After watching a Turkish movie on TV, I began painting Turkey, intending to express it in blue. Suddenly, the silhouette of a large window caught my eye. I’m not sure why a window, which I had never intended to paint, appeared on the canvas, but I clearly saw it, and it was vivid. The impression of the window was too strong and captivating to ignore, so I painted it without hesitation. After drawing the unexpected window, the idea of Turkey expressed in blue was pushed to the background, beyond the window.
What is the main message of this painting: the remnants of Turkey barely visible beyond the window, or the large window itself that blocks that world? I’m not sure. The blue Turkey remains as a world of longing that is difficult to reach because of the firmly obstructing window, yet it certainly exists there. And the window, which fills the canvas, might separate the two worlds, but it can be opened at any time. Once the window is opened, the inside and outside communicate, becoming one. Inside is outside, and outside is inside. Or rather, there was never an inside or outside, only one unified world. Therefore, together with the blue Turkey beyond the window, this window itself represents Turkey.