Warum mein "Bekanntheitsgrad" so gering ist?
Seit Jahren widme ich mich mit ungeteilter Leidenschaft nur einer Sache: der Kunst.
Meine Unabhängigkeit ist keine Laune, sondern eine bewusste Entscheidung – ein Weg, den ich mit Klarheit und Entschlossenheit gehe.
Ich wollte meine Kreativität, meine Bildwelten, meine grenzenlose Ausdruckskraft nicht länger den engen Vorstellungen anderer unterwerfen. Drehbuchautoren, Regisseure, Produzenten – sie alle hatten ihren Blick auf mich, doch dieser Blick war begrenzt. Ich jedoch war und bin mehr.
Also habe ich gehandelt.
Statt mich den Strukturen eines Systems anzupassen, das Künstler nach Belieben formt und verbiegt, wählte ich die Freiheit – die reine, kompromisslose Kunst. Ohne PR-Strategen, ohne inszenierte Selbstdarstellung, ohne eine Entourage, die mich definiert.
Denn ich bin mein eigener Meister.
Ich setze meine Grenzen – oder eben nicht. Nur so kann Kunst atmen, wachsen, überleben.
Ja, mein Weg ist steiler. Denn ich verweigere mich den Mechanismen eines Marktes, der Konformität mit Erfolg verwechselt. Ich verzichte bewusst auf Spielregeln, die Talent an Berechnung binden und Kreativität in ein Korsett zwängen. Dafür zahle ich den Preis der Unsichtbarkeit – oder vielmehr: der bewussten Ignoranz durch jene, die Reichweite, Einfluss und Macht besitzen und sie nur jenen gewähren, die sich fügen.
Doch ich bin ausgestiegen.
Die allgegenwärtige Heuchelei, die kalkulierte Doppelmoral, die Verachtung gegenüber wahrer Individualität – all das war für mich nicht hinnehmbar. Besonders dann nicht, wenn kritisches Denken zum Tabu erklärt wird, wenn das Hinterfragen als Gefahr gilt.
Doch genau das ist meine Natur.
Kunst ohne Integrität ist nichts als Dekor. Wahre Kunst verlangt Tiefe, Haltung, Menschlichkeit. Und genau deshalb bleibe ich mir treu – nicht, um Erwartungen zu erfüllen, sondern um eine Stimme zu sein, die nicht gekauft werden kann.
Meine Seele ist nicht käuflich.
Ich allein entscheide, was ich von ihr preisgebe – und wann. Keine Trends, keine Ideologien, keine Konventionen diktieren mir den Rahmen.
Ich bin frei. Und das ist gut so.
Wer Kunst liebt, erkennt Künstler in ihrer Essenz – jenseits der Täuschung, jenseits des Lärms.
Löse dich von dem, was dich lähmt.
Einen schönen Tag.
Seit Jahren widme ich mich mit ungeteilter Leidenschaft nur einer Sache: der Kunst.
Meine Unabhängigkeit ist keine Laune, sondern eine bewusste Entscheidung – ein Weg, den ich mit Klarheit und Entschlossenheit gehe.
Ich wollte meine Kreativität, meine Bildwelten, meine grenzenlose Ausdruckskraft nicht länger den engen Vorstellungen anderer unterwerfen. Drehbuchautoren, Regisseure, Produzenten – sie alle hatten ihren Blick auf mich, doch dieser Blick war begrenzt. Ich jedoch war und bin mehr.
Also habe ich gehandelt.
Statt mich den Strukturen eines Systems anzupassen, das Künstler nach Belieben formt und verbiegt, wählte ich die Freiheit – die reine, kompromisslose Kunst. Ohne PR-Strategen, ohne inszenierte Selbstdarstellung, ohne eine Entourage, die mich definiert.
Denn ich bin mein eigener Meister.
Ich setze meine Grenzen – oder eben nicht. Nur so kann Kunst atmen, wachsen, überleben.
Ja, mein Weg ist steiler. Denn ich verweigere mich den Mechanismen eines Marktes, der Konformität mit Erfolg verwechselt. Ich verzichte bewusst auf Spielregeln, die Talent an Berechnung binden und Kreativität in ein Korsett zwängen. Dafür zahle ich den Preis der Unsichtbarkeit – oder vielmehr: der bewussten Ignoranz durch jene, die Reichweite, Einfluss und Macht besitzen und sie nur jenen gewähren, die sich fügen.
Doch ich bin ausgestiegen.
