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ADYALI
(AD-YUH-LEE)

Galleries Need Artists, Artists Do Not Need Galleries​

October 23, 2023, Monday

We had a great interview with painter Adyali, who takes her art out of the galleries and onto the streets with her projects 'Insargi' and 'Hang Me'. Join us as we chat about her art, her creative process,
and what she's working on next. Enjoy!

Aliaga Ekspres . Serkan Selingil

​You use the moniker 'Adyali' in your paintings. May we get to know you?
What is the meaning behind the name Adyali?

Hello, first of all, thank you very much for your questions. I am Adyali. I was born in Üsküdar, Istanbul, on August 26, 1999. Until very recently, I lived in Istanbul; now, I have relocated to Eskişehir with my husband. I graduated from Yeditepe University, Department of Translation and Interpreting. Throughout my university education, I worked in many different translation fields and studied several languages, including French, German, Spanish, and Ancient Greek. I discovered my curiosity for languages at a very early age; I had started teaching myself Japanese and was translating English songs I loved into Turkish. I was a child who had been painting for as long as I can remember, causing trouble for my family by painting on the walls of the living room and furniture. When I was just 10 years old, due to my mother’s work, I visited a painter’s house in Şile and had the chance to chat with him in his studio. Much later, I learned that he was the esteemed Mustafa Ata. Later on, I met Baris—now my husband—a very talented musician who composes, performs, and shares his own music, managing the entire creative process down to the album cover design, under the moniker "Uzayzaman Yolcusu" (Space-Time Traveler). Thanks to him, I remembered my artistic journey—the most sincere way I had communicated with the outside world in my childhood—and dedicated myself entirely to producing my art, leaving languages with their strict rules simply as an area of interest. I have been painting since 2018. In 2021, I realized a performance called "Insargi"—a portmanteau I derived from the Turkish words for "human" (insan) and "exhibition" (sergi). In it, a few friends carried my paintings and paused to form a temporary exhibition wall, critiquing the functioning and gatekeepers of traditional galleries that require you to pay to participate. Through Insargi, I discovered how powerful performance art is. Thus, I added performance art to my creative mediums. Most recently, in September, I carried out a performative painting installation named "Hang Me." I placed a total of 65 of my works—created up to that point—onto the streets that had inspired me, tagged with "Hang Me" labels so that anyone who liked them could take them home. As for Adyali, in the simplest terms, it is the mirror-reversed version of my given birth name, Ilayda. It is the name of an alter ego I created at the exact point I decided to become artist: a driving force to push beyond myself as I knew it and to do things I hadn't done before. Sometimes, I ask myself, "Did I paint this?", and my answer is, "Adyali did." I never restrict myself during my creative process, and I push thinking into the background. I believe that artists who came before me and my contemporaries meet in a common collective subconscious channel, and that whatever is called upon as inspiration simply flows out from the hands of the artist available at that moment. At a point where everything turns into data, can be fragmented, and reassembled, I define inspiration like a signal broadcast from a multi-channel radio that reaches you if you are on the same frequency as the receiver. To be the person who can receive that order (inspiration) at that exact moment and to be in a position to transmit what arrives, I make myself lean and unencumbered. Because I am quite certain—and have experienced it many times before—that if you do not act the moment an idea or the inspiration carrying it arrives, you encounter that idea or a very similar feeling finding its place in another work. In other words, if you don't make it, someone else completes that order. This reinforces my belief in the existence of a shared creative subconscious channel with other creative people who open themselves up to this experience. To create this private environment for myself, I grow silent, withdraw, and—following the movement appearing in my mind—I take care to transfer it to my canvas as it is, without a preliminary sketch. Whatever I add afterward, I make sure it appeals solely to my own taste. I believe what matters is the creative process itself and the motivation behind making art.

​When did you first encounter the art of painting?
Who are the painters you look up to?

​I was someone who painted everywhere I could find in the house since childhood. Even accidentally finding myself in the studio of a painter like Mustafa Ata when I was a child serves as a retrospective explanation for me now. However, something had clouded the joy I felt from painting. It was always around me, yet somehow distant. At home, Dominique Appia’s "Between the Holes in the Memory" and Pablo Picasso’s "Guernica" were hung on the walls. I lived by looking at them for a very long time. As I said, when I met my husband; a true musician and an artist in every sense, things fell completely into place, and I began to produce. Remedios Varo and Hilma af Klint are the painters whose works evoke the feelings I wish to create.

​Which artistic movement do you think your paintings are influenced by?

Generally speaking, I am against movements and categorizations. I believe that in the name of art history, movements are nothing more than convenient terms used for certain categorization processes. Ever since photography liberated the art of painting, depicting things realistically has meant nothing beyond hyper-realistic execution, and I prefer to make different creative choices. As someone who examines reality both in my daily life and during my studio practice, I enjoy bending and twisting reality within the plane of my own perception. Taking into account that I grew up exposed to surreal paintings since childhood, I can say that I paint in a surrealist and graphic style.

