Iran 2016 (Gallery #1)
Under the Khaju Bridge, Isfahan, Iran, November 2016
My first night in Isfahan, in early November 2016, I wandered down to the Khaju Bridge (Farsi: پل خواجو ). The bridges spans over Zāyandé-Rūd, or Zāyandé River (Farsi: زاینده رود), which is dry most of the time due to a dam upstream. The bridge is famous--like other structures in this city --as one of the finest examples of Persian architecture. I was fortunate to arrive on a Thursday night which, because many Iranians are off Friday, is a common night to go out and socialize. This oftenmeans picnicking, which Iranians particularly excel at, and they will bring big baskets with foot, pots of tea, and hookahs to any available space.
The Bridge is also famous for the men who sing beneath it, in the alcoves pictured here. The men sing songs about Isfahan mostly, an Isfahan that existed before the Iranian Revolution of 1979, when the river still flowed before the dam. These performances are not exactly legal, though not entirely forbidden.Along with the songs, there is a dance that happens between the singers and the audience, on one side, and the police on the other. The men sing a song or two, and then the cops walk by and everyone disperses for maybe 3 to 5 minutes. Occasionally, they may physically walk a singer away. Then the group comes back together and the songs begin again. And although it is only men who sing, women and children also gather around to listen.
This photo came about during one of the interludes in signing. I had been listening to the music for a half hour or so, standing on one side of the bridge. When the crowds dispersed, I walked beneath the bridge and looked down to see the infinitely repeating groups of people in each alcove. I walked the length of the bridge to the far end and found a clear alcove to stand in to take this picture. I really only had a brief moment when these kids were looking at me before they jumped up to talk, and offer my cigarettes. Like so many Iranians, they were excited to talk and share their evening with me.IranIsfahantravelmiddle eastbridgearchitecturePersian architectureSafavidkhaju bridge
Students at Shāh Chérāgh Shrine, Shiraz, Iran, 2016
I love everything about this photo—the smiles, the colors, the simultaneous spontaneity and adherence to tradition— taken at Shāh Chérāgh (Persian: شاه چراغ), a funerary monument and mosque in Shiraz, Iran . It for me represents so much of what I loved about Iranians: their friendliness, openness, curiosity, and excitement. I took this shot from my hip, admittedly unbeknownst to these young women, but I took some portraits of them later upon their screaming demands as the swarmed on me after their class. As one of the holiest sites in Iran and Shiism, Shāh Chérāgh must be visited with a guide. The shrine is not a single building, but a complex, and there were about a hundred people there that afternoon. These women are here as part of a school activities. Below I have a picture of them in an ancillary building in class.
Chogha Zanbil, Khuzestan Province, Iran
I was really, really excited to see a Ziggurat, and Chogha Zanbil is one of the biggest. My excitement mostly stemmed from my first anthropology classes at Peninsula Community College in Port Angeles, and later NAU in Flagstaff. Though it’s not universally true, in my head Ziggurats marked the beginning of humans really making a big mark on the landscape with the advent complex societies. Although they are specifically associated with Mesopotamia, built by the Sumerians and Akkadians, the first one was built in what is now Kashan, Iran. Chogha Zanbil was built by the Elamites, Sumarian speakers who lived on the Iranian plateau begging around 3000 BCE. Construction of the site began around 1250 BCE.
But my excitement for a ziggurat wasn’t really about all that. (I am suing Wikipedia as I write this to make sure the above sparse historical details are correct.) What got me was just the sense of mystery surrounding ziggurats, the stark beauty in relation to their desolate surroundings, their simultaneous simplicity and hubris, and their place in setting ball rolling—for better or worse—of the force that would come in so many ways to dominate the human experience: urbanization. Studying anthropology, I found it very easy to romanticize hunter and gatherer societies; indeed, much of my time backpacking is on ongoing fantasy of living closely to the rhythms of the earth and the seasons. But I have lived in or close to cities my whole life, like most people on this planet. Chogha Zanbil, as mysterious as it is, also seemed to oddly familiar.
Men in Avicenna Square, Hamadan, Iran, 2016
There is a monument in Hamadan to the polymath Avicenna who, among 150 or so works, is the founder of what has become known as aroma therapy. The monument is surrounded by a large square where people congregate. These men were kind enough to let me take their picture.
