Transformed

The small eye on the ground pushes sprawling and unstable Tehran toward the upper half of the frame. This half comes after the darkness of the earth and the main subject — the small object in the foreground. Only a faint light filters through the crowd of people and cars to reach the foreground. This illumination reveals to me the city’s dark half; a darkness that transforms the figures of pedestrians into mere signs.

This seemingly still frame is neither motionless nor silent. The hum of Tehran reverberates in my ears and I anxiously fear being crushed underfoot. People swiftly slide from right to left across the frame. Everything in this aimless space is in motion. Even the object resting on the asphalt in the foreground seems poised to move at any moment and exit the frame. Yet, seeing from this strange angle has its own charm — somewhat freer than the usual dynamics of the wandering street photographer. The sensation of viewing from this unconventional vantage point — a mouse’s point of view — away from typical human height and without anyone seeing or objecting to me, holds the pleasure of a small sin. A kind of enchantment at the city’s core without rejection.

Only one thing threatens the pleasure of this unfamiliar gaze: the thought that the person to my right sees me and is coming toward me from those structures of civilization. Ultimately, however, I prefer to imagine that he doesn’t see me and is merely fleeing the chaos of the center. I must thank the shadow that covers his eyes.