Long Live the Monster!

I went to Çınar Eslek’s studio around the days when my body started to return to the state I remembered before. I marveled at how much my body could expand in just a few months, and I tried to shake off the turbulent winds of hormones. Uncovering day by day unfamiliar aspects that my body can assume, dedicating it to someone else to live in and be fed from for a period, and engaging in a symbiotic relationship that you know will end but you don’t know how long it will last is a prolonged transformation. The pregnant woman’s body, seen as the source of both creative potential and social anxiety from when the female body was thought to be the incomplete and defective version of the male body until recently, has been surrounded by cultural fear and admiration. Pregnant women have often been depicted as monstrous figures in literature and popular culture due to their transformative and unpredictable nature. This portrayal of monstrosity stems from society’s discomfort with the unknown and uncontrollable aspects of female reproduction. During this period of experiencing various stages of monstrosity, I encountered the fabric works in Tack, Limb, Ilizarov. Before me stood an array of “monsters,” composed of interlocking human, animal, and plant components, each delineated by distinct colors yet with elusive boundaries, all brought together through intricate stitching.In her fabric works, each containing a unique ecosystem, Eslek skillfully tacks together a blend of fictional imagery, recollections from her childhood, and dreamscapes. Tacking serves as a mode of thought and production for her. The artist’s perspective, recognizing humans as an integral part of nature rather than claiming species superiority and refusing to become normative, is distinctly evident in her works on found fabrics. Eslek’s narratives, ranging from her relationships with her body and its environment to some of her propositions on existence, unfold within surrealist worlds inhabited by hybrid, manifold, and porous beings. Arms, branches, roots, tails, legs, and heads are tacked/ articulated non-hierarchically, forming Eslek’s world of monsters. It is evident that the monsters that the artist conceives, gets inside-places one inside, thinks about-dreams of inspiring others to dream about, are pluralistic and constructive, and point to a collective formation and life. Eslek, as it were, returned to the essence of the word “monster,” stripping away the negative connotations time has imposed upon it.The term canavar, meaning monster in Turkish, originates from Persian and was derived by adding the suffix “var” (to have) to the word “can” (life) and means a living being, a creature. The equivalent of the word “monster” in Ancient Greek is “τέρᾰς/téras,” meaning marvel, wonder, potent, divine sign, omen. It is used for beings that elicit both admiration and fear. This fear is a product of an androcentric and heteronormative thought system that separates those perceived as differentBernard Stiegler, one of the philosophers who extensively studied the human-technology relationship, does not consider humans independently of the fire, that is, technic, that Prometheus gave them. Through technology, individuals acquire capabilities they do not have. Thus, humans unveil new potentials by prosthetizing with technics that is the externalization of the memory and an extension of the body. However, according to Stiegler, every technic or technology is a “pharmakon”. It can be both a cure and a poison in the sense that it brings both solutions—curative power, and potential new problems—destructive power.

Coming from the Western system of thought, Stiegler cannot help but define good and bad, and separate the two. Conversely, philosopher Yuk Hui advocates embracing diversity rather than adhering to such dualities. He states, “Even if we have common problems we are trying to solve, there is no single way to respond to the collapse of ecosystems. We must understand that variation is a consequence of local adaptation.” Similarly, technological diversity allows for different solutions to common problems, such as those within the realm of health. However, dominant perspectives can lead to monopolies. Nonetheless, localized healing can yield on-site and internally tailored solutions to adapted problems. As explored in Çınar Eslek’s works, these healings can be made possible by articulating and multiplying, acknowledging imperfection, and embracing techniques that do not objectify the body or create the illusion of completeness.

