Artist Spotlight - A Visual Journey into the Imagination
- CARAVAN Arts
- Jul 11
- 10 min read
Updated: Jul 12
An Interview with Iranian-American artist Ashkon Haidari:
In the wake of the recent military conflict related to Iran, Paul G. Chandler, CARAVAN's president, had the opportunity to interview the extraordinary Persian artist Ashkon Haidari, who lives in Chicago. The interview follows his return showing in a solo booth at Expo Chicago by the Povos Gallery.
“The paintings come to me in a mysterious way, and they know me better than I know myself.”
Ashkon Haidari, artist
As a first generation Iranian-American, Ashkon Haidari’s contributions to his ancestral country’s 5,000-year artistic heritage exist in communion with and advancement of a contemporary Persian art canon. While his mode of expression remains respectfully referential to Persian allegory, he furthers and augments it – moments from ancient poetry and art marry with contemporary Western art history to create an altogether novel language. As a Chicago-born artist, Haidari readily and unflinchingly contributes to a history of distinctly Chicago surrealism as well. His relationship with his culture is palpable, yet alienating, and his work is slowly – and successfully – becoming a journey towards belonging, or building a world in which he belongs. He has exhibited in Los Angeles, Seattle, New York City, and Chicago, and most recently in New York City with Anna Zorina Gallery, and a return to Art Expo Chicago with a solo booth for Povos Gallery.
For more information, visit: ashkonhaidari.com
Instagram: @ashkonhaidari
Gallery: Povos Gallery
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As someone whose family originates from Iran, let me begin first by asking a question that everyone would want me to ask, due to the recent conflict. Can you share a little with us from your personal understanding into how the current tensions in Iran are affecting you or your family and friends?
Ashkon: The world is in an unimaginably bitter state. It brings to mind a poem of the Persian poet Saadi:
Human beings are the limbs of one whole,
carved from one gem, one essence, one soul.
Should bitter times afflict one limb with pain,
The others uneasy will remain.
If you have no sympathy for human pain,
the name of human you cannot retain.
In addition to being born and raised in Chicago, as someone of Persian (Iranian) heritage, you have roots in one of the richest and most vibrant artistic cultures in the world. Did your upbringing influence the way in which you infuse your contemporary art with elements of such a long and storied history?
Ashkon: Correct. I can think of two ways. One was simply growing up surrounded by art from Iran in my home. Paintings on glass, ceramics, decorated books, carpets - the forms and spirit of these objects have naturally made their way into, and live in my subconscious. It wasn’t until I began painting that I started to understand the complexity, creativity and mastery of those works.
Take for example a small 100-year-old sculpture of an animal, based on a thousand-year-old sculpture, with an elongated neck, romantic eyes - very surrealist. I thought, “Oh, I do that too!” Another example I love, is the first time I included a carpet in a painting. I thought, “Wow, these patterns are difficult to paint, how do they weave these things!” My appreciation of the complexity of the art and culture increased.
The second way is having the option of three perspectives while navigating life. One is my own. Two is from my upbringing in Chicago. And three is the Iranian perspective, with their thousands of years of trial and error. I am grateful to have access to, and understanding of that view. How do we relate so perfectly to a poem written 700 years ago? How does it so perfectly give an answer to a question we have today? It is a beautiful phenomenon.
The human condition, “problems,” questions, endure through the time, and our ancestors took a crack at answering them, for themselves, and for us. Having those three perspectives is akin to having three counsels to check in with when necessary.
I read somewhere that your work has been described as “bridging the gap between reality and the limitless realm of imagination.” Can you describe how the arc of your life journey from a childhood full of imagination grew into a lifetime passion and fulltime career? Also, are there any specific artists or mentors that have inspired you over the years?
Ashkon: In grade school, as an incredibly energetic boy, I found being confined to a square room, forced to focus on something I was uninterested in, unbearable. So, to pass the time and keep my rebellious spirit intact, I would draw in the back of my notebooks. I would draw in every class, except for art class. At the end of day, the kids would gather to view the drawings. In a way it was a micro version of an artist displaying their work in a gallery to share with people.
