Arko Datto is an Indian visual artist who came to photography through an unconventional path. After completing two master’s degrees, one in mathematics and the other in theoretical physics, he shifted his focus to photography. Datto’s work critically examines contemporary existential dilemmas including forced migration, techno-fascism, surveillance in the digital panopticon, disappearing islands, nocturnal realms, and rising sea levels. His long-term personal projects and commisions have been featured in leading international publications and exhibited throughout Europe and Asia. He has published three photo books: Pik-nik (Editions Le bec en l’air, 2018, FR), Mannequin (Edizioni L’artiere, 2018. IT), and Snakefire (Edizioni L’artiere, 2021, IT).
In his ongoing work Shunya Raja Monographies, Arko turns his attention to one of the most pressing issues of our time: climate change. Rather than focusing on dramatic catastrophes or breaking news moments, he is deeply interested in the slow, psychological toll that the crisis takes on communities forced to adapt day by day. Set in the Bengal Delta, one of the world’s most vulnerable regions to rising sea levels, the project shows the precarious realtionship between humanity and nature, and the devastation that climate change is causing the most vulnerable.
As with many of his works, Arko has chosen to structure this project as a trilogy, using three distinct visual and conceptual approaches to interrogate the same geographic and thematic space. The first chapter, Kings of a Bereft Land, employs a more formal documentary style- landscapes and portraits rendered in natural light during the day, with his subjects steadily and directly facing the camera. The second chapter, Where Do We Go When the Final Wave Hits, shifts dramatically in tone and technique, using harsh flash photography at night to evoke a dystopian, almost surreal, manic and unnerving atmosphere. Here, the darkness becomes both literal and metaphorical, emphasizing the psychological strain of living in constant proximity to disaster. The third and final chapter turns further toward experimentation, employing full-spectrum and infrared photography to depict the delta as a war zone- its ruins and survivors bathed in eerie magenta and pink, otherworldly hues.
With this trilogy, Datto not only experiments with different visual languages, but also constructs a stratified narrative about human vulnerability in the face if climate crisis. We met him at the Fotografia Europea Festival 2024, where he spoke openly about his work, the conceptual foundations behind the trilogy, and the role art can play in addressing global crises. Given the relevance and urgency of the issues explored, we decided to continue the conversation to reflect and bring attention to a crisis thay shows no sign of disappearing.
Can you share what inspired you to create the Shunya Raja Monographies photo trilogy and what is your primary objective in documenting the Bengal delta as the epicenter of climate change?
I live in the Bengal Delta myself. I’m from Calcutta, which lies just outside the core area of the delta. But if the delta is heavily affected and we begin to lose land due to rising sea levels, Calcutta will eventually be impacted as well. That means my friends, my family, we all would be forced to move, potentially becoming climate refugees at some point. I think that was one of my main motivations for starting this project.
From there, the work gradually evolved into what is now a trilogy. The trilogy is essentially a way of exploring the same subject, that is climate change in the Bengal Delta, but through three distinct visual strategies. It offers different readings of the crisis: conceptually, artistically, and aesthetically. Each chapter is an attempt to approach the issue from a different angle, to reflect the complexity of what’s happening.
I often work in trilogies for my projects. That format is partly inspired by filmmakers I admire, like Lars von Trier, who often divide their work into trilogies. I’ve adopted that structure for many of my own projects as well.
As for what I hope to achieve with this work: I believe the Bengal Delta is one of the ground zeroes of climate change. There are other regions facing similar threats, but this is the one I’ve chosen to focus on-mainly because it’s home to millions of people. It’s one of the most densely populated areas in the world, and if this land becomes uninhabitable in the coming years or decades, we could see a massive displacement crisis.
The deeper issue is that there’s really nowhere for these people to go because the surrounding regions are already overcrowded. So for me, it’s crucial not only to tell the story of the Bengal Delta, but also to frame it within the broader, planetary crisis of climate change. I want to keep that conversation going- locally, regionally, and globally.
How did you approach the challenge of conceptually visualizing climate change through your photography, and what techniques did you use to visually convey the trajectory of the displaced people and vanishing landscapes in the Bengal Delta region?
For me, the main goal was to look at climate change from a perspective that moves away from breaking-news photography. I think one of the biggest problems with how we often depict climate change is that it’s filtered through moments of catastrophe—cyclones, floods, forest fires. A disaster strikes, photographers rush in, document the immediate devastation, and then it’s quiet again-until the next crisis hits.