In the video work Surface (Prolog) (2019), the artist delves into an earlier chapter in her life, revealing her body’s connection with the fields and hills, where she gathered images for her fabric works, all through the act of walking. We witness that the foot closely observed on the bed is an extension of a leg that once limped when touching the ground, a leg that traveled a long way on the dry grass with support from another body and went to a healer. These four legs have become one, embarking on a shared journey. Even though the lame leg is fused with the olives in the hands of the healer, it still relies on the back of its companion on the way back. The harmonious movements of these two individuals, who communicate without words, and the synergy of their bodies shine amidst the vast steppe. Eslek creates space-bodies with organic and inorganic materials such as bones, concrete, fabric, seashells, and porcelain that she has accumulated over time, based on the relationships her body establishes with the earth and spaces, hybridization, ruptures, and reunions. This exploration of space-body construction extends from the sculptures into the artist’s video titled Oh White (2023), which delves into the hybridization between the artist and a hospital building—an experience rooted in a period spent with another “technic,” Ilizarov, at Baltalimanı Bone Hospital. The imagery peering into the depths of the building and Eslek’s skeleton, excerpts fromthe artist’s diaries, and fragments from the story “Concretion” penned by author Bihter Sabanoğlu specifically for this work are tacked together. The combined transformations of the building and the artist’s body often bring about shifts in time and space. “I have started to feel to the marrow each stone of the building. The doctors transfixed the tool they mentioned into my leg. They also placed other things in my joints in other parts of my body. I am grateful that Reshid Pasha prevented this building to be built out of wood. Otherwise, how would its wooden trunk fuse with my artificial body?”

The proximity of Çınar Eslek’s body propositions to themes of posthumanism is quite remarkable. In particular, the potential scenarios of becoming- animal, as explored by Rosi Braidotti concerning the end of the centrality of man, becoming-earth, and eventually becoming-machine in the context of human-technology relationships, open the door to an ever-evolving narrative within the exhibition. In Tack, Limb, Ilizarov Eslek embraces a queer perspective as an expansive lens to challenge prevailing narratives, offering a comprehensive rethinking and reconstruction of bodies, spaces, and times. This approach scrutinizes the constructed aspects of the present and fosters the emergence of diverse and multifaceted futures. Here’s to the days when we proudly proclaim, “Long live the monster!”

1. Rosi Braidotti, “Mothers, Monsters, and Machines,” in
Epimetheus, çev. Richard Beardsworth, George Collins (Stanford: Stanford University Press,1998).
3. Yuk Hui ve Anders Dunker, “On Technodiversity,” The Milk of Dreams Vol 1. (Venice: La Biennale di Venezia, 2022), 553-60.
Nomadic Subjects: Embodiment and Sexual Difference
in Contemporary Feminist Theory, 2nd ed. (New York: Columbia University Press, 2011), 213–44.
2. Bernard Stiegler, Technics and Time, 1: The Fault of Epimetheus, trans. Richard Beardsworth, George Collins (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1998).
3. Yuk Hui and Anders Dunker, “On Technodiversity,” in The Milk of Dreams Vol 1. (Venice: La Biennale di Venezia, 2022), 553-60.
4. See Bihter Sabanoğlu’s story “Concretion” at the exhibition.
5. Rosi Braidotti, The Posthuman (Cambridge: Polity Press, 2013), 55-104.
Basting Stitches of Caustic Fabrics,Limping Members of Patched Monsters Bihter Sabanoğlu
In Ancient Greek, the term rhapsōdos, stemming from the same root as rhapsody, refers to a person who connects poems and songs seamlessly, stitching them together using imperceptible threads, thereby constructing the framework of an epic poem by interweaving their distinct elements. Within the context of the Tack, Limb, Ilizarov exhibition, I view Çınar Eslek akin to a rhapsōdos, given that both words and fabric encompass intricate complexities that share the same fundamental principles and delve into concepts such as life, death, identity, and essence. I aim to interpret her works as components of a body; much like words, sentences, and poems construct the frame of an epic narrative, Eslek’s cohesive artworks, textiles, drawings, and sculptures assemble like limbs, breathing life into the form of a monster, woven together by human hands. Tack, Limb, Ilizarov comprises components skillfully interlocked and thoughtfully patched where necessary, resulting in a living organism.

