Cinema Without Borders Foundation is honored to welcome Hessam Abrishami—the internationally celebrated Iranian-born American artist—to its Advisory Board. Known for his emotionally charged and vibrantly colored contemporary figurative paintings, Abrishami’s art is a celebration of the human spirit, capturing energy, elegance, and dreamlike depth with remarkable intensity.
After pursuing higher education at the Accademia di Belle Arti Pietro Vanucci in Perugia, Italy, Abrishami embarked on a prolific career that has spanned decades and continents. His achievements are staggering: more than 180 solo gallery exhibitions, participation in over 65 international exhibitions, and inclusion in eight major museum shows. Beyond the galleries, his vision has reached academic circles—his artwork graces the covers and chapter headings of nine university textbooks in sociology and psychology.
Abrishami has also published six retrospective books, solidifying his reputation as one of the most prolific and influential contemporary artists of our time. His impact has been formally recognized as well: on March 24, 2006, the city of Ormond Beach, Florida, declared “Hessam Abrishami Day” and presented him with the Key to the City. The following year, he was awarded an Honorary Doctorate in Fine Art from American Liberty University in California.
By joining the Advisory Board of Cinema Without Borders Foundation, Hessam Abrishami lends not only his voice but also his lifelong dedication to art and culture to support the mission of this organization. In the following conversation, we explore his artistic journey, his inspirations, and his vision for how artists can help foster greater cultural understanding across borders.
Cinema Without Borders: When I talk about your paintings or other painters’ works, I usually try to assign a specific style to them. But when I look at your works, while one could say they lean toward abstraction and nature, at the same time your art has a completely unique style and method. What do you think? How would you describe your style?
Hesam Abrishami: I believe it falls into the category of Abstract Expressionism.
CWB: You’ve made changes in your work and made it very personal. You’ve created a special world, one in which beauty and especially hope are evident. What’s your own view of that?
HA: Whatever a painter, a composer, or a filmmaker creates comes from within, from their personality and thoughts. I am by nature an optimistic and happy person. I gravitate far less toward sorrow or grief. Since I and my surroundings are cheerful, my work also becomes cheerful—not because I consciously want it to be, but because it seeps in unconsciously. Of course, there are times when I feel sad and then I create black-and-white, somber works.
CWB: For readers of this interview, tell us when and where you first started painting.
HA: At the age of fourteen. Back then at Soltani High School in Shiraz, we had painting classes with Mr. Moezzi. For the first time, I bought conté pencils and a sketchbook and went to class. The teacher said: sit down and draw. I started sketching the wrinkled face of an old man from Mr. Moezzi’s booklet. I became absorbed in the work and didn’t notice how time passed. When I showed it to him, he looked back and forth between the drawing and me several times. He thought I had either copied it from somewhere or taken it from someone else. When he was convinced it was my own work, he said it was the first time he was giving a student a perfect grade of 20. That moment changed my life. Until then, I had never gotten a perfect grade in any subject except sports. From that day on, I painted day and night. I even failed two years in school because all I did was paint.
CWB: When I look at the vibrant colors in your paintings, I am reminded of the colors in Persian miniatures. Have you been influenced by Persian miniature painting?
HA: I’ve tried miniature painting a couple of times, both as a teenager and later at university in Italy. Later on, when my first book was going to be published in the U.S., Dr. Abbas Daneshvar wrote in an article that my work was a kind of evolved Persian miniature. But this wasn’t conscious. I just transfer what I feel inside. Still, since my roots are in Iran, whether I want it or not, Iranian culture and motifs influence my work.
CWB: How much does nature and the environment where one grows up affect the work? You grew up in Shiraz, a city with a distinctive character.
HA: I think the environment influences everyone. If you put me in the Amazon rainforest for a few months, surely its colors and atmosphere would show up in my work. Take Vincent van Gogh: why did he paint The Potato Eaters? Because he lived in that environment and saw those people every day. I’m the same way.
CWB: Among famous painters of the world, whose works do you like most?
HA: Many, but I especially admire Robert Motherwell, particularly his compositions. Some people say my work is influenced by Picasso, Matisse, or Gauguin. Maybe, but I don’t want to be like them. I want to be myself, with all my strengths and weaknesses.
CWB: Your paintings are like landscapes that feel new each time they are seen. It’s as though viewers can return to them again and again and always find something fresh. Do you deliberately create this quality in your work?
HA: No, it’s not deliberate. There comes a moment when I feel the work is complete: the colors, the forms, the composition are all in place. Continuing would be unnecessary. From that point on, the viewer completes the work. Everyone has their own interpretation and feeling, and that’s why each time someone looks at it, they discover something new. In the end, every viewer has their own take on a piece. I don’t want to guide them; I prefer to let them discover it for themselves.
CWB: What is your relationship with your audience like, and what kind of feedback do you receive?
HA: I often receive many messages from collectors or buyers of my paintings. Sometimes they have a profound impact. For example, a woman from San Francisco who had cancer bought one of my paintings and kept it beside her bed to look at every day. Her doctor had told her she wouldn’t live more than two months, but seven months have passed and she’s still alive, feeling better every day. Feedback like that gives me energy.
CWB: The COVID period was a unique time for many artists. How was it for you?
HA: For me, it made no difference. I am always busy in the studio and I don’t notice days or dates. The only change was that there were fewer exhibitions.
CWB: Looking back at your career path, do you think you’ve moved in a specific direction, or have you always been searching?
