By Melis Dumlu
@melisxdumlu
When we stand before a photograph, a piece of art, or even a mirror, the question arises: What did you want to see? Looking is not only about the gaze; it is about what we seek to confirm, challenge, or understand within ourselves. Mahtab Hussain’s ‘What Did You Want to See?’ exhibition at Ikon Gallery will extend this question into the narratives of identity, belonging, and the layered complexity of being.
At its heart, Hussain’s work is about the gaze, not just ours but the unseen systems that mediate and manipulate it. Hussain’s position as both an insider and an observer allows him to bridge the emotional resonance of shared histories with the responsibility of presenting them authentically, using his lens to create a space for dialogue that reshapes cultural narratives.
His portraits take this further. Faces meet the camera with dignity and vulnerability, resisting the labels that reduce individuals to archetypes. These photographs are encounters. Hussain’s process begins long before the shutter clicks, rooted in listening, trust, and dialogue. Each image becomes a collaborative act where the gaze belongs as much to the sitter as to the artist, inviting the viewer to engage actively with the humanity before them. Each gaze tells the stories we erase when we look only for what confirms our biases. The tension between intimacy and distance lingers, asking: Do you see a person, or do you see an idea?
Hussain’s question and exhibition title, ‘What Did You Want to See?’, resonates in a world of hyper-visibility, where surveillance dictates not only who is seen but how they are perceived. As viewers, we become implicated as both watchers and watched, caught in the mechanics of a system that defines perception as power. While surveillance often reduces individuals to data points, Hussain reclaims the act of seeing as a space of resistance, reframing his subjects with intentionality and depth.
In Britain, surveillance is not merely a tool of observation. It is a pervasive, almost invisible architecture. For British Muslims, this gaze intensifies, framed by systemic scrutiny and reductive narratives.
I had the chance to interview Mahtab Hussain about the concepts behind his exhibition at Ikon Gallery and the works featured…
Melis: Your work intimately portrays communities and individuals whose experiences resonate deeply with your identity. However, as an artist collaborating with institutions and spaces often removed from the lived realities of these communities, do you experience a separation due to your position as both an insider and an observer? How does this duality shape your creative process and the stories you tell?
Mahtab: Absolutely. This duality is at the heart of my work. As someone who exists both within these communities and outside of them, I navigate a fine line between personal resonance and professional responsibility. On one hand, I carry the emotional weight of these stories as they reflect my identity and shared histories; on the other, I must step back to ensure I am honouring their authenticity without projecting my perspective too heavily.
At the same time, I see my role as a bridge, connecting communities to spaces like museums and galleries, which I deeply value. These institutions are more than repositories of art—they are places where cultural norms can be challenged and redefined. Unlike fleeting news cycles, the stories told through exhibitions have longevity. They invite critical reflection and dialogue that endures, creating opportunities to shift perspectives and generate lasting cultural impact. For me, this is the power of art: to transcend immediate narratives and invite audiences into a conversation that reshapes understanding and creates culture itself.
Melis: If the gaze in your photographic portrait series ‘You Get Me?’ and ‘Honest With You’ is also a reflection of your perspective, how do you navigate the balance between being an observer and a participant?
Mahtab: The gaze in those series isn’t solely mine, it’s shared, shaped by the dynamic collaboration between me and the sitters. My role as an observer begins long before I make the image. It’s in the time spent listening to their stories, building trust, and immersing myself in their lived realities. By the time I create the final piece, I’m not simply observing; I’m participating in a dialogue that honours their voice and agency.
I’m deeply conscious of the power dynamics that can exist in photography, so I strive to ensure the gaze belongs as much to the sitter as it does to me—or perhaps even more so. My aim is to build moments where the sitter can reclaim their voice, confront the viewer, and challenge the passive act of looking. In doing so, I’m not creating a “document” of a moment but rather constructing an artwork that asks the viewer to engage actively with the humanity in front of them.
Melis: Silence often plays a role in your work, whether in the quiet tension of your subjects' expressions or the absence of explicit narrative in your images. What does silence mean to you, and how do you see it as a form of communication?
Mahtab: Silence, to me, is a profound and layered form of communication. It holds a space where words falter, but meaning expands. In my work, the stillness of the sitters allows for a deeper connection, where the absence of a prescribed narrative invites viewers to reflect and interpret. Silence speaks volumes, it's in the pauses, the quiet tension, and the unspoken that we encounter emotion, resilience, and human complexity. Rather than an empty void, it’s a language all its own, capable of conveying strength, vulnerability, and defiance in ways words cannot.
Melis: Your solo exhibition title asks viewers, 'What Did You Want To See?'. But what about you? When you frame a subject or space, what are you searching for? What compels you?
Mahtab: I am searching for truth and beauty, both of which can exist in tragic and joyful moments. What compels me is the desire to be brave and remind myself, and others, that we have a voice. It’s about embracing expression, not in an objective sense, but through quiet moments of humanity that reveal something real about who we are. I am deeply drawn to the complexity of identity, shaped by lived experiences, especially within marginalised communities. When framing a project, I explore the layers of existence, the tensions, and the beauty, aiming to highlight what’s often overlooked or misunderstood. In doing so, I hope to challenge the viewer to confront their own biases and assumptions.
