Istanbul, the city which describes me the best. I am a reflection of the city, or I am in the city. Dust, the smell of the sea, rushing people, anxiety, lights, and seagulls.
I moved to Nuremberg 3 years ago with a wound in my heart. In Turkish we say, ‘yuregine okuz oturmak’. A big, black bull is sitting on your chest, you can’t breathe, you can’t enjoy.
Leaving my beloved city behind with a one-way ticket and coming to a foreign land where I was already grouped in people’s minds as Turkish and as a Turkish woman. That was the first wall I hit during my first year in Germany. I fought bravely against “do you eat pork?” and “do you drink alcohol?” questions. Then, I saw no use in fighting, because I realized, it is easier to teach penguins how to dance than chancing ideas of people.
Before getting rid of the burden of fighting and creating a new life, once again I faced the fear of being alone – a familiar feeling. All of my anxieties were coming back. People can be the cruelest to themselves.
Then painting – no it didn’t save my life, and it didn’t save me from my fears. My passion since I was a little girl created a secret passage where I can hide, where I can just stop my brain from thinking.
All those women, whom I painted showed me that another life is possible.
I never thought that one day I would have an exhibition. I think I owe this to my father who discovered my love of art when I was a little girl and took me to art classes in Besiktas, a neighborhood in Istanbul and waited for me on rainy and cold days.
My life has its own periods like Picasso’s, but mine is formed by people, not by colors. I would like to thank all those brave and inspiring women and my beloved friends for sharing this journey with me.