I walk the streets of Kulasai sweaty, overwhelmed, and inexplicably happy witnessing a world where ordinary people shape-shift into Gods. I follow them as they paint their faces, slip into costume, and surrender to rituals that blur the line between devotion and performance.
Somewhere between the drumbeats, the chaos and elbowing my way through hoards of equally determined photographers- I find small, tender moments that pull me in—the last deep breath before trance, a child watching wide-eyed, or someone adjusting their mask like it’s about to fall off.
I’ll admit, half the time I have no idea what’s happening and that’s part of the joy. These images aren’t here to decode the festival; they’re a record of my stumbling, curious journey inside it. I make them to honour a community whose faith is lived and to chase the brief instant where belief reveals its human (and sometimes a gloriously yelllow) face.
