My name is Peyman Yazdani.
Born in 1989 in Bojnurd- a city in north-east of Iran. Fun fact: there are no pictures of me before the age of 4, except for this one which was taken at an old currently closed photography studio.
We used to live in the suburbs of Bojnurd; other than playing soccer, wandering around the dumps, playing AjorAjor (a game in which you shoot the ball at the bricks), playing leapfrog and playing KamarKamar (hitting both teams with belts!), there was not much else to do for fun in our town. When I was 6, my parents enrolled me in Institute for the Intellectual Development of Children and Young Adults; the IIDCYA was an organization by the previous government aimed to better educate young adults and give them opportunities they usually couldn’t find in school, it was founded in 1961 in multiple cities in Iran and still exists to this day. In order to enroll me in the IIDCYA, all my parents had to do was give them two 3*4 pictures of me and pay 400 Tomans per year. This picture is the only memento I have left from all the 9 years I spent in that institute and all the imprinted memories of the place, which was pretty different from all the other places in our neighborhood; though this was something I didn’t realize until much later.
A while later, my dad bought a Yashika camera, so we became THE guys to do the photography at every family gathering. Every gathering from “13be Dar” (the national nature celebration day in Iran) in Dartum village (my mom’s hometown) to the dinner party with relatives to Ehasn’s (my brother) honoring ceremony in Golshan venue in Bojnurd.
In the meantime, I used to do some photography in secret; of things like the pipes’ repair operation in the streets or a weird car on the streets of Mashhad (a city in north-east of Iran). Long story short, I realized a camera was a tool to capture weird and interesting looking stuff.
Those days, we were a middle-class family and buying new films was an unnecessary purchase. So, we had to use the two first and last shots of before and after the main 36 films. If we were lucky the films would be developed just fine, otherwise they would turn out burned or would overlap with the next picture. We used to give every set of films to Pars laboratory in Bojnurd to be developed, the pictures and our films would be ready in a few days all sitting in an envelope.
From the age of 7 to 11, I was a student in some of most horrifying schools in Bojnurd; schools like Sanaei and Khoshi. All I used to focus on was being a good student and get good grades, because that was the only way to stay safe and protect yourself. I took the special test for gifted children (SAMPAD) and as the only student in that school who passed the test, I set foot in a place I knew nothing about.
The school of gifted children in Bojnurd was an unknown universe, filled with kids much different from the kids in my life. These kids used to dress nice and use gel on their hair, though this was not my only culture shock in the gifted school. At 7th grade, we had to study physics and chemistry, one of my nightmares was to prove Archimedes principle and pass Mr.Olfati’s tests. I was at the wrong place. In all the 7 years I spent in that school, I kept on fighting and suppressing the internal voice telling me I didn’t belong there.
I lacked courage; being conservative, not coming across other opportunities, all the gifted students on their way to become a doctor or an engineer and not facing my fears resulted in me falling in a fast-flowing river swimming forward at high speed. My only defense mechanism towards my soul-eating top-gear situation was to secretly read Chelcheragh (a famous social magazine in Iran) and Hamshahri Javan (a youth social famous Magazine in Iran) in my classes, enjoy the literature and English classes, join the ping pong, soccer and volleyball teams at school and sign up for English language and poetry classes in my spare time.
Once when I was in high school, our volleyball team won first place in district matches alongside with the teams from Mashhad, Sabzevar and Neyshabur. We were sent to national games representing gifted schools with me being a bench player. Our team rode from Bojnurd to Tehran in a red and white minibus, after a 15-hour rough road trip we arrived at Tehran’s Jordan Street. That was my first encounter with Tehran; from the first moment that I moved the curtains on the minibus and looked at different people on the streets, I found Tehran to be a very interesting and enchanting place and an escape hatch for my problems at home.
During those 10 days, we stayed at the gifted school’s dorm on Jordan Street and our games were being held at Enghelab Sport and Leisure Center. The amount of culture shocks we encountered is a story for another day. Anyways, after a heavy set of games we managed to win again and our championship trophy was handed to us by a clergyman who was the founder of the gifted school.
After coming back from Tehran, being an average student in math, I had unconsciously made up my mind. I used to feed up on Chelcheragh magazine day after day, week after week; the only thing on my mind was moving to Tehran. Tehran was my utopia.
