Artist on Paper |  Niusha Khanmohammadi: Echoes of a Distant Snowfall – Tracing Shadows Across Borders | Editorial on Art Yourself Atelier

September 1993, I was born in the quiet embrace of a small northern Swedish town, where snow whispers secrets and forests hold their breath. As a child who was early into this world, I could not wait, eight months in the dark was more than enough. A child of immigrants. From a land far away, where the sun and laughter were constants. My heritage, a tapestry woven from Iranian roots, danced in contrast against the serene Scandinavian backdrop. This collision of cultures became the heartbeat of my childhood. From this intricate interplay of worlds, my expressions of the contrasts shaped who I've became. Ink, watercolor, and words on paper took their shapes and forms. It was out of my control.

It is a life full of contracts, Swedish-Iranian, Iranian-Swedish, neither, or both? How could I know, when no one else ever seemed to know? They all had opinions though, they always needed to fit me into one category or another, it changed depending on who I dressed and what I said. At an early age, I learned to swim between these categories. An expert on reading the room, where do they want me to fit into now? Which category will work best today? Not until later did I understand that I was tired of all the swimming for others. I never enjoyed it, and I never did it for myself. Floating with the sound of the wind and the rustle of leaves, I often feel a deep conflict within myself and my identity. It doesn’t matter if I am in the north or the capital. The feeling persists. Sandviken, where it all began, always feels like a crash—but it is a part of who I am now. I don’t think I ever learned how to be happy there. This is my story, a story shared by many others. There is a unity in being alone, a loneliness that this place brings. It’s the only thing we know, for some of us, the only thing we will ever know. From my first steps into this life, I knew I’d have to walk elsewhere.

Who did this country turn me into? Perhaps the only person I was ever supposed to be. But I couldn’t live with the feeling of missing out on the life that I felt was elsewhere. And so I started to move. And How could I ever stop once I got a taste of it? Along the way, I brought memories, my pencils, and paper. The illustrations I created allowed my mind to speak its truth. “But how can you, who are so smiling, draw something with so much sorrow?” people would ask. There is beauty within sorrow; it always spoke to me, and I learned at an early age to be friends with it. For that, I thank Sweden.

This feeling of rootlessness brought me this far and gave me a drive, a chosen family, and a home for my heart in the East. It means I must continue; I owe it to myself and this life that gave me the golden ticket—a passport so many risk their lives for. My way of creating traces may be helpful to someone else in future years. By that time, I might not be there.

Until then, I look forward to continuing to find places and draw whatever my heart and soul have to say. This journey, marked by both sorrow and joy, is my legacy—a testament to my life and the places I’ve yet to discover.

Through my art and writing, I capture the essence of my travels and the accompanying emotions. My pieces reflect the beauty and melancholy I encounter, transforming fleeting moments into lasting impressions. Each stroke of my brush and every line of my pencil is a step in my ongoing journey—a journey that is as much about self-discovery as it is about exploring the world.

The road ahead may be uncertain, but it is also filled with endless possibilities. As I continue to navigate this path of rootlessness, I am reminded that it is not the destination but the journey that shapes us. And so, with each new place and face, I will continue to illustrate and write, there are so many stories I have yet to tell. My work is an emotional archive, capturing the essence of each phase of my journey. Looking back at what I created while I was in Sarajevo, I realize I could never replicate that now. Times change, and so does the language of my art. I often wonder how my work will evolve in the years to come. We change, our time and place change, and so do our expressions. I love change; it gives me the comfort that loneliness never did.

This is my journey, my story—a chronicle of an artist and writer searching for a home in every place and every heart I encounter.

Niusha, a self-taught artist with Iranian heritage, draws inspiration from the contrasts between her small-town upbringing in northern Sweden and the diverse cultures she has encountered. Through her use of ink and watercolor, she delves into the shared arts, language, culture, and history that connect societies and cultures, peeling back the layers to reveal their beauty and complexity.

Publications:

《European Art Guide 2022》: link

Exhibitions:

2022 Jul - İstanbul · Turkey - Karl&Ein Art Gallery

2022 Jun - İstanbul · Turkey - Gallery Next

2021 Mar - İstanbul · Turkey - Luna Sanat Gallery

2021 Mar - İstanbul · Turkey - La Visione Art Gallery