“I am enough and whole as I am”:

Bea Dero casts hybridity onto the streets of London

Bound by Two Homes blends Iranian cultural iconography with quintessentially British spaces to dissect identity

© Bea Dero. Courtesy 1854 | British Journal of Photography.

by Dalia Al-Dujaili, 1854 | British Journal of Photography

For Bea Dero, a British-born Iranian artist – as for most diaspora – hybridity presents itself as a method by which one practices their identity as they go. The artist’s debut solo show Bound by Two Homes materialised through a deeply personal journey of self-acceptance, an effort to reconcile two halves of an identity that the world so often forced apart. “When I’m in Iran they call me English and when I’m in England, they ask me where I’m from. I needed to find a way to create a representation that would help me see myself as whole as opposed to in-between things or never enough as either or,” Dero says. “I am enough and whole as I am, I just exist as something new.”

The tension of duality, the inescapable contrasts and parallels of heritage, is not unique but Dero’s response offers a particularly distinctive visual declaration of belonging, an assertion that identity does not have to be fragmented but can instead be layered, complex, and proudly held in its entirety. 

The body of work – co-curated with Green Tble – brings together a portrait series and a reworking of family photo-album images, forming Archive Trellis, an installation that underscores the role of memory and nostalgia in shaping identity. “Through this piece, I’m reinforcing how memory and nostalgia inform my sense of self and in-turn, my practice. It further contextualises the project as my recent explorations have also rooted in my yearning to return to my motherland, which I can no longer do due to political safeguarding reasons,” she explains.

“Song of the North”

Bringing a Persian Epic to the World, With Help From 483 Puppets

Hamid Rahmanian has made it his life’s work to share the richness of Iranian culture. “Song of the North,” at the New Victory Theater, is just the latest installment.

The show, at the New Victory Theater in Manhattan, is aimed at audiences 8 and older. It’s the latest of Hamid Rahmanian’s projects drawing on the “Shahnameh.” Photo by Gavin Doran. Courtesy New York Times. 

by Jennifer Schuessler, New York Times

On a recent afternoon on 42nd Street in Manhattan, a mythological bird was preparing to take flight.

Backstage at the New Victory Theater, a black-clad puppeteer put on an elaborately stylized mask and stepped into a beam of light, throwing the shadow of fluttering hands onto a large scrim.

Nearby, two other performers were gearing up to practice a sword fight. Then the music started, and a crew of nine began a full run-through of “Song of the North,” an elaborate shadow puppet staging of stories from the 10th-century Persian epic the “Shahnameh.”

From the audience, the show unfolded like a seamless animation. But backstage, the next 80 minutes were half ballet, half mad scramble, as the performers grabbed hundreds of different puppets, props and masks stacked on tables and, with split-second timing, jumped in and out of the light beams streaming from two projectors.

Leaning against a backstage wall was the show’s creator, Hamid Rahmanian. His role? “Stressing out,” he said.

A Review on "The Persians" – women on the edge

5 Iranian Women are at the Centre of New Fiction Release, The Persians

This multigenerational saga of an Iranian family fleeing to the US during the 1979 revolution is both funny and poignant

by Joanna Cannon, The Guardian

Courtesy 4th Estate.

“She’d grown pale, her eyes frozen, like she’d seen her own ghost. But aren’t we all exactly that? Each the ghost of an unchosen path,” writes Sanam Mahloudji in her debut, a multigenerational story of five Iranian women from the prestigious Valiat family, separated by personal and political revolutions, and each struggling to accept the path not taken.

The narrative is shared between the five voices, as it shifts back and forth across 80 years. There is Elizabeth, the matriarch, who – not blessed with the perfect features of her sisters – becomes fixated on her looks (“this is the story of a nose”, she tells us). Eventually she falls in love with a boy who loves her back; unfortunately, that boy is the son of her family’s chauffeur: not an ideal situation in 1940s Tehran. Bowing to pressure from her father, Elizabeth eventually marries someone of her own class; frail and elderly by the time the 1979 revolution begins, she decides to remain with her husband in Iran. However, because the family is rich and high profile, and descendants of Babak Ali Khan Valiat, the heroic “Great Warrior”, as the revolution takes hold she insists that her two daughters flee the country for their own safety. Like many thousands of Iranians at the time, they choose to travel to the United States, the land of opportunity.

Seema, who struggles with being both an idealist and a housewife, tries to adapt to 1980s Los Angeles – or “Tehrangeles”, as it’s known, due to the high Persian population (the climate and mountains are reminders of home). Meanwhile Shirin, an outspoken events planner whose outlandish behaviour opens the novel with a bang when she is falsely arrested for prostitution, settles in Houston with designer labels and a mediocre husband.

The Artistic Journey of an Iranian Designer

 A New Book Shares the Artistic Odyssey of Iranian Designer Farshid Mesghali

Man & Lion (sculpture), 2006. © Farshid Mesghali; Courtesy PRINT Magazine. 

by Majid Abbasi, PRINT Magazine

In the 1960s and 1970s in Iran, with economic development and government support, as well as the expansion of activities and the establishment of various institutes and cultural centers, art and graphic design flourished. During these years, Iranian graphic design drew from the country’s rich visual heritage, eschewing the Swiss International Style, and found influences in Polish graphic design styles and the historical reinterpretations of Push Pin Studios. Farshid Mesghali is one of the most influential and prominent representatives of graphic art and illustration of this period. With a deep understanding of both Iranian and international visual languages, Mesghali creates works that, while poetic and simple, invite entirely personal and free interpretations. He often reimagines these diverse sources into innovative forms, embodying a generation that laid the foundations of the golden age of graphic design in Iran.

