Mohammad GhazaliThe Red Ribbon (detail), 2008
Gelatin silver print, oil paint, matboard
This is a nightmare. Im sure it is. Im trapped in inescapable crypts with no way out. These are dungeons. But wait
there is a window. Someones behind it. I call to him. Looks like hes dead. Hes been hanged, I guess. Maybe hes 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. Theyre still scary. They scare the hell out of you. What if theyre the same beheaded ones
theyre dead. Theyve turned into ghosts
that are why the city is deserted. Theres no one left. But one is recurrent. Im not sure if hes familiar or if recurrence instills a sense of familiarity. In one place hes 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 HedayatNovember 4, 2009 - January 23, 2010
Intersection for the ArtsSan Francisco, CA