HA: Naturally, the work changes. When I look at my paintings from fifty years ago, I see they’ve changed a lot; they’ve become stronger and more strategic. The environment, travel, seeing the works of others, even something as simple as walking in the woods—all these things have an effect.
CWB: What impact has living in the U.S. had on your work?
HA: Here I have more freedom. When I was in Iran, my colors became darker and more closed. But here I feel a sense of release, and the colors are brighter and more alive.
CWB: Do Iran and its news still affect your work?
HA: Yes, certainly. When I am happy, my colors are bright. But when I hear bitter news from Iran, I instinctively turn to black-and-white to more directly convey my feelings and message.
CWB: Have you seen the works of the younger generation of Iranian painters?
HA: Yes, I follow them a lot. There are very good painters in Iran, though they lack opportunities to appear on the international stage. I think Iranian art has grown significantly precisely because of these limitations.
CWB: You’ve made changes in your work and made it very personal. You’ve created a special world, one in which beauty and especially hope are evident. What’s your own view of that?
HA: Whatever a painter, a composer, or a filmmaker creates comes from within, from their personality and thoughts. I am by nature an optimistic and happy person. I gravitate far less toward sorrow or grief. Since I and my surroundings are cheerful, my work also becomes cheerful—not because I consciously want it to be, but because it seeps in unconsciously. Of course, there are times when I feel sad and then I create black-and-white, somber works.
CWB: For readers of this interview, tell us when and where you first started painting.
HA: At the age of fourteen. Back then at Soltani High School in Shiraz, we had painting classes with Mr. Moezzi. For the first time, I bought conté pencils and a sketchbook and went to class. The teacher said: sit down and draw. I started sketching the wrinkled face of an old man from Mr. Moezzi’s booklet. I became absorbed in the work and didn’t notice how time passed. When I showed it to him, he looked back and forth between the drawing and me several times. He thought I had either copied it from somewhere or taken it from someone else. When he was convinced it was my own work, he said it was the first time he was giving a student a perfect grade of 20. That moment changed my life. Until then, I had never gotten a perfect grade in any subject except sports. From that day on, I painted day and night. I even failed two years in school because all I did was paint.
CWB: When I look at the vibrant colors in your paintings, I am reminded of the colors in Persian miniatures. Have you been influenced by Persian miniature painting?
HA: I’ve tried miniature painting a couple of times, both as a teenager and later at university in Italy. Later on, when my first book was going to be published in the U.S., Dr. Abbas Daneshvar wrote in an article that my work was a kind of evolved Persian miniature. But this wasn’t conscious. I just transfer what I feel inside. Still, since my roots are in Iran, whether I want it or not, Iranian culture and motifs influence my work.
CWB: How much does nature and the environment where one grows up affect the work? You grew up in Shiraz, a city with a distinctive character.
HA: I think the environment influences everyone. If you put me in the Amazon rainforest for a few months, surely its colors and atmosphere would show up in my work. Take Vincent van Gogh: why did he paint The Potato Eaters? Because he lived in that environment and saw those people every day. I’m the same way.
CWB: Among famous painters of the world, whose works do you like most?
HA: Many, but I especially admire Robert Motherwell, particularly his compositions. Some people say my work is influenced by Picasso, Matisse, or Gauguin. Maybe, but I don’t want to be like them. I want to be myself, with all my strengths and weaknesses.
CWB: Your paintings are like landscapes that feel new each time they are seen. It’s as though viewers can return to them again and again and always find something fresh. Do you deliberately create this quality in your work?
HA: No, it’s not deliberate. There comes a moment when I feel the work is complete: the colors, the forms, the composition are all in place. Continuing would be unnecessary. From that point on, the viewer completes the work. Everyone has their own interpretation and feeling, and that’s why each time someone looks at it, they discover something new. In the end, every viewer has their own take on a piece. I don’t want to guide them; I prefer to let them discover it for themselves.
CWB: What is your relationship with your audience like, and what kind of feedback do you receive?
HA: I often receive many messages from collectors or buyers of my paintings. Sometimes they have a profound impact. For example, a woman from San Francisco who had cancer bought one of my paintings and kept it beside her bed to look at every day. Her doctor had told her she wouldn’t live more than two months, but seven months have passed and she’s still alive, feeling better every day. Feedback like that gives me energy.
CWB: The COVID period was a unique time for many artists. How was it for you?
HA: For me, it made no difference. I am always busy in the studio and I don’t notice days or dates. The only change was that there were fewer exhibitions.
CWB: Looking back at your career path, do you think you’ve moved in a specific direction, or have you always been searching?
HA: Naturally, the work changes. When I look at my paintings from fifty years ago, I see they’ve changed a lot; they’ve become stronger and more strategic. The environment, travel, seeing the works of others, even something as simple as walking in the woods—all these things have an effect.
CWB: What impact has living in the U.S. had on your work?
HA: Here I have more freedom. When I was in Iran, my colors became darker and more closed. But here I feel a sense of release, and the colors are brighter and more alive.
CWB: Do Iran and its news still affect your work?
HA: Yes, certainly. When I am happy, my colors are bright. But when I hear bitter news from Iran, I instinctively turn to black-and-white to more directly convey my feelings and message.
CWB: Have you seen the works of the younger generation of Iranian painters?
HA: Yes, I follow them a lot. There are very good painters in Iran, though they lack opportunities to appear on the international stage. I think Iranian art has grown significantly precisely because of these limitations.
