Balloon Head Family

Solo Photography Exhibition by Farid Bayan

Fairyful Frames of the Absent I

Kayvan Tahmasebian

 

- “But the eye, what does it see in a portrait without eye? What is a portrait without face, or, what will remain of a portrait without eye? Or else, how is the absent one –he or she- to be seen? How examined, in the absence of eye, the portrait he or she?”

 

Asks how to portrait that absent singular person, not in the eye, but in the suppression of each and every feature of the face; how to remember that, but in the breath. Since the breath, as it does not appear, as it is not to be seen yet mostly not to be heard, is the finest spirit of yours flowing in your now looking head: it is the spirit of your body, of your ownmost body.

 

Now, in place of those lips and eyes, balloons filled with one’s own breath, an abyss of breath, gazing hard front. And then, all the margins round this slippery light void –Likewise, the story of the hands and balloons, minarets and their galleries –The story of the saints, the haloed, the balloonhead:

 

-“Gather me not

Let me be scattered

Scattered and fairyful:     like grass …”

-“Condense me not

In the depths of the eye, in that high brow, those dimples and always smiling lips

See me in my hands

in my tall fingers and my tight young skin …”

-“See me

In the echo of the arches under the bridge where fairies always sing

See

In the hurly burly of little yellow balloonhead fairy flowers in the green …”

 

They are everywhere. Wherever the eye sets. Wherever the eye rules. High on the black flags. Swimming together in the sea. And in all spaces of echo, all hollow holy. This is the story of the heads and winds: Well, heads always go on winds, heads always go on

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………...

The text inevitably lost its head to the sharp edge of its paper

Like the cavus of the sky and the hole of the Sun

Fairyful Frames of the Absent I

Kayvan Tahmasebian

 

- “But the eye, what does it see in a portrait without eye? What is a portrait without face, or, what will remain of a portrait without eye? Or else, how is the absent one –he or she- to be seen? How examined, in the absence of eye, the portrait he or she?”

 

Asks how to portrait that absent singular person, not in the eye, but in the suppression of each and every feature of the face; how to remember that, but in the breath. Since the breath, as it does not appear, as it is not to be seen yet mostly not to be heard, is the finest spirit of yours flowing in your now looking head: it is the spirit of your body, of your ownmost body.

 

Now, in place of those lips and eyes, balloons filled with one’s own breath, an abyss of breath, gazing hard front. And then, all the margins round this slippery light void –Likewise, the story of the hands and balloons, minarets and their galleries –The story of the saints, the haloed, the balloonhead:

 

-“Gather me not

Let me be scattered

Scattered and fairyful:     like grass …”

-“Condense me not

In the depths of the eye, in that high brow, those dimples and always smiling lips

See me in my hands

in my tall fingers and my tight young skin …”

-“See me

In the echo of the arches under the bridge where fairies always sing

See

In the hurly burly of little yellow balloonhead fairy flowers in the green …”

 

They are everywhere. Wherever the eye sets. Wherever the eye rules. High on the black flags. Swimming together in the sea. And in all spaces of echo, all hollow holy. This is the story of the heads and winds: Well, heads always go on winds, heads always go on

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………...

The text inevitably lost its head to the sharp edge of its paper

Like the cavus of the sky and the hole of the Sun