fresque köşesi

Untitled / Becoming Istanbul

2011-11-27T23:23:00.001+02:00

Anyone not pleased with the biennial? Anyone ecstatic about it?

First impressions are important. In order to get the best first impression possible I got my accreditation for the biennial way ahead of time and attended the press conference as late as possible so that (a) I wouldn't have to wait in an insane line to get my pass and (b) I wouldn't have to listen to any not-so-interesting corporate babble before I went in to see the show. I was being overly cautious you see, and it turned out to be the right call. As most journalists scrambled for their press passes, I started walking in Antrepo 3, among the structures that presented the works that had been kept a secret for so long. Though I wanted to walk fast and see the whole thing, works like Camilo Yáñez's Estado Nacional 11.09.09 Santiago de Chile made me stop and stare for a long time. The Companion that the press package included was also of use, both in guiding me through the show and presenting brief interviews the curators Jens Hoffmann and Adriano Pedrosa had done with the artists.

Meriç Algün Ringborg
Ö (Ortak Harf)

The interviews are not necessarily introductory. They are more like the advanced class you take before you get a chance to take the 101, which is always better because then you sort of have to go back and do the basic research yourself. This educational tendency – but not in a i'm with stupid sort of way – is also seen in the curatorial choices made in the show. Expanding around five group shows that take Felix Gonzalez-Torres' five works as their point of inspiration, the show depends on the curatorial strategy of making sense together and in relation to each other; presenting a structure in which the viewer is able to imagine their own additions to the show... for example at some point I really wished Ali Miharbi's Last Time were there. But even though it wasn't, the suggestively expanding show seemed to invite such interventions.

This was my first visit to this year's biennial, where I could only skim through one of the two venues (Antrepo 3). It felt substantial, exhaustingly intense and required rigorous viewing, perhaps even a guide. However, one could just as well walk among the works without even reading the tags, as they would in a museum they go to often, not because the works were all familiar or clichés but simply because most of the show lends itself easily to a narrative or an overarching aesthetic. Most people I spoke to throughout the biennial season – both in and outside of the arts "industry"– said they preferred to read about the works from the companion as they wandered through the venues.

Raymond Pettibon

There was certainly a lot to learn from an engaged viewing of the show. Many articles appeared condemning the show of being political, or not political; engaged, or hermetic; educative or self-absorbed. What struck me was mostly the things it accomplished.

Having begun their process with a conference attended by the curators, artists and viewers of the previous editions of the biennial, Hoffmann and Pedrosa mapped out what they would do and allowed the viewer to judge the show on its own principles.

From the get-go the curators declared that they didn't want to spread into and engage with the city. Fair enough. I felt this was a legitimate strategy, especially considering the criticisms previous editions got for being tourist attractions, and even making tourists out of local viewers. This was also a risky and inconvenient strategy for them when urban transformation seems to be the hot topics of the times... As a consequence one of the foremost, and widely unchallenged critiques was that the show was "hermetic", that is, sealed off from its immediate surroundings.

Milena Bonilla

Capital / Sinister Manuscript

Though this is a good point, it doesn't necessarily have to be a bad thing. Yes, the works engaged with global rather than strictly local issues and yes, the artists chosen were predominantly
Latin American. In defense of its focus on issues of global concern that have yet to become pertinent in İstanbul, I find this show quite premonitory. Though the prime minister of the country may claim that any and every global crisis is bound to pass us by, a rising dissident movement against and an ultimate questioning of the capitalist system are undeniably shaping the global context. Given this background, it seems like it is İstanbul that is hermetic rather than the biennial show it hosted.

The Latin American experience in alternative economies was a conveniet area to draw from. Not only that, but it was also a geography that the İstanbul art scene was not necessarily familiar with. Once again, this was because İstanbul is hermetically sealed off from the rest of the world despite its booming economy that has integrated itself "successfully" to the global markets. One should keep in mind that the world does not consist of the finance capital New York, Europe the cradle of culture and the oil fields in the Middle East.

Ahmet Öğüt
Perfect Lovers

It seems to me, therefore, that the "hermetic"ness of the biennial turned out to be a powerful strategy in surpassing the illusion that placing art into certain parts of the city actually achieves much integration or engagement. It was rather a sense of foreignness that helped us make sense.

Simultaneously however, a local institution, SALT did engage with the city once again in a different manner. Instead of placing art in the context of the city; the city – in all its aspects from current statistics to historical debates – was placed into an art space. Viewing of the show gives across only a minuscule part of what SALT's triple programming of Becoming İstanbul, The Making of Beyoğlu and 90, a series of talks, aims to achieve. Its much more ambitious goal seems to get people genuinely engaged with the city, its economy, food, water, people, politics and all the rest.

Becoming İstanbul is basicly a database of information about the city; images and documents that SALT has gathered and archived over the years. Ranging from news source photographs to art works, the contents of this database will also be available online after the show. Currently it can be accessed from a room full of screens where viewers can weave their own reading of the archive. They are also invited to pitch in their own documents and projects by leaving them inside the boxes available in this room.

SALT Galata Library

The tripartite show comes with three publications, Becoming Istanbul an attempt at creating an encyclopedia of the city, Tracing Istanbul, which consists of aerial photographs and discussions of the "causes and effects of changes in İstanbul's urban texture" and last but not least, Mapping İstanbul, a collection of aerial maps visualising the city. SALT seems to have taken on an almost endless project of understanding, mapping, visualising, encyclopedizing, and representing the city that is İstanbul. Such endevors have driven generations after generations mad. SALT seems to be taking it one step at a time and what we have seen so far is only a peek into what is yet to come.

from Hüseyin Bahri Alptekin's
rare books collection at
SALT Galata Library

Already, the newly functioning Galata space is hosting a new show that presents yet another aspect of the city. Tayfun Serttaş's display of the archives of Foto Galatasaray traces the demographic changes of the city through a neighborhood photographic portrait studio; a rather informal and creative approach that has the potential of being read along with data as well as being taken for what it is: a visual documentation that gives us an intimate and personal perspective. The new space also hosts Scramble for the Past: A Story of Archeology in the Ottoman Empire 1753-1914.

Both these shows are accompanied by beautifully made books - more great news for those of us willing to give up our beds for new shelves. However, the books can also be read in the new SALT Galata library, which is a gem in its own right. Containing the Osmanlı Bank Archives, the Platform Garanti Library, the Hüseyin Bahri Alptekin archive among others, the library is constantly growing and has great potential to stimulate critical production in İstanbul.

Reading İstanbul [Biennial]

2011-09-06T12:27:00.002+03:00

Like many others, the İstanbul Biennial has always been situated in reference to the city; trying to integrate itself into it, sparking debate about it, changing it; or nowadays, doing the exact opposite of that and ignoring it. Its first edition, Contemporary Art in Traditional Spaces in 1987 was followed by another with the same title in English, but with a slight nuance in Turkish. While in the first edition the word space referred to buildings or structures (yapılarda), the second referred to surroundings more generally (çevrede) in which the exhibitions were held.
The 9th edition of the biennial was even named after the city. Co-curators Vasıf Kortun and Charles Esche had written at the time that "this biennial is for and about İstanbul". Though they were perhaps talking about a more specific for and about in terms of the strategies they used and decisions they made, this statement was also an echo of the idea of a biennial in the first place. From the get-go the İstanbul Biennial - sometimes because of necessity, sometimes for sake of practicality - made use of the historical quarters of the city. And by history, one shouldn't only think about the historic city that "has been home to such and such many empires". The 10th edition of the biennial (Not Only Possible but also Necessary: Optimism in the Age of Global War), curated by Hou Hanru, had the biennial goers visit the spaces of a much closer history that spun the Republican Era. This was an experiment in making İstanbullus themselves tourists in their own city, seeing as how so few of us local visitors had set foot in the İMÇ before. İMÇ, short for İstanbul Textile Traders' Market was juxtaposed with AKM, short for Atatürk Cultural Center. This space on the other hand was a place İstanbullu biennial goers had probably frequented more often, since it was the main cultural center where the "high-arts" such as classical music concerts, theaters and the occasional opera took place until the twothousandsies. By 2007 when Hanru decided to use it as a venue for the biennial, the building was facing the prospect of a radical face-lift. The debate surrounding the destruction and replacement of this one building in the center of İstanbul's cultural and political life reflected, in crystal clear terms, the culture wars that were being waged since the 90s. A spectrum of opinions about the project ranged from the possessive tendency of "empathizing with the Byzantines and feeling under seige" to advocating for change, which would entail the so called "periphery" to be somehow incorporated in the center of the city and rooting for the underdog from a rather disdainful position none the less. The complex dynamics of the city's inevitable and rapid change was somehow also experienced in going through this edition of the biennial, proposing Optimism in the face of the culture shocks the route it had set itself posed.
The previous, 11th edition of the İstanbul Biennial had seemed to me to be the least involved with the city, both in terms of its thematic redness and it's use of previously used venues. At a point when İstanbul's Left hadn't yet found good reason to make its leap to confront the "bankers"; the event was more of a global reflection on the state of current affairs elsewhere. No wonder. "What Keeps Mankind Alive" the curators wrote in their introduction, "does not seek to take local specifics as some sort of prism to read the global [...] nor does the exhibition strive to reveal to cultural tourists yet another aspect of this fascinating 'metaphor city', bridge between Asia and Europe, nostalgic symbol of an Ottoman Empire troubled by its unyielding determination to modernise, now an ambitious global metropolis....".
The previous edition of the biennial therefore, constructed its relationship with the city precisely by ignoring it. It isn't easy for me to discern how much of this was purely a gimmick. In retrospect, it feels as if it may have been a turning point in the way the biennial relates to the city. Rather than touting the "culturalisation of politics" as the curators wrote, perhaps it is time for the biennial to "politicise culture".

In the absolute silence surrounding the upcoming edition of the İstanbul Biennial one is left to ponder on a few leads... the Remembering İstanbul Conference held last November, whose transcripts will be published as the biennial opens, and the thematic - not-so-thematic - framework the curators Adriano Pedrosa and Jens Hoffmann have set: Felix Gonzalez-Torres. One immediate similarity with the previous edition is, perhaps that the biennial is set to revolve around a figure. Though it wasn't somehow perceived as such, 11B had intended to create a "prism for viewing the works, a context in which they can be read in explicit reference to Brecht's conscious political engagement and methods". I don't think anyone really took the time to pick apart the Brechtian aspects of any of the works... Honestly, who even skimmed through Jameson's Brecht and Method or Benjamin's Understanding Brecht?

This time around the curators turned out to be more bookish and imposed this very bookishness onto their viewers by not allowing for the program to be announced before the biennial starts. Instead, in a slight breach of silence, Jens Hoffmann provided a pretty intense reading list on Art21's new column Inspired Reading that includes Orhan Pamuk's 2003 memoir İstanbul: Memories and the City as well as a more theoretically dense list of thinkers that range from Marcuse, Arendt, Agamben, Merleau-Ponty and my current favourite Jacques Ranciere.

This more intellectual pre-press for the biennial, as opposed to announcing big names has, so far, either irritated people or intrigued them. Or both? As the biennial begins, the curators' hope is probably that people will look at and see the exhibitions with no pre-conceptions fuelled by the ranting critics who write things out of their behinds before they even see anything. As the biennial opens, there will also be three other books related to the 12B coming out.

With the biennial being so low-key pre-opening, however, the parallel events have run amok. Perhaps now these side events will take on the job of dressing the city up for a cabaret.. or maybe strip it bare to expose its not so glamorous faces..

While the former will be handled by the gazillions of pop-up shows in historical venues scattered throughout the city, the latter, it seems, will be taken on by SALT, in their second comprehensive show Becoming Istanbul. Much like a biennial itself this one show has surrounded itself with parallel programs, such as The Making of Beyoğlu and 90, events, and talks. Drawing from the endless resources of the former trio Ottoman Bank Archives, Platform Garanti, and Garanti Gallery which came together under a new multi-faceted, inter-disciplinary SALT earlier this year; the show provides the viewer with a vast ocean of material and an almost infinite number of ways in which to view it. At a point when the Biennial itself has withdrawn from the city (it will only be using Antrepo buildings), this exhibition may just help us recognize how contemporary art today relates to its surroundings...

Three books will be coming out along with this exhibition, Becoming İstanbul, Tracing İstanbul, and Mapping İstanbul. Put those next to Remembering İstanbul and a lot of people will have to go to IKEA to buy a(nother) shelf!

Well, since this biennial season it's in fashion to be bookish allow me to share my tower of a reading list too!

Starting from the top are the three small booklets of the last three İstanbul Biennials, followed by a catalog of Becoming a Place, a show which Vasıf Kortun had curated 10 years ago at Proje 4L. Sadly this gem of a book is said to be out of print so I truly hope someone will make it available on the internets. Right below that is the essential translation of Sibel Yardımcı's dissertation Meeting in İstanbul: Cultural Globalisation and Art Festivals followed by Orienting İstanbul, Cultural Capital of Europe? out from Routledge in 2010 and newly translated and in print from Metis. The following book is a volume edited by Çağlar Keyder, also originally published in English as İstanbul: Between the Global and the Local (the Turkish translation seen in the photograph from Metis, 2000). David Harvey's Spaces of Hope still seems relevant! Right below that, the brownish book is Beral Madra's notes on the first seven editions of the İstanbul Biennial - the first two of which she directed - along with her notes on the Venice Biennale in those years (1987 - 2003) called Art Every Two Years: Biennial Writings (1987-2003). The newly available Biennial Reader and the Bergen Biennial Conference transcripts just to be really bookish about it. And last but not least, an old issue of ToplumBilim magazine from June 1998 which has an İstanbul Biennial section and an unpublished dissertation by Ayfer Bartu Candan (whose writings appear in the Çağlar Keyder collection, so no worries) Reading the Past: The Politics of Cultural Heritage in Contemporary İstanbul (1997).

Don't get too consumed in this list though, the biennial kicks off in 10 days! Counting down.. 10... 9...

106 All the little flowers.

2011-06-22T14:57:00.000+03:00

All the little flowers. - The pronouncement, probably by Jean Paul, that memories are the only possessions which no-one can take from us, belongs in the storehouse of impotently sentimental consolations that the subject, resignedly withdrawing into inwardness, would like to believe the very fulfilment that he has given up. In setting up his own archives, the subject seizes his own stock of experience as property, so making it something wholly external to himself. Past inner life is turned into furniture just as, conversely, every Biedermeier piece was memory made wood. The interior where the soul accomodates its collection of memoirs and curios is derelict. Memories cannot be conserved in drawers and pigeon-holes; in them the past is indissolubly woven into the present. No one has them at his disposal in the free and voluntary way that is praised in Jean Paul's fulsome sentences. Precisely where they become controllable and objectified, where the subject believes himself entirely sure of them, memories fade like delicate wallpapers in bright sunlight. But where, protected by oblivion, they keep their strength, they are endangered like all that is alive. This is why Bergson's and Proust's conception, intended to combat reification, that the present, immediacy, is constituted only through the mediation of memory, has not only a redeeming but an infernal aspect. Just as no earlier experience is real that has not been loosed by involuntary remembrance from the deathly fixity of its isolated existence, so conversely, no memory is guaranteed, existent in itself, indifferent to the future of him who harbours it; nothing past is proof, through its translation into mere imagination, against the curse of the empirical present. The most blissful memory of a person can be revoked in its very substance by later experience. He who has loved and who betrays love does harm not only to the image of the past, but to the past itself. Irresistibly evident, an impatient movement while waking up, a distraught tone of voice, a faint hypocrisy in pleasure, obtrudes itself in the memory and turns the earlier closeness even then into the distance that it has since become. Despair has the accent of irrevocability not because things cannot improve, but because it draws the past too into its vortex. Therefore it is foolish and sentimental to try to keep the past untainted by the present's turbid flood. No other hope is left to the past than that, exposed defencelessly to disaster, it shall emerge from it as something different. But he who dies in despair has lived his whole life in vain.

Theodor Adorno, Minima Moralia -1946

SALT is essential and incomplete

2011-04-12T02:15:00.007+03:00

So last friday I took a break from my weeks long, medically induced concentration (writing my thesis -the existing pages of which, by the way, had been chucked into the trash the day before) and attended the long awaited opening of SALT.

