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Artist Spotlight: Sepehr Badiei

Written by Sepehr Badiei | Aug 16, 2026, 5:47:22 AM

Sep is a queer artist and hairdresser based in East London, born in Iran to an Iranian father and Egyptian mother. Half his family escaped during the revolution when he was five, moving through Pakistan before being resettled in New Zealand via the UN.

Displacement survival and movement shape how he sees people, beauty and time. They work with hair as a main medium — making objects, building pieces, holding memory in material form and words. This project is a love for research, to gather histories, and write poetry that runs alongside the work. 
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I started writing about grief when my mum passed away. It was a very difficult journey.

And when my dad passed I wasn’t with him

we had left Iran, and he stayed behind.

Then we went to New Zealand as refugees.

It was a hard lonely journey.

Sometimes people stay in their land because they belong to it.

My mum was from Egypt. My dad was from Iran. And me I’ve always felt Queer, free-spirited, moving from a young age.

From Pakistan to New Zealand, then Sydney, now the UK… always searching for something that feels like home.

Writing became my quiet kind of therapy, especially when I was seeing a grief therapist . It gave me a place for everything that didn’t have a home.

I wanted people to feel it grief, love, joy, pain. All of it. Because it feels like people don’t really go there anymore don’t let themselves sit inside those emotions.

I wanted to give something back… the humanity our loved ones leave with us when they’re gone.

Especially now with everything happening in the world, it feels like human life isn’t always valued. But we are so strong. We are so deeply loved even when it doesn’t feel like it.

Sometimes I feel alone in seeing it this way. Still, I try to share love anyway. I realise as I get older that not everyone moves through the world with the same depth… the same soul.

But life—life and even what comes after it—means everything when you are truly living.

Feeling it. The pain, the joy, all of it.

And we shouldn’t give up .

Not for our parents.

Not for our grandparents.

Not for the future of our children.


 

Albizia julibrissin (gul-i Abrisham) // Nature of Time - A Mother’s Love

Time does not measure a mother

It bends around her

There is no one like your mum

No mirror like her gaze

No shelter like the space she holds

Even when distance pretends to exist .

I left when I was young

Not away from you

But through you

Through the courage you planted

So I could stand without leaning

Independence is a branch

But LOVE is the root .

Being far carried a quiet ache

a gravity in the chest.

Yet you came to me in sleep

soft but unmistakable.

I felt what you carried.

I still do.

I felt your pain.

I still feel it.

If pain were transferable

I would take it

without hesitation in every form it arrived.

you made me.

My strength

My gentleness.

Nothing takes that.

Now you’re with dad

Lighter

Beyond weight reincarnated

I circle you

like a butterfly that never lands .

Here everything is one.

Here I am still your child.

 

 Grief in Sequins and Mud

Rocking.

Crying like a baby

in a body that is supposed to be grown.

Without you two

I am an orphan.

Even with years in my bones.

Even with my own name on the door.

Gold trembling in the dark

your shoulders lit

like gold leaf .

Pink threads hanging from branches

like nerves the sky forgot to hide.

I miss the back up.

( I miss you )

The wall behind my spine.

The certainty that nothing could end me

while you were still here.

Praying at your feet

On arrival.

Mud does not shame you.

Water holds your reflection

like it understands

reincarnation is never clean.

Your voice txt healed me.

Just the way you said my name.

Now the wind says it differently.

Now the dark carries it further.

Birds become pure being

chanting your name into the sky

I am an orphan in this lifetime.

But you two

are sequins in the soil

light pressed into earth,

already stepping

into another beginning.

And I am still here,

rocking,

aching,

waiting for the lifetime

where I find you again

and the mud does not mean goodbye.

 
Metallic green fragments

metallic green

appears again

not asking permission

māmān joon bābā Jān

the word breaks

differently now

tree holding ethereal light

like a secret

water keeping two skies

metallic green

not leaf

not paint

something closer

to mercy

I look for an ending

the forest refuses

roots moving

in the dark

carrying news

from somewhere unseen

Mādar ( Mother )

no longer in body

more like a free traveler

more like breath

passing through branches

jāye shomā sabz

your place is green ( wish you were here )

metallic green

the colour that remains

after everything else

steps aside

Paradise exists

somewhere behind the visible

I feel it

in the bark

in the water

in the silence

nothing answers

yet nothing is gone

metallic green

still speaking

 

 
Echoes of Sky
Three years , five
Where did you go ?
Time tiptoes past unnoticed
or
am I blindly distracted
chasing shadows of a smile
that once lit my Sepehr
Sometimes I feel
Like a stone
guilt curling around my chest
 
Sometimes I cry for nothing.
Sometimes I cry for everything.
 
and I whisper بیا—come.
And yet…
All I do is keep walking
broken
remembering,
and missing you more than air.
 
“ I hope the love I gave
unheld
unanswered still finds somewhere to live . “
 
 
Process of the making

The hair pieces in this series function as sculptural extensions of the body. Constructed through a slow process of braiding, wrapping and knotting strands of hair around natural materials such as wood branches the works explore the tension between fragility and structure.

Some strands reach lengths of up to eight metres, allowing the material to move freely in the wind and form organic shapes .

Knotting becomes both method and metaphor. A knot binds separate strands into a single form while holding tension within it. Symbolically knots have long represented connection, attachment, and the intertwining of lives. Within this work each knot becomes a quiet gesture of memory a small act of holding together what grief threatens to unravel.

The repetitive act of tying and wrapping transforms the making process into something almost meditative. Time, patience, and touch become embedded within the work itself, allowing the pieces to carry both physical labour and emotional weight.

 

Credits

Artist : Sepehr Badiei @badieisepehr

Photographer : Charlie Tallott @charlie_tallott

 

Models : Sven Ironside @sven.ironside

DAFNI KRAZOUDI @dafnikrazoudi

 

Clothing : Maximilian Raynor @maximilianraynor , SEBASTIEN KWOK @sebastienkwok , Shannen Maria samuel @shannenmariasamuel

 

Boots : Natacha Marro @natachamarro

Make up : Kevin Cordo @kevin.cordo

Retouched : Elizabeth Derby and @helen_bykova_retoucher @studioandrews

 

Special thanks to @aportugueseloveaffair

@medbriordan @shannenmariasamuel , Elizabeth Derby & Dave Andrews