My mother married my father ́s photograph in Tehran. He was studying radiology in Switzerland, and for mother to come and live with him, marriage was obligatory. For my mother, with her religious background, living in Europe was a challenge. Sin was everywhere. My father came from a liberal and secular family. He was a lover of culture, fine arts, classical music. My mother never understood how he for example could treasure a painting depicting nude bodies. After I was born, we moved from Switzerland back to Tehran. Shortly after, the Revolution happened and changed everything upside down. My mother found new reason and new identity, an important space for herself: She became a religious activist, school principal and did military training. My father sat quietly in his favorite chair at home and listened to Bach. In our house, there were no more card playing or red wine. My mother ́s prayer mat, and my prayer mat, were placed next to each other in the living room, by the window. Photographs of women without hijab, were ripped apart. My mother censored the past – while my father dreamt of a different future. I was torn between my two parents. Our family was split. For a little girl, it was difficult and painful. As my identity developed, I carried both of them inside me. I still do, till this day. I am the result of Iran ́s struggle between tradition and modernization. My story is told through photographs, archive footage, letters and voices. Our home in Tehran becomes a metaphor of the shifts in our family, hence in modern Iranian society.
