Darvish Fakhr deftly dances between his different artistic endeavors. He is just as skilled in painting with oils as he is in movement arts. Born in 1969 to an Iranian father and a British mother, Fakhr’s rich cultural heritage has inspired much of his work, and given him the ability to look at subjects differently and with more discerning eyes. There is a depth and seriousness to some of his paintings and absolute whimsy and lightness in others.
When he won the BP Travel Award in 2004, he decided to go to Iran and paint the locals of Tehran and Isfahan. Some of his subjects are posed in mundane situations; graffiti on a wall, an old woman trying to remove vandalism and two women waiting for the bus, yet there is an obvious emotional depth to them. As a viewer you can instantly recognize that they are in Iran but they could also be anywhere in the world. We are all more alike than we think.
His unique Instagram Whirling Dervish series is another example of how he can pull things from different origins and combine them as if they have always belonged together. A collection of photos that he curating is a collaboration between him and the photographer Hugh Fox. Merging the ancient Sufi meditative practice and urban surroundings seems to be another way Fakhr likes to bring different worlds together. In some he seems to be suspended in space and time while others are full of energy even though he is always completely motionless.
We interviewed Darvish to find out more about him and his work.
How do you normally introduce yourself to people?
I say my name is Darvish (because it is), and that I’m a visual artist. I try to not be too specific because I like to keep things floating. I remember Buster Keaton (American silent film actor) used to say, “I don’t feel qualified to talk about my work.”
You are of mixed heritage; how do you think that has shaped your view of the world?
So, I was actually born in Canada, grew up in America (Boston, MA) but my father is Iranian, and my mother is British. I was never going to fit in anywhere, so I became an artist. I used to be envious of artists that belong to a school or a nationality, but now I feel comfortable just hovering about.
Do you think that being exposed to many different cultures helps artists?
Ultimately, experience is everything. The misconception is that somehow our devices are supplementing our needs to travel and interact. But I would encourage artists to go directly to the source, to really tap in.
As Ekhart Tolle points out, our minds want to be in charge of our bodies. So much so in fact, that our brains built another brain, our phones. By spending so much time with these screens we are depriving ourselves of spiritual and intimate experiences, which we don’t get back.
You formally studied art, but you are quite fearless of stepping out of the box and doing your own thing, do you think your education enabled that in any way?
Yes, I fell in love with the old masters and wanted to learn their language, so I could join in their conversation. I believe we are all just one singular artist, just evolving over time, as opposed to separate egos competing with each other. In 2007 I was commissioned to paint a portrait of Akram Khan for the permanent collection of the National Portrait Gallery. This was my introduction to contemporary dance. I met Akram backstage of Sacred Monsters at Saddlers Wells. Akram invited me to his rehearsals to learn more about the way he works. He would draw out the personalities and backgrounds of each dancer rather than simply imposing his own ideas on them. I was excited by the idea of using physicality as a form of expression to tell a story.
I had always been drawn to movement culture, but here was a crossover where the body becomes the artistic medium. Suddenly I felt my wings unfurling. Akram and I have grown close since that commission, and we have a few new ideas baking in the oven.
You chose to travel back to Iran when you won the BP Travel award, why? What do you find most inspiring by Iran? The people? The place?
Although I had never lived there, I felt a strong connection with the people and the land. I wanted to make sense of it, and painting allows me reach deeper layers. It is a complex country that has undergone many changes, but amazingly all these changes are visible on the surface despite attempts to cover them up; a living, breathing palimpsest. Plus, the food is kick ass.
In addition to painting you are also a movement artist; how would you explain that to our readers?
Movement has freed me up a lot and taken me out of the studio which can be a lonely place. I stopped spending all day painting as my body was starting to ache from overuse and repetition. I began to meditate on physically opening up my body by inventing methods of healing. In the ‘cosmic gym’ (my studio), I have very unconventional ways of maintaining fluidity… let’s leave it at that for now. Anyway, as my body began to unlock, I began moving differently and was even able to finish my paintings more effectively. I was allowing the wisdom of the inner body to take the lead for once, whereas before the brain wanted to be in charge. Music is very important to me, and I try and allow that to dictate everything. Lately I have been enjoying the energy of Trap Rhythms.
