Born in Scotland to a Ghanaian mother and an Aberdonian father, I am most probably Ghanaberdonian. Like Madonna and the Berlin Wall, my parents had an eventful eighties, fashioning not only me, but also two female others. Ghanaberdoniennes?  Probably not. ​Into the Groove? Most certainly.

​We were raised in the aggressively inoffensive suburbs of Glasgow’s Southside, where my time was spent growing a bountiful afro in preparation for attending Edinburgh University. There, I began seven years of legal study, which subsequently took me to France and London. After all that, I spent a year travelling around the world to take photographs. On these travels, photography clung to me. 

When I returned to the UK, my hair quickly shortened. I qualified as a solicitor, and went on to practice for two years In London. In search of… something, I left law in 2015 to pursue photography and writing. Soon afterwards, I accidentally reached the quarter-final of Sky Arts TV talent competition, Master of Photography, firmly confirming the shutter-button addiction of my right forefinger. The doctors say there is no cure.

I'm currently curating my decay in Bucharest, Romania. Besides taking pictures, I write. For me, the two go hand-in-hand. I am moved by sixties soul, grounded by seventies rock, and energised by turn-of-the-century hip-hop. ​I wear hats, usually. I eat cheese, preferably soft, pungent and French.

If only one of my frames or phrases makes you smile or frown, feel or think, it's more than enough for me. If none of them do, look out for the next one. Either way, holler at me some time.