Salt in Turkish does not taste like tears or the sea. Salt means pure, and I'd take it so far as to mean essence/essential. SALT is essential, and incomplete. It is a work in progress.. as it has been since it's proto existence as a tripartite investment into the arts and culture: Platform Garanti, Garanti Galeri and the Osmanlı Bank Archives. The contemporary art branch -Platform- that had come about right into the 2000sies and set the bar with its rigorous programming; quickly became an important node in the international contemporary art scene.

SALT uses a short mission statement instead of a logo..

April 8th marked the opening of their new space, and the introduction of a new identity that would bring together the forces of the aforementioned three components: contemporary art, design and archive.
Since they had gone underground in 2007 - awaiting the renovation of two spectacular old İstanbul buildings- Platform's library is housed in Garanti Han on İstiklal; where I had set camp for a while as I wrote several articles and began working on my thesis. The Platform library and archives encompass a variety of documents: press releases from the 1980's, gallery catalogues, invitations, business plans, Vasıf Kortun's correspondences with artists and professionals, magazine archives, an amazing collection of books on contemporary art as well as the library of the late Hüseyin Bahri Alptekin.

It is truly a treasure trove. As I wondered among the books one evening in early March, trying to clear my mind, I came accross a copy of Oruç Aruoba's yürüme (walking) signed to Sevgili Hüseyin. This was one, among the many marks of history that this institution had preserved and made available to anyone interested. I really can't wait until they open their second space in Bankalar Caddesi, Karaköy where this will hopefully be in reach of a much larger public.

--

The first show in the Beyoğlu building is a large scale exhibition of the works of, and a tribute to Hüseyin Bahri Alptekin (HBA), who -in Vasıf Kortun's words- had left behind an organised chaos when he passed away unexpectedly in early 2008. The opening was jam-packed, the place was practically overflowing and everyone seemed to be ecstatic that SALT was finally here. As I made my way through the hors d'oeuvres, the drinks and the swarming crowd and up the stairs into the exhibition space I was overcome with a strange feeling. It was a blend of joy and hüzün*. It's hard to explain, but as Gülsün Karamustafa beautifully put it, "this is a first for us". She was talking about their loss, a beloved member of their cohort, a friend, a colleague... she was also talking about the space and the show -that not only brought together and displayed his works, but had invited his friends and family to collaborate and commemorate. Behind the scenes, it had been a painstaking and thorough operation that required great dedication to bring together, preserve and display HBA's works, archives and thoughts. This kind of commitment was also a first, for all of us.

I tried to take in as much as I could at an opening. Can Altay's work Global Hangover, I thought was a heartfelt piece and embodied the spirit of HBA to the core. I had been listening to SALT's soundcloud audioguide the night before and thought of the lines I'd read that day in the library as Michael Morris spoke about their Heterotopia works..

"heterotopias are disturbing, probably because they secretly undermine language, shatter or tangle common names, destroy syntax in advance... and not only the syntax with which we construct sentences but also that less apparent syntax which causes words and things to hold together... heterotopias dessicate speech, stop words in their tracks, contest the very possibility of grammar at its source.." - Michel Foucault, The Order of Things

Hüseyin Bahri Alpeetkin, Black Hole, New World Hotel, Ulaan Baatar, installation at Rodeo, İstanbul, 2007

It seems to me that HBA somehow strived to incorporate more than what could be represented, in any form.. he had to live it. This is perhaps why the endless work to gather everything about his life and his work was, and still is important.
As I reached the very top floor, where there is a rooftop garden -Fritz Haeg's edible garden a circus band started playing happy tunes as they walked around the exhibition and moved down from floor to floor. (I realized later that this was part of Camilla Rocha's work in the exhibition) The sadness dispersed, and I marched right behind them all the way down... and out on to the street.

--

The following day I attended a talk by Prem Krishnamurthy from projectprojects, an innovative design studio that had helped in SALT's identity. (Later, as I went through an amazing roster of works on their website I found out that projectprojects had also had a hand in one of my favourite magazines Paper Monument.)

Once again I came to the same conclusion. SALT is essential and incomplete. And I sense this is what they've set out to be. Check out their initial font -called Kraliçe- which has a small part missing from all four letters that compose SALT. Every four months, the font of these four letters will be redesigned by another artist/designer.. and those four letters will be scattered among all of SALT's texts during that period of time. With constant change it will never quite become fixed or complete, but hopefully this will determine a pulse that will keep the institutions blood flowing at a good rythm..

I thought the best part of this idea of a constantly temporary font would be that in time, it would become a formal marker in an institution that is its own archive. Each different design would place the written document within the period of the use of that specific design and hence create a new, symbolic categorization. Instead of Fall '11, we could think of a visual font for historical reference. "So as you flip through the website [for example] you will be able to see the different times that things were made and other temporal relationships might start to emerge that otherwise might not be obvious." Cool eh?

--

Later in the day there was a screening of Oral histories in the walk in cinema where Halil Altındere, Ali Perret and Can Altay talked about their memories of HBA. A couple of things became apparent to those of us who hadn't known HBA personally: a, that he had a way with people and words and b, that art was his life and life was his art. Where had I heard this before? First day of art and design class with Erdağ Aksel, also an old friend of HBA. Then I thought how appropriate it was that SALT was opening with HBA...

As I walked back home later, I came across Otel Venedik...

DON'T WORRY WHAT HAPPENS HAPPENS MOSTLY WITHOUT YOU*

2011-03-03T23:50:00.006+02:00

As İstanbul simmers towards it's next big jamboree in September 2011 with all sorts of events and openings being planned around the 12th Istanbul Biennial, there is exactly six months and at least one more week of Contemporary Art high seasoning in April to go..

The end of February saw several important shows opening; among them (in chronological order) Michael Wolf's I'm Watching You at Elipsis, Ayşe Erkmen at Rampa, James Richards at Rodeo, How I was burned, Oh the mountains curated by Colin Whitaker at Marquise Dance Hall, Tayfun Serttaş's M&M Tailor'S Dream at Apartman Projesi, Hüseyin Çağlayan at Galerist etc. etc. etc.

Two shows that I was looking forward to were on the same evening, along with a ticket for True Grit's gala later on. So the 19th was quite a night.
I started with Ayşe Erkmen's show at Rampa, for which I had already interviewed Mrs. Erkmen and written an article about - so I found myself explaining to my father what the works were about. Most of them were either old works, or old forms that the artist had previously used elsewhere. The artists habit of always working with the space; its possibilities and obstacles was perhaps something that wasn't employed to the greatest extent possible. Still, the newly conceived On Its Own was the most fascinating piece in the eponymous show: a blown up google image search of "Ayşe Erkmen" that covered the long walls of the narrow gallery. This giant self-portrait that had taken shape in a medium that has life of its own, was displayed alongside a framed a4 paper with type-writer signs on it that looked like a face; the work was called Self-Portrait and it was a work Erkmen had done in 2002.
I may be stretching it a bit too far, but I believe the fact that these two completely contrasting ways of self representations depend so fundamentally on things beyond the artist - that is, the mediums of either the interwebs or the type-writer - is representative of an idea that encapsulates Erkmen's practice. She works with the material, conditions and space that she is provided.. she has no qualms about using plastic balls, live and wild animals or ships for that matter. She allows for coincidences as well as accidents to shape her works and her self.
Serendipitous, I think, is the word that describes her work. (For further ranting on the subject please get a copy of ArtUnlimited's next issue.. :))

From there I rushed to Rodeo, where the openings -by unwritten law- start at 19.00. James Richards' show was typically Rodeo, simple, austere and mystic. Stacked against one of the four central columns of the gallery space was a pile of gold, or so it seemed from afar when I first entered the space. A closer look revealed that they were actually copies of the book The Mirror Within: A New Look at Sexuality by Anne Dickinson. Philistine that I am, I actually took one of them to check myself out in the reflective golden surface of it's cover with an adorned mirror frame outline. The artist had previously done a similar installation at London Swallow Street with another book by Anne Dickinson, A Woman in Your Own Right: Assertiveness and You, this time with a silver reflective cover. Self help books with mirror-like reflective surfaces stacked in a gallery seemed to me to bare a shrewd commentary; bringing together concepts like value, self-value, market-value around the characters artist, viewer, voyeur, narciccist all at once...

Leaned sideways against the wall right behind the column were two SONY television screens, apparently dreaming of a Toshiba. The looped video shows a range of cheesy sunsets over the sea, the kind you'd see at the end of a Brazilian soap opera or the sort.. which as the press release eloquently put it: The idea of piracy on film, or of imagery in general, meets the romantic notion of pirates sailing in the horizon of the footage.
Right next to it a poster that reads: DON'T WORRY WHAT HAPPENS HAPPENS MOSTLY WITHOUT YOU
Those who snuck a peek into the office space could have seen some previous works of the artist: portrait blankets called Untitled Merchandise (Lovers and Dealers) that portray the lovers and dealers of the artist Keith Haring. The photographs of Tony Shafrazi, Leo Castelli, Gilbert Vazquez are cropped to only partly show the artist, making the portraits marked by the presence of one that binds the six.

for more images, visit the Rodeo website here
Later in the evening I went to see True Grit, in which only the 14 year old girl impressed me beyond words. #Hailee Steinfeld

The hectic week also saw the opening of a new space [a society to support contemporary art-ists] by x-ist's Kerimcan Güleryüz called Empire with a show by photographer Jasper de Beijer. Though not appealing to my taste by the least, I can see why Güleryüz would take on de Beijer.. The 38 year old has a rebelious tendency in his aesthetic, works with new media.. the works had a pseudo-journalistic, documentary style but were apparently staged in a studio which would give it a certain twist had it not been just another comment to make.. The thing is, anything that would have been interesting about all this seemed to have wilted among the bright lighting, chic white walls and fancy hors d'oeuvres and the lack of a text to explain to us, the befuddled viewers, what on earth was going on here in this new space with two guards at the door.
Having had an inside scoop prior to the opening, I was expecting an underground-style studio ambience, some kind of alternative space to harbor quirky people and wacky ideas.. the last thing i was expecting was 'fancy'. So I made my way uneasily through the works, which at the time, not having read any text about it, were getting on my nerves with their color-scheme and inconsistent subject matter with lots of references to a primitivist fetish and an apparent longing for a mud-bath. In brutal honesty, I was disappointed. I do hope that future endevours of the space will make more sense to me, and mean more than just another space, another show, another opening to attend to for the art community...

Now we wait for april, which will probably be a blast of an end to the season with Nilbar Güreş opening at Rampa and Tactics of Invisibility at Arter among other things to look forward to.. In the meantime I'll be writing my thesis and not mucking about as I have been lately..

That's all folks. Well, not really but this is as much as I'll cover :)

ps.1 Speaking of Arter though, I must add that they've been organizing wonderful artist talks by the artists that were included in the Second Exhibition. So far I have been able to listen to İz Öztat, Halil Altındere, Ali Kazma, Ayşe Erkmen, and Banu Cennetoğlu. I hope that they will continue such programs and perhaps extend their subject matter beyond the show taking place in the space.

ps.2 Oh and one last thing, a new international column on Contemporary art in Turkey, Turkish and Other Delights by Elizabeth Wolfson should be interesting to follow. She's a Fulbright fellow spending a year teaching in Burdur..

*James Richards @Rodeo

edit (05.03.2011): Previously Kerimcan Güleryüz's name was misspelled as Kerim Can Güleryüz and the Empire Project was defined as a foundation, which it is not, it's a society. Also, whereas x-ist has a tendency to take on younger artists, Empire does not have an age limit. These have been corrected as of 05.03.2011 upon Kerimcan Güleryüz's kind request. I apologize for any inconvenience and greatly appreciate the pointing out of any factual mistakes in my writing. :)

Dear Diary..

2011-02-17T13:09:00.001+02:00

I enjoy reading diaries; perhaps because they reflect a more honest dishonesty - a struggle between admitting things to oneself in writing, trying to solve the mysteries of life and the mind and concealing one's true feelings.. a sort of self therapy and utter denial which writing establishes very well even in total privacy. Or, more likely, because I just like stalking people, getting into their heads, trying to live in their shoes for a bit as I turn the pages.. 

Lately I've been reading parts of Eugene Delacroix's Journal and Susan Sontag's journal called Reborn, which was edited by his son post-mortem. Of course another wonderful thing about journals is that you can basicly just open any page... 

so,

Dear Diary, words fail me today, as they do often lately.

so I've found solace in others' words.

I'm old fashioned

2011-01-17T22:17:00.003+02:00

"Nobody of any real culture... ever talks nowadays about the beauty of a sunset. Sunsets are quite old fashioned."
Oscar Wilde quoted in Susan Sontag's An Argument on Beauty

Chet Baker - I'm Old Fashioned
*this time all the photographs are mine.

Oğuz Atay'ın Günlüğünden...

2011-01-11T15:22:00.000+02:00

25 Mart 1974
Yeni roman dizisi için notlar

Bu dünya geçicidir. Bu dünyada elde etmek ve korumak bir insan için sadece kısa ömrü için gereklidir. Bunu unutmamalı. Mezarlıklar bu nedenle gözümüzün önünde bulunmalı. Evimizin bahçesinde, sokağın köşesinde tek mezarlar yer almalı. Her şey geçicidir. Belgeler gereksizdir, unutulacak ayrıntıları yazmak anlamsızdır. Belki de unutmak esastır. Öğrenmek, kendini tanımak mutsuzluktur. Bizden geri kalan eserler, birbirine benzer taşlar, yazılar, yapılar olmalıdır. Putlar gibi ayırıcı özelliği olmamalıdır. Hıristiyanlık da ikonoklast bir dönem yaşadı; ilk Hıristiyanlar eski Yunan ve Roma'dan kalan anıtları yok ettiler. İslamlık, özellikle Osmanlı bu işi daha ciddiye aldı. Osmanlı, İslamlığı ciddiye aldı. İslamlık put kırıcılığı ciddiye aldı. Osmanlı bunu İslamlığın ciddiye alışından da öteye götürdü. Kuralları ciddiye aldı, insanları ciddiye almadı. Sorunların sayısını azaltarak mutluluğu arttırmaya çalıştı. Bütün değişimleri devlet eliyle gerçekleştirmek istedi. Nevzat Tandoğan, yakalanıp yanına getirilen bir solcuya, 'Bu memlekete komünistlik gerekirse onu da biz getiririz. Sana ne oluyor?' demişti. Bireye de ne oluyordu?
Yahya Kemal kendisine soru sorulmasından hoşlanmazdı. O geleneği temsil ediyordu. Onunla tartışılamazdı. Kendisine bir toplantıda genç bir adam soru sorunca yanındakilere dönerek 'Kim bu adam?' demişti. Osmanlı gösterişi sevmiyordu. Küçük saraylarda, ahşap evlerde oturuyordu. Tiyatroyu soytarılık, resmi küfür sayıyordu. Bütün sosyal kurumlar, askerlik örgütü için bir araçtı. Bunun yanısıra halk, kendi düzenini ayrı bir biçimde geliştirdi. Bugün saray dili yaşamadığı halde, halkın dili yeni düzen için esas oldu. Hiçbir ülkenin resmi dili, fermanların Osmanlıcası kadar insanların anlayamayacağı bir biçime sokulmamıştır. Bu bakımdan Devlet, Kafka'nın insanları için aşılmaz bir duvar olan bürokrasiye çok benzer. Lale Devri bir bakıma istisnadır. Devlet her türlü eleştiriye kapalıdır. Düşünce her türlü eleştiriye kapalıdır; felsefe yoktur. Tek bir felsefe bireyin yokoluşudur; vahdet-i vücud'dur. Şiirde, divancılar 'biz' diye seslenir. Eleştiri çirkini güzelden ayırır; oysa çirkin yoktur. Kapalı bir sistemdir bu. Ülkücü insan yoktur. Ülkücülük bireyciliktir. Özgün sanat yoktur. Usta-çırak ilişkisi içinde taklit vardır. Bir bakıma gelenek de yoktur. Usta, yaşantısını kimseyle paylaşmaz; yaratıcılığın ayırıcılığı kendisiyle birlikte ölür. Ne ruhun ölümsüzlüğü, ne de canlı dünyanında gürültüsü duyulmaz. Batıya olduğu kadar Doğuya da kapalı bir sistemdir bu. Orta Doğu'dur, Kenar 'Batı'dır. Kafka'nın yer altında yaşayan hayvanı gibi, kendisine doğru kazılan bir tünelin içindeki bilinmeyen düşmanı korkuyla bekler. Bizim ‘ilk günah’ımız belki de budur: Kapalı sistem yaratıklarının dış dünyaya karşı beslediği korkudur.
Yaşama korkusudur.

