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ArteNews
February 2007
     

Nareng and Torang, 2004


Knock Knock, 2006


The Pourcipine-and-His-Apples, 2004


The Famous Smile, 2004


The Prayer of the Bird, 2004


A Lonely Snowman, 2006

 


The Dragopnfly on my Shoes, 2005


Story of a Luliby, 2004


The Children on our Block, 2006


Interview with Hoda Hadadi
By Melissa Hibbard

Hoda Hadadi is an book illustrator, writer and poet in Tehran, Iran.

Q: How did you get started in the field of illustration?

A: I started doing children’s illustrations at Kayhan e Bacheha magazine which used to be an important and prestigious starting point for illustrators. I also worked for Sourush Nojavan magazine. From there, I was commissioned to create works for other magazines and in 2000 I illustrated my first book.

Q: Who’s your audience?

A: In the beginning my focus was more on young adults but now my interest is in small children.

Q: What was the story of your first book?

A : The story was about me teaching a young boy how to draw. His mother forced him to take the drawing class but the boy didn’t want to learn how to draw. He wanted to be a carpenter.

Q: Your style is mostly collage. What is your source of inspiration?

A: I like collage because you can be very spontaneous in collage. There are a lot of coincidences or accidents in this medium. With painting and drawing, everything is calculated. Of course there is spontaneity in other mediums but not as much. In collage you might have an idea of something that you want to bring to fruition but the result is often times something completely different. The role of the illustrator using this technique is making order from all the little parts and pieces, in my case, mostly paper.

Q: What kind of stories interests you and what kind of characters do you like to follow?

A: The inspiration for most of my stories comes from real incidents and real characters. I use my own childhood as the source of inspiration and hope that the audience can relate to my experiences. I look inside the 5 year old Hoda Hadadi and ask her what she would like? What would she do?

Q: So what does the 5-year-old Hoda relate to?

A: I remember minimalist, simplified images being very appealing to me. I was attracted to animations that were made with only a few lines - very nominal and clean. Here in Iran, since we have no way here to track what children want or how they respond to what they see in any kind of scientific way, I can only use my own experiences to communicate with my audience.

Q: Are you telling children’s stories meant for children, or are these adult stories that you disguise as children’s stories?

A: It isn’t important for me to put myself or my work in such categories. What is important is the incident or event that inspires me. Whether it’s a child’s story or an adult’s story is secondary. It doesn’t matter what age group relates to this story.

Q: You have attended a lot of festivals and exhibitions outside Iran. What is you impression of how your work is received internationally?

A: I’ve been to many festivals, in particular Japan and Eastern Europe. It has been good experience for me. Iranian Illustrators are being well received internationally. Unfortunately, though, their works haven’t been published outside Iran. The problem is that the texts or rather the stories aren’t accessible to international audiences and therefore it’s hard to get our books published. Many times, books are sent to festivals with Farsi text. We don’t bother to translate the stories and therefore internationally, people can only connect to the illustrations. The text is often times ignored. The few things that have been published are printed in Eastern countries. I have had some work published in Korea. We haven’t been able to break through in the West.

Q: Recently your poetry has been compiled in a book about contemporary female poets in Iran. How did that come about?

A: Yes, there was a book published – A Compilation of Contemporary Iranian Women Poets.

Q: Has this book been published outside Iran?

A: No and I doubt it will. There’s little effort here in Iran to disseminate the literary work of contemporary Iranian poets and writers. Translations are only done for a few Iranian writers who are well-known outside Iran like Mahmoud Dowlat Abadi. A friend of mine went to a literary festival in Germany recently. Iranian literature was criticized as no longer having anything universal to say. I don’t disagree with this but I think this is normal. In today’s world, art is very individualistic; each person has his or her own way of seeing the world. It’s not like before where social and artistic philosophies were followed by many people. Each person has his or her own philosophy to express and I think it’s the same with art. It’s the responsibility of the individual artists to introduce his or her own ideas, aesthetics and philosophy to the outside world.

Q: Where do you see yourself in all of this?

A: I don’t know how to answer this question because I don’t know where I am going. I do know that right now I have a lot of interest in poetry and illustration. Storytelling has become less important to me. These are things that are happening in life without any plan. I can’t plan what I want or how I see myself. I’m living spontaneously. Since nothing is predictably in this country, I can’t predict anything for myself. And regardless of what I predict, it rarely happens. Something else always happens.

Q: In Iran books aren’t publicized in the same way films are. Is it because they don’t know how to do it or they don’t want to do it?

A: I think the publishing companies don’t feel there is a necessity for such things. There is effort in publicizing science or math books or touristy books for foreigners. They don’t think there would be any financial return for investing in publicity for novels and poetry.

Q: Let’s talk about the difficulties of publishing in Iran.

A: There are many problems. The publishers take the original works and don’t give them back the artists, the pay is very low in this industry, paper is limited. The numbers of copies that are printed are few. And the printing quality of the work is usually reduced by between 20 and 30 per cent. These are the difficulties we face.

