Kübra Kılıç
Hair is a natural depiction of women and a reflection of their nature. In primitive times, women's hair was perceived as an uncanny place that enveloped, concealed, and swallowed. It was associated with extraordinary powers and reflected women's power and fertility.
In mythology, Medusa indicates that a woman derives her power from her hair and that hair is a magical tool. The Moirai, who weave the thread of life, allude to women's dominance in weaving and knitting.
In Anatolian culture, older women believed that by reciting certain rhymes while braiding the hair of young girls,
their hair would grow faster and healthier.
My grandmother's rhyme:
May it be long, may it be long
Like a rope
May it be thick, may it be thick
The height of an old oak
May it be heavy, may it be heavy
Like a kilo of gold…
In the mountains of Eastern Anatolia, shed snake skins were collected and attached to hair, continuing the braids. It was believed that young girls' braids would grow faster and that the long life of the snakes would transfer to the young girl.
In my works, I aim to explore the meanings of braided hair in Anatolian culture, its magical monumentality, and its connection from ancient societies to the contemporary world. In my thread-woven embroideries, I primarily aim to narrate how the identities of Anatolian women are passed down to new generations through muscle memory. This is because all accumulations in life, recorded in the memory that makes us who we are, have the potential to transform into an image or object to be used when the time comes.
In my works, I address my own self and identity formations in a semi-spiritual context of personal belonging, reinterpreting the Anatolian embroidery technique in a different way. I use lace pieces inherited from my family and the narrative Anatolian myths as the subtext of my works.
All models in my works possess my body. Through my own body, I aim to perpetuate the magical monumentality inherited from my female ancestors. I use hair, which is unclear whether it is a bond to tradition or a forced rope, by embroidering it as a metaphor for a rope that wraps around my body in a certain dynamism, sometimes suffocating me.
I aim for the viewer to both find something of themselves and remember their connection to the traditional, and to feel the uncanny nature of the hair wrapping around the neck or body like a snake, making it unclear whether it is protective or a danger itself.
