Doodles and Greetings
- 2 days ago
- 4 min read
The clothing of the envelope, the ornament on it, and the reverence shown during the meeting
We have entered a phase of life where we think twice before doing the things we love. Aside from necessities, we have developed a deep-seated reluctance towards responsibilities and enjoyable activities. It's as if it's a by-product of not finding reward in our efforts. However, we also know that nothing quite compares to the satisfaction of completing, solving or creating something. This can provide short-term relief and satisfaction.
When it comes to this topic, I always think of the old days. Back then, things took time, were challenging and required effort. Despite the difficulties, we were relatively confident that we could overcome them. We relied on brief encyclopaedia entries for our homework, yet we still slept soundly. Those were the years when we didn't resent being unable to achieve more and appreciated what we had more than we do now. By that, I mean doing things willingly, enjoying them, and putting effort into them. We saw them as either fun or educational.
Recently, when I visited the Bedri Rahmi Eyüboğlu exhibition at Casa Botter, I experienced that same feeling of genuine enjoyment in examining the pieces. I appreciated their simple yet personal and unique artistic expression.
I won't make this too long. I want it to be a short read that conveys the main idea.
The exhibition is based on letters written by Bedri Rahmi Eyüboğlu. I don't know how many letters he sent throughout his life, but it wouldn't surprise me if he wrote almost every day. There are information boards where we can read some of the letters, but what is more important are the envelopes they were placed in, along with some postcards.
These were sent to many places, both within the country and abroad. The envelopes sent to friends, relatives, and official institutions were all similar. I assume that he either bought them continuously from the same place or purchased dozens of them at once. Although the stamps on them are typical of the period, there is another aspect that makes these envelopes unique.
Usually, it is the contents of each letter that differentiate them from one another, but this time the answer lies elsewhere. The answer lies in what is on them.
Eyüboğlu also loved drawing. However, he did not draw certain things. Almost all of these drawings look completely different. They are mostly colourful, abstract works.
They are presented in different sections, as indicated by the names on the information signs. While some are difficult to understand, the titles make them slightly more meaningful. Regardless of whether they are understood, it is clear that each one is important to Eyüboğlu.
I never imagined that such a plain, white surface could look so sophisticated. Yet the concept seems so simple, doesn't it? He uses them almost like canvases.
I wonder what impression the shapes and colours of his imagination, brought to life on the envelopes of all his letters, make on their recipients. Nowadays, we hardly ever receive letters. Nor can we know how carefully the contents were composed. But putting that aside, I respect him for enjoying drawing and wanting to express something about himself. If I received such a letter, I would frame it and display it in my room. I would quickly realise that it came from someone who cared about me, someone who I would consider “good”.
The previous exhibition was about Burhan Uygur. You can read my article about it here. What was particularly nice about it was that, as he read Can Yücel's poems, which he clearly liked and appreciated, he attached the feelings they evoked to some of the pages. Eyüboğlu may have created another labour of love that overshadows his writing, showing how much he cares about others. In my opinion, engaging in artistic expression willingly and without expectation is one of life's most beautiful things. I see this as an addition that will be remembered, one that actually increases the value of the work (or, in this case, the written text).
We have become reluctant to do things by hand. We don't want to waste time. We are unwilling. Our threshold for attachment, appreciation and valuing things is low and steadily declining. Looking at this example, I sometimes feel sad about what we have lost. We have gone from a time when we didn't hesitate to spend the most important element in our lives — time — on others, to a time when we don't even care about ourselves and neglect ourselves. This shows that society has lost its values. But aren't we the ones who make up society? Who sees themselves as worthless? We are in a terrible dilemma. Either we are not honest enough, or we are blind enough.
I hope life brings you people who send such letters, and that it allows you to become someone who can receive them.
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