The United States Geological Survey (USGS) defines landscapes as areas critical to economic development, as they supply natural resources and other goods and services essential to human needs. Similarly, traditional geographical studies have regarded landscapes as physical and objective entities, perceiving them as an external world that can be empirically accessed and analyzed. From the perspective of extractive industries, landscapes are transformed into territories—defined areas to be utilized and exploited.

Fazal Sheikh’s exhibition, Fazal Sheikh: Thirst | Exposure | In Place, emphasizes viewing and understanding landscapes through a different lens. Sheikh’s work invites us to consider landscapes as being deeply intertwined with the fabric of society. Guided by this perspective, Thirst | Exposure | In Place is an exhibition that spans three distinct rooms, each showcasing a body of work with shared provocations. While unified by a critical exploration of extractive practices under industrial capitalism, each room seeks to unsettle specific aspects of this subject.

The exhibition focuses on the Four Corners Region, where Arizona, Colorado, New Mexico, and Utah converge—a landscape profoundly shaped by the legacy of the mining industry. During the 19th and 20th centuries, this area became a hub for resource extraction, including coal, gas, and uranium mining, leaving lasting environmental and social impacts on local communities. Central to the region’s history are issues of dispossession, the destruction of ancient cultural sites, and health consequences such as respiratory illnesses and cancer. Today, oil fracking and coal mining remain prevalent, the impact of which is compounded by the enduring effects of pollution from radioactive and hazardous materials.

A series of seven photographs titled Thirst: Great Salt Lake opens the exhibition. These aerial images document the decline of the Great Salt Lake in northeastern Utah. Sheikh’s approach establishes an interplay between the micro and the macro, transforming these vast landscapes into textures that resemble a microscopic view of a living system rather than a static geographic representation. The viewer’s gaze is immediately drawn to a red, blood-like fluid penetrating the arid landscape, a striking contrast against the low-saturation palette that is characteristic of a desert. The ungovernability of fluids gives rise to a variety of shapes, ranging from rhizomatic formations to abstract watercolor-like marks that spread across the expansive terrain.  

Despite their visual allure, the unique and seductive textures and tonalities in Sheikh’s images do not reflect a thriving ecosystem but rather the stark reality of a system in crisis, brought on by drought and toxicity. Sheikh’s photographs depict a lake seemingly beyond recovery, with salinity levels so extreme that it is projected to dry up entirely by 2030. The images reveal a wounded body of water, scarred by visible “sores” in the form of color variations and tones—marks of toxic chemical spills and the overconsumption of its waters to meet the insatiable demands of urbanization in Salt Lake City.

The photographs featured in Thirst are the result of Sheikh’s collaboration with writer Terry Tempest Williams, and the elders of the Utah Diné Bikéyah intertribal coalition, which was established to protect their ancestral lands. Over the following five years, the coalition worked with Sheikh to document the region’s environmental decline and its impacts on local communities. In this first section of the exhibition, Sheikh’s inclination toward working in polyphony with others begins to resonate.

In the second part of the exhibition, titled Exposure, Sheikh presents a more personal connection between territory and its people. Here, viewers are invited to confront the impacts of uranium extraction, coal mining, oil drilling, and natural gas projects. Striking aerial photographs capture the scars left by these extractive endeavors on the landscape, juxtaposed with black-and-white portraits of individuals whose lives have been adversely affected by these industries. The portraits capture the details of their faces and expressions, accompanied by short wall texts featuring their first-person testimonies. Individuals recount the damage caused by these extractive projects, focusing on how the long-term consequences of exposure have been rendered invisible. This reality aligns with what writer and environmental activist Rob Nixon describes as “slow violence”—a form of violence that grows gradually and out of sight.

Reading the testimonies reveals the multifaceted exploitation of these territories, as the ongoing consequences of extraction. Toxic materials spread through the wind, infiltrate the earth, and penetrate the body, leaving visible and invisible scars. The narrations emphasize how new and past projects continue to pose significant challenges for the region. The extraction of natural resources, whether past or present, continues to shape the living experiences of these territories and their communities.

