Being an artist comes with responsibility as much as it offers freedom. How do you find a balance between the two?

I think that balance also has a lot to do with character. I have always been someone who likes to plan ahead and know what the next step will be. My approach to art and the way I work are built around that same sense of discipline and commitment. Of course, new ideas cannot emerge without freedom, but what freedom means and how much of it we need is different for everyone. For me, the greatest freedom is being able to manage my own time. The better I organise my studio and the rhythm of my life, the freer I feel. It allows me to make time for my personal life while bringing those experiences back into my work as inspiration. The responsibility of managing my own schedule is actually one of the things I enjoy most. I try to fulfil my responsibilities towards my art, our culture, my country and myself as well as I possibly can.

How does what you learn through the creative process find its way into your life?

The creative process keeps trying to teach me patience. Even so, there are times when I get carried away by my excitement. Clay has its own process of maturing and drying, while the kiln has a heating and cooling cycle that requires careful attention. A small mistake at any point can lead to irreversible results. Whenever I rush, I pay the price, and it reminds me that impatience rarely serves us in life either.

When I bring the ideas in my mind together with the material, I also realise that many of the things I imagine are not as easy to achieve as I initially think. It constantly reminds me of the value of experience, trial and error, and making progress through effort. In the end, all these lessons become lessons about life itself.

What is your relationship with silence? What does it mean to you while you work?

When you work independently, the studio can be quite a solitary place. It is quiet, still and requires a high level of concentration. I am someone who enjoys silence, or more precisely, listening to the sounds of the studio. The metallic sound of trimming clay, the crackling of the kiln wires as they expand, water dripping into the sink, or a brief conversation drifting in from outside. Noticing all of these sounds while listening to my own thoughts keeps me connected to the present moment and to the work in front of me. But when it comes to carrying clay or packing pieces, my studio can easily turn into a small concert venue.

Is there a dream that still excites you just by thinking about it?

One of my greatest dreams is still to have my work exhibited at Pier 94 in New York, the city where I first studied design and art.

How would you like to be remembered as an artist?

I would like to be remembered as a hardworking, prolific and inspiring artist. It would also mean a great deal to me to have brought the rare values of our culture into conversation with contemporary art, and to have shared the qualities that make us who we are with the world as a Turkish woman artist.