ArtZept 2020

FOR THOSE CURİOUS ABOUT 'OPPOSİTE WALLS'

It all began with the walls in the ruins of the Gypsy squatters district in Iskitler. The outside wallsattracted me like a magnet. How fascinating the colored plasters were under the whitewashed wall: pink under white, yellow under the pink, green under the yellow...It was a magnificent study of décollage. I silently entered the four wall house without a roof or doors. And the wall in the salon bewildered me: a jet black wall and crumbling plaster...colored layers under the black..it was as if I was in front of a masterpiece in a modern art museum. I sat on a damp stone. I stared at the wall for a long time as if I was watching a film. Much of the plaster was bulging. Rain, wind and sun were changing the structure of the plaster and paint. Soon those swollen places would fall to the ground. Just like a dry leaf. Then the other places under the swellings would bulge and crack.

I'm not sure how long I stayed in front of that wall. I recorded the images in my imagination and left. When I came home in the evening that wall was always on my mind. I was so affected by it. Then I made a decision: “I'm going to do a painting of those walls with falling plaster!”, I said to myself. The next day I took my camera with me to that squatters house. I watched and examined the walls for hours. Then I took a lot of photos.That day I shot other crumbling, dilapidated walls. I was pleased. I peeled off the thin, flaky layers of some of the walls or those that had fallen to the ground and put them in a bag. I examined them for a long time in my atelier. These thin flakes were what made the wall so mesmerizing. They were so brittle. Just like egg shells. At that time I was making paintings of 'flea market objects'. I stopped that. I excitedly passed on to walls. I was experimenting every day. I was trying to recreate the flaking layers with paint. I was using elastic paints and sandy emulsions one on top of the other. Then I was trying to remove them in thin layers with methylene chloride, some strong acids or a hot air gun. In some of my efforts I used the electric junction boxes and cable pipes I had collected from deserted locations. I tried different experiments with polyurethane and polysterene.

Walls had entered my life. I always found myself in front of walls in the squatters houses or in deserted desolate buildings on the outskirts of town. I was taking pictures, collecting broken off plaster. Sometimes in those deserted areas I was the unwanted or unexpected guest of glue sniffers or groups of sleeping street dogs. Could I tell them that I had come for the walls? Could I have convinced them of my aim? A few times I had difficulty in places that were in danger of collapsing. Many of the places I visited had collapsed. Those places that hadn't collapsed would crack and move under my feet. Once I was saved from a near fall by just barely holding onto some stabler structures. Now I had hundreds of photographic images of walls in my archives. And the number continued to increase rapidly. Sometimes I would shoot videos of the walls.

In 2008, I opened my second exhibition called “Opposite Walls” at the Hacettepe University Ahmet Göğüş Art Gallery.

I was constantly requesting sample products from places selling chemical materials. The shelves of my atelier were stocked with countless paint and chemical products. I met many competent chemists. I asked them so many questions that I would tire them out. I wrote all the information I had learned in my atelier notebook. I even acquired a few chemistry dictionaries.

Some of the chemical materials I used were hazardous to health. I would put on a mask and use these products outside in the yard of my atelier.

The paintings in my second exhibition did not excite me any more. I destroyed all of them and even the paintings from the four exhibitions that followed. Destroying them stimulated 'new creations' and made me more productive I needed to produce natural layers; just like the crumbling layers on the walls. I designed a machine a meter long to produce those thin layers. A teflon belt would roll on cylinders at a speed set by the speed control device. There would be an oven section in the middle. The liquid emulsion that I prepared that had the consistency of molasses would be poured on the ramp at the front of the machine. It would spread out on the conveyor belt. Then the emulsion would pass under the 'blade' made of heavy and smooth iron which would make it the proper thickness. In the oven section the emulsion would bake and slowly make its way to the other end and would come out like a piece of fabric.

When I talked about my idea to a friend (O) he said, “It won't work. You won't be able to cope with it.”
“Let's try it”, I said. “We can do it.” I forced him to say ok. That's when I began a difficult process that lasted about three years.

We constructed the machine in four months. We started the experiments. We couldn't get any results. The emulsion would be thick and not bake. It would get stuck onto the teflon belt. We couldn't get it off. When it was thin, it was too small. A lot of money was spent on everything... Some paint chemists said that I couldn't set up such a system in an apartment and that it wouldn't work. They said it would be better to try doing it in a factory. So I visited some paint factories to get some information about certain subjects but they wouldn't even let me through the door. How could I convince them that I was an artist? Yeah, if I were an artist I should use conventional paints to make conventional paintings.

