From March 28 to June 8, 2025, the Padiglione d'Arte Contemporanea (PAC) in Milan will host Body of Evidence, the most extensive retrospective ever dedicated in Italy to Iranian artist Shirin Neshat. Her poetic vision delves into the duality of oppression and self-determination, memory and oblivion, and silence and protest. The biggest mistake one can make when visiting a Neshat exhibition is to assume that the artist speaks only about herself—as a woman, an Iranian, and a self-exiled American artist.

The true power of her work lies in its ability to resonate universally, transcending cultural backgrounds and touching on deep, shared aspects of human experience. Neshat’s art is built upon a refined balance of contrasts, which become both the visual and conceptual language through which she explores existential tensions. The black-and-white aesthetic that defines much of her photography and video art is not merely a stylistic choice but a metaphor for the polarities that shape the world: light and shadow, presence and absence, and past and present.

One of the most recurring themes in her work is the dialogue between East and West—an ongoing exchange that never resolves into a simple opposition. These contrasts do not function as binaries but rather as a means to create images that provoke questions rather than provide answers. There is never a definitive right or wrong side; everything remains suspended in a state of continuous tension, much like life itself. Rather than constructing rigid dichotomies, Neshat portrays the inner conflict of those caught between cultures, torn between the desire to belong and the distance of exile.

This tension is evident in Soliloquy (1999), one of her most evocative works as well as one of my favorite works, where the solitary figure of the artist moves between two architectures—one Western, one Islamic—without ever finding a true place of belonging. The video unfolds as an internal dialogue between two spaces: West and East, modernity and tradition, and belonging and displacement. The window from which the artist gazes is not just a vantage point but a threshold—an invisible barrier between familiarity and distance.

Another central duality in Neshat’s work is the relationship between men and women, which takes shape in Women of Allah (1993-1997) through the symbolic use of veils, weapons, and calligraphy on the skin. Here, the female body becomes a battleground where script, arms, and intense gazes intertwine. The woman is both victim and rebel; her body symbolizes both oppression and defiance. Yet, these images do not simply reflect the condition of women in the Islamic world—they are also an ode to resistance and courage that resonates across all societies.

The theme of life and death is also pivotal, as seen in Passage (2001), where a funeral procession in the desert transforms into a sacred dance. Accompanied by a hypnotic soundtrack by Philip Glass, the film presents a group of men digging a grave with their hands, while a lone woman dressed in black observes in silence. The dust, the ritual movement, and the solemn atmosphere turn mourning into a visual and almost sacred act.

Passage was Neshat’s first color video, following the black-and-white trilogy of Turbulent (1998), Rapture (1999), and Fervor (2000)—works that, though not included in this exhibition, remain highly representative of her artistic language, sharing a common reflection on the role of women, power dynamics, and collective identity. In Turbulent (1998), which won the Golden Lion at the Venice Biennale, a male singer performs a traditional Persian song before a full audience, while a woman, standing alone and turned away from the spectators, responds with an experimental, wordless melody. The video highlights the censorship of female voices in Iran and, more broadly, the conflict between power and rebellion, silence and expression.

Rapture (1999) presents two separate groups: men in black confined within a fortress and women in white traversing the open desert. While the men remain trapped, some of the women set sail into the unknown. The video explores themes of freedom and female destiny. Fervor (2000) explores themes of desire, repression, and gender segregation in Iranian society. The film follows a man and a woman who briefly exchange glances during a religious gathering yet remain separated by the rigid moral codes imposed upon them. Through striking cinematography, Neshat creates a visual dialogue between longing and restraint, using silence and contrast to heighten the emotional tension. Fervor is a poignant meditation on the ways in which societal structures shape personal experiences, particularly in contexts where love and intimacy are constrained by ideology.

The Book of Kings (2012) fits perfectly within the evolution of Shirin Neshat’s artistic practice and her ability to transform historical and local themes into universal reflections on vulnerability, power, and resistance. The work takes its name from the Shahnameh (The Book of Kings), the epic Persian poem written by Ferdowsi in the 10th century, which recounts the deeds of Iranian heroes and rulers. This text, deeply rooted in Persian cultural identity, is reinterpreted by Neshat to address not only Iran’s history but also contemporary struggles for freedom worldwide. The artist creates a series of portraits of Iranian men and women, divided into three symbolic categories: the martyrs, the revolutionaries, and the tyrants.