A comprehensive book, Selected Works of Farshid Mesghali, was recently published in Tehran by Nazar Art Publishing. This book, unparalleled in its kind, offers a relatively complete collection of Mesghali’s works in graphic design, illustration, painting, sculpture, and photography. It also includes essays exploring various aspects of his life and work by Mahmoudreza Bahmanpour (publisher and curator of Islamic Art at LACMA), Ali Bakhtiari (curator and writer), Behzad Hatam (graphic designer), and Amir Nasri.

Filmed underground and in secret:

The story behind this 'banned' Oscar-nominated film

Acclaimed director Mohammad Rasoulof filmed The Seed of The Sacred Fig in defiance of Iran’s strict filmmaking laws. It’s earned him an Oscar nomination — and a prison sentence.

The Seed of the Sacred Fig is set against the backdrop of the 2022 Woman, Life, Freedom movement, during which mass protests erupted in Iran following the death of Mahsa Amini. Photograph courtesy of Neon.

by Alexandra Koster, SBS News

Four weeks into shooting his latest film, Mohammad Rasoulof was sentenced to eight years in prison and lashings in Iran.

It isn't the first time the award-winning Iranian director has been punished for his work.

In 2010, he was sentenced to six years in prison by the Iranian regime for his film The White Meadows. In 2017 he was banned from leaving the country and later convicted by the Islamic Revolutionary Court of Iran for “collusion against national security" over his film A Man of Integrity.

In 2020, Rasoulof was again sentenced to a year in prison for three films authorities deemed "propaganda against the system".

But this time, he had to think about his future.

‘Embracing imperfection is key to artistic evolution’:

An interview with Iranian artist Sadegh Adham

‘These works invite humanity on an aesthetic journey, free from political and social biases’

Sadegh Adham, in his studio in Tehran, 2023. Image courtesy of the artist and Global Voices.

by Omid Memarian, Global Voices

Sadegh Adham’s artistic journey began in the most unexpected of circumstances. The sounds of war marked his early years as he grew up during the Iran-Iraq war. Born in 1978 in Masjed Soleyman, a city in southern Iran in Khuzestan province, Adham’s childhood was shaped by the intensity of conflict and its lasting impact. He recalls how, at the age of five, a missile destroyed their home, and his family was forced to seek refuge in his maternal grandmother's house in Shushtar. Yet even amidst the chaos of war, Adham’s innate creativity began to take root.

Adham recalls the first sparks of his artistic journey — his father working with melted lead and his mother’s drawing book, where he first copied a mermaid. These early experiences laid the foundation for his passion for art.

Sadegh Adham, ‘Soldier Helmet,’ ‘War’ Series 2013. Image courtesy of the artist and Global Voices.

Growing up in a region with limited access to art education, Adham’s determination to create was unwavering. He fondly remembers gazing at a box of 96 colored pencils in a bookstore window, longing to own them. Eventually, after a year and a half of saving, he bought the set, fueling his artistic drive.

The Barbican as muse:

Composer Shiva Feshareki on bringing the brutalist icon to life through music

For the last two years, British-Iranian experimental composer and turntablist Shiva Feshareki has been drawing on the Barbican’s hidden history as a gateway for her new piece. She talks to Wallpaper about her Brutalist muse

Image credit: Dion Barrett. Courtesy Wallpaper.

by El Hunt, Wallpaper

Whether you love or loathe the concrete geometry of the iconic Barbican estate, it tends to inspire strong feelings: for every Londoner charmed by its sharp Brutalist architecture, you’ll find another person just as eager to brand it an eyesore.

First constructed in post World War II London by architects Chamberlin, Powell and Bon, the sprawling complex aimed to revive an area of the capital that had been devastated by bombing, but was originally the site of a Roman fortress, marking the gateway passage through London’s walls, and into the ancient city. Created with a Utopian vision in mind, and inspired by the fortress that used to stand here – both in name and its construction – this city within a city now contains a huge performing arts centre, a tranquil, one-hectare lake, and a hidden conservatory packed with tropical plants.

And for the last two years, British-Iranian experimental composer and turntablist Shiva Feshareki has been drawing on the Barbican’s hidden history as a gateway for her new piece, 'Bab-Khaneh: Gatehouse of Memory'. The work’s title refers to the ancient Persian word ‘Bab-Khaneh’ – thought to be a possible origin of the word Barbican – and Feshareki has imagined the project as a sonic survey of the Barbican Hall’s acoustics and design.

If you’re not already familiar with Shiva Feshareki, her work is part of a rich lineage of experimental composition, drawing on everything from musique concrète pioneer Daphne Oram to warped, acid-flecked dub. In essence, the Ivor Novello-winning artist offers up a fascinating exploration of how sound moves through space, incorporating turntables, orchestras, cutting-edge ambisonic technology, choirs, and bespoke art installations to bend, morph, and reshape sound as we know it.

Filmmaking as Rebellion:

 An Interview with Nahid Hassanzadeh

Another Time (2016), Directed by Nahid Hassanzadeh. Image courtesy of Visions of Iran: Iranian Film Festival in Cologne.

by Abhimanyu Bandyopadhyay, Zamaneh Media

In the Islamic Republic of Iran where the state has waged a relentless war on women for decades, artists like Nahid Hassanzadeh becomes an act of defiance. A midwife-turned-filmmaker, she is part of a growing wave of Iranian artists using cinema as resistance—unflinching, poetic, and dangerous. From Tehran’s hospitals to international film festivals, Hassanzadeh’s journey is a testament to the unwavering spirit of Iranian women in their fight against the Islamic Republic’s iron grip.

