Rotten Hordge

Spotted figures of so-called schizophrenia During a three-month period I experienced, the effect of the psychosis I entered, as psychiatrists define it, increased and reached a schizophrenic point. As one of those who are rarely aware of my own condition, I consider myself lucky. I knew what I was experiencing, harboring neither fear nor anxiety. The figured spots flowing before my eyes, though not as colorful as I painted them, would not be wrong to describe as extraordinary. The human mind is free and rich in variation; whether I call them mutant faces or beings, it is a limitless creator. A science fiction of its own. The contour variations of the figures that emerged and moved on the surface were rich. Contour boundaries and the patterns they contained were adjacent to each other, sometimes nested, overlapping and side by side. I watched and remained observing their flows from surfaces, backgrounds, and sometimes from the atmosphere at varying speeds. Sometimes a figure that captured my interest more would slow down, allowing me to observe it thoroughly. I think I was the one directing the flow speed of these figures. Neither fear overwhelmed me nor anxiety about the future. It was as if I knew deep down that what I was experiencing was temporary. I am fortunate to have been able to possess this fearless consciousness. What if I were trapped inside a schizophrenia with rich visual abundance, what if I were stigmatized. According to psychiatry, schizophrenia is a syndrome that is seen as chronic, not acute, and has continuity. First I received the support of psychiatric drugs, but then I gave up because I got lazy about going to the hospital every month. The journey was two hours. I struggled without medication, got bored, became overwhelmed, but this situation carried me to a point where I should be. The drugs did not prevent these illusions but they solved my sleep problem and relieved the fatigue created by the unique thing I was experiencing. The curiosity I always had about mysticism and metaphysical subjects also caused the situation I was in to seem like a blessing to me. My reconciliation with this extraordinary syndrome, which I found interesting rather than terrible, was easy. The detailed quality of the patterns I observed was amazing. Among the amorphous faces waving the flag of freedom from every angle, mythological beings sometimes mingled. These were winged white and black dragons. This mythical figure has always influenced me. At my mother's request, who became aware of what I was experiencing, I was admitted to a clinic. About three months. Apart from all the interesting and unique figures I encountered, there were also special people whom I was happy to meet. They received me with an interest that amazed me. They talked to me as if they had knowledge about the special thing I was experiencing. Some called me god, some angel, some gave different names from Anatolian myths that I didn't know and don't remember now. I didn't think much about how this happened and what it meant. The hospital was of no benefit to me other than gaining weight. Before, during and after the hospital, while I was inside the syndrome, there was a team consisting of women and men talking in my head. This team was observing me anatomically, trying to calm me with suggestive words, making me feel that they were with me. The approaches of this suggestive team talking in my head with the sensitivity of doctors caused me to think of them as angels. After all, I was watching a different dimension or witnessing the game my mind was playing on me. Sometimes they made me smile and relax with their ridiculous comments, keeping me away from the fear I would hear. Sometimes they told me to kiss and love myself. It was as if they tried to keep me away from fear by normalizing this extraordinary situation with realistic approaches. They made me feel that it was temporary. This visual and auditory "acute schizophrenia" syndrome that I experienced for three months with attacks that intensified from time to time remained in my mind as an unforgettable experience. In short, if there is an extraordinary high frequency phenomenon, I think I briefly touched it. Schizophrenia is not a temporary illness that comes and goes. The fact that these metaphysical experiences consist of the totality of ancient human experiences is seen as meaningless and devoid of meaning reminds me of an arrogant blindness. Ignoring the metaphysical world, despising it and considering it suitable for the ignorance of the riffraff should leave one in shame. Metaphysics is the first step taken towards curiosity and truth. Beyond the constants of evolution—nutrition, reproduction and geographical adaptation conditions—we have entered an age when acceptable experiments are conducted regarding the reality that other constants that may exist, we can see different dimensions. From Carl Jung to Freud, the dilemma of modern man is that the order he exists in is far from showing him the truth. In this endless order of ownership and competition, the individual should know his own truth and cooperate by nature for hundreds of centuries. In the early periods of Islam, enigmatic figures like Hallaj-i Mansur said they encountered Allah in their meditations. A scholar like Ibn Arabi expressed that Allah made him write one of his works. More rational masters like Ibn Rushd could openly express that they did