See What Colour Can’t Say

Before colour TVs, everything was black and white. And if you’ve ever watched an old black-and-white show, it might feel kind of boring at first—mainly because there’s no colour to catch your eye.

But I think that’s exactly the point. The absence of colour forces you to focus more. You start paying attention to the scene, the story, the raw emotion, and even your imagination. Black and white strips things down to their core.

Lately, I’ve been drawn to a few creators who shoot entirely in black and white. It’s simple, powerful, and timeless. Some people argue that black and white aren’t even colours—and technically, in colour theory, they’re not. White is the presence of all colours, and black is the absence of it. But in everyday language, sure, we still call them colours, especially when we’re teaching kids or trying to simplify things.

Over the past few years, my photography has leaned more into sports—not because I’ve fallen out of love with street photography, but because many of those sports gigs are paid opportunities that allow me to keep doing what I love, both in and out of the streets.

The photo above is from a high school basketball game. You might not know exactly what’s happening—but that’s what makes it interesting. It makes you ask questions: Who’s playing? Did he score? Was it a foul? Sure, you’d probably ask those questions even if the photo was in color, but with black and white, I feel like you have to. Or at least, I do.

There’s something about removing color that makes the image feel timeless. It’s like it lives outside of a specific era—just a pure moment frozen in time.

Take the photo below, for example—of the quarterback, eyes wide open, ready to launch the ball like Shedeur Sanders on game day. If you play football, you’d be asking: is he the redshirt QB? How old is this kid? What’s the story behind that look?

Black and white forces me to see the photo differently. To enjoy it more. And when that combines with my love for sports—I’m in complete awe.

It reminds me that great photography isn’t just about what you see—it’s about what you feel when you see it. Black and white strip away the distractions, letting the story speak louder than the colors ever could. It’s like watching a story unfold in shadows and light, where every detail feels more intentional and the emotion hits harder. Maybe that’s why I keep coming back to it—it helps me slow down and truly see what I’m capturing.