Yaw Afrim Gyebi, street photographer based in Accra, Ghana

My name is Yaw Afrim Gyebi, YAG (abbr.), a Ghanaian self-taught visual storyteller and filmmaker dedicated to telling stories that matter. I was born and raised in Kumasi, Ghana, my work revolves around climate change, culture, migration, and the human condition, with a specialisation in Documentary, Portraits, and street photography, all with a lens deeply rooted in social justice.

I shine light on overlooked communities and marginalised voices, particularly women, children, and urban communities, creating visuals that both preserve memory and provoke thought.

I did not grow up dreaming of being an "artist." I picked up a camera because stories around me were being silenced, and I could not stand by. Photography gave me purpose when I needed it most. It became my ministry, my voice, and my way of saying to the world: do not look away.

Over the years, my work has grown into long-term documentary projects that speak to human dignity, cultural memory, and social justice: the elderly, the underserved, the displaced.

My photography has reached global platforms, but the accurate measure of my work is not in accolades, it is when someone I've photographed sees themselves in my frame and feels human again. I stand as a self-taught documentary visual storyteller rooted in faith, shaped by struggle, and committed to using my lens as a bridge between the marginalised and the powerful.

How would you describe yourself in a few sentences?

I'm a visual storyteller with a heart for social justice, documenting humanity through an empathetic and intentional lens. I'm deeply curious, drawn to stories that live in overlooked corners, and driven to use photography as a tool for advocacy and change.

A fun fact? Before picking up a camera, I founded an NGO to support marginalised communities during COVID-19, proving that my calling to serve people came long before my shutter clicks.

How did you first become interested in photography?

I discovered my passion for photography in 2019 while living in a mission house in Kumasi. At the time, I was working closely with underserved communities through my NGO, and I began photographing their realities to amplify their stories. The camera became my voice, a way to reach beyond the immediate space and speak to the world.

What type(s) of photography do you specialise in, and why did you choose this niche? How has your style evolved?

I specialise in documentary, portrait, and street photography. I chose these because they allow me to blend observation with intimacy, capturing both the quiet truths and the loud realities of human life.

Over time, my style has evolved from simple documentation to intentional storytelling, where every frame is layered with emotion, history, and purpose.

Can you share the underlying themes or ideas that drive your photography?

My work is driven by themes of resilience, dignity, culture, and the impact of climate change on human life. I aim to make the unseen visible, and the unheard impossible to ignore. I connect with others by first connecting with my subjects, soul-to-soul, listening, engaging, and respecting their stories, so that my images speak truth with authenticity and empathy.

What's the one achievement or moment in your photography career that you're most proud of? Whether it's a personal milestone, a published project, an exhibition, or a meaningful client experience.

One of my proudest moments, aside from gaining international recognition through exhibitions and publications, is the relationships I've built with my subjects; bonds that often grow far beyond the camera. In 2021, I photographed a 98-year-old man, Mr. Viala (of blessed memory).

From that day until his passing in 2024, he never stopped calling to check up on me. What began as a simple portrait session turned into a beautiful friendship, reminding me that photography is not just about creating images, but about making human connections.

I've had similar experiences with other subjects, children who now see me as an older brother, market women who call me "son," and migrants who have shared their stories with me as if I were family.

What's the biggest challenge you've faced as a photographer, and how did you overcome it? What did you learn from that experience?

The biggest challenge has been gaining trust in communities unfamiliar with or sceptical about photography. I overcame this by slowing down, building relationships before taking any photographs, and often putting the camera down to engage with my subjects truly. It taught me that trust is the actual currency of meaningful storytelling.

If you could collaborate with anyone, who would it be and why?

I would love to collaborate with Nigerian documentary photographer Yagazie Emezi. Her bold storytelling and commitment to representing African narratives with depth and complexity align closely with my own mission.

What are your thoughts on the 54Ruum platform?

It's a powerful and much-needed space that celebrates African photographers and their diverse stories. It gives visibility to local narratives that might otherwise be overlooked, and builds a sense of creative solidarity.

How's the photography and art scene in your country? How has it evolved in recent years?

Ghana's creative ecosystem has experienced a surge in energy and innovation over the past few years. Across Accra and even into Tamale, Ghana's photographers and artists are no longer just documenting stories; they're actively shaping the cultural narrative and redefining what it means for the continent to express itself visually.

Take the Dikan Centre in Accra, for example: a photography library, studio, workshop space, and exhibition gallery all rolled into one by Paul Ninson. Since opening in 2022, it has provided aspiring image-makers with their own go-to space for learning, inspiration, and artistic dialogue.

The art scene is also bolstered by trailblazers like Ibrahim Mahama, who launched the Savannah Centre for Contemporary Art, Red Clay, and Nkrumah Voli-Ni in Tamale. These institutions aren't just galleries, they're inclusive spaces for education, community development, and artist residencies operating beyond Accra's limitations.

In Accra, momentum remains strong with key venues like Gallery 1957, Artemartis, Nubuke Foundation, Artists Alliance Gallery, and dot.ateliers, all nurturing local and global visibility for Ghanaian visual storytelling.

Photographers support each other, too. Nuku Studio in Tamale, for instance, offers community-driven exhibitions and festivals, such as the Nuku Photo Festival, an intentional blend of research, advocacy, and art-making.

On the public-facing side, festivals such as Chale Wote in Accra and Tsadidi in Keta have transformed urban spaces into living canvases, pushing art into the streets and letting local voices flourish.

International recognition is another strong signal. Ghanaian artists are being featured in global exhibitions, with photographers and creatives challenging stereotypes and claiming space in luxury fashion photography and fine-art circuits.

If you could give one piece of advice to someone just starting their photography journey, what would it be?

Don't chase perfection, chase truth. The most powerful images aren't the most technically perfect, but the ones that carry genuine emotion and authenticity.