I was born in Shiraz, Iran, in a large family. My early path into art was shaped by both desire and resistance. Although I was deeply drawn to art, my father initially opposed my decision to attend an art school. As a result, my education took an unconventional form. For several years, I stepped outside the formal school system and used that period to explore different practices, especially drawing, painting, and martial arts. I trained in Kung Fu, participated in competitions, and continued to develop my skills in painting, particularly with chalk pastel. This period was difficult, but it also shaped my independence, discipline, and capacity for self-directed learning.
After several years, I persuaded my father to allow me to take the entrance exam for an art program. I was eventually admitted to the Islamic Art program at Isfahan University of Art. Moving from Shiraz to Isfahan was a major turning point in my life. It was not only a move from one city to another; it was my first serious encounter with a new intellectual, artistic, and urban environment. Isfahan itself became part of my education. I began to walk through the city, observe its architecture, photograph its streets and objects, and experience urban space as something that could be read, interpreted, and analyzed.
At Isfahan University of Art, I studied in the Department of Religious and Civilization Arts. The department created an unusual intellectual environment where art was not approached only as technique, beauty, or form, but also as a way of thinking about culture, history, religion, society, and meaning. Between 2009 and 2013, I encountered scholars from anthropology, sociology, philosophy, semiotics, mythology, and art history. Their courses and conversations introduced me to new ways of understanding visual and material culture.
A decisive moment came when I took a course in the anthropology of art. This course changed the way I looked at the world around me. The concept of culture became central to my thinking. I began to understand that objects, images, rituals, spaces, and everyday practices could be studied as part of wider social worlds. My artistic practice of looking, drawing, and photographing gradually became connected to anthropological observation. I was no longer only interested in how things looked, but also in what they did, what they meant, and how they organized relations between people, places, memories, and histories.
During this period, I often walked through Isfahan with my camera. One day, by chance, I came across Takht-e-Fulad, a historic cemetery in the city. The tombstones immediately caught my attention. Their forms, inscriptions, symbols, materials, and visual arrangements seemed to hold complex cultural meanings. I photographed them and later discussed the images with Jabbar Rahmani, an anthropologist in our department. He encouraged me to think of tombstones as cultural texts and suggested that I explore the anthropology of death, a field that was still relatively underdeveloped in Iran at the time.
This encounter became the foundation of my undergraduate thesis, “Cultural Semiotics of Tombstone Signs in the Takht-e-Fulad Cemetery.” The project allowed me to bring together my artistic training and my emerging anthropological interests. Tombstones were no longer simply visual or decorative objects. They became material forms through which death, memory, religion, gender, class, and cultural identity could be read and interpreted. Based on this work, I later published an article and presented my research at an international conference in Turkey in 2013.
This movement from Shiraz to Isfahan, and from art to anthropology, continues to shape my work today. My research on death, cemeteries, martyrdom, mourning, and the agency of dead bodies grew out of this early encounter between visual practice and anthropological thinking. Art trained me to attend to form, texture, composition, and material presence. Anthropology gave me the conceptual tools to connect those forms to social life, ritual, memory, power, and political meaning.