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Check Out Zaym Zarif’s Story

Today we’d like to introduce you to Zaym Zarif

Hi Zaym, so excited to have you on the platform. So before we get into questions about your work-life, maybe you can bring our readers up to speed on your story and how you got to where you are today?
Losing someone close is incredibly difficult, especially when you don’t know how to express the depth of your emotions. My journey into photography began at 9, a curious hobby of borrowing my mum’s camera to capture random moments around the house. It was a playful escape, until I lost my best friend—my grandfather. He was the person I shared everything with, the one who always understood me. After his passing, I was left with a void, unsure of how to process my grief.

That’s when photography became more than just a pastime. It became my outlet, my way of expressing emotions that words couldn’t capture. I started taking self-portraits, not knowing it would later define my style. Photography was a language I could speak when everything else felt silent.

After high school, I decided to formally study photography at a local university in Malaysia. That’s where I learned the technical skills, but more importantly, I discovered the magic a camera can create. Later, during my undergraduate studies, I majored in Fine Art Photography and found my true voice in self-portraiture.

Today, I reside in Glasgow, Scotland, where I completed my master’s in Communication Design at The Glasgow School of Art. My work delves deep into themes of gender roles, identity, self-representation, vulnerability, and memory. Through constructed portraiture, role-playing, and performance, I take on various personas, using the camera as a tool for self-discovery. It’s a journey that allows me to break free from societal expectations and embrace a more authentic version of myself.

My images are an invitation—for viewers to reflect on their own perceptions of identity and truth. Through this visual dialogue, I hope to create space for empathy, self-expression, and contribute to a more inclusive and compassionate society.

Would you say it’s been a smooth road, and if not what are some of the biggest challenges you’ve faced along the way?
It was never a smooth road, and honestly, I don’t believe in smooth journeys. Diamonds are only formed under intense pressure, and for me, that pressure has shaped who I am today. Expressing myself through images, especially ones that reveal my vulnerability, often made me overthink. I constantly wondered what people would say about me, about my family—coming from a Muslim household, there are boundaries and expectations. Yet, all I wanted was the freedom to explore, to express without restriction.

Showing that raw side of myself to the world was terrifying, knowing that judgment might follow. But despite those fears, I realized that being true to myself was more important than conforming to external opinions. It’s a balance between honoring my roots and pushing the boundaries of my own self-expression. Every image I create is a step forward in that delicate dance of vulnerability, defiance, and discovery.

As you know, we’re big fans of you and your work. For our readers who might not be as familiar what can you tell them about what you do?
My work revolves around self-portraiture, where I delve into themes of identity, gender roles, self-representation, vulnerability, and memory. I use photography as a medium to explore and challenge societal norms, while reflecting deeply on my own experiences. I specialize in creating constructed portraits, where I adopt different personas through role-playing and performance. This allows me to push the boundaries of identity, encouraging a transformative journey both for myself and my audience.

I think what sets me apart is my ability to blend personal narrative with universal themes, particularly in the way I address the complexity of self within the context of family, culture, and societal expectations. Coming from a Muslim background, I face certain limitations and expectations, yet I use my work to navigate that space, breaking free from constraints and offering a fresh perspective on self-exploration.

One of the projects I’m most proud of is Portrait of an Artist as Their Mother. It explores the relationship between parent and child, gender identity, and the fluidity of roles we play in life. Through this project, I’ve been able to foster a deeper connection with my own identity and invite others to reflect on their relationships with family, self, and society.

What truly drives my work is the desire to create empathy and provoke thought. I aim to spark conversations, especially around topics that challenge conventional views of gender, identity, and truth. It’s this vulnerability and openness that I believe sets me apart, and I’m proud of creating spaces through my work that allow others to feel seen, understood, and inspired to reflect on their own truths.

Risk taking is a topic that people have widely differing views on – we’d love to hear your thoughts.
I see risk-taking as essential for growth, especially in creative fields like photography. For me, risk isn’t just about stepping into the unknown; it’s about challenging the boundaries of comfort and societal expectations to truly express yourself. I believe the most meaningful work often comes from moments of vulnerability and uncertainty. Without taking risks, I’d never be able to create the kind of art that feels authentic and true to who I am.

One of the biggest risks I’ve taken was in my project Portrait of an Artist as Their Mother. In it, I addressed themes of gender roles and identity, using my own experiences growing up in a Muslim household. Expressing these ideas through self-portraits was terrifying because it felt like I was exposing a part of myself that many might find uncomfortable or hard to understand. There’s always the fear of judgment—what will my family think, what will the community say? But I knew that in order to grow, both as an artist and a person, I had to confront these fears head-on.

Another major risk was moving from Malaysia to Glasgow to pursue my master’s degree. Leaving behind the familiar, especially within the context of a culture that values certain traditions and expectations, wasn’t easy. But I knew that staying in a place of comfort would limit my creative and personal evolution. Taking that step allowed me to immerse myself in a new environment that embraced experimentation and self-discovery.

Risk, for me, is about embracing the fear of uncertainty and using it as fuel for innovation. It’s not always about the immediate payoff but rather about pushing through discomfort to create something honest and impactful. Even when risks don’t work out the way you hope, there’s always something valuable to learn from the process.

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