Q: What inspired your series, Resting in Mu‘umu‘u?
It began with Anne of Green Gables. I was captivated by the way Anne cultivated entire worlds within the confines of her small attic room — with nothing more than a single flower and one brown dress. She taught me that imagination is resilient, that it flourishes even in the face of constraint.
When I arrived in Hawaiʻi, I encountered the muʻumuʻu and began to understand how it holds within its fabric the narrative of Hawaiian women/wāhine — embodying resistance, beauty, and sovereignty. For me, it evolved into a meditation on rest, on honoring the women who have carried burdens far beyond what should be asked of anyone.
In Turkic and Islamic tradition, we hold a teaching close: “Heaven lies beneath the feet of a mother.” I paint in service of that truth — to affirm that women deserve peace, tenderness, and rest, not the exhaustion we have been taught to mistake for strength.
Ezgi Iraz' s Original Painting, Acrylic on canvas, Afternoon Chai.
Photography by Megumi Kean, First Friday Hale’iwa 2025
Q: You’ve mentioned rejection from Hawai‘i’s art institutions — how did that shape you?
When I first arrived, I sought opportunities in creative fields — applying to museums, cultural trusts, and orchestras — but found each door closed. I applied twice to the University of Hawaiʻi Art Department as a student, and both times I was declined. Despite having worked with global brands and received recognition in my field, these rejections prompted a period of reflection. Rather than viewing them as failures, I chose to see them as an invitation to forge my own path — one where I could contribute authentically and create space for the work that felt truest to who I am.
I had spent years contributing to LEGO’s design headquarters in Denmark and had been honored with international recognition for my work. Still, the doors remained closed. And in that closure, I found clarity.
Eventually, I discovered a home at Polu Gallery, where I began as a sales associate. The gallery’s founder, Jun Yoshimura, recognized dimensions of my work that extended beyond the sales floor. Within months, I transitioned into roles as creative director, curator, and event coordinator, helping to shape several exhibitions — many of which resonated deeply enough to sell out entirely.
After gaining that formative experience, I made the conscious decision to step away from Polu and dedicate myself fully to building my own practice — and to nurturing a vision that has accompanied me since childhood: creating a gallery of my own.
That vision materialized as Studio Kōlea — a sanctuary for artists who exist between worlds, who feel unseen by traditional institutions, or who are ready to define success through their own lens rather than someone else’s framework.
At its essence, this journey is about joy — about honoring my inner child, the little brown girl with wild hair who always dreamed of being an artist, and who now lives that dream without compromise.
May 1991, Ezgi Iraz’s first reward from a painting competition.
Q: What did those rejections teach you?
That rejection is often redirection — and sometimes, both realignment and protection.
As an immigrant woman of color and a mother returning to my creative practice, I came to understand that the world doesn’t always recognize your value immediately. But recognition delayed does not equal value diminished.
Those moments compelled me to reimagine success entirely — to build a practice where my art, my motherhood, and my heritage could coexist without compromise or compartmentalization. I realized I didn’t need to contort myself to fit within existing structures; I could architect my own ecosystem.
And I find genuine fulfillment in what has emerged. Studio Kōlea has become the embodiment of that vision — a space born from courage, creativity, and deep care. From that foundation grew the Kōlea Circle, a community for artists navigating similar terrain — where we exchange stories, resources, and the courage to take flight.
Now, I look forward to connecting with more artists who carry that same quiet fire, and to continuing to expand this creative constellation together.
Ezgi Iraz' s Original Painting, Acrylic on canvas, Pink Dreams.
Photography by Megumi Kean, First Friday Hale’iwa 2025.
Q: Why the name Studio Kōlea?
The kōlea — the Pacific Golden Plover — migrates annually between Hawaiʻi and Siberia, traversing the same ancestral lands my Turkic forebears once called home. In this small bird, I recognized my own reflection: a traveler perpetually suspended between worlds, belonging fully to both and neither.
The studio, then, became a bridge — spanning the distance between the Altai Mountains and Kaʻala, between disparate narratives, cultures, and the human hearts that carry them.
As Rumi offered centuries ago: “Come, come, whoever you are.” This remains our guiding philosophy — a threshold without gatekeepers, a sanctuary without prerequisites.
Q: What message do you hope your work conveys?
That rest is not earned — it is inherent.
To every woman of color, every immigrant artist, every creative who has ever felt invisible within systems not built for them — I see you. You deserve to rest, to create without seeking permission, and to be celebrated not for what you produce, but simply for the fact of your presence.
And now, as I witness the stories of Hawaiian women — wāhine who have carried the weight of colonization, displacement, and resilience — these paintings are especially for them: a gentle reminder that rest is sacred, that they too deserve to lay down what they have carried for so long.
This is the living philosophy of Studio Kōlea and the Kōlea Circle — a sanctuary where stories take flight, where art finds its true home, and where each of us can remember that rest, joy, and creation are not privileges to be granted, but birthrights to be reclaimed.