By Neha Shamim

Sabrina Islam is an entrepreneur and photographer whose work spans continents, shaped by a lifelong passion for travel, memory, and visual storytelling. Beginning photography in her teenage years, she has developed a distinctive practice that moves between expansive landscapes and intimate human moments, from Patagonia and Mongolia to Tuscany and beyond.

Her work reflects a narrative approach, focusing not only on places but on emotion, experience, and the quiet stories within each frame. Alongside her photography, she is also a writer and publisher, with works including The Bucket List: The Kerala Journal. One of her most personal projects, a photographic book on Mongolia, was created as a tribute to her father, the late Golam Ahmed Khan, whose legacy continues to shape her journey.

This conversation explores her journey, philosophy, and the stories behind her lens.

What made you decide to become a travel photographer?

I’ve been taking pictures since I was 14. I started with a disposable camera, and over time I invested in better ones. Photography was always around me. My father was a good photographer, my brother had a darkroom at home, and my sisters and I all loved taking pictures. Then life happened. I got married, had children, and photography slowly moved into the background. It was also quite expensive at the time. Film photography didn’t allow you to take many pictures, especially not at night.

Things changed when digital photography came in. I slowly started again, and for the past 15 years, I’ve been pursuing it very seriously. My first teacher was Anwar Hussain in Bangladesh, who was also a longtime friend, and I took classes with him.

 I’ve always loved traveling. So whenever I went abroad, to the US, Europe, and elsewhere, I joined small photography groups. We didn’t really know each other outside those trips; we would meet, travel together, and shoot in different locations for a week, ten days, or sometimes even two weeks.

 Alongside photography, I also write. I keep a journal and often turn my experiences into blogs. In 2015, I published a coffee table book called The Bucket List: The Kerala Journal, which began as something I shared on Facebook before people encouraged me to publish it. Since then, I’ve worked on a few more books.

 At one point, I felt the need to share my experiences more publicly, which led me to hold my first exhibition in 2018, showcasing photographs from my travels across different parts of the world. After Covid, I held my second exhibition, which focused on Brazil and the Amazon.

 Last year, after traveling to several particularly interesting destinations, I felt ready to present another body of work. Around that time, I traveled to Mongolia and captured some very special images. That journey became deeply personal for me.

 My father had written a lyric drama titled The Tartar Pipe during his time as a literature student at Dhaka University in 1944. He had always intended to publish it as a book, but he passed away before he could do so. It was later published on his 25th death anniversary in The Daily Star.

 That legacy stayed with me, and my work in Mongolia naturally evolved into a tribute to him, bringing together his words and my photographs in a way that felt both personal and complete.

As a female photographer, did you face any significant setbacks?

In my life, I’ve been fortunate. I’m an entrepreneur and I’ve had strong support from my family throughout, from my parents, my in-laws, my husband, and later my children. So I didn’t really face major setbacks in that sense.

 I’ve also learned how to handle situations as they come. When I travel, I’m very mindful and careful. You have to take the safe route, avoid unfamiliar areas, not go out alone at night in unknown cities, and follow basic precautions. I’ve always been conscious of that. By God’s grace, I haven’t faced any major problems. Whatever has come my way, I’ve managed to handle it. I also believe confidence plays a big role. And knowledge is power, the more you read and learn, the more capable you feel of handling obstacles.

 There are always opportunities around us, but you have to recognize them and take them when they come. For me, photography became a way to travel safely, to be part of a group, and to experience the world in a meaningful and practical way. With time, you simply learn how to navigate things better.

When you visit a new city, what do you look for the most—people, places, food, or something else?

I mostly look for places that are photographically interesting to me, and for meaningful experiences. For example, when I went to Konya in Turkey, the birthplace of Jalaluddin Rumi, I traveled alone and stayed very close to his mausoleum. I spent a lot of time there, just observing and absorbing the space.

 For me, it’s about finding what personally interests you and then building around it. I usually do a lot of research before I go anywhere, studying the place, reading about it, and deciding where I want to focus my time. Sometimes I realize I’d rather go to one place over another simply because I understand it better beforehand.

 Of course, people are also very interesting to me. I love photographing people. I even have a separate collection of portraits, and I intend to exhibit them at some point. I’m drawn to different faces and expressions. Sometimes I ask for portraits, and sometimes I capture people more naturally, without revealing their full faces.

Did you do any photography work in Bangladesh?

I started working when I was 17 as a volunteer with Karika, a handicrafts organization, one of the early organizations of its kind. During that time, while I was at Dhaka University, I traveled across Bangladesh, from North Bengal to the Chittagong Hill Tracts.

Later, when I began photography seriously, I didn’t actually take that many pictures in Bangladesh. I have a few from places like the tea gardens and Cox’s Bazar, but I haven’t yet explored areas like Rangamati or Bandarban through my lens.

I have, however, taken many photographs in Munshiganj, where my in-laws are from and where I visit often. It’s a beautiful place with many historical sites near our home, and I’ve been documenting them over time. I plan to photograph more of Bangladesh and eventually exhibit that work as well.

You’ve used both analog and digital cameras—what do you like most about each?

Analog, for me, brings a strong sense of discipline. It forces you to be very intentional with every shot. You don’t have the luxury of taking endless pictures, so you really have to think before you click. It develops a mindset, almost a commitment to getting it right the first time. There’s a saying about doing things right the first time, and I feel analog truly reflects that idea. Otherwise, it becomes expensive and wasteful. It trains you to be careful, focused, and patient. It also has its own unique beauty and charm that comes from that limitation.

 Digital, on the other hand, gives you complete freedom. You can experiment as much as you want, take hundreds of images, and then go back and select what truly works. It removes the fear of wasting film, allowing you to try different angles, moments, and ideas more freely.

So for me, analog builds discipline and thoughtfulness, while digital encourages freedom and exploration.

What advice would you give to the younger generation interested in photography?

Don’t get too caught up in rules like the rule of thirds or trying to follow a formula for every image. Those guidelines can be helpful in the beginning, but they shouldn’t limit the way you see. Sometimes the most powerful photographs come from breaking those rules, when something just feels right to your eye.

Train your eye before your camera. Learn to observe, light, details, and small moments. It’s really about perspective. It’s not about the equipment you use, it’s about what you see and how you choose to frame it.

For example, I once photographed flamingos. They were standing still, and suddenly they opened their wings, that was the moment I wanted to capture. That’s what photography is about, recognizing the moment and telling its story.