ROHDE HMT 600 ^^

I have been thinking about buying a new pottery wheel for a long time. Since I want to buy it only once and use it for many years, I tried not to rush. I compared different models again and again sometimes I leaned towards Shimpo and then I changed my mind back to Rohde. In the end, today I chose the ROHDE HMT 600.

The main reason was that I wanted something long-lasting. I looked at the strength of the body, the torque, and the general reliability of the brand. I wanted a wheel that I would not need to replace or upgrade after a few years, and Rohde felt like the safer choice for that.

In the Netherlands, there is only one official Rohde seller. Instead of ordering it online, I preferred to visit the shop and buy it in person. It helped me understand the machine better and made the decision feel more solid. For now, I bought the model without shelves, and I plan to add the extra parts later, depending on my needs.

One thing I noticed during setup is that the wheel head works a bit differently than Shimpo models. On Shimpo wheels you can slide the top tray out from the side, but on the Rohde you remove the metal bat plate in the center to reach the splash pan underneath. It is just a different system, and it already feels quite natural.

There is also a water drain tube under the splash pan. This is useful during long throwing sessions, because the extra water does not collect inside the pan. Cleaning it is also simple.

A small detail made me smile: the foot pedal connects to the machine with a jack plug, similar to the ones used in Yamaha musical instruments. Seeing a music-style connection on a pottery wheel felt funny and strangely charming. It also means the system is simple and easy to replace if needed.

For now, the wheel is set up in my studio, and I will start working on it soon. As I spend more time with it, I will write another post about how it feels during actual throwing — the pedal response, speed control, and the general stability while centering clay.

Kadikoy, kasım ‘25

During this trip to Istanbul, I went to a place I hadn’t visited in seven or eight years. I also met an old friend at the same spot where we used to meet.

For a long time I thought nothing would feel the same if I ever came back. But when I arrived early and walked around a bit my heart stayed calmer than I expected. I sat on a bench watched the street, listened to the sounds a familiar language, a familiar air.

I came across some things I had deeply missed. I realized my fear of facing them made sense but there was also something gentle hidden in that fear.

If it weren’t for my friend’s invitation I probably wouldn’t have come on my own. Yet here I was stepping back into feelings I’d avoided for years.

It felt like a small kind of peace. I didn’t cry, I just felt grateful and quietly lucky for what I have. 

I found myself thinking a lot about how people once saw me and how I saw myself’ during this trip. I was surprised by how much I had forgotten about who I used to be and how much I’d assumed others had forgotten too.

I heard things that showed me how wrong I was how often I had underestimated myself or felt ashamed of things that others never judged me for. Realizing that even people I once had difficult experiences with still meet me with warmth and kindness felt transforming.

That’s why I started thinking again.about that feeling buried deep inside me. The one that still makes me feel so alive that still brings a quiet kind of happiness. Even with all the bad memories it insists on staying. a feeling full of both ache and grace. I keep wondering how to make sense of it.

On this trip i met some friends from my childhood people I hadn’t seen in years. And that’s when I started thinking again. Are they so accepting because I’m still genuinely happy to have them in my life?

Do the ones I haven’t seen for so long still care about me too?

Maybe the unspoken things between us, the quiet sense of connection I still feel, exist simply because in some way, we still belong to each other?

Quiet Pottery Studio Day (with my cat)

I just uploaded my first YouTube video.

It’s a calm day in my pottery studio where I make a wheel-thrown mug from start to finish — throwing, trimming, glazing and firing.

My cat joined me a few times while I was working.
If you enjoy quiet studio moments and handmade ceramics, you might like it.

Watch the full video on YouTube 

Chasing the Iron Dot Effect

Over the past few weeks, I tried to achieve this effect using iron under dots applied under or just beneath the glaze. During firing, the iron melts and spreads slightly, with the center turning dark brown to nearly black, and the edges developing a subtle rust-like hue.

In my first attempt where I applied the iron very thinly, it flowed almost like water. In the areas where I applied it thickly, bubbling and separation from the surface occurred. 

