consented to pose.

Amarachi Nnoli blends elements of studio photography to examine Igbo identity in Nigeria. Visiting Adazi-Ani, her paternal hometown in southeastern Nigeria, she uses portraiture to explore not only the image of a person, but as a vessel of culture, memory, and representation.

Tender Visions is a new cross-disciplinary commissioning program for photographers and writers based on the African continent, produced by Tender Photos and supported by funding from the Open Society Foundations. 13 photographers have been commissioned to produce new work within their communities, guided by predefined themes, and in collaboration with 26 writers, who are to write original creative or critical responses to the photographic projects.

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.

In the last three months, Tender Photos has been proud to feature the work of our brilliant editorial fellows. Those features will continue next week. Today, I’d like to share some more about Tender Visions, our new commissioning project. When I launched the Tender Photo newsletter in 2022, my interest was in dialogues between photographers and the meanings and impact of their images.

Tender Photo has championed the work of over 145 photographers in the last three years, publishing a well-received weekly newsletter and collaborative archive of African photography. The Tender Photo Editorial Fellowship will draw from extensive dialogues on photography to support writers with interest in arts writing and arts journalism, specifically those who do not have a significant publication history.

From July 18 until September 2, you can view the work of these five photographers on a high-resolution QLED monitor at the What is Happening Here gallery in Amsterdam. During the day, the photographs are visible on the monitors, and in the evening, passersby can see them from the street in the windows of the gallery.

This past Wednesday, the first edition of the Editorial Fellowship came to an end. I was immensely pleased with the range of work featured, the perceptive writing of each fellow, and the engagement the photographs generated. I extend my thanks to Onotu David Onimisi, moshood, Zenas Ubere, Sibongakonke Mama, and Sana Ginwalla. 

From the balcony I framed the image from, on the 27th floor of the apartment, I had the view of the park station, and above it, Mandela Bridge, then the trains stretching on, which is in the picture. I was immediately drawn to the different modes of transport. The taxis

The photograph was taken in my hostel on the morning of the day I signed out from University. I had just finished my makeup and wanted to document the look as well as the nostalgic feeling I had. It was the beginning of an end. In the photo, my hair

Since the 1980s I have sidestepped the issue of photographing people… But in Riemvasmaak, Pomfret, Schmidtsdrift, and Platfontein, I was forced to confront my resistance because to avoid photographing people would mean to evacuate them from their homes and their land once again. In these places, people are re-establishing communities

This photograph was taken in Tunis, Tunisia, as part of a story about unseen or invisible people who don't get enough or good credit and recognition of their existence from the community—as doctors, engineers or movie stars or other celebrities—even though their jobs are important to the community. Abdusatar is

Pictures taken with the attentiveness of intuition, not just skill or deliberation.“Itafaji”The photo sums up the whole accident of that period. It has a cause and effect feel to me. It raises questions that beg to be answered. — Olaoluwa Adamu“Owo Da?”I had observed the agbero—as they are popularly known in Lagos—having a disagreement with the bus conductors and one thing led to another and they were at each other's throats. I quickly composed myself and my gear and took this photograph just as the bus conductor got into the bus and the driver was about to drive off. The agbero, clearly not having it, didn't want to let go.  — Jean-fidèle“Untitled”During a walk around Cape Town's CBD, I noticed a crowd of people gathered, all looking up and pointing to a small open window across the road. Through the sirens of fire trucks and an ambulance, I heard someone scream “jump” followed by laughter from the crowd. The window was too small for a person, I thought. Turns out it was just a false fire alarm and an open window.  — Jansen van Staden“The Jump”This photograph was taken in Gao, Mali, in 2013. I was covering the French military intervention in Mali and I was wandering around town when I came across kids playing on the roof of the local soccer stadium. I took a bunch of pictures and was lucky enough to make this composition. — Joe Penney“People First”The photo was taken at the Giza Pyramids complex in Egypt where tourists take selfies with the great pyramids in the background. When I noticed all the people consumed by their phones trying to take a photo of themselves, I tried to fill all the spaces in the frame so I can portray what it feels like in that moment.  — Aly HazzaaRead NextThe AftermathIf I Could See Your FaceIndex (I)Index (II)

I love to take photos that feature a human presence, without the human body itself. In this case, a limb animated the scene; to whom it belongs matters little. I love the composition and the content of the photograph. I was visiting my now-101 year old grandfather, which I only

The photograph was captured towards the conclusion of my project on a friendship with Momo tested by drug addiction. Momo had been unable to sleep due to extended crystal meth use, spanning around 6 or 7 days—though the exact duration eludes my memory. Eventually, he managed to find rest on

We were on our way to the village when we spotted cows and the young herdsmen taking care of them, so we walked over and asked to film them. Then I spotted him away from the herd, tending to his cows separately. So I walked up to him and signed with my hands that I wanted to take photos of him.

A sequence of same-styled photographs from the archive.