Arts & LiteratureART Paintings
A letter from a child of the revolution
Don't blame Mother Earth, she damns humanity tonight ART Paintings
You sit by the window. You are not tall, not short, and not unfriendly. You have half a smile. You have ordered orange juice, a pack of cigarettes you won't smoke, a cup of coffee for the girl who will not come to you. I am a wife, a mother, and I can't be yours. You can't be mine. I see pearls in the dew. I smell roses, honesty. I can't betray those who love me and I love them. I love you. The river streams up my eyes. I watch you drink your drink. I watch you not smoke that cigarette. I watch you walk out of the room. You are gone >>>
It's with a heavy heart that I write to tell you that my friend Farrokh Ghaffary died in Paris yesterday. For the last couple of years he had not been in the greatest health. Still, in July, when I visited him, he was witty and charming and as usual regaled me with a wealth of stories, the likes of which we shall now never hear from anyone else. Farrokh's career, which took him from Iran to the Cinematheque, working with Langlois, back to Iran, where he founded the first film archive, and then went on to head the Iranian television was rich. His two films Jonoubeh Shahr and Night of the Hunchback are both considered masterpieces. His knowledge of film, literature and theater and his understanding of the intersection of the West's culture with Iran's was also sans pareil, as the French would say >>> PHOTOGRAPHY Photo essay: Self-portrait NATURE Photo essay: Yosemite and Joshua Tree, California Paintings
“Oh, Condi! Vow, hi! Big sooprise!” (It is the beginning to look like the evening through the windows, and Ali and his lovely wife are seated in an unremarkable kitchen in front of a kitchen table for four that just functioned both as the prep and dining area for their dinner. A good meal has just been eaten, and a bottle or two of bootleg wine has been drunk. The kitchen windows and back door are open to a purple sky. Ali sits languidly on his chair, possibly listening to the music from the stereo and/or his wife’s conversation, or neither. Every now and again, he nods his head downward slowly, his eyelids touching each time he does so. The phone on the kitchen counter rings once, twice, three times, and by the fourth ring Ali has gotten up and -- grudgingly -- answered) >>>
The essential problem lies in the fact that Barks intentionally changes Rumi, perhaps for the better, but at the expense of distortion and misrepresentation Barks who does not know Persian, first rewrites some of the old translations in English. Then, by using an unpublished John Moyne's translation on one hand, and with the blessing of a Sri Lankan sufi saint living in the US, Bowa Muhaiyaddeen on the other hand, Barks publishes a new English version of rumi in free verse. No doubt that Coleman Barks's version of Rumi has released these poems from the confines of Departments of Near Eastern Studies but unfortunately, as we will see, he has tied them in the cage of his personal taste. He approaches Rumi's poetry as sacred texts, which need to be dusted from the passage of times by a touched devotee and prepared for the Post Modern, New Age market in the West. The New Age movement finds a remedy for modern alienation in old recipes, such as horoscope, Extra-Sensory Perception and divination >>> ART Paintings
Bringing Persian dance to the masses With all the negativity surrounding Iranians and Iran these days, there is little that is obviously optimistic. Who we really are is often masked by those desperate to drag us into their bitter feuds and hostile intentions. So it is wonderful when a truly inspiring story comes along. Niosha Nafei is a Bay Area Iranian Community icon. But before I get to that let me tell you what she does. Niosha Dance Academy (NDA) has been teaching young and older students, various traditional classical, and modern Persian Dance since 1991 >>> ART Paintings: New exhibition at Urasoe Art Museum, Japan POETRY A halo in the candlelight
For Esmail Khoie, Iranian poet in exile
Chegooneh az zendegi safar mikoni?
Tabeedgaah daaneshgaahe man ast
Bar baale andisheh baa to parvaaz mikonam
If the rain of your love, doesn't pour on me
Coloneli az tabaare ashpazaan
Donya beh raahe naan o riya miravad hanooz
I feel as if all the neighbours have migrated to the moon
You are the plight
And I am the tree of Diaspora, linking you to stars
You can't enter my world, darling
Zibaae doraane mahkoomiyatash raa migozaraanad
With majestic colors of red and orange leaves
I wonder where am I? BEACH Photo essay: Day out on the beach in Northern California HAIKU For my daughter Parmis
(or Mom’s Birthday)
Az heech hast shodam
Khooneye khaali cheh roozaa ro beh yaadam miaareh
Donyaaye koochaki daashtam
Vatan aanjaast keh behtar ast
Take a bath in the sun's rays
The triangle finally succeeded!
