Cova da Moura, a suburb on the outskirts of Lisbon, developed in the 1970s as a makeshift favela. Organic, unauthorised and built primarily by migrants from Cape Verde, Angola and Guinea-Bissau, African nations then still struggling for independence from colonial Portugal, the area itself was illegal. While this is no longer the case, the social exclusion which came with that designation still endures. Yet Cova de Moura is now one of Greater Lisbon's most culturally vibrant districts, with a flourishing music scene, year-round festivals and a powerful sense of political legacy. These dual realities are captured in Kova M (taking its name from a term for the area favoured by its younger residents), an evocative series by photographer Loan Lamoureux.

Originally from France, Lamoureux has always been interested in subcultures, beginning with a childhood love of hip-hop music. “I’m attracted to the movement of the streets, inside different communities, at protests or gatherings,” he says. Since moving to Lisbon ten years ago, he has been working on one ongoing project about the city’s South Indian communities and another focused on Cova da Moura. “Over the last three years, I’ve been visiting to take pictures or sometimes just to catch up with people there and try to create something personal.” He was first brought to the area by rappers in the local scene, including Real Guns, General Mucuemba, and Eks P, while shooting music videos for them. They later accompanied him as he worked on the project and introduced him to prominent figures in the neighbourhood. “If you went by yourself as a foreigner with a huge camera, it would be a bit weird. But with those people, I felt very at home and welcomed,” he says.

While it’s now unrecognisable from its humble beginnings, Cova da Moura still experiences high levels of poverty and discrimination. “Even though it’s legal now [officially part of the city], it still has a bad connotation for a lot of people; it still carries that weight of criminality, of marginalisation,” Lamoureux says. Many people in the area, including two of his subjects, are what is known in Portugal as “invisible ones” which means that, despite being born there they still don’t have official citizenship, face the threat of deportation to countries where they’ve never lived (much like Britain’s Windrush scandal) and are denied access to education, employment and their full spectrum of human rights. “Their kids are allowed to travel, have jobs and study because they have a Portuguese nationality, but because the parents didn’t do the proper [paperwork] when they were born back in the in the 70s and 80s, they are denied that, even though they have lived here for decades.”

Cova da Moura has also been the frequent site of police violence, including a case in 2024 when a police officer shot dead local resident Odair Moniz, after falsely accusing him of carrying a knife. The ensuing controversy drew attention, rightfully, to the problems facing the community, but as Lamoureux says, lots of people in Portugal only see the area in those negative terms.  “Really, it’s a neighbourhood which lives on its history, cultural heritage, festivals, music and emerging rap scene. It’s a really lively place which has a lot to offer, and I wanted to go beyond a cliched depiction,” he says. His work doesn’t feel like gritty documentary photography or the product of a voyeuristic, patronising gaze; instead, it portrays Cova da Moura as a warm, community-minded and dynamic place.

The series also spotlights Cova da Moura’s rich history of anti-colonial struggle and political resistance, seen in the area’s street names and the murals adorning its walls, many of which reference leaders who helped Guinea-Bissau and Cape Verde achieve independence from Portugal. Representations of these figures, including Amílcar Cabral, appear in the background in several of Lamoureux’s shots.

Alongside hip-hop music, Lamoureux is inspired by “all the classic American street photographers”, including William Klein. He has a strong appreciation for Japanese photography, having lived there himself for two years and published a book about it. “I love Masahisa Fukase. He did street photography but would implement full-size portraits that looked a bit more like studio or conventional photography. His practice was more about the streets, but he was continuing a legacy of traditional portraiture,” he says. This quality is evident in Lamoureux’s own work; alongside a lively spontaneity, there is an elegance to the framing of his subjects, some of whom could be gracing the pages of a fashion magazine. Whether capturing youthful bravado or quieter moments of communal life, his respect and affection for the area shine through.

Visit the gallery above for a closer look.