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It was after seeing, nay, observing the portrait photography by Dr Altamash Kamal put on display at the Canvas Art Gallery in Karachi last month that I understood what it means to have a dialogue with a photograph. Each subject, whether well-known or not, speaks to the viewers intimately and ropes them into a discourse.
Titled ‘Mein’, the collection of portraits, is aptly and beautifully described by Kamal through a quote from Armenian photographer Yousuf Karsh which reads: “There is a brief moment when all there is in a man’s mind and soul and spirit is reflected through his eyes, his hands, his attitude. This is the moment to record.”
A quick glance at the exhibition and it is quite apparent that Kamal has chosen to photograph people in their own private spaces. Hence, the location or ambience in which his subjects are shot captures the essence of their lives, even though the concentration is solely on the face.
“You can go to the same place and take the same photos as any other photographer when it comes to landscape,” Kamal says, “but with portraits, it’s all about the moment that you capture… that moment tells you so much about the person and enables the viewer of the photograph to attach emotions to him or her.”
The subjects of Kamal’s portraits include his family, friends such as Ardeshir Cowasjee, Shahid Sajjad, Stella Jafri, Nus and Tahira Wahidi, Ghazi Salahuddin as well as complete strangers he ran into on the streets.
‘Guardian of the fort’ is a splendidly simple yet utterly powerful shot showing a young boy starring back at the camera with a hauntingly piercing and telling gaze. Shot in colour with enough detailing for the viewer to feel the texture of his skin, the portrait brings the viewer face-to-face with the stark reality of child labour and deprivation in our country.
Ardeshir Cowasjee’s familiar smile, the one that makes you wonder whether he is smiling at a private joke, has been captured in a series of his portraits. One of them is titled ‘Six Cowasjees’ shows him sitting against the sculpture busts of his ancestors, as if irrevocably connected to his roots yet, after having led a full life, waiting to join them.
“Cowasjee is a dear friend and an amazing person to photograph,” says Kamal fondly, “Every time I visit him, I invariably photograph him. His is one of the most interesting faces.”
Another portrait that grips attention is titled ‘Dead to the world’. It is unapologetic in its sharp, honest portrayal of a man presumably sleeping on the street, literally dead to the world in a drug-induced slumber. Concentrated on the face, it zooms in on the flies nesting on it as well as inside the subject’s mouth. It is one of those portraits that tends to repulse the viewer and at the same time challenges him/her to keep looking.
A selection of four photographs titled ‘Dervishes 1, 2, 3, and 4’ respectively show a pair of dancers, and in some the female counterpart alone, engaged in a revolving dance. The movement of the dancer’s attire is slightly blurred but their facial expressions are sharp and in focus.
This selection of photographs as well as one titled ‘Pipe Dream 1 and 2’ — a lovely pictorial of men sitting in large, concrete sewerage pipes, waiting to be laid underground — did not quite conform to the rest of the exhibition in that they were not portraits. But the photographer begs to differ, saying “there ar
e different ways of photographing portraits. This is one of them.”
Portraits are often accused of stealing a bit of their subjects’ soul; however, they also do immortalise them. The private moment that Kamal’s subjects seem to be engaged in when photographed isn’t restricted to them alone — the viewer is drawn in and made to experience it firsthand, making the portraits all the more powerful.
Dr Kamal, a nuclear physicist by qualification is a well-known figure in the technology circles of Pakistan. He has exhibited in group shows before and this is his first solo exhibition.
– photo on top: Young Makrani
– photo at the bottom: Cowasjees
It’s always exciting when a set of photographers exhibit their work together. It’s even better if their work revolves around a similar theme. It encourages the viewer to look for what is unique in every photographer’s work and, as it may be considered inevitable, draw comparisons. Curated by Amean J, who was also exhibiting his own photographs, 14/15 opened at the first day of the Shankaakht (Identity) Festival held at the Arts Council of Pakistan in the Ahmed Pervaiz Gallery and was on view till the Independence Day, which was also the last day of the festival.
The photographs were a reflection of how a certain set of photographers view ‘identity’ and the Partition, as well as a set of photographs donated for the occasion which were taken around the time of Partition.
