The Remembrance: Sahel-e Ghoo series consists of eighteen triangular ink-on-wood drawings, one video, two paintings and a few drawings on paper depicting local residents along the Caspian Sea. Through these works, I have explored the relationship between free will, untouched nature and deterministic law and, have portrayed the way people come to terms with the gender segregation for enjoying swimming in the Caspian Sea. I wrote:
I was four; entered Khazar in father’s arms. There was such a hoot and men were screaming every flank. Burbling below Khazar’s ferment, I was scared on father’s shoulder. Amazed and surprised, floated in the water while was folded in cloths.
I was seven; entered Khazar in mother’s arms. There was such a hoot and women roaring all around and splashing water acclaim, such a celebration I thought. I was gazing Khazar horizon evacuating saline drops and singing bia bishim daryakenar/ daryakenar ghashange, folded in cotton cloths.
I’ve lived in cloth’s folds. Variegated cloths; lace, cotton, velvet. But this time; Khazar hidden by cloths. Expand from all around your body. Its sky all around your view and inside cloths breaches blanketed carefully and lines defined by firm old robes. Passing the line will sink you. Far away the sea will swallow you. Swimming inside the cloths measures your lifetime by Khazar’s scissor.
The Remembrance: Sahel-e Ghoo series consists of eighteen triangular ink-on-wood drawings, one video, two paintings and a few drawings on paper depicting local residents along the Caspian Sea. Through these works, I have explored the relationship between free will, untouched nature and deterministic law and, have portrayed the way people come to terms with the gender segregation for enjoying swimming in the Caspian Sea. I wrote:
I was four; entered Khazar in father’s arms. There was such a hoot and men were screaming every flank. Burbling below Khazar’s ferment, I was scared on father’s shoulder. Amazed and surprised, floated in the water while was folded in cloths.
I was seven; entered Khazar in mother’s arms. There was such a hoot and women roaring all around and splashing water acclaim, such a celebration I thought. I was gazing Khazar horizon evacuating saline drops and singing bia bishim daryakenar/ daryakenar ghashange, folded in cotton cloths.
I’ve lived in cloth’s folds. Variegated cloths; lace, cotton, velvet. But this time; Khazar hidden by cloths. Expand from all around your body. Its sky all around your view and inside cloths breaches blanketed carefully and lines defined by firm old robes. Passing the line will sink you. Far away the sea will swallow you. Swimming inside the cloths measures your lifetime by Khazar’s scissor.