“Last time I did an interview, it went so dark, and I sounded hopeless,” says photographer Evan Purdy from his home in east London. “Now, I’m conscious I don’t want to add to that hopelessness.” Currently studying Fine Art at Camberwell College of Art, there’s a lot to be pessimistic about – for students, a worsening political and financial climate has led to life on shoestring budgets and diminishing opportunities for creatives. After moving from his home in Manchester in 2020, Purdy immersed himself in London’s queer creative community, making photos that reflected a new generation grappling with a world shaped by the decisions of generations prior. His latest project, I Am Firstly Nothing, captures his gender non-conforming community in large format darkroom prints displayed at south London’s Dilston Gallery, with proceeds going to various LGBTQ+ charities.

There’s a particular unsanitised grit to Purdy’s portraits of youth; each subject is a friend, captured sensitively and authentically, donning their own clothes and striking powerful stances in soulful ownership of their respective identities. Bridging a gap between documentary and fashion photography, Purdy’s magnetic imagery pulls in viewers with a strange sense of desire, and comes loaded with a potent message of self-belief, acting as inspirational totems for people living outside the capital’s liberal bubble. Shooting on location on the streets of east London or in a squat, he eschews the clinical environments of studios in the hopes his subjects take the chains off and forget the lens, capturing an authentic version of the self, unpolished, and imbued with the spirituous emotion of a new generation.

With I Am Firstly Nothing opening on January 13, Evan Purdy sits down to speak about the images featured in his debut exhibition of handmade prints, with all proceeds from the sale of each image going to Papyrus UK, Akt, and Trans Fem Social (TFS).

“Photography is my way of talking to people my age who may be experiencing the same feelings I’m experiencing. I guess it’s a way of making myself feel less alien. I find the world really weird, in enjoyable ways, but also in really scary ways. One way that I can deal with that is by using photography to show people and make them think about how weird the world is, look at how strange the structures are, and look at what that does to the individual. Fear is what keeps these dominant structures alive. It’s a dangerous place we’re making. But on the flip side, I also want to show to people who are in my generation that by looking at these things – by really looking – you can show that when we try to work locally, when we look to our friends, our immediate groups and when we try and look at ourselves, we can make small positive changes.

“My biggest inspiration when I moved to London was the queer community. There wasn’t that big of a scene in Manchester among the young people; I found that people in London were exciting, and kind of brave. People were going to extremes of what they would wear, how they would style their hair, and the way they presented themselves – they knew themselves fully because they were able almost to play an infinite role of characters, knowing that it wouldn’t affect themselves. It didn’t matter how people saw them. 

“I think my practice is a bit more like a painter. I tend to create something in order to say something. Many photographers really fall in love with a way of shooting where they’ve got a camera attached to them all the time and are constantly looking for life to throw them something. Whereas I do it in reverse, I always look around for inspiration and ideas. I let that like sit within me, let it stew, and then try and purposefully like create something.

“When I’m about to do a big series, I need one shoot that ignites the process. For this, I started with Willow. I find them super inspiring because they’re always dressed in the most amazing way, but you can’t remember a single piece that they’re wearing – it’s always about a collection of rogue different pieces put together. I wanted the fashion to be a language of its own, and I think the language is most potent when you use real clothes – clothes people wear. There’s a strong social language with fashion. It’s illegal to be naked in public, so even if you like fashion or not, everyone is forced to communicate with fashion constantly.

“I normally hand-print everything. I realise it’s sad that people never get to actually see my hand-prints, they only get to see the scanned version, and a lot of people may have only ever seen my work on Instagram, which sucks because it’s such a terrible place. You’re on this landscape that is 30 per cent adverts; we don’t realise that we’re all constantly choosing to be with advertisements. Some of my prints are massive, 20 by 24 inches, all framed and handmade. I want people to slow down. Look at it, get close, and I think you get to see the truer picture.”

I Am Firstly, Nothing by Evan Purdy is on show at Dilston Gallery in London from 13 – 14 January. Proceeds from the sale of prints will be donated to Papyrus UK, Akt, and TFS.

