shepherd of the forest ABBAS KIAROSTAMI 170 L ike sturdy pillars of elephant feet, a row of five tree trunks stands in a silent, solemn procession. They are witnesses of a time past; their wide trunks, vaults of secrets; their agedness, a command for respect; their stat- ure, dignified. And within Abbas Kiarostami’s Untitled work from his Trees and Crows series, sits a titular crow, bathed in sunshine. A crow? That vengeful creature, a cousin of vultures, known to lurk above battlegrounds which reek of death? That menacing bird, owed its black feathers, ac- cording to Greek mythology, by Apollo – who, having given his lover a white crow to guard her – discovers her infidelity and in his wrath, curses the bird, charring its feathers black. A crow? Com- panion of witches and malevolent crones? Even in the English language, the collective noun for a group of crows is a ‘murder’. And yet, in whatever ominous and sinister guise crows are present- ed as – in religious texts, mythology, literature and lore – in one fell swoop, Kiarostami seeming- ly inverts Apollo’s curse and, bathed in sunlight, the crow is now absolved of all evil. For Kiaros- tami, it is not a disturber of the peace but rather, an essential element in this serene, idyllic setting. FRAGIlE CREATURES All of the above may hold true, but it is not Kiarostami’s intention to impose a narrative. “The sym- bolism is inherent in the being of the tree and the crow, but I don’t approach them as symbols,” he explains, “I approach them for the purity of their being, observing the interaction between them.” Ad- vertising theory states that the most challenging task for advertisers is altering perception and then modifying behaviour as a result. And yet, in his rendering of the crow, altering perceptions seems to come all too easily for the internationally acclaimed Iranian filmmaker, photographer and poet. He admits that it is a “completely cerebral process and relationship”, but he humbly maintains that pROFIlE Over 40 films, three books and 50 photo exhibitions later, Iran’s resplendent scenery continues to feed the creativity of this Iranian filmmaker, poet and photographer. Myrna Ayad meets the legendary Abbas Kiarostami and discusses his trees, crows and roads, as well as the spirituality that links them altogether. Opening spread: Untitled from the Roads series. 1978–2004. Photographic print on canvas. 140 x 220 cm. Edition one of one. Image courtesy the artist and Meem Gallery. This spread: Untitled from the Snow White series. 1978–2004. Photographic print on canvas. 164.5 x 257 cm. Edition one of one. Image courtesy the artist and Meem Gallery. 171 “I wanted to memorise the moment and then share it. Through this, a dialogue is born.” he is a mere “observer”. One could argue that Kiarostami believes in the psychological con- cept of conditioning. I recount a childhood story, when, frightened at the sight of a crow sitting on a pole, I threw a stone at it. It had never forgotten it. “It would have been very different for you, if the moment before you threw that stone, some- one explained to you that the crow is sensitive,” smiles Kiarostami, “throwing a stone at any other being would have gotten the same reaction.” If this is the case, Apollo’s crow is not a culprit, for it was erroneously blamed for not causing harm to the adulterer and not for anything it actually did. “This is not just about the crow, it’s about a way of life,” adds Kiarostami, “if it didn’t forget the stone you threw, then it wouldn’t forget your kindness either.” He goes on to explain the ne- cessity of harmony in universal interaction and how, through “looking at things with a different set of eyes”, we can “treat the world differently and see things beautifully”. He laughs. “If an item of luggage is valuable enough to put a ‘fragile’ sticker on it to warn people of its fragility, then human beings are all the more fragile and so is the crow.” BEHOldInG BEAUTy Known for this expansive photographs depict- ing nature, particularly trees and roads, Trees and Crows , while a wistfully evocative message that harks at the passage of time, was the first series in which Kiarostami did not reveal the sky. Strange, perhaps, since the sky is the crow’s territory and, 173 as viewers, its absence seemingly makes the crow a mysterious creature to us, one almost confined to the ground. The series is shot from the ground, and more specifically, from Tehran’s Saadabad palace, home of the Shahs of the Qajar dynasty and later, the pahlavi monarchy. Kiarostami re- gales me with an anecdote involving an actor he knew, who was playing the role of nasser Al-din Shah and took a stroll around the palace grounds, dressed as the Qajar ruler. Suddenly, crows gath- ered around him. These birds have an impressive lifespan – some living up to 50 years. In a sense, like the trees, they become observers of history, and so, they remember. Kiarostami marries the symbolism of both subjects – trees and crows are silent observers of the passage of time. In 2005, the V&A staged Kiarostami’s first-ever exhibition in the UK, showcasing the photograph- ic series, Trees in Snow , alongside the installation, Trees Without Leaves , especially made for the show. Kiarostami plastered massive, hollow tubes with life-sized images of tree trunks. In doing so, he took the trees out of the forest and brought the forest to the V&A and, in taking nature out of its context, forced viewers to observe it with much more attention than they perhaps other- wise would. Trees in Snow , like all of his series, was a result of Kiarostami’s long walks in search of film locations. The turmoil that enveloped Iran follow- ing the Islamic Revolution in 1979 threatened to halt Kiarostami’s work, a development which, in turn, afforded him the time to travel around his native land. The scenes he observed were over- whelming and photographing them necessary to “share the beauty” he beheld. “There were mo- ments that would bring me so much awe,” he says, “I couldn’t bear the burden of witnessing it alone and that is probably the main purpose of my photography – to capture a moment and share it because its beauty is unbearable to witness on your own.” A photograph is the physical imprint of a memory, which in turn, triggers a multitude of other memories. “That is exactly how it started. I didn’t want to forget,” Kiarostami smiles, “I want- ed to memorise the moment and then share it. Through this, a dialogue is born.” “I couldn’t bear the burden of witnessing [beauty] alone.” pROFIlE Facing page: Above: Untitled from the Life Through Windows series. 