"Until the day I become mature and arrived halfway through the day, mature and arrived like forged iron. Like the pregnant clouds of thunderbolt. Like the breast full of milk.

Friedrich Nietzsche

This volume of whiteness in confrontation with blackness and the darkness within myself began to flow in my work. From the depths of the most terrifying fears, such as experiencing the proximity of death in my dual struggles with cancer. Where my hopes had evaporated like mirages and dissipated into the air, and my eyes were searching in fear of not being and not becoming.

There was no way... to see, I had to turn towards life. In that clarity where everything appeared before me, I repeatedly raised and lowered my piles of work until I found its flow among the lines of my designs. I had to crush my fears into masses of paper and plaster and transform them. Nothing like the plaster dough hardening between my hands was close to life. The plaster slipped between my fingers and dripped down, and a moment later, what remained in my hands took shape. This repetition calmed me. I said to myself, surely every speck will burst forth and every moment I will feel it like a gushing spring from the depths of my flesh and skin... Those days, that perspective was a great blessing for me.

Saeede Hatami