At the LagosPhoto Festival, Tender Photos has curated Kindred, a constellation of 24 photographs and texts featured in the newsletter archive of Tender Photos. Showing an asynchronous cascade of images and blocks of text on both walls, viewers are invited to match an image with its corresponding caption. The interactive exhibition is presented by Emmanuel Iduma and Ayọ̀bámi Adébáyọ̀ for LagosPhoto 2025.

These photographs were taken in several African countries, and range in style from documentary to fashion, fine art, and portraiture. Each image was featured in the Tender Photo newsletter with a descriptive caption, followed by additional commentary by the photographer. This unique born-digital archive constitutes a dynamic repository of life and artistic pursuit on the continent and is rich with exploratory potential. For over 3 years, Tender Photos, a platform for photography and visual storytelling, has deepened encounters with photography by paying attention to how words can shape, extend, and evoke the meaning in a photograph.

Tender Photos’s “Kindred” series typically features a dual layer of images and commentary, where participants are invited to build on the platform’s growing archive by pairing a previously shared image with a new image of their choice. At LagosPhoto, the implication is that viewers can use the exhibited collection as a point of departure for drawing their own connections. The idea is also to highlight the “literature” involved in photography and the visual and spatial potentials of textuality. Embracing a fluidity and collectivity of language and authorship, the project integrates contemporary media and indigenous philosophy.

Learn more about each presented image below, and click the accompanying links to read the statements of featured photographs.

Participating Photographers

Tommie Ominde, Fua Bilich, Nipah Dennis, Katia Golovko, Robert Lyons, Oyewole Lawal, Hana Gamal, Aly Hazzaa, Fawaz Oyedeji, Christopher Littlewood, Yassine El Attar, Sauda Dhlabo, Adediran Adetutu, Adedolapo Boluwatife, Thero Makepe, Neo Baepi, Abderrahmane Ajja, Francis Ogunyemi, Ollie Walker, Rachel Seidu, Neema Ngelime, Catherine Li, Jean Luc Andrianasolo, and Omoregie Osakpolor.

The boy who is closest to the viewer lies with a leg raised, and cradles his face on the nook of his elbow. His gaze is darkened by a cast of shadow. A similar effect is noticeable on another boy, whose glance seems calculated in intensity. Together they form, somewhat, a quadrangle of swimmers. The farthest boy—decked in splashes of water—gives this frame its northward balance. Such rhythms of life: boys who move across waves in unerring strokes of abandon. Photograph by Tommie Ominde. Text by Emmanuel Iduma | Read more | Licence this image.

The earth often makes its wonders accessible. An untroubled river, a hilly shore, the faint border of sky across this picture. Then, the men and their gentle arrangements. Each to his own labour. These labours—rowing, holding up, holding still—indicate beauty, yet also consecration. Few ceremonies of reverence occur in public, and so we must attend to those we see with the attentiveness of new devotees. Photograph by Fua Bilich. Text by Emmanuel Iduma | Read more | Licence this image.

When you look at the rocks in contrast with the smooth blackness of the boy’s body—he who stands to the right and has an expression of amusement—the mood of the picture shifts in register from solid to supple. About the other boy, is it possible to notice anything besides his unwelcome glance? Consider the almost-new fade of his hair, the small bulge of a knife pushing out from his hand, and how tightly he holds the net. He carries himself with the gravity of responsibility, as if by turning his back to the white walls he is more attentive to the gains of lowly labour. Photograph by Nipah Dennis. Text by Emmanuel Iduma | Read more | Licence this image.

The man with a backpack holds up a hand to his face. It is nearly impossible to tell if he's simply brushing off dust, or if he considers the sea through the camera of a smartphone. The sea’s beauty is welcome. The near-perfect symmetry of four chairs. A map of the African continent is propped up as a marker… for what? Imagine this place as a quayside, and imagine those who, nearing land, see the map from afar, its shape indistinct, lacking in use as tumbled plastic chairs. A world teeming with symbols, as patient for interpretation as a chair awaiting its sitter. Photograph by Katia Golovko. Text by Emmanuel Iduma | Read more | Licence this image.

From an unseen opening, light falls onto his face and t-shirt. He is poised between a wall and table, steadying his fingers on a class roster. A globe sits behind him, as well as a handbell. There is a sequenced array of rulers resting against the mud bricks, some of which cut across the length of his shorts. His gaze is outward, practiced in its melancholy; his suave is easy. That he tilts his slender body as so is the result of either a request by the photographer or his general tendency for swagger. That the photograph was taken from the threshold of an adjoining room, makes the map the farthest reach of this frame. Photograph by Robert Lyons. Text by Emmanuel Iduma | Read more | Licence this image.