Between 2001 and 2012, Hassanzadeh made five documentaries and short films while working as a midwife in Tehran. Her debut feature film, Another Time (2016), won the Best Film Award at the 22nd Kolkata International Film Festival and has been screened at several international events, including the São Paulo International Film Festival in Brazil, the Raindance Film Festival in the United Kingdom, the Exground Film Festival in Germany, the Seoul International Agape Film Festival in South Korea, and Ohio’s Athens International Film and Video Festival (AIFVF) in the United States. Nahid was recently invited to serve as a jury member at the 30th Kolkata International Film Festival, where she discussed her own journey, the significant challenges faced by women filmmakers in Iran, the prevalence of male dominance in the Iranian film industry, and the unstoppable “Women, Life, Freedom” movement.

“I am an Actress, Where is my Country?”

A Seattle actor explores what it means to be an artist in exile

Julia Rahmanzaei’s student project at the University of Washington, called “No Way to Go, No Way to Stay,” formed the basis of her upcoming solo show “I am an Artist, Where is my Country?” (Christie Zhao). Courtesy The Seattle Times.

By Gemma Wilson, The Seattle Times

Of all the scenes in Julia Rahmanzaei’s upcoming solo show — scenes with titles like “how to change my blood,” and “Iranian art department” — the one she’s most nervous to perform in public is called “asylum or artist visa.” 

The show, “I am an Actress, Where is my Country?” which runs Feb. 27-March 1 at Theatre Off Jackson, tells the story of Rahmanzaei’s life and, she said, of so many silenced Iranian artists. “Asylum or artist visa” — seeking asylum protection or an artist visa — are two options ahead for the actor, who left her home country due to government censorship of her art. Neither one is certain. Her immediate future may be unknown but Rahmanzaei knows art will be a part of it, no matter how difficult — this is what it means, for her, to be an artist in exile.

“I’ve fought for art, for being an artist, since I was 15 years old,” said Rahmanzaei, now 33, who arrived in Seattle around four years ago to attend the University of Washington School of Drama’s professional actor training program, from which she graduated in 2024. 

Rahmanzaei hasn’t been back to Iran since relocating; she’s here on a still-valid student visa and isn’t sure what would happen to her, or her passport, should she return home. She’s performing without a hijab, she’s telling her story of Iranian censorship — she just doesn’t know.

A Review on "Maximal Miniatures: Contemporary Art from Iran"

The artists twisting Persian masterpieces with stunning color

With dreamlike imagery and bold patterns, contemporary Iranian artists have reinterpreted the Persian miniature tradition.

Farah Ossouli. David and I (2), 2014. Gouache on cardboard. 75 x 110 cm. Courtesy Middle East Institute.

by Vanessa H. Larson, The Washington Post

Two contrasting works boldly set the stage for the Middle East Institute Art Gallery’s “Maximal Miniatures,” a showcase of contemporary Iranian artists inspired by Persian miniature painting.

Elham Pourkhani’s “Zahhak’s Castle Is Calm” exemplifies many characteristics of the centuries-old artistic tradition. At just about 23 by 27 inches, the intimate piece is striking in its brilliant colors and rich ornamental detail. Its subject is Zahhak, a mythical ruler in the Persian national epic — the Shahnameh, or “Book of Kings” — whose evil, bloodthirsty reign lasted 1,000 years.

Why Reading Lolita in Tehran Holds Up

 A new film vindicates Azar Nafisi’s humane literary ethos.

© Photographer: Sasan/AFP/Getty Images. Via MSN

by Arash Azizi, The Atlantic

The past few years may well be remembered as the nadir of Iranian-Israeli relations, and the first occasion when the two countries attacked each other directly. But they were also a golden period for Iranian-Israeli collaboration in cinema. In 2023, Tatami was the first-ever film to be co-directed by an Israeli (Guy Nattiv) and an Iranian (Zar Amir). And in 2024 came Reading Lolita in Tehran, directed by Eran Riklis, who is Israeli, and adapted from a book by an Iranian author, with an almost entirely Iranian cast. The film premiered at the Rome Film Fest last year and is now starting to tour the United States.

Anyone old enough to remember cultural life at the beginning of this century will know the book. Azar Nafisi’s memoir came out in 2003, spent 36 weeks on the New York Times best-seller list, and quickly developed a cult following. A reviewer for The Nation confessed to missing a dental appointment, a business lunch, and a deadline just because she couldn’t put the book aside.

Iranian artist redefines calligraphy through tradition and innovation

 An Interview

 Korosh Ghazimorad’s work embodies a unique synergy of historical reverence and innovative spirit 

Korosh Ghazimorad, ‘Breathing with Nature,’ 2024. Mixed media on canvas, 120 x 80 cm (47 x 31 in). Photo courtesy of the artist and Global Voices.

by Omid Memarian, Global Voices

In contemporary Iranian art, Korosh Ghazimorad, 55, is a leading artist known for his unique approach to blending traditional calligraphy with modern artistic expressions.

With a degree in wood industry and paper engineering and certifications from Iran’s Calligraphy Association, he has spent decades merging established techniques with innovative forms. 

His work embodies a unique synergy of historical reverence and innovative spirit, as he masterfully blends classical styles with contemporary forms, most notably through the development of the Sarir calligraphy style. As a seasoned educator, he has imparted his knowledge in calligraphy and typography for over 25 years at esteemed institutions, nurturing the next generation of artists.

