Doğan Özdemir (aka Miskin Kukla) is an interdisciplinary visual artist and designer based in Türkiye. Working across photography, digital collage, illustration, and text, he explores themes of identity, transformation, memory, and displacement. His part human, part creature hybrid figures inhabit surreal narratives where the instinctual meets the social and the grotesque meets compassion.

A graduate of Dokuz Eylül University's Department of Graphic Design, Doğan brings over two decades of experience in advertising and creative direction into his art practice. His work has been recognized internationally, with upcoming features at the London Design Festival in September 2025, in Dek Unu magazine, and in the Oripeau international collaboration project.

We asked Doğan about his art, creative process, and inspirations.

Can you tell us about your background as a digital artist? How did you get started in this field?

I graduated from the Graphic Design Department of Dokuz Eylül University, Faculty of Fine Arts, in 2005—though it took me six years to finish due to a clash with a professor who barely spoke Turkish. I can say I truly began working in digital art after 2008. Before that, I was mainly focused on illustration, but I found the flexibility and manipulability of photography both entertaining and very appealing at the time. Since 2008, my practice has evolved into a deconstructive, surrealist journey, occasionally influenced by the Dada movement.

Your work often brings together the human and the fantastical — what draws you to these hybrid figures?

Bringing together the human and the fantastical allows me to explore the fine line between reality and imagination. Through these hybrid figures, I express the complexity of human nature, its tragicomic aspects, and the images hidden in the subconscious. They are both familiar and strange, inviting viewers to look at themselves as well as the unknown. Sometimes playful, sometimes thought-provoking.

Over 20 years in advertising and creative direction must have shaped your artistic approach. How does that professional background inform your personal work?

My digital experiments gradually took shape through the merging of photography and illustration. In my work, I often fragment humans, animals, or abstract concepts to portray contrasts, contradictions, and identity conflicts in a grotesque way. At first glance, viewers usually see a simple idea, but beneath the surface there are multiple layers of meaning. This approach largely stems from my observations of social and professional life in Istanbul at the time.

In advertising, my aim was always to create a language that could be understood by everyone—from children to the elderly. My artistic work, however, has evolved differently. In my digital pieces, I’ve often created key visuals and experimented with making products appear surreal, which was an essential part of the advertising world. That experience repeatedly reminded me not to lose touch with my artistic side. Inevitably, this led me to develop works where a simple visual perception coexists with deeper expression. Most of my artworks revolve around a single main figure, with minimal use of background elements or ongoing settings. I believe this preference reflects a subconscious influence from advertising, where clarity and focus are always prioritized.

Which of your upcoming projects are you most excited about, and why?

I have several projects planned abroad. Most likely, the first thing I’ll do is start from the ground up—responding to the unaddressed needs of the town or city I’ll be living in, whether in terms of art, culture, or community. I’m certain the projects will aim to be beneficial and meaningful, though of course they will take shape depending on where I settle. I’ve started planning a life outside of Turkey, and my greatest motivation in this journey is my 7-year-old daughter.

Can you tell us about some of your favorite pieces? What makes them special to you?

I have several works that I love, but I can say The Face Within the Fish is my favorite. I created this piece in 2016, a few months after moving from Istanbul to Izmir. It explores themes of identity disturbance. What makes it special is that I playfully created it using the faces of people whose tragicomic yet real expressions stayed in my memory. Additionally, being selected this year to be part of the London Design Festival 13–21 September, in the “Everything Then is Now – Alter Peckham” exhibition, marked a significant starting point for me.

What is a dream project you’d like to make one day?

In my imagination, there is a place like Antoni Gaudí’s Casa Milà, with exhibition halls and studios, a space fully intertwined with art. I would love to be part of such a project, to connect my works and creative process directly to the heart of art. Realistically, it remains a distant dream for me. Yet, who knows what opportunities may appear along the way? Only time will tell.

Have there been any surprising or memorable responses to your work?

Most of the time the reactions are something like: ‘Doğan, you’re not such a dark and serious guy in real life… but it seems like you have some issues. Maybe you should see a specialist.’ I find these comments very funny, because in daily life I’m quite the opposite of my artworks. That contrast between who I am and what I create is probably what makes people remember the work.

What is a fun fact about you?

A fun fact about me is that although my artworks often involve strange and somewhat dark figures, in real life I’m quite the opposite—constantly joking, collecting material from everyday life, and often laughing at myself. I also have this bad habit of imitating people from time to time. 😊 In my family and social life, I’m far from being a dark or overly serious person. One of my greatest joys is following the fascinating imagination of my daughter.

What else fills your time when you’re not creating art?

When I’m not making art, I spend time with friends and family—my daughter, in particular, constantly gives me fresh perspectives, and sometimes I even become her student. Other times, I just take notes and listen to music. (So far, I’m certain that cats are far superior to us.) I also have this quirky habit of writing absurd little stories about cities and objects—it keeps my imagination alive.