'I Saw The Rag In The Bare Trees’

Installation’, detail’, 8 meters-3 meters, Found Fabric, 2020</p> <p>Turkey had announced that the European borders were open. Thousands of people were waiting in Edirne — in mud, in cold, at the threshold of a crossing. I could not erase those images from my mind. But the image that affected me most was not the border itself. A dry landscape. Cracked earth. And at its center, a scrap of fabric caught on the branch of a dead tree. That piece of fabric did not speak to me of absence. On the contrary — there had been a body there. An exhausted body, perhaps still walking somewhere toward somewhere else. The fabric had separated from it, but had left a trace. The fabric remained, the body had gone. But the weight of that departure was still there, suspended from the branch. After that, I began collecting fabric from the streets. Used fabrics, worn fabrics, fabrics carrying traces. Fabrics that had touched someone else’s skin, carried someone else’s weight, traveled from one place to another. I knotted them. Bound them together. Extended them to seven meters. And I preserved their colors. Because this work is not only about loss — it is also about spring. The passing bodies were not only exhausted, were not only waiting. They carried a color inside them — hope perhaps, or stubbornness, or life itself. I do not know exactly, but there was something there, a vitality. The colors of the fabrics say this: there is pain here, yes, but there is also life here. Both at once, within the same fabric, within the same knot. The knot became important to me. A knot is two things simultaneously. It holds together, but it also limits. It means remaining together and under pressure. Solidarity and oppression at once. Both contained within a single gesture. But as important as the knots are, the spaces between them matter equally. Large gaps, small gaps, irregular gaps — each says something different. When I look into those spaces, I see other things: cell membranes, scar tissue, the layers inside flesh, border lines, traces. The body also looks like this from within — porous, interrupted, every layer containing a site of passage. Skin is not a smooth surface. The body is not a smooth surface. Both are perforated, transitional; they hold and release at the same time. The knot is like that too. The void is like that too. Then I realized the knot already knew something much older. Cloths tied to wishing trees — an offering, a prayer, a memory. Knots in mourning rituals — traces left behind for the departed. Things tied in order to protect, to remember, to refuse letting go. All of these come from the same gesture: you want to hold onto something, but cannot, so you tie it instead. The cloth remains while you leave. Or you remain while the cloth disappears. For me, this installation is not only about fabric. It is a way of thinking about migration, the body, memory, survival. The bodies waiting in Edirne, the piece of fabric hanging from that tree. The traces I collected from the streets, the doubled weight of the knot, the colors and the voids. All of them exist here, intertwined within these seven meters. The fabric remained. The body passed through. But the trace of the passage, its color, its weight — is still here.

But There's No Room For Other Words Here.

Clay, 22 x 50 x 17 cm,2020</p> <p>In creating this installation, my goal was not only to make sculptures.I want to show<br /> memory, violence, silence, and transformation carried inside the body.These figures are<br /> not only about rituals from the past.They also carry fears, hidden emotion, and<br /> memories that still live inside us today.<br /> For me, clay is like living skin.İt cracks, breaks, and keeps marks.The sculpture have<br /> missing limbs, distorted mouths, and bodies that look both human, flower and<br /> animal.But I do not see them as broken bodies.I see them as bodies that are changing<br /> and trying to create their own language.<br /> The mouth were especially important to me Some figures look like they are trying to<br /> speak but cannot make sound.This connects to the idea of silence in J.m Coetzee’s novel<br /> foe.Silence is not always only about oppression; it can also be a form of resistance.So , I<br /> do not think of what comes out of these mouths as a scream.I see it more as something<br /> moving inside the body that cannot fully be come words.

Melted into The Darkness

Mixed media, (Clay, branch and Different plants)<br /> 35 x 15 x 1O cm

Kasa Galery, İstanbul

Kasa Galery, İstanbul

Like Flowers Blooming İnside Your Chest,

Installation, Mixed Media(Ceramic, Found plant,Led light,),12x40x17 cm,2020

But There's No Room For Other Words Here

Clay, 22 x 50 x 17 cm,2020

Kasa Galery, İstanbul

In creating this installation, my goal was not only to make sculptures.I want to show<br /> memory, violence, silence, and transformation carried inside the body.These figures are<br /> not only about rituals from the past.They also carry fears, hidden emotion, and<br /> memories that still live inside us today.<br /> For me, clay is like living skin.İt cracks, breaks, and keeps marks.The sculpture have<br /> missing limbs, distorted mouths, and bodies that look both human, flower and<br /> animal.But I do not see them as broken bodies.I see them as bodies that are changing<br /> and trying to create their own language.<br /> The mouth were especially important to me Some figures look like they are trying to<br /> speak but cannot make sound.This connects to the idea of silence in J.m Coetzee’s novel<br /> foe.Silence is not always only about oppression; it can also be a form of resistance.So , I<br /> do not think of what comes out of these mouths as a scream.I see it more as something<br /> moving inside the body that cannot fully be come words.

detail, found fabric, 2021, 290 x 193 cm

M.Lazarus

Installation, Mixed Media (Ceramic, Found plant, Led light), 45 x 15 x 1O cm

Lazarus, Tongue protruding

M. Lazarus, Clay, 12 x 50 x 17 cm, 2020

Undulations

Epoxy resin, found fabric, old pendulum clock, infinity mirror.