🌈 Queer Identity & Influence
1. How does your queer identity inform your work as a photographer?
My queer identity has become a driving force in my creative journey and in my search to understand myself. Many of my personal photography projects started as a way to meet other queer people, to hear their stories and experiences, and in doing so, to see myself more clearly.
My queer identity is constantly evolving, every day I learn new things about who I am. Photography has allowed me to form deep connections with others, creating a space where I can explore these parts of myself in community. Through these connections, I not only document others’ lives but also mirror my own journey back to myself.
2. Are there particular themes in your photography that you feel resonate strongly with queer experiences or emotions?
I try to capture the reality of everyday queer lives, honest, intimate moments in passing that reveal someone’s essence. Along the way, I’ve met incredible queer people who have made me appreciate our community even more – how diverse, intersectional, inclusive, and beautiful we are.
Being queer isn’t just about being different. Yes, our experiences are unique and shaped by courage and resistance, but at the heart of it is a deep commitment to living authentically. It takes so much strength to be real when the world often pushes against us and yet we continue to show up, proud and true to ourselves.
This is what I wanted to convey in my projects Pride in Portraits and Queer Currents, the courage and joy of simply being. There’s so much more I want to explore, and I know these themes will continue to take shape as I grow.
3. Can you tell us about a shoot or project where you felt your queerness was especially present or celebrated?
When I was working on Pride in Portraits, I met so many of our queers of Manchester and got to know them deeply. Our shoots always began with conversations over coffee or a drink, I love to get to know people before I take photos. These conversations naturally drifted into intimate territory, where we shared parts of ourselves and our journeys with queerness.
Some of the people I photographed have become close friends to me, and through this project, I not only celebrated their identities but also felt affirmed in my own. It definitely was more than just a photography project for me, it honestly felt like a kind of pilgrimage, a journey within myself as much as it was an external exploration. I will always be grateful for that experience.
📸 Creative Process & Queer Representation
4. What draws you to certain subjects or aesthetics—do you consciously seek out queer narratives or do they find their way into your work naturally?
I think it’s a bit of both. In many of my projects, I consciously seek out queer narratives because they mirror parts of me and feel drawn to explore. At the same time, these narratives also find their way into my work naturally, they’re part of the world I inhabit and the community I’m part of.
I’ve been fortunate to know incredible people who have welcomed me into their spaces and allowed me to capture the essence of queer life. For example, when I did the backstage photos for Sol la Flair, which features beautiful queer performers and immersive shows, I was so excited to witness that raw, intimate space behind the curtains. It’s where the community comes together softly and loving, supporting and uplifting each other before stepping onto the stage. I felt grateful to see and capture these moments, which felt like poetry in motion, and I was simply there to listen with my lens.
5. How do you approach photographing queer bodies and identities in a way that feels affirming and authentic?
For me, photography is less about capturing and more about listening. Photography alone isn’t enough, it’s about building a relationship, having conversations, and I offer pieces of myself too, so that trust becomes a bridge.
I want my subjects to feel free to choose how they want to be seen and captured. My role is to hold space, to move with them rather than around them, and to create an environment where vulnerability feels like a gift rather than a risk, in this way the light flows naturally between us. Authenticity is not a look or a pose really, it is naturally there when someone feels truly safe and free to express themselves.
6. Do you feel there’s enough queer representation in photography today—and what would you like to see more of?
I would love to see more diversity in how queer lives are represented. We often see the masks we put on, the joy of parties and nights out, which are so important and beautiful in their own right. That joy is part of our resilience and our celebration of life.
But queerness is so much more than that and I feel there is still so much terrain unexplored. We are all multidimensional, our stories ripple out in so many different ways – stories of family, migration, loss, hope, and becoming. So I’d love to see more of these dimensions we carry, our authenticity, creative expression, everyday realities, and the deeply personal journeys that shape who we are, the unspoken legacies we carry.
There are so many stories still waiting to be told. I have many ideas I’d love to bring to life, and I know the creative process can take a lifetime to fully unfold, and I’m okay with that because that’s the beauty of it. It isn’t a linear journey, it’s expanding and flickering beyond the edges of what we think we know.
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🏳️🌈 Community & Collaboration
7. Have you collaborated with other queer artists or creators? What’s that collaborative energy like?
Up until now, much of my work has focused on personal projects, collaborating directly with the community to capture their stories and share them through my exhibitions. But I’ve also been nurturing new projects in their early stages, moving toward moving image work rather than stills. I’m excited to invite other queer creatives on board, to shape these new visions together and weave their voices into the work.