Their faces are covered with Persian calligraphy and images alluding to power, sacrifice, and oppression, recalling the aesthetic of Women of Allah but with a new perspective. While in the 1990s Neshat focused on Iranian women’s identities after the 1979 Revolution, in The Book of Kings, her focus broadens to encompass contemporary revolutions, such as the Arab Spring and global movements against authoritarian regimes. Here, the discussion extends beyond Iran, addressing the universal struggle between oppressors and the oppressed. The figures portrayed are no longer necessarily armed fighters or symbols of female resistance but rather ordinary people caught between hope and fear. This shifts the narrative from individual heroism to a reflection on collective action and the universality of rebellion.

With Land of Dreams (2019-2021), Neshat takes a bold step forward, intertwining photography and film to explore the power of dreams as a mirror of social tensions. Filmed in the southwestern United States, the work follows Simin, an Iranian photographer collecting the dreams of Americans for a mysterious government agency. The film creates an ironic inversion of traditional narratives in which the West is the one studying and classifying the "other." Here, an Iranian woman collects Americans’ dreams, offering an enigmatic and unsettling portrait of contemporary society.

The photographic series accompanying the film, featuring intense portraits of dreamers, amplifies the sense of humanity and vulnerability. Each face, each dream, tells a story suspended between fear and desire, between alienation and hope. Perhaps what makes Land of Dreams so powerful is its ability to make us reflect on the universal nature of dreams: regardless of our origins, dreams reveal who we are, our fragilities, and our deepest aspirations.

Tracing Neshat’s trajectory from Women of Allah (1993-1997) to Land of Dreams (2019-2021), we observe a significant evolution in her poetics while maintaining constant fundamental themes such as identity, exile, dualism, and resistance. While her early works focused specifically on Iranian identity, later projects expand into universal themes of exile, memory, and resistance. Women of Allah (1993-1997) marks Neshat’s international debut and defines many of the central themes of her research. The black-and-white photographs, featuring veiled women inscribed with verses by poet Forough Farrokhzad and the presence of weapons, reflect on the role of women in Islamic society and the complexity of oppression and power.

The female body becomes a canvas on which the tension between submission and rebellion is inscribed. By transitioning to video at the end of the 1990s, Neshat expanded her vision, moving from individual portraits to a collective dimension. Turbulent (1998), Rapture (1999), and Fervor (2000) explore the dualism of man/woman, order/chaos, and confinement/freedom through visual and sound language. In Soliloquy (1999), the tension between East and West becomes more personal, tied to her experience of exile. Passage, with its hypnotic soundtrack by Philip Glass, introduces the ritualistic and cyclical dimension of life and death. This phase marks an important shift: while Women of Allah still directly addressed post-revolutionary Iran, her subsequent videos abstract the discourse, transforming it into a more universal reflection.

With the feature films Women Without Men (2009) and Looking for Oum Kulthum (2017), Neshat pushes even further, using cinematic storytelling to explore the fate of women and artists in the context of political and cultural oppression. With Land of Dreams, Neshat reverses the perspective: whereas before it was Westerners looking at Iran, now she investigates contemporary America through the dreams of its inhabitants. The photographic series and film portray a fragile America, filled with vulnerable individuals and deep-seated fears. This work marks a maturation in her poetics: it is no longer just about narrating the conflict between two cultures but about revealing the universal condition of uncertainty and instability in today’s world.

Shirin Neshat’s art began as an investigation into female and Iranian identity and evolved into an exploration of human identity in all its complexity. Her poetics have transformed from a visual language of clear and opposing symbols into a more nuanced narrative, where the boundaries between dream and reality, East and West, and individual and collective become increasingly blurred.

