Interview: Shahidul Alam
From “The Tide Will Turn” ©Shahidul Alam. Image Courtesy of Steidl.
What was your intention going into your latest exhibition, Truth to Power at the Rubin Museum? This was the first comprehensive survey of your work in a U.S. Museum. What did you want to get across to people who perhaps were previously unaware of your work?
I was actually still in jail when I was asked if I was interested in a show at the Rubin, the question was posed literally through the bars.
The primary idea really was the interplay between art and politics. The fact that while I am an artist, a writer, and a journalist, my work is very intensely political. The politics drive my art and that is a raison d'être.
Additionally, countries like Bangladesh are very poorly understood. International countries, in their dealings with countries like mine, play a part in what happens internally. That’s something I wanted to get across. I wanted to communicate that the international community is often accountable in terms of how they become tolerant to such injustices.
Cover, “The TIde Will Turn”, ©Steidl.
From “The Tide Will Turn” ©Shahidul Alam. Image Courtesy of Steidl.
I had a show, some of which is in The Rubin now. The work is very critical of the wedding of a very powerful minister’s daughter. It was a struggle to show that work. We eventually managed it but at first, our sponsors backed out and the galleries wouldn’t accept it because of its political content. However, the show was reviewed in a magazine owned by the minister’s wife, which I found very surprising. But, what they did was very interesting. They talked about the artistry of my work, the quality of my compositions, the nuances of the grayscales within the black and white. They spoke in very beautiful terms about the quality of the work, completely bypassing the intrinsic politics. At that point, I decided that in future shows, the politics would be so intertwined that they could not be separated.
You obtained a PhD in Chemistry before becoming a photographer and in the project, Searching for Kalpana Chakma, those two backgrounds merged. Could you talk about the technical production of those images?
So that project was a trilogy. First, I simulated a forensic technique which would have been the normal process of an investigation. I questioned the silent witnesses, the objects I found along the way, things that were there at the last part of her journey. Second was her personal belongings. I was trying to bring life to this missing person. The third part was about telling the story of the people around Kalpana, those who believed in her and continue to fight for her. When I visited their homes I discovered that they had very little furniture, they just used these straw mats. I thought, here is someone who has materially so little yet, the state fears so much it feels it has to disappear her. I decided to use the straw mats themselves as a canvas.
When I spoke to her brother, he mentioned Kalpana had an altercation with her abductor, on the matter of the military burning their village. So, I decided to use fire as a means of producing the imagery. I took a laser device that is used within the garment industry to tear jeans. I developed an algorithm which would convert my digital 16 bit raw files, aka the portraits I took, into what you see on the straw mat.
The lighting was also designed in a particular way so to translate well to this material. It was done through a grid structure. We broke up the shape into a sort of a line drawing. And we converted them, through a series of manipulations, to single bit images, bitmap images, which this device could handle. Then, by controlling the laser intensity and duration, we produced the images by actually burning with a laser beam, the pixels onto the straw mat. So, the pixelation is actually charcoal. What you’re looking at is charcoal on undisturbed straw, permanent yet fragile.
And, they can not be repeated. Every time you do this process, it will be different because the straw itself will be different. When we first did the show in Bangladesh we actually had the gallery completely dark so as you walk in the first experience is the smell of burnt grass. The warriors lit the candles one by one. It was very performative. Slowly we had the gallery lighting up. We had people reading out very powerful poems, written in Bihari. They were read out and then translated into Bengali and English. The audience was asked to repeat it. So, they also got involved.
From “The Tide Will Turn” ©Shahidul Alam. Image Courtesy of Steidl.
That’s beautiful.
You once said, “The photographers in the West were photographing someone else’s struggle. I was an activist taking photographs of my own movement.”
What is that movement?
What is your role in it?
What are the advantages of an artist responding to something that directly affects them as opposed to an ally?
Firstly, the movement itself is one for social justice. That is the reason why I took up photography. I recognized inequalities within my country and internationally. I was looking for tools. I felt this was the most powerful tool at hand. I was a research chemist. I made the conscious decision of taking up photography as my weapon, instead. That was the choice I made.
