Studio Notes · May 2024
ON MY MIND
A scene of squatters or a moment of quietude?
Perhaps both. This is the Studious Monastery/Imrahor Mosque in Istanbul that I studied for about eight years. My research involved combing through hundreds of documents and images, and producing years’ worth of visual and written work on the original Byzantine structure’s architectural transformation throughout centuries of Ottoman rule. And somehow this is the singular image that continues to stay with me, even several years after the end of the research project. Why? And, also, what IS going on in this photo?
When I look at this picture, my eye first goes to the remnants of the intricate marble pavement overridden with natural growth. It is a sea of partial shapes floating in and out of focus. Then my attention wanders to the ghostly figures in the back, where the current mihrab (wall niche indicating the direction of Mecca) superimposed on the former basilica apse is located. While the exact date is unknown, we know this photo captures a moment after the religious sect occupying the mosque was abolished and their lodge had to be vacated. The people in the center of the image are breaching an eviction order and, it seems, praying.
The building is entirely exposed to the forces of nature (and politics), in flux but not abandoned. The questions that I linger on are: As the tangibles (like the roof!) are disintegrating, does one’s hold on the inner connection to a place get even stronger? At the threshold of decay, how far does devotion to a place reach, beyond that place being no longer “there”?
WITH MY HANDS
17 minutes 35 seconds
This is how long it took me to make this drawing. Brief, but even that amount of time in the studio feels precious and necessary to truly “arrive” at the space.
This drawing belongs in what I am calling the Devotion Series. There are a couple of reasons behind the title. First, I have committed to making a version of this motif as soon as I get to the studio. No questions asked, no decisions to be made, just begin drawing the 9x9 grid. It is a modest exercise but my act of devotion for the creative practice and the space. And the choice of what I draw is not by chance either. I selected the motif embedded in Anatolian kilim rugs which represents Union/Devotion. This is not the first time I’m using this shape in my work but it is the beginning of an intentional commitment to work “with” it as a trusted anchor and even a steadfast collaborator. For me, carving out the space for this way of working bypasses the question of “is it good?” and puts the emphasis on “is it done?”—a more generative question these days.
While initially I was drawing only for my own eyes and did not consider releasing them into the world, I recently changed my mind. Why not? (I actually do have some responses to this question but I am choosing to not believe those thoughts.) The more I let it flow through me, the more I will make space to make more. And that is more than enough of a reason for now.
FROM THE HEART
Another scene of a space in flux
Earlier in the year, several days before I learned I needed to take an uncertain amount of time off to tend to a major health matter, I had signed the lease for a new studio space with my dear friend/artist, Riley. At first I wanted to protest the unfortunate (even a bit cruel) timing of it all. I had big plans for the new space—new furniture, new display wall, new kiln!—but no idea when I could actually, physically make it happen. But luckily for me that approach got boring quickly and I was able to embrace the opportunity to steal an afternoon here and there between medical appointments. (Another impetus for The Devotion Series was the visceral need to mark every single minute I got to spend in the studio.)
Over the last few months, the studio has been a physical and emotional anchor for me. Even if settling in is going slower than my “warrior” self would like, it IS happening. At first by 17 minutes at a time and, lately, a bit longer as I regain the capacity to return to work.
This move was bittersweet for another reason, too. It meant leaving the space I had been renting from my dear friend and mentor Karen Singer. But one of the many things I learned from Karen is the art of tending to relationships, old and new. And now, at the new studio embedded in a building with a community of many other artists, I am starting to feel like a part of the place.
So I end my letter with my response to the question at the very top: Yes, in a time of flux and in the absence of the tangibles that make a place whole, I find myself holding on more strongly to the anchors within. Here is to the “subtle ruling the dense” and to rebirth!
Until next month, hoşçakalın!