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I. Discovery

This work was never intended for public view. Not because it was secret—but because it was never considered work at all.

In my studio, I maintain several working surfaces: a table with my laptop, another for reading and writing, and tables where I teach students. For years, I have covered each with protective white wrapping paper. Over time, these papers become stained and marked—inks, lines, colors accumulate alongside captured thoughts, visual maps, fragments of ideas, sometimes lyrics. A detail extends into a drawing. Newspaper clippings adhere. Sketches of political figures appear beside notes on gender abuse, mining conflicts, media manipulation, and human existence. Plans for future projects mingle with inner perceptions, dreams, and everyday debris.

This process has continued for over a decade. Only gradually did I recognize that these accumulated surfaces were not merely the backdrop to my practice—they were practice. They had found their own way to exist.

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II. Revelation

My first exhibition of twenty-five such drawings took place in Limassol in November 2023. There, I understood something I had only suspected: the process was producing not objects but more process. Each drawing captured a specific moment in time, yet together they wove strange narratives across years. The political caricature from 2017 resonated with the media critique from 2022. The intimate confession from 2019 echoed the gender abuse notation from 2023. Stories intervened.

Preparing the works for print—because not everyone can afford originals—I photographed each drawing. In Photoshop, I continued developing them. I cut details, manipulated colors, digitally processed what had begun as analog accumulation. The process continued producing. What amazed me was this: the work had no end. It kept generating.

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III. Vision

The next step is now clear: publication. A book that would allow me—and others—to "read" these drawings again. Each holds multiple stories from its period: the breaking news that triggered a mark, the research that generated a diagram, the inner struggle that found release in a line. Fascinatingly, these stories intervene across time, creating narratives no single moment could contain.

Some drawings are explicitly political—capturing the influence of conflicts, mining disasters, gender-based violence, media manipulation. Others caricature political figures. Some sketch new work. All register the simultaneity of being alive in a world of information overload, emotional residue, and persistent thinking.

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IV. Context

My broader practice encompasses video, installation, and critical engagement with AI—reflecting on how data, language, and technology interface with memory and social structures. Currently, drawing is my primary medium, but I remain medium-less: each project defines its own form. The conceptual core determines whether work becomes media art, painting, installation, or hybrid.

The Process is the (Sub)Product runs parallel to my project DATA Mattering, which investigated friction between data saturation and personal cognition. If AI and algorithms are trained on our digital traces, I asked, what are we trained on? How are we shaped by the narratives media imposes? What do we retain in a world of endless updates? Can we still identify our own voice amidst algorithmic recombination?

These questions inform the drawings. They are not illustrations of theory but theory enacted—thinking made visible, cognition given form.

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V. Inspirations and References

Philosophical:

• Immanuel Kant's schematism — the bridge between perception and concept, which these drawings inhabit

• Henri Bergson's duration — time experienced as flow rather than measure, captured in accumulative marks

• Gilles Deleuze's art as event — something that happens rather than represents

• Aristotle's energeia — activity valued for its unfolding rather than its end

Literary:

• T.S. Eliot's The Waste Land — fragments shored against ruins

• Nicholas Carr's The Shallows — what remains in memory amidst digital overload

• P. Shirley — whose book title illuminated drawing as collecting what resists articulation

Artistic:

• Hanne Darboven — repetition, notation, time as material

• Chantal Akerman — registering the everyday as act of devotion and resistance

• David Lynch — art as excavation, fishing for ideas beneath the visible

• Csongor G. Szigeti — whose entrance work at Schafhof influenced my awareness of transitional zones

Historical movements:

• Dada, Fluxus, John Cage — challenging borders between product and process, art and life

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VI. Statement

My drawing series THE PROCESS IS THE (SUB)PRODUCT emerges as a practice running parallel to my intermedia projects. It is not conceived between projects but as a conceptual sub-layer inseparable from my broader work. These drawings are traces of thinking, side-effects of research, the embodied residue of artistic planning.

The title reflects this position: the works do not stand as polished outcomes but as visible remains of a process—much like in scientific research, where anomalies, "waste data," or discarded notes may later become seeds of paradigm shift. In this sense, they are carriers of potential discovery. They record unstable states between sense and nonsense, precision and mess, system and deviation.

In relation to contemporary digital culture: while algorithmic systems strive for optimization and the eradication of error, my drawings embrace imperfection as a form of sovereignty. They stand as counter-gesture to technological determinism, affirming the human hand as site of uncertainty. The series also embodies joyful rebellion: beyond critique, the act of drawing becomes space of play and freedom, reclaiming imagination from the demand for productivity and order.

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VII. What the Drawings Ask

• What is retained or forgotten in a world of oversaturation?

• How does the brain—our "organic computer"—filter the simultaneity of data, emotion, and image?

• Can we still recognize our own voice amidst algorithmic recombination?

• How do we document fleeting inner constellations in a world where everything is designed to be seen, but very little is truly noticed?

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VIII. Conclusion

These drawings are not preparatory sketches. They are cognitive topographies—visual recordings of thinking, sensing, and remembering. They unfold in between spaces: between artworks, between thoughts, between states of knowing and unknowing. They are not so much about making meaning as about noticing what slips through meaning's frame.

Fragile, processual, persistent, they reveal that the act of drawing can itself be a form of living thought. They insist that what is usually dismissed—the leftover, the incidental, the background—might be precisely what deserves our attention. In valuing the subproduct, we might find the process was always the point.

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