To disappear when facing nature
This painter says that in her new exhibition, she is seeking a landscape that starts from reality and ends in an imaginary world. Parviz Barati.
Anahita Abutorabi’s responses to this conversation remain mostly in the form of a long, rhythmic poem; from a restless spiritual aspect that has settled over time – here and now – during that October sunset when I sat with her to discuss her recent experiences in painting as an excuse for her new exhibition. Following Eckhart Tolle – whom Abutorabi greatly admires – the mental project of this painter is a kind of anchoring in the present moment and, of course, being intoxicated by the beauty of nature and surrendering oneself into the arms of Mother Earth with its mountains and rivers, without any concern for the future. Abutorabi was born in 1978 in Neyshabur and, according to herself, spends long hours in vast and serene plains, expansive fields, angry skies, snowy foothills, and immense mountains. She can be seen as a sage who discovers the secrets of nature in its heart. Our conversation with this painter is on the occasion of her exhibition titled “I am the one with no address”, which runs from November 3rd to 14th, 2023, at Sohrab Gallery.
“I am the one with no address” can simultaneously refer to someone who has neither an address nor a mark, and a timeless essence within her! Where does Anahita Abutorabi stand in this equation? Why does she see herself as someone with no address?!
I’ve never wanted to belong to a specific place and time. I steer clear of any kind of labelling due to always striving to distance myself from providing an address for everything. I favour emptiness in my life; in other words, I don’t like to have an expiration date, which is why I never have an address. Sometimes I find myself in a void that follows a sort of confusion and disorientation, but it’s a pleasant self-imposed confusion. I love presence, but a presence that isn’t dependent on place, time, or identity. Nature, for me, holds a strange meaning and an even stranger place; it helps me detach from whatever bothers me and confuses me. In different situations, I have different perceptions of space; for example, some of my paintings are directly created under the rain and thunderstorms. When I work in nature, all works, especially my larger ones, are not finalized there; they’re completed in the studio. In nature, I either sketch or take photographs. Definitely, regardless of the state, if I’m not carrying the energy present in that space, the work doesn’t take shape; I can’t work based on a photo taken by someone else in nature; I must be present in that space myself. My works are created based on the moment of sketching, capturing the feeling associated with it is important to me. Sometimes a place is a metaphor for the mood of that particular day for me. My style today is very different from two months ago because my new exhibition works have been in progress for a year or two. Generally, when I work in nature, it’s as if a force takes hold of me and leads me forward. My hand moves unconsciously and doesn’t stick to a predetermined pattern of painting. I love the challenge of not confining myself in a cage and staying within a framework. I can fluctuate emotions; now, whether the result is good or bad doesn’t matter; what matters is that the painting is being done.
Your revelations in the heart of nature seem profound.
I’ve gradually learned that by placing my feet on the ground, I receive a certain energy and establish a connection with that same energy.
Considering your previous exhibition at Sohrab Gallery, where your works were related to your biological philosophy and were figurative, how do you find balance between those figurative works and your current exhibition’s nature-oriented pieces? Are these two approaches distinct for you?
For me, nature is also a figure; a figure is also nature, and there’s no difference between the two. However, figurative work is more challenging for me. There was a time when I held a particular reverence for nature, feeling that nature was superior to us, and I saw nature’s wrath; but now I think my perspective on nature depends on its impact on me. By nature, I mean the inherent spontaneity or self-generating nature of things and absolute freedom from artificiality. In this way, whenever things are free to follow their natural course, they move in perfect harmony.
We’d like to know what you receive from the type of presence of nature that manifests differently in your work, and what is the culmination of this reception?
I don’t want to be an interpreter or a pattern. Sometimes even in my own words and what exists, I doubt, because I believe that there is no absolute truth. What has given me good results and has allowed me to find tranquillity in the hustle and bustle of existence has been travel and nature. By going into nature, I understand such valuable feelings and familiarity that I don’t grasp in the city and among people. In vast and serene plains, expansive fields, angry skies, snowy foothills, and immense mountains, I’ve observed the most magnificent and glorious beauties. I enjoy traveling because it contains freedom within itself, and through it, you accept all kinds of challenges. Confronting those challenges is very appealing to me, and understanding what makes me unique. It’s often said to escape the city hustle into the heart of nature, but when a person steps into nature, they bring that same hustle with them! I think it’s not nature that needs improvement and perfection; it’s us who need change, and we must adapt ourselves to it. That’s why I think one shouldn’t be against nature, and that’s the reason and the way an artist must approach nature. I go where its energies and forces are pure; I go where human presence is less because in such a situation, the energy is simpler and purer. Previously, when I sat in such a situation, I used to think about what nature wanted to tell me now, especially when I read a lot of Eckhart Tolle. Then, you gradually see that you spend hours in that space, unaware of the passage of time. When you return, you feel like you’re sitting with deep joy watching the world. Someone asks, why are you in a good mood? Why shouldn’t I be, and there’s no answer! I don’t want to recommend going to nature, but I say that I went to nature myself under these conditions and felt better. Those older than me have recommended going to nature. We don’t have anything more important than Eckhart Tolle emphasizing the relationship between humans and nature and one’s own nature. Despite all this, I still face challenges and doubts.
What doubts?