Melis: Photography and surveillance both involve acts of seeing and documenting, yet they operate in very different realms of intention. While your work seeks to humanise and celebrate marginalised communities, the act of capturing, documenting, and reporting can also unintentionally contribute to the profiling and categorisation these same communities face within surveillance systems.
How do you navigate this tension? Do you feel a responsibility to address the potential for your work to be co-opted or misinterpreted in this way?
Mahtab: This is something I grapple with constantly. Photography inherently involves power dynamics, and I’m acutely aware of how visual representation can perpetuate stereotypes, particularly within the colonial apparatus that has historically used the lens to control and define marginalised communities. The act of “documenting”, while intended to humanise, can inadvertently reinforce existing biases if not approached thoughtfully. My intention is to centre voice and agency, resisting one-dimensional portrayals. I try to focus on presenting nuanced, multi-dimensional depictions, which is my way of reclaiming power in the act of representation.
I’m well aware I can’t control every interpretation, I feel a deep responsibility to mitigate harm by framing my work in ways that gently rotate reductive readings, sometimes that rotation is a push, or a punch and there are moments like this in the show, gut wrenching even. However, intentionality is crucial, it’s not just about shock or what is presented, but why and how it is presented. It’s a delicate balance, always requiring careful reflection on the historical context and power structures at play and what power one can reflect on. This on-going dialogue between me, the sitters, the audience, the institution is essential in reshaping narratives and challenging the colonial legacy embedded in visual culture.
Melis: You’ve discussed British Asian men’s adoption of Western and Black urban aesthetics. Do you see this as a form of empowerment, cultural dilution, or perhaps a strategic survival mechanism? How do you reconcile the tension between cultural assimilation and the preservation of identity?
Mahtab: It’s all of those things at once. The adoption of Western and Black urban aesthetics by British Asian men is a fascinating blend of empowerment, survival, and cultural adaptation. It’s a powerful tool for visibility, allowing them to assert their presence and carve out an identity in a society that often marginalises them. But it’s also a strategic response to social exclusion, a way to navigate a world that demands conformity while still holding on to individuality.
These hybrid identities reflect the fluidity of culture, they’re constantly shifting, redefining, and challenging the boundaries that try to box them in. There’s resilience in this tension, and it’s what makes these identities so powerful. They speak to how people adapt, resist, and thrive by refusing to be fixed into a singular narrative. What excites me is how this on going negotiation of identity reveals the beauty of self-expression, even in the face of adversity. It’s all about carving out space, asserting power, and embracing the complexities of who we are. I don’t reconcile; I embrace.
Melis: Art often acts as a bridge to understanding. Do you believe your work has succeeded in changing perspectives, or is societal resistance to humanising marginalised groups still a significant barrier?
Mahtab: I believe my work has made an impact, even if it’s small and incremental. The stories I tell are often ones that haven’t been given space before, and when viewers engage with them, it can spark conversations and shifts in perception. I would also add that my work has bridged two worlds that often don't come together, and this has been acknowledged in many of my openings. I’ve received emails from producers, writers, and actors sharing how my work has inspired films, music, and plays, helping them find their voice or push their agendas. It feels great to know I’ve quietly shifted the conversation. However small, often unseen impacts matter, moments like sharing a book with relatives at my mother’s home that show me the tangible effects of this work, when you visibly see someone’s perception change. Art can’t singlehandedly dismantle systemic prejudice, but it can plant seeds of empathy and understanding. We’re all part of this change, and the small steps we take are significant too. Ultimately, my goal is to keep challenging boundaries, prompting people to see the humanity in others, even when it feels uncomfortable.
Mahtab Hussain’s work challenges the very act of seeing. Heidegger’s concept of dwelling emphasises how meaning arises through relationships with spaces, objects, and others. It’s about how we actively inhabit the world through these connections, not just physical habitation. In Hussain's photographs, his subjects’ identities are shaped not only by who they are but also by their relationships with their environments and the cultural narratives imposed upon them.
Philosophers like Edward Said remind us of the reductive power of Orientalism, the ways in which the "other" is categorised and confined within narrow narratives. Hussain’s work rejects such simplicity. His photographs challenge these frameworks, centring Muslim communities as integral to Britain’s cultural fabric and encouraging viewers to move beyond harmful stereotypes.
There is a certain urgency to move past binaries of "us" and "them." Hussain’s practice dismantles the comfort of distance, confronting viewers with stories they may have overlooked or misunderstood. For many, being Muslim in Britain involves navigating the tension between cultural heritage and societal expectations. By presenting his subjects as individuals whose identities are both deeply rooted and constantly evolving, Hussain’s art captures this balance delicately. In this way, his work moves beyond representation to recognition, an active valuing of difference rather than mere tolerance, and bridges worlds, planting seeds of empathy and understanding that ripple beyond the gallery walls.
Hussain’s work acts as a mirror, reflecting our assumptions and asks what we bring to the act of seeing. There are no easy answers, only an invitation to reflect on how we perceive others and, ultimately, ourselves.
Decide for yourself: ‘What Did You Want to See?’ opens on the 20th of March at Ikon Gallery and runs until the 1st of June 2025.
Comments