Today we lost one of the most distinguished masters of Turkish art, a monumental pillar who dedicated his life to creating, sharing, and enabling others to create, Süleyman Saim Tekcan.
Art history and critics will rightfully remember him as the pioneer of Turkish printmaking, the architect of the studio tradition, a grand master of engraving and sculpture, and the founder of IMOGA, Turkey’s first museum of graphic arts. All of these are well-deserved recognitions and immense milestones on their own. Yet in the memories of those fortunate enough to know him, an even deeper impression remains. He was a true gentleman with a rare and genuine humility.
My path crossed with Süleyman Saim Tekcan through one of those elegant coincidences life offers. One day I went to visit my cousin. It turned out that my cousin and Süleyman Bey knew each other, and by chance Süleyman Bey was visiting that very day. I was introduced to him on that occasion. When I mentioned that I was a painter, he expressed a keen desire to see my work. I showed him the drawings I had with me and several artworks from my website on my phone. After reviewing them, he invited me to the second edition of the exhibition “Artists Whose Path Passed Through Trabzon”. Having such a revered master open a door without any prejudice or sense of hierarchy, solely by looking at the work itself, meant a great deal to me.
Later, he invited me to the museum and we spoke at length. Over time, I had the privilege of visiting him at the museum several more times. During one of those visits, when he saw my work titled “Yerdeniz”, created in the "yellow-black" style I mention on my website, he acquired it for the museum collection. He believed that my linear approach in drawing was exceptionally well suited for fine printmaking. During another visit, I had a portfolio with me. He selected a painting from that portfolio, had it produced as a fine art print, and gave it to me so that I could work on it in color. Perhaps I was never able to turn that piece into a colored painting, but his encouraging spirit that nurtured creation never left me. Our relationship continued through occasional telephone conversations and across subsequent editions of the Trabzon exhibition.
Süleyman Hoca was one of the kindest and most unassuming people I have ever known. He was completely confident in his craftsmanship and mastery. Yet he never assumed superiority, never spoke excessively about himself, and never steered conversations toward his own accomplishments. He genuinely strived for beautiful things to flourish and for artists to be able to create. The museum he founded stands as a living testament to that dedication.
Great masters leave behind not only artworks, but also the enduring grace they imprint upon the people they touch.
Süleyman Saim Tekcan will always be remembered for his immense artistry and his unparalleled humility.
May he rest in peace.