Loss – 2020
Staggered and tired, suffering and enduring, tongueless and nameless … laboring kids. children of labor. Kids who rush, get and carry. Kids who breathe in soil, deal with kiln and die for bread.
Every year numerous populations, with the hope of a livable life, in search of the never-found security، step in Iran … Every year numerous populations living in rural areas renunciate the hometown and migrate to the city.
The destiny of these two groups, however, is nothing but marginalization, isolation and stagnant status of poverty.
Unpaid labor and insecurity in every step, epidemic dread of decay and downfall, is a stale tale.
The city, bigger and bigger, people, smaller and smaller, the workers, younger and younger. Near the towers of brick kilns in Mohammad-Abad, Esfahan, Iran, numerous kids enter the world as workers: The world of soil, synthesized by poverty and suffering. On the margin of that truer world, they spend the days “here”. Their hands wrinkle, they get older, and slowly forget hope “and” despair.
The fathers get older too, and the desire of “the life” migration plus ten-time harder work was supposed to provide, vanishes away within rotten slams, near the flames of kilns during hot killing summers, in overwhelming hours of unpaid labor.
Day by day, eyes get used to not seeing the castaway world of marginalized populations … and, this project is an effort to disarrange this habit. Reflecting those forgotten looks and extinguished hearts … an effort to forget this epidemic forgetfulness.
To “remember” hands, sufferings, and absence of freedom. Exploring the suffering of vulnerable, hopeless and invisible laboring children … Marginalized in the city where life is distributed on the basis of snatching powers, and not the width of palms.