Amen I, Accra, Ghana, 2022.A young man bows over an open book with his palms pressed flat together, fingertips at his lips, his eyes closed.
Amen II, Accra, Ghana, 2022.Amen II, Accra, Ghana, 2022 captures an intimate moment of spiritual reflection through Carlos Idun-Tawiah's distinctive vernacular photography style.
Daddy's Polaroid, Accra, Ghana, 2022.A room in Accra, and two people who have agreed to be looked at.
Don't Say Cheese, Accra, Ghana, 2022.A group portrait usually asks for the smile, that small contraction held just long enough for the shutter.
Grace Flows Like a River Accra, Ghana, 2022.A photograph is first a description and only afterward a statement, and this one rewards the distinction.
Home Sweet Home, Accra, Ghana, 2022.In Carlos Idun-Tawiah's photograph from his Sunday special series, home transcends its physical walls.
Joy Comes in the Morning, Accra, Ghana, 2022.Chalk and wool, first of all. The wall behind him is whitewashed and scuffed to the grey of old plaster, and against it the suit reads as a single soft expanse of grey flannel, too large by years…
Let the Little Children Come to Me, Accra, Ghana, 2022.A hand has found the edge of the great wooden door and is pushing it open.
Like Father, Like Son, Accra, Ghana, 2022.A courtyard in Accra, sunlit and softly decaying, becomes a stage for the small labour of becoming presentable.
Many Reasons to Live Again, Accra, Ghana, 2022.This photograph is part of a broader effort in my practice to use fiction as a way of returning to the past, and confronting erasure in both the archive and our own memories.
Mr Bilson, Play On, Accra, Ghana, 2022.Seen from above and a little behind: a young man at the console of a pipe organ.
My House, My Rules, Accra, Ghana, 2022.A whitewashed colonnade in Accra, three pillars carrying a long band of shade, and beyond them a doorway opening onto a patterned dark.
Oh Grace, Accra, Ghana, 2022.She does not face us, and that is the first kindness of the picture.
One Thousand Hallelujahs, One Thousand More, Accra, Ghana, 2022.A stone chapel, a stained-glass window, a chandelier hanging low over everything.
The Family Photograph I, Accra, Ghana, 2022.The stone comes first. Two pointed arches rise over the doorway, each one filled with dark wood, and the rough-coursed masonry around them holds an even, overcast light, the kind that flatters…
The Family Photograph II, Accra, Ghana, 2022.The grammar here is the grammar of the studio backdrop, only the studio has been turned inside out.
The Good Book, Accra, Ghana, 2022.What he keeps from us is the book itself.
The Gospel, Accra, Ghana, 2022.A young preacher throws one arm to the heavens, mouth open mid-cry, an open Bible beneath his hand and the stone arches of the church rising into shadow behind him.
Till Death Do Us Part (Diptych), Accra, Ghana, 2022.In two frames the same courtyard appears twice, and the difference between them is the whole subject.
Your Cup of Tea, Accra, Ghana, 2022.She is the one being served, yet her own hand rests on the silver pot, mid-pour into a single white cup at the table's lip — the gesture that organizes the whole picture.
Brothers Fight, Accra, Ghana, 2023.To photograph a fighter at rest is to photograph the cost of the thing we came to watch.
Can we Take the Long Way Home? II, Accra, Ghana, 2023.A low red wall crosses the picture like a stave, and the boys are placed against it like notes.
Can we Take the Long Way Home?, Accra, Ghana, 2023.A white soccer ball hangs against the chalky façade, exactly at the apex of its arc, and the whole frame is built to hold it there.
Fight Night, Accra, Ghana, 2023.Carlos Idun-Tawiah’s photograph from the series “Boys Will Be Boys: Fight Night, Accra, Ghana, 2023” vibrates with raw immediacy and nostalgia, immersing viewers in the pulse of youth.
Greener Pastures, Bluer Oceans, Accra, Ghana, 2023.Four young men gather on a tiled terrace above a harbour, the sea behind them crowded with the slim wooden fishing boats of the Ghanaian coast, dozens riding at anchor toward a grey breakwater and…
Taya Man no be Lazy Man, Accra, Ghana, 2023.A yellow pencil is clamped between one boy's teeth, freeing both his hands for the open textbook on his lap.
