Azad Archives

I was always curious about why people smell the way they do but the thing about my mother’s smell was that she always smelled of food; she also always looked sad. When I asked her why she was always sad, she replied:

“I am not sad. I am just thinking.”

“About what?”

“About you.”

“But I am right here.”

“I know you are. Come and hug me.”

“I don’t want to. You smell of garlic.”

“I was making dinner for you. Your favorite pasta.”

“Okay, then I will hug you but only for a second.”

I loved my mom and I still do, but I never liked her smell. I never liked garlic pasta either, but every time she cooked it and watched me eat, she had an exciting look in her eyes that allowed them to shine so brightly that her cheeks would turn bright red. These were the only times I knew for sure she was not sad.

Sleep is a beautiful experience, especially when you are tired. If you have been awake for a while hearing gunshots, and bombs, and threats, and cries, and other things that humans do to each other for no reason, you would get so tired that you would learn to sleep in such environments. So, I slept like a baby dreaming about going home to my wife when Alan woke me up.

“David! David, wake up.”

“What’s going on?”

I really wanted to punch him for waking me up when I had finally fallen asleep, but I was 19, and that was old enough for getting a punch back for not having a good excuse for a punch which meant that if I punched Alan, he would punch me back. But Alan is a good kid from a good family. He is only 18, but he is braver than all the other kids his age who run away every time a bomb comes to our side. But Alan is a good kid and as a good kid, he would, of course, punch me back if I punched him. He also smelled of dirt and sweat which is the smell of every soldier, but he had bright blue eyes, like the peaceful skies which we, Armenians, have never seen because we are a small nation nobody knows about. Except our enemies do. When they attack, we have to fight.

- from “Armenian Eyes” by .baghinyan
Read the full story on azadarchives.com (link in bio)

Projecting dreams into the glowing
unknown, I envision a diasporic futurity
borderless without

lines checkpoints maps authorities
crafted by your murderous desires
and fear of the

unknowable. My unbounded existence
sings to the exiled across time and
space—an invitation

- from Transcendence by .keledjian on azadarchives.com

They Left Their Home Behind - 2024:

This work is part of my series Beyond the Mass, a mixed-media, two-layered, three-dimensional wall piece. The top layer represents elements that evoke a sense of home and belonging—motifs from my routine life, such as Kazakh rugs, blankets, and sheets. These familiar patterns embody identity and personal history.

Beneath this layer, viewers see their own reflection in a mirror, but within it, they also glimpse the displaced people of Artsakh who were forced to flee their homeland in September 2023. The photograph, credited to Mary Asatryan, captures their reality.

This body of work invites viewers to shift their perspective—both physically and emotionally—to uncover the hidden story within. It aims to create a moment of pause, even discomfort, urging us to reflect on the experiences of those who are often reduced to mere numbers, statistics, or fleeting news reports.

The Rug - 2024:
This piece reflects my Armenian identity. The underlayer features a representational image of a rug, while the top layer, which mirrors the rug’s exact shape, carries its colors but lacks a defined form or motif. This contrast raises questions about identity—what remains, what continues through generations, and what might eventually fade.

“Trauma is not so much what happened to us, but, rather, what we hold inside, in the absence of an empathetic witness.”
– Dr. Peter A. Levine, in An Unspoken Word

How does one engage with the invisible, silenced and erased? How can art bear witness to the darkest moments of human history, namely, torture, violence and sexual slavery, while holding space for human connection? These questions concern the practice of Marie Khediguian, a Canadian visual artist and a descendant of Armenian genocide survivors.

- from Remnants, Reclamation, and Resistance by Emitees Tajdari

Read the full article on azadarchives.com (link in bio)

Art by .k.artist

Visited today 🎞️

Founded in 1975 in New York City, Project Save Photograph Archives is the oldest institution solely focused on preserving and sharing the photography of the Armenian global experience. With over 100,000 hardcopy photographs in their collections, they illuminate the culture and history not only of Armenians but also of the broader immigrant experience found across American communities. This year, they are celebrating their 50th anniversary with a collection of photographs that spans over 155 years of history.

Since 2021, they have digitally archived 15,000 photographs, opened a gallery, and currently host photography conversations, artist residencies, and are exploring a range of community programs. The organization not only focuses on preserving visual and oral histories but also explores ways to activate these archives within the context of migration and displacement. In doing so, they engage with communities across borders, recognizing that these objects of memory reflect a global experience.

Thank you, Arto and Ruth, for hosting us today! These discussions, especially at this moment, are crucial for maintaining connections within our communities and for extending our outreach beyond them.