There’s been so much attention given to the fantasy worlds created in AI art recently that it’s refreshing to come across a reminder of how powerful photography still is when it comes to creating truly magical imagery. And how it can create stunning fantasy scenes.

Some of the South African photographer Tarryn Goldman’s photographs look like optical illusions. At first glance, you would think they were paintings, but look deeper and you see that the image comprises entirely real people and objects (see our pick of the best cameras if you want to try to recreate your own favourite artwork).

In Goldman’s ‘Painted Girl’, painting and photography collide with surreal results. The photographer painted her model, set and props using an impasto technique, building up layers to create depth and shadow to make the photograph look like an oil painting (see some backstage footage in the post above). 

It’s an interesting play on the concept of art capturing reality. For a moment, we think we’re looking at a 2D photograph of a 2D painting of a scene, but actually, it’s a photograph of a 3D scene made to look like a 2D artwork.

The Painted Girl was shortlisted for the Africa Photo Awards back in 2020, and Goldman has continued to create magical images, including pieces of digital collage that place her models in fantasy worlds. And many of these have a depth and beauty that generative AI art simply can’t compare with.

You can see more of Goldman’s work on her website (opens in new tab) and her Instagram account (opens in new tab). 

If you’re looking to develop your own photography work, see our pick of the best website builder for photographers. We also have some top photography tips, iPhone Pro camera tips and a piece on how to use photography in design.

This shot was taken in Istanbul a year into my work on Hafiz, the photo series that would launch my career as a photographer. Between 2017 and 2021, I travelled across Turkey documenting the lives of young Muslim schoolgirls enrolled in religious Qur’anic schools and studying to obtain “hafiz” – an ancient rite of passage that requires the memorising of all 604 pages – or 6,236 verses, or 77,430 words – of the Holy Qur’an.

Hafiz, which translates as “guardian” or “memoriser”, is a custom following in the footsteps of the prophet Muhammad, who – between the 6th and 7th centuries, when most people in the Arabic world were illiterate – spread religious scripture by word of mouth. Still today, thousands of students study to memorise the holy book. From the age of 12, my twin sister and I began the process, too. Every day we woke at 5am with the morning call to prayer, before chanting lines alongside 600 classmates at Qur’anic school. In the afternoon we attended secular school. There were moments of freedom at home, when we watched TV, ate what we liked and were normal teenagers. But in those moments I found myself missing hafiz school, and in particular my classmates. They became my sisters, too.

And 20 years later, while creating the Hafiz series, the girls I met travelling across Turkey quickly became my best friends. They embraced me, knowing I am one of them. This photo is one of the most arresting in the series because of the unexpected contrasts: the black veils against the pink rollercoaster; a symbol of serious, religious observance next to a site of pleasure and youthful abandon. It deliberately undercuts the viewer’s expectations. For me, it was important to photograph the girls outside of their studies: at picnics or funfairs – moments of joy and recreation. For this shot, Seyma, Nehir and Sare became my creative collaborators. They patiently waited for me to capture the moment with the low-flying plane.

There are thousands of single-sex Qur’anic schools in Turkey alone, with the tradition mostly being upheld by girls. For those who follow the practices of the faith, a hafiz should be owed the highest respect by their community. It is forbidden to cross one’s legs or raise one’s voice in front of a hafiz – a rule that applies even to the men of any household. It is a rare example of when women and girls can have elevated status in certain Islamic countries.

Before becoming a photographer, I studied international trade and finance at the Istanbul Bilgi University. I wrote my thesis on Muslim women and the “subaltern” – a frequently used term in postcolonial thought for those designated as lower status in society. And as an extension of my academic work, my photography seeks to capture the hafiz schoolgirls in a nuanced and empowered light. I’m paying respect to the hafiz-in-training for their religious devotion and commitment. But as an artist and a woman, I’m also paying respect to all Muslim women. I wanted to counter the demeaning representations of Muslim women in visual culture, both in the east and the west. In film and TV, they often appear as secondary or servile characters – marginalised without a critical role or voice.

I want to show that these women and girls are not simply bound to the oppressive structures surrounding them. Beyond the school walls and their veils, their interior worlds and lived experiences are colourful, rich and rebellious. I’m honouring sisterhood and solidarity.

Since pursuing photography professionally, I have only worked on medium-format film, using a Hasselblad camera. I’m self-taught but have strived to learn everything I can about the medium. I choose not to work with digital cameras because it disturbs my creative process; I prefer a slower approach, with film that gives the texture I see in other art forms. In general I find myself more drawn to painting and poetry than photography: artists such as Andrew Wyeth, El Greco, Van Gogh, Caravaggio and Chagall.

Although I never completed schooling to be a hafiz, the experience is instilled in my artistic practice and outlook. I continue to wake at five every morning to pray, before beginning my work as an artist. The intensity of religious schooling gave me discipline and ignited my creative impulses: I escaped into my imagination, dreaming about the world beyond, or what the future might hold. Now, more than three decades later, my work is rooted in the past – a sense of nostalgia for this time of religious ritual, daydreaming and girlhood.

Hafiz by Sabiha Çimen is at Kunsthal Rotterdam until 7 May.

Sabiha Çimen’s CV

Born: Istanbul, Turkey, 1986.
Trained: Self-taught.
Influences: “Painting, poetry.”
High point: “Winning the Paris Photo-Aperture first photobook award with Hafiz.”
Low point: “My lowest point is also my highest point – because it challenges me to make better work.”
Top tip: “Never compromise your photographic vision.”

The Office of University Relations Photography Studio invites faculty and staff to schedule a free session to update your professional headshot. 

Marquette University uses professional staff and faculty headshots in various vehicles, including Marquette Today, Marquette Magazine, news releases and social media, among other outlets. It’s helpful to keep these photos up-to-date, high-quality and standardized across the institution. 

After your headshot session, participants will receive a copy of their chosen photo for their own use as well. OUR recommends sharing your photo with your department for website updates and updating your LinkedIn profile.  

Use the online scheduling tool to schedule your appointment. Once you have selected a day and time, scroll down on the screen to add your name, email and Marquette department or organization. Click “Book” to secure your day and time. More dates and times will be added throughout the summer and into the fall semester. 

Headshot sessions are held in the OUR Photography Studio in Zilber Hall. Your session will be 20 minutes in duration and will include time for you to be photographed and to view and select your final image for further editing. After creating an appointment, you will receive a confirmation email with a calendar invitation, both of which include helpful details to prepare you for your session. A reminder notification will also be sent. 

If you have any questions, please email OUR.