My atelier resembled a chemistry lab. It was filled with samples of various products. I learned and researched about all the products. I would keep track of everything in my notebook. At these times I realized how “important and necessary” it was to have “art and technology” classes (nonexistent in our school) in Fine Arts Faculties.

I wasn't getting any results. The machine wasn't long enough. The baking and steaming didn't happen. We couldn't come up with the emulsion that would make the layers. We prepared emulsions with many kinds of chemical substances. We would measure these substances with sensitive scales. We took notes. We were smeared from head to toe with emulsion. One year had passed and I had been unsuccessful in all the experiments. O. said sadly, “There's nothing more I can do. Forget about it. Go back to your old paintings.”

“No”, I said, “we're going to continue. We'll make a new machine, six meters long...” Thus I began a new problematic and long period . I tore down some walls in my atelier. We made a large machine. We started the experiments again. Product samples were coming from everywhere by cargo again. Every day I would talk to chemists and get new information. I would come home worn out. The wall images in my imagination would foster my strength and patience. After each unsuccessful experiment I would say to myself: “Look, you learned something else!” In my free time I went after crumbling, dilapidated walls. Seeing the squatters regions being torn down, excited me. I missed painting. I was waiting. One day I would produce different widths of wide, thin layers. That day I would paint non-stop. I believed this. I was not discouraged.

Two people could do this work and the experiments. One person would be on one end of the machine while the other person would be at the opposite end. While the teflon belt was moving, the two people would constantly be active. When O. didn't or couldn't come I could not experiment with the machine. But I was busy. I was constantly preparing the infrastructure for different experiments in light of the new information I found. I was trying new experiments while O. was busy elsewhere. We produced some partial layers. But it wasn't enough. At nights while my wife was asleep I spent hours examining the photos I took; then I would go over the problems I had faced during that day's experiments.

After breakfast every morning I would go to the atelier . The atelier was a mess. It was difficult to walk around in it. I didn't want anyone to come to my atelier. I still don't. Large tins, mixers, barrels full of chemical substances, experimental containers... paint had covered the wooden floors. Every other day I would go to Ostim* for a part for the machine. The machine was not functional. We couldn't get the emulsion right. Most of the time I would sit in the middle of that messy atelier staring at the smooth white walls and daydream. Sometimes I felt like David Séchard in Balzac's novel Lost Illusions. Or was I Master Frenhofer in the same author's The Unknown Masterpiece who dragged his creation to destruction? We began to see results, little that they were, from our experiments. These little successes would make me happy. Sometimes I would fight with O. It was usually because of the emulsion mixture. O. had some work to do for a while. I explained the situation to S. who was a chemist who worked in a paint factory. He said that he could work with me on weekends. I then continued working with S on new experiments. We could produce all kinds of elastic and brittle layers. The key was in the emulsion. If there was one gram difference in one substance everything was ruined. We produced the formula for the emulsion. We made each new mixture (each color) by carefully consulting this formula. Details were so important. Some colors (black and dark blue) were difficult to bake. Or the emulsion would stick on the teflon belt or the color would change. We developed special formulas for these colors. Almost three years had passed. My money was finished. Walls, those cracked, crumbling walls attracted me like a quicksand in a swamp.

I made and baked the emulsion with S. I also had a young assistant. He would help us. I would mount the different structures of colored layers I produced on a canvas with a special chemical substance. I now produced layers on top of each other that had depth. Creating value differences in the high intensity of the layer colors evoked in me an odd, surreal fairy tale like atmosphere . At this point the sad dramatic reflection of the real walls ceased to exist for me. Yes, those crumbling, stagnant walls had created an odd, pictorial language. In some sense, the abstraction of those abstract walls-from a surreal point of view-were perhaps my work.

The act of making the paintings was a real performance. Maybe one day I can do this performance for curious spectators. Thus, I will have sort of answered the question: “How did you do these paintings?”.

I had to stop working with dangerous chemical substances because of health problems. I will never work with them again. Which would I choose, “Life or art?” I would be among those who would choose life.

*An industrial zone in Ankara
The biggest support for my work was from my wife, Ilknur Ates, who is also an artist. I am indebted to her. I can never repay O. for his tireless efforts. I will always remember those wonderful, difficult times we spent together. I can't forget S.'s help for that short period.
While painting, I will be “all alone” and the “wall images” in my imagination, will be the guide that impels me.

For the time being I am not destroying my paintings. But I don't know what the future will bring...

Application: These layers are bonded to the surfaces with appropriate adhesives. The layers may be bonded one on the top of the other or side by side and they seem like a whole. Ceramic based layers can be easily cut and formed. The images of this product are attached.

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