Ali Kazma’s videos portray various forms of work as more than just labor. He highlights skill, creativity, and ritual, transforming everyday realities into something that feels almost spiritual. Born in Istanbul, Turkey, Kazma currently lives and works between Istanbul, Turkey, and Paris, France. He received his BA from the University of Colorado at Boulder and his MA from The New School in New York City. In 2013, he represented Turkey at the 55th Venice Biennale and has had solo exhibitions at prestigious venues such as Istanbul Modern, MAXXI (Rome), Jeu de Paume (Paris), and Hirshhorn Museum (Washington, DC). He was awarded the UNESCO Prize for Promotion of the Arts in 2001 and the Nam June Paik Award in 2010, and his work is included in various collections, from Tate Modern (London) to the Foundation Louis Vuitton Collection (Paris) and Istanbul Modern.
Between 2005 and 2015, Kazma produced two significant series titled Obstructions and Resistance. The former consists of works observing various professions engaged in the production and transformation of objects. He views these occupations as human efforts to harness energy to cope with and slow the inevitable passage of time and eventual extinction. These videos showcase a world of industrial, artisanal, and artistic production, centering on the actions and techniques of the workers and their relationship with the tools or machines they use.For example, Clerk (2011) features the hands and technique of an office clerk as he stamps a stack of papers with rhythmic precision at lightning speed.
The Resistance series evolved from the Obstructions series and explores how the human body is shaped and reproduced by scientific, cultural, and social tools. In these works, the body becomes the site of production as Kazma documents the ways we alter our bodies in an attempt to control or liberate ourselves from them. The series includes Tattoo (2013), set in a tattoo parlor, where he patiently observes the application of lines, colors, and patterns onto skin by a tattoo artist.
In both series, Kazma takes the viewers to remote locations, revealing hard-to-access spaces that shield activities of production from the public. He has shot videos of procedures conducted behind the scenes in abattoirs, jean factories, laboratories, prisons, and surgery rooms.In exposing these hidden places, he conceals himself in the process. “I try to disappear, or rather to become a kind of a static fixture while shooting. The person working has to forget about you if you want to capture the authentic relationship between work and man. So, I try never to place my body in their direct line of vision; I always shoot from side angles. I go a little bit to the right, bend a little to make my body smaller or less visible.” A House of Ink (2023) exemplifies this intimacy, as he films the writing practice of Nobel Prize–winning author Orhan Pamuk. To perceive the writer’s mental process, the camera observes details of Pamuk’s home—books, objects, notes, and drawings—that have surrounded him and informed his creativity.
The artist revisited ink-based craftsmanship and the representation of writing in another work titled Sumi (2025), a two-channel project examining the material foundation of writing. It documents the traditional process of making Sumi, the world’s purest black ink. Kazma captured the sequence of labor involved, from the mixing, molding, and drying of materials to the methods of crushing and kneading sticks of ink by a skilled craftsperson. Through his editing, the labor is presented as forms of choreography and ceremonious.
Inkman (2025), a companion to Sumi, further explores the production of Sumi ink at the Kobaien Studio in Nara, Japan. It follows the activity of Mr. Toshitsugu Okabe, one of the older craftsmen in the studio, as he produces ink sticks with mechanical precision using the tools and techniques that have been employed since at least the 1500s. Kazma condenses Okabe’s process into just a few minutes, utilizing rapid cuts, various angles, and repetitive gestures to capture the intensity and precision of the craftsman’s production. The sounds of the tools become musical, and the skillful movements of Okabe create a rhythmic dance. The observation of Okabe in Inkman transcends mere documentation or instructional content; rather, Kazma’s video pays tribute to workers and celebrates the beauty and brilliance of their expertise.
—Kanitra Fletcher