The core theme that I am exploring in my practice is diaspora in relation to my Kurdish heritage. My work investigates a rediscovery of a forgotten culture. The Kurdish diaspora and the Kurdish question are examined through video work and clay as I aim to explore an untold history that has been concealed from not only my family and friends, but also from many other Kurds.

 

I use the paradoxical nature of clay as a symbol in my work to embody the simultaneously resilient yet fragile qualities of my Kurdish culture. While working with clay I have been reminded of the starting point of life, cultures, races, and history that all share a common foundation in clay and earth. In questioning my own sense of identity and cultural belonging, I have come to the realisation that relying solely on my Kurdish heritage is not enough to form a complete sense of self. However, by returning to the raw elements of clay, soil, and earth, I've been able to discover and rejuvenate my identity on a more fundamental level.

 

After seeing the film November by Hito Steyerl, I decided to incorporate video work into my practice. Steyerl includes documentary elements into her work while discussing political and social issues to raise awareness on women’s rights as well as political corruption. Her work led me to investigate video, start filming my clay work in progress, and start documenting conversations with family and friends about our Kurdish background and their memories from Kurdish villages. These discussions began during frequent chats I had with my father in which my goal was to learn more about our family history and the issues the Kurdish community faced in Turkey, but he frequently shut down these topics by saying, "Don't bring politics to the table." This conversation triggered me to reassess and engage with my cultural roots, pushing me to question why the older generation of diasporic Kurds tend to neglect discussions on this topic. I found that engaging in clay work while talking about these delicate topics had a calming effect, aiding natural conversation. Additionally, videoing my work allowed me to confront and challenge the older generation, including my dad, who disclosed that his memories of his Kurdish identity were allied with corruption, cultural suppression, and suffering.   

Alongside to my clay work and conversations, I use archival footage that I collected from video activist Okaty Ince. During a visit to Renia Sofia gallery in Madrid, I saw Angela Melitopoulos’ artwork Crossings. In her work she featured Oktay Ince’s footage of Kurdish life in rural areas of Turkey. He documents first-hand recordings that feature various issues faced by Kurdish families, including conflicts and protests over the past two decades. After contacting Melitopoulos, Ince shared some of his footage with me, which I used in my degree show to create a documentary-style video. The raw footage he captures generates a sense of disorder, turmoil, and anarchy, effectively capturing the authentic atmosphere of the rural locations in Kurdish villages. 

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The use of multiple screens in Angela Melitopoulos’ exhibition and artists Basel Abbas and Ruanne Abou-Rahme motivated me to experiment using multiple screens in my own exhibition to explore how it impacts the narrative of my video work. In Melitopoulos’s exhibition, she featured eight screens which documented her work, with the audience sat in the middle of the room watching the individual screens as they played the videos. This successfully created a sense of tension and anticipation within the space. In my current work, I am using multiple screen projections to reconstruct this atmosphere in my exhibition space. The videos on each separate screen have been edited to interact with each other, resembling the chaos and exhaustion faced by the Kurds through the archival videos, as well the conversations that have been collected from friends and family during clay work sessions. 

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Additionally to the multiple screens, I have integrated audio of Kurdish origin songs, once forbidden, and poetry written and read by family members. The purpose of the music is to focus on my Kurdish roots and to exhibit cultural music that has been restored by youth to symbolise their detachment from their homeland. The poetry symbolises the Kurdish youth in diaspora and the confusion and detachment they feel both in their new homes and in Turkey. To further expand on these conversations and traditions, I have included my clay work in the exhibition, some of which attributes traditional deq (Kurdish tattoo) designs that is frequently seen on the faces of older Kurdish women, a tradition that is vanishing alongside Kurdish erasure.