KYBELE: Reclaiming My Life with Clay
I admired Ceren Muftuoglu’s “Kybele dolls” on Instagram, and we started corresponding. Assuming from her obviously Turkish name that she lived in Istanbul, I was very eager to visit her studio. Turned out she lives in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania! We decided on this interview format as a kind of “artist statement.” It’s actually the summation of many lengthy back-and-forth emails. Its designer is New York-based Athena Longoria, a long-time friend, creative partner, and designer of this website.
Photos of Ceren Müftüoğlu’s dolls courtesy of Cavin-Morris Gallery
Kybele (Cybele) was a Phrygian “mother goddess” whose cult began in Western Anatolia some three thousand years ago, and was later adopted by the ancient Greeks and Romans. Her predecessor, however, probably hails from Çatalhöyük, a proto-city in today’s southern Turkey that dates back 9,000 years. This archaic symbol of feminine power has been the near obsession of Turkish ceramicist Ceren Müftüoğlu, who has created a diverse collection of sculptures that she terms “Kybele dolls.”
WLM = Walter L. Meyer; CM = Ceren Müftüoğlu
WLM: Before we get into a discussion of your Kybele creations, let’s talk a bit about how you started working with clay, and how you see yourself. Although you took some classes both in Istanbul and Philadelphia, I know you consider yourself a self-taught artist.
CM: I don’t have a formal sculpture education, having never gone to art school. My relationship with ceramics started in the early 2000s when I was an archaeology student at Dokuz Eylül University in Izmir. Working at excavation sites, I made cross section drawings of pottery artifacts. My studies definitely influenced the work that I would later create.
I was introduced to shaping clay in 2015 during a very down time in my life. Thinking it might be a therapeutic tool, I signed up for a functional pottery class at a small ceramic studio in Istanbul, where I learned the basics of hand building. Clay provided a sense of calmness. I fell in love with it, set up a home studio, and started experimenting. When I moved to Philadelphia a year later, I signed up for wheel throwing classes. Actual sculpting began when I started making my Kybeles at home in 2017. I like to think of myself as a 3D printer. Using a technique I developed on my own, I build the piece from the bottom up. While I still have mentors and teachers here, I can’t change this technique, even when I try.
WLM: It’s obvious that your Kybeles were inspired by the ancient earth mother sculptures that were discovered at the archaeological site of Çatalhöyük in central Turkey. Why did she become your muse and your model?
CM: Actually, there are a couple of reasons. First there’s a spiritual one. I studied mythology extensively during my college days, and became intrigued with the all-powerful female figures. As a result, I no longer accept the patriarchal view of the universe. One day in 2017, I had a vision of this ancient goddess, and believed she would be a benevolent force in my life.
The second reason we might call socio-cultural. When I moved from Istanbul to Philadelphia in 2016, I was in shock. Years earlier, I’d lived in New York City, and felt very much at home in its diversity. But I didn’t feel that I really fit in this new suburban environment. So Kybele, who shares my Anatolian heritage, became a sort of personal symbol of protest and rejection of this homogenous American culture that I felt pressured to adopt. And it was a re-awakening of my Turkish heritage.
WLM: Your Kybeles, however, often depart from the archetypical body type and pose of the Çatalhöyük Mother Goddess, who’s depicted sitting on a throne.
CM: Yes, while some of my plump-bodied Kybeles resemble the Çatalhöyük statue, their body types changed as I continued to create them—more than 50 to date, ranging in height from 3 inches to 15 inches. In my creative process, I like to attain simplicity by reducing the physical features to their essential elements. She is earless, and in most, her eyes are sunken indentations. Even though she doesn’t have eyes, she isn’t “unseeing.” For me, her facial form suggests power, wisdom, and knowledge. On some of the figures, the genitals are exposed, and the breasts accentuated, representing her powerful femininity. Some other figures appear more modest, representing her grace.
WLM: Two features that appear to be direct appropriations from the Çatalhöyük statue are her headdress and the “strap-like” elements on her shoulders.
CM: To be honest, I actually don’t know what they symbolize in the Çatalhöyük figure. I’ve interpreted them, though, as snakes. In some myths, snakes are regarded as guardians, which is consistent with my personal mythology about Kybele. She very much plays a protective role in my life. I’m also influenced by the Ouroboros—a snake eating its own tail, symbolizing infinity: life-death-rebirth, and being whole. You’ll notice that her arms and legs are also covered with snake scales.
WLM: This leads me to the next subject: the near total surface decoration of your Kybele dolls’ skin.
CM: When I finish sculpting her physical body, I see it as an empty canvas that has to be adorned. I do this with tattoos consisting of dense linear arrangements with rhythmic patterns. While I draw my inspiration from my own internal and external worlds, I also borrow motifs from ancient Anatolian culture. I compose these obsessively detailed tattoo drawings automatically, and freehand without any preparatory lines. So they’re direct, raw, and unique. The more intricate the tattoos are, the more spiritual power they possess. They represent experiences and wisdom gained, in the same way that everything we experience leaves a spiritual mark on our soul.
WLM: I’m sure some of our readers, especially the ceramicists, would like to know the technique you use to produce this tattooing. And while we’re on the subject of your practice, can you explain why you chose to use earthenware for most of your Kybeles, although I know that you’ve worked in porcelain, too.
CM: Their tattoos are incised before the first firing while the piece is still in the greenware state. Then they’re inlaid with black underglaze. There are no other glazes on the surface. While I did produce one Kybele in porcelain, I quickly realized I prefer earthenware because of its typical warm and vibrant red terracotta color. Red gives a stronger meaning to my dolls because it evokes intense emotions, and makes everything more dramatic. Also I think when the black tattoo lines are placed against this intense, beautiful red surface, they glow and demand attention.
WLM: I’m curious about one more physical feature of your Kybeles. While some have fully formed hands, others have mere stubs.
CM: In general, the more completely formed a Kybele is, the greater her spiritual power. As I sculpted more and more Kybeles, my inner anxieties calmed down. So I was able to focus more on their actual form, not just their meaning. While there are exceptions, my earlier Kybeles usually don’t have hands.
WLM: You refer to your Kybeles as “dolls.” For me, this word conjures up ideas about childhood, playthings, fantasies, and perhaps even wellbeing. Why do you use this term to describe them?
CM: I use this word in perhaps a different way. For me a “doll” refers more to the ritualistic objects used in non-Western cultures and religious belief systems. Like the wanga dolls, the lesser-known “good magic cousins” of the Haitian voodoo dolls. Similar to the protection those dolls are believed to provide, my Kybeles helped me through a time of personal crisis with their spiritual capacity. The very act of creating them was a source of strength and healing. In fact, I feel I owe my life to clay.
WM: So in closing, what’s on the horizon for Ceren Müftüoğlu?
CM: I’d love to make large-scale Kybeles, but I’m restricted by the currently available kiln size. I feel my work needs to be larger to reveal its full meaning. So I’m hoping to find a ceramic arts residency that would provide that opportunity. By the way, I also make nature-inspired stoneware sculptures that I call “nests.” Of course, I’m interested in exploring other materials as well. Bronze interests me. I find its strength, durability and color very appealing. And it can be worked into great detail, a quality my work requires.
A native of Izmir on Turkey’s Aegean coast, Ceren Müftüoğlu lives with her jazz musician husband and daughter in suburban Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.
She is currently represented by Cavin-Morris Gallery, New York.