Leila Seyedzadeh
Further images
The sun rises where you emerge
Flowing down, you divide both sides
Bridges connecting your banks
Ships overturn your waves,
You pour into the North Atlantic Ocean
Several days later,
In the far away land
You arrive home
Where the rivers weep on their bed of loneliness
You flow through the Alborz mountains
When you reach Tehran, you rain
My mother is sitting by the window, gazing out at the rain
I wish I were flowing in you, oh the eastern river.
Leila Seyedzadeh elegantly intertwines textiles, poetry, and the deep yearning for home, profoundly shaped by her Iranian heritage into her works. In The Landscape of My Voice – East River, she forges a connection between New York’s East River and Tehran’s Alborz mountains, capturing the essence of her immigrant experience. This work transcends physical boundaries, embodying homesickness and the emotional landscape she navigates.
The river flows through her memories, bridging distant lands and intimate moments. “When you reach Tehran, it will rain. My mother is sitting by the window, gazing out at the rain.” Here, water becomes a metaphor for connection, echoing the fabric of her identity. Textiles, imbued with familial love and tradition, are central to her practice. From her mother’s indigo-dyed curtains to the Chador Namazes (prayer veils), fabric holds stories of heritage, weaving personal narrative into contemporary art.
Seyedzadeh’s shibori-dyed creations and the stitched frequencies of her voice reflect the interplay of language and material, crafting a dialogue between memory and longing. Each piece transforms fabric into a vessel of emotion, where the tactile meets the poetic, and her immigrant journey unfurls. In her work, home shifts and flows, a fluid tapestry of past and present. Through textiles and verse, Seyedzadehinvites us into her world—a space where identity and belonging intertwine, resonating with universal themes of love, loss, and the quest for connection. Her art is a poignant reflection on the enduring ties of heritage and the beautiful complexity of being between worlds.
Text courtesy of Do Tuong Linh