Then two pivotal moments. One, as a teenager, I was at my good friend Max Fitzpatrick’s house, whose father is Tony Fitzpatrick, a renowned artist. He saw one of those drawings and asked if he could have it, and of course I gave it to him with little thought. He had it secretly framed, hung it in an exhibition at his gallery, invited me to the opening, and bought the piece himself. It was his way of saying, "This is how this works." That was my introduction to the art world. He would be my first mentor and is still a voice of wisdom and guidance for me navigating this crazy world of art.
“In my mind, when a piece is completed, it is no longer solely mine...”
The second pivotal moment came around the same time while at the Art Institute of Chicago. I saw Picasso’s painting “Mother and Child.” It was the first artwork that had a profound effect on me, via its subtle beauty and timeless subject matter. I knew then, no matter what, I was going to learn to oil paint. A dear friend of mine helped me pick out supplies, and after about a year of trial and error, learning and understanding the chemistry, I had the foundation to begin making my own works. That was my bridge from drawing to oil painting.
Ever since, and most importantly, it has been my time spent in the studio, wrestling, dancing with my work, and deepening my practice. Along the way, life has been filled with shows, beautiful moments, travels to different countries, museums, meeting painters, sculptures, musicians, poets, and having conversations about life and our practices. It is expansive, inspirational, and we continue to influence each other. One of the most meaningful of those chance encounters has been meeting my now good friend and brother Modou Yacine, a great artist, curator, and former professor. We met at my solo exhibition at Povos Gallery in 2022, and soon after realized we are neighbors. Ever since we’ve been getting together and having meaningful conversations about art, and about anything and everything. I visited Venice to see the Biennale with Modou in 2024 after his suggestion to see what the artists of the world are doing at that level, with the opportunity to voice themselves and share their work at the important and prominent Venice Biennale. His friendship is also a mentorship, and our conversations have expanded my views on art and why I make the work that I do.
Your art is infused with a sense of dreamlike playfulness and fearlessness that is all your own, yet it draws observers into your artistic universe in ways they can draw from their own experiences to discover connections. Is this phantasmagoric invitation intentional?
Ashkon: Absolutely. I want viewers always to first create their own narrative and tap into their own creativity and emotional reservoir. I love watching viewers participate, listening to the stories they create, and the meaning they give to the details and intricacies of the paintings. There is a mutual joy in it. I always wait until the absolute last minute to share my story on the piece. In my mind, when a piece is completed, it is no longer solely mine, all narratives and conversations are welcomed and encouraged.
How has your own personal inner spiritual journey influenced your artistic vision?
Ashkon: The spiritual journey is not one of words, and thus makes it difficult to describe in words, even for myself. The paintings themselves are actually answering that question for me. The paintings come to me in a mysterious way, and they know me better than I know myself. They have evolved as I have, and will continue to. I do not force it. They are both a conversation with the world and myself. So, I am watching the spiritual development live via the work.
“The spiritual journey is not one of words. . . The paintings come to me in a mysterious way, and they know me better than I know myself.”
How does inspiration for a painting or a drawing come to you?
Ashkon: In the recent works that I displayed at this year’s Art Expo Chicago, I referred to centuries old Persian poems, from Attar, Hafez, Saadi, to name a few. Studying them and allowing them to go through my mind, the mind of person who grew up in Chicago but with a connection to the mutual ancient land of the poets, and then take a new form on a canvas. That is a direct and specific example.
Generally, I have always described my work as a reverse diary. As I move through life, have chance encounters, read, listen to music, and consume art, things are naturally registered, and they find their way into my paintings and unwittingly to me. My understanding of a painting, how and why certain things make it into a piece, is realized and understood post completion. So much of the process is mysterious and hands off. I am often an observer.
I cannot recall who said this, a musician I believe on the topic of song writing was asked where their ideas come from. They mentioned the same mystery: an idea, an inspiration, reaching you from an unknown place. They went on to say something along the lines of “Hey, if I knew where that place was, I would go there more often!” I always thought that was funny. The subjects, their shapes, twists and turns, the atmosphere of a painting, comes out of the ether, and always when I least expect it. One “random” drawing can lead to 2 months of painting a work filled with emotion, love, colors and stories. It’s incredible, and a mystery.
I do also believe in the Picasso quote, “Inspiration exists but must find you working.” I am always working, and keeping my tools sharp.
