Abbas Moradi Joorabi
Imamzadeh Davood
1997
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Mehran MohajerImamzadeh Davood
Going to Imamzadeh Davood was a common
practice among many of Yahya Dehghanpour’s students. Our teacher would take us
there—both to spend some leisure time and to observe a fragment of our own
culture, sometimes even reflecting it back. This photograph belongs to that
same practice.
The image is full—full of things, full of signs. From the icon of the Mother to
the teapot and samovar; from childlike innocence to a bag of puffs and an image
of Mickey Mouse; from a landscape in the right corner to an eagle above; from
an empty chair to a barrel of water and a couple of glasses scattered here and
there. And still, the darkness won’t let us enter the storeroom to see the
objects and signs behind it, and the glare won’t let us enter the shop to see
the snacks inside.
The photograph is full of color, too.
Everything I’ve listed is in color. And these colors, these things, and these
signs pull us into the photograph.
But despite all this fullness, I don’t go in.
I follow that reflection on the screen and that solitary empty bottle. That
screen and that bottle take me outside the frame—into an undiscovered space. In
that screen and in that bottle, I imagine Emamzadeh Davood.
And in all of this, we miss the photographer,
Abbas Moradi.