Moroccan photographer Ismail Zaidy captures memory, family, and Marrakech rooftops

I’ve always been a trifle uneasy about heights. Not the edge-of-a-cliff variety, but the quieter sort: high ledges, terraces, rooftops, where the city folds beneath you and the world feels momentarily suspended, like it’s holding its breath. Yet, there’s something revelatory about being removed. Sometimes, a bird’s-eye view isn’t about distance, but clarity—about framing the familiar in ways that make it feel fresh.

It’s that kind of soulful ascension that Moroccan photographer Ismail Zaidy captures through his lens. From the rooftop of his family home in Marrakech, his earliest vantage point, he started constructing an artistic language that speaks in silence. Over time, that quiet perch became something more: Studio Sa3ada, the ‘Studio of Happiness’.

“My journey into photography began in 2017, using a Samsung S5,” he tells me. “I didn’t have access to professional gear, but I had a strong urge to express what I was feeling and witnessing. That simplicity shaped how I see and create.”

Ismail’s photographs often feature his younger brother, Othmane, and sister, Fatimazohra—his muses, collaborators, and co-authors. His first breakthrough came with 3aila (Arabic for ‘Family’) in 2018, a deeply personal series created with his siblings on their rooftop.|

“It came naturally to us,” he comments on the ongoing series. “We’re close and curious, and we trust each other. That trust allowed for vulnerability, which is at the core of our work. That’s when I stopped imitating and started expressing. I realised I wasn’t just taking photos—I was telling stories only I could tell.”

In a world of spectacle, Ismail captures what’s missing and somehow finds everything. Fabrics in midair, siblings in soft stasis, faces veiled or turned away, a vast stretch of sky holding more than it says—his photographs don’t dramatise, they distill. “I work with what I have—mirrors, cardboard, anything. The idea always comes first. I try not to over-polish. I like when an image feels both magical and real.”

That blend of the everyday and the ethereal is grounded in something enduring. “My work is rooted in memory and emotion. Home, family, and Moroccan traditions aren’t just subjects—they’re the foundation,” he affirms. “The rituals and rhythms of daily life inspire the aesthetic and emotional weight of my photos. Even the colours and textures I use, like pastel skies and earthy fabrics, echo that.”

And yet, these private images have made their way into the world. This year, Ismail’s work appeared once again where it has increasingly found a home—the global stage. “The journey from phone snapshots to international galleries feels surreal. I never imagined I’d be here,” he admits.

Recognition has come steadily. His photographs were featured at the Tasweer Photo Festival Qatar (20 April to 20 June 2025) in Doha, bringing together voices from West Asia and North Africa. “Showing my work at Tasweer was a moving experience,” Ismail shares. “It was more than just an exhibition—it felt like being part of a shared cultural moment.”

He was awarded the 2024 Tasweer Project Award for The Family, an extension of 3aila, confirming that the personal, when handled with care, becomes universal. “In the West, my work is often framed around aesthetics or identity,” he reflects, “but in Qatar, people connected on a deeper level—to the feeling, the intention, the nostalgia.”

In 2023, Ismail joined the roster at MAĀT Gallery in Paris, a contemporary art space committed to emerging voices from North Africa and beyond. The British Journal of Photography had previously named him in its 2022 list of ‘Ones to Watch’.

A year prior, he was among 10 artists featured in ‘Hotel Sahara’, a group show by the Norseen Collective and The Sims at Magasins Généraux in Paris. His work was also exhibited at BASE Milano for the PhotoVogue Festival. In 2021, he participated in Basel Photo Week, and the Cheerz Photo Festival in Paris, where his artworks stood out amid the flurry of Europe’s art calendar.

But before all that, there was Marrakech, and always will be. “My Moroccan heritage guides everything I do: the symbolism, visual codes, language of fabrics, even silence,” Ismail notes. In 2020, he held his first solo exhibition at Riad Yima by Hassan Hajjaj. That same year, he was one of five winners of the CAP Prize for contemporary African photography.

