»Allah« is not a religious work in the traditional sense, but rather a deeply personal, culturally layered, and socially relevant reflection of my own observations, memories, and questions.

»Allah« is a single word, while at the same time, an entire universe. It stands for religion, culture, tradition, law, life's purpose and a moral compass. For me, it stands for love, hatred, violence, childhood memories brought through smells and sounds, rituals and pain.

My work intertwines personal memoirs – from the taste of Oralet Çay, to the rustle of wet socks in plastic Terliks and my grandfather’s smile after Friday prayer – while posing global-social questions:
What does »Allah« mean to different people and cultures? Why do so many in the West associate the word with terror? Why is “Allahu Akbar" so often linked solely to violence? Where do these prejudices come from?

»Allah« functions like a mirror. Each individual who reads it, projects their own internal images onto it – shaped by upbringing, background, media and language. The work invites us to question these projections.
The exploration of language and gender plays a central role too: Why is Allah often perceived as male? What does it mean to think of Allah in a gender-neutral way? (Just like I was taught as a child) What relationship does a queer Muslim person have with »Allah«? Voices from the queer Muslim community provide essential perspectives here, as do the lived experiences of Arabic-speaking Christians who also say "Allahu Akbar" – not out of religious conviction, but due to personal and linguistic roots.

»Allah« is everything! And nothing? It encompasses childhood, migration, pain and hope. It is also a conversation about God in the age of AI. This project is an open archive, a growing mosaic of memory, critique, love, and identity.

Perhaps, it will only truly be complete upon my own passing.