• 1/One Year with Art50.net

    Haydar Akdağ

    1/One Year with Art50.net;
    I have been part of the Art50.net family, a successful online art platform, for one year. I was going to leave my think piece incomplete if I didn’t mention how we enthusiastically talked about our new projects, how they injected hope in me as I shared my new ideas, and all the pleasure we had going through the process of sharing those ideas with the public with a common mentality and joy. I first need to pay homage to the emerged friendship (!/?)

    How far can a year’s overview be from the reality of the geography we live in? To clarify gains and losses can technically build a chain of findings and thoughts. In the light of the developing knowledge, production, effort, love, fantasy and hope can be reshaped. But what the main objective should be in an artist’s sharing of aconfrontation, quest, utopia or a thickly underlined mental enquiry? In fact what is “Supposed to Be”? On in an explicit language; what is the aim of the effort/hardwork?

    Could the answer be; happiness? Or?
    Personally, throughout the last year, the observations, proposals and ideas I developed as a form of resistance against my anxieties surrounding me from all directions in my heart, mind and daily life became, through a plastic interpretation, into artworks. I shared my feelings with you as they came from inside, through poetry. The artist’s ideology, intuition and belief in what is ideal is subjective. This is the basis of thought and philosophy… But sometimes the soul gets carried away so much, it dares to build a totally new reality in all its universality, let alone surpassing continentd with hope as its driving force. Perhaps my struggle to change the sociopolitical realities rendered my being understood or my artworks’ appreciation rather difficult. The way to explain a beautiful, more beautiful world, as writing all realities, all love stories from scratch; glittering colors, materials, surfaces that would enhance hope… I am aware that I leave some sentence without a verb. But it should not be forgotten that the capacity of an artist to carry the weight of real life requires a conversation, a discussion accompanied by coffee… Let’s grab a coffee and talk about it…

    In the last few years we have often heard about and mentioned the idea of affordable art… I think it becomes a basis for a new physical and intellectual opportunity where material and spiritual limits are comprehensible and reachable. The thoughts and creations of us, young artists, that navigate in unexplored, unnoticed, postponed, missed themes that we have been fusing together, in our daily lives… In fact, in a sense, it would be less than enough to call ourselves the cultural proletariat.
    Really, when was the last time you “allowed” youself?… This permission could well just be lying down on your back for some rest, and  talk about your untold boundaries of passion/curiosity/meditation belonging to your soul! Who knows, maybe an image that symbolizes your thoughyt has already been plasticized. The voice in your mind, the beat in your heart has perhaps been turned into a photograph; maybe a painting; a sculpture… Allow yourself… It may very well be what we need the most(!/?)

    We are entering a new year. It is impossibl to keep up with time… The next second turns life upside down, let alone the next day. Thought is the greatest design. Thought is the biggest form of life. Thought is the greatest force. There is no magic word or object; indeed… But there is a force you can add to your being! That magic force is definitely ART(!/?)

    HELLO(!/?) To a new year all together, with many colors of thought; abundant in joy, where we laugh, feel joy, love and love a lot; and be loved…


    Haydar AKDAĞ

  • Fairy Tale

    Melike Kılıç

    we are the players of a double-sided game, while you were mapping out the streets you did’t belong to, I was walking on that endless and semitransparent road, with the fox on my left and the rabbit on my right. whose face will you be looking at with every layer you dig. we’re not equal, I was sick and such a sickness it first covered my fingers, from my fingertips to my wrists, each and every hair on my wrists gave i to the sickness. as the sickness went up to the angels sitting on my shoulders, I knew that half of the road was over.


    tilki ve tavşan

    The fox and the rabbit

    “I apologize I have to eat you.” this was all I could tell the rabbit, and the road was still semitransparent, I was proceeding with the fox on my left.
    the appetite of my sickness resided, it was the rabbit’s blood leaking from the corners of my lips, my eyes were crying as I couldn’t believe I had eaten my travel companion.
    “you are human” said the fox, frightened.
    I could only say “I am sick”.
    “Please don’t cry when you have eaten me as well” said the fox.
    “but I had raised you in those beautiful cages of yours”.



    once I realized there wasn’t one tree on the road we walked, that we didn’t hear birds singing, I dropped on the floor just where I was.
    “end of the road” tiny marks already began to appear o my knees, they were like the maps of a street I didn’t know.
    I felt like seeing you in my body, I could say I swear on everything I’m devoid of and thus I also ate the fox, biting those beautiful ears of his. “You are no more naive” said a voice, “you will never find that street since you have eaten those two creatures you raised with your own hands, even if you weren’t hungry”.

    Melike Kılıç

  • The Artist’s House

    Baysan Yüksel

    I shuffled a bit the notebook I filled this winter. A small, bluish, striped notebook… It’s written “dream and explore” on it, with transparent clouds underneath, covered with stars. I have a small storage room at home. Inside, hundreds of such notebooks, written, drawn, filled, semi-filled, one on top of the other; awaiting to be sorted, selected, cleaned out. It deeply annoys me; sometimes I want to destroy the entire house, all my creations at once, and step into an empty home. I don’t do it; I will soon turn that empty house into this one with other texts, drawings and paintings. It will be no different than this one. I wonder if this is another kind of hoarding… I don’t collect paper bags or newspapers but I collect my own works and creations.

    Mom and grandma used to cite a lot of expressions. When I was little, I never could understand the metaphoric meaning of these expressions, and thus I made up new meanings for them.  I even became angry when talked to as such. As if these expressions solved our problems. The problem persists; but well done, we have found the appropriate expression for it!


    My mother often says:   “You close the door, the treshold remains inside”. We keep our tail upright outside; no matter if we explode inside! If you ask me, the inner treshold should be strong instead, so that you can close the door properly. If the inner treshold has exploded, I don’t care what the ones outside would think… Anyhow, what I want to tell is something else; I got mad over this expression thing again. As I make it up and reinterpret it, for me, the treshold inside when I close the door is my personal kingdom, the truth that I live inside a castle. My castle is eighty meters-square… Inside it, rooms, rooms, secret rooms, tunnels, libraries, workshops, kitchens, closets, underground cellars; anything you look for, let’s also add the ghosts, the monsters, various doors opening to various dimensions and planets. I live in a fantastic house, I mean. It only has one problem; it doesn’t work when you try to fit all these things into eighty meters-square. On top of that, my workshop is in my house too, as well as my storage. Every year I move into this humble castle of mine, books don’t fit in closets or under beds. Paintings go on top of each other, in the closets, everywhere, on the walls… Notebooks a pile, pile pile… I feel like throwing them all away, but in truth, what I want to do more is to build a museum. I want to live and work in a waste space… This is my wish…