It’s undeniable: this will be the African’s century. There’s an emerging “youthquake” on the continent; by 2050, one in three people aged 15-24 will be African. African youth are and will continue to shape global culture across the disciplines of fashion, music, and art. Shape, not just influence. That’s a key distinction. African culture – especially when it comes to the discipline of design – has been historically undervalued, mostly seen as something to reference or even appropriate but rarely attributed to or taken seriously on its own terms. Afrosport, the follow-up to Afrosurf – the first book to explore the untold history of surf culture in Africa – seeks to change that, using the realm of sport to “celebrate African design as self-possessed in its own right” beyond “Western expectations”.

Designed and edited by Mami Wata co-founder Peet Pienaar, Afrosport is extensive and encyclopedic in scope. It offers a fascinating survey of sport across the continent, from the flatland BMX scene in Ghana to ram fighting in Nigeria. The book features a roster of excellent contributors – including a forward by two-time NBA All-Star Joakim Noah – as well as a diverse array of visual and graphic material that spans 12 recipes and a photo comic. Highlights include a detailed map underscoring the complex array of languages and ethnic groups found on the continent and an intersecting timeline of major political, social, and sporting events throughout history.

On the book’s design,  Pienaar says “it needed to say sport and Africa”. “For me, design is always linked to something,” he adds. “Design is so important in sport. It comes from a very real place. European designers would say most of the things I talk about would be vernacular design. I wanted to deliberately walk away from that. In a European sense, people would say, ‘This is not design, this is not part of design, these people didn’t study design.’ And for me, that’s one of the main things that I want to break away [from] and make everyone who creates something, or becomes linked to design, a designer.” Afrosport highlights unsung figures in sports and design history, including Theodosia Okoh, the designer of Ghana’s iconic national flag who also happened to be a hockey player.

There’s a particular sensibility one finds in Africa, a DIY spirit that emerges out of necessity and an entrepreneurial mindset. Taking something and infusing it with something else in a way that shouldn’t work, or that you would never think of but somehow does. The commercialised, mass-market generality of say the Nike swoosh becomes filtered through hyper-specific local cultures and personal tastes. “There’s a visual play with Western symbols and information,” explains Pienaar. “It’s very poetic and intentional. But it’s completely going above the heads of Western design or Western visual culture.” Take Matatu culture in Nairobi, for example, which “involves aspects of graphic design, car culture, music, fashion, and performance.” The name derives from the emergence of privately-owned minibus taxis in the city. Drivers deck out their vans to stand out among their competitors; like the Arsenal shirt you wear, the matatu you ride signifies your “status, identity, and political affiliation”. 

Where does this innovation come from? In Afrosport, Sandy Alibo of Surf Ghana writes of a need “to astonish everyone”. In the world of African sports, this need for astonishment is plainly evident in diski, a style of football played in South Africa that’s not necessarily about scoring goals but rather how the player can intimidate or embarrass his opponents through performance. “People [got] bored with football, so they said let’s make it better, let’s make it cooler, let’s make it more interesting,” Pienaar elaborates. “And that for me is something that happens in music, design, and fashion. People really push the envelope to be seen but also because they’re a little bit bored of what they see.”

Despite the constant reinvention happening on the continent, African culture is subject to persistent tropes and misconceptions, one major one being an image of Africa that can only be found in the past. “When you talk about design in Africa, everyone thinks about traditional or rural designs,” Pienaar says. “There’s a massive disconnect. But culture is always alive. It always moves forward.” For contemporary African designers, that disconnect can be frustrating or alienating. “A lot of African designers don’t necessarily feel they can associate with very traditional design,” adds Pienaar. “It’s been centuries. It’s so old it doesn’t even connect with them anymore. Even if they’re part of that culture, they don’t feel they can work with that because it’s so back in time. It’s almost the same as people only being inspired by the Renaissance in Europe. You can’t just stop there.” Afrosport refreshingly challenges this notion, in both subject matter and design. 

“I think what people will realise from the book is the influence of Africa at the moment on the world culture and diaspora. Africa is everywhere and Africa is influencing everything,” says Pienaar. When it comes to sports, it is a field that will undoubtedly be dominated by Africans. “It’s time that Africa steps forward with design and says, we will decide how we design our sport. We will decide how we design the things we wear. But it won’t be coming just from Nike, or from someone else being put onto [us], but it will actually be determined through Africans.”

Afrosport is published by Mami Wata, and is available for pre-order now.