The Journey of a Hidden Talent: From Classroom Sketches to Lifelong Art
The discovery of my artistic talent happened during my first year of high school, thanks to a newly appointed art teacher at our school. Until that point, I had been just an ordinary student who always received full marks in art class, nothing more. In fact, most of my classmates also received full marks. The teacher would usually give us a subject, and we would fill our drawing papers with sketches using colored pencils or pastels. Sometimes, the principal would join the class, and a student with a good voice would sing. Art class, to be honest, wasn’t taken very seriously.
One of my earliest artistic performances still makes me laugh when I think about it. I was in second or third grade; our teacher had asked us to draw a landscape. While I assumed everyone else would be drawing flowers and trees, I wanted to try something different. At the time, I had recently witnessed a funeral in our village, and it left a strong impression on me. So, I drew it: a mosque, a crowd gathered for the funeral prayer, women crying on one side, a boiling cauldron over a roaring fire to wash the deceased, and, of course, the coffin waiting to be buried.
My teacher, wide-eyed with horror, exclaimed, “What is this?” I, however, proudly began explaining the funeral scene I had depicted on the drawing paper. Whether my teacher contacted my parents afterward, I don’t remember, but I do recall her saying, “You’ve drawn this beautifully, but how about drawing flowers, trees, and birds instead?”
Up until high school, I spent my art lessons, which were only an hour each week, either drawing flowers and landscapes or helping friends who struggled with drawing. It was during these moments that I experienced the purest joy.
When I was a first-year student at Trabzon Of High School, Şehit Ahmet Türkkan High School, we finally had a real art teacher appointed to our school. From the very first lesson, he made us feel the difference of being taught by a true art teacher. He brought large catalogs to the classroom—encyclopedias filled with the lives and works of famous painters, which fascinated me. I could have easily spent the rest of my life with those books.
Our teacher introduced us to ink drawings first. At the end of the lesson, he took my work in his hands and stared at it for a long time. He stepped back a little, placed the drawing at a distance, and continued to observe, squinting occasionally. Finally, he turned to me and said, “You’re very talented.” I was astonished because the black-and-white piece I had drawn seemed simple compared to the paintings he had shown us from the art encyclopedia. But my teacher was a serious person, and I knew he wasn’t joking.
The following week, after class, he called me to the teachers’ room. He handed me a blank 30×40 canvas, a small set of oil paints, and a postcard of a landscape, asking me to paint the scene from the postcard onto the canvas at home. This was my first experience with oil paints. It wasn’t like colored pencils or pastels—more like watercolor in some ways. I eagerly completed the assignment, though I wasn’t too fond of the result, especially since it took forever to dry. Nevertheless, I brought it to my teacher the next day.
As always, he placed the painting on his desk, stepped back a few paces, and studied it intently. I watched along with him. He squinted his eyes again, examining every detail. Finally, he said, “You’re very talented, and you’ve used the free space beautifully.” Expecting criticism, I was thrilled by his compliment. He then gave me a larger, 50×70 cm blank canvas and said, “Paint whatever you like on this.”
And that’s how I started painting. Throughout high school, I constantly painted. Our teacher taught us not only how to paint but also how to build canvases—how to hammer the wooden frames, what to apply on the canvas. We studied the techniques of famous artists one by one, learning every detail. He was more than just an art teacher; he was an amazing person. At the end of the term, we held exhibitions and showcased our work. This process was the beginning of an unforgettable journey for me. But it was just the beginning…
When my father would go from Of (sub province) to Trabzon, he would return with oil paint tubes in his pocket, surprising me. He always brought two or three tubes of white paint since I used it the most, along with a tube of yellow. I still vividly remember one of my early paintings: a snow-capped mountain, a small house by the edge of a pine forest, a flower-filled field, red flowers spilling onto the dirt road, and a blue lake at the end of the path. This painting wasn’t just admired by me; it won the hearts of all our neighbors. I started producing more paintings, and soon my works were displayed in the homes of everyone in the neighborhood.
In my senior year, I was preparing for university entrance exams. Unfortunately, my high school wasn’t very successful in sending students to university. There were no prep schools in Of at the time either, so we had to prepare for the exams on our own. I was the top student in my class, and according to the regulations, I would definitely be placed in a university. But I had no idea which university I would attend.
One day, my art teacher asked me what I thought about university. “I don’t know; my father will decide,” I replied. Back then, the chances of girls going to university were quite slim. During our end-of-term art exhibition, my teacher spoke with my father, suggesting, “She should study fine arts.” But my father immediately objected: “No, my daughter will become a professor.” My teacher persisted, saying, “She can become a professor in art.” My father didn’t take much interest, but those words still echo in my ears.
Now, I’m a retired professor. I earned my professorship in Educational Sciences. In addition to that, I am a retired Member of the Turkish Parliament, former Deputy Minister, and former Ambassador. My career has been colorful and meaningful. However, I rarely had time to paint. Despite this, I managed to create one or two paintings each year. I had always looked forward to retirement, dreaming of the day I could dedicate more time to painting. That day has finally come. Now, I paint every day, as if to make up for the lost years. I will be living in one of the most beautiful cities in the world, Geneva, for a while. Everything here is an inspiration.
I mostly paint flowers. They’ve always fascinated me, as if they are little miracles. I sell my paintings at low cost because I believe art should be accessible to everyone. Some galleries have asked me to raise my prices, saying they’re too low, but this goes against my philosophy. I typically post my works on platforms like Facebook, and within a few days, they find buyers. People send me photos of my paintings hanging in their homes, and it fills me with joy. I believe my paintings bring luck and happiness to the homes they adorn.
