By Jonathan Burger, Craven Arts Council & Gallery, Inc.
Where are you from and how’d you end up in Eastern North Carolina?
Born in Cameroon, raised in the Tri-State! My journey started in West Africa, but at ten years old, my world shifted to Queens, NY. We moved there in 2004, but by 2008, we traded the city for the suburbs of East Brunswick, NJ. That’s where I spent the bulk of my formative years—from middle school all the way through college.
Career-wise, I’ve always been in the pharma and health space. In 2019, I was working for Alcami in Edison, NJ, but when they closed that satellite branch, I took a transfer to their Wilmington site. I’ve been here ever since, and honestly, it’s been a great chapter.
Do you have formal training, or are you self-taught, or a combination of both?
When it comes to my photography, I’m not coming from a place of formal classrooms or textbooks. I’m almost entirely self-taught, fueled by a lot of trial and error and a deeply instinctual connection to the lens.
It all really kicked off in the fall of 2016. I was out in Oakland, California, crashing with my older brother. At the time, I’d just wrapped up college and, honestly, I felt completely out of frame—lost, drifting, and looking for a path. I’d been shooting on my iPhone 10 for a few months, but then I finally pulled the trigger on my first ‘real’ camera. That’s when the experimentation caught fire. I started messing around with editing apps, pushing pixels, and seeing how far I could take an image.
That camera didn’t just capture photos; it gave me the purpose and structure I was desperately craving. Since those Oakland days, I’ve been honing a style that’s a bit of a paradox: it’s technical and structural, yet leans into artistic abstraction. For me, photography is about capturing my internal state and figuring out how my personal frequency vibrates with the world around us today.
Does your work have a central theme, or several themes?
Yeah, I’d say my work is really anchored in this idea of inner self-discovery—how the ‘soul’ transcends time, place, and the material world. There’s this vibe of nonchalant melancholy running through it, but it’s always laced with a sublime, hopeful undertone. Even as my subject matter shifts, I’m constantly circling back to the Japanese ethos of Wabi-sabi. It’s all about the ephemerality of life—that beautiful, quiet surrender to ourselves and the larger forces swirling around us.
You work in photography, what about that medium appeals to you?
I chose photography as my medium because it allows you to literally freeze a heartbeat in time. A single frame has this incredible power to stir up healing, spark anger, or mirror the chaos of life. But honestly? It’s the unknown that really drives me. There’s something haunting and beautiful about what we can’t quite explain in a photo.
We’re all ‘photographers’ now in our daily lives, but in this age of social media oversaturation, the art is starting to lose its soul. We’re so busy snapping a thousand pictures that we fail to capture those few, profound moments that actually tell a story. To me, photography is a secret language; a great photograph captures something much deeper than just a visual—it captures the spirit behind the image.
You like to capture motion in work, can you talk about how you do that what your process is?
I’m obsessed with motion. Think about it—everything around us is in a constant state of flux; it never actually stops, and honestly, that can feel pretty overwhelming at times. By injecting motion into my work, I’m able to ‘reclaim the stream.’
The process is deeply internal. When life gets too loud and I’m struggling to find meaning in the chaos, I have to go inward to calm the waters. In those moments of sensory overload, I grab my camera and hit the streets. I look for people, objects, or places that resonate with what I’m feeling. It’s a transmutation—taking that heavy, restless energy and capturing it within a single frame.
Who is another artist who work you admire or inspires you?
My aesthetic is really a dialogue between eras. I’ve always been captivated by the Surrealist movement of the 1920s—that Dalí-esque way of distorting reality. But I ground those dreamlike visuals in the urgent, neo-expressionist spirit of the late 1980s. By channeling Basquiat, I’m able to weave in these biting themes of identity and cultural heritage. It’s about taking those abstract ‘dream’ vibes and giving them a very real, very human backbone.
What one piece, exhibition, or award are you particularly proud of, and why?
That’s a great question. Honestly, I’m just now stepping into the commercial side of the art world, so my trophy shelf is still empty—and I’m totally okay with that. This journey has been ten years in the making. It’s definitely a mix of raw nerves and pure adrenaline, but I’ve learned to trust the process, setbacks and all. It took a decade to really curate my voice and build a narrative I believed in. For me, it’s all about the impact. I’m focused on introspective storytelling that I hope transmutes through the canvas. If the awards come, cool, but that’s not the fuel. I just want to tell meaningful stories that hit home for people from all walks of life
What advice do you have for other artists just starting out, or people wanting to get into art?
If I could sit down with any artist just starting out, my first word of advice would be: breathe. Take your time. It took me a solid decade to truly wrap my head around my own work and refine my signature style.
When I was first getting my feet wet, I was incredibly impatient. I had that hunger to be ‘seen’ and recognized immediately. But looking back now at 31, I realize that time was my greatest collaborator. Everything I’ve walked through—the personal highs and the professional lows—has become the fuel for my creativity.
Those ‘trials and tribulations’ we all talk about? They aren’t just obstacles; they are the very elements that draw me back to the canvas. When I was in the thick of it, art was the only thing on my mind. Those struggles helped me curate my vision and, more importantly, helped me uncover ‘lost themes’ in my pieces—depths I wasn’t even aware of when I first put lenses to frame.
To the new artists out there: don’t rush the evolution. Focus on producing work with impact. In that process, you’ll find that you aren’t just making art; you’re transmuting your life experiences into something meaningful.
In one sentence, what is art to you?
Craftsmanship
I know you’ll be having an exhibition at Brewery 99, but where else can people find your work?
The body of work I’m debuting at Brewery 99 is titled ‘THE NOISE FROM WITHIN.’ It’s a deeply personal project, and I’m hyped to finally share it.
I’m currently in the lab building out my official website, but in the meantime, you can find me over at my Instagram, @bruce_galerie, for all the latest updates and behind-the-scenes looks.
As for the art itself, the original pieces will be hanging at 99 Market and are definitely available for purchase. I’ll also be doing a limited run of signed posters for the collectors out there! Plus, I’ve set up a Printify shop so the community can grab ‘The Noise’ on just about anything—we’re talking everything from fresh apparel and home essentials to custom pet tags.