These works are a personal response to the theme of the group exhibition titled “Between the Lines,” through the lens of belonging and the voids
created by migration. The population exchange period between Turks and Greeks embodied a sense of not truly belonging, neither to the place one
left nor to the one arrived at.
That emotional state still resonates today: while trying to build a life far from Turkey, in Korea, I too live within a similar feeling as an expat. I don’t fully belong to where I am, nor am I close to the roots I left behind.
created by migration. The population exchange period between Turks and Greeks embodied a sense of not truly belonging, neither to the place one
left nor to the one arrived at.
That emotional state still resonates today: while trying to build a life far from Turkey, in Korea, I too live within a similar feeling as an expat. I don’t fully belong to where I am, nor am I close to the roots I left behind.
This feeling of "in-betweenness" lies at the heart of my work. I try to convey that migration is not only a physical displacement but also an emotional one, where identity, memory, and even daily habits become unsettled.
In my collages, I bring together my texts with verses by Nâzım Hikmet, steeped in longing for one’s homeland. I transferred these visuals onto fabric because the fabric is more than just a surface. In both Turkish and Greek cultures, cloth is a bearer of memory and sentiment; something embroidered with care, gifted to a lover, a child, or a spouse, a form of emotional expression and storytelling through craft.
In these works, I also made small embroideries with hanging threads. These threads are like emotions that have lost their roots but still wish to leave a trace, silent, yet lasting. Each tiny stitch I made was an attempt to make the invisible ties, longings, and what was left behind physically present, a kind of tangible memory.
These works are an effort to create space for the memories caught between the lines, for the feelings that don’t quite settle, and for identities that struggle to name themselves.
Because sometimes, you belong neither to where you are nor to what you left behind, but the space in between is where memory finds its path.
