A Palestinian photographer who documented daily life under bombardment, killed by a drone strike in Deir al-Balah in September 2025.
Yahia Barzaq was a Palestinian photographer born in the Gaza Strip, first known for his images of life and rebirth: portraits of newborns taken in his small studio, the Yahia Barzaq Newborn Studio, in Gaza City. Each photograph was a declaration of love for life, a way to preserve a fragment of serenity in a place where daily life is so often marked by fear.
He held a dual identity: Palestinian, but with Turkish Cypriot roots through his grandmother, which had allowed him to obtain citizenship from the Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus. His identity, like his work, was suspended between worlds—deeply rooted in his homeland, yet capable of expressing a universal sensitivity.
As the war in Gaza intensified, Yahia gradually transformed his photography. From the tender poses of newborns, he turned to the weary faces of survivors, the destroyed landscapes, the shattered homes, and the children in flight. His lens continued to search for life, but now he found it amidst devastation. He worked as a freelance photographer, contributing among others to the international channel TRT World, documenting the reality of war and the plight of Palestinian civilians.
In September 2025, after renewed bombings in Gaza City, Yahia decided to flee with his wife and children to Deir al-Balah, in the center of the Strip. They had lost their home and found shelter in a tent set up on a rooftop, together with other displaced families. In those weeks, he continued to work, balancing care for his family with the need to bear witness.
Shortly before his death, he posted a message on social media that read like both a reflection and a premonition. He described a chess set left intact among the ruins of a relative’s house destroyed by a bombing: “May God protect my family as He protected these pieces of wood,” he wrote. It was a prayer, but also a metaphor for the fragile life that surrounded him.
On the evening of September 30, 2025, around 9:30 p.m., Yahia left the tent to find a spot with a stronger internet signal—he wanted to call his mother, who was in Egypt. He stopped near a carpentry workshop where other civilians had gathered for the same reason. An Israeli drone struck the area with a missile. Yahia was killed instantly, along with several others, including a child.
His death sparked grief and outrage around the world. International press freedom organizations condemned yet another loss of a journalist in a conflict where telling the truth has become an act of survival.
Yahia Barzaq was thirty-five years old. He leaves behind his wife, two children, and an archive of images that portray Gaza not only as a place of war, but as one of resilience and humanity. His photographs—from sleeping newborns to ruins bathed in sunset light—remain as the mark of a photographer who, until the very end, chose to stay and bear witness.
