the bee-eaters, cake and otis.

Around six o'clock this evening, I heard the sound of whistling outside— not high-pitched, but like those plastic whistles I had as a kid. I ran to the window immediately, knowing I was about to see something spectacular, but I wasn't sure what. There in the air, between the large budding green trees and my window, were the most beautiful aerial acrobats I have seen in my life— European Bee-eaters. Just this week I saw my first bee of the year and wondered if the flamboyant birds came this way. I was over the moon— I never knew bee-eaters existed until I got my October 2008 issue of National Geographic, and I recognised them immediately. I felt like I was seeing some mythological creature— it might as well have been a unicorn out there.

When I was a little girl, I had this illustrated encyclopedia of animals (bee-eaters were not included), and I fell in love with a drawing of a handsome bird called a Starling. It was drawn so exquisitely, with all sorts of speckles and violets, greens and blacks for iridescence, I thought, truly this must be a magnificent and rare bird. Years later, when I saw my first starling, I was completely blown away. My friend that was with me at the time thought I was nuts, then explained that they're so common, they're considered pests. It felt odd to discover that something you considered so special and beautiful was nothing more than a common pest, but I didn't care. I still get excited when I see a starling.

If you'd like to learn more about bee-eaters, the National Geographic article Painting the Sky, is available to read online.




* * *

One of the more interesting symptoms of my migraines is that I get this manic surge of creativity before one hits. I had a feeling I was going to be smacked with one today when I got up this morning, so I took something and hoped for the best.

With the aid of a nasty yellow and green pill, I felt well enough to take a painting break to socialise with my mom and her friends for lunch and cake. I don't normally like cake and I hate icing, but my goodness. This cake was divine. It was brought from Pelit Patisserie and it was the fluffiest, lightest cake with the freshest raspberries. It was like eating a berry-flavoured cloud. I've had three slices today.


After my rediscovery of the wonders of cake, I went back to the studio to paint some more. I've had some canvases awaiting paint for a while now, but have neglected them in favour of other work. It felt so good to throw on some music and get the paints out. I was feeling so good that I spilled a jar of linseed oil all over the table and floor and frantically tried to scoop up what I could to put back in the jar. Now my studio smells like a studio.



This is a 100cm x 120cm oil painting that I started working on today. I've been wanting to do massive oils for a while, but so far the largest canvas I was able to find was this size. The sizes I dream of will have to be custom made, and while I used to stretch my own canvases, I'd like to have a professional build them. For now, I'll be working on the 100 x 120 ones. I want to translate the style of my pen sketches into oils, but with more colour and texture. This is an image I've had in my head for a while, a man fishing on the Bosphorus. I want the paintings that follow this one to be captured memories, in the sense that they are moments in time that I have either lived or seen, not necessarily an illustration of a specific event. If that makes sense.

I also began working on Ramires' book for Moly-X34. It's an image I've had in my head for a long time and never got around to drawing, inspired by an Otis Taylor song. Every now and again, I go through an indescribable phase and hit shuffle on all my Otis Taylor songs. His music is so pictorial; I don't know how else to put it— "Trance Blues" is what he calls it, but it's more than that. I feel, see and smell when I listen to his music. The images created by his words, percussive banjo playing and the occasional cello are so vivid, they're like dreams.


There's a good article about him on the Boulder Weekly website, if you are interested in reading more about this fascinating man.
Please click on the images to see them larger.

*depeche mode*

One of my all-time favourite bands, Depeche Mode, is playing in Istanbul this Thursday night. We are stop number three on their Tour of the Universe, which will pass through 28 European cities. This happens to be the band's first ever stadium tour and I am so there. I bought my ticket yesterday afternoon and have been walking around with a wide grin plastered on my face since. I bought the ticket without knowing where the venue is— that's how excited I was— and now I am figuring out how a girl gets down to santralistanbul on public transport. I believe I can take a free shuttle to santral that leaves from Taksim Square every 20 minutes, but I need to do some more research. I've read that santralistanbul was once an Ottoman power plant in the early 1900s, and has been converted into a museum of energy and some very unique exhibition spaces for art. This one-of-a-kind venue is owned by Bilgi University, one of Turkey's leading universities. I'll try to take some pictures of the place and get some information on it, as it is quite intriguing. Now the question is, what do I wear?

