Muhammad-Taha Ibrahim  on the Quiet Revolutions of the Everyday

Janice Faith and and Muhammad-Taha Ibrahim talk childhood cameras, the influence of an image, and ‘Sometime In May’

Scrolling through Muhammad-Taha Ibrahim’s gallery, I’m met with rich brown skin caressed by sunlight, little grins and wide smiles, proud postures and small gestures, hesitant gazes and knowing eyes – a beauty woven into the moments when photographer and subject connect beyond the lens. There’s a levity to Ibrahim’s pictures, and a sense of timelessness. He grew up in Abuja, Nigeria, a city that’s only forty years old but already holds an abundance of life. ‘Life, as is, photographed by me’, Ibrahim writes. The camera always by his side, he encounters the world with eyes and heart wide open, bearing witness to the stories he encounters, while at the same time writing his own. As a photographer, author and filmmaker in the making, creativity seeps through Ibrahim’s every move.

When was the first time you held a camera, and how did it make you feel? When did you know that photography was one of the mediums that spoke to you?

I can't exactly remember, but the first time I held a proper camera was in secondary school, when my teacher, Mr MacMillan, introduced me to it. I remember being struck by how the world seemed to slow down through the viewfinder; details I might’ve walked past suddenly demanded attention. That was when I realised photography wasn’t just a way to record life; it was a way to understand it. Over time, I knew it was one of the mediums that spoke to me because it allowed me to hold onto fleeting human gestures and silences.

What has your relationship with creativity looked like throughout your life, and how did you grow up to be the multi-faceted creative you are today?

Creativity has been a constant companion, though the form it’s taken has changed over the years. As a child, I drew a lot, telling stories through sketches. Writing came next, as a way to build worlds without needing a canvas. Photography followed, giving me a more immediate and physical way to engage with the present. I’ve grown into my creative identity by allowing these disciplines to speak to each other: the way a photograph can influence a scene I write, or how a piece of writing can shape the mood of a photograph. 

Who are the people that inspire your practice, and which work of theirs has stuck with you?

My inspirations range from Nigerian contemporaries to global voices: writers, filmmakers, and photographers who approach their work with honesty and a deep sense of place. Growing up, I went to several schools, but the British school I went to was the most impactful environmentally. They exposed us mostly, if not only, to European books, so Western fiction and foreign books were sort of my orientation in writing.

From Nigeria, I’m deeply inspired by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s Half of a Yellow Sun for its emotional honesty and historical depth. There are other fantastic Nigerian writers like A.H Mohammed's The Last Days at Forcados High, which actually inspired me to write in secondary school. In film, I’m drawn to works like Donald Glover’s Guava Island (2019), Celine Song’s Past Lives (2023). Each of these, in their own way, has stayed with me for how they hold emotion, place, and intimacy.

This year, you finished your debut novel, Sometime in May. Can you tell us more about the seeds this story sprouted from and what the writing process looked like?

The seeds came from a range of elements depicting my internal struggles in life concerning self-discovery, familial dysfunction and more, with an interest in the private lives people lead alongside what others get to see. I wanted to explore friendship, love, and regret in a way that felt true to Nigerian life but also universally human. The process was long, layered and gruesome if I'm being honest. Years of drafting, walking away after losing my entire draft by being robbed, coming back to it once again, and refining until the story’s quiet heartbeat felt steady and ready.

Could you introduce us to the two main characters of your novel?

In Sometime in May, in the restless heart of Lagos, two women: one local, one foreign—forge an unlikely bond while navigating grief, love, and the fragile hope of starting over. But when secrets threaten to shatter their connection, they must decide if home is a place…or a person. Noor is a young woman newly arrived in Lagos, navigating the weight of her past and a desire to belong. Ayo, on the other hand, is fiercely rooted in the city but haunted by personal loss. Their paths intertwine in unexpected ways, revealing both the fragility and resilience of human connection.

What advice would you give to someone who has just started pursuing photography?

I would say start by photographing what’s closest to you: the people, places, and moments you already know. Learn to be highly experimental in trying different styles and see the essence in things, not just subjects or objects. Don’t rush to find a ‘style’; instead, focus on building a relationship with your work. And most importantly, keep going, even when the images in your head don’t yet match what’s in your camera: that gap is part of the growth. Don’t allow yourself to think too much. Because you can’t develop a photograph if your imagination is behind the depth of field. And never settle for less because there’s no satisfaction to be found in settling for a photograph less than the one you're capable of shooting.

What is one quote you would like to end this interview with?

‘We’re all well-made galaxies, but you can also find the fault in our stars.’ — Muhammad-Taha Ibrahim 

This interview is part of the Power Issue, published in November 2025. You can purchase the Power Issue here.