my interest to draw spectacled people was started when I went to an optician’s for changing my glasses .I understood that how much effective the glasses are on our perception apart from their form attraction ,and I remembered one of my childhood memories. Wearing glasses is one of the mysterious curiosities of people in childhood and I wasn’t exception .I can remember that I pretended to low vision in school’s per capita optometry. Glasses were a personable sign for me .Gradually this childlike personable feeling was exchanged with man’s though , and recognized that man can see as much as they know.(Our perceive border is our vision border)
Now it’s me and routine wearing on and out glasses . Sometimes my eyes blink restless and sometimes gaze at an eccentric lethargy and then stare . As if this insanity habit has been afflicted with a contagious illness: frequent eyesight

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When the mind floats away,I automatically become weightless . I watch myself mildly. My body which moves in the whimsical fluidity ,I love more than ever.The more weightless I become ,the more lighter my environed color. A strange dignity surrounds me. Gradually, I do not hear any voice, and I calmly get pregnant from my internal sound . I’m like flipping form in freezing space.Like a figure who experiencing abstraction in infinity. like a bulk which emptying from inside.Yes ,It looks like a dream and how a big conflict to reproduce a dream that is forgotten every day.
this collection depicts a set of figures that gradually disappears from its surroundings, where, in addition to all the surrounding objects, some parts of the figures itself are removed and resolved in a large volume of space, it seems that it was not present at all or there is a presence which its life continuation depends on the silence surrounding . Fluid lines and mild gray layers that reveal themselves in a vast range of white layers. It is difficult to recognize the form and the figure. It is possible to consider the form as a space, or vice versa. There is something missing here. It probably is part of space or man or perhaps both, and to find this lost, there is no choice but to stand and resolve among painting layers.

All life originality is the continuity of the principle of birth and death, and the one that does not surrender to this simple destiny will moss from inside , and what reduces the speed of this process is creativity and creation. Creativity is a sign of the human dynamics , but femininity; this instinctively productive identity who generates this cycle of birth and death monthly. creator whose life is always in her, and this is itself the same dreadful rhythm that life and femininity share in it. The pain that is produced by her is her cure. It is feminization of latent puberty that is fertilized in menopause. Right when this cycle stops.

As a child, I was always fascinated by the mystery of how the world came to be. When I asked others, I found myself needing to clarify by saying, ‘No, I mean the very first time.’ I often found myself staring at my own body, contemplating what lay beneath the surface of my skin and bones.

Now, more than two decades later, I still find myself drawn back to those same childhood inquiries. The allure of those fantasies of bone and skin is inexplicably powerful. Whenever I revisit these unanswered questions, I find myself slipping into a strange trance where the world of organs and flesh collapses into a surreal, suspended state. It’s as if there was no predetermined plan or blueprint for creation. I cannot recall a time before this, and I’m left only with these anonymous, decaying organs that seem to have no defined boundaries.

It’s unclear how or why I’ve become hypnotized by these thoughts, but I find that this collapse represents a symbol of a new beginning. It’s a reminder that the origins of the universe and of life itself remain a mystery, waiting to be uncovered and explored.