ÖYKÜ ÖZOĞUL

I was looking for mirrors when I needed a hand to hold. I was asking for direction, but what I needed was permission to be lost, to pause, to begin again in a language of my own. I was searching for my individuality- a meaning in a world divided into such bodies of incomplete stories all around the world.

I started writing without censoring my thoughts, even if they meant I was judgmental, even if it caused shame afterwards to share it and to read it. 

I wanted to be an un-edited open book towards you, so that I can open up a space of felt authenticity. Therefore, at that time, without realising my documentation for my graduation the"artistic process"  both acted as an invitation to love (as described in Bell Hooks' book, All About Love and an embodiment of what it can entail) and a space to exist with my then needs by holding on (literally) to my thoughts.

Genuine love = care + commitment + trust + knowledge, responsibility + respect. 

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Incomplete sentences,

 

paragraphs full of                                                         

 

 

 

 

 

 

                     

                                                                                                            silence

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then ​

              the need for complaining aimlessly to you,

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                                                               to myself,

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