Q: I also notice that the lay out of children’s books is weak. Is this a result of the publishing or just something that isn’t paid much attention to?

A: It is important. The graphic artists that get involved usually don’t understand the media they are working in. Their approach to designing a book is the same as their approach to designing a poster. The book publisher usually wants to commission fewer drawings thereby bringing down the cost. Then they bring in a graphic designer to stretch those few illustrations over the course of the book and end up with something that lacks unity and doesn’t flow well from beginning to end.

Q: Do you see yourself as an Iranian illustrator?

A: I think that not just me but all of us have reached a point were we have a certain accent, a unified Iranian accent. When we go to festivals around the world, I think you can definitely sense the Iranian accent in all of our work. If you look at children’s book here in Iran, you can find a certain style, a common thread. If I were going to define that accent I would first bring attention to the lack of movements in our work. You could compare it to old Iranian miniatures where everything is two dimensional. Everything is static. There is little action in our compositions.

Something is happened regarding text and illustration, since the two are not communicating with each other, they are each doing their own thing, creating their own style. A publisher will give an illustrator a story to illustrate but the artist doesn’t like the story. The illustrator will put aside the story and come up with something on his or her own, without consideration for the story. On one hand it’s good that the illustrator is above the text but on the other hand I think it’s bad for the audience. The readers can’t connect the text and illustration together.

Q: Have there been any studies about how children respond to the books, if they like what you are doing or not?

A: Here, in Iran, we don’t have any concrete statistics about how an audience relates to something like a book or story and publishers never give us any feedback about how successful a book is. We have no statistics, only personal research. We might give a new book to a school and try to get the kids’ responses. That’s the only way we get feedback.

Q: Going back to a question before: You mentioned Iranian storytelling isn’t as universal as illustration. I assume your colleagues are aware of this and trying to resolve this issue. How are you trying to resolve this issue?

A: In the last couple of years a colleague and I started a discussion in a magazine about “The Author Illustrator” which refers to the book illustrator who writes his or her own stories. Right now there are so many children’s books that need to be reedited. You could take any one story and cut it down by 10 pages and it wouldn’t affect the story whatsoever. Our goal was to edit the stories to make them more minimalist, therefore making them more universal. We are also write new stories that are inspired by illustrations that we have already created. Now we are trying to publish our own books, based on these criteria. We are trying to detach ourselves from the previous school of thought that centers on the written text and focus on the image, instead. We are working to come up with more easily translatable stories. We are doing this right now. I know a few illustrators who are following this method and the publishers have been very supportive, thus far, but I can’t tell you how successful it is yet. Time will tell.

 
 

Adventure Over the Hill
By Hoda Hadadi, 2005

THERE WAS a strange porcupine living on the slope of a hill in a wood.
His enemy was the fox. Just a peep from her voice, a trace of her shadow or the faint smell of her approach would send shivers up and down his quills. But the porcupine could escape easily by rolling himself up into a ball and sliding down the hill.
Years go by this way. Then came a time when the enemy is absent. For the porcupine it’s was a time of calm and silence: no need for escape, no fear, no danger.
It was an ideal life at first but after a while everything became boring and the porcupine felt that the world was now empty without the fox.
He tried to remember the days of escape, tried to see the fox in front of him and feel those exciting moments again.
But couldn’t remember the face of the fox.
He thought: I can never see her perfectly. Why?
Shame on me; I don’t even know what my enemy looks like!
And the porcupine wished to see the fox once again.
The porcupine heard from other animals that the fox was away on a trip.
So everyday the porcupine sat on top of the hill and waited for the fox’s return.
Days go by. At last on a silent day, the fox returned.
The porcupine caught wind of her smell, but didn’t try to escape.
The fox’s approach got louder and louder, and her shadow fell darker and darker over the porcupine but still the porcupine didn’t move!
The fox jumped out of a bush near the porcupine’s home but stopped suddenly when she saw the amazing face of the porcupine with his two round black eyes and delicious white stomach standing strangely still.
The fox was at first surprised. Then she teased him with a playful smile and motioned with her eyes for him to run away!
But the porcupine didn’t move.
The fox came forward a little and then a little more but the porcupine didn’t show any fear.
The fox thought: It must be a plan of some kind!
So she sat there, rolled her fur tail up around her hand and looked at the porcupine surreptitiously. Her mouth watered.
The fox said to herself: What a tasty one!
It must be a game! I’ll be careful and at last be the winner. I’ll sit here as long as he wants to sit here
As the sun set, the fox got tired and finally left.
The poor porcupine! He was floating in a big storm in the middle of his heart.
He couldn’t believe that the one whom he had always run from was the most beautiful creature in the world.
Those big, shining, honey eyes, that glorious furry tail, the soft movements of her long legs. And God! That teasing smile …
The poor porcupine was in love.
***
Days and nights were covered by new colors.
The porcupine felt he didn’t need his quills anymore. Fear disappeared and sorrowful love began to grow in his heart.
Everyday the fox stood in front of porcupine: watching, teasing, laughing. She ordered him to run. Eventually She’d get tired and leave with only a big question in her mind.
But you know, unsolved questions always lead to one of two solution:
Ignoring the question
Or erasing the question.
And so the fox chose the second way and decided to erase the porcupine by eating him!
She jumped to him on one sad morning
The porcupine was shocked and cried: NO!
The fox was shocked by such a loud cry and stopped. It was the first sound she had heard from porcupine.
The Porcupine with shaking lips and excited words started to admit his love, described his feelings about her beauty and told everything that was in his heart.
The porcupine also shamefully revealed his one great wish: to kiss the fox!
The fox laughed, turn her head and said: no! And laughed, laughed and laughed.
But the porcupine was sadly serious!
The fox at last stopped laughing and gazed at the porcupine
She thought: Its another part of the game!
But so close am I, that I can bite him easily. He cannot escape!
Furthermore a tasty porcupine must have a tasty kiss as well!
The porcupine was still crying and his face was covered by falling tears.
The fox brought her beak closer to the porcupine and said: Okay, stop crying, come closer!
It was a dream! The porcupine couldn’t believe it was happening. So he came closer and rolled his shaking hands around the red neck of the fox. His heart was beating like a drum and when his dream was about to come true, unfortunately, a long sharp quill on the side of his head went straight into the left eye of the fox!
The fox gestured backwards and screamed.
Blood was flowing from her eye.
Do you know what the fox thought at that moment?
That she had been tricked and the porcupine has taken his revenge.
The game was over. The fox became terribly angry, jumped with no doubt and bit the white stomach of the porcupine. The porcupine with round confused eyes was still trying to figure out what had happened.
***
The fox ate the porcupine and went on her way.
Still sometimes when she crosses over hill, sometimes she remembers all that adventure she had had with the porcupine and asks herself what was the truth?
Was the porcupine really in love?
Was it a revenge for all those attacks?
Or was it just a game?
Who knows?
The fox doesn’t know but thinks with a deep sigh: the reality is here: this blind eye in my face and there’s no porcupine to escape from me anymore.
What a boring life!

