Let me ask you this: What if your name was a cage? Not literally, of course, but metaphorically—a set of expectations, a history, a culture that you’re expected to carry like a backpack you never asked for. That’s the reality for many artists, especially those from societies where identity is tightly policed. Enter Filmsaaz, a name that doesn’t just sound like a film festival entry—it’s a rebellion. Saleh Kashefi, the mind behind the pseudonym, chose to shed their birth name, which they describe as a ‘representation of culture, gender, religion, history, and family.’ Why? Because in the world of cinema, especially in places like Iran, your name isn’t just a label; it’s a statement. And sometimes, that statement is too heavy to bear.
Personally, I think this is one of the most fascinating aspects of modern art: the deliberate erasure of identity as a form of resistance. Filmsaaz’s decision to adopt a name blending ‘filmmaker’ and ‘music’ isn’t just about branding—it’s about freedom. Imagine walking into a room where your entire life story is already known to everyone. Now imagine being able to start fresh, to redefine what you are and what you stand for. That’s the power of a pseudonym, and it’s why artists like Bono or Prince have become legends. Why should we be bound by the names our parents gave us? Why can’t we choose who we want to be, especially when the world we live in is so hostile to self-expression?
Take Filmsaaz’s film Ãsheghetam, which translates to ‘I am your lover.’ It’s a story of queer youth in Tehran, trapped between a morality police crackdown and the chaos of war. The film isn’t just a narrative—it’s a survival tactic. In an interview, Filmsaaz admits, ‘The film is about giving up hope and dissociating from reality, which is the defense mechanism all of the Iranian youth have learned.’ That’s not just a line from a press release; it’s a chilling observation about a generation forced to numb themselves to survive. What makes this particularly fascinating is how the film’s themes of escapism and illusion mirror the very act of using a pseudonym. Both are forms of self-preservation in a world that wants to erase you.
Now, let’s shift gears to Neozoon, the eco-feminist art collective whose work feels like a slap in the face to everything we’ve been taught about human progress. Their short film Together isn’t just about land ownership—it’s a scathing critique of the Eurocentric, patriarchal narratives that have shaped our understanding of history. They use archival footage and social media clips to show how humanity’s obsession with claiming territory is rooted in a toxic, colonial mindset. ‘What those films narrate as human development is a story of acquisition: settling down, putting up fences, owning,’ they explain. That’s not just a statement; it’s a challenge to the entire foundation of Western civilization’s self-image.
What many people don’t realize is that Neozoon’s work isn’t just political—it’s deeply personal. Their use of non-native species as a metaphor for human intrusion into nature is a masterstroke. Ants, for example, are portrayed as ‘masters of bridge-building’ in Together, a stark contrast to the human obsession with individualism. This isn’t just art; it’s a call to re-examine our relationship with the planet. A detail that I find especially interesting is how they reference David Graeber and David Wengrow’s The Dawn of Everything, which argues that early human societies weren’t as hierarchical as we’ve been led to believe. Neozoon’s work suggests that our current trajectory—toward climate collapse and social fragmentation—isn’t inevitable. It’s a choice, and one we’re making with devastating consequences.
If you take a step back and think about it, both Filmsaaz and Neozoon are doing something radical: they’re refusing to let the dominant narratives define them. Filmsaaz’s rejection of their birth name is a rejection of the cultural and religious constraints that come with it. Neozoon’s critique of Eurocentrism is a rejection of the idea that Western progress is the only path forward. What this really suggests is that the future of cinema—and perhaps the future of humanity—lies in the hands of those who dare to question everything. As Filmsaaz says, ‘Nothing is permanent, and even the most powerful governments and monarchies have collapsed in history.’ Maybe that’s the real message: hope isn’t dead, but it’s hiding in the shadows, waiting for someone brave enough to light a match.
