Yasamin Safarzadeh

Yasamin Safarzadeh is an Angelino, Persian American and transplant to New England. She celebrates the intersections of cultural identities and strives to create safe spaces where an individual’s sense of self can be discovered instead of being forced to mimic due to people’s inherent need to survive. Culture is a rich and complex term and can incorporate an individual’s sexual identity, traumas, addictions, heritage and differently abled lived experiences. Her work often encapsulates an absurd and ecstatic celebration of bodies, awkward spaces, anxious burdens and the global impacts of colonization when confronted with hope and defiance. As she sits to write this bio, she thinks isn’t the act of documentation and expression a tiny act of resistance; the act of sharing space and words with others where marginalized voices are centered and uplifted, are given the resources to excavate their histories, are given the tools and words to speak their truth; are these not all acts of academic and bureaucratic revolution to foster a more inclusive and diverse perspective for a collective future, one which champions creativity and innovation due to a rich foundation of securing the right for each person to express themselves and explore their identities.

“Mostly, I deal in body dysmorphia and excavating what has been buried as a result of having to perform in a male and Eurocentric work environment. When these pieces of ourselves are pushed down for so long, coaxing them out and nurturing them, or letting them fester in their pain is important in understanding ourselves and in facilitating growth.

My crocheted piece aided in not only recovery post surgery but also with falling back in love with women. We have not provided spaces enough for thousands of years of textile work to be celebrated. Each stitch fed an insatiable pit of creation and wonder with hand made items. I invite the viewer to join me in creating a larger and ongoing piece. As each ball of yarn was given to me by a woman I respect and admire, I want to believe that you have also contributed to this growth. There are no wrong answers, only a lack of daring to be weird or lame for a moment and join me in creating something totally absurd.

My drawings are a form of therapy. I can begin to imagine what space I was encapsulated by in that moment. It feels physically traumatic. It feels like I could have been tired or beaten, encumbered by the mania which keeps me moving, but near collapse. Was I thinking about my inadequate body, my thickness, was I recovering from over indulgence, from over work, from stress? Why does she push us away? Does she attempt to hide herself?”