Markela Panegyres spoke to artist Elaheh Mahdavi about her and her brother Arman’s recent exhibition The Seasick, at Gallery 1855 in Kaurna Yerta/Adelaide, which explores the plight of Iranian refugees who arrived in Australia by boat, and those they left behind.
Elaheh is a refugee and Arman is currently in Iran. The exhibition reflected their own experiences and those of other Iranian refugees living in the city.
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Can you tell me why you came up with the title, The Seasick?
The Seasick is also the title of the art collective established by my brother Arman and I. There is a tradition of people from different branches of arts, music and visual art to name their debut album or exhibition after their collective.
We called our art collective The Seasick because of the Farsi word for seasickness دریازدگی (dariyazdegi). It is used a lot in Farsi literature and poetry and it means people who are seasick, but it also contains other connotations and meanings.
The work in this exhibition is about people who left Iran and came to Australia by boat, and the people they left behind and are separated from by sea.
The sea is also the reason a lot of people are in Australia, and not able to go back to see their loved ones because they will not be granted visas, [like] other refugees who did not come here via boats.
Our work uses the metaphor of seasickness to describe those feelings of loss and longing that we have for each other, our families back home. The word seasickness felt like a good way to communicate how that feels.
Given the emotional content of this work, was the experience of creating the works for this exhibition cathartic or healing, or painful, or a bit of all of all three?
All of those and a lot of other things!
I conducted several interviews of refugees with loved ones they had left in Iran, in preparation for developing the artworks and exhibition. This was also triggering of a lot of things that happened to me that maybe I had forgotten or had tried to forget.
Later, during the brainstorming process, which involved listening to interviews, coming up with ideas and the actual painting … there were tears, there were moments of despair, but at the same time it was also amazing.
I had so much fun making this artwork, because it was cathartic, because it was me collaborating with my brother who was oceans away from me on something meaningful and beautiful.
That feeling of creating something that can communicate even the darkest, saddest feelings … that are not always communicable with words. To just represent them [in art] is a very unique feeling.
Your brother Arman is still in Iran. Can you tell me about how you collaborated across such a huge distance?
I started off doing the interviews with refugees. I used to work as an interpreter for refugees, so I had a lot of experience in this.
Arman and I would listen to the interviews, and reflect on, and discuss what we heard. We had video calls every week … brainstorming ideas … we let ourselves be completely free about what came to our mind [in terms of imagery for the paintings].
Sometimes we were talking about something from the interviews and a song or an image or something popped into our minds. We didn’t always know how — or if — that was directly related to an interview or our own experience, but we just trusted it and from there we would start making sketches, and sharing them with each other.
Once we had made all the decisions about what to draw, and the colours we wanted to use, we would start the painting process.
Initially we were going to have this back-and-forth system where I would start a work and send it to Iran for Arman to finish, and then he would do the same. But unfortunately since mid year last year, there was no mail allowed from Australia to Iran.
That’s why we decided to travel to Thailand for about ten days, to meet, and finish working on all the artwork together.
What is your own experience of being a refugee and coming to this country, and how are you using art to express that story?
There are two parts to it:
Part one: Imagine (if you can), a perfect, easy, non-problematic and straightforward experience of taking refuge in another country.
That in itself is a most traumatic experience, because of the lack of choice, of not being able to go back, because of the uncertainty and lack of planning. It’s a big disruption in your life and you end up in a place where you have no idea what life is like there, and you don’t speak the language.
It would be painful enough if everything goes straightforward and well … but you are never able to go back to even visit. Everything that is related to the life you had up to that point is left there and you can’t go back to it.
But as you know, ... there was a lot of added stress, and the waiting, the not knowing, and honestly borderline absurd, ridiculous and painful events.
Part two relates to the pain of being in limbo. There is only so long you can stay invested in something if it causes so much stress. I remember when I got my permanent visa three or four years ago there was a sense of relief and being happy, but not as much as you would think because of after 10 years of waiting it numbs you. In my case, my defense mechanism was to just try to “let it go” and “forget about it”.
I have had the best experience in Australia in terms of the people. I have met beautiful, lovely, amazing people at work, including my friends, my partner and their families. But the experience of the Australian government – how they treated us — has unfortunately inserted in me a negative feeling towards Australia that I’m not sure that I can shake — which is sad.
Can you to tell me a bit about your artistic process? Why do you use certain types of paints and materials, and why did you choose to layout each work in sequences of four panels?
The idea of the four panel format [is] based on the work of our art collective from about three years ago. Actually, the four-panel postcards were the first things we created as a collective.
This idea arose because my brother has a very strong artistic background. He has been an artist since his teenage years, whereas I have more of a literature background. I studied English literature at university back in Iran, and I have always been very fascinated with narration in fiction and reading.
