چقدر دورند سالهایی که لالایی موهایم را شانه می کرد و باد
در طره هایش آشیانه داشت.
دیگر حتی خورشید هم به
رویش لبخند نزد تا یلدای خزان به سپیدی گیسوانم گره خورد.
The Other Side
Far gone are the years when lullabies caressed my hair and the summer breeze
could call it home. And suddenly everything went dark… and now the only brightness
is the reflection of my own gray hair.
In Islam, when a girl reaches the age of nine, she has to cover her hair. Thirty-one
years onwards, when turning 40, I witnessed in sorrow my hair had started to
gray without ever having had the chance to be touched by the sun. This series of double sided self portraits portray a dual
image of this moment of my life; the front image through a veiling of the back
of the female’s hair, coupled with a fading of the black color saturation. The
reverse image, reflecting that what is always unseen and forgotten, through a
cover of handmade black and white silver gelatin emulsion, rendering the
exposed female hair as limp, wasted and useless.