The twelve exhibited portraits from Ahmad Morshedloo’s latest series, indeed, should be first considered as furtherance to his artistic pursuit throughout the past decade and then as a diversion.  In this series, as in all his other works exhibited in the past ten years, he has portrayed individuals and not masses. In these works, once more, the effects of time are clearly seen on the faces, and again, with his painterly skills, the artist has portrayed the history and emotion each individual carries, with a more accentuated tone this time. Nevertheless, one can neither see any of the figures who pretended to be asleep as if they preferred death over life in his latest series, nor the members of the younger generation who screamed their incapability to face the world around them with their frail bodies and ashamed faces. We no longer see a still crowd feeling alienated from itself and others while awaiting its dark and doomed future nor there is any sign of the headless cattle, or men and women whose disproportionate figures would be just one sign of their apathy to add meaning to their daily routine. 

If it was not because of the woman whose search within herself is noticed by her concurrent gaze into the past, present and future and not just the scars on her face indicating the passage of time, we could consider the current series in continuation of the portraits the artist had created in the past to narrate his era; the ones he generally depicts in such a successful exaggerated manner that viewers find it very difficult to remain unbiased and not become tempted to accept the artist’s invitation to look for what he has in common with the fate he shares with the artwork. But it is that very one portrait that acts as a fillip and reminds us we are no longer dealing with just some portrait painted by an artist, but autobiographies of several individuals we happen to be viewing their portraits. In this exhibition, we face individuals who seem to have found courage for the first time to look within themselves. 

The first consequence of eliminating the painter from the viewer/artwork correlation is reviving painting as a genuine form of art. These twelve paintings, indeed, prove the fact that this form of art still functions in our country and has its own say unlike in the Western world where it has been substituted with rivals such as video art and other visual media in the course of time. The least these paintings can do is to depict the not very smooth blossoming of individuality in a society that does not conform to such concepts. 

In their first self-contemplation, what stands out is their individuality rather than the similarities they share. One looks at himself with a grin which is more of his surprise rather than self-content and another has a questioning look as if he is asking himself why he had not looked within himself any sooner? We see the dual look of a man who is still more used to compromising rather than paying attention to himself, and a woman who looks at herself with such confidence as if she sees exactly what she imagined. 

Seemingly, Ahmad Morshedloo no longer needs that little girl who appeared among his still crowds every now and then with her attentive and curious eyes to remind us of a little spark of hope somewhere to save the painter from being accused of cynicism and pessimistic documentation of history. If there is any hope, it is in the revival of individuality and bringing systems of historical, social and cultural significance into being. It is in having the courage and bravery to look within self, even if mirror never even dreamt of what we each went through.