There’s a neat division between how a group of two assemble in the foreground and how another group gather in the background. In both assemblings, things are being lifted. In particular, the triumvirate cluster on the right is notable for their near-symphony: the rise of hands and the balance in the basket they hoist. This world of order is sharper in focus than one on the lower end of the frame—in which tables and benches are tumbled, items distinguished by their disarray and loss of function. Photograph by Oyewole Lawal. Text by Emmanuel Iduma | Read more | Licence this image.

Given her elaborate attiring, what seems most noticeable is the bare areas of her face. A pair of hennaed hands, which hover across her cheeks, tell of a practiced attempt to hold herself in regard. That her eyes do the estimation is evident from its stare. And what does she see? Those shimmery blotches of light? May that approximation of her image be as perfect as she imagines it should be. Photograph by Hana Gamal. Text by Emmanuel Iduma | Read more | Licence this image.

The photograph is two-dimensional, but you might be forgiven to think it is not. The distribution of the women in the foreground is almost circumambient; they are seen from the side, back, and front. One pyramid, also seen from the side, seems hexagonal in form, as though by a slight glance to the right you can take in the sight of the entire edifice. There is a trail of cars and people on either flank of the background, with the towering, ancient statue in the centre. Thus the perspectives—of the admiring crowd and the unfazed stones—are as discordant as an untrained mass choir. Each person is left to decide what it means to see and be seen. Photograph by Aly Hazzaa. Text by Emmanuel Iduma | Read more | Licence this image.

The attentive boy, who glances to his right, is positioned close to the middle of the frame. There are two women above him, enclosed within a window, whose glances are equally turned sideways. Besides these three, no one in the central area of the photograph have turned likewise. That is, assuming those two garbed figures—whose mode of dressing denies us any clarity about their sightline—have chosen to look away from the immediate attraction. They are especially noteworthy for the slant in their poise, as though they wish to be omnidirectional, here and everywhere. Photograph by Fawaz Oyedeji. Text by Emmanuel Iduma | Read more | Licence this image.

Why choose to take a photograph of an enfilade of archways? If the path leads anywhere the picture says little of what’s on the other end. Only that, without doubt, this pathway was built to allow passage. Hence it is at once a picture of the state of these archways as it is of a time now past. What might it seem like, then, to come to terms with the knowledge held in those cracks and blotches—to see through the multitude of feet for whom, as they approached this threshold, an elsewhere was possible? Photograph by Christopher Littlewood. Text by Emmanuel Iduma | Read more >> Licence this image.

The box-shaped tent catches my eye. Placed close to the edge of the frame, it is a human-owned insertion in the otherwise pastel-coloured expanse of sand and ocean. It is also, arguably, the element that gives the photograph a fissure of narrative. With what fondness or fatigue does the tent dweller stare at the confluence of dune and water? How often has the tent been moved only to be returned to a similar spot? The view, otherwise, is placid, which is not to say the photograph is mute. Photograph by Yassine El Attar. Text by Emmanuel Iduma | Read more >> Licence this image.

The woman, draped with an apron, holds a chopping board and busies with her unseen arm. Three pots are set behind her, only one of which is placed against firewood-fueled fire. That the board dangles between her fingers indicates the general fitfulness of her tasks, or perhaps the alert dexterity required for such an enterprise as hers. The array of those pots are equally a clue: each is kept at the ready, only a moment from being in use. There’s also an unmissable hint of transience. Smoke blankets the scene, seeming more audacious than the fire, as audacious in its gusts as the scattering of beclouded people seeking food. Photograph by Sauda Dhlabo. Text by Emmanuel Iduma | Read more >> Licence this image.

The camera does not see as the human eye sees. This fact is so uncomplicated its truth is worth rediscovering, at least in the case of this photograph. I know it is the picture of a face, but I also know it is not a face as it was at the time of being pictured. This is equally an obvious distinction to make. What I mean to say—why it has seemed important for me to restate these two foundational notions—is this: to the camera and photographer, a face is a kind of proposition. Photograph by Adetutu Adediran. Text by Emmanuel Iduma | Read more >> Licence this image.

Nothing is shown of the light source, even if it is clear that the young man’s face is angled just so his face is neither entirely obscured nor fully lit. The obvious details of the young man’s face—a pursed mouth, curved chin, the cropped hair—seem to indicate a cluster of features selected from a large possible number. Skin can reflect light, but also refracts it. This photograph makes that assertion true and promising, as though it is possible to test for luminosity on dark skin. Photograph by Adedolapo Boluwatife. Text by Emmanuel Iduma | Read more >> Licence this image.

The moment is sincere. In a sense the pendant against her chest gives off a glow. There is an intimation of a worship both wordless and private. Her fingers seem to hover on the keys, patient with song and elegy. We know not to disturb her, to watch her in a hush, and can only hope to imitate her serenity. Photograph by Thero Makepe. Text by Emmanuel Iduma | Read more >> Licence this image.