But what I’ve realized is that in the Bengal Delta, people are living with climate change every single day. They don’t experience it as isolated incidents; it’s a constant reality. They have to adapt to rising sea levels on a 24/7 basis. It shapes every aspect of their lives-from when and how they work, to how they navigate tides, to the ever-present anxiety of the water creeping in.
My work is an attempt to shift the focus away from crisis moments and towards the daily lived experience of climate change. The first chapter of the project is more formalist- landscapes and portraits, structured and composed. That’s what we’re showing here at the festival. We’re also showing the second chapter, which takes place entirely at night. It’s darker, more ominous, almost disorienting.
If the first chapter could be called poetic-even if it’s poetry in the midst of destruction-the second and third chapters step into a more dystopian space. In those, people are actively struggling against the rising water, and that battle often happens at night. The absence of electricity in many of these areas means that people are literally facing an enemy they can’t see. Water is unpredictable; it can come from anywhere, at any time.
There’s a sense of terror in that, a psychological tension that’s very real. It reminded me of a war zone-where danger can strike from any direction, unexpectedly. We often speak about the “war against terrorism,” the “war on climate change,” or even the recent “war against the pandemic.” These metaphors are everywhere. With this project, I wanted to take that language and turn it into a visual form-to create a kind of atmospheric equivalence to the idea of living through a war, but in this case, the war is with water.
Could you explain the meaning of the titles “Kings of a Bereft Land” and “Where Do We Go When The Final Wave hits” featured in your exhibition? How do these chapters relate to your visual narrative of climate change in the Bengal delta?
“Kings of a Bereft Land” is essentially a poetic translation of “Shunno Raja,” which is the original title of the first project in my native language, Bangla. Shunno means “empty” or “zero,” and Raja means “king.” So, “Shunno Raja” literally translates to “King of Nothing” or “King of Emptiness.”
The title came from a conversation I had during my travels. One of the people I met described himself and others as Shunno Rajas. What he meant was deeply poignant: this is a land of abundance-fertile and rich-where people can thrive when the land is intact. But once the land disappears, which it often does due to rising seas and erosion, your fall is sudden and absolute. You go from having everything to having nothing in an instant. That’s where the idea of a “king” comes in—a king who once had a realm, now left with nothing.
The second title, “Where Do We Go When the Final Wave Hits?”, emerges from the same existential uncertainty. These are people locked in a daily struggle with the water. And one day, the land might vanish entirely. So the haunting question is: when that final wave comes, where will they go? That’s the emotional and conceptual core of the project.
Could you share a significant moment from your fieldwork in the Bengal Delta and how this experience influenced your artistic approach and understanding of climate change in the region?
I think there are quite a few images in the exhibition that could be considered significant moments, but one in particular stands out to me. It’s the photograph of an entire family standing in front of their furniture. That image holds a lot of weight.
What happened was, in the middle of the night, the family suddenly woke up to realize that the ground beneath their home was vanishing—falling into the river due to erosion. In a panic, they tried to save whatever they could. What you see in the image is their furniture laid out under the sun, as they attempted to dry and salvage it.
For me, that image is powerful because it captures the night as a space of fear and uncertainty. It became a turning point, not just for the story within the photograph, but also for the structure of my project. It marked a conceptual shift from the first chapter to the second. Each chapter in the trilogy flows into the next, but this particular moment was a kind of critical juncture, where the narrative deepened and took on a more ominous tone.
What primary message do you aim to convey to the public through your photography exhibition and what responses or considerations do you wish viewers to engage in after experiencing your work?
Rather than being driven by one single goal, this is a large, ongoing project that I’ve been working on for over 10 years now, and I imagine I’ll continue, because climate change isn’t going anywhere anytime soon.
That’s part of the challenge of working with climate change as an artist. It’s not a singular event—it’s a persistent, evolving crisis. So, the first thing I aim to do with this work is to raise awareness about what’s happening in the Bengal Delta. It’s a region that is deeply affected, and yet it often remains invisible in broader conversations about climate.
Beyond awareness, I also hope this project can inspire some form of action—ideally on multiple levels. Yes, there’s individual action, like reducing your carbon footprint, which we talk about often. But I believe the more powerful route is collective action—people coming together to put pressure on their governments and demand systemic change. That’s where the real impact lies.
I hope this work can contribute, even in a small way, to that larger movement. That it can serve as a reference point or a tool, not just for artists, but also for activists, researchers, NGOs, and even policymakers. I’m not an activist myself, I’m an artist, but I would love for this project to be used by those working on the ground, as evidence or testimony to what’s happening. If it can help support their efforts and put pressure on institutions to act, then it’s serving its purpose.
Silvia Donà