not believe in fate and the afterlife. This polyphony disappeared over time. Spirituality and its practices seem to be consciously corrupted. The sharing of mystical experiences and esoteric secrets added a lot to man, but according to the rules, they were hidden from ordinary people. The point I want to reach is this: Including the Abrahamic religions that I prefer to call truth, any human or community that considers nature, a mountain, a majestic animal sacred; attributes divine powers to it; accepts a more spiritual atmosphere whether it resembles or not mythological existential forms that may belong to different dimensions, the occupying environment created by the modern world and the value of material seem like the enemy of the conscience that the metaphysical world creates in its essence. The pain and meaninglessness suffered by beings enslaved to non-stop gain and ownership—human or product; and some people's not giving importance to these cores or not being able to make sense of them makes them more human. The isolation and alienation of mind and being causes humans to move away and build an imaginary, lost, meaningless world for themselves. What I experienced was caused exactly by this. When I was alone and in pain, when I started to help myself with meditation and some mystical exercises, started reading every source I found, something must have been triggered. An escape. Schizophrenia is perhaps one of the methods the human mind finds; a conscious or unconscious, reflexive choice. I know schizophrenics who are satisfied with the world they enter during schizophrenic attacks. Most are unique and original with the poems, plastic arts or different practices they produce in their own worlds. Another important characteristic of theirs is that they do not carry concerns like being understood or liked. Most schizophrenic attacks certainly do not contain the spectacular excitement that I am said to have experienced. What was extraordinary was that, despite the psychiatric acceptance that it is seen as acute, not accepted, and claimed to have continuation, my syndrome harbored the feeling from the beginning that it would have an end. The neon colors I felt in the meditations I concentrated on and sometimes saw in the sky made me think that modern mystics say that this impressive level I reached in a short time is sometimes reached much earlier, sometimes after many experiences, and that both are normal. In this case, I doubted whether what I experienced was a schizophrenic attack or, if my concentration capacity was above normal, a visual and auditory experience. I cannot consider myself to have experienced a laborious sufi experience, but could I have reached the level of fana fillah, alone in my workshop, without using any psychiatric drugs; only with meditation, losing myself in the patterns I drew randomly with free hand and the dhikrs I performed from time to time, plus the compositions of Gurdjieff, born in Kars, who tells the world that telepathy is possible, blending Anatolian melodies, spinning around in the middle of my workshop? The deprivation caused by a tragic and painful separation I experienced seemed to lie at the essence of the matter. In fact, the whole effort began with the aim of getting rid of this deprivation. To suddenly fall from a devotion to a nothingness. My escape from this nothingness was possible with non-stop production. I tried to record the illusion flowing before my eyes with paint, pencil and surfaces. The enthusiasm that got stuck was reflected on the surface. My first works were upcycle assemblages I made with waste materials on large-sized house doors. Over time, I completely abstracted from a search. After the drugs I quit, my sleep became forbidden; staying awake for days made me tense but carried me to a tired but intense consciousness. I watched the clouds. My view was a boundless horizon. First I looked for figures in the clouds. These shapeless or shaped figures in this totality flowing before my eyes became my source of inspiration. What else could I try to paint. I enjoyed it. These, generally figures drawn with mixed technique on 70x100 duralit, are replicas of these observations. I tried to draw some of them as if they came from another artist's drawing. Quite a difficult endeavor. A person's drawing is like their own fingerprint; I didn't want to follow a certain style and pattern. This effort of mine could continue throughout the flow of the said moving figures. Defining my works as "abstract graffiti" suits me. Although each created figure has separate forms, when they come nested, overlapping and side by side, they reach a composition and wholeness. In this age when new physics can observe geometric shapes from other dimensions, I too tried to convey the figural interpretations belonging to another dimension that accompany these geometric shapes and that I once witnessed with excitement—perhaps produced by my mind, perhaps as sacred plants show us—as much as my hand allows; with the agility of a street artist's or graffitist's tag.

• Painting Type: Acrylic
• Year: 2026
• Style: Abstract
• Subject Matter: Figure
• Surface: Wood Panel
• Dimensions: Width: 70 × Height: 100 × Depth: 0.004
• Orientation: Vertical/Portrait
• Frame: Unframed
• Color Palette: Multicolor
• Technique: Brush Work
• Finish: Varnished
• Signature: Signed
• Condition: Excellent
• Authenticity: Original
• Edition: Edition Number: 14