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Mina Nouri
The Warp and
Woof of Seeing
and Not Seeing
In the past four
decades, Mina
Nouri has either
painted or made
prints. She
knows where to
go with her
brush, how to
pick colors,
when to opt for
xylography over
chalcography,
and when to
combine all
these, much like
the works that
we see in her
most recent
collection,
where she has
welded painting
and mono-print.
In using these
techniques, one
thing remains
constant: The
artist's
tenacity and
acuity in
selecting her
subject matter
and in executing
her vision. She
seems to have
lived with her
subject matter
for days or
years, so much
that the work
obviates further
inquiry on the
part of its
viewer. It is as
if the artist is
at once asking
the question and
plying the
answer.
Mina Nouri
understands and
makes use of the
incidental
nature of print.
She plays with
the humidity of
paper, the
temperature of
the printing
plate, and the
force of the
press machine.
Everything is
"flawless" in
her hands and
her mind. When
you see a "flaw"
or "accident" it
is by design.
Sometimes,
though, she lets
things fall
apart, gets rid
of perspective
and depth of
field or throws
them for a loop.
Her execution is
so precise that
these "flaws"
can hardly be
picked out. From
this vantage
point,
everything seems
to be "right."
Sometimes when I
stand before
works of Mina
Nouri, I wonder
whether this
much fluency and
authority in
execution is not
throwing me into
a frenzy. How
much does she
allow my vision
and mind to
share the
perfection of
her works?
In her recent
works we can
more or less see
the footprint of
objects
surrounding the
artist as well
as her
cogitations on
the act of
seeing and not
seeing, which
she played with
in her previous
collection. The
house drapes
have given their
place to the
warp and woof of
the fabric and
reading glasses
have replaced
the windows. In
the works of the
previous
collection,
locked doors,
bars and drapes
outside and
behind windows
invited us to
steal a look
inside at the
same time that
the distance
gave us a clear
view of the
subject matter
in its totality.
In this
collection,
however, objects
are in close-up,
which limit our
field of vision.
Normally, the
lens of a
reading class is
supposed to
bring objects on
its far side
closer to us;
here it is doing
the reverse: It
is separating us
from the fabric.
The images
reflected on the
lens are either
scenes behind us
or they blur
that which lies
beyond. The act
of seeing is
perhaps the
delicate warp
and woof about
to come undone
in some works or
the fragility of
the temples that
invites us to
lift the
eyeglass and
change it
position to get
a better view of
the other side.
Here, too, the
artist is
convoluting the
image to prevent
us from seeing
"properly." I am
not sure if she
is focusing on
the act of
seeing itself,
but I know that
the frame in
this collection
clips my vision,
while in the
previous
collection it
led to expansive
spaces. In both
these
collections,
however, I see
the artist
becoming
intimate with
objects
surrounding her.
Shades have
acquired depth
and richness. It
is as if she has
laid her glasses
down to see
better, and it
seems that the
closer we move
chronologically
in Mina Nouri's
oeuvre, the
closer we are to
a meditative
space of
solitude.
Ghazaleh Hedayat
– Summer 2014
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