DYKE MARCH

Shot on a Canon 5D Mark IV, the stills from Dyke March 2025 shimmer with sun-scorched intensity and defiant clarity. That full-frame sharpness catches everything: the grit of boots on melting tarmac, the glint of safety pins and studs, the blur of flags mid-chant. Colours run hot — deep reds, sun-bleached denim, hand-painted signs pulsing against a sky drained pale by heat.

Alongside the digital stills, I shot portraits on a Pentax 67ii with Ilford FP4 — a deliberate shift in pace and tone. The choice of black and white was political as much as aesthetic: to carve out stillness in the chaos, to document not just the moment, but the meaning. These medium format frames lean in close. Grain and contrast render each face with weight, with history.

The 32°C air hung thick, but the energy cut through it. Street-level candids freeze laughter mid-roar, sweat-damp brows, and the unmistakable spark of shared purpose. Closer frames linger — on trans slogans scrawled across bare chests, kaffiyehs wound tight, fingers clasped in protest and care.

This wasn’t performance. It was presence. Dyke March 2025 came for Palestine, for trans+ lives, for queer rage and radical joy — and the lens caught all of it. A march, yes. But also a living archive. A record of resistance in a city that had no choice but to watch.