Meeting Istanbul's Punk Scene

 

This is the final installment introducing my book, " Adventures Called Work: Meeting the World's Extraordinary Talents " (published by Chuo Koron Shinsha), which I've covered over the past four installments. ( See #1 #2 #3 #4 here)
This time, we feature an art director in Istanbul who, while rooted in traditional art, desperately seeks new forms of expression.

The work of discovering and creating something new always requires an encounter with "something" that shatters your own values.
The more one places oneself in situations filled with encounters with such foreign elements, others, and unexpected happenings, the more significant the act of travel becomes.

Given the summer vacation season, I've been given space for a five-part series to share a few adventure tales.
I once read that the greatest gift of travel is the wind that blows the moment you decide to set out. It's precisely when a different perspective enters our daily lives that new possibilities emerge. While I doubt this series will bring such a wind, I would be delighted if encounters with the world's extraordinary talents bring a touch of refreshing clarity—or, if I may wish, a hint of that travel-like charm.

A fellow Cannes juror from Turkey asked me to speak at his country's international advertising festival. Seeing no reason to refuse, I said I'd be available if the schedule worked out. Immediately, the festival organizers contacted me, insisting they'd do their best to accommodate my schedule. Seizing the opportunity, I made the necessary arrangements and decided to go.

Then came the request to participate as a panelist in a discussion, followed by a magazine interview.
I thought I'd try tackling it all at once, but as expected, it was quite demanding. Interviewing for magazines I'd never read was especially difficult because I lacked a reader's perspective. It was the same when I was interviewed in Russia, France, and China, and Turkey was no exception.

The Turkish advertising festival was incredibly lively. Rapid economic growth and an unstable currency brought sudden stagnation; politics remained unstable, and conflict-like situations persisted. The art director who invited me to this country works amidst all that.

He has deep knowledge of Japanese culture, and while you might think he's just another OTAKU among overseas art directors, he actually possesses extensive insight across the entire design spectrum—contemporary art, architecture, fashion. However, both his father and his mentor are art directors who value traditional Turkish design, so Turkish classical art forms his background.

His father is said to be a master of Ebru, a traditional art form. Ebru involves dripping dye and tracing the surface with a stick to create marbled patterns, which are then transferred onto paper.
Ebru was often used for government certificate paper, and in that sense, his family was sometimes seen as establishment figures.
I couldn't read from his expression what significance this held, but he undoubtedly had complex feelings about it. He himself aspired to become an art director and now researches and creates new forms of expression utilizing digital technology every day.

Tradition is that which has endured, undaunted by the most difficult barrier to overcome: the constraints of its era.
Therefore, all classics are subjects worthy of study. They are not the dull things often imagined, but are filled with strength and stimulation. So, when someone who has studied tradition seeks new forms of expression, the intensity in their background becomes the source for creating something that won't be swept away by facile modernity. I think the concept of punk is close to this, and he is precisely that type.
And he is constantly battling the weight he carries. I believe that carrying such weight is precisely what gives birth to something new.

Antithesis is the driving force behind creation.
While fragile in the sense that it vanishes if the thesis disappears, its power as a driving force is immeasurable.

When working, everyone faces moments pushed to the absolute limit. What gives you the strength to hold on there is your complexes and antithesis. It's an inescapable negative force within us, distinct from the pure desire to create.

When I visited his studio in Istanbul, I was starkly confronted with the power of such forces. His works asked me point-blank: "What are you carrying on your back as you work?"

Expression contains more logical elements than commonly thought, yet it is the final, distorted force that gives birth to something powerful. That much is certain. While people may accept something logically sound, if asked whether it excites them, one must admit the response is limited.

Watching his work, I felt that to do good work, you must lay bare your imperfections as a human being. It's a terrifying act. Yet, if you seek strength in your work, perhaps that's necessary.

Work, no matter how you look at it, is done by people.
That's precisely why humanity is projected onto work. Ultimately, the world is already one where the only way to compete is by how you live your life.

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