Kazem Hakimi: Portraits From A Chip Shop

Kazem Hakimi: Portraits From A Chip Shop

7th May, 2017. Oxford

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I can’t help but think that what we really need right now is more “nice” art. Everywhere I turn these days, I feel like I encounter work that’s engaging with the dark realities of human nature, reflecting humanity on our worst days, shining a light on moments of anger, hate, corruption, and greed. Take Cornelia Parker’s current exhibition at the Firth Street Gallery, for example. In the Golden Square location, you walk in to see news headlines written on blackboards by school children. They’re right up to date, and they’re eerie. BATHTUB TERROR, HUNT FOR THE WMD, AMERICA WILL FACE THE CONSEQUENCES, one proclaims. They’re sensationalist statements, and they’re written in the messy script of eight year olds. Further on in the gallery, four video screens show footage shot this past October at a Trump rally. It was like a time capsule, and I stood transfixed as the camera captured a surprisingly diverse crowd. With my perspective from the other side of the election, I felt a bit sick. 

It’s an exhibition that’s really stuck with me, and I can’t wait to see what she produces as artist in residence for the upcoming election. It made me consider the media, the way we convey information, and the way our moment will be remembered. Still, it also added considerably to the sense of dread and unease that I’ve had for months. 

Don’t get me wrong— there’s always a necessity for political art and art that engages with with problems of society. With the state of the world being what it is, however, I find myself looking more urgently for inspiration, joy, and light. I find myself looking for art that reaffirms a sense of community, compassion, and kindness. 

I found all of that in Kazem Hakimi’s ongoing project OX4, currently on view at Modern Art Oxford and the Old Fire Station in the exhibition “Portraits from a Chip Shop.” In MAO’s Project Space, a selection of the portraits line the walls. It’s a diverse group, with people from all ages age and backgrounds. In one, a small girl with a large wolf hat grins shyly out. In another, an old woman wearing a distinctive pink shaggy coat and blue glasses meets me gaze. In each, the sitter stands in front of the same plain, white background and they fill the frame. In all of the pieces on display, there is life, character, and charisma.

I was immediately taken in. As I learned more about about Hakimi’s practice, that feeling only grew. All of the portraits are taken at Hakimi’s chip shop on Oxford’s Iffley Road. When the shop is slow or when someone likely looking walks in, he asks if he can take a portrait and quickly leads them through the kitchen to his white backdrop. He only has a minute to work before things start to burn. They’re records of his customers, a database of a community. They’re evidence of the thing we have in common and a celebration of diversity.

When OX4 first gained public recognition this time last year, the press was captivated. The daily mail’s article on the ‘chip shop photographer’ in particular made sure to mention that Hakimi’s uses a ‘battered Nikon D700 using a prime 50mm lens without auto focus,’ making the project seem as slapdash and charming as possible. They missed, however, the art historical prescient Hakimi works within and the argument it makes for the role of contemporary art in a community. 

For Hakimi’s practice is a serious one. It isn’t merely ‘charming’— it’s a model for urban photography and an example of how one artist creates a sustainable practice. Working in the tradition of August Sander’s People of the Twentieth Century but eschewing the idea of types in favour of diversity, he lets each sitter speak for themselves through expression. More, he’s found a way to run a successful business while actively working on his art. In a world where funding for the arts is constantly under threat and artist’s studios are always on the verge of demolition, that’s a remarkable thing. It’s a testimony to ingenuity and perseverance.  

As I headed upstairs to view an extensive slide show of Hakimi’s portraits and later made the short walk to the Old Fire Station to see the rest, I found myself revelling in feelings that art hadn’t brought me in some time— pure joy.