If photography can reclaim a narrative, Nadya Kwandibens is doing exactly that—one portrait at a time.

Born Anishinaabe (Ojibwe) from the Animakee Wa Zhing #37 First Nation, Kwandibens has spent years building a photographic practice rooted in decolonial intention, self-representation, and trust. While many know her now as Toronto’s Photo Laureate, her work feels more like a continuum of purpose than a title. She founded Red Works Photography in 2008 to carve space for Indigenous dignity in contemporary portraiture, offering counter-images to dominant media tropes that too often flatten, stereotype, or silence.

One of her central series, Concrete Indians, positions her subjects in urban landscapes—traditional regalia meeting glass towers, feathered headdresses alongside graffiti walls. The result unsettles binary thinking: what is “traditional” versus “modern”? Who gets to belong in a city? Those photographs, often shot under natural light and with sensitivity to the sitter’s identity and agency, challenge viewers to see Indigenous people not as relics of the past, but as living, thriving presence.

Kwandibens also created Red Works Outtakes, a more playful and spirited counterpart, aiming to dismantle the “stoic Indian” stereotype. She infuses humor, improvisation, and movement—a range of emotional register—into poses and interactions, inviting her subjects to bring their full selves into the image. She has said that laughter and joy are vital in resisting images that confine or pity.

Another ongoing body of her work is The Red Chair Sessions: in this open-call series, individuals choose a location meaningful to them and pose beside or upon a red chair. That chair carries symbolism—bloodlines, presence, the land, a seat at the table of recognition. The portraits are often accompanied by Indigenous language, place names, and chosen names, creating space not only for image but for voice, cultural reclamation, and lineage. In the words of Kwandibens, the red chair is a reminder that we are “guests on Indigenous land” and that identity, place, and responsibility interweave.

Her work is personal, not political in the narrow sense—but deeply so. Born into foster care, Kwandibens speaks from a place of lived experience. Her work with Sacred MMIWG (Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls) involved sensitive portraiture of those who had lost loved ones, building emotional safety and agency into powerful images of survival, grief, and remembrance.

Her photography feels patient. She often travels by Greyhound, by small communities, by word-of-mouth calls. It’s her, her camera, and people opening up over time. The images live in that space of invitation and trust. She asks: who do we say we are, and how do our images answer that question?

In a field where representation is often tokenistic, Kwandibens isn’t content with visibility alone. She demands presence. She asks viewers to sit with complexity. She gives ancestors, youth, survivors, and dreamers a frame that honors—not flattens—their spirit.