"When love beckons to you follow him, Though his ways are hard and steep. And when his wings enfold you yield to him, Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you. And when he speaks to you believe in him, Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden. For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning... ," Lebanese writer, poet and visual artist Khalil Gibran once wrote in one of his poems.

I was sitting in the garden of Columbia University some weeks ago, watching the magnificent trees that I intended to paint, and waiting for a muse to land on my hand for the first brushstroke. When I said the first brush stroke, don't let the image of Vincent Van Gogh setting up his bench in the meadows of Arles with his paints, canvas and bristle brushes or Claude Monet rushing to the lakeside with his easel tucked under his arm to catch the best light into the sunset come to the mind. I'm talking about a digital brush option on a digital device.

While I was enjoying being on a university campus in the heart of New York with my digital studio at hand, what made that moment more precious were the greetings from Colombian students who realized that I was painting on a tablet and the quick art conversations we had.

One of these students was Tim, a philosophy graduate student and a true art lover. Tim, whose real name is Meir, is a member of the third generation of a Jewish family of Lebanese descent who immigrated to the U.S. His kinship ties in Lebanon are still very strong and he is also a lover of Istanbul.

As my chat with Meir turned into a deep conversation revolving around our contemporary art and cultures that day, he introduced me to a source of inspiration that I might hold on to for the rest of my life. This inspiration source was no other than the painter Khalil Gibran.

Yes, it was exactly the writer, poet and philosopher Khalil Gibran, who touched the hearts of millions of people with his poems, articles and stories and whose works have been translated into dozens of languages.

Gibran is of Lebanese descent, just like Meir. He was the son of a family that immigrated to the U.S. in 1895. Gibran was, in my opinion, a valuable pen whose life was spent in exile, in the hands of the wild rather than his birthplace, until my talk with Meir. In fact, he was a master of the pen who used words weighed with a scale and summarizes reams of writing with some lines thanks to his metaphors. He was a philosopher who is far from the arrogance of reasoning but generously shared his life knowledge with humanity as important as splitting the atom. He was a lover who translated the feelings of millions with his words in "The Broken Wings" as "The sorrowful spirit finds rest when united with a similar one."

And Gibran was actually a painter who threw himself into the arms of painting at a young age while escaping the nausea of ​​his exile life. Before his career in writing, Gibran was discovered by photographer Fred Holland Day, who was known for his efforts to make photography accepted as a fine art form, when he was only 12 or 13 thanks to his drawing talent and remarkable creativity.

In those days, Day was closely interested in the children of poor immigrant families in Boston, including the Gibrans, and tried to support their education. On the other hand, he wants to share their stories with the world by photographing them. Little Gibran was one of the children he used as a model for his photographs.

Whereas Meir introduced me to Gibran's identity as a painter, thanks to photographer Day, I had the pleasure of meeting the eyes of a little resentful, somewhat shy, highly hopeful Lebanese boy Gibran, whom Day took by the hand by seeing the light in him and whom he probably never imagined would one day become a figure receiving a standing ovation from the world.

The author Gibran had a tone that brings the winds of peace, reconciliation and love, especially in his recent writings. You can clearly sense the clarity of mind, his wise conclusions about life and his inner calmness when you read him. This is the exact flavor of Gibran's paintings, as well. His focus is "people and their states," just like in his writings.

The naivety and silence in his figurative works, mostly made with charcoal and oil paint, are almost like footsteps about his author identity. Actually, when they are asked what they want to convey with their paintings, many artists are either shy or incapable of using language and say: "If I had the ability to express in words, I would be a writer anyway." Gibran, on the other hand, took his place in the pages of history as an exceptional person with his ability to both write and paint. And just as he makes you think while reading his articles, his paintings also make viewers say that they are glad Gibran has passed through this world.

During our conversation, I had the impression that Gibran pursued painting as a hobby. However, after learning that he opened his first personal exhibition in New York in 1904 and then went to Paris in 1908 to improve his painting knowledge, I was intrigued even more and saw that he made the best of his artistic talent with passion. Thus, the young Eastern painter studied Western painting and art history in Paris, surrounded by the names that left their mark on Western painting, including the famous French painter Auguste Rodin. He was even praised by Rodin for his mastery of integrating elements of local culture and style with Western technique and tradition.

It did not surprise me at all that the painter Gibran received a reaction from his family despite all this rising momentum and success in painting. Especially in Eastern culture, despite a high level of education, art and artistry are seen as a pastime of leisure. However, in the U.S. and the West, and even in the Far East, especially in China, families have a school curriculum that aims to raise artists, and a talented child is a source of pride for families and society. As a matter of fact, Gibran's mother, who was afraid of him becoming an artist, sent him back to a more closed environment, Lebanon. Unable to suppress his passion for painting, Gibran continued his studies there and returned to Boston, where his family lives, perhaps better equipped. This is another inspiration point from his life. No one can stop a flowing stream inside us unless we allow it!

Gibran, who embarked on his artistic adventure by painting the covers of the books of poets and writers with the discovery of photography artist Day, achieved mastery in painting; yet the world knows him for his passion for paper and pen and words. It is not known whether he experienced a breaking point in his transition from painting to writing in his 20s, or whether he gave up on the art of painting, but I want to believe that he was intertwined with the brush as much as with the pen until the end of his life.

Sitting in the garden of Colombia University and getting ready to paint, I looked at Gibran's paintings for a long time after saying goodbye to Mier, a Lebanese who inspired me with his pleasant conversation.

I wanted to hug each of the paintings with a sense of gratitude mixed with protection as if I was pressing an orphaned child to my chest, just as I felt toward Gibran's books after reading his deep and concise articles.

I wish to experience Gibran's paintings in which he pours out his loneliness, desolation, yet overflowing love of humanity and joy of life with brush strokes in an exhibition in Istanbul one day. And I conclude my tribute to Gibran by quoting a line by him: "Love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation."