Başak Tuncer

When you reflect on your relationship with art, is the driving force behind your creative work more a desire to convey an idea, or a wish to alter the way the world is perceived?

What drives me to create isn't so much a direct desire to articulate a specific idea, but rather the impression something leaves on me. That impression might stem from an image, a story, or an emotion. I find myself dwelling on it and attempting to express it in some way. I find it fascinating how something seemingly ordinary in a photograph can take on a striking quality—whether through lighting, framing, or simply by lingering on the image long enough to notice a subtle detail that brings it to the fore. In the content I create around films and series, I pursue questions like: "Why was it shot this way? What is this image telling us? How does it evoke this specific feeling?" Music, on the other hand, comes from a more emotional and instinctive place. When I translate an experience or a feeling into music, there is perhaps an underlying thought: "I can't possibly be the only one who feels this way." So, while I don't harbor any grand ambition to fundamentally change how the world is perceived, I do believe that looking at something from a different perspective can reveal aspects that previously went unnoticed. It is more about sharing what I see and experience—perhaps encouraging someone else to take a fresh look at something they hadn't previously considered, or helping them realize they aren't alone in what they are feeling.

In your view, how do cinema and visual storytelling transform the way we interpret people and life itself? What is the difference between simply watching a film and reflecting upon it?

Cinema offers us the chance to step into the world of a life we’ve never lived, a decision we’ve never made, or a person we might struggle to understand. In the stories we watch, we see how people are shaped by their experiences, their environments, and their relationships. Of course, this doesn’t mean justifying every action, but I do think it broadens the scope of how we view people and life. For me, the difference between simply watching a film and reflecting on it lies in asking not just "what is being told?" but also "how is it being told?" When you start considering why a scene was shot from a specific angle, or why the lighting, color, framing, music, or silence evoke a particular emotion in you, you begin to interpret the film on a different level. As someone who creates visual content, this directly influences my own work; I learn new techniques through research, and sometimes I notice that a visual choice from a film I’ve watched finds its way into my own shoots.

When covering a topic in your YouTube content, how do you strike a balance between your personal commentary and the ideas you want to convey to the audience?

When creating content about films and series, I try to base my work on the piece itself as much as possible. What happens in the story, what are we shown, and—crucially—how is it visually narrated? That is where my primary interest lies. I don’t approach the subject by trying to present my own opinion as the "correct" answer or by deciding which character is right or wrong. Of course, the choice of scene, the details I focus on, and the angle from which I approach the topic are all filtered through my own perspective. However, while creating content, I’ve also noticed something on social media: sometimes, simply trying to understand a character's motivation based on the work itself can be perceived as defending that character or validating their actions. For me, it is important not to conflate my own opinion with what the work is actually showing us.

What is it that makes an image, a scene, or a character stay with you for a long time? Is it the aesthetics, the story, the emotion, or something else entirely?

I suppose I would put emotion at the top of the list, though it isn't just about emotion in isolation. The scenes that linger with me are usually those where the story, the acting, and the visual storytelling all convey the same emotion in unison. An aesthetically beautiful image might certainly catch my eye, but it leaves a deeper impression on me when that aesthetic becomes an integral part of the story. I think I look for something similar in characters, too. I tend to dwell longer on characters I can’t easily label as simply "good" or "bad"—characters who possess contradictions and whose behaviors reveal underlying reasons or motivations. So, I guess I do come back to emotion in the end, but the way that emotion is constructed through the story and visual narrative is just as important to me as the emotion itself.

Do you think art should sometimes unsettle people, make them uncomfortable, or disrupt their established ways of thinking? In your view, when does an unsettling experience transform into a meaningful creative work?

I believe that art being unsettling—or even tedious—can be a crucial part of the narrative. Trying to make certain experiences more easily digestible for the audience can dilute the authentic emotional weight of the subject matter. If you are depicting themes like war, grief, or loneliness, it is only natural for the experience to be disquieting at times. Leaving the audience to sit with that emotion—rather than constantly providing thrills—can actually be more powerful. For me, the key is ensuring that the discomfort doesn't become an end in itself. I feel that when elements like violence are part of the story's inherent pain or destruction—rather than being used solely for shock value—they can confront us with certain truths. Art possesses a similar power to make us view things from a perspective outside our usual comfort zone.

What is it like to navigate the space between finding your own voice and meeting audience expectations when creating content? Are there moments during the creative process where you censor yourself or, conversely, give yourself total freedom?

It varies depending on the situation. On one hand, I strive not to lose sight of what I want to convey and how I want to convey it; on the other, I am aware that the moment I publish something, there is an audience ready to interpret it through the lens of their own experiences and expectations. Especially with digital content, it is very easy for questions like "Will this attract interest?", "How will it be perceived?", or "Could it be misunderstood?" to creep into the creative process. In contrast, I feel freer with my music and photography, allowing myself to act more instinctively. When such doubts arise, I try not to let them hinder the creative work, because I risk losing the very curiosity and excitement that drive me to create in the first place. I wouldn’t want to reach a point where, in the process of tweaking things or deciding not to phrase something a certain way, I end up saying, “But this isn’t how I wanted to do it.” In short, what matters to me is that, while keeping the audience in mind, I don’t start viewing my own work exclusively through their eyes.

In today’s digital world, where everyone is creating something, what does originality mean to you? What is it that makes a creative work truly personal?

In an environment where so much is being produced and spreading rapidly, it is inevitable that we will encounter similar ideas, themes, or modes of expression time and again. I believe the difference lies not so much in managing to do something no one else has done, but rather in our perspective on the subject—what we notice in it and how we articulate it in our own voice. That is where I think the personal nature of a work comes from. We are all influenced by what we see, read, and hear, but these influences transform into something else as they pass through the filter of our own experiences, tastes, and viewpoints. For me, originality isn't about trying to strip away all influences; it’s about staying true to my own style and the curiosities that are unique to me.

How would you define the relationship between art and everyday life? Does a work of art, a film, or an idea necessarily have to make a massive impact to change our daily lives?

I don’t view art as something entirely separate from everyday life, because much of what we create stems from our lived experiences, observations, and relationships—in other words, the world we inhabit. It then transforms into a film, a photograph, a song, or some other work. Through this process, we sometimes see something we’ve experienced through another person’s eyes, or we might encounter something entirely new that we’ve never experienced before. I don’t think something has to have a massive, earth-shattering impact to affect us. Sometimes, a single scene from a movie, just one sentence from a book, or the emotion evoked by a song can stay with us for a while—altering the way we see things or simply accompanying our mood that day. While these might seem like minor effects, I believe this is how the relationship between art and everyday life becomes a continuous one.

Among the works you’ve created so far, has there been any piece that intellectually transformed you the most or led you to discover something about yourself?

It is difficult to name a single piece of content that has intellectually transformed me, but certain projects can help me rediscover something that was already within me. The video I recently produced, titled "I Photographed Boring Things for a Month," was one such project. Observing light, shadow, and texture in everyday life—or seeing how an ordinary-looking object becomes striking when viewed from a different angle—has long been a part of my photography practice. However, consciously pursuing this for a full month reminded me why I love photographing such simple subjects and what I gain from the process. When I explore a topic in depth while creating content, I become aware not only of the subject itself but also of my own way of seeing, and I observe how the things that interest me at the time are reflected in my work. The realization I reached at the end of that video—"Perhaps it isn't the things we photograph that are boring, but rather the way we view them that has become mundane"—stemmed from this very process. I am currently in a phase where I am gradually clarifying the role that music will play in this context as well.