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Unveiling Stories: Abeer Khan on Crafting Visual Narratives

Photographer of the month - Abeer Khan


Abeer Khan is a Mumbai-based Indian director, producer, cinematographer, and photographer whose work spans narrative, documentary, brand films, and experimental video art. Her career highlights include world premieres at prestigious venues such as Künstler*innenhaus Mousonturm in Berlin, Kochi Biennale, and Ted Rogers Cinema in Toronto. She has also been shortlisted at the Berlin Commercial Festival and had her work showcased at COP27 in Egypt and COP28 in Dubai.


Abeer's photography has been widely exhibited, including at Spain's major train stations in cities like Madrid, Barcelona, and Bilbao. As a member of several creative collectives, including the Indian Women Cinematographer Collective and Video Consortium, she is a prominent voice in both Indian and international art spaces.Her notable projects include "Child-Lock," which has been screened globally, and her photography essay Daa.era, which has been featured in major exhibitions and publications. Abeer's work is known for its bold exploration of societal issues and its commitment to telling stories that challenge conventions.


Abeer Khan's work has also been featured in, The Hindu, India Photo Festival, The Method, Midday, Bloomberg, Art Tehkla, Platform, Homegrown, Better Photography and The Wire.




How did you get started in photography? How do you come up with or find the concepts and bring them to life?


As I look back, I think photography was a way of rebelling for me. I had an overly protected childhood and always looked for ways to explore. As a kid, I would explore spaces through comic books and poetry, but as a teen, the camera became an alibi to experience life. My father, Mr. Rafeeq Mohd Khan, took note and supported me thoroughly.


I am always on the lookout for ideas that linger—a recurring thought, an incident, or a story that captures my subconscious attention. That’s where my work lies, and having a good memory helps.



What’s your creative process like when working on photo projects?


Like many others, the process begins with a reluctance to commit to an idea, self-contradiction, negotiation, and the interpretation of thoughts and desires, followed by letting go of myself. With tussles in between—back and forth, walks, churning, and dismay—along with a reluctance to share my work with the public, ultimately leading to its birth.





How do you maintain a cohesive artistic vision across photography and cinematography?


Is it cohesive? I remember once a camera attendant told me, “Ma’am, I always see you doing something different and random projects.” Yes, he used the word "random." For me, it was a compliment, as I was set on exploring. I still have yet to find my voice; it's a blessing to have it and not have it too.



Themes like inequality, gender roles, and memory are central to your work. Could you share a specific moment or project where exploring these themes had a profound impact on you, both as an artist and as an individual? Please share images from that project.


Faiz says,

हम से कहते हैं चमन वाले ग़रीबान-ए-चमन

तुम कोई अच्छा सा रख लो अपने वीराने का नाम

Society often prefers to rebrand everything as beautiful, which is a shame, inequality in a way also stems from the rejection of imperfection.





As a member of multiple collectives like Bitchitra Collective and the Indian Women Cinematographer Collective, how do these collaborative experiences shape your creative work? Can you share any valuable lessons or insights from these communities?


In these groups, I find people who are more eager for acceptance, which is a respite in this profession where relationships change from project to project and bonds can feel elusive. You may know someone well, yet you don’t truly know them. Filmmaking is a strange place; it's like going to war, and I’m happy to go to war with the ladies.


How do you help your subjects feel comfortable during a shoot? Especially when dealing with a tough topic.


In pre-meetings, my focus is on making people feel at ease, especially when I’m in their homes. I recognize the influence family members can have, so I prioritise calming the atmosphere. My approach is rooted in empathy and staying calm, with the intention of always leaving things better than I found them.

Over the years, I’ve learned to respond to trauma with resolve rather than reacting with surprise or shock, so as not to make the person feel isolated in their situation




Tell us what aspect of photography/cinematography you dislike the most and enjoy the most.


One aspect I dislike is the culling process after a shoot, which can be an excruciating task. From the excitement of adventure, one is suddenly back to a desk job.


