In August of 2017, I shifted restlessly in my bed in my hostel, trying to sleep. Two feet away from me, my roommate, an art student at the Beaconhouse National University, hammered gold wires along the treads in a wooden board for her project. A few weeks later, I walked in on her with scraps of leftover fabric glued all over her body. When I look at the images of that project, I can still hear the echoes of Sayera’s screams as her friend and I pulled those pieces of cloth off her later.
On weekends, Sayera would go to the Itwaar Bazaar and shop for the trendiest shoes at the cheapest rates. On weekdays, she’d sacrifice her sleep for project after project. By the time Sayera got into the MFA program at the School of the Art Institute Chicago, her practice had evolved, the themes in her work had become clear and taken a rich shape. Her interest in the India-Pakistan partition, migration, and borders had led her to transcend many borders herself as she embarked on this journey to further her career.
One day during a phone conversation Sayera said, “I feel as if I’ve made this journey on foot.” It was apparent that the weight of her work had seeped into her individual person. It had taken shape both within her and outside of her. While talking about her journey, she showed me pictures from her project where she had taken clay from Pakistan and wrapped it in little cloth bundles. Once dried, these clay sculptures had their own individual and permanent marks of where the cloth had kept it in place. “They’ve made the journey with me,” she said. This project ultimately came to be known as Potli.
In 2024, she finished her Master’s in Fine Arts from The Art Institute of Chicago, where she was granted the New Artist Society Merit Scholarship award. She has been nominated and selected for artist residencies such as the ‘Dūje Pāse toñ’ (From the Other Side) and VASL’s Taaza Tareen’13, in Karachi, Pakistan. Her work has been shown at the Full Circle Gallery in Karachi (2021), the SITE Gallery in Chicago (2023), and Convergence in Flux, South Asia Institute, Chicago (2024). She has recently received an Environmental and Social Justice Fellowship award from Vermont Studio Center, USA. Her work is also part of an upcoming three-person show at the Southeast Museum of Photography at Daytona State College. The exhibition is titled Patterns of Rupture. She frequently posts photographs on her Instagram. Sayera also teaches art to kids at a local school in Chicago.
RABIA MALIK: How does the distance from home impact your emotional and artistic engagement with themes like the border and the trauma of partition?
SAYERA ANWAR: Living far from my homeland, I became acutely aware of how my experiences of migration and displacement differ from those of my peers in America. This physical and emotional distance has heightened my sensitivity as an artist. I have begun to recognize that my creative expressions are deeply informed by the nuances of my heritage, and I now understand how the pain and complexities of migration echo in my work.
At first, when I was away from my geography, I struggled to find my voice. I didn’t know what to talk about, what to explore, or how to connect my experiences to my art. However, over time, I learned to see things differently. I began to observe the spaces between cultures and the echoes of history that shape identity. This perspective, cultivated through distance, allowed me to more deeply explore the impact of borders, displacement, and trauma, and to express the emotional residue of partition with a clarity and depth I hadn’t before.
RM: How do you view the concept of home now, given your experience of living between two distinct cultural and political contexts?
SA: My view of home has evolved significantly. Rather than feeling a sense of loss or displacement, I now feel that I have gained two homes. Each place offers something unique, and both have shaped who I am. There is a sense of addition rather than subtraction — two homes that coexist, each contributing to my identity in different but complementary ways. This duality has enriched my sense of belonging, allowing me to draw from diverse cultural experiences and perspectives, rather than forcing me to choose one over the other.
RM: Do you feel that being outside of South Asia allows for a more “neutral ” or global lens to approach the history and violence of Partition, or does it create a dissonance?
SA: This distance has given me the space to reflect on borders and identity with a level of detachment that might not have been possible if I were living within the immediate context of South Asia. In many ways, working on borders became a way for me to understand my own identity — why borders exist between people, and how they shape our interactions and perceptions.
At the same time, this distance can sometimes feel like a dissonance, as I am interpreting something that is deeply personal and rooted in a specific cultural and political history, but from a place far removed from it. However, some of my work happens instinctively, through my intuition as an artist. These creative impulses arise naturally, guided by my emotions and experiences, often beyond conscious thought. The interplay between intuition, distance, and the deeper need to understand borders has shaped my art in ways that are both grounded and expansive, connecting the personal with the universal.
RM: The themes of borders and migration are central in today’s global politics. How do you see your work resonating with contemporary debates on these issues?
SA: Over time, I’ve become more conscious of the language I use, especially when it comes to terms like ‘displaced’. I no longer use this word lightly, as it’s important for me to acknowledge my own privilege and movement. My experience, though shaped by migration, is very different from those who are forcibly displaced or fleeing from conflict and danger.
I strive to approach these themes with a deep sense of responsibility, recognizing that my own journey is not the same as the struggles of millions who face displacement due to political, social, or environmental crises. By being thoughtful about the language and concepts I use, I aim to contribute to a more nuanced dialogue on borders, migration, and displacement, one that takes into account the complexities of privilege, movement, and the global systems that shape these issues. My work, in this context, seeks to explore not just the personal dimensions of migration, but the broader, often painful realities of the global political landscape.
RM: Do you feel any responsibility to educate or contextualize the history of Partition for audiences unfamiliar with it, particularly in a place like the US?
SA: While I recognize the importance of contextualizing Partition, especially for audiences who may be unfamiliar with it, I feel that my primary responsibility is to convey the emotional truth of the experience through my work. The work comes from my own observation and personal experience, and I focus less on overt education and more on how people feel when they encounter it.
Rather than delivering historical facts or lessons, I aim to evoke an emotional response, allowing viewers to engage with the work on a more visceral level. I believe that the history of Partition, with all its complexity and trauma, is best felt through the artwork itself – through its imagery and the emotions and spaces it creates. By fostering this kind of emotional connection, I hope to spark curiosity and reflection in audiences, encouraging them to learn more if they wish, but first and foremost to experience the deeper human truths that resonate in the work.
RM: Your art seems to grapple with the intersection of personal history and larger historical events. How do you maintain a balance between individual experience and collective history in your work?
SA: Maintaining that balance is something I approach with great care. For me, personal history and larger historical events are intertwined, and the key is authenticity. I believe that if I haven’t lived something, I cannot authentically speak about it. My art comes from my own experiences, deeply rooted in the personal, and I use this lens to reflect on broader historical narratives.
By staying true to that ethos, I can offer a unique perspective on larger historical events. At the same time, I acknowledge that the personal is never truly isolated from the collective. My work often explores how individual histories are shaped by larger political and social forces, and vice versa. The challenge is to honor both – my own story and the broader, shared history – without losing the depth or the emotional truth of either. In doing so, I hope to create a space where personal and collective histories can coexist, and where viewers can find a resonance between the two.
Rabia Malik is a writer from Lahore. She writes around themes of womanhood, familial bonds and nostalgia. Her work has appeared in The News on Sunday, RIC Journal, The Aleph Review and Fahmidan Journal. She is currently pursuing an MFA in Writing.