the agony and the ecstasy rokni haerizadeh profile T E X T B Y M Y R N A A Y A D I M A G E S C O U R T E S Y O F B 2 1 G A L L E R Y A N D P R I V A T E C O L L E C T I O N S Ever the artistic critic of the contemporary Iranian social environment, Rokni Haerizadeh pieces together myth, literature and lore to weave an ironic and at times sarcastic reality. Yet, at the very heart of his painting is a continuous reach into the wealth that is Persian history. 106 he charmingly dishevelled shirtless man sporting a buttoned black blazer and slacks walked towards the front of the audience in the packed section of Gallery One at the Emirates Palace Hotel in Abu Dhabi. He had a boyish look about him and I could tell he was nervous; public speaking just did not seem like his ‘thing’. It was the concerned way in which his (obvious) posse, sitting in the front couple of rows, looked at him, that told me this was Rokneddin Haerizadeh, popularly, commercially and affectionately known as Rokni Haerizadeh. And there he stood, this herald of the surge that is Contemporary Iranian art, flanked by cultural power players Sir Norman Rosenthal, Jeff Koons and Mona Hatoum. Along with Anish Kapoor, James Turrell, Cai Go Qiang and Anselm Kiefer they had all flown in for the first programme of the Guggenheim Abu Dhabi Talks, which kicked off in March 2009 in parallel with the Emirati Expressions (see Canvas Volume 5, Issue 2) exhibition featuring works by Contemporary Emirati artists. Haerizadeh fidgeted as he waited for a signal and then off he went, in English laden with his Farsi dialect, through a slideshow of his works. He paused and stuttered a little as he described each artwork. “Painting is a way of thinking,” he said. In the course of my interviews with him months later, he would reiterate the same statement. But it was when Haerizadeh stopped at a slide showing his four-panel work depicting Ashura observed in Iran – a day of mourning in Islam which commemorates the death of Hussein, grandson of the Prophet Mohammed (PBUH) – that the audience attentiveness skyrocketed. All eyes zoomed in on this stunning, captivating artwork, supremely charged and vibrant. And then an audience member asked what Ashura was and the quiet, loaded focus in the room broke. “It’s a religious festival, like fashion week,” answered famed Iranian artist Fereydoun Ave (see Canvas Volume 3 Issue 4), referring to its elaborate, social celebrations in Iran. The room erupted into laughter. Hilarious as that was, Ave hit the nail on the head with his interpretation of Haerizadeh’s work: this 31-year- old artist paints what he sees, and while that may be complex in itself, his paintings show us a reality; that of a flawed society, riddled with hypocrisies, disparities and ironies. But essentially, Haerizadeh is showing us what is really there. The climax of the evening was Rosenthal’s comment that Haerizadeh’s work pays homage to Francis Bacon – a compliment Haerizadeh has not forgotten. “In fact, it was the first compliment I’d ever received on a public level,” he says. “I have never received that in Iran.” Curious Incidents The youngest of four boys, Haerizadeh hails from a family of art enthusiasts. On his father’s side are poets and on his mother’s, architects – a profession he was later, albeit vainly, encouraged to pursue. His elder brother Ramin (see page 120) is also an artist and the inseparable pair are “the self-proclaimed Laurel and Hardy!” By seven, Haerizadeh’s parents realised that their youngest should be tutored in art, largely due to the hours he would spend “inside the canvas profile Opening spread: Bahram-Egoor. 2007. Acrylic on canvas. 200 x 200 cm. Private Collection. Facing page: Bosom of Motherland (07). 2007. Acrylic on canvas. 200 x 20 cm. Private Collection. “I sought to analyse everybody and everything.” 