Eline Tsvetkova

"Agfa Billy Record 7,7 from the 1930s. My Bulgarian great grandfather bought his camera most probably when he lived in Graz during his studies before and during WWII. The image is from a manual I found online on how to use the camera.

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I did not have a plan coming into TekTrope, except for not taking out any older work to look at. I haven't had a studio for a year and any practice. Once a while, it is good to go back to basics. I found a pack of white paper numbered on the top right corner form 1 to 100. And so I am doodling away. Meanwhile I filled my film roll and will await the result. Not planning ahead is something that actually feels rather uncomfortable in my artistic practice, and yet, relieving. I am feeling at the end of the day positively tired."

 

Nina Rodin

 

"Bye-bye studio…

It all looks so clean now and I miss it already. It is such a privilege to be on residency. I had never quite appreciated how much. Residents in Trélex were of course always very productive and energetic, but I assumed that was just because they are all amazing artists. 

But there is something very special about being away from your daily routine that invites you to concentrate differently on your work; about the constraints of what you can bring and take back with you that forces changes in your practice; about the dépaysement of a new place to get ideas flowing; about the feeling of privilege that gives you courage in your work; about an empty calm space that invites you to be in and make.

Photos of Irmak at work, of a lunch we shared at our respective desks, of my yoga mat with a view and light, of sunshine and light, a fresh palette of my birthday flowers from Yann Patry that contributed to making me feel extra spoilt, and of the window that held bits of masking tape for me. I am going to miss that window. Thank you TekTrope and thank you Irmak Canevi."

Tony Bragg

Irmak and I met during graduate school at RISD. When he returned home to Istanbul, I was lucky enough to visit him several times for long weekends and some prolonged adventures. Yet Tektrope was a chance to spend an extended period of time in Turkey, to make work in a new place, and to reconnect with friends and explore Istanbul and its art scene in a more quotidian way. It was a rebirth of sorts after the isolation and stagnation of the last several years.

I didn’t intend to have a show, or even build a body of work but rather wanted to focus on finding joy and excitement in the studio again. This plan quickly changed through the encouragement and insistence of Irmak and the refreshing perspective that Istanbul and Irmak’s amazing studio, apartment, and friends provided. His daily presence in the studio, working alongside, inspired and pushed me to try new things, to relax and experiment. The show forced me to dig in and finish work even though time, and often energy, was short.

We did a fair amount of adventuring outside the city, but when in Istanbul I intentionally did little sightseeing. Focusing instead on building a simple daily routine—buying groceries, getting coffee, drinking, evening walks, and working in the studio. This is one of the privileges of being at Tektrope; you can live a basic yet remarkable life in the midst of a bustling, strange, and beautiful place. I found that through this simplicity, through embracing a brief respite of normalcy in a totally abnormal way, I saw the city, country, and my own practice in new ways.

Sophie Heck

I was a cat, a tourist, an artist, a passer-by, a flâneur.

Yoghurt with almonds and honey.

I remember: the special light, the glitter of water, sun, friendships, paths across Istiklal. I am taken here and there. In dialogue with the city, I drew maps, stories, compositions and formations. I came across so many open people, hearts and faces. An interest to connect and exchange. Talking about language, about art, about departures, about dreams and desires, over a coffee on the stairs.

Strolls through the city have brought me back to lines, brought back my interest in drawing, and have revealed that interest in language in a special way. Fabrics, stones, food. Grey and rain, too. And drawing again and again; with watercolour boxes I brought along, charcoal, pencil.

Recollection of literature, and: watermelons, watermelons, watermelons.

We stay light and know: We need each other.

Photo credit Tony Bragg

Katy Kirbach

My first time in Istanbul, and in Turkey, was my arrival at TekTrope in October 2019. I had been anticipating the month at TekTrope and imagining the ways the city would inform my work. I make woven, geometric, abstract paintings. Color and pattern are at the heart of my work, so I was excited to visit the Hagia Sophia and Topkapi Palace. However, from previous residency experiences, I knew that influences would come from unexpected places. I also knew that my studio practice was a slow one, and that I probably wouldn’t understand how my time at TekTrope had informed my work until much later.