A commitment to graphic design and art direction marks Ghazimorad’s professional journey. He has played significant roles in various high-circulation newspapers and in curating exhibitions for renowned Iranian artists. His artistic influence extends beyond national borders, with notable works in prestigious public collections, such as the Museum Funf Kontinente in Munich, Germany.

As a board member of the Iranian Graphic Designers’ Association and a jury member for journalism competitions, he has consistently championed originality and artistic design, reinforcing his dedication to elevating visual arts standards in Iran and beyond.

In an interview with Global Voices, Ghazimorad shares insights into his artistic philosophy, exploring the themes of cultural identity and the sensory experience of letters in his work. 

Ali Banisadr’s Fractious Paintings Are a Reflection of Our Turbulent Times

Artnet spoke to the Iran-born artist ahead of his first solo show in Asia at Perrotin Shanghai.

The Fortune Teller, 2024. Courtesy of the artist, Perrotin and Artnet.

by Cathy Fan, Artnet

The moment I stepped into Ali Banisadr’s studio, I was transported from the sounds of cicadas and the heatwave of a New York midsummer into a tranquil but mysterious world. The spacious, partially skylit, white-walled studio was filled with open books, cut-out references from Old Master paintings and frescos, and, of course, the large-scale canvases he’s been working on.

Banisadr’s studio is located in a quiet neighborhood in Brooklyn, where he lives with his family. “I never had about 70 feet of space to step back from and look at the painting from far away, and make decisions,” the 48-year-old Iran-born artist said, explaining how having more physical space has changed the scale of his canvases. “Since I’ve been working here, the work has changed because I’m able to step back and see the whole composition and the details.”

Leila Zelli foregrounds Iranian women’s protest movement at the Toronto Biennial

The artist’s videos and installations reinterpret acts of resistance staged in the streets and on social media

Leila Zelli, Un chant peut traverser l'océan (A chant can cross the ocean), 2023-present. On view at 32 Lisgar as part of the Toronto Biennial of Art, 2024. Co-presented with MOMENTA Biennale de l’image with the support of the Conseil des arts et des lettres du Québec. Photography: Toni Hafkenscheid. Courtesy The Art Newspaper.

by Hadani Ditmars, The Art Newspaper

The day that Iranian Canadian artist Leila Zelli installed her works at the Toronto Biennial of Art (until 1 December) was the two-year anniversary of the death of Mahsa Amini. “It was a coincidence,” the Montreal-based Zelli tells The Art Newspaper, “or was it?”

The work that Zelli calls “stamp art” is, like much of her recent oeuvre, inspired by the Women Life Freedom movement sparked in Iran and around the world by Amini’s death. As she created the temporary installation on the walls of 32 Lisgar St and Park—one of the main hubs of this year’s Toronto Biennial, whose title is Precarious Joys—she says, “It was moving for me, a mix of joy and frustration. But ultimately, I felt it was an act of resistance.”

Her installation at the biennial is part of an ongoing series called A Chant Can Cross the Ocean, featuring ink and acrylic prints of women removing their headscarves based on social media images and footage of protests, as well as birds as symbols freedom. Painted over two walls connected by a vertical joint, the latest iteration of the series is designed to be walked through, requiring the viewer’s participation. As one passes through the work, the crowds of protesters move with the viewer, who automatically enters the scene.

Maryam Tafakory’s Haunted Iranian Cinema

Maryam Tafakory, راز دل Razeh-del (still), 2024, DCP 2K, colour, 28 min. Courtesy the artist and ArtReview.

by Gelare Khoshgozaran, ArtReview

What makes the experience of watching Tafakory’s avant-garde films so paralysing?

Maryam Tafakory is part of a new generation of Iranian filmmakers who engage the politics of memory through essay-films and experimental cinema. The London-based Iranian artist’s work consists, almost entirely, of archival footage and the meticulous rearrangement of cinematic fragments selected from hundreds of Iranian films made after the 1979 Islamic Revolution. Sourced primarily from her personal archive and YouTube, the dissected and reassembled scenes from the movies are later overlaid with anachronistic sounds from the original audio, or deftly scored by contemporary composers (such as Canadian Sarah Davachi in Tafakory’s 2023 film, مست دل Mast-del).

Tafakory employs a queer feminist gaze to emphasise the Iranian government’s codes of modesty and censorship while simultaneously critiquing the limitations of Western feminist film theory – most notably notions of voyeurism that have been prominent since Laura Mulvey’s 1975 essay Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema. One of the scenes that best captures this juxtaposition, which Tafakory makes use of in نظربازی Nazarbazi (2022) and مست دل Mast-del, is of the blindfolded soldier in Kamal Tabrizi’s شیدا Sheida. In the 1999 film, an Iran–Iraq War veteran who has temporarily lost his eyesight falls in love with the voice of his nurse Sheida, who awkwardly recites the Quran to him to alleviate his pain and PTSD nightmares: a sinless love affair between a man and a woman in the absence of vision.

Iranian Women Exhibiting Animated Art

Common misconceptions about Iran have prompted two curators to start their new exhibition ‘Iranian Women in Animation’ in Museum Arnhem. This collection confronts the audience with the difficult situation in Iran whilst accentuating and deepening their conceptions of Iranian culture. This exhibition tells various stories of Iranian women with the help of many impressive animations.

Courtesy Museum Arnhem.

by Jet Bierkens & Victor Rikmenspoel, ANS 

The ‘Iranian Women in Animation’ exhibition, curated by Narjes Mohammadi and Nahid Malayeri, contains ten animations that show a manifold of facets and stories, demonstrating the persistence and colourful diversity among Iranian artists. Every animation displays a different personal story that artistically tackles difficult topics, such as domestic violence, dress codes in school and forbidden love. Moreover, the short films, displayed in the white office-like room, contain various styles and subgenres of animation. This allows the viewer to immerse themselves in the world and experiences of Iranian women.