After Mostafa Tabatabainejad was ejected from UCLA library using a Taser-gun
Gliding over your sudden looks, which always melts my heart
"Shiraz my beloved" and "Remembering summers in Shiraz"
Don't get tangled in lies or unanswered prayers FOOD Photo essay: Food in Iran I decided to go on a major diet before our trip to Iran this fall. I knew I’d be exposed to a lot of colorful foods that I would not be able to resist, so I lost 15lbs. I managed to gain back about 4lbs - but it was well worth it! WARNING! Viewing NOT recommended on an empty stomach! >>>
Short story The moment I heard the phone ring I picked it up -- something I don’t usually do. I always examine caller ID to see if I recognize the caller first; but I had a good feeling about this one. After hearing the caller’s voice I knew I was right. I begin the story from this point because of a promise I made to her later... After a brief greeting, and before letting me say anything, she invited me to dinner at her house. Stunned by her invitation, I enthusiastically responded,
This film is about more than just the heroism witnessed in Bam In a short time after the film began, I came to realize that it was largely the story of Adelle Freedman and Tobb Del Oro. At first, I wondered how their personal tragedy squared with the loss of 50,000 lives of anonymous Persians, who were only a statistic in the USA, but as I listened to Jahangir Golestan state his mission with emotion and a sense of earnestness and urgency, I came to understand that he too shared the same goal that Tobb and I had shared. The use of this American couple in his film, was that of a pair of goodwill ambassadors not to Iran but to America. This couple could reach into the hearts of the American public bringing behind them in tow, the message that the Persians are a very kind and generous people, with a rich culture and with much too offer the common humanity of the entire world >>> Photo essay: San Francisco exhibit "Beyond Persia Artists" A group seven of Bay Area artists, who refer to themselves as “Beyond Persia Artists” and will tell you that they are the pioneer group in Northern California, have made it easy for us to track such social change. Having little in common except their Persian roots and obvious love of art, the comparison/contrast in their work underscores a mix of western influence in a style that is still decidedly Persian. Or by contrast, western looking art, that betrays only hints of their Persian past, like little gems interspersed in a treasure hunt. At its best, the work of these individuals is truly bi-cultural and because of that has arguably created a new genre in contemporary art -- but certainly a turning point in Iranian art: it is “Iranian American art” >>> STUDIO Photo essay: Eel Pie Island, London TRAVELERS Photo essay: Iran people & places PHOTOGRAPHY Photo essay: What my eyes see PHOTOGRAPHY Photo essay: Iran book project ART Latest watercolors
... and more LITERATURE Photo essay: International Festival in Celebration of Freedom of Expression EPIC Photo essay: The Epic of Gilgamesh
Reading various obituaries on Robert Altman since yesterday, an item frequently mentioned is that despite a prolific career, he never won an Oscar (except for the Honorary Lifetime Achievement Award last year). Since my feelings about award shows can best be summed up by Woody Allen ("What's with all these awards? They're always giving out awards. Best Fascist Dictator: Adolf Hitler"), to me, the fact that Altman was left out of the Oscar race only adds to his prestige. He joins the ranks of Alfred Hitchcock and Charlie Chaplin, and leaves those coveted directing statues to Mel Gibson and Barry Levinson. Robert Altman, for me, is one of the true Hollywood rebels. How he did not become a phony and instead, he maintained an ironic distance and poignant self-awareness throughout his career is totally amazing >>> ASTROPHOTOGRAPHY CASPIAN
WAR TRAVELERS ART
The hit film Borat is more than just a great comedy (and definitely my favorite comedy of all times), it has become a cultural phenomenon. Usually, catch phrases are the domain of TV shows like Seinfeld but nowadays, it is not unusual to overhear people of all races, classes, and age act out entire scenes from the film, whether it is the fictional songs of Korki Kochek, or one of Borat's famous "high fives." ... Borat can hardly be described by comparison to any previous characters in film or literature. There has been no one like him, at least with this mainstream success and worldwide appeal. Sasha Baron Cohen can at best be considered the love child of Peter Sellers and Andy Kaufman. That is not to say that he mimics these classic actors, only that they paved the way for him, and he has of course taken their satirical outlook to heights previously unseen >>> TRAVELERS LONDON ART ART
ART
I have been living in your sterile, white world for a month now. As I am sitting across from you, waiting for them to wheel you in, I cannot tell if you are smiling back at my sorry attempt at feigned happiness or frowning, because the yellow hospital mask is a shroud over your mouth. I can feel the tears again so I have to stop. Think. Think. THINK. Come on- think of something happy. Something beautiful. Colorful, real thoughts to distract from the white sterility that surrounds us. I don't have to, because I see the corners of your eyes crinkle into a smile. Your smile. The same one from when we were little girls years ago. Your smile always makes me smile, and again you save me >>>
CONCERT
They declared me unfit. I agreed wholeheartedly SEASONS Photo essay: Autumn in Canada's west coast ART Paintings
Imagining a different world, is the first step in creating change First name, Persian. Last name, Armenian. Born in Iran, raised in Boston, found love in San Francisco. In Iran, people always asked: Are you Iranian or Armenian? In the US they ask: Are you Moslem or Christian. I always give the same answer: Both. For years I worked in hospitals and laboratories. Then decided to change careers and focus on Theatre. Adding one more dichotomy to my identity, that of the scientist versus the artist. When people ask which are you? I answer: Both. Healing may be more possible through the Arts. To complete my Masters degree from San Francisco State University, I had to write a thesis or direct a production. And so it happened that my Masters’ project became Golden Thread’s first production >>> CHILDREN Photo essay: Children of Afghanistan
Based on a true story It was another hot August morning in Tehran, choked with thick smog. Gordia was sitting on a long cement bench beside a bunch of Kurdish and Afghani men under a noisy highway bridge. She was forty-two years old with short, straight salt and pepper hair, and in men’s clothing. She looked like a nineteen year-old boy and everyone on the street knew her as Gol-Agha. She placed one leg over the other and lit a second cigarette. Most of the men were carrying small bags of heroine or lighter drugs for sale. She sometimes went there to buy heroine for her addicted friend, Sudi. This time, she had not yet seen Ardalan, the Kurdish man who knew her as an occasional customer. She took a drag of her cigarette and blew the smoke out into the sunrays, watching it curl away in the deafening street noise >>>
A few days ago I got my signed copy of Reza Ordoubadian's "The Poems of Hafez". It is a collection of 202 ghazals translated into English. And I did what every Iranian does with Hafez: tap into his infinite wisdom with a faal: THREE
We need a bigger boat
I have turned within
I have two windows in my room
Hamin emrooz raa naghd mikhaaham
I have two windows in my room URBAN Photo essay: In the streets of London
When you can't hum your favorite song |
