I like to combine my experience living in a city with absurd fundamentals of daily life dynamics and what I create. I find value in works that capture the essence of orientalism, the structure of the living. I work with the idea of remembrance, especially specific patterns from Turkish culture, often imitating traditional tile motifs.
This photo series addresses the checkered past of photojournalism by attempting to disarm The West’s conditioned understanding of people from the Middle East and South Asia as either exotic or religious extremists. This inaccurate portrayal by Western media homogenises and dehumanises these people by denying their intersectionality, thereby promoting racist stereotypes. The most famous example
investigate themes of family, heritage, and god through audiovisual language in video art and film. The goal of my work is to understand how the divine and spiritual are entrenched in the personal. I seek to create new cinematic images that continue in the line of filmmakers like Andrey Tarkovsky, Apichatpong Weerasethakul, and Eduardo Williams,
“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” — Matthew 5:4 “I was resentful that I didn’t know this is what “peaceful” looks like – /that no one had told me that dying is the longest verb –” — Alok Vaid Menon, “Dying is the Longest Verb I Know” My grandfather returned to
I hate the highway. The highway that tore apart the city and split it in two. The city I will no longer come to call home. Mama says they built cities for children. Children like us. The ones that sit upright with attention to watch the sunset. So that when they look up and the
When I was a child I remember looking out an aeroplane window and seeing a desert. I saw masses of land I had no way of understanding. I was a giant who could see it all. In those landscapes, I saw small dots moving slowly across the desert. I knew they were people. Now as
For NSZ. Thanks for helping me find myself. I. August 18, 2016. First Name? -Doménica. How do you spell it? -D. O. M. E. N. I. C. A. Middle Initial? -M. Last Name? -Montaño Moncayo How do you spell that? -M. O. N. T. A. Ñ. O -M. O. N. T. A. N. O As
یک My mother sends me a message, to tell me my Grandfather had a stroke. She never calls when she can’t speak. At Persian funerals everyone wears white, and lilies shroud the dead body in a valley of perfumed delirium. I like the smell of flowers, even at a funeral. White Lillies are my favorite.
I used to walk these streets to my school and back. I wouldn’t pay much attention to my surroundings, dwelling instead on the upcoming assignment that I still had to write. There was no time to waste. I can only remember the uneven pavement from my daily walks through the city. Yet Warsaw is oversaturated
“Keoi mm sek gong” “Sek teng mou?” “I bē bêng-pék” I was surrounded by mouths moving with familiar-unfamiliar tongues, words I had always heard, but never understood. Back then, it was easier to tune their voices out, easier to choose nothingness than to hear it by default. But the language was inescapable. I found myself