Man on Motorcycle, Tehran, 2016
This is the one of the first pictures I took in Iran, which is perfect because my main goal when coming to this country was to just meet people and talk to them, at the very least, and maybe come home with a few portraits of people I could show my friends and family. I admit that I came into this whole adventure very biased: I had already decided that the portrayal of Iran that I had grown up with was at best incomplete, at worst dangerously misleading. Although I had not, before hatching a plan for this trip, met an Iranian, eaten Iranian food, or spoke a lick of Farsi, I had a hard time reconciling the portrayal of Iran in the Western media with, say, the writings of Rumi, the Persian poet. I would later come to find that the portrait Iranians get of Americans is equally biased.
I didn't realize how open to Iranians themselves would be to me taking portraits of them. In this case, I had just gotten off the tour bus and was walking towards a museum I think. Motorcycles buzz all around Tehran, and there were many going by as we walked up the sidewalk. I was impressed by the sheer number of bikers, and thought for a moment they were part of a group. I pulled out my camera to take a few pictures and as I did this guy had stopped nest to me to say hello. I held up my camera and took my first first stab at the phrase "can I take a picture?" (Mitonam aks begeeram).
Interior of the Shah Mosque, Isfahan, Iran, 2016
This is the interior of the Shah Mosque (Persian: مسجد شاه) in Isfahan, Iran. Built in 1611, this is one of the best examples of Persian architecture from the Safavid era in the world. This picture was taken in the mid-morning on a bright sunny day in November, 2016. I was quite surprised that, compared to the near by Sheikh Lotfollah Mosque, this mosque was not that busy.
Swirling Steps, Babak Castle, NW Iran, October 2016
This shot is from the near the top of Babak Castle (Farsi: قلعه بابک), looking down at the stairs below. The light is low, as it’s early evening n Autumn, and the clouds had themselves been swirling around all day. But the tripthe castle almost didn't happen at all.
My tour group took a long day to make it to the town of Kaleybar (Farsi: كليبر), stopping along the way to buy fresh lamb that our guide Ashfin made into wonderful kebabs and a restaurant along the way. I didn't really understand quite how the transaction worked out, but we stopped at a small town on the highway and Ashfin ran into what was essentially a tiny truck stop; it had tables and chairs, as well as the raised platforms covered in Persian rugs that Iranians will often sit and eat on, as though on the floor. The next I knew, Ashfin was cooking in their kitchen, bringing out kebab after kebab of lamb and piles of saffron rice supplied by the restaurant.
In any case, this indulgence made us late to Kaleybar. Though one reason we were going slow was that Ashfin had been told by our eventual mountain guide (i.e. a young guy with a truck) in a phone call that the trail was impassable due to snow. Two hours south on the highway, there was no sign of snow, and the weather was, though not warm, not all that cold. I was skeptical, and said that we should at least try and get to the trail head, and I can decide for myself if there is too much snow. I was committed to seeing this castle. Ashfin agreed we could at least try, and made arrangement for the guide to meet us at the hotel in Kaleybar.
After we arrived at the hotel, the rest of my group went to their rooms. I threw my stuff into the room, grabbed my day pack and camera stuff, and was ready to go out front. The guide showed up in an older, beat up Toyota Forerunner-type vehicle. I was the only one of our group that wanted to go except Ashfin, Aliye—who worked for the company—and her husband Amin. On our way out of town, We stopped in front of a house and waited as someone brought out a small pot of food and some bread for a guide to take up the mountain. And then we were off, tearing—I think everyone tears when they drive in Iran—out of down and up curvy roads.
After a half hour or so, we found ourselves a top high rolling hills above the clouds with twilight fast approaching. During the car ride, Ashfin had given me a cell phone to use in case I got lost or when I got back to the trailhead to get picked up. Of course, all the commands were in Persian, so I suspected it wouldn't work when I deployed it. As we pulled up to the parking area -- really just an open spot on top of the hill -- Ashfin pointed me towards the trail, itslef just a break in the fence.
I took off at a brisk pace as night approached, luckily slower than I expected. In 20 minutes I cam to a few old rooms built into a hill side and an ancient water trough that had been rigged up with a modern pip pouring into it. Thinking this must be the castle, and not at all disappointed, I began snapping photos. Near the back of the site the trail -- itself paved with ancient tones -- took off up the hill to a gap in the rocks. I followed it to the cap and peered off over the valley to the next peak. It's there that I saw the actual castle, built on the top of a mountain, extending it's height by 20 to 30 meters, surrounded by clouds like a scene from Game of Thrones.. My path stretched through the gap, down to ridge, and switch-backed up the peak to the castle. I giddily began nearly running down the path, knowing I was rather short on daylight. My pictures of my first sight of the castle aren't great, but I have included some from the castle itself here.
