The processes of migration, which begin deep inside, continue with a succession of moves in search of a more stable position in time, in circumstances that previously seemed impossible. I am sure that one can feel like a migrant  even in one’s own country, in one’s own home. One of the first things I bought in Turkey was a set of plastic dining chairs, based on the principle of ‘something you can’t spare’. Despite appearances, the chairs were comfortable, but they were of very poor quality and broke after a few days of use. This led to an accumulation of broken chairs on the balcony. There is a saying in the design world that every designer goes through the ordeal of designing a comfortable chair once in their life. I, on the other hand, by working with an already broken chair, made it fundamentally uncomfortable. To use a metaphor, I think this is the only possible  chair at the moment. Although it has a hint of the comfort attributes of conventional furniture,  it represents a complete rejection of commodification. Stripped of all its functionality, it ceases  to be a commodity and becomes a marginal object in the domestic world of things. In this work I also reflect on the question of form and material. What is art without a geographical reference to a place of residence and the certainty of tomorrow’s location?