As an artist who always inspires people, are you inspired from any art movements or artists?

When I was young, I was influenced by the short stories of Nathaniel Hawthorne. At first, I wanted to write the way he wrote. Now I draw the way he wrote.

If you have chance to go back in time and have a dinner with an artist in art history, who would you choose?

Hokusai, the Janapese woodcut artist - except I don’t speak Japanese and he didn’t speak English, so I doubt that we’d have much to say to each other. We’d probably end up drawing pictures and pushing them back and forth across the table.

What about your working habits?

I usually work at night because it’s a quiet time when not many people are likely to phone me. But otherwise, I’m not like a lot of artists who have definite ways of working. I know one guy who starts every picture by painting it purple, and another who goes through the same process each time, step by step - he’s like an Astronaut going through a check-list. I’m less organized. I start each picture as if I’ve never done one before and I’m always totally surprised when it doesn’t end up a mess.

Do you listen to music while working?

Sometimes, but if it’s late at night I don’t want to disturb my neighbors.

Do you use digital technology in your illustrations? How do you evaluate the future of "digital art"?

I’ve seen artists get wonderful images with a computer that you couldn’t get any other way. But to me, working with a computer feels like having sex with your clothes on. There’s a physical element that’s missing, as if you’re handling radioactive substances through robot arms. Of course you can get a nice print-out when you’re done, but it’s not like doing a painting where you can feel the paint pile up or like doing a big painting, where you feel like you’re handling a barn door.

Graphic design and illustration in The United States seem fairly advanced. How do you find the position of Europe at this point?

I’m afraid I have to plead ignorance about that subject, in the US and Europe both. I’ve never followed developments in our field very much, and if you live long enough, advances in any field can sometimes seem like nothing more than a succession of trends. Trends are great because they divide periods of time from one another, but they don’t influence me any more than the days of the week would.

What do you think about the government policies of the United States, about visual arts?

The government supports certain kinds of art, usually the kind most people wouldn’t pay for – which is why those artists wany government grants in the first place. In general, I’m grateful that the politicians don’t fool with the arts too much. They’ve never done a lot of good when they have.

There is an apparent separation between illustrators and painters in Turkey. Are there such arguments in your country, too?

Yes, it’s a common delusion to think that there’s a meaningful difference between illustration and fine art. But it’s only held by people who haven’t realized that the world has changed and that popular art now has more authority than, say, a performance artist covering herself in chocolate and crawling across a stage while members of the audience lick her. People of the future will look back on this period and marvel. In the end, some art is good and some art is bad - and most of it’s mediocre. But you can’t make the distinction according to who did what work or what you call it.

Is it a hard thing to work with Brad Holland? What do you care at most, in your relationship with your customers?

I don’t have a problem working with myself, but then I always give myself a lot of creative freedom. And I work best with clients who do the same.

Are you interested in movies? What do you see when you compare Hollywood and European cinema?

In American movies, people are always being blown up or getting in touch with their feelings, two things that rarely happen in real life. I don’t see too many movies any more. As for European movies, several years ago, I was a juror at the Festival du Court Metrage, the international film festival they hold every year in Clermont-Ferrand, France. It was a great experience, except we had to watch about 100 movies in different languages in two weeks - try that yourself some time. But the experience taught me one thing - that short movies are better than long ones, because if they’re no good you don’t suffer so much – and anyway, the best parts of any movie are the isolated moments that stick in your memory.

You had come to Turkey as a juror of a caricature competition some years ago. What were your impressions of our country?

When I first came to Istanbul I didn’t know anything about it, except that it had once been Constantinople and Byzantium. I came with a girlfriend and we spent two weeks in Istanbul and Antalya, traveling around the Mediterranean to Kas, Fethiye, Myra, Kekova Island. Everyone was very kind, although one night in Kas two guys got into a knife fight at a tavern. I loved Turkey very much, and when I got back to New York, I started reading books about the Ottoman empire, the republic, Mustafa Kemal. In Antalya every night, they unfurled a big banner with his portrait on it over the wall above the town. I’ve always wanted to come back to Turkey and see more.

The theme of our second issue is "White". What does this word mean to you firstly?

White is first, an invitation to make a mess; then a challenge to see if you can redeem the mess by turning it into something that improves on the profound emptiness of whiteness.