Hand, Clay, Time

The day I first encountered çini was truly special to me. It marked the end of a 28-year banking career — and the beginning of something I had long dreamed of: creating with joy, purely for myself. While painting in the studio, I would lose track of the hustle and rush of daily life — time simply slipped away. "If you lose track of time doing something you love, you're exactly where you should be," I told myself. And that is how this new chapter slowly turned into a passion. I love exploring the stories behind traditional patterns, experimenting with different techniques in my designs, and reinterpreting the inspiration I draw from nature through a modern lens.

For some time now, I have been deepening my knowledge of çini techniques through training from masters of this art — and I continue to keep that excitement for learning fresh every single day. Alongside my passion for çini, I also pursue natural dyeing and ecoprint work, carrying the colors of nature onto fabric. Seeing the color of a flower from nature transferred onto cloth, or watching the mark my brush leaves on clay — these are what make what I do truly unique. Because in both, you can never reach the same result twice. Every piece is special, one of a kind. In çini, the kiln fairies sometimes have a mind of their own: colors and glaze may not agree, and you find yourself facing something entirely unexpected. Every outcome becomes a lesson — and in my view, it is not perfection that wins, but the beauty found in imperfection.

After a demanding career, "slow art" is no longer just an aesthetic choice for me — it is a way of breathing. From design to transfer, from painting to firing, every piece requires at least two weeks of patience. There is no room for rush in this process. I have learned to embrace this slowness, this depth that only patience can bring. I believe that true beauty lies in those quiet details, worked only through time and devotion.