By revealing the geographical coordinates of each photograph in Exposure, the tangible reality of these sites is emphasized, linking the abstract concept of extraction to real places and marginalized communities. The juxtaposition between landscape and body in Sheikh’s Exposure section generates an aesthetic tension that captures the combined environmental and social turmoil wrought by extractive industries. The dialogue between images of scarred land and personal narratives of scarred lives highlights that these territories are not empty spaces to be exploited—as extractivist projects often perceive them. Rather, they are profoundly tied to identity, culture, and history. Through this lens, the work presented in Exposure confronts viewers with the undertones and hidden layers of extraction and industrialization, framing them not only as environmental crises but also as violations of human rights.

As part of Exposure, Sheikh presents a single-channel video installation composed of video recordings displayed in a grid format, featuring infrared cameras that capture methane emissions—a potent greenhouse gas released from oil and gas plants and refineries. The video highlights uncontrolled gas leaks, posing significant dangers to surrounding populations. This piece plays a pivotal role by unveiling what is invisible to the naked eye and conveying an urgent need for action. The diverging style and aesthetic within this video introduce a novel form of engagement in the exhibition. In this way, Sheikh’s integration of diverse resources through transdisciplinary collaborations, encompassing scientific methods, emphasizes his commitment to widely navigating the threshold of representation to raise awareness about this critical issue.

The third and final section of the exhibition, In Place, is an immersive and transmedial experience. Upon entering the room, visitors are captivated by sixty-three mid-sized framed prints, showcasing vibrant, vivid colors that interact freely without adhering to a strict pattern. The museography of this room creates an unconventional space, breaking away from the solitude and minimalist tendencies typical of museum displays. In this space, Sheikh’s images are arranged in grids that nearly cover the entire expanse of the walls. Each image functions as a singular unit while simultaneously contributing to a larger system—evoking a sense of interconnectedness, much like individual grains or pixels.

Upon closer inspection, each photograph embodies a compelling and metaphorical entanglement of life systems and beliefs. The aerial and close-up images document the Bears Ears region in southeastern Utah, named after prominent Cedar Mesa formations that resemble a bear’s ears. Notably, this place retains the same meaning in each of the area’s ancestral Indigenous languages—Hoon’Naqvut (Hopi), Shash Jáa (Diné), Kwiyagatu Nukavachi (Ute), and Ansh An Lashokdiwe (Zuni)—a testament to its profound cultural and spiritual significance.

In this room, Sheikh immerses us in the landscapes of the Bears Ears region through a combination of media, where the stunning textures of the Red Rock area engage in dialogue with an aural component. This section of the exhibition features a sound piece created in collaboration with geologist Jeffrey Ralston Moore from the University of Utah. Using seismological microphones, Moore captures the earth’s vibrations from various causes, such as wind and passing trains. These recordings are transformed into a sound work that enhances the viewer’s sense of presence in the landscape, allowing us to hear what feels like the heartbeat of the land.

While surrounded by the tapestry of photographs and immersed in an evocative sonic atmosphere, visitors encounter an offering by Jonah Yellowman, a Diné elder, placed at the center of this section. Yellowman’s contribution includes an offering of corn, which holds sacred significance for the Navajo people. This offering is presented on four hand-sewn textiles, each representing a different color that corresponds to the cardinal directions. The corn rests on these textiles, honoring his community’s deep connection to the land and adding a powerful spiritual dimension to the exhibition. Together, the photographs, the sound work, and the offering create a holistic experience that invites reflection on the hard division between nature and culture pervasive in Western cosmology.

As a research-based artist examining extractivist practices through relational methodologies, in writing this review, I recognize Sheikh’s commitment to a critical aesthetic practice that functions as a powerful storytelling tool, transcending the scope of traditional photography. His collaborative and connective practice goes beyond the visual, delving into profound and urgent issues affecting the environment and, above all, people.

From this perspective, I encourage readers to adopt a nuanced approach when engaging with Sheikh’s work. In this way, it is possible to discern its undertones, which reveals how aesthetic practitioners can implement relational methodologies that do not claim to speak on behalf of those experiencing violence firsthand, but instead amplify their voices.