This was the first piece I wrote before beginning the blog — a still moment before the unfolding.
My Story in Thread and Colour
My artistic practice grows from a lifelong dialogue between landscape, memory, and material. Trained as a landscape architect and shaped by more than two decades of designing places, researching cultural landscapes, and observing the relationship between people and their environments, I now explore these same questions through hand-felted wool, knitting, crochet, drawing, printmaking, reclaimed textiles, and sculptural forms.
Working with fibres is an intuitive conversation rather than a predetermined process. Whether I am laying wool for felt, stitching fragments together, or knitting and crocheting small accessories, I rarely begin with a finished design in mind. Each piece emerges spontaneously, responding to the material in the moment, much like an improvised poem. I follow the rhythm of my hands, allowing the work to reveal its own form.
My materials carry their own histories, wool that once wandered, worn fabrics that have lived previous lives, threads that bind together fragments of time and place. Each work becomes an archive of remembrance, where personal stories meet collective cultural memory.
My practice is deeply inspired by Persian textile traditions, nomadic craftsmanship, gardens, carpets, and the geometries that have shaped my visual language since childhood. Rather than reproducing these traditions, I reinterpret them through a contemporary artistic practice that embraces intuition, imperfection, repair, and transformation. Every stitch, every fibre, and every fragment contributes to a conversation between past and present.
Landscape has never left my work. It has simply shifted from the scale of cities and gardens to the intimate terrain of cloth, memory, and the human hand. Through making, I continue to investigate how places are remembered, how identities are woven, and how materials can carry stories across generations.
Welcome to my world, a place where memory is stitched, landscapes become portable, and every fragment holds the possibility of becoming whole in a new way.