It’s rare to see mainstream news media reports on Xinjiang, China’s western borderland region, that do not invoke “turbulent,” “restive,” “unstable” or some variation. The area has long been the site of ethnic tensions between the majority Han Chinese and the Uighurs, China’s Turkic-speaking Muslim minority. But tight government controls on information and access make reporting on such clashes and protests, as well as everyday life, exceedingly difficult.

This contrast is what makes Wang Qing’s series “Rituals in Life” all the more remarkable. Photographed over a span of seven years, the series shows the daily experiences and rituals of several ancient Uighur villages near Turpan, the desert oasis that was once a flourishing trade center on the historic Silk Road.

Instead of images of paramilitary convoys and armed security, Ms. Wang wanted her photos to convey “the constant growing and multiplying of life and the cycle of life and death.” She has captured moments that can only be glimpsed by a patient, unobtrusive observer: a tender moment between a mother and her son, who has just undergone a ritual circumcision; a man praying with his palms open, the rugged expanse of the Flaming Mountains towering behind him (below); a young bride in a moment of reflection at her wedding.

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For Ms. Wang, a Han Chinese who grew up in Turpan, the religious traditions were familiar. “The environment I grew up in was heavily influenced by the rich Uighur traditions and culture,” she said. “Our lives were all bound up with each other. We ate the traditional Uighur flatbread and lamb and celebrated their holidays. Everything I lived and touched reflected the Islamic culture.”

Still, it took years for her to gain the villagers’ trust. The villages primarily depicted in her series are in Tuyugou and Mutougou, deep in the gorge of the Flaming Mountains, the gullied red sandstone hills made famous by the classic 16th-century Chinese novel “Journey to the West.” She was first introduced to the villagers through a friend in 2006 and prepared by studying books on Turpan’s history and Uighur religion and culture to improve her own understanding.

The villagers were always very welcoming, she said, and would invite her into their homes. In the years after, she visited them often, taking candid photos as they went about their daily lives.

“I told them that my goal in taking the photos was to record the Uighur and Islamic religion, etiquette and traditions so as to improve understanding of the people,” she said. “As time went by, we began to build friendship and trust.”

Each time she visited, Ms. Wang brought prints of her photos as gifts for the families. Though the villagers were always delighted, one moment in particular left a deep impression on Ms. Wang. “I would often take photos in this one village home where four generations were living under one roof,” she said. “The head of the family was a man named Jiapa. When Jiapa passed away due to illness, his 92-year-old mother took a photo of him that I had taken and, with tears streaming down her face, thanked me. Her son had passed away, but she could still take his photo and look at him as if he were still living. In this moment, I grieved together with Jiapa’s mother and felt grateful that I could have helped the family in a meaningful way.”

Being a woman, Ms. Wang said, made it easier to build trust with the female villagers and photograph them more intimately. As an example she cited a photo she had taken of a Uighur bride.

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In some instances, however, her gender made access difficult. Females are prohibited from attending burials, in accordance with Islamic guidelines. In this situation, Ms. Wang said, having the respect and trust of the village imam was very important. Though she was not allowed to photograph the actual interment, with the approval of the imam and the deceased’s family, she was able to photograph some of the rituals leading up to the burial.

While Ms. Wang plans to continue to take photos in the villages, she is also currently making preparations for a photographic project that will be set in the Wudang Mountains in Hubei Province, a historical center for Daoism dating back to the early Tang dynasty in the seventh century. Her interest in documenting contemporary religions, she said, reflects her deepening belief in the irreplaceable role of tradition in modernizing societies.

“Regardless of how society progresses and no matter how vigorously materialism develops, the needs of the human spirit do not change,” she said. “The place of religious beliefs in the heart remains essentially the same.”

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Amy Qin is a freelance journalist and researcher at the Beijing bureau of The New York Times. Follow her — @amyyqin — and @nytimesphoto on Twitter. Lens is also on Facebook.