#forcreativeminds

an equilibrium, an aesthetically pleasing arrangement, that allows nothing to be taken away

A canvas, on its blank state, is a neutral space—like a blind canvas, a new born baby. This is the space where endless possibilities are allowed. The dawn that holds the new day. As soon as an object is placed, a pole is created. Life is created on earth. A force field. A gravity.

The balance is broken.

Now, every single new object that enters the force field will either be pulled towards a pole—if its own gravity is weaker than the former—or creates a new pole stronger—if its gravity is stronger instead. (In the former case, the object obeys the dominant trend within the field, and in the latter, it creates a new trend that overpowers the existing forces.)

A tension is created.

This push and pull between objects continue as long as a state of balance is achieved, which is an extremely rare state that is present for no longer than a brief moment in time. This state is somehow similar to a stationary moment, or maybe a snapshot in time. I would even argue that balance is never something we can achieve, but rather only aspire to. It’s such an ultimate idea that this intention itself it is often the sole hint of a balance. The duality of Yin and yang, which is an ideal equilibrium within the micro- and macrocosms is omnipresent and flowing towards its alteration. As life is always moving, the composition is always evolving, balance is always broken to be recreated over and over again. So the perception of balance as a moment of inertia might be a paradox.

However, this also means that we can only speak of balance in presence of, not necessarily two, but definitely multiple objects (or elements or things or flavours or sounds or colours or movements or any other artistic ingredient). So balance is a relationship. The astrological sign Libra, which has the scales as its symbol, rules relationships. In particular, it rules relationships of one-to-one, where a precise fairness has to be maintained by a constant equal give and take.

Hence balance is a constant equal give and take, the flirt between the female and male.

It’s a peaceful tension, where you feel at ease. The more tension there is, the closer we are to quietude. Or Balance. Like the moment before a rubber band snaps. Or tip of a rollercoaster. Or orgasm.

Aesthetically, balance can create immense pleasure to senses and that’s why we’re drawn towards it as creators. A balanced face is a beautiful symmetrical face, which every feature is counterpoised by an opposite one; where your eyes can rest as long as they want to. It feels like the artist’s job is done. To the outside gaze, it can look perplexing to analyse the meticulous calculations that were put into the construction of the piece. Because there is not a single extra grain that tips the scale. A perfect nothing. The lack of tension. It is perfectly decluttered. Not in the sense that it is minimalistic. Not necessarily. But rather, it’s crystal clear that every single element in the composition exists to fulfil a noble purpose in the exactly right place. Like the way, God created each of us with a special purpose that no-one else but us can fulfil that in the whole contributes to a complex system. It’s without a doubt impossible to substitute any single object with another. 

Nothing is redundant, or arbitrary.

I love Hemingway’s quote “Write drunk, edit sober”. It may take courage to start the creative process, so losing your head over it might certainly help. But equally, it takes a sharp mind, a steady hand and a strong will to refine the outcome and to take things out. And the latter is what makes the work great. Getting rid of the unnecessary and stripping the work down is what makes mastery. And in my own experience, and according to others like Hemingway, this is the hardest part. Artists ultimately manifest a human nature, which more often than not holds onto overstatement.

I recently went to a shaman, because, like everyone, I have issues that I can’t solve with a sharp mind, a steady hand and a strong will. I show addictive behaviour and am drawn to extremes. I’ve been looking for a long time to find my state of balance. This shaman told me that my soul wasn’t willing to let go of the soul of a long passed loved one, even though he wanted to let me go already. She said that our souls finally separated peacefully through her guidance and that when two souls do separate, they always do so with love. I was so so so mad to hear this. Like, so mad. I could not believe that I was being dumped on the soul level. I was just so so so mad. I clearly wasn’t willing to let go of the past and or to be in balance whatsoever. And then I was so so so sad. After the experience, I cried for days, which felt like a fresh grief. But in an ironic way, this started a healing in me.

Finding balance can be dramatic.

You might have to be very brave to let of things, that you know bring you (or your work) harm. It’s quite heart breaking to “killing your darlings.” It might feel like cutting your own limb off. But in fact, the more you dare to lose things, the more you (or your work) get stronger.

So indeed, balance can only be achieved by letting go rather than adding on, in that as artists, we tip the initial balance of nothingness by creating in the first place.

Today I’m feeling nostalgic and would like to talk to you super honestly about the story of Muk. It’ll be a long one.

I started Muk in 2012 in Istanbul, when I just got out of a job and wasn’t knowing what to do with my career (or my life for that matter). I went travelling with my boyfriend at the time, who was extremely supportive of me and all of my experimental artistic endeavours. By a leap of faith, in a tiny bookshop in Amsterdam, I found an amazing book called How to Make Books by Esther K Smith. I read the whole thing in one sitting, and ideas started coming to me immediately. I have never felt more inspired in my life.

