story
"Creativity can float in the idea phase," says Barbra Guya, "but analytics gives me the tools to ground imagination in reality." As both product analyst and photographer in Kenya, she embodies a new model for creative careers—where professional versatility isn't compromise, it's competitive advantage. Her photography captures Kenyan life with authenticity that serves both personal narrative and commercial needs, from contributing to PichaStock to being featured in Weaving Stories. Barbra's journey proves that given the right environment, creatives can thrive in every sense of the word.
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I like to say I was raised with numbers in one hand and stories in the other. My dad was a mathematician, and from him I learned that math isn’t just about formulas — it’s about moving from the known to the unknown, solving problems by breaking them down step by step. That way of thinking shaped me deeply.
As an analyst, I carry that mindset every day: I’m trained to think critically, to map processes, to take something complex and translate it into a story that others can follow — whether it’s explaining a user need to engineers or designing a product flow.
In photography, that becomes my superpower. Creativity can easily float in the idea phase, but analytics gives me the tools to ground imagination in reality. I can see the vision, then design the path to get there. And because people can’t always see what you see, being able to articulate it — to build the picture in their minds — makes the vision tangible, and even investable.
For me, the magic lives in that intersection: using logic to elevate imagination, and storytelling to make both art and problem-solving feel human.
For a long time, I thought I didn’t have a story worth telling. I kept waiting for something extraordinary to happen, something that would make me feel “worthy” of speaking. But self-discovery taught me the opposite — that the extraordinary is often hidden in the ordinary. Everyone has a story, and while there’s nothing new under the sun, what makes it powerful is perspective: the way you experience the world. That’s where the story lives.
Once I learned to define my own narrative, I realized how it connects to universal themes — the struggles, joys, and questions we all share. That’s the bridge to commercial storytelling: you can only sell what people can relate to.
Take my project ‘Diversity: Mothers of Color’ as an example. I started with myself: “I am a mother of color. What is my experience? What is my truth?” Then I asked: “How does this connect to others who walk a similar path?” From that very personal starting point, I built a story that resonated far beyond me.
In the end, you can’t make people feel without first allowing yourself to feel. That authenticity — starting with your own narrative — is what transforms art into something relatable, and relatability is what makes a story powerful enough to move people, whether in life or in business.
I’ll be honest — it’s still very much a work in progress. But what’s helped me is realizing that my career and my creative practice aren’t competing for space; they actually feed each other. It’s less about balance and more about symbiosis — two sides of the same coin.
As a product analyst, my job is to tell stories: translating between the technical and the human, between data and lived experience. That same skill is what drives my photography. When I’m in the field talking to customers, I’m not just hearing about a product — I’m hearing about lives, perspectives, and the way people experience the world. Those stories inspire me creatively.
So instead of drawing a hard line between the 9-to-5 and my art, I let them flow into one another.
They’re not competing — they’re in conversation. Time spent in one is time invested in both. That’s where the harmony happens.
For me, it’s about sharing the Kenyan energy with the world — that vibrancy, warmth, and rhythm that feels so unique when you’re here. There’s something singular about being Kenyan and existing in Kenyan spaces, and I want to give people a window into that.
It’s not about isolating or drawing lines; it’s about contributing to the global creative conversation with our perspective, our nuances, our way of seeing. Every culture brings something to the table, and I see my role as helping shape what “the Kenyan creative voice” sounds and looks like on that table.
When people talk about Kenyan visual storytelling, I hope my work will have added something meaningful to that definition — not just for Kenya, but for the world to experience and enjoy.
For me, stock photography isn’t about staging something that feels foreign or forced — it’s about capturing life as it’s lived, here and now. Africans do business, go to school, celebrate, love, hustle — all the same universal experiences, but through our own lens and context. Those stories deserve to be visible in the global commercial space, too.
My authentic narrative voice is African, so creating stock photography that serves commercial needs and remains authentic isn’t a conflict for me — it’s actually aligned. When I shoot what I know, what I live, or what I see around me, the authenticity is already there.
