A Bag of Stories is a magazine and cultural platform — by AFAR + Ayzoh! — exploring how we travel, what we carry, how we look, and the relationships we create along the way. Join our free newsletter and carry the stories with you.
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Ten minutes of improvised dance at BASE Milano. A week later, the photographs opened a question about calling, freedom, and the lives we make together.
Burkinabè photographer Warren Sare joins "A Bag of Stories" to share a vision shaped by memory, dialogue, resistance, and social justice. This essay opens a new series from Burkina Faso, rooted in the experience of " Je Suis la Rue."
In a former seventeenth-century church in Brescia, Anna Renzi Brivio makes garments by beginning where fashion often ends: with a person, a body, and the time required to understand both.
Traveling light has little to do with owning less. It begins with a more uncomfortable question: how much of what we carry is necessary, and how much is simply our fear of being unprepared?
Years ago, I wrote a small field guide about photographing people whose lives were not mine. Some of its rules I would write differently today. The question behind them has not changed: what do we owe the people whose lives enter our frame?
inAfrica began as a network connecting Italians working across African countries. One connection brought Ayzoh! and AFAR together and became a story about business, trust, and the distance between entering a market and building a relationship.
In Addis Ababa, Sabahar works with spinners, dyers and weavers whose knowledge belongs to one of Ethiopia’s oldest material traditions. Keeping that knowledge alive, however, requires more than preservation: it requires change.
We have never made so many images, and perhaps we have never spent so much time asking photography to prove its own importance. There may be another way: move the photographer away from the center, and ask what an image can actually do in the life of someone else.
In LIMINA, photographer Anna Nagy looks at a corner of western Rome where family photographs, old houses, gardens, reeds, and apartment blocks occupy the same uncertain territory. Her work asks a deceptively simple question: when does private memory become the memory of a place?
