Wild Heart Free Soul, a vibrant Turkish carpet store located on Kastanienallee in Mitte, offers a refreshing escape from the scorching summer heat that\u2019s enveloped Berlin lately. Inside, it\u2019s pleasantly cool and quiet, with warm colours that evoke the cosiness of an autumn afternoon. Throughout the space, you\u2019ll encounter an array of Turkish kilims in rich hues of red, orange, green, ochre, and purple. These exquisite rugs are everywhere: they adorn the walls, cover the floors, rest beneath tables, and form messy piles in the corners. I remove my shoes and feel the soft wool beneath my feet.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Beyza \u00d6zler, the owner, greets me with a broad smile and a warm hug, handing me a cup of coffee as we settle into comfortable chairs in the corner by the window. For the past decade, she has travelled across Turkey with a local partner, sourcing vintage kilims from trusted dealers, families, and collectors. Hand-woven by nomadic women in the Turkish mountains until the 1970s, these rugs undergo meticulous cleaning and repair before arriving in Berlin. The process is extensive: first, they are stored in Istanbul, then brought to Antalya to be washed and laid out on a \u201ckilim field,\u201d where they bask in the sun for three months, which acts as a disinfectant and natural stain remover. After this, the carpets return to Istanbul for further restoration before finally reaching their destination in Berlin. If the task sounds arduous, it\u2019s because it is. But it\u2019s all worth it for Beyza \u00d6zler, who has a clear goal: to celebrate and preserve the Anatolian kilim artistry and tell a story of cultural heritage.<\/p>\n
Though this career wasn\u2019t her initial plan, it quickly became an important part of finding her true identity. She was born in Stuttgart in the 1980s to Turkish guest workers, who \u201ccame to Germany to live more freely, away from the traditions and political climate they were used to,\u201d she begins.<\/p>\n
Beyza\u2019s parents owned eight fashion boutiques, so by the time she was 12 years old, she spent afternoons helping them at the stores, learning the ins and outs of business along the way. Set on following her own path in fashion, she studied textiles and then worked as a marketing and sales manager. Despite the lucrative salary and the opportunity to travel, the concept of fast fashion didn\u2019t align with her values. \u201cSeeing the production places in India, how harmful the textile industry is to nature and people, and the absolute waste of resources, I realised that that\u2019s the opposite of what I want for myself,\u201d she explains.<\/p>\n
In 2010, Beyza became pregnant with her first daughter, and her priorities naturally shifted. Craving a slower, more meaningful life, it was the perfect time for her to pay attention to the doubts she\u2019d been having about her career and take a break to refocus. \u201cI realised that if I don\u2019t learn anything about my Turkish roots now, I can\u2019t pass [this knowledge] on to my daughter. Growing up in Germany, she can only have access to the culture if I give it to her. Otherwise, this chain will just stop with me.\u201d<\/p>\n
Beyza enrolled in Turcology lessons at Freie Universit\u00e4t in Berlin, attended seminars with \u201cbaby Rosa,\u201d and immersed herself in Turkish literature and language. Then, in the summer of 2012, she travelled to Ka\u015f, a little Turkish town on the Mediterranean coast, to visit a friend who had also recently become a mother. What was meant to be a two-week holiday turned into a two-year stay. \u201cIt was really a beautiful, nourishing time, a completely different lifestyle from Berlin,\u201d she reminisces.<\/p>\n
Our way of life there was deeply connected to nature and family, which was incredibly healing for me as a mother and as a woman.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u00a0And then, one day, as she walked into a quaint carpet shop to find a rug for her terrace, her life changed. \u201cIt was like something happened to me at that moment,\u201d she recalls. \u201cI got goosebumps because I felt the energy of the kilims. It blew my mind, really.\u201d<\/p>\n
This experience marked the beginning of a new journey. Inspired by the stories the shop owner shared with her, Beyza soon travelled from village to village in Anatolia, collecting kilims with the hope of bringing them back to Germany. In 2014, she organised her first bazaar in Berlin, which was a complete success and led to the creation of Wild Heart Free Soul. As her business grew, so did her responsibilities, prompting Beyza to delve into in-depth research on the history of weaving and the cultural significance of Anatolian rugs.<\/p>\n
Thousands of years old, the kilims were woven by nomadic women using hand-spun sheep\u2019s wool and goat hair. The symbols and patterns varied by region, each carrying different meanings. \u201cFor example, Mut Kilims,\u201d Beyza, who has since gained a decade worth of experience, gestures to a rug hanging in front of us, \u201ccome from the Taurus Mountains. Over here,\u201d she points in another direction, \u201cis a prayer rug from Malatya. And this is a kilim from Denizli in Anatolia\u2014you can tell by its stripes.\u201d<\/p>\n