Doubts about nature and humanity. Sometimes I come to the realization that these two are one. Sometimes epistemological and spiritual discussions come in and bother me. Doubts occur, even death and life make me doubt. Sometimes, because of being in nature, I feel good and ask why should humans make life difficult for themselves?
What you’re saying exists in most people, and we all find a good feeling with nature. What’s different about your position as a painter in relation to nature than mine?
These can’t be expressed in statements. I can express them in the form of colours. I can convey the feelings I received from that space with excitement. My language is the language of colour. In response to your question, I have to say I’m filtering out from clarity and my output is these paintings you see.
In fact, you interpret the world through colour.
Exactly, my language is not made up of words, it’s made up of colour and pattern, with a colourful palette.
Can you explain more about the technical approach you have with nature? Especially from the perspective that it seems you’re not after the conventional representation of landscapes, and the lights of your paintings are subject to your mindset…
In my works, light doesn’t matter at all; not that there isn’t any light, but it doesn’t matter. It’s filtered through and turned into a mental matter. But perhaps the output is still with real elements. When I work, a mountain is not a mountain for me; it’s a form. It doesn’t matter to me whether I say this is morning light or afternoon or evening; it doesn’t matter. Atmospheric perspective doesn’t matter to me, but at the same time, you see a perspective. Atmospheric perspective doesn’t allow you to have orange deep in the depth of your work, but in my works, there’s atmospheric perspective, although I still break it and work with a quantity of surfaces and spots of very fine orange. If you pay attention to the colours in my paintings, you won’t see the pure purple or yellow or absolute black that exists in these works in nature. These are mental matters. I must say painting is like a therapy and treatment for me. I’m not happy to step into an exhibition where all the paintings are similar; I like each piece to speak to me and challenge me. It should be a concept, but it’s not my preference for one work to represent all of an artist’s works! Unless I want to see every detail as a buyer. In the course of nature paintings, a movement happened that, to use Mr. Turkman’s expression, the dynamic Anahita, after those expressive figures, gradually reached tranquillity; now I don’t know which one to continue! I prefer to remove the excess pens with heavy efforts; perhaps I want to be intentionally cluttered somewhere, but removing excess and reaching simplicity and purity is what I have in mind.
Regarding the influence you mentioned from Van Gogh, I love Van Gogh’s fervour very much.
Regarding the influence you mentioned from Van Gogh, I love Van Gogh’s fervour very much. I like his efforts and his space creation and his unity. I also like Hockney, for his postmodern approach to nature and bold colours, pinks, and strange greens and his particular perspective. About the influence you mentioned from Van Gogh, I have to say I also study Taoism simultaneously, and there’s a Tao footprint in my works. In my watercolour paintings, the landscapes that belonged to before, there’s a Tao Zen quality. In watercolours, the first stroke for me must be the last stroke, and you must have enough skill to know how to stroke.
How much do you consciously place colour on the canvas, and how much is the result of your improvisation?
About 70% of my work involves the intuitive stage, and then with awareness, I gradually refine the effect.
Impressionists were drawn to the heart of nature, but the output of their work varied. What’s the point of seeking energy from nature when your work, as a contemporary artist, is about conveying emotional reality rather than the observable phenomena or narrative of an event?
Van Gogh and his friends pursued the representation of light, and the challenge of light was important to them; for me, it’s about this space and its impact on me. Furthermore, the foundation of my work is such that either I have to photograph nature and then work on that photo, or I don’t want to depict a completely mental nature like the exhibition of ’98. The works of that exhibition were both flashes of nature and abstract, but in my new exhibition, I want to depict more of my perspective; a perspective that starts from reality and ends in my imaginary world. So there is a reality here, but it’s not meant to have a specific name for the viewer. For me, these are real places that I have seen and have transformed into my imaginary world. Usually, when I’m in nature, more sensory experiences happen, but when I work in the studio, the studio space greatly influences me. The more cramped the space, the more cramped my strokes become, and the more spacious the space, the easier and more carefree my strokes become; but I prefer to work in open space because I love freedom and liberation.
This approach you have with nature, where at one point it controls you and at another point you control nature; how does it work?
Let me give you an example. In one of the works where the colours are more delicate, I had placed the colours on my palette and had completed the serious parts of the work. I had a base and the remaining colours; then I came and diluted all the colours. There, I executed that painting. I wasn’t looking at what I was drawing at that moment, I was thinking about depicting that nature. Here, I am controlling nature. But when I’m in a natural environment where I see a vast mountain range, the magnitude and vastness of that view is so overwhelming that I get lost and don’t know how to encapsulate that greatness in a small frame. There, nature controls me and guides me. For me, nature is also a figure, and there is no difference between nature and a figure. Of course, the figure is more challenging for me. There was a time when I had a special reverence for nature, and I felt that nature was superior to us, and I saw nature’s anger; but now I think my view of nature is dependent on nature’s influence on me. By nature, I mean the inherent spontaneity or self-ignition of things and absolute freedom from artificiality.
The foundation of my work is such that either I have to photograph nature and then work on that photo, or I don’t want to depict a completely mental nature like the exhibition of ’98. The works of that exhibition were both flashes of nature and abstract, but in my new exhibition, I want to depict more of my perspective; a perspective that starts from reality and ends in my imaginary world.
Source: Etemad Newspaper Date: 7 November 2023 News Code: 208716
