We are all drawn to light, whether it's due to our survival instinct, positive associations or biological responses.

The Meşher Gallery, located on Istanbul's Istiklal Street, which is globally renowned as the heart of culture and arts, is hosting the most comprehensive exhibition of British painter John Craxton to date, titled "Drawn to Light." Through narrative-embedded curation, colors and lights, this exhibition presents a mesmerizing human story of the artist's relation with light. With every corner and every beam of light, I found great pleasure in following Craxton's emotions and life story as if unraveling a ball of yarn.

We often think of artists as different from normal people, living different lives or being fueled by a specific problem associated with negativity. While this may be true in some cases, Craxton's love of life and his desire to be drawn to light reminded me of familiar, human emotions. Since he was born into a Bohemian and musician family, he was never coerced into choosing a specific profession. Yet, he was pressured to be brilliant in whatever he chose to do. "Really go away and do whatever you want. But just be brilliant," they said to him according to Ian Collins.

I had the chance to discover the exhibition with Ian Collins, who is both a friend of Craxton's and the curator of the exhibition. The artist's story of emotions and his relation with light, which is consistent with Collins' narrative, made this exhibition quite special for me. And of course, being the most comprehensive exhibition among his retrospectives also makes this art event quite valuable.

Before entering the exhibition, you see a motorcycle on the window display on Istiklal Street. Behind the motorcycle, there's a painting of a mustached man with a look that could be described as Turkish or Greek, but definitely not English. Upon observing his jacket, hat and scarf next to his motorcycle, you get the feeling that you're about to embark on an adventure, reminiscent of Jack Kerouac's "On the Road."

Melancholia

"The willow trees are nice and amazing here but I would prefer an olive tree growing out of a Greek ruin," once said Craxton.

The first part of the exhibition greets visitors with a dark navy blue, dimly lit area. This symbolizes the days of the English painter Craxton in England. He disliked the dark atmosphere, rain and the days when the sky was often gray while none of them knew the color of the sky in this country. Therefore, his paintings are just as dark and reflect his personal anxieties. He hated England for being cold, dark and besieged.

"Literally the wartime darkness, because windows were blacked out so that fighter aircrafts couldn't bomb the house; and a glimmer of light could literally have you killed fantasized darkness," said Ian Collins, describing the literal World War II-era mandatory blackouts.

"They were hiding in cellars. John sometimes worked with a candle on his pictures. And into light, the life and the landscapes of the Aegean, John always wanted to be there. He hated England. He hated the weather. He hated the minuteness. He hated everything about it. And he needed this hot climate. He wanted a life in the sun and particularly here because he loved all these layers of culture that went back in millennia," he added.

"And they say beware what you wished for. But he got what he wished for. And loved it," Collins laughed.

This process is filled with war and a precarious wait. At the age of 19, he undergoes a medical evaluation by a doctor for military service. While waiting for the evaluation result, a drawing emerges: "Poet in Landscape." The ruthless sharp branches symbolizing war gradually take over all life in the landscape like poison. There is no trace of those green prairie and joyfully dancing daisy bouquets we see in Romantic poet William Wordsworth's poems. The depiction is a reversed version of Romanticism. Instead, we see an individual trapped in a dark, modern world consumed by war, and destruction, a depiction of a world much like in T.S. Eliot's "The Waste Land" poem. Ironically in the painting, "the poet" reads one of the leading figures of British Romanticism, "William Blake," which is a cunning nod to his precursors.

"It's very much a romantic image, but it's turned on its head," Collins added.

Finally, the report arrives and the doctor said that he was in really bad shape, with undiagnosed tuberculosis. He adds that he will be as useful as a three-legged horse in the war. The situation of being trapped now has to change with some physical needs.

At the age of 19, John Craxton was hailed as one of the great hopes of modern painting in Britain. At the same age, he also became friends with world-renowned Lucian Freud, and they drew self-portraits inspired by some of the things they saw on their trips. They rejected even the art movement deemed appropriate for them, called "Neo-romanticism," as they hated being labeled or categorized, and rebelled against traditions in art.

A light beam

"I can't tell you how delicious this country is, and the lovely hot sun all day ... I shall never come home. How can I?" noted Craxton while in the Mediterranean.

At the opening reception of his exhibition in Zurich in 1946, John Craxton met the British ambassador and his wife. When he found out there was a spare seat on a bomber plane, he jumped on it and flew to Poros Island with them. As he arrived in the Aegean, his drawings began to capture the true essence of the mythology intertwined with the land, with colors dancing in a frenzy. Employing a range of different styles and techniques, he depicted his "life of pleasure" through art, infused with the captivating hedonism of the Mediterranean.

