011 - Backgrounds
At the risk of sounding like an average Becky, here at Gündem we are ~intentional~. But we don’t believe in manifesting or any of that crap. The universe is not some sort of cosmic cash machine that spurts out good fortune because some sage was burned.
What we mean is that the backgrounds we choose for our webstore shots are not random. For the Inauguration Collection, we featured two maps: a map of Syria prepared and printed by the UN Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA), and a military aeronautical chart depicting parts of Iran, Iraq, Kuwait, and Saudi Arabia. It seemed befitting given the presidents we built into our designs.
For the Extinction Collection, we used two works of art. Mutsuz Kent (Unhappy City) is a large oil painting by Turkish artist Utku Öksüz. I remember the first time I saw it in late 2017. What grabs you first are the colours. Rich, luscious, warm. The more you gaze at the painting, the more it reveals itself. Or, at least, it took me several minutes before I realised I was looking at the depiction of the aftermath of a terrible, violent event. It reminded me of a bombed-out building I drove by back in 2016. This is what Utku does: he takes car crashes and turns the twisted spectacle (that we all crane our necks to see as we drive by) into something vibrant and beautiful that, nonetheless, is still honest about its heart of violence.
Mutsuz Kent (2017) by Utku Öksüz, Oil on Canvas
It is always a bit haunting: seeing a work of art, and then thinking about it again and again over the years. It took us a few years before we could afford this gorgeous, evocative painting. Once we finally could, we set off for Ordu – a beautiful city on the Black Sea coast with pastel-coloured buildings and a surprisingly strong local art scene – to meet Utku and receive our “Unhappy City”.
The view of Ordu in the morning from the hills
Utku’s studio is my idea of a slice of heaven: canvases propped up against every wall, shelves of paint, sketches, a chaotic creative mess, and in the centre of it all, an old-school, chocolate-brown cylindrical stove; exactly the kind my grandparents had, with a Turkish teapot set on top. Utku is a warm and modest artist. We admire him for going back to his hometown to teach art. It’s not glamorous, and the path to the glitzy Istanbul art scene was open to him. It’s rare to meet artists who are interested in more than themselves. We bought two more paintings and discovered that Mutsuz Kent didn’t fit into our car. Utku wasn’t joking when he said he would package up the artwork perfectly for shipping. After a nervous week, the piece arrived and has been hanging in our living room ever since.
Another piece from Utku Öksüz's studio in Ordu
In contrast to the rich, deep tones of Mutsuz Kent, Selin Saygılı’s Bir Kaç Kişi Hareket Ettik (A Few Of Us Moved) is glaring, near blindingly bright. I remember the first time I saw this, too. It was winter, the weather was gloomy, and walking past Tosca Art & Design Studio, I could see this piece from some 50 metres away. The vibrant reds, gentle pinks, alluring fuchsia, warm orange, and softs yellow tones. A picture of absolute warmth on a miserable day. When a work grabs attention like that, it’s akin to a moth to a flame, a mosquito to a plump arm, a bee to a newly unfurled flower. You get the picture; I am a sucker and I fall in love at first sight when it comes to artworks.
Bir Kaç Kişi Hareket Ettik (2024) by Selin Saygılı, Mixed media on paper
Selin’s an illustrator and, as it turns out, only started drawing due to a period of illness where she was subject to months of bed rest. Whenever I look at Selin’s work, I get the impression her thoughts and feelings are just too many. There is a frenzy to get them onto paper. The childlike drawn war planes and equally childlike drawn bombs and bullets that appear from every direction. In amongst the chaos, there are faces that glower and fantastical buildings with ever-extending limbs like a tree’s branches.
Then there are the words and phrases that puncture the picture in Selin’s stylised handwriting: “all of a sudden”, “there is no path”, “we didn’t think much”, “we couldn’t escape at all” – this line is repeated twice. Whether a bombardment or a very violent earthquake, things happen all of a sudden. People don’t have time to think; they try to find a way out, they try to escape the horror they find themselves in. We get that. Maybe you do too.
