Nazli Abbaspour

• Unconscious memory in the present Walking is like remembering One who walks is immediately aware of one’s act and one’s steps becomes in harmony with the ground one walks on. If not so, one won’t be able to walk and falls; as is in the case of memory. Recalling of things, incidents and relationships at any time and their harmony with the present time. ……Memory is the trace of our unconsciousness in our conscious being. Paul Valery
• Nostalgia The Greek roots of Nostalgia means anguish for the motherland, home, and family and in general context, regret for the past or “wishing to remain in the past”. In Nostalgia, we perceive signs which stimulate the unconscious mind for discovery. These signs can be simple things like day to day events, colors or viewing photo albums. By viewing the albums, time transition can be sensed. If we look at older photos, in subjects we see more strict gestures and self dramatization, and desire for eternity. Freezing anything means effort to protect and maintain it against external factors. The present collection was formed with this thought in mind that seemingly by freezing the photos, efforts were made by intensifying the people in the photos (which are all ancestors and kinfolks of the past) and memories of the past, to make them eternal. It seems that by freezing the photos, the present people and time have also frozen.
• Reincarnation The butterfly is a symbol of metamorphosis, Renovation, rebirth, a symbol of purity and clarity. It is a personal feeling and belief of reincarnation that has a long and philosophical debate. But for me, in this collection, a kind of self-knowledge, through old photos. To see how much life now can be like or taken from the past. This Project makes about this Poet: Call my death wrapper a cocoon I want to be a butterfly
• Description of work Prolonged military conflict between Iran and Iraq during the 1980s caused Iranians immigrant and refugee to other countries. For marriage they select brides from their native country (Iran) by their family who paired bride and groom using only photographs and family recommendations of the possible candidates. A wedding party without groom and only with his picture and bride says “yes, I do.” via telephone. Then bride wishes this wedding brings her the best luck with her unseen husband and a little knowing about him. Brides immigrate to grooms’ residence country. Same as what happened in U.S.A in 20th century.
• "The Enigmatic Fringe of Existence" I have been here continually for years, my relief, etched onto the dignified, enduring walls, and windows that are the portals of mercy and forgiveness. Each recess of mine the consequence of silent patience and the account of progress & loss. I protested not once, while being devout to my cause. What was shaped is a bright flame called over, and this flicker began with every nail struck into my structure, and pressed through into my walls. I have been obscured in the whitewash of time. My frame has the Odor Of dank, the smell Of age. My windows no longer catch light, my walls are foundation weary. None wished to reside in me any longer. None believed that I am secluded, enduring the sluggish demise of mankind. They have forsaken and forgotten me. Now, I am abandoned and isolated, and only know that the past connections are permanent. Perhaps my doors will be closed for many a century, my walls will become crooked, but can we leave a house unoccupied forever?
• "The Enigmatic Fringe of Existence" I have been here continually for years, my relief, etched onto the dignified, enduring walls, and windows that are the portals of mercy and forgiveness. Each recess of mine the consequence of silent patience and the account of progress & loss. I protested not once, while being devout to my cause. What was shaped is a bright flame called over, and this flicker began with every nail struck into my structure, and pressed through into my walls. I have been obscured in the whitewash of time. My frame has the Odor Of dank, the smell Of age. My windows no longer catch light, my walls are foundation weary. None wished to reside in me any longer. None believed that I am secluded, enduring the sluggish demise of mankind. They have forsaken and forgotten me. Now, I am abandoned and isolated, and only know that the past connections are permanent. Perhaps my doors will be closed for many a century, my walls will become crooked, but can we leave a house unoccupied forever?
• "The Enigmatic Fringe of Existence" I have been here continually for years, my relief, etched onto the dignified, enduring walls, and windows that are the portals of mercy and forgiveness. Each recess of mine the consequence of silent patience and the account of progress & loss. I protested not once, while being devout to my cause. What was shaped is a bright flame called over, and this flicker began with every nail struck into my structure, and pressed through into my walls. I have been obscured in the whitewash of time. My frame has the Odor Of dank, the smell Of age. My windows no longer catch light, my walls are foundation weary. None wished to reside in me any longer. None believed that I am secluded, enduring the sluggish demise of mankind. They have forsaken and forgotten me. Now, I am abandoned and isolated, and only know that the past connections are permanent. Perhaps my doors will be closed for many a century, my walls will become crooked, but can we leave a house unoccupied forever?
• Alive