This journey reflects not only her artistic evolution but also the transformation of the world we live in, particularly regarding the perception of cultural identity, power, and the concept of borders. When Neshat began her artistic journey with Women of Allah in the early 1990s, the international debate was heavily focused on the role of Islam in politics and society. The 1979 Iranian Revolution and its consequences were still a hot topic, and the West viewed Iran and Arab countries through the lens of difference and otherness.

In her early works, Neshat explores precisely this gaze: the veiled woman, Persian script on the skin, and the fusion of religion and politics. At that time, the world was still divided by rigid borders: Islam was perceived as a universe distant from the West, with almost incomprehensible dynamics. However, after the September 11 attacks in 2001, this vision changed radically. Islam was no longer perceived only as a separate entity but as a direct threat. The wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, global terrorism, and the refugee crisis intensified debates on cultural identity, making the boundary between "us" and "them" more fluid yet fraught with tension.

Neshat, while maintaining her roots in the Iranian imaginary, began shifting toward a broader and more universal dimension. Passage (2001), for example, no longer speaks exclusively about Iran but addresses the theme of funeral rites and transience, elements belonging to every culture. Watching it today, as Neshat said, it remembers the corpses of people in Palestine. Women Without Men (2009), while narrating the 1953 Iranian coup, uses a symbolic and magical language that transcends its specific historical context.

Another major shift in recent decades has been the transition from a worldview based on sharp oppositions (East/West, Islam/modernity, tradition/progress) to a reality that is increasingly hybrid and interconnected.

In the 21st century, globalization and mass migrations have blurred cultural boundaries. Identity is no longer something monolithic but the result of interweaving and contamination. This transformation is reflected in Neshat’s works: Soliloquy (1999) explores the internal conflict of an individual divided between two worlds; Looking for Oum Kulthum (2017) narrates the challenges of being an artist and a woman, not only in an Islamic context but in any patriarchal society; Land of Dreams (2019-2021) represents a total reversal of perspective: for the first time, Neshat is no longer looking at the East from a Western standpoint but at America through "foreign" eyes.

This shift in perspective is crucial: if in her early works her art was born from nostalgia and distance from Iran, today the whole world is experiencing an identity crisis. The America of Land of Dreams is no longer the symbol of freedom and progress but a place of fear and uncertainty. Another key aspect of Neshat’s evolution is how she represents subjects in her work. In Women of Allah, the women are combative figures, even within their oppressed condition. Over time, however, her gaze has shifted toward a broader reflection on human vulnerability. Today, the world is marked by political, environmental, and economic crises affecting everyone, regardless of cultural background or gender. Fear, uncertainty, and precariousness are no longer limited to Iranian women or exiles but have become global conditions.

Neshat captures this evolution masterfully in Land of Dreams: the American men and women portrayed in this series are no different from the figures in her previous works. They are lost individuals, suspended in a reality they do not fully understand. This suggests that oppression and fragility are no longer confined to "other" cultures but have become a shared experience.

The evolution of Shirin Neshat’s poetics reflects the transition from a fragmented and divided world to one in which crises and identities are increasingly interconnected. If in the 1990s her work provided a window into Iran and the Islamic world, today it is a mirror reflecting global anxieties and fears.

Her artistic journey demonstrates how art can anticipate and interpret historical changes, transforming the narrative of the "other" into a reflection on the "self." In this sense, Neshat is no longer just an artist who speaks about Iran or women—she is an artist who speaks about all of us, our time, and our uncertainties.

Over time, her visual language has shifted: from stark dualisms to more fluid narratives, from individual portraits to collective storytelling, and from localized cultural discourse to a broader reflection on human vulnerability in an unstable world. Neshat’s art began as an exploration of Iranian women’s identities and evolved into a meditation on the complexities of human identity as a whole. Her work no longer merely juxtaposes East and West, freedom and oppression; instead, it dissolves these binaries, revealing the porous, ever-shifting nature of cultural boundaries.

Through her lens, exile is no longer just a geographical condition—it is a universal state of being. In an era where globalization, migration, and political upheaval have redefined notions of belonging, her work serves as both a reflection and a warning, reminding us that the search for home, identity, and self-determination is a journey shared by all.