Homa Ebrahimpour at her studio in the northeastern city of Mashhad, Iran. Photo courtesy of the artist.

Homa Ebrahimpour, a ceramic and sculpture artist from Mashhad, Iran, is part of a growing movement of artists challenging the country's cultural and political limitations on creative expression. Her work, which explores the female body and addresses societal taboos, has gained new resonance in the wake of the “Woman, Life, Freedom” movement.

The movement, sparked by the death of Mahsa Amini in September 2022, has deeply influenced public perception of women's rights and social issues, and it has given artists like Ebrahimpour more courage to address subjects that are still heavily censored.

“After the ‘Woman, Life, Freedom’ movement, a great deal of awareness spread through society,” Ebrahimpour told Global Voices. “It feels like an awakening after a long lethargy. Many taboos are being broken, and I have become more determined to continue working and presenting my art, even if it's mostly in virtual spaces for now.”

Digital photography, Homa Ebrahimpour, 20 x 30 cm | 8 x 12 inches, 2021, courtesy of the artist.

The movement has profoundly impacted Ebrahimpour’s approach, encouraging her to create and share works that she had previously hidden, including sculptures and paintings that explore the female form. Her art, which remains grounded in themes of body, freedom, and identity, is part of an underground or alternative art scene in Iran, where many artists continue to create despite restrictions.

Through her work, Ebrahimpour defies the societal red lines surrounding the depiction of women, creating a visual language of resistance and redefining the possibilities for artistic freedom in Iran.

In an interview with Global Voices, Homa discussed the challenges of being an artist in Iran, censorship, and the limitations imposed by Iran's socio-political environment on artistic expression.

Excerpts from the interview follow:

Omid Memarian (OM): How did you come to choose ceramics and sculpture, among other art forms?

Homa Ebrahimpour (HE): I came to ceramics quite late, perhaps at the right time. Since childhood, I used to paint, and later I started photography. At 31, I accidentally found myself in a traditional ceramics workshop. The direct connection I felt with what I was creating, without the mediation of paint or tools, appealed to me. And the peace I felt after finishing each piece was unique. More recently, I’ve realized that the sense of God-like creation I experience when making sculptures is what makes it so enjoyable for me.

Ceramic sculpture, Homa Ebrahimpour, 22 x 20 x 14 cm (8.7 x 7.9 x 5.5 in), 2021. Photo courtesy of the artist.

OM: How much has the environment in which you live influenced the medium you choose to express your emotions and thoughts, especially given the restrictions on freedom of expression, particularly for women, in Iran's socio-political space?

HE: Mashhad is a religious city. We don't have a cultural space or an art movement. In fact, there is no place where you can see sculptures or paintings. If there is a museum, it only displays religious works. I even started ceramics in a workshop that only made pigeons and religious symbols, which didn’t influence my perspective or choices. In such an environment, which is incomparable to anywhere else in Iran where artists either move to Tehran or emigrate, I create sculptures of the human body, even more forbidden — the female body. I can't exhibit, display, or even sell them.

OM: How does the issue of censorship or self-censorship impact your daily calculations when deciding what to create or not to create?

HE: When you're born and raised in a society where censorship is an inseparable part of your life — in culture, family, government, and society — you're expected to censor who you really are, your desires, emotions, thoughts, and even your body, to fit their expectations. It’s challenging for my generation to free ourselves from this system entirely. I think the fear that has always accompanied us and has been instilled in us is still with us. We are still afraid.

Ceramic sculpture, Homa Ebrahimpour, 45 x 20 x 25 cm (17.7 x 11 x 8.7 in), 2023. Photo courtesy of the artist.

However, it’s very different for the new generation. They live their own lives and absolutely refuse to succumb to censorship or coercion. It’s this generation that demands change and doesn’t bow to the government.

OM: Are there specific genres that you can't engage in and which, if pursued, would jeopardize your career as an artist?

HE: Depicting the female body, especially in the nude form as I do in my works, is itself the endpoint for my artistic path and the biggest challenge. But I continue to do it, not thinking too much about the future of my career.

Another issue is addressing the problems and limitations of women or, generally, any civil matters in society. That’s automatically labeled as political, and in the current situation, it comes with a lot of consequences unless you work as an anonymous artist.

Ceramic sculpture, Homa Ebrahimpour, 32 x 15 x 12 cm (12.6 x 5.9 x 4.7 in), 2024. Photo courtesy of the artist.

OM: When did your interest in exploring the complexities of the human body, particularly women, first emerge in your work, and how have people reacted?

HE: My curiosity started in childhood. I had a sketchbook in which I drew nude images. After my family's concerns, I realized these subjects were forbidden, and they remained dormant for a long time.

Later, in photography, I was drawn to it again. I did nude photography in the studio where I worked, but because I didn’t have a permit, the studio's equipment was confiscated. I was lucky that my photos weren’t taken in the system they seized, but my friend ended up with a serious legal case, which made me abandon the idea.

It wasn’t until 2019 that I resumed the work. The reactions were harsh and disheartening. Besides the government, the public viewed nudes as porn. In Iran, when a woman works with nude art, it has every meaning but art. For example, I had paintings on my room’s walls, and an electrician who had been coming to our house for a long time, upon seeing them, felt entitled to harass me, thinking that since I painted nudes, I must be seeking open relationships, anywhere and anytime! Or, when I posted on social media, I received sexual requests!

Ceramic sculpture, Homa Ebrahimpour, 15 x 15 x 25 cm (6 x 6 x 10 in), 2021. Photo courtesy of the artist.

OM: Are we witnessing an underground or alternative art scene in Iran, given the restrictions on depicting nudity, religion, politics, and women?

HE: I can give you an example. There was a time when music in Mashhad faced similar conditions. Singing and playing music in public was considered a crime. Some musicians in Mashhad created an underground space called “The Dungeon,” where they performed, even sold tickets, and held concerts. Out of this space came figures like Mohsen Namjoo, Abdolreza Behrouzfar, Navid Arbabi, and others. I think this unintended underground art movement will happen for every artistic spectrum, and eventually, the art will emerge from within to the outside.

OM: How have major economic problems in Iran, especially inflation, resource shortages, and economic injustice, impacted the art market?

HE: For me, economic and livelihood concerns overshadow my ability to focus on art. Art isn’t my top priority, and the same is true for many around me unless they have family support or multiple jobs. In Tehran, some high-priced sales and successful artists exist, but this doesn’t reflect the broader Iranian art market. The scarcity of galleries outside Tehran, the challenges for emerging artists, and financial insecurity have led to widespread discouragement, causing some to reconsider their artistic pursuits.

Ceramic sculpture, Homa Ebrahimpour, 33 x 12 x 13 cm (13 x 4.7 x 5.1 in), 2021. Photo courtesy of the artist.