Inès Elsa Dalal - Women in Photography

Inès Elsa Dalal by Curtis McNally

Inès Elsa Dalal is a documentary photographer and workshop facilitator based in Birmingham. Ines is of Swiss, Italian, German and Parsi descent and she explores issues of migration and multi-faceted identities in her work.

Inès has had her work published in the ‘Invisible Britain’ book edited by Paul Sng. She is also part of Sng’s ‘Velvet Joy Productions’ and is currently working creating more documentary photography which will be complemented by a female film-maker’s.

Her 2018 project ‘Here to Stay’ marked both the celebration of the arrival of nurses from the Windrush generation to Britain and the 70 years since the inception of the NHS (1948).

How did you get into photography?

I’ve been interested in photography for as long as I can remember. I loved any form of arts activity as a child, but my effervescent nature often meant that paintings - using all of the colours available - inevitably resulted in grey-brown splodges so loaded with paint that the paper would rip before it could dry.

When I was about five or six my mother got a roll of film developed from an analogue (automatic exposure/ flash) camera, which had accidentally been exposed twice. This seemingly-magical collaging of moments from birthdays, holidays and the daily life of our family sparked my initial interest in the process of analogue photography. Upon revisiting these photos, the effect of the double exposure seems like a more accurate way to portray memories because we often remember incidents layered into numerous anecdotes rather than singular events.

Family Double Exposure by Inès Elsa Dalal

I was taken to galleries and museums regularly while I was growing up.

I vividly remember being particularly underwhelmed by a Picasso exhibition and feeling restless because I’d heard so much about him and other gallery-goers seemed so fascinated by his work. I attempted to read parts of the exhibition’s written interpretation but it was mainly factual information about his life, and didn’t say much about the actual work. I implored to my mother ‘I don’t get it, what does it mean!’ to which she replied: ‘Look at it, how does it make you feel? The purpose of art is to make you feel something’ - that’s stuck with me ever since.

Marie-Pierre Monet-Rossetti by Inès Elsa Dalal

This portrait is where is all started. During my first trip to India, aged eleven, I took this photo in Bombay and we got the film developed in Goa. I remember the guy who processed the film saying that he was really impressed with this portrait. I can’t remember what he looked like or his exact words but I remember the feeling of affirmation, and have thought back to this many times when I began facilitating beginners’ photography workshops. I’m conscious that the smallest encouragement can go a long way.

When it came to selecting a career for two weeks of work experience, aged fourteen or fifteen, I remember feeling unenthused and despondent. I didn’t have many relatives, or family friends in the UK, let alone anyone who could link me to careers in the creative sector. My father is a consultant psychiatrist and my mother is a linguist from a French-speaking part of Switzerland, who studied Art History and now teaches French and German.

Elsa Monet-Rossetti by Inès Elsa Dalal

I got paper cuts from opening cardboard boxes at M & S for two weeks and the most creative aspect was ‘visual merchandising’ - I can’t remember much more. So, that gave me a clear indication of what I didn’t want to do. I worked in a boutique for a couple of months too but that similarly dull.

I was determined not to pursue a career which was only about financial rewards instead of intellectual stimulation and professional, as well as personal, progression.

When it came to selecting a college course, I chose photography. I remember processing my first roll of film on black and white film shot on one of the college’s Pentax K1000’s. I remember witnessing the process of areas of shadow appearing on light sensitive paper, until recognisable shapes and eventually faces were formed. The anticipation was addictive! A lot of the other students stuck with digital cameras and there was a couple of weeks (which felt like months) where I was the only person using the darkroom. I became immersed in the analogue process through my early projects, I learnt everything I still refer to in terms of light and composition, but ultimately I felt too restless to spend all that time in solitude.

I researched a photography course in Falmouth but my tutor, Steve, insisted I study somewhere more cosmopolitan and populated. He recognised how sociable I was and thought I’d struggle to live somewhere which could feel isolated. I’d heard a lot about London being lonely and expensive so I opted for Manchester.

During my second year we were instructed to show works in progress in the corridor, to see what things looked like installed on the walls to prepare us for group exhibitions and, eventually, our degree show. Having work shown publicly, even if only to third year students and other peers, cultivated an ecology of sharing; an environment where works could be discussed. I remember a girl in the year above me complimenting my work and how much I enjoyed telling her about the work in progress and the premise of the project. I was less able to do that in group tutorials but felt much more comfortable with a smaller audience or one-to-one engagement.

I’ve been keen to exhibit works publicly ever since. If photography isn’t shared, does it really exist? I can’t understand the concept of making work and not showing it. I’ve never felt it takes confidence I’ve always felt exhibiting is something you must do, because photographs are ultimately inanimate objects; we must look at them and talk about them to breathe life into them.

I graduated from Manchester School of Art in 2011 with a 2.2 which I was utterly underwhelmed by. I was determined to prove to myself that I could produce photographs and - someday - photobooks of the same calibre of all the photographers I’d spent hours upon hours researching in the university library.

Can you tell me about your portrait series and exhibition 'Here to Stay' where you documented the impact nurses from the Windrush generation had on the NHS?

I was approached by Donna Mighty, a primary care liaison officer at Sandwell & West Birmingham NHS Trust, in March 2018. We discussed ways to mark the dual-anniversary of the arrival of the Windrush Generation which also coincided with the establishment of the NHS in 1948. The proposed project comprised a portrait shoot in June (which was extended to a total of three shoots, the second in July and a final shoot in August, to accommodate the select nurse’s availabilities) followed by a small exhibition at her workplace, Sandwell Hospital’s Education Centre, in October 2018.

