In Focus: A Conversation with Travel Photographer and Food Writer, Mandy Sham

Armed with her first camera, a Nikon J1 gifted to her by her dad—a photography hobbyist in his own right, Mandy Sham stepped into the world of photography. “I think it [the Nikon J1] was probably the definition of entry level. But since the camera was mirrorless, I loved how portable and accessible it was. The habit of photography came first, and my passion for it followed.”

Currently living in Toronto, by way of Hong Kong, Mandy feels a sense of belonging to both locations.

“My parents immigrated to Canada and raised me in a suburb just outside the city. I’ve lived in and out of Hong Kong during parts of my life as well, and feel a special connection to both places.”

It was in Hong Kong where Mandy’s ambivalence for photography blossomed into a true passion. “About seven years ago, I went back to Hong Kong for a summer and started a private blog to document it. I strived to write one entry every day — which also meant I had to go out and do interesting, bloggable things. I ended up capturing whatever I could with my camera, none of which was beautiful — but in a way it was what drew me to the process, and how documenting life is really inextricable from living it for me. I remembered things more vividly if I took time to narrate them visually. And gradually it became a way of seeing the world.”

Substituting her Nikon with a Fujifilm X-T30 and with work spanning across gastronomy, portraiture, architectural photography, and travel, it’s the latter that encompasses Mandy’s opus. Her Instagram, a digital gallery that sparks a desire for faraway places, also evokes a sense of nostalgia, leaving the viewer longing for places they’ve never seen. “Nostalgia has been on my mind a lot, lately. I do think it’s a central tenet of all things we do and are motivated by. It’s highly transferable too, isn’t it? How the nostalgia of someone you’ve never met can resonate so deeply with your own? I love that we can be nostalgic about drastically different moments in our lives, and yet intimately understand the universality of that feeling.”

Navigating through sweeping African savannas and chaotic, aroma-filled bazaars in India, Mandy’s travels (stretching across over 60 countries and counting) sharpen her ability to capture the essence of a location’s culture through lens and on paper. (Mandy’s weekly nomadic newsletter, Orenji, covers stories born of food, diaspora, and the kindness of strangers.)

“Travel and visual storytelling came hand in hand for me. When I was a child I was cultivating my artistic sensibility and I tended to lean toward art that was surreal and fantastical — maybe to compensate for growing up in rows of houses that looked the same. Even the concept of cities that towered over things was inherently romantic. Whenever I travelled somewhere new, I wanted photography to reflect the different worlds that open when you embrace new ways of seeing them. There’s a universe out there, and I’d like my work to reflect that. I mean that not just in the sense of hiking to see the sunrise in the Himalayas or walking across Namibian dunes, though that is certainly something I want to become more accessible to all — but also in the sense of opening your own bubble to new people, places, and experiences. Let your imagination take you far. Imagination saved my childhood, and it’s what I want to evoke in my work.”

Whether it’s in the middle of a bustling city street or tranquil naturescapes, photography encourages Mandy to be aware and conscious of the here and now. “What I enjoy most about photography is that it attunes you to the present moment. Good photography demands that you pay attention,” she explains. “There’s a whole world going on around you; it’s kind of wild that wherever you go, there are all these human minds at work, living vastly different experiences. Interacting with them is crucial to life at large, and I believe the same is true of photography. We can’t empathize, or care, with what we don’t know or choose not to notice.”

“Wherever you go, there are all these human minds at work, living vastly different experiences. Interacting with them is crucial to life at large, and I believe the same is true of photography. We can’t empathize, or care, with what we don’t know or choose not to notice.”

— Mandy Sham

A year into living with the effects of the pandemic — travel restrictions, permanently closed businesses, darkened dance floors of once packed nightclubs, and many barred bars — have forced us to reevaluate the value of natural outdoor settings. Interacting with nature not only benefits our overall wellness, but allows us to take a moment to reflect on how our actions impact lands that have been here long before us. Through photography, Mandy aims to bridge the gap between humanity and nature. “It’s a relationship we’ve drifted away from in the modern era. I think art is symbiotic with nature that way. Our surroundings become inseparable from beauty. The more we draw our inspiration from the Earth, the harder it gets to ignore our role as stewards and protectors.”

As she works to create connective tissue between nature and humanity through dreamy imagery, Mandy is tackling a very real battle behind the scenes. As an Asian woman working in a white, male dominated industry, Mandy has had to take extra precautions to prove and protect herself while traveling and working.

“I’ve found it harder to be taken seriously when I say I’m a photographer. Some openly questioned my set-up because it wasn’t a traditional DSLR, and because I didn’t have a bunch of different lenses strapped to my shoulder. I’ve also faced self-doubt about my own work. The image of what a photographer shoots with and looks like can be so rigid and defined.”

“Then there’s the many patriarchal societies on Earth that I’ve visited and simply felt unsafe to shoot in. It’s something that travel really makes apparent — how white men can be a novelty in parts of the world, and as such, tend to romanticize the places they shoot or have wider freedoms on what or who they’d like to shoot. Of course, I don’t mean to oversimplify — there are plenty of men who create stunning work — but that’s just it, there are plenty! And I’d say overall, they likely have to think a little less about travel risks or the implications on them.”

Carrying the impact of imposter syndrome and fear on your shoulders is heavier than any camera equipment. Which is why for Mandy, photography has gone beyond a skill and study — it’s a meditative practice.

“Photography for me is about utilizing the part of your creative spirit and mind that often has its time stolen away by the analytical, over-thinking part of ourselves. When we think of wellness, there’s this idea that we have to preserve a part of ourselves — which I very much believe to be true — through stress-reducing activities like meditation or walks. But we shouldn’t ever underestimate the way creativity can empower and inspire. It’s a reminder of our complexity. Photography is such a wonderful way to tap into that artistic spirit and play.”

“We shouldn’t ever underestimate the way creativity can empower and inspire. It’s a reminder of our complexity. Photography is such a wonderful way to tap into that artistic spirit and play.”

— Mandy Sham

At 25, the most important lesson Mandy has learned as a travel photographer and writer has been becoming comfortable with the uncomfortable.

“Both photography and travel have this unique way of situating you in places you wouldn’t have otherwise found yourself in. It’s a window into another world in the sense of the final product, but also in the active search for the unfamiliar. I was a shy photographer when I started, and people often surprised me with their willingness to be involved. I’d feel embarrassed to have seen them as strangers only moments before. Combining the curiosity of photography with the newness of travel broke a lot of assumed barriers across language and culture. Even without a camera, I found myself excited to befriend people I didn’t know. Travel and photography taught me that there’s a magic to your willingness to understand someone so different from yourself, and to see value in committing that moment to memory.”