For Amir Amiri, optimism is 'a necessary building block of creation.'Nathaniel Huard/Supplied
Amir Amiri, a Montreal-based Iranian-Canadian composer and virtuoso player of the 72-string dulcimer-like santur, left his home country as a young man in 1996. He spoke to The Globe and Mail about the war in Iran and the death of Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei.
You left Tehran for the Banff Centre for Arts and Creativity in 1996. Where were you, career-wise, at that point?
I was 20 years old, training. In Islamic Iran, music doesn’t have a place. Under Ayatollah Khamenei it opened up a bit, but it still wasn’t encouraged. It was looked down upon, and it was difficult. You needed permits to perform and record.
How did the Banff Centre scholarship come about?
It happened quite magically. A friend of my father who liked my playing was travelling on Air Canada. There was a pamphlet from the Banff Centre, with an application in the middle. Quite naively, I filled it out and sent it away. I completely forgot about it until they accepted me on a three-month scholarship.
Were you planning on staying in Canada?
No. I was just leaving. I wasn’t planning anything. I had $125 in my pocket. It was only after I arrived at the Banff Centre that I realized, ‘oh my god, this is a dream.’ The first person I hung out with was Douglas Schmidt, an accordionist. He had a trio with a Japanese piano player and an incredible percussionist. They were doing this very strange sound-making. They called it music! I thought, ‘This is the life. To have this space to create is a gift.’
How long were you there?
After my scholarship, I went to the University of Calgary for a couple of semesters. I realized it wasn’t for me. I went back to the Banff Centre and engaged in a series of self-studies. I worked with people such as Yo-Yo Ma, Bela Fleck and Canadian pianist Anton Kuerti − whoever came as an artist in residence. I spent close to four years there, learning everything. Not just music but entrepreneurship, the Canadian identity struggle, and being an artist. Later I was admitted to Canada as a refugee.
You’re based in Montreal now. What was your initial reaction when you learned the Ayatollah had been killed in joint Israeli and U.S. strikes on Saturday?
I was protesting in solidarity with the Iranian people on Sainte-Catherine Street. All of a sudden there was chatter. ‘He’s dead, he’s dead.’ I said, ‘Who?’ I was told the Ayatollah was dead. Everyone was looking at their phones trying to figure out what had happened. I decided to put mine away and watch what was happening. There was joyful cheering, but I saw a lot of pain. And a lot of release.
Where was that pain coming from?
Immigration is hard. Everybody wants to stay in their home.
And how did the release manifest itself?
Some were dancing and some were crying. Some ran into shops. A lady entered a florist shop and bought all the roses and gave them to people. Somebody else bought candy. These were all beautiful acts of release. I was touched by this.
So, release and celebration, but Iran is still being bombed. What’s the emotion now?
It’s a juxtaposition for sure. I was looking at the videos of the streets of Iran. As bombs were dropping, people were yelling, ‘Hit them! Hit them!’ About a month ago, the Iranian government killed about 30,000 innocent people who were demonstrating in the streets. People are angry.
Are you optimistic about the future for Iran?
I am. I am an artist, and optimism is a necessary building block of creation. I must be optimistic that this will be over quickly. Because if it’s not, it could be a catastrophe.
You haven’t been able to perform in Iran since you left. Is that at least conceivable now?
It breaks my heart, not performing there. So, yes, I do think about returning to play. But I don’t want to jinx it. You know, there are two types of dreams. Dreaming in dreaming and dreaming in reality. Dreaming in dreaming is a humpback whale in the purple cloud. Dreaming in reality is a possibility − it might be 10 per cent but you can take steps, you can see it. All these years, I’ve been dreaming in dreaming. On Saturday, I began dreaming in reality. It’s possible now.
This interview has been edited and condensed.