Tails

The spotted figures of so-called schizophrenia In a three-month process I experienced, the effect of the psychosis I entered, as defined by psychiatrists, intensified and reached a schizophrenic point. As one of those who are rarely aware of their 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 depicted 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 entities, it is a limitless creator. A unique science fiction of its own. The contour variations of the figures appearing and moving on the surface were rich. The contour boundaries and the patterns they contained were adjacent to each other, sometimes nested, overlapping, and side by side. I watched their flow from surfaces, grounds, 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 overtook me nor anxiety about the future. 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 schizophrenic rich in visual abundance, what if I were stigmatized. According to psychiatry, schizophrenia is a syndrome seen as chronic rather than acute and having continuity. First I received support from psychiatric medications, 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, felt overwhelmed, but this situation carried me to a point where I should be. The medications didn't prevent these illusions, but they solved my sleep problem and relieved the fatigue created by the unique thing I was experiencing. My curiosity about mysticism and metaphysical subjects also caused my current situation 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 watched was amazing. Among the amorphous faces waving the flag of freedom from every angle, mythological beings sometimes mixed in. These were winged white and black dragons. This mythical figure has always impressed 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 those interesting and unique figures I encountered, there were also special people I was happy to meet. They received me with an interest that amazed me. They spoke with 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 did me no good other than making me gain weight. Before, during, and after the hospital, while I was in the syndrome, there was a team of men and women speaking in my head. This team was observing me anatomically, trying to calm me with suggestive words, making me feel they were with me. The approaches of this suggestive team speaking in my head with doctor-like sensitivity made me 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 might feel. Sometimes they told me to kiss myself, to love myself. As if they tried to keep me away from fear by normalizing this extraordinary situation with realistic approaches. They made me feel it was temporary. This visual and auditory "acute schizophrenia" syndrome that I experienced for three months with occasionally intensifying attacks remained as an unforgettable experience in my mind. 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 entirety of ancient human experiences being seen as meaningless and devoid of meaning reminds me of an arrogant blindness. Ignoring the metaphysical world, belittling it, and considering it suitable for common ignorance should leave one in shame. Metaphysics is the first step toward curiosity and truth. Apart from evolutionary constants—nutrition, reproduction, and geographical adaptation conditions—we have entered an age where acceptable experiments are conducted regarding the reality that there may be other constants that 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 possession and competition, the individual knowing his own truth and being in cooperation by nature for hundreds of centuries. In the early periods of Islam, enigmatic figures like Hallaj al-Mansur said they encountered Allah in their meditations. A scholar like Ibn Arabi expressed that Allah had him write one of his works. More rational masters like Ibn Rushd could openly state 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 much to humans but were hidden from ordinary people according to the rules. 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 or not it resembles mythological existential forms that may belong to different dimensions, the occupying environment created by the modern world and the value of material seem like enemies of the conscience that the metaphysical world creates in its essence. The pain and meaninglessness suffered by the being enslaved to non-stop acquisition and ownership—human or product; some people's lack of importance to these nuclei or inability to make sense of them makes them more human. The isolation and alienation of mind and being causes humans to distance themselves and build an imaginary world devoid of lost meaning. This was exactly the reason for what I experienced. During a period when I was alone and in pain, when I started helping myself with meditation and some mystical exercises, starting to read 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 is that they do not carry concerns like being understood or liked. Most schizophrenic attacks certainly do not contain the spectacular excitement of what 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 my focused meditations and sometimes saw in the sky made me think that modern mystics say that sometimes this impressive level I reached in a short time is reached much earlier, sometimes after many experiences, and both are normal. In this case, I doubted whether what I experienced was a schizophrenic attack or a visual and auditory experience if my concentration capacity was above normal. I cannot consider myself to have experienced a laborious Sufi experience, but could I have reached the level of fana fillah, in my solitary workshop, without using any psychiatric medication; only with meditation, losing myself in the patterns I drew randomly with free hand, and the dhikrs I occasionally performed, and also with the compositions of Gurdjieff, born in Kars, who harmonized Anatolian melodies while telling the world that telepathy is possible, 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, all the effort began with the aim of getting rid of this deprivation. To fall from a devotion suddenly into 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 trapped enthusiasm was reflected on the surface. My first works were upcycle assemblages I made on large-sized house doors with waste materials. Over time, I completely abstracted from a quest. After the medications I quit, my sleep became forbidden; staying awake for days made me tense but carried me to a tired but intense consciousness. I watched clouds. My view was an endless horizon. First I looked for figures in clouds. These shapeless or shaped figures in this wholeness flowing before my eyes became my source of inspiration. What else could I try to depict. I enjoyed it. Here they are, these figures, mostly drawn in mixed technique on 70x100 duralit, are replicas of these observations. I tried to draw some as if they came from another artist's drawing. Quite a difficult endeavor. A person's drawing is like their fingerprint; I didn't want to follow a certain style and texture. This endeavor of mine could continue throughout the flow of the said moving figures. Defining my works as "abstract graffiti" seems appropriate to me. Although each created figure has separate forms from each other, 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 which I once excitedly witnessed—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 graffiti artist's tag.

• Painting Type: Acrylic
• Year: 2025
• 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: 16