Tameshk

The Quiet Space!

2012-01-20T01:13:00.003-05:00

The skin of my hands are pink, pulsing and in pain. There is not much to say. The bleach odor has occupied the quiet space, screaming sharply. Zeitoon and I are huddled together, perhaps in an attempt to escape this frightful image of loneliness. The house is clean. My hands are empty. There is not much to say!

The Mysterious Logic of Shadows!

2012-01-07T20:34:00.005-05:00

The mysterious logic of shadows has taken over the light,
the light that danced over your eyes,
the eyes that took me in as if I belong,
the belonging that was delicate to my being,
the being that is lost in the search of the mystery; the mysterious logic of the shadows!

Art is by much Weaker than Necessity...

2011-12-19T18:18:00.004-05:00

[...]
CHORUS: Shoot not beyond the mark in succouring man While thou thyself art comfortless: for Am of good hope that from these bonds escaped Thou shalt one day be mightier than Zeus.
PROMETHEUS: Fate, that brinks all things to an end, not thus, apportioneth my lot: ten thousand pangs must bow, ten thousand miseries afflict me ere from these bonds I freedom find, for Art is by much weaker than Necessity.
CHORUS: Who is the pilot of Necessity?
PROMETHEUS: The Fates triform, and the unforgetting Furies.
[...]

[Excerpts from Prometheus Bound by Aeschylus, ]

The Majesty of the Myosotis

2011-12-03T10:56:00.004-05:00

There is no magic in the lonely nights,
There is no miracle in the sound of rain,
There is no majesty in the Myosotis near the stony brook,

The magic is made by you!
The miracle is in your happiness after the rain!
The majesty of the Myosotis is in your memory of their tender existence!

*Happy Birthday Brian!

The Black Notebook: An Autumn Rain!

2011-12-02T10:31:00.006-05:00

It is raining in Austin; an autumn rain.
Tehran is far away, two oceans away!
The struggle to remember the smell of my hometown in the rain ends in a fiasco of tears.
It is raining in Austin, an autumn rain!
Missing you all! (Dec. 2nd 2011, Austin)

Resting at the bookshelf, the black notebook gave its last page to these lines.
At the end of my shopping list I added, Black Notebook!

A Gloomy Occasion!

2011-11-10T00:15:00.006-05:00

That occasion,
when the day is cold, and the fear is warm,
when the hands are empty, and the eyes are full,
when the night is long and the hope is short,
that occasion, is a gloomy one!

A Momentary Pause!

2011-10-18T21:53:00.007-04:00

A momentary pause,
The pause before the image attacks you,
The image of your own ruins,
The rush of blood to your veins,
The unimportant veins, that of your little toe,
The toe that its appearance was not noticed and its disappearance won’t make any difference,
No difference to anyone, but you,
And even you will get used to its absence!

A momentary pause,
Before your being recognizes a loss, a vacuum, a void
Before that void takes over the light in your eyes,
Before your eyes shot the image out,
The image of a dead bird,
The bird that got so close to fly all its being into the unknown,
The unknown that takes over your eyes!

There is a momentary pause before the recognition of nothingness,
A momentary pause!

Everyone knew, but the Myosotis!

2011-10-10T17:38:00.003-04:00

Everyone knew!
There was no escape; there was no denial,
The night was long and the moon was peculiar,
The light was gone and the garden was frightened,
Everyone knew before it struck,
Everyone knew, but the Myosotis!

Gone!

2011-09-22T00:33:00.005-04:00

Nothing is complete when you are gone,
nothing is full,
the nature responds to your absence,
the moon is gone!

Autumn Takes

2011-09-10T20:35:00.003-04:00

The new semester has begun.
Juggling between teaching and research is disastrous.
My cat is getting old.
The humble pool in the courtyard is drained, and a rug of fallen leaves is covering its empty belly.
Autumn is here and I am not ready for it!

Things that Transcend Time!

2011-08-30T13:39:00.009-04:00

There are very few,
things that transcend time,

Courage and consciousness are among them!

There are very few,
things that transcend time,

And they are not even things,
they are concepts associated with feelings and acts,

They are very few,
things that transcend time,

Pain is another!

You have transcended time, and I am left behind!

*Remembering you and your dear comrades!

Rare Commodity!

2011-08-13T14:08:00.007-04:00

For a pickerel caught on the hook, hope is a rare commodity, and although he is in the boat close to water, home is a far away place!

Something Woke Me Up!

2011-08-07T19:36:00.003-04:00

I woke up to the occupied forest;
Rain has taken over the populated birds' conversation,

Yet it was not the rain that woke me up,
something did,
something in my dream,
something that made me sigh,

The rain has taken the gloomy forest under its touch;
It was the shine of the green velvety moss that woke me up!

State of Being!

2011-07-29T02:17:00.003-04:00

Blue, burnt, and bruised ...

False Values!

2011-07-24T12:55:00.004-04:00

Seconds,
the ongoing seconds,
the false sense of eternity generated out of continuity,

And there is a value to continuity,
and there is a desire for eternity,
false, yet, exist that timeless desire for eternity!

That false value!

Seconds rushing one after the other,
seconds create with pain,
the false sense of eternity
and crush with anguish,
any desire for eternity in any single moment,
for it goes out of existence, the moment the continuity is recognized!

There is a false value to continuity,
for the pain of passing seconds is its only eternal quality!

Time is a hopeless thing when the desire to be is demolished due to its passing!

Terrified!

2011-07-20T01:19:00.009-04:00

The moon, yellow and painful,
The pain that expands in yellow,

The moon, bounded and feverish,
The fever that pushes boundaries,

The moon, confident and terrifying,
The terror that breaks confidence,

This feverish moon that terrifies me with pain,
Just look at this moon!

Haunted Dreams!

2011-07-17T14:35:00.005-04:00

Why did I let it be?
Why did I care, why did I cry, why did I cave in, why didn't I care?
Why?

The why that has forcefully occupied my reality,
this never-ending why,
is now haunting my dreams!

Shadow (I)

2011-07-09T18:28:00.005-04:00

The ironic duality of our earthly existence: the sun has no shadows, yet it is the creator of many shadows!

Crumbs!

2011-07-07T23:56:00.006-04:00

For years, cookies were a usual scenery on my coffee table, and there were always crumbs all over the place. I hated crumbs.

Today happy that I have seen no crumbs for some time, I realized there are no cookies!

The living room was shiny, the tea was bitter, and I was alone!

Pausing on History

2011-07-01T14:04:00.008-04:00

"There was nothing else to do but work seriously and devotedly, struggle for food, see friends quietly, and look forward to freedom."* I was reading Frances Morris's Paris Post War, Art and Existentialism 1945-55 that I arrived at this quotation by Picasso. I paused. I had to. How could I miss the historical similarities between what we are going through today and the historical accounts of WWII.

Today, not so far from Europe, in Syria, Egypt, Libya, China, Iran, and in many other countries under oppressive totalitarian regimes, artists, intellectuals, thinkers, people, are under similar conditions. Our contemporary experiences of working under oppression is similar and yet different from what Picasso described in 1940s. It is different for the simple fact that today we have access to the accounts of WWII and the postwar era. Today we can allow ourselves to be more hopeful in our fight against oppression.

Picasso was among a few artists who did not leave Europe during the dark years of the Second World War. His descriptions, poetic or factual, unique or collective, have recorded an experience of a sensitive mind, a mind worthy of remembering. For us too, There is nothing else to do, but to work seriously... and look forward to freedom!

*Picasso, The Recent Years: 1939-1946, H. and S. Janis, p.4

Sublime!

2011-06-26T18:19:00.007-04:00

When extraordinary becomes ordinary,
When magic becomes a norm,
When sublime loses its power and becomes beautiful,

It is the beginning of our gradual death,
And I will die to stop this death,
to stop becoming ordinary,
to stop the norm,
I will die to keep the sublime!

