What life experiences or cultural influences have most profoundly shaped your artistic identity?
My early exposure to art and African American cultural history shaped my passion and pride as a Black man in the United States. As a child, my family introduced me to various cultures beyond my predominantly African American neighborhood through our travels across the country. The most impactful cultural influence came in the 4th grade when I watched the mini-series Roots. I was captivated by every episode and deeply moved by the portrayal of how Black people came to America and lived through hardship. That experience ignited my hunger to learn more about African American history.
I began visiting museums and art galleries in Detroit, MI, with my family and on school trips. The images and stories I encountered planted the seeds of my identity and inspired my passion for self-expression. I’m grateful to have been born in this era and to benefit from the sacrifices and hard work of my parents, which have opened doors to the opportunities I have today.

When you approach a blank canvas, what internal dialogue or emotional current typically guides your creative process?
I approach each painting with a vision of the colors I plan to use, but I also leave space for the piece to evolve organically. This process allows each painting to develop its own uniqueness and value. I don't restrict the work—I allow it to speak to me and reveal its own direction as it unfolds.

The Life Coach is more than a film—it is a meditation on emotional truth, rendered through striking visual language and cultural depth. As it continues its international journey from Canadian cinemas to American theatres, the film invites audiences into a richly textured world where silence speaks volumes and healing unfolds in frames of light, shadow, and soulful restraint. This interview pulls back the curtain on how the creative team infused each element—cinematography, sound, and design—with intentionality to elevate themes of mental health, masculinity, and transformation. At its heart, The Life Coach is not only a cinematic experience but also an act of artistic activism, boldly affirming that underrepresented stories, when told with authenticity and care, can transcend borders and change hearts.

How do you view the intersection of sports and art, and where does your photography live within that space?
I see the intersection of sports and art as sacred ground—a space where movement becomes metaphor and every frame carries emotional weight. Sports are raw, unscripted, and filled with electricity. Art gives that chaos form, texture, and soul. My photography lives right at that intersection—where intensity meets intimacy.
As a Black sports photographer, I’m not just documenting highlights or stat lines. I’m telling stories—cultural, emotional, and deeply personal. A pre-game prayer. A sideline glance. A celebration that feels like liberation. These aren’t just game-day moments; they’re visual poetry. They speak to identity, resilience, pride, and struggle.
My work is about honoring both the athlete and the human being. It’s about spotlighting the beauty in the chaos and the quiet strength behind the spectacle. My lens lives in that space—between the scoreboard and the soul.

When you look through your lens, what are you searching for beyond the scoreboard or stat sheet?
When I look through my lens, I’m searching for something deeper than the final score or a highlight reel. I’m searching for peace.
The truth is, I haven’t felt true happiness in a long time. Life has weighed heavy—expectations, silence, heartbreak, and unspoken moments that left no room for expression. Photography became my refuge. My breath when things got too loud. My sanctuary when I had nowhere else to place the pain. It’s where I feel most seen, even when no one’s looking.
Every time I lift my camera, I’m not just chasing an image—I’m chasing something real. A kind of stillness that exists just beyond the noise. And sometimes, I wonder if I’m also preparing for the moment I’ll eventually walk away—not because I’ve failed, but because I’ve grown. Maybe photography has carried me as far as it was meant to, or maybe it’s the bridge to something greater that I can’t quite see yet.
What I do know is this: Life is bigger than what fits inside a frame. But through that tiny viewfinder, I’ve found glimpses of joy, clarity, and purpose I couldn’t find anywhere else. So maybe beyond the stat sheet, beyond the crowd, I’m not just searching for a shot—I’m searching for myself. And maybe that’s enough.

When people hear SMOGO TV, what do you hope comes to mind—not just the name, but the energy, the mission, the artistry?
We want SMOGO TV to feel like a cultural home—where bold stories, real voices, and creative energy collide. It’s more than a platform; it’s a movement rooted in authenticity and driven by a desire to illuminate the richness of our experiences. When someone sees our logo or hears our name, I want them to feel a spark—a sense that this is where culture lives, breathes, and evolves.

How has your own relationship with the arts shaped the way SMOGO TV tells stories?
The arts have always been my compass. Growing up immersed in music, poetry, and visual storytelling taught me that art is both mirror and messenger. That personal connection helps guide how we craft our narratives at SMOGO TV. We don’t chase trends; we tap into truths. I’ve learned that the most powerful stories come from a place of lived experience, and that’s the lens we use—honest, textured, and human.

Can you take us back to the moment when the spark for SMOGO TV first ignited? What was the vision you saw then, and how has it evolved?
SMOGO was born during the uncertainty of 2020—a time when the world slowed down, but creativity didn’t. The vision was clear: to build a space where the stories often left on the cutting room floor had a spotlight. Back then, it was about creating a platform. Today, it’s about creating a legacy. We’ve evolved from idea to impact, and what continues to drive us is the desire to build something that resonates long after the credits roll.