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Who is Parviz Tanavoli?
Parviz Tanavoli (born 1937) is one of the most renowned figures in modern Iranian art. Often described as the father of modern Iranian sculpture and a founding figure of the Saqqakhaneh movement, Tanavoli was among the first artists to reinterpret Iranian artistic traditions within a modern sculptural language. Drawing on ritual, folk, and vernacular forms, he incorporated these references into the structure of his works, giving them narrative and metaphorical depth while remaining firmly rooted in Iranian cultural heritage.
He was born in Tehran into a middle-class family. He studied sculpture at the School of Fine Arts (now the Department of Fine Arts at the University of Tehran), which had just been established, completing a three-year program there. He then moved to Italy to continue his studies in sculpture, first in Carrara and later at the Brera Academy in Milan. In 1960, he returned to Iran and pursued a teaching career at the Tehran College of Decorative Arts.
Tanavoli's Return to Iran
Upon his return to Iran in 1959, one thing was certain for him: he did not want his work to be a mere copy of Western sculptors. He was searching for a way to combine what he had learned in the West with the historical heritage of his homeland.
"From the moment I went to Italy, I saw their sculptural tradition and realized how continuous it was. Two thousand years of Italian sculpture are linked in an unbroken chain. When I looked at our own sculpture, I saw that aside from Farhad—whether a legend or a historical figure—we had nothing. So Farhad became my teacher, my guide, and my master."
Upon returning from Italy, and even before that, Farhad became the central figure in Tanavoli’s work. Farhad’s presence filled the gap in the history of Iranian sculpture within Tanavoli’s artistic world.
“I became deeply attached to Farhad. I shaped him in all sorts of ways. Sometimes we stood together, sometimes I placed Farhad with his imaginary beloved, though they were never actually together, and sometimes Farhad stood alone—but Farhad was always present in my work, and he still is.”
The Story of Farhad
The story of Shirin and Farhad is one of the most enduring romances in Persian literature, appearing in works ranging from Nezami’s Khusraw and Shirin (12th century) to Vahshi Bafqi’s unfinished Farhad and Shirin (16th century), as well as in numerous folk traditions. Shirin, an Armenian princess in some accounts, is loved by both Khusraw Parviz, the Sasanian king, and Farhad, a gifted sculptor. Jealous of his rival, Khusraw assigns Farhad an impossible task: to cut through Mount Bisotun, located in present-day Kermanshah.
In the folk imagination, the mountain is said to be made of khāra, an exceptionally hard stone that underscores the impossibility of the task. Yet Farhad’s devotion to Shirin is so absolute that he believes he can accomplish it. Over time, “carving a mountain” itself became a proverb, a metaphor for undertaking the impossible, either coined because of Farhad’s tale or chosen to illustrate it.
When Khusraw realizes that Farhad might actually succeed, he sends him a false message claiming that Shirin has died. Upon hearing this, Farhad is said to throw himself from the mountain.
Literary traditions interpret this rivalry differently. In Nezami’s version, the narrative centers on the romance between Khusraw and Shirin, with Farhad serving as a secondary yet unforgettable figure. In contrast, folk narratives often elevate Farhad as the true hero, embodying endurance, sincerity, and purity in opposition to Khusraw’s power and desire. Later, Vahshi Bafqi retells the story with Farhad at its emotional center, effectively reversing the balance established by Nezami.
The Saqqakhaneh School
“Not long after returning to Iran, I realized how skilled Iranians are in making three-dimensional objects. These weren’t sculptures in the strict sense, but the vessels they crafted and the tools used in architecture were full of creativity. They could serve as a source of inspiration. Taken together, they showed me that our sculptor has no need to look to the West.”
At a time when Tanavoli, like many of his contemporaries, was searching for a new visual language, his discovery in South Tehran felt like striking gold.
Tanavoli and Hossein Zenderoudi (born1937), another pioneer of modern Iranian art, were walking along Shahre Rey Street in South Tehran when a series of religious posters caught their attention. They were immediately drawn to the motifs, the rhythmic repetition, and the bold use of color. The first paintings Zenderoudi created from this encounter became the earliest works of what would soon be called the Saqqakhaneh school, and gradually other artists joined their circle.
The Saqqakhaneh school became the most prominent visual movement in Iran prior to the 1979 Islamic Revolution. It brought together a number of contemporary artists under a shared name and a relatively cohesive artistic identity.
Like any emerging school, Saqqakhaneh defined itself through both selection and exclusion. Its artists turned away from the imagery of everyday urban life and the figure of the modern individual, choosing instead to focus on traditional motifs, religious symbols, talismanic forms, and modes of symbolic abstraction.
Taken together, their works represent an effort to bring two worlds into dialogue: what was perceived as authentically Iranian, and what was internationally recognized as modern art. In this way, Saqqakhaneh artists were not only experimenting with style but also attempting to shape a new cultural identity, one rooted in Iran’s artistic heritage while actively engaging with global modernism.
To craft this identity, Saqqakhaneh artists looked not to the rapidly changing present but to the cultural richness of the past. They drew inspiration from calligraphy, traditional architecture, tilework and carpet patterns, rural and folk motifs, religious symbols, and talismanic objects. These elements were then reinterpreted through modern compositions and formal strategies, giving their works a distinctive character that, particularly for foreign audiences, evoked the aesthetic values of classical Iranian art.
Although the movement represented a serious attempt to reconcile tradition and modernity, Saqqakhaneh’s engagement with this tension remained primarily formal, and its orientation tended toward the decorative. Even so, the Saqqakhaneh school had a profound and lasting influence on the development of modern Iranian art, shaping both its visual language and its ongoing search for cultural identity.
Where the Term Saqqakhaneh Comes From
Traditional saqqakhanehs were small structures built into the walls along public passageways, especially in bazaars.
Some were funded through mosque endowments, while others were created through the charitable donations of local residents who wished to provide water to passersby.
A typical saqqakhaneh contained a large stone basin filled with water, with metal cups attached by chains so that anyone could drink. Over time, the saqqakhaneh took on a religious dimension and became integrated into Shi‘a mourning rituals and devotional practices.
These sites were adorned with offerings and symbolic objects deeply rooted in Iranian culture and popular Shi‘a belief, mirrors, candles, locks, metal figurines, the protective hand (panj), the eye, stars, and the color green.
It is from these richly layered devotional spaces that the Saqqakhaneh school of modern Iranian art takes its name, reflecting the movement’s interest in traditional motifs, folk symbolism, and the material culture of everyday spirituality.
Tanavoli and the Making of Heech (‘Nothing’)
After spending several years in the United States, Parviz Tanavoli returned to Iran to become the Head of the Sculpture Department at the University of Tehran. There, he encouraged students to experiment with new tools, materials, and forms. It was during this period that his most iconic body of work—Heech—began to take shape.
In the preface to his Heech book, he recalls the origins of this series:
“Not many years had passed since my studies when I resolved to cleanse my mind of everything I thought I knew. Those were chaotic, unsettled days. I was searching for something that could not be found. At times I tried to create invisible forms; at other times I carved bone and inscribed poetry onto its hidden layers. I wanted to fuse poem and bone, to turn being into non-being. I had drawn close to non-being, yet being itself remained out of reach.”
Although this is how Tanavoli himself describes the beginning of the Heech collection, it is worth noting that these experiments emerged at a moment when Pop Art was gaining prominence in Europe and the United States—an era defined by reimagining everyday objects, materials, and language. The parallels with the Saqqakhaneh movement in Iran are impossible to overlook.
Tanavoli’s choice of the word “Heech”—rendered in flowing nastaliq script—was both a reaction and a critique: a response to what he viewed as the excessive use of calligraphy within the Saqqakhaneh school and calligraphic painting, which he felt had lost its purity and become increasingly commercialized; and a protest against individuals, institutions, and the art market that embraced empty repetition and imitation.
