Where myth turns to form and fragility to power: An interview with Turkish artist Melis Buyruk

‘For me, beauty is not decoration, but a conscious position’

Originally published on Global Voices

Turkish artist Melis Buyruk entered 2025 with two striking exhibitions that solidified her position as one of the most original sculptural voices working in porcelain today. Her recent exhibitions in the United Arab Emirates, “Four Birds and One Soul,” and “Because Some Things Are Still Beautiful,” presented alongside her solo section with Leila Heller Gallery at Contemporary Istanbul, have drawn critical attention for their emotional clarity and the way they translate myth, memory, and interiority into complex visual form.

These exhibitions, shaped by what Buyruk calls her “inner chronology,” arrive at a moment when global audiences are increasingly attuned to ceramics as a conceptual medium, and her work stands out for its meticulous craftsmanship and symbolic depth.

Born in Gölcük in 1984, Buyruk describes a childhood immersed in making — drawing, sewing, shaping, and building tactile worlds by instinct. “The act of making felt instinctive from an early age,” she recalls, noting how this sensibility naturally led her to ceramics and, later, to the demanding precision of porcelain. Studying at Selçuk University in Konya, Turkey, beginning in 2003, she gradually developed a visual language in which detail and technique became inseparable from meaning.

Buyruk’s style occupies a liminal terrain where the real and the mythical converge: botanical forms, animals, and imagined ecosystems operate as metaphors for self-mastery, longing, and the fragile architecture of inner peace. Her compositions — subtle on the surface, labyrinthine upon closer view — challenge the viewer’s sense of beauty and perception, inviting contemplation of what lies beneath stillness and precision.

“Years of long studio hours naturally led to technical mastery,” she says of her process, a discipline visible in the fragile yet commanding presence of her porcelain worlds.

With recent exhibitions spanning Asia and the Middle East, and with major acquisitions such as the Louvre Abu Dhabi through Leila Heller Gallery, Buyruk’s work continues to resonate across cultures and institutions.

In an interview with Global Voices, Buyruk spoke about myth and inner journeys, the emotional resonance of porcelain, the shifting landscape of contemporary ceramics, and the evolving trajectory of her new series.

Excerpts from the interview follow: 

Omid Memarian (OM): Your recent exhibitions — “Four Birds and One Soul” in the UAE and “Because Some Things Are Still Beautiful,” along with your solo presentation with Leila Heller Gallery at Contemporary Istanbul, create a decisive moment in your career. How do these shows relate to each other in your mind, and what emotional or conceptual threads connect the works you chose to exhibit in Dubai and Istanbul?

Melis Buyruk (MB): “Four Birds and One Soul” comes from a story in Rumi’s “Masnavi,” often described as “the four birds in the cage of flesh.” Inside that cage are four birds, each symbolizing a human trait that can weigh down our inner journey: the peacock stands for pride, the crow for material attachment, the rooster for impulsive desire, and the goose for greed. The story suggests that maturity comes through learning self-mastery, allowing the soul to move with greater clarity. In Sufi thought, it is a powerful metaphor for the inner journey. When I first encountered this story, I was deeply affected and wanted to bring these four symbolic birds into my ongoing “Habitat” universe, where natural forms carry inner states. The title of the exhibition grew directly from this impulse.

“Because Some Things Are Still Beautiful” is connected differently. It is not a denial of reality, but a response to moments when clarity feels fragile, and language becomes insufficient. In those moments, attention to beauty, especially the quiet precision of the natural world, can become something to hold onto. For me, beauty is not decoration, but a conscious position.

The way these works were presented in Dubai and Istanbul was shaped more by timing than by curatorial strategy. I was in China just before Contemporary Istanbul, and that personal moment naturally led to “Because Some Things Are Still Beautiful.” Rather than selecting works for specific locations, the exhibitions reflected my own inner chronology and the moment each body of work was ready to be shared.

OM:  Can you talk about your early years, your childhood memories of making things with your hands, and when you first realized that ceramics — and later porcelain — would become your primary artistic language?

MB: I grew up immersed in my own inner world, always making things with my hands, drawing, shaping objects, sewing, playing with clay. The act of making felt instinctive from an early age, and it followed me through school, where I was constantly drawing in the margins of my notebooks.

When I began studying ceramics at Selçuk University in 2003, it wasn’t a fully conscious choice. At the time, ceramics were not yet widely seen as a contemporary medium. But as I learned more, I became increasingly drawn to detail and to building meaning from small elements toward a whole. Porcelain, with its precision and sensitivity, naturally became my primary language.

