Entry 3: postcards from Tarkwa Bay
not just a record but something more evocative?
currently listening to Dreamflower by Tarika Blue.
One of my goals when I started this newsletter was to practice my writing as it relates to photography. How do I describe a photograph? What words do I use to narrate the stories being told in each image? I found myself getting caught up in the technicalities of my craft - the camera it was shot on, the editing software I worked in, the film used, etc. While that is important, I am learning that my practice needs to balance both process and intent. I started reading Dawoud Bey on Photographing People and Communities, which is part of a Photography Workshop series by Aperture, and a few questions he asks in the book forced me to examine my work while reframing the way I document the people around me, my community.
How [do] you point a camera at [them] and come away with a picture that’s not just a record but something more evocative?
How does my subjective viewpoint connect with the actual subject?
What is it I want to say about them? What do they want to say about themselves? How can I bring those two things together?
I want my photographs to contribute to the conversation and preservation of my community and identity in visual culture. I want them to hold space for stories about people who look like me. An archive of memories made, souls encountered, and places lived.
I have been revisiting some of my older photo series, essays, and documentary work. A trip I took two months ago to Tarkwa Bay, a sheltered beach located near the Lagos harbor in Nigeria, prompted this entry.
Man, Dog, Surfboard.
Day 1 on the beach, I took this photograph from the top of the Tarkwa Bay Surf Club. An hour and a boat ride away, I was still high off the excitement of this new experience, getting to help out a stranger turned friend I had met a few weeks ago after my move back.Â
6:40 p.m.
A man sits on a wooden bench, empty coconut shells littered around him, implying signs of a good time prior, as he stares ahead at the ocean. The graffitied surfboard that accompanies him on the bench lets me know that he belongs to said ocean. This and the fact that I watched him approach the shore moments after this photo was taken. I wonder if he designed or got to decide what his board looks like, the dancing skeleton illustrated on his bright yellow and blue companion. What does its other side look like? Are the clothes that lay to either side of the board his? The rubber slippers partially buried in sand beg the answer ‘no’, a similar pair already cradling his feet. I have always wondered what surfing feels like. The thrill. The unwavering trust in the ocean and its ability to support you. Fill you. Comfort you.
Bathed in Blue.
Right after sunset, I walked the shores of the beach. The sound of play and crashing waves rose as darkness fell, and I watched these three men interact. The nature of their relationship was unknown to me, but the camaraderie made my eyes linger. As the ship blew its horn and made its way across the water, I let the water run over my feet as I attempted to document this moment. Silhouettes with belly laughter emerging, bodies engulfed by the blue around them.
The Wave Experience.
The DJ stands by the wooden stage that, hours from now, will witness love songs, rap performances, and an enthusiastic MC. His deck is set up with promises of a great night as he loads his setlist. Yellow light bulbs are strung above the dance floor, the warm light setting the mood as the entertainers practice their sets for the party. Electrical wires lay entangled to his right, and a drum set glistened in the light to his left. As I swayed, my waist already married to the music, I forgot I was surrounded by people I had not met before. Maybe that made me more comfortable – not having to present a certain way because no one knew who I was. I felt light as I stood back at the top of the Surf Club looking down, the ocean in the distance as people quickly populated the dance floor.
A portrait of Rachel.Â
Rachel is an artist and storyteller. They are the sole reason I am on this adventure. I cannot remember the first time I came across their Instagram, but a few days after I moved back to Lagos, I saw a flyer for a screening of their experimental film and knew I had to be there. The tickets were all gone but I sent them a message, and a few days later, I stood at the doorstep (two hours early). It was refreshing to meet someone who simply and deeply loved the process of creating, the infinite stories one could tell, and the limitless ways it could be told. They are curious in a thrilling way. Free-spirit. I watched them lay on the shore, the waves first kissing toes, then hugging them in the way a blanket would. I thought about the sensory overload but also how peaceful it must have felt to be still and let nature comfort you, guard down - complete release. I looked at the quiet that lay on the sand in front of me because behind me stood bodies and bodies, moving and merging to the music. Two contrasting realities co-exist. Beautiful.
Madame T.
Our Lovely Host and co-founder of Tarkwa Bay Lifestyle
Thank you for making this trip possible and inviting me into your space— a space intentionally built to promote emotional and spiritual well-being, and foster a community for conscious minds. This photograph was taken at the steps of her cabin the morning of Day 2, our resting place on the first night. Bright smiles at 9 a.m., me setting up the camera equipment, and Rachel vetting the questions for the interview. When was the last time I was surrounded by this much green? I thanked myself multiple times for saying yes to this trip, for listening to my body and leaning into the excitement instead of letting anxiety rid me of this much-needed getaway.
[Side note: I don’t think I would go camping again without a ridiculous amount of bug spray.]
Thank you for reading! I am really enjoying writing these a lot more than I thought I would.
Till next time,
Daniella