A two-fingered clap
Inside an image separate from anything that surrounds you: Clap/Clap/Clap. In your ear, everyone whispers. You are in this image, you are this image, you are not, or you have forgotten who you are. These videos do not matter / but women do not like to be recorded, to be shared. You walk away from the front of the camera / Or at least you turn your back from the camera / You turn your face away from the camera – this is how your body can be seen / You turn on your camera and start filming but no one would notice / It’s as if you are stuck / Only 25 seconds, it is too short for you to miss anything / Stories do not need to be long.
Clap / A two-fingered clap / A three-fingered clap / Sounds like raindrops/
Clap/Clap/Clap.
You tell her: Be careful if your Bluetooth is on / You get up, you dance / There is no masculinity / You roll on the floor / When I told Maryam: we just have a 25 second footage, she laughed / I see a bald muscular woman in a purple dress/ Maryam: Is it okay if I see her like this? / Me: It’s ok / I feel like a story is not going to be told / I have been to many of these places / They tell you not to film / turn it off / but they are filming you / and you learn to remember with your eyes / Only victory or defeat / No one will explain the details of her dance to you / You will not define it either / It will be like a loop / It will open in the box/ Camera movement / Excuse me, go to sleep / You are more tired than me / Fear took over my whole being / Do not be so dramatic / Keep your hands in the air and turn / Someone shouts: This is called dancing! / I was there / I wasn’t there, but I heard someone rolled on the floor while dancing / I saw it on a video / I saw it myself / I was looking but in a way that no one would notice / And I stole it / And I saved the video on my phone / I stole the image / I recorded it / I always have a fear when I use family pictures / No one should see the video / Someone pulls you by your hand / and takes you to the middle of the hall / But it is not forced, you were ready / You were already waiting for the moment / Is it your night and my morning? I heard this many times / You think a lot about the movement of the camera / But I see the hands / The sound of plastic wraps around the sweets / A pinch of sadness and happiness / Sounds inverted / The music is cut off / The sound of hands are erratic / Very short / Her veins protrude / Her muscles stick out / One day we have to dance together I like to touch you / Translated: You do not like to be touched / Even to be seen / I can see you open your legs and your hands go up / I laugh / But it gets scary / Nobody wants to see you / And you too/ You open your legs and sit on the floor / It has a lot of details / But no one pays attention to your legs / Your dress is stretched / It takes 7 hours to render / You sleep / It is midnight / And I have not seen you yet.
Rewind the video / To reach a specific second. But you passed it / Go back again / You passed it again. Finally, at the right moment / you succeed to push the (pause) button. You stop the video at that moment. You move your hand towards the screen / and point at the people who are all standing still / frozen. Again from the beginning. A new second. Rewind the video.
Now take a screenshot / That holds the moment for you to take pictures again and again. A new archive / new document / new memory / With different qualities.
For this work, Fatemeh Kazemi collaborates with Chicago-based artist Maryam Faridani to take us into the secret worlds of female-only gatherings, the mirth of which is reflected on the screens of handhelds and documented in 10-second intervals on Instagram Stories. The work consists of two videos titled: SHAD-BASH 01, SHAD-BASH 02, and a story.
Sound: Mohammad Gholami @mohammadrezaaaaagh