Drawing Freedom:

 Marjane Satrapi and The Voices of  Revolution Through Art and Storytelling

 Courtesy Center For Iranian Diaspora Studies.

by Bahar Momeni, Center For Iranian Diaspora Studies

She throws the paper airplane she had been making while we discuss the interview logistics, saying, “I always make paper airplanes while talking.” The airplane gently flies out of the frame. Relieved, she lights a cigarette and looks at the monitor with bright, curious eyes. “Alright, now I will concentrate. Let’s get started!” she says as she grins. It’s no surprise that this is how the interview begins with Marjane Satrapi, the celebrated Iranian-born French graphic novelist, filmmaker, artist, and one of the most recognized figures within the global Iranian diaspora. Her playful, honest, and adventurously creative spirit is best exemplified in her graphic memoir Persepolis (Pantheon 2003, 2004), which garnered international acclaim for its powerful and compelling depiction of life during and after the 1979 Revolution in Iran. While she’s done so many exciting projects since, this book is what put her style and her vision on the global literary map.

Persepolis (Pantheon). Courtesy Center For Iranian Diaspora Studies.

“Persepolis helped readers understand what’s happened in Iran. I believe graphic novels are such an impactful genre for making this information accessible. Because, even before the alphabet, drawing and painting, it was how humans communicated,” Satrapi says.

Persepolis marked the start of Marjane Satrapi’s influential career in graphic novels, setting the stage for subsequent graphic works such as Embroideries (Pantheon, 2005), Chicken with Plums (Pantheon, 2006), Monsters Are Afraid of the Moon (Bloomsbury, 2006), and The Sigh (Archaia, 2011). Following the immense success of the film adaptation of Persepolis in 2007, Satrapi shifted her focus to filmmaking. Her second feature film, an adaptation of Chicken with Plums in 2011, was another successful collaboration with French filmmaker Vincent Paronnaud. Satrapi’s cinematic journey continued with films such as Gang of the Jotas (2012), The Voices (2014), Radioactive (2019), and her most recent feature, Dear Paris  (2024), exhibiting her versatility and creative evolution across different mediums. After spending recent years focused on filmmaking, Satrapi has returned to her cherished genre, comics, with her latest work, Woman, Life, Freedom. 

‘Everything can just be what it is’:

The liberated art of Nairy Baghramian

The Iran-born sculptor’s colourful new London show continues her practice of playing with convention and collaboration

‘A political experience of a space’ … Misfits by Nairy Baghramian at Marian Goodman Gallery Paris, 2021. Photograph: Rebecca Fanuele. Courtesy The Guardian.

by Dale Berning Sawa, The Guardian

In 2005 or 2006, Nairy Baghramian arrived for a site visit at Kunsthalle Basel in Switzerland to find the pioneering artist Gustav Metzger was there, too. He was scheduled to do a show before her and was walking around the imposing space with the director Adam Szymczyk, when he suddenly became excited at a temporary wall that had been erected. “Oh my God!” he exclaimed. “I’m very happy that this is built in now. Otherwise it would be a totally fascist building, it’s huge. I love this unterbrechung”.

An unterbrechung is an interruption or an intermission. Metzger, the Jewish artist and activist who fled to the UK from Nazi Germany as a child in 1939, found the idea of disrupting this example of monumental neoclassical architecture to be politically potent. Baghramian would go on to base her whole show on that sentence. She left most of the space empty, arranging just a few pieces around that wall.

At first Szymczyk questioned the decision: “Do you know how big the space is and you only have these works?” he asked. But she insisted that Metzger’s neat summation of “a political experience of a space and also an architectural experience” was the only prompt she needed.

Baghramian is always looking for openings. For ways of letting the outside in. She was born in Isfahan, Iran, in 1971, and after the revolution fled to Berlin with her family in 1984. She has been exhibiting since the late 1990s, but it was taking part in the once-a-decade Münster Sculpture Project in 2007 that pushed her firmly into the spotlight.

From the outset, she has made her playful, deliciously tactile work in a constant back and forth between photography and sculpture. In her latest show, portraits of a young child sit alongside sculpted elements in stone and metal. It stops her from getting stuck on any one idea: “It keeps my artistic dominance in check, so that nothing becomes too tight and everything can just be what it is.”

Report Details Persistent Persecution of Iranian Artists

Courtesy Artistic Freedom Initiative

DOWLOAD THE REPORT HERE

by Anna Lentchner, ArtAsiaPacific

A new 100-page report by the American advocacy groups Artistic Freedom Initiative (AFI) and Voices Unbound (VU), in partnership with Berkley Law, details how Iranian artists have been systematically targeted in the aftermath of the “Women Life Freedom” movement in 2022, during which time Iranian security forces are believed to have killed more than 500 protestors and arrested more than 19,000.

Titled “I Create; I Resist: Iranian Artists on the Frontline of Social Change,” the report was released on September 10, ahead of the two-year anniversary of Mahsa Jina Amini’s death in Tehran in September 2022. Arrested for wearing an “improper hijab” and later dying in morality-police custody, Amini became a symbol of female oppression and persecution, with demonstrations in her memory ensuing across Iran and worldwide. Iranian cultural figures in the region and the diaspora were particularly active, and graphics, songs, drawings, photographs, and videos—dozens of which are featured in the report—became essential to the movement’s dissemination and sustenance.

