The city I love
This is a piece done in ink and colored pencil. Finished in May 2026, I used this drawing to process all the chaotic feelings I was feeling after moving away from Iran a couple of years ago and especially during these past months.
All throughout the blackout, I would screenshot any picture and video coming out of Iran, which sparked familiarity even if I had never been to the area depicted. My whole camera roll became screenshots of bombings and portraits of strangers younger and older than me.
Collecting all these images felt like a desperate way of doing something, but I was only able to make something of them through this drawing. By collaging some of the screenshots together over a painting by Gustav Klimt, I created a composition that made a new but still familiar landscape of my dear Tehran. This is my visual poem to the city I love, crushed by monsters from near and far.
The city I love
Kimia Seifi is a fine artist whose practice moves between painting and sculpture. She was raised in Iran and is currently based in California, where she continues her studies in the visual arts.
The walls speak. Now, they are asking me to speak as well.
A grandmother, but also something more—the balance, the fixed point one can return to with every turn.
There’s a pain in the heart as if it’s sore from walking too far past mountains,
looking for another cavity to beat in
My country, though I wasn’t your birth-child
you still folded me in
where I took root
Tell me your name
so I can write it in the blank lines between stars
جنگ که شروع شد، من تقریباً هیچ کاری نکردم جز ماندن. نه قهرمانی در کار بود، نه فرار، نه پناهگاه، نه حتی اضطرابی که بشود اسمش را ترس گذاشت.
This body of work navigates the paradox of holding on and letting go, preserving fleeting moments of home while accepting their inevitable disappearance.
I said I’m not a poet.
A writer, but not the poet kind.
I know, I know. It’s strange to hear.
از ساختمان سفید سنگی که بیرون میآیم، لحظهای متوقف میشوم. چشم میدوزم به برچسب ویزا که وسط گذرنامهام جا خوش کرده.
Mother who nurtures you
in one gesture weans you
and cradles the world.
با نگاه به عکسها خاطراتی از لحظات آن زمان برایمان تداعی میشود که دیگر قابل تکرار نیست ودر واقع این عکسها هستند که آن خاطرات را جاودانه کردهاند. در اینجا با تأکید بر همین موضوع لحظههایی از زندگیام را ثبت کردهام که با دیدن آنها میتوانم خودم را در عکسها پیدا کنم و روزهایی را که سپری کردهام به خاطر آورم
Lost in the cloud of the internet blackout, a black cloud that has been hanging over the Iranian plateau since January, anything becomes internet.
All throughout the blackout, I would screenshot any picture and video coming out of Iran which sparked familiarity even if I had never been to the area depicted.
It was only January. Ears could hear the seething wind through faintly yellowed cypresses standing starkly in the vast nothingness of the plain that was keeping poppies hidden under layers and layers of white.
I recall the past to untangle the present, to understand how glimpses of possibility and promise can be muddied by forces outside of our control.
Kimia Seifi is a fine artist whose practice moves between painting and sculpture. She was raised in Iran and is currently based in California, where she continues her studies in the visual arts.