By Souren Melikian
Published: May 1, 2008
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Courtesy Naser Arasteh
Although abstract, the blue, black, orange and white forms of Arasteh's "Composition" suggest a landscape battered by a furious tempest.
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Courtesy Naser Arasteh
When a Western European collector bought "Symphoni-e Tolu" (“Sunrise Harmonics”) (2006), the price was reportedly €6,500 ($10,200).
Arasteh, who was born in Kermanshah in 1942 and works out of a studio in Tehran, followed a conventional educational and career path, training at the Art University of Tehran, from which he graduated in 1970, and teaching art in academic institutions. His creative trajectory, however, is unique in Iran. Until the late 1980s, Arasteh alternated between abstract compositions, some echoing French Cubism, and figural rural landscapes, executed in the sketchy style of a book illustrator, such as his views of Kalardasht, in the Caspian province of Gilan. In 1987, he bridged the abyss separating figuration and abstraction with a large watercolor, Mowj. Although this word means “wave,” the painting has no connection to Hiroshige’s famous woodcut or to van Gogh’s interpretation of it. Arasteh’s wave is an abstract volute in red, blue and white, driven upward by some irresistible power and accompanied by colored curves running across splinters, while on the horizon, a dark mass shoots up like a ruined tower. A year later, in the same medium, the versatile artist painted his first masterpiece. Although abstract, the blue black, orange and white forms of Composition suggest a landscape battered by a furious tempest. Harekat (“Movement”), 2000, carries the genre close to pure abstraction. At the center of the watercolor, a red wedge breaks up into sparkling shards in a shimmering sea of dark blue lit up by slivers of green and yellow. That year, Arasteh switched to large formats and acrylic paint on canvas and began to apply blobs and squares of intense color in compositions shot through with rhythmic movement. The vibrancy of these works defies description. So does their diversity. The secret behind the constant inventions probably lies in their connection to the vast repertoire of images, real and metaphorical, of Iranian culture. Simfuni-e Shaqayeq (“Anemone Harmonics”), 2003, is one of the early gems in this style. Its subject, the wild anemone, was sung of in Persian poetry from the 10th to the 20th century. The colors of the composition — wine reds, lapis and turquoise blues and emerald greens — are those of Iranian manuscript painting in the 15th and 16th centuries. Arasteh is much admired at home, where some of his paintings hang in the Tehran Museum of Contemporary Art. Abroad, however, he is virtually unknown, as is much Iranian contemporary art, which continues to blossom, untouched by politics. Collectors hoping to buy his works may have a hard time if they do not travel to Tehran. Arasteh sells from his studio, but he also has a website, http://naserarasteh.blogspot.com. I suspect Arasteh will be hailed in decades to come as one of the masters who laid the foundations for the first major Iranian school of the 21st century. His pictures will command enormous prices. For the 68-year-old, the question is how long it will take. When a Western European collector bought his 2006 Symphoni-e Tolu (“Sunrise Harmonics”), the price was reportedly €6,500 ($10,200). Arasteh could hardly contain his joy. "Hidden Talent" originally appeared in the May 2008 issue of Art+Auction. For a complete list of articles from this issue available on ARTINFO, see Art+Auction's May 2008 Table of Contents.
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