An Interview With Leila Zelli
Leila Zelli, Pourquoi devrais-je m’arrêter? (Why should I stop?), 2020–21. On view at 32 Lisgar as part of the Toronto Biennial of Art, 2024. Co-presented with MOMENTA Biennale de l’image with the support of the Conseil des arts et des lettres du Québec. Photography by Toni Hafkenscheid.
One of the first works you encounter upon entering the 32 Lisgar location that’s part of the Toronto Biennial of Art’s programming is Montréal-based digital artist Leila Zelli’s provocative and hypnotic installation Pourquoi devrais-je m’arrêter ? / Why Should I Stop?
The spell-binding, politically charged piece is shown on two screens separated by a transparent wall; on one, you witness an expanding array of sourced video images of girls and women in Iran practicing Varzesh-e Bâstâni – a sport and martial art that dates back to ancient Persia and is historically for men only to practice. But in 2020, Zelli and the rest of the world learned of one Iranian woman who stunned conservative groups and the Iranian government by completing some of Varzesh-e Bâstâni’s most difficult movements. It led to Iranian women being officially banned from participating in the sport.
Zelli, who was born in Tehran, is herself featured in the opposite screen’s video clip; it displays her in a local park performing the sport’s movements freely. It’s a challenging gesture, the artist notes, which calls attention to the dangerous misogyny of such gender bans while also honouring the women her video piece highlights, who are defiantly practicing Varzesh-e Bâstâni because they agree to wear a Hijab while doing so.
Equally mesmerizing is a nearby ongoing abstracted figurative drawing work by Zelli – an elegant, sprawling commemoration of the women who participated in recent protests in Iran. First shown in 2023 at the gallery Pierre-François Ouellette art contemporain in Montréal, the installation’s exhibition text says the following: “Each stroke and stain attempts to follow the rhythm of the chant "Woman, life, freedom," making the artist meditate on women's struggles for freedom, the courage required for disobedience, the collective strength of a people in the uprising and the grandeur of sacrifice.”
Though very different in interpretive medium, Zelli’s offerings at the TBA are harmonious in their palpable contempt towards the Iranian government and pride in these women. And the way Zelli uses repetition to tell these stories – forcing their heroines to multiply in front of onlookers until their resolve is inescapable – is so compelling.
I was pleased to chat with Zelli about the process and motivation behind the creation of Pourquoi devrais-je m’arrêter ? / Why Should I Stop? recently. Read on to hear more about her personal connection to Varzesh-e Bâstâni, and about her video installation’s riveting soundtrack – a reading of a poem from Iranian filmmaker and poet Forugh Farrokhzad.
OPALOMA: I’d love to start by learning more about Varzesh-e Bâstâni. Can you explain what it is, and what your relationship is to it?
LEILA ZELLI: Varzesh-e Bâstâni is a traditional Persian sport and martial art that combines physical exercises, strength training, and spiritual practices. It dates back to ancient Persia and was originally practiced by warriors to prepare for battle. Today, it is considered a cultural heritage and is often performed in an octagonal-shaped gymnasium called a Zurkhaneh (“house of strength”).
My dad used to perform some of the movements in his daily practice for as long as I can remember. He even brought some of the main tools with him from Iran to continue practicing here in Canada. These included a pair of traditional pants used in the sport, which he gave me to wear in my video where you see me walking in an octagonal shaped space in loop. (This walking exercise is one of the basic warm-up movements in the sport.)
This sport has always been practiced by men. Throughout history, we’ve never seen women participating—until 2020, when this news article surfaced. For the first time, a woman performed one of the most challenging movements of this sport, which shocked some conservative groups and the Iranian government. In response, the authorities shut down the traditional gym where the woman had dared to perform the movement and officially banned women from participating in the sport.
The Iranian government can no longer instill fear in this uprising people. They try to ban, limit, and control the people’s freedom of expression, but the established laws continue to be circumvented. Regarding sports such as Varzesh-e Bâstâni, boxing, and bodybuilding, which have been banned for women – as long as they wear their hijab, it will be tolerated but not allowed in the public sphere.
Why was the practice of Varzesh-e Bâstâni what you wanted to focus on for this work?
I come from a sports-oriented family where sports have always played an important role in our lives, conversations, and relationships. This time, it wasn’t so much the sport itself that interested me, but rather the sport as an act of resistance. What struck me was the fact that, even in the 21st century, women still have to fight for their rights, and their resistance can take many forms and manifest in different spaces. In this particular work, we see them in their living rooms, their courtyards, and in the streets. By making their images public, they blur the line between what is private and what is public, where an individual act contributes to a collective movement.
The symbolism of using tools that were once used in warfare is incredibly powerful. It takes this kind of struggle to raise the question: how can we call a sport “national” when it is forbidden to half the nation?
Tell me about gathering the images in this work. How did you start? Who are these women?
I was extremely impressed by the video of the woman that appeared in the news in 2020. I wondered if there were others! I quickly came across photos and videos of other women practicing this sport. It felt like a revelation to me. I knew in my heart that I was going to work on this subject.
As I explored further, I discovered an Instagram page dedicated to this cause, @zan_zoorkhane. Unfortunately, to my surprise and for reasons unknown to me, the page has been shut down in recent days. Before that, I had exchanged messages with the page’s administrator, Rayeheh Mozafarian, an activist committed to the rights of women and children in Iran. I had shared the news about the Toronto Biennial of Art and my work on this subject with her, and she was delighted. She was thrilled that their resistance could be seen and recognized on an international scale.
For those interested, a documentary by Vice highlights Rayeheh Mozafarian and other courageous women who practice Varzesh-e Bastani.
Leila Zelli, Un chant peut traverser l'océan (A chant can cross the ocean), 2023-ongoing. On view at 32 Lisgar as part of the Toronto Biennial of Art, 2024. Co-presented with MOMENTA Biennale de l’image with the support of the Conseil des arts et des lettres du Québec. Photography by Toni Hafkenscheid.
Why did you decide to have this work presented with two screens – and why did you feel it was important to integrate yourself into the piece?
I wanted to pay tribute to the courage and resistance of these women by performing this piece. I even asked my father to teach me some movements from this sport. By sharing video clips of he and I on Instagram, I connected with these women in a way that felt even closer to their own experience.
For me, it is important not to remain in the position of an observing artist but to take a stand and move into action. My performance was carried out freely, in a public park near my home in Montréal. In another part of the world, realities are very different. This separation between the frame and the screen was necessary to suggest two different space-times that echo each other.
The audio is such a key component of the effectiveness of the piece. Can you expand on what we are we listening to while viewing the work?
Music and chanting play a central role in the practice of Varzesh-e Bâstâni, as they set the rhythm for the exercises and enhance the spiritual dimension of the sport. The Morshed (the guide or mentor) leads the session by chanting classical Persian poems, often inspired by poets like Ferdowsi, Hafez, or Rumi. These chants are accompanied by the drum (zarb) and sometimes a bell.
In my video, there is a crescendo effect of the sound as the women enter the frame, increasing this collective effect and emphasizing the strength of community. At the end of the video, the sound becomes more musical, sung by a woman for women, but in the style of a “Morshed.”
What do you hope visitors come away with after seeing this work?
I want people to witness the courage and resistance of Iranian women, which demands immense respect and admiration. Their quest for freedom, expressed through everyday actions, could inspire us in our own struggles for emancipation. I hope that the viewer is inspired and remains aware of the freedom they benefit from a free country like Canada, encouraging them to take action and stand for the good of humanity and our environment.
The Toronto Biennial of Art runs until Sunday, December 1st.
This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.