According to the AFI’s and the VU’s research, the Iranian regime ramped up its suppression of cultural figures after September 2022, “including through online surveillance, the creation of celebrity task forces, issuing work bans, and threatening legal action.” The report features interviews with several visual artists who fled persecution before or during this time, such as multidisciplinary artists Jinoos Taghizadeh, who remains in exile in Canada, and Nazanin Noroozi, who has been in the United States since 2012 and fears returning to Iran. Noroozi’s mixed-media collages, which appear to integrate photographs of the 2022 protests, are featured on the cover of “I Create; I Resist,” as well as beside its chapter title pages.

Mirza Hamid, the ‘Banksy of Iran’

Image courtesy of UP MAG. 

by Maura Rosner, UP MAG 

Within the city of Tehran, there is an anonymous street artist The Tehran-based Street muralist who goes by the pseudonym Mirza Hamid. To locals, he is known as the “The Banksy of Iran.” in his home country, where his work is well known. Hamid’s identity is unknown. Hamid’s captivating street paintings depict mostly monochromatic conceptual figures painted with red earth pigment, reminiscent of ancient cave paintings. The photographs of these street murals in Tehran (including some that no longer exist because they were painted over by the city) were taken by Morvarid Khalilzad, whose images are works of art themselves. I recently spoke with Hamid, in a first ever interview. He explained that he uses red earth because it is the first pigment that humans used. It can be found in ancient Persian pottery, in paintings in the Grand Canyon and on Egyptian mummies, where it symbolizes life after death. For him, it is the color of humanity. All of humanity is battling the same red-hued sense of estrangement and exile, he said.

Sometimes Hamid finds unmarked walls on busy streets, in ruins, even on government buildings. After painting, a new story begins for that wall, he said. Once, he painted three murals on one of Tehran’s water department’s walls. All three were painted over the next day, but Hamid received a direct message on Instagram that said, “This is the security guard at the water department, I just wanted to say I did everything I could but was not able to convince my colleagues not to cover your paintings, I’m sorry.” Hamid said this was a particularly meaningful moment.

Tehrangeles

Tehrangeles by Porochista Khakpour

New York. Pantheon Books. 2024. 308 pages.

Interview by Basmah Sakrani, CRAFT

In a writing workshop during my undergraduate years in Pakistan, we were asked to share our favorite books and why we liked them. I talked about Jhumpa Lahiri’s Unaccustomed Earth, and the author’s masterful depiction of diaspora stories, the quiet moments of reckoning about identity and home. And though it’s been nearly fifteen years, the negative reaction of another student has stayed with me. I was met with condescension and derision, classification of South-Asian literature in English by writers living outside of South Asia as “ethnic lit” and “diaspora lit.” There was discussion about how this type of writing did not reflect the true realities of South Asianness and was over-the-top with mentions of mango and monsoons. At the time, I did not possess the clarity of thought to argue back, to posit that the diaspora experience was an indelible part of the South-Asian experience, to assert that literature which illustrated the nuances of those who moved away was as relevant as literature about the ones who stayed. But I believed it deep down, and over the years, that belief has strengthened.

As I read Porochista Khakpour’s Tehrangeles, I thought about that classroom interaction again and again—it made me want to travel back in time and hold up Tehrangeles as proof of diaspora stories that are rich and full and funny and relatable. With the Milanis, Khakpour has created a family of Iranian-American characters who are flawed yet appealing, their imperfections making them as accessible as our own family members. In Roxanna’s hubris and Violet’s irrational sweet tooth, I saw myself. In Haylee’s gullibility, I recognized my fourteen-year-old niece. In Mina’s dedication to justice, I met my sister. In Homa’s retreat away from her boisterous family, I thought of my mother.

“I love the idea that people can change,” Khakpour tells me in this interview, “and I believe in it.” That is her lasting message to her readers, an infectious one that makes me want to believe that the student who decried diaspora fiction all those years ago now understands its importance in the literary canon—one that Khakpour has enriched with this delightful novel.

***

Iranian artist opens Leeds show exploring disability and migration

Paralympian Mohammad Barrangi hopes his work will help people think of human stories behind headlines about migration

Barrangi’s work has a lighthouse motif at its centre, a nod to John Smeaton who is regarded as the father of civil engineering. Photograph: Christopher Thomond/The Guardian. Courtesy The Guardian. 

by Mark Brown, The Guardian

A decade ago, the artist Mohammad Barrangi was representing Iran as a Paralympic sprinter and was ridiculously speedy. “My best time for the 100 metres was 10.72 seconds, in Tunisia,” he says with understandable pride. “I have friends who don’t believe I’m an artist.”

Barrangi is speaking to the Guardian precisely because he is an artist, about to open a major show in Leeds that shines light on his remarkable story of turning what may seem like adversity into endless possibility.

The show tells a fantastical story of a girl called Lily who sails in a small boat from Anzali, a city on the Caspian Sea in northern Iran, to England.

In his art, Barrangi is also telling a story about himself and his lived experience, exploring themes of disability and migration.

“The Grandest Orphan Cinema”:

Ehsan Khoshbakht on MoMA’s “Iranian Cinema before the Revolution, 1925–1979” Series

Chess of the Wind (1976),  Image courtesy of Filmmaker Magazine.