Image was pulled from billetix.com, and phone numbers were removed.
*The concert was cancelled due to David Gahan's sudden attack of gastroenteritis.

two moons

Friday's moon was a beautiful pale pink and tonight's rose in red.
I need a better camera.

four to go

Here's my final entry in Anna Denise's book for Moly-X13. Once Anna finishes the last two and a half pages, the book will be completed and we'll start all over again with new books. This is the first exchange I have participated in, an exchange I put together myself, so it's been a really special one for me.

I used a Micron Pigma pen, Winsor & Newton India ink and white ink, watercolour and gouache. This Moly is so beautifully vibrant that I wanted to use some subtle and soft colours to bring it all down to a close, like in a symphony. I don't know the proper term— diminuendo?

Now my stack of Moleskines has gotten down to a more manageable four. I'll be working on these during the next few weeks.

morning

Istanbul
on a spring morning
is a wonderful place to be.

Click on the image to really see it.

moleskines! moleskines!

Today I got a nice surprise from Marty— Gustav Klim's book for Moly-X29, the Rainbow Exchange. What makes 29 so different is that each artist picks a colour of the rainbow and can only create their piece using variations of that colour. Gustav is Yellow, Emma is Green, Marina is Blue, Marty is Indigo, I am Violet, Jill is Red and Yoda is Orange. It's a fun challenge, being limited to one colour. This book is one of the most spirited ones that has come my way— there's a freeness to the styles each artist has used so far. My work is generally pretty tight, so this is the perfect book for me to loosen up in.

I also finished my entry in my book for Moly-X64, the sequential art exchange. I used a dip pen and brush, Winsor & Newton India ink, white ink and some red gouache. I am encouraging the artists in 64 to continue the story as they imagine it, only using black, white and a spot of red. I think it'll end up quite visually interesting.


Now I've got to deal with the rest!
Please click on the images to see them in greater detail.

aegean

Last weekend I went on a spontaneous trip to a town called Bodrum, which is on the Aegean coast of Turkey. Bodrum is an hour and a half flight from Istanbul and the perfect place to relax in the sun, swim in the sea and have a few cocktails. I can't think of anything I enjoy more than swimming in the sea— I was in that clear, clear water the second I could jump in. Since it was the beginning of the season, the weather was a bit chillier than I had hoped, but still quite lovely.



Bodrum is a massive tourist attraction in the summertime, but it was relatively empty this weekend. Being one of the few young females around, I had to put up with a lot of staring. Many tourists and foreigners living in Turkey are bothered by the staring, since we are brought up with the notion that it's rude— here, on the other hand, staring is quite a normal thing. Both men and women will stare, and I have found that it doesn't really mean anything. You just have to ignore it. I am actually happy to be in a culture that is open to staring—I can be as indiscreet as I want to be when drawing people in public.

kapadokya in sketches

Please click on the images to see them larger.

kapadokya, day three

As promised, I'll tell you the hamam story of Day Two. The five of us tourmates decided to visit the Turkish Bath in Ürgüp that evening— I have never been to a Turkish bath and was looking forward to being scrubbed and rubbed. The two guys were lead into a changing cabin and we three ladies were squeezed into one of our own. We wrapped a thin striped cotton cloth called a peştemal around ourselves and slipped on a pair of plastic sandals. It was a small hamam, but we still expected that there would be a separate area for women. When we were lead into the main steam room, we were surprised to see our two male friends sitting on the marble slab in their little peştemals— and they seemed just as surprised to see us. So eh, whatever, we thought. We hike-bonded. We ladies went into a side room to shower off the day's dirt with cool water from a pipe, and warm water from marble basins that we scooped up and poured over ourselves with a plastic bowl. The guys went into the sauna, which was a small glassed in cabin in the back of the marble room, and we three lied down on the heated marble slab.

When the men were called away for their massages, we took our turn in the sauna. There was an older Turkish gentleman that seemed a little put off by our presence, who left as soon as we opened the sauna door. It was fantastically steamy and hot; a really great feeling after a day of hiking. When we got out of the sauna to pour more cool water on ourselves, there was a young guy lying on the marble slab by himself, who watched us walk from the sauna into the water room. We naturally felt shy about it and rushed over the the room where we had more privacy, but there wasn't a door. My Australian friend suddenly gasped and we turned to discover that the guy was lying on his belly with his head turned to face us, and he was staring— not just looking in our direction, but wide-eyes-fixed STARING. So we edged further into the little room, hoping he woudn't see us. As soon as we moved out of sight, he slid on his belly like a seal, inching up the marble slab to spy on us. My friend shooed him away with a series of hand gestures and "Tssh!" sounds, and he walked off into the sauna room. Relieved, we laughed about it and relaxed, continuing our chatting. Suddenly, a larger gasp from my friend and we realised that he had wiped the fog off the glass sauna wall to stare at us! This really annoyed us, but luckily the hamam attendant (who was also male) came to take us away for our scrubs and massages. We told him about the guy and he was kicked out.

