Bharat Sikka has been on a substantial creative streak, publishing photobooks often and with high integrity and significance. I had a conversation with him about his last FW: Books titled The Sapper, a tome that explored his relationship with his father, a retired military man. One can see it as a type of collaboration, and it is filled with love and humor. When I received it, it was a fascinating discovery. I have followed Bharat’s career avidly since. What I revere about Bharat and his work is that he keeps moving and experiments with the book form in fresh and renewed ways. This is partly due to his teaming up with Hans Gremmen, the noted Dutch designer and publisher of FW: Books. That said, collaboration starts with Bharat’s photographs, which are astutely composed and echo a type of photography that thinks through content and composition. They are studied and speak to the love for photography itself.
I know this sounds like a significant amount of platitude, but there are reasons that other photographers celebrate other photographers. With Bharat, this is the case. I look at his work with a discerning eye for composition and see an affinity to Lewis Baltz, John Gossage, and Raymond Meeks. I chose these photographers while thinking of And Then; his new book explores the terrain of Cape Town, South Africa, where Bharat explores forms he encounters while roaming the streets and hinterlands of the geography. In part, it feels like a simple exercise in which the artist responds to his environment by looking for sculptural objects. He observes the streets and buildings with a perspective not too far from Walker Evans, particularly the architecture found in his famous book American Photographs from 1938—images of vernacular architecture and signage corral Sikka’s images into this category.
What is refreshing from my point of view is that it does not feel strained by any form of over-conceptualization. Instead, it is a concise study of an artist working with his camera. The subject itself is secondary. Instead of trying to tell his audience something specific or objective, Sikka speaks to photographers and photobook aficionados, which I will discuss below. I am unburdened by the need to know anything in particular about what the photographer is studying. It is simply not the point. There is no refutation of meaning, but there is a cogent move to limit how much context the artist wants us to subscribe to. If I were to guess, I suspect this might come from feeling the impossibility of the task.
We are all aware of the complications of the traveling photographer who makes photographs of geography, not their own. The worst side is an inability to understand exoticism and the hierarchies implicit in economies. A lack of understanding of the customs and rituals of a place without significant time spent often feels like robbery…if a photographer is trying to tell the story of a place with only a surface inspection. When it works, it is less about the place’s specifics than the artist in the world. In the case of And Then, Sikka is not trying to show us anything. He is showing us pictures. In this case, what we make of them is mainly independent of a critique of place. That is my argument, at least. It is incredibly refreshing. Also, how can I appraise an artist from India who is making photographs in Cape Town? What is my point of reference? Of course, when it is a white Western man, we have a different methodology for assessing that position, which tells us something about the paradox of making assumptions.
Regarding the book itself, I am astounded by the risk of using red, as in the photographs, as a guiding principle. Accustomed to the black-white page and the tedious nature of books that take a little risk, I find And Then an incredible foray into the possibility of the printed page. This is done not by flexing a complicated idea but simply by denying the conventional format of the space around an image. Simple in design in regards to the book block with its open spine, what makes the book special is the use of the red for the border space of the image. In the case of the color used it makes everything pop and gives a dexterity to the design that is seldom seen in contemporary photobook production. Of course, you cannot use this exact schema for any photographic collection. Still, given the saturated images that Sikka has created, the red makes the images pop that much more challenging without feeling like overkill. I want to applaud this as it is a risk that people will be turned off of this part of the design, but I would challenge the doubt that finding an innovative and successful risk-taking photobook in 2024 is possible, but it is different.
I look forward to celebrating future releases from Bharat and the artist and Hand Gremmen of FW: Books make an incredible team.