Shushan Bibin 1973

Mariam Aslamazian’s portrait of Shushan Bibin is a symphony of muted tones, painted with what looks like confident, fluid strokes. I imagine Aslamazian, standing before the canvas, considering how to capture the essence of her subject—the weight of the black headscarf against the bright adornments, the soft glow of the face against the striped background. I wonder, did Aslamazian mix her colors directly on the canvas? The paint isn't too thick, yet each brushstroke feels deliberate, giving shape to the folds of fabric and the contours of Shushan’s face. Look at the way the green and red of the garment play off each other, anchored by a cinching belt at the waist. You can almost feel the weight of history and tradition. Aslamazian engages in a timeless conversation with painters of the past, each brushstroke a gesture of understanding and interpretation. Painting, after all, is about embracing ambiguity, allowing for endless readings and meanings to emerge.