MORTEZA ZAHEDI :
I was born on March 31,1978 in Rasht, one of the most charming northern cities of Iran near the sea, I can’t swim though! Once I was drowning to death in a covert pool!!
My father was a teacher. But I never did well in math. And so have I tortured my parents with my studies since I was ten. My mother is one of the best cooks in the world. Her cuisine is peerless. I have been living in Tehran for over ten years and my mother is still sending me food. I have got a sister who is two years older than me, and two younger brothers. I am stubborn, inconsistent, impetuous and coward. I have been a coward since childhood and I never like crowded places. And … yes: I hate butter!
My work room is the very place I live in: a small 3 in 4 room at the third floor of an old apartment building downtown. It has two large 2 in 2 windows, one facing the north and the other south. The northern window is always shut and the other one opens into a large balcony which keeps my room bright enough during the day. I’ve got a big wooden desk that is propped against the wall at the north-eastern side of my room. It has six legs, the two of which I have fully stippled with my red marker. All my tools are set on this desk; and beneath it is set my paper collection, which includes various old and recycled pieces of paper I have strenuously gathered over years. Most of my pursuits take shape on this desk. I cannot usually work anywhere else. Yesterday a childhood friend of mine - who was a theater actor once and now, is just a clerk - came to my little room. “I can’t imagine you dwell in such a dungeon”; he said. I felt so sorry for my friend, for he can’t realize that this very dungeon is my sanctuary…
My first book was titled Sarah – the first experience of a novice which I can only laugh at now. I wish I had never illustrated the book. It is very important for me to make an unknown world perfectly visible in each new project. There are, I think, two types of artists: the diligent and the spontaneous. The artists of the first type start their daily work at a certain time and go on for certain hours per day; they have achieved a formula of their own and get their desired results by merely iterating that. But the second type can create a piece of art only through long pauses and in certain conditions. Quite the contrary, painting is not a daily routine for these artists and they are rather mentally involved with the process of artistic creation. I belong to the second type. Whenever I accept a new project my heart is filled with an odd fear of not being able to make something new. And then I blame myself of having knowingly got into such trouble. Believe it, it is so difficult to make a whole book at the same time you are obsessed with the process of an artistic creation, and all to meet an employer’s order and expectations! And you know time is everything when you accept a project; it can distress you - especially when you have no preliminary idea of what you are going to do. Hence I postpone the work for a while. Hang myself out, get back to my desk and draw for myself. I wouldn’t like to repeat what I already know. Having wandered and been baffled enough, little by little things begin to happen, ‘things’ that are so difficult to describe: it may happen while taking a shower, or while dining…so I wander less; postpone less important appointments and I cant stand anyone or anything bother me when I am concentrating on my work. The worst thing to happen is when I run out of my tools while working and I have to leave my room; because it rarely happens that I can retrieve my previous mood and go on with the job. I am meticulous about creating and rendering my frames. Sometimes the very first frame may satisfy me and that would be fabulous, but this rarely happens.
There are many frames that I change them over and over and each revision results in a different production, and I can’t usually decide which one is better. I have recently realized that I should not spend so much time on a single collection, because prolonging a project would just make it impossible for me to easily end it up. The last book took me three years to illustrate and I spent over four months to create the last frame. I exhausted myself with it and yet I failed to create what I desired. So I just ignored my obsession with the work and handed it in to the publisher. So far, two of my books are published in Japan and I am currently working for two Japanese publishers. The Voyage of the Butterfly is the title of my last book published 3 months ago in Iran; some of its illustrations were exhibited last year in Bologna Book Fair. My current project is a music+book which I am preparing with a Japanese musician. It will be published by a music press which only publishes musical productions. Ms Miroque is supposed to compose the music according to the pictures and words I have made. The project is called Morteza+Miroque. This book+CD is not intended for a particular age group and is a totally artistic experience.
It is exactly ten years that I have been in this profession. Though I live and work in Iran I am satisfied with my current position. For here in Iran we have many limitations for an artist to be seen, acknowledged, to live artistically and professionally, especially on an international level.
In 2002, I was doing my military service at one of the army bases of Rasht, and since I was a painting graduate, I was used in the worst imaginable way in the section I had to service. I painted the walls and rooms of the commanders there. I was even ordered to paint and decorate all the seats of the base’s stadium with red and yellow…Meanwhile I was informed of having won the second prize and the golden pen in the International Belgrade Illustrating Exhibition and so would the president of the time award a number of young prize winners of Iran – me among them. I gleefully went to the commander’s office and told him all about it and asked for a short leave to attend the ceremony. He gave me a sarcastic look and said: “Ain’t there a bigger lie to tell me? Or may be the president himself has called to invite you?” He didn’t let me go. I escaped from the base the same day and attended the ceremony. That night, the ceremony was broadcasted for an hour on national channels while the cameras had long zoomed on me….