Folk, fabric, heritage, and community

As I understand it, you started out as a folk musician… But sound is only one part of your practice today. Can you explain a little about how other approaches figure in your work? Textiles, painting, etc?

I feel as though sound is the bones of the body of the universe I like to create with each project. Sound holds this world together and puts the main ideas forward. Meanwhile the visuals and the textile works I make are the accessories. With them sound has more context and it feels like I relay my stories more clearly to the audience. I think any extra sensation I can give to the work will enhance people’s experience of the message.

And, when it comes to the musical aspect of your work, how has that developed over time? Do you still consider your sound to be folk? I gather you incorporate varied techniques, influences and instruments?

I grew up with folk music, either from the West or from Turkey. Almost all my songs were born out of my guitar until my recent album, Broken Patterns, my sound changed immensely during the process of making it. One of the main reasons for this, without a doubt, was that my environment changed. Back in Turkey, I was mostly alone in my home studio. Since I moved to Berlin two key things have opened up doors for me. One was my change in my perception of sound: Learning about sound as an engineer, while I was studying, has given me insight to my approach to sound and freed me from some rigid mental approaches I feel I was stuck with previously. Another important factor was that I had so many musicians around me who were into very different genres of music. It was eye opening to see the production processes and the passion behind all of these different genres.

Fresh from these experiences, while making Broken Patterns, I tried to see my composition process with a new perspective. It wasn’t something I was planning to do, I was simply drawn to experimenting more in the studio. A lot of sessions started with me composing on the spot, singing into a microphone or playing my instruments. And whenever I made “mistakes” I would see those as opportunities to tweak the work. It was quite liberating. But I believe that at the core of my work I still hold on to the values of folk music: storytelling and the power of observation. All of my songs represent my own or other peoples’ stories. Therefore, I would call this album experimental-folk.

Are there recurring themes or issues that you explore through this multi-disciplinary work? For example, you’ve written that ideas around displacement and cultural contradictions are key… Can you unpack that idea a little, along with some context for a reader about your own life and history?

I grew up with parents that were models to me in terms of their ambitions and resilience. My father was the first university graduate in his family while my mom finished two degrees while raising four kids. That being said, they both are coming from incredibly different cultural backgrounds in Turkey. I grew up seeing these differences, constantly observing people all my life, which explains why I studied psychology as my first degree.

Having been brought up with this varied cultural experience, I welcomed contradictions, they were a part of my life and they allowed me to get deeper into my realities and feelings. Therefore, every project I make revolves around strong themes such as resilience against political turmoil, finding your identity within the heritage map and modifying these borders as you grow up. There are too many things happening in the world that need to be spoken out about, I don’t necessarily write these songs from an activist point of view (even though this is not something I oppose). They feel like secrets we share across my people. I have some songs that I know resonate with only a handful of people, because of our shared lived experiences. For me, art and music is truly is a mirror to life. Some things make sense when I use this mirror, some things don’t, but at least I accept that they don’t when I write about them.

Are there other themes that are particularly occupying your work at present?

Yes! I usually have multiple projects on the go at the same time. But they all are typically at different stages of development. While I was in the production phase of Broken Patterns I was brewing up some ideas for a future project. I would take notes, and I constantly collect material for future projects. Broken Patterns felt like just a foot in the door as far as exploring my roots and cultural background goes. Having parents from the Black Sea and Middle East regions of Turkey, I have always been mesmerized by the area’s traditions, culture and my own family’s stories which I grew up listening to. For my next project I started diving into these and trying to work out where I place myself and my roots within my heritage map.

How does coming from Turkey’s Black Sea Mountains, but living and working in Berlin, feed into your work and approach?

It actually deepens my connection to my roots. I am not even sure if I would have made Broken Patterns if I’d stayed in Turkey. I am surrounded by a group of talented international artists which I feel grateful for. Being in this environment with us constantly asking each other about our respective cultures and backgrounds, gave me such a fresh perspective into how much I actually want to explore my culture, rather than relaying stories about it via word of mouth.

This played into me embracing the ney, for instance. I realized that over the years I’d taken this instrument for granted instead of giving it the attention and care it deserved. Now I’m happy that the ney holds such an important place in my sound.

If possible, could you walk us through how a piece of work, or whole project of yours might develop? As I understand it you emphasise organic development, so you wouldn’t plan to make a song on a topic, but you’d engage with the topic and see which medium or format might best work over time?

Yes, that’s pretty close to the process. At the core of it all, I always have a lot to say. It can be a bit annoying for my friends and family, but this need keeps coming back, wearing different stories and emotions. As I mature in my practice, I’m trusting myself more to let this need take over. Before, I would let it come to me while I started a voice recording or as I drew a draft for a visual piece of work. However, with Broken Patterns I started recording with no prior composition at all, and started drawing one morning randomly with a palo santo stick, creating a piece which ended up being the biggest painting in the installation. I embraced this seemingly chaotic approach to my practice. When I start drafting and thinking methodically, I am more prone to get lost in my perfectionism. When I have nothing to lose from the outset, I don’t stop myself with doubts or the reasoning-focused part of my brain. So the starting point becomes the feeling, rather than a draft of a feeling.

Your album has just been released, can you speak a little about it, how it reflects or differs from some of the above in terms of themes or approaches?

Beyond what I’ve mentioned above, the album differs in that I let other disciplines bleed into my sound and practice more. I always had some visuals on the side in my previous projects, but in this project other mediums created a domino effect: a photoshoot with a friend who has amazing vision motivated me more. That photoshoot sparked me to design a booklet . That gave me more cues about the visual world, so I could finish my paintings and that in turn led to me sewing an outfit that I wear every time I perform this album. The outfit is made up of leftovers from my mom's old sewing projects, from my childhood and teenage years. When I list all of these processes and mediums down, it looks like a lot, but they all had their turns within the process which happened quite organically.

Instead of being an “extra work”, they revealed more about the world of this album. In a way I had this relationship with this project that slowly grew deeper and I got to know her more as each layer was being discovered.

What are the issues, or barriers to access, in the arts today that you feel most urgently need to be addressed?

I think I speak for most of the artists around me, no matter the discipline, when I say that consumerism and the commodification of art has exerted so many pressure points on all of us. That leads to toxic practices like censorship, or self-censorship, the hollowing out of a practice itself for the sake of meeting commercial demand. Genuineness and sincerity have become marketing tools. Since funding for art has been cut in Germany, I can see vividly the way that artists are struggling to hang on to their crafts. When we add that lack of funding to the culture of consumerism, things look a bit dark. That’s especially true if you are coming from a minority background, as a migrant, refugee, or a member of the LGBTQ+ community. Then it’s even harder to hold on to your practice.
When I think about these things it’s easy to become pessimistic, but then I remind myself we are not the first artists in history to go through challenging times. There have always been, and always will be, people who support the arts and music. I felt the power of this when I moved to Berlin and saw audiences for any kind of genre and art.

How do you hope that this artist grant might help you in developing your practice, or work?

It already helped me immensely through replacing my computer, which is the main enabler of everything I do. I also invested in an oud, which is an instrument I’ve wanted to get for years. I wish to make use of it for my next album, which is currently in the cocoon phase. But perhaps most important of all, the grant gave me courage to go after my vision. It is such an honor that my work left an impression to begin with, so I will continue doing what I do, which is a luxury not everybody has.