‘Anxiety and fear are overwhelming’: Iranian artist Farbod Elkaei talks about living in a place where beauty and tension coexist

In an email interaction with The Indian Express from Iran, Elkaei elaborated on his art, which offers a respite and quiet solace in these gloomy times. “Nature was always a part of my life, but in recent years, it has become a true companion. It reflects everything I seek in my art: transformation, presence, fragility, and strength,” says Elkaei.

“I find in trees, light, and stones the metaphors I cannot fully express in words. That said, my work also explores themes of personal liberation, intimacy, and the quiet revolution of simply being. Nature is often the lens—but what it reveals are inner stories: of memory, identity, and the invisible threads between people and places,” he adds.

Born in 1992 in Tehran, Elkaei has a graphic diploma from the School of Fine Arts in Tehran and an MA in painting from Sooreh Art University, Tehran. He has been part of several group exhibitions and collaborative art projects in Sweden, the UAE, Portugal, and Iran.

“My journey as an artist has always been deeply personal. It is rooted in observation, emotion and a search for inner truth. I was born and raised in Iran, and the layers of complexity in everyday life in the country have inevitably shaped how I see and express the world. Living in a place where beauty and tension often coexist has made me sensitive to subtleties—how light finds its way through darkness, how stillness speaks louder than chaos,” says the artist.

“The political situation has influenced me—not always directly, but like a quiet current under the surface. It has taught me to find ways to speak softly, yet honestly. My work isn’t overtly political, but it carries the weight of resilience, of longing, and of quiet resistance,” he adds.

Iran’s artistic heritage is profoundly woven into his soul. From Persian miniatures and classical poetry to the intricate geometry of architecture, Iran’s cultural expression contains a “deep rhythm” that has influenced countless generations of artists.

“I grew up surrounded by this beauty—it felt both distant and intimate. I’m particularly drawn to the balance and symbolism in traditional Persian aesthetics. The use of space, silence, and repetition in our art has influenced my compositions, even if they appear contemporary. I don’t copy the forms—but I carry their spirit. That sense of timelessness, of something sacred hidden in the everyday, is always present in my work,” he says.

‘Waypoint’ came together largely because Elkaei has known Vida Heydari, the founder and curator of VHC, since he was still a student. Over the years, they stayed in touch and collaborated on a few projects. “For quite some time, we had been in conversation about the possibility of me having a solo exhibition at VHC, but the pandemic—and later, other circumstances—caused several delays,” he says.

When Waypoint finally came to life and the opportunity aligned, it felt both unexpected and deeply meaningful. Elkaei says that the exhibition found its own way, without being pushed or forced—it happened naturally, in its own time.

“I hope Waypoint continues to move forward with the same quiet momentum, finding its path to other places in the world,” he says. The exhibition will be held till July 26.

‘Waypoint’ marks a period of inner transition in Elkaei’s life, a moment where he needed to pause and reflect on where he had come from and where he might be heading. “It’s not just a series of paintings; it’s a kind of mapping of my inner landscapes. I chose the title Waypoint because it speaks of movement, of journeys, but also of moments where you allow yourself to stop and acknowledge your path. It’s more introspective and distilled than my previous works, and in a way, it feels like a turning point—a space where things settle, and a new direction begins to emerge,” he says.

Where is his art directed amid the Iran crisis? “Right now, I’m away from my studio and home. I came to the north of Iran, and under these circumstances, I honestly can’t do anything. My entire routine has been disrupted, and I’m not in a mental or emotional space to focus on creating. It’s still early days, and I’m in a state of shock. Anxiety and fear are very present and overwhelming. I can’t bring myself to think about making art at the moment. I believe many other artists feel the same—creativity becomes secondary when survival and emotional grounding are not yet in place,” he says.