Narration:
In a food market in central Tehran, Khosrow Hassanzadeh creates his paintings in a grocery. Inspired by hundreds of people who come to his store everyday and years of being a soldier in war fronts, Khosrow depicts an Iranian reality different from that of his contemporaries.

To some people it's strange that I'm a painter and a grocer. I consider myself as a painter who works at a grocery. Here, I deal with real people with real problems.

Seeing a variety of people with different lives and their individual problems has made
me more interested in painting people rather than still-lifes or landscapes.

Many men and women pass by my store. Some of them enter. They share their stories with me and we grow old together. Some suddenly disappear and I realise that they've passed away and I mourn for them.

I believe in Nietzsche's words that the best companions are the contradictory ones. Those who are not in harmony with us.

Unlike most painters and intellectuals who live in a solitude and create walls around themselves to be disconnected from their society, I use this place as a meeting point, as a school, where I can be in touch with people and learn from them.

- 6 kilos and 200 grams.
- Be my guest.
- 650 tumans.
- You remind us of our glorious past.
- The real men.

- Are you a relative of a martyr?
- Yes
- Are all employees of Martyrs Foundation, relatives of martyrs?
- No. There are others as well.
- How do you like your job?
- Well, it's not bad… you know.
- Life is alright then.
- It's alright, thanks very much.
- Take care.
- If you dropped it a bit harder the scale would work much better.

- Why are you taking so little?
- All my children are gone and I'm all by myself.
- Where are they?
- Some in America and some other places.
- How many children do you have?
- 3 in America and 4 here.
- How many in Tehran?
- 4
- Well done!
- You sure know how to give birth!

- Even the Qajar kings didn't have this kind of moustache.
- Describe the meaning of your moustache to us.
- This is the swindlers' moustache.
- Moustache and beard is unique to swindlers!

- Don't you want to go back to Afghanistan?
- Have you ever fought in a war?
- No.
- Never?
- No.
- You didn't want to or you didn't have the opportunity?
- I don't like fighting. Fighting is for dogs not human beings.
- You're right, war's not for people.

- Are you ok?
- No. I'm not.
- I have no money, so I'm not OK.
- I thought people give you a good service.
- Really! When I don't have money I don't feel well.
- How's your business?
- What business?
- Your job. Your profession.
- It's awful. God be my witness, it's really bad.

- What do you think about me being a painter?
- I never liked it. You've been painting since you were five. And you never gave it up. Did you? Painting was your goal. I told you to stop it. But you did it anyway. Isn't that right?
- Why don't you like painting?
- I didn't like it from the beginning. I used to argue with you. Keep on telling you to stop painting… do some thing else or study. But you never listened. When you were 5 you used to paint my uncle, Haj Javad. I kept on telling you to stop it. But he would say that it's fine. My uncle would say, "Let him paint."

- If painting's your main goal in life you shouldn't have got married. But now that you're married, it shouldn't be your first priority. So, I'm against your paintings.
- How is living with an artist?
- It's difficult. Because you're not only a painter but also have to take care of us because we're not doing well. It's very difficult. It has multiplied our problems. If we were well-off, painting would be fine. It's a good job and I approve it. But you sacrifice the family in order to paint and have an income at the same time. It can hurt our children's future. We can't only consider you. We have to think about the children as well.

- What do you think about my relationship with your mother?
- I don't think it's good.
- Why? Tell me the truth.
- I can't say that!
- Don't be shy.
- Because you always argue.
- What's the reason?
- I think because we don't have much money. Or because you come home late… just a little late.

- What do you think about my job?
- I like your paintings.
- No. I mean my job.
- It's a good job. I like paintings.
- No. I mean grocery.
- No. I don't like it.
- Tell me why. Why don't you like it?
- Because everyone there is illiterate and impolite.
- What kind of a person I am?
- You're good. You're not like them. You study and you are polite.

- Do you like me to be a famous painter?
- Of course!
- Explain it a bit more.
- I like them to show your work in foreign countries. I want you to be as famous as Michael Jackson. He's a dancer and you're a painter.
- What kind of a dad I am?
- You always go out for filming… You're a nice dad. You buy whatever we want. But you don't listen to my mom. When she asks you where you were, you never answer.

- How did you raise us?
- It was very difficult. Very difficult my dear. You lost your father when you were six. It's a difficult job for a mother to raise her children by herself. I chose a wife for you and sent you to school. You served in the army and finished high school. I wasn't a bad mother my son… I never beat you. Not even once. God be my witness, you've never heard a bad word from my mouth. Isn't that so? It sure is. I raised all of you, all six of you like that. It's very difficult.
- Were there any other painters in our family before me?
- No, no, no! Believe me when I say: "There was not even a single painter!" None of my other kids knows how to paint either. You're the only one. It was your goal, you were interested. So, you did it.

