By Ali Ettehad; translated by Reza Asadifar
Opening Saturday August 20, 2011, 4:00 to 8:00 pm at Tehran's Seyhoun Art Galley
The exhibition will remain open until August 31th everyday from 10 am to 6 pm
The gallery is closed on Friday August 26th
At the first glance, the current collection illustrates the ghosts and the moving dead bodies with whose cinematic effects we have been familiar for years; however, with a deeper look more details are revealed which little by little fade the first image away. These ghosts do not threaten anyone; rather, they are captivated themselves with tied hands and ropes passing through their skin and flesh. Their faces have been perished alive, and even if they die, there is no dust to bite. They have been deprived of the dying force, too. The artist is telling of her childhood fears, of the traumatic memories, of those that might not be recalled one by one and have turned into a ghastly pile. The bad news is that these monsters are us ourselves: the artists that illustrated them, me who is writing them, and you standing across from them.
The present collection of works is about fear, about the moments when you get scared and never figure out what actually has scared you. It's about your days sitting in a cafe, walking in the street, or driving in a car while being afraid of something forthcoming. Although it might not occur today, you are pretty sure it will one day. Even if you don't cross the red lines, or if you do not take a step at all, these are the lines that will surround you. When you hit the hay, even without having any dreams, the lines pass your footsteps, and you have crossed the line without even recognizing it.
Hanzalizadeh's collection is about the suddenness of this passing, about the action of a passing which has nothing to do with the movement of your footsteps. It is about suspension, about a frenetic suspending situation which lasts for years, and you do not know when the brass bowls sound or when the drums are beaten to end this suspension.
The lips have been exaggeratingly crimsoned to hide the bruises of the fatal fear we are dealing with. The faces are worn by the face powder so that your plaster-white skin does not represent the pale color of your fears. You have been handed a balloon _ a plaything whose redness shows the decline of childhood. It's a coloring which takes you closer to your fears.
"You know what I think? I guess memories may be the fuel people burn to stay alive. As far as survival is concerned, it does not matter if these memories are of usage or not; they are just the burning fuel. Advertisements that fill the newspapers, philosophical books, inappropriate images of magazines, a pack of ten thousand Yen bills are all nothing but papers when they are fuels of fire. Fire does not think of what it burns whether it be Cantes, a copy of Yumiuri Age, or a beautiful woman! For fire, they are all pieces of paper. Important memories, unimportant memories, punk memories: it makes no difference. They are just fuels." (After Darkness, Haroki Morakami, p. 163)
Ghastly memories will turn into the fuel for fire which itself adds to the fear. Each sparkle of the flames will bring you out of darkness and let you see yourself as monsters inside the frame. This collection is not basically trying to find a way to scare but just a profile of a period of life which people experience. In a poem related to this collection, the artist talks of the anguish derived from her fear _ "the anguish of the leaden blisters that grow in my mouth". The childhood leaden blisters are now matured and stopped growing. They are now fructified, and their fruit are now being shot to other people's ears. This fear which is being bequeathed for another generation is a chronic ailment which is contagious and has been feeding itself from our flesh for centuries.
... Payvand News - 03/25/16 ... --