I was a student of Ostad Mohammad Ebrahim Jafari at his atelier Hajm-e Sabz in Tehran, beginning in 1995.
From the very first day, I felt I had stepped into a space where art was more than technique — it was a way of being.
Ostad Jafari never taught through instruction alone. He painted effortlessly, as if guided by memory and intuition.
I still remember how he would, with a few brushstrokes, conjure a dreamlike landscape: the silhouette of a figure casting a long shadow… a distant window… a pigeon house made of mud bricks rising from the earth.
His work whispered of time, of place, of presence — never loud, always poetic.
I never tried to imitate his style. That was never the point.
But his presence, his philosophy, and the graceful way he moved through the act of creation shaped my path as an artist in profound ways.
He taught me that art is not about mastery — it’s about listening. To the material, to memory, and to the spirit of the work as it unfolds.
His influence lives quietly in my felt collages, in my paintings, and in the way I walk into the studio each day — open, humble, and ready to begin again.
Ostad Jafari used to say: we have only one Picasso, one Chagall, one Van Gogh. Even if you imitate their style flawlessly, you will never become an artist — only a good copier.
He believed true art begins when you find your own voice, your own language, your own way of seeing the world.
Yes, technical skill matters — it helps us express our ideas with clarity. But skill alone does not make an artist.
A hand that can copy a horse in perfect detail is not the hand of a creative soul, he would say.
Because if all we need is precision, then a photograph can do the job better.
Art, to him, was not about replication.
It was about translation — transforming what we feel, remember, or dream into a visual language that speaks without explanation.
He often reminded us:
“Art is poetry created with the hand and the heart.”
These words have stayed with me.
They live quietly behind every brushstroke, every stitch of wool, every choice I make in my work.
They remind me that art is not about perfection — it’s about presence.
Felt, Paint & Reflection 