MARCH
BOLU
The first stop. Winter’s white will later blend into the color of a signature and a screen name.
A voice first dissolved into the night. Then a silhouette fell onto the screen. At last, millions shared their Friday nights around the same living-room chair.
As a police officer’s posting changed, so did the window of home. Childhood fit into suitcases; humor learned a slightly different accent at every stop.
The first stop. Winter’s white will later blend into the color of a signature and a screen name.
Hallway bells, classroom impressions and the light sense of distance carried by the sea.
Ceramics and sculpture. Patience in the hand as clay turns, rhythm in the sentence as radio comes alive.
A webcam silhouette, a Friday night and a studio gradually becoming the country’s shared living room.
Behind the improvisation on screen was the discipline of a workshop bringing a form forward without rushing it. Ceramics and sculpture at Anadolu Üniversitesi Güzel Sanatlar: listening to mud, seeing the negative space and turning flaws into character.
A good joke is a little like ceramic: press too hard and it collapses; let go at the right time and it finds its form.
Before the radio microphone, there was a pen. The cartoons from university years landed on the pages of the humor magazine “Gına”. A short signature beneath them eventually traveled farther than the name itself: Beyaz.
This page is not a display case but an open notebook. Move your finger or mouse across it; a new character may appear in the corner.
Paper / ink / a little mischiefWhen there is no image, the sentence works harder. A broadcast that began by telling the time became a laboratory for learning how to make things; “Gece Tavuğu” became companionship between sleep and wakefulness.
A microphone opened to tell the time teaches storytelling, waiting through silence and knowing a night listener without seeing them.
A webcam placed in the radio studio. The image was so dark that there was no face, only a speaking shadow. People already knew the voice; now curiosity settled into the space the image left empty.
The first guests were Hande Ataizi and Okan Bayülgen. A table, a few lights, audience rows and that first “welcome” nobody yet knew would last twenty-two seasons. The set below is not a one-to-one décor copy; it is an interactive stage memory made from the warmth of the analog era.
Drag the cards sideways. This is not an episode list; it is a set of small time capsules holding screen textures from analog to digital, changing sets and an unchanged sense of home.
A table, two first guests and a beginning whose ending nobody knew.
Radio improvisation finds the rhythm of television.
The wall between the studio audience and the audience at home becomes thinner.
Analog tapes, opening themes and the fixed habit of Friday night.
As the calendar changes, the conversation on the desk stays just as warm.
A ring closes the distance between studio and home.
A broadcast language that plays with the unexpected instead of hiding it.
Guest, audience and host step into the same story.
The week truly closes with the first note of the opening theme.
A long road becoming shared memory more than a program.
Colors and lines are renewed; intimacy keeps its place.
Live-broadcast flaws turn into the most loved little memories.
The format grows, while the sentence still feels as if it came from the next seat.
Clips begin their journey online; Friday night breaks apart and multiplies.
New set, new jingle, old familiarity.
Detail multiplies without losing the warmth of improvisation.
A relaxed room where both celebrity and audience can tease themselves.
A moment travels from screen to screen the next morning.
A musical exchange with Candan Erçetin turns the studio into a sweet duel.
One generation’s childhood meets another’s youth in the same opening theme.
Seats are full, the calendar is full, and the archive keeps growing.
May 4, 2018: a night that looked like a finale while the story continued elsewhere.
Screens grew thinner, images sharper, and streams replaced tapes. Yet Beyaz Show’s true resolution was never pixels: it was the person at home feeling as if they were in the studio.
Tea beside the remote, someone asleep in the corner of the sofa, kitchen work postponed until the commercial. The show was not only on the screen; it had blended into the rhythm of the home.
The shared feeling Beyaz created on Friday nights did not stay in the studio. Living rooms, windows and apartment façades seemed to join the rhythm. This nightscape salutes that collective broadcast feeling: windows light in sequence like an audience choir, go dark and sometimes breathe together.
When you confine a person to one program, the quiet sides disappear. Drawing, folk song, cinema, a judge’s chair and clay revisited: each is another light in the same orbit.
A joke that began with a song became a television game answered clip by clip for weeks. There was no winner; only the smile left on the viewer’s face.
We do not repeat the lyrics here; we remember the game’s grace through two records, two sentences and an imaginary microphone moving between them.
In 2026, forgotten belongings at İstanbul Havalimanı became sculpture and installation. The path of the baggage belt joined the knot tied around a finger so something would not be forgotten. Beside the talkative face of the screen, a quiet side that thinks through material appeared again.
Touch one of the objects. Each one will tell not about the owner of a lost item, but about the possibility it awakens in us.
* These small stories are creative interpretations written for the site; they are not the exhibition’s official descriptions.“Şey”, imagined as a permanent sculpture carrying the circular path of the baggage belt and the idea of a knot tied for remembering.
“Şeyler”, left quiet questions about travel, forgetting, ownership and return through an exhibition of lost belongings.
With “Beyaz’la Joker”, there were four contestants instead of four options, two jokers and plenty of improvisation. Hover over the cards and let the deck open. On Beyaz’s screen journey, the format changes; the eye contact with the audience does not.
First broadcast / 04.01.2026Turn the dial. Choose a program, move to a song, then leave your small note at the edge of the table.
choose a program
A signature beneath a drawing, a voice dissolving into the night and a face bringing Friday evenings to the same table. This small device opens the quiet records of that journey one turn at a time.
Three small records left around the table.
Turn the circle. Each song opens another night; no single record contains the whole story.
small movements, long nights
BEYAZ / TABLE RECORD · 2026