The photos, in Ollie’s words, lean towards “quiet symmetry”. The photo Man on Bike, a particuarly pleasing shot which shows a figure stationary, seemingly pausing to take a call, is often mistaken as staged. According to Ollie, it’s “entirely serendipitous”. He continues: “I was wandering through Ikoyi when I saw him stop, completely unaware of me, and everything just aligned — the colours, the posture, the stillness.”
The book is a collage of transportation, movement and camaraderie; when you can’t rely on dropping a location pin into a map to get around, you must rely on those around you to get by. For Ollie, “that challenge became part of the process”, connection wasn’t just a choice to be made, but a pleasant inevitability. To be a member of the community is built up not only by the city’s eccentricities, but also by its inconveniences.
Ollie’s photography journey began aged 16 when his art teacher, Ian Wallace, passed him a Nikon F3 to try out on a trip to Berlin. “As soon as I developed the roll I was completely hooked – it felt like magic,” Ollie says. This connection to photography carried through all the way through his degree in Philosophy and Politics, where he lobbied the fine art department’s head to grant him darkroom access. Now, over ten years later, his practice has remained a grounding force.