60 people that changed the '70s and '80s for photographer Pablo Bartholomew

"Met him two years ago in Mussoorie, met him two weeks ago, dead, dead, messaged me on Facebook he cannot make it, just met, met, dead, just had lunch with her..." Eminent photographer Pablo Bartholomew is doing a photo count at Sakshi Art Gallery of the 60 black-and-white candid portraits for his exhibition, 60@60. Actors, artists, poets, writers, theatre directors and filmmakers Bartholomew encountered in his formative years as a photographer – the '70s and '80s are all here. Some are best-kept secrets of time – Mira Nair and Shashi Tharoor enacting Cleopatra and Anthony in St Stephen's College, a pigeon-chested Anupam Kher, 'Liril' girl Karen Lunel talking to the camera and Sharon Prabhakar in the background applying lipstick, Shabana Azmi with sex-workers in Delhi, the Alkazi family with an intense-looking Ebrahim and a mysterious 'hand' playing with the mock-up set of Purana Quila. In all, a throwback to media and film industry through camera lens.

Why 60@60?
In a sense, it's just a bunch of images. Sixty, because that's my age. But in another sense, I've always been in the arts like my parents and my friends. Of course, there are b******s here, from advertising, who made promises that never came true. But others gave me work without expecting favours. People who were kind to me, like Roshen Alkazi, who I lived with for almost a year when my parents went abroad. Or photographer Adrien Stevens who let me use his dark room for many years. People who I worked with – Satyajit Ray for Shatranj Ke Khilari (1977). Also, people who have affected me while growing up, like, artist Jayaram Patel, my father's friend who just passed away. He used to make khichdi that tasted delicious because of the way he would roast the dal. Or my school friend Ram Rahman, curator and photographer. This show is also about how remarkably everybody's transformed. Unrecognisable. Because the transition has been extreme. Alok Nath's become big. And I used to be thin. We've all morphed.

Do these 60 images then define your life in the '70s and '80s?
No. My first exhibition – Outside In – A Tale of Three Cities which is really my teenage diary of the 70s showing my friends, the parties, the girlfriends… But this 60@60 is more professional. Of a time, when there was little money in the arts. Even very senior artists had a difficult time. Many of them, including me, were lost. Like, Anupam Kher was an unknown actor from Chandigarh, when I clicked him. You don't know who becomes what. You photograph them because they are visually interesting or become friends with them. It's not a sacrosanct list… I've already done three shows using archival stuff. Nothing from this exhibition has been duplicated. I've tried to reproduce such moments using a dark room print in a digital format.

Your memories of working in a dark room.
The dark room was a great place because you work with your hands. You touch things that smell. While making the photograph, a lot of thinking took place. One is grateful to have done it. Young photographers may never realise how much this process enriches your photography and you.

Your views about digital photography, especially the selfie generation.
British legendary war photographer Don McCullin once said, "I only use the camera like a toothbrush, it does the job." We're in an era where image-making devices are available like toothbrushes for all to use. But since prehistoric times, humans have left an imprint – markings of their hands or hunting scenes in caves. It stems from the self and the need to mark. Digital revolution, like smart phones, and social media have given people this opportunity to record. Anyone can take pictures, so many are being made every second, but how many can actually move you?

You've learnt photography from your father, Richard Bartholomew, a leading art critic in the 50s. Any influences?
As a photographer, my father [Richard] was very sophisticated in a quiet way. His creative influences came from poetry and literature which I'm not well-versed with. He's had a peripheral influence on me even though my influences come from cinema and music. Though I've curated shows with my father's work and mine together, but as separate bodies of work because I didn't have access to his archives until his death. Even when my mother passed me the work, it sat there for years. It was only in 2005 that I noticed the same things we'd done, separately. In the moments, form, composition and subjects – streets, friends, my mother, self-portrait in the mirror, birds, water, night scene etc. So now, I'm working with a larger body of work from our archives that draw on such similarities.

How did your mother Rati, a theatre activist, influence your work?
Through her I discovered the stage. Tried to act, but I was very bad. So I stuck to lighting, sound, production. Slowly, I started clicking my mother's plays. Some snippets are in this exhibition, a fraction of what I've done in theatre.

What are you thinking of when shooting disasters like the Bangladesh cyclone/Bhopal Gas tragedy?
You go into such situations like a surgeon working with blood and cut-up flesh, who undertakes procedures to save a life. As a photographer, your mission is to communicate in a way the larger world can understand. My photographs did bring awareness to the Bhopal disaster. Unfortunately, it didn't change much for the victims. The government never got shamed enough as it protected large corporate interests. As a young photographer, when you get the most coveted award (World Press Photo of the Year 1984), you are euphoric. That excitement tarnishes after 25 years when you weigh the award with the ground situation.

Have you hardened over the years because of the nature of your work?
I was a precautious cynic, but now I've softened. However, when dealing with danger, there's an adrenaline rush that's quite addictive. Even now, at 60, when I hear of a news story, something in my stomach tightens with, "I should be there!"

Any photographers from the current lot who have impressed you?
Right now, two women are my favorites who are exactly like Vivian Maier's, Nannies. (Vivian Dorothy Maier was an American street photographer was before a nanny for forty years.) I will talk about their photography and how they navigate this passion at the Chennai Photo Biennale in February. I cannot reveal names right now. Both are friends on Facebook. I've even met them in their own countries.