Fütuhat da, herkese ve her şeye boyun eğdirerek bu korkudan kurtulma çabasıdır. Dünyayı bir savaş alanına çevirdikten sonra, her yandan düşman saldırısı bekleyenlerin korkusudur. Bir şehire kapanıp, bütün ülkenin saldırısını bekleyen sarayın korkusudur bu. Sarayı kaleye çevirenlerin korkusudur. Kardeşleri tarafından öldürülmeyi bekleyen sarayın korkusudur. Her davranışın devlete yöneldiğini sanan paranoyak yöneticilerin korkusudur. Kültür korkusudur. Matbaadan, şiirden, resimden, felsefeden, hatta dinden korkmaktır bu. Halk Partisi’nin Köy Enstitüleri’nden korkmasıdır, Demokrat Parti’nin modern resimden korkmasıdır. Bazı solcuların modern edebiyattan, modern sanattan korkmasıdır. Halkın içinde sivrilen esnafın, eşrafın, mollanın halktan korkmasıdır. Korkunun sonu yabancılaşmadır. Yeni yazarların kelimeler icat ederek azınlık olma telaşıdır, toplumsal sorunlara eğilerek kendini tanıma korkusudur. Kavram kargaşası yaratarak temel kavramlardan uzaklaşma çabasıdır.Temel kavramların onu bir hiçe indireceği korkusudur. Korku ortadan kalkarsa postunu kaybedeceğinden korkan tekke şeyhinin korkusudur. Bunun için müeyyideler gevşektir; herkes korkmalıdır ama ceza da uygulanmamalıdır. Müeyyideler hayatı zehir edecek kadar korkutmalıdır ama isyan ettirecek kadar kesin olmamalıdır. Neyin ne olduğu, hangi suçun cezası ne kadar olduğu bilinmemelidir. Fakat herkes her an, suç işlediği halde kendisine taviz verildiğini hissettiği için başı önünde dolaşır insanımız. Bizim ‘ilk günah’ımız budur: Cezalandırılmayan küçük günahların toplamı -hoşgörümüz de budur. Ayrıca devlet de aynı suçluluk duygusu içinde müeyyideleri uygulamaz. Bu bakımdan bağışlayıcıdır. Karşılıklı bir oyundur bu. Bağışlanmayan tek suç, bu oyunu fark etmek, bu oyuna karşı çıkmaktır. Gerçeği aramaktır. Bilim bunun için tehlikelidir, felsefe bunun için tehlikelidir, ‘deneme’ bunun için tehlikelidir, roman ve hikâye bunun için tehlikelidir. Belirli kalıplar içinde kalan şiir bunun için tehlikesizdir. Taklitçi olmayan batıcılık bunun için tehlikelidir. Gerçeği arayan doğu bunun için tehlikelidir...

The Art of the To Do List

2011-01-06T00:53:00.000+02:00

I'd been thinking about lists and templates when I came across this book of Lists, To-dos, Illustrated Inventories, Collected Thoughts and Other Artists' Enumerations from the Smithsonian Archives of American Art...

so here goes, one from me:

read on trains..

contemplate by the window..

let your imagination..

..run wild.. among the old..

..the dusty..

..the misty.. *enter Stan Getz*

the possible..

*the photographs in this entry do not belong to me.. to the best of my knowledge, the third is by Leonard Greco; fourth Dali; seventh by Tim Barber...

may 2011 bring..

2010-12-31T13:03:00.000+02:00

finishing my thesis..

lots of blue notebooks to fill..

lots of colorful pencils to take notes with..

work space

April in Paris...

a Japanese umbrella, and lot's of sunshine to hide from

music for my soul..

being on the road..

Ed Ruscha's version of Kerouac's On the Road

Autumn in New York

Woody Allen kind of romance

hanging out with Patience and Prudence at the NYPL

Jonathan Safran Foer's latest book

going to work.

sunday mornings

health and happiness..

lose it.

2010-12-26T17:16:00.000+02:00

Brett Amory - Waiting #28, 2008

"My friend, you know how terrified I am of horses and vehicles? Well, just now as I was crossing the boulevard in a great hurry, splashing through the mud, in the midst of a moving chaos, with death galloping at me from every side, I made a sudden move, and my halo slipped off my head, and fell into the mire of the macadam. I was much too scared to pick it up. I thought it was better to lose my insignia than to get my bones broken. Besides, I said to myself, every cloud has a silver lining. Now I can walk around incognito, do low things, throw myself into every kind of filth, just like ordinary mortals. So here I am, just as you see me, just like yourself. . . ."
- Charles Baudelaire

Season's Greetings and/or Totally Irrelevant Lists*

2010-12-22T00:33:00.006+02:00

image from xkcd.com

Looking at:
The amazing photo blog jjjjound.com/
The New Photography 2010 show at MoMA
Hiroshi Sugimoto
Eytan İpeker's Vimeo, especially his experimental short The Passion of Anna

Listening To:
Happy winter holliday season music and jazz standards to keep me warm
Robyn, The XX, The Go Find, Florence and the Machine, Koop.. etc.**
Sigur Ros
The Radio

Recently Read:
Nazif Topçuoğlu - İyi Fotoğraf Nasıl Oluyor, Yani?
- Fotoğraf Ölmedi Ama Tuhaf Kokuyor
- Fotoğraflar Gösterir Ama...

Reading:
Michael Fried - Why Photography Matters as Art as Never Before
İkinci Sergi / Second Exhibition Book 1/2, Arter
Jaques Derrida - Archive Fever: A Freudian Impression
Sven Spieker - The Big Archive: Art from Bureaucracy
The Witness from Gam Underground Project
Sarah Thornton - Seven Days in the Art World

Looking forward to Reading:
Noah Horowitz - The Uncertain States of America Reader
Dave Hickey - The Invisible Dragon: Essays on Beauty
KALIN art magazine's archives
100 Notes - 100 Thoughts by dOCUMENTA (13)
Açık Kitap: Yazı Kalır, Açık Radyo

Thinking about:
Archives, Photography, the Turkish language..

Missing (and also dreading):
Full time job
Truly cold weather
The urge to set off towards far away lands..
Tom Waits state of mind..

Following in the news:
Ryan Reynolds & Scarlett Johansson divorce slowly but surely getting ugly (duh!)
oh and that guy Julian Assange or uh was it.. hah Wikileaks!
The National Portrait Gallery / Smithsonian debacle..

Gearing up for:
Winter?
The Mapplethorpe show at Galeri Nev (check out this article from NYRB)

Food and Beverage Dept. lately:
Winter tea and Winter pasta at House Cafe
Steamed beetroot and caulliflower
Freshly squeezed orange juice
Airborne water

Resolutions for 2011: (also a to do list)
Write more and exhaust the possible mistakes i make..
Argue less and converse more
Finish that god darned thesis

Happy 2011 Everyone!


image from the New Yorker

*This entry was influenced slightly by Nick Paumgarten's Top Ten Two Beer Arguments of 2010 in the New Yorker
**i was so much older then, i'm younger than that now.

The Perfect Circle

2010-11-21T19:44:00.000+02:00

Shezad Dawood, Black Sun, 2010

Bosphorus, İstanbul

Love thy neighbor?

2010-10-22T19:16:00.001+03:00

Do our beliefs rest on a pedestal, like a statue? If we really, really concentrate, can we make others do what we want them to? Should we go forward or backwards, or is it best just to mark time?

Prepare to meet what passes through your mind.

So ends the press release of the Extrastruggle show that opened at Tophane's Galeri Non on a tuesday evening along with shows opening at three more galleries on the same street and two others close by.
At the entrance of the gallery there was a statue, a fallen angel with Atatürk's bust. This itself was such a controversial image that the first thing that went through my mind was the possibility of the space being attacked, vandalised or even closed down by authorities.
Since the opening was extremely crowded we left rather early and headed to Urban, only to receive a phone call fifteen minutes later to hear of the attacks on the gallery by 'a mob'. With little accurate information at first, my initial hunch was, either the gallery was attacked for the content of the works being shown, or 'a mob' had attacked because of alcohol, which has been a contentious issue in the Tophane district for many years before this. Soon after, as some of the people who were there during the attacks started pouring to Urban to talk, rant and find solace in friends, we acquired more information through first hand witnesses; of one party.
The next day, to see what was going on and show solidarity against such violence we gathered at Cezayir. Once again we listened to what I had heard the previous night, a lot of anger, outrage and fuelled an elitist we/they rhetoric. This could have been, and was, by the most part, excused; taking into consideration the trauma, stress and frustration the attacks had caused. On the other hand, I see no point in writing something down if I'm not to dwell on little details and nuances that make up the bigger picture.
Later that day (22.09.2010) I walked down the road from Cezayir to Boğazkesen, where the events had taken place with a camera dangling from my shoulder. There were people sitting out on the street as usual, and a lot of tv trucks and press people.. the people who sat on the street every day were once again subjected to outsiders and they obviously had mixed feelings about this. Three young guys around college age said something as I passed by them, referring to my camera..

#flashback# For the first couple of days, or maybe weeks when I started working at Tophane I had a strange feeling, a combination of fear and anger towards my onlookers.. they stared and I couldn't look back for the longest time; I just walked on in utter frustration and ranted about it once I had gotten into our building. One day one of the younger dudes actually shouted out some disturbing thing after me, and in a sudden rage I was able to gather the courage to turn around and confront him: WHAT ?! That day was the day that they understood that I wasn't a foreigner, in the sense that Turkish was my native language; but I was still a foreigner none the less. From then on, I held my head up high, said good morning and good evening and did all the common courtesy one should to their neighbor (even though I somehow fail to do it at home, in a gated community). #flashback#

One of the guys shouted after me, why don't you take a picture of us too? This time around I wasn't as distraught over being spoken to (even though they thought I would just walk on, since they spoke after I had already passed them by) and turned around in a big smile and said well why not, come on pose then.. so pose they did. It was a funny moment when they realized that this was a potential 15 minutes of fame (one of the guys in the photo was then interviewed on 5n1k for an hour, having a love affair with the camera, I'd be surprised if he doesn't have tv show offers by now) either as the youth of Tophane, or as part of the infamous gang. So they began to inquire and explain at the same time.. was I a student? a journalist? what would i use this photo for? they hadn't been part of what happened last night.. but they were able to give me a lot of insight as to what the 'gang's excuses were.
The people that came here last night to drink and chat, they probably live in gated communities, one of them said, how would they like it if there was a party on their street? Point taken, although I did object to say that this was not an excuse for such violence, if they were disturbed by the noise, they could just call the police to break the party.. no? Yes, mumble mumble.. but this has been going on for years now, there's an opening every month.. and not just the galleries, all kinds of entertainment had a part in the rising tension. The music from 360 restaurant comes down here and we hear it in our homes as if it's live.. every night! another snapped.. Ah I said, I don't see anyone else directing their complaints at them, or attacking that space? We wouldn't attack them, they're my customers he replied. Oh great, so it gets more and more complicated by the second...
--
I continued walking towards Rodeo, where I worked last year to talk to Sylvia about what had happened and how to deal with it in future openings and general relations with the neighborhood. As I walked out of there a kid ran after me.. abla abla.. dayım seni çağırır! Apparently his uncle wanted to see me and even though I hadn't a clue who his uncle might be I followed him to the small restaurant where we used to eat. Of course I knew him, he used to run the shop right accros the street from Rodeo, but now somehow his brother (who used to run the restaurant) and he had switched places. He offered me something to drink and we started talking. His initial tone was hurt at what had been said at the press conference earlier that morning, he said we're all neighbors.. I agreed, and said I would have expected nothing but protection from them. The answer to this was startling.. of course, he said, we'd protect you we do our best anyway.. but why would I protect the others, we don't know them and they're disturbing us. We had a long discussion after that about violence, which he didn't necessarily try to justify.. Then he told me about his plans about moving to Fatih where the population is predominantly Bosnian..

As I walked by the park, I spotted children throwing stones at a bulldozer which was interestingly symbolic and scary at the same time.

I walked up Boğazkesen once more, the news vans still hanging around, politicians walking the street with bodyguards having their picture taken..

Weeks later, on 06.10.2010 my feet once again led me to the district where I used to work. As I passed by the alley where there is a beautiful deserted building that is used for garbage collection nowadays I saw a kid sitting in the middle of the hill, from which large trucks pass.. he was crying/screaming as if he were gasping for air and other kids had surrounded him; two of them had leather belts in their hands which they used to whip their 'friend', another was running around with a knife: one of those small ones you use to peel apples etc., another was getting really creative by running really fast from the top of the hill and trampling the boy.. Despite any effort toward saving the kid from the 'mob' of other kids and warning adults who stand around as if watching a reality show or a bullfight.. the same shit will continue, there really is little I can do about it in the long run.
On the one hand, even though I cannot do anything about it I am entitled to my judgement that it is horrific. But to think, that because I judge this violence, I cannot be neighbors with them is one extreme and the thought that to judge the violence of the day of the attacks is just being liberalist douchebags is another... While everyone is entitled to living and working any place they please, no one is or should be entitled to such violence.

--

These are what I have observed in real life since the events. Then there are the hard facts of a not-so-ideal legal system. It seems to me that the reason this even ever happened was the crappiness of the legal system (no offence t.c.) which consist of rules that are not enforced. This has become such a all-encompassing state of affairs; from internet bans, to the smoking ban in cabs and closed public spaces.. What is illegally done is somehow overlooked, but on the other hand even though there is no ban on alcohol consumption on the street, the people on the street take it upon themselves to enforce such a non-existent rule. In the meantime people have no sense of use for government, for a state.. they don't feel like they're heard, protected or looked out for..

In my previous post I urged people to think beyond party politics, but after all this, I also feel like there is much to blame on politics as well. I believe government, on all levels, need to be more competent in making sure that the rules that they set are enforceable and are enforced. It makes no sense to have a set of rules that no one knows or cares about; and another set of rules that the people themselves set as they see fit. At the end of the day, I look forward to the legal proceedings more than anything else...

*for those who read Turkish here is Ayşe Buğra's most insightful article, not just about the Tophane attacks but about conservatism more generally.
*also great articles are in Birdirbir 1& 2
*Asena Günal's perspective in Bianet is also of great insight since she works in a cultural center in the neighborhood

*then there is the kind of article to which I don't know how to respond. Seriously? You feel that trying to understand the cause of something normalizes it? You think that all this work, including Hannah Arendt's, on Nazism normalized it? You think that without understanding what's going on you can just make it disappear? Perfect example of sticking ones head into a bucket of sand. Seriously. Also, the written and unwritten rule about being neighbors is love thy neighbor not act as if your neighbor either doesn't exist or is inhumane.

I am sure this piece will have it's lack of nuance and will make me regret having posted it even after such a long time has passed since the events.. but, here goes.

Short Statement on Tophane Üzerine Kısa Laf

2010-09-22T02:52:00.001+03:00

No one can claim that the attacks on gallery openings in the Tophane district last night were isolated symptoms. in every segment of society there seems to be an uneasiness simmering and finding voice and action in different ways and this should not be superficially linked to one particular party's politics or the outcome of the recent referandum. for it is also possible that the galleries that were attacked today under the pretext of serving alcohol may well be attacked or even closed down tomorrow for the highly political -and disturbing to a whole other segment of society- art of extrastruggle. there needs to be an in-depth diagnosis of what's being done wrong, what's exacerbating the uneasiness and widening the divide; to see and try to fix, make better and bridge this divide to coexist. i hope that these events will be spoken of without becoming party propaganda or something that heightens we/they distinctions that is the motivation of these attacks in the first place.
to everyone who has been chased down streets and gone through the trauma of being locked in closed spaces, suffering physical and verbal attacks as well as being tear gassed; and to Tophane, geçmiş olsun. tomorrow is a new day, and I can't imagine how some neighbors will say goodmorning to each other.

