ftentimes, when art becomes political, there is a chance of it being reduced to one-dimensional political work. The nuanced narratives and layers of meaning are stripped away, leaving only its singular function of political expression. Does that mean one must completely separate self-expression and politics in their work, or give in to the idea that the work may no longer be experienced with all its complexities intact? Feroza Hakeem’s work, displayed at Numaish Gah in her solo show titled Azeezan-i-Mann (My Loved Ones), manages to find that balance between the private and the political; grief and beauty; and everything in between.

Feroza’s work is deeply personal yet inherently political. Her paintings depict Quetta’s landscapes, often juxtaposed with Hazara women — a marginalised community with a history of religious and cultural persecution. While Feroza’s work explores personal identity and loss, it is impossible to discuss it without acknowledging the political threads that weave this narrative together.

Feroza has a distinct aesthetic. Her work effortlessly attracts attention and keeps the viewer engaged. Her painting Waiting for You (3) depicts a vast landscape, with a barren background transitioning into greenery and shrubs in the foreground. On closer inspection, within these intricate shrubs, one notices two shawl-clad women gazing towards the barren land. The title of the painting then becomes clear. The women appear almost camouflaged in the plants, blending into the land and hiding in plain sight — perhaps a reflection of how long they have been there.

The artist’s attention to detail is immaculate. Each brushstroke is deliberate and channels the artist’s grief. In the painting I Became You, the female subjects are even harder to discern, as their pink and red shawls blend seamlessly with the surrounding flora. This merging symbolises a profound connection between the women and their environment, as though they have been absorbed into the natural world. At the same time, this blending speaks to a sense of invisibility and isolation. The women are present yet overlooked, their existence quietly entwined with the landscape that surrounds them.

Feroza’s exploration of isolation is not confined to the depiction of women; it extends to elements of nature in her paintings, often symbolised by solitary trees. In Red Mountain and Hope, a single tree leans downward, its pink and white petals contrasting with the vivid red backgrounds. The posture of the tree — bent and seemingly on the verge of collapse — captures a poignant sense of struggle and endurance. The red background intensifies this feeling, evoking the pain and heat of loss. Yet, despite its fragile state, the tree is standing, hinting at a glimmer of hope amidst the turmoil.

Feroza’s exploration of isolation is not confined to the depiction of women; it extends to elements of nature in her paintings, often symbolised by solitary trees.

In her painting Without You, the same tree appears to be straighter, supported by a crutch. This transformation — from barely hanging on to standing with support — symbolises resilience and the ability to persevere even in the face of profound loss.

Central to Feroza’s body of work is her focus on women, who are the primary subjects and emotional anchors of her art. Her Hazara Girl series offers a powerful portrayal of women from the community, a group that has faced systemic marginalisation and acts of terrorism. Through these portraits, Feroza not only gives a face to the suffering endured by this community but also immortalises their stories.

Every painting in the series is a visual document, preserving moments of pain, resilience and identity. The portraits are rendered in monotone, their stark simplicity contrasting with the intricate floral borders that frame each piece. This juxtaposition creates a balance between the subjects and their surroundings, highlighting both the fragility and strength of the women.

Feroza herself is a part of this series, delving into her personal grief over losing a loved one in an attack against the community. This deeply personal connection infuses her work with a raw emotional intensity, bridging the collective and the individual experiences of loss and resilience.

Feroza Hakeem’s Azeezan-i-Mann navigates the delicate balance between the personal and the political, presenting a body of work that is both emotionally evocative and socially significant. By intertwining themes of loss, resilience and marginalisation, her art avoids the pitfalls of one-dimensional political expression, embracing the complexities of identity and experience.

The non-human subjects in her work are as significant as the human ones. It honours the land as much as the people who inhabit it. Her art is intimate and universal — not simply because grief is a universal emotion, but as a testament to her ability to craft narratives that reveal the enduring strength of the human spirit.

*Azeezan-i-Mann was on display at Numaish Gah, Lahore, from November 3 to November 12.

The writer is a Lahore-based visual culture researcher and designer who majored in interdisciplinary design and art at BNU.