It all started when I was only 3 years old, under the sewing workshop table of my aunt and mother. While playing with my beautiful doll, I fell asleep…
The sound of scissors cutting fabric above me on that large wooden table was so harsh that it woke me up. I don’t remember what time of day it was, but the sunlight shining through the workshop window illuminated the air, making the fabric particles floating around clearly visible.
A piece of yellow pattern paper had fallen under the table. I picked it up and started drawing on the blouse I was wearing.
I was looking at the drawing from above on my own body and saw it upside down, but I drew it almost exactly like the original design.
Once my drawing was done, I went back to playing with my doll.
I spent the entire day playing with that doll and the paper I had drawn on.
As the evening approached and my mother’s work hours were ending, she asked, “Don’t you want to come out from under the table?”
I grabbed my doll and went…
The next day, we went back to my mother’s workplace.
My aunt was an extraordinary woman powerful, artistic, and a great manager. Her soul was so intertwined with her work that she always made room for everyone in a special way.
When we arrived, she hugged me and kissed me.
She lifted me up and placed me on a chair.
Sitting in front of the chair on her knees, she took the pattern paper with my drawing and held it up in front of me.
“Where did you get this from?” she asked.
I replied, “I drew it myself.”
At first, I was afraid that the paper might have been for something important and I had ruined it, but through my aunt’s questions, I realized the paper wasn’t important—the drawing was.
“How did you draw this?” she asked.
My mother, astonished, said, “This picture is on the blouse she was wearing yesterday…”
My aunt gave me a pencil and a white sheet of paper, asking, “Can you please draw it again?”
I took the paper and drew it again.
When I finished, my aunt held my hands and kissed them.
I didn’t understand why she was so moved, but I didn’t yet realize why my drawing was so significant to them.
Two or three days later, I was confronted with something amazing:
A box full of crayons, markers, colored pencils, notebooks, and lots of colorful drawing supplies.
The days of sitting under the table in my “castle” of the sewing workshop had changed.
Days passed, and the sketchbooks filled with drawings replaced the blank pages.
My childhood became intertwined with drawing in a space filled with fabric, pattern paper, and sewing tools, along with the sound of scissors cutting fabric and sewing machines humming.
Painting grew within me.
Little by little, oil paints and watercolors joined my collection.
By now, I was no longer 3 years old.
It was time to choose a career.
I insisted on attending the art school, and despite my family’s opposition, I enrolled in the program.
In university, I chose graphic design.
But even there, drawing remained a part of me…
Yet something else was woven into my being besides painting.
It seemed that the absence of the sound of scissors and sewing machines left a void inside me.
That was when my soul and heart wanted to give my paintings a pattern.
The fusion of these things became my true self…
I entered the world of fashion.
But there was something that troubled my soul.
The use of materials that harmed nature.
The use of animal skins in the fashion industry had many supporters.
But behind the beauty of a fur coat, there was a creature that had been harmed.
I liked this beauty too, but not at the cost of the bitter reality of harming an animal.
So, I began to enjoy beauty in my own way.
I started capturing all the beauty that nature offers and translating it into my paintings.
Creating artworks in the form of clothing.