Re-activating this object for the ritual-of-gathering transformed it into a transitional space. The edge became a physical and emotional threshold, marking the shift from the outer world into an intimate, communal sacred space—one that held cultural laws, memories, and systems for rebuilding the connection and interdependence I had lost. My Farsh فرش became a tool for community-building and place-making with other migrants. The experience of togetherness profoundly transformed my sense of loneliness and deepened my understanding of the struggles faced by other groups in protecting and maintaining culture in ‘australia’.

To translate this experience, I repurposed 45 kilograms of red loamy soil discarded in my community in Magan-djin (Brisbane) and spent 175 hours hand-grinding and sieving the soil into a fine powder. This soil profile mimics the red soils of southern Iran and South-East Queensland. The time spent preparing the material mirrors the labour involved in gathering materials for Farsh فرش weaving. My Soil Farsh فرش (Carpet) was laid with soil and hand-imprinted with 30 3D-printed traditional Farsh فرش motifs, forming a visual language that reflects my process of cultural re-coordination.