"Critical realism is a fundamental philosophical position, particularly an ontological and/or epistemological one. It assumes that a reality independent of consciousness exists approximately as it is perceived, but it cannot be recognized immediately or directly. Critical realism posits that the correspondence between reality and its mental representation depends on the processing carried out by perception and consciousness. For this reason, Dominique Ingres' words, 'Drawing is the honor of painting,' have always made me ponder. Although drawing has its own laws different from 'painting,' for me, it is a path, perhaps a bridge, or even an exercise in the name of the fantasy I establish around 'painting.' It is a 'game,' but one that strikes you on the head and tears your heart out as you play.

Beyond imitation, my drawings and paintings achieve a different reality with their own language. Human figures always take precedence. With my fondness for anatomy, the moments captured during the act of drawing, without the pursuit of a symbol, represent the depth I attain in the 'figure-self' relationship. At times, it is also a 'dance' for the 'skin-nail-finger' triangle expressed through my physical posture.

Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that the line evolves within the history of art, or rather, returns to its essence. The act of 'leaving a pure trace'—inspired by the soil pigments sprayed with reeds on rocks or the soot markings left by cave dwellers—directly transfers to the surface through my search for stains, sometimes with a brush, sometimes with a pen nib, and sometimes with my fingers. Every drawing or painting I create is, at its core, a struggle with 'the unknown.'

Tracing and outlining any figure, whether abstract or real, as a form of graphic expression—which we define as the discipline of 'communicating information'—has served as an alternative universal language since 'prehistoric' times. Whether conveying ideas, explanations, or emotions, this universal scope enables my imagination to transform into increasingly concrete, clear, and detailed forms during the process of drawing and painting. This act allows me to create more 'sketches,' progressing freely without the use of technical drawing tools such as rulers, squares, protractors, or compasses, when depicting an object or figure. These sketches multiply as they gain concreteness, proportion, and dimension. Once an idea is defined down to its smallest detail, I transfer it to paper or another surface to make it understandable, interpretable, and sometimes even newly created. To do this, I use 'representation systems' that enable me to draw objects.

As for my psychology of drawing and painting: I transfer my imagination and thoughts to a surface, whether made of paper or another material. Every stroke I make on the canvas represents my idea. This means that when I draw all my sketches in a technical, effortless, and original way, I attain inner peace. 'Depiction'—I know how to use both the drawing tool I work with and the strokes I intend to make, as I believe a good drawing is characterized by confident and loose strokes. I understand that there is no established procedure for learning to draw; thus, I perfect my drawing in alignment with my own way of thinking, but I only finalize it with 'dedication'—or not.

Sometimes, I copy an existing drawing or model, working with the image as it is by utilizing my observation and motor skills. I employ my imagination and creative capacity, developing a strong 'hand-brain' connection to capture the images I envision. I frequently incorporate well-known historical figures, characters, surreal worlds, fantastical landscapes, and beings—particularly those dedicated to my portraits and landscapes.

Beyond my connection to Fellini’s works, I have also been deeply motivated by drawings where the aesthetic value serves as the primary criterion. He describes the act of drawing with the words, 'I enjoy the silence of the night and eagerly await the realization of my dreams.' His director friend and biographer, Charlotte Chandler, also reflects this by saying, 'Fellini said it was like sitting in the cinema, waiting for the movie to start.' Although he describes drawing and painting as a form of waiting, I have observed in his published drawings that every scene in his films originated from sketches. Incidentally, when people watch a movie in the cinema, they are watching those who watch. Drawing and painting, unfortunately, do not progress without 'observation.'

I observe how drawing and painting have become a way of life in my home, in my studio, and everywhere. I work intensely with an empty mind. Sometimes, it is a struggle; sometimes, it is play with the endless 'stains,' 'lines,' and 'colors.' With my respect for my teachers Neşet Günal, Neş’e Erdok, Mariano de Blas, Marwan, and Wolfgang Petrick, it is evident that I derive immense pleasure from drawing, remembering my devotion to the line and form."