Farideh Malekolkalami, “a self-instructed artist” was born in Iran in 1929.
For Farideh, art has always been a top priority in her life.
Her paternal grandfather was Ahmad Shah special tutor and was bestowed the title of “Malek-ol-Kalam” , a literary honor, by Mohamad Ali Shah Qajar.
Due to her father’s frequent travels & missions, Farideh was home schooled by her mother who was a teacher until the sixth grade. After that, her family moved to Tehran where she continued her education at Anoushirvan Dadgar school for girls.
she graduated high school at the age of 16 but soon after, she lost her father. It was around this time that she was admitted to the University of Tehran to study midwifery. She graduated at the age of 20 and was assigned to the area of Masjed-e-Soliman, in Iran’s Khuzestan Province, for duties. It was there that she met her husband Dr. Pakdel. They had two children, “Pirooz and Shiva, both of whom currently reside in the United States.”
Farideh who is proficient in English, having leaned it as a child, is also familiar with Spanish. She has had three books translated from English to Farsi. She is also a poet and has published a book of her very own poetry. She also has a strong streak of creativity in other areas. She paints on rocks and a number of these painted rocks are exhibited at the National Library of Tehran. I first met her during the period when she was making beautiful cushions from old and recycled clothes.
Farideh says “as far back as I can remember, I’ve been dedicated to collecting any-old odd object such as buttons, fabrics, curtains, and old clothing which can be easily found around any home and I would re-purpose them, giving them a new use.
The exhibition at hand today, is one of a select few of the rocks that she’s been collecting and painting for a number of years. Using glue, she assembles and creates diverse shapes by joining the rocks and in some cases, later framing them. Additionally, she has created sculptures by stacking and cementing them together.
At the age of 93, she is no longer able to work because of poor eyesight and illness, but a lifetime of artistic & creative work she has assembled and preserved will forever serve as a beacon of light for the rest of us.
I wish her health and longevity.
Parvaneh Silani
April 10, 2022
Location
Kierkegaard in his book The Concept of Fear shows that fear creates an existentialist situation. The height of a sense of touch of fear during one is no daunting. For in this vacuum and nothing, there are possibilities whose touch is the touch of human freedom. In his view, the truth of human nature is revealed in these frightening moments. We are not afraid; we are fears and it is through this fear that we reach the paradox of faith and the necessity of faith. The Roman poet Typhus Lecretius said, “It was fear that first created the gods.”
Emotional fear is eternal. From the dumb and massive fear that Freud attributes to the birth and separation of the mother’s womb to the varied fears that continue to grow from the hidden and complex Oedipus complex, reproduce And transforms from one form to another. In contrast, our existential ‘I’, if he or she wishes for an erotic or violent yearning, is punished by the external or internal ethics (of an external origin) or condemned to lose the love and respect of those around him or the inner images of the Father. And his mother. Thus, the “I” suppresses these feelings by creating a sense of fear and anxiety, though the ultimate repression is impossible. Although in the subconscious mind system, sometimes fears of animals or some insects are rooted in deeper and surviving childhood fears, apart from instinctual fears for survival, the complexity of the concept of fear is such that even fears can be He cites the genetic origins of each of us, from the fear of encountering animals in eternal ancestry to the fear of drought, violence, and lies.
From Freudian psychoanalysis in phobia, a kind of fascinating / frightening relationship to an external subject is created, such as the fear of an animal (mostly a snake as a paternal symbol) that both captures and captures the fear. And it creates anxiety. On the other hand, the subject of Lacanian psychoanalysis is the transformation of the scary subject (his own scary snake) into a new identity (his snake and clever snake) and the ability to accommodate his erotic and romantic desires in an open environment and to create dialogue (the manifestation of these transformations). It has been well represented in David Lynch’s cinema, and especially in the film The Lost Highway and the Maholland Road)
From a phenomenological point of view (Lyotard), when we are confronted with our own fears, we formulate and interpret our fears, as Merleoponti says, because knowledge of fear is indirect as if fear is an intermediary. We create fear, and in each of our fears we have some kind of scenario. From Lacan’s point of view, we cannot give our fears any meaningful interpretation and meaning, but this interpretation and meaning is shaped by the hidden desire within our fears. So fear is always fascinating, captivating and encompassing, and it carries with it the desire and desire of the individual. Maybe we can say we’re scared then …
December
Barbed dorri
The Artists of This Collection:
· Abolfazl Aghaei· Lale Ayati· Mona Aghababaei· Alireza Esmaeilpoor· Parvin Erisian· Molood Esnaasharimini· Masoomeh Amini· Morteza Basravi· Zahra barahimi· Tahmoores Bahadorani· Parsa Payandeh· Hosein Tahvilian· Maryam Tavakoli· Elham Jazayeri· Seyyed Mahmood Hoseini· Parvin Hakim· Gelareh Khorasani· Mohammad Khalili· Marzieh Khoshfetrat· Elham Rafiaei· Hajar Rahgozar· Parvaneh Silani· Manoochehr Soltani· Javad Taheri· Foroozan Montazeri· Sadegh Farhadian· Majid Faal· Nasim Mahdavi· Foroozan Montazeri· Abbas Mirzaei· Ali Mirzaei· Nooshon Nafisy· Zahra Yoosofi
Survival is that which every refugee, every immigrant, and every bird strives for. We seek refuge from the cold, from war, and fear. Someplace safe, perhaps the corner of a temporary and feeble house, suspended as if in a cocoon, between leaving and staying. A restless sleep in not so familiar arms, and not so secure. A shelter that both shields the body and lays it bare. There, where a lair, a den, a shell perhaps, becomes the only refuge.
