Carlisle Berkley in Conversation with Reza Derakshani
Reza Derakshani.
Being a painter, poet, musician and performance artist, Reza Derakshani uses a wide range of artistic forms of expression. He completed his formal artistic education at the University of Tehran, followed by the Pasadena School of Art in California. After graduating he returned to teach at the University of Tehran until the Islamic Revolution in 1979, when he fled his native country for New York City. While living in New York, Derakshani became engrossed by Abstract Expressionism and soon became associated with the Neo Expressionists of the 1980s. Running in artistic circles including names such as Cy Twombly & Francesco Clemente, Derakshani’s style is a blend of abstract and figurative elements from both Eastern and Western culture. His work is included in esteemed public collections such as The British Museum, London, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York and The Russian Museum, St Petersburg.
MADE IN BED contributor Carlisle Berkley interviewed Reza Derakshani to discuss his relationship with both abstraction and figuration, nomadic lifestyle, and commitment to exploring his cultural heritage through methods that intermingle East and West.
Reza Derakshani, Whispears, oil on canvas, 250 x 198 cm.
Carlisle Berkley: Could you please give MADE IN BED’s readers some insight into your artistic background and tell us about your relationship with both abstraction and figuration?
Reza Derakshani: Thank you for the opportunity to channel my brain on your questions, after a year of studio confinement and long emotional hours of painting - it’s a great pleasure. To say briefly, I was born and raised in a small mountain top town in north-eastern Iran. I subsequently received my diploma in mathematics and began my formal education in the arts at the University of Tehran - back when it was a university and not a mosque. I then furthered my higher education in the United States. I was lucky to have been granted an artistic gift that was manifested in certain natural skills developed at a very early age, including a singing voice. I drew and painted passionately. I began receiving commissions for my work when I was 10-11 years old and [a] national medal of honours as a high school student.
My initiation into figurative art included drawing faces and nature on one hand and Persian calligraphy and traditional visuals on the other, but my passion began pulling me towards more Western narratives of art history. Much later when I moved to New York City, I began looking back at my cultural heritage in search of an identity as an artist. It was there that I entered a phase of abstraction. Not to mention the impact of American Abstract Expressionism which highly contributed to the maturity of my work in this period of my artistic journey.
Later on, I realized I could not work entirely in abstraction while emotionally leaning towards figuration. The footprint of this period of abstraction changed my approach to materials and subjects. I didn’t want to lose any of those mental practices, so from that point on I was at the edge of the two. This was really a turning point, and I was totally happy with the outcome of years of mental and materialistic artistic challenges. This has been ongoing.
Reza Derakshani, Every Lily Night, tar, gold and paint on canvas, 180 x 250 cm.
CB: Your work exhibits a sophisticated sense for materiality and reads almost like a balancing act between the two [abstraction and figuration]. The layering of pigments and expressive brushwork combined with the intuitive use of metallics and repeated, yet varied figures bring forgotten histories to the edge of the viewer’s consciousness. You yourself also live a nomadic life, seemingly always walking the thin line between different places and cultures. How has this influenced your relationship with categorization as an artist?
RD: I guess my nomadic lifestyle has roots in my childhood and in the geopolitical circumstances of my lost homeland. Wandering has gradually become my way of life and inspires me in many ways. A new place, different nature, light, language, expressions, looks and traditions, all bring fresh visual pleasure and results - but there are always those strong roots of my cultural heritage in my work. I have found that this heritage never truly leaves me alone. It brings unity to all the new characteristics to which I am referring. I think they could become quite confusing otherwise. This includes the more historic elements, music, poetry and visual aspects of Persian culture that I grew up with as a child. There are times that I lean more towards one than the other, this has to do with my emotional mood, location and the subject matter I am preoccupied with.
CB: Change is a concept very familiar to you, as is travelling between the East and West, both artistically and literally. What was it like to navigate the New York art world of the 80s and 90s after having experienced a rather radical instance of displacement?
RD: I’ve always let my emotions lead me in life and work, and that has worked well for me. To me life is a never ending and unpredictable journey with joy, bumpy roads, dangerous passages, happiness and sorrow. Great effort is required to safely navigate the landscape. Art follows the same path and has the same intensity. I figure renewing life every now and then is nourishing, and [that is also] the case with my art - new styles of work, uses of material and connections between subjects are refreshing. Although there are series of my work that I will return to, this kind of revisiting never produces the same results.
Those years you are referring to in NYC were quite exciting and a learning process. Especially because while I was trying to find my way out of the jungle [of] artistic convention, I eventually found that I had come back [again] to the dark side of heaven, and therefore it was time for me to leave. I have been displacing ever since.
I think it is important for readers to understand that in my case, displacement is not living on the corner of a street. Each time I displace, I create a great studio in [the] place I land, naturally developing sophisticated connections along the way. Ultimately the process is all about art, but not necessarily the local markets. It’s just an inspiration and state of mind.
Reza Derakshani, They Say, I Say, oil, tar and glitter on canvas. 200 x 180 cm.
CB: Would you care to elaborate on your return to Iran in the early 2000s - specifically the experience of finding a country and culture that you felt like you couldn’t relate to? Throughout this experience, your process was working in direct conversation with the heritage of this same culture. Did working in this manner help you to reconcile with this sort of alienation?