Doubt!

2011-06-23T14:21:00.005-04:00

Doubt;
This damned detestable damaging distracting distressing distasteful doubt has taken over me!
This doubt has become me!
This doubt is me!
I am it!

Distance!

2011-06-21T06:27:00.002-04:00

Sometimes I think how far doesn't matter, being far matters, and yet with those who are close to my heart, the distance matters...

My Lovely Fat Male Ginger Cat!

2011-06-17T12:10:00.009-04:00

Three States of Mind Around A Balcony With A View:

- The maintenance guy saw my lovely big-boned cat, Zeitoon, on the balcony and yelled at this other handyman, "hey, this is the house of the fat male ginger cat."

- I overheard the comment and went like, "Ouch!" and "He is not fat, he is just big-boned!"

- And Zeitoon was relaxing on his side on the balcony, enjoying the view, looking please and probably thinking, "Are you talking about me. Oh, I am so cute and happy when people notice me, no matter what!"

The Forgotten Truth!

2011-06-14T21:12:00.010-04:00

"Men have forgotten this truth," said the fox. "But you must not forget it. You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed. You are responsible for your rose..."

"I am responsible for my rose," the little prince repeated, so that he would be sure to remember. [The Little Prince, 1943, Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, Chapter 21]

For some reason I needed to reread this chapter over and over today. For some reason I read The Little Prince couple of times a year. For some reason, I need to make sure I remember!

There Is No Magic!

2011-06-12T23:52:00.006-04:00

There is no magic; it is easy to fall into it. I know!

There is no magic. I know!
What happens after the fall, can take away the magic of it all.

There is no magic!
Believe me, I know,
I was there when they fell for me!

Particles of One Moment

2011-06-08T13:38:00.003-04:00

The extended moment,
between the crash of coffee scent and the trembling leaves,

The extended moment,
between the red cross of the miss connection and the green lines of connection,

The extended moment
between the existing distance and the realization of that distance,

That moment and its particles,
the extended moment in that insignificant letter
that makes a significant difference
between word and world,

It is in the particles of that moment;
that nonexistence becomes the existence!

Stopping Time!

2011-06-04T18:23:00.004-04:00

While chatting with another comrade in humanities, I thought that not being able to enjoy the moment is a casualty for people who are working in any History related field.

Practice helps!

PS. Recently I have found a great inspiration to Stop Time; to enjoy the moment. (Thanks to BMac!)

Grief!

2011-06-01T14:39:00.006-04:00

When grief becomes the norm,
it scares away the hope;

When grief becomes the norm,
it takes away the light;

When grief becomes the norm,
it breaks us apart;

When grief is the norm,
being is resistance and existence is bravery!

* In the memory of Ezattolah Sahabi, and his daughter, the activist Haleh Sahabi, who was killed in his funeral today. (news link)

Somewhere on the Horizon!

2011-05-29T13:13:00.003-04:00

As long as you are there, somewhere on the horizon,
far, but there,
I can be!

I know you are there somewhere,
for the faces that have passed you,
have a touch of happiness on them!

I know you are there,
for the swallows that curve the light between us,
have a dance of joy in their wings;
I know they have seen you on the horizon!

I know you are there, somewhere hidden on the horizon,
for the air is smoother on my lungs!

I know you are there,
even if far,
even if I don’t see you,

I know you are there, somewhere on the horizon,
that is how I can be!

On Writing In General - I

2011-05-26T14:38:00.006-04:00

I like to write to make things less ambiguous; to bring unclear thoughts to a clearer filed; to a more concrete grounds. But I often fail. I figured writing does not make thoughts clearer. It does something, but that something is not of a revealing nature.

I like to write to make things more concrete, more frozen in time, to bring thoughts out there. And I think writing does that. While it does not necessarily make things, thoughts, and issues clearer, it does make them concrete. Writing records thoughts and in this freezing act a certain train of thought is concertized in time. This makes writing a more reassuring act than unwritten words; the history becomes more touchable due to writing.

I feel lighter when I write the melancholy of my thoughts. In writing I find safety.

Lusty Light Ash

2011-05-24T12:23:00.003-04:00

As the wind takes the ashes away from me,
I wonder how many more cigarettes should be lit to break us free of our mass-memory;
As the wind takes the ashes away from me,
I wonder how to be part of the ash, part of the wind;
As the wind takes the ashes away from me,
I wonder how to turn our dusty mass-memory to my lusty light ash!

The Time of Collapse!

2011-05-23T12:31:00.008-04:00

The time of collapse is not only the deterioration of a mass,
the time of collapse is not only the falling apart of a body of flesh,
the time of collapse is not only the falling apart of connections,
the time of collapse is the cement under your feet coming at you,
the time of collapse is the stairs flying downwards and upwards,
the time of collapse is the blood and the ideas evaporating all together,

I collapsed!

Never Forget!

2011-05-23T02:11:00.006-04:00

The three things that should not be forgotten:

One: The bitterness is not in the wrestling of ideas. It comes afterward, when you are left alone with your ideas!

Two: If you enjoy the match and not the win, don't even give the impression of a winner; you will end up opponent-less!

Three: Even the "Existentialist Hope" drains your human energy, and if you are hesitant to use your animal side, remain a hardcore pessimist for even dreaming is forbidden in this world!

Wish The Sun!

2011-05-22T09:12:00.006-04:00

In the cold misty moment, before the sun warms the leaves,
In the slow motion of turtles in the crowded pond,
In the misplaced wild berry bush on the edge of the trail,
There is a phase filled with absence,
a phase out of place,
a timeless phase, which makes me wish the sun!

A Life of A Green Ribbon

2011-05-19T17:28:00.003-04:00

I arrived at your smiling faces and I tried to hide my dancing cells; they have been in this melodious suspense for 13 days now. Some normal greetings and some joyful gossips and then I revealed the melody of my dancing cells and you went curious, cautious, and then content with my melody. How happy we were; genuinely happy and how much I miss this true feeling of happiness in my life.

In the haze of smoke and spirit I noticed this delicate green ribbon tied around the umbrella pole on our table. I glanced at it and said “Nice!” You got me right away, saying, “Ya! One of those things you would do!”

You were right; I very well may do this kind of things; adding little pieces of what I think is “prettiness” here and there, especially when it is green.

We talked and talked. Some drops of rain panicked us to open our umbrella shade. An hour has passed and I could not take my eyes away from the green ribbon cuddling the umbrella pole. The thin shred of green ribbon has one clean-cut end and one rough end. I saw how it could have been hugging a small square box before, for the edges of this imaginary box had imprinted their mark on the delicate ribbon. I took my time imagining the life a ribbon, which has gone unnoticed by many, but not to our overly awake Iranian consciousness; to us it grew, for it was green!

How long the ribbon was tied around that umbrella pole, I do not know. But it was long enough for it to loosen its grip around the pole. And while I am thinking of refastening it, your hands opened the ribbon up and tied a neat bow around the pole. You know me well; now the umbrella pole won’t have a lonely night for the delicate green ribbon is hugging it so tight.

When we were leaving, I just wondered if we see them together the next time we sit on that bench.

Time Stops!

2011-05-17T13:12:00.004-04:00

The tragic sound of time passing through me,
triggers the shock of silence,
when the time stops,
for you are here!

Turned Off The White!

2011-05-13T15:03:00.004-04:00

Rushed out,
rushed in,
I froze at my own image.

The lies in my life,
and the truth in the mirror; my inside-out blouse!

In the endless battle of mirror and me,
I sensed the serene scent of harmony.

The inescapable truth of the moment, trembled at my destructive touch;
I turned off the white of my inside-out blouse, and melted away!

Dreamy!

2011-05-09T23:04:00.003-04:00

Like a cold drop of water rolling down the skin of my back, this new sensation is ticklishly refreshing.

