Morocco overwhelmed me in the best possible way. Focussing on Marrakech, I stepped into the city expecting heat, movement and sound, but I wasn’t prepared for the calm that colour could bring. At first glance, the medina seems chaotic. Everything moves. People talk loud. Motorbikes race through tight alleys. But once I slowed down, I began to see the patterns. The city has its own rhythm, and it’s in full control of it.

I felt like a visitor, clearly out of place. But not once did I feel unsafe. The confusion softened into curiosity. I was drawn in.

**Beneath the bananas, a bond.** Shawn van Zyl, Marrakech, 2025

The shock of beauty

The first thing that hit me was the colour. It wasn’t loud, steady and everywhere. Ochre, clay, salmon pink, soft red. Walls that carried heat from the sun, cracks and stains that told stories and then there was the light. Bold shadows, bright skies. The perfect flat blue leaning against a peach wall felt like a painting too minimal to be real, but it was right there.

I found myself staring at walls. Not the decorated ones, the plain ones. Some chipped, some fading, some with perfect texture. The city was full of these abstract moments, and they stopped me in my tracks.

This series of images captures that first reaction. A kind of shock, but not from noise that vibrated from the daily movements of people, but from stillness of surfaces that felt carefully accidental. Outside the frame of these images may be surrounded by chaos and perhaps some level of distraction, but when I framed close, these magical colours and shapes appeared.

Architecture in contrast

What stood out to me next was how beautiful broken things could be. Marrakech isn’t polished. It’s not trying to be. Yet I found myself drawn to every chipped door, every exposed brick. There’s a strange honesty in the way buildings carry time. You see where something ended and something else began. A plaster wall gives up its shape to tangled wires. A wooden frame leans with age, and it’s perfect.

The colours stay rich through the wear. A bold red wall can hold broken edges and still feel composed. Sharp geometric balconies punch into a clear sky. Each form feels intentional, even when it’s falling apart. It’s a visual language that doesn’t separate beauty from decay. Then there’s nature. Trees reach gently over walls as if they were always meant to be there. Flowers stretch out above clay facades and become part of the structure. Nothing feels planted for effect. It’s just how things are. And it works.

This part of the series looks at those moments. Where precision meets collapse. Where man-made lines lean into natural forms. Where a wall becomes more than a wall.

Seeing in the dark

I guided myself off the main paths on purpose. I wanted to find the in-between spaces. The shaded arches. The quiet doorways. The Medina offered these moments like secrets, hidden in plain sight. What looked like simple dark passages were full of detail I couldn’t describe. So I turned to the camera to help me see. Using spot metering, I let the light lead the frame. Faces, gestures, colours — they revealed themselves with clarity.

These scenes felt both ordinary and theatrical. A boy running beside a motorbike. A man locking a door washed in shadow and sun. Textures, movement, and stillness all held in one line of light.The camera helped me make sense of what I felt. A visual translation of something I couldn’t put into words.

A quiet frame

I had wandered far from the noise, deeper into what looked like a residential part of the Medina. No shops. No stalls. Just fading walls and still corners. Then I saw this individual, seated in a sliver of sunlight, perfectly placed as if by design. As someone who comes from the motion picture industry, this would be the perfect visual and take hours of preparation to design.

What struck me was not the person sitting alone, but the space around them, it was a moment that felt delicate yet strangely heavy. I didn’t know if they were resting or reflecting. Whether they were there by choice or by circumstance.

**Held by Shadows**. Shawn van Zyl, Medina Marrakech, 2025

Bikes with soul

As a bike fan, this part of Marrakech had me smiling. The Medina is filled with motorcycles that carry more than just people, they carry stories. Every dent, scratch and DIY repair felt like a badge of honour. Some were polished, some barely hanging on, but all of them had style. Not showroom style, but hard working Marrakech style. A seat wrapped in Louis Vuitton print. A lion toy glued to the front fender. Rust mixing with chrome. Again, as I have mentioned, this was all overwhelming at first, but as I started to capture each bike one-by-one, I was able to understand their narratives.

Stalls, Shade, and Soft Mornings

Beyond the worn walls of the Medina, life stretches into sunlit streets where trade unfolds with quiet rhythm. These images explore the soft mechanics of everyday survival: oranges balanced on crates, bananas hung like decorations, vegetables lined up under tarps stitched from necessity. Motorbikes double as market stalls, plastic becomes shelter, and every item on display, from citrus to secondhand shoes, speaks to both need and creativity.

This series isn’t about spectacle, but about presence. About how people make do, make space, and make a living. It’s a portrait of informal systems, colorful improvisation, and the kind of beauty that asks nothing more than to be noticed.

Caught mid-motion, mid-market, mid-morning.jpg

Traces & Texture

Scattered throughout the city, these textures became markers of place. Walls, pathways, and corners, each worn surface drew me in to capture its intricate details. As I wandered, I began to notice them more: the cracks, flakes, and earth tones layered into the architecture. This became its own kind of journey, less about the view ahead, and more about the ground beneath and the surfaces beside me. This series is a compilation from various places within the Moroccan Medina.

What began as a simple walk through the Medina turned into something far more layered. With my camera in hand, I didn’t just photograph what I saw—I used it to better understand what I couldn’t always articulate. I let myself wander, misguide, and slow down, finding meaning in shadows, walls, bikes, and textures. The city revealed itself in fragments: through faces, structures, and the silence between moments. This series isn’t about capturing Marrakech as a whole—but about seeing it piece by piece, surface by surface, frame by frame.

Texture and Colour in the City of Contrast