That’s why I choose subjects and themes rooted in real experiences. It ensures the images not only meet commercial demand but also resonate with the people they represent. Because in the end, relatability sells — and nothing is more relatable than truth.
I think my story highlights something important: creatives are multi-skilled, multi-layered people. We can do more than one thing — and do them well. I love that we’re living in a time where it’s possible to pursue all our interests without being forced to choose just one path.
Historically, many Africans had to pick a profession out of necessity — usually whatever would sustain an income — but today there’s more freedom, more openness to uncharted paths. That excites me. At the same time, it also reveals the work still to be done. Creative careers across the continent are not yet invested in enough to sustain livelihoods on their own. We need to shift the culture so that art is not seen as a luxury or a side project, but as an investment worth making - a force that drives culture and economy across the continent.
In my case, I embrace the duality — I am an academic and a creative, and I thrive in both. But I also want to see a future where those who want to commit fully to creative careers don’t feel like they have to keep a 9-to-5 just to survive. That’s the conversation I want my journey to add to: that we exist, we are versatile, and given the right environment, we can thrive in every sense of the word.
For me, integrity and equality aren’t abstract values — they’re filters I run every opportunity through. I align myself with projects that reflect what I believe in, because inspiration comes easily when the work resonates with me personally. If I can’t buy into what you’re selling, I can’t convince others to buy in either.
Integrity builds trust — with clients, collaborators, and audiences. It means being transparent about what I can deliver, pricing fairly, and keeping my word. Equality, for me, is about making sure opportunities and representation are shared, not hoarded. That shows up in the projects I choose, the people I collaborate with, and even the stories I decide to tell through my lens.
At the end of the day, I want my creative practice to reflect the same values I live by. Work guided by integrity and equality doesn’t just produce images; it produces impact.
The biggest insight I’ve carried from being an analyst into photography is this: treat your art like a business from the start. You have to take it seriously before anyone else will. That means investing in it — defining your brand, understanding your monetization avenues, and honing your craft until excellence becomes your standard.
As an analyst, I’m trained to design processes and communicate value clearly. I’ve applied that to photography by asking: what platforms do I want to build? How do I want my brand to show up? How do I communicate my value proposition so clients stop seeing my work as a hobby and start seeing it as something worth paying for?
Another piece is efficiency. Chaos is not cute. Just like in analytics, refining the process makes the output sustainable. For me, that’s meant creating a workflow that allows me to deliver consistently without burning out. In short: art is the heart, but structure is the backbone.
You aim to "have a positive impact in the spaces you occupy." How do you measure and communicate this impact to potential clients who may prioritize other metrics of success?
For me, positive impact isn’t complicated — it simply means leaving a space better than I found it. I don’t think any client would say no to that.
Impact doesn’t stand in opposition to traditional metrics of success; often, it’s a by-product of the same work. If a client’s needs are met, their problems are solved, and their project is in a better place than when we started — that’s impact.
But I also look beyond deliverables. People may forget the numbers, but they never forget how you made them feel. Part of my measure of success is whether clients walk away not only satisfied with the work, but also with a sense that the experience itself was positive, collaborative, and inspiring. That, to me, is the kind of impact that lasts.
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Tension usually comes from seeing two forces as opposing. But energy follows the path of least resistance — which means the easiest way to sustain dual identities is to find common ground between them. For me, it’s never competition, it’s symbiosis. Pouring into one doesn’t take away from the other; instead, they flow into and strengthen each other.
Practically, that still requires deliberate effort. Time management, discipline, and carving out space to invest in yourself are non-negotiable. I think of it this way: both careers flow from me, just in different directions. The more I pour into myself, the more I have to give to each path.
And perhaps most importantly: take care of yourself. Rest. Breathe. Recharge. Creativity pulls from the heart, and that makes it deeply personal. It takes a lot out of you. So be kind to yourself. That’s the foundation that allows everything else to flourish.
View her work on Picha
content credits belong to the talented artists featured. All images © their respective owners.