Frequent whites

In the shadow of Mount Damavand, where myth and memory meet, rises a city of repetition and resilience.

The stark rhythm of white apartment blocks in of Pardis, a satellite town reluctantly born from the overflow of Tehran’s dense breath. These buildings—identical yet unique in the way light, season, and silence touch their facades—stand as quiet witnesses to a human narrative of displacement, endurance, and the search for belonging. Perched on the foothills of the Alborz Mountains, Pardis is both a geographical threshold and a psychological one. It is neither fully city nor suburb, neither promise nor exile. Constructed to house the forced migrations of Tehran’s expanding population, these structures embody a utilitarian dream—an architecture born not of ambition but of necessity. And yet, in their stark repetition, in their pale anonymity, something poetic emerges.

I photographed these buildings across the four seasons—beneath snow-laden skies, through golden autumn haze, Amidst the warmth and greenery of summer, and the vibrant rebirth of spring. The changing weather becomes a visual metaphor for emotional and social climate—moments of clarity and obscurity, of warmth and isolation. The geometry of windows, the symmetry of balconies, the absence of ornament—these details become characters in a silent drama played out against the ever-present gaze of Damavand, Iran’s ancient sentinel.

These buildings are about the human condition refracted through its architectural form. They are a visual meditation on migration, memory, and the fragile structures we build – physically and emotionally – to shelter our lives. In these images, I seek not only to document a space, but also to evoke the psychological atmosphere of a place where modernity, nature, and displacement collide.