

We recently had the chance to connect with Mx. ROYCE SOBLE and have shared our conversation below.
Hi ROYCE, thank you so much for taking time out of your busy day to share your story, experiences and insights with our readers. Let’s jump right in with an interesting one: What do the first 90 minutes of your day look like?
Coffee first.
My day begins with a strong cup of coffee before I settle in at my work table to engage with my visual journal.
This morning ritual helps me shake off the remnants of the dreamscape and gently transition into the waking world.
Working in my journal each day is a grounding practice—one that allows me to create with intuition and energy, rather than being driven by the intention of a specific project.
Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
I am a multifaceted artist whose creative passions live between documentary photography and abstract expressionist painting. With a career spanning over 30 years, my work reflects a commitment to truth, emotion, and cultural storytelling. Over the decades, I’ve been fortunate to build a community of collectors who hold pieces from various eras of my evolving practice.
Born and raised in Atlanta, Georgia, my roots run deep in this city. My photographic career has been shaped by documenting Atlanta’s diverse cultural landscape—particularly the two worlds I call home: LGBTQIA+ life and nightlife, and the socio-political movements rooted in activism and community resistance. I approach these subjects not just as an observer, but as a participant—capturing moments from the inside out with honesty and empathy.
My photographic work is permanently archived at the Stuart A. Rose Manuscript, Archives, and Rare Book Library at Emory University. The archive includes over three decades of my papers, hand-printed photographs, published interviews, newspaper articles, and contributions to magazines and exhibition catalogs. It is a living record of my commitment to both art and history.
Currently, I am involved with a new queer artist collective called FRANK.
We are a group of multifaceted artists that meet twice a month to bounce ideas around, discuss opportunities for collaboration and exhibitions, exploring various ways of making new connections, and being open and FRANK about who we are and our artistic expression.
Okay, so here’s a deep one: What breaks the bonds between people—and what restores them?
It’s never easy when bonds between people break.
Integrity, honesty, transparency, and empathy are essential in all kinds of relationships—whether personal, professional, or creative. When those qualities begin to falter and a rift forms, direct communication becomes necessary. Repairing a relationship requires self-awareness, a genuine desire to reconnect, and the emotional space to have open and difficult conversations.
Sometimes, taking space is important. We all need time to reflect, to reevaluate the reasons a conflict may have occurred. But this is not a time for passivity, avoidance, or passive aggression. If a relationship matters, it’s worth doing the hard work of repair. That means showing up with courage, grace, and tact—because even the toughest conversations can be healing when approached with compassion and truth.
What have been the defining wounds of your life—and how have you healed them?
There is a club that, eventually, everyone joins—but no one asks to be a part of:
Losing your parents.
Grief is not linear. There’s no timeline for when you’re supposed to feel “better” or fully healed.
I won’t go into the details of their passings, but I was present for both.
My mom’s death was unexpected—and devastating.
My dad’s was expected, and in many ways, I was grateful he no longer had to suffer.
The circumstances were different, but the ache of their absence is the same.
It will always be hard losing them.
Still, I believe that time has a way of softening the sharpest edges of pain. The memories remain, but the intensity slowly fades into something more bearable.
Healing takes time.
Talking about them, honoring their memory, keeping their spirit close—these are all part of the process.
And when the grief feels too heavy to carry alone, I believe in therapy.
It’s okay to ask for help when you’re not sure how to move through certain kinds of emotional pain.
Next, maybe we can discuss some of your foundational philosophies and views? Is the public version of you the real you?
As a documentary photographer, I’m not just an observer—I’m a participant. Whether I’m covering nightlife, a political rally, or intimate moments within a community, I use my visual voice to tell the story from the inside out. My presence in the moment is just as important as the image I create.
I have a strong and consistent presence on social media, posting multiple times a day. I share my life, my art, my work, my partner, my family, and my friendships. For many, it may seem like I’m endlessly extroverted, always open and outgoing.
And while that may be partially true, it’s not the full picture.
Social media shows what we choose to share. Behind the scenes, I’m also someone who values solitude. I experience social anxiety at times. I can be deeply introverted and need quiet to recharge.
I show up fully, both online and in real life—but like everyone, I contain multitudes.
Before we go, we’d love to hear your thoughts on some longer-run, legacy type questions. What do you understand deeply that most people don’t?
There are aspects of my life and identity that set me apart from many others.
Living proudly as a non-binary, transmasculine person is not something everyone can fully understand. For much of my life, I struggled with the deep, unsettling feeling of not being in the “right body.” That path—one of self-exploration, discomfort, and ultimately self-acceptance—is not one most people have to walk. Coming into my truth required hard work: the quiet labor of deep self-awareness, and the boldness to not only come out to myself, but to the world.
Knowing one’s authentic self is not instant—it’s a process of patience, reflection, risk assessment, and, ultimately, permission. Permission to live fully. Permission to choose happiness, no matter the cost.
Being a working artist adds another layer of complexity to my life. The choice to dedicate myself to a life of art-making—driven by soul and passion—comes with few safety nets. It demands belief in oneself, the kind that must stay steady even when the path is uncertain. Financial instability is real, and navigating that requires creativity beyond the studio—balancing work, life, and survival with grace and grit.
Many people choose certainty. I’ve chosen truth. And it’s from that place—of honesty, vulnerability, and resilience—that I create.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://www.roycesoble.com
- Instagram: roycesobolovitz
Image Credits
ALL IMAGES © ROYCE SOBLE