There’s a ‘WHAR’ Going on Outside: Into the Lens of Photographer Syd Whar
All photographs courtesy of Syd Whar
The Norwegian playwright and theater director, Henrik Johan Ibsen, coined the phrase, “A picture is worth a thousand words.” In other words: a picture can show you something on the surface, but it can mean more than what meets the eye. Many people are unfamiliar with the original form of this quote, which was written as, “A thousand words leave not the same deep impression as does a single deed.” Some of us may only be interested in what the world has to offer at face value; others want their deeds to reflect their character and the stories their words tell.
In the case of 22-year-old photographer and artist Sydney Wharton, also known as Syd Whar, her artwork aims to be much more profound than a simple image. A Brooklyn-born creative with roots in Guyana, Wharton grew up in a unique, diverse environment, experiencing various cultures and ways of life as a child. After realizing how often her homeland is overlooked, and in some cases exploited, she made it a point to tell untold stories and shed light on those who don’t usually shine. “No matter what I do, I just want to be able to impact at least one person, whether it be through tattooing or through photography, or any creative field. That’s my life’s mission,” she declared.
The story of Wharton’s love for art began with a passion for drawing, something she had been doing even before photography became her main focus. Until she began attending the Tyler School of Art at Philadelphia’s Temple University, drawing — and later on, tattooing — was all that she wanted to do. Being self-taught and comfortable with her own approach to the craft, she didn’t want to compromise the integrity of her artistry for a grade. “They were primarily focused on anatomy, perspective, [and other] aspects of drawing that I greatly respect and admire,” the artist said. “I just personally don’t follow suit with them.”
Things changed for Wharton when she took a foundation class for photography two years ago. The class, being mainly focused on graphics and utilizing programs such as Adobe Photoshop and Adobe Lightroom, intrigued the artist, and wholly made her fall in love with the craft. Wharton recalls how it took her about a month of being a photography major before she decided what she wanted her focus to be around:
When I first started, it was like, ‘Alright, I want to merge the art of photography with the art of tattooing.’ So when I tattoo people, I photograph them, and document them and their story, as well as that experience, you know? And I stuck with that goal, to this very day. But, as I continued to go on and continued to participate in critiques and stuff like that, and I was actually putting my photography work out, it just became way bigger than just wanting to merge it with tattooing.
Rather than just taking photos to build a portfolio, Wharton said that photography was about the people she was meeting and the conversations they shared. The experience itself meant far more to her than just holding a camera. She was gaining insight on the communities of North Philadelphia, where she had been living, and finding out how much culture and influence the neighborhood possessed. Wharton believes coming to North Philly made her a better artist. It wasn’t until she left for college that the photographer realized how much there was to learn about her hometown, and the similarities it had with her new environment.
Between living in North Philly and her home turf of Canarsie, Brooklyn, Wharton finds plenty of inspiration to work into her photography. From the locations’ cultures to their fashion, to the manner in which the neighborhood folk talk, there is no shortage of creativity. Wharton understood that many of the narratives coming from those communities weren’t being told, so she set out to make sure that they did. The photographer wanted to foster visibility for people who were made invisible every day. “[Beyond] Philly, in the world, they don’t even know that a community like this, along with the stories that lie [beneath] them, exists,” she said. “Or even Canarsie — the list of neighborhoods can go on.”
For Wharton, being a Black artist means seeing things in a different light, or shedding light to something that hasn’t been seen before. It’s a blessing, according to the photographer, to have Black creatives like herself share authentic and raw stories in the way they are supposed to be told. After going so long without them, Wharton is happy seeing Black artists get exposure and recognition.
As a Black lesbian woman, Wharton wants to be as genuine as possible when she goes out into the community. After all, she understands firsthand how individuals from marginalized communities are often misrepresented and misunderstood by others, regardless of how well intentioned they are. In fact, it’s because Wharton comes from a similar cultural background that she feels comfortable and appreciative of what she’s able to capture on camera.
When asked what photoshoot she’s worked on is her favorite, Wharton replied that it was with a young kid named Semaj. She had photographed him on his bike along with his older cousin, Khai. While Semaj was inspired by her usage of her camera, Wharton was influenced by his aura and the presence he held. The photographer recalls being on the block, interacting with Semaj and his family, for about three hours that day. “It felt like I knew them for years, like they were my family as well. I was so inspired by them,” she recounts. “And I’ll forever appreciate them for allowing me the opportunity to photograph them, when all that I was at the time to them was a stranger with a camera. I’ll always remember them and I got ‘em forever.”
Later in her career, the artist decided that her entire brand would be called WHAR. WHAR isn’t just an abbreviation of her last name; it’s also a personal way of expressing how she feels about what she depicts in her artwork. For her, WHAR speaks to a certain way of life. “It’s very raw, but through that rawness is a lot of pain,” the photographer said. “It’s a lot of things that I capture throughout neighborhoods and throughout my own experiences that I think speaks to trauma, and fighting [or] standing for something hopeful and inspiring.”
Around last year, Wharton was assigned a final project and critique for one of her classes. She chose to stay true to herself and be bold by calling her project “Wharzone.” At first, her professor couldn’t quite understand why she chose that title. They were under the impression that it was far-fetched, unable to comprehend how it related to being at war. Wharton is understanding of how others are entitled to their personal opinions, but she stands by what she believes: The attitude towards her project stemmed from an ignorance of who and what she depicts in her work.
Majority of the people jarred by the title have never lived in the areas depicted in Wharton’s work. Most of them have been sheltered from the violence, poverty and depravity inflicted upon these communities by a corrupt system. The photographer believes this played a role in the initial disconnect that her professors had with her work, especially as it touches so heavily on Black urban life. Despite this, Wharton remains grateful for everything they have taught her:
Even when there was that disconnect in the understanding and purpose of my work, I appreciate the professors who listened, gave me room to stay true to myself, and make art about what I felt was important to speak about. [...] I’m going to be who I am regardless. I’m not gonna water down or whitewash anything that I create for a grade.
When Wharton isn’t finding inspiration in real life, she looks to Gordon Parks and Zanele Muholi, two artists who come to mind when the photographer thinks about who she looks up to. Parks was known for documenting Black American life from the 1940s onwards, while Muholi captured the Black LGBTQ+ experience. “When it comes to photography, I just love people who capture raw and vulnerable experiences [and] people … real stories,” Wharton said.
Through her camera lens, Syd Whar sees a lot of things: untold stories, moving experiences, inspiring people, inflicted invisibility and vulnerability. All speak to her purpose as an artist and photographer, and are the reason she does what she does. “For the youth, the world is yours,” Wharton said, as parting words to young readers. “Everything that you dream of is in arm's reach. Aim for the sky and then past that.” ♦
