Kazem Hakimi – Fish and chip shop photographer

Kazem Hakimi has run the fish and chip shop at the far end of the Iffley Road for the past 36 years. It’s an old school takeaway. A narrow frontage in a parade of shops that include an estate agent, a cafe and a bike store. Fryers and warming cabinets, standing room only at the front, a small counter on which to wrap and serve, posters and fliers advertising local events pinned neatly on the wall. So far not so unusual. Except that Kazem is also a photographer and while you are waiting for your battered cod to crisp, he might well ask if you’d mind stepping round the back to have your picture taken. There you will find a makeshift studio open to the elements. Plain white wall, natural lighting, no fancy accessories. A few quick snaps. All done in the time it takes to cook a bag of chips.

I’d come across the portraits of his customers at an exhibition at the Old Fire Station many years ago.  As well as the technical expertise required to pull them off, it seemed to me there was a joy, a warmth and an intimacy about the people in the pictures. A special connection between the onlooker and the subject that gave the illusion that these were friends of yours. A nun who lives in a convent up the road grins as she looks into the camera, a woman proudly shows off her pregnant belly, a man with a handlebar moustache clutches his briefcase. These were studies by someone with a positive view of the world. Someone who wanted to show the best of people. I had been keen to meet the man behind the lens ever since.

But Kazem doesn’t have a website. He is not on Facebook or Twitter or Instagram. He doesn’t have time. He has nine children, five grandchildren and a fish and chip shop to run. And so it is that seeing him in his window as I cycled past recently that I decide to drop in and ask if he might agree to chat about how this all came to be.  I am so glad that I did.

We arrange to meet at the weekend, before the shop opens for business.  The weather is apocalyptic. But he greets me with a ready smile and an unaffected humility. I am his guest, he insists as he buys the coffee from next door, thanking me yet again for showing interest in his work. Kazem’s story took some time to tell. He’s ‘an institution’ around this part of Oxford. And he cannot stop himself from frequently breaking off to introduce me to his many friends. Here’s Ali from Afghanistan, who has cycled along the towpath from the centre of town to help Kazem in the shop as he has done for the past 22 years. Laura, who has known Kazem all her life and is picking up her dad’s weekly fish and chips. A young woman called Bella. He hasn’t seen her for a while. Would I mind if he checked if she is okay?  

Kazem still speaks with the accent of his birth country, Iran, and often while we are talking he’ll greet someone in their own tongue. He is one of those people who seems genuinely to love life. And believes in the humanity of the people he meets in it. It was a real pleasure to listen to his story.

“I was born in Shiraz, about 900 kms due south of Tehran in 1960. My dad was an engineer and so we moved around the country a lot. My dad liked photography. He was the one who pointed my attention to visual things. He took me and my brother and sister to the cinema. Every Sunday without fail. We had a lot of cinemas in Iran. They showed the latest films. Some showed films only for children. Persian television was amazing. Films were dubbed – nobody does this better than the Iranians. But you could also listen to the original soundtrack at the same time on the radio. My dad spoke English, so he’d listen in English. My aunt also. They spoke English, Spanish, French and Persian of course.

At 14 I was sent to Solihull Boarding school near Birmingham. My dad gave me his camera when I came to England. It was a Contax 3. A point and shoot film camera. By 19 I started to go crazy for photography. I wanted to study it but my dad said that it wasn’t a subject, you must do engineering so we can work together. So I did. I studied at Oxford Polytechnic, but I also spent a day a week learning photography at Richmond on Thames college. In those days there was a club called Photographer’s Workshop in St Mary’s Street off Magdalen Road, around the corner from here, and I joined it. Keith Barnes, still a friend of mine in fact I’m having dinner with him tonight, opened it. It had a big dark room. A beautiful atmosphere.

Then the revolution and the war happened in Iran. The money my dad was sending me became irregular. I had to get myself a job. A friend of mine asked if I would help out at his fish and chip shop. I became the manager, then I rented it, then I bought it.

For about 20 years I didn’t do much photography. I got married, had a family. I was in the shop 18 hours a day, seven days a week.

But then in 2004 I went to back to Iran. And took pictures. A friend said I should exhibit them. I hadn’t even thought about this. They are snapshots. 2008 was my first exhibition at the North Wall Arts Centre – called An Eye for Iran. There were 43 pieces, 20 went in the first 20 minutes. I was surprised. And it encouraged me.

But it was difficult because I was working so hard. And then I thought why don’t I combine my work with photography? Why don’t I take pictures of the people who come into the shop? There’s so much variety and diversity around here. Mostly they were people I knew. Some were one offs. People who looked interesting. Everyone is dressed as they were. I didn’t tell them to do this or do that. I haven’t manipulated them. I don’t name them. I don’t sell the photos. It’s a private thing. They are all like family.

But we had an exhibition, simultaneously in The Old Fire Station and Modern Art Oxford. More than a thousand people came. They said that when they looked at the pictures it made them smile. Which is what I wanted to happen. We did have some interest in a book, but we couldn’t raise the money.

I had a car accident after that.  I still photograph but not as much. You have to be in the mood to do art. But taking a camera out helps me to get over the pain of walking. I forget when I am photographing.  I am happy I have managed to combine it with my love of the community. They are all lovely people.

How do I make them relaxed? Show them love. Don’t judge. I want the best for everyone. If people are happy then I am happy.”

And so it is I get to have my portrait taken and we sit awhile putting the world to rights over a box of freshly cooked fish and chips slathered with delicious homemade garlic and mint mayonnaise. I was happy. He was happy. What more can one ask?

Photographs ©Kazem Hakimi

1-8 Fish and chip shop portraits

8-16 Photos taken on a trip to Iran in 2004 that formed part of an exhibition at the North Wall called ‘An Eye for Iran’ in 2008.