The idea began with a simple observation. While passing by a football ground in Tehran, I immediately felt the visual potential of the space — the repetition of the bollards, the clean lines of the pitch, the geometry. The next day, I returned with my model — my nephew, who appears in many of my works — and spent around an hour shooting in the harsh midday sun. I photographed him extensively in different positions and movements, collecting as much material as possible without locking into a single idea. The final concept emerged afterward, during editing. In Photoshop, I multiplied the bollards to create that dense, overwhelming mass on the left, cleaned the surroundings, and reconstructed the dividing line from another section of the pitch. When I saw the final image, I knew immediately — this was one of the best things I had ever made.

The location was discovered — a passing glance at an ordinary space. But everything that followed was constructed. My process is always this way: I arrive at a location with a model, photograph as many variations as possible, and then the real creative work begins in post-production. The camera captures the raw material; Photoshop is where the vision takes shape. The repetition of the bollards, the position of the figure, the dividing line at the centre — none of it existed exactly as you see it. It was built, deliberately, image by image.

For me, minimalism is the most direct and powerful language in visual art. When you strip away everything unnecessary, the concept travels straight from the image to the viewer without interference. I always want to communicate simply, clearly, and strongly — the way a single sentence can carry more weight than a paragraph. In conceptual minimalism, I aim to transmit exactly what is in my mind, but through the simplest possible visual form. Art must be eloquent. My art is the expression of my inner world in the simplest language I know.

The meaning emerged through the process. Because the setting was a football ground, I wanted the figure to be in motion — running with the ball, as if in play. But as the image took shape in post-production, a deeper meaning revealed itself. That single ball, multiplied into an overwhelming mass, became something else entirely: a representation of all the difficulties and challenges a person faces in life. And the figure moving toward them — not retreating, not frozen — became an act of confrontation. That is where the title came from. "Confrontation" is about the human capacity to face what stands before us, however enormous it seems.

It is one of the central contradictions of my life, and perhaps the engine behind my work. Tehran is loud, crowded, visually overwhelming. And yet I became a conceptual minimalist photographer while living inside it. I may enjoy the energy of a busy city, but in art I am drawn to stillness and clarity. For me, art must be eloquent — and one of my ongoing challenges is to create minimalist work inside a loud environment. Perhaps that tension is what makes the silence in my images feel so deliberate. Art is the display of my mind in simple language — and Tehran, in all its complexity, made me value that simplicity deeply.

I have always been drawn to the most modern architectural spaces in the world—contemporary structures, futuristic environments, the places where human ambition takes its most radical visual form. My art is modern art, and it needs modern settings. Photographing across Europe and in the most architecturally ambitious cities around the world is a long-held dream. As for what I am working on next — I am currently developing what will be my most personal and perhaps most different project yet: a minimalist conceptual series in which I photograph myself. Turning the lens inward, constructing images where I am both the artist and the subject. I believe it will be the most distinctive work I have made.