Meysam Motazedi

I didn’t start Meysam’s site with a layout. I started with the feeling that I needed to understand him first.

Meysam writes, makes films, takes photos, acts. Before I designed anything, I wanted to know what he likes, what moves him, what he keeps coming back to. So I read his words, asked a lot of questions, and mostly just listened. The design could wait. The person couldn’t.

One story stayed with me. When he was nine, his mother took him to see Hamoun. A heavy film, long monologues about life and death, way too much for a kid. But it stuck. Ever since, he’s been drawn to people like that: restless, a little lost, at odds with the world. Once I heard that, a lot of the rest made sense.

After that, the goal was simple. I wasn’t trying to explain his words, just give them a little visual feeling. Something you feel before you understand it.

So the text comes first. You read slowly, and the lines that matter most light up as you scroll, like someone quietly pointing at them. Nothing shouts. It waits for you to arrive.

The photos come from his life: family pictures, him as a baby with his parents, places he’s been. I didn’t want a gallery. They drift and overlap, like memories that don’t come back in the right order. Some you catch, some slip past.

There’s grain over everything, because his world isn’t clean or shiny. It has dust on it, and the site should too. Polish would have been a lie.

The pacing was the hardest part. Each section is a small scene. Some hold you for a moment, some let you go. I changed the timing again and again until it felt less like scrolling a website and more like someone telling you a story at their own speed. Even the loader went through a few versions. In the end I kept the simplest one: a short pause before the film starts, like the lights going down.

I don’t think of it as a portfolio of projects. It’s more like a small space that feels like him, made from what he loves and what he carries with him.

Now or never.