Die allgegenwärtige Heuchelei, die kalkulierte Doppelmoral, die Verachtung gegenüber wahrer Individualität – all das war für mich nicht hinnehmbar. Besonders dann nicht, wenn kritisches Denken zum Tabu erklärt wird, wenn das Hinterfragen als Gefahr gilt.
Doch genau das ist meine Natur.
Kunst ohne Integrität ist nichts als Dekor. Wahre Kunst verlangt Tiefe, Haltung, Menschlichkeit. Und genau deshalb bleibe ich mir treu – nicht, um Erwartungen zu erfüllen, sondern um eine Stimme zu sein, die nicht gekauft werden kann.
Meine Seele ist nicht käuflich.
Ich allein entscheide, was ich von ihr preisgebe – und wann. Keine Trends, keine Ideologien, keine Konventionen diktieren mir den Rahmen.
Ich bin frei. Und das ist gut so.
Wer Kunst liebt, erkennt Künstler in ihrer Essenz – jenseits der Täuschung, jenseits des Lärms.
Löse dich von dem, was dich lähmt.
Einen schönen Tag.
"Classicide – The Erasure of a generation"
A class photo—symbolizing unity, individuality, and the promise of the future. Yet in this image, the faces are missing. Erased, wiped away, vanished. What remains is an empty shell, a silenced generation.
"Classicide" is more than just a work of art. It is a metaphor for an era where people are no longer debated but socially erased. A time when the fear of saying the wrong word, holding the wrong opinion, or expressing the wrong belief erases identity before it even has a chance to grow.
Where does discourse go when only silence remains? Where does the individual go when only their shadow exists?
This piece captures the moment when the face of freedom begins to fade. It asks the questions that hurt. And it demands an answer—before it's too late.
CLASSICIDE (Stage 5 / 2525)
Pencil on thick paper
42 x 59,4 cm (60 x 80 cm, framed)
All Copyrights © by Fatih Alasalvaroglu, 25
#FatihAlasalvaroglu #FatihAlas #Alasalvaroglu #art
A class photo—symbolizing unity, individuality, and the promise of the future. Yet in this image, the faces are missing. Erased, wiped away, vanished. What remains is an empty shell, a silenced generation.
"Classicide" is more than just a work of art. It is a metaphor for an era where people are no longer debated but socially erased. A time when the fear of saying the wrong word, holding the wrong opinion, or expressing the wrong belief erases identity before it even has a chance to grow.
Where does discourse go when only silence remains? Where does the individual go when only their shadow exists?
This piece captures the moment when the face of freedom begins to fade. It asks the questions that hurt. And it demands an answer—before it's too late.
CLASSICIDE (Stage 5 / 2525)
Pencil on thick paper
42 x 59,4 cm (60 x 80 cm, framed)
All Copyrights © by Fatih Alasalvaroglu, 25
#FatihAlasalvaroglu #FatihAlas #Alasalvaroglu #art
"Classicide – The Erasure of a generation"
A class photo—symbolizing unity, individuality, and the promise of the future. Yet in this image, the faces are missing. Erased, wiped away, vanished. What remains is an empty shell, a silenced generation.
"Classicide" is more than just a work of art. It is a metaphor for an era where people are no longer debated but socially erased. A time when the fear of saying the wrong word, holding the wrong opinion, or expressing the wrong belief erases identity before it even has a chance to grow.
Where does discourse go when only silence remains? Where does the individual go when only their shadow exists?
This piece captures the moment when the face of freedom begins to fade. It asks the questions that hurt. And it demands an answer—before it's too late.
CLASSICIDE (Stage 5 / 2525)
Pencil on thick paper
42 x 59,4 cm (60 x 80 cm, framed)
All Copyrights © by Fatih Alasalvaroglu, 25
#FatihAlasalvaroglu #FatihAlas #Alasalvaroglu #art
A class photo—symbolizing unity, individuality, and the promise of the future. Yet in this image, the faces are missing. Erased, wiped away, vanished. What remains is an empty shell, a silenced generation.
"Classicide" is more than just a work of art. It is a metaphor for an era where people are no longer debated but socially erased. A time when the fear of saying the wrong word, holding the wrong opinion, or expressing the wrong belief erases identity before it even has a chance to grow.
Where does discourse go when only silence remains? Where does the individual go when only their shadow exists?
This piece captures the moment when the face of freedom begins to fade. It asks the questions that hurt. And it demands an answer—before it's too late.
