Wasif interestingly says, “I believe in the afterlife of the work; the residue it leaves. The image can be a reference point to talk about a larger life.” This is a thought that has developed over time and experience, and wasn’t central to his first photobook about Old Dhaka titled Belonging published in 2013. While the imagery is cinematic, and has a lingering drama effervescent in its narration, the viewer is presented with everything there is to offer – a style that is starkly different from Wasif’s current ways of seeing. “I couldn’t quite pinpoint what aspect of Belonging made me unhappy, until I walked around Old Town and realised that I was not as interested in capturing the geographical place or the specificity of the space; but instead, what the place creates in my body, my mind, and in my senses,” he muses.

The artist has been deeply influenced by the works of Bangladeshi novelist, Akhteruzzaman Elias (1943-1997) who is known for his meticulous descriptions of Old Dhaka, written with vibrant precision. His short stories are interspersed by excessive details of sights, sounds, smells, and the atmosphere of Puran Dhaka, complete with an underlying sociological significance. The literature of Shahidul Zahir, and his way of creating repetition as form and absurd narratives also deeply impacted Wasif. In a way, it’s these writings that led him to think about the neighbourhood as a set, where there is a duality of the physical as well as psychological being existing within one landscape. It prompted him to create Kheyal (2015-2018), a 23-minute film whose title is derived from the Arabic word ‘Khyal’ or ‘Khayal’, meaning fiction or imagination.

Following four characters who wander across majestic but crumbling Mughal architecture, the viewer is presented with dream-like narratives that are dripping with surrealism. Unlike the imagery in Belonging, which seems like someone pressed pause during a frenzied moment, the visual language here is soft, like silken-skin; allowing the viewer to be hypnotised by the aroma of sound and space. “Personally, the whole film is about a pause - a pause to recalibrate, a pause to think about another world – and an invitation to enter a different space,” explains Wasif who is also seeking slowness in the overstimulated environment of the city. It’s almost like a negotiation with time, he thinks.

When we talk about a space and its people, it’s only fair to acknowledge the inanimate objects that inhabit the environment. The characteristics of a city are so significantly defined by the recurrent objects prevalent in its fabric, while simultaneously placing oneself in a paradigm of time. In Stereo (2001-2022), Wasif captures the inanimate, placing the chance encounters beside the universe of Belonging, and hence, providing another vantage point to the expanding nature of a body of work. As a point of deliberation, the works, along with Kheyal came together in a show at Project 88 (Mumbai) titled Kromosho (ক্রমশ), or “step by step” in Bengali, and paved way for Wasif to experiment with the culmination of significantly different visual languages under a singular roof. “Sometimes your work can get stagnant because it might be far away from who you are now, but it is about finding ways to make it malleable,” he says.

While navigating through an artist’s practice, it’s intriguing to note the variations of styles in response to similar themes over time. As I contemplate upon the imagery in Wasif’s book, Salt Water Tears (2009-2014) made in the far southwest of Bangladesh, illustrating the consequences of both, global warming and the intensive shrimping industry on the Sunderbans and the Bay of Bengal, I notice the intrinsic documentary language prevalent in the striking imagery. In sharp contrast, his recent work Collapse (2011-2023 (ongoing) ) - that highlights the crippling cost development has on ecosystems and biodiversity - is strung together by abstract and almost-celestial images of land and water, letting-go off the literal aspects of reportage and still effective in its communication.

Now, the consumption of imagery is as relevant as the change in language, especially because of the volume of its presence. Wasif elaborates on this flux of image-making and says that as an artist, the “urgency” of an image has now shifted in comparison to the 70s and the 80s because of the millions of photographs that are being produced daily. Slowly, the photographer feels like he is deeply engaged with the medium, but not necessarily responding to it. The language of cinema, writing, and art are his portals to acts of creation, further proving that while photography might be a solitary medium, it rarely ever exists alone.