Gordon Massie Photography

08/04/2026

07/04/2026

Five abandoned homes in Upper Houghton. I had permission to photograph them, but I was never allowed inside alone, always accompanied by security. Not to watch me, but for my safety. Says a lot about the perception of these places.

Hand belongs to Cyprian, often my guardian, at times a photographer.

06/04/2026

Abandoned modernist house, Upper Houghton, Johannesburg.
Revisited to re-photograph—this room stripped back to its basics: light, wall, floor.

05/04/2026

Abandoned modernist house, Upper Houghton, Johannesburg.
The banister was still intact, curving upward with quiet restraint, holding the line of the architecture even as everything else slips into neglect. In a subsequent visit to re photograph the project the banister had been looted.

04/04/2026

The Mujejeje, a natural quartz line running across the rock, marking the spiritual entrance to Great Zimbabwe. You can feel the energy here.

03/04/2026

The Ancient Ascent, threading upward between massive stones, each one shaped by time. This narrow passage leads high into Great Zimbabwe’s hill complex, where every step feels like a climb deeper into history and into the scale of what was built here.

02/04/2026

Parallel corridors, carved in stone and time. Towering walls rise around me, their sheer scale both humbling and surreal. Even under the scorching sun, the air inside stays unexpectedly cool. At Great Zimbabwe, every step echoes history.

01/04/2026

In the time of The Spear, these stickers surfaced quietly in Johannesburg’s Parkwood area, multiplying a face, reducing a voice to a command: “OBEY.” As outrage swelled, protests filled the streets and the world tuned in, this small act of repetition felt like its own form of resistance—subtle, sharp, and impossible to ignore.

31/03/2026

Shady streets, louder stories.

On the right: the vacant Sahara Park in Saxonwold, Johannesburg, South Africa — once home to the Gupta family before their 2016 exit. A place wrapped in controversy, whispers of state capture, and one unforgettable label… a “shebeen,” courtesy of a certain minister who apparently knew it a little too well.

Quiet road, noisy history.