Poems have color. They have scale. They carry emotion.
This one asked insisted to be written on a dusk-blue paper.
It was clear that moonlight must shimmer across the page in silver.
Sleepless nights are vast, so I made the paper large: 100 x 70 cm.And because there is always hope of your return,
I asked the miniature painter to paint a sunburst (shamsa) in the northeast corner of the work in honor of the sunrise that may come.

Once again, the poem brought its own colors:
red wild and rebellious like love itself
set against the green backdrop of patience, where it quietly grows.
The style had to be playful, vibrant, and unrestrained.
Diagonal composition gave the calligraphy its energy,
and an unconventional frame completed the harmony between meaning and form.
I finished the piece with a collage
using crimson maple leaves from the ever-loving tree,
sealed with varnish.

Title: The Chess King
This piece was inspired by a delightful ghazal
a poem that, with utmost tenderness, gently yields to the beloved's charm.
One particular verse stayed with me, sweet and playful:
“You are the king of my chessboard what am I to do with your moon-like rook?”
I’ve written this line many times in different forms,
simply because I adore its wit and warmth.
This time, I laid out a chessboard of black and white squares
but here, it is love that rules the game, not strategy.

Title: The Little Lover
This piece was created for a special exhibition titled “Small Frames”,
in collaboration with four remarkable Iranian female miniature painters.
Together, we showcased a collection of small-format, inventive artworks it turned out to be a memorable and beautiful show.
I designed this piece specifically for the exhibition poster.
The poet says: “Be little, and be in love for love itself knows the way to make you grand…”
I wrote this tender verse in a new format: for the first time, I left the frame open, revealing parts of the piece from the back segmenting it by hand.
It became one of my most beloved creations.

Title: Scratched Lines
These were dark days for my homeland.
I felt heavy with sorrow, overcome with despair.
The sky seemed closed, the path ahead blocked
as if we were trapped in a black tunnel of misfortune,
with not a single dot of light in sight...
That day, a line of verse kept echoing in my mind:
“My hands are soaked in ink,
and all my practice sheets are scribbled lines…”
And from that feeling,
this piece was born.
Its form and atmosphere carry the weight of sorrow
a sorrow that leaves its mark on time.

Title: Simorgh
The Simorgh that mythical, radiant bird and symbol of determination and transcendence was the starting point of this piece.
A work I love so deeply,
I chose to keep it as part of my personal collection.
While creating it, I discovered a unique technique
that led to an improvisation both strange and deeply moving.
I hope one day to share this delicate process
in a workshop, with those who cherish the craft.