This series of works began by chance. I came across Joan Didion’s The Year of Magical Thinking at a bookstore, and although I had only known her through a documentary, her words immediately spoke to me. Her elegant style and sharp way of observing the world resonated deeply, and soon I was drawn into her voice—not only through her writing but also through her talks, images, and presence. Around the same time, I watched a video of Parvaneh Etemadi, an Iranian artist, and began thinking about women writers and artists—how inspiring they are in finding their own voices and visions without being shaped by others’ expectations. A visit to Orhan Pamuk’s Museum of Innocence in Istanbul also left me struck by the power of storytelling: how imagination and real life blur together, creating a world both intimate and universal.

These encounters became the starting point for my paintings. They taught me that observing is an act of transformation, and that telling a story—whether in words or images—is also a way of discovering oneself. I began to look more carefully at the world around me, collecting fragments and moments, and piecing them together as a way of asking: What is my story? Who am I? What do I need to learn about myself, my vision, my thoughts—and how should I express them?

Through teaching painting, discussing ideas with friends at the AGO, and reflecting in my studio, I realized it was time to trust my instincts and abilities—even when I feel nervous, lost, or uncertain. My artistic practice has always been a space of freedom and exploration, even when life itself felt heavy with pressure. Over the past year, my work has been less about making images and more about discovering perspective: understanding myself more deeply, questioning my place in the world, and embracing the uncertainty that shapes our lives.

This journey has also made me more aware of my process. I realized how much I am attached to every broken piece, every torn fragment, and how I let them relive by mending and repairing the parts of the painting. I can’t imagine discarding the ones that seem useless—I do my best to keep them alive, to bring them back to life.

This body of work is both an inward reflection and an outward gaze. It is an attempt to let my mind and my world live fully within my paintings, to create spaces where memory, imagination, and reality overlap, and where stories continue to unfold.