Audience members can write a message to “Ulaş” — any Ulaş — on a paper slip. If they wish, they can light it on fire in a ceremonial brazier outside the cube. Inside, Puluc watches the ash fall through a vent. She then dials a random number from an old Istanbul phonebook — all entries for people named Ates or Ulaş — and recites the burned message aloud. In an age of read receipts and ghosting, “Ates 2 Ulas-mak” asks: What if connection required sacrifice?

Puluc explains: “We send ‘fire’ emojis to flirt, but we never burn. We search for ‘Ulaş’ on LinkedIn, Instagram, Twitter — but we never call. My work is the cost of that call. The ash is the data.” The piece brilliantly critiques the surveillance economy: every time someone Googles “Ulaş,” a real person (Puluc) performs a physical, irreversible act — lighting paper, dialing copper wires, speaking into void. It turns big data into a small, hot ritual. Halfway through the exhibition’s run, something unscripted happened. A man named Ulaş Ates — yes, both names in one — walked into the gallery. He had received three of Puluc’s calls over two weeks, each time hearing a stranger’s burned note: “Ulaş, I’m sorry about the garden hose.” “Ulaş, the cat is fine.” “Ulaş, do you remember 1999?”

As for Filiz Puluc, she’s now working on a sequel: ( “Burn to Find” ). No one knows what it means. But knowing her, it will probably involve smoke signals, a fax machine, and someone named Cem. If you ever meet a Ulaş, light something for them. Just make sure it’s not a bridge.

Moved and unnerved, Ulaş Ates brought a fire extinguisher. He stood outside Puluc’s cube and said, through the glass: “You’ve reached me. Now let me reach you.” He sprayed the extinguisher into the brazier. For ten seconds, the performance froze. Then Puluc smiled, hung up the phone, and struck a match — not to burn, but to light a cigarette. She handed it through a small slot. Ulaş took it.

The audience applauded. The counter stopped at searches. Legacy: Burning Bridges, Building Them “Ates 2 Ulas-mak” has since traveled to Berlin and Tokyo, adapted each time with local names and phonebooks. But the soul remains Puluc’s original thesis: true connection is not instant — it is incendiary.