Early examples of Azerbaijani artists tackling gender issues can be found in the beginning of the 20th century, first on the pages of Molla Nasreddin, a satirical magazine used political cartoons to publicize the problems facing Azerbaijani women in the country’s patriarchal society, including lawlessness, illiteracy, and early marriage. It was a radical shift for artists in the country; prior to that, Azerbaijan art was dominated by decorative paintings and portraits based on the Tabriz miniature school.

Editorial note: "Now we are the witnesses of a real boom of ‘90s fashion, a fashion style that we hated, did not want to wear, and tried to forget. We associated the fashion of ‘90s in Azerbaijan with the color of black, sheepskin and leather coats (made from artificial texture), blazers with bulky broad shoulders, sports costumes with classical shoes, T-Shirts with "Titanic" prints and platforms, volumized bangs, which caused the madness, and "Cobra" perfume. The war that was just over, the flow of IDPs from Nagorno-Karabakh, the economic crisis and the struggle for the Independence, everything mixed..... however, despite the fear and people's concerns, somewhere in the centre of Baku, youngsters started to be involved in art and fashion; they began to mix their art skills with clothing design, trying to urge youth to choose clothes with taste.....      

The two sharp devaluations of the manat in Azerbaijan in 2015 had an impact on all aspects of the economy, especially the business sector. In the capital of Baku and also in all regions, entrepreneurial activity decreased significantly.

“The last time I saw my children in September 2015, it was only for 10 minutes. They hugged me and asked “Mother, please, come with us.” I could say nothing. I only said  “Your grandma is ill, I have to look after her. I shall come back,” and had to leave them.”  

The sun was approaching its zenith, the air was cut by a chilly late September breeze. Our old UAZ-469, better known as Vilis, was loaded, ready to take us to sharper winds, up on the mountains in central Azerbaijan.

Rattling wagons are a daily sight in a train terminal and Baku’s Bilajary Depot is no difference.  Dozens of carriages clatter through the vast maze of tracks and control booths carrying oil and gasoline, Azerbaijan’s wealth. The labyrinth is also home to 25 families who live in dilapidated houses, where civil engineering meets desperation in a mix of wood, metal, and concrete.  Most of the residents are displaced from Zangilan and Djabrayil, which lie around the territory under the control of the army of the breakaway region of Nagorno Karabakh. Since the fragile ceasefire in 1994, which enshrined the end of the conflict between the Armenian and Azerbaijan forces, the temporary relocation of hundreds of thousands of ethnic Azerbaijanis have become permanent - and their fate has fallen into oblivion.

22.20 PM. As the loud speakers announces the arrival of the train, passengers slowly descend to the platform from the waiting hall. The wagons dock, discharging its passengers before welcoming a new lot heading outside Baku to Astara, Azerbaijan’s southern most city marking the border with Iran. People hustle to stock up on water, sunflower seeds, and sweets from kiosks and wandering sellers.

The USSR was rightly called the country of new cities - in its rush to build the perfect socialist industrial future, purposely-built apartment blocks, factories, and houses of culture sprung up out of nowhere to form the new conglomerate. Azerbaijan was no exception. Some now large cities were developed from these already existing, though small, villages, like Ali-Bayramli and Mingachevir; others were created from scratch, like Sumqayit. All these urban spaces share the rigid Soviet architecture and expanses of factories which attracted thousands of workers from all over Azerbaijan - and beyond. They also house thousands of displaced from Nagorno Karabakh who fled the region at the end of the open conflict in the 1990s. They are cities with little history, and their residents do not feel they totally belong to them.

45 km from the centre of Shamakha, up at 1,700 metres, sits Zarat Kheybari, a cluster of 15 houses, a small school, and a locked mosque. Nothing else.

In the South Caucasus marriages outside the dominant ethnicity or nationality are largely disapproved of and Azerbaijan is no exception. A survey carried out in 2010 by the CRRC-Caucasus showed that an average of 90 percent of Azerbaijan’s citizens disapprove marriages with a foreigner with the percentage dropping to 50 percent only in case the husband is a Turk. Inter-racial unions are even rarer and remain taboo - conservative religious and traditional values combined mean that marrying a person from a different race is rare, when not unique.

A desk, two chairs, heavy and blue curtains are at the back. Two men and a woman slowly move across the stage, their voices sounding crisp in the simple theatre.  

"Women are constantly under control. Young girls are not visible in the old neighborhoods; they are back at home, because the streets are controlled by boys."

To prevent the spread of tthalassemia the government has taken steps since 2015 to pre-screen couples before they marry. 

"Victims of violence often prefer to keep silent. They think ‘my husband can beat me, swear at me.’ Their children also become victims.”

"No one here cares about our health or our life. We're all worried about our family, and our family is worried about us"

A growing number of young couples in Azerbaijan are rejecting traditional dowries.

A grassroots effort is underway to help girls find their place in STEM careers