Neda Monem
Journalist, Tehran
Neda Monem was born in Tehran, Iran and currently lives there, too. She received a master’s degree in English literature and is a journalist for an English-language newspaper in Iran. She counts Alison Mosshart, Louis C.K. and Behzad Ghaderi as her heroes. Her life’s passion is photography. Neda’s first job was teaching English—she took it to save enough money to purchase a DSLR camera. She believes in the power of visual narrative because it gives people an unfiltered, close-up experience. Her favorite documentation subjects are her travels, food, nature, architecture—everything in her life as often as she can.
A city?
Dublin.
What are your plans for this weekend?
I hope to get out of the city and go to the forests in the north. We have a long weekend coming up here in Tehran.
A song?
Colorado Blue; Alela Diane.
Right or left handed?
Right.
What is the best dish you can cook?
A creamy mushroom and basil pasta.
What is your middle name?
Skepticism? I don't really have one.
What do you do in your free time?
I practice singing, I take photos, read.
Your idea of happiness?
A sense of inner calm and contentment; peace of mind.
Your idea of misery?
Underachieving; being lost and frustrated as a result.
If not yourself, who would you be?
I guess I would choose to be Tal Wilkenfeld.
Your heroes?
Alison Mosshart. Louis C. K. Behzad Ghaderi. Dominique Christina. Alice Gao. Nina Simone.
What is your present state of mind?
Curious, thoughtful, pensive.
Bedside table books?
Currently: Four major plays by Federico Garcia Lorca.
What do you do if you can’t sleep at night?
I sometimes try to get some brain exercise on Lumosity's mobile app.
Do you collect?
Used to: sea shells, stones, clothes labels (the last one I still do sometimes). And when I was eight I collected pogs and marbles; still have some of them to this day.
What is the strangest thing you believed as a child?
That the stones on a sidewalk were actually people who had done something bad something wrong and had gotten transformed into stones for their wrong doings; I would contemplate them wondering what their past lives must have been like, what they looked like as people and what it was that they had done wrong? Pissed their parents off? Lied? …
A color?
Pale blue.
