This show puts colonial photography under lens

A photograph freezes a moment, yes, but it also freezes meaning. A striking new exhibition at Bikaner House, presented by Delhi’s DAG, asks visitors to take a second look at these meanings.

Titled “Typecasting: Photographing the peoples of India, 1855–1920’ and open to the public till February 15, the show brings together 166 rare historical photographs that reveal how early photography was used as a colonial tool to classify, categorise and “type” Indian communities, and how these images today complicate that very project.

Curated by Sudeshna Guha, the exhibition traces the intersection of photography and anthropology from 1850s onwards, a period when the camera became a key instrument of colonial documentation. Rather than treating photographs as neutral records, the show invites viewers to see them as constructed images shaped by power, perspective and purpose.

Over the past decade, DAG has built one of India’s largest collections of early ethnographic photography, including prints, cabinet cards, cartes-de-visite, albums, postcards and rare books.

The exhibition spans communities from the Lepcha and Bhutia of the Northeast to the Afridis of the Northwest; from Parsi elites and ‘talukdars’ to coolies, barbers and snake-charmers.

The rise of photography in India coincided with the aftermath of the 1857 Uprising, when the British intensified their efforts to survey and study the subcontinent’s people.

Early projects like ‘The Peoples of India’, initially conceived by Lord Canning as a personal collection but later taken over by the colonial government, sought to visually map India through racial, caste and occupational categories.

Speaking to The Tribune, Guha explained that these images were less about truth and more about typology.

“Typology and typecasting are actually invisible, and are social constructs,” she said. “Photography was widely used to document people, especially after 1857, as a form of surveillance. But these photographs tell us much more than just colonial control — they are also aesthetic objects, commercial products and cultural artefacts that travelled, circulated and acquired

different meanings.”

She said a photograph alone did not define a “type”.

“If you removed the captions, you would not know who these people were supposed to be. That ambiguity is important: it reminds us that identity cannot be read simply from appearance,” she said.

The exhibition is structured around four thematic segments: ‘The Peoples of India’, which showcases early state-sponsored photographic projects; ‘Tribe, Community and Anthropological Field Photography’, which highlights images linked to the rise of anthropology; ‘Trade, Caste and Occupation’, which visually classifies people based on labour and profession; and ‘Beauties and Dancing Girls’, which focuses on representations of women, performance and the colonial gaze.

At the centre of the gallery stands a large, intricately detailed portrait of a Bohra family — the photographer of which is unknown, but is widely attributed to celebrated Indian photographer Deen Dayal.

Its richness, intimacy and staging challenge the idea that such images were purely bureaucratic records.

Nearby are terracotta figurines of 11 Indian tradespeople, echoing the exhibition’s exploration of how labour and caste were visually codified.

One of the most compelling sections examines how Indian women were photographed, often as not only ethnographic “subjects”, but also objects of fascination.

Many images were simply labelled ‘Hindu Woman’, ‘Tamil Lady’, or ‘Group of Kashmiri Females’.

Postcards of famous ‘nautch’ (dancing) girls such as Miss Jomti of Mussoorie and Miss Gauhar Jaan were circulated widely, shaping British fantasies of Indian femininity.