words Onur Baştürk

photos Studio Hans Op de Beeck BVBA

I read that daily life is your biggest source of inspiration. But everyday life is a vast universe. Which details of everyday life interest you the most?

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Genuinely small, seemingly unremarkable actions or moments: My daughter falling asleep on my lap, the baker on the corner carefully placing his colorful cakes in the window, a gardener calmly sweeping leaves from the road, an old woman patiently helping a child on the playground... These seemingly insignificant moments are the true essence of life for me. They subtly reflect the big picture of the human condition. But it can also be everyday objects or places that inspire me: a half-eaten birthday cake from the day before or an abandoned amusement park.

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I also like the subtle notions of situations that can turn into something else, the idea that something has happened or is about to happen somewhere, and the layers of drama or conflict of spaces.

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THIS PETRIFIED IMAGE MAKES ONE THINK OF POMPEII: A LIFE FROZEN IN TIME

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I also like the subtle notions of situations that can turn into something else, the idea that something has happened or is about to happen somewhere, and the layers of drama or conflict of spaces. The gray color, which you like to use in many of your sculptures, installations, and even other works, makes the figures appear frozen or petrified in time. Is there another reason for the gray? What do you do to get this gray?

 

The most prominent part of my work is what I do with monochromic gray. That’s why they are more known than the works I do in a different tone. I have also made sculptures with a combination of two or three colors. Also, most of my scripts for video, theater and opera are full-color. But at some point in my practice, I discovered my own shade of gray that makes sculptural objects, interiors, or landscapes seem fossilized, made of stone, pigmented plaster. This petrified image makes one think of Pompeii: A life frozen in time. I discovered, nearly by accident, that the gray coating I invented - a technique of layering many thin layers of coating over the sculpture - reflects light very precisely, almost velvet-like. I think it gives a special flavor to what is depicted. A soft skin that abstracts the figurative forms into a kind of parallel, silent world. The absence of colors allows you to focus on the light.

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My work is never about simulating reality as it is, about literal mimesis or imitation; it is about abstracting the world to evoke a mood, to interpret, and to touch the essence beneath the skin of reality. I want to evoke a mood, a visual, sensory form of fiction that the viewer can identify with and experience before understanding it. My monochromatic works in velvet gray, black and white, or light blue and soft green are quiet, concentrated variants of what we know. That is why I don’t work with ready-made products. My sculptures and installations, hundreds of square meters in size, are made by hand because of the power of interpretation.

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How is your engagement with gray outside of artworks? Do you wear gray, for instance?

 

Haha, no. I have no particular preference for gray when it comes to clothes or my own living space.

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Awake and sleep, movement and stillness, life and death... I think a series of dichotomies like this is the main theme of your work. Do you intend to say to the audience, “This is what life is like”?

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I have always avoided making big words about life or even trying to explain how life works in a pedantic way. I have no wisdom to offer, but I try to reflect on life with the viewer and share the same questions and wonders.

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Life is a tragicomic phenomenon. I think it is essential to show both the ridiculous and the serious, joy and the pain. Life is never one-dimensional. As you mentioned, I love the moments when we let go of control, ourselves, and our identity and surrender to the unknown, intoxication, sleep, or the subconscious. There are so many unknowns, darknesses, and mysteries that lie outside the linguistic comprehension of the world, logic, and intellectual legitimacy. Art is one of the instruments that touch these concepts.

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“The Horseman”, “’The Boatman” and “Hélène”… In the future, would there be a new hero figure like these?

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In these works, I tried to offer the viewer the beginnings of all kinds of possible stories that he or she could project onto these figures. Who are they, where do they come from, where are they in their lives, what is happening in their lives, and where are they going? “The Horseman” and “The Boatman” are lonely travelers, heading for the rest of their lives with their modest belongings. They are a kind of nameless anti-heroes. The little monkey on the horseman’s shoulder has a look in his eyes that says, “Where have we come again?” The horseman himself looks over his shoulder with a similar look. This is almost the opposite of the heroic military ruler or king depicted on a prancing horse. Because such depictions can be found in abundance throughout the history of sculpture. The female boxer Hélène is an extremely fragile young girl. Not a muscular athlete. She is an introverted girl who we can assume took up boxing mostly to defend herself against the evil world she encountered on the road. We find her sitting submissively in a quiet, isolated spot in a moment of peaceful introspection.

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I understand that you see them as some kind of enigmatic heroes. Because each one is depicted in a unique but unremarkable way.

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Alongside my already planned big, architectural, immersive installations, I am also envisioning sculptures of some fictional characters, such as a mysterious blind woman with an owl on her arm, two children dressed in oversized adult clothes, a woman in her 50s caressing a fox on a chaise lounge.

