What is the best thing that I love about my work?
The best moment is when I discover a natural material and begin to listen to what it wants to become. A piece of wood, a stone, a fragment — things with no identity on their own — start to take shape in my hands. I do not give objects a form; I awaken them. My hands are not just tools, they are where thinking happens. I see with my hands.
What is my idea of happiness?
Happiness, for me, is not success — it is failure. The moment something collapses and I can no longer return to who I was before. That is where I am forced to build something new: a new language, a new structure, a new self. Happiness is breaking the patterns that once defined me.
What is my greatest fear?
I am in love with the fire of being young — the feeling that every day is the first day of spring. My fear is not failure. My fear is indifference. That one day my curiosity will fade, that nothing will call me anymore. Indifference, to me, is the real death.
What is the trait that I most deplore in myself?
I do not know how to finish. There is always one more layer, one more touch, one more change. Every piece feels like an unfinished conversation. It is not perfectionism — it is the inability to let go.
Which living persons in my profession do I most admire?
Myself — twenty years from now. The woman who has built more, destroyed more, and crossed more borders. I am running toward her.
What is the thing that I dislike the most in my work?
Having to explain. Why I chose that path, why Pakistan, why that material, why that wall. The work already contains the answers, but people want words. And sometimes, words feel like a betrayal of what the hands have already said.
When and where was I the happiest, in my work?
When I did not know what I was making. When the material was leading and I was simply following. The moment I am surprised — first myself, then others. The most alive moments in my work are the ones that escape my control.
If I could, what would I change about myself?
I have learned that the version of myself I most want to change is often the one closest to a breakthrough. So maybe nothing. Or maybe everything. It depends on who I am today.
What is my greatest achievement in work?
I turned fear into freedom.
Where would I most like to live?
Inside my own body — next to a free sea, close to the fish.
What is my most treasured possession?
My curiosity. The only thing no one can take from me.
What is my most marked characteristic?
In any environment, with any material, I find a way. I learned this from hardship, not comfort.
What is my most inspirational location, in my city?
The mountains around Sangssar — where I was born. Stone and silence. The first textures I ever knew.
What is my favorite place to eat and drink, in my city?
A garden. Always a garden. Food tastes more real when there is soil nearby.
What books influenced my life and how?
*Sapiens* showed me that reality is built on the stories we choose to believe. It made me understand that everything I create is, in essence, a story someone will one day live inside.
But *The Iliad* and *The Odyssey* gave me something deeper — the meaning of the journey. Not a simple journey, but one of war, loss, wandering, and becoming. I understood that every artist carries a battlefield within, and every work is a return from a personal odyssey. My work lives in that cycle: building, getting lost, and building again.
You Only Die Once. What music would I listen to on my last day?
Music that does not feel like an ending — but like a passage. Something between silence and movement.
Who is my hero or heroine in fiction?
Batman. Someone who builds his own mythology out of darkness — no superpowers, only discipline, obsession, and craft.
Who are my heroes and heroines in real life?
Women who built without permission. Without degrees, without support, without waiting for approval.
Which movie would I recommend to see once in a lifetime?
Films by Gaspar Noé. He is insane — but in the way that breaks boundaries. He does not make films; he invades the mind. His work is not comfortable, but it is real. And sometimes reality is exactly that raw and unforgiving.
What role play stories in my life and work?
I do not tell stories — I build them. Every wall carries memory: the material, the place, and the hands that shaped it.
What do the words ‘You are the storyteller of your own life’ mean to me?
No one decides whether I am an artist or not. I prove it with my hands — not with a degree, not with permission.
Who is my greatest fan, sponsor, partner in crime?
My mother. Thank you, mom.
Which people or companies would I like to work with?
Those who create spaces, not just buildings. Architects and designers who understand that a wall can be alive.
What project am I looking forward to work on?
I want to create furniture and lighting from organic materials — chairs and lamps built around faces. Objects that are not only used, but that look back at you.
Where can you see me or my work?
LinkedIn: Shakiba Art
Instagram: @shakoollart
Email: shakiba.fafa@gmail.com
What do the words “Passion Never Retires” mean to me?
Even if one day I no longer need to work, I will still create. Because this is not work — this is breathing.
How can you contact me?
LinkedIn: Shakiba Art
Instagram: @shakoollart
Email: shakiba.fafa@gmail.com
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