the mystic

For the project “The Blind Artist,” I asked several Iranian artists to allow me to record them while they imagined images with their eyes closed. The goal was to capture the precise moment when they generated an inner image.

We found Mahdi by chance, painting on the ground of a street in Yazd, and we invited him to participate. After consulting with his teacher, he agreed, and we recorded him right there.

Some time later, I returned to Mahdi’s recording, isolated it from the rest of the project, and slowed it down. The compulsive gestures characteristic of cerebral palsy then seemed to me like a catalog of emotions. As if what we call “diversity” were merely a time-lag in playback. As if Mahdi, who so enjoys the slow pace of ancient places, were aware of its expansion or contraction and placed himself in one of its folds to witness a space full of stretched time.

“I always paint in public spaces, I paint from my dreams, sometimes in black and white and other times with color. I always use my fingers to paint. I paint silhouettes of sad people whose sadness prevents them from seeing beyond themselves. If they look to the future, people change. I like to paint in ancient spaces; the city is covered in walls, and I like to look at the walls and discover images there. I like old places because they were built a long time ago, they are full of memories, love, and stories. The walls speak to me, they tell me that all people are the same. New places say nothing, they don’t speak to me. The smells of the space and the sounds of the people inspire many images in me. The walls give me strength. I always pray before I paint.”
— Mahdi Montazeran, painter from Yazd (Iran)