ROEL

Roel Loopers has spent 33 years watching Fremantle, which means that if you’ve ever wandered through its streets—half-asleep at dawn, cursing parking inspectors at noon, chasing the last rays of golden-hour light—he’s probably seen you. Maybe even captured you. He won’t say this, of course. He’ll tell you he’s just an observer, but observers are never just anything. They are archivists, witnesses, the last people left who still bother to look. And Roel? He looks at everything. The way the port glows at sunrise. The creeping vertical sprawl of new developments. The people who’ve stayed and the artists who’ve been priced out. If Fremantle has a soul, he’s been quietly documenting its every exhale.


Breyon: You’ve spent so much of your life taking photos of others. What’s it like being on the other side of the camera?
Roel: Oh, yeah, I don’t mind it, but I don’t love it either. When I take photos, it’s never about me—it’s about what’s happening around me. It’s not about ego or anything like that. I’m just an observer of what happens in Fremantle rather than the director.
Breyon: I like that—an observer. So, as an observer of Fremantle, what’s one small detail about the city that people might overlook?
Roel: I don’t know that you’d really miss anything if you’re walking around Fremantle. I mean, you’ve got the most fantastic heritage buildings, especially in the West End, you’ve got the port, the beaches—it’s just a stunning place. I think people sometimes just don’t stop and look. If you really take the time to walk around, you see it—it’s very hard to ignore.
Breyon: How long have you lived here?
Roel: 33 years.
Breyon: That’s a long time! What’s the biggest change you’ve seen over that period?
Roel: Oh, well, a lot of Fremantle has moved south, and there’s been more modern development. The new civic centre, the apartments on Victoria and Adelaide Street, the boardwalk—none of that was here when I arrived. There have been good changes, but some things should have happened earlier and faster. And the cost of living’s gone up, so a lot of artists can’t afford to live here anymore, and that’s changed the dynamic a bit.
Breyon: If I walked through Fremantle with your eyes, what would I see?
Roel: I think you’d see more of the beauty, more details, and you’d probably see a lot more sunrises and sunsets than you normally notice. I used to go out early in the morning to photograph the sun coming up behind the port, catching the first light on the ships. I don’t drive anymore, so I don’t get out as much, but it’s something I still love.
Breyon: Do you make it a point to see the sunset?
Roel: Yeah, sometimes. I don’t drive anymore, so it’s a bit harder, but I used to go early in the morning, sit at the South Mole, watch the sunrise. It’s really special. But now I walk a lot instead, and walking lets you see things you’d never notice otherwise. You pick up the little details. I love reflections—water, windows, puddles, anything like that.
Breyon: You say, “my city.” What does home mean to you?
Roel: Yeah, this is my home. I’ve always felt comfortable in most places I’ve lived, but Fremantle is different. Maybe because I let myself connect more, be more involved. It’s a different kind of connection here.
Breyon: You’ve had a long career in photography. What’s the difference between your work as a press photographer and your street photography now?
Roel: Oh, well, press photography was high-pressure—deadlines all the time, sometimes within hours. You’d be in the darkroom developing film at 7 PM after shooting at 6 PM. When I moved here, I did industrial and commercial photography, and that was different again. You had to learn things—how to photograph mining, how to light portraits, all that. Now, with street photography, it’s different. It’s my own thing. But I still have that instinct—if I shoot something today, I want to have it out today. That’s why I write my blog every day. I treat it like a daily newspaper—the only daily newspaper in Fremantle, actually.
Breyon: Do you think Fremantle has changed for the better or worse?
Roel: I think it’s changing for the better. It went through a real slump for a while, felt like a sleepy little port town, but now it’s rejuvenating itself. There’s a better balance. It’s still very engaged, but it’s not just lefty hippies and rusted-on types anymore. I’d love to see more families living in the city—that’s something that’s missing.
Breyon: You often critique new developments on your blog—not out of NIMBYism, but out of a desire for good urban planning. Is that how you see yourself?
Roel: Oh, absolutely. Some people say Fremantle shouldn’t have buildings taller than four stories, and I totally disagree. The historic core should stay as it is, but outside of that, I don’t mind six, eight, even twelve stories in the right places. I live in an eight-story building myself. We’re not a museum city—we have to grow. If we don’t, we’ll just become a stagnant little tourist town.
Breyon: You’re also deeply involved in community advocacy. Where does that come from?
Roel: I grew up in a big family, so you learn to consider others. And then when I traveled, I met people from all over the world and realized that people, at their core, are the same everywhere. It doesn’t matter their religion, skin colour, whatever—people are just people. That’s why I reach out, whether it’s volunteering, advocating, or just helping someone who looks lost in Fremantle. That’s what community is about.
Breyon: Speaking of connection, you’ve traveled extensively. Was there a moment in your travels that changed your life?
Roel: Oh yeah, definitely. In my mid-forties, I was in a really deep depression, so I traveled around Australia alone for eight months. Drove into the Pilbara, and when I got to the area between Wittenoom and Marble Bar, I had this incredible feeling of belonging—like I’d found my place. And when I camped up in the Bungle Bungles, it was the same thing. Just looking up at the stars, feeling like I was home.
Breyon: What’s something you wish people talked about more?
Roel: Respect. People are so afraid of the unknown. Instead of fearing people who are different, try talking to them. Fear divides us; respect brings us together.
Breyon: If you had to sum up your life’s learning in a few sentences, what would you say?
Roel: Most people are good. The media makes the world seem dangerous, but if you smile at someone, they usually smile back. I’ve had an adventurous life, and I wouldn’t change a thing.




"Most people are good. The media makes the world seem dangerous, but if you smile at someone, they usually smile back."

Breyon: If you had to describe yourself as a photograph, what would be in the frame?
Roel: My eyes. That’s where you see everything.
Breyon: And what’s a part of yourself that can’t be captured in an image?
Roel: The depth of my emotions. I feel everything so deeply—music, human suffering, joy—it’s all-consuming.
Breyon: You’ve spent your life behind the lens. How do you think people see you?
Roel: As someone fair, balanced, engaged. Someone who cares about people and tries to connect them. That’s enough for me.

"I treat [my blog] like a daily newspaper—the only daily newspaper in Fremantle, actually."







"Can't forget the big ears!"









