Statement:

Hung is about the act of hanging an artwork, works that are made to go on the wall. (More precisely, they have an edge or a wire at the back that allows them to be suspended from a nail or a screw.)

This exhibition insists on the state of being hung beside another, where things work best when there are no strong visual or conceptual similarities between the two artists’ works. For us, the mere act of coexistence is enough, a form of exhibition-making in which the shared quality of the works lies in their “coming together.”

The works of Zonouz and Ansari share neither a precise conceptual connection nor an obvious visual resemblance. In fact, the content of each artist’s work remains entirely within itself.

The exhibition neither wishes to erase nor is capable of erasing that content, but it seeks to shed light on something else, something that only happens in the act of hanging.///

In this exhibition, we took seriously and honored the desire of the works to be hung next to one another. We chose not to conceal that desire and to speak of it. This urge to be hung belongs not to the artists but to the works themselves.

After all, if a painting is not hung on the wall, where else should it go?

Sometimes two different works, born of entirely different sensibilities, not only refuse to reject each other but instead support one another, helping the viewer’s mind to open and connect. Still, we do not intend to delve into the visible or hidden meanings embedded in each work.

That part belongs to the viewer, to have their own individual experience with each piece and extract meaning as they wish, of which there is plenty.

Our assumption is that the cat in Zahra Zonouz’s paintings will not climb or claw at Ali Ansari’s wall sculptures, even though it might be tempted to.

This exhibition deals with the first moments and the most intimate encounters one can have with an exhibition.

While phrases like “These two look good together,” “They really fit in here,” or “They suit each other so well” rarely appear in official exhibition texts, they are among the most common and warmly exchanged remarks among viewers, especially when the works truly do look good together.

People, too, when seeking something shared, rarely dwell on their differences. At certain moments in history, entire nations have set aside individual distinctions to demand collective freedom.

Yet because such gatherings occur on a larger scale, we seldom describe them as “beautiful”; instead, we call them “grand” or “magnificent.” Similarly, the shared demand of Zonouz’s paintings and Ansari’s sculptures is simply to be hung, to momentarily overlook their differences and follow the path of their destiny.

They were made to be hung, and at this moment, they have no quarrel with each other. They belong together.