Michael R. Leon at TekTrope

TekTrope Studio

My wife dropped me off at LAX airport at around 3:30 pm. I hugged and kissed her goodbye and we both exchanged glances of I'm going to miss you. I rushed quickly through one of the lines for Turkish Airlines. I lined up for TSA and took off just about every article of clothing quickly so I could browse through the liquor aisles of duty free for a couple of bottles of Mezcal to bring with. I looked in every damn duty free in the horrible brick off an airport, and nothing. I looked at the digital Mickey Mouse on my watch telling me to run to the lounge, the last game of the World Series was about to begin. I drank a few beers and ate curry while I slow burnered watching that tiny ghoul Altuve hit another homer. I hate LAX airport, it's cursed.

 On the left: Istiklal Street at dawn, on the right: one of the many cats of the Beyoğlu District

I arrived in Istanbul at 8:00 pm half asleep and confused from the 11 hour time difference. I wasn't sure if I should be asleep or eating breakfast. Irmak picked me up from the airport. It had been years since I'd seen his stupid face (it's a nice face, this is my way of being endearing.) We took a taxi straight to TekTrope studios, my home for the month. The next three days felt like being on ketamine; I was walking through liquid on Istiklal Street. My jet lag was so bad I even had to sleep at Irmak's sister's house during her son's birthday party. Luckily I awoke to the kindest family. They offered me Su Borek and had the Fenerbahçe game on the LED screen.

After acclimating to the time change working in the studio became routine. It had been a while since I hung out in a studio with Irmak. Last time was during two years of graduate school we spent together. Our routine consisted of walking over the Turkish/German Bookstore Coffeeshop in the mornings, where I tried to chat with the baristas but of course they had no clue what the hell I was saying, because my Turkish was horrible and well English is not the easiest language either. It was the first time in my life I couldn't use either my Spanish or English to communicate; however, I did learn that "evet, evet" followed by "tamam" during a conversation was some sort of closure or end of conversation. In the studio we ate spicy Corn Nuts I brought from home, made artwork, and I complained about jazz music.

All Work No Play Makes Mike A Dull Boy, but luckily being in Istanbul it was easy to get distracted and find a new place to eat and drink. But most of all, a new historical site to be dumbfounded by. We traveled to Prince's Islands for the day and it felt like being back in California on Catalina Island but instead of golf carts the locals used a horse and a buggy.

Paintings made and shown at TekTrope

It was inspiring to make paintings in Istanbul; to experience a culture I was not familiar with. I was able to see the way the city and its everyday affected the art and artists living in it. The view of contemporary art in Istanbul felt hopeful and new.I just hope the western art influence does not take away from the identity and history of art that has always existed in Istanbul since the Ottoman Empire. I could write more about my time at TekTrope but this would turn into a memoir.

I recommend TekTrope to anyone and everyone. I am grateful for the hospitality and the time Irmak and Ejder gave. They made my time away from my loved ones feel like being at my second home. Evet, evet, tamam.

Irmak and Prens on a buggy, Prince's Islands