RD: Certainly, that’s an important topic and has played a huge role in my artistic journey. There was no plan for me to return there, but there were many intriguing signs that appeared right before this period, and they aroused my curiosity greatly. I finally decided to take the invitation for a show in a private institution, which was a very emotional move at a time when things were a bit more open. There was this hope that there may be light at the end of a tunnel. I saw a space where I could contribute a bit, at least in my field of work. Being away for two decades, not seeing family members and close friends, a longing for the soil, the light, the beautiful landscape that I used to paint from life as a young boy, produced this extreme curiosity about the art scene there and ultimately contributed to the move as well.
The re-entry was a bit risky and quite emotional, a big show coupled with musical performances. The generous and entirely positive reception of my work made it even more emotional. Connecting with [a] younger generation was a good feeling which led me to think [about] a studio there and more involvement in the art scene, which wasn’t the initial plan. It went on with excitement for a while, but soon I realized it was not the homeland I remembered. The culture, the language, even the very texture of the society had transformed into something which is hard to comprehend. Not to mention all the restrictions, strange regulations and uncertainty which sucks the blood out of life all together. Of course, there is a small fraction that still cares about the rich history of the land, the art and the originality of Persian culture, but that’s not what you deal with on a day-by-day basis.
On the other hand, I realized I had gone through transformations as well, so the combination of the two made it very difficult for me to go on. Even if it was sad to leave, I saw no other choice, as both an artist and an individual. You have a valid point, my conversation with Persian heritage is in part to reconcile with the so-called alienation in conjunction with what I value in that culture. It is also my identity, even though I generally regard myself as a free contemporary mind. Somehow it doesn’t make sense to be identified with another cultural heritage, even one possibly more advanced. I find that even though I have cut many ties, I am still caught in the web. My personality is like a magic box that inspires greatly with all its beauty when I reach my hand in, but at times I find poisonous creatures in there which leave painful scars.
CB: It could be said that your nomadic existence prepared you well to become an artist that dances within and around different disciplines. I would like to discuss your sculptural works and your musical compositions. Can you give our readers an insight as to how creating in multiple media factors into your overall artistic practice? Are your approaches to each medium interconnected?
RD: Definitely interconnected. I wish I had 50 hours a day so that I could fulfil all my passions. Three-dimensional work is a great passion. I have explored this medium and that manifested in a few pieces, but I have not had the opportunity to seriously engage with sculpture due [to] lack of time. I also worked professionally as a graphic designer while pursuing my formal artistic education. I loved experimenting with graphics but found painting to be more liberating.
Music on the other hand has been competing with the practice of painting since the beginning. I started taking lessons on Persian string instruments. I added various other instrumental practices along the line. Having said that, I consider myself a painter. I love the physical and mental engagement of it. To me it’s nothing but magical when a piece of fabric finds life in the solitude of a painter. Creation then transforms this piece of fabric into one of the most valuable and unique properties of human history, an example of cultural output. That’s why every other artistic practice I do contributes to my painting in one way or another. This includes poetry which is the underlying layer of all.
Reza Derakshani, Sonata in Blue, oil on canvas, 200 x 180 cm.
CB: You have a habit of working in series that often reflect disparate subject matter. How do you decide when you have finished exploring a topic? Do you ever come back to a topic after letting it live in your memory for a bit?
RD: It really depends on the series. Some last longer and some have a shorter life. It is very common that I have a flash back and redo a series, but I wouldn’t classify this practice as repeating. Practice wise, revisiting often produces very different results while also referencing the older set of works. This fascinates me quite a bit.
CB: Repetition factors in a great deal to melodic structures. When confronted with examples of your Hunt Series, the viewer can discern this melodic quality to your brushstrokes. Is there a kind of harmony that you find in the subject matter?
RD: Yes, melodic structures require repetition, of course. I am fascinated by the looping of a sound or a few notes. This is the structure of a lot of contemporary sounds [of] rock and pop music - Philip Glass is a good example. It really becomes effective. This kind of practice happens very often in series like the Hunting works and the Miniature series, which I think comes from the quite repetitious quality of my music and its Persian influences.
Reza Derakshani, Hunting the Hunter 2011-2014, oil and glitter on canvas, 198 x 250 cm.
CB: As we conclude, what can you share with readers about any current or forthcoming projects that you have undertaken? How has the contemporary climate of the previous two years impacted your artistic output?
RD: As we know it’s been the weirdest couple of years with the world shutting down. Surprisingly, I think it became a test for survival - and in my case a time to lend both to intense studio work and to long periods of staying away from work and watching my art as an outsider! As we speak, I’m setting up my new studio in Istanbul after 6 months of not painting intentionally. I am quite excited about restarting with a fresh mind in a new setting.
I have many ideas in mind for new works that also reference things I’ve always been engaged with. I’m at a point where I’m not really thinking about shattering the glass dome or changing the art world. In some ways, that’s probably the biggest lesson I learned in the past couple of years. I understand the fascination of the Western world with [addressing] certain [socio-political] topics through contemporary art. For example, images of women in hijab, religious events, various political issues with disturbing images and so on. While these are certainly important issues to engage with in discourse, when it comes to art, I see a much wider horizon which is timeless and resonates much more deeply in the human psyche. All I want to do is follow my heart in peace and create what comes to me using the magic tool, which is painting. It is hard to say what will be the product of my studio, but my overall project could be said to be creating solid, timeless works of art. If my work brings joy and pleasant, thoughtful moments to those who will live with it, I will be happy and grateful.
As Hafiz, the king of Persian poetry said centuries ago: ‘Wise ones seem to be the centre of the circle of existence, But LOVE knows they are the lost ones in the universe.’
Thank you, Reza!
Image courtesy of the artist.
Discover Reza’s work on his website and spotify.
Carlisle Berkley,
Contributor, MADE IN BED