Column: Sculptor lets his hands speak about George Floyd’s death

08.08.2020
Column: Sculptor lets his hands speak about George Floyd’s death
La Jolla sculptor Nasser Pirasteh and friend Julianna Schuetz pose with his newest artwork inspired by the tragic death of George Floyd in Minneapolis.(Diane Bell / SDUT)


Using Minnesota limestone, metal strips and a chain, La Jolla artist Nasser Pirasteh expresses his outrage through art


By DIANE BELL


The brutal death of George Floyd in Minneapolis police custody on May 25 elicited an immediate visceral response from Nasser Pirasteh.

The La Jolla sculptor didn’t take to the streets to protest, however, he went to his studio and grabbed a pencil and began sketching. Then he gathered art materials, picked up his hammer, chisels and welder and started to work.

Over the next two months, his cry of outrage took the form of a 5'8"-tall sculpture comprised of limestone, iron and copper.

He abstractly depicted a police officer’s knee slowly choking Floyd, equating it with his own feeling of being under water and unable to breathe — not just one minute, or two minutes, but eight minutes, 46 seconds.

“That force ... that moment... what Floyd said, ‘Mama, I can’t breathe’... I just knew I would not enjoy my life if I sat quietly, neutral, and did nothing. I would say, ‘Shame on me,’” said the Iranian-born sculptor. “I don’t know where it’s going to go. I don’t know who’s going to own it. I don’t know how it’s going to be ... I know none of these things.”

What he knows is that he used his voice.

Nasser views himself as a journalist, capturing the story of the moment as well as the history of oppression of Black people in America.

His artwork is loaded with symbolism, from the rough welded form of a human head at the statue base, the knee propped on its neck and the chiseled boot, up to a woman’s face by the words, “Mama, I can’t breathe.”

Encircling all is a worn and battered metal wagon wheel evoking the centuries-old yoke of slavery, a carved personification of the Mississippi “Old Man” River, numbers representing slaves’ brands, a rusty chain and an upward reaching Black hand.

Pirasteh has a sculpture called “Tree House” on display at Scripps Memorial Hospital, eight others at St. Cloud State University where he earned his master’s degree in art and taught for a couple of years, and one in a town square in his home town of Mashhad, Iran’s second largest city.

But this piece wasn’t a commissioned artwork created for a client or gallery display. It was a protest piece from start to finish.

The Iranian immigrant is no stranger to art that starts a conversation. Twenty-five years ago, he sculpted an 8-foot-tall piece, ironically, in tribute to a Minnesota police officer who had been murdered.

Brian Klinefelter, 25, was shot and killed on Jan. 29, 1996 while trying to arrest three young suspects fleeing after a liquor store robbery in St. Joseph, Minn.

That statue, also carved out of Minnesota limestone, depicts faces of additional officers and stands in a park named for Klinefelter in St. Joseph.

Pirasteh is no stranger to controversy himself. His La Jolla yard, a couple doors up from Muirlands Middle School, is a garden of whimsical, organic sculptures.

Four years ago, one of his yard art pieces — a cement, rebar, wire mesh and tiled walk-in hut-like installation with imbedded glass and broken pottery — was challenged by city code enforcement officials. It was deemed an un-permitted, uninhabitable structure in violation of the city’s 20-foot setback code. Unless it was moved, he was facing a $250,000 fine.

The artist claimed his hillside property was subject to a six-foot setback and went to court in protest.

There was a community uproar at the time, with many supporters arguing that his installation was art, an inspiration to passersby and local school children and should be allowed to stay put.

Pirasteh lost his battle, though. He then spent $24,000 trying to move the heavy piece to another part of his property. It broke apart in the process and needed extensive repairs.

That battle, like this, was an expression of his First Amendment right, Pirasteh maintains. “The reason I am in the United States is not to have money or fame, but because I couldn’t have, in Iran, my First Amendment rights.”

Standing by, when I interviewed him, was Julianna Schuetz, 24. She is a new, fervant fan who stumbled upon Piresteh and his organic art in late May while using her smart phone app, Randonautica. It maps random coordinates within a set space and sends adventure seekers on nearby missions of discovery.

Schuetz glimpsed the artist over the fence in his home sculpture garden and was instantly intrigued and inspired by his artwork. He and his wife, Zari, welcomed her in, as they do most visitors, many of whom sign a guest book by the front door. (One note says: “Thank you for this blissful afternoon. Your work moves my spirit, stirs my soul, awakens my heart, and frees my thoughts.”)

The young “Randonaut” and the Iranian sculptor became instant friends.

“We were both outraged by the murder of George Floyd,” says Schuetz. “Nasser is unable to scream the loudest or write the largest check, however, he is able to create art that will make the audience ask the questions necessary for progress.”

Pirasteh invited her to write the words, “Mama I can’t breathe,” on the sculpture, then he carved them into the stone.

She recently posted a video of his sculpture and what it represents on TikTokAlready it has logged more than 100,000 views.

“This is a newsworthy story about how two people from completely different backgrounds, who met by happenstance, have the same outlook on humanity,” Schuetz says, “and both agree that Black lives matter.”

The engraved metal sign above Pirasteh’s studio entrance sums up his message: “Without Fine Art Civilization Will Die.”


                                                                                                 
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