Women

Women in Iran lived like lilies flowering in lagoons and quagmires. I was one of them. We screamed our hearts, bellowed our eyes and cried our clouts to say that we are here. None heard us; none attended to us; none appreciated our sacrifices and struggles.
We were strangled and flowers in the lagoon perished. We scruffled for air. Nobody came to our rescue; They were blind to us, indifferent, and married us to patriarchy to divorce us from citizenship.

My work portrayed me among these women with their obliterated and obscured faces, diminished as their bodies were forcibly restrained. It comes from my extravagant imagination and whimsical aspirations that I hoped to achieve in my life. I sketch a matriarch who does not fancy being vanquished in a third world country. A colourful space with colourful objects. Some could not stand this woman and besiege her as if there was no civility or mercy in their barbaric patriarchal sphere.

This visual space was full of visages, creatures, that in the last instance were full of colours and indeed beautiful despite admonishments, difficulties, and contradictions.Frequently one comes across these evil people in my works that I experienced directly and inevitably. A confrontation, a battle in earnest is depicted that commences inside me and define my soul and my work.

This urban battlefield was the front for my development and artistic growth. It was a war among people to certify themselves and push over the foe. A war weaponized by gazes and approved by subsistence demands. A war to survive and without compromise. A combat not to remain hungry but to allow anger to safeguard a multitude and then have emancipation and to realize individual and earth-custodial rights. A war simply to breath and have a mandate to claim each and every common demand. To enjoy this passage.