Castle Wall, Babak Castle, NW Iran, October 2016
I have to admit that I spent a lot of time thinking about Game of Thrones at Babak Castle. Specifically, the Eyrie of House Arryn and a particular scenes where charters were sent through the Moon Door to their death on the cliff below. I was a castle rookie, I admit, never having seen and European or Asian castle before.
Naqsh-e Jahan Square and Shah Mosque, Isfahan, Iran, 2016
There is a saying in Iran, "Esfahan nesf-e jahan", Isfahan is half the world. Scenes such as this seem to back up such a claim. Naqsh-e Jahan Square (Farsi: میدان نقش جهان Maidān-e Naqsh-e Jahān; trans: "Image of the World Square") is incredibly beautiful at night, and a wonderful place to wander around. Like many city centers, it seems to made for people to socialize and relax, and there are many Iranians picnicking around even late at night. It feel very safe. On this particular night, I met a young man near the door of this mosque who was studying English, and I gave him a Persian/English dictionary. He gave me a metro pass to the city (though I never had a chance to use it).
I didn't realize how important a tripod would have been for this trip. I was lucky in this photo to have found a raised platform on which to put my camera, and to take a 15 second exposure. I really like the scaffolding on the tower for some reason. It has the effect of making the back of the dome blur and fade softly into the dark sky.
Breakfast in a Mosque in Qazvin, Iran
Qazvin, Iran is an hour and a half north of Tehran and was our first stop after leaving the capitol a month-long tour. The next morning began the way every morning would begin on my trip, waking up with the sunrise and realizing I was in Iran! All the hotels we stayed in had breakfast included, but I was typically up before that. Luckily there was always a huge pot of boiling water for tea and, in my case, instant coffee. (I thought that while I was in Iran I would become a tea drinker—and I did—but it was always in addition to coffee.) On this morning, I made my instant coffee at 6 am and hit the streets to explore. It wasn’t long until I came across a mosque and what was also a common experience in this country: being invited to join locals in food and tea. Pictured here are the men eating and drinking tea. The room-wide curtain behind them separates the men and women in the mosque.
Man in Qazvin, Iran
Although not pictured here, there are pictures all over mosques—indeed all of Iran—of young men referred to as the Martyrs: those who died in the Iran-Iraq war. Although I remember hearing about this war as a child, it seemed that it was always presented as a small regional conflict, just an instance of violence between inherently violent nations. But the war was massive and catastrophic, killing over 1 million people and changing the region forever. In Iran, the war is referred to as the “sacred defense” or “the imposed war.” And the United States, far from standing idly by, was deeply involved in the war on both sides. We sold weapons to both sides, while publicly supporting Iraq and the Ba'athist regime. This man, slowly and patiently speaking Farsi and supplying me with a lot gestures, pointed out that the US was responsible for the deaths of these men by helping Iraqi forces more precisely bomb targets in Iran. It wasn’t an indictment of me at all, or at least it didn’t seem to be. It was more matter-of-fact, a reminder that although the violence in Iran may seem distant, it is part of our shared history.
Woman in Masjed-e Nasir-ol-Molk
Iran is full of beautiful mosques that I could spend all day photographing (that’s what I did a lot of days). Shiraz in particular has some beautiful architecture, and the Nasir-ol-Molk Mosque (Persian: مسجد نصیر الملک Masjed-e Nasir-ol-Molk) is one of the most photographed buildings in the region. However, for exactly that reason it is full of visitors, and getting a good shot of the interior that isn’t full of people can be difficult. It’s a bit ironic: at least one reason that I and many tourists go to these places is to be in touch with the past and experience firsthand the pristine beauty of these places we initially saw in photographs. But with 50 other people, the photographs that inspired us seem more authentic.
Interestingly in Iran—maybe because it’s been a tourist destination since at least Alexander the Great in 334 BCE, and maybe due to the political situation and Iran’s relationship with Europe and the United States—the tourists at many sites are the Iranians themselves. I have become very interested in the way that people interact with their own history and the past in general. As beautiful as this mosque is, it was most interesting watching other people experience it. As an American I have been inundated with images of Iranians and Arab people as angry, violent, blinkered luddites. Yet my experience there was the opposite: Iranians like so many people are extremely friendly, intelligent, inquisitive, and as simultaneously enamored by their rich history as they are hypnotized by technologies that allow them to project modern conceptions of identity within that history.
