Lift Not the Painted Veil!

To Shelley, to my lost love and to St. Giuliano Terme, a village near Pisa, where Shelly had staid for its healing water spring and where I am located for most of this trip.


Dear Shelley
I have lifted the painted veil
And I am too,
"Found them not: Things to Love."
Though I still seek my lost heart
Under the painted veil.


"Lift not the painted veil which those who live
Call Life: though unreal shapes be pictured there,
And it but mimic all we would believe
With colours idly spread,--behind, lurk Fear
And Hope, twin Destinies; who ever weave
Their shadows, o'er the chasm, sightless and drear.
I knew one who had lifted it--he sought,
For his lost heart was tender, things to love,
But found them not, alas! nor was there aught
The world contains, the which he could approve.
Through the unheeding many he did move,
A splendour [ed. splendor] among shadows, a bright blot
Upon this gloomy scene, a Spirit that strove
For truth, and like the Preacher found it not."


*By Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822)
*Me in the streets of Lucca, Italy, Summer 2007.

My Painter!

You are Raphael,
You are Vincent,
You are Jackson,

Be My Painter.

The ginger tone of my life picks up the melody of saffron
By the lemony touch of your voice.

The pale of my face gets the taste of peach
By the silky cover of your breath on my shoulders.

I’ll be your pallet
You be my painter



The thunder of my pulse that breaks under this distance,
Aches for your healing hands,
Longs for your Godly gaze,
Calls for the touch of your brush.






I am your pallet
Hold me in your hands

I am your pallet
You be my painter
Hold me in your arms
And
Wish any color !

Land of Art: Italy

I am in Italy at last. As I have predicted, Italy is beautifully decorated with art, religion and history. And as I have imagined Italians are extremely warm and welcoming. I am in Pisa University Library right now. It is amazing how far a Princeton University ID card can take one in less than a minute.

Before my flight landed in Roma and during those sleepless hours in the airplane I thought about things that we mostly hear about Italy: from art historical facts to stereotypes. We hear a lot about Italy, and here, allow me to confirm them all: From countless Italian artists, architects and musicians to their well-respected filmmakers and writers, from their super-powerful football players (read soccer player) to their many rebels, from Italian food and drink to Italian fashion and shoes, these are all true. The only thing which I decided to count as a stereotype was mafia and that is only because I want to feel safe while I am here. While in Italy, I have decided not to base my plans on touristic guides. So I will spend some time in Firenze (Florence) and Roma (Rome) and then I will start wondering around in small cities and villages. I will go to the places that I have read about in novels and seen in films. Unfortunately I cannot visit the imaginary ones like Fontamara, but I am seriously considering visiting Eboli, not only because of the famous book, Christ Stopped At Eboli by Carlo Levi, but also because of the superb movie based on the same book by Francesco Rosi.


At Florance even sparrows are poetic:

Sharing lunch with a little Sparrow, Florance, June 2007

Honor & Obligation

I just had lunch with a group of lovely mathematicians some of them I knew from Stony Brook. They are here in Princeton to celebrate Bill Thurston’s 60th birthday. I am done packing. Yesterday I labeled all the cabinet doors in the kitchen and last night I changed the pot-soil for my plants. Today I canceled my visit to the Big Apple; I wanted to buy some sets of #30 silver guitar strings for my brother, which, now, I will get them in Italy.

Finally, at daybreak tomorrow, I have the obligation for doing the last set of my laundry (Please read dirty laundry). Then I am ready to leave Princeton for Europe honorably. Funny enough my coffee cup also agrees:

"Many people search blindly for the “ meaning of life.” What they don’t seem to understand, is that life does not have meaning through mere existence or acquisition or fun. The meaning of life is inherent in the connections we make to others through honor and obligation."

(--Dr. L. Schlessinger, International radio host and author, published on The Way I See It # 205)

from Compositions, Colors, Ideas,
Sonia Delaunay, 1930s

Summer’s Must-Have

I opened my mailbox and there it was. It is the third time in three weeks. I am getting Victoria Secret summer sale & specials. Though I never have bought anything from the store or their online shop I keep getting their sale magazines. So I look through it and the phrase summer’s must-have catches my eyes. And I think of what is in my list of summer's must-have: definitely not $19 – $29 bra tops.

Must-have time alone, must-have two finished scripts, must-have time with my brother in the busy streets of Tehran, must-have a summer with no regrets. Packing, washing, cleaning, worrying. All that exhaust me. I am tired of irresponsible creatures, whom I constantly come across!

Lets talk art:
I have visited the Brooklyn College M.F.A Thesis Exhibition. It was great; I liked works by Lauren Russell and Cynthia Simpson and Sandra Antonia Rodriguez-Riera. I think I am getting more and more interested in printmaking as a method. It is not only an expressive medium but also it uses its limits to its advantage; by limiting the artist both in the choice of color and the detailed design, printmaking produces powerful works of art.

People Who Affected Me; Blogger’s Game

First and before you trouble yourself to read the whole thing, I would like to invite friends that I think will enjoy this game as well as I did: Roya, Roshi, Ba Kavir, Sanaz, Zeinab.

Many thanks to Nazy for inviting me. Writing this took hours of remembering and memorizing. What you will read is short because I don’t have the means to publish volumes of books about many extraordinarily people in my life.

To think of it, I really can’t list People, Places, Things or overall beings, who have affected me in my life. Not only their number hits limits of my counting skills, but also for listing something one needs to – or at least I need to – put them in order. And simply I am not able to classify them because these effects did not occur orderly. Directly or indirectly many are still affecting me. Another factor that makes this so called game – but really Life – hard to play for me is that I was affected deeply by many sad events and I am not sure if I am allowed to bring those up into a happy game. So I will participate in this game with many jumps; I choose a few among many.

Dawn, my hairstylist in Princeton, and Sohayla, my beautician in Tehran; I owe a great deal of my daily harmony to them. They craft my appearance with their care and skill.

Keyvan, who I call Raiis (Boss), a friend that I’ve missed greatly. He represents all of my cinema pals back home; their intelligence astonishes me still. I am thankful to them for their patience and support. Without any exaggeration I learned from them more than I have learned from anyone in that school.

Dr. Amery, my dentist in Tehran, and his lovely assistant Nazila Joon. I was the only kid that he agreed to visit. I was 4 then and afraid of everything. My short visits to home won’t be complete if I don’t meet with them.

Professor B. She accepted me as her assistant and it was my first academic position in the United States. It was not only from her vast knowledge that I have learned greatly, but also from her modesty and friendship.

Mr. Youshi, my Colored-Photography teacher, and Professor Loghmani, my Cinematography master; they stand for many great teachers that I have had the privilege of being their students.

P & M, they both remind me how pleased I should be by my choices, my achievements and myself.

My brother, by him I jump over my lovely family. He represents my loving, intelligent and extraordinary parents, my astonishing aunts and uncles, and my lively cousins. He has grown in me since he first appeared in a chubby belly of my mom. He stayed back and let me rule over my little First-Born-Child Empire. He waited and looked. He let me grew up and then we became friends. He showed me how rules become limits; how one can break free of the limits that get hold of one, and one should challenge the ordinary in order to Be. His musician mind plays the melody of my life.

Sculpture Biennial, Tehran , Summer2005*

*Unfortunately I don't remember the artist's name.