A Bug’s Life

New London exhibition uses architecture to explore the experiences of Iran’s American diaspora

Arash Nassiri’s film installation at London’s Chisenhale Gallery uses an abandoned “Persian Palace” to reflect on the lives of Iranians who have settled in LA and elsewhere in the West

Arash Nassiri’s film, A Bug’s Life, sees its insect protagonist experience disorientation and ambiguity as it journeys through a Los Angeles mansion. Courtesy of Arash Nassiri and The Art Newspaper.

by Cyrus Naji, The Art Newspaper

In Arash Nassiri’s new moving-image commission, an insect puppet drags itself across an empty marble floor, cast in eerie blue evening light. The scene is diffused through an enormous frosted-glass cubicle, refracting and distorting the images.

That sense of distortion pervades the Tehran-born, Berlin-based Nassiri’s first institutional solo exhibition, A Bug’s Life, which opened last weekend at London’s Chisenhale Gallery—and comprises a film set within a sculptural installation. The film follows its insect protagonist on a journey of discovery through a cavernous mansion in Los Angeles, its scenes filled with a sense of disorientation and ambiguity that mirrors the experience of those who are separated from their homeland.

The empty mansion is a “Persian Palace”—a unique mutation of Iranian and French Empire architectural styles that took off in Iran in the heady years of Iran’s oil wealth in the 1960s and 1970s. After the Iranian revolution in 1979, Iranians scattered around Europe and North America; Nassiri himself grew up in Switzerland. Some of the wealthier among them recreated the architectural styles of Tehran in Los Angeles, forming what Nassiri calls “a free-form collage of America and Roman and Greek antiquity”.

Reports of Artists Killed by Iranian Regime Draw Outrage and Grief

Sculptor Mehdi Salahshour and filmmaker Javad Ganji are among the members of Iran’s creative community reportedly killed during anti-government protests.

by Isa Farfan, Hyperallergic

As accounts emerge from Iran's deadly crackdown on dissent this month, reports that government forces have shot and killed artists, including sculptor Mehdi Salahshour and filmmaker Javad Ganji, have added to growing international outrage.

Amid an ongoing state-initiated internet blackout in Iran, reporters and human rights groups are scrambling to account for the number of protesters killed and arrested by the Iranian regime since opposition demonstrations began in December.

According to eyewitness reports, government forces have shot indiscriminately at protesters, killing over 2,400 protesters, estimated by the United States-based Human Rights Activists News Agency. The group also reported that forces arrested 18,137 people as part of the crackdown.

Salahshour, a 50-year-old sculptor and father, and Ganji, a 39-year-old television and film director, were among those massacred, according to the Norway-based Iranian Kurdish Hengaw Organization for Human Rights. Ganji's killing was also confirmed by the Iranian Independent Filmmakers Association (IIFMA), as reported by Deadline.

Iranian Art Communities Respond to Political Unrest

Protestors in Tehran, 2026. Via social media. Courtesy picture alliance/Zuma Press Wire/Shutterstock and ArtAsiaPacific.

by Aisha Traub Chan, ArtAsiaPacific

Mass antigovernment demonstrations have erupted across Iran over the past two weeks. According to the Human Rights Activists News Agency (HRANA), the Iranian authorities’ aggressive clampdown has led to at least 500 deaths and over 10,600 arrests. As the turmoil continues to unfold, Iranian artists are denouncing the Islamic regime’s violence and expressing their support for the protestors.

The rallies, which began in Tehran’s Grand Bazaar on December 28, 2025 over widespread inflation, have grown into the largest wave of civil unrest in the country since 2022, when Mahsa Jina Amini’s death in morality-police custody sparked public outrage. Following the government’s deadly response, officials enacted a nationwide internet blackout on January 8, cutting off domestic communication routes, as well as barricading the population from contact with the rest of the world.

Tehran-based filmmaker Jafar Panahi, whose work is banned in Iran, is among the flood of artists and cultural figures who are using social media to denounce the Iranian government. Panahi’s latest film, It Was Just an Accident (2025)—which explores themes of trauma, political oppression, and the collective struggle for liberation—marks his first creative project since being released from Evin Prison in Tehran three years ago, where he was incarcerated for disseminating anti-state propaganda. He issued a joint statement alongside filmmaker Mohammad Rasoulof, who fled to Germany in 2024 after state authorities sentenced him to eight years in prison as well as flogging. The post reads: “In recent days, following the presence of millions of Iranians in the streets protesting against the Islamic Republic, the government has once again resorted to its most blatant tools of repression.” Further addressing the internet shutdown, they called on international communities to “immediately find ways to facilitate access to vital information in Iran by enabling communication platforms.”

Driving in the Dark

This piece was written before Iran imposed an internet blackout on 8 January.

by Raha Nik-Andish, London Review of Books

Six months ago I thought about buying a car, for reasons not of convenience but of necessity. My income as a freelance university lecturer in Iran barely pays for my daily commute. I thought I could drive at night for the ride‑hailing service Snapp! to cover my living expenses. I had enough savings to buy a hatchback Saipa Quik – but then its price went up 66 per cent.

I wasn’t able to buy a car but I have started driving for Snapp! anyway. One‑third of my earnings goes to the car’s owner, Snapp! takes a commission and I pay for wear and tear on the car as well as fuel.

One night I picked up a pair of estate agents. ‘Is working with Snapp! profitable?’ one of them asked. ‘Everyone seems to be doing it.’

I said I was just starting.

‘What this government has done to Iran’s economy,’ he replied, ‘no enemy could have accomplished. They frighten the people. So money goes into gold and coins. Then inflation rises and the gold is dumped back into the market. It’s a dirty economic game to empty people’s pockets.’

I asked about the housing market. ‘It’s not about having money,’ he said. ‘It’s about instability. Nobody dares to sell or buy. Prices can shift so fast that you might not even be able to buy back your own home.’ I have heard similar sentiments from shopkeepers, office workers and government employees.

“Tahmina”—a story from Iran

In this short story translated from Persian, an ordinary day swiftly — and brutally — changes course, with lasting implications.

Amir Fallah, “For Those Who Fear Tomorrow, acrylic on canvas, 2022. Courtesy Artist and The Markaz Review.

by Abdollah Nazari, Translated from Persian by Salar Abdoh, The Markaz Review

She lingered at the threshold of the entrance to the building, uneasily shifting the groceries in one hand while holding onto the sleeping child with the other. Another half step inside and she could hear tentative steps behind her. She turned. Her daughter, in school uniform, was gazing at her with a fearful look that Tahmina hadn’t time just then to question.

“Hurry,” she called to the girl. “Come take your little brother off my hands.” She loosened the tight hold she had on her chador so she could hand over the boy.

Masume managed a weak salaam before taking the boy from her mother. “Maman,” she mumbled meekly.

But Tahmina was already hurrying down the hallway. Everything in her body ached today. The groceries seemed to double in weight the closer she got to the apartment. But then something in what she’d noticed in her daughter’s face made her slow down. She hesitated and turned, “Where’s your brother? Where’s Alireza?”

The girl uttered another “Maman,” and then burst into tears. “Alireza didn’t come for me after his school. They say he went to fight the big boys in fifth grade.”

Tahmina set the groceries down. Her back was throbbing. The outside light of December leaking into the building was weak and made the hallway feel more claustrophobic than ever.