I agreed instantly as the concept followed on from work I began in 2013 for a self-initiated project entitled West Indies to West Midlands. This was my first work with members of the Windrush Generation. After learning about how West Indian contribution to the British military was swept under the carpet following WW1 & WW2, that veterans weren’t invited appear publicly alongside their English counterparts in victory marches, I felt it was urgent to highlight and commemorate Caribbean and African soldiers' who’ve fought in contemporary conflicts, in remembrance of their ancestors.

I’m equally offended that it has this taken this long for nurses from any of the Commonwealth countries to be acknowledged for their life-long service to the NHS. The relentless hard work of nurses from many other nationalities has been overlooked for decades - but Caribbean nurses have been integral to the NHS’s infrastructure, since its inception, seventy years ago.

The success of Here To Stay has surpassed my expectations and has been exhibited across a total of four venues between August and November 2018. The next exhibition will be at the University of Warwickshire 15th-30th of June, in partnership with the university’s on-site archival resource the Modern Records Centre and global charitable foundation the Wellcome Collection. The exhibition will be available to tour elsewhere from July 2019 and will tour to South West London vis St. George’s Mental Health NHS Trust 1st-14th of October, 2019. Additionally, select portraits will feature at group exhibitions in St. George’s hospital in May, Tooting and St. Pancras hospital central London between July and October 2019.

Why is it important to you to be part of socially engaged projects such as Invisible Britain?

To me, Invisible Britain is not only urgent and poignant most importantly to me it’s being managed in a genuinely ethical way. For me, photography shouldn’t be about nominating yourself for awards for portraits of people whose narratives you don’t contextualise. I’ve never felt comfortable with that; it seems vacuous and exploitative.

What kind of impact do you feel like your workshops in the community have and are you still in touch with some of the participants?

I first contacted Aysha Iqbal (who is photographed with her mother Zatoon and her sister Kiran in the portrait published in Invisible Britain) in 2016. I emailed her to ask about facilitating beginners’ photography workshops. I was, and still am, interested in sharing skills with women who are less likely to be able to access educational and creative opportunities, due to linguistic and financial injustices. She never replied and I didn’t follow it up as I assumed it wasn’t of interest.

Years later I walked into her spa and explained I’d heard about her work and would like to include a portrait of her in an upcoming exhibition. She was enthusiastic about the prospect of a large-scale photo of her and the spa’s co-founders (her sister and mother) being displayed publicly. When I asked the best way to contact her and arrange the shoot, she said ‘just call me, actually, it’s best to WhatsApp me ‘cause I don’t get much time to look at emails!’

We’ve stayed in contact ever since and have become friends as well as colleagues. I’m looking forward to working with her this summer to produce a short film as part of the continuation of my work with Invisible Britain.

From l to r (Aysha, Zatoon and Kiran Iqbal) from 'Invisible Britain' by Inès Elsa Dalal

You say in your bio that you are compelled to question the hostility towards migrants in Britain - do you think Brexit has added further fuel to that fire and how do you stay hopeful?

I’m wary of consuming the so-called ‘news’ we’re inundated with on a daily basis because I feel it’s seriously damaging our psychological health and general sense of wellbeing.

I’ve been exploring interpretations of Britishness in my work since 2012. My mother is Swiss and Italian and my father is German and Parsi. Parsis are Iranians who fled Iran and migrated to India to escape Muslim rule 1,000 years ago, in favour of retaining Zoroastrian beliefs.

I’ve always been proud of my name and intrigued by my ancestry because my parents brought me up to understand each element of my ethnic origin. The photograph that appears at the end of Dalal Archive is of my Parsi ancestors in the early 1900’s, in Maharashtra, Bombay.

The Dalals

I’ve always believed that the more we know about ourselves, the better we can relate to one another. By reconsidering nationalistic views and embracing nuanced perspectives of the non-binary nature of everyone’s identities, we can begin to understand the world’s interconnectedness as a marvel rather than a threat. Reinforcing short-sighted, insecure notions of patriotism is a much bigger threat to Britain than the arrival of migrants.

What current exhibition or photobook has inspired you lately?

An exhibition at the Barbican, ‘Another Kind of Life: Photography on the Margins’, featured an Indian photographer: Dayanita Singh. Singh formed a deeply profound and meaningful friendship over 30 years with Mona Ahmed from New Delhi who was both feared and revered, an outcast among outcasts, living much of her life in a cemetery. Their story is an archetypal example of the ethical considerations, such as the right for refusal, essential to create work with integrity and longevity:

"To my surprise, Mona agreed to be photographed, and we spent the entire day shooting. However, she changed her mind upon hearing that the photographs were for the London Times, and not the New York Times, as she had relatives in the UK who did not know about her being an eunuch. She asked me to return the film. I did not have any choice and returned the film to her. The eunuch story ran in the Times with an illustration, instead of a photograph, and I told my dear colleague Chris Thomas that the film had gone bad in the processing. I was too ashamed to say that it had been forcibly taken away from me, though I am sure he would have understood. Mona embraced me when I returned the film, which she threw into the garbage. I am not sure I was quite aware of the bond that had been created, and how much of a part of my life Mona would become."