Real life is not black and white.

D. M. Terblanche has been working on a narrative project in which they explore the internal world of living with late-diagnosed autism, drawing from their own experiences.

Set in the context of a new country, away from the familiarity of the global south, Terblanche worked with self-portraiture, reflecting on having once written “autism is a loneliness for which I now have a name, after years of living in mistranslation”. This held true in Bonn, Germany, where their usual way of reading people, using body language and intonation, failed them without the proper contexts.

The underlying tones of this set of images is both exacted self-compassion and a rough-beaten mischievousness from the exhaustion of arriving in a new place as someone already an outsider – seeking beauty and form in the little pains.

As Mengwen Cao prepares to leave New York temporarily for the next chapter of their life, they wanted to create a ritual that honors the people and places that have shaped them. Due to the Chinese diaspora, Cao has constantly navigated belonging, and this farewell carries both grief and love; a testament to the connections they’ve built.

Through collaborative portraits, Cao has invited friends and family to visualize their future selves and write affirmations for our collective future. These wisdoms feel like an anchor in uncertain times. By facing the act of saying goodbye through these shared, intimate moments, Cao has created space to realize that perhaps this period isn't as scary as it seems: Grief is part of love's cycle, and this project has allowed them to embrace that.

Maria Beatriz de Vilhena is investigating her roots along the Portuguese-Spanish border in a rural and pagan backdrop. Retracing familiar footsteps, searching for traces in a common geography, and the characteristics of this ancient territory.

Vilhena was only there once, as a child, in a failed attempt to reconnect with the family. She returned now with her parents, only to see the farm sold, and no more traces besides the family nameplate on the cemetery.

This story is part of a longer narrative about family myths and tales for Vilhena. The starting point of this investigation was her great-grandfather, the last family member born in Galicia. “From his family's farm, he saw the river, and on the other side Portugal, so he decided to leave at age 14 never to return.”

In the industrial town of Chiatura, Natela Grigalashvil documents the lives of miners and local residents, focusing on a community shaped by economic decline, social challenges, and environmental degradation. Once a center of manganese production, Chiatura now bears the marks of industrial decay. Through these photographs, Grigalashvil depicts the realities of those who continue to live and work in this difficult environment, offering a direct portrayal of a town grappling with its industrial past.

Aleruchi Kinika’s approach to the theme of “Real life is not black and white” is centered around women – as friends, mothers and beings. “There's more to being a woman than all these but they are my focus subject.” says Kinika.

In each frame, Kinika introduces different people, mothers, babies, friends and individuals. Her idea was to get women in their elements and their thoughts. Their clothing was intentional in some frames to blend in the background or to draw the viewer's eyes to the brighter white, a guiding light to what lies in the shadows. A really young mother and her child and another mother the baby looks up to. A series of portraits that express gentleness and joy, worry and pain. Friends helping each other and gossiping one lazy afternoon. Reaching for the flower that signifies peace and hope. The use of movement to express unrest and/or freedom.

Back in 2019, Jaír Fernando Coll documented the life of Samara, a girl with Zika-related microcephaly in Cali, Colombia. This condition causes Samara to have a 97% disability, forcing her to cope with delayed physical and neurological development, severe spasticity, lack of musculature, and other symptoms.

Now at 7 years old, Samara’s family continues to strive to provide her with a dignified life despite a condition that will last throughout Samara's existence. In opening a new chapter in this documentary project, Coll photographs their journey in Black and White Polaroids, in which the family intervened with drawings and scratchings to illustrate how they bring color to Samara's life.

This is more than a story about a girl and her mother Eliana, her sister Briana and her father Jean Paul: it's a project that points to a pandemic that provoked more than 2,400 cases of congenital syndrome in Latin America in 2016. This event is almost forgotten by the media and public health system throughout the continent, so Samara's piece of life is a reminder that we cannot leave these families unattended.

When Jed Bacason was a little boy, he always looked forward to the letters his father sent from Saudi Arabia. They were usually sent in a large envelope with individual letters for Jed, his mom, and his two siblings. Sometimes, Bacason’s father included photos that showed how his life was going as an overseas Filipino worker. His family would write back, often including a few of their own recent photos, and often a list of things they wanted him to bring home when he returned for vacation. More than anything, though, they were excited just to have him home.