Moroccan Photographer Youssef Ouechen’s Home in Casablanca is an Inspirational Middle Ground

Ouechen grew up in Sidi Moumen, a slum on the outskirts of Casablanca, inhabited by those who worked in nearby Coca-Cola or alcohol factories. "As a kid, you don't understand that you're in a poor area. Until you leave it," he says.

As a student, Ouechen excelled at drawing, already obsessed with magazines, billboards, and all kinds of visuals. But he struggled with the teaching environment and dropped out before high school.

Instead, he went to downtown Casablanca to discover the meaning of art and volunteer at festivals. "I didn't speak English or French," he remembers.

The early 2000s were the era of blogging, and Ouechen started his blog on which he collected street photography from around the world, hoping that he would one day be able to do it in Morocco.

"In all of the Arab countries and Africa, there was only one street style blog in Johannesburg. So I said, 'I have to work and buy a camera.'"

From his McDonald's job and with the help of his mother, he bought a camera. He began taking pictures of people on Casablanca's fancier streets, gaining a following of diasporic Moroccans who wanted to stay up-to-date with the local fashion scene.

Ouechen has worked as a professional photographer for the past decade, landing commissions with Vogue Arabia, GQ Middle East, and Forbes. He spent five of those years in his mother's home; the government had helped them move out of the slum and into Sidi Bernoussi, a crowded and chaotic working-class neighborhood.

"Today I ate the Friday Couscous at my mother's," says Ouechen. "When I got to her house, I felt so anxious about the craziness of the neighborhood. Everyone's on top of each other; it's noisy and dirty. When I used to live there, I was not happy."

Whenever he tried to make changes in the house, his mother would tell him that he could do so once he had his own place. This meant, of course, once he was married. But during the Covid-19 pandemic, when they were just too close for comfort, a studio became available in a building full of artists in Mers Sultan.

Mers Sultan is an up-and-coming, lively neighborhood downtown. It features a free park and is renowned for its Art Deco heritage buildings - in 2024, TimeOut named it the world's second coolest neighborhood.

Ouechen jumped on the opportunity and told his mother that he would rent a flat for $350 a month, Morocco's minimum salary. "She freaked out," he says. "She asked, 'Did I do something wrong?' When you leave your home to live somewhere else in the same city, there must be something wrong."

It's not an easy decision to commit to such high rent as a freelancer, never knowing when the next project will pay. But Ouechen took the risk, and he hasn't looked back since. "It was such a relief," he says. "My building is clean, and the neighbors are respectful. I can be inspired to focus on my work."

Still, his is not exactly a rags-to-riches story. Instead, Ouechen has made a home for himself on the inspirational middle ground.

His studio lies somewhere between the popular (read: working-class) and the colonial, upscale neighborhoods; he investigates the different lived realities that coexist alongside each other in Casablanca every day.

"Living and renting in Casablanca is expensive, especially for artists who struggle to afford it," he says, knowing he got a great deal. With the FIFA World Cup coming to Morocco in 2030, his area will be gentrified and rents will skyrocket, forcing locals to the city's outskirts.

Already, the price of one salad in a restaurant in Mers Sultan could feed his family in Sidi Bernoussi for two days.

Would Ouechen want to leave Casablanca? No. There are too many opportunities. "It's a laboratory for Morocco," he says. "Every new lifestyle starts in Casablanca, then we export it to other cities. Here, I can study people and lifestyles for free."

Mers Sultan is too chaotic for many wealthy people, and too quiet for the community Ouechen grew up with. "My mother would not want to live where I live, it's too much individuality, too European, and not enough solidarity," he says. "But nobody knocking on my door is like heaven for me. I'm still interested in what's happening in our neighborhood, but I have the choice to go and leave."

Meanwhile, in his sanctuary, Ouechen contemplates design deeply; it can take him a year to decide which fabric and material he wants. "I dream about being featured in design magazines," he smiles. "I am intentional, buying lamps or a sofa that bring me joy, are functional, and also aesthetic. This helps me create and live a good life."

His friends complain that he doesn't invite them over enough, and they're right - he wants his flat to be perfect for them, even if his mere existence in the studio is already perfect for him. "I'm so happy now," he says. "Even if I can afford something bigger, I will keep [my apartment] as a work studio. I'm never gonna let it go."