 
 

Poetry by Hoda Hadadi:

Teapot
When I close my eyes
Sleep is a big teapot
That you get warm in
When I open my eyes
Wakefulness is a small teapot
That I get bitter in

Dream
When I roll to the left
Rabbits are running over the highway
When I roll to the right
Cows are chewing four corners of carpet
I roll to the back
And thousands of yellow dragonflies
Jump from my dream
I sit
And push back
The fingers are creeping
Over my throat

Bus
The white bus passed
Full of black ladies
The scratched bus passed
Full of sleeping officers
The funny bus passed
Full of angry men
The red bus passed
Full of silent children
The new bus passed
Full of gray smoke
The Double Decker bus passed
Full of empty windows
My bus didn’t pass
My bus didn’t pass
My bus didn’t pass

New Shoes
From morning till now
From when I sat
Here on the stairs
From morning till now
From when I started to stare at the two of you
Neighbors came and went
Neighbors blandished me
And said
What a little shy boy!

Eleven
Twelve men were standing
The fountain on the square was open
Twelve pigeons sat down
The bakery on the square was open
The #12 Bus came
The drugstore on the square was open
Eleven men got on the bus
The door of the bus was open
One man didn’t get on
Eleven mouths were open

Happiness
Happiness died like a little lighted match
Everything is unclear
Everything is unsafe
In the darkness
Even your hands
Your powerful hands

Turn Off
I want you to turn me off
As turning the TV off with a little point
My programs are not without audiences
But you are not, anymore
I want you to turn me off
As turning a lamp off
With a little point

Rain
We waited for the rain
On a long low lane
However our words
Were jailed by your chain
We tried to recall
We tried for again
However very weak
However with pain

Windows
You drew
Your grief
With your finger
It froze
And broke
With a wild winter
Now we know
These flakes
Are falling so faint
Was grief
Which drowns
Sometimes
Somewhere

Scarecrows
I am calm
Calm and alone
Like a reaped farm
Run in me
Play in me
And burn
All Scarecrows
Which I made
One by one

 
 

Artist's Biography

Hoda Hadadi was born in 1977 in Tehran, Iran. She received her M.A. in Graphic Design from The Art University in Tehran. Ms. Hadadi started her illustration career in 1998 working for the prestigious children’s magazines Kayhan e Bacheha, Souroush and Docharkheh. Her first book of illustrations, Siasat Nameh-Peydayesh was published in 1999 and since then more than 20 books of her work have been published. She has written and illustrated 5 children’s books, including My Cloudy Day (2000). Her illustrations and writing have been exhibited international and she has won several prestigious awards for her work including “Noma Encouragement Prize” (Japan, 2000); “First Prize” (Kanoon Book Festival, Iran, 2005); and “Audience Award” (Soroush Magazine, Iran, 2002,3). Her first book of poetry, The Orange Genie was published in 2005.

 
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