--

Tophane'deki galeri açılışlarına içki içiliyor mazeretiyle yapılan saldırıların tekil bir durum olduğunu iddia edemez hiç kimse.. toplumun her sınıfında, her kesiminde fokurdayan, farklı şekillerde yüzeye çıkıp dillenen ve hareketlenen bu hal ve gidiş hiçbir tekil partinin siyasetine veya referandum sonucuna yüzeysel bir şekilde bağlanmamalı.. zira bugün içkiden dolayı basılan galerinin yarın extramücadele'nin türkiye'de çok büyük bir kesimi rahatsız edecek politik işleri yüzünden bambaşka bir kesim tarafından basılabilir ve hatta kapatılabilir. ama biri derinlemesine bir teşhis koysun; nerede yanlış yaptığımızı, yaraları neyin deştiğini, uçurumları derinleştirenleri görüp düzeltmeye, iyileştirmeye ve beraber yaşayabilmeye çabalamak lazım. umarım bu olaylar parti propagandası ve uçurumu iyice derinleştirecek bir konu haline gelmeden konuşulur, onların saldırısına vesile olan yüzeysel biz/siz'ciliğedönüşmez zira bunun bizi hiçbir yere vardırmayacağı aşikar.
sokakta kovalanan, kapalı mekanlarda tıkılı kalıp biber gazına, bağırtıya, fiziksel ve sözlü tacize maruz kalan herkese geçmiş olsun. tophane'ye de geçmiş olsun. yarın sabah yeni bir gün ve insanlar gün ışığında birbirlerine nasıl günaydın diyecekler düşünemiyorum.

Come September, İstanbul..!

2010-09-16T14:54:00.026+03:00

Come September, I personally lose a lot of my energy as the rays of sun lower their angles on my skin. The artworld however, is rejuvenated, energized and back to work after cool summer days on Greek islands, white wall constructions, and some laying low.. As of september, İstanbul galleries have started opening up with some great shows; so here's a preview:

The season was kickstarted on the 1st by a grand opening at the mega-show at Depo, Tophane. Curated by Halil Altındere, a highly political artist himself, the show too had a claim on politics with a title such as When Ideas Become Crime (Fikirler Suça Dönüşünce). Whether the show as a whole lived up to this claim is hard to tell; what with 48 artists on show, it felt more like a non-biennial season biennial. That is, of course, not to say that Biennials are not political as we had witnessed a rather politically motivated 11th İstanbul Biennial just last year where the motto was Brecht and the tones either soviet grey glum or communist red (which I have yet to make sense of).
Anywho, I thought the shows greatest flaw was possibly also it's greatest achievement; that is the crowded, scattered, not necessarily relevantly related works coming together in a curated show -suffocating but at the same time giving the artwork, the artist and the viewer a sense of homeliness -kind of like a nurturing womb. It all goes to point out a diverse field of works produced, artists established and ones who are being brought up, supported in a pretty hectic communal togetherness. The show is a must see for anyone interested in contemporary art in Turkey, even if one finds some of the over political or not so successfully political art a bit too serious, a bit too stuck up, or simply a charade: this is quite a relevant survey. (Also juxtaposes really nicely with the Banu Cennetoğlu's very conceptual show at Rodeo, which shares the Tütün Deposu building with Depo.)

--

The next flurry of openings were on the 14th, with openings at Sanatorium, Marquise Dance Hall and RODEO! Banu Cennetoğlu's Sample Sale 2010 BC at Rodeo was an interesting installation that had incorporated her previous work for the Venice Biennale, the CATALOG full of photographic images that viewers could download and make their own during the biennale, with her new works. This time around, she has made them into sample giveaways to be purchased along with one of the 11 new works on display on one main wall of the gallery. This play on the commercial side of art is a signature problem that Banu Cennetoğlu keeps pondering on in her works. Whereas works such as SOL in RAL, 7037, 7038, 7039, 7040, 7042 that consist of five metal sheet shelves painted according to RAL colors or Good Luck which looks like a beautiful canvas print but is actually wrapping paper mounted on diasec, question and irritate the artistic surfaces; works such as 20.08.2010 which consists of an extended collection of newspapers printed in Turkey on one particular day bound in seven hardcover volumes refer to Banu Cennetoğlu's unwithering passion and enthusiasm about printed matter and archive. (Images below by Sevim Sancaktar, courtesy of the artist and Rodeo)

The three printed photographs from the CATALOG has become a new work entitled Dealer's Picks which turns out to be a very artfully crafted way of weaving together the whole show as well as the questions that the artist raises in terms of the artists relationship with the commercial side of art, a gallery and a dealer. The work Baldessari for All, which is a sweater with the infamous text by Baldessari, Tips for Artists Who Want to Sell appeared in the promo image of the show, worn by Sylvia Kouvali, 'the dealer'!
The decisions made by 'the artist' and 'the dealer' stand at the center of this show and one of those decisions is to carry the information desk right into the middle of the gallery where it becomes integral to the work, once again putting under spotlight the labyrinthine relationship between the art on display and the workings of the gallery.

--

The 16th will be a busy night for İstanbullus, for there is yet another storm of openings and events, and this time not in such close proximity.. Vogue's fashion's night out has surrounded the city, but there are also the openings of Black Door, Galeri x-ist and Proje 4L in Karaköy, Nişantaş and Maslak respectively. Since I cannot be in three places at once I'll just sit at home reading the brick of a Foucault, that I had bought yesterday for my thesis..

Saturday the 18th, if I manage to make it back from the Islands on time, I, along with most of the İstanbul art scene will be flocking to the opening of Güçlü Öztekin's solo show at Rampa even though it's Yom Kippur -who opens at Yom Kippur?! And last but not least, the 21st will bring much anticipated (and dreaded to be honest -because of the neighhborhoods ongoing problem with alcohol) traffic to the rest of the Tophane ArtWalk galleries such as Non, Outlet, PiArtWorks, DaireSanat and GaleriApel.. especially looking forward to Extrastruggle at Non, and Mehmet Ali Uysal at PiArtWorks!

The last week of September will be full of joy and music with many venues like Babylon and Salon starting off their programs along with the Akbank Jazz Festival!

Looking forward to October for Serkan Özkaya's solo show at Galeri Nev on the 1st; Filmekimi, and amazing concerts and some minor progress on my thesis among all these events and gloomy weather. yeah right.

A smooth transition from busy to lazy..

2010-08-30T02:59:00.005+03:00

I have skipped a whole season in writing in transitioning from a busy work schedule, to a never-ending vacation mode. Now I'm struggling to get back to the "backtoschool" mode. In the meantime, I have travelled quite a bit, and saw quite a bit, and ate quite a bit.. so here's a recap..

Pt.1 İstanbul - Montreux
The transition began with the İstanbul Music festival and the İstanbul Jazz festival, both of which had amazing gigs, so we hopped from Bob Dylan -which was to no ones surprise, a let down-, to the world premeire performance of Arvo Part's Adam's Lament, to the very pleasing performance of the Vienna Philharmonic; from Martha Wainwright singing Edith Piaf songs -although the best part of it was where she sung Stormy Weather- to Lisa Ekdahl's whiny performance by the Bosphorus. At which point I took a plane to switch festivals and arrived at the Montreux Jazz Festival this time to see Simply Red, and Mark Knopfler, both of who had played İstanbul gigs a few years back.. but the Montreux Jazz festival wasn't just about its gigs, it was also a completely different, all encompassing spirit that had surrounded the small Swiss city. The huge concert hall complex that is home to the Miles Davis hall, and the Auditorium Stravinski and many more smaller venues is situated smack in the middle of the coastline of Lake Geneva, which is, for the duration of the festival surrounded by foodshacks of all kinds; ranging from Thai to French, from Hamburgers to crevette cocktails..
Mornings at Montreux were relatively quiet, so I spent one morning walking to the next town, where I took the train to the hills; and skipped from there to Lausanne (which, mind you is a different city!) to see the Edward Hopper exhibition at the Fondation de L'Hermitage. Another morning was spent enjoying the tranquil morning breeze at a very small stone beach, and a later engagement at the Shure vocal competition where Senem Kalfa blew the judges off their feet with her quirky accent and native sounds and although I liked the fleeting nature of her sound I've always been one in love with a solid, grounded, strictly controlled voice.. I do believe she's more in control over her voice when she's singing in her native language or even when she's scatting.

Pt.2 Paris - London
Talking about scat, always reminds me of trains.. one of which chufchuffed me to Paris the next day, where I walked endlessly, despite a hurt foot that made me flinch at every step. In fastforward scat mode, this is what happened: entrecote, croissant, grand creme, walk, grand creme, walk, salad with goat cheese, william kentridge at jeu de paume, willy ronis at la monnaie de paris, hot chocolate, a balcony overlooking all of paris, french cheese, jus d'orange, duck, morning coffee, marais, spinach quiche, lucien freud at pompidou, woody allen walk, pere lachaise, grand creme, william kentridge and cy twombly at the louvre, grasshopping, Tuileries chilling, metro, walk, pain au chocolat, the modern section at the pompidou, tacita dean at marian goodman (stills below), train station...

What I love most about Europe is it's cobwebiness.. you can walk from a to b, bike from c to d, take the train from Paris to London, fly easy from one spot to the other... Well as I left Paris, there was no return, since the swiss consulate had only granted me a visa for one entry into the EU; and there were gray enough days in London where I wanted to swim back to the Paris I had left with an arc-en-ciel.
I landed at St.Pancras exactly 3 hours after departing from Paris, to find that in the middle of the night, not one but two good friends had come to pick me up and take me to Nando's for a quick midnight chicken.

...at which point i got tired and uninterested in finishing the story so I'll just publish it now and move on to my next task: sleep - the laziest of all things.
kthnxby

Istanbul high-season

2010-05-27T14:31:00.029+03:00

No time for books lately..

First two weeks of May was full of events, openings and concerts... After shaking off the busy week after opening the Can Altay - Iman Issa show at Rodeo (right) on the 21st of April I did my rounds at openings, trying to see the works behind the crowds since I know for sure I will not have another moment to go and visit most of them during work hours. With K. in town, we began with a trip to Maslak, Proje 4L to see Chaotic Metamorphosis which didn't strike me as a particularly well curated show. However it was worth the schlep just to see a piece from Murat Germen's latest series. (left) The same evening a new work on YAMA, the huge screen on top of the Marmara Pera aired. Margaret Lee's piece called This is It (below, left) was curated by Mari Spirito (with whom I had the opportunity to do an interview, coming soon) shows a birthday cake with candles that spell the title of the piece that melt through the duration of it. Spirito is a restless person and she opened a show that she co-curated with November Paynter at the Ura space in Mısır Apartmanı just a few days after that on the 4th. Never Neutral (right) was a very brief show in terms of the number of pieces, however it was exhaustive in terms of it's concept, content and duration. Comprising of works by three artists -photographs by Enrique Metinides, a projection of Sans Soleil by Chris Marker and a video work Canon: Take Back the Streets presented on a tube tv by Dara Birnbaum- the show is a critical take on the documentary approach.
Here's a sneak peak into my interview with Mari Spirito, talking about this show:

"So the whole idea of the show is that this
impossibility of neutrality, where this idea of a photograph or a film is a non biased straight view, because we know that as soon as you pick up a camera and frame something wether it’s a moving image or a still image it’s the way that you do it contains all of your personal perspectives in it, which is totally fine but that’s just the way that it is, there’s no way that you can be authentically neutral.

And I think that this show, in the context of what's going on in art in Turkey and this region that use documentary styles to talk about issues because some of them are political issues -and even in the last biennial there was a lot of documentary- which completely makes sense, but then to consider how that functions in the context of art and in the context of society is important. So I thought it would be good for the community here to be exposed to other mutations, evolutions and perspectives on 'documentary'."

Friday evening the art world flocked to the opening of the inaugural exhibition of the Koç collections new space ARTER.
At the window front of the building stands, and sways, the inflatable T72 by Michael Sailstorfer (below, right, installation photo by Murat Germen), where the passer by attempts to enter, only soon to find out that the entrance is through a side door. The space is narrow and pristine, and I was positively biased from the moment I walked through the doors where there was no huge guys with earphones asking for your invitation, or checking your bag and passing you through strange beeping machines. This kind of humility isn't seen often these days. From the spiralling stairs that connect the four main floors, one can reach where the T72 stands, or head to the top floor to begin there. I pursued the latter course and started my journey from William Kentridge's phone at the very top floor.

The website of ARTER says "The exhibition's visual identity also implies that this first show of ARTER can be seen as a selection of a large and varied array of appetizers, designed to prepare us for the main course to follow." which reminds me of a Turkish habit which I embrace, that is to stick with the Starters, the tapas, the mezes.. fill yourself up with these little things and skip the main course before you move on to desert. I can't help but liken this show to the crowded table full of wonderful mezes, all amazingly tasty, all in a kind of sync with the rest of the plates... And the crowded feeling, the overwhelming number of works that your eyes want to taste... will only make me take a couple more trips to see different things, in different ways. I find the fact that there will be a space that I will visit a few times for one show enchanting. It makes me feel like there's something worthwhile of second, third, fourth chances.. without, hopefully, ever being disillusioned.
The begining of the book that the show has produced clearly states that this is a space that will be the begining of a larger museum, and will transform in time. But the press release got me wondering about something totally different. It says "ARTER will offer artists a sustainable infrastructure for artistic production"; and I wonder why no institution would offer a sustainable infrastructure for writing about artistic production. I've always had a thing for publications, wether they be hard copy or online. That is why I love boltart.net. But boltart.net is our passion and we do it without expecting anything in return. Sustainability is a different thing though. This has come up a lot lately, and I'm wondering if one could make a living out of what they love to do, especially if that thing involves writing about art, in Turkey.. examples may be extended.

Saturday a new gallery called Rampa opened it's first show by Cengiz Çekil. There was a huge crowd and it was impossible to see much of the work. Even then, I went home and began reading the Cengiz Çekil monograph published by YKY.I'll need to go see the show again...

That's all for now.. perhaps next time I'll write about music :)

Books bought, books stolen, books read... Melanie Laurent on screen

2010-04-18T22:45:00.006+03:00

Ah, I had to get sick to get back here and answer my unanswered mail. 42 hours of heavy medication and sleep later, I seem to have come over a crazy spell of fever, handed to me by the fickle winds of spring. As does most of my loves, spring too makes me suffer.

The past couple of weeks I've been able to do a lot of reading while commuting, or waiting for yoga class to start. Here's a list of what's bought and what's read...

Bought:
Fast Food Nation by Eric Schlosser
The Possessed: Adventures with Russian Books and the People Who Read Them by Elif Batuman (courtesy of AB as a 24th b.day present)
White Teeth by Zadie Smith (also a b.day present from N.zade)
Dissensus by Jaques Ranciere (Stolen from K.'s library as he left for Paris)

Read:
The Possessed
Fast Food Nation
A Disturbance in One Place by Binnie Kirshenbaum (stolen from C.'s library while in NY last year)
The Believer: Fortieth Issue: Majuscule / Dec06-Jan07

Currently reading:
Zen and the art of Motorcycle Maintenance by Robert M. Pirsig

Last week I saw two movies, both staring Melanie Laurent. I watched Inglorious Basterds at home, thank god, since I was either cursing or cheering the basterds along at the screen which would have been quite annoying had I been in a public movie theater. By the end of the movie I came to realize that my unhidden joy from the retribution Shoshana had claimed was itself symptomatic of the dark side of human nature, not unlike what had lead to all this in the first place. It's a cruel irony.

Wednesday morning I received a call in the gallery, someone speaking french. K! He literally demanded that I go see this movie -Le Concert, on the other continent of the city and just an hour after work. And so I did, and took along N.zade with me to suffer through a wonderful movie, originally mostly filmed in Russian and dubbed in french (N.zade's primary language is Russian). Thankfully, it was SO! good that even that couldn't make her complain about it. After crying our eyes out from joy, we put ourselves together and walked to Çiya -the restaurant that Elif Batuman wrote a review about in the last issue of the New Yorker.

Le Concert too has a bitter irony to it. There is this one scene that brings an incredible surge of nostalgia for the soviet regime, one in which you could be something great.. The other strand of the story however is of the discrimination of Jewish artists in the Bolshoi during that same era.. I don't know how historically correct the movies take on this is though. Anyhow, great movie! Go see!
Thus goes on my Russian love affair by listening to Tchaikovsky, P. - Violin Concerto Op.35.1. by the Paris Symphony Orchestra. Kogan. Silvestri. 1960 recording several times every day. Or you can watch it with Melanie Laurent and the emotionally charged story line of Le Concert from these links 1 and 2 ...[spoiler alert tho]

A Russian Love Affair

2010-02-28T23:08:00.009+02:00

I've just put down John Steinbeck's Russian Journal with photographs by Robert Capa, only to take from the library a biography of Capa and add all his books to my wishlist.

