A consistent feature in Majid Biglari’s works is that he carefully hides a significant part of their visual semiotics, while he invites his audience to participate in the process of giving meaning and making sense of what they experience. Following the course of his recent procedure, Biglari has concealed the clues in “Soot, Fog, Soil” installation so as to close the gap between his unlived dream life and his complex, tumultuous lived experience. In the background of his works, he utilizes recycled tinplate that had been used in the rooftops of midtown houses. The tinplate was once cans of motor oils and other petroleum products; containers of a promised blessing but, as it turns out, we only seem to be punished by its inescapable doldrums. Using rough collages and assemblages made of the contents of a found suitcase, including letters, postcards, and family photos from the 1980s, Majid then creates a familiar narrative of middle-class immigrants to the United States, the land of dreams. Painting over these documents, however, he disguises the full narrative from our eyes: it is as if he changes the resolution of reality by blurring and focusing the audience’s camera. Perhaps he can finally be able to reconcile the heterogeneous and complex experience of his life with his not-yet-lived dream.