CLASSICIDE (Stage 5 / 2525)
Pencil on thick paper
42 x 59,4 cm (60 x 80 cm, framed)
All Copyrights © by Fatih Alasalvaroglu, 25
#FatihAlasalvaroglu #FatihAlas #Alasalvaroglu #art
The Restless Void – A Portrait of Our Time
As an artist, I stand at the edge of a torrent—an endless cascade of swipes, scrolls, and swooshes, sweeping away anything not firmly anchored. In this rushing flood, the human attention span has become like a stone in a river: once sharp, now worn smooth by constant motion. Time, that fragile currency once spent on growth, wonder, and stillness, now evaporates in fleeting, meaningless droplets before it ever gathers depth.
Our era is a hall of mirrors: humanity, frantic in its chase for stimulation, believes itself to be the master of its world, yet in truth, it is merely a slave to the flickering screen. We crave fulfillment but search for it in the endless loop of distraction—like a thirst that we attempt to quench with sand. We fear silence as if it were an abyss, despise slowness as if it were a flaw. Anything that does not immediately flash and dazzle is cast aside, buried under the next avalanche of ephemeral pleasures.
And so, I watch my work—my words, my verses, my reflections—become vessels adrift without a harbor. They sail upon this ocean of overstimulation, yet few are willing to anchor themselves, to step aboard, to feel the wind in their sails. Reading itself seems to have been stripped of its essence: people skim but never land. They see, but they do not observe. They consume, but they do not digest.
I do not wish to force anyone to pause, to close their eyes, to feel. But neither can I remain silent as I witness an entire species drifting away from itself—not toward progress, but toward acceleration for acceleration’s sake. True growth requires space, just as a tree must first take root before it can reach for the sky. Yet what we call progress is often nothing more than an escape—faster, louder, brighter, but never deeper.
Humanity longs for meaning yet grasps only at reflections on the surface of the water. And all the while, the real source lies within. But as long as we seek salvation in the frantic noise of the external world, we will never find it. In the end, what remains is not freedom, not wisdom, not art—but a restless void, masquerading as life.
As an artist, I stand at the edge of a torrent—an endless cascade of swipes, scrolls, and swooshes, sweeping away anything not firmly anchored. In this rushing flood, the human attention span has become like a stone in a river: once sharp, now worn smooth by constant motion. Time, that fragile currency once spent on growth, wonder, and stillness, now evaporates in fleeting, meaningless droplets before it ever gathers depth.
Our era is a hall of mirrors: humanity, frantic in its chase for stimulation, believes itself to be the master of its world, yet in truth, it is merely a slave to the flickering screen. We crave fulfillment but search for it in the endless loop of distraction—like a thirst that we attempt to quench with sand. We fear silence as if it were an abyss, despise slowness as if it were a flaw. Anything that does not immediately flash and dazzle is cast aside, buried under the next avalanche of ephemeral pleasures.
And so, I watch my work—my words, my verses, my reflections—become vessels adrift without a harbor. They sail upon this ocean of overstimulation, yet few are willing to anchor themselves, to step aboard, to feel the wind in their sails. Reading itself seems to have been stripped of its essence: people skim but never land. They see, but they do not observe. They consume, but they do not digest.
I do not wish to force anyone to pause, to close their eyes, to feel. But neither can I remain silent as I witness an entire species drifting away from itself—not toward progress, but toward acceleration for acceleration’s sake. True growth requires space, just as a tree must first take root before it can reach for the sky. Yet what we call progress is often nothing more than an escape—faster, louder, brighter, but never deeper.
Humanity longs for meaning yet grasps only at reflections on the surface of the water. And all the while, the real source lies within. But as long as we seek salvation in the frantic noise of the external world, we will never find it. In the end, what remains is not freedom, not wisdom, not art—but a restless void, masquerading as life.
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Here's my fifth clip and poem CLASSICIDE to my project "2525":
CLASSICIDE
Rows of faces, blank and neat,
Minds erased, no thoughts to speak.
Teacher’s chalk, a surgeon’s blade,
Curves to cut, no edge remains.
Sex-ed’s crude, colors divide,
Grades oppress, books misguide.
History wounds, math’s unfair,
Truth’s a weapon—don’t you dare.
No dissent, no fight, no stance,
Sing in unison, the scripted dance.
Question nothing, bow and blend,
Individual? Condemned.
Year complete, all trimmed to fit,
Stamped, approved—the system wins.
There are 20 artworks, yet to come. Keep it up! 😉
Stage 5 of 25:
CLASSICIDE
Art, Poem & Movie
All Copyrights ©️ by Fatih Alasalvaroglu, 09.03.25
#FatihAlasalvaroglu #FatihAlas #Alasalvaroglu #art #arts #artist #ContemporaryArt #contemporary #TwentyFiveTwentyFive #TwoHandsFiveFingers #education #dystopian #artclip #artreels #school #class #classicide #cancelculture #cancel
CLASSICIDE
Rows of faces, blank and neat,
Minds erased, no thoughts to speak.