The four panel format felt like a way we could bring our two strengths together: visual art that narrates a story.
About the detail in the work – once we had an idea and an initial sketch we would spend some time thinking … what can we add? Does this feel complete? What layers can we add so that it has much more depth? What details can we add so that only someone who pays attention will figure it out?
I should add that this exhibition is part of a bigger project, a graphic novel ... [which] will hopefully be published next year.
There is a very striking four-panel painting showing a young man in the shower, then in a pool, then submerged in water, and then swimming/drowning overboard. Can you tell me more about that work?
One of the refugees I interviewed told me that the day or two before she and her partner had to leave Iran, they had taken refuge at her parents’ house. She said her father (a typical Iranian father who wanted to be strong for his children) wouldn’t show any emotion around them. But later she found out that he would go and cry in the shower.
We just imagined that he would have also done that after she left, and how he might have felt after his daughter left on a boat ... he knows she’s gone but doesn’t know if she is safe. And he can’t do anything about it.
We tried to share that feeling of helplessness and not-knowing.
347_the_calling_sea by Elaheh and Arman Mahdavi and .jpg
What is the main reason that Iranian people left Iran as refugees, from your interviews? What was your experience?
Firstly, [they are] people who have been somewhat politically active. A lot of the things that are considered political activities and not tolerated by the government in Iran would only count as maybe “social and community activities” [in Australia, such as] community events, taking photographs … trying to inform people and educate people about their actual rights (we’re not even talking about human rights or anything.)
It’s really hard to explain that to people here.
The other main reason is religion — for example if they are not Muslim, or if they are Muslim, but from a branch of Islam that is not accepted or tolerated by the Iranian regime.
You were in Australia during the "women, life, freedom" uprising. Did that intensify this feeling of seasickness? How did you feel about that struggle as a refugee?
It’s a fight I have fought all my life.
It’s a fight that still, in some ways, in a country like Australia I have to fight, letting people know that: “I’ll just wear what I want to wear, it’s none of your business.” But in the case of Iran, it’s a fight that’s so close to my heart that I really wanted to fight. Obviously, it wasn’t just about what you wear, but that is a very good representation of what everything else is about. It’s about your right to live your life as you want…
I so wanted to fight alongside them, but I couldn’t [because I am now in Australia].
I developed a feeling similar to what I had a few weeks ago with the attack on Iran by Israel. It’s a strong feeling of hopelessness, helplessness; that you can’t do anything as much as you want to — even to make your loved ones feel safe.
Just being away, not knowing. I think that actually sums up the whole experience of being a refugee in general. We don’t have any control over what’s happening, and you don’t know what is happening. To some extent this is part of life for everybody, but when it passes a certain level it just becomes too much.
Have you made any new artwork about [the attacks on Iran by Israel]?
No — for two reasons. One, since it all started the internet connection for the majority of people in Iran, has either stopped or been banned. All my artwork is done in collaboration with my brother in Iran, and I lost contact with him for the most part for weeks.
Two, when things were happening, in the thick of things, I was too stressed out to make work. I had to distract myself completely so I wasn’t thinking about it, or if I was thinking about it I was sadly too stressed to make anything or do anything artistic.
You have previously said that this exhibition is your statement to the Australian government. Do you think that art is effective in making political change?
Well if you look at it historically, I think the majority of people are always one step ahead of the laws, legal system and government in any society. And I think art has often been one or several steps ahead of the people.
I don’t look at it as though “this one artwork or exhibition has impact on politics”. Instead, I believe that art and artists in general have that leading role. Artists have often created work that was not accepted by the people of their times, and when time passes, when people become more ready to accept those ideas, [they] become more acceptable in broader society, and even effect laws and the legal system.
The exhibition includes four-panel concertina postcards along with the four-panel paintings. Are you planning to send the postcards?
Yes we are, although we have been having a bit of trouble explaining this concept to our audience. Most people are used to a single panel postcard, and this is four!
People often ask me, “What is this? Is this a painting? Is this a postcard? How do you use this?” So we explain they are like regular postcards: you can write something on the back, and present them on a shelf like we have done here. We are being very patient with this, because it’s a new thing and some people are a bit confused about the concept.
Is there anything else you would like to add about the exhibition?
I loved the opening night: a lot of people attended and expressed support. Many viewers told me about a painting or work that brought tears to their eyes, or really touched them.
I loved this exchange with people because it feels like have been successful in communicating the feelings of being a refugee. I feel like that’s a good sign for our book when it is published, that it’s hopefully going to have a good reception.
[The Seasick was on display in June and July at Gallery 1855. Follow Elaheh and Arman’s art collective on Instagram: @the_seasick.]