2008. Photographic print on canvas. 140 x 220 cm. Edition one of one. Image courtesy the artist. Below: Untitled from the Life Through Windows series. 2008. Photographic print on canvas. 140 x 220 cm. Edition one of one. Image courtesy the artist. This page: Untitled from the Trees and Crows series. 2007. Photographic print on canvas. 140 x 220 cm. Edition one of one. Image courtesy the artist and Meem Gallery. 174 175 This spread: Untitled from the Snow White series. 1978–2004 (signed and dated 1987). Photographic print on canvas. Triptych, total size: 164 x 255 cm. Edition one of one. Image courtesy the artist and Meem Gallery. 176 “I have continued to work as I was working before the Revolution, just like the trees in Pahlavi Street in Tehran have not changed and they still blossom.” THE pERpETUAl nOMAd The works in Trees in Snow instantly evoke sensa- tions of solitude and contemplation – perhaps a reflection of a state of being. An overriding emo- tion is suggested: through the recurring presence of the tree, a notion of meditation manifests itself, calling to mind a saying by the Arab Sufi philoso- pher and mystic, Ibn ‘Arabi, which Kiarostami cites – ‘the tree is the sister of man’. I ask Kiarostami if, through his photographs, he intends on com- municating a poem or a haiku. “If that happens, there would be a magnetism and it would be an achievement,” he says, “perhaps through these works, there would be a greater appreciation for haikus.” Stirred by the poetry of the late Modern Iranian painter and poet Sohrab Sepehri, whose oeuvre was largely inspired by nature, Kiarostami published a collection of his own poems in 1999. In 2002, Harvard University press published Ki- arostami’s Walking with the Wind , a bilingual (Farsi and English) collection of over 200 of his poems. poetry is a profoundly inherent aspect of Iranian society; almost a literary ‘rite of passage’, it is the fabric which binds together the various genres of art – from the visual and performing arts to mu- sic and beyond. Our conversation veers towards Iran’s revered poets – Hafez, Rumi and Khayyam, among others – and Contemporary Iranian so- ciety. “Rumi, for example, has more than 40,000 lines in one poem,” he says, “today’s youth don’t have time to read or appreciate this poetry.” In response, Kiarostami published his haikus in his books “because they are the essence” but more importantly, “to make them accessible, more of our time, thanks to their rhythm”. pROFIlE He trails the roads of Iran, often taking images of rain-splattered windscreens ( Life Through Win- dows ) or of walls blanketed with undergrowth; others of a solitary figure, almost dwarfed in the scenery ( Roads ), and some which feature scat- tered shadows. The images are always printed in large format – Kiarostami cannot bear to contain the immensity of nature. To confine it would al- most rob it of its worth. dEEp-ROOTEd I tell Kiarostami that the minimalism and simplicity in his photography, bring to mind Japanese aes- theticism. “It hasn’t been conscious,” he says, “but is one of the reasons why I was censored in Iran, the accusation being that I am ‘Western-minded’.” This page: Untitled from the Snow White series. 1978–2004. Photographic print on canvas. 164.5 x 257 cm. Edition one of one. Image courtesy the artist. Facing page: Untitled from the Trees and Crows series. 2007. Photographic print on canvas. 140 x 220 cm. Edition one of one. Image courtesy the artist and Meem Gallery. 177 Kiarostami is a celebrated figure in the West, hav- ing won accolade after accolade, including the Glory to the Filmmaker Award at the 2008 Ven- ice Film Festival; the Palme d’Or for Best Film for Taste of Cherry at the 45th Cannes International Film Festival (the film was also awarded Best Film of the Year by Time magazine in 1997) and Presi- dent of the Jury for the Caméra d’Or Award at the Cannes Festival in 2005. This year, Juliette Binoche won the Best Actress award at the Cannes Film Festival for her leading role in Kiarostami’s Certified Copy , set in Tuscany. And yet, despite conferred awards of his work at some of Iran’s film festivals, the Iranian government has, for over a decade, banned the screening of Kiarostami’s films in Iran. I remind him of something he once said: “When you take a tree that is rooted in the ground and transfer it from one place to another, the tree will no longer bear fruit and if it does, the fruit will not be as good as it was in its original place. This is a rule of nature. I think if I had left my country [after the Revolution], I would have been the same as the tree.” He smiles, nods his head in agreement and takes his trademark dark spectacles off for a second to rub his eyes. “I have taken the least influence from the Revolution,” he says, “I have continued to work as I was working before the Revolution, just like the trees in Pahlavi Street in Tehran have not changed and they still blossom, their leaves live each season.” Recently however, Kiarostami has announced that the political climate in Iran is forcing him to work overseas. It was a situation, he added, which “saddened” him. That in no way means that he has given in to censorship; on the contrary. “I would never accept for censorship to stop me from working or have to make certain films dictated by the censors,” he says, “you have to continue work- ing and find a way round it.” What of the artists who have fled Iran due to tighter restrictions? “I don’t think it’s acceptable that one would leave the country because of censorship, because then what would resistance mean?” he asks. Perhaps one man’s resistance is another man’s exile. But more importantly, Kiarostami is intrinsically tied to the Iranian landscape – just as he is a part of it, the photographs are, by default, a part of him. Abbas Kiarostami is showing Roads at Galerie Pangée in Montreal until 15 November. For more information visit www.galeriepangee.com and www.meem.ae