Good People of vitruta: Zeynep Tümertekin

Great to have you here, Zeynep! Let’s kick things off with our usual opener: How would you describe yourself to someone who doesn’t know you? Who is Zeynep? Where did it all start, what have you done, and where are you now? 

That’s a tough one, but I’ll give it a try. I was born in a house in Rumeli Hisarı, designed with a subtle postmodern aesthetic by two architects. It was a home filled with good food and conversations that never took themselves too seriously.

My first camera, an Olympus OM-1, was a gift from our family friend Hasan. One summer, while looking for a photography course, I stumbled upon a program at the school I would later attend in London. They asked us to pick a song lyric, build a theme around it, and spend the week capturing photos inspired by that theme. At the end of the week, every photo I developed in the darkroom featured buildings and architectural details. That summer, despite all the warnings, I decided to study architecture.

After graduating in London, I moved to New York to work, where I got my first real sense of how a studio operates. Returning to Istanbul, I spent some time working alongside my father before deciding to start my own studio. That’s when my partner Ceren and I co-founded Studio Mada. Today, I’m actively involved in both studios.

You graduated from Central Saint Martins, a school with a strong foundation, and you’re one of the founding partners of Studio Mada. Who or what would you say has shaped your architectural practice the most? How has your journey to finding your own voice unfolded?

I’m not entirely sure I’ve fully found my voice yet. While my design tendencies feel well-established, I’ve noticed how they continue to evolve over time. I have to admit, I think a lot about what it means to be original. The experience that has shaped my architectural practice the most was designing the first building we completed as a studio.

I had worked on many projects at previous firms, but of course, I never had the same freedom to fully express myself. Developing the design through conversations and debates in our studio became an essential exercise for pushing our practice forward. Sometimes, it’s purely intuition, sometimes it’s driven by the site’s specific conditions, and at other times, it’s about a simple aesthetic intervention. That process—regardless of the approach—was incredibly fulfilling.

We know you focus on how architectural terms like 'courtyard,' 'layer,' 'entrance,' or 'fountain' take on new meanings in different contexts. Can you share what these concepts—and their combinations—mean to you in your design language?

I suppose I try to resist letting architectural terms or words we use in everyday practice turn into fixed images in my mind. I enjoy pairing words with new meanings and visuals. For instance, when I think of a circle, it might bring to mind people gathering around a street performance, or the shape of a slingshot I used to play with as a kid. I find this kind of variety playful and fascinating.

Projects like Üçüncü Mekân, which you designed with Elif Çeçen, stand out for their reinterpretation of public spaces and communal interactions. What motivates and guides you the most when designing projects like this?

What matters most to me when designing public spaces is creating environments where people can feel both alone and together. It’s about giving individuals—who might otherwise never interact—a sense of freedom and safety in a shared space.

Your passion for photography also seems to influence your work. How do photography and architecture come together in your practice? How would you describe the role of visual arts in your design process?

What excites me about photography is its decisiveness—the act of choosing what to include in a frame and isolating that moment from its context. For me, taking photos is both a way of note-taking and a tool to deeply study something seemingly ordinary. It helps me better understand light and explore distances.

Having spent your academic years in London, we imagine you have a strong connection to the King’s Cross area, where vitruta is also located! We’re curious to hear your thoughts on the area’s architectural transformation and creative energy. How has London shaped your design perspective or inspired you?

When my school moved to King’s Cross in 2011, it became one of the first buildings to open in the newly designated recreation area. Many of the surrounding structures—whose fates were still undecided at the time—became topics of exploration in our architecture studio projects.

I think it’s been a remarkably successful transformation—maybe it’s just out of habit, but as school friends, we still choose to meet up there every time I visit. Coal Drops Yard, in fact, was one of the examples we studied while working on Üçüncü Mekân. Studying architecture in London—or in any cosmopolitan city—was significant because it gave me the chance to experience spaces designed by some of the best architects and designers in everyday life.

Let’s keep talking about cities: You’ve lived and worked in places like New York, London, and Istanbul. What differences do you see in how these cities have shaped your design perspective? What activities or habits have inspired you the most in these places?

I was about to move to Paris, but I changed my mind at the last moment and moved to London instead. Back then, it was a city I barely knew, so I started discovering it on foot. I’d go to concerts almost every week; Chilly Gonzales was the first show I went to alone. I loved living in England, and I learned how to be by myself there.

When I lived in New York, I was working, but the energy of the city was entirely different. That constant hustle gave me so much. I was surrounded by friends I admired—people who stuck to their routines and made the most of every moment to better themselves. Their presence pushed me to pick up new habits. I enrolled in various institutes, attended talks on subjects I was curious about, and listened to inspiring discussions.

I can’t exactly pinpoint how these experiences have shaped my design perspective, but I do sometimes wonder what might have influenced me differently if I had lived in a smaller, more compact city.

Is there an artist, writer, or architect who has been nourishing you spiritually lately? What works or individuals are currently on your radar?

Lately, I’ve been revisiting Éric Rohmer’s films. I love how the aesthetics are present without dominating.

And for the last question—what comes to mind when you think of “vitruta” and “Good People”? It could be anything—a brand, a neighborhood, a person, a color, or an event.

Of course, now it’s 'Coal Drops Yard' that comes to mind. And beyond that, an inspiring, evolving team!

vitruta redefines the experience by creating a space where art, culture, and commerce intersect, fostering a dynamic community of creators. I find it incredibly valuable that it provides room for these conversations to flourish.

You can click here to see the products Zeynep Tümertekin used and chose in the shoot.