There is art but also other interventions. I recognize that I’m a middle class male photographer within this banal structure and in some ways that power relationship isn’t so different from a white Western photographer coming in. I’m still the person deciding which image to use, how it gets used, and working with people who are very distant from the people who are really affected. So, I started training women photographers and working class children to address those inequalities. So, it wasn’t simply that I was using photography but that I was changing the political and social structure.
I think that is perhaps the major difference. It’s also a question of there being very little long term engagement. I mean, I live and work less than 3 miles from where I was born. I am part of the community. My work requires me to build a level of trust with the community which is integral to the work I do. It requires feedback and guidance. From that comes an authenticity which is very difficult to produce when one is flying over a site on a parachute.
From “The Tide Will Turn” ©Shahidul Alam. Image Courtesy of Steidl.
You’re known to prioritize keeping the subjects of your photos at the center of the work. What are some ways you’ve maintained engagement and inclusivity throughout your work?
My concern is always that galleries are quite elitist spaces. There are many people who will never enter a gallery for a whole range of social, cultural and political reasons.
That happened to me. When I had my first show I invited my friends, many of whom were working class. No one actually came. When I asked them why--because I’d invited them and given them cards--they said, “Well, they hadn’t let us in.” That led to the question of what a gallery represents and whether it is a space that is inviting to all people. I thought, if the people can’t go to the gallery the gallery must go to the people.
We held shows under Banyan Trees in villages, we had mobile exhibits...on rickshaw vans, on camels, boats, tuk tuks, trucks. This was in Bangladesh and other countries and in cooperation with other artists as well. Essentially, I wanted to ensure that our work would have a reach that a conventional gallery space would not have.
From “The Tide Will Turn” ©Shahidul Alam. Image Courtesy of Steidl.
I’m interested in the term you coined, Majority World. I know you’ve spoken about it to great extents but could you articulate it some more for our readers?
It rose from a very particular experience. I was having a show in Belfast, staying with friends. They had a little daughter. She was very surprised when she saw me emptying my pockets, which contained coins. Her question was that I was from Bangladesh, how could I have coins in my pocket?
That got me thinking. You know, if a 5 year old girl is incapable of seeing a Bangladeshi as anything other than an icon of poverty then we need to address the socio-cultural space in which she grows up which produces an inability to see a Bangladeshi as anything other than an icon of poverty. Of course, the term used in those spaces is “third-world” or “developing world” or something like that which clearly separates us from the economically better-off countries.
So, I wanted to turn it around and firstly remind folks that we are the majority of humankind and that when we talk of democracy, our interests should be at the forefront. But also, I wanted us to be known for what we have rather than what we lack. Therefore, I found “majority world” to be a term that could encompass some of that. In broad terms, the fact remains that marginalized communities who have largely been disenfranchised need to speak from a position of strength.
What demands do your pictures make unto their viewers?
Self questioning. I think that is the best any image, or any intervention can do. I think often we judge others without ever judging ourselves. Instead, we must ask questions and engage in a process of self-inquiry.
How safe are you right now? I know you were released on bail in 2018 after 107 very interesting days in jail, but are you still facing defamation charges?
No, the charges have not been dropped. I have to be very careful. There are technically no restrictions in my travel but in practice there is always the question of whether when I enter a country, I will be able to get back home. I prefer to ride a bicycle to get places. It’s more functional for the work I do. But, no I have to take a car to get places because its safer that way. I check in with my partner constantly. There are certain ways I’ve adapted. It’s tough but these precautions are necessary and I’ve found ways to proceed with my work under these restrictions.
From “The Tide Will Turn” ©Shahidul Alam. Image Courtesy of Steidl.
And you’re here today, talking to me, travelling. For that I’m grateful.
Yes, that’s what matters.
“Shahidul Alam: Truth to Power” is open until May 4th at the Rubin Museum of Art in New York