107 trying to depict things” through drawing and painting. A cultural rite of passage in Iran – “a sort of renaissance period” – involves living with an art tutor, and among Haerizadeh’s coaches are eminent names in the Iranian Contemporary art arena, Farshid Maleki, Rouein Pakbaz, Ahmad Amin Nazar, “an excellent draughtsman who taught me technique”, and Farideh Lashai (see Canvas Volume 3 Issue 6). “Some gave me courage, some told me to do what I wanted to do and paint what I wanted to paint,” says Haerizadeh of his tutors. He would not be met with the same encouragement and liberty while pursuing his Bachelor’s degree in Fine Arts from the University of Tehran. “All the teachers wanted to impose and dictate their influences, even down to calligraphy and Abstract art. It was awful.” At 11, Haerizadeh was preoccupied with Monet, van Gogh and Gaugin and attempted to imitate their styles. Terribly eager for more, he would buy imported art books and pester his tutors to teach him various techniques. But it was an intense dream he had that would forever affect his examination of people, situations, what stirs in our subconscious and its motives in affecting consciousness. The night before his beloved grandfather died, the 11-year-old Haerizadeh dreamt that his grandfather was sitting on a chair that was rising. Working out what the dream meant consumed him, and by chance he stumbled upon Freud’s The Interpretation of Dreams , a book he would continue to read for years. “It made me crazy!” laughs Haerizadeh, “I found it so enigmatic and mysterious. I would hide it and read it whenever I had 108 some time.” Hardly average reading for an 11-year-old, Haerizadeh’s orientation to Freudian theories distanced him from his peers. By 15 he felt “isolated, developed and mature”, despite becoming a reference on dream interpretation among his friends. “I sought to analyse everybody and everything,” says Haerizadeh. There is no doubt that that is something he continues to do. It was only natural for him to develop an interest in Surrealism and while some have purported that Haerizadeh’s works carry Surrealist tones mixed with Freudian hues, he maintains that his work is focused on the human situation above all else. His choice of Iranian society as a backdrop is derived from his belief in it being a “chaotic” society and one that represents “the clash between tradition and modernism and the mixing of the two together.” Not that chaos bothers Haerizadeh. “I thrive on it, it motivates me,” he says. He regales me with anecdotes of his day-to-day life in Tehran – of days when red paint would go out of stock when, only a month ago, it was available in abundance. “Every day is a different life, a new change filled with instability,” he grins, “you’ve got to change your personality every day.” And it is precisely this instability that both tired and frustrated Haerizadeh, particularly since his rise to fame came from the outside world as opposed to his home country, despite a series of group and solo shows in Tehran. “I just don’t feel appreciated in Iran,” he admits. His big break came when art collector extraordinaire Charles Saatchi acquired and then exhibited Haerizadeh’s work at the Unveiled: New Art from the Middle East exhibition in January 2009. “It was so exciting for me, but for Iran, that’s not good news,” he says. Among the Saatchi-owned works by Haerizadeh are Shomal (Beach at the Caspian) , a 200 x 600 cm oil on canvas diptych which appears to be a fun day at the beach but really screams of the inequality between sexes, highlighted through male and female swimwear; and Typical Iranian Funeral , also a 200 x 600 cm oil on canvas diptych, detailing the intricacies of Iranian funerals, replete with traditional ceremonies – hired mourners and strangers present at what ought to be a private affair as opposed to a seemingly social gathering. Again, Haerizadeh might paint situations as they are but it is only within his canvases that we spot the ironies and just how terribly defective existing custom is. “You can see more of contemporary Iranian culture in my paintings than hear me speak about it,” he says, “you see the open-minded and the fundamentally dogmatic, the ultra trendy and the ultra religious... the diversity, contradictions, superficiality and so many layers within that society.” His Ways and His Woe Loud music is a staple to Haerizadeh’s modus operandi Incidentally, he cites Stravinsky’s compositions, in particular The Rite of Spring, in which the Russian composer endeavoured to musically illustrate the violence and Facing page: Ouch! 2006. Acrylic on canvas. 150 x 200 cm. “I thrive on it [chaos], it motivates me.” profile 109 112 “Working on a big canvas is like a wave – it comes to you. My entire body is in the painting.” 