13,271 plastic bottles. One skin. One message.
By SEVINCY
A Drop Becomes a Lake
This text, where I share a public art action born from contemporary urgency, is an optimistic expansion of the proverb: “Drop by drop, a lake is formed.”
In late 2018, I heard that a toy store in Akmerkez — one that catered to all ages — was shutting down. At its center stood a massive 25-meter steel slide. As soon as I learned of its fate, it took over my focus.
When asked, “What are you going to do with it?”
My answer was:
“I’m going to turn it into a time machine.”
That was all — no further plan, no elaborate explanation. Just a balloon of a sentence, floating somewhere between magic and imagination, too far from where I was standing.
To use this monumental structure in a new recycling project, the first step was to bring it to the center of my world.
The second step? Just to keep wanting it.
Even if I didn’t yet know exactly what I’d make of it, my attention — my curiosity — would be enough to give it life.
Plastic Turtle, New Phase
That same year, 2018, was declared the “Year of Plastic” by WWF.
The Turkey office contacted me ahead of April 23 (Children’s Day), asking for an artwork that could involve children.
This request touched me deeply — both in spirit and in its connection to nature.
As always, what was born from this project exceeded even my most beautiful dreams. It brought me joy, changed my surroundings, and opened a whole new phase in my artistic journey.
Here’s how I introduced the piece:
Plastic Marine Turtle
“Each year, 8 million tons of plastic are dumped into the world’s waters. One of the species most threatened by this is the sea turtle. This sculpture — whose shell was built from plastic water bottles consumed on ferries — was brought to life by eating the plastics washed ashore at Babakale, Asia’s westernmost point. Children participated in my production sessions. I believe they will protect nature’s miracles better than previous generations ever did.”
Bottles, Eyes, and Stars
During the production process, a cleaning staff member working on Istanbul ferries started saving plastic bottles for me. Every other day, they were delivered to my studio in large bags.
Among the thousands of bottles, there were only two “foreign” objects: two small plastic stars.
They became the eyes of my turtle.
Since then, I have never thrown away a plastic bottle. Every bottle I consume ends up in my studio — awaiting its turn to become part of art.
Public Art and Resistance
Given the meaningful collaboration I had with Akmerkez in the past, I trusted their sensitivity and approached them again — this time, to repurpose the steel slide as part of my recycling series.
Convincing more than one person to transform a decommissioned playground slide into a public sculpture required courage.
But that’s the life of an artist trying to place art at the heart of everyday life.
The physical intensity of building these sculptures, combined with the social and mental toll of navigating bureaucracy, often makes me feel like a performance artist.
In my public art projects, the resistance I encounter is almost always more exhausting than the creation itself.
People complain about separating their garbage, let alone supporting someone who devotes herself to visualizing environmental issues through monumental installations.
And for some reason, this burden becomes even heavier when the person doing it is a woman — filled with good intentions, light, and dedication.
Sometimes, being different is all it takes to become a problem.
Cracks in the Dream
There are disappointments that feel like waking from a beautiful dream — or worse, being forbidden to dream.
In this limited journey, the resistance I faced was not new:
– Women who could never realize their own dreams, trying to block mine
– Lazy minds turning insignificant details into excuses
– Bored officials dragging me into their meaningless procedures
– A thousand little cuts to the flow of creation
In such conditions, perfection becomes a matter of resilience.
The artist — immersed in capturing invisible details and fragile metaphors — can only reach true beauty if they are strong enough to withstand all of it.
A Star in the Darkness
Even if only one person reads this text, I want to focus not on promoting negativity, but on polishing the star that caught my eye in the chaos — the spark that lit up the dark.
That spark was this project.
13,271 Scales = 13,271 Drops
I collected 13,271 small plastic water bottles.
Each bottle was stripped of its label and cap, cut in half, folded into shimmering scales.
Each scale represents a drop of water — a future lake.
Like every long journey begins with a single step, this monument began with a single drop.
The Hidden Truth in Plain Sight
Plastic waste that isn’t recycled does create lakes — but not metaphorical ones.
That’s the terrifying part.
Depending on how we see, how we think, and what angle we stand from, these invisible truths float between perception and blindness.
Like atoms never truly touching each other, these drops never truly touch — and yet, a lake is formed.
I placed that truth — clean, bright, undeniable — right into the center of consumption.
My luminous serpent, with scales made of plastic, was born right in the middle of life itself.
Damla Su: One Call, Thousands of Drops
Of the 13,271 bottle-scales, 11,327 came from Damla Su, a bottled water brand in Turkey.
I contacted them through a number I found online — no formal emails, no pitch deck. Just a phone call.
But that one call led to dozens of others:
Departments coordinated, teams in and outside the city stepped out of routine, and their collective effort became the brightest star in my journey.
A Message Wrapped in Scales
Plastics make our lives easier — but if not recycled, they turn into venom.
Not metaphorically, but biologically.
The serpents that grow in nature from our garbage will eventually bite us all.
This sculpture — The White Serpent — is not just made of bottles.
It’s a monument to accountability.
Especially for the giants who sell their products wrapped in plastic, I hope this public artwork motivates a new level of commitment to circular sustainability.
Visible. Physical. Real.
I’ve shared some visuals from the making-of process here — because I want this serpent to be seen.
Not just on screens.
I want it to be real, to make people feel seen in return.
Though it seems to shy away, hiding its enormous body like it’s ashamed of being in an unnatural environment, it is far too big to hide.
And it’s waiting for you, in Akmerkez.
With light,
SEVINCY
