I was born and raised in Tehran, a city where beauty lives beside restraint. I studied pharmacy, a path shaped by precision and structure. But beneath that life, I longed for something I couldn’t define—something emotional, untamed. Painting became that space.

I’m a self-taught painter. I don’t begin with sketches or plans. I let the brush move, and in the motion, something surfaces—something I didn’t know I was holding. My work doesn’t follow rules or narratives. It’s guided by feeling, memory, and mood.

As a child, I turned to writing and painting to process what I couldn’t say. But writing felt too raw, too close to truth. I let it go. Painting, though, stayed. It gave me a way to hide and reveal at once.
In 2025, I submitted my work to a gallery for the first time. Out of 250 artists, I was chosen for a group show in Toronto. That moment felt like a quiet affirmation—a sign that these pieces were ready to be seen.

What I create isn’t about resolution. It’s about rhythm, tension, and memory. Each canvas holds a fragment of something honest—an emotion forming its own language.