Teacher’s chalk, a surgeon’s blade,
Curves to cut, no edge remains.
Sex-ed’s crude, colors divide,
Grades oppress, books misguide.
History wounds, math’s unfair,
Truth’s a weapon—don’t you dare.
No dissent, no fight, no stance,
Sing in unison, the scripted dance.
Question nothing, bow and blend,
Individual? Condemned.
Year complete, all trimmed to fit,
Stamped, approved—the system wins.
There are 20 artworks, yet to come. Keep it up! 😉
Stage 5 of 25:
CLASSICIDE
Art, Poem & Movie
All Copyrights ©️ by Fatih Alasalvaroglu, 09.03.25
#FatihAlasalvaroglu #FatihAlas #Alasalvaroglu #art #arts #artist #ContemporaryArt #contemporary #TwentyFiveTwentyFive #TwoHandsFiveFingers #education #dystopian #artclip #artreels #school #class #classicide #cancelculture #cancel
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Coming Up: Stage 6.
Topic: Puberty
#FatihAlas #FatihAlasalvaroglu #Alasalvaroglu #Art #Arts #artsy #contemporaryart #conceptualart #twentyfivetwentyfive #twohandsfivefingers #puberty
Topic: Puberty
#FatihAlas #FatihAlasalvaroglu #Alasalvaroglu #Art #Arts #artsy #contemporaryart #conceptualart #twentyfivetwentyfive #twohandsfivefingers #puberty
Stage 6: In progress ...
Topic: Puberty
Watercolor pencil on paper
42 x 29.5 cm
All Copyrights © by Fatih Alasalvaroglu, 25
#FatihAlas #FatihAlasalvaroglu #Alasalvaroglu #Art #Arts #artsy #contemporaryart #conceptualart #twentyfivetwentyfive #twohandsfivefingers #puberty #growingup #becoming #transformation
Topic: Puberty
Watercolor pencil on paper
42 x 29.5 cm
All Copyrights © by Fatih Alasalvaroglu, 25
#FatihAlas #FatihAlasalvaroglu #Alasalvaroglu #Art #Arts #artsy #contemporaryart #conceptualart #twentyfivetwentyfive #twohandsfivefingers #puberty #growingup #becoming #transformation
The time has come. I am designing the fusion of the boy’s old skin with the appearance of a cocoon, from which the youthful body of the young man emerges— a metaphorical reference to a butterfly.
I’d love to hear your thoughts on the concept and execution. I’m absolutely thrilled that my visual idea has come to life so effectively!
Stage 6: In progress ...
Topic: Puberty
Watercolor pencil on paper
42 x 29.5 cm
All Copyrights © by Fatih Alasalvaroglu, 25
I’d love to hear your thoughts on the concept and execution. I’m absolutely thrilled that my visual idea has come to life so effectively!
Stage 6: In progress ...
Topic: Puberty
Watercolor pencil on paper
42 x 29.5 cm
All Copyrights © by Fatih Alasalvaroglu, 25
Now that I've largely finished drawing the cocoon, it's time to draw the young man's butterfly wings.
The sleeping position of his old skin (which leans upside down towards the ground) is just as intentional here as the breaking of the old skin or the original way of life shows a certain similarity to the body opening that gives birth.
Every detail is realized with love. But enough of words! 😉
tage 6: In progress ...
Topic: Puberty
Watercolor pencil on paper
42 x 29.5 cm
All Copyrights © by Fatih Alasalvaroglu, 25
The sleeping position of his old skin (which leans upside down towards the ground) is just as intentional here as the breaking of the old skin or the original way of life shows a certain similarity to the body opening that gives birth.
Every detail is realized with love. But enough of words! 😉
tage 6: In progress ...
Topic: Puberty
Watercolor pencil on paper
42 x 29.5 cm
All Copyrights © by Fatih Alasalvaroglu, 25
Stage 6: In progress ...