The older, donated photographs gave an insight into the life and times of the 1940s. A particularly interesting one showed university students sitting during a class – some of them acutely aware of the camera and staring into it while others choosing to ignore it. Considering that university education wasn’t as common than as it is today, it gave a visual insight into how the privileged few sat and behaved, and despite their antiquated sense of personal fashion, they looked much more physically mature than the students found in universities nowadays.
Another photograph from the donated set was of a hockey match, taken at an angle high above the ground and behind the goalie’s net. The attendance in the stadium was full, a sharp contrast to hockey matches held today, and was a graphic depiction of the time when hockey was Pakistan’s most popular sport. The only thing lacking in the photograph was the lack of description of the year, place and the team playing opposite the Pakistani team in the match.
A photograph that clearly stood out, however, was one in which a child was crying in front of a tap while another tried to hold it up. There were sari-clad women somewhere in the background who also had children looking visibly upset. At first one thought it had to do with the featured child unwilling to take a bath, but realised how mistaken one was after reading the title ‘Fight over water’. The contrast between how the photograph had been perceived and what it really was a somewhat sobering experience. It was a photograph that held you to it a little longer than the others – children, and anything related to them, have a tendency of doing that.
Many of the photographs from contemporary photographers who participated in the exhibition focused on children including Ayesha Vellani. From her submission, there was a photograph of a lone child walking through the dirty and deserted stalls of what seemed to be, Karachi’s Sunday Bazaar. Another photograph shows children who work at the harbour taking a moment to pose for the camera and a photograph of another lone child standing on top of a dirty, rocky shore with a basket in hand – they all seemed to reflect the economic burden these children share along with the incorruptibility that their age seemed to carry. What really set them apart, however, was the maturity and clarity of their position reflected in their eyes.
But all wasn’t dark and bleak in her collection. There was also a heart-warming photograph of a fruit seller leaning onto his donkey. His smile was warm, kind and reflected an almost simple joy. The manner in which the stalls had been laid out coupled with certain geographical elements predominant in the photograph confirmed that it had been shot at the Sunday Bazaar in Karachi.
Izdeyar Setna also seemed to focus his attention on children. His photographs were light, they were fun and they tended to make the viewer smile. In two of them it seemed the children had been given a large Pakistani flag to play around with. Exuding innocent joy, each child stood out with his/her expressions and body language depicting a lack of awareness of their surroundings as they seemed engrossed in their play.
Another photograph of his, which some considered should have been the title photograph of the event, showed a blue burka-clad figure sitting straight up with a small Pakistani flag in one hand. Upon closer inspection, the hands seemed too large and rugged to belong to a woman’s. Izdeyar later explained that it had been taken from a set of photos he had done on local eunuchs.
Tapu Javeri’s photographs, taken during the Independence Day parade in England, mainly depicted the crowd of expatriates gathered there. They focused on a person holding the flag, on people having a good time and sharing the Independence Day spirit and on the sheer number of them gathered together. It was a depiction of people coming together – all sharing a similar identity.
Amongst the photographs that stood out in the exhibition was one of Bashir Ahmed by Amean J. He displayed his collection by showing one main picture and surrounding it with smaller pictures of either the same person, bits of him or of his surroundings. Not an unknown figure in certain streets of Karachi, Bashir Ahmed can often be seen taking his bicycle around, while clad in full uniform, and a sign urging people to come together to protect the ideological sanctity of the country.
The main picture, in which Bashir Ahmed is seen supporting his sign, captured the remorse he felt along with his refusal to… let go. The smaller photos showed a broken down shack where remnants of what looked like, old Muhammad Ali Jinnah and Liaqat Ali Khan posters, a broken down piece of machinery, his steel glasses and lota (which made quite a few appearances in a couple of photographs) in the middle of debris, could be seen. This was someone who strongly held on to and lived in the past as if it was everything that he had.
In one photograph we can see Durriya Kazi talking to him and it seems as if the photographer has taken advantage of this opportunity and photographed the movements Bashir Ahmed’s hands made while talking. Each movement is defined and depicted clearly – to the tan and the fine wrinkles on each hand – making the overall effect very pronounced and strong. The captured hand movements themselves seem to tell a story of their own.