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PROJECTS THAT REQUIRE TEN LARGE TRUCKS TO MOVE

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What are the challenges of creating a large-scale work? How long does it take for large-scale work, and how does it feel to have that patience?

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Last year, I made a 1900 square meter installation for the Lyon Biennale. For my solo exhibition at the Amos Rex Museum in Helsinki, I created a 2,000-square-meter immersive experience. These are projects that usually require ten large trucks for transportation. There is a lot of organization and logistics involved. Fortunately, I have a small team and a great manager who takes care of all these practical needs for me. It takes months to create such large installations with my team. We usually work on several exhibitions and installations in parallel. Because I do about 30 exhibitions a year. I paint big watercolor pieces at night. During the day, we work on new sculptures in my studio. Sometimes there are periods when I sleep very little.

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We face new challenges with every major new installation. Like when we made my life-size carousel. It was to be shown outdoors for the first time and had to withstand the wind and the weather. It took a lot of research to understand how it should be built. I also made a cinematographic film with computer-generated photo-realistic sets (CGI) and recordings made in “green key” studios with which I had no experience. This kind of technical and difficult organizational work gets the adrenaline flowing, which is also motivating.

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I WORK WITH COMBINED TECHNIQUES

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I am also curious about the stages in the creation process of your works. If it’s not a secret, can you tell me a little bit about it?

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I work with combined techniques for human figures. The model comes to the studio to pose, and together, we look for an expressive but comfortable and natural pose. We then do extensive photo documentation of the pose and face. We usually create a pattern on the model’s arms, hands, lower legs, and feet. We shape the head with non-drying, long-lasting clay, and the body usually with PU foam or similar lightweight, easily workable material. Then we plaster it properly, sand it and make a large mold. We can cast the sculpture monolithically from a single material, usually polyester, and for outdoor use, sometimes bronze. The final touch is the monochrome coating that my team and I developed together.

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EVEN THE MOST ORDINARY OBJECT CAN BECOME A GREAT ART

 

The following sentence is from an interview: "It is always very simple to conceive an idea. The hardest part is to bring it to life." Have you ever had an idea that you had a hard time realizing? 

 

I indeed believe that the main idea of an artwork can be very simple and come to life when it is in perfect balance with the content of an artwork. Even completely ordinary objects, such as bottles on a table, become great art when painted with the proper poetic sensitivity and artistic precision. Seemingly meaningless objects then become real, fundamental content.

 

I made a lot of sculptures and watercolors or wrote texts that I failed to execute and had to throw away. You have to make mistakes to learn. You have to keep evaluating with self-criticism while not compromising your standards. Because sooner or later you will regret it!

 

Can a work of art not be without a subject? Or how important is the subject for you? Is it more important to start with a feeling?

 

Indeed, I once made a bold statement that art doesn't have to have a subject (laughs). What I meant was that when the artist knows how to find the delicate balance between form and content, even the most ordinary object can become great art. I am not against art that depicts big, grandiose historical subjects or art that assumes an activist responsibility toward current issues. However, Vermeer's painting of a woman pouring milk in a quiet room or Morandi's small collection of thin bottles on a table also deeply expresses the world, melancholy, and the human condition. 

 

In my work, whether it is film, theater, watercolor, or a monumental installation, I primarily try to evoke a compelling mood that immediately stimulates sensory experience. From there, I can add multi-layered elements or include them between the lines of the image. First of all, I seek images that transcend the boundaries of time and space, images that are universal. In addition, I have absolutely no qualms about covertly integrating current affairs. This allows my work to be anachronistic and eclectic, addressing all times.

 

BEING AN ARTIST IS ABOUT CONSTANTLY REINVENTING YOURSELF

 

Lastly, what stage of your life are you in right now? How do you feel when you look back at the works you created in the past? Do you say: "I did it," or "I still have a long way to go"?

 

I am the father of four wonderful children, and being able to build a strong bond of love and trust with them is my most crucial achievement in life. I have held more than five hundred exhibitions in the field of art. I traveled the world. I wrote and directed plays and movies, I wrote their scripts. I directed and staged operas. The life I have lived so far already feels so complete. So, if my life ends here and now, I feel that I have already lived it to the fullest. But I will never feel "complete" as  it is said. Because life continues to be a never-ending mental and emotional journey. Being an artist is actually about reinventing yourself over and over again.

 

I look with satisfaction at some of my work that I know I will be proud of and happy with until my last day. But of course, I also have works that I think are not strong enough artistically today. I continue to self-criticize and look for ways to improve myself. This is not just about myself as an artist, but also as a human being, a father, a friend. I wish to continue to work on myself and keep learning.