These words by Myanmar-born photographer, Min Ma Naing, repeat themselves in a pattern prompting surreal scenes from what seems like her subconscious. With the use of layered imagery to build worlds that unveil themselves tenderly, the photographer experiments with both, political as well as personally charged themes to find a sense of belonging, and an avenue for conversation.
The visual artist first started out as a press photographer, and eventually realised that short-term assignments aren’t suitable for her style of storytelling. She began developing long-term narratives post a stint at the Pathshala school of photography in Bangladesh, and continued this technique as a Magnum Foundation’s fellow for Photography and Social Justice Program in 2017.
I find Min Ma Naing’s practice unique in the way that she blurs lines between visual poetry, and historic anecdotes of minority communities. The imagery is close to flipping through a family album, with uninhibited portraits and comfortable scenes of a life lived. Her project Another Family [2019], sensitively captures the communal living of girls from the war-torn Shan State who have found refuge at the Zabu Oak Shaung Free School for Buddhist Nuns in Kyauktan Township, Myanmar. In her artist statement, she elaborates “I trust shooting this kind of complex ethnic issue in a rush can trap me as a parachute storyteller, and won’t allow me to convey the true picture. With the help of the nunnery head, I had the chance to conduct a workshop for the nuns who are interested in photography. This way, it opened doors for me to see their world.”
In a similar realm of storytelling, Min Ma Naing’s project Faces of Change [2021], commissioned by National Geographic, is a hard-hitting portrait of individuals participating against the military coup that took place in Mynamar on February 1st 2021. She describes it as a gallery of ordinary people at an extraordinary juncture in their lives; aimed to document a counter perspective to the imagery emerging from the Myanmar’s Spring Revolution led by bravehearted grassroot-level activists and students. She reiterates that the project is a reflection of the early stages – a non-violent resistance to the dictatorship. The subsequent armed resistance which is currently unfolding hasn’t been included in the series.
Additionally, her portraits of people are juxtaposed with varied scenes from the coup, that paint a holistic view of the volatile environment surrounding them at the time. The use of double exposures are her attempt to safeguard the identities of her contributors due to the uncertainty brought by the early stages of the revolution. “Since I developed the film myself, you may notice imperfections resulting from the home processing of colour films, and residual dust. I had to persuade my client, National Geographic, to accept these imperfections especially since these chemical residues truly reflect the political landscape of my country,” elucidates Min Ma Naing.
The photographer’s approach is distinctively anthropological. As we converse, I realise that it’s the isolating nature of photography, the loss of her land, and her past profession of being a teacher that has culminated into this method of documentation, and an interest in working with communities. The notion of home, land and borders becomes an elusive inquiry, and she persistently seeks a definitive answer. “As a teacher, I had to be a good listener, and that continues even now as a photographer. If I’m interviewing people, I must listen to them to earn their trust. Your past learnings always help,” she says knowingly.
There is a particular project titled Memory Lane [2016 - 2017] that I keep revisiting during my research for this story. The imagery is brimming with the lens of a past relived, where the photographer as well as her subject co-exist in a singular tale. It is the story of a 17-year-old girl named San Kay Khine, who was held captive for 5 years at a famous tailor shop in Yangon and was eventually rescued after a published piece by an investigative journalist. Over time, Min Ma Naing nurtured a trusting relationship with the young girl and became her confidante. Since the photographer herself has dealt with abuse and a troubled childhood, she felt a kinship with San Kay Khine and the 17-year old’s urge to go back home.
As a gift, Min Ma Naing thought of documenting the girl’s hometown, Baw Lone Kwin, and share the images with her to make her feel closer to a place she cannot return to. “As soon as I got to the village, I felt as if I had been there before. The rain trees and bamboos strewn around her house appear familiar to me, as did the cows raised by her family. I was instantly welcomed by the smell of soil after rain, and the cool breeze passing from the paddy field. I felt like I was back home from a distance,” writes the photographer in her project description. It prompted the artist to eventually visit her own father after a long gap and realised that she was living her own story through the life of another. “How can I do a reportage piece with distance when it feels so close to me?” she continues.
As part of her practice, I am also drawn to the artist’s poetic musings on her website as well as Instagram. They seem like long monologues in her mind that are quickly scribbled in a rush to remember. In her works Of Solongs and Ashes [2021], and Nothing is Better Than Something [2019] she accompanies these thoughts with imagery, extending the dialogue from words to visuals. “I don’t like to consciously write with the purpose of writing. I feel scattered and move from memory to memory very quickly because of my ADHD. So instead, I write on pieces of paper or any available source so that I don’t have the pressure of finishing a book or diary. Over time, I have collected scraps of writing in a big box and now when I revisit it, I feel amused!” elucidates the photographer.
Bridging the Naf (Thuma Collective X Kaali Collective)
Her experimentation with forms extends to books as well, which she sees as an artistic performance rather than a static entity. Her photobooks include Memory Lane and Sorry, Not Sorry, along with a few titles made by her all-women collective- ‘Thuma.’ The collective was founded in 2017 when a group of women who are photographers saw a large gap in the gender discourse in the country’s photo-world, and weren’t taken as seriously if they weren’t pursuing “photojournalism” as a form of photography. Eventually, ‘Thuma’ collaborated with the all-women collective ‘Kaali,’ from Bangladesh and made a book titled Bridging the Naf. The book was also distributed in Bangladeshi Rohingya Refugee camps in an attempt to bring together two nations which are in constant political upheaval with one another.
As somebody who is a part of an all women’s collective from India known as 8.30, I resonate with Min Ma Naing’s yearning for community building and shared narratives. Her practice is testament to traversing worlds that are both, individualistic as well as cathartic, and go beyond the act of image-making. Holding space in photography is probably as important as making the work, and Min Ma Naing seems to be striking a fine balance.