İnci Eviner

behin d i t s o m e th i ng in t i mat e ! nc ! ev ! n e r draw in g s a nd t e xt s İnci Eviner This artist book is composed of the drawings created by İnci Eviner and the texts she wrote in Büyükada, Istanbul in 2023–2024, in a reflective conversation with each drawing. All the drawings and texts are original works by the artist. edito r Erdem İlgi Akter transl at ion & ed it in g o f t h e t e x ts Aydın Mehmet Ali add it ion a l t ra n s lat i o n s Reşat Korel, Aycan Garip pro o fre a de r Matt Hanson design Ruslan Abasov pro jec t a s s ista n t Sinem Başar p rint in g MAS Matbaacılık San. ve Tic. A.Ş.

Hamidiye Mah. Soğuksu Cad. No: 3 34408 Kağıthane / İstanbul +90 212 294 10 00 | book@masmat.com.tr Certificate No 44686 paper Arctic Volume Ivory 130 gr/m2 p ublish e r DİRİMART Hacıahmet Mah. Irmak Cad. 1–9 Dolapdere 34440 İstanbul t: +90 212 232 6666 | dirimart.com Certificate No 68661 All images with the courtesy of İnci Eviner. © All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-605-5815-69-1 september 2024

To Aras…

behin d i t s o m e th i ng in t i mat e ! nc ! ev ! n e r draw in g s a nd t e xt s İnci Eviner This artist book is composed of the drawings created by İnci Eviner and the texts she wrote in Büyükada, Istanbul in 2023–2024, in a reflective conversation with each drawing. All the drawings and texts are original works by the artist. edito r Erdem İlgi Akter transl at ion & ed it in g o f t h e t e x ts Aydın Mehmet Ali add it ion a l t ra n s lat i o n s Reşat Korel, Aycan Garip pro o fre a de r Matt Hanson design Ruslan Abasov pro jec t a s s ista n t Sinem Başar p rint in g MAS Matbaacılık San. ve Tic. A.Ş.

Hamidiye Mah. Soğuksu Cad. No: 3 34408 Kağıthane / İstanbul +90 212 294 10 00 | book@masmat.com.tr Certificate No 44686 paper Arctic Volume Ivory 130 gr/m2 p ublish e r DİRİMART Hacıahmet Mah. Irmak Cad. 1–9 Dolapdere 34440 İstanbul t: +90 212 232 6666 | dirimart.com Certificate No 68661 All images with the courtesy of İnci Eviner. © All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-605-5815-69-1 september 2024

To Aras…

I came across her on a village road.

So excited; mentioning her great escape plan, speaking in whispers.

Leaning over into my ear and giving me a secret.

On the verge of completing her preparations, to realise her plans.

The only thing missing was a sharp pencil and the words.

The letter intended for her family had to be a poem.

She must join the eight words she knows To reflect the longing she feels for a new life.

This poem had to be of woven words, squeezed in-between guilt and freedom. page s i x

She lined up the eight words in various patterns on a piece of paper.

From bottom to top, at times side by side, sometimes leaving spaces in between decorating the edges of the letter with flower motifs…

I came across her on a village road.

So excited; mentioning her great escape plan, speaking in whispers.

Leaning over into my ear and giving me a secret.

On the verge of completing her preparations, to realise her plans.

The only thing missing was a sharp pencil and the words.

The letter intended for her family had to be a poem.

She must join the eight words she knows To reflect the longing she feels for a new life.

This poem had to be of woven words, squeezed in-between guilt and freedom. page s i x

She lined up the eight words in various patterns on a piece of paper.

From bottom to top, at times side by side, sometimes leaving spaces in between decorating the edges of the letter with flower motifs…

page e igh t

I was only 20 years old.

I bit my 20 years of age, splitting it in two.

I laid one half beneath my feet and trampled it.

Then, From my feet all the way to the tip of my hairs I tugged and stretched myself, I became a lump.

As I lay on the platform, next to the other half, They stepped on me, thinking that I was a discarded ball of hair, cut off from teenage girls.

page e igh t

I was only 20 years old.

I bit my 20 years of age, splitting it in two.

I laid one half beneath my feet and trampled it.

Then, From my feet all the way to the tip of my hairs I tugged and stretched myself, I became a lump.

As I lay on the platform, next to the other half, They stepped on me, thinking that I was a discarded ball of hair, cut off from teenage girls.