I was drawn to this painting as soon as I walked into the gallery. It’s taken from a family photo and the men are the artist’s uncles. Her family are from Tehran and Shiraz, but she is born in Christchurch, New Zealand.
There is a story there. I don’t know what it is, but you can see it in the body language of the men, the way they stare at the camera. One of them looks as if he is holding something, but you can’t tell what it is. I don’t think they’ve been caught ‘red-handed’. Or, maybe they have. Maybe their meeting was clandestine. It’s equally possible they’re simply catching up over coffee or tea. There is something about the splash of red on the wall in the background that suggests something deeper is at play here.
I could’ve asked the artist what the two men had been talking about or why they had met that day. But maybe she doesn’t know either. Maybe she’s never met her uncles. There were many things I could have asked, that I wanted to ask, that maybe I had no right to ask.
Whatever is going on, I’m grateful the artist chose to share it with us.
It is often in the small and simple things where we find the answer to who we are :)
Home is where the heart is!
Autumn breeze clearing the mind
To live is not this!
He was happy he'd decided to go
I'm stuck here in a society that doesn't let me be where I need to be. Held back by the people who birthed me, by the people who learned me, by the people who will bury me when I have lived my shitty, cynical life. I have three options, One which would bring joy to me that I have not seen in a long time, one which would give me the opportunity for me to be possibly the happiest ever happy in the future, and one which would break me apart. Most likely I will have to choose the latter. The one that will break me. The society that we have created will break me, just like it has broken you without you even knowing. We sit behind our computers, reading other peoples stories because we have none to tell. I am not free,if I go out and find a drink, I get arrested. If I go to the orchard nearby, I get arrested. If I try and build a house on some land that I think looks suitable to raise my family in, I get arrested. Is this how life is meant to be? Is this how we started? Is this how we will end? This may not make complete sense, but that's because it's come right from my heart. I hate western society.
Good luck living in a world like this. I'm off to Alaska.
The farmer's beads
The weight of a memory