The design of this panel influenced later generations of Rashti embroidery artists, who adapted its visual language to express their own ideas about war, grief, and resistance.
Following defeats in the two Russo-Persian Wars of 1804–1813 and 1826–1828, which cost Iran significant territory in the Caucasus, a profound feeling of loss and sadness swept the nation. Fath'Ali Sr. created this panel to express these feelings. The artwork is divided into two parts—the main composition and its borders—dominated by bloody red, dark blue, and white tones. The panel highlights the evils of war driven by greed and materialism, through which a piece of the nation was lost. Yet, it also emphasizes that this ancient nation is resilient and perfect; despite the sacrifices of fallen heroes and the loss of territory, hope remains if the people keep their faith. Ultimately, righteousness will always overcome selfishness and greed, and victory will be near.
"نصر من الله و فتح قریب" — With God's help, victory is near.
Quran 61:13 — the verse Fath’Ali Sr. embroidered in Arabic on both sides of the panel, the same verse carried as a war banner
Following defeats in the two Russo-Persian Wars of 1804–1813 and 1826–1828, which cost Iran significant territory in the Caucasus, a profound feeling of loss and sadness swept the nation. Fath’Ali Sr. created this piece of art to express his feelings. The artwork consists of two parts—the main central composition and its borders—dominated by three primary colors: bloody red (the blood of martyrs), dark blue (mourning), and white (purity).
Reading the panel from the bottom center up to the top:
Parts of the panels on both sides of the borders are missing.
Storytelling is deeply rooted in Iranian culture. Each family used to have a few storytellers. As a child, in my family there was a tailor who moved through our family circle for repairs, alterations, and professional ironing. When he came to our house, all the children sat around him, and he would tell stories about the history of our family and tales from Ferdowsi’s Shahnameh. Another storyteller was a cook whose specialty was religious history. But the most important traditional storytelling took place in tea houses, with professional actors who performed the Shahnameh epics. The favorite acts were the stories of Rostam and Sohrab, the battle of Rostam and the White Demon, and the death of Siyâvash — an innocent prince of Iran who was killed, and from the drops of his blood grew plants with red flowers. For this reason, the red tulip in the field is, in Iranian mythology, a symbol of innocence, sacrifice, and martyrdom.
Fath’Ali Sr. expressed this story through his iconic motifs. He drew on the Shahnameh several times to convey his feelings — one example being his casting of Fath’Ali Shah as Kay Kavus, who betrayed Abbas Mirza in the Iran–Russia war just as Kay Kavus betrayed Siyâvash.
Like the most prominent artists, Fath’Ali Sr. took a historical event and used it to express deep feeling — and executed it about as well as it could be done. The result is an iconic work of art.
A message to Iranian artists: may the style and iconic motifs of this panel — and of the panels to come — inspire today’s artists to continue the path of Fath’Ali Sr. and those who followed him: a path rooted in originality and Iranian heritage.
Picasso completed Guernica in 1937, using gray, white, and black — the colors of a newspaper photograph of horror. Fath’Ali Sr. completed this panel roughly a century earlier, using bloody red, dark blue, and white. Picasso used the bull and horse, symbols rooted in Spanish culture. Fath’Ali Sr. used the dragon, cypress, and tulips — symbols rooted in Persian culture. Both men were saying the same thing about war, across a century, from opposite ends of the world.
Two artists, two cultures, two wars — one conversation about what war does to the human soul.
Iran-Russian Wars · Colors: bloody red, dark blue, white · Symbols: dragon, dark blue cypress, tulips, Quranic verse · Medium: silk embroidery on flannel · City: Rasht, Iran
Spanish Civil War · Colors: gray, white, black · Symbols: bull, horse, broken sword · Medium: oil on canvas · City: Madrid, Spain
This panel may be the earliest anti-war work of art in Persian visual history. Embroidered in Rasht around 1835–1840 by Fath’Ali Khomami Sr., it responds to a national wound: in two wars against Russia, fought within a single generation, Iran was defeated and lost vast territory in the Caucasus. A deep sadness settled over the country, and Fath’Ali Sr. — who did not fight, but lived in a Caspian city through which wounded soldiers and refugees passed — set out to give that grief a form. The result invites comparison with Picasso’s Guernica, which it precedes by nearly a century.
Like Guernica, it is not a battle scene but a meditation on what war does to a people. Three colors carry its meaning throughout: bloody red for the blood of martyrs, dark blue for mourning, and white for purity.
The panel is meant to be read from the bottom upward. At its base stands a blue vase — the nation — flanked by two partridges. In Attar’s Conference of the Birds the partridge hoards jewels in its nest, and here the bird stands for the greed and materialism that drove the war. From the vase rises a dark blue dragon, open-mouthed and furious, caught in the act of biting away a piece of the vessel: the territory Iran lost.
Out of the same vase grows a blue cypress, the soul of the nation — an ancient Persian symbol of perfection, endurance, and great age, a tree that survives droughts and storms and lives for centuries. Here it is a resilient nation in mourning. Within its form, Fath’Ali Sr. took a geometric pattern Sufis used for spiritual awakening and reshaped it to speak of martyrdom and hope. Rising inside the tree, in order, are three inverted red tulips for the fallen, a heart holding two tulips for love and sacrifice, and — at the summit — a candle in its holder, burning: hope. Framing the vase and tree on both sides, a white path strewn with alternating pomegranate flowers and tulips marks a journey toward purity and faith, watched over by two silent birds in white and mourning-blue, their heads turned to look back.
The borders complete the message. Down each side, a candelabra of five flames stands for the five pillars, and a path of narcissus and tulips enacts the struggle between vanity and righteousness, the tulips winning at the top. Along the top and bottom run red and black tulips for the fallen, and — unmistakably — motifs of trenches and barbed wire, the battlefields themselves. In the upper corners, a Quranic verse promises what the whole work reaches toward: “With God’s help, victory is near.”
That is the panel’s quiet argument. It mourns without surrendering to despair. Fath’Ali Sr. covered the surface with tulips — the red tulip is the sign of the martyr — until it became a whole field, and laid the dead to rest beneath it, with a flame of hope kept burning above.
The work is also a statement about art itself. Its imagery comes from Persian poetry, faith, and tradition, to which Fath’Ali Sr. added motifs of his own invention — trenches and dragons that had never before belonged to this craft. The style was new to Persian art of its time, yet its colors and design still feel modern. Two artists, two cultures, two wars: a century before Picasso, an embroiderer in Rasht was already asking what war costs the human soul.