« It is spring — or perhaps summer — or perhaps all the seasons to which we are bound. Whatever it is, a cool breeze moves gently through the white cotton buds of the village and the pine trees that mark the beginning of my home. For years, these pines have been singing in harmony with the sparrows of the Tajen River — and so have I. Here is where I learned what it means to be. I learned to count the breaths of the people I live among. I know exactly how much land there is to run across, how many fish can swim against the current, and how many cows call out across the rice fields of Panbeh Chuleh. It is not much. It has never been much. What remains are the loving rhythms of my mother — rhythms that give me the strength to strike a new note upon iron, to create something worth hearing. I strive to carve every fragment of my life’s current onto these pieces of metal — nothing more, nothing less. Nothing quenches me more than the act of bringing myself closer to myself. This collection is the mischief of my ten-year-old self. In it, I have tried to rehearse and reinterpret the new experiences I have gathered from my homeland. And I am grateful that, so far, I have not failed it. » Aref Roudbari 2015
« Gavkhuneh (the space for cows in farsi) holds silence within itself — and breathes at the same time. You enter, and you hear the sound of silence trembling beneath the strikes of a hammer. The smell of iron and soil, the heat of fire, and the cold touch of metal are felt on your skin all at once. Here, the cow becomes human, and the human becomes a shadow of the animal — a being suspended between instinct and civilization, between silence and scream, between earth and metal, between what we are and what we have forgotten. Each sculpture is a fragment of my heart; every hammer strike is an echo of something unseen — something still alive within us, yet long forgotten. Gavkhuneh is not merely a workshop; it is a house of the heart, a refuge for living voices, emotions, and dreams. The voice of the cow rises from within the metal — a voice meant to reach the world, and you, the visitor, inevitably become part of this current. Your gaze moves among the forms, your body begins to flow within the space, and your mind is confronted with a question : Which voice is real? Which part of us is still alive? Gavkhuneh is a beginning — a place where voices, emotions, and stories are taking shape, and you are witness to their emergence, and perhaps even their echo. » Aref Roudbari 2022
