INHABITING THE THRESHOLD
“Both past and future are largely imagined constructs. Even though we have some evidence of the past, we constantly reconfigure it in our memory. I find this reconstructible and reproducible nature of time to be a fertile ground for artistic exploration.” — Ceren Su Çelik
Inhabiting the Threshold I. 2K, single-channel video with sound, 2'20'', 2024. Still from the video. Ceren Su Çelik.
A tale of history and the subconscious. Ceren Su Çelik navigates this space-time continuum to tell the story of Inhabiting the Threshold, a series of five pieces stemming from her work presented this year at MoMI. Curated by Regina Harsanyi, it was part of the Community Curation initiative, which named a special list of artists reflecting their personal experiences and cultural backgrounds in their artistic practices.
Created using 3D photogrammetry and digital reconstruction, Inhabiting the Threshold invites viewers to explore historic architectural spaces such as the cisterns of Istanbul, her hometown, the circular communal spaces of the Fujian Tulou in southeastern China, and the underground cities of Cappadocia. With a surreal twist, the movement of the captured characters — using motion capture suits — adds a dreamlike layer.
The main video and its derived pieces emerge from a continuation of a previous work. Although the subject differs, the artist explains: “In that earlier piece, I had created a fictional female character living in Istanbul in 1915. She was imagined as someone who photographed people hiding in cisterns during air raids in the same period.”
Ceren often explores cyborgs and hybrid forms in her work, creating a diary between the artificial and the real. In this drop of five works, presented by the objkt.one gallery, collectors will have the opportunity to choose from several dynamics: editions, open editions, an auction, and a unique piece with a fixed price.
Don’t miss it: the listing goes live this Thursday, May 14th, at 6PM CET. Read our conversation below.
Raquel Gaudard: To begin, I’d love for you to tell us how digital art entered your life. Was there a specific moment, tool, or project that made you realize this medium resonated with you? I often ask artists I speak with: if computers didn’t exist, would you still be making art? What kinds of tools or processes do you imagine you’d be drawn to in that alternate version of the world?
Ceren Su: Before working with digital media, I spent a period mainly focused on painting. I also studied painting at university. So, in a parallel universe without computers, I’d probably still be painting. What drew me into digital tools was my obsession with rendering a sense of three-dimensionality in painting — trying to represent volume and depth realistically, without actually creating a three-dimensional object. That desire to simulate physical presence is what initially bridged the gap between painting and digital tools for me.
Family. Oil on canvas, 90x100 cm, 2019. Ceren Su Çelik.
RG: Are you the only artist in your family, or did you grow up surrounded by creative people? Was there anyone in particular—a family member, teacher, or friend—who encouraged your artistic curiosity when you were younger?
CS: There are creative people in my family, but I’d say I’m the only one who pursued art in a committed way. Still, everyone around me was always encouraging. Whenever I drew something, it would end up on the wall, praised and displayed. They say I was unusually persistent about drawing—even before I could speak properly.
So no one ever imagined me doing anything else, and it was never something we had to discuss seriously later on. I was also lucky to have supportive art teachers throughout my early education.
Beyond that, my uncle used to paint, and my father would hang his paintings at home. One of them stayed with us for a long time, even as we moved from house to house. Sadly, we don’t have it anymore. It showed a male figure in yellowish earth tones, standing at a table against a dark background, his hands on either side of his head, with an expression of deep hopelessness. That figure still comes to mind—it felt incredibly specific, as if only one person could have made it.
Inhabiting the Threshold II. 2K, single-channel video with sound, 2'20'', 2024. Still from the video. Ceren Su Çelik.
RG: Inhabiting the Threshold, your new drop on objkt.one, consists of five films. Are these excerpts from the larger piece you presented at MoMI this year, right?
CS: Yes, the piece shown at MoMI was actually a combination of these five videos. It was originally created as a single 3D environment, but during the rendering process, it was split into parts and later reassembled.
RG: I’m also curious about the full creative process—how you moved between capturing images with 3D photogrammetry and shaping the final edit. What drew you to those environments? Did you record sound in underground locations like cisterns? The echo of dripping water feels very real to me :)
CS: This video actually emerged as a kind of continuation of an earlier project, although the subject matter was different. In that earlier piece, I had created a fictional female character living in Istanbul in 1915. She was imagined as someone who photographed people hiding in cisterns during air raids from the same period. That project produced a video, AI-generated images, and 3D photogrammetry of the cisterns.
Inhabiting the Threshold III. 2K, single-channel video with sound, 2'20'', 2024. Still from the video. Ceren Su Çelik.
With that work, I was trying to create something outside of myself—exploring how a fictional character could be shaped through AI and archival data. But for the MoMI installation, I did the opposite. I turned inward and approached the same locations from a different perspective, blending them with figures from my subconscious.
Unfortunately, the sounds weren’t recorded in the actual spaces—but I’m glad they feel natural!
RG: There seems to be a certain dialectic between past and future in your work. Is this intentional? What kind of reflections are you hoping to provoke?
CS: Both past and future are largely imagined constructs. Even though we have some evidence of the past, we constantly reconfigure it in our memory. I find this reconstructible and reproducible nature of time to be fertile ground for artistic exploration.
The idea that past and future can coexist in the same place and moment is something we experience mentally every day—through imagination. And the way we construct the past often shapes how we imagine the future.
For instance, there’s a great deal of scientific evidence about Earth’s history, but how that evidence becomes narrative is often a matter of interpretation. If we had constructed the past differently, perhaps our vision of the future would be radically different too.
Inhabiting the Threshold IV. 2K, single-channel video with sound, 2'20'', 2024. Still from the video. Ceren Su Çelik.
RG: How do traditional art spaces and Web3 environments shape your work differently? Do you find that the Web3 audience is more sensitive to certain themes?
CS: I don’t sit down thinking I’m making something specifically for Web3, but I also wouldn’t say it hasn’t influenced what I produce. For example, my interest in formats like .glb files or short loop-based animations grew as I realized these kinds of works naturally belong in that space.
Over time, I started to see Web3 as part of a longer trajectory. It can be read as a continuation of earlier internet-based art practices—though, of course, it’s not the same thing. While it introduced new tools, infrastructures, and communities, it also carried forward certain impulses from earlier online movements, like accessibility, decentralization, and alternative ways of circulating art.
There’s also a broad thematic scope across the work I’ve seen: recurring subjects like anonymity, nature, personal relationships with technology, the body, and transformation. Some artists engage directly with coin culture, while others take a more abstract or generative approach.
Inhabiting the Threshold V. 2K, single-channel video with sound, 2'20'', 2024. Still from the video. Ceren Su Çelik.