A Garden of Dust

This weekend, an important opening took place in Brussels. At Villa Canapé, art, nature, and nostalgia came together. The exhibition, which began with the idea that gardens don’t have to look like paintings, emphasized the spontaneity of nature and the traces of time in living spaces.

The garden of Villa Canapé is not just a place; it feels like an echo of memory. New beginnings sprout here, carrying the scents of the past with them. The theme of the opening week, A Garden of Dust, touched my heart—perhaps because every garden holds a memory, and I always remember the garden of my childhood home.

The scent of honeysuckle would drift from our garden into the streets. The wind would gently sway the branches of the date and pear trees, while the grapevine spilled its abundance over the wall into the neighbor’s garden. My mother’s voice from inside became a lullaby of love for us. My father, resting on the wooden bench in the garden, smiling in the delicate space between sleep and wakefulness, would fill us with peace. Those moments were the purest form of time itself.

Now, as I walk through the garden of Villa Canapé, I feel how time weaves itself together. This is a grand, four-story mansion. It was once home to the headmaster of a nearby boarding art school. Later, it remained abandoned for many years. But now, its rooms and walls are coming back to life, and a new story is beginning. Or maybe the story was always here—the scents, the sounds, the trees… all growing in the space where the past and future intertwine.

I was part of the opening weekend’s rich program with our film Sultan’s Crown. In an installation curated by Luci Collective, we gathered with the audience in the attic of Villa Canapé. The film follows my friend, felt artist Oğuz Koç, as he returns to his childhood home and confronts his memories. During his visit, he discovers a naturally grown inverted tulip in the garden, which inspires him. With each touch of the wool, he weaves echoes of the past into the present, creating a felt piece that carries new meaning. He stitches his childhood memories into the future.

The cinematography of the film was brought to life by Mete Özbaş. Every frame tells a story. There is no spoken dialogue in the film—sound designer Can Berk Şatır embroidered emotions into the scenes through ambient sounds. The color grading was made by Isidor Ilic to truly reflect the nostalgic spirit. An Irish friend wrote to me afterward, saying, “My mother used to make felt too. While watching the film, I could almost smell it.” That was it, I thought. We had created a shared language. What a joy!

Villa Canapé is a place where such emotions converge. This once-abandoned school building is becoming a new home for creativity and connection. Just as the earth sprouts life on its own, it nurtures a space where ideas flourish, collaboration takes root, and memories and dreams grow together. Here, everyone can leave a trace of themselves—like the memories that etch themselves onto our souls.

Just as The Alchemist teaches us that the journey always leads back home, perhaps memories, too, are a path toward finding ourselves. Who knows?

With love.