*Just the thought of B.M.

Gravediggers of the Present!

2011-05-09T11:24:00.008-04:00

In his text, On the Advantage & Disadvantage of History for Life, (1874) Nietzsche addressed the task of human existence, what he called, the task of living, in appropriation of history or better say in the relationship between life and historical knowledge. The quest for truth is also part of the task of existing. The values of this quest for the truth, like any other human related task, is intertwined with the nature of human existence. Now the question is what if some knowledge, some truth, proves harmful and deadly? What if in regard to some truth we are faced with this dilemma; know the truth and die or live and continue in error. Nietzsche recognized this dilemma and argued that given the choice between life and knowledge/truth there is no question about which we ought to choose; any knowledge which destroys life destroys itself, for knowledge presupposes life.

From the same text I have somewhat of a long excerpt, which I strongly recommend you to read. What interests me in this text is the complicated position that man has in regard to the truth(s); it is not as simple as the representation of many thinkers before and after Nietzsche on the matter.

"All acting requires forgetting, as not only light but also darkness is required for life by all organisms. A man who wants to feel everything historically would resemble someone forced to refrain from sleeping, or an animal expected to live only from ruminating and ever repeated ruminating. So: it is possible to live with almost no memories, even to live happily as the animal* shows; but without forgetting it is quiet impossible to live at all. Or to say it more simply yet: there is a degree of insomnia, of rumination, of historical sense which injures every living thing and finally destroys it, be it a man, a people, or a culture.

To determine this degree, and through it the limit beyond which the past must be forgotten if it is not to become the gravedigger of the present, one would have to know precisely how great the plastic power of a man, a people or a culture is. I mean the power distinctively to grow out of itself, transforming and assimilating everything past and alien, to heal wounds, replace what is lost and reshape broken forms out of itself. There are men who have this power to so small a degree that they will incurably bleed to death over a single experience, a single pain, frequently over a single delicate injustice, as from a quite a small bleeding laceration. On the other hand there are those who are affected so little by the wildest and most gruesome calamities of life and even by their own malicious acts, that in midst of them or shortly thereafter they achieve a tolerable degree of well being and a kind of clear conscience.* [...] What such a nature* cannot master, is how to forget; it no longer exists, the horizon is closed and whole, and nothing can serve as a reminder that beyond this horizon there remain men, passions, doctrines and purposes. And this is a general law: every living thing can become healthy, strong and fruitful only with in a horizon; if it is incapable of drawing a horizon around itself or, on the other hand, too selfish to restrict its vision to the limits of the horizon drawn by another, it will wither away feebly or over-hastily to its early demise.

Cheerfulness, clear conscious, the carefree deed, faith in the future, all this depends, in the case of an individual as well as of people, on there being a line which distinguishes what is clear and in full view from the dark and unilluminable; it depends on one's being able to forget at the right time as well as to remember at the right time; on discerning with strong instinctual feelings when there is need to experience historically and when unhistorically. Precisely this is the position the reader is invited to consider: the unhistorical and historical are equally necessary for the health of an individual, a people, and a culture."*

* Light and dark being a metaphor for remembering and forgetting.
*Animals not having the sense of history (past, and future.)
* Please note that in this argument Nietzsche is not praising "a kind of clear conscience." Nietzsche has been misinterpreted many times by his future readers, and some times these misinterpretations resulted in horrible events.
*Those who are affected little by wildest calamities of life.
*Translated by Peter Preuss, 1980.

Fruit of Your Labor!

2011-05-01T12:46:00.006-04:00

Happy May Day!

Happy International Workers' Day!
&
To those whose tireless mental and physical labor is turning the gears of progress,
To the brave Iranian workers and teachers,
I hope for a day that the fruit of your labor can be harvested freely!

HARVEST, Malevich, 1912

PS. To my extraordinary parents, Happy Anniversary!

Peculiar!

2011-04-27T18:17:00.005-04:00

Peculiar destiny of being; to a delicate butterfly, a charming canary is a monstrous beast!

The One Who Doubts!

2011-04-18T23:33:00.009-04:00

An animal who doubts its habits; I want to be that animal.

Loss!

2011-04-13T00:46:00.006-04:00

There is no sublime in loss, only nostalgia.
Page after page, the lost sensation cannot be found.

In the collected fallen petals of memory, the tenderness is lost!

Thanks to M.V. for the sensation. Chickpea Chateau, April 2011

Demonized Assassin

2011-04-10T07:17:00.008-04:00

The first time he told the story, I was shocked. He told it to his adviser and his wife. They adore rabbits. I was frozen; my ears were burning.

My childhood secret, the rabbit story, was told by him to everyone we met. Almost always in the first meeting. Strangers and acquaintances, friends and colleagues, it didn’t matter, he was a democratic storyteller. The rabbit story was an icebreaker for him; something he could count on to launch a friendlier conversation and with its strangeness, the rabbit story, insured a cool friendship with the audience. And why not, it was a good story with a natural suspense point and a needed complexity for a short narrative.

The rabbit story pronounced our confidence in our relationship. After all who would tell horrible embracing horror stories about his wife in her presence, unless the couple are so cool and well-matched. There was always a short pause before the audience started to laugh, and that was the moment I jumped in with my wide smile. The rabbit story also distinguished him from me in his ideal way: he gentle, normal, and loving, and me aggressive, abnormal, and demonic.

It never occurred to him that his rabbit story was my childhood secret. I never told him I hated to be the demonized rabbit killer.

The Void Is Felt!

2011-04-09T23:37:00.000-04:00

Searching for the crack,

Finding the hole,
Feeling the void,
There is nothing special about this crack, this hole, or this void,
Nothing special about this search, this find, this feel,
It is just too close, too near!

My tongue searches for the cracked tooth and rests on it,
The void is felt!

Black on Maroon, 1959, Mark Rothko

Happy Spring!

2011-03-20T14:53:00.003-04:00

To all who enjoy spring, Happy Spring!
To all who celebrate their New Year with the beginning of Spring, Happy New Year!
To all who celebrate Nowruz, Happy Nowruz!
To my fellow Iranians, better days will come and we will celebrate a truly green Nowruz!

Happy Green 1390!

My Haft Sin, Chickpea Chateau, Austin, March 20th 2011,
Nowruz 1390

Daily Austin Happenings ...

2011-03-15T22:00:00.006-04:00

South by Southwest is here in Austin. I have not gone to any of the events yet; for some reason I have not even passed through the downtown area in the past week. Of course my distance from SXSW has not discouraged me from blogging about it. Well, Austin has become weirder because of it and that makes me a non-participant fan. Aside from SXSW Austin is welcoming spring by little purple and white blossoms.

The sad art history news this week was the death of Leo Steinberg. He was a great art historian who was considered one of the three "Kings of Culturberg" along with Clement Greenberg and Harold Rosenberg. His print collection (3200) is held at the Blanton Museum of Art under his name. Here is more on Steinberg.

Tonight is Chaharshanbe Suri. Traditionally Iranians celebrate Chaharshanbeh Suri on the last Tuesday night of the year by lighting bonfires. Like the past years, this Chaharshanbeh Suri provided yet another resistance opportunity for people in Iran. I salute their courage and wish us all a Green Charshanbe Suir.

Leo Steinberg

White Ceiling

2011-03-02T22:30:00.006-05:00

There is something in the blank look of sadness; something that scares them,
it scares some away to a long walk to nowhere,
it makes some to turn the lights off,
and the others just close their eyes.

There is something in that sadness that scares them,
and makes me adore the white ceiling above my head;
it does not escape me,
it just stares back with a blank look of sadness.

