Acrobat
Acrobat: a person who tries to keep his balance on a string to survive and reach to the end. He doesn't have any other choice and to survive he needs to go all straight on this string. With each step he risks his life so he needs to keep his balance to remain safe. But this string is something that he can't change. He can't take or choose another way. It has become the way of his life. It's like from outside they made him to “choose” this way of life. And around him he has all his obsessions, obligations, etc.. which he makes little by little with each step.
I grow up and I hate this ; for with each passing moment I am one step further from myself, struggling with the logic of thoughts. Thoughts which do not conform with the world inside.
This me is no longer myself ; I have been directed by thousands of directors. Each one for one of my parts.
I have read somewhere : » While humans, as infants, spend a couple of weeks in the « inside self « period and it appears like his relation with the world outside is limited to physiological transaction, he progresses in periods which lead him to logical thinking as an adult. » Isn't this the adolescence coiling around me like a cocoon?
It has been seen that I have been rotting for years under this blanket of chastity.
We've become old and they have fancied.
I am seen for a moment in the mirror; I see a cage, full of me; They break the mirror; Do not THINK!
We have lived and have been kept alive. All of us have been taken for nothing in uniformity. I turn back to emptiness; from the very first moment when I was in a womb; when I paid no tax for what I was; when the light of my being had no danger and they let me be. So good it was! They were not “worried” about me!!! When I was holding hands with my friend and they had no accuse for taking care of me beside him. They were planning for what to do with my tomorrow and my today!
I think, I doubt, I comprehend, I confirm, I reject, I want, I don't want, I imagine, I feel; like them, themselves. We are not separated; yet they count us separately...
Thank you for your devotion to us, to me. Thank you for not forgetting me, for surrounding me more and more with each passing moment, these threads which are not even silky!!! Thank you for not counting me in and hiding me from “any possible danger”...
Mehregan-29 june 2010
*This work starts with a picture of my mother when she was pregnant with me and continues with some of my childhood photos and ends with an actual picture of mine. You see a cord from my mother which is always accompanying me and at the end covers me.
This Work has been presented in Arles festival of Photography in 2017.
In This work we see a set of self portraits. The projector project a slideshow on the white image.
I've been replaying some images and states in my mind that till now, I hadn't dare to make them clear, and even now they are accompanied with fears and doubts.
Some clichés -those images and states- which have been made in my sprit, the battle between these clichés and my thoughts, between my inner world and the world outside. This inner world face to face with the world made by them, is filled with obsessions. In short, me too.
The TV set and its images have always been their way of manipulation to chant the obligations and the interdictions of life. To lock up the human behavior in the bars.
So then here, I use this box which is something controlled by the hands in power. But my images have been mixed with television snow since I'm still scared to put these fragments (of my sprit) orderly and clearly. So these fragments are unorganized and even sometimes, they are not connected with each other.
