I first encountered Spandita Malik’s work through a striking embroidered portrait in her series Meshes of Resistance. The image showed a survivor of gender-based violence in India, gazing out with quiet defiance while colorful threads stitched over her photograph. Much of the discussion around Meshes of Resistance has rightly focused on the resilient women Malik collaborates with; their voices, agency, and resistance. In a recent conversation, I turned the focus toward Malik herself, curious how this collaborative process has shaped her.
From Research to Collaboration
Malik, an India-born photographer now based in New York, began Meshes of Resistance as a graduate student’s experiment rather than a grand project. She had been researching gender-based violence in India when a professor urged her to step out of the studio and engage with women directly. With a travel grant, Malik returned home and connected with non-profits working with survivors. ‘When I started this project, it was very much an experimentation out of the studio. I had no idea,’ she says. She introduced herself as a student interested in their stories. What began as a tentative thesis exercise soon evolved into a years-long collaboration. Malik kept returning each year to the communities, watching the project grow in ways she never anticipated.
Building Trust and Empowerment
Gaining the trust of her collaborators was a slow, patient process. Malik admits she was initially ‘a little bit naïve about asking questions’ and came in eager to document traumatic stories, not realizing how delicate those conversations were. She quickly learned to put her camera aside and focus on listening. ‘Taking the camera away and just being there as a person... really helped start the conversation,’ she notes. Malik spent time with the women over cups of chai, even sharing her own experiences of harassment to show she wasn’t just an outsider. At one point she ran a playful photography workshop for their children, further breaking down barriers. Over time, that initial formality blossomed into genuine closeness.
As the women grew more comfortable, they also grew more confident in their artistic voice. In the beginning, many weren’t sure what to embroider and kept their contributions simple. Now they approach their portraits with imagination and agency. ‘Over the years, they’ve really taken on the image… I can see the decision- making that happens with every artist,’ Malik says, proud to see her one-time subjects become creative partners. By giving the women ownership of their images, she watched them transform from passive subjects to empowered co-creators, a shift that changed her role as well. She evolved from being a photographer with a singular vision to a facilitator working alongside a community of fellow artists.
The Gentle Power of Resistence
Through this journey, Malik’s own understanding of resistance and activism has fundamentally changed. Early on, she channeled her anger at injustice into data-driven, confrontational art, what she half-jokingly calls her inner ‘rage queen’. ‘For me, resistance was supposed to be activism… putting the data out there,’ she says of her mindset at the time. But working intimately with survivors taught her that resistance isn’t always loud or visible. ‘I realized that resistance can also be soft,’ Malik reflects. Sometimes it looks like women sitting together in a backyard, sharing stories and laughter despite the pain underneath. In those quiet moments of solidarity, stitching, conversing, and supporting one another, she found a gentle but powerful form of defiance. The rage inside her gave way to a focus on healing and community.
Collaborating in this way also forced Malik to loosen her perfectionist grip on the artistic process. Malik admits that being a bit of a control freak came naturally to her, so letting her collaborators make creative decisions was an adjustment at first, but ultimately liberating. ‘Whenever I have to relinquish control, I remember: this is me giving that feeling to them… and it actually feels really good,’ she says. Handing over the metaphorical camera and the agency that comes with it turned out to be one of the most rewarding parts of the project for her.
Perhaps the most profound lesson Malik has learned is humility. Working with these women exposed her to perspectives she had never encountered. She recalls asking one young survivor, who mentioned an upcoming arranged marriage, if she hoped for anything in particular for her future husband. The woman replied simply, ‘I just hope he’s not abusive. I hope he doesn’t hit me.’ Malik was struck by the starkness of that wish. ‘That was a very humbling moment for me,’ she admits, a reminder of the privileges she has often taken for granted. It’s one of many instances where listening to her collaborators has changed her outlook.
As Spandita Malik continues to expand Meshes of Resistance to new regions of India, she carries these personal transformations with her. In helping other women reclaim their stories, she has been quietly stitching new patterns into her own identity as well, one defined by empathy, shared strength, and the belief that art can be an act of healing and soft resistance.
This article is from our September EZ. Read the EZ here.
Words Harita Odedara
Date 23-09-2025