Consider the four photographs above in the order of their publication. Begin from Léa Thijs’s “My Father and I,” in which the man is standing in the middle of the picture, and a slice of her frame is seen from the side. Then, proceed to KC Nwakalor’s “Isolating with You,” where the photographer is close enough to the mirror to fill half the picture, while the woman, and a melange of possessions, occupy the other half. In the two other photographs by Kalenga Nkonge and Kgomotso “Neto” Tleane, the bodies turn away—Nkonge’s daughter, Tleane’s partner and child.

There is a range of intimacies in the photographs, from the filial to the romantic. Yet, no immediate truth about the particulars of each relationship is attested to here. For instance, the slight amusement in the face of Thijs’s father suggests nothing about what the image means to her: “My work focuses on my relationship with my father with regards to his recent diagnosis with bipolar disorder… This project was a way to handle sensitive information through visual representation for both of us.” Nor does the dim-lit space of a car, and a girl’s turn towards the sunlight, indicate anything close to the notes of affection her father feels in the labour of daily care. “I took this photo at home in Lusaka as the kids got into the car. This was just after 6 am in the morning. I had decided to start documenting what the morning looked like for me and the kids as I took them to school,” Nkonge writes.

The photographs of romantic partners are striking in their similarities in two senses. First, both were taken during the Covid-19 pandemic. And, both are by men who show their partners through a transparent glass. In Nwakalor's case it is a mirror, and for Tleane it is a door. As such, their gaze is manifold, even kaleidoscopic: they see into a camera to look past a glass at their subjects of affection. They stand at a remove in order to notice the small things; the slight incline of Nkonge’s child towards its mother, the rag on the floor of the room Nwakalor shares with his wife. “In that tiny frame, I captured all that mattered,” says Nwakalor. The look of love attempts to measure up to a life of love. ••••