Irmak is one of the most generous, warm-hearted, joyful people that I know, so I was also excited to spend the month at TekTrope sharing a studio with him. We studied together at the Slade School of Fine Art in London, where we both completed our undergraduates in the painting department, graduating in 2008. It had been over a decade since we had worked in the same studio, so I was excited to exchange ideas and make work alongside him. We quickly decided to create a pop-up exhibition of our works, installed in the studio, at the end of my residency. Alongside my slow, steady painting practice, Irmak’s work was refreshingly spontaneous and inclusive; scraps and offcuts from my work became materials in his sculptures, showing me new ways to look at and think about the materials I use.

At TekTrope I worked on a series of paintings made of painted, cut, and re-woven canvas. After weaving the canvas back together, I painted the overlapping points in each weaving, mapping the specific pattern that each weaving created. Walking through Istanbul, I kept seeing grids, not only visible in the patterned tiles in Topkapi Palace, but also seen in the many iron gates across the city. These gates were often decorative, with filigree and unusual patterning; but they functioned firstly as a barrier, and secondly as a framing device to whatever lay on the other side. I started photographing them, in the same casual way I was photographing the cats of Istanbul.

The month sped by, a mixture of sightseeing, dinners, museum visits, and studio work. Suddenly it was the last week, and Irmak and I were turning the studio into an exhibition space. The residency ended in the most beautiful way, with an exhibition opening, meeting Irmak’s friends and fellow artists, and continuing out into a warm Istanbul night for dinner and drinks.

I returned to Berlin, and through the winter I kept thinking about the gates in Istanbul. I started to pull my weavings apart, leaving larger gaps between each canvas strip, allowing the negative space - the shallow distance to the wall - to become part of the work. Thinking about vibrant colors and bright light through a grey Berlin winter, I began to paint the back of each work, allowing color to bounce off the painting, onto the wall, and out through the gaps between canvas strips.

 

 

Kris Mortensen

Kristen Mortensen produced a rich body of work during her month-long residency at TekTrope. She was perhaps the most vigorous and prolific resident artist to date making ample use of the space and the supplies at hand.

Her time in Istanbul culminated in an exhibition of iridescent paintings. She painted and collaged a wonderful series of intimate studies in mixed media on panel. Kris used paint and Color-aid paper - regularly used for color study assignments - to build her layered surfaces. The emergence of these joyful paintings was almost momentary following an intense exploratory episode in the studio. Elegant imagery inspired by classical forms and erotic fantasies found their way through bold clashes of color. With a sudden pulse came each beautiful painting. In captioning powerful figures like Medusa and Saint Theresa to Judy from Hitchcock’s Vertigo, Kris made sure the “wandering uterus” could not be pinned down.

TekTrope is grateful for Kris’s electric personality and her participation.

 

Marie von Heyl at TekTrope

Why go on an artist residency? Why swap the conveniences of your own studio for the uncertainties of a new work place? Why bother to carry all your equipment (including yourself) to a foreign country even if you're not working on a location-specific project? Does it matter from where you work? 

It does. 

An artist residency is an unfamiliar setting that throws you back upon yourself. It’s not a holiday, you bring yourself into a position to make work. Part of that is to somewhat let down your guard, perforate your protective skin to let new stuff in. This can be a bit scary. At the same time it allows for a form of concentration that I sometimes find hard to achieve in my everyday practice. 

TekTrope was perfect for this.

TekTrope is not an institutional residency, but initiated and run by an artist, and that might be its secret. The moment we met, Irmak and I ventured into a long conversation that would continue for the rest of my stay (and actually continues to this day) covering our respective practices, philosophy, sci-fi or the local elections. The reciprocity of this encounter almost casually provided the backdrop of openness and focus that is so important for making. TekTrope was an anchor in Istanbul, the perfect setting to think, work, process. In the end, the film I produced - Istanbul Inventory - was exactly about that: the experience of being thrown back up on yourself and taking stock of yourself against the backdrop of an overwhelming city.

Junk man on Asmalı Mescit Street