I don't know if I'll be able to articulate much but here are some underlined passages:

"Probably the hardest thing in the world for a man is the simple observation and acceptance of what is. Always we warp our pictures with what we hoped, expected, or were afraid of. In Russia we saw many things that did not agree with what we had expected, and for this reason it is very good to have photographs, because a camera has no preconceptions, it simply sets down what it sees." 33

"It seemed odd to us that the people in the audience, who had known real tragedy, tragedy of invasion, and death and desolation, could be so moved over the fate of the lady who got her fingers kissed in the garden" 62

"Since we were foreigners and could not pass a written note to the table-master, we were permitted to answer his toast. And we proposed a toast to the abolishment of curtains of all kinds -of iron curtains and nylon curtains, and political curtains, and curtains of falsehood and curtains of superstition. We suggested that curtains were a prelude to war, and that if war should come it could be for only one of two reasons -either through stupidity, or through intent, and if it was through intent on the part of any leaders, then those leaders should be removed, and if it was through stupidity, then the causes should be more closely inspected. And we proposed that since no one, not even the most stupid and belligerent of men could imagine that a modern war could be won by anyone, then any leader on any side who seriously proposed war should be hunted down as an insane criminal and taken out of circulation."182

Reading Steinbeck's account of a Georgia in 1947 Soviet Union made me want to go there and find the house that my grandmother had left as a child. The book most certainly has a very naive aspect to it, and perhaps the transitionary and ambiguous time frame in which Steinbeck and Capa were in the USSR contributes to that. They start out pledging objectivity, and toast to peace; they speak to the ordinary people who they had so well distinguished from the state and are surprised by the fact that they do not want war. Yet the final product is still symptomatic of the journalistic tradition as well as of the literary mood of its times; an eagerness to report, and to show. As I read a little from Capa's biography I realized that just before their trip to the USSR, Capa had been a founding member of the Magnum photography agency which is in structure a cooperative owned by its artists. The same year Capa began shooting for a project in The Ladies Home Journal with John Morris. Their aim was to capture ordinary people in their ordinary habitats so as to show that people everywhere were more or less the same. This basic humanism was also the basis of Capa's project with Steinbeck. They wanted nothing to do with the state, or the blueprints of factories, they were interested in the people who had to live under it.

The other day I watched the last documentary Albert Lamorisse had shot before he died without having the opportunity to bring together it's pieces. Many will know Lamorisse from his 1956 Le Ballon Rouge, but what I watched was Le Vent des Amoureux which was edited by his widow and son, and had been nominated for a post-humous Oscar in 1978, 8 years after Lamorisse's death and the year of the Iranian revolution. The documentary is a collage of aerial views of Iran, with a voice over narrating the culture and development of Iran. This was a project which was initially fully funded by the pre revolutionary Iran government and the Shah to document their newly built dams, and the country's fast modernization. Watcing it made me want to go to Iran...

Finally my favourite authors first book is out! Elif Batuman, The Possessed: Adventures with Russian Books and the People who Read Them

Back as of February

2010-02-01T01:58:00.004+02:00

We are living 2010 and the first month has already gone by. As we toasted this new year, and this new decade we got drunk on the idea of a make or break decade. At age 23, going on 33 life is ambiguous; scary and full of opportunities at the same time.

It's not like I haven't had anything to write about this past month. There's just too much action to sit down, concentrate and construct sentences though. This is perhaps why some writers make sure they end up in prison for a while, you know, to write.. To document what has passed, so that it's not prey to oblivion.
On Friday, January 29th Rodeo opened it's fourth show in it's new space. Check it out in the exhibitions section on www.rodeo-gallery.com

Other than work, I've been busy doing interviews, one with Murat Germen which is already published in boltart.net and another one with the editors of the late Geniş Açı magazine, which has now become the Geniş Açı project office, where Refik Akyüz and Serdar Darendeliler work day and night to make things happen concerning photography in Turkey.. soon to be published in boltart.net as well.

More to come this month.. promise.

In the meantime:
Naomi Klein was in İstanbul, and I was too lazy to go see her even though her talk was on monday which is my day off! The whole day was spent staring out the window at the powder sugar falling from the skies and reacting to it in two poles as if I were a babbling schizophrenic: "you have got to be kidding me", "oh how beautiful". Anyway do listen to her talk to Ömer Madra on Açık Radyo and read her latest article in the Guardian.

I have discovered a new favourite author Brian Sholis, who has recently written about a work that is now on show in Rodeo!!! Here's the article on Jason Dodge, where Sholis is talking about the work "Above the Weather".

And another author I wish to introduce Martha Rosler who wrote about the Direnistanbul / Resistanbul in her article in e-flux magazine.

An interview with Walead Beshty striked my attention today because of his very humble comment about art and design: "Are you asking me about the differences between design and art? I'm not sure I could answer that, except to say that art more readily elicits questions about its own making, its role in power relations, and the examination of the ideological assumptions about aesthetics. I think thoughtful design can operate in this way as well; it's just not expected to. That said, design tends to be more honest about its relationship to use, how it is instrumentalized, how it is trafficked, within art, this is usually concealed, or repressed. Art for Art's sake, etc. But really, I don't think the division between the two is all that useful, each instance of aesthetic production/reception should be taken on its own terms, considered specifically; I don't see much use in thinking of things in broad categories, broad categories tend to obscure more than they reveal."

The past week has been a sad week with the deaths of Howard Zinn, J.D.Salinger and two very important figures in the Turskish art world Şakir Eczacıbaşı and Ömer Uluç. May they rest in peace and perhaps hang out on the other side..

all for now.

Somehow this entry is for D.

2009-12-06T19:36:00.006+02:00

So, I have a first draft ready. Of the proposal I mean, not the thesis. I realized today that I've been putting off starting things.. oh well, actually that's nothing new. I'd made a to do list before I went on vacation but I think I lost it. It was full of things I really didn't have to do anyway. It was just a list to avoid doing the things I really need to do.
I miss the arcane, esoteric language we used to write in in high school, or even in early college years. Now everything has to be forward and clear. The larger problem is that we've grown apart, and no one actually shares a minor literature anymore. We've all melted in the larger pot. I'm not sure if we've lost our colors, but we sure have left the verbal battleground behind us. No more puns, little jabs, clever attacks, love songs that sound like random b.s. ..

I got Paul Auster's new book, Invisible. Yatarken buna başlayıp, sabaha kadar bitirsem ne güzel olur. Uzun zamandır beni bütün gece uyanık tutacak bir kitabım olmadı.

I'm making a new to do list.
-Write bibliography for proposal
-Finish and submit proposal before the year is out

-transcribe interviews! artık. şimdi bunu yapayım ben.

Somehow this entry is for D.

New chapter, new approach

2009-11-30T21:41:00.004+02:00

I met up with an old friend the other day. She said to me, "for a period of time i did one of three things when i got home from work; eat, sleep or study. if i felt i wasn't that tired, i studied; if i felt i wasn't hungry i took a nap."
Apparently that's how you get through grad school working. So I'm thinking I might try this for a while. Or at least try trying it. I still haven't written my proposal which was due months ago, so I'll start there. I have two hours until this day is finito, so I'll quit looking at photos from my blissful vacation, and focus.

No toys for a while..

*photo credits: N.zade

Art books, Frieze Art Fair and the London Art Scene

2009-11-16T13:17:00.020+02:00

The good thing about the art world is that you get to spend monday's with yourself rather than at work. When the weather is as glum as today, it feels good to be able to stay home and be able to read, write, listen, what have you..
Since I've started working in a gallery space the books on my desk at home have changed dramatically from the likes of "The Rhetoric of Fiction" to "All of a Sudden: Things that Matter in Contemporary art". I feel it's necessary to return to my habit of listing what I've been juggling in the wee hours of the night when I find a few minutes before my eyes fall asleep..

Right now, on the right side of my screen sits Celine Condorelli's newly launched book Support Structures, out from Sternberg Press (which has become another favourite publishing house along with Verso lately).

I've been trying to read up on art institutions

*Julian Stallabrass - Art Incorporated: The Story of Contemporary Art
*The Turner Prize and British Art
*James Cuno (ed.) - Whose Muse? Art Museums and the Public Trust (kindly donated to my library by K.)
*Anton Vidokle - Produce, Distribute, Discuss, Repeat
*Nicholas Bourriaud - Postproduction

The last of these, Postproduction, I've had the chance to read on London busses and tubes during the time Rodeo participated in the Frieze Art Fair's Frame section.

I must say attending an art fair and going about London's museums and galleries gave me a perspective of what I've, we've, been doing for the past couple of months: building walls, editing portfolios, sending out works, installing shows.. At times I found myself looking at how the frames were composed rather than the works themselves.
The Anish Kapoor show at the Royal Academy left me with a, a sense of bewilderment at the size and courage of the installation. The press release says of the most exciting of the works: "One of the highlights of the exhibition will be the monumental work Svayambh, (a Sanskrit word which roughly translates as "auto-generated"). The work has the appearance of a vast mass of wax that moves almost imperceptibly on sunken rails leaving a residue in its wake as it traverses the breadth of Burlington House. This emblematic work reflects Kapoor’s exploration of sculptural works that actively participate in their own formation." This work spans five halls of the Royal Academy, passing through four grand doors, staining the wonderfully engraved frames with splats of incarnadine wax. When you stand at the side of the rails you can watch for hours the slow movement of the huge bulk sliding down, but the full hit comes if you stand at the end of the rail, in the hall on the very right, and watch this red hunk of flesh-like looking grease ball coming at you, slow yet steady as if to smash you to the wall in that same bloody color and devour you. Then as if nothing has happened turn it's back and continue it's journey the other way.

The view of The Royal Academy's Annenberg Courtyard and Kapoor's site specific new work, with detail. Sadly no photos were allowed inside.

Anyway, even before I knew I was going to London there was one show that I was dying to see. That of Ed Ruscha's new work of illustrating Jack Karouac's infamous book On The Road. This project made sense to me, from afar, on so many levels that the first thing I did as soon as I had one spare moment was to run to the Gagosian (at 9.45 am I was at the door and waited for 15 minutes until the gallery was open).

It pains me to say that even though the work, above, was fulfilling of my endevour to see it, the presentation you see below somehow disappointed me greatly. It seemed that the work itself was not enough to fill the huge space of the gallery, and they needed to curate something to fill the walls with the very classic style of exposition: frames on walls. Framed on walls were selections from the pages of the book, random as far as I know. To my mind the single book in display above was all this show needed. I am ofcourse ignoring a very demanding bunch of people attending the opening of this show and wanting to see all at once, what they are there to see. Catering to crowds doesn't seem to be the way to go with this though. On the Road is a book to be watched in solitude, perhaps wearing white gloves. But not as random pages on the wall..
Some details that I've uncovered is that the project is based on the text originally published in 1957 and not the original scroll (Kerouac wrote the original, unedited, uncensored version of the book on a 36 meter scroll) just recently published by Viking. This beauty above is published by Gagosian and Steidl.

Well simultaneously Ed Ruscha had a retrospective of 50 years in the Hayward Gallery, showing signature paintings by the artist.

From the Hayward Gallery, I walked by the Thames toward the Tate Modern where there was a Baldessari retrospective. Most stunning of his works to me was the ones that no longer existed because of his cremation project in 1970 whereby he destroyed most of his work up to that point. To see what he was up to lately I visited the Sprüth Magers Gallery the next day. "Ear Sofa; Nose Sconces With Flowers (In Stage Setting)" was missing it's actress, but the pampered hollywood-style pooch remained. Good thing about going at a time when the stage wasn't quite set was that the gallerist kindly let us in to find ourselves in and part of the setting. I wore blue plastic bags on my shoes so as to not stain the pure white floors, and felt completely isolated from the ambiance with a glass of champagne poured and a pair of Christian Louboutain pumps waiting for their designated blond.

My last day in London I took a bus from Putney to Hyde Park, with the sole intention of seeing the Gustav Metzger show at the Serpentine before I left. As I walked in the garden they were already dismantling the 2009 Pavilion, created by Kazuyo Sejima and Ryue Nishizawa of SANAA where the Poetry Marathon (which I sadly missed) was held. But the show was still on, so I walked in to find stacks of newspaper in plastic shopping bags laying on top of each other, tables around the room. This I learn from the press release is "a new, participative installation using the archive of newspapers Metzger has been collecting since 1995."
Oh well, this was the only show for which I feel the need to describe in detail every single work. Let me try:
In more than one room there were large scale photographs, somehow hidden, either with a blanket thrown over it, steel bolted against it, a paravan or a curtain in front of it, bricks blocking ones view of it. These Historic Photographs such as the Hitler addressing the Reichstag after the fall of France, July 1940, covered with a white layer in 1995 or Hitler-Youth, Eingeschweisst covered with an iron sheet in 1997 stand as the big picture no one can really see or grasp. "Taking as a starting point the series of historic events that had occured in his lifetime and that had affected him so deeply, Metzger selected images from the numerous official archives of photographs from Nazi Germany. He treats each of these in such a way that the picture itself is concealed or enlarged (often both). The viewer cannot look at the total image and, in this way, it can no longer exert its potent and numbing fascination." (Sophie O'Brien in Gustav Metzger / Decades: 1959 - 2009 published by the Serpentine Gallery and Koenig Books).
One that left a mark on me was Historic Photographs: To Crawl Into - Anschluss, Vienna, March 1938 which was covered with a green blanket (1996) that you had to crawl under, in order to try to see the photograph, in pieces, the nose of one, the back of another, buckets etc.

A video of Metzger's Project Stockholm where "120 cars were to be backed up onto a large plastic cube, 30 cars per side. The car motors were to run for the fourteen days of the conference and the exhaust fumes were to be collected in the cube, discoloring it with pollution". This proposal from 1972 was realized in the Sharjah Biennale in 2007, 35 years after it was conceived. If this isn't reason enough to think Metzger was ahead of his time, one can always check out what he is most known for, the auto-destructive art that he proposed in 1959. These works primarily refer to a post-war world where destruction is a central image within memory, but they also refer to a present and a future of continuous destruction, that doesn't always require a state of war.

What else.. there was so much to see, and there is so much to write about what I saw. I will write more as my memory allows it..

ps. Thanks are due to yt for letting me dominate her room during my stay :)

Timetable

2009-09-17T19:50:00.002+03:00

"Timetable - Few things separate more profoundly the mode of life befitting an intellectual from that of the bourgeois than the fact that the former acknowledges no alternative between work and recreation. Work that need not, to satisfy reality, first inflict on the subject all the evil that is afterwards to inflict on others, is pleasure even in its despairing effort. It's freedom is the same as that which bourgeois society reserves exclusively for relaxation and, by this regimentation, at once revokes. Conversely, anyone who knows freedom finds all the amusements tolerated by this society unbearable, and apart from his work, which admittedly includes what the bourgeois relegate to non-working hours as 'culture', has no taste for substitute pleasures. Work while you work, play while you play -this is a basic rule of repressive self-discipline. The parents for whom it was a matter of prestige that their children should bring home good reports, were the least disposed to let them read too long in the evening, or make what they took to be any kind of intellectual over-exertion. Through their folly spoke the genious of their class. The doctrine inculcated since Aristotle that moderation is the virtue appropriate to reasonable people, is among other things and attempt to found so securely the socially necessary division of man into functions to cross over to the others and remind each other of man. But one could no more imagine Nietzsche in an office, with a secretary minding the telephone in an anteroom, at his desk until five o'clock, than playing golf after the day's work was done. Only a cunning intertwining of pleasure and work leaves real experience still open, under the pressure of society. Such experience is less and less tolerated. Even the so-called intellectual professions are being deprived, through their growing resemblance to business, of all joy. Atomization is advancing not only between men, but within each individual, between the spheres of his life. No fulfilment may be attached to work, which would otherwise lose its functional modesty in the totality of purposes, no spark of reflection is allowed to fall into its leisure time, since it might otherwise leap across to the workaday world and set it on fire. While in their structure work and amusement are becoming increasingly alike, they are at the same time being divided ever more rigorously by invisible demarcation lines. Joy and mind have been expelled equally from both. In each, blank faced seriousness and pseudo-activity hold sway."
-Theodor Adorno, Minima Moralia, p.130.

Working life in Istanbul

2009-09-03T01:13:00.010+03:00

For Man lives by his head;
He needs a larger size;

You try it for yourself. Your head
Won't feed a pair of lice.