113 profile viciousness of pagan Russia. How ironic that Haerizadeh’s paintings depict the chaos in his own homeland. Beginning in 1920, Stravinsky began to rethink 18th-century musical styles, creating Oedipus Rex in 1927 and going on to explore themes from the ancient, classical world – a central element in Haerizadeh’s works. “Greek mythology, old and modern literature, Japanese haikus, Eastern myths, Persian fables, especially Ferdowsi’s Shahnameh ( Book of Kings ) and Rumi’s poetry and prose... they all mesh with the colours and then the painting begins to move,” he says excitedly. Among his favourite writers are Raymond Carver, Orhan Pamuk, Georges Bataille and Gabriel García Márquez. While the idea may come first, followed by colour and composition, there is no telling how it may proliferate. It is almost like an unguided missile, about to explode in bursts of colours and concepts on the canvas. “Sometimes it’s very personal and sometimes it’s very political,” he grins. Even Haerizadeh is not sure where his canvases will take him, but he admits that painting has made him “calmer, sensible and more reflective.” It might be his painting but it is also his narrative. Each brushstroke weaves another tale, another verse, another situation or fable and the result is an epic – a satirical setting spun in a web. More often than not, Haerizadeh opts for large-sized canvases. “Working on a big canvas is like a wave – it comes to you. My entire body is in the painting,” he says, and his body moves with him, motioning the probable gestures he makes while painting. “I never approach a blank canvas,” he says seriously, “it’s always got a base I’ve painted first so I don’t freeze and when I do freeze, I go to my little watercolours and drawings. If you want to be a painter, you’ve got to go on. You can’t stop.” profile Previous pages: (Detail, right panel of a diptych) Revolutionary Guard Break Through Collector’s House and Call it the Devil Worshipper’s House. 2009. Oil on canvas. Two panels of 200 x 300 cm. Tehran Ashura. 2008. Oil on canvas. Four panels of 200 x 200 cm. Fictionville (Tough and Timid?). 2009. Mixed media, gesso and photo print on paper. 21 × 30 cm. Number six out of a portfolio of nine works. Facing page: Fictionville (In the Land of the Blind the One-Eyed Man is King) . 2009. Mixed media, gesso and photo print on paper. 21 × 30 cm. Number seven out of a portfolio of nine works. As in most of Haerizadeh’s works, it is difficult to distinguish what the original image is, let alone its message: is he mocking the situation, is he trying to be funny about it or is he ripping off the protective filter through which we perceive things? 117 profile While in Dubai, Haerizadeh became increasingly frustrated at the general lack of media information about the uprising in Iran that followed the presidential elections in June 2009. Fictionville is a series of photographs he took of television broadcasting networks reporting on the rebellion on the Iranian streets and is among his latest body of work. Printed on A4-sized paper and painted on with Tip-Ex, gesso, watercolours, acrylics and ink, Haerizadeh offers a carnival- like atmosphere to the mutiny by animalising humans, thereby suggesting that in a time of revolt, primitive instinct is the sole driving force. As in most of Haerizadeh’s works, it is difficult to distinguish what the original image is, let alone its message: is he mocking the situation, is he trying to be funny about it or is he ripping off the protective filter through which we perceive things? “It is my intention to choose a chaotic composition so that when you first look at it, you can’t recognise it but looking at it another time, you will discover something new again and again.” Haerizadeh’s last exhibition in Iran was at a group show in 2007 and life in his homeland as an artist has since become more difficult, so much so that he has relocated to Dubai, along with Ramin. “The thinking [in Iran] is still the same and I don’t think the situation will change. Contemporary Iranian philosophy is disillusioned,” he says. He agrees that his statement can be applied to other parts of the Middle East. “But,” he pauses, “I think we, as artists, can change the face of the Middle East. Through supporting each other, we can make the impact bigger.” Amen to that. For more information visit www.b21gallery.com and www.ropac.net profile Fictionville (In the Land of the Blind the One-Eyed Man is King). 2009. Mixed media, gesso and photo print on paper. 21 × 30 cm. Number three out of a portfolio of nine works. 119