Imperfect Vision

 

Imperfect Vision – A Reflection on Istanbul and Identity

In the days following my return from Istanbul, I found myself compelled to create. The city’s layered histories, its vivid contrasts, and its quiet complexities were fresh in my mind, yet I struggled to articulate my feelings. The result was this piece, Imperfect Vision—the first in a series of works inspired by my time in the city.

The form emerged as an engraved head, a silhouette serving as a frame for something far greater than itself. Within it lies the image of a Greek Orthodox church, etched in negative relief—a structure I encountered during my journey in Yeniköy: the Orthodox Church of the Dormition of the Mother of God. The church’s image is fragmented, not fully visible, as if emerging from or dissolving into the contours of the human form. This interplay between figure and architecture speaks to the complexity of memory and identity—how history resides within us, shaped by fragments of the past.

The choice to leave the piece unpainted, stark in its whiteness, reflects the marble statues and Greco-Roman artefacts I encountered in Istanbul’s Archaeological Museum. At first, I intended to explore those forms directly, but over time, I realised that my vision of Istanbul—of its people, its stories, and its cultural inheritance—was far too complex for the perfection of smooth marble or pristine reproduction. Instead, this piece deliberately embraces imperfection. The texture is raw, almost eroded, much like the way experiences in Istanbul challenged my preconceptions and revealed the unexpected.

The title, Imperfect Vision, encapsulates the state of not fully understanding or grasping everything in the moment. My time in Istanbul was marked by moments of wonder, confusion, and ambivalence. I encountered a city filled with beauty and humanity, but also the weight of history and the delicate fragility of peace. This piece reflects that state of raw emotion and incomplete comprehension. The human form acts as a vessel—a container for architecture, place, and time, suggesting that identity itself is shaped by geography, history, and experience.

What surprised me most in creating this work was how naturally it aligned with a tradition I’ve been exploring for years: the use of the human head as a frame or window for something larger. It is both deeply personal and outward-looking. For me, this tradition carries an implicit tension: the head, a symbol of individuality, becomes a space for collective memory, for history, and for stories far greater than oneself.

The geography of this work is deliberate. Each piece in this series will be tied to a specific time and place, an emotional map of my experiences in Istanbul. The inclusion of the church references not just the physical structure, but the stories it represents—stories of faith, resilience, and displacement. Yeniköy itself, situated on the shores of the Bosphorus, is a neighbourhood where different cultures and histories meet, much like Istanbul as a whole.

Creating Imperfect Vision was an act of reflection. It allowed me to process not only the sights and sounds of the city, but also the stories I have inherited as the child of parents who experienced displacement and war. It reminded me of the fragility of life, the weight of history, and the hope that still endures despite it all. The piece speaks to the ways we carry places within us—not as perfect, complete visions, but as fragmented, evolving reflections of the things we see, feel, and remember.

As I continue to develop this series, I hope to explore more of these emotional and geographical landscapes. For now, Imperfect Vision serves as both a beginning and a reflection—a way to hold onto the intangible while embracing the complexity of seeing, feeling, and understanding a place as layered as Istanbul.