Mohammad Ghazali
The Red Ribbon (detail), 2008
Gelatin silver print, oil paint, matboard
“This is a nightmare. I’m sure it is. I’m trapped in inescapable crypts with no way out. These are dungeons. But wait…there is a window. Someone’s behind it. I call to him. Looks like he’s dead. He’s been hanged, I guess. Maybe he’s a ghost. Never mind. There are plenty more people here. But none have heads; why? Their heads were cut off and thrown into the green dungeon. These other ones have heads. Forget it. They’re still scary. They scare the hell out of you. What if they’re the same beheaded ones…they’re dead. They’ve turned into ghosts…that are why the city is deserted. There’s no one left. But one is recurrent. I’m not sure if he’s familiar or if recurrence instills a sense of familiarity. In one place he’s twenty-three, in another place his head is cut off and thrown next to the crypt, in another place he…I know him. No, this is not a nightmare. This is not a deserted city. These are not dungeons. None of these are people. They are photographs. This is Mohammad Ghazali.” - Text by Niloufar Motaref
One Day: A Collective Narrative of Tehran - A project organized by Taraneh Hemami & Ghazaleh Hedayat
November 4, 2009 - January 23, 2010
Intersection for the Arts
San Francisco, CA
The Red Ribbon (detail), 2008
Gelatin silver print, oil paint, matboard
“This is a nightmare. I’m sure it is. I’m trapped in inescapable crypts with no way out. These are dungeons. But wait…there is a window. Someone’s behind it. I call to him. Looks like he’s dead. He’s been hanged, I guess. Maybe he’s a ghost. Never mind. There are plenty more people here. But none have heads; why? Their heads were cut off and thrown into the green dungeon. These other ones have heads. Forget it. They’re still scary. They scare the hell out of you. What if they’re the same beheaded ones…they’re dead. They’ve turned into ghosts…that are why the city is deserted. There’s no one left. But one is recurrent. I’m not sure if he’s familiar or if recurrence instills a sense of familiarity. In one place he’s twenty-three, in another place his head is cut off and thrown next to the crypt, in another place he…I know him. No, this is not a nightmare. This is not a deserted city. These are not dungeons. None of these are people. They are photographs. This is Mohammad Ghazali.” - Text by Niloufar Motaref
One Day: A Collective Narrative of Tehran - A project organized by Taraneh Hemami & Ghazaleh Hedayat
November 4, 2009 - January 23, 2010
Intersection for the Arts
San Francisco, CA
