Ontology, Black Turkish Communities and the Painted Smile in Deniz Pasha's portraiture

Words by Larena Amin.

The Sudanese-Turkish painter hesitates to call herself an artist as our interview begins. Her recent ‘Blood Memory’ exhibitions consisted of portraits that provoke socio-political dialectics, equally as they do intrigue and familiarity. Selected works of hers were also exhibited by Galerie Hussenot at this year’s 1-54 art fair; she did this remotely, having only given birth a week prior. “It's just commerce at the end of the day,” she quips, as we brush over industry talk and delve into the social meaning and repercussions of her artwork. 

Larena: Two recent exhibitions of yours experienced a temporal overlap across two cities; what was the intention behind this, if any? 

Deniz: I started working on a series of paintings in 2020, and then the pandemic happens. I produced a lot of work, because I was bored, essentially, and I had good flow. And I produced enough work to have two shows. I figured, If I'd been offered two shows, why not pursue both of them?

With great fondness, Deniz explains that the show in Belgium brought her into contact with the Black artist community there. She had initially been interested in exhibiting, her work aligning with the post-colonial practice she expected to exist in Belgium. She came to find out, however, that censorship is a vast hurdle for Black artists and thinkers in the country. “It gave me an idea of what I need to do next. This is something I need to explore the next time I show in Belgium… because I'm not Belgian, I could do whatever I want. I've got that free rein. I found the community there. I don't have a community in Istanbul. I'm the only Black artist I know of in Istanbul. Which is a whole other conversation, right? Why?”

Pasha’s artistic process inherits a profound symbiosis with intellectual thought and literature, citing writers such as August Wilson and Toni Morrison. “The research feeds my curiosity more than it does the painting, but it gets to a point where I research so much that artistic or poetic thinking comes in the wake of it… at that point, I start sketching…” Explaining Pasha’s bodies of work, dozens of varied portraits all with one clear thread tying them into a synergetic collective.

The artist is deeply informed of the nuances of enslavement across the Middle East. Her studious and courageous endeavours are met with academic whitewashing, or simply no acknowledgement through the lack of established archives documenting and studying Afro-Turkish histories. “You look at the modern Republic and how Black people are represented, that gives you enough hints. We know about things like minstrelism and the Black Mammy figure in Turkey… Black people's records in Turkey only go back to around the mid-19th century. A lot of people that I've met here don't know anything about themselves beyond 1870.”

Larena: What would you like to see for the future of Black Turkish people? 

Deniz: I think they need to be recognised as an ethnic group, they’re not even recognised as an ethnic group yet in Turkey. One big, big thing that needs to happen is archives need to be released. There are photographic archives I've been on a wild goose chase for five years trying to access. God, I just want access. People will at least find out the matrix from which their identity can spring from.

Recent African migrants and Afro-Turks in the capital experience architectural distinction, mainly concentrated in a neighbourhood colloquially referred to as ‘Little Africa.’ The neighbourhood houses landmark Nigerian, Somali, and Ethiopian restaurants. She informs me of an element of invisibility amidst the current landscape, pointing out a newly erected art institute in Dolapdere - also densely populated with African and Romani folk - which locals have little to no engagement with or invitation to - a fundamental tenet of gentrification. 

I ask Deniz to indulge me in a typical viewer-artist curiosity, the subjects of her paintings. I notice that a number of Pasha’s portraits are untitled (with key details or poetic signifiers in brackets). She explains that in these instances, an almost superstitious desire for her subjects to be imperceivable on an interpersonal level guides her ambiguous titles. “I want them to feel like they've been plucked out of the air as part of a bigger story.” She poignantly admits that ownership of Black focussed art rings uncomfortably, considering the contexts of marginalisation, necessity, and fungibility. “I have a problem with the fact that I'm painting portraits. And I have a problem with the fact that people can own these portraits.”

When Deniz decides to title a painting, it is often with the name of her muse. Josephine, for instance, was a “refugee trying to get into Europe, so I like the idea of Josephine being in Brussels right now or in London. So I named them.” To learn more about Deniz’s muses was enlightening, though it brought about further questions regarding her painted expressions. “I want to see people not necessarily in repose or smiling, but I want to see weird expressions. I think what we’re trying to do as Black figurative artists is explore the idea of what Blackness is, and to push it and push it.” A pioneer in her environment, Pasha’s striking work can only continue to stand upright. Her thoughtfulness exudes from her portraits, each a beacon for being and advocacy. 

Follow Deniz Pasha’s work here.