The Celestial World

During my second visit to Iran, we travelled to Isfahan. The city once served as the country’s capital, and its history remains visible throughout its architecture. Nowhere was this more evident than Naqsh-e Jahan Square, with its monumental buildings, tiled mosques, passages, columns and rows of shops.

Walking around the square transported me through time. I found myself imagining how the same place might have looked hundreds of years earlier and thinking about the generations of people who had walked through it before us. Its history did not feel confined to a particular monument. It seemed present in the walls, hallways and every surface around us.

During the hottest part of the day, the square was relatively empty. Although the temperature was only around 25° C (77° F), the sun made it feel much warmer. We remained indoors from around noon until later in the afternoon. At approximately four, as the sun began to lower and shade appeared across the square, people gradually returned. Locals and visitors gathered there, and by evening, many were sitting on the grass, sharing conversations and picnic dinners.

On the southern side of the square, we visited the Shah Mosque. Standing beneath its monumental entrance and looking upward was an incredible experience. I originally photographed a wider section that included part of the wall below, but I later refined the composition to concentrate attention on the vaulted ceiling, its characteristic shape and the extraordinary colour surrounding it.

What first captivated me was the symmetry and depth of the structure. Curves, recesses and geometric forms appeared to grow outward from one another, creating layers that seemed both highly ordered and almost impossible to fully understand. Every section contained another pattern, and every pattern was composed of smaller shapes and individual tiles fitted together like pieces of an immense puzzle.

The tilework brought together turquoise, deep blues and yellows, softened by lighter details and contrasted with darker accents of black, purple and orange. I was also fascinated to learn about the seven-colour tilework associated with Safavid architecture. Its beauty was not purely decorative: the glazed surface also helped protect the brickwork underneath. Art, craftsmanship and practical purpose had been brought together within the same structure.

No matter where I looked, there was something new to admire. The colours, patterns, curves and changing depths made the ceiling feel as though it opened into another world. I had never imagined that something of this complexity could be created by human hands.

For me, this image represents our capacity as human beings to create something and share it with people we may never meet. It reflects our need to express ourselves and our ability to transmit emotion without words. Centuries after it was made, the structure could still inspire wonder and connect a visitor to the people who imagined and built it. Looking upward, I felt as though I had been given a glimpse into a celestial world.