A Life Rewritten in Lines and Layers
Shifting from spreadsheets to sketchbooks, Esra Yeşilli’s creative journey challenges the boundaries between structured professions and instinctive artistry. Based in Istanbul, she first embarked on a conventional path, earning a degree in Business Administration from Istanbul University. Yet, what seemed like a stable future proved emotionally hollow. Years after graduating, Yeşilli found herself instinctively returning to a childhood habit that had always felt like home: drawing. In rediscovering her creative instincts, she found not just a hobby, but a language she could trust to articulate the depths of her inner world.
Reconnecting with art in adulthood brought an entirely new awareness. Graphic design initially served as her entry into the creative workforce, but it quickly became more than a job. It offered a way to explore identity, emotion, and narrative through the careful use of color and form. Unlike her business studies, which provided structure, visual storytelling gave her space to be vulnerable and present. Her artistic practice evolved into a deeply personal expression of connection—to herself, to memory, and to the unspoken rhythms of daily life.
While her business background continues to assist with the practical demands of creative work, her true compass is emotional truth. Whether in design or painting, Yeşilli’s aim is to make visible what often remains invisible. Her works carry a quiet intensity, often centered on small, lived moments that speak louder than words. For her, art is not a side project or a second chance—it is a conscious return to something essential.
Esra Yeşilli: Drawing Her Way Back to the Self
The path to becoming an artist wasn’t marked by early recognition or institutional support but by a deep, internal reckoning. After deciding to leave the business world behind, Yeşilli spent time in her hometown, working alongside her father and rediscovering the act of drawing in her spare moments. This return felt like a reawakening. It wasn’t a dramatic leap, but a quiet, clear realization: she wanted to draw for the rest of her life. That clarity led her back to Istanbul, where she took on a job in graphic design—not as a final destination, but as a means to support her deeper artistic journey.
Her creative identity began with drawing, but over time, Yeşilli gravitated toward painting, particularly in watercolor. The shift marked a turning point. Watercolor’s inherent softness aligned with her desire to communicate nuanced emotion, allowing her to explore vulnerability with a new kind of openness. Over time, her focus expanded into lifestyle scenes that evoke atmosphere and feeling rather than grand narratives. This transition was further solidified during a transformative year spent in an art studio, where she immersed herself in daily drawing sessions and honed her understanding of composition and form.
Now, her visual language speaks through natural colors, deliberate textures, and intimate scenes. Rather than chase trends or aesthetics for their own sake, Yeşilli prioritizes honesty. Each brushstroke or line stems from lived experience, and each finished work reflects a personal rhythm. Her art is less about declaring conclusions and more about posing quiet, emotional truths—those that resonate with both solitude and shared human experience.
From Shadows to Softness: Influences That Linger
Yeşilli’s artistic voice is shaped by a confluence of personal turning points and the influence of painters known for their emotional depth and atmospheric command. Leaving behind a structured career path in business to pursue art meant confronting both uncertainty and freedom. That duality—navigating between survival and passion—infuses her work with a kind of internal gravity. She paints not to escape life, but to make sense of it, and her influences mirror this same commitment to emotional and visual authenticity.
She finds inspiration in artists who prioritize feeling over form. The expressive landscapes of J. M. W. Turner and the bold abstraction of Nicolas de Staël have taught her to see beyond surface detail and into emotional atmosphere. She’s also drawn to artists like Maggi Hambling and John Constable, whose works resonate with movement and light, revealing beauty in what might otherwise be overlooked. Their ability to blend vulnerability with visual impact echoes in Yeşilli’s own compositions, especially in the quiet way she captures everyday moments.
Equally important are artists who have foregrounded the human condition in their works. Figures such as Käthe Kollwitz, Renato Guttuso, and Jean-François Millet have shown her how art can act as witness—how it can hold space for pain, dignity, and resilience. The subtle intimacy of Vermeer, paired with the emotive softness of Degas and Monet, continues to shape how she considers tone, light, and silence. These artistic voices guide her not only technically but also ethically, reminding her that staying true to one’s vision is itself an act of courage.
Esra Yeşilli: Memory as Medium, Pain as Process
Among her growing body of work, one piece stands out not only for its visual strength but for its emotional weight. “Innocence Bound: A Journey Through Childhood Suffering” is a 70×100 cm mixed media painting that Yeşilli created following a breakup. The experience triggered unresolved memories from her childhood, leading to a creative process that became both a confrontation and a release. The work is layered with symbolism, using materials like tobacco, paper, and watercolor to construct a deeply personal narrative about inner struggle and the long shadow of past wounds.
Tobacco ropes are central to the composition, embodying the suffocating and unclear emotional state she found herself in. A cigarette stub, shaped into a heart, captures the physicality of heartbreak—how grief can linger like smoke in the chest. At the center sits a mandala, around which paper cuts radiate outward, each cut a testament to quiet endurance. These elements are not abstract flourishes but deliberate choices, each loaded with personal resonance. They anchor the piece in a specific emotional geography, where loss and longing coexist.
Yet the work does not dwell in darkness. A pink sky stretches across the background, signaling the presence of hope, however faint. Birds appear within the scene, acting as metaphors for the possibility of healing and emotional flight. The image of a crying child, hands tied with tobacco rope, gives shape to Yeşilli’s inner child—a figure still entangled in memory but not without the potential for release. This piece moves beyond illustration; it becomes an act of emotional translation. In making the invisible visible, Yeşilli transforms personal pain into collective insight, offering viewers both vulnerability and quiet strength.