Water Mills on the Karun River
Of all the sites I knew of before heading to Iran, I was most excited to see the water mills in Shushtar on the Karun (Persian: کارون, ) river. Built be the Sassanians around 300 CE, this is a UNESCO world heritage site. Our hotel was just a few blocks away down a maze of streets, and I went to see it immediately upon arriving. I’m glad I did: the next morning the two waterfalls on the right were turned off. I was lucky enough to be shown this vantage point by a couple local kids. It was a long exposure, taken with a tripod borrowed from my friend Shawn. Later I wandered to see a bridge from the same era, and was invited to have kebabs with some local picnicking men.
Class at Shāh Chérāgh
This is one of my favorite photos, also taken at Shāh Chérāgh (Persian: شاه چراغ), a funerary monument and mosque in Shiraz, Iran, and of the same group of young women as the first shot. As we were leaving the complex I noticed this class going on the other site of the court. Realizing they were about to leave, I ran over to get some shots of them as they walked out of the massive room they were in. This was the first picture I got. Below I have some portraits of the students.
interior of Sheikh Lotfollah Mosque , Isfahan, Iran, 2016
Sheikh Lotfollah Mosque (Persian: مسجد شیخ لطف الله) is perhaps one of the most photographed sites in Iran, certainly in Isfahan. The tilework and calligraphy are stellar, like nothing I’ve ever seen. It is considered by Iranians to the most beautiful mosque in Iran, in the most beautiful city in the country; unless you are Shirazi, in which case Shiraz is the most beautiful city! I found it interesting that—perhaps because Iran has so much to offer in terms of beautiful landscapes, architecture, and art, great food, and excessively friendly people—Iranians very frequently discuss and debate what is the best “x” in any particular category: the Kurds are the friendliest people (unless you’re Shirazi, in which case Shiraz wins again), Ahfaz has the best falafel (it’s also the hottest place in the world!) Fuman has the best cookies, and Tabriz has the best market. As a rule, Iran has the best of everything: pistachios, saffron, etc. One question I was asked often was, “which is better, Iran or the United States?”
It’s very easy, I found, to miss this beauty because I was so busy trying to capture it on camera. This became abundantly clear when I watched other people taking photos. Standing in a place like Lotfollah Mosque and watching people snap photos, it was easy to see any angle from which they would make an exposure as reductive. And of course, it was. It’s even worse taking pictures of people. Looking at these pictures now, I wish I had twice as many. But while travelling, I sometimes left the camera back at night in order to better take in Iran in it’s totality. In the case of this mosque and the tomb of Hafiz, I made sure to spend some time sitting and taking it all in. This photo is an attempt to capture the view of sitting in the mosque and looking up.
Imamzadeh Saleh on Ashura, Tehran, 2016
There is a lot going on in this photo and, as always in Iran, it's helpful to know some history. Or at least 1400 years of it. This was my second day in Iran, on October 14th. This corresponded with the end of a holiday called Ashura, a remembrance for the martyrdom of the 3rd Imam of Shia, Husayn ibn Ali, who was killed in the battle of Karbala (modern-day Iraq) in the year 681 CE, or the year 61 AH (Anno Hegirae, or 61 years after the Prophet Muhammed migrated to Mecca), at the hand of the ruling Sunni caliphate. This event happened less than 50 years after the death of Muhammed and is central to the split between Sunni and Shias, which concerns the correct succession of leadership, knowledge, and spiritual authority in Islam after his death. It is also extremely important in the development of the notion of martyrdom in Shiism and it’s role in Shia identity. The young men who died in the Iran and Iraq war are referred to as martyrs as well, drawing parallels between their sacrifices for Iran and the sacrifices of Ali, Hassan and Hussein in the name of Muhammed.
The remembrance begins at the beginning of the month of Muharram on the Islamic calendar (which is lunar, and thus does not line up with our own Gregorian calendar, but in 2016 Muharram was from October 3rd to November 2nd). The main remembrance culminates after 10 days. Following Ashura is a period of 40 days during which time many Shiite Muslims where black and, during many evenings, mosques or makeshift tent give out tea and food. After 40 days, many Shiite Muslims converge on the city of Karbala, Iraq, for the pilgrimage of Arba'een, the biggest public gathering in the world.
This particular day was the first Friday following the end of Ashura and the beginning of this 40 day period. Friday is the holy day for Muslims, and the people here are gathered at the Imamzadeh Saleh in northern Tehran, wearing black as is the tradition.
It’s not hard to miss the portraits of Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini on the right of the Mosque, the founder of the Iranian Revolution, and Ali Khamenei, Iran’s current supreme leader. These portraits grace every mosque in Iran. As much as I knew that Iran is a theocracy that does not have a division between church and state—indeed, these elements are intentionally united in the Islamic Republic—it still took some getting used to. One of my reasons for going was to experience first hand what day to day life is like in a religiously-governed society.