He later wrote:
“At the beginning, Heech (‘Nothing’) was a protest against the state of art in Iran. But I didn’t want this protest to be bitter. I wanted this ‘Nothing’ to be beautiful, for people to like it, and for them to enjoy looking at it.”
For seven consecutive years, he made Heech, and only Heech.
Popular culture and the language of daily life were central to this moment. Words are inseparable from human experience, and anything that expresses human life, such as art, remains fundamentally tied to language.
Tanavoli explains:
“This was not merely about the appeal of the word—though the word and meaning of Heech (‘Nothing’) are indeed beautiful—the elegance and dignity of its form were also important. I am drawn to the slope and elasticity of the word Heech, and to the way it can easily rotate and interact with chairs, tables, walls, boxes, and all surrounding objects and spaces.
Beyond this, the concept of nothingness carries a deep and long-standing history in our poetry and Sufi thought. It is not a matter of mere nonexistence. It is a form of nothingness from which the voice of the entirety of being can be heard.
This form, Heech, invites reflection on questions of being and non-being. To me, Heech is a word that, on its own, tells the story of humanity in its entirety.”
This blending of Iranian visual language with aspects of European modernism also introduced the Orientalizing elements that made these works more legible to Western audiences.
It seems that all that is, in this world, is not;
And all that is not, somehow, exists.
— Khayyam
Do not chase what only seems to be;
Yearn for that which is, though veiled from sight.
— Rumi
Tanavoli believes that the conceptual foundation of these sculptures is rooted in the mystical poetry of Rumi and embodies the Sufi belief that God creates everything out of nothing.
A Chapter Closed
In November 2021, the Parviz Tanavoli Museum held a public event in which the molds of his most iconic works, including Heech, Lovers, and The Wall (Persepolis), were ceremonially destroyed. In front of collectors, curators, and gallery owners, fiberglass and plaster molds were shattered to mark the completion of editions and to ensure that no further casts would ever be produced. The act, described as unprecedented for a living artist, functioned both as a safeguard of authenticity and as a symbolic closing of a chapter in the history of Heech. Tanavoli has lived between Iran and Canada since 1979.
A New Beginning
In the new, upcoming exhibition of the Museum for Islamic Art, opening in 2027, Parviz Tanavoli’s Heech will play a central role. Positioned as the first contemporary work visitors encounter, immediately after passing the Pergamon Altar, the 1.8-meter red fiberglass calligraphic sculpture marks a conceptual and spatial threshold to the Islamic art galleries.
Installed at the center of the entrance hall and surrounded by objects from Late Antiquity and the early Islamic period Heech is staged in deliberate contrast. Its vivid red color, modern materiality, and fluid form stands apart from the earthy tones and stone surfaces of the surrounding works.
This juxtaposition is intended to be both striking and slightly unsettling, prompting visitors to reflect on the relationships between continuity and rupture, past and present. The antiquities appear grounded, almost like a layer of topsoil, while Heech rises lightly upward, evoking a human figure with a head and two eyes. In this setting, the sculpture does not simply introduce the exhibition; it performs its central argument. As Tanavoli himself has articulated, Heech transforms the Arabic-Persian script of Islamic tradition into a modern artistic expression, simultaneously rooted in the Islamic past and in dialogue with sculptural traditions reaching back to antiquity. In doing so, the work embodies the exhibition’s core narrative, that Islamic art did not emerge in isolation, but developed from a shared late antique heritage while continuing to resonate dynamically into the present.
About the Author
Pooneh Yekta studied film and media and currently coordinates the project “Multaka: Museum as a Meeting Point” at the Museum for Islamic Art in the Pergamon Museum.
This story is part of the project "Crossroads Iran (ایران: محل تلاقی)", supported by the Ludwig Foundation through the Friends of the Museum for Islamic Art. The project explores and highlights narratives with Iran at the crossroads of cultural exchange and artistic influence. It aims to connects museum objects with archival photos, making them accessible through stories and videos on the online portal.
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