To Mom, Dad And My Two Brothers. 2002-2008

I grew up in a family that fled from Iran as political refugees. My dad was a fighter pilot in the army in Iran but when we fled to sweden his authority got crumbled. He was no longer the man he used to be. Something dark had entered his soul. This dark cloud of anger, hate, and violence spread across my whole childhood and left me scarred and filled with anxiety. I started photographing my parents in art school. At first I took portraits of them. But then I started humiliating them in the images. Putting on silly animals masks.I wanted to photograph my parents in the same way as I’d pictured them so many times. Dead. Murdered and dumped in the woods. My parents did it together with me. It was probably their way of saying: I'm sorry.