VAHID MOHAMMADI

The works of great painters excite me and poets and musicians make me extremely jealous. The visual world has opened doors to me and mingling among the light and colour delights me. Facing "beauty and perfection" first happened through the "Notes from Underground" by Dostoyevsky. "Beauty and Perfection" became a mystery to me and discovering and solving them was like an alchemist's struggle. What becomes worrying is their presence in our lives and what is sad is that once one is mesmerized by them, one lifetime is to short to indulge the beauty. Anything beyond this mesmerized feeling is a malady. Obsession is painful and grace is fragile. But "beauty and perfection" do exist from the beginning in different forms, voices, soundsjike and different images. At times they are an enormous rock and at times they are the sound of chains. These images, sounds and words grow and form with us and if they are attended to they flourish. But how to do this remains a mystery. We are witnessing "beauty and perfection". To me a painting is a workshop whose doors have been opened to me. To master the art of painting one must learn all its secrets. On the one hand there is the knowledge of different colours and their use while on the other we have the language of painting and images. It takes a long time to master this and in my opinion the greatest difficulty the "artist's soul" faces is "patience" I try to record dreams, ideas and what I see and hear through painting. I see something and it stirs me, it excites me, it is there with all its visible details, light, colours, textures and all which surrounds it but the image I create is without the "ecstasy" Sounds and voices are the first indications of any creature and the first sign of human presence is the most colourful and bright moment. The eyes see, the tongue reads, the ears hear and the mouth says. But it seems as though it takes a long time for the hands to recreate all these. At times the hands are the tools and at times there are tools in our hands. Tools complicate everything. An outside element becomes the link between my idea and myself. The dreams create the words and sounds and images play around in our dreams. Ideas are born of words and images

at times clarify the words. "Beauty and Perfection" teach us the words. At times I see an image, right or wrong, a shadow forms in my mind and slowly it gains colour, but colours are as wild as words. For an artist colours represent words and he uses the same sensitivity towardscolours as a poet uses towards words. I strive for this moment and as an artist this is the burden I bear, aburden which I carry playfully but in the end my issue is not painting but "beauty and perfection" and my paintings are an incomplete image.