The Barbershop, Accra, Ghana, 2023.The boy in the chair gives us the full weight of his gaze — the steadiest thing in the room.
What Are Brothers For?, Accra, Ghana, 2023.In Accra’s unmistakable sunlight, Carlos Idun-Tawiah seizes a moment that balances innocence and strength.
9th March, Accra, Ghana, 2024.The figure is not in the room. What stands against the flowered wallpaper, hand cocked on one hip, is only the shadow a child throws—a silhouette pressed flat among the framed portraits, the small…
A Song to Build A Dream On, Saint Louis, Senegal, 2024.The sea is a thin bright line behind a dark stone wall, and against it two young people make a music the photograph cannot hold but insists we somehow hear.
Alone, Not Lonely, Saint Louis, Senegal, 2024.A young man skips rope alone on a concrete slab at the edge of the sea, his back to us, caught at the very top of a jump.
An Apple A Day, Accra, Ghana, 2024.Nothing in this room was found; everything was placed.
Are We There Yet, Saint Louis, Senegal, 2024.The boy in the foreground is pure silhouette, back to us, a basketball hoisted overhead in both hands as though he means to hurl it at the sky.
Better Left Unsaid, Accra, Ghana, 2024.Notice the hand. The man's right arm is slung along the window rail, wrist loose, and a plain gold band catches the only hard light in the frame.
Between Earth and Sky, Saint Louis, Senegal, 2024.A girl on a plank swing, both hands up on the ropes, laughing so hard that her whole face has given way to it.
Between Stations, Accra, Ghana, 2024.A man in a grey pinstripe suit has fallen asleep sitting upright in a railway carriage.
Blue, Accra, Ghana, 2024.Everything in Blue is built around a refusal to let the two windows speak to each other directly.
Broken Bread, Accra, Ghana, 2024.A man and a small boy sit across a lace-covered table, both in their best dark suits, sharing tea and bread in the flat morning light of a Ghanaian room.
Christmas Shoes, Accra, Ghana, 2024.A child's bedroom in black and white, with floral wallpaper covering every inch of the wall behind.
Dance with my Father, Accra, Ghana, 2024.The photograph captures a luminous moment of intergenerational connection set against the vivid blue wall of an Accra compound.
Day One, Accra, Ghana, 2024.A concrete yard with a wall painted end to end in murals.
Down the Street, Saint Louis, Senegal, 2024.What one notices first, in black and white, is the tailoring.
Dreams from my Father, Accra, Ghana, 2024.A young man in a brown corduroy jacket stands in an open lot holding a child against his chest.
Father and Griot, Accra, Ghana, 2024.The boy's gingham shirt is the loudest thing in the room — a small red music against the honeyed gloom — and yet he has gone quiet, his chin tipped down toward the open book balanced across his…
Generations, (Triptych), Accra, Ghana, 2024.Read left to right, the triptych stages a family across time using a single vocabulary of props: a carved wooden armchair, textured wallpaper, a pair of boxing gloves hung high on the wall, a framed…
Have I Ever Sold You A Dream, Saint Louis, Senegal, 2024.In a dim bar, a young woman and a young man sit close at the corner of a table.
Hold Me Close, Accra, Ghana, 2024.The wind seems to carry them forward, two bodies moving as one, the bicycle less a machine than a shared heartbeat.
Hotel du Palais, Saint Louis, Senegal, 2024.The decision that makes the picture is the turned back.
Ice-cream for Two, Please, Saint Louis, Senegal, 2024.Two young people share the simplest luxury — a cone apiece — in front of a candy-striped seaside stall, and Carlos Idun-Tawiah dresses the moment to the nines.
In the Field of Memory, Saint Louis, Senegal, 2024.Blue hour on a headland above the water, and the light has gone the colour of a bruise healing.
In The Hand Of The Father, Accra, Ghana, 2024.Idun-Tawiah photographs three people from behind, walking away down an institutional corridor toward a lit doorway and a hanging sign that reads RECEPTION, its yellow letters and red arrow the…
In the Moonlight, Accra, Ghana, 2024.It is the blue hour in Accra, and Idun-Tawiah has turned his figures into silhouettes.