My favorite aspect is that moment at the end of the day when I realise I have completed a project with passion. After the shoot, as everything is being packed and tea is served, I cherish the time spent taking a walk—often with the village kids or by myself. In those moments, I breathe deeply–Pursukoon. For image makers, I believe this quote sums it all up: “Live life by the ABCs—adventure, bravery, and creativity.” — James Thurber, The Secret Life of Walter Mitty.


Can you share a few memorable incidents from your photography projects?


Many incidents have stayed with me from my experiences. One particularly touching moment involved an orphan girl from Kashmir. She took out the buttons from her coat and handed them to me, saying, “I hope you remember me, and I’m sorry I have nothing else to give."


Another significant encounter was with Raju, a 21-year-old cyclist. The moment he saw me, he opened up about the death of his grandfather. We were there to shoot him for his cycling achievements, but as I looked around his home, I noticed he had only three possessions: his cycle, a mat, and his medals. He had no family around. After the interview, I jokingly called him "Raju chacha," and we all laughed. The name spread quickly through the village, and I still remember how, as we were leaving, the village kids surrounded him, calling out, “Raju chacha.” It felt entirely justified.


I went to Goa, specifically to Casa de Rama Fort, for a pre-shooting assignment for Steve McCurry. It was September 10, a day before my birthday. I hired a bike and rode to Cabo de Rama Fort, which was about two hours from my hotel. It started pouring heavily on the way, and by the time I reached the fort, it was very late and surprisingly deserted. As I tried to find my way to the vantage point, I lost my bearings and had no network. Just then, a local man, around 60 years old, approached me and asked if I was lost. He simply walked ahead, and I followed him. He guided me throughout the evening, singing a Goan song without saying much at all. As the evening faded, I asked him if I could drop him off at his house, to which he replied, "No, I live here." I thanked him and attempted to offer him some monetary compensation for his time, but he declined. Instead, he said, “Tell your dad that I did my bit: ‘Abba, ko bolna Maine aapna kaam kiya.’



In your view, what impact does documentary photography have on society today?


It’s challenging to put this into perspective. I feel that documentary photography is currently at its prime, and I am confident that this prominence will continue for many years to come. This is partly because photography serves as a tool of capitalism, yet documentary photography operates somewhat apart from this notion. It stands as a potent means of expression that has seeped into our identities and shaped our understanding of the world.


Despite the hazards of overproduction that have persisted throughout the ages, the greatest reward that comes with these challenges is power. Society is now increasingly aware of this, even if it remains primarily for personal usage. There is a palpable sense of power being recognised. Just as radio had its moment, our eyes now hold immense significance; people seek to engage with what they see. However, this connection is always elusive, as vision invites a desire to touch, yet the reality of that touch often remains out of reach. People yearn to engage with the images they encounter.



What inspires you to keep going even amid so many voices? What does the future hold for photographers and storytellers?


I think photography has a malleable form, and I am interested in the shape it has taken recently. People are gravitating toward using photography as a coping mechanism. I believe photography can be a loyal friend in a lonely future.




Finally, as a woman, have you encountered any challenges when photographing people or communities? If so, how do you manage those challenges while staying true to your creative vision?


I often encounter situations where people refuse to answer me directly, instead looking to my male assistant or fixer for responses. While some of this may be due to shyness, it frequently stems from a habit of addressing only men. The use of foul language as a means of bullying is a tactic, and resisting the temptation to respond in kind can be challenging. This behaviour seems especially prevalent in so-called refined work environments, where men use foul language in which women become the target.


The real challenge lies in maintaining professionalism and not stooping to that level. This dynamic is similarly evident in orthodox religious areas, where women working in the streets are often looked down upon. 


Safety is a constant concern for photographers, as we often find ourselves in unfamiliar places. Learning self-defence and understanding my physical strength have significantly boosted my confidence to navigate these environments. Being street-smart is also crucial, as it helps me devise strategies to realize my vision while ensuring my safety.  




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