015: Bearing Witness on Buford Highway: A Black Photographer’s Reflection

Bearing Witness on Buford Highway: A Black Photographer’s Reflection

Some moments in history demand to be seen, to be held, to be remembered. This past weekend, I found myself on Buford Highway, camera in hand, drawn not by obligation but by something deeper, an unshakable need to document a piece of the world as it unfolded before me.

On Saturday, February 1, 2025, more than a thousand people gathered near Plaza Fiesta, their voices rising in unison against recent ICE raids that had swept through metro Atlanta. They marched, not just for themselves, but for families, for futures, for the right to simply exist without fear. And as they moved, I moved with them, witnessing, listening, framing moments in time. (WABE)

Though I was born and raised in Decatur, Buford Highway is just as much a part of me. My grandparents lived directly across the street from Plaza Fiesta, a landmark I’ve known longer than I’ve known the weight of a camera in my hands. I went to elementary school on this side of town, walked the halls of Chamblee High, split my time between these streets and the ones back home. To document this moment here, in a place woven into my own story, felt like a full-circle moment—like honoring a history I know in my bones.

As a Black man with a camera, I understand the weight of seeing. Of recording. Of making sure stories, especially the ones that might otherwise be overlooked, are told with honesty, dignity, and truth. This is a responsibility I carry with intention, knowing I follow in the footsteps of the great Black documentary photographers who came before me.

Eli Reed, whose work has always balanced raw reality with an undeniable grace.
Gordon Parks, who showed us that a camera is not just a tool, but a weapon against injustice.
R.C. Hickman, who captured the quiet resilience of Black life in the South.
Keith Calhoun and Chandra McCormick, whose images have given voice to the unseen laborers, musicians, and incarcerated souls of New Orleans.
Robert H. McNeill, who preserved the depth of Black life in Washington, D.C., during a time of rapid change.

Their images did more than document history. They demanded that history be felt. I think about that every time I lift my camera, how each frame holds not just what I see, but what I feel, what I understand, what I refuse to let slip away.

When I left the darkroom earlier that day, my hands still smelled of fixer and developer, the last remnants of another body of work coming to life. But this, here on Buford Highway, was a new moment waiting to be held. And so I raised my camera once again.

For those interested in the process, the craft, and the journey of being a documentary photographer, I invite you to read my recent post, "Emerging from the Darkroom: A Photographer’s Journey".

Because in the end, it all comes back to the same thing, the act of seeing, of remembering, of refusing to let stories fade. And this? This was a story that deserved to be told.

009: Notes From Documenting Atlanta on Film for 4 Days During Christmas

What I Learned Documenting Atlanta on Film for 4 Days

Four days, ten rolls of Kodak Tri-X 400, and a whole lot of lessons. This past week, I set out to document Atlanta on film, and let me tell you, not every frame was a winner. Honestly, I’m not even sure how many of the shots will end up being great—or even up to my standards. But that’s not the point. It’s about the reps, getting outside, and documenting the city I love. Here’s what the experience taught me about myself, my process, and Atlanta.

1. The City Always Has a Story to Tell

Atlanta is never boring. On Day 1, I hit the streets downtown the day after Christmas, and it was alive with energy. Tourists were snapping pics, locals were rushing somewhere, and the Olympic rings area felt like the heartbeat of a big city during the holidays. The challenge wasn’t finding something to photograph—it was deciding what to focus on. Atlanta always has something to say if you’re paying attention.

2. Slowing Down Can Be Just as Powerful

Day 2 was slower. I spent most of the day with my wife, and we made a stop at the High Museum. I barely picked up the camera, making just one frame before we went inside. But it didn’t feel like a wasted day. Seeing exhibitions by Kelli Connell, Gordon Parks, and Jamel Shabazz reminded me that photography isn’t just about the images you make—it’s also about the inspiration you soak in along the way. Sometimes, slowing down can give you exactly what you need.

3. Community Makes the Work Richer

Day 3 was all about the homies. Dre, Brandon, and I hit downtown, and it was like a mini workshop. We traded ideas, pushed each other to keep going, and got those reps in. Even if some of the images don’t turn out, the experience of being out there with friends made it worth it. Photography doesn’t always have to be a solo thing—community makes the work richer.

4. Film Developing Is the Ultimate Reset

By Day 4, I didn’t make many new photos, but I spent the evening developing film at home. That’s where everything comes full circle for me. It’s like pressing a reset button. I don’t know what’s on those rolls yet, but the process of developing, seeing what worked (and what didn’t), and holding those negatives in my hand reminds me why I love this craft. It’s humbling and exciting all at once.

5. Film Forces You to Be Intentional

Shooting film means every frame costs you; time, money, effort. You can’t just spray and pray like with digital. And even though I shot ten rolls this week, I know most of those photos won’t make the cut. That’s fine. It’s about the process, the reps, and showing up for the work. Film forces you to think, to see, and to commit. And that’s what makes it special.

Check out my full blog post about 4 Days of Film Photography in Atlanta.

This four-day challenge wasn’t about perfection. It was about getting out there, staying consistent, and reconnecting with the city. Every frame might not be a masterpiece, but every frame taught me something. Atlanta has a way of reminding you why you fell in love with photography in the first place. For me, it’s about the journey, the reps, and always keeping an eye on what’s next. And that’s something I’ll never stop chasing.