{"id":2840,"date":"2026-05-19T22:51:55","date_gmt":"2026-05-19T19:51:55","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/artakalan.org\/?page_id=2840"},"modified":"2026-05-19T23:14:31","modified_gmt":"2026-05-19T20:14:31","slug":"sprey","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/artakalan.org\/en\/sprey\/","title":{"rendered":"ceramic spray cans"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Once, spray cans overflowing with colors now carry another burden. No sound is left inside them, no pressure, no movement; but memory remains. In my hands, I am reconstructing a worn-out, decayed object that was exhausted on the streets, using ceramics. I am looking anew at the things deemed worthless after being used.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

This is not merely the story of an object. The traces of a state of being that has been marginalized, diminished piece by piece, and forced into silence stand right here. What was lost was not lost one by one; it was all lost together. The eyes that looked upon this were closed, the words spoken were silenced, and those who objected were pushed back.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

Now, I look at what is left behind. A warped, hollowed-out form. Yet, it is still standing. It is still here. The marks on the surfaces are not just visuals; they are the leakage of what has been suppressed. These works do not tell the story of the spray cans, but of what remains.<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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