Interview with: Kenan K.
October 2025
When he began to paint as a hobby in his fifties, it was as if the soul of a twelve-year-old child had stepped out of its shelter and into a different dimension. They decided to walk the path of art together, hand in hand, if possible. When Kenan K. started attending weekend courses at Hızır Teppeev's studio, one of the first things he learned, apart from basic painting techniques, was to respect the brushes. Later, this approach turned into an understanding of respect for everyone and everything, animate and inanimate; life, nature, and art in particular — this understanding, along with love, formed one of his paradigms of life.
Welcome Kenan, first tell us about your background and why you chose to pursue this career.
Do you remember the first artwork that stirred something inside you?
While looking for a hobby after retiring in June 2006, I found myself at Hızır’s painting atelier as a result of a friend’s recommendation. When I met Hızır, I told him that the last time I had painted was at secondary school forty years ago, and the instructor had not liked what I had done, which highlighted my limited ability. He responded in a constructive and encouraging way: 'You are not spoiled. You are like a blank or white sheet of paper, which is good!" And so my adventurous art journey began.
I didn't know that life might had an 'open-ended voyage plan' for you, bringing good things and letting you make your own decisions, or that sometimes walking with your heart instead of your brain could open lovely gates of surprise.
When it came to creating my first artwork, I asked myself, "Can I make it and succeed?" Once we had finished the first piece with Hızır's technical support, I realised that I was learning. This answered my main question: 'Yes! Yes, you can learn!'
How would you describe your artistic practice? What are the recurring elements, themes, and concepts you refer to? Does spirituality or a connection to something larger than yourself influence your creative process?
The connection between theme, art and its origins is complex and uncertain. Venturing into the unknown is like a journey of discovery, a cycle of learning and growth. This unfolds through trials and errors, developing skills and understanding. Recipes, forms and patterns cannot be applied linearly to visual works in which there is no specific order or importance.
Imagine you are walking through a field. You notice discarded pieces of bone, branches, stones and soil, so you collect them. After a while, you find yourself captivated by these materials and driven by an impulse to start working with them. You arrange them on a surface, paint, and keep rearranging them until the piece is finished. Ultimately, a new creation emerges. This new piece evokes a different meaning for you, or you assign it a new one. As this association grows, you can create more pieces and develop them further.
Imagine that you have a dream one night, and the next morning you paint a picture inspired by it. Later, you recall another childhood dream and incorporate it into your work. In this way, you incorporate your dreams, thoughts and memories into your creative process. Imagine waking up at sunrise. It feels like the perfect time for inspiration, as if it's waiting for you to sense it as you start working on visuals.
Over time, the actions of the cats or dogs you observe, or of a mantis that climbs onto you unexpectedly or a spider that weaves its web in a secluded corner of the garden, could inspire scenes in your imagination and turn them into characters of the paintings in your story. Their behaviour may also inspire scenes in your imagination.
All activities and work can be described as somewhere between fully controlled and entirely random. The process is not linear, nor does it follow the usual sequence of thinking, designing, planning, executing, improving with feedback and repeating. It generally develops cyclically, moving forwards and backwards depending on the conditions and the overall situation. The key lies in knowing when and where to take control. Involvement at these critical junctures is related to energetic interactions with outer sources and dialogue with our inner voices. I sense these occurrences have been happening in due course, but I am unaware of how the dynamics work and interact.
Naturally, as you continue to practise and gain experience, your understanding of the concept and your path will become more extensive. Developing your observational skills and shifting your focus from internal/subjective to external/objective enhances your capacity for self-criticism and repositioning. The development, enrichment and proliferation of topics also influence your style and practice. Sometimes, separate pieces are connected or merged, bringing you closer to the bigger picture. However, as you unify these pieces, you also categorise and regroup them.
In summary, you embark on a journey to see if you can have a positive impact on life in all its simplicity. You continue to experience its highs and lows, its difficulties and ease, moving back and forth but always moving forward. Throughout this process, you contemplate the prospect of a better world, either in the present or hopefully in the future.
What unusual or unexpected sources of inspiration have deeply influenced your work?
When I found Bluish, he was a young crow with a bold head and black feathers. We spent ten days together learning to communicate without language, but through sensing and caring for each other. She learnt to fly during this time. On the tenth day, at the brink of sunset, she flew to the top of the fence. She stayed there as if she were about to make a decision. I asked, "Are you leaving?" She looked at me as if to say goodbye and went to a tree in the neighbours' garden, where she started to climb up it.
Suddenly, two adult crows appeared. The evening was almost upon us. The sky was turning grey and, in the emptiness, I saw three crows flying together: two adults in front and Bluish at the back, flying clumsily. I watched them until they disappeared from view and Bluish was gone.
I sat down on the ground, feeling mixed emotions, and leaned my back against the wall. There was violin music playing in the background. Then I went up to the studio, grabbed an MDF plate, picked up some oil boxes, and started dripping paint. When I had finished, the work 'When the Crow Flew Away' came up.
We are at the end of this short interview, would you like to add something about your artistic research? How did you find the collaboration with our gallery?
I have some friendly suggestions for the audience. The interaction can be more productive if they can approach it with an open mind. Spending some time on it could also lead to a small tour, which I hope will be enjoyable.
I think the collaboration with 'Florence Contemporary Gallery' is excellent, not because of the zero commission, one-time payment, scrutinised approach to selection, etc., but because it seems your focus is to support the artists and the art forum to the extent possible, rather than making a profit out of it.