Your Whirling Dervishes series is quite inspiring, evoking a sense of weightlessness, stillness but a lot of energy. What first inspired you to start doing them? How do you come up with the ideas for them, in terms of location and pose? How much work goes into getting that one image or are they more spontaneous?
I take a lot of inspiration from Sufism; specifically, the poetry and movement. They use dance as form of prayer. Movement is a very intimate, spiritual practice for me…it’s about finding nature’s rhythms and riffing off those. The Dervishes whirl to connect with God… their movements echo the paths of orbiting planets but also of the circulation of our blood. When I whirl for a while there becomes a point where everything seems lined up, effortless and light. It’s like surfing. The music offers me portals, I go inside and find a release which enables me to expand time and space within any given moment… a prayer of gratitude.
When I was younger, I went to Isfahan, the birth town of my father. My uncle said something to me that changed my life. He said, “Darvish, there is no reason to hold on so tightly to things. We are all just flying through space on a rock. Just enjoy the flying.” I instantly felt a sense of relief, and it stripped me of fear. Without the fear factor I was able to just enjoy who I was and what I was doing…that day I became a professional. I consider a professional anyone who believes they are in the right place, at the right time, doing the right thing. Professionals walk differently and smile a lot.
Through my art I wanted to seek a lightness of being. I began making things that were not so serious. I attached a carpet to an electric longboard and rode it around the Armory show in NY in 2014. I started filming myself doing whack things that evoked a particular quality of softness and humor. Then Instagram came around and suddenly I had somewhere to show this stuff without having to get past a harsh committee. Instagram became a visual conversation in a backed-up sketchbook.
For the series you are collaborating with the photographer Hugh Fox, do you think it is important for artists to work together?
I had known Hugh Fox for some time, but we only started working together about 2 years ago. We have fun together, and don’t plan things much. Our shoots usually never last more than an hour. We allow chance to become a big factor. It is a very organic process and we both laugh a lot and have similar outlooks on life…he has a 16-year-old son named Rumi.
What would be your dream whirling dervish image?
Something underwater in “flow motion”.
If you could pick one work of art that you created to put in a time-capsule what would it be and why?
It would probably be the mime piece I did in London outside the pub. There were lots of men drinking beer in suits and I walked slowly by them pretending the edge of the sidewalk was a drop into an unknown abyss. No one paid any attention to me; this happens a lot in England which I find kinda amusing. I have always felt a touch out of synch socially. I remember when I was 10 one of my best friends told me if I wanted to be cool, I had to do two things. 1. stop tucking in my shirt and 2. stop talking to myself.
I call my public movement pieces ‘gently civic disruptions’. Ido Portal says, ‘the highest form of movement practice, is improvisation.” I see it like adding a drop of color to a pool of water that is a different color and seeing what happens. Both colors effect each other in some way. They form something new. Pace is something I like to play with. People tend to move and speak in a certain rhythm dictated by culture. I want to slow it down…if I were a superhero that would be my special power…I have a Superman shirt with an Arabic ‘S’, but for me it stands for ‘Slow”. Most of the things I wear have a particular meaning to me. The Gold Dollar Bill necklace I wear symbolizes my relationship with money, which I wear like a chain around my neck.
What advice would you give to your past self?
Take it easy, go part-time.
What are your future plans? What should our readers expect next from you?
Hugh has begun filming me painting…large pictures about ‘forces of nature’…they are like moving mediations. Movement is something we are not something we do. I also want to try base jumping. I take my fun very seriously. Essentially, I have made ’opening up’ my full-time job.
Follow Darvish Fakhr on Instagram @darvish.studio to see more of his work. Images of the artwork are courtesy of Darvish Fakhr and photos are courtesy of Hugh Fox whom you can find on Instagram @mrhughfox.
