NOW

IS THE

TIME

The phrase “Now is the time” is a common idiom that urges immediate action. It implies that the current moment is the most appropriate or opportune for something to happen. It’s a call to action, suggesting that delaying would be a mistake.

-My art is a love letter that I want to give to the world, and at the same time, it’s our private conversation, our unique sense of belonging. My art is here to provoke a war inside us. It’s about recognising your strength, your power, through my words and drawings.

-Now is the Time is not just a phrase, it is an invitation. It asks us to pause and confront the present — the only space where transformation is possible. The past dissolves into memory, the future is always uncertain, but the present is where we can truly see, feel, and act.

This work emerges from the tension between the intimate and the universal. It is both deeply personal and infinitely collective. Each drawing, each word, holds a mirror to what we carry inside — our fears, our resilience, our capacity for love, and our need for belonging.

By declaring Now is the Time, the work insists that strength and awareness are not abstract concepts, but forces already alive within us. It is a call to recognise them, to use them, and to share them.

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YOU MUST HAVE FELT SO ALONE

I placed a series of hand-drawn pieces in public space across London — fragments of text and image that speak from the intimate, and toward the collective.

Each work begins in something deeply personal — a memory, a tension, a conversation with someone real.
But it doesn’t stay there.
Because when we speak honestly to one, we often speak to many.

This body of work reflects on solitude, invisibility, and the way digital culture reframes perception — a world of curated surfaces where emotion is polished and discomfort is hidden.

References to Virginia Woolf, iconic female figures, and the quiet violence of emotional suppression run through the drawings, especially as they echo through women’s lives.

Each piece is intentionally placed — a visible trace, not just left behind but offered.
It’s a dialogue: between me and someone I’ve known, between me and the city, between you and whatever it stirs in you.
It’s not about permanence.
It’s about presence.

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I MISS U

I MISS US

I’M NOT HERE

I’m scared

because there’s

only 1 of you

NYC 5-2025

“I Miss U, I Miss Us”, “I’m Not Here”
and “I’m scared because there’s only 1 of you”
are part of a sticker-based interventions I created in New York City.

The teaser that i made for this work includes a video of Meryl Streep speaking about Kramer vs. Kramer, where she says:
"It’s about a woman who leaves..."
That line became a lens for this work — highlighting the contrast between a conscious act of leaving and the quiet, passive abandonment we experience today through digital life.

This work speaks about presence, disconnection, and the quiet violence of apathy.
It’s a reflection on how society often misjudges emancipation — especially when a woman chooses to walk away with intention. Meanwhile, we normalize disappearing emotionally or collectively, numbed by overstimulation and distraction.

One of the stickers says:
“I’m scared because there’s only 1 of you.”
I first wrote that in 2012, and was about love and longing…
Today, it returns with new meaning.
It’s about cherishing presence —
the terrifying beauty of knowing someone is irreplaceable.
And how vital it is to be fully here in a world that constantly pulls us away.

This work speaks to Americans, but it speaks to all of us.
The phrase “I miss U. I miss US”, written in the colors of the American flag, is not just personal.
It’s a soft alarm. A call to awaken.
A whisper asking:
“Can you come back to yourself?”
“Can we come back to each other?”

My work is always rooted in love and empathy.
If there’s pain in it, it’s tender.
If there’s critique, it’s human.

This is a love letter —
and an act of resistance.

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beauty is in the eye of the beholder

IZMIR 2-2025

Beauty is elusive—a shape-shifter molded by time, culture, and the eye that seeks it. It’s both personal and universal, a force that can lift or trap, adore or consume. My work has long danced with this idea, unraveling its contradictions, its ironies.

I first met beauty in a book as a child, where kindness and grace intertwined but never quite became the same thing. One does not guarantee the other. We can be kind without being beautiful, and beauty—raw, striking, objectified—can be a prison, as seductive and cursed as Dorian Gray’s reflection. We crave it, we claim it, we break beneath it.

This piece is about that tension. About how a face can become an altar, a battlefield, a commodity. But also about the kind of beauty that breathes—that moves through connection, through fleeting moments, through kindness given without expectation. In Izmir, I felt that kind of beauty. In the streets, in the faces of strangers who became friends, in the weightless joy of simply being.

DIME DIME DIME

-

AYER

DIJISTE

MANãna

This work is a tribute to Madrid and Spain, a place that holds deep personal significance for me.As in much of my work, there is a deliberate duality and ambiguity. At first glance, the phrases may seem desperate or uncertain, yet the women appear strong and self-assured, creating a contrast between language and presence. The messages also reflect the overwhelming nature of contemporary life—how information is constantly imposed upon us, often without our consent.

Beyond their literal meaning, these words carry a deeper personal resonance. The promise implied in them is not necessarily directed at another person but rather at oneself.