For the second attempt, I hadn’t planned on doing it but out of impatience I quickly added it to my Cone 6 kiln. The result was a dark blotch; without sufficient flow, the effect lost its vitality and looked unattractive.

For the final attempt, I refined the recipe and fired it at Cone 9. The effect I was aiming for finally appeared. The centers were dark, almost black brown, and the edges had a delicate, warm rust tone. The iron remained slightly flowed but maintained its form, creating the lively, balanced effect I had envisioned.The glaze itself was quite thick almost the consistency of yogurt, which added to the depth and texture of the effect.

Red Iron Dots Recipe

Red Iron Oxide – 45 g

Frit 3124 – 40 g

Kaolin – 15 g

Silica – 22 g

Gerstley Borate – 10 g

These small but effective adjustments allowed the iron to move naturally beneath the glaze, giving the surface a sense of depth and life and making each piece feel unique.

This week I also filmed a video for YouTube capturing my experience making a ceramic piece from start to finish. Now I’m waiting for the glaze to be fired but it was a great experience and I’ll be sharing it soon. I might also return to sharing on Instagram though writing here feels more personal and comfortable for now.

 

Camera Japan Festival 2025: `Maru`

I went to Camera Japan this year. The festival shows Japanese movies and much more. It started in Rotterdam at LantarenVenster&Fenix. I had wanted to go for a while and this time I finally did.

I watched Maru (2024) by Naoko Ogigami. I had heard of her before but never seen one of her films. The story is about Sawada. He is a young artist who just graduated from art school but has not found his own voice yet. One day he sees an ant in his room and starts drawing circles around it. These circles are called ensō. In Zen, an ensō is drawn in one brushstroke, often in silence, as a meditative act. Each circle shows the state of mind of the person drawing it. It can be closed or open, perfect or imperfect.

In Sawada’s case the act is almost accidental and a little absurd. A tiny ant, endless circles, and a young artist unsure what counts as real art. Maru shows how art gets value, how the market works, and the problems a person faces while searching for their own identity. Watching the strange parts of the modern art world made me smile often but also made me think, "Who does art really serve?" Especially in the quiet scenes. Sawada’s loneliness, his doubts, and how a small action can have a big meaning were powerful.

After the film the festival atmosphere was still in the hall. Some stands were set up but most were already closed. I looked at the ones that were open, had a glass of wine and then left quietly.

Camera Japan did more than let me watch a film. It gave me a small connection to Japanese culture. I did not choose Maru by chance but I went in without thinking too much. Watching it as a painter and seeing the funny side of the art world was refreshing. It was more than a festival visit.

Yunomi?

This blue cup with its slightly wide and subtly angular form might look simple at first glance. But the natural mix of beige and blue glaze creating soft, flowing patterns, reveals a different face every time. My recent cups have had a more minimalist stone-like feel; this one however, stands alongside them with both harmony and a distinct character.

One of my favorite details is the small variations that emerge after firing: the flow of the glaze and the blending of colors make each piece completely unique.

The shape of the rim makes sipping effortless, and when held in the hand, the geometric form seems to fit naturally, almost as if the cup has adapted to your grip. Drinking tea or coffee from it feels far beyond using an ordinary cup—you really sense the delicacy and individuality of handmade ceramics.

I considered listing this cup on Etsy, but part of me wondered if I should keep it for myself. Some pieces are just so special that you want to enjoy them daily, not just share them with others. This cup is definitely one of those.

Clair Obscur and Digital Game Art: Expedition 33 Review

It was hard to write this without giving spoilers since I’m still in Act 3 and haven’t finished the game yet. But I wanted to take a break and share my first impressions. A friend of mine said, “Ezgi, you really have to play this,” and I thought why not start now? Up to Act 3 what first caught my attention was the tension created by the Paintress character but after a while what truly captivated me was the incredibly detailed world. I often found myself stopping and just looking around; noticing the play of light and shadow, the streets and the small objects made me feel completely immersed in the game.

