A WORLD UPSIDE DOWN

While preparing this issue, the same question kept swirling in my mind:
Why is cultural and arts publishing so difficult? Or rather, why is it so fragile?

In a region where freedom of expression is constantly debated, the ability of cultural and artistic productions and ideas to remain circulating is a vital issue. Perhaps that's why I feel so close to the idea of creating an independent publication. Not from romantic idealism; but because I believe that art and culture are as essential to a society as bread and water. Because culture and art are not just about "having a good time." They are also one of the last areas where criticism, dialogue, memory, and the capacity for coexistence can be preserved. A form of existence.

Perhaps precisely for this reason, this field is constantly under pressure. In Turkey, independent cultural and arts publishing often means more than just producing content; it means simultaneously struggling with economic crises, invisible labor, never-ending bureaucracy, power struggles, and structures that are far from understanding the nature of cultural production, interpreting everything only through the lens of self-interest and efficiency.

The last few years have taught me this very harshly. The recent experiences of ArtDog—and issues we absolutely must discuss openly when the time comes—have once again demonstrated how vulnerable arts and culture publishing is. In fact, this isn't just a matter for one publication; it's a structural problem we all need to address together. How can an arts and culture publication be built on solid foundations? What models can make this field sustainable? Is an independent arts and culture publication, free from profit motives, truly possible in this region?

Because arts and culture publishing cannot exist with a profit-maximizing mentality. This field survives through editorial intuition, ethics, independence, and trust built over time. A managing editor's job isn't just to select content; it's to determine the publication's conscience, tone, and relationship with the world. If this field becomes constantly open to interference, all that remains is an empty PR language. Arts and culture publishing must stand against precisely this.

This process also reminded me how vital solidarity is. A magazine isn't just about shares, companies, or numbers in charts. This is the sum of the tireless efforts of editors, writers, translators, designers, young art writers, masters, and unseen laborers. I am deeply grateful to everyone who has contributed to date. Because independent cultural and arts publishing is only possible with collective determination.

Today, we need to rethink the issue of "solidarity." But not as a romantic call for unity; rather, as a new cultural ethic built on responsibility, awareness of boundaries, and editorial independence. Without structures where everyone is responsible for their own field, rather than everyone interfering in everything, the sustainability of independent cultural production is impossible.

Throughout this issue, we return to the same question in different articles: How can the field of culture and arts protect itself? Is organization possible in art? How can independent spaces survive? And perhaps most importantly: How can the creative and intellectual side of cultural production be protected from market dynamics and mindsets alien to the nature of this field?

On the cover of this issue, we feature an image from Florentina Holzinger's SEAWORLD VENICE, which came to prominence within the context of the Venice Biennale. The unsettling feeling created by a body hanging upside down almost perfectly summarizes how we feel about the world today: a world upside down. We are going through a period where not only politics and economics, but also institutions, values, cultural structures, and ways of living together are being shaken.

Culture and art open a new language where people have stopped listening to each other. It preserves memory. It makes other possibilities visible. And sometimes it simply creates a small space where we can breathe.

Today, I know this much better:

Names may change. Structures may collapse. Companies may close. But cultural production done with true faith does not easily disappear. The point is to carry that spirit.

We will continue on our path. Because despite all its fragility, we still believe that this field is indispensable. And perhaps today, more than ever, we need to protect independent cultural and artistic spaces, to foster solidarity, and to hear each other's voices.

Happy reading.

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