Morocco has a reputation problem. Everyone assumes it is the easiest place in the world to take a great photograph — pink-walled medinas, cobalt doors, souks piled high with colour. Point, shoot, done. The reality is almost the opposite.

Morocco's culture runs on respect and modesty, and a lot of people simply don't want a stranger's lens pointed at them. Even the performers who look made for a photograph — Jemaa el-Fnaa's snake charmers, water sellers and street musicians — will often ask to be paid for the privilege.

And yet, local photographers still find a way through. They tackle social and political issues, dig deep into heritage, trace contemporary culture in all its little details, and capture a quieter, less obvious Morocco — quietly dismantling the clichés along the way. Today, we are seeing the country through their eyes.

We will start this selection with an essential name: Fatima Zohra Serri, a contemporary Moroccan photographer originally from Nador on Morocco's Mediterranean coast.

What makes Fatima's work stand out isn't just the fact that it feels like art — it is the symbolism woven into every frame. Her photographs inhabit sensitive territory, using metaphor to explore social and political themes without tipping into rebellion or activism. The recurring figure throughout her work is a woman, circling the same questions again and again: Who controls women's bodies? Who defines femininity? What parts of womanhood remain hidden?

Quite the big questions for any conservative society, right?

That is precisely why much of her work is created on the rooftop of her family's home. Photographing these ideas in public could easily create conflict, so she turned it into a private stage — a place to build entirely new worlds, safely and on her own terms.

One last fact might surprise you: Fatima is entirely self-taught and only began taking photography seriously in 2016. At the time, she was working as an accountant and struggling with depression, so picking up a camera gradually became a way through it. Turns out spreadsheets weren't the calling — a rooftop and a camera were.

Though we are focusing on photographers in this list, it is only fair to say that Karim is really a multidisciplinary artist. Better known by his Instagram handle, Style Beldi, he works at the point where photography and fashion meet. Born and raised in Sidi Moumen, a working-class neighbourhood of Casablanca, he still calls it home — and it continues to shape so much of what he creates. How? Let me explain.

Like so many creative obsessions, this one began in childhood. Karim has often spoken about falling in love with old photographs of his parents from the 1970s, fascinated by the way people dressed back then. That nostalgia still runs through his work, finding its way into everything from the streets of Casablanca to a pair of trainers everyone seemed to own when he was growing up, or a thirty-year-old Moroccan national football shirt.

But he isn't out to recreate the past — he is remixing it. His work takes that heritage and threads it through today's culture, showing a Morocco that is moving forward without leaving its roots behind. His page reads like a love letter to Moroccan fashion and identity, with his greatest muse being Casablanca — the one place where vintage and modern genuinely live side by side.

Idriss Nassangar is hard to skip when you are talking about Moroccan photography. Unlike the previous two artists, his roots lie more in commercial photography — though what he does brilliantly is weave his Moroccan upbringing right into it. Where does that show up? Get ready for the small details.

First, there is his perspective. Idriss splits his time between Paris and Marrakech, and that back-and-forth creates an interesting dialogue between European fashion sensibilities and North African culture. You can see it in the way he photographs people. He isn't afraid to reveal the body, but he does so with remarkable restraint. Faces are often only partly visible, with shadow becoming part of the composition rather than something to be lit away. The result feels elegant rather than provocative.

Second, there is the storytelling. Idriss isn't just interested in the person standing in front of the lens — he is interested in everything around them, too. Very much a Moroccan instinct: let the location do the talking.

And then come the textures. Worn walls, weathered surfaces, sunlit fabrics — and, of course, that unmistakable red so strongly associated with Morocco. I actually found myself wondering why that colour appears so often. Turns out, it is the very shade that gave Marrakech its nickname: the Red City.

If we were handing out titles, Rida Tabit would win "the one busting the myths of what Marrakech looks like." Why? Well, most street photographers lean on two pillars: colour and people. With Rida, everything shifts — beige walls, silence and stillness become the real description of a photo. It is a proper contrast to what we are used to, which is exactly why he is often described as someone drawn to the "invisible Morocco" — the version only locals really see, and most people simply walk past.

Rida's path into photography is a story in itself. He originally studied economics, finished a master's degree, and was headed for a fairly conventional career. Then COVID hit, opportunities dried up, and the future he had planned for suddenly looked a lot less certain. Rather than sit and wait for the market to bounce back, he committed to photography instead — and it paid off.

That pivot inspired one of his most personal projects: Sacrificed Generation, where he photographed unemployed Moroccan graduates. In a way, he was telling his own story too — young Moroccans who spent years earning degrees, believing education would guarantee stability, only to graduate into unemployment, temp work, or careers with nothing to do with what they had studied.

We have reached the well-deserved finish of this selection — and here, "last" truly doesn't mean least. Marouane was born in Oujda, originally hailing from Figuig, before leaving Morocco to study business in France. But a comfortable career in Europe never pulled at him the way one thing did: the urge to document life back home. So he left business behind, returned to Morocco, and devoted himself to photography instead.

One of his key works sums up his whole approach: there is something deep hiding in the most ordinary daily things — if you know where to look. Project 365 was exactly that: a challenge he set himself to make one photograph every single day for an entire year. Really, it was about training his eye to notice the moments everyone else walks straight past.

And many of those moments naturally led him back to Morocco itself. One of the things worth flagging about Marouane is his fascination with football culture, which he sees as a genuinely vital part of local identity. Not the elite stadiums or glossy highlight reels — think neighbourhood pitches, ultras, local clubs, and all the friendships and rituals that build up around the game.

His storytelling doesn't stop at still images either. Marouane also works with video and sound (have a look at Sounds of Casablanca), creating an experience that feels far more immersive than photography alone.