Apparently the little hamam in Ürgüp is only set up for women on Saturday. We were not told this, and only learned it from our male masseur. In any case, we had a fun time, and were more shocked by the amount of dead skin that was scrubbed off our arms and legs than the creepy guy. The massages were lovely, and we were also soaped up and shampooed with this warm foamy soap that felt amazing. We had our peştemals on the entire time of course, so we didn't feel very exposed. I'm going to have to try the Istanbul hamams to see what a segregated bath is like— a lot less creepy for sure!



After breakfast on Day Three, I checked out of my hotel and waited outside for the minibus to whisk me away for my third tour. I was surprised when Fatoş, the guide from Day One showed up in a car. I was the only one that signed up for that day's tour, she explained, so I threw my bag in the back seat and hopped in. A private tour for the price of a group tour!

Our first stop was the village of Mustafapaşa, known for its beautiful old Greek houses and the building known as Mehmet Şakir Pasha Madrasah, which was once a carpet shop but is now a vocational school. The doorway was especially beautiful and ornately carved, as you can see in the photo above.


This lady was chopping up wood to store for this year's winter.

We took a 30 minute drive to Soğanli Valley for a hike. It was another gorgeous day with just a few more clouds, lovely for a hike. There's a lot of farmland in this area, mostly used for growing grapes, potatoes, onions and lemons.


After the hike, we went to the town centre for the most delicious meal of the entire trip. Yes, there were bus loads of tourists, but this was natural, home-cooked and full of flavour. We were first presented with a fluffy village bread, olives, the creamiest most delicious butter I have ever had, fresh local cheese and honey with the most delicate flavour. I was in heaven. I could have been satisfied with just the starters, but then came the stew cooked in a clay pot— the region's traditional dish. I chose chicken as my meat, and it was the most moist and tender chicken I have ever eaten. The tomatoes and peppers were so full of flavour and not mushy, as one would expect they might be from simmering in juices in a sealed pot. I wish I had taken a picture of dessert, but I was too busy devouring it. The thickest, freshest tart yoghurt was served with pools of honey. This lunch made up for the other lunches, which were fine, but nothing I would spend time writing about.


During lunch it started to drizzle, then a massive rain storm rolled in. I was so lucky that the trip had been so sunny and warm so far, April is notorious for unpredictable weather. The temperature dropped, and fortunately since I had checked out of my hotel, I had my bag with me and could add a couple of layers to keep warm. We continued on to Keşlik, where an an ancient monastery carved into rocks stood.

On our way, Fatoş took me inside one of the many caves on the side of the road that are used today to store and bag potatoes for mass consumption. Some of these caves are so large that trucks can not only enter them, but turn around completely inside them. When you're driving along the road, you might notice chimneys popping up out of the ground on the hills. These are ventilation shafts for the underground storage caves. Lemons and onions are also stored in this fashion until they are ready to be sold around the country.


The monastery in Keşlik is one of the region's largest monasteries, with several churches carved into the rocks. You can only see the beautiful frescoes with the aid of a flashlight and the keen eye of the groundskeeper. It was too dark to take any pictures, but these two came out. The bottom picture is of graffiti from the late 1800s carved into the frescoes. At first I thought it was an offensive destructive sort of "I was here" type of thing, but Fatoş told me that they were in fact prayers carved by people into the frescoes. They believed that their wishes would be better listened to if written on the walls of churches.


The day ended with rain, and I was dropped off in the main square of Ürgüp, where I met up with my friends from the previous day for a few beers before getting on the bus home.


And yes— pinelopikappa, you are correct! Kapadokya comes from the old Persian name for the region, Katpatuka, which means "land of beautiful horses."

I had the most wonderful time, and there is so much more I need to see in Kapadokya, so I'll be returning sometime in the future. I highly recommend a trip to this beautiful place, I do feel that 'magical' is the best way to describe it.