- Do you paint?
- Yes.
- Is this one of your works? Describe it for us.
- This is one of my works which I've brought to show you. This is a man who's been smoking and this is his skeleton. And these are packs of cigarette.
- Why did you paint this?
- So, whoever sees this never smokes again.
- Why did you think of such subject?
- I think that cigarette is a bad thing, so I painted this.
- Was it because of me? Because I smoke?
- Yes. Because of you.

I died once. It was the time when Iraq was bombing our cities everyday. I'd gone to a bank one day. A bomb dropped and I suddenly passed out. My first thought was my own death. A death which had surprised me before I was prepared for it. I was thinking: "what a pity when you die before your time is up." Suddenly the noise of those who had come to help woke me up. It was
a strange scene. Absolutely surreal. After the attack, while some people were helping the wounded, There were others who were picking up the money which was scattered all over the bank. I was really hurt and blood was gushing from my left leg. They took me away with the first ambulance. I thought: "what a strange life! You may die anytime and at any moment you might disappear." It was after that incident that I decided not to obey the rules, paint on cheap papers and knowing that I may not live much longer, paint as much as I can.

I belong to the sixties generation. My generation has gone through a turbulent time. We saw a revolution and a war. Many of my friends became martyrs, prisoners of war or disabled during the war. And some of them sought political asylum in foreign countries. Some of us became pessimists, nihilists. Others became optimists. Anyhow, it was a generation that was not indifferent to its time.

Trains always remind me of war. Trains that took us to the front and back. Iraq invaded Iran in 1980 and we had to suffer through 8 years of war. I'll never forget the images which I witnessed during the war. Trains departing for the front full of soldiers… coming back empty. And funerals… Funerals which we still can see even today

Narration:
While revolutionary murals and portraits of martyrs illustrate the official version of the 8-year war with Iraq, in Khosrow's work, war heroes are corpses wrapped in shrouds. He did not dare to exhibit his last series of paintings but he set up a private show of war diary on the rooftop of
his house. It's been ten years since the end of the war. My friends and I wanted to have an exhibition about war and death. Because of some problems we couldn't do it. In Iran only a specific group of people is allowed to talk about war and other sacred subjects. But as an artist and someone who had served in the front, I decided to paint the war from my own viewpoint.

We saw a great number of funerals during the war. Here, I portray the pallbearers as the future victims of a future war.

I found a helmet which had bullet holes all over it. It could belong to someone from my generation who had died and all that was remained of him was a helmet.

This painting is the shop-window of the war. After each war, governments attempt to display its results. These are coffins in which bodies are placed like goods behind a window.

In this one, I try to show the meaningless confusion of war and that no war can benefit a country. Like a whirlpool, a swamp, or a trap, war draws people into itself.

We can divide the post-revolution painters into two groups. Two very different and active groups of artists. Some belong to the Islamic Centre for Arts who monopolised paintings about war, martyrdom, and people's sacrifices. Others are the underground artists who are even more active. Their works reflect their own personal views about our society. But all paintings, with no exception, will be documented for future generations. I disagree with a friend at the Islamic Centre who said, "in fifty years when people look back at the present time, it will be us who represent the modern painters not those whose works are not exhibited." But it's not true. All paintings will be exhibited in the future and that will silence my friend who wanted to monopolise
history.

- What do you want to be when you're older?
- A painter.
- Do you really mean that?
- Yeah. Wall painting… No. I mean an artist painter.
- What will you do with your paintings?
- What?
- What kind of painter do you want to be?
- I like to paint landscapes rather than people or houses.
- Where do you want to exhibit them?
- I haven't decided about that yet. Don't ask me that I don't have an answer for it. OK?
- What is your general plan for the future?
- I like to be a painter, have exhibitions, go abroad to study.

I once had a dream about Picasso which I can never forget. It was a midnight. I was in a huge gallery with a long winding corridor. All walls were covered with Picasso paintings. I was so happy to find a place to see my favourite paintings. I was mesmerised by them and continued walking. Suddenly, I saw a strange scene at the end of the corridor. Picasso was sitting there in his famous striped shirt deep in his thoughts. He didn't notice my presence. I went forward and said: "Ola Senior." Picasso said "Hi" and told me that he could speak Persian! "What are you doing here at this hour of midnight maestro?" I asked. "There's no one here to see your works." Picasso removed his hand from his chin and said: "It's not important whether people come here or not. Or even what they think. You must stand by your works."