“Poppy” emerged from a moment where I didn’t have a finished image in mind at all. I was searching for new materials, working my way through different types of paper, until I came across Bristol. Its surface immediately stood out—smooth, direct, almost without resistance. Exactly what I needed at that time.
The motif itself was initially nothing more than a test, a way to understand how the material behaves, how far I could push it, how subtle transitions could be built. There was no intention of creating a “finished” piece. And maybe that’s exactly why it evolved within just a few days into something that no longer felt like a study.
 
The form deliberately exists between organic structure and bodily readability. It’s not explicit, but it’s not accidental either. What continues to interest me about this piece is not only the image itself, but the reactions it provoked. “Poppy” was one of the first works where I truly realized how differently people see—how perception is shaped by personal perspective, and how quickly an image can shift depending on what someone chooses to recognize in it.
For me, that was a turning point. I understood that I don’t need to resolve this ambiguity, that it’s not my role to dictate a single interpretation, but rather to leave space for it and create tension through that openness.
“Poppy” is less a fixed concept and more a moment where I started to let go of control—without actually losing it.