Iran’s most celebrated visual artist, Parviz Tanavoli, speaks to MEMO about his work Amelia Smith Tuesday, 03 February 2015 16:32

Later Tanavoli went to Italy to study. It was on his return, he recalls, that he realised the role locks played in Shia Islam and Persian culture. In Iran public water houses were built in bazaars and neighbourhoods and during the hot summers passers-by would stop to take a sip of water. Gradually people started to make donations and the water houses became shrine-like decorated with imagery of the imams.

“People who have wishes or problems go to the shrines and tie up a strip of their clothing or fasten a lock to the grille of the shrine hoping that they can unlock their problems and cure their sicknesses or disease,” explains Tanavoli. “So the lock has great significance in Persian culture.”

In the sixties the lock became one of the iconographies central to a new movement co-founded by Tanavoli, termed Saqqakhneh, the Farsi word for water house. Dubbed spiritual “pop art”, Saqqakhneh sought to incorporate Shia symbols into art and often you will see padlocks on the body of Tanavoli’s sculptures and in the work of the young artists that joined the movement.

Another concept central to Tanavoli’s work is the principle of “Heech”, Farsi for “nothing”. Like the lock, the word Heech has been moulded by the artist and incorporated into the anatomy of his sculptures numerous times. It began in 1965, he says, in protest to the popularisation of calligraphy that at the time became fashionable and was exhibited in nearly every gallery. “I gave calligraphy up and only used one word,” he says.

Tanavoli describes the shape of Heech as malleable and soft, a word that can be put in a cage or on the walls. “I found there is so much in the Heech, that Heech is not nothing, Heech is something. Then later, as time went on, I realised that there is so much meaning behind it and so many poets prior to me, from centuries ago, have paid attention to this word and have used it and that is how it began.”

Parviz Tanavoli, Poet Turning into Heech (detail), 1973-2007. Collection of the artist.  Photo by John Gordon.The early poets, Rumi, Khayyam and Hafez, wrote a lot about Heech, points out Tanavoli, and posed the question of whether existence is nothing or whether non-existence is existence. “They wanted people to think about that – don’t underestimate the nothingness. As important as existence and thing are, no thing or nothing is important too.”

Work that features the Heech is the most popular and sought after of Tanavoli’s art. He says this is because people can relate to it and find something in the concept they can connect to. “It’s a simple shape, it’s abstract, and it’s very meaningful. It has a sculptural body different than other known sculptural figures,” he reflects. “I think there are many reasons it became popular.”

In 2008 Tanavoli’s The Wall (Oh Persepolis), a two metre bronze sculpture etched with hieroglyphics, made a record sale when Christie’s auction house sold it for $2.84 million, the highest ever paid for a piece of artwork from the Middle East. Despite this, Tanavoli says that commercial success has not compromised his work. “I didn’t follow the market or market requests, in fact I turned it down in many instances and I followed my path. I continued doing my thing and opted out. I haven’t changed, I haven’t really commercialised any of my art.”

Though Tanavoli would not describe himself as “political”, there is certainly a political element to some of his work. Most artists, he says, are somehow involved in the politics of their time. “All the artists I know somehow are, but they may not reflect it directly, they might be very indirect. Somehow artists stay away from it especially in the area that we live. It’s not very safe to be political.”

Heech in a Cage – literally a Heech coming out of a silver cage – was made in protest of Guantanamo Bay detention camp in Cuba, a facility set up to imprison and interrogate suspects in the “war on terror”. The prison has attracted worldwide controversy for its use of water-boarding, the force-feeding of prisoners on hunger strike and detention without trial.

“I was very bothered when they put all these people in jail without giving them a fair trial. The torture and the way they were kept. I always felt that even if there are innocent among them, this is damaging American democracy. I decided to make a monument to the innocents of the Guantanamo.”

Parviz Tanavoli, Heech in the Cage, 2010. Courtesy of the artist.  Photo by John GordonThe monument was intended to be an enlarged version of Heech in a Cage which would then be donated to the people of Afghanistan; Afghanis were once the largest nationality represented in Guantanamo. However, Tanavoli couldn’t find a sponsor or a location in Afghanistan willing to take it, and so the project was never realised.

Closer to home Tanavoli has been involved in a drawn out conflict with the local government. In 2002 the artist’s house was turned into a museum by request of the city of Tehran with the backing of then Mayor Mohammad-Hassan Malekmadani who was keen on art and culture. But when Ahmadinejad became mayor he closed the museum declaring “it wasn’t part of our culture it was foreign culture,” recounts Tanavoli.

The artist went to court and fought for six years to get his house back but by this time much of his artwork had been taken. Last March he retrieved 13 pieces through a court order, but a few days later people from the municipality hired trucks and cranes, came back, broke the door down and took everything again.

“They don’t like my work, they’re not even interested,” he says. “But now they have realised that it is worth some money and that’s all they’re interested in. I wish they had even taken care of it. Several of my works are broken, some are damaged, some kept in very bad conditions and not handled professionally and so they are going into a state of decay. I want to get them back. I don’t know if I will or not, I still haven’t given up.”

Tanavoli says that wide-spread censorship on art and culture is more relaxed than it was in the Ahmedinejad years, under whom hundreds of books were censored, publishing permits were denied, films were banned and theatres shut down. “It was the worst period of all these eight years,” he reiterates. “Things are loosening now, they are better and of course more books are published, films are shown and theatres are again going back to their lives. So it goes up and down.”

Though he has a studio and a house in Tehran, Tanavoli and his family moved to Canada in 1989 and now lives and works between the two countries. “I couldn’t sell my sculptures there. I wasn’t even allowed to sell my sculptures there,” he says, explaining why his family moved. “Our children had to go to college for higher schooling and they didn’t have any chances, especially the girls. We have two daughters, so we decided to move to Canada for the sake of the children and then also to re-start my life. It wasn’t easy but of course things are better now.”