The use of light and shadow or clair-obscur in art in the game demonstrates a deliberate manipulation of contrasts to guide the viewer’s attention and create depth within the scene. In art clair-obscur refers to the technique of juxtaposing light and dark areas to produce dramatic tension and highlight certain elements, a principle that is clearly reflected in the game’s visual design. These contrasts not only shape perception visually but also reinforce narrative and thematic nuances, emphasizing the moral and psychological layers within the story.

The aesthetics are another joy. Scenes inspired by late 19th century and early 20th century France, La Belle Époque, are incredibly elegant and dramatic. Street lamps, ornate buildings, light fog, and intricate motifs… everything is so thoughtfully crafted it feels like looking at a painting.

And the music! Lorien Testard’s compositions complement the scenes perfectly. Sometimes I just listened to the music and watched the scenes for minutes without moving. The combination of music and visuals makes this digital world feel like a true piece of art.

I’m not going into turn-based mechanics or gameplay for now; I want to avoid spoilers. My emotions are so stirred that I wanted to leave this post here as a personal reminder. I forgot to capture screenshots from the game, so instead I’m sharing this beautiful Reels link about it.

A Cup With Two Ears

This little two-handled cup has been with me for about two years now. I first made it after reading some Etsy reviews where people were looking for cups with two handles—I hadn’t known before that for some, holding a regular cup can be tricky.

While making it, I didn’t focus only on that need; I wanted it to feel sweet and a bit playful too. The handles turned into ears, a tiny nose appeared in the front, and suddenly it became more like a character than just a cup.

It’s still one of my favorites, maybe because it carries both a story and a smile.

This Morning, a Bridge to Terabithia Memory

This morning, I woke up remembering a film that had been locked away in my mind. I watched it again, and it opened doors to feelings I had kept hidden for years, feelings I hadn’t even realized. My cat and dog were in my lap, a calm and peaceful day around me, and I found myself transported back to my childhood. My feet in long Converse, listening to Barış Manço on the cassette player perched on the trunk of the plum tree, the treehouse my father built for me… That memory felt so distant, as if it had never happened.

Sometimes the attic, sometimes the treehouse, sometimes the gardens, the trees… The colorful, vibrant nature of my child’s mind, the endless stories I built and destroyed, and the painting dreams where I quietly expressed myself. Those dreams have guided me throughout my life, making me think in images, feel in colors. That freedom, the boundless space of childhood, still breathes quietly within me.

As I grew, I lost trust in the outside world. I was blamed for my lack of social skills, and in trying to improve, that blame became my inner voice; I constantly questioned myself, feeling alien and distant from the expectations around me. It distanced me from my own abilities. There were choices I made that I couldn’t undo, I lost precious things—but today, looking back, I can accept that even if I lived those days again, I would likely make similar choices. Most of it happened beyond my control, and only now can I make peace with that. With acceptance and self-forgiveness, the reactions my body used to have have started to ease.

For years, I saw my desire to create painting as a curse and suppressed it. Even if I hadn’t suppressed it, I had become unable to paint. Today, as I take a step back, I realize that the treehouse my father built for me—and the world of imagination it held—has been by my side, perhaps in ways I didn’t fully understand. For years, in anger and feeling unworthy and misunderstood, I drifted away from my painting dreams. Now, I have decided to open up to the people who will be by my side in my dreams, even if they are afraid of me or don’t fully understand me, and who are open to love me.

I understand the feelings Jess experienced that day when he didn’t invite Leslie to the museum, and the regret he felt. Even though I have faced my own experiences, I can now recognize the beauty of every precious thing I have lived, and I will keep reminding myself that I need to continue on my path in their memory. Today, even if I only make small experiments in the studio, I want to seek again the freedom I felt as a child, and enjoy painting without blaming myself—for that little girl in long Converse, like any little child who just wants to play with colors and shapes and enjoys it.

Dancing Figures, Relief Ceramic Tile