Iron Fist, Accra, Ghana, 2024.From above, the boxing ring becomes a dark stage where a private myth is being written.
It is Written, Accra, Ghana, 2024.In the soft glow of intimate interior space, three figures converge around a shared text, their faces illuminated by the warm light that seems to emanate from the pages themselves.
Lost in her Charm, Saint Louis, Senegal, 2024.They are dancing, or rather he has just turned her, and she is caught pivoting on the ball of one foot, her white skirt swinging, her cream jacket bright against the terracotta wall behind them.
Love is a Picnic, Saint Louis, Senegal, 2024.Look at the lower right corner of the blanket: an instant camera lies face-up among the green bottles and the bowl of pineapple, switched off, waiting.
Lover's Shade, Saint Louis, Senegal, 2024.Everything here is seen through a filthy pane.
Making Melodies in My Heart, Accra, Ghana, 2024.Two harmonicas, one interior, a great deal of gold.
Morning Face, Accra, Ghana, 2024.Black and white, close in, the two of them shoulder to shoulder and mugging at us: a man with a full afro and mustache, grinning wide in a plaid flannel robe, beside him a boy in white towelling…
Mouthpiece, Accra, Ghana, 2024.What you notice first is the trumpet, a bright silver diagonal cutting across the warm green room, its bell flaring toward the window light.
My first Photograph, Accra, Ghana, 2024.Two hands cradle a small black camera, tilting it toward the window light of a bus, and a child in a tan cap leans in close enough to breathe on the lens.
My Only Ticket Home, Accra, Ghana, 2024.A wood-panelled room. A man in a pilot's white shirt with epaulettes kneels on one knee in front of a boy dressed in the same shirt with the same epaulettes, and lowers a peaked cap onto his head.
Nothing said on Purpose II, Saint Louis, Senegal, 2024.Idun-Tawiah crops the faces away entirely and lets cloth and skin and stone carry the whole photograph.
Once Upon A Younger Year, Accra, Ghana, 2024.The room is dark in the way rooms are dark before an eye adjusts, and then the light picks out what matters: a boy’s bare shoulder, the white of his singlet, the barber’s hands at work above him.
Our Little Drama, Saint Louis, Senegal, 2024.There is a particular kind of running that only children do, all arm and abandon, the body flung out after the feet, and here it is: a girl in a light dress tearing across an empty seafront road, one…
Own this Sound Forever, Accra, Ghana, 2024.A photograph cannot hold sound, and Carlos Idun-Tawiah knows it.
Right Wrong, Accra, Ghana, 2024.This photograph from Carlos Idun-Tawiah’s series Hero, Father, Friend turns a simple contradiction into a quietly powerful scene.
Round Of Applause, Accra, Ghana, 2024.There is a tradition of painters who turned away from the stage to study the faces watching it — Daumier in the loges, Renoir's theatre boxes, Hopper's lone usherette in the aisle's amber wedge.
The Grass is Greener Where my Father is, Accra, Ghana, 2024.A small wire basket of practice balls sits in the grass at the centre of the frame, and it is the giveaway.
The Lord’s Prayer, Accra, Ghana, 2024.Two men hold the lower corners of the frame like the weights at the bottom of a net, and between them the aisle runs back into a doorway of pure daylight.
The way You Wear Your Hat, Saint Louis, Senegal, 2024.By the water at Saint-Louis, at the flat grey hour near dusk, two couples occupy the same photograph without quite sharing it.
There are Diamonds in Colobane, Saint Louis, Senegal, 2024.Colobane is a name that carries freight, and the title knows it.
Until Soon, Saint Louis, Senegal, 2024.A woman leans far out over a balcony rail in Saint-Louis, one arm extended, palm open, a beaded bracelet at her wrist and a ring catching the sun.
White Belt, Accra, Ghana, 2024.Idun-Tawiah has built the picture as a pair, two panels of the same lesson side by side, and the doubling is the first thing the eye must reason with.