The uniformed boys are inclined towards the camera in varying degrees—the rightmost boy holds his face in outline, the leftmost boy has turned so directly he squints. The severeness in their faces is hard to miss. A pen rests on the ledge, holding an undisturbed sheet of paper in place. Who among us has not known a teenager whose mood wavers like a flicker of naked fire? Photograph by Neo Baepi. Text by Emmanuel Iduma | Read more >> Licence this image.

Loosely arranged in a semi-circle, the three boys form a chorus of royal blue jerseys, black joggers, and rubber slippers. Their laughter syncs with their steps and propels them forward. Shadows nestled tightly under them. The backdrop of mountains and valleys enclose them, doubling as an arena for their mischief. No other figure appears in the image. The boys are accompanied by a motorbike and a building peering just behind them. The most piercing note is their unbound laughter. Photograph by Abderrahmane Ajja. Text by Haja Fanta | Read more >> Licence this image.

It is the farthest person in view whose face is shown, and it is also he who is most readied for action. There are three others who seem most likely to be his companions, including the shirtless, gloved individual who stands with one hand on his waist. His angled body covers most of the frame, perhaps since his gesture is most indicative of a momentary stall in the street-wide game. The other men, one who stands beside a motorcyle and the other who points towards the sequence of houses, are as consequential in the picture as the ball held underfoot. Little tokens of transience. Photograph by Francis Ogunyemi. Text by Emmanuel Iduma | Read more >> Licence this image.

“As far as the eye can see.” I say this to acknowledge a limitation of perspective. Yet I also mean I am comfortable with the extent of the frame, that my eye can accept the givenness of a place. This is not an idea that might sit well with golfers. They want both to contain and transcend a space, to go farther than their eyes can readily see. Or perhaps I read the game as a novice. The player’s strike is more intent on precision than covering a distance. Notice, then, the collective pause in the air, the children who sit still. The boy swings at a ball of fortune. Photograph by Ollie Walker. Text by Emmanuel Iduma | Read more >> Licence this image.

The herd is grazing, the boy is standing. He rests his hands on a slender stick, which seems to give more authority than balance. He is dressed to stake a claim on confidence, on maturity: a wide-brimmed hat, the outline of a red wool cap, two layers of shirts, oversized plastic boots. The landscape is flat—well, not flat exactly, as he’s standing on a raised strip of farmland, on stalks leftover from a recent harvest. Behind him, there is a wide lowland rich in possibilities for his cattle, a route mapped by stories passed to him by his father. A boy with small eyes peering into the quiet of an encounter; his sepia-toned portrait asks the hurried question of what other futures are available to him. Photograph by Rachel Seidu. Text by Emmanuel Iduma | Read more >> Licence this image.

Two figures sit on monobloc chairs which dot the beach at the right edge of the photograph. Two pairs of shoes, presumably theirs, nestle in the sand by their feet. A marabou stork leans forward into the sand, its wings outspread and beak partially open, in front of the first of three evenly spaced palms, which stand unusually close to the water. The composition of these elements create conflicts of depth and scale, shifts which are balanced by the water and the beach that spread out on a near-perpendicular plane to them. Along this line, by the two palms near the background, children emerge from the shadows; behind them, the outlines of another marabou stork and yet other individuals appear alongside a short flight of black-and-white stairs. Everything seems to be halfway in the light, and halfway outside it. Photograph by Neema Ngelime. Text by M K Angwenyi | Read more >> Licence this image.

Between the rise of the hill and the slant of branches, a tendering of skyscrapers appears. Beyond this view of moneyed city life is a quayside, a shoreline, and then the grey sea. Close to the edge of the hill is a dome-like building, almost seeming castaway due to its slight presence. These elements coexist in a single plane, as though taking them all in a glance is an accurate measure of scope. Photograph by Catherine Li. Text by Emmanuel Iduma | Read more >> Licence this image.

Observe the fold of her hands. Note how she has chosen to cover her eyes, to enfold herself in a dimness required for sleep. The other hand rests across her midriff, as slight in its possessive gesture as the careful manner she places her elbow on those flip-flops. Little can be made of the background—the depth of field ensures that—just as the lengthwise framing of the concrete slab clarifies what kind of portrait this is: a figure seen during the course of daylight, in the beauty of her repose. Photograph by Jean Luc Andrianasolo. Text by Emmanuel Iduma | Read more >> Licence this image.

It is the farthest person in view whose face is shown, and it is also he who is most readied for action. There are three others who seem most likely to be his companions, including the shirtless, gloved individual who stands with one hand on his waist. His angled body covers most of the frame, perhaps since his gesture is most indicative of a momentary stall in the street-wide game. The other men, one who stands beside a motorcyle and the other who points towards the sequence of houses, are as consequential in the picture as the ball held underfoot. Little tokens of transience. Photograph by Omoregie Osakpolor. Text by Emmanuel Iduma | Read more >> Licence this image.