It feels like the only “free” time I have is when I’m with my dog. When I give all my focus to my dog, everything disappears. He lives every minute with love and content. I try to learn how to live like that from him. Otherwise, most of my time is spent on screens, working or worrying while doomscrolling.
I think our contemporary life is full of unhealthy rituals. To be honest, I can’t name one healthy ritual. Because it seems like each ritual we somehow decided to be healthy for ourselves, ends up ruining something else. If not another human’s life, then the nature. I’m not a healthy person. I gave up. I have too much existential dread to be healthy.
The Earth without humans. That’s my unachievable fantasy.
Did you choose to be born into this mess?
I guess if you are privileged enough, you can stay offline. You don’t need to be looking at screens all the time. Unfortunately, I’m not that privileged. I have to work. I’m almost always looking at a screen.
I wish I could. Sometimes I wish I was a narcissist. Don’t you?
I also mistakenly perceive artistic work as free activity. Otherwise, I would feel like I’m working non-stop all the time. That would be very depressing and sad for me.
Yes, I can’t produce anything that will be thrown in the trash after the show. That is why all my works are on screens or speakers. I rent equipment, and later on those equipments are being used elsewhere. Of course, the initial production of these equipments and their effect to the environment is another issue. But at least they can be used as a TV at someone’s house afterwards. Covering exhibitions spaces with carpets, or fake walls that will be thrown in the landfill annoys me. This annoyance definitely shapes my practice. It’s also silly, because if I really cared, I guess I shouldn’t be making work to begin with. I guess we are all silly like that when it comes to environment. We just want to feel like we care and help, we do our part, but actually aren’t we just fooling ourselves? I feel like at this point every moment we live is bad for the environment.
Wait, I thought in order to improve the world, we need to start with ourselves first?
In his black and white animations, Özgür Kar (b. 1992) breathes life into anthropomorphic characters struggling with existential questions. The bodies are seemingly trapped in the limited frame of giant flat screens while they are protected from the outside world. These lonely giants, existing in ingenious technological installations, slowly awaken between long pauses, and the muffled murmur of their melancholic monologues invites the audience to reflect, at least for a moment, on a theme that is now ubiquitous and fundamental to a good life—death. The Dutch-Turkish artist was an artist-in-residence at the Rijksakademie van Beeldende Kunsten and studied at the Sandberg Institute in Amsterdam.