JTF (just the facts): Co-published in 2025 by Editorial RM (here), Ediciones Posibles (here), Fundación Photographic Social Vision, and PHREE (here). Softcover (22 x 26 cm), 126 pages, with 70 color and black-and-white photographs. Includes writings by the artist. Design by Brian Carroll. (Cover and spread shots below.)
Comments/Context: In Our Hidden Room, Mohamed Hassan crafts a deeply personal and visually poetic narrative that navigates between memory, trauma, and healing. Originally from Alexandria, Egypt, Hassan has been living in west Wales since 2007. The photobook is a meditation on the life of Hassan’s father, Hassan Ibrahim, a photographer, a soldier, and a man who lived with bipolar disorder. Through a blend of archival imagery, contemporary photographs, and texts, Hassan creates a layered exploration of identity, familial bonds, and the psychological spaces we inhabit.
The title itself is a multifaceted metaphor. It refers to the physical darkroom where Hassan’s father found solace, the psychological chambers shaped by mental illness, and the cultural and familial spaces that often remain unspoken or obscured. “This is about my father. This is about me. This is about our hidden room,” appears at the top right corner as the book opens.
Our Hidden Room is about human relationships, but the photograph on the cover is a muted landscape of rocky Egyptian mountains (rendered in soft gradations of darkness), setting the scene in more ways than one. It’s a quiet yet potent image, setting the tone for what follows: a journey into the literal and metaphorical “hidden rooms” of the artist’s past. Inside, the photographs vary in their size and position on pages creating a dynamic visual narrative. There are no page numbers or captions, directing all of our attention to the visual flow.
Our Hidden Room is divided into six chapters, each tracing a different phase of the father’s life: from his childhood in an orphanage to his time in the army, and finally to his reclusive obsession with the darkroom. These chapters are not marked explicitly but are felt through shifts in tone, imagery, and mood. The result is a dialogue across time, a conversation between father and son that unfolds in six sections.
The first photograph shows a young Mohamed standing in the Egyptian desert, with his father in his military uniform. The father’s uniform blends into the sand, a tank looms in the background, and the child’s white shirt and sandals evoke innocence and vulnerability. This image anchors the narrative in a specific time and place, the late 1980s Egypt, while also introducing the central relationship that the book seeks to unpack.
From there, the book moves through a series of images that alternate between color and black-and-white. Portraits of men in traditional and modern dress, street scenes from Alexandria, and intimate domestic moments create a rhythm that feels both documentary and dreamlike. The visual flow alternates between Hassan’s own photographs and those of his father, and this dual authorship adds a layer of complexity to the narrative, blurring the boundaries between past and present, self and other. One photograph captures an aged hand adorned with a ring in the colors of the Egyptian flag, a subtle yet powerful reminder that this is not only a personal story but also a reflection on national identity and the pressures of conformity.
Hassan’s writing offers glimpses into his internal dialogue without overwhelming the visual narrative. He reflects on his father’s erratic behavior, the stigma surrounding mental illness, and his own sense of displacement as an artist living in another country. These reflections add depth to the photographs, grounding them in lived experience and emotional truth.
The theme of displacement runs throughout the book. Hassan’s dual nationality and diasporic identity inform his perspective, as he navigates the tension between belonging and estrangement. Photographs taken in Wales are interspersed with those from Egypt, creating a visual dialogue between two geographies and two emotional landscapes. This juxtaposition reinforces the book’s central concern: how do we carry our histories with us, and how do we make sense of them across time and space?
Our Hidden Room is a fragmented, impressionistic account of a father-son relationship marked by love, pain, and silence. It is a book that resists easy interpretation, inviting the viewer to sit with its ambiguities and complexities. The photographs are often quiet, even melancholic, but they are charged with emotional resonance, speaking to the power of photography not only as a means of documentation but as a tool for introspection and healing.
The book stands out for its sincerity and vulnerability. While it aligns with a growing trend of autobiographical and confessional photobooks, it maintains a distinct voice and visual language. The use of archival material, the focus on mental health, and the exploration of diasporic identity all contribute to its relevance and urgency.
Ultimately, Our Hidden Room shows how photography can bear witness to suffering, preserve memory, and create a space for dialogue. It is a book that lingers, both visually and emotionally, and one that rewards repeated viewing. It also merges personal narrative with broader cultural themes, offering a compelling and nuanced experience. It is a quiet triumph, and one that deserves close attention.
Collector’s POV: Mohamed Hassan does not appear to have consistent gallery representation at this time. Collectors interested in following up should likely connect directly with the artist via his website (linked in the sidebar).
