Hair is one of the last parts of the body to decay. The most striking image I have ever seen is the mass of hair of the victims displayed at the Auschwitz museum: as if their souls still lived in it.
From myths to fairy tales, hair has always carried meaning, and it is closely tied to mourning. In the Shahnameh, Farangis cuts her hair in grief for Siavash, as Achilles does for Patroclus; among the Bakhtiari, women still cut their hair when they lose a loved one.
For me, hair is like the threads of the soul. I asked friends to pose for me, then to give me their hair, which I sewed onto their printed portraits or used to cover their bare heads before photographing them again. Through this process, I hope to reconnect the spirit of the image with the spirit of the person.
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