It is his belief that Nowruz (Persian New Year which starts on March 21) is a tradition and a day in which no one is or should be left behind – that includes children, grandfathers and grandmothers, son in laws, daughter in laws, even those who have passed away.
Ali Shirazi is a well-known name in the world of modern calligraphy and contemporary inscriptions. In recent years, his masterpieces have been among top sellers in prestigious auction houses and exhibitions not just in Tehran but also in other parts of the region, so much so that many art collectors now want to have a piece of his chefs-d'oeuvre. However, that does in no way change the fact that we still know very little about the master himself. It’s almost New Year and indeed a great opportunity to catch up with him:
This conversation is a great opportunity to know more about you. Tell us about your childhood and the time you decided to become a calligrapher?
I was born in a village called Absard, 90 kilometers southwest of Shiraz. In school we had a teacher who was good at calligraphy. That time we had little idea about pen, stylus or paper. There was no need for it anyway. But my grandfather was an exception. He used to write on tombstones, prayer inscriptions and memorial documents. His writing and calligraphy techniques were well-liked. I couldn’t write properly, but as time went by I mastered the skill as I was using fountain pain – unlike other classmates. Our teacher encouraged me to calligraphy and the rest is history.
When did you go for the craft seriously and as a profession?
At 10 my family used to move a lot. In 1974 we moved to Isfahan, where I was encouraged to take calligraphy classes. In those years it was hard to make ends meet as a calligrapher. So I set up a small shop and began working as a career calligrapher. I used to work on paper, posters, ceramics and other stuff. It forced me to study the craft more professionally. Guess what? I was lucky, because Isfahan is the capital of calligraphy. I learned a lot from other artisans and masters on handicrafts, woodcarving, inlaid works and engraving.
In the early years of the 1979 revolution I wrote a letter to master calligrapher Amirkhani in Tehran. After that, in 1984 I was selected chairman of Isfahan Calligraphers Association. After three years I got married and decided to move to Tehran.
Did you join the Tehran Calligraphers Association?
Yes. I was also a member of the high commission. I’m now working for the Culture Ministry as a member of appraisal and art councils. I also teach at the Tehran Calligraphers Association.
How do you evaluate the association’s overall performance in these years?
When I was young, there weren’t many celebrity calligraphers. For instance, there was no calligraphers’ association in Isfahan. We only had master calligrapher Fazaeli who used to teach at a music school. In 1981, I founded the association with help from other calligraphers. The response to our classes and efforts was huge. It was so popular that we set up 30 classes in the city and surrounding areas. Thanks to these efforts, there are now many top-notch calligraphers not just in Isfahan but also in Tehran. After 30 years, it looks like a miracle. It’s a golden chapter in Iranian art and culture.
When did you decide to say that ‘I want to sell my works as a source of income’?
Life became so hard when I moved to Tehran. I had to take petty orders to make ends meet. Then things began to take off nationwide and people started buying artworks, including calligraphic pieces. This was welcome news for people like me, although this was not the original plan. It just happened inherently. In 1996, I published my first art collection labeled "Courier". It was an attempt to contemporize the art of traditional calligraphy. The idea was to change all traditional forms and shapes, and give it a contemporary, abstract feel and look. This of course went against the diehard traditions of calligraphy.
We know you as a master of "Nasta’liq" (hanging), a Persian style of writing in Iran and the region. Does this mean you haven’t worked on other styles?
A calligrapher must practice all hand-lettering styles and techniques. In Isfahan, I practiced different styles, but never took any special training courses. Once I was asked by director Shahram Assadi to write subtitles for his 1995 film "The Fateful Day". I used the style of "Ruq’ah" which was so popular in the Arab world. Later, many other directors asked me to work for them, but I declined.
Meaning, you mostly used the "Nasta’liq" font design?
I went for this dynamic style in a specific way, the slightly steeped lines of which words run in, giving the script a hanging appearance. I also used my principal tool which is "Big Qalam", a pen or brush normally made of dried reed or bamboo - in more informal contexts though. This could be with nibs that may be flat, round or pointed. The shapes could be deep, hook-like, and have high contrast.
Nevertheless, I have used this type of modern context and style so much so often that in countries where calligraphic works are hugely popular, they attribute it to me. Of course, that does in no way mean I invented the "Big Qalam"; only that no one before me had ever tried to use it in such a peculiar way. I was lucky to be the first using it in such a meticulous style.
You lived for a while in Dubai. Why did you move over there?
In 2002, I had an exhibition in Dubai which was an instant hit. The officials had long-term plans for future art events. They frequently invited me to these annual events. Every year they paid for my travel expenses and art sales. I knew right there and then that one day Dubai would become the capital of art auctions in Middle East. This became reality the moment Christie’s began offering premier auctions and private sales of the finest art, antiques and others there. It is true that they themselves don’t have many prominent artists. But that didn’t stop the officials from turning the city into a prestigious international auction house. This was the reason why I decided to live and work there for two years.
This conversation was supposed to be about the Persian New Year. Do you enjoy Nowruz?
I love Nowruz. If we need to paint something sacred, that has to be the Persian New year. This is the only time of year when people of all faiths, religions, traditions and backgrounds get together to celebrate the spring and life itself. It’s the beacon of unity in Iran. During this particular holiday season nothing is left behind; children, the elderly, grandfathers and grandmothers, daughter in laws and son in laws, even those who have passed away have a special place for us to respect and cherish. When someone passes away on New Year’s Eve, many put aside these traditional festivities to pay a visit and express their deepest condolences to the grieving family.
This celebrated day knows no boundaries and has no expiry date. It is the happiness and the sadness that bind us together as a nation on this particular day. Even when an unfamiliar tradition and practice tries to infiltrate the ancient traditions of Nowruz, it tends to vanish over time. What we witness and celebrate on this day has stood the test of time for many millennia. It is now finely polished; indeed, all the reason why we should always safeguard and treasure Nowruz and its fine traditions with all our hearts and minds.
Have you created an artwork that has Nowruz as its principal theme?
Of course. One of my recent works was about the new day of Nowruz that was put on display during the 7th Fajr Visual Arts Festival.
When the clock strikes the Persian New Year, at that very moment what do you typically wish?
If you ask God for something you are giving the impression that that thing doesn’t exist. I believe God has created everything and they are up for grabs. We have to work hard to get them; making a wish to get them doesn’t look right to me. But we can always wish joy and happiness for our friends, relatives, families and other peoples around the world. If we want to have a better life, we should also wish the same good life for others.
Translation by Bobby Naderi