Continuity Error is the first solo exhibition in the Netherlands featuring work by Turkish architect-artist Mesut Özturk. The title comes from the film world and refers to an editing mistake that shatters the illusion of reality. An unintended moment of honesty. Özturk has lived and worked in Rotterdam for the past six months as a resident at Foundation B.a.D, where he created two series of sculptures that puncture the magic of art.
An intended form of honesty is present in Özturk’s Pressure series, he secures pieces of ceramics with wooden clamps. "The pieces are honest about how they are constructed. You see the raw elements connected to each other with clamps. No coating, no glue, no magic. I don't claim to be someone who knows more than you." In the other series, United, he unites playful and solid elements, such as a tennis ball clamped between two glass plates held together by a padlock. "Life is about balance, and so is art. We must constantly question the balance of our lives and be aware of the things we can change and those things we cannot change."
Continuity Error featuring work by Mesut Özturk is on display until 26 October at Contour Gallery in Rotterdam.
Congratulations on Continuity Error, your first solo show in the Netherlands! I read that you made the series on display in Rotterdam during your residency at Foundation B.a.D. Why did apply to come to the Netherlands and Rotterdam in particular?
Thank you. Yes, I stayed at Foundation B.a.D. between March and August this year. I was living in Paris before that and I did a few short--term residencies last year. I have really enjoyed being a kind of nomadic artist. I wanted to try out the Netherlands for my next residency experience since my sister and some friends live there. I was both familiar with and curious about life there after many visits. And I think Rotterdam is the most inspiring city in the Netherlands because of its artistic environment and hybrid architecture.
What did your Rotterdam studio look like? Is there a big difference between it and your studio in Istanbul?
It was my sixth studio in the past four years, each of which had different spatial characteristics. My Rotterdam studio was one of the most spacious and inspiring ones so far. Foundation B.a.D. is a squatted former primary school, so my studio was in an old classroom. My living and working areas were in the same classroom, separated by a light wall. I usually like to keep both separate, so it was not ideal in the beginning, but I adapted to the situation over time. I believe it also changed my practice a bit. When a new idea came to mind, I was able to try it out right away no matter what time of day. So, I was very productive there.
A different environment often causes artists to rethink their practice and experiment. Does that sound familiar to you? Did this happen to you in Rotterdam as well?
Absolutely. I am so glad that I had a very productive residency. When you are away from your normal life, you get a sense of total freedom. With no errands to run, no responsibilities other than your art, you are an anonymous stranger in the city. So, you have enough opportunity to explore, meet new people, think, experiment. It’s great. Before coming to Rotterdam, I was in a long-term transition/experimentation period. I was trying some new ideas, but not sure which path to follow. I feel like I am satisfied enough with the path that I’m on in Rotterdam. You can see this path in my exhibition at Gallery Contour.
I’ve read that your background is in architecture. Why did you decide to become an artist?
Yes, I studied architecture, worked as an architect and also taught architecture. I’ve been passionate about creating forms since childhood. I thought architecture would be a good discipline to make poetic or inspiring forms, but over time, I gradually realised that I don’t need architecture’s constraints for my creative process. When I felt brave enough, I started to make sculptural experiments with clay. And that’s how my art journey began.
Are the series on display – United and Pressure – also as inspired by your background in architecture as the titles suggest?
Architecture is part of my practice, but most of the time, it is there on an unconscious level. It has shaped my thinking patterns. I can’t avoid it. And there’s no need to. But I’m not trying to make something specifically about architecture either. I enjoy it when people find links between my work and my background. In these series, I employed my structural instincts and material knowledge from my architectural background.
Your show is called Continuity Error, a term we are familiar with from the world of film. A continuity error in a film shatters the illusion and invites us to question the narrative. What is the narrative you want viewers to reflect on?
There are two levels. In the more direct aspect, I invite viewers to puncture the magic of art. The works are honest about how they were built. You see the raw elements connected to each other with clamps. No coatings, no adhesives, no magic. I don’t claim to know more than you. It’s similar to my taste in architecture: I find honest architecture more inspiring. When a building shows us the structural system and the materials, I call it honest. It doesn’t hide its elements with plaster, ornaments or paint. Brutalist architecture or the brick buildings of the Netherlands are good examples for that.
On the indirect level, I see some similarities between the clamped pieces and our constraints in life. The joyful balls are clamped between heavy construction materials. We can use our hands to release the pressure and to liberate the joy. With the United works, it’s the other side of control: As individuals, we can only create meaning when we are connected to each other in a meaningful way. The United ceramic sculptures wouldn't be that interesting if you dismantle the clamps. But this togetherness is also very fragile. The parts can only stay together if the tension is just right, as too much or little tension would break the unity.
Your work has playful elements to it – tennis balls, whirling ceramics – yet they seem interrupted by clamps, glass or a chain lock. Would you say that your work is about life’s strenuous balance between freedom and control?
Yes, life is about balance, and so is art. I suggest that we should constantly question the balance of our lives and be aware of the things we can change and those things we cannot change. It’s important to see the limitations of societies that affect our behaviours. Some limitations can be eliminated, while others help us to have a more meaningful life. I think this notion is more vital in collectivist cultures like mine in Turkey, but I believe it’s also universal on a certain level. I realised something while responding to this question. The Pressure series seems to be more relatable with my life in Turkey: I feel the urge to show the feeling of being stuck and giving ourselves the courage to break free. On the other hand, the United series is more relatable to my experience in Western Europe. I was thinking ultimate individualism is not natural for humankind, so it harms people’s mental health. These thoughts led me to make something that only has meaning when united.
If time and money were no object, what project would you immediately start working on?
I would start creating my own artist residency in Istanbul. After participating in three residencies in one year, I began dreaming about starting my own residency programme. It would be at a large place with lots for facilities for artists from all around the world. Art-wise, I would make some enormous clamps and would try to compress huge structures or rocks.
What are you working on right now?
I recently moved back to Istanbul after 2½ years in Paris and six months in Rotterdam. I have started teaching architecture at a university again. So, I’m busy setting up my life here. It takes time. I’m planning to start making art again soon once my workshop is ready and plant to continue working on the two series that are in Contour. I might have some exhibitions in Istanbul next year.