Interview by René Baharmast in Festivals & Events, Filmmaker Magazine 

Starting with a packed house on the night of October 13 and concluding right after Thanksgiving, MoMA showcased “Iranian Cinema before the Revolution, 1925–1979,” the largest retrospective of Iranian cinema ever held inside or outside of Iran. With close to 70 films covering the pre-revolutionary period, there were works from Iran’s most famous filmmaker, Abbas Kiarostami; the most famous film of this era, the late Dariush Mehrjui’s The Cow; and repertory favorites like Ebrahim Golestan’s Brick and Mirror, Bahram Beyzaie’s Downpour and Forough Farrokhzad’s The House is Black. But, significantly, there were also films by lesser-known but just as vital filmmakers such as the Iranian Hitchcock, Armenian-Iranian Samuel Khachikian (Anxiety) and Masoud Kimiai, whose banned and politically censored The Deer had a rare screening as it was intended to be seen. One of Iran’s most popular actors, Parviz Sayyad, had one of his directorial efforts shown, the harrowing Dead End. Sohrab Shahid Saless, the most influential filmmaker of this era, had three films, including the masterpiece Still Life. Filmmakers who were important figures beyond their directorial work, like Bahman Farmanara and Farrokh Ghaffari were also represented. 

Putting this together was quite a feat. To that end, I spoke to the individual most responsible, the co-director of Il Cinema Ritrovata, Ehsan Khoshbakht—who had his documentary about this era, Filmfarsi, also shown in the series—in a wide-ranging conversation to place everything in its proper context. 

Filmmaker: What’s your background and how did it relate to putting this retrospective together?

Khoshbakht: My background in architecture informs what I do. Like a piece of architecture, I always think of the retrospective’s foundation, the main structure, facade, the ornamentations of all the different films, as fading into different architectural prescriptions that I have in mind.

Persian alphabet 'ART IRAN: Falling into Language' group exhibition features work by Iranian artists

The Written Room, a site-specific installation by Parastou Forouhar, will be created in a narrow corridor of the gallery. Acrylic paint. Courtesy of the artist, Craft Contemporary and Artdaily.cc.

by Artdaily.cc

In collaboration with nonprofit Farhang Foundation, a compelling new group exhibition, ART IRAN: Falling into Language, opens at the art museum Craft Contemporary on Jan. 28, 2024 with an artist talk, and runs through May 5.

ART IRAN: Falling into Language presents nine expatriate Iranian artists who engage diverse forms of the Persian alphabet, handwriting, and fragments as an essential part of their artistic practice. This exhibition includes installation works, drawings, collages, site-specific art, and an interactive installation. The methods used range from sewing; assemblages of letters, words, and ceramics; and wall painting.

“The technique of handwriting on objects of different materials, from dishes to architectural tiles, is part of daily life in Iranian culture—and has been throughout history,” notes the exhibit's curation team, Roshanak Ghezelbashand Hoda Rahbarnik.

“The text that appears in ART IRAN: Falling into Language is not necessarily there to be read. It is there to be seen,” explain Ghezelbash and Rahbarnik. “The audience's inability to read these letters captures the in-between state the artists occupy in their daily reality: no longer belonging in their homeland nor in their new home. They chose handwriting over calligraphy— a well-known official expression of the alphabet with a long history within and outside the Iranian art scene; the artists chose handwriting as their voice—to gain a sense of belonging. What they bring with them into this new state of alienation might ultimately be described as a new kind of cosmopolitanism—it belongs to nowhere, so it is at home everywhere.”

For example, The Written Room (pictured above), a site-specific installation by Parastou Forouhar, will be created in a narrow corridor of the gallery. Visitors will feel like they are walking into a room; her handwriting covers the walls, floors, and ceiling with black ink in this entirely white space. The Persian alphabet is presented in a way that may be unreadable even to Iranian readers, but the emotions conveyed in her art are universally understood.

And They Laughed at Me

 Newsha Tavakolian’s images and the scent of roses

Courtesy Collater.al

by Giorgia Massari, Collater.al 

A woman intent on smelling a rose. An image that is repeated seven times in the photo exhibition by Newsha Tavakolian, winner of the first Deloitte and Fondazione Deloitte Photo Grant. On view now Dec. 13 at Mudec Photo in Milan, the Iranian artist’s And They Laughed at Me project is a personal account of the collective history of Iran, a country marked by an oppressive political environment. The project was chosen from nineteen others, proposed by ten expert and international figures contacted by Deloitte and Denis Curti, curator and artistic director of the Grant.

A Revolution on Canvas

Documentary Review (2023)

Sara Nodjoumi delves into the mystery surrounding the disappearance of more than 100 "treasonous" paintings by her father, seminal Iranian modern artist Nickzad Nodjoumi.

Image courtesy RogerEbert.com.

by Brian Tallerico, RogerEbert.com

Till Schauder and Sara Nodjoumi’s “A Revolution on Canvas” is a smart intersection of the political, personal, and artistic, revealing how all three can be intertwined in a way that makes them impossible to extricate. For Iranian artist Nikzad "Nicky" Nodjoumi, art is always political. And art is always personal. His unshakeable commitment to his beliefs and his need to express those beliefs have made him not only an outcast from his country but also one of its most vital voices. “A Revolution on Canvas” sometimes feels a little light on the concept of “Revolution” regarding form and ambition—it’s a pretty straightforward HBO Doc—but the filmmaking here is empathetic and inspiring. Sometimes, the work of an artist being unpacked by that artist’s relative can lead to bland hagiography, but Nicky’s daughter Sara uses her personal angle to an advantage, never hiding her love and admiration, making it easier for us to feel the same.