I actually didn’t come up with Muk on my own. After I got back from travelling, I came together with my good friend Melike, and together we decided to do something with what I’ve learnt from Esther’s book. Melike and I went to the same architecture school, but she was working to become an academic while I chose to not pursue a career in architecture at all. We had a few people that we looked up to, who were doing handmade notebooks, like Taş Makas Kağıt and Sinek Sekiz, all of whom were also from the same architecture school with us—making notebooks was apparently a thing among architects back then. So Melike and I came up with our very first designs, Architecture Series. Soon after, we parted ways, as doing a PhD in architecture was a full-time job, while I was still job- and clueless. In any case, I can’t express enough how much I appreciated our initial partnership. She really gave me the much-needed confidence. and I couldn’t have started it on my own. Melike is still the biggest cheerleader for Muk.

So I was pushed into the business world on my own, not quite knowing what to do next. I was committed to investing zero money and all my time and energy into it. I worked from 7 am till 11 pm. 7 days a week. For months and months and months. I learnt skills that I didn’t know I needed along the way. I had no idea what I was doing, but business was giving me euphoria. I learnt pretty much everything on my own and did absolutely everything by myself with occasional help from friends and lots of help from family. I swear, I had no idea whatsoever what a business strategy was, or that I could (and should) be planning growth. However, I did take open MBA classes at ITU, did get a certificate at business and read lots of books. I figured out the basics and started feeling the entrepreneurial spirit. And I worked my buns off. I worked like nuts. 

Eventually, I started getting approached by people. Just like that. Day after day Muk turned from a vague idea about handmade notebooks into a known stationary brand. 

First I sold my collection at Taşkışla Şenlik, thanks to a friend who was one of the organisers. There I met Tunc Topcuoglu, who commissioned me for my very first bespoke notebooks. (He’s a very influential person for me, and I’m sure has inspired many others throughout years. So why not, watch his TED Talk.) I then realised for the first time my area of influence through my craft. 

A few months later, Pera Museum approached to me. They asked me to design a stationary collection that would be sold in their museum shop during an upcoming exhibition Between Desert and Sea. This was an uber cool job not just because THEY approached me first, but also it was sooooo exciting to see their new exhibition before everyone else. This job required having an eye for curation and knowing the preferences of a client other than Muk’s. We had an excellent chemistry with them and kept working together for years and years. 

This has encouraged me to initiate more deals. I, for instance, then approached to SUPERPOOL and Pelin Derviş, who I knew from my SALT days, to do a collaboration with them on their Parks of Istanbul project.

Then in 2013, I moved to London. I had been craving growth as a designer. I had needed to rip myself off from my Istanbul sea, which I was getting very very tired of, and throw myself into an ocean. However, I had no idea how to keep a physical business remotely, I didn’t know how to bring it with me, and I didn’t know how to let it go. Then what was meant to be has happened. I teamed up with the lovely and ultimate boss woman, my mum Sevgi, as business partners. She very gracefully and masterfully managed all our new businesses, sales and retail partners, where I saved all my time for creative stuff, like design and marketing. Since we’ve joined forces, Muk has grown immensely, and that’s all because of her hard work and passion. 

Of course, it hasn’t been the easiest ride. There have been lots and lots and lots of disagreements, arguments and emotional breakdowns. But at the end of the day, we have reached a perfect balance. We are different like night and day, which makes us stronger as a team—and perhaps as mother and daughter. I love working with my mum. I don’t think I say this enough, but I learn so much from her every day. 

You’re the best, Sevgi!

There are so many more highlights along the way, but this pretty much brings us to the present tense. I know this is supposed to be a post about the past. So I’m not going to get too much into the future. But I can’t end this blog without mentioning all the incredible Muklovers, who have kept following us throughout years. Needless to say that all we do is for you, and thanks to you we’ve made it this far. So a thousand and counting big high five to all of you out there. Muk loves you too. 

This year on September 17th, we’re turning 5! One week (4 days to be exact) before London Design Fair, where we’ll be launching Muk in the UK, and one month (and 5 days) before I turn 30. A big big big year for us. It’s unbelievable to see how much we’ve grown and how much passion we have to grow more. As I’ve shared with you earlier this year, we have taken a (loooong) break, got ourselves all freshened up and ready to go again. We have a new logo, new designs and our website is on its way up. We are ready for a bigger audience and much bigger work. Don’t worry—we’ve got loads up our sleeves.

Thank you every one of you who have been involved. I’m getting emotional.