I tend to work meticulously and value technical clarity and finish, which led me to stay with the same material over time rather than moving between mediums. This continuity allowed both my practice and my relationship with porcelain to deepen. Craftsmanship is essential to my work. It invites the viewer not only to look, but to consider the process of making as part of the experience.

OM: Your practice is often described as expanding the “possibilities of porcelain,” especially in your recent sculptural installations. How has your technique evolved from your early years with clay to the intricate, large-scale porcelain works you make today? Were there breakthroughs or challenges that shaped this evolution?

MB: My practice has always been labor-intensive, and I’ve come to see that process as part of the work. Years of long studio hours naturally led to technical mastery. I’m pretty perfectionistic, which is why I stayed with porcelain rather than experimenting with other materials. It’s demanding and unpredictable — it can crack while drying, break before firing, or fail in the kiln — and its high-temperature firing causes chemical changes and shrinkage.

At first, accidents were frequent. Over time, experience taught me how to anticipate and work with these risks. When people ask, “How is this possible?” the answer is really years of patience and familiarity with the material. My curiosity continues to guide me, including my time in Jingdezhen, which deepened my technical understanding. The more fluent I become with porcelain, the more freely I can imagine through it.

OM: In “Four Birds and One Soul,” you draw on the Masnavi story of the four birds, each symbolizing a part of the human soul. How did this narrative shape your approach to form and composition, and how do Persian and regional mythologies influence your imagination?

MB: In my “Habitat” series, I combine humans, plants, and animals to build imagined worlds, sometimes letting animals dominate and other times hiding them subtly. “Four Birds and One Soul” emerged naturally from this approach. After encountering the Masnavi story, I began viewing the four birds as inner states rather than symbols to illustrate. The work’s structure was influenced by traditional family portraits — intimate, memorable groupings — so I approached each bird as a portrait within the “Habitat” universe, placing them together to reflect emotions we confront or move beyond.

This connection grew from personal experience. I studied in Konya and still visit often. After one of these visits, while preparing the exhibition, I felt compelled to translate that encounter into my own visual language within the series.

OM: Many describe your porcelain works as both fragile and commanding, rooted in nature yet otherworldly. What does porcelain let you express that other materials cannot, and how do its limits — fragility, translucency, precision — shape the emotional or symbolic qualities of your sculptures?

MB: Porcelain lives in our collective memory — we grow up with it in our homes and daily rituals — so it already carries meaning before I touch it. Its familiarity brings a quiet romance, while its fragility introduces vulnerability and emotional weight. I keep those qualities visible rather than hiding them.

Porcelain aligns with my interest in delicacy, precision, and attention, and it demands all three. It doesn’t just hold the form; it shapes how the work is experienced. Its familiarity draws viewers close, its fragility slows them down, and its cultural associations create an emotional resonance that becomes inseparable from my visual language.

OM: Contemporary ceramics has undergone a major shift in recent years, moving from a craft-centered discipline to a central part of the global contemporary art conversation. How do you see your own work positioned within this changing landscape, and what trends in the ceramic world feel meaningful — or challenging — to you?

MB: Over the past 15 to 20 years, ceramics has shifted significantly within the contemporary art world. When I began working with porcelain in the early 2010s, the medium was often viewed as decorative rather than conceptual, and it was rarely recognized as a category in open calls or exhibitions.

Today, that perception has changed. Ceramics has become part of the global contemporary art conversation, with artists from many disciplines engaging with the medium. Having witnessed this transformation firsthand, I find it encouraging, especially for younger generations.

Trends, however, have never shaped my practice. I continued working with porcelain even when it had little visibility. What feels most meaningful to me is the renewed appreciation for craftsmanship. I see technical mastery and conceptual thinking as inseparable, and my work exists precisely at that intersection.

OM: Several of your works have attracted international attention and entered significant collections, including the Louvre Abu Dhabi. Looking ahead, what new directions — in scale, material experimentation, narrative, or exhibition format — are you hoping to explore? Are there boundaries within porcelain you still want to push?

MB: I’m grateful for the international recognition my work has received, and the Louvre Abu Dhabi acquisition through Leila Heller Gallery was especially meaningful. Moving forward, I want to deepen the new series I’ve begun — expanding its colors and possibilities while continuing to work primarily with porcelain. I don’t feel the need to shift mediums; I’m more interested in stretching what porcelain itself can do.

I also hope to increase my global presence through exhibitions, fairs, and biennials. This past year, I showed in Taiwan, South Korea, India, and China, and I’d like to continue building visibility in new locations with the right institutions and collections.