I’ve always been fascinated by horse racing. It’s nothing to do with gambling: I’ve never laid a bet. It’s about the speed, power and grace of the animals. The physical and visual energy of the spectacle. The endless play between triumph, defeat and near misses. The colours.
But in post-apartheid South Africa, racing colours have taken on a different meaning as horse racing parades as the last outpost of the pre-1994 order.
Behind the glamour and bling of high-profile events such as the Durban July, Queen’s Plate and Sun Met lies a business built on feudal lines that have barely shifted for almost a century.
Racing Colours is a continuing photo essay into the conspicuous differences between the horse owners, trainers and race-goers and the underpaid, often under-qualified and largely unrecognised grooms who are responsible for millions of rands-worth of thoroughbred horseflesh.