True to Self

An Interview 

Arghavan Khosravi On Tension, Circumventing Censorship, and the Protest of Iranian Women

“The Orange Curtain” (2022), acrylic on canvas over shaped wood panel on wood panel, 64 1/2 x 49 inches. Courtesy Arghavan Khosravi and Colossal.

by Grace Ebert, Colossal

For Arghavan Khosravi, obscurity is the point. The Iranian artist (previously) translates the experience of living a dual life—that of immigrating, of presenting differently when at school and at home, and of wanting to deny clear interpretations—into disjointed works that are equally alluring and destabilizing. She’s never proscriptive and offers viewers several entrance points into her narratives, which center around agency, identity, and most recently, the Woman, Life, Freedom movement in protest of Iran’s strict limitations on women and girls.

I visited Khosravi’s solo show, True to Self, at Rachel Uffner Gallery in mid-November, a week after our phone call transcribed below. In addition to her fragmented wall works bound by cord and layered in multiple dimensions, several figurative sculptures congregate at the back of the gallery as a sort of battalion. The women are armored with chainmail and Persian helmets but aren’t militant, instead forming a structural resistance that both demands their right to be seen and invites viewers to stand with them in defiance and solidarity.

Grace Ebert: You have a background in graphic design and illustration, two disciplines rooted in narrative and storytelling. And in the first article we wrote about your work, you say that before you start a new painting, you keep thinking about what you want to say in it. Of course, your background is influential, but why is this narrative component so crucial to your work?

Arghavan Khosravi: I have always been painting on the side in my spare time, but when I came to the U.S. in 2015 to go to grad school and study painting, I wanted a fresh start. I thought that I should forget about all the skills that I learned during those years as a graphic designer and illustrator, and I had to let go of the set of tools that those fields gave me. I started with abstract paintings that were all process-based and more like happenings, accidents, pouring paint, things like that because I thought I’d have to start from the opposite pole in this spectrum. I didn’t have any sort of narrative in my work. 

A new book documents art and resistance in Iran

Woman Life Freedom offers a wide-ranging look at how people have used all kinds of creative means to make their voices heard

Woman Life Freedom by Mina M Jafari. Courtesy Creative Review.

by Megan Williams, Creative Review

One year after the death of Jina Mahsa Amini at the hands of the ‘morality police’ in Iran comes a new book named after the movement that rose up in its wake.

Iranians – led by women and girls – poured out into the streets of cities across each and every province, echoed by satellite demonstrations around the world, as they chanted Zan Zendegi Azadi or Jin Jîyan Azadî, meaning Woman Life Freedom in Persian and Kurdish respectively.

Edited by Malu Halasa, a writer and editor specialising in Middle Eastern art and literature, the new book brings together insightful written accounts of the past year – and the pivotal events of long before – with a broad range of images showing how visual media helped to propagate messages of resistance.

Women of Iran by Or Yogev. Courtesy Creative Review.

The Power of Women by Babak Safari. Courtesy Creative Review.

Social justice movements are often emblematised by evocative, symbolic imagery, and for Woman Life Freedom, the image of a woman removing the hijab – mandatory under Iranian law – became shorthand for the uprising.

In the book, the Iranian Women of Graphic Design (IWofGD) describe the image of cutting hair as “a worldwide symbol of protest against cruelty, injustice and anti-women laws”. The collective runs an extensive online resource making protest visuals – among others – readily available to the masses.

Blinding As a Weapon of Suppression in Iran: Special Report by Mana Neyastami, published in IranWire in March 2023. Courtesy Creative Review.

 

The Persian Rosie by Ghazal Foroutan. Courtesy Creative Review.

Illustration by Jalz of the Azadi (Freedom) Tower with Matisse’s dancers and the protest slogan ‘Women, Life, Freedom’. Courtesy Creative Review.

The book covers mediums that have long provided a canvas for revolution, from posters to graffiti to performance. These examples appear alongside modern-day mechanisms like social media posts, which, according to the book, offer “new, nimble ways to subvert regime censors and internet morality police”. Halasa explains that this mix of tradition and modernity underpins “dissident art” in Iran, which “often blends centuries-old indigenous motifs with contemporary global memes”.

It also examines the various everyday means of expressing resistance: the rare women fashion designers recalibrating dress codes, or the group of mostly women who not only show their hair, but dye it in a spectrum of rainbow hues too.

As art historian Pamela Karimi answers in an enlightening Q&A, “the art of the Woman, Life, Freedom protests operates in informal, tangible and profound ways. Art has become an integral part of everyday life.”

Woman Life Freedom edited by Malu Halasa is published by Saqi Books; saqibooks.com. Courtesy Creative Review.

Via Creative Review

How photography can reveal, overlook and manipulate truth

The fearless work of Australian Iranian artist Hoda Afshar

Hoda Afshar ‘Untitled #88’, from the series ‘Speak the wind’ 2015–22, pigment photographic print, 80 x 100 cm © Hoda Afshar, image courtesy the artist and The Conversation.

by Tom Williams, The Conversation

Through her poetically constructed images, Hoda Afshar illuminates a world overshadowed by history and atrocity. Yet we never see despair: we see defiance, comradeship, reinvention and a search for how photography can activate new ways of thinking.

Afshar was born in Iran and migrated to Australia in 2007. She began her practice as a documentary photographer in Tehran, having originally been attracted to acting.

Staging and creative intervention would become significant features of her work.

Even in her early, nominally “documentary” series, you can sense an embracing of the ambiguity of the still image, and an interest in composing a reality more vivid (and perhaps genuine) than dispassionate reportage might be capable of.

Afshar is now one of Australia’s most significant photo media artists, so it’s a surprise that Hoda Afshar: A Curve is a Broken Line at the Art Gallery of New South Wales is her first major survey exhibition.

What unites her materially diverse work is a concern with visibility: who is denied it, what is made visible by media, and how photography can reveal, overlook and manipulate truth.