In the meantime, I passed the literature Olympiad. It felt like all the A grades I always got in literature and all the high scores I used to get in general courses had a reason, but I still hadn’t come to peace with myself. I still had fears.
I used to get lost in Arabic textbooks for hours and days on end, I tried to memorize everything in those books. The year before college, I decided to quit cheating and I ended up getting a A point and to everyone’s shock at school, I became the second-best student in my class. Finally, the DAY had arrived. I felt a mountain of pressure on my shoulders from my family, my relatives, the school and the society.
I passed the college entry exam with having answered the general courses over 80% and the core courses between 30 to 60%. My ranking was 1300 in district 2 and among the 100 courses I had selected to study, mostly in Tehran, I got stuck with Chemistry Engineering at Elm-o-Sanat University in Tehran.
Once again, my lonely and conservative mind was looking for a way to survive. The whole year before taking the college entry exam, I locked myself in the room above the roof and studied 10 hours a day (besides all the studying I had to do for school). I could barely memorize all the scary formulas for chemistry, physics and mathematics. Then I realized in order to be able to move to Tehran, I had to ace a course everyone else was terrified of; Arabic language!
Against my family’s will, who wanted me to study Electric or Mechanics Engineering at Ferdowsi University and be close to them, I was running away from everything. I moved to Tehran and started my explorations. I started writing and photographing for the University’s paper; stuck in the labyrinth of Chemistry Engineering which I hated more and more everyday with its formulas getting bigger compared to high school. I used to keep my head busy with going to cultural centers, working in university’s movie department as the secretary, going on field trips for people from Bojnurd and going to city center area to see plays. That was until the year 1388 happened (in 2009 a heavy dispute between the Iranian Government and the Iranian protesters arose and it led to the death of thousands of people in multiple cities in Iran). Before the year 1388, being a part of the university’s movie department had familiarized me with censorship and oppression of all sorts; but this was a whole other story.
After1388, my life, just like everyone else’s was turned upside down. Now, on top of the suppression and all the internal feelings I had, I was also filled with rage. The only solution I could find, was being an active student; as a side matter I was on my way to get my sad little bachelor’s degree in Chemistry Engineering in less than 4.5 years, still scared and empty of hope.
During the second half the 1380s, I kept capturing everything. It was like everything was fascinating to me once passed through the camera lens, or it was like I was trying to fill a void in my life. During the final exam’s break, I went on solo trips to summon all my power for the throat cutting exams I had to pass. I remember during the finals’ break in the second semester, I bought a 3000 toman train ticket and went to Tabriz; visited the city, stayed in a cheap motel and paid a visit to my friend in Ardebil.
During the dark days after the year 1388, I pursued all my interests; joining the university drama department, taking French language classes, hiking, learning how to play the Tonbak (an Iranian traditional instrument), you name it. After graduating and getting my bachelor’s degree in Chemistry Engineering, I was in a really dark place in my life and I had to pick between moving on to master’s degree in Industrial Management or moving to another country. For financial reasons, in that time I chose the first path, but later on, because of some political and moral reasons, the second path became my next move.
It was 2012, in order to continue my education in Chemistry Engineering I moved to Bologna; I really didn’t have any other choice because I hadn’t attended the government compulsory military training program in Iran. In fact, Bologna was the only place I could apply to and get admitted with my bachelor’s degree GPA being 13 out of 20. This was the second time I was moving and it was going to lead me to yet another amazing new world; it was also a way to run away from things I hadn’t found the courage to face yet.
Bologna was a lot of fun. The classes were a breeze, I didn’t feel any pressure, the professors were more easygoing, and I was learning how to live by experience in Italy. I was self-learning street photography, I paid attention to details, and because of the bad economy situation in the country, I came across cheap ways to travel and new opportunities like hitchhiking and doing volunteer job while traveling.
During my stays in Morocco and Vietnam, I taught English language to children and in return, they gave me free food and a place to stay; my whole outlook on life changed during those times.
During 3 years I lived in Italy, I took two long term volunteering trips to Morocco and Vietnam.
I pursued street photography much more seriously while I was in Italy and it made me sure I wasn’t going to continue my education in engineering anymore. It was a difficult decision to go back to Iran and join the mandatory military training program, but I was tired of running away and I preferred to deal with the obstacles in my life in order to be able to have the life I wanted.
