Good People of vitruta: Tankut Aykut

Interview by Aslı Balkan Erçelik

Tankut Aykut is an art enthusiast who approaches exhibition making in dialogue with books, films, and modes of thinking. Moving across different layers of artistic production, this approach turns his relationship with the viewer into a sense of continuity that extends beyond the exhibition space.

Developed under the roof of Öktem Aykut Gallery, this path is guided by intuition while remaining closely connected to historical and intellectual references. Shaped between academia, the field, and collective production, his journey is defined by long term relationships with artists and a shared practice of thinking together.

Tankut, welcome. We always start with the same question, so let’s not break the routine. How would you describe yourself to those who don’t know you? Who is Tankut? How did it all begin, what have you done, and how does it continue today?

Thank you, it’s a pleasure to be here. I’m one of those who gets excited about taking part in different stages of artistic production. I am eager to create exhibitions, films, and books, and to share them with people. I was fortunate to have a very fulfilling student life. I studied at Istanbul Erkek Lisesi, Sabancı University, and Jacobs University Bremen. Throughout my student years, I did little other than read books and watch films. After gaining work experience at several art institutions, I opened my own gallery in 2014 and shortly thereafter partnered with Doğa Öktem. For the past twelve years, we have been running Öktem Aykut together, organising exhibitions, publishing books, producing films, presenting at international fairs, and working very closely with around twenty artists.

Your story seems to be shaped by academia, intuition, and hands on experience alike. When did your relationship with art shift from being a viewer to becoming someone who helps shape its direction?

Thank you. From a very young age, I dreamed of becoming a film director, and whenever I was asked, I would say that’s what I wanted to be when I grew up. My direct involvement in production probably began during my middle school years, when I worked on the Istanbul Erkek Lisesi Culture Week events. I still remember with amazement how seriously and meticulously we approached those projects.

From the outside, being a gallerist seems like a very clearly defined role, yet in reality it requires constant decision making. When deciding to work with an artist, do instincts take the lead, or is it a trust built over time?

Honestly, I sometimes feel that it’s no longer us running the gallery, but the gallery running us. The gallery has developed its own intelligence through sharing, collective thinking, and thinking out loud. For some time now, rather than making decisions ourselves, it feels like we are busy implementing decisions that the gallery has already arrived at on its own.

Do you think a gallery has a character? Or is that character shaped over time together with the artists? How would you describe the character of Öktem Aykut?

A gallery’s character is essential. Our opening exhibition in February 2014, the very first exhibition of the gallery, was titled Character. That title was given by curator Elif Gül Tirben. But like any character, a gallery’s character is tested over time. It is honed, smoothed, transformed, and simplified. Through this process, it gradually becomes even more distinctive.

How decisive is the social and political backdrop for you when preparing an exhibition? How do you position yourself in relation to the current agenda?

It is decisive to a certain extent, but we also maintain a distance. When viewed through a broad historical perspective, the social pulse is not particularly surprising. When developments, fluctuations, and ups and downs occupy my mind, I tend to turn toward archaeology, political history, and art history. Looking from a wider perspective helps me position myself and find references that allow me to brace against the storms of the present.

As we conduct this interview, we are inside the exhibition Dual and Plural. Rather than the linear flow of time, we are surrounded by layers of memory. We are witnessing the transformation of a selection published by Norgunk into a book clock by Sarkis. What does this exhibition mean to you?

For us, this exhibition is a reward. It is a very special exhibition. We lost Alpagut Gültekin in April 2024. He was an exceptional elder whose every breath gained meaning through publishing books, making films, and organising exhibitions. Creating a space in which the lifelong efforts of him and his wife Ayşe are commemorated through Sarkis’s intervention is deeply moving for me. Being associated with Norgunk, a truly special institution that pioneered high quality artistic production long before us, and hosting works by Sarkis enables us to stand a little taller and breathe a little deeper.

If it’s not too personal, could we ask about the meanings behind the tattoos on your arms?

Thank you for your interest. Most of them are adaptations of artworks. My first tattoo is based on one of Mondrian’s abstractions, an early one dating back to 1906. Later on, I had works by Ellsworth Kelly, William Kentridge, and Jak İhmalyan tattooed onto my skin. There are also pieces by dear artist friends of mine, Emel Kurhan and Toygun Özdemir. In addition, the logo of my favourite meyhane, Asmalı Cavit, and the symbol of the planet Uranus travel everywhere with me.

What has been genuinely exciting you lately? A work, a book, a place?

For about two years now, we have been expanding the gallery team. During the previous nine or ten years, we had taken on so much of the gallery’s operational workload ourselves that I struggled to nourish myself artistically. Recently, with the urgency of making up for lost time, I have been consuming cultural material so intensely that I can hardly decide what to share with you.

Philipp Sarasin’s 1977, published by İletişim Yayınları in Tanıl Bora’s Turkish translation, is one of the best books I have ever read. The way it weaves political history, cultural history, the history of artistic production, and popular history into such a comprehensive narrative is truly astonishing.

Alongside our current exhibition, I have developed a renewed interest in the Norgunk corpus. Ayşin Candan’s book Oyun, Tören, Gösterim has been incredibly illuminating for me in terms of the history of theatre in Turkey. Selim İleri’s most recently published book, Sen Diye Biri- Someone Called You-, almost completely took hold of me. His reflections on his friendship with Cüneyt Arkın offered insights into cultural production, friendships, tables, conflicts, and estrangements in Turkey’s art and culture scene that I found immediately relatable.

I also attended the Netherlands Dance Theatre’s Trilogy at Zorlu PSM. Productions of such exceptional quality activate feelings of determination and optimism within me.