Perhaps what one found lacking in the exhibition was an absence of more photographers and their current work. Also, when it came to the older photographs it would have helped to have a bit more detailed description about where, when and in what circumstances they had been taken. Considering that this was the first Shanaakht exhibition, one can be sure that next year when things pick up, there will be plenty more for the eyes to feast on.
— Photograph by Izdeyar Setna
Keeping in line with his travelogue series, Amean J’s third online exhibition, titled ‘Kopenhaven’ opened on his website recently. With the concept inspired by Garry Winogrand’s work on women, the photographer who inspired Amean to take up the art form, Kopenhaven (Copenhagen) provides a new insight into the photographic techniques of one of the industry’s most well-known photographers.
At first glance, there doesn’t seem to be anything particularly eye-catching about the photographs on exhibit. However, on a second, more closer look, the subjects (all women) in the photographs begin to unfold — they acquire more depth and personality, which in some cases is relatable and in others interesting to observe.
“I broke many rules of photography while documenting the women in Copenhagen. I took many photographs without looking through the view finder. This ensured that I did not lose the moment and it also allowed me to look beyond the frame. I strongly feel that one cannot look at the real world through a frame, a lot happens beyond it. The images from Prague take you into Berlin and images from Berlin builds up the mood for Copenhagen which is the finale in the series. So for me, it is the most important show of the three”, he says about the exhibition.
Coming back to the subject of the exhibition — women, it may be fair to say that Amean finds them fascinating. His perception of them, however, is pleasantly refreshing: none of them seem objectified in a manner most feminists may find offensive.
He seems to accept them, young and old, conventionally beautiful and not, the way they are. Amean sees perfection in women who otherwise seem engaged in their everyday life. This is precisely what one sees when going through the photos in the exhibition; women being celebrated for being just that — no matter what role they play.
Considering that photographing women on the streets was a major part of Winogrand’s own photographic work, does he think people will draw comparisons between Winogrand’s work and his own? “I would surely hope so, though I don’t see people from this part of the world drawing comparisons because people are not familiar with serious real-world photographers like Winogrand”, Amean replies, “For me this was also an exercise to educate our audiences by showing them different styles. They don’t have to like it but I think it’s good to expose oneself to different styles of work being practiced around the globe.”
Why did he choose Copenhagen in which to photograph women? “It was not pre-planned at all. For some strange reason I was noticing the different body languages of women on this particular shopping street and spontaneously decided to document these moves — Winogrand was obviously at the back of my mind,” he concludes.
Amean J. Mohammad is not an unknown name in the local fashion photography scene. He may not have been around for very long but coupled with a charismatic personality, an extremely professional attitude and a unique eye for photographs he has managed to make a permanent place for himself in the industry. One of the few photographers with a degree in art he has a prominent presence on the internet with ameanj.com; a favourite online haunt for film makers, art directors, advertisers, designers, writers, artistes and who-not. Although not a novel concept abroad, Amean recently held an online exhibition titled +420 Praha.
When asked why he chose to exhibit online and what was the concept behind the photographs, Amean replied, “With the help of electronic technology, the world is getting smaller and smaller which is why I thought that there was no reason why my work should only be restricted to a few who could physically come and see it. Exhibiting online I can reach a much larger and diverse audience.” Talking about the exhibition he said, “This is part of my ‘real world/travelogue’ series. Travelling and documenting places never seen before instigates in me a curiosity to explore and to look at the ordinary in an extraordinary fashion. Travelling through places and photographing strangers that I may never see again not only gives me a high, but also leaves behind memories of ordinary things in life which provides inspiration for the other things that I do.”
What does the +420 in +420 Praha stand for? “+420 is the country code for Czech Republic, like +92 for Pakistan and Praha is the Czech name for Prague, the capital city. I enjoy numbers and decided to categorise and name my travelogues after these country codes.” Talking about the response his e-exhibition has generated, he said, “The cyber space and the upcoming cyber culture fascinate me. The identities of people are neutral and the space is flooded with diverse people. It is a fantastic way to reach the unreachable. The exhibition has only been up for a few hours and already there have been hits from across the globe.”
Symbolised by the photograph taken in the Chodov Station, +420 Praha takes the viewer on a ride through Prague the way Amean sees it.
— Photo taken from +420 Praha exhibit by Amean J.