Sar Yazd Castle
Sar Yazd (Persian: سريزد) “the head of Yazd” is a legitimate sand castle, with all the rules you might expect on an actual, life size sand castle. It was built during the Sasanian Empire (224 to 651CE) as a fortress, the last stop to the city of Yazd. It’s only been recently turned into a tourist site and museum. Anywhere one is able to walk one can walk: along deteriorating sand walls, inside dark, collapsing rooms full of 60-gallon clay jugs, and up any towner you can find. I felt a little bad about wandering the way I could, climbing up into rooms, jumping from wall to wall like it was 5th century park-or. As an excuse I cited my experience in anthropology, though the knowledge I gained from that discipline was my main source of guilt. This is not how one should explore an archeological site. But what became clear from exploring the site in this way was that it had been explored in exactly this way ever since it was abandoned 1500 years before.
Ashura in the Tajrish Bazaar, Tehran, 2016
As I mentioned above, I am very interested in the way that Iranians would take in and interact with their own cultural heritage. I captured this photograph in a room at the confluence of the Tajrish Bazaar and the Imamzadeh Saleh in the Shermiran neighborhood on northern Tehran. The room was pack with around 100 people surrounding a stage. On the stage, performers were reenacting the martyrdom of, Husayn ibn Ali of the 3rd Imam of Shia, who was killed in the battle of Karbala (modern-day Iraq) in the year 681 CE, or the year 61 AH (Anno Hegirae, or 61 years after the Prophet Muhammed migrated to Mecca), at the hand of the ruling Sunni caliphate. Because I could not get close to the stage (and because I did not have a zoom lens) I decided instead to get a shot that I feel captures the atmosphere of the room.
The fabled Castles of the Assassins was very high on my list when I cam to Iran. The reality, however, was that it was covered in scaffolding and a bit hard to explore. It was a bit of a let down. But the highlight of the excursion was dinner in a woman's house in the Almut Valley. Sometimes IO didn't take pictures because although the subject may have been interesting, I didn't have the light or the angle for a good shot. I shouldn't have let this stop me, because everyday life is itself very interesting and worth documenting. And there isn't anything more "everyday" than tea. Iranians call it chai. Here is a fairly common method form making tea. The large bottom chamber is full of scalding how water. On top you can see a tea pot full of warm, concentrated tea. Cups are filled with the concentrate and then the boiling water.
The Mosque in Masuleh, Gilan Province, iran
If there are any stereotypes about Iran and the Middle East in general, Masuleh (Persian: ماسوله) defies all of them. Cool, damp, green and built into the wet side -- due to the proximity of the Caspian Sea just to the North -- of the Alborz mountain, it was founded in 1006 and is now an UNESCO World Heritage site. The village The town is very popular among Iranians tourists who come to escape the heat of Tehran, 5 hours to the south. Here is the town mosque, with banners put out for The mourning of Muharram, during which time Shia Muslims remember the martyrdom of Hussain ibn Ali, the 3rd Imam of Shia.
We arrived to Masouleh rather late in the afternoon and didn't have a lot of time, but I did manage to make it all the way to the top of the town. I took this picture with my back to the mountain, looking out the widows and doors of a old, destroyed house. I've always been very excited about destroyed, ruined, or rotting architecture. I like watching nature take back the earth, or incorporate human structure into natural beauty.
Breakfast on the Karun River
I was in Shushtar for entirely too short a time, but I had two of my best experiences there in a period of about 10 hours. First, walking around near the possibly Roman-built Band-e Kaisar , I was invited to have dinner with some young men who were—along with 50 or so other Iranians—picnicking and grilling kebabs in a park between this ancient bridge and the new one. This additionally ended in a motorcycle ride during which I learned the phrase “don’t be scared, I’m a good driver”—as we split single lanes being treated as double lanes by cars, racing through this small island city in the middle of a an ancient river on a warm October night—as uttered by my young and fearless friend at the front of the bike. I barely slept that night, too excited for the next day. Up at 6am I found myself wandering along the west side of the city down by the river. There, on a peaceful Friday morning, I found the men pictured here eating breakfast and watching birds as they darted around and filled the canyon with songs. I was offered breakfast—chickpea stew called “Aush” and tea—and, after I politely turned it down twice (I’m not that good at Taarof ), I accepted. It was a wonderful way to spend a morning!