1.Stitch – Fabric – Poison – Power

The cloth stitched by women is poisonous, corrosive, and caustic. Despite being a work of art and craftsmanship designed to safeguard the body, it has the potential to morph into a destructive, limb-rending, and lethal substance. The concept of a curse or magic adhering to an individual like a piece of fabric is present in Hittite and Babylonian myths, as well as in stories from the Old Testament. Nevertheless, the notion of the fabric having its agency and acting autonomously is predominantly featured in Greek tragedies. The lethal potency of fabric is profoundly experienced in the works of Aeschylus, Euripides, and Sophocles. Clytemnestra uses a piece of fabric, alternately translated as a net and a cloth, to smother her husband, Agamemnon. Medea exacts vengeance upon her husband Jason, who deserted her despite all the hardship she had endured, and his new bride, Glauce, by gifting her a poisoned fabric that adheres to her and engulfs her limbs in flames, ultimately reducing her to ashes. The fabric, fine and delicate as it is, erodes her pale skin, dividing her flesh from her bones. The garment Deianeira gifted to Heracles as a love charm ultimately results in his demise, encircling him like a serpent. Heracles details how the received attire clings to his body, consumes him, draws out the blood from his lungs, and infiltrates his veins. Until that moment, he had remained unbeaten, yet the fabric held greater power than any living creature, accomplishing what the arrows of foes, the armies of giants, and the monsters could not. It is the fabric that possesses the abilities of enchanting, disabling, and taking life. These toxic textiles have always been crafted by women; activities such as fabric production, weaving, and sewing belong to the realm of women. In Greek mythology, three sisters hold the thread of mortal lives. In the novel Heart of Darkness, two women fervently knit black wool, symbolically stationed at the gates of hell, making a metaphorical decision about who shall live and who shall die, either elongating or shortening the thread of life. Women weave the threads of destiny, and the fabric is on the side of women. Following her assault by her brother-in-law, Philomela, rendered speechless when her tongue was severed, communicated her tragic tale by embroidering it onto a fabric, thereby identifying her assailant female forms, body parts, faces, hair, uncanny beings of uncertain nature, broken limbs, geometric patterns, patches, and blood-like fluids within Çınar Eslek’s fabric creations all appear to have emerged from the darkness guarded by women behind a gate. Indeed, within this context, the aim is not to confine the creatures back to their original place, as if into a pit of hell. Eslek adeptly combines vibrant, high-intensity colors with pastels, sharp lines with graceful curves, and hybrid beings with integral human forms, which culminate in creating a living organism facilitated by the use of patches. The exhibition’s landscape is a consequence of this amalgamation; Eslek’s creature, composed of sculptures for its torso, fabric works for its hands, drawings for its legs, and videos for its head, vividly illustrates the transformative impact of interlocked artworks. While narrating a story, these fabrics, sculptures, drawings, and videos not only fill what is incomplete but also expand the fragments by interconnecting them and creating new possibilities.

2. Patching – Interlocking – Integrity – Incompletion

Bernard Stiegler’s philosophy regards humans as incomplete, unfinished, and non-integral beings and argues that civilization is founded on the principle of rectifying this deficiency through technology. Human beings and the technology they develop by organizing inorganic matter cannot be examined separately; the human being, fragmented and patched, attempts to complete its incomplete nature through metaphorical prostheses. The reverberations of these ideas resonate within Eslek’s creations; her artworks manifest a desire to perpetuate the existence of the inherently incomplete human, dismantle deeply rooted ideals of perfection, salubrity, and power, and empower humanity by generating variations from its unfinished state. Eslek reshapes reality, deficiency, and sometimes the body as it simply is, extracting from that state of incompleteness a fragmented sense of completeness, a “state of togetherness” devoid of hierarchy.Eslek’s téchnê multiplies the possibilities of disability, deficiency, and incompleteness. Through the Surface (Prolog) video and its close-ups of sheets, gauze, various garments, doilies, cushion covers, etc., she highlights the potency of fabric while also scrutinizing the connection forged by a limping body with its environment objectifying the body, dictating perfection to it, or establishing a hierarchy, she offers a depiction of how incompleteness can be integrated into wholeness in various ways. The fragility of the bodies she addresses in her drawings also arises from this sense of incompleteness. Bodies fragmented into segments, portions subtracted from paper, and the amalgamation of organic and inorganic materials all emphasize the superficial nature of the notion of wholeness.

