BORDERS
The border is a lived experience for me. I grew up in a border city in Kurdistan, Iran, where the presence of the border was part of everyday life. It was not only a line on a map, but a physical and political presence that shaped movement, identity and the way the surrounding land was understood.
Half of my extended family lived on the other side of the border. We were all Kurdish, but they were assigned Iraqi nationality while we were assigned Iranian nationality. Despite sharing the same Kurdish identity, we were separated by a political border and given different national identities. Visiting them or maintaining contact was never straightforward; because of war and political tensions, the border could be closed for long periods. At times, there was no legal way to cross, leaving people with the choice of crossing secretly and accepting the risks involved. These included the risk of being shot while crossing, as well as the danger of landmines left from the Iran–Iraq War.
For me, the border is a constructed line imposed onto a continuous territory, often through colonial and political power: a line that divides what was once connected, produces different names and identities on each side, and determines who and what can pass through it. It is also a structure of control, maintained through surveillance, restriction and force.
Border I was my first study of the border, presented in the Project Space at the Royal Academy Schools. I reconstructed the border at full scale, approaching it as a contemporary sculptural form and testing how a political boundary could occupy physical space.
Border II, presented in the Keeper’s Room at the Royal Academy Schools, developed the border into a more functional and spatial structure. A single room with one identity is divided into two separate territories. The division reflects how territories can be fragmented through colonial and political power, producing separate geographical and political identities from what was once a continuous space, as has happened across Kurdistan. The border is also placed under constant surveillance by four CCTV cameras equipped with face-detection and AI-based systems, introducing a further layer of control over the divided space.
Border 2, S2
As a child, Kurdish cassette tapes and video recordings—love songs, songs of freedom, and political music—were smuggled into Iranian Kurdistan from Iraqi Kurdistan, which was in some ways freer than our side. In Iran they were banned. To have them was to risk being accused of political activity and of ties to armed Kurdish parties. Crossing the border was forbidden, yet the music still reached us. It kept us in contact with the other side and made the sense of being one people stronger. Listening and watching were themselves illegal, and so they became a form of resistance.
Border III
A television presents words from a poem by the Kurish poet Mehmed Uzun, accompanied by its musical reading.
Greatorex Street Gallery, December 2025