Why, for this existence
There's no man who's smart enough
Life's too short for learning
Every trick and bluff

So make your little plan
And think you're mighty smart,
Then make another little plan -
They'll land you in the cart
Why for this existence
There's no man who's bad enough,
Still it's nice to watch them
Trying to be tough

So run and catch your luck
But don't run too fast,
For all of them run after luck
And luck is running last.
Why for this existence
There's no man who's meek and mild enough.
All his endeavour
Is just one more bluff.

(SONG OF THE FUTILITY OF HUMAN ENDEAVOUR)

Yet another song from the infamous Brecht novel "The Threepenny Novel". The İstanbul Biennial will open in a week and for the past month or so I have been trying to read Brecht's novel since the theme of the biennial is a line from it: "What keeps mankind alive?".

In the meantime I have taken part in the moving and reconstruction of Rodeo which has opened to its viewers on the 4th.

This is what we had to begin with..

This is the process..

Juggernaut, Installation shot, 2009.
image courtesy of artist and Rodeo.

This is what we had in the end.

The weathers complicity..

2009-08-03T10:52:00.007+03:00

This is pure cliche, but İstanbul never fails to surprise you. A couple of days ago theater goers of İstanbul flocked to the Rumeli Hisarı, the old fortress, to watch Amos Gitai's latest project starring Jean Moreau. I must say the subject matter of the play kept me on edge the whole night, as the stories of war between the Jews and the Romans have always troubled me greatly. However the way the subject was handled gave me a sense of human tragedy rather than jingoist pride in death for the first time in my life. The most wonderous part of the night came when the skies above seemed to be complicit in this human tragedy. As Tito returned to Rome and paraded the streets with his father Vespasianus, flashes of lightening began, which were so appropriate that at first I thought were light effects, only to look around to see no such possible light installation. Then just as Moreau uttered the line "the soil of Massada was wet and fertile. Their stocks of barley was such that it would last for years..." the skies broke into a steady rain, converting from just some pitter and patter to cats and dogs in an instant. A smile broke in my face as I soaked, but it was disturbed by so many of the viewers, who apparently thought they were soluble, who stood up to leave. By the end of the play less than half the audience was there, most of the equipment had failed -including the microphones and the projectors that provided turkish translations -, a man from the tech crew had jumped on stage to hold an umbrella over Ms Moreau, but the cheers were candid and unanimous. The cheers were not only for the production, I thought, but for the performance of nature as well. The lightening and the rain had turned the experience of the story of the war between the Jews and the Romans into a forceful narrative for me. I've always had a tendency to overread the weather, but this time I think I wasn't alone.

Listening to: Stan Getz - Here's that Rainy Day

Notes from afar..

2009-07-10T01:22:00.013+03:00

A guy, only a couple of years my minor approached me on the beach yesterday. He said he was relieved that I wasn’t a foreigner. He was working as a waiter at the camping place right next to our land and it was so lonely and what kind of a place is this anyway, no one comes... When I told him where I lived he said “I thought that place belonged to a foreign woman”. I said no, it didn’t but I wished I were foreign and I didn’t have to have this conversation at all.

I’m reading Jenny Diski’s Stranger on a Train, which is probably relevant in the epiphany I had today: I enjoy being a stranger. Most of the time I just want to act as if I don’t know the language so that no one would bother me. Then again I have my moments of taking pride in being the indigenous person of where I am.
Every time I come here, I turn off my phone and read, write and think for a couple of days. Be a local stranger. This time the fact that my phone has unlimited internet connection made this quite literally impossible as I had no way to resist my addiction to check my emails. I tried to reason though, instead of every 15 minutes, I checked at the end of every day. One day I even forgot to do that, but that day I listened to the live broadcast of MJ’s memorial service on my battery run radio. A dose of communication with the world every day.

I usually only listen to Greek radio while I’m here, just for the sake of the stranger effect I guess. Plus I really wish not to understand anything that I hear while I’m here. It’s fun, you should try it. The Greeks have a radio station that would match TRT3 (turkish state radio), plays classical music most of the time, and then has hours for popular music and jazz and whatnot. It’s an uncanny similarity that I find very interesting and I wonder if the program names match as well. I wonder if the Greek channel is the state channel or a private one... I guess I’ll never know.

Still most of the time I prefer absolute silence. And by absolute silence I mean the chirping of the cicadas, a couple of birds and the swish of the sea against pebbles.. and then there is the dog with a sheeps bell tied around its collar which chimes to his run as he comes by every evening for a dip in the sea with me and then for leftovers from dinner at night.

I’ll have to thank E. for recommending Jenny Diski to me... I think I like her writing, the British witticisms and the dry humor and the obsession with death.. I even like how she deals with the smoking part of it all. Even though I don’t smoke, that’s an understatement, I hate smoke, I like the fact that it’s central to the writings of Jenny Diski. It’s like watching a really good smoker in a movie, or reading a smoker in a Bukowski novel or something. Smoking seems very cool from afar, I do admit that. Just as long as I don’t have to inhale it, I guess.

She writes, “I’m always supposing that if I can get things quiet enough I’ll hear something to my advantage.” I think that’s what I’m trying to achieve here. A kind of sensory deprivation so that I can concentrate on something else, something more internal perhaps.

The first couple of pages of the book is so stunningly beautiful and close to my heart that I just want to quote it all at once... (I also want to make it an epigraph to my thesis but hey, if I ever get to write one)

“I hate neat endings. I have an antipathy to finishing in general. The last page, the final strains of a chord, the curtain falling on the echo of a closing speech, living happily ever after, all that grates on me. The finality is false, because there you still are, the reader, the observer, the listener, with a gaping chasm in front of you, left out of the resolution of the story that seduced you into thinking yourself inside it. Then it’s done and gone, abandoning you to continuation, a con trick played out and you were the mark. An ending always leaves you standing in the whistling vacany of a storyless landscapes. An ending exposes the impossible paradox –the desire for completion, the fear of termination –which like an open wound is too tender to uncover. But neat endings are the worst; the rounded closure that rings so true and so false, the harmonious conclusion that makes sense of the beginning and of all that happened in-between, and makes a lie of what you know about the conduct of your life, a lie of you.x –the desire for completion, the fear of termination –which like an open wound is too tender to uncover. But neat endings are the worst; the rounded closure that rings so true and so false, the harmonious conclusion that makes sense of the beginning and of all that happened in-between, and makes a lie of what you know about the conduct of your life, a lie of you.

There are two kinds of neat endings: the satisfying circle that ends where it began, and the straight line that ends in a point. Our life, we are inclined to think, is like the latter; the world is like the former. Artifice –art, if you must- very often inscribes the circle, taking the straight line to its desired conclusion: the point becomes a metonymy for the completed circle. Artifice makes the circle the secret pattern beneath the straight line. Very gratifying, that.”

I like this place, as long as I know I’ll go back to the crazed life in the city. I like the city as long as I have here to escape to. Does this constitute a circularity beneath my linear life?

One last thing: Just then, as I was star-watching before the full moon came out from behind the mountain, I remembered a childhood moment. In a very similar setting like tonight, age somewhere between 5 and 7, when I had decided that I would fixate on one star and wait for it to eventually fall off the sky. The fact that I tought shooting stars were literally stars seems a minor detail when I think about the underlying assumption that led me to my theory: I thought that if I waited long enough, something would happen. Not because of my super-natural, or natural powers, but because somehow, I figured, all stars would eventually fall (because of gravity?), or sooner or later anything I thought of could or would happen. I was never known for my patience, nor for believing. So I wonder where I had gotten the idea that if I persevered, the star that I chose would glimmer sideways and leave a beautiful trace before it disappeared completely. I feel I need to trace this back...

A link to keep you till I return: boltart.net
Check it out. I'll write more about it sooner or later.

30 years later

2009-06-16T12:47:00.003+03:00

"What precisely has gone wrong in Western civilization, that at the very height of technical progress we see the negation of human progress; dehumanization, brutalization, revival of torture as a 'normal' means of interrogation, the destructive development of nuclear energy, the poisoning of the biosphere and so on? How has this happened?
And we went back into social and intellectual history and tried to define the interplay between progressive and repressive categories throughout the intellectual history of the West, especially in the Enlightenment, for example, which is usually considered as one of the most progressive phases in history. We tried to understand this apparently inexorable fusion of liberating and opressive tendencies" (qtd in Robert M. Young's preface to Marcuse's Negations: Essays in Critical Theory).

This is Marcuse defining what the Frankfurt school was trying to do, in an interview with Bryan Magee in 1978, a year before he died, reprinted in an obituary in the Guardian 31 July 1979. Just saying.

Summer booklist and the arrivals lounge

2009-06-11T20:05:00.017+03:00

So lately my attempts at writing have been blocked by the language barrier. Since I had no propper classes in english this year (interesting for a first year comparative literature student isn't it?) I had decided it would be a good idea to at least blog in english. The things I blogged about were appropriate too. With the US election craze, Obamamania and my obsession with American media it felt easier to blog in english anyway. But lately I've been wanting to write more personal stuff, and I always start composing in turkish when that is the case. I'm considering opening up my other blog in turkish pretty soon, and we have begun working on a blog with multiple authors that can be found here. (still under construction)
Till I find my way into those blogs however, I shall continue spewing my gibberish here. And yes I will continue writing in english here even after that: I will multi blog.

My tentative summer booklist:
Fiction/Non-fiction

Nazi Literature in the Americas by Roberto Bolano, translated by Chris Andrews
Paperback, 227 pages, New Directions

The Virgin Suicides by Jeffrey Eugenides
Paperback, 249 pages, Grand Central

Europe Central by William T. Vollmann
Paperback, 811 pages, Penguin

Stranger on a Train: Daydreaming and Smoking around America with Interruptions by Jenny Diski
Paperback, 280 pages, Picador

Gölgesizler by Hasan Ali Toptaş
Paperback, 232 pages, İletişim

Tutunamayanlar by Oğuz Atay
Paperback, 724 pages, İletişim

Gravity's Rainbow by Thomas Pynchon
Paperback, 784 pages, Penguin

White Noise by Don DeLillo
Paperback, 320 Pages, Penguin

Infinitely Demanding: Ethics of Commitment, Politics of Resistance by Simon Critchley
Paperback, 168 pages, Verso

Who Sings the Nation-State? by Judith Butler and Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak
Hardcover, 121 pages, Seagull Books

more to come and some to be postponed surely...

The coming few days will involve no reading at all since I intend to spend my time between the arrivals lounge and hanging out with my newly returned people! However, let me recommend some links for blackberry users to read up in the waiting area..

The New York Review of Books' last issue is very interesting, particularly Tony Judt's essay on Amos Elon who had passed away in May.

Iran's upcoming elections is a hot topic and a good intro to reading material on Iran: Malise Ruthvern reviews several books for the NYRB and Robert Dreyfuss reports for The Nation.
Jon Lee Anderson's article in an April issue of the New Yorker was also interesting.

Something completely off base here but I have to share Seymour M. Hersh's 1993 reporting for the New Yorker on Pakistan and Afghanistan's nuclear situation after the cold war.

For some lighter conversation though, shorter entries on the price of an educatio n, and the blogademia..

Oh and talking about higher education, let me tell you how proud I am of my alma mater. As the first and only propper liberal arts college in Turkey Sabanci University is being attacked by the Board of Higher Education, apparently because "the system at Sabanci is too good" and its policy to give its students the chance to select their area of study in their second year causes unequal opportunities within the Turkish higher education system. BAH! Lameitude at its worst!
Still its indicative of the basic mentality of the Turkish education system, that is, to equalize everyone at the bottom rather than the top. The Board of Higher education (YÖK) was founded after the three coups and particularly the one in September 12 1980, in 1981, exactly for the purpose of keeping education just lame enough that people wouldn't rebel against the state. Well, it has worked. Many of the greatest professors quit the universities after YÖK was established and the institution still plays a role in dictating almost everything to universities from their history curriculum, to the kind of attire they can let into their campus. I'm hoping Sabanci University will win its war against this antediluvian institution and its passé mentality, and to take it even further I hope this little squable opens the way to its total destruction.

I ran into an old professor and some class mates from Sabanci having dinner and rakı at Kuledibi today. It feels as though the world is passing me by at the times I sit at home. I feel an imbalance between my time of life and reflection recently. I think I'll read the first chapter of Elif Batuman's thesis once more...

Short entry on the road less taken

2009-05-01T18:01:00.006+03:00

OK., so I've been bad. Bad behaviour #1:My previous blog entry was very long indeed and included an untranslated paragraph of quotation (which will hopefully be fixed soon). So my new commitment is to write slightly shorter entries more frequently (if that's even possible).
Bad behaviour #2: I went a little crazy bookshopping yesterday.
Paul Ricoeur - Oneself as Another
James Wood - How Fiction Works
Dennis Ford - The Search for Meaning
Michael Chabon - Wonder Boys

I have convinced myself that except the Dennis Ford purchase, it wasn't all that unnecessary but crazed nonetheless. The interesting part though, is that both Ford and Wood's books begin by refering to Tolstoy. This must be a sign!
Ford's introduction starts by reflecting on the meaning of life which suits my broodingly morose sentiment today with the weather unable to decide wether spring shall come or not. The quote from Tolstoy reaffirms my pre-life crisis I shared with dear E. yesterday evening over many books and beer: "If in moments of intoxication, I should have not desires but the habits of old desires, in moments of sobriety I knew that it was all a delusion, that I really desired nothing" (Tolstoy qtd in Ford).

The other day, I was thinking about the libraries of authors and thinkers. In The Company We Keep Wayne Booth gives a footnote and several chapters against "utter interpretational relativism" which I wouldn't want to be prey to. Yet still, I do think that any person who relies on their thought for a living, is better off steering way outside of their assigned route towards their conclusions. Not because it will provide them with a drastically different approach, but because even the relatively few possible angles are not properly fulfilled. I was pretty impressed with Charles Bernheimer's anectode in Comparative Literature in the Age of Multiculturalism:

"In 1969" he writes "I was a graduate student finishing my studies at Harvard. Protest against the Vietnam War reached a high point that year and affected even Harvard's staid Comparative Literature Department. We had a meeting of faculty and students to talk about the structure and goals of the program. I recommended that the required proseminar not to take as its textbook Warren and Wellek's Theory of Literature but read Nietzsche, Freud, Marx, and other such seminal thinkers, in an effort to stimulate the students to ask fundamental questions and to disorient them from their received assumptions about literary study. In effect, I was recommending the anxiety of comparison. From the other side of the room, Harry Levin, in a kindly tone, corrected me: 'Charlie, I am sure you mean orient, don't you?' and he spread his hands apart to indicate the distance between the student, here, and the 'body of knowledge' there. The proper orientation, he said, put one on a straight path on which, as one advanced, one gained ever more knowledge, ever more matter. The implication was that this advance would also make me less anxious and less upset about the war. But I wasn't buying" (Bernheimer 4).

As I washed my hands in the bathroom after class, I wondered if the argument for interdisciplinary approaches were futile indeed. I was thinking in particular about people like Seyla Benhabib and Martin Jay whom I revere, and whether they ever thought their work was by any means possible without any one of their interests in philosophy, history, people, literature and god knows what else... The list of interdisciplinary thinkers will go on endlessly so I will not attempt one and cut this entry short. right here.

On ethics, media and argument

2009-04-28T17:03:00.008+03:00

I went to the movies yesterday and saw State of Play. It's no better than an average Hollywood movie but it struck me as important in another respect. The movie is basically about journalism and why it matters so much that newspapers and their staff don't disappear in the near future. Mostly it channels All The Presidents Men, the stark difference being that this is not a true story -although the stink of Blackwater is all over the place. But the main idea is basically that journalism is an indispensable part of how justice works in the US. At times, it almost suggests that investigative journalism is as necessary and as effective as the police and other intelligence agencies work.
This morning I was reading a chapter from Cemil Koçak's last book of collected essays Geçmişiniz İtinayla Temizlenir (Your Past Cleansed Thoroughly)* on the situation of the media during the early Republican period of Turkey (1920-50).