The sculptures created by Eslek showcase the most distinct instances of interlocking; in those three- dimensional works, she blends fabrics, veils, and concrete fragments gathered from the streets with bones sourced from a butcher, while the fragility of the human body and soul is vividly reminded to the viewer through arms and legs that appear to have emerged from concrete pieces, as well as the juxtaposition of broken porcelain fragments with shells.

3. Organic/Inorganic Transitions – Temporal/Spatial Shifts

In Eslek’s universe created through the patching of fragments, transitions indeed hold significant importance. This microcosmos, which paradoxically attains unity while preserving its plurality, depends on oscillations between organic and inorganic elements, as well as spatial and temporal shifts, for its existence. The comings and goings observed in the sculptures, spanning from cartilage to bricks, from seashells to synthetic veils, serve as tangible expressions of inter-material transitions.Regarding spatial shifts, it is necessary to refer to Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness and explore the imagery he constructs around a piece of fabric: He had tied a bit of white worsted round his neck—Why? Where did he get it? Was it a badge— an ornament—a charm—a propitiatory act? Was there any idea at all connected with it? It looked startling round his black neck, this bit of white thread from beyond the seas.The fabric piece fastened around the neck of the captive man in the grasp of the colonizer, as envisioned by Conrad, not only serves as a transition between two continents but also induces a spatial shift. Through a piece of cloth, the Western lands, the perpetrators of the curse of colonialism that befalls the slaves, aretransported to Africa. The outside transforms into the inside. All the materials used in Eslek’s sculptures have been collected from the outside, from the streets; items discarded or organic components of a living being, which converge within the sculpture’s body, are transported from the streets to the exhibition space. Having taken on a new form, the sculptures extend an invitation to “the other” from an uncharted territory, welcoming them inside.

The video Oh White by Eslek should be specifically explored within the framework of transitions and shifts. The video was filmed at the Baltalimanı Bone Hospital, built as the Ottoman Empire’s first masonry waterfront palace and used as a royal residence. As the palace, representing the transition from organic wood to inorganic brick was later converted into a hospital, the patients experienced transformations through the use of inorganic materials like iron components, prosthetic devices, and tools such as the bone- lengthening Ilizarov. In Eslek’s video, the bodies bearing inorganic materials as if integrated with the structure, also serve as a gateway to this transition between the building and the body. The location’s historical significance as the site where the Baltalimanı Agreements, signifying the economic and political decline of the Ottoman Empire, were ratified further underscores a temporal transition: degeneration, deterioration, and disintegration, all linked to the collapse of an empire, eventually spread to the patients undergoing treatment at the bone hospital years later.

Eslek deliberately distorts, disperses, interlocks, and patches her images to reflect transitions from boundless extravagance to the simplicity of a hospital bed, from societal visibility to exclusion, and from power to powerlessness, mirroring the decay of bones, tissues, and mental faculties.

Further Reading:

Bernard Stiegler – Technics and Time,1: The Fault of Epimetheus
Joseph Conrad – Heart of Darkness
Mary Shelley – Frankenstein or The Modern Prometheus Sophocles – Women of Trachis
Aristophanes – Lysistrata
Aeschylus – Agamemnon
Euripides – Medea
Mary M. Brooks – Spinning Fates and The Song of the Loom: The Use of Textiles, Clothing and Cloth Production as Metaphor, Symbol and Narrative Device in Greek andLatin Literature