In May 2013, in the heart of Iran’s central desert, I created Gliss — a video art where the wind slowly moves the sand to reveal a hidden mirror buried beneath. At times, when the wind pauses, tiny desert insects wander across the mirror’s surface, their delicate steps breaking the stillness. In that moment, they felt to me like fleeting, restless thoughts crossing the clarity of the mind.
Years later, as I delved into the philosophy of Bīdil Dehlavi — celebrated as the Poet of Mirrors — I encountered a poem that seemed to speak directly to the essence of Gliss. His words became a bridge across centuries, connecting the shifting sands of my vision with his reflections on the heart, movement, and the polishing of perception.
به طواف در دلکوش که آیینهٔ مهر
جوهر بینش اگر دارد از آنجا دارد
Circle in devotion around the heart, for it is the mirror of love;
If insight has any essence, it springs from there.
وحشت ریگ روان صیقل این آینه است
که به صحرای جنون آبله هم پا دارد
The dread of shifting sands polishes this mirror,
For in the desert of ecstasy, even the feet bear blisters.
In Gliss, the desert becomes the mind; the wind, the force of time and experience; the mirror, the heart’s clarity; and the insects, the subtle disruptions that pass across our awareness. The act of uncovering is not sudden — it is shaped by the patient friction of the elements, just as the heart is polished by trials. This work is, in essence, a conversation between the silent language of the desert and the enduring voice of Bīdil.