"Yönetimin basın üzerindeki sıkı denetimi, İkinci Dünyâ Savaşı yıllarında da sürdü. Böyle bir sıkı denetimi sürdürebilmek için hükûmetin elinde birçok olanak vardı. Her şeyden önce 1931 târihli Matbuat Kânunu, 28 Haziran 1938 târihinde geçirdiği değişiklikler ile, gazete ve dergi çıkarmak için, çıkarılacak yerin en büyük mülkî idâre âmirinden ruhsatnâme alınmasını zorunlu kılıyordu. Böyle bir girişimde bulunanlar, bazı mâlî (yayının çıkacağı yerin nüfûsuna göre, bir bankadan bin ilâ beş bin TL arasında bir garanti mektubu verilmesi gerekiyordu) ve siyâsî ('sui şöhret' sahibi olanlara yayın çıkarma hakkı tanınmamaktaydı) engelleri aşmalıydılar. Dolayısıyla hükûmet, yeni bir yayına izin verip vermemekte tamâmen serbestti.
Hükûmet, yeni bir yayına izin verip vermemekte ne denli serbestse, görüşlerine ve üslûbuna katılmadığı bir yayını istediği anda ve istediği sürece kapatmakta da o denli serbestti. Gerçekten Matbuat Kânunu'nun ünlü 50. maddesi gereğince, 'memleketin umûmî siyâsetine dokunacak neşriyattan dolayı İcrâ Vekileri Heyeti karârıyla gazete veyâ mecmualar muvakkaten tâtil olunabilir' ve bu sûretle kapatılan bir gazetenin mesûlleri, tatil müddetince başka bir isimle gazete çıkaramaz'dı" (Koçak 353).

Taking all this into account, it is not very surprising that journalism in Turkey does not hold the standards of the journalism that we read in All The Presidents Men. Tradition is something that creates a set of rules in time, something that designates the ethics of a practice. The tradition of journalism in Turkey has been, both by coercion and by choice, one that stands more in line with a PR firm or an ad company than that of an investigator. It was, and mostly still is, a practice that protects the state before it protects the people. Of course as far as protecting the people went, they were protected from themselves and not from the state, so it was also forbidden formally to report suicides. War news, so as not to stir panic, were reported as one column stories under the command of an agency (Koçak 355).

I have interpreted Koçak's work to challenge the ethics of journalism, however his own preface to the book defines this collection of essays as an endeavour towards challenging the ethics of history writing in Turkey. "Being a historian is like performing an autopsy. As the doctor performing the autopsy aims to find out what really happened to the body, so should the historian aim to work with the care and meticulousness of a surgeon, to pursue his quest with dignity and calm no matter what the outcome may be, and to display his findings and conclusions boldly and without alterations. This is the ethics of a historian, and it is what defines the standard and the quality of the historiography written" (Koçak 11, my humble translation)1. Although I have minor problems with this metaphor, it struck me because of its indirect allusion to the Hippocratic oath as a largely accepted ethics for a practice. It is, as I've mentioned a tradition, an ethics.. I don't necessarily know why I'm so obsessed over ethics these days.

I returned Sunday night, from a communication detox (no phone, no tv, no pc or laptop, just greek radio stations) at my seaside getaway on the aegean coast. With no communications, I read Michael Chabon's Gentlemen of the Road, which has on average one word unfamiliar to me per page. So that was good. I also got to read Ted Cohen's Thinking of Others: On the Talent for Metaphor which I had been intending to read since February. It's a pretty easy read, considering its a philosophical monograph. Although I had started to read it for my project on metaphors, I found something else in it that I had been reflecting on for a long time. I intended to write a piece about argumentation, both politically and academically, but I was waiting until I'd done my readings on Carl Schmitt and Habermas and whatnot. I basicly wanted to make some sense of the tension between "agreeing to disagree" and "saying NO", or argument and silence/white noise/screaming, communication and absolute divisions.

Cohen's books main argument is that thinking of oneself as another (what I'd simply call empathy, a word he never uses) is very similar to thinking of something in terms of something else (what he calls metaphor in its largest sense). His argument involves a great deal about understanding, and so I think to myself: Is it true that to understand is to forgive? I personally think that one can understand the rationanle behind what Hitler was thinking (not necessarily doing though), but does that mean I can forgive? The plain and simple answer to this is no (ignoring the pressing question of who the heck are you to forgive anyways?). But this answer changes from case to case, as I also understand a friend who thinks a bleeding head is not so big of a deal and doesn't think it necessary to come to the hospital to see me, but I can forgive that.

"The wish to agree with one another in all things might be thought of as a wish that we could live together speaking exactly the same language. Then that futile wish is the failed ambition to build the Tower of Babel. An the Biblical lesson in part, is that God does not want us to agree on all things" (Cohen 80). And if you don't believe in god, well you can just think of it as a logically impossible, rationaly irrational and unfeasible in terms of probability. It doesn't follow that one agrees if one understands, which I believe is a step often skipped in argument. Similarly, it shouldn't follow that one is unable to agree while speaking different languages.
The best part of the book however comes near the end: "There is a certain kind of intelligence" writes Cohen "especially likely to be found in universities, in my experience, very ready to assign stupidity or some other disability to those who are different. Both inside and outside the academy is to be found a kind of pseudo intelligence in the form of one of those ideologies that includes, built-in, an explanation of those who does not understand. This explanation, in fact, is either a pretense to understand or a refusal to admit that there is anything to be understood" (Cohen 82). This is probably why I flinch every time I hear a professor or anyone for that matter laugh off an argument by someone else. However, I have come to realize that it is just pointless to try to explain what you are thinking to everyone, since most of the time its never received by the other end. So you are made to laugh off sometimes, and restrain yourself from explaining your own position on the matter. Because sometimes, whatever you say, you won't really have said a thing; and that feels like being a dead persons ghost hovering around and not being seen.
Cohen's point is a good one indeed, and it is a righteous position to take on argumentation in general, but one wonders if it is as logically impossible, rationaly irrational and unfeasible in terms of probability as living together and speaking the exact same language. After all, how does one successfully communicate to someone else?
If only there were an ethics of argument that says first listen but also says argue your position? The second part is actually logically unnecessary, since if both sides of an argument are to abide by the ethics of listening, then voluntarily the other side will be making their argument anyway. Phew.

love
fatuous, pertinacious, bilious misantrophe of a person xxx
(yes I have been going around with my gre cards again)

So since this has been a somewhat unintentionally pessimistic spewing of my latest obsessions, I'd like to leave with the usual links and lists and perhaps some nice little quotations that I've picked up on in the past week:

Margaret Talbot's piece on "neuroenhancing" drugs in the New Yorker

Mark Danner's essay on the Red Cross Torture Report in the New York Review of Books

An interview with Astra Taylor, who is the director of Examined Life, which I will watch soon thanks to AlBo.

Listening and watching on several occasions Oren Lavie's Her Morning Elegance

relevant quotation of the day:
"Moreover, political education is not merely a matter of coming to understand a tradition, it is learning how to participate in a conversation" (Michael Oakeshott qtd in Cohen)

On my reading list I am currently juggling
Zadie Smith's On Beauty which makes me laugh a lot, Cemil Koçak's Geçmişiniz İtinayla Temizlenir which infuriates me and makes me have epiphanies at the same time and Wayne Booth's The Rhetoric of Fiction.

Oh and by the way, there is a very nice website goodreads.com where you can build your library and share with your friends what you are reading and your reviews of the books you've read etc. It also provides you an excell file later, if you want, which documents your books with all their info which is pretty cool if you can manage to get your whole library up there (which seems pretty impossible, but in time...)

*My own translation of the title. And sorry about the untranslated quotation which is very long and essential to my argument. I intend to update that soon.. intentions intentions.. ah.

1 The untranslated text: "Tarihçilik, otopsi yapmaya benzer. Nasıl otopsinin amacı, cesedin başına gerçekten ne geldiğini anlamaya yönelikse, târihçi de, otopsi yapan bir adlî tıp uzmanının özeni ve titizliği içinde, karşısına çıkacak sonucun ne olduğuna hiç aldırmadan, soğukkanlılığını koruyarak, öğrendiklerini ve çıkarımlarını hiç değiştirmeden ve cesaretle ortaya koymalıdır. Bu, târihçinin etik yönüdür ve târihçiliğin standardını ve kalitesini de sözünü ettiğim etik anlayışı yansıtır" (Koçak 11).

Reading poetry, growing plants

2009-04-14T21:15:00.004+03:00

I woke up with a severe back pain, it's been twelve hours and I feel a bit nauseous. The world around me spins from time to time. I've been reading up for my presentation this week, for the very class in which I was told to shut my gob. All the while I've contemplated, in fierce ambition, a piece for my blog in defense of arguing. Now it seems, with the world spining around me, I'd rather read poetry...

I realize that the poetry section in my library is feeble..
I look at Sylvia Plath, and foolishly think that I am over her poetry, though I quickly pass Ted Hughes because of my allegiance to her. I hover over e.e.cummings, but I take out Federico Garcia Lorca's Poet in New York. I am not content, but I start wandering through pages...
In discontent I turn to my Turkish poetry section, also poor, and find solace in what I've already read... and what I've already loved...

Yol, iki yer arası değildir -
yer, iki yol arasıdır.

Yola çıkan kişi,
bir yerden kalkıp bir yere ulaşmağa çalışan
değildir -yolu yürüyendir.

Yer görelidir; mutlak olan, yoldur
-ya da, yürümek...

Oruç Aruoba

As I put the basil leaf back between the pages, I remember that I had tried to grow a basil plant in my dorm room once. It had died a miserable death.. From then on, for quite some time I used this as a defense against relationships. I said to people I needed to be able to grow a plant first, then be able to look after a pet... only then, maybe, would I attempt a relationship.
I look for a date inside the book, but there is none. That means I have given away the dated one.. and I can't remember to whom...

I'm not me, the horse is not mine.

2009-04-05T20:07:00.004+03:00

"every word is like an unnecessary stain on silence and nothingness" says Beckett.. although he does say it in words...I would like nothing more than to shut up, if only I knew how.

Free Media

2009-03-23T13:14:00.014+02:00

There's been a flurry of news coming out about the news sources. First there is the digitization of many news sources in the past month or so, then there's the argument about how The NYT has lost its profitability. Then there's the debate about blogs and their sustainability, accountability, and especially their outreach. While it is true that examples like the Huffington Post don't have a staff nearly as diverse and wide as The NYT, they have become more and more crucial to the media cycle. So even as there is always something missing in the blogosphere by the fact that the blogs don't necessarily get raw news, their existence has become somewhat of a check for big news sources. Some big news sources have incorporated blogs into their own web versions and even weekly and monthly magazines have become more interactive in this way.

As I read some of the financial problems of big news companies, I was interrupted by the idea of several smaller news sources such as Laura Flanders in Gritt Tv, and Açık Radyo etc. While I am embarassed to say that these are the only two publicly supported news sources I watch, I wondered if their model of livelihood would be of any useful ideas of other media sources. This, of course, was before I knew the problem with the NYT was not that it was going under but that it had less profitability.

The latest controversy in the Turkish 'news about the news' is the journalists and newspaper editors who are bragging about the fact that they "threw out and even erased from their memory" a piece of news that would put in jeopardy the interests of the nation. The translation of the quotation from March 16th Sabah Op-Ed by its Editor in Chief Erdal Şafak is below:

News or the nation

Newspaper chiefs sometimes run into a dilemma between running a piece of news and the interest of the nation. Last week, this happened to us. We came across some information about a piece of news that would shake Turkey for days if not weeks, moreover would be of concern throughout the rest of the world as well. No, it didn’t have anything to do with politicians or politics. It was an economical issue. To put more clearly, it was about Turkey’s economic and diplomatic relations with a very important country.

When we contacted this important country to get the final details, the departments concerned with this issue, and the lobbies that were sides of this matter flooded our newspaper and said: “Media is free and independent. You and you alone will decide wether or not to run this news. But if you do, we advise you to know that Turkey’s national interests will be damaged greatly and the outcomes of this debacle will haunt you for years to come.”

They painted us the picture of what would happen in detail if this piece of news were to be printed .

Believe me we did not hesitate for a moment. Like many esteemed Western newspapers, for example the New York Times, Washington Post, The Times, Le Monde, we too ignored and disregarded the piece of news in favour of national interests. Not only did we rip it to pieces and throw it out, we also erased it from our memories. (Erdal Şafak, March 16th 2009, Sabah, my translation)

The link to the original op-ed piece is here.
Talk about standing up to bullies.. I am truly at a loss for words. Why on earth would someone brag about this? Because they are oh so brave martyrs?
What happened to the ethics of journalism, what happened to "be free of obligation to any interest other than the public's right to know"? If this newspaper would like to make a job out of protecting the nations interests, well, they should open a P.R. firm, run campaigns etc.
What is this Op-Ed meant for? Why are we, the reader, to know that there is a piece of veery important news that we are deprived of because this newspaper is protecting national interests? Sorry to be so damn conspiratorial about this, but this is either a shout out to those who are protected by the disgarding of this news, and is asking for acknowledgement and whatever else comes along with that; or it's an advertisement of the newspaper itself (which is also unethical) tapping to the populist nationalist feelings of the people who read it. Why is the editor preaching to the choir? Who is this Op-Ed really intended for?!

Here are two responses to this controversy, one by Yıldırım Türker of Radikal and another by Markar Eseyan of Taraf.

Since most television channels in Turkey have no regard for credits they usually cut the end credits of movies. This is possibly why All The Presidents Men seem 'romantic' to us since we miss out on the "this was a true story, such and such happened to such and such afterwords" part. What is even more sad is the fact that there exists a board to oversee radio and television in Turkey. It's called RTÜK, and what it does, instead of paying any attention to the aforementioned problem is to shut down an independent radio station for 15 days because they read a short story by Bukowski, or ban a program hosted by the very prominent transdresser in the country. The latest craze is the blurring of smoke and alcohol on air, even if the movie is very very old. Consider watching Blade Runner without seeing the smoke exhaled by Rachael.. booring.
The media in Turkey is in serious need of some introspection, some purpose and some ethics. The RTÜK seems to be the apology that is worse than the crime, so that's no answer at all. The thin line between censor and accountability has been vandalized so brutally that I wonder if it can ever be set straight. But then again, what am I talking about.. as Murat Belge would say: "the priority in Turkey is always to save the nation, the main dish is always nationalism, the side order can change from left to right, from religious to secular etc., but the main dish, the thing that everyone wants a piece of is always the nation state."

In book news, I've just finished reading Sessiz Ev (Silent House) by Orhan Pamuk, which was frustratingly relevant and hit home pretty harsh that it took courage to get through the last few chapters. We think that post 70's and 80's we would have been done with a girl being killed because of the newspaper she reads or what she believes, wether religious or ideological. You'd think that almost a decade into the 21st century (whatever the relevance may or may not be) we'd be entitled to free media. And I speak not of objectivity, which I know is not possible and which I do not preach for. But seriously, even if you are protecting the interests of the nation, why would you write that op-ed? for transparency of censor?!

Now reading: The News About the News: American Journalism in Peril by Leonard Downie Jr. and Robert G. Kaiser

In other news, the past week Açık Radyo, one of Turkey's only independent media sources funded by its listeners, held its fundraising programs, inviting many famous and devoted people to their cause. Since I haven't been able to contribute financially for the first time this year, I'd like to post their link here for anyone who'd like to contribute.

for more on journalism ethics visit the SPJ website.

Edit: 25.03.2009 Check out Halil Berktay's column

The raging feminist entry, or, for C.

2009-03-07T21:10:00.011+02:00

This is the inevitable blog about the gender and orientalism thingy. It has been brewing for a while and will therefore jump from one issue to another very quickly:
Today Hillary Clinton appeared on a program called Haydi Gel Bizimle Ol; a word play adapted from lyrics "come be with me" to "come be with us". The program is hosted by four women of different generations and occupations, and corresponds somewhat to the primetime version of The View. The eldest of the hostesses, Pınar Kür, who is a novelist asked a pretty darn stupid question to Hillary that went something like this: "50 years ago women in America didn't have much opportunity to work, they usually worked as secretaries, nurses, models and whatnot. However in the past 50 years a lot has changed, you even almost elected a woman president. In Turkey we have had just the opposite, we have become less important in the social sphere and more and more, our voices are being silenced. As a woman what advice would you give us?"
Now this b.s. which I'm embarassed to recount here is, first of all plain wrong; wrongly put, deceptive and a very very stupid question. What, does she expect? For Hillary to save the dying species of the woman of the Republic who cannot define herself by anything other than the values of the republic and the so called rights the founding father gave to women as a gift! (notice how derridean terms of guest and gift are so contested over here, huh? anyone wanna write a dissertation on that?)
I wonder if she's aware that the equal pay act has, JUST this month, been passed by Obama? Does she know how women considerably got into the workforce in the first place in America? Does she realize that what she stated: that womens voices are being silenced is exactly the opposite of what's happening for such a large portion of women in Turkey? What's happening is that more kinds of women are speaking, and so maybe her voice is a little dimmed. Well, get over yourself Pınar Kür! This is not to say that women are just fine here, but it, and especially Pınar Kür's situation, has not gotten worse for sure.