After getting my master’s degree and graduating in 2 years and 8 months, I decided to say goodbye to the beautiful magical Bologna and go back to Iran. During 3 years I lived in Italy, I traveled through Europe multiple times and I took two long term trips to Morocco and east of Asia.
Going back to Iran was an adventure. Friends and family couldn’t stop asking questions, I was once again back in old friendships and I was finding a new me.
For a while I kept on taking pictures for my sake. For instance, the day Rohani (Iran’s former president) came back to Iran after speaking with Obama on the phone, I headed to the airport and took some pictures of the event. I had no motives, it was just photography was a challenge I was crazy about. I took this picture randomly and posted it on Twitter (X) and it went viral in a heartbeat.
Later on, Chelcheragh magazine hired me as a photographer and that gave me a chance to see my all-time favorite place for myself. After a while I paid a visit to ISNA (Iranian Students’ News Agency) to show them my pictures and they gave me a membership at their office in Tehran.
I worked in ISNA photography department for 3 years, during the last 2 years of that job I was also serving my time in Iran’s obligatory military service in an army ground forces base camp, just so I could get it over with and be done with that forced assignment.
Still there was the big question that everyone kept asking me; “Why did you come back?” I always told myself that it was because I was happier in Iran, but it felt like most people wanted me to give them an answer that helped them reach closure.
After coming back to Iran, in the early days, traveling was like a gift in my life. I was always on the road, taking pictures and making new experiences, but it felt like something was missing. As though I kept traveling to try and avoid facing whatever was going on in my mind. After taking a few trips in Iran, having new experiences and making all sorts of friendships, I learned a lot; I was feeling great, I experienced, I made mistakes and I grew up.
Hitchhiking was a different kind of encounter with those in society who I never had a chance to come across randomly; truck drivers, families traveling together and people who were all by themselves on the road. Those encounters came to my assistance later.
Serving in the army and working as a photographer for ISNA simultaneously wasn’t so easy. For instance, when Plasco building was burned down, I had to go to the base camp from 6:30 in the morning to 2 o’clock in the afternoon wearing the army uniform, then I would go home, take a shower, go to ISNA office and then head to the scene. I would then submit the pictures at 2 AM, go to bed at 3-4 AM and put on my uniform and boots not long after that.
Those 21 months of serving in the army did not go by easy. Especially because I was second lieutenant and almost 29, much of what was considered military experiences was not my cup of tea!
After that phase in my life, which brought me so many traveling opportunities in Iran and priceless experiences from taking low budget trips and hitchhiking, I said adios to ISNA and started photographing as a freelance.
After 2019, I started taking an interest in marketing and later on, design (the solution and thinking aspect of design); so, I started to make a career out of it. As a person who was used to travel to run away from everything, the experience of doing the work as a team, managing the team and setting multiple meetings made me face new aspects of myself.
This was something that was happening to me at the same time that I was digging deeper in myself, taking personal coaching classes after a romantic crisis and going on a life path I actually enjoyed; that’s how Design Thinking became one of the most prominent changes in my life. It came to my understanding that running away only postpones the crisis at hand and I was tired of lying to myself. I faced the mess that was myself and slowly, I started peeling the onion to get to the core of the problem by going back to the childhood memories and thoughts I used to run away from. I took a look at the past, I started conversations with people and I admitted my mistakes. This was and is a beautiful path that for the first time in my life, was helping me realize the meaning of life and made me understand it was something more than just instinct:
“What is the reason of the mirror, I asked;
So, everyone knows their why and who.”
-Molana (Rumi)-
During all this time, I always tried to make peace with analogue photography again. It was as though analogue photography was a way for me to look deeper at everything and stay away from going fast pace with capturing, putting on displays, taking new trips and running to new ideas.
This book came out as the awing days of 2022 happened and it took the passage of the time. A while later, Neda Heydari and I conducted an interesting idea. I walked in the streets and sent my pictures to Neda, she then would pick her favorite photo and write up a story based on that photo. The outcome of our one-year cooperation, is a book called “The End of Spring, The End of Summer, The End of Fall and A Whole Winter”.
I always wanted to tell the story of my 3-month trip to Morocco in 2014. In 2022, after much modifications and going over the details, finally I made the Morocco trip into a book called “Always Looking Out on the Street”; I’ve told the story the same way I used to publish it on Facebook many years ago on a daily basis. I’ve tried to stay loyal to 25-year-old Peyman narration style.