White on White, Malevich, 1913

Austin: Two Museums, Two Exhibitions

2011-02-23T01:26:00.003-05:00

Are you looking for some visual stimulation in Austin? Great, there are two exhibitions to see this month. Visit the Blanton Museum of Art for Recovering Beauty: The 1990s in Buenos Aires and Austin Museum of Art for New Art in Austin: 15 to Watch. Recovering Beauty is on view from February 20 to May 22 and 15 to Watch will be on view from February 26 to May 22.

Benito Laren, Buscando precios (Searching for Prices), 1991

The Happy Resident of Chickpea Chateau!

2011-02-10T01:15:00.006-05:00

After half an hour of complaining about my graduate life, that covered my poverty, lots of work, no romance ..., I hesitantly asked "Am I pathetic?" and he said: "not really, you eat lots of potatoes and you are poetic, but you are definitely not pathetic." And his answer made me the happiest resident of Chickpea Chateau.

Chickpea Chateau, February 2011

Missing Monsieur Dubuffet!

2011-02-06T23:14:00.007-05:00

This is my exam semester; I have to pass four exams and I am not looking forward to them at all. The reading load for each is so brutal that I get to spend very little time on my own work with Monsieur Dubuffet. Today I have noticed that I had surrounded myself with the black and white copies of his paintings. He is everywhere; on the fridge, on my desk, on my laptops' screens, I have even used paper copies of his paintings as book marker here and there. I think it is clear; I miss him!

Jean Dubuffet photographed by Arnold Newman, 1956

Winter!

2011-02-02T04:15:00.005-05:00

The new semester has begun with pain. I keep myself busy, trying to expand my memories of that condensed week; the magical week that we finally gathered like a family. Finally there we were. It was short.

The new semester is cold; colder than winter. Everywhere I go, every face I see, every hand I shake, freezes me back into loneliness. The cluster of their bodies, their kind eyes, and their warm voices are weirdly distant when I happen to them as if leprosy; they pass through me making the small city and the smaller citadel of migrants colder than a usual winter in Texas.

The new semester has begun and I keep myself busy, waiting for the winter to pass through me!

Rain in the Forest, Malaysia, January 2011

Kuala Lumpur In Detail (Part I)

2011-01-20T03:27:00.003-05:00

Chinese Temple, Kuala Lumpur, January 2011

Burning Incense, Kuala Lumpur, January 2011

Crowded Incense Jar, Kuala Lumpur, January 2011

Chinese Temple, Kuala Lumpur, January 2011

A Believer No More!

2011-01-02T03:13:00.008-05:00

I don’t know when the process began.

I didn’t catch the beginning.
Maybe it wasn’t painful then!
Maybe it had a silent start!

It happened imperceptibly;
It was a quiet conquest!

I was a believer;
I believed in fire!
The potent fire of mind,
The fearless fire of truth,
The mysterious fire of existence,
I was a believer!

I don’t know when I stopped believing,
I don’t know!

I gave up fighting on the side of hope,
I gave in to the numbness of destiny!

I don’t know when the process began,
The process of me not caring,
The process of me shutting up,
The process of me shrugging more and more,
The process of me hiding me,
The process of me becoming him!

I was a believer no more!

* Kasimir Malevich, Black Square & Red Square, 1913

Grocery Shopping for Yalda!

2010-12-21T22:57:00.006-05:00

The price of pomegranate was as grotesque as our distance,
And the slaughtered watermelons had all the colors, but no happiness!

Somehow I found the fiery persimmons,
Placed in a distant corner next to the potatoes,
being ignored even by curious shoppers,

They were the outsiders,
And they belonged to my table!

Yalda Table, Chickpea Chateau, December 2010

To all of you who celebrate Yalda, the longest night of the year,
Happy Yalda!

Thingness

2010-12-15T18:27:00.005-05:00

"What in truth is the thing, so far as it is a thing? When we inquire in this way, our aim is to come to know the thing-being (thingness) of the thing. The point is to discover the thingly character of the thing. To this end we have to be acquainted with the sphere to which all those entities belong which we have long called by the name of the thing." (Heidegger, Martin, "The Origin of the Work of Art", 1935 Based on a Public Lecture, in Basic Writings, ed. David Farrell Krell, section: Thing and Work p.146, )

Heidegger's Writing & the Thingness of Reading it
Austin, December 2010

Refrigerate!

2010-12-02T23:44:00.005-05:00

I placed the mango in the refrigerator next to the pomegranate.

Thirsty to keep them fresh for another autumn morning;
A day that our breakfast will be as colorful as the season!

If I could keep certain colorful days in the refrigerator,
I often wonder,
Would it be the end of all gloomy days?
Would I feel light again, like when you hold me close in your arms?

Pink Roses, Mango & Pomegranate, December 2010, Austin

Colloquium!

2010-11-24T13:29:00.007-05:00

Colloquium Happenings:
1- Two nights before, I wondered why I cannot finish reading four single-spaced pages in 10min. Well, 10min is about four double-spaced pages (duh!)
2- Tried too hard not to push my teeth together,
3- Made the slides.
4- Finished shortening the thing: omitted three paragraphs on Imitation and Primitivism.
5- Had a short phone conversation with a handsome rock climber.
6- Baked Baklava Cake.
7- Rehearsed my presentation couple of times and made some changes. Zeitoon took a nap during the last rehearsal.
8- Went to bed around 5am, got up at 8am.
9- Checked the news headlines on Iran.
9- Went to the department at 10am to meet a friend for another rehearsal. She didn’t show up.
10- Tried to reread an article on imitation and child art. Couldn’t, so I have started typing these.
11- Worried!

After Colloquium To Do List:
1- Call mom, text D., hug Zeitoon.
2- Clean the litter box.
3- Take a leisurely walk around the golf course.
4- Do the laundry.
5- Call friends for pre-Thanksgiving chat.
6- Live!

The Corner, TA study room, Art History Dept., November 2010

PS. My dissertation topic was approved; now I can officially start the process of becoming Dubuffet.

The Crowd!

2010-11-20T12:50:00.008-05:00

Overwhelmed!

The sweaty sense of grilling!
Fabric in motion!
Fabricated emotion!
The scattered sense of exposure!

My corner is dominated by the crowd!

*Fire in the Evening, Paul Klee, 1929.

Nightingales traversing the Middle East

2010-11-03T23:58:00.005-04:00

Our fall 2010 concert by the UT Middle Eastern Ensemble “Bereket” under the direction of Sonia Seeman celebrates the interregional intersections across the Middle East with instrumental works, songs and dances. Featuring vocal soloists Daryl Harris, Aynur Hodge, Nastaran Kherad, Julie Slim Nassif, Burcu Tan. Drum solos by Mohamed Elmasry, Nicholas Ragheb and Sean Mecredy. Dance performances by Stacey-Lizette of Sabaya; Happy Rahman, the UT-Austin Lebanese Social Club. Choral performances by the UT Arabic, Hebrew and Persian language classes. Sponsored by the Butler School of Music and the Center for Middle Eastern Studies. To read more on this concert check the College of Fines Arts Calendar page, here.

Fall 2010 concert by the UT Middle Eastern Ensemble, “Bereket”
November 4, 2010 7:30 pm
Bates Auditorium
Sarah and Ernest Butler School of Music
University of Texas, Austin

Free and open to the public

SLSA 2010

2010-10-30T11:52:00.006-04:00

Attending the 24th Annual Conference of the SLSA, Society for Literature, Science, and the Arts. It is cold here in Indianapolis; besides the cold, the art panels are lively and crowded. I am presenting on Jean Dubuffet, Materialized Perception: Cubism of Material in Jean Dubuffet's Table Series in 1950s.

Clotted Table, Jean Dubuffet, 1951, Oil on Masonite

No matter what ...

2010-10-22T21:32:00.009-04:00

The sense of belonging is lost!
The walk was shorter than I thought.
I was scared in that lightless narrow quiet street.
A vague autumn touch here and there, all manmade,
And nowhere near the trees, where I would have liked to see them; the leaves!

