En | Fa

Exhibition : World In Exile


World In Exile 

 I stare at the world of still objects and roam in the land of light and color and shadow, such a vast and boundless range, the more I pass the more I find, a wordless extent that loses me in myself and surrounds all of my illusions, shocks and hidden fears , they are all scary bogies of my childhood, those delusive emptiness of  loneliness in those algebraic horrifying years of youth - which obligatorily passed by relief and deference and acquiesce - suddenly were revealed in awe of upside down statues and photos of  nothingness of my those years and this intersection of inside and outside became the beginning of the game war. Again through pending walls and collapsed fences my eyes stared at breathless bodies and became a photo and fell on dark dust.

I went to the cubical paths, in the search of my Kaaba among the deceitful Kaabas that had been shown us in those years, I entered to a slow and silent land without geography that its  architect was me where no one entered before I but out of  its monotonous order I became sleepwalking and again became a photo of mine and my world, till belongs to the eyes that have realized my eye-hint at the self discovered world of mine, so to be the only observer of my narration from this world of exile and not to be suspended and banished though the other kinds of objective reality but far from the city notes that we have lived by, not the implicit subordinates from the top.

World In Exile 

 I stare at the world of still objects and roam in the land of light and color and shadow, such a vast and boundless range, the more I pass the more I find, a wordless extent that loses me in myself and surrounds all of my illusions, shocks and hidden fears , they are all scary bogies of my childhood, those delusive emptiness of  loneliness in those algebraic horrifying years of youth - which obligatorily passed by relief and deference and acquiesce - suddenly were revealed in awe of upside down statues and photos of  nothingness of my those years and this intersection of inside and outside became the beginning of the game war. Again through pending walls and collapsed fences my eyes stared at breathless bodies and became a photo and fell on dark dust.

I went to the cubical paths, in the search of my Kaaba among the deceitful Kaabas that had been shown us in those years, I entered to a slow and silent land without geography that its  architect was me where no one entered before I but out of  its monotonous order I became sleepwalking and again became a photo of mine and my world, till belongs to the eyes that have realized my eye-hint at the self discovered world of mine, so to be the only observer of my narration from this world of exile and not to be suspended and banished though the other kinds of objective reality but far from the city notes that we have lived by, not the implicit subordinates from the top.