Before Our Chance to Watch Ends, Vol. 2: Gisoo

Hair is the last part of the human body to decay. The most powerful image I have ever seen is the mass of hair taken from the victims of Auschwitz, kept at the memorial museum in Poland. There, hair seems to hold the souls of those who were lost, still alive in every strand.

From myths and literature to folk tales and popular culture, hair has always carried deep meaning, and its link to mourning remains strong in many communities. Among the Bakhtiari, women still cut their hair and girls shave their heads when they lose a loved one. This ritual is shared by East and West alike: in the Shahnameh, Farangis cuts her hair in mourning for Siavash, just as Achilles cuts his in grief for his closest friend.

For me, hair is like a thread of the soul, whether it falls over the shoulders or has been cut. I asked dear friends to pose for my camera and then to give me their hair. I sewed it onto their printed portraits or used it to cover their bare heads, and photographed them again.