BOULO GAZETE NO3
Su ve Tuz (Water and Salt) is a creative studio that treats design as something fluid, open-ended. Founded by Ecem Karslı, a UAL-trained interior designer, it exists without rigid definitions—just like the materials she works with.
Though steel is often seen as cold and unyielding, in her hands, it bends, flows, almost breathes. Each object carries its own quiet presence, shaped with movement and intention. Stories are embedded within them, but never spelled out—Ecem prefers to leave subtle clues, allowing each viewer to step in and make their own meaning. Su ve Tuz isn’t bound to a single discipline or destination. It’s a space of constant evolution, where ideas take shape freely, whether in the form of furniture, light, or perhaps, one day, a self-sustaining studio hidden in a forest.
Read the full interview below.
How did you decide on the name Su ve Tuz (Water and Salt)?
My design philosophy is rooted in simplicity and nature, and I wanted my brand’s name to reflect that. Water and salt are two elements that resonate with me deeply. They carry distinct, almost opposing energies—water is constantly in motion, playful and untamed, while salt feels grounded, steady, and wise. Yet, salt is ultimately born from the movement of water. I’m drawn to this dynamic relationship between the two.
I know that you studied interior design at UAL. How did you decide to move towards functional homeware pieces?
I was very fortunate that UAL had such a broad and diverse approach—it was a school that embraced abstract thinking. While studying interior design, I never felt confined to just that field; the school itself fostered a sense of creative freedom. My motivation has always been to create designs that make people feel good and bring joy to their daily lives. Designing furniture for homes allows me to pursue this purpose in a way that feels both fulfilling and dynamic.
You have such a unique lamp—it almost feels like an art piece. Steel is often seen as cold and rigid, yet your lamps feel fluid, almost alive. How do you approach shaping such an unforgiving material?
When I started designing furniture, my main intention was for them to feel alive. My solution was to give each piece its own character. Rather than creating rigid objects, I aimed to bring something into people’s homes that could be both a physical presence and an abstract companion.
I use stainless steel because of its futuristic essence and its connection to space. In a way, metal is the fifth element of our world, yet unlike fire, water, earth, and air, it isn’t something we can experience in its pure, organic state. That sense of distance and mystery is what draws me to it.
If your lamps could whisper something in the dark, what would they say?
Honestly, their way of communicating would depend entirely on which series they belong to.
The KIDS series, having just landed on Earth, would be full of curiosity and excitement, eagerly asking questions about everything around them.
On the other hand, Br08 has spent much more time on Earth and is now at a stage where it has started to experience emotions, so it would likely want to talk about feelings and introspection.
As for the WHALE FALL series, it exists at a point where life in the ocean has come to an end and is setting up an exhibition within seashells. Because of this, it would probably remain silent.
What’s something about your creative process that no one sees but defines everything you make?
Definitely writing short stories. It feels like I’m keeping a journal for the characters I create. Rather than seeing myself as their designer, I feel more like an observer watching their stories unfold. I don’t feel the need to share these narratives directly with the audience; instead, I prefer to leave subtle clues. I want the viewer to engage with the story in their own way—to interpret and reshape it through their own perspective. If it were only about my perception, it would be boring for me.
I prefer to leave subtle hints, allowing the audience to piece things together in their own way. I want them to step into the story, reshape it, and make it their own. If everything were confined to just my perspective, it would feel limiting—even dull—to me.
I know that you position the studio as a ‘fun-based creative studio,’ and we are excited to discover what’s next. Do you know what’s on the horizon for Su ve Tuz? Do you have any specific categories you want to work on?
The reason I define Su ve Tuz as a fun-based creative studio is that I don’t want to impose any limitations on it. The future holds endless possibilities, and committing to just one right now doesn’t feel authentic to me. Instead, I want to leave space for exploration and evolution.
But if I had to dream big for Su ve Tuz, I’d love for it to evolve into an architecture workshop nestled in a forest—one that operates in a completely self-sustaining way, from its paint to its paper, existing in harmony with nature.