On another front, I came across a strange news piece the other day. The caption beneath the photo said: "Sudanese women protest the International Criminal Court arrest warrant of Sudan President Omar al-Bashir in Khartoum on Wednesday. " (msnbc) This reminded me of the high percentage of women in the coverage of the Republican Demonstrations that took place in the past years in Turkey. Women with blonde or red hair, wearing short skirts or jeans and accessorized with large Paris Hiltonesque sun glasses were represented on the front lines of these demonstrations.
Isn't it curious that women, somehow have more credibility when they protest or participate in politics? This is not at all as pretty as it seems.
C.'s div3 (graduation thesis) focused on the representation of women in the founding of the republic. One of the comparisons I loved most in her dissertation were of two paintings, one by Delacroix Liberty Leading People painted during the 1830 July Revolution. Another by Zeki Faik İzer who I must add usually works much more abstract than this one called İnkılap Yolunda (On the Road to Reform).

Notice stark differences, even though the second has been based on the first. The woman in the second picture is not necessarily leading the revolution but rather following the pointed finger of the founding father towards reform. This depiction, as C. has pointed out many a times before, precisely defines the role of the Turkish Republican Woman.

Meltem Ahıska's article1, which I love quoting everywhere, begins: "Europe has been an object of desire as well as a source of frustration for Turkish national identity in a long and strained history". The love hate relationship can also be seen in the above comparison. The copycat painting and its minor distortions are parallel to what Mesut Yeğen's points out as well: that "the reforms were no discussed as such, as solutions to present social problems, but rather as a code for the desired or feared Westernization".2

The occidentalism of Turkey and its peoples is apparent to most. What fascinates me most is the Orientalism that brews within all, and that I encounter so very often. The similarity between the news piece published by a western news source and their Turkish counterparts that focus on the women and Pınar Kür seem to me to be symptomatic of this very integral part of Turkish identity: the western gaze...

blah.
This entry has tired me and hasn't come to a conclusion because I have written it in such rage. However I will end by noting that I look forward to the publication of Nilüfer Göle's new book next week called İç İçe Geçişler: İslam ve Avrupa coming out from Metis. It's supposed to include essays on how Islam has become a part of the evolution of western culture. Exciting.

1Meltem Ahıska; Occidentalism: The Historical Fantasy of the Modern in South Atlantic Quarterly 102:2/3 Spring/Summer 2003.
2Quoted in Meltem Ahıska

edit: from the untranslated transcript of what Pınar Kür said: "Yani aşk her şeyden önemli. Bundan 50 yıl kadar önce oradaki kadınların seçecekleri meslekler sınırlıydı sizin de demin söylediğiniz gibi. İşte; sekreter, hemşire, manken ve hostes gibi. Ama son 50 yılda büyük bir ilerleme oldu. Şimdi artık Amerika'da kadınlar çok ön plandalar, çok iyi işler yapıyorlar. İşte, az daha başkan olacaktınız... Türkiye'de ise maalesef tam tersi oldu. Son yıllarda kadınların toplum içindeki yeri çok geriledi. Gittikçe geri plana itiliyoruz ve sesimizin kesilmesi isteniyor. Şimdi bu tersine dönmüş duruma bakıp siz kendi tecrübelerinizden yola çıkarak biraz bize önerilerde bulunabilir misiniz? "

edit2: also to Pınar Kür, I would advise some reading. This article perhaps? And maybe she'd like to take into consideration several other factors in job discrimination and silencing in general, such as ethnicity, religious belief, age, disability and even class. Well, I guess those aren't stuff she's personally affected by and thus don't matter.

Will We Recover?

2009-02-25T15:28:00.007+02:00

President Obama gave yet another eloquent and moving speech yesterday, reassuring the American people that, yes they will recover. I have watched almost all appearences of Obama since his 2004 DNC speech, and think that he is a great orator, like most would agree. However, at every speech I find myself feeling a bit uneasy. The reason, I have discovered is this: there is one strand of rhetoric in almost all his speeches that I cannot, for the life of me, defend to a non-American.
The part where Obama declares, that "the United States is ready to lead once more" leaves most non-Americans in a state of internal conflict. On the one hand, yes we would like for there to be a leader that will heal all the ills and take all the responsability. (Neither of which is likely to happen). On the other hand, in an era when the force of the nation state has yet to wither, and national autonomy is still an issue; when new nation states are being established every now and then, this rhetoric touches our sense of freedom and autonomy in a reactionary way. These are rather obvious aspects of the reception of this rhetoric which have somehow gone unnoticed in the hullabaloo of Obamamania. Both however, also flawed in themselves!

Two very important things to note alongside with this: Bobby Jindal's reference to the handling (or lack there of) Hurricane Katrina in response to Obama's speech yesterday was a cheap deceptionary tactic. He knowingly posed the Bush governments failure as an example for how government works. Therefore I wouldn't want to exert, in a similar way, that the handling of the middle east crisis by the Bush government is any example to be looked up to in terms of American leadership in the world. Yet still, America's approach to the world at large, and the middle east specifically has't been without major mistakes, over intervention, turning against itself, Bush doctrinny and bullying.
Second of all, I wonder if we, the rest of the world, will ever recover from this me first, America the great leader mentality; the interfere everywhere, bossy international politics and their dire consequences. I'm not sure how to put it without sounding like SarahPalinlikes at beauty pageants saying "World peace!" but there needs to be an effort towards a better world rather than better nations from now on. And I speak not of everyone being rich and prosperous, but rather of everyone being able to breath air, drink clean water and just live. And yes, this is not an expectation from Obama, or any other nationally elected entity I guess. However, losing jobs, missing payments or even losing homes is not the worst condition in which people around the world find themselves, and more priviliged people need to get a reality check. This reminds me of the Washington Post cover page the day of the latest Israeli attack on Palestine.
Yes everyone has their own priorities, their own lives to look after. But how can you say NO (like Jindal just did) to an organized entity trying to make it better; be it the state or something larger. (I should add here that I myself am not for big government, yet Jindal's take on the matter has made me question two things: first of all he sounds like government shouldn't exist at all, and second of all why the heck has he already started campaigning for 2012 if he doesn't believe in government? Does he just wanna slack, like Mr. Bush did?)

The distortions of the media is not news to many but here's some links and reminders:

And coming up: the world water forum hosted in Istanbul/ Turkey this year

Edit: Wow, I have just now seen this interview Laura Flanders had with Andrew Bacevich, author of the book The Limits of Power: The End of American Exceptionalism.

Edit2: Turns out that Bobby Jindal actually made up the story about his involvement in Hurricane Katrina. Check this sad clarification..

Keeping it Real, or The Inertia of Opposition

2009-02-20T10:29:00.010+02:00

So lately I've been thinking about the opposition parties in Turkey and the US. The discontent of and by the opposition party and their constituents in Turkey has been long standing, and this depends mostly on their inertia from being kicked out of the status quo position. In the general elections of 2002, AKP (Justice and Development Party), running in opposition to CHP (Republican People's Party, which was founded by the founder of the Turkish Republic; Atatürk, and thus has symbolic importance as well.) won by a large margin, 363 seats to 178 seats respectively in parliament. The remaining 9 seats were filled by independents, and parties like the DYP (Democratic Party), MHP (Nationalist People's Party), GP (Youth Party), DEHAP (Democratic People's Party) and, ANAP (Motherland Party) couldn't seat any because of the threshold system which eliminates parties with less than 10% of the votes. This meant that the AKP had become the majority party by a mere 34.29% of the votes, followed by the minority party by 19.38%. Most of the rest of the votes were thrown out the window, along with the voices and representatives of a little less than 50% of the populace.
A similar story unfolded during the 2007 elections, where AKP prevailed once more as the majority party, this time with a whopping 46.58% of the votes seating 341 members; followed by the CHP (Republican People's Party) by 20.88%, seating 112; and MHP (Nationalist People's Party) by 14.28% seating 71; leaving another whopping 26 seats for the Independents.
The numbers I've punched in so far make little sense if not to present a background on the circumstances surrounding the opposition.
Strangely enough CHP itself hasn't been the majority party since the elections in 1977, yet still represents, mostly by way of its voters and its symbolism of the Republic's first and therefore "authentic" party, a certain status quo. Furthermore, it didn't exist as such during the three elections held after that, returning to its name only in 1995 and barely making it to parliament with 10.7% of the votes. However, the "status quo" opposition had appeared under different parties (which will complicate this article greatly and thus will be left aside for now). Despite all the complicated politics, in retrospect, there seems to be a widening divide between two ideological camps, the Republicans (not necessarily to be compared to it's American counterpart) and the parties of Islamic Tendency (all of which have been abolished by the justice department, except the latest AKP, which was struggling with such a courtcase only this summer and prevailed).

After such long and apparently not so useful blabber about statistics, I shall come swiftly to my point. Since the AKP rose to power, most of the constituency of the CHP has been supportive of the non-ideology that CHP represents, yet are mostly discontented with the unsuccesfull opposition effort it is making -or rather not making. The reason I say non-ideology, is because rather than presenting a solid ideological or political game plan, the CHP has resorted to constantly saying the opposite of what the AKP champions, taking the word "opposition" a little too literally. This identity of the CHP as the party of NO! has rendered the "democratic" parliament a place of non-resolution (even though the AKP mostly gets its way, because of its status as the majority party) for the past seven years. Sound familiar anyone???

I am not necessarily comparing Barack Obama and the Democratic Party to Abdullah Gül and the AKP. They are not overlapping on many issues. I will only point out though, that the majority status of both these parties have created a stalemate in their oppositions. And without a healthy opposition, I feel, democracy too becomes rather groggy.

To make my point, I will give an example from each country. In the case of the US and the Republican Party, I will resort to an episode in the Rachel Maddow show, at this link.
As for the case of Turkey and the CHP, I shall recount: Mid-December, CHP's Deniz Baykal announced, somewhat in a cocky fashion, that they would gladly welcome women who wear a turban to their meetings. Not only did this lead to an internal crumbling within the CHP, their constituency too threw fits of rage and panic. The idea that the fortress of "secular" (in this context, misinterpreted as people who don't wear their religion) politics had been infiltrated by the "enemy", was one of the several interpretations of this act. The second more realistic one was basically that Baykal had sold his soul to populism. This ill-placed populism effort, just like "the Republicans electing him (Steele) chairman of the party showed 'their thinking Barack Obama is Superman, so what they needed to do was get Cryptonite, Cryptonite comes from Superman's own planet, so they went to planet Black guy' " (quoted from the RMS interview with Melissa Harris Lacewell), demonstrates that they think the AKP is solely about the issue of Turban. This is in part why they have been making such failed attempts at opposing this majority party. The CHP has reduced the AKP to its worst fears, and have thus developed a reflex of NO!
This nay saying politics chooses "to decide that instead of being part of real policy making, instead of being a part of a set of new precepts around conservativism and what conservative politics might be able do for the country, kind of offering an alternative vision, instead Michael Steele would like to direct the GOP to hip-hop?", or in our case direct the CHP to the Turban. These items of cultural warfare are not necessarily devoid of political implication and a potential to win votes. The point is, however, that CHP's so called "reaching out" effort was based on nothing more than just that, a potential to gain votes. It was neither representative nor a consequence of an ideological or political standing, but rather a PR effort that would lead to, if not nothing, some minor meaningless votes.

I am one to relish in the importance of opposition rahter than the majority when it comes to Democracy. After all the essence of it lies in the principle that there will be no tyranny of the majority. Yet the majority will not do that itself, there needs to be a meaningful effort on the part of the elected opposition, an effort to convey what their constituents wished to be expressed in electing them. Otherwise, we can only hope that the majority changes every now and then (which seems unlikely both historically and looking ahead), to allow for the ruling party to change everything to it's and it's constituents' own benefits. That kind of non-resolute and volatile politics can only lead to growing difference and hatred between people and ideologies, both culturally and economically.

On the other hand I do realize that some people, and certain groups will never agree on certain issues. Perhaps a little naively, I still believe that isn't reason enough for us to hate eachother. For a mild discussion on that here is another RMS link.
This will, hopefully continue and bloom into a discussion about Israel as well. (Not quite equiped for that yet).

ps. I'm now on twitter as well: http://twitter.com/larafresko

Out of shape

2009-02-17T15:32:00.005+02:00

It's quite strange to be back. Frankly I feel like I haven't left at all. The water in the coffee machine seems to be the same, the contents of the fridge haven't changed and everything I brought back from my trip has been absorbed by the shelves and storage spaces of my tiny room. All is settled, like those glass sphere toys that sparkle and snow when shaken. All is settled. There is almost no trace of the past month, not even a hint of depression caused by inertia.

I had so much to write about in the past month, but somehow I put it off and kept walking instead. I walked up and down streets and avenues and much more than 18 miles of books. “How many cities have revealed themselves to me in the marches I undertook in the pursuit of books!” writes Benjamin in his essay “Unpacking My Library: A Talk About Book Collecting".

Some links to get over the impasse of writing:
On Google and the Future of Books.

An article, intended to introduce the magazine. I'd rather post Elif Batuman's article Uzbek for Turks but it isn't available online.

The last issue of ResetDOC is on "The language of Islam".
Also, there will be a conference at the New School in early March on religion and secularism in America. The abstracts look pretty interesting..

Some book talk to cover-up the fact that I've gone blank once I attempted writing...
Finished Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides; which travels from Bursa to Detroit, covering ground from silver spoon mythology to the rationality of Fordist production to weave a narrative that leaves you smack in the middle of undefined territory. Written in nine long years, the book reflects in depth research on history, science and human experience.
I personally read it along with Fixing Sex: Intersex, Medical Authority, and Lived Experience by Katrina Karzakis just to keep up with the literature in gender studies and anthropology. (Also a great and accessible book.)

Currently juggling The Last Days of Publishing, a novel by Tom Engelhardt and Remembering Mr. Shawn's New Yorker: The Invisible Art of Editing by Ved Mehta which I'm finding to be a journey that begins as V.S.Naipaulesque and will end up god knows where.

Verso books announced its titles for the fourth Radical Thinkers series, which include Simon Critchley's Ethics-Politics-Subjectivity: Derrida, Levinas, and Contemporary French Thought. His book Infinitely Demanding: Ethics of Commitment, Politics of Resistance is first in line to be read.
Verso also created a booklist for those who are interested in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.

Also waiting to be read are Binnie Kirshenbaum's A Disturbance in One Place, which I stole from C.'s bookshelf before I left, and Marilynne Robinson's Housekeeping which I got curious about through her interview in the previous Paris Review.

I'll give it another shot soon.. this one didn't quite work. Apparently blogging too, needs constant attention and practice.

the banality of speech

2009-01-08T00:45:00.004+02:00

If I have only 10.. actually 9 days left, that means a lot of things, one of which is that I haven't been writing in a month. I was thinking the other day, tossing and turning in another stress related sleepless night, that the months december and january are always pretty depressing. It may be the weather, and I'd love to blame the weather.. but it's not only that.
(enter the song blame it on my youth)

The previous post, -which I had indeed written on December 11th but only posted today- depicts a rather morbid and hopeless picture. Well things haven't gotten any better since. War has no regard for holliday season, and that's perhaps the least of my worries. I am openly terrorized -and I use this word in all its weight- about what's going on, and there are a couple of things I've been thinking about that concerns not only distant lands but also distant times...

Here's a video I liked this week to begin with, and it speaks pretty much for itself.

There's something about condemnation.. to condemn what someone is doing.. speech act. To perform a condemnation.
Turkey's PrimeMinister condemned Israel's actions the other day in a speech that went something in the lines of this: "We speak as the grandchildren of the Ottomans who took you (the jews) in as guests when you were kicked out of Spain." So this hospitality was the authority behind his condemnation.. his kinship with the Ottomans, which I don't hear being embraced so enthusiastically when other issues are being.. debated shall we say?
Not only is this paradigmatically and ontologically the worst way to handle such a condemnation, it is not helpful in any diplomatic sense whatsoever. So what was the point of this line? (Yes I am delusional and I think that they think about what they're saying up there).
For those who have been holding their breaths for the past paragraph can let it out now, as I will say clearly that my protest of this condemnation is in now way in support of the condemned. It is simply in the name of NUANCE! I really find it unnