Ebru begins in surrender. Pigments are released onto the surface of water, where they spread, meet, and resist one another according to laws older than any tradition. The artist guides; the water decides. Each composition exists for a single breath before it is lifted away — an image of a moment that can never occur again.

I work within one of the oldest water-based art traditions in the world. For centuries, Turkish masters have passed Ebru from hand to hand, each generation carrying the memory of the last while leaving its own trace on the surface. To marble is to enter that lineage — to repeat gestures that were made long before me, and to trust that the water still has something new to say. Tradition, in my practice, is not a fixed inheritance but a living continuity: something held, renewed, and handed on.

My work moves between materials. On silk, marbling becomes movement — the pattern bends with the body, catches light, and changes with every fold, so that the stillness of the captured moment returns to motion. On stone, it becomes memory. The stones I marble in the ongoing series Between Water and Stone were gathered along the Mediterranean shores of Ölüdeniz, in Fethiye, Türkiye — each one shaped over millennia by the same element on which I paint. When pigment settles into their weathered surfaces, two histories of water meet: one geological and slow, one fleeting and human.

I understand Ebru not simply as a traditional craft but as a contemporary artistic language — one capable of speaking across materials, scales, and contexts while honoring its origins. Transformation is at the center of that language: liquid becomes image, fabric becomes gesture, stone becomes archive. In every work I look for the point where control gives way to collaboration with the material, because that is where the tradition has always lived — between intention and water.