A decade before his move Tanavoli retired as head of the sculpture department at Tehran University, at the time of the Islamic Revolution.

Tanavoli’s work can be found in private and public collections from the British Museum in London to the Metropolitan Museum of Art and Museum of Modern Art in New York. At the beginning of February a retrospective of Tanavoli’s work will go on display at the Davis Museum, Wellesley College in the US where over 175 of his pieces will be exhibited. Tanavoli says it will be a good opportunity for Americans to experience Iranian culture which often gets lost in news reporting from such a volatile region.

“I am very happy this is happening, especially in the States, because of this embargo and lack of communication,” says Tanavoli. The US placed sanctions on Iran following the US embassy seizure in 1979 and has maintained them, and broadened them, for most of the period following this.

“I think this might open the door. Americans have the right to see the other side of our culture; I mean the cultural part not just all this bad news. Of course the embargo has stopped all of this for a long time. So this is a good time, a good period, and I’m very much looking forward that there is going to be communication through art and Americans can see a taste of the art of Iran and myself and that part of the world.”

Parviz Tanavoli’s retrospective exhibition will be on display at The Davis Museum, Wellesley College from 10 February to 7 June.

Eating with Ibn Battuta BY MLYNXQUALEY on FEBRUARY 5, 2015

The Dubai International Writers’ Centre recently held a two-part session about Ibn Battuta’s extensive travels, led by their Writer-in-Residence Tim Mackintosh-Smith. Participants were treated to a modern-day adventure as Tim Mackintosh-Smith retraced his footsteps across the globe, using Ibn Battuta’s writings as a guide and sharing his own photos from each destination.

By Sawad Hussain

415B4iI7p+L._SY344_BO1,204,203,200_Tim Mackintosh-Smith’s two sessions — one delivered in Arabic, the other in English — detailed his life’s work and travels. These were spurred on by the writings of, in his words, “not only the greatest Arab traveller of all time, but perhaps the greatest of all time” — Ibn Battuta (1304-1377).  A true testament to the centre’s outreach capabilities was the diversity of those in attendance: Not only did the ages vary from teenage to adult, but more importantly there was balanced representation of native and non-native speakers of Arabic.

Mackintosh-Smith began his lecture as he did his book Travels with a Tangerine, with the words of a seventeenth-century blurb:

All master-works of travel, if you will but look,

Are merely tails that drag at Ibn Battuta’s heel.

Even though Mackintosh-Smith’s works have received widespread critical acclaim, he was insistent throughout the session that, despite the success he has achieved, all he has written is a dhayl: a tail, or a mere addition to what the Moroccan traveller had written during his fourteenth-century travels. He also said that he felt he had “committed a crime” against Battuta’s exploits by pursuing an abridged version of his legendary adventures.

Mackintosh-Smith set off with the audience from Kilwa in Tanzania, where he showed a now-ruined palace detailed by Ibn Battuta. However, the infinity pool that once existed is still very visible today. He also displayed a Chinese vase from the palace as proof of the vibrant trade occurring at that time.

Next, Mackintosh-Smith took the audience to India, Amjhera to be precise, where he recollected how he visited a site Ibn Battuta described as a “terrifying sight.” It was in fact a place where Battuta witnessed wives throwing themselves on the funeral pyres of their husbands to join them in the afterlife. From a photo of the grounds, it was evident that one of the larger rocks was still blackened from the fire, even though the site had been deserted for several centuries. Mackintosh-Smith recounted how, upon reaching the south of India, he had had the exact same meal that Battuta had written about his in travelogues, and exhibited a photograph to prove it!

On the picturesque shores of the Maldives is where the audience next found themselves, hearing how neighbouring islands claimed that Battuta had landed there first.  Mackintosh-Smith delved deeply into the mystical elements of the islands: He spoke of jinn and ifriit, which play a big role in the islands’ storytelling tradition – as recorded by Battuta. Stones engraved with terrifying faces flashed across the screen as the audience heard of Ibn Battuta’s romantic encounters with the islands’ princesses.

ibnBattutaMapAfter a brief stop at Adam’s Mountain in Ceylon (Sri Lanka), which Mackintosh-Smith scaled, the journey ended in China, in Quanzhou and Guangzhou to be exact.  The audience was treated to pictures of a mosque from 1000 A.D, and learnt of how the Maliki sect is most prevalent in that part of China. Mackintosh-Smith dwelled on how the same sect is dominant in Morocco today, leading the group to ponder whether this was but a mere coincidence.

In closing, it became clear how intense Ibn Battuta’s desire was to return home. Even though he was in a predominately Muslim part of China, the culture shock still wore him down. The Writer-in-Residence pointed out how Battuta’s journey to China took up nine hundred pages or so, but his return home was documented in a mere nine.

Mackintosh-Smith’s detailed narrative made the audience feel as if they were on the journey with him, his accompanying photos helping to truly magnify this sensation of discovery. He ended by touchingly stating that he set off across the world to defend Ibn Battuta’s writings and prove to naysayers that the legendary Moroccan explorer had indeed set eyes on all that he had written about in his seminal works. One gathers from his passionate delivery and vivid evidence that Mackintosh-Smith has put forth a strong argument in support of that stated mission.

Tim Mackintosh-Smith’s books – Travels with A Tangerine (2001), The Hall of a Thousand Columns (2005) and Landfalls (2010) – are available at the DIWC or from major booksellers worldwide. Those in Dubai can also go to to read about future talks and workshops.

Sawad Hussain is an Arabic teacher, translator, and litterateur residing in Dubai.

If inspired, you can also take a virtual tour along with Ibn Battuta on Berkeley’s site.