“Intimacy within the street culture ?”
This is one of those projects coming straight out of the archive. Growing up I was taught to give my friends a fist bump. I never questioned it, that was just the norm. Amongst most of my friend groups it was our way of greeting each other and as some friendships grew, so did our fist bump.
A simple fist bump evolved into an entire complex handshake that only we knew what it meant. If you’re still reading this as a guy or a girl I think you can relate, right?
But what is a fist bump really? Where did it come from? Is it a way of saying non-verbally: “I see you”, “I respect you” ?
If you’re a bit familiar with the street culture, you know that the fist bump is a way of greeting each other within the street culture but does the fist bump originate from the street culture?
I think two years ago I started this project about the fist bump. I wondered if the fist bump was a form of intimacy amongst men within the street culture?
I see it was a form of intimacy but how do other men see it? Let’s talk about it.
Happy New Year ✨
A while back, someone told me about their career bucketlist and how sharing it helped guide them throughout their career.
I’d like to share my own career bucketlist for 2026 and hopefully the years to come.
My DMs are open.
I don’t know why I bought a Polaroid camera… all I know is that in 2017 I wanted to buy myself a Christmas present, and here I am now, 9 years later, with 60 Polaroids in my collection.
I would like to show you my Polaroid camera roll, interwoven with my life, close friends, and fellow creatives and artists I had the pleasure of documenting.
Every time I’ve worked with an artist, I shot two Polaroids: one for my own collection and one as a “thank you” note for taking the time to be photographed.
@polaroid … if you’re reading this, sponsorships or film donations are welcome. This hobby is getting financially irresponsible, but I love y’all 😙
#explorepage✨ #fypreelsً
Hey Siri play “DtMF” by Bad Bunny and perhaps possibly take me back to Suriname.
Bad Bunny “DtMF” album cover inspired. Photo taken in the backyard of my great uncle in Suriname.
Shot in September 2025 on Mamiya RB67 with ISO 400 Portra film.
Okay so 2025 summarized in a reel. Nice! Leuk! Happy with how the year went.
Focused primarily on myself, did therapy via Betterhelp, I read 3 books this year and currently reading my 4th (I wasn’t a fan of reading so this is like a milestone for me), ran 4,2km during NN Marathon weekend, had a 28th SpongeBob birthday themed party, saw my homie get married, and despite saying goodbye to my late grandfather I’m still grateful for the good memories I had with him…
I think and feel like 2025 was a good year.
I closed out 2025 dancing 🕺, grateful for it all and ready for 2026.
Okay bye 👋🏾
#fypreelsً #explorepage✨
“Pe yu kumba-tee beri, na drape yu oso de.”
“Where your umbilical cord is buried, that’s where home is.”
When my dad told me this a few years ago, I was struck by the fact that my umbilical cord was indeed buried in Suriname. So during my graduation year, I sculpted what was supposed to be my umbilical cord out of clay. In the process, it eventually broke into pieces. Looking back at these scans, I guess I had to piece my roots back together.
As a child, I never understood why my parents celebrated Surinamese Independence Day while we lived in Aruba. I even remember feeling a little embarrassed by it.
Now, older and more aware, I treasure every piece of Suriname I can find—in food, in our kaseko and kawina music, in our language, in our toko’s, in our headscarves and traditional dresses.
Wishing everyone, especially the younger generations of Surinamese kids like me, Wan swit Srefidensi Dey! 🇸🇷
Dievenijzer (Burglar Bars)
A while back, during my graduation year, I showed these two pictures to @isaiah_stomp . As we brainstormed ideas for my graduation presentation, he said something that stuck with me ever since:
”It’s crazy that so many houses in Suriname (and perhaps in Caribbean communities in general) have burglar bars to protect against unwanted visitors—thieves. But these same bars can trap you inside your own home, for example, in the event of a fire.
It’s like being imprisoned in the very place that’s supposed to make you feel safe.”
That conversation has stayed with me ever since. And now, as I work on my film, this phrase keeps repeating itself in my mind:
“A house is not a home...”