​​​In your previous project, using a method you named 'Insargi,' a group of people carried your paintings in their hands on the street to ensure the public saw them. Now, with your project 'Hang Me,' you placed your paintings on the street for the audience to encounter, accompanied by labels reading 'hang me.'
I want to ask: as a painter, what is your purpose behind making these projects?

I want to start by saying the ultimate thing first: Galleries need artists, artists do not need galleries. An artist cannot be expected to market themselves and their works, especially in such a frantic age of marketing, when there are countless art intermediaries, art consultants, curators, critics, and a host of other art-related titles. Naturally, any product that cannot be marketed is hardly possible to sell. In both of my projects, I created a street gallery for my works, which would otherwise go unseen if I couldn't sell or market them. I ensured that people could take my works, or at least see them, free of charge. Right before moving out of Istanbul in September, I had to say goodbye to my beloved studio. Each of my works is very precious to me, composed of unique feelings and thoughts that passed through me and manifested on my canvas. Yet, I neither wanted to store them in a warehouse nor carry them as dead weight while entering a new production period. On one hand, I wished that—much like what happened with Hilma af Klint—they would be discovered long after I'm gone and become a retrospective legacy, but I know that every era has its own rules and approaches. At that point, I made a decision: I wanted to weave my art into the homogenizing texture of life, whatever the cost. I wanted them into circulation. I left them on the streets that inspired me, filled with memories both good and bad. Any artwork, on any street, that anyone might pass by. I wanted them to be stumbled upon by people. Aside from the occasional Klintist thought crossing my mind, I wanted someone to pick them up and hang them in their own space right from the beginning. :) Therefore, I attached "Hang Me" labels—written on small pieces of paper—to the spots where I left them. Whether they were picked up and hung on a wall, or collected by a junk cart vendor to be sold for scrap value, my works entered circulation exactly as I desired, and I am very pleased with this.

​​​​​To continue in connection with my previous question:
Were you able to reach your intended goal with the 'Insargi' and 'Hang Me' projects?
What kind of reactions did you receive from the public? To add, how did the art community react?

​​First of all, I must say that almost all the reactions I received were positive. There is a term in English known as an "emerging artist." I had many artist friends who thought Insargi was a risky move for a new artist. I received questions like, "Won't this be an inconsistent career move if you work with a gallery later on?" Frankly, I need to re-emphasize a point here: Insargi was a phenomenon I created in opposition to certain prescribed galleries. It's not that I think there are no professionals in this industry who work hard for their artists and respect the work; I will certainly look for that professionalism in the galleries I work with in the future. I made a beginning with Insargi, and with the performative installation project Hang Me, I found the opportunity to encounter a prospective art-loving audience. I received messages from a few people who took my paintings from the streets that inspired me—though unfortunately, I don't know where all of them ended up. Beyond that, the video I prepared to announce Hang Me was viewed by many on social media, and I received a lot of comments. The feedback was generally supportive of me and my project. Many people expressed that if they had seen them, they would have taken all the paintings. That is immensely gratifying, of course. Most of all, messages and comments from younger artists telling me that I inspired them made me the happiest. I can say those are the exact kinds of remarks that will provide motivation whenever I doubt myself as an artist.

​​​​Could you talk about your new projects? Will you have works similar to 'Insargi' and 'Hang Me'?

​I don't have a studio in my current home, and for this reason, I am producing smaller canvases compared to before. Right now, I am in a period where I must devote myself solely to production, and without having a body of completed works on hand, it is difficult to think of projects with motivations similar to those past ones. However, I must note that Hang Me is a performance I will likely repeat from time to time. There has been a high demand for it; many people want to stumble upon an original Adyali painting in that way again and take it home. During this production period, I also plan to carry out various performances; my idea notebook is always full of new projects. I am very happy that I have realized most of them. Recently, I have also begun exploring and developing my long-standing fascination with photography. Naturally, since it involves machinery and heavier technical elements, I am thinking of taking formal training. Ultimately, my goal is to direct my own films. I define the language of painting as more essential and internal, while the language of cinema is more dominant, meant to make that essential experience tangible for everyone. I hope to begin producing my films soon.

​​​​It is a classic question in my interviews, but I would love to ask you as well:
If you had a magic wand, what would you wish to do?

​​That’s a great question; so many things come to mind. :) Rather than touching upon the obvious points, I want to talk about a moderately important issue: Political correctness needs to end. If I had a magic wand, I would eliminate this dreadful state of political correctness—the silent virus of our era that makes creativity, free expression, and coexistence difficult, while rigidifying ideas and discourse. I believe that expressing ideologies that do not belong to us—yet which we defend as if they were—through methods that are entirely hollow, forced, and destructive of originality will plunge us into an even greater crisis in the days to come. In my view, political correctness is one of the most dangerous programmings of the social media virus. I hope everyone can soon liberate themselves from it.Thank you very much for your questions and your interest. It is deeply heartwarming to see formations that offer platforms to young artists. With love!

*Translated by Adyali. 
As a translator, I personally crafted every piece of text across this site in both English and Turkish. Feel free to explore the experience in your preferred language.

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