Studio Notes · Apr 2025
Carved reptile sculpture on one of the tallest pillars in Göbeklitepe, Urfa, Turkey.
ON MY MIND
Art Came First.
As promised last month, I feel compelled to write a little more about my recent trip to Şanlıurfa, a city in southeastern Turkey where my dearest friend and travel companion, Suri, and I headed to visit the archeological site of Göbekli Tepe.
I wasn’t sure what to expect from the experience of visiting the archeological site (my first ever) except for what I read about the historical significance of the findings. Göbekli Tepe is a Neolithic-era complex of devotional megaliths, built by hunter-gatherer communities. Its discovery has profoundly altered our understanding of human history, particularly the timeline of humanity’s transition from nomadic life to agriculture and settled societies.
What archaeologists have uncovered at this site suggests something astonishing: for over a thousand years, these ancient people constructed partially buried ritual sites and held elaborate ceremonies—before they had developed agriculture. Farming didn’t lead to religious or artistic expression here. It was the other way around. These people began cultivating food to sustain the spiritual and communal act of building.
As I reflect on this—on how nomadic groups must have communicated and cooperated to orchestrate such a vast and enduring effort—I return to the wisdom of our extraordinary tour guide: “The artist of this carving was well-fed.” Precisely. In a society where daily survival was an all-consuming effort, a sculptor had been supported, protected, and given the space to do their work. What a courageous and beautiful act of collective care.
Beton, 8” x 8”, glazed terra cotta and gold luster.
WITH MY HANDS
5 years.
The piece above, Beton, was the first work a stranger ever bought from me—exactly five years ago today. Thank you, again, David!
I don’t know if other artists or makers feel this way, but that moment felt like a major milestone. It meant so much that someone who didn’t know me personally noticed, engaged with, and trusted in me and my work. That kind of recognition carries a unique weight. Of course, this doesn’t take anything away from the support I’ve received from friends and family—your encouragement is what keeps the lights on (or kiln running). But still, it’s something special to make that kind of connection with someone new. A purchase from a stranger isn’t necessarily more meaningful—but it resonates on a different level, especially in these early stages of building an art practice and business.
So much has changed in the work I make now: larger-scale multi-piece compositions, more integration of wool, a shift from terra cotta to stoneware, and new experiments in drawing. And yet, a few things have come full circle. The Devotion motif that I keep returning to forms the basis of Beton, and I’ve been experimenting with gold luster again!
Here’s to many more five-year milestones.
Suri and I at the Göbekli Tepe archeological site.
FROM THE HEART
Over Dessert.
On our trip, Suri and I ate a variety of kebap—the region’s signature dish—but on our last night, we sought out a tiny spot known for its künefe, a beloved dessert of fried dough layered with cheese, soaked in syrup, and dusted with crushed pistachios. As we waited for our order and watched tray after tray leave the shop for pick-up and delivery, we wondered whether a “portion” here meant a plate or a whole tray. We braced ourselves.
While waiting, our conversation turned to work. Suri is an entrepreneur— a designer, organizer, copywriter, fundraiser…essentially a one-woman force behind a small but mighty business, Little Yucca, making beautiful children’s clothing. No matter how appealing the product, running a business in Turkey’s economic climate is a constant challenge, compounded by the demands of raising two children with great intentionality and care.
Inevitably, our conversation soon turned to money. We asked each other candid questions about what we earn, what we need, what we hope for. At one point, Suri asked me how much income I wanted or needed from my art. It’s a question I’ve certainly thought about, and I rambled through some numbers, but even as I said them, I felt uncertain.
Later, back home, I came across the line from Virginia Woolf’s A Room of One’s Own: “A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction.” Woolf wasn’t speaking metaphorically—when she inherited £500 a year (around $52,000 today), apparently she found it more freeing than even the right to vote.
That stayed with me. There is, of course, a number—for me, for everyone. Money is real, necessary, and I want my art to sustain me. But also: guaranteed income would be transformative. Not just financially, but emotionally—affirming that this work has a rightful place in the world.
Just then, as Suri and I were wrapped up in thoughts of “how much?,”our dessert arrived. Perfectly crisp, sweet but not overpowering. Served on plates, not trays. And I thought to myself: just enough.
Until next month, hoşçakalın!