Traditionally, kilims were woven for different occasions: dowries, birth celebrations, or as a gesture of condolence. The nomadic woman, closely attuned to the rhythms of nature, would carefully tend her flock of sheep and goats, shearing them at the optimal times in the season. She meticulously sorted, cleaned, and combed the wool before spinning it into yarn, which was then dyed with natural materials like roots, plants, leaves, minerals, shells, and even insects. The timing for collecting these ingredients depended on seasonal changes. Once prepared, the yarn was intricately woven for months, sometimes years, into kilims\u2014a laborious process requiring patience and mindfulness.<\/p>\n
Unlike modern production methods, this ancient craft reflects a deep connection to nature and the value of handmade artistry. However, the future of weaving appears less promising as its cultural importance fades in the face of cheaper, machine-produced carpets. \u201cThe vintage kilims will soon die out, and there will be nothing left,\u201d Beyza says, noting that she has only 500 vintage rugs left in Germany and around 1,000 in Turkey. Her plan is to shift the focus toward raising awareness about this issue.<\/p>\n
Last October, she partnered with London-based rug producer Christopher Farr and Kirkit Workshop in U\u015fak, Turkey, to curate an exhibition titled Women Behind the Loom: From Bauhaus to the Bosphorus,<\/em> featuring 14 unique works of art by the Kirkit weavers. The women were given no predetermined patterns for this project; instead, they were encouraged to craft 1m\u00b2 pieces using leftover yarn, guided only by broad specifications. The exhibition aimed to give these women a voice.<\/p>\n \u00a0\u201cIt\u2019s a male-dominated industry. Weavers are always anonymous; they don\u2019t have a face or a voice. They are the lowest earners in the whole supply chain, but without them, there would be no industry. We need to improve the conditions for the weavers so that they are motivated to continue their craft. Otherwise, there will be no more hand-woven carpets in the future,\u201d Beyza warns.<\/p>\n As of late, she\u2019s been toying with the idea of creating her own kilim collection for meditation, which would blend traditional design elements with modern influences. She hopes to encourage weavers to contribute their personal ideas but is still figuring out how to do it sustainably with a long-lasting impact. \u201cIt doesn\u2019t help them if I order ten kilims a year; they need many orders to sustain their craft,\u201d Beyza explains.<\/p>\n Though still in development, the idea has taken root in her mind, and she believes it is more necessary now than ever. \u201cIn a world where we are constantly under pressure and overwhelmed with information, we need to sit down and reconnect with ourselves and the earth around us,\u201d she says. \u201cWith a kilim, you always have your own sacred space that you can take with you.\u201d<\/p>\n Beyond her own ambitions, Beyza is interested in creating a platform where weavers from across Turkey can connect, share their skills, showcase their products, and eventually sell them. She envisions herself as a bridge to the market, enabling people from around the world to access and purchase these unique, handcrafted items. Building trust within her community is deeply important to her.<\/p>\n \u201cSometimes, when I\u2019m in Istanbul, people come and say, \u2018I know who you are, you\u2019re doing an amazing job, we\u2019re proud of you. You\u2019re not just selling our kilims but introducing their value and culture to Europe,\u2019\u201d she beams. \u201cWhen this happens, I\u2019m like \u2018Wow, I had no idea that people know about me.\u2019 This makes the hard stuff worth it.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" At Wild Heart Free Soul, you will find vintage kilims hand-woven by nomadic women in the Turkish mountains Wild Heart Free Soul, a vibrant Turkish carpet store located on Kastanienallee in Mitte, offers a refreshing escape from the scorching summer heat that\u2019s enveloped Berlin lately. Inside, it\u2019s pleasantly cool and quiet, with warm colours that […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":23,"featured_media":10458,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[97,84,104,1],"tags":[32,81],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/yun-berlin.com\/journal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10428"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/yun-berlin.com\/journal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/yun-berlin.com\/journal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/yun-berlin.com\/journal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/23"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/yun-berlin.com\/journal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=10428"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/yun-berlin.com\/journal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10428\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":10434,"href":"https:\/\/yun-berlin.com\/journal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10428\/revisions\/10434"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/yun-berlin.com\/journal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/10458"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/yun-berlin.com\/journal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=10428"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/yun-berlin.com\/journal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=10428"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/yun-berlin.com\/journal\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=10428"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}