b. 1976, Germany.
Lives and works in Ankara.
Erdal Duman (b. 1976, Germany) is a sculptor whose practice investigates the complex relationship between reality and representation, focusing on how images of conflict, violence, and power distort, disguise, and ultimately replace their sources.
Based in Ankara, Duman studied Sculpture at Hacettepe University, completing his BA in 2002 and MFA in 2006. He is also a founding member of the contemporary art initiative Yaygara, established in 2007.
Working primarily with sculpture and installation, Duman reconstructs forms drawn from militarized objects—tanks, weapons, and structures associated with war—using materials such as metal, polyester, and neon pigments. Through these visually seductive yet conceptually charged works, he exposes the mechanisms of “camouflage” embedded within contemporary image culture: the way violent realities are aestheticized, abstracted, and transformed into consumable symbols.
His sculptures often incorporate voids, fractures, and permeable structures, revealing the absence and erasure at the core of traumatic historical imagery. By re-staging these objects as incomplete or hollowed forms, Duman invites viewers to confront what remains unseen—both in the apparatus of war and in the images that mediate it.
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Boniboom, 2025 -
Ahmak Islatan
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Akan Sular Durur
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Baskı Altında Zarafet
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Bu Iste Bir Terslik Var
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Dönerken Islık Çal
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Dünya Ne Düz Ne Yuvarlak Tam Bir Silindir
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Kalkanlar Da Bir Gun Iner
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Kapitone
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Tank Kimdeyse Süleyman O
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Tarak
ARTIST STATEMENT:
Erdal Duman’s sculptures examine the fragile relationship between an object and its image, questioning how representation continuously reshapes, manipulates, and ultimately distances us from reality. He observes that photographic images—those that promise to mirror reality most faithfully—are also the forms that most effectively sabotage it. Through framing, repetition, and the viewer’s gaze, the image interferes with the original, displacing it and generating a new, metaphorically charged reality. In this sense, every representation becomes an act of erasure: a copy that subtly destroys its source.
When images begin to replace reality, human consciousness shifts into a different register. What accumulates on the surface of representation becomes more significant than the truth it conceals. Between the event and the image opens a gap where reality becomes unreachable. In this in-between space, signs proliferate yet fail to point back to the real. The atomic bomb that destroys a city, the thousands of lives lost—these become concepts explained through abstract, lofty language rather than experiences that can be grasped or confronted. The same holds true for the instruments of war: a fighter jet comes to signify everything except the violence it enacts.
Modern conflict reinforces this rupture. The war images we consume—whether from the Gulf War or countless others—are mediated realities that prompt the very question Jean Baudrillard famously provoked: Did the Gulf War ever happen?The issue is not the historical event but our inability to access its truth through the images shown to us. Everything unfolds in plain sight, yet remains perfectly hidden. This is the success of military camouflage: not only concealing the object, but erasing its meaning.
Objects removed from their original contexts for display or documentation enter a new life—one detached from their own truth. This dislocation allows visual material to be used manipulatively while disguising the manipulation itself. These fabricated realities function as documents, distorting our perception of the real. Nowhere is this mechanism more effective—and more invisible—than in the imagery and apparatus of war, humanity’s greatest generator of collective trauma.
Erdal Duman exposes this “perfect camouflage”—this manipulative machinery revealed in the instant it fails—by titling his sculptural series “Have You Seen the Camouflage?” His works borrow the forms of objects we have grown accustomed to seeing stripped of their violence: tanks, weapons, militarized structures. By reconstructing these objects with precision, he creates forms that resemble the originals exactly, yet function differently. Whereas the real tank conceals its own truth behind a material shell and a seductive image, Duman’s reconstructed tank reverses this logic: the material form carries the “false reality,” while its true existence is articulated through absence, void, and spatial openness. In the moment the false shell collapses into debris-like form, the sculpture sheds its illusion and reveals its deeper truth. The void becomes meaningful.
Like images of war, Duman’s sculptures are permeable. The gaze passes through them, slipping into spaces where the object dissolves into absence. Here, emptiness becomes a second sculptural element—an invisible side of the object, the unshown and unshowable. These voids exist like signs: they may appear or disappear, but their presence is felt. The image devastates reality by hollowing it; in turn, the sculpture articulates this hollowing through its own structural emptiness.
To attract the gaze—and to expose its vulnerability—Duman employs bright neon colours and seductive surfaces. His sculptures, like the objects of war they reference, offer visual pleasure, precisely because they have been severed from their violent origins. Their meanings have been camouflaged.