Interview with Salma Olama

This is just a small example of the protests and movements photographers of color have engaged in throughout history. Another artist contributing to this dialogue of self-representation is Salma Olama. A young Egyptian photographer, Olama is already deeply aware of how the art world—especially in the West—commodifies and marginalizes artists of color. She also recognizes the importance of supporting and uplifting local artists.

I had the immense pleasure of traveling to Egypt—via Zoom, of course—where Olama is currently based. We spoke about a wide range of topics: her self-portraits featured in this magazine, the significance of funding local artists, and the representation of North African, Middle Eastern, and Muslim identities in media.

As a Haitian-Syrian, I felt a cultural resonance with Olama’s drive to elevate North African and Middle Eastern narratives. Growing up, I never saw myself in media, textbooks, or superhero films. I often wondered what it would feel like to see someone like me on screen. For much of my life, I believed success came from the validation of the Western world—the idea that “if you can make it in America, you can make it anywhere.” But today, I reject that notion.

My conversation with Olama reminded me that true success comes from our communities. Success is measured by how our art challenges, inspires, and improves the spaces we call home. It’s not about “making it” in America; it’s about “making it” in Egypt, in Haiti, in Nigeria. Success is about creating art that resonates with our people and reflects our experiences.

Olama deeply understands the power of empowering local artists—those making a tangible, lasting impact within their communities. “Making it” doesn’t necessarily mean having your photographs displayed at the Whitney. Instead, it can mean building opportunities that amplify the voices and talents of those around you.

That change could start with a self-portrait. It could start with Salma Olama. It could start with you, me, all of us.

With that, let’s dive into the conversation.

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STEVEN BABOUN: Tell me a little about yourself and your journey. Who are you?

SALMA OLAMA: My name is Salma, and I’m a photographer based in Egypt. I’ve lived here my whole life. Right now, I’m in my final year of studying Film at the American University in Cairo. Last year, I had the chance to do a semester abroad in New York at Parsons School of Design. Unfortunately, it was cut short because of COVID.

That experience, however, was really meaningful. I did a photography term there, which pushed me to explore myself more deeply as a photographer. It helped me appreciate my work and the work of others in new ways. I’ve become more open to the idea of learning every day and continuously evolving as an artist and a person.

SB: Let’s talk about your self-portraits, particularly the ones taken on Polaroids. What draws you to this medium?

SO: Polaroids are where I started to delve into self-portraits. Honestly, I’ve never been comfortable in front of a camera—whether it’s a phone or a professional camera. I tend to tense up and not know how to react. So, I thought I’d take control and do it myself.

For me, it’s about practice. I consider all of my self-portraits a form of play—exploring and experimenting. They’ve become a space where I can express myself without any constraints.

SB: When people see your photographs, what do you hope they take away from them?

SO: I love it when an image sparks curiosity—when it makes you construct a story in your mind about what’s happening. The photographs that excite me the most are those that convey a narrative without explicitly telling you what it is.

I want my work to feel like a moment plucked from a larger story. When someone looks at my images, I want them to feel like they’re behind the camera themselves, piecing together their reality.

SB: The media often excludes stories from artists of color, particularly those from the Middle East, North Africa, and other underrepresented regions. How does your work challenge this exclusion?

SO: Recently, I’ve been focusing on creating art for the people around me—for my community. One of the biggest problems in the Middle East, North Africa, and other regions outside the West is that we often create art to gain Western validation. We equate success with having a film at Cannes or a photograph in a Western gallery.

It’s as if we’re constantly trying to please people who, let’s be honest, don’t always care about our stories. That mindset has been bothering me. If we truly care about representation and our cultures, we need to shift our focus. We need to support local artists and fund projects that tell our stories on our terms. There’s so much incredible art being made in our communities, but it’s often overlooked because we’re too focused on how others want to see us.

It’s time we take ownership of our narratives and focus on representing ourselves authentically.

Untitled, 2019