Daryoush Ababaf is a gifted Persian artist who was born in 1964 in Tehran, Iran.
His German mother, a descendant of a long line of artists and art patrons, fostered Daryoush’s talent as a child. He then received technical training in the workshops held by the Iranian Ministry of Culture under the supervision of the most reputable art masters. There he became familiar with other Iranian traditional arts
Such as Xylography, Signet, Toreutics and Miniature.
Today, Daryoush is highly recognized for his major contributions to the art of “Inlay-on-wood” by eliminating “drawings” from, and adding 3D effect (embossing) to his works. Art Enthusiasts from around the world have repeatedly admired this excellent distinction.
A CNN report back in 1996 described his work as “unrivaled”, and the Iranian Minister of Culture honored him as an “Iranian Master of Art”. Daryoush himself describes his work as “... an effort to reveal the secrets of the wood's life”.
Daryoush has participated in numerous
domestic and international exhibitions. Following are the most internationally recognized exhibitions in which his work have been well received and admired:
- “Persian New Year Festival," Plano Center, TX (2006-2007)
- “Wildflower," Richardson’s Art & Music Festival, TX
(2006)
- “Dallas City Arts," Dallas Arts District, TX (2006-2007)
- “The 3rd Annual Maryhill Museum," Puyallup, WA (2006)
- “Cottonwood Art Festival," Richardson, TX (2005-2006)
- "Woodworks Show," Springfield, MA; and Ontario, CA (2007)
Memberships:
- “Fine Woodworkers” Association, San Diego, CA
- “Northwest Wood Carvers” Association, Puyallup, WA
Daryoush is also known as the artist who inconspicuously embeds his signature somewhere in his works. He believes he is giving an added incentive to the viewers to discover his workmanship.
Daryoush has moved to the
United States in 2005 and is residing in Plano,
Texas. He will be more than happy to recive your comments about his workmanship.
Somewhere I have never travelled, gladly beyond any experience; your eyes have their silence: In your most frail gesture are things which enclose me, or which I cannot touch because they are too near.
Your slightest look easily will unclose me though I have closed myself as fingers, you open always petal by petal me as spring opens touching skillfully, mysteriously her first rose, or if you wish be, to close me.
I and my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly, as when the heart of this flower imagines the snow, carefully everywhere descending; nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals the power of your intense fragility: whose texture compels me with the color of its countries, rendering death and forever with each breathing.
I do not know what it is about you that closes and opens; only something in me understands the voice of your eyes, is deeper than all roses, nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands.
By: E. E. Cummings
Have a great weekend! Please play Vampires, Dragon Wars, and Mafia Wars with me, see bulletin post.
Child of the grass The years pass Above us Shadows of air All these shall Love us Winds for our fellows The browns and the yellows Of autumn our colors Now at our life's morn. Be we well sworn Ne'er to grow older Our spirits be bolder At meeting Than e'er before All the old lore Of the forests & wood ways Shall aid us: Keep we the bond & seal Ne'er shall we feel Aught of sorrow Let light flow about thee As a cloak of air
No words, no sound, the voluble directed their acceptation towards economy. Another habitat forgotten, generations of survival, an eclipsed existence. Migration, a travel toward the unknown, a gift that is invisibly carried with the wind, rustling the leaves of trees no longer there.
IT'S ALL I HAVE TO BRING TODAY BY: Emily Dickinson It's all I have to bring today -- This, and my heart beside -- This, and my heart, and all the fields -- And all the meadows wide -- Be sure you count -- should I forget Some one the sum could tell -- This, and my heart, and all the Bees Which in the Clover dwell.
EYES FOR INVISIBLES I have walked with people whose eyes are full of light but who see nothing in sea or sky, nothing in city streets, nothing in books. It were far better to sail forever in the night of blindness with sense, and feeling, and mind, than to be content with the mere act of seeing. The only lightless dark is the night of darkness in ignorance and insensibility. HELEN KELLER