Most of his works bear the marks of the two greatest artists who influenced him, El Greco and Picasso. In 1947, while in Crete, he wanted to explore the birthplace of El Greco, Domenikos Theotokopoulos, who had first gone to Venice and then Spain. Craxton eagerly studied the churches and icons filled with paintings. During his 1949 trip to Istanbul, he deepened his interest in Byzantine art through the mosaics in Hagia Sophia, and for years traveled along the Aegean coast of Troy, carrying with him the deep traces of mythology, creating some of his most luminous paintings there.

During those times, John Craxton's works somehow failed to cater to the British taste in art.

"He was getting famous. But then there was a catch. Against him for going away and not conforming to what art critics thought he should be, he wouldn't conform to what anybody thought he should be doing. He only ever did exactly what he wanted to do and that got him into trouble," Collins explained.

Along with not receiving much acceptance in his own country, John Craxton's sense of identity and belonging to Englishness also weakens over time.

"He just knew he was often ill, but he didn't know why, but I know that he had this and so he needed a warm place. But it was all about art and about culture, and he loved the culture of the Eastern Mediterranean. That's why he thought it was the richest culture in the world. And so, as exemplified by Istanbul, he told me that he could never produce art in a new town. He had to have lived in history, and he said he'd like living in a termites' nest that turned him into with all these layers. And that's what he liked," said Collins.

"And he used all these different influences, particularly Byzantine, not particularly mosaics, especially Hagia Sophia and they were hugely influential for him along with Turkish carpets and traditional weaving. And then he made his own thing out of it. He wasn't copying. You know those were his influences, but he worked on them and tried to say something new, he said to me," he added.

Balance

He created many masterpieces such as "Still Life with Three Sailors" and "Two Figures and a Setting Sun," which I had the chance to glance upon during the press preview. Yet, I should note that every piece in the exhibition is a masterpiece.

Especially what I was directly drawn to was "Landscape with the Elements: Cottrell Memorial Tapestry," a giant tapestry work that somehow made me feel that Craxton achieved the balance in his life, summarizing his whole life story in this great symbolic work, a magnum opus.

The tapestry was commissioned as a memorial to Tom Cottrell, the first principal and vice chancellor of the University of Stirling. In 1973, Craxton and Cottrell had discussed the possibility of a tapestry commission for the University, but after Cottrell's death that same year, Craxton agreed to work for a memorial. He created a preliminary painting, or "cartoon," in Edinburgh, which is now held by the Scottish National Gallery of Modern Art.

In Ian Collins' "John Craxton: A life of gifts" book, Craxton mentions this tapestry as "The sun is symbolized as the origin of life, hence the yin-yang fish, as well as its geometry and order. The moon presides over that area which is elegiac in feeling which, tragically, became a Memorial to Tom Cottrell. The center is a hidden ‘pun’ in which a rampant goat has metamorphosed itself into a tree: It has become what it eats and, rising too close to the sun, has caught fire. As in nature, all is changing but the narrative should not be read but seen and felt: Everyone is free to interpret what he sees in his own way. The moon and the sun represent day and night to dominate the whole. Incidentally, the moon is partially eclipsed by the Earth."

The design for a tapestry features elements from the 1970s and portrays a dynamic interplay of color and nature. A green sea with splashing fish is pierced by a radiating orange sun. In contrast, the landscape of Hydra, dating back 10 years, is depicted using fragmented shapes and lines in shades of turquoise, blue and vivid green, inspired by Craxton's fascination with Byzantine mosaics.

Yet, it also summarizes his own life story from darkness to light, his exile after the military junta takeover in Greece: Two different persona who struggle to maintain a balance between darkness and light. It is also an elegy to himself through reference to Icarus, a figure from Greek mythology who is known for his courage and ambition, who flew too close to the sun, plummeting to his death in the sea below. In this tapestry, the rampant goat is the symbol of this motif. "He also feels sorry for himself," added Collins on Craxton's Icarus symbolism.

In 1976, when he returned to Crete and gained possession of a Venetian house and studio from the Ottoman era, he created his works by absorbing all the layers of geography. He never cared about fame or selling his paintings.

He only pursued the life he wanted with his art and now he is the light himself.

He died in London in 2009, and his ashes were scattered from the port of Hania.