Characters of Sara Tavana are caught in situations where they seem to be confined in a metafictional whimsy, trapped in a story that its outcome has already been written. Characters circling in their own progressions, menaced by some force that they can't understand.  
Artist refuses to accept the complex human condition as it is, in all its labyrinth like layers, and in response she creates a solution; dismissing reality and fully embracing the absurdity and complexity of the situation. It is through this acceptance that artist liberates herself; there is no tragedy, there are no easy solutions, but there is relief once you start to laugh. The happiness from the contempt is all the greater.
These crippled hybrids are 'non-knowers' and ‘non-can-ers’, nevertheless they want to be part of the circle of life, to participate in its cycle, to wear clothes and shoes and to partake in the feast and ultimately to receive approval. For these enthusiastic half human, half non-human beings, the absurdity of the situation is by itself a situation.

The objective is to create havens where the soul can take refuge from the chaos and ugliness, to float in the strength of humanity’s unbounded imagination. Artist hand crafts and paints every single piece in the series and her meticulous attention to detail and the magnificence of colors, are a denial of ugliness that we are encircled with in our daily lives. The strength of these forms and their balance, are evidence of maturity of an artist who by staring at darkness promises relief and strength to persevere. 
Nazila Noebashari


Take a mouse that thinks it is a cat. I don't know how but it does. It has gone through all the tests and concluded that it is a cat. It is sure that the concept 'cat' Has taken the guise 'mouse' nothing more. It believes in the concept and not the flesh. The idea is Enough; the body doesn't matter. The happiness from the contempt is all the greater. But then one day the mouse meets a real cat. I am going to eat you, says the cat. You can't, replies the mouse. And why not? Asks the cat. Cats don't eat cats. It is impossible as a matter of instinct and as a matter of principal. I'm a cat myself, whatever else I may like. The cat rolls over laughing. It laughs so hard it is clawing the air and its white furry belly is heaving. Then it gets up and starts to eat the mouse, the mouse protests: what are you eating me for? Because you are a mouse, says the cat. I am a cat, cats don't eat cats, says the mouse. You are a mouse, says the cat. Tam a cat, says the mouse. Prove it, demands the cat. So the mouse jumps in to the laundry tub, and drowns itself. The cat wets a forepaw and has a lick. The suds taste horrible. So it leaves the body floating there. Did the mouse's death shock the world?
From The Decay of the Angel, by Yukio Mishima