I find your paintings titled "Thief in the Fish Market" and “Sohbat" (Conversation) really intriguing. They open up a sense of wonder for me. In some way their scene feels familiar. It’s a mysterious combination of places I have been and dreams I have dreamt. Can you share a little with us about them, including what inspired you to create these works?
Ashkon: That’s a good description, they are hazy perceptions, distant dreams of places, suggestive and imagined. Especially Thief in the Fish Market. That piece came to me during a time when I was watching Akira Kurosawa’s films, many of which are in black and white. I have to imagine a connection there.
Sohbat was inspired by stories of dervishes, and the passing along of wisdom. You have the wise character, the experienced, the “arrived,” seated in front of an old tree, with a full cup of tea or wisdom. He is passing along wisdom to the youth; naive, curious, embarking on the journey, seated in front of a young tree, with a nearly empty cup of tea, which is symbolic of a good student: “One must first empty their cup before they can receive.” The light is moving towards the youth.
As a self-taught artist who is realizing professional success through your creative gifts, do you have any words of wisdom for others who wish to live into their own unique artistic journeys?
Ashkon: On the subject of being self-taught, which is an endless journey, I would suggest to never put any limits on oneself. When I wanted to begin painting, I went straight to oil, despite being advised to start elsewhere. I asked the oil painters around me 100 questions, and received 100 answers, but I cannot remember a single question nor answer. I simply had to begin. Which leads me to my next point. Anything I have gained in this field is directly related to the days and nights I spent and spend in the studio with the work and myself. Working tirelessly regardless of my state of being, “high or low.” One of the most memorable things Tony Fitzpatrick told me is “An artist makes their career in their studio.” Another ingredient I believe in is to always be genuine in your work. To never make something because you think it will be popular; I believe that is betrayal and a slippery slope. Oddly enough, the works made with a genuine spirit will be often be your most celebrated, and somehow relatable works.
I am captivated by your drawing, “Persian Picnic.” Can you describe your own interpretation of its symbols and setting?
Ashkon: Persian Picnic… Drawn in 2016! First on the left you have Mount Damavand, a symbolic mountain in Iran, often referred to in song and poem - it is actually a dormant stratovolcano, and the largest in Asia. Then you have the bearded man wearing a tiger skin, who serves as a pillar upholding the land. He is an ancient Persian general fictionalized in Ferdowsi’s epic the Shahnameh, a book of poetry often credited with the preservation of the Persian language, Farsi. Continue right, an Achaemenid guard. A regal lion. A would-be conqueror crushed underneath a Meel, an exercise club still used today by practitioners of Varzesh Bastani, a historic exercise system and martial art of Iran. The Meel resembles a mace both physically and symbolically. Then the small birds, wearing vests decorated with paisleys. The paisley represents a cypress tree, a symbol of beauty and strength, with tip pointed downwards to say one must remain humble even at the peak of their powers. Continue right, a dervish captivated by and in awe of the beauty that has manifested in this world. Lastly, a child. The future, the one who will carry on the beauty, the culture, the questions. The child will enjoy those beauties, and deal with burdens with fortitude and wisdom.
Can you share with us what you are working on artistically at this time and what you have coming up?
Ashkon: I have just completed a painting titled “Two Birds” for an upcoming group show in Los Angeles at Sabbatikal, a project space run by my friend Sacha Cohen. Regarding the painting, I have not entirely grasped the meaning of the piece just yet. As I said, they reveal themselves to me over time, but it does remind me of both a saying and a poem.
The saying:
“If you tie two birds together, though they have 4 wings, they cannot fly.”
And the poem by Rod Smith:
“We work too hard, we are too tired to fall in love, we must overthrow government. We work too hard, we are too tired to overthrow the government, we must fall in love.”
That poem has always made me laugh. I believe the ethos of the poem is choosing to live beautifully, with kindness and love for those near to you, as an antidote to the overbearing and bitter situations consuming our world. The character on the left embodies that, saying “Let’s roll, let’s get the hell out here and live beautifully.” The other is saying “No, we must stay, it is our responsibility, our duty to attempt to resolve these problems.” I am simultaneously both of the characters, and neither of them.
As far as what else is to come, I have begun work on new pieces for potential shows in Japan, Milan, and New York in 2026.
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