Topic: Puberty
Watercolor pencil on paper
42 x 29.5 cm
All Copyrights © by Fatih Alasalvaroglu, 25
#FatihAlas #FatihAlasalvaroglu #Alasalvaroglu #Art #Arts #artsy #contemporaryart #conceptualart #twentyfivetwentyfive #twohandsfivefingers #puberty #growingup #becoming #transformation
Topic: Puberty
Watercolor pencil on paper
42 x 29.5 cm
All Copyrights © by Fatih Alasalvaroglu, 25
#FatihAlas #FatihAlasalvaroglu #Alasalvaroglu #Art #Arts #artsy #contemporaryart #conceptualart #twentyfivetwentyfive #twohandsfivefingers #puberty #growingup #becoming #transformation
"MENamorPHOSIS"
Childhood— a gentle cocoon that shields us, cradles us, until one day, it silently unravels. We drift within it, wild and untamed like fireworks bursting in the night, until transformation seizes us: our bodies grow, our souls tremble between departure and becoming.
There it hangs—the old cocoon, a shed skin, the sleeping child still nestled within. But from its center gapes a doorway to a new existence, and through it emerges the young soul, stretched and reshaped, ready to claim the unknown.
One last glance back—a quiet kiss upon the lips of his former self, an embrace steeped in nostalgia. Then, delicate wings unfurl from his bare, vulnerable form, trembling in the wind, vibrant with color, yearning for their first flight.
Fly well, young one.
Adolescence calls—with all its wild, untamed, and unrelenting force.
MENamorPHOSIS (Stage 6/2525)
Watercolor pencil on paper
42 x 29.5 cm
All Copyrights © by Fatih Alasalvaroglu, 25
#FatihAlasalvaroglu #Alasalvaroglu #puberty #transformation
Childhood— a gentle cocoon that shields us, cradles us, until one day, it silently unravels. We drift within it, wild and untamed like fireworks bursting in the night, until transformation seizes us: our bodies grow, our souls tremble between departure and becoming.
There it hangs—the old cocoon, a shed skin, the sleeping child still nestled within. But from its center gapes a doorway to a new existence, and through it emerges the young soul, stretched and reshaped, ready to claim the unknown.
One last glance back—a quiet kiss upon the lips of his former self, an embrace steeped in nostalgia. Then, delicate wings unfurl from his bare, vulnerable form, trembling in the wind, vibrant with color, yearning for their first flight.
Fly well, young one.
Adolescence calls—with all its wild, untamed, and unrelenting force.
MENamorPHOSIS (Stage 6/2525)
Watercolor pencil on paper
42 x 29.5 cm
All Copyrights © by Fatih Alasalvaroglu, 25
#FatihAlasalvaroglu #Alasalvaroglu #puberty #transformation
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Here's my sixth clip and poem MENAMORPHOSIS to my project "2525":
MENAMORPHOSIS
From silken tomb he splits, unfolds,
wings still damp with childhood’s hold.
Both hands embrace what once was dear,
a final kiss—farewell sincere.
The husk below, a cradle past,
rocked in sleep yet fading fast.
A boy cocooned in dreams once bright,
now shed beneath the newborn light.
The meadow hums, the breeze invites,
his body trembles, soft ignites.
With nectar’s scent and whispered calls,
he lets go—desire breaks his falls.
The world awaits, his wings extend,
to taste, to touch, to bloom, to bend.
There are 19 artworks, yet to come. Keep it up! 😉
Stage 6 of 25:
MENAMORPHOSIS
Art, Poem & Movie
All Copyrights ©️ by Fatih Alasalvaroglu, 23.03.25
#FatihAlasalvaroglu #FatihAlas #Alasalvaroglu #art #arts #artist #ContemporaryArt #contemporary #TwentyFiveTwentyFive #TwoHandsFiveFingers #puberty #spring #transformation #metarmophosis #change #growingup #becoming #butterfly #cocoon
MENAMORPHOSIS
From silken tomb he splits, unfolds,
wings still damp with childhood’s hold.
Both hands embrace what once was dear,
a final kiss—farewell sincere.
The husk below, a cradle past,
rocked in sleep yet fading fast.
A boy cocooned in dreams once bright,
now shed beneath the newborn light.
The meadow hums, the breeze invites,
his body trembles, soft ignites.
With nectar’s scent and whispered calls,
he lets go—desire breaks his falls.
The world awaits, his wings extend,
to taste, to touch, to bloom, to bend.
There are 19 artworks, yet to come. Keep it up! 😉
Stage 6 of 25:
MENAMORPHOSIS
Art, Poem & Movie
All Copyrights ©️ by Fatih Alasalvaroglu, 23.03.25
#FatihAlasalvaroglu #FatihAlas #Alasalvaroglu #art #arts #artist #ContemporaryArt #contemporary #TwentyFiveTwentyFive #TwoHandsFiveFingers #puberty #spring #transformation #metarmophosis #change #growingup #becoming #butterfly #cocoon