The work that earned him that honour? 3aila—the series created with his siblings, shot on a phone, anchored in home. “My milestones aren’t just career moments. 3aila, the CAP Prize, and being awarded at Tasweer—these felt like affirmations.”

Lately, Ismail’s work has taken on new forms. He has minted photographs as NFTs on platforms like SuperRare and Foundation. In 2022, an artwork from the Hope (2020) series appeared in Times Square, minted with NFT.Kred. This debut NFT, created with Fatimazohra and his mother as stylist, was later exhibited at NFT NYC 2024. Another piece, Blossom (2021), released with World of Women, explored identity and empowerment in the digital sphere.

Moving through Ismail’s work, I see images that are steeped in Gen Z visual culture while also being strikingly cross-generational. “The narratives matter because they speak to a generation questioning its place while holding onto its roots,” he elaborates.

In a photograph from the Equal Bunshine (2019) series, a title that seems to play on ‘bunshin’, the Japanese word for ‘clone’ or ‘incarnation’, figures in red, pink, and white evoke tension between sameness and individuality, presence and absence. “I want to preserve emotion without being literal,” he observes.

I sense this emotional limbo in another work titled Hueco Mundo (2019), Spanish for ‘Hollow World’ and a clear reference to the in-between realm from the anime Bleach. Shot against a dusky sky with a sliver of moon and scattered birds, the figure is captured mid-gesture, face obscured, grounded yet adrift.

A fascinating thread runs through Ismail’s photographs, created years apart but drawn along the same psychological arc. In Suffocating Silence (2018), Othmane’s face is covered by hands in a near-claustrophobic way. “Floating fabrics, painted hands and faces, mirrors—I explore identity, absence, memory, and love,” he explains.

Can’t Be Caged (2019) shows a woman in flowing white, set against a crisscross of power lines. In Inner Soul (2023), a draped figure holds a mirror up high, the scene flooded with light. To me, these are stages in an awakening—each frame more assured, more luminous.

In Timal 7oriya (2018), a figure lifts orange fabric beneath a wide sky. This echoes the Statue of Liberty’s torch, only here, it’s unmistakably North African. Liberation isn’t framed as conquest, but as a reclaiming of presence, rooted in Moroccan identity.

In Touch (2019) shows pink fabric linking two veiled figures. There’s a pause between them—a space that suggests strain, maybe even familial. But it’s laced with the belief that connection, however fragile, can still hold. “The dreamy tone in my photographs isn’t about escape; it’s about hope,” Ismail states. “While there may be distance or loss, there’s also beauty in what we still have.”

Among his most gripping photographs is one from Souls Escape (2021), a close-up of Fatimazohra’s face emerging from shadow and light. It’s a meditation on self-perception, where identity feels layered and unresolved, but never without warmth.

I’m intrigued by the interpretations Ismail’s compositions invite. As his photographs travel through galleries, I ask whether any response to his work has ever surprised him. “A young viewer once said my images made them ‘feel seen’ without needing to explain themselves. That stayed with me,” he recalls.

What’s next? “I’m exploring more mediums, working on commissions and a new body of work, including part two of 3aila.” As the interview winds down, I’m left with a renewed sense of ease—something that echoes through both Ismail’s photographs and presence. “Calm is part of my rhythm,” he says. “Life moves fast, and art is where I slow down. The way I capture family and culture is an attempt to pause, observe, and show gratitude.”

In A Flash: Quick-fire with Ismail Zaidy

Home is where…

The light hits the rooftop just right.

A smell that instantly transports you to childhood.

Mint tea and sun-dried laundry.

A phrase or proverb you hold close.

الحمد لله على نعمه

The last image on your camera roll.

A test shot of my sister in a handmade headpiece for an upcoming project.

The most Moroccan thing about you.

The way I say goodbye at least three times before actually leaving.

One thing your younger self would never believe about your life now.

That our rooftop photos would travel the world.

Follow Ismail Zaidy on @l4artiste