Yalla Habibi: Living with War in Aleppo
Hosam Katan
Berlin, Germany: Kehrer Verlag, 2017
Language: English
9.6 in. (W) by 12.75 in. (H)
152 pages
Rushing toward the carnage when most ran the other way, Hosam Katan trained his lens on the immediate aftermath of airstrikes and artillery barrages on his hometown of Aleppo. When his adrenaline wasn’t surging, in between moments of chaos, clashes, and missile strikes, he documented everyday life under siege.
Katan learned the language of photography on the job. Born only in 1994 and plunged deeply into a war that interrupted his college studies in Damascus, Katan returned home to Aleppo to share stories he hoped would expose the brutality of then-President Bashar Al-Assad’s regime and win support for a renewed and free Syria.
What began as his own personal rebellion against the regime spiraled into an internationally-recognized body of work, so far culminating in his debut book Yalla Habibi: Living with War in Aleppo.
Katan worked as a photojournalist for the rebel-aligned Aleppo Media Center starting in 2012. In the coming years, he would utilize his experience as a fixer and his intimate knowledge of Aleppo’s roads and neighborhoods to provide freelance work for Reuters and, later, German magazine Stern.
Centered on only the parts of Aleppo he can manage access to in the years 2014 and 2015, Katan’s photography covers a broad spectrum of human experience: struggle, grief, ingenuity, survival, and sometimes even sheer boredom.
What I appreciate above all else in his photobook about life under war and siege is that he does not glamorize his circumstances. His photography is gritty and raw. There is minimal apparent editing, and there is nothing frilly or ostentatious about his compositions.
Essays – some short, some long – punctuate the stills, providing the viewer with a moment to digest, and offer personal, political, and sometimes even historical context to the full spreads.
Despite this context, it is crucial to remember that this photobook is a reflection of Katan’s own lived experience. His commentary is highly personal. He writes, for example, about his hunger, the lost friendships he longs for, and the stress he felt under duress. In one essay, he shares his embarrassment and shame for taking a picture of a young bombing survivor coming to terms in real time with what she just experienced. He sent a batch of photographs to Reuters that day but could not will himself to send what he must have felt was an exploitative photograph. (He nevertheless published the portrait in this book.)
A number of essays are written by others. Syrian photographer Mohammad Khair Hak writes of being a human first. He relates an experience in 2014 when he passed off his camera to rescue a boy in a building destroyed by a barrel bomb.
Although there are no clear book sections, photographs are loosely arranged according to the general themes discussed in these essays.
Aside from their gritty nature, the photographs are mostly well composed. My favorites of his images are his sweeping shots of the devastated cityscape around and below. Nothing is spared. Nothing is too graphic for Katan’s camera. People underestimate the total devastation brought by war.
Other photographs emphasize the human toll of war. Many shots of people are in my view either too tight or too wide, but that is a personal preference and does not impact the delivery of Katan’s message at large.
In sharing his radicalization – a term I use favorably and strongly – from concerned youth to war crime-documenting independent photographer, Katan poses a very worthwhile question: how can photography change the course of history?
On its own, I do not think it can. But it can compound rage, build on sensitivities, and provide the evidence necessary to create great change. It is, perhaps, a propulsion device.
As of this writing, Assad’s regime has fallen. There is much uncertainty surrounding Syria’s future, and we should expect to see more visual evidence of this drawn-out war. But for now, Aleppo’s arms are open again. Katan’s work shows us what so many Syrians escaped and, with any hope, what they will not have to return to. Yalla, habibi, let’s go.
Ratings:
Photography: 3.5/5
There is nothing frilly or cinematic about Katan’s photographs — they are raw and real. I appreciate his honesty and integrity and prefer this unstaged documentary-style approach to visual storytelling. Some photographs are flat and soulless, however. I believe a successful photobook requires some artistic signature or style that sets the photographer apart and that I anticipate will become more apparent in Katan’s future work as he gains more experience.
Layout, text, and curation: 3.5/5
I appreciate the essays that break the book into bite-sized and digestible pieces. The final essay shares Katan’s personal evacuation from Aleppo. I wish, then, that the photographs might have mirrored his personal journey in and eventually out of Aleppo. In terms of layout, most photographs are full-spread and marginless or full-bleed which immerses and almost even envelopes the viewer given the size of the pages. Printed at the end is a valuable index that provides succinct captions for each image.
Messaging: 4.0/5
Katan is far from neutral and does not shy away from condemning the Assad regime. His photography is an honest reflection of a photojournalist forced into this position by powers beyond his control, powers he has suspected of foul play for much of his life. He fights back by providing windows into war’s despair and destruction while also showing moments of normalcy and resilience and even moments of comfort. Some essays also address highly relevant issues in conflict photography such as victim exploitation and the fine balance between documentation and the provision of aid. I find some of the text to be slightly elementary and self-congratulatory, but I have to remember that this is a highly personal account of survival.
Physical quality of the book: 4.5/5
This hardcover book is gorgeously designed and has a soft, matte feel. The pages are thick with only the slightest hint of gloss. Colors are soft. The book is dense. The hardcover corners in particular might show some wear and color fading with light use, but the book is otherwise well constructed and should stand up well.
Accessibility: 3.5/5
Katan makes it easy for viewers to appreciate the devastating effects of war. However, a basic familiarity with Syria’s civil war and, in particular, the Assad regime’s long history of repression would enrich the experience greatly.
Overall experience: 3.8/5 (averaged score)
Yalla Habibi provides an unfiltered and highly personal account of war from the perspective of a young man who used his camera to draw attention to his besieged hometown and the people within it fighting to survive. This photobook would make a suitable addition to most collections.