Beyond that, I’ve collaborated with collectives like Sol la Flair, an immersive theatre group, and Rojak, a club night celebrating queer people of colour. Working with these collectives has been a joy, the energy feels electric, tender and deeply supportive. Being in these spaces, surrounded by other queer creatives, feels like stepping into a living archive, a breathing, shimmering constellation of stories. It’s a privilege to support, uplift and document these moments through my lens while also building an archive of queer life in Manchester. It’s what I can contribute to the community so I am always here to support. It’s my love letter to our collective spirit, a way to honour how we hold and heal each other through our art and joy.
8. What role does the queer community play in your artistic journey or support system?
The queer community has always held me, supported me and celebrated me in ways that feel like coming home. I’ve been lucky to be part of a community that says come exactly as you are, and you truly feel that!
This sense of belonging has shaped not only my artistic practice but also my own journey of becoming. It has given me the courage to live more freely, to tell my story honestly, and to take creative risks that I might never have dared alone.
As a Kurdish first-generation migrant, it has been a struggle to come to terms with my identity and to accept myself, let alone how others perceive me. But these experiences make us who we are and shape the way I understand belonging and queerness. They taught me that identity is not a fixed destination but an ongoing journey, one that is always unfolding in relationship with others.
So for me queer community taught me that art is not just about the individual but about the collective pulse, the ways we lift and support each other. Especially now, with increasing attacks on trans rights and queer visibility, it feels more urgent than ever to stand together, to be seen and heard, and to keep creating. I want my work to say: We are here. We exist in all our complexities. We are worthy of being celebrated.
9. Is there a dream queer artist, activist, or figure you’d love to photograph?
Rather than focusing on a singular person, my dream is to keep creating spaces where queer people can be celebrated not only for their public achievements but for the quiet, everyday magic we bring and how we care for each other.
I want my photos to bring awareness to the struggles and triumphs that shape us, to make visible the beauty and strength that often live in the margins. In today’s political climate, it feels even more urgent to tell these stories, to stand as witness and celebrate every expression of queerness, every act of courage, every moment of connection.
If I had to imagine, I would love to photograph the activists, the fighters, the community caretakers, the chosen family gatherings, the people who hold the fabric of queer life together in ways that are not always recognised but are deeply felt. That is where I feel the truest magic lives.
🧠 Emotion, Intimacy & Storytelling
10. Your work often captures intimate or vulnerable moments—do you think queerness has shaped how you see or tell those stories?
Yes, absolutely. My queer identity is the compass guiding me deeper into understanding who I am and who we are as a collective. It’s about the lifelong journey of becoming, the constant unlayering, the gentle but radical act of sitting with discomfort so all parts of us can breathe.
I believe queerness teaches us to hold the good, the bad, the ugly, to move beyond love and light into something rawer, more real. It’s this authenticity that I seek in my images, such as the quiet moments before a performance, the connections, the softness that lives beneath the courage.
I am endlessly grateful for the trust people place in me. When someone lets me witness them in their truth, it feels like a sacred exchange. This is the joy I talk about, the kind that grows from sitting in vulnerability and emerging whole.
11. What feelings do you hope your queer audience experiences when they engage with your work?
I hope they feel the beautifully fleeting nature of our lives, the shimmering moments of joy, resilience and tenderness that often go unseen.
I want them to feel the colours, the light, the unfiltered realness that I try to capture in every face, every body, every glance. Like my projects Pride in Portraits and Queer Currents, I want my work to feel like an embrace, a reminder that we are worthy of being celebrated exactly as we are.
I want my audience to feel seen, to feel that their stories are not only valid but beautiful beyond measure. And for those who do not share these experiences, I hope my work can be an invitation to witness, to learn, to hold space for the softness and strength within queer lives, and to celebrate our shared humanity.
Vision & Future
12. What kind of queer stories do you still feel need to be told through visual art?
There is still so much unseen. We often witness the surface, the bright nights, the performance, the defiance, and of course these show our joy, they are important and powerful. But I want to see the stories of our everyday realities, the mundane, the struggles, the soft rituals of survival and becoming.
I want to explore the moments when we are most ourselves, not performing, but simply being. Stories of trans joy and trans rage, chosen family, our grief, our strength, and our morning coffee or matcha. And for me personally, if that means moving beyond still images into moving images, into film, into sound, then that’s where I will go. Art has no borders and it should mirror the many ways we live and love.
13. Where do you see your photography evolving in the future—any queer-centered projects or ideas you’re excited to explore?
There are so many ideas, so many seeds waiting to bloom. Right now, I feel called to bring in crafting, writing, filmmaking, and other formats that allow stories to breathe differently. I want to create spaces where queerness is celebrated in its fullness: where joy, pain, softness, and transformation all exist side by side.
I think it’s fair to say we all want queer voices to narrate their own stories, where visuals are accompanied by poetry and soundscapes that hold all our dimensions. In my creative process, there is no rush, creativity moves in cycles, like the moon, like the tides. For now, I’m happy slowly crafting, building skills, deepening connections, and continuing my own becoming. My search never stops and that, to me, is the most beautiful part.