Some occasional walkers like me, but no sense of belonging or security, despite the fact that I have a social security number now.

Numbers are no good!

Numbers:
Seventeen houses on the side I walked on;
Two very large ones; I did not like them at first but then they were the only ones with a light pole on the front yard. I liked that; I was not scared anymore!
Many trees, I did not count how many.
Three other walkers; all were going the opposite direction. Or I was the only one going the way I was going!
Four bikers; three of them men.

I so much like to write numbers like numbers (17, 3, 4, … ) but I have been criticized for that. So here you are: Seventeen, Many (but of course finite), Three, Four and me.

This is not a poem.
It is not intended as one, not by me.
But I like to break the sentences here and there, as they come to me; not to my mind but to my body; that’s my lips and hands, as I read them out loud and type.
I type funny, someone said recently.

I had one glass of wine, thought of the wind, the sense of belonging, the color orange and how I will cope, no matter what ...

Mark Rothko, Yellow, Red, on Orange, 1954

A Haiku for Something Little!

2010-10-08T04:19:00.005-04:00

Something,
Something little,
Something plain, unbroken and exact;
A little candid existence, like the dot at the end of this sentence, would be enough for me.

Kazimir Malevich, Black Circle (c.1923)

Not an Artist but a Man of the World!

2010-09-18T19:58:00.009-04:00

"I ask you to understand the word artist in a very restricted sense, and man of the world in a very broad one. By the second I mean a man of the whole world, a man who understands the world and the mysterious and lawful reasons for all its uses; by the first, a specialist, a man wedded to his palette like the serf to the soil. [...] Apart from one or two exceptions whom I need not name, it must be admitted that the majority of artists are no more than highly skilled animals, pure artisans, village intellects, cottage brains. Their conversations, which is necessarily limited to the narrowest of circles, becomes very quickly unbearable to the man of the world, to the spiritual citizen of the universe." (Charles Baudelaire in the Painter of Modern Life, 1858-9 Translated by J. Mayne. pp.6-7)

In the memory of Hannibal Alkhas who passed away a few days ago at the age of 80 and whom I heard once saying, "I would never wait for 'Lady Inspiration'*to mysteriously come to me through an open window, the life around me is what I need the most." (Hannibal Alkhas in a family gathering in 2000, Tehran.) For more check here and here.

Hannibal Alkhas 80-Year Retrospective, Tehran,
Photo Credit, Tehranlive.org

*The word for artistic inspiration in Farsi is Elham, which is also a feminine name. Mr. Alkhas played with the duality of Elham and ironically hinted on the historical use of female models in arts.

Reason Rained!

2010-09-02T12:47:00.003-04:00

The pain didn’t begin when the cinnamon jar broke,

The pain didn’t begin when the sky turned gray,
The pain didn’t begin when that first cold breath was gasped,

The pain began with reason,
Then it rained and robbed me of the cinnamon scent!

Vasily-Kandinsky, Blue (N393), 1927

Now; Green!

2010-08-22T18:54:00.006-04:00

Now:
I am in Houston, trying to look normal, despite the wild humidity that crazing my frizzy hair, tripling its size. I always walk with an out of proportion head in Houston.

Cat:
Since Zambezi left us, Zeitoon has become more sensitive to my absence. So I am a bit worried to be far from him at the moment. His protective gaze and forceful head-kicks concerns me every time I am leaving the house.

School and Work:
Another semester will begin next week. It looks like it will be my most intense semester; I will be defending my dissertation topic. I am trying to set the dates of the colloquium for some time before the end of November. Also I am looking forward to my first TAship at UT. The art history survey courses at our department engage students equally in art-seeing and art-reading. TAs will held most of their sessions in local museums and galleries. Thinking of New York’s rich cultural resources, I wish we could do this in our survey courses at Brookly College.

Green:
The summer heat has not gone, yet, fall is closer. Three full years far from home! Home is Iran; home is my brother; home is an argument over dinner with my aunt; home is my mom’s soft hands over my hair.

It is painful to be far, to not be home, to only read about home; to read about the inhuman adventurous path of Iranian regime, to read about the possibility of war, to hear of the long sentences and harsh conditions of political prisoners. It is hard to be far; to see one’s home reduced to digital images and printed words.

Believing in progress is tricky and being progressive is not easy. We shan’t forget that in all its beauty being Green - Iranian Green - is painful. We shan’t forget this Green is not alone, it is many. We shan’t forget the rainbow behind the Green. We shan’t forget fall always passes to winter and spring is close. This is perhaps one of those rare moments that I can allow myself to find peace in the metaphor of changing seasons!

Green, Houston, August 2010,

Lost In The Distance!

2010-08-11T17:29:00.009-04:00

I wish I had told him,
the old Farsi teacher who was asking me how he can apply for Canad immigration and if they need Farsi teachers?

I wish I had told him then,
before the painful forms, before the long corridors, before the exhaustion of experience,
and before the cost of memory!

I wish I had told him,
Farsi is a lost cause here.

I wish I had told him,
my mother tongue is buried deep under, and I cannot even hold my breath long enough to swim over and fetch it, not even in my dreams.

I wish I had told him,
my dreams are closer to the language of Foucault these days,
and Hafez has shrunk to a book on the extended bookshelf.

And believe it or not Foucault is a nightmare when dreamed!

I wish I had told him,
about the bitter taste of lost scents;
the smells that never leave and are lost in lust,
the smells of places and people,
and the smell of the ruins of one’s childhood!

I wish I had told him,
apples are tasteless here,
and there are no chubby Lebanese sweet lemons in reach!

I wish I had told him,
His students will always have bad handwriting and
They always expect the highest grade.

I wish I had told him,
at the end he will be a distant father of a happily married Canadian son,
With lifelong bills to pay,
And a thick Middle Eastern accent,
Which from time to time will remind him that he does not belong!

I wish I had told him all these in Farsi,
Before he gets lost in this distance like me.

Instead
I gave him the names of the two immigration attorneys, translated his CV and paid his application fee with my American-Express!

The Distant Kitchen,
Chickpea Chateau, August 2010

*I wrote this piece originally for the Shape of Change, this is an online archival project , which I am collaborating with. Find the blog of the project here.

The Kitchen Is Quiet!

2010-08-02T02:52:00.003-04:00

The Kitchen is quiet.
The kettle is not belly dancing.
The order is a lost sense, here!

The kitchen is quiet.
The light bulb has gone cold.
And
There is no glory in the forced harmony of the three little blue plates above the sink!

The kitchen is quiet.
The cardamom jar is scentless.
The walls have grown, since you left!

Chickpea Chateau, July 2010,

Balance, Purity, Serenity

2010-07-30T03:27:00.005-04:00

"What I dream of is an art of balance, of purity and serenity, devoid of troubling or depressing subject matter, an art which might be for every mental worker, be he businessman or writer, like an appeasing influence, like a mental soother, something like a good armchair in which to rest from physical fatigue." - Henri Matisse, Notes d'un Peintre, La Grande Revue, 1908.

Matisse As Printmaker will be on view until August 22nd at Blanton Museum. I highly recommend the show. Today I gave a gallery talk there for UT's Persian Student Society, PSS. We had a small lively group. On another matter yet art related, my latest Peyk article on "the Twentieth Century Modern Art Series: Cubism" is now available as pdf. (Peyk 128 - English section)

Seated Nude, Viewed from Behind,
Henri Matisse, 1913,
Crayon transfer lithograph.

Barton Springs!

2010-07-12T20:26:00.010-04:00

Austin's summer is as usual warm to my always cold skin, and frustratingly hot for many with normal body temperature. My day started early in Houston with a nice breakfast and one hour of wandering around in Half Price Books, then a three-hour drive back to Austin, and it will end most probably in Chickpea Chateau after a light dinner. But at this moment I am enjoying a nice breeze in Barton Springs Pool.

