The color of pomegranate

The Color of the Pomegranate is a documentary project haunted by a question: is there a tomorrow for tomorrow? A drift guided by the hesitant gaze of a generation born in the rubble of Armenia, inheritors of a history whose complexity and violence continue to resonate today. At the heart of this very real dream lies a question of direction: where should one look—toward the West, the East, Russia? In the solitude of an island without shores, amid its fragmented landscapes and separated people, where should one sail?

More personally, it is also an unconscious awakening of a sense of belonging to a culture of which, despite my name, I knew almost nothing. A few childhood memories remain, like a blend of scents, glances, and faces, and then dates and places: Anatolia, Cilicia, the Armenian quarters of Bursa, 1915, 1917, Lebanon, Marseille, and Valence. Behind each of these words lie stories and accounts. Told by my great-grandparents, they sometimes became tinged with fiction. Within this faltering memory, I carved a new path along Armenia’s borders—with Iran, Turkey, Azerbaijan, Nakhchivan, and Georgia. Caught in this off-screen realm of the imaginary, I approached my own, on the other side of the walls, in search of appeasement.*