Rebirth

For as long as I can remember, being submerged in water has evoked a profound, almost cellular memory — as though my body recalls the womb.

As a child, my grandmother would tell me intricate Persian folktales. In each story, water appeared not just as a setting, but as a symbol — cleansing, fertile, destructive, divine. It embodied the paradoxes of nature: a source of life and a vessel of transformation. These stories became coded teachings, and water became a personal mythology.

In this photographic series, Rebirth, I return to the metaphor of water as both a container and a threshold — a fluid border between endings and beginnings. Created in the wake of a long depression, these images examine what it means to survive psychologically, and to emerge from darkness into fragile selfhood.

Here, the body becomes embryonic again, suspended in the liminal space between death and rebirth — submerged in the unconscious, stripped of illusion, reaching toward renewal.
Water is not only a metaphor for healing, but for survivalism: the will to resurface, again and again, despite having nearly drowned.

Rebirth is a quiet confrontation with the unspoken transformations we endure — not the dramatic climaxes of life, but the slow reassembly of the self after psychic collapse. These photographs exist within that sacred in-between: the stillness before breathing again.