"Mondays are quiet at Barton Springs!" at least this is what the tall talkative man who is sitting fifteen feet behind me tells his pal. He has a damp voice; it sounds like he needs to blow his nose. Their zinging voice makes me to unkindly think, "Hm, it would be a quiet Monday at Barton Springs if they kept their comments to themselves." I look at the chilling water. I experienced its therapeutic iciness for the first time last week, in my third summer in Austin.

Today however I am only a viewer. Some fearlessly jump in; some hesitate for a while and then with a calculated braveness let go of themselves and jump into the cold fresh water. My eyes are stalking this particular young man. Slender with puffy brown eyes, as if something just dragged him out of a faraway dream. He looks back at me right before he jumps in. I keep looking at him. He swims away. From time to time I catch a glimpse of his brown symmetrical head, vanishing into the horizon of this man-made cemented rectangle; a failed attempt in taming the wildness of fresh water. He is gone. The spring keeps running wild.

Barton Springs, aerial map, Austin

Haiku: Clear!

2010-06-30T12:54:00.004-04:00

The air was clear,

Smooth like a gulp of fresh water in a dry summer day.

Butterflies don’t leave any trace when they leave!
The air was clear!

2010 FIFA World Cup: Artsy!

2010-06-15T18:03:00.007-04:00

Art:
I am not sure how exactly Dubuffet became a pleasant companion to me, but he did. I don't even notice the time when I am with him. Dubuffet is not the first to propose that art should be clear of all accepted aesthetic conventions, but I think he is the most compelling in his proposal. He did not find art in use of beautiful color or creation of pleasing forms. Art was not for the eyes’ enjoyment. For Dubuffet “art addressed itself to the mind, and not to the eyes.”

2010 FIFA World Cup:
The sunny days of June in Austin are more vibrant due to the 2010 FIFA World Cup. I am following the games as much as I can. I am always for England and then unfortunately England doesn’t come up very high, so after England is eliminated I am forced to follow other teams. To me soccer is more of a human performance than a sport. Looking at it as a performance, I generally am not for the robotic play of Germany or supreme superstar soccer culture of teams like Italy or Argentina. And let’s hope for once England will play better in its next match.

On another matter yet soccer related, I hope I am not the only one who enjoys FIFA World Cup commercial/cultural advertisements much more than other TV advertisements, Let’s say Super Bowl TV ads for example. FIFA is Artsy!

Miscellaneous:
For Persian Cultural Center newsletter, Peyk, I began a short series on the modern art movements of the twentieth century. The introduction article to the series, “Modernity & Art: Modernism,” is now available as a pdf on the English section of Peyk here. (No. 127, May & June 2010)

Green: More Than A Color!

2010-06-08T15:01:00.005-04:00

This is going to be a painful week, for the memory of the last year’s Iranian presidential election and the ongoing crisis in our Iranian lives revives, as we get closer to the anniversary of the 2009 election. Blocking the mind is hard and mostly unsuccessful. The memories come back, sneaking into the moment, like the touches of green in an impressionistic landscape. There is more pain in this green than joy and yet this green is livelier than any color in an Impressionist painting. What tint is this green, is it Kelly green or Islamic green? Whatever the shade, the Iranian Green is more than a sign that signifies a political campaign. This Green is a longing in itself, a hunger for progress, equality and truth. Green is not only a color; Green is a state of being.

My State of Being, Chickpea Chateau, June 2010

Letters to Rilke – Number 5

2010-05-16T15:50:00.005-04:00

Dear R,

Darling of all times,
I am sorry that my energy has evaporated to your eternity,
I am no hero!

Dearest of all dears,
I am sorry that my body cannot carry the weight of this pain any longer,
I have no courage!

The most precious of all treasures,
I am sorry that I did not wish to spend you,
I am shattered!

Dear R,
I cannot tell you

“…who are they,
these vagabonds
even more transient
than we are?”*

But I can say that I have turned to one.
I am a Vagabond!

Les Saltimbanques, Picasso, 1905

*Fifth Elegy, Duino Elegies, Rilke: In the summer of 1915 Rilke stayed in Frau Hertha von Koenig's Munich apartment, where Picasso's painting of a performing troupe, Les Saltimbanques, hung.

Just that!

2010-05-14T12:23:00.002-04:00

And it came to this; dinner for one. Just that!

Zeitoon Khan in Chickpea Chateau, May 2010

Your Hands!

2010-05-01T20:08:00.006-04:00

Another May Day far from your hands;

Your hands,
Warm, holding my worried hands, when I looked for the missing duckling, knowing the young fox who always sneaked into the garden using the old dry stony brook, would not be hungry tonight.

Your hands,
Tender, when I escaped their kind touch on my bruised forehead, in that dark snowy day!

Your hands,
Sharp, when you hold your HB pencil, editing page after page, putting little arrows here and there, making it short, clear and smooth, the way you want all writings to be,

Your hands,
Strong in holding us all close, as if me being two oceans away is no bother,

Another May Day far from your hands,
And my days are so cold when missing your magical touch!

Hand Catching a Bird, Joan Miro,

*Happy May Day to you all, & Happy Anniversary to my parents!

Bereket Concert!

2010-04-23T18:07:00.008-04:00

Our spring concert is tomorrow;
Please join Bereket, UT Middle Eastern Ensemble, tomorrow, Saturday April 24th, at 7:30PM, in Bates Recital Hall. This spring Bereket is exploring the Middle Eastern musical interconnections, from 'Traditional' to 'Popular.'

P.S. You can listen to our performance online starting at 7:30PM here.

A Surreal Report of My April

2010-04-19T14:40:00.009-04:00

Things are moving fast. Not that they change in a tangible way, no, everything is just in motion. I feel Brecht would have liked this nonstop motion. But I am poor in blending in. I am forced to simultaneously belong to it and own this ever-changing bubble, that happens to be my life; my life for the lack of a better word!

These are lonely days. And it feels lonely too. Feeling lonely is different from being lonely and I have learned of this distinction through a long monotonous experience. Population of things, memories, and bodies doesn't have any effect on the cemented loneliness that holds me deep in this unknown space; a space with unknown boundaries, where I can get lost over and over in and out of it, since I never know if I am in it or out of it. Unknown spaces have unknown merits and that is horrifying.

I have changed too; quitting is no problem anymore. Escaping is an engraved recommendation that continuously appears in my bubble. It is a ceaseless fight with me, nowadays an unknown creature, whom I knew once, and felt so close to, but it, she, I doesn't fit anywhere anymore.

Lost, March 2009

Northern Breeze!

2010-04-07T04:00:00.007-04:00

I found you,
hidden between the scents of saffron and chocolate,
then, the northern breeze took you away from my lungs!

The Greenhill Symposium & Other Things!

2010-03-27T15:52:00.005-04:00

Inspired by the Elenor Greenhill Art History Symposium, which was held today at the Art Building at UT, I decided to share my art exploration plans here. This is basically a list of art exhibitions that I would like to see in the coming weeks in Austin.

In its "New Works" section, the Austin Museum of Art has Luke Savisky on view through May 9th. In his light installation Savisky uses film and digital projections to converse a light pose on the white wall of the galley. I like to see if this light projection, which sounds like an abstract dancing pose on the wall, will transform the space. I am interested in the transformation of the space. So I will walk into this show with an active expectation!

Desire will be on view through April 25, at the Blanton Museum of Art. Desire presents explorations on the concept of 'desire' by different artists in various mediums. Also at the Blanton, there is Manuel Álvarez Bravo and His Contemporaries, a photography show. The photographs are selected from the Harry Ransom Center photo archive and the Blanton museum collection. The show will be on view until the end of July.

Women and Their Work is featuring Kathryn Kelley’s work through April 15th. Kelley transforms urban waste and makes art installations: “treading where no one hears the echo of her foot fall.” I have been always interested in this process of art making, when the borderline between everyday life and art is minimized via a creative transformation. I did some work on Tim Nobel and Sue Webster, whose works are different in the medium but similar in the concept. My recent piece on Nobel and Webster was published in the English section of Peyk 125: Turning Garbage to Art; Shadow Sculptures by Tim Noble and Sue Webster.

And tomorrow I am going to the opening of Alison Kuo’s exhibition at the SOFA gallery.

I have been so busy with the school that I missed a bunch of good shows in Austin. So I thought if I do not make a public claim on some gallery trips, I would miss more exhibitions. Voilà !

Detail of treading where no one hears the echo of her foot fall
by Kathryn Kelley

Our Green Nowruz!

2010-03-20T12:33:00.007-04:00

Happy Nowruz!
Happy Persian New Year!
Happy Spring!
Happy Green!

The Year of Patience & Resistance for Iran!
Stay Awake with Iran !

The Poetry of My Digital Life!

2010-03-17T00:06:00.004-04:00

How digital my poetic life is,

How cold, print-like and flat!

How digital have become my eyes, my lips and my memory?

No trace of ink on my fingers, when I struggle
to touch on the soul of a faraway spring,
or the fear of a spring to come!

And when a phrase tickles my mind
and pours out of me,
I am often looking at the crowded road,
Surrounded by the scent of American highways,

And there is no scratch, no friction, no stroke,
when I materialize on a fake digital page.

Frozen, like a narrow creek in a harsh winter,
this is how digital my poetic life is, at the beginning of the spring!

One of Those Days

2010-03-14T03:04:00.008-04:00

One of those days,
When no one is left, but the streets are crowded,

One of those days,
When the hope is gone, but the day still goes on,

One of those days,
When dreaming is scary, but the bed is warm,

It is one of those days of the spring break!

Spring 2008, Princeton

Voices in Green!

2010-03-04T15:17:00.004-05:00

Voices In Green

Creative Practices in Response to the 2009 Iranian Presidential Election

February 19 – March 5 2010
FAB Galley
Join us for the closing gathering of Voices in Green, Friday March 5th at 6:30PM,

Take a last look at Voices in Green.
Please join us for the closing gathering of Voices in Green on Friday March 5th at 6:30PM in the FAB gallery, located on the lower level of the Doty Fine Arts Building. There will be a review and a gallery talk followed by Q&A. After the closing discussion on March 5th, Voices in Green will continue to celebrate at the Dog and Duck Pub . Voices in Green is an archival exhibition focusing on art and activism around the Iranian Green Movement. These works were created after the crisis of the 2009 Iranian presidential election and all of them were distributed online.

Related Links:
Department of Art and Art History: Closing reception for Voices in Green exhibition at FAB Gallery

Take a Green Look at:

2010-02-19T02:37:00.009-05:00

Voices In Green

Creative Practices in Response to the 2009 Iranian Presidential Election
February 19 – March 5 2010

FAB Gallery

Please join us for the opening of Voices in Green in the FAB Gallery on February 19th at 5PM.

Voices in Green is an archival exhibition focusing on art and activism around the Iranian Green Movement. These works were created after the crisis of the 2009 Iranian presidential election and all of them were distributed online. Voices in Green will be on view from February 19th to March 5th in the FAB gallery, located on the lower level of the Doty Fine Arts Building.

Black Abstraction!

2010-02-16T01:29:00.009-05:00

How I hate traveling!
I lose my little things.
How I hate iron tubs!
I lose my colorful little things.

That's how I've lost them,
Two sticker butterflies, two Eastern tiger swallowtails.

When I first noticed my butterflies are not there
On the black of my notebook,
I looked out of that hateful window of the cylindrical iron giant that happens to fly.
I looked with a childish hope that they are out there,
Flying above the white clouds.

But,
Of course,
They were not out there.

So my eyes wondered around the airplane,
I searched and searched; Nothing!
Hopelessly I started asking people,
Secretly thankful to my good look and my now improved English,
So no one would notify a shrink on emergency call - at least not immediately.

I asked them seat by seat,
“Have you seen my butterflies?”
I asked myself “Where are my butterflies?”
Nostalgically reminded of the past summer,
When, in now a faraway country, people went round and round shouting, “where is my vote?”

Here I was looking for two fake butterflies,
So I can stick them back to the vacant blackness of my frightened notebook.

And when I got some nasty pitiful looks from my puzzled fellow-travelers,
I came back to where I first noticed them gone.

And it is like this that I hate traveling.
I lose the things that once made me the happiest girl with curly hair on earth.
And that is like this that I hate faraway places.
I know there will be no butterflies on my notebook when I get back home.

I didn’t know what really happened to my sticky butterflies;
How I lost them, or how they decided to leave!

But I could imagine,
And yes, I can imagine well,

Like me, perhaps,
With broken pride and wings paralyzed with throes,
They could not take the humiliation of phoniness,
At least not on their being,
At least not on their love,

And I could imagine,
When the butterflies of my childish happiness,
Drew back from the darkness of my notes on Greenberg and abstraction,
The garden of my naiveté
Transformed to the black of réalité.

No more butterflies,
No more colorful stickers,
No more, I thought.
Nothing phony can refine the childish sincerity by sticking to it!

And that's how I stuck with the black of abstraction!

Black Abstraction, Georgia O’Keeffe, 1927

CAA 2010: 2nd Glance

2010-02-13T13:45:00.005-05:00

Chicago is not getting warmer, but it has not been as cold as expected. Daily panels and discussions, museum and gallery visits during lunchtime and afternoon breaks, and evening drinks is a good précis of my 4 days of CAA 2010 Conference in Chicago. Other than the usual art historian’s snobbishness and some hyper-intellectual-after-session discussions there is nothing much to gossip about. The most crowded and well-discussed panel so far has been Intention and Interpretation part I. (part II will be this afternoon)

I miss Zeitoon. I just hope to return to Austin soon. I will have a very exciting week ahead with the installation of Voices in Green, the archival exhibition that I am curating.

Bird's Flight, Jean Dubuffet, September 1959
The Art Institute of Chicago

Scattered on CAA2010

2010-02-10T17:17:00.005-05:00

In Chicago. It snows. Tired of airports. My mind is freezing. Missing my chubby cat.

Just picked up my conference badge. I feel sheepish wearing the badge around my neck; wish there were ID pins.

Already marked the session I am interested in; my list is much shorter than last year. Tomorrow I would like to check out two morning panels: Post-Duchamp, Post Production (Media in Art Theory and Pedagogy) and Future of Criticism. In the afternoon, I will check the open session on Surrealism and one talk on the Modernism & Collectivism panel.

Like always there are some sessions starting at 7:30AM and like always I feel bad for their organizers. In the middle of the winter, in Chicago, at 7:30AM; not everyone is staying at the conference hotel!

I look forward to meeting Professor H. It is a year since I’ve seen her last. Have lots of things to tell her; many sad things on Iran and some progressive professional news.

CAA 2010 Conference Blog

Pouring!

2010-02-03T11:23:00.004-05:00

It is a feeling, before the first drop falls,
It is a feeling, sharp, crisp, awake,

It is a feeling in the throat,
A feeling of rain,
Just before the tears pour down!

Pouring, Austin, Feb. 3rd 2010

Last Week of January in Austin:

2010-01-23T14:20:00.008-05:00

Just a quick post to let you know what is happening in Austin in the last week of January.

Tonight the Creative Research Lab has the opening reception for their first exhibition in 2010. Ideas of Mountains is a group exhibition with concentration on large scale installations. The exhibition will be on view until February 6th. Ideas of Mountains features 11 pieces by artists affiliated with Austin and/or the Department of Art and Art History at UT. I am exited to see the installations by Mark Aguhar, Andrew Long and Kendra Kinsey. For more info check the Creative Research Lab website, which, to be honest, is not so user friendly. Come and enjoy the the first night of this exhibition!

Ideas of Mountains
January 23 - February 6, 2010
Opening Reception: January 23, 6:00-9:00 PM
Artists Talk: January 28, 6:30-8:00 PM
Creative Research Lab: 2832 East Martin Luther King, Jr. Austin

Convulsive!

2010-01-19T01:26:00.010-05:00

The spring semester will start tomorrow at UT. I hope for a very green semester; Green with all of its metaphors!

I have two classes and an advance reading tutorial course with my advisor. My January so far was challenging and experimental. I was part of a compact course offered by Anhoek School; Accidental Pornographies - the Visual Effects of the American Women's Health Movement Since 1970. The class discussions made the challenge worthwhile. Besides my accidental course, I prepared, wrote and rewrote the labels for my coming exhibition. I will write about that in detail in another post.

I will end this post with a couple of lines from André Breton’s autobiographical novel, Nadja:

“Beauty is like a train that ceaselessly roars out of the Gare de Lyon and which I know will never leave, which has not left. It consists of jolts and shocks many of which do not have much importance, but which we know are destined to produce one Shock, which does. Which has all the importance I do not want to arrogate to myself. In every domain the mind appropriates certain rights, which it does not possess. Beauty, neither static nor dynamic. The human heart, beautiful as a seismograph. Royalty of silence. […] Beauty will be CONVULSIVE or will not be at all.”*

Nadja Cover

* Breton, Nadja 1928, trans. R.Howard, Grove Press New York (1960), pp. 159-160.
** Please note that the italic words, capital letters and different fonts in Breton's writings are important. I have not changed them.

My Letters to Rilke – Number 4

2010-01-12T04:38:00.007-05:00

Dear R,

Your fig tree,
The one that meant a lot to you,
What happened to it,
What came of the hero?

My fig tree,
The one I grew up with,
The one that hid the boy next door among its wide leaves,
The one that I marked my little brother’s height on,
The fig tree that was so real then, is now only a dream!

No blossoms,
No hero,
Just a dream,
A dream that I cannot even share with a child I will never have!

Fig Tree, Paul Klee

*Inspired by Rainer Maria Rilke's Duino Elegie (the sixth elegy) part of the Letters to Rilke, my sequence in process.

Sneak a Peek

2010-01-08T22:31:00.016-05:00

Petrified, Photo by Roja Najafi
Hearst Castle, CA, October 2007

Liberty in Tears, Photo by Roja Najafi
NY, May 2008

Is No Right, Photo by Roja Najafi
Graffiti on Lord & Taylor Billboard,
NJ Transit Train Station, Princeton , April 2008

* Three photographs from Fragmented Close-up, a 17-piece photography collection; Anyone interested in exhibiting these babies?

PS. Fragmented Close-up was my two-year photography project (2007-2009) which was completed on December 2009. I thought it was clear that I am the photographer. Just to prevent the confusion I wrote the complete title with the photographer's name.

Green Horizon!

2009-12-31T23:36:00.011-05:00

I ran into the field,
Dallas, that ugly giant corps, was a shadow in a distance.

I ran and ran
Letting the mud have a fight with my boots,
Miles of unreachable horizon and the muddiest ranch on earth!

I ran to the taste of blood on my lips,
To the weeping of my lungs!

I ran to that unreachable horizon,
To maybe find something green in this muddy farm!

I ran and ran to the unreachable horizon,
My lips bled,
My lungs wept,
I ran to the end of my green hope,
Horizon was still in the distance!

Happy New Year! (Design credit Rahe Sabz)

Kitchen Haiku!

2009-12-24T04:35:00.003-05:00

In the little jungle on the kitchen table,
The wild flowers were the only survivors.

The tulip was the first to go!

October 2007, California

Not A Fish Fossil!

2009-12-18T17:45:00.008-05:00

The semester is over. Maybe I should say its ‘demanding part’ is over, for the work of a grad student is never-ending. These days I am mostly working on my exhibition project. It is very exciting and I hope it engages the viewer with the same excitement. Unlike the show project, my study on Dubuffet goes slowly. Dubuffet’s writings are very poetic and full of short witty segments. Take a look at a couple of them in adoration of lively, dynamic and unconventional art:

A Fish Fossil
As its timeliness retreats, a human work becomes what a fish fossil is to a fish. Please don’t hold it against me, but in my fish tank I prefer the humblest, the commonest, of ablets,* so long as it’s alive (and delirious to be alive), to the most illustrious fish fossil.

Necrophobia
A man asks for a companion, and he is brought the mummy of Thais. The most gorgeous woman in ancient Egypt, he is told. She doesn’t interest him he would rather have a live girl; the maid, for instance.**

Out of the Frying Pan, into the Fire
It’s funny to note how much the artists of today*** worry about the durability of their works. Things have gone so far that artists are denying themselves all bright and dazzling colors, because these colors might eventually tarnish. These ones prefer to paint in dull hues right away. Does the intoxication involved in art harmonize with such inhibitions? Many painters fully cognizant of the reason, work hard at bland but durable pieces rather than at more pleasurable ones, which they fear will last only ten years instead of fifty.****

Woman Trying on a Hat' (1943), by Jean Dubuffet

* Ablet is a small fresh-water fish.
** It is ironic that a couple of days ago the news of Louvre returning five fresco fragments to Egypt came out.
*** Dubuffet wrote these around 1945. I am wondering how much of it (importance of the durability of an art piece) is true for the artists of today – our today, the 3rd millennium today?
**** Dubuffet’s paintings in the 40s have vivid colors. Later, in the 50s his work becomes thick and monochromic, but he never used fade colors. (The quotes are from: Dubuffet, Jean, Notes for the Well-Read, trans. Neugroschel, 1945, in Jean Dubuffet Towards an Alternative Reality, Pace Publications inc., NY, 1987.)

Unbreakable!

2009-12-06T03:07:00.005-05:00

A knot exhausted by the playful forces of her fingers
Gave up, unraveled itself to her eager hands.

A lost battle from the beginning.
Like believing in something, knowing it would break!

The knot, not a knot any more,
Only a piece of string resting on her lap,
No hope of wining the already lost game,
And no playful force in her tired fingers!

She picked the string up and began making an unbreakable knot!

Wrestling with the Tides

2009-11-25T17:56:00.007-05:00

...
and that’s how I came to be here;
waiting in the never-ending corridors,
looking for a lost key,

buried in the unreachable time between two oceans,
dusty and wild from the invisible wrestling with the tides,
and the pain of a long-broken bone that won’t heal on its own!

That is how I came to be here!

October 2007, CA

Out of the Ordinary!

2009-11-18T01:25:00.007-05:00

It is that time of the semester again; the time of missing notes, headaches, reading chunks of articles, scattered paper all over, empty toners, sick cats,...

One of my papers is due next week. That is the earliest. I hope to finish it by weekend. Don’t want to have much on my hands on December. But the research goes slowly. I feel like I am trapped in a loop. It is really not my style. I will be miserable until I find a way out of the loop.

I should fix BibiHureyh. I have already made an appointment to get an estimate for the repair of the monitor. Without the appointment it will get them 2 days to just give an estimate. I don't know how long it gets in other computer shops, I expected Apple to be faster.

My recent article for Peyk, Art & Healing; One step into Flutter, an exhibition by Connie Arismendi, is available on pdf (English section, Peyk 124). I haven’t got the copy of the magazine yet. That makes me wonder which side is not doing the job well, the sender or the post office in Austin.

But more important than my ordinary updates, is FRONTLINE report on Neda Agha Soltan’s death in Tehran. A Death in Tehran was aired last night, Nov.17th 2009, on PBS. Please watch it and share it with others. It's worth your time. (Introduction)