Emotional Constipation
Creating and sharing a photo doesn’t undo the chaos, but it carves out a small, defiant space for clarity.
For nations like Iran, long burdened by dictatorship, war, and forced migration, emotional paralysis becomes a quiet epidemic. It’s not the absence of feeling—but the overwhelming weight of it, trapped beneath fear, censorship, and loss. Artists grow up learning to silence themselves before they even speak. In exile, that silence lingers—grief without closure, stories left untold, and identities split across borders. The result is a deep, inherited stillness where expression feels both urgent and impossible.
And yet, in the middle of that stillness, many of us still reach for something—anything—that feels like expression. I don’t call myself an “artist” lightly; it’s not a label I adopted just because I picked up a camera. But whatever this is—art, visual note-taking, or just chasing moments—it helps loosen the weight. Creating and sharing a photo doesn’t undo the chaos around me, but it does carve out a small, defiant space for clarity and connection. It’s not just about documenting life—it’s how I remind myself I’m still part of it.
