march - april 2016; december 2017 - january 2018
32°N 6°W
i actually visited Morocco twice - once in the spring of 2016, then i went back in the winter of 2017. to some degree, i’ve enjoyed the trips and both have unquestionably been outstanding opportunities for artistic growth. Morocco was a world unexplored for me; realistically speaking, i’d only just started out my adult life and had not done much traveling outside of conventional “map in hand” tourism. Morocco, in a way, was the first authentic exploratory experience i was undergoing.
the first trip was particularly ambitious, as it aimed to cover a good chunk of all the attractions the country had to offer: the itinerary included everything from the shores of the Atlantic to the very edge of the Sahara desert. it was meant to be the definitive, all-encompassing North African experience. although slightly rushed (we had underestimated the distance we were going to cover), the trip definitely lived up to my expectations. listening to Sleep’s iconic Dopesmoker (a self-indulgent, yet very impressive record) at sunset atop Erg Chebbi, the famous dune on the very edge of the Sahara desert, is still a moment i regard as one of the highs of my life.
my second outing to Morocco would be more urban, focusing less on the natural beauties of the North African country and more on the everyday life of Moroccans. new year’s eve in Marrakech was not particularly exciting. in fact, it did not seem to be much of a big deal at all for the locals and we had failed to make arrangements in advance, but even when faced with the possibility of an underwhelming night, fate had a trick up its sleeve. we spent the final minutes of the year waltzing with a family of Austrians, having wine (a moderately inaccessible commodity in Morocco) atop a riad in one of North Africa’s most historically charged cities.
on both occasions i went home with way too much material. my modus operandi at the time was significantly different to the way i approach travel photography nowadays - i certainly had a much narrower repertoire of photographic tricks (i’m not confident enough in their efficacy to call them “techniques''; in my world, no amount of visual tricks will make an uninteresting subject interesting) and my choice of travel mates had always served to hamstring my photographic endeavours. this is not to say that fellow travellers had actively acted in opposition to me taking photos. instead, it would have been an incessant feeling of responsibility for the success of the trip which would distract me from carrying out my business. nonetheless, i had trained myself to photograph anything that appeared interesting without thinking too much about its inherent value or potential visual message. it was kind of a brute force approach to documenting a trip: no discernible goal and the aesthetic attributes of a set would be dictated by the environment or the cameras and lenses i would employ. for the budding photographer, i see this as a perfectly valid approach, but it certainly doesn’t do anyone favours in the editing room. it… definitely didn’t do me.
in my experience, Morocco spoon-feeds you everything you need for an attractive set of photographs. i’d argue that one could fault no photographer for just snapping away - Morocco is the perfect training ground for any cameraperson. it’s easily approached, it opens up to anyone and delivers on any occasion. the everyday reality of Moroccans is fairly accessible too - perhaps the best shot of my first trip was taken by the docks of Essaouira, where not many tourists will be caught walking about. things could potentially become anxiety-inducing too - the person i travelled with during my first trip had to learn that exquisite Western fashion sense would often be rewarded with unwanted attention, especially from daring young men.
like numerous things from that time of my life, the joy and wonder surrounding the two trips are dampened by a feeling of longing and sadness. i shall never regret choosing to travel in the company of whom i did, yet i feel like things could have panned out differently. i shall never forget my first encounter with Morocco, right when i set foot in Essaouira - the moody weather the Atlantic had sent over, with humid gusts of salt-filled wind; the patches of scorching desert sunlight piercing through the low-hanging clouds; the sounds of the street projecting up to the roof of our riad. in Essaouira i would learn that “doing things right” or “having faith” were rarely enough to keep any situation under control or have things progress in a desirable direction. in Essaouira i would learn that the illusion of control is just that - a mirage. in Morocco i would learn that i had no business playing mature or pretending to be someone else’s source of support. however, i would also learn that no matter the circumstances, i would keep on pressing that shutter button. no matter what.
march - april 2016; december 2017 - january 2018
32°N 6°W
i actually visited Morocco twice - once in the spring of 2016, then i went back in the winter of 2017. to some degree, i’ve enjoyed the trips and both have unquestionably been outstanding opportunities for artistic growth. Morocco was a world unexplored for me; realistically speaking, i’d only just started out my adult life and had not done much traveling outside of conventional “map in hand” tourism. Morocco, in a way, was the first authentic exploratory experience i was undergoing.
the first trip was particularly ambitious, as it aimed to cover a good chunk of all the attractions the country had to offer: the itinerary included everything from the shores of the Atlantic to the very edge of the Sahara desert. it was meant to be the definitive, all-encompassing North African experience. although slightly rushed (we had underestimated the distance we were going to cover), the trip definitely lived up to my expectations. listening to Sleep’s iconic Dopesmoker (a self-indulgent, yet very impressive record) at sunset atop Erg Chebbi, the famous dune on the very edge of the Sahara desert, is still a moment i regard as one of the highs of my life.
my second outing to Morocco would be more urban, focusing less on the natural beauties of the North African country and more on the everyday life of Moroccans. new year’s eve in Marrakech was not particularly exciting. in fact, it did not seem to be much of a big deal at all for the locals and we had failed to make arrangements in advance, but even when faced with the possibility of an underwhelming night, fate had a trick up its sleeve. we spent the final minutes of the year waltzing with a family of Austrians, having wine (a moderately inaccessible commodity in Morocco) atop a riad in one of North Africa’s most historically charged cities.
on both occasions i went home with way too much material. my modus operandi at the time was significantly different to the way i approach travel photography nowadays - i certainly had a much narrower repertoire of photographic tricks (i’m not confident enough in their efficacy to call them “techniques''; in my world, no amount of visual tricks will make an uninteresting subject interesting) and my choice of travel mates had always served to hamstring my photographic endeavours. this is not to say that fellow travellers had actively acted in opposition to me taking photos. instead, it would have been an incessant feeling of responsibility for the success of the trip which would distract me from carrying out my business. nonetheless, i had trained myself to photograph anything that appeared interesting without thinking too much about its inherent value or potential visual message. it was kind of a brute force approach to documenting a trip: no discernible goal and the aesthetic attributes of a set would be dictated by the environment or the cameras and lenses i would employ. for the budding photographer, i see this as a perfectly valid approach, but it certainly doesn’t do anyone favours in the editing room. it… definitely didn’t do me.
in my experience, Morocco spoon-feeds you everything you need for an attractive set of photographs. i’d argue that one could fault no photographer for just snapping away - Morocco is the perfect training ground for any cameraperson. it’s easily approached, it opens up to anyone and delivers on any occasion. the everyday reality of Moroccans is fairly accessible too - perhaps the best shot of my first trip was taken by the docks of Essaouira, where not many tourists will be caught walking about. things could potentially become anxiety-inducing too - the person i travelled with during my first trip had to learn that exquisite Western fashion sense would often be rewarded with unwanted attention, especially from daring young men.
like numerous things from that time of my life, the joy and wonder surrounding the two trips are dampened by a feeling of longing and sadness. i shall never regret choosing to travel in the company of whom i did, yet i feel like things could have panned out differently. i shall never forget my first encounter with Morocco, right when i set foot in Essaouira - the moody weather the Atlantic had sent over, with humid gusts of salt-filled wind; the patches of scorching desert sunlight piercing through the low-hanging clouds; the sounds of the street projecting up to the roof of our riad. in Essaouira i would learn that “doing things right” or “having faith” were rarely enough to keep any situation under control or have things progress in a desirable direction. in Essaouira i would learn that the illusion of control is just that - a mirage. in Morocco i would learn that i had no business playing mature or pretending to be someone else’s source of support. however, i would also learn that no matter the circumstances, i would keep on pressing that shutter button. no matter what.
