A Conversation with Yama Rahimi

We spoke with Yama about the four interconnected themes that Surviving Shadows confronts—issues that define both the exhibition and the lived realities of displaced communities: Documentation, Safety, Multiple Realities, and Living Archive.

On Documentation
How did you approach curating works that no longer physically exist?
YR: From the outset, I recognized that many works could not be shown. Some were destroyed, others confiscated, and some can’t safely leave Afghanistan. In these instances, images became the only means to share and experience the works.
I see these images not as substitutes, but as traces of works that were once present or still exist in inaccessible places. Each photo or video tells the story, provides context, and outlines the risks involved for the artists. Presenting images instead of objects enables public sharing without compromising anyone’s safety.
Leaving out the physical work is intentional; it signals the effects of censorship and oppression. When viewers see an image of a lost work, they confront loss, destruction, and danger. Here, documentation resists disappearance: even without the original object, the work endures.

On safety
Given that some artists remain in Afghanistan working under surveillance, what protocols did you develop to protect their identities while still showcasing their voices and contributions?
YR: For artists in Afghanistan, anonymity was crucial. They live under watch, and any public mention could put them at risk. Their names and details are omitted, and some works appear as images or fragments without identifying information.
Every decision about what to share was made carefully with the artists. Safety came first in selecting work, display methods, and details revealed. This ensures their voices persist even if identities stay hidden.
Artists who left Afghanistan are credited openly if they wish. This difference highlights what each group faces. Anonymity is protection, not erasure; even without names, the works speak, sharing experience, resistance, and strength.

On Multiple Realities
The exhibition presents work from artists who fled and those who stayed in Afghanistan, which are two very different conditions for making art. How did the conversations between these two groups shape the exhibition’s structure?
YR: Talks between artists who left and those who stayed defined the exhibition. These groups inhabit different realities but share memory, experience, and creativity. Exiled artists experience separation and guilt; those who remained face daily fear, restriction, and subtle resistance.
I chose not to separate their experiences. Instead, their works appear together, creating a layered, fragmented display matching the complexity of their lives. This shows there is no single Afghan reality after 2021. The exhibition centers on overlapping realities, movement and stillness, and the balance between visibility and safety.
Hearing both groups revealed that their stories are interconnected but distinct. The exhibition clarifies these contrasts and honors both perspectives. It fosters a dialogue between safety and risk, presence and absence, memory and survival.

On the Living Archive
You describe the exhibition as a “living archive” rather than a static historical document. How do you envision this archive evolving or continuing beyond the physical exhibition space at apexart?
YR: I call this a living archive because it documents an ongoing situation: artists persist in creating despite hardship, with works being hidden, destroyed, or shared digitally. The apexart exhibition marks one moment in this continuing process.
Beyond the physical space, I see the archive continuing in a slow, deliberate digital form that safeguards artists. Works are added when safe, hidden pieces are preserved, and Afghan art’s threatened collective memory endures.
I imagine the archive traveling, activated in new contexts, reaching diverse audiences, and adapting to changing realities. It evolves by engaging different settings and social conditions, continually shaping its identity. Its purpose is not only to preserve what is lost but to support the ongoing presence of Afghan voices, allowing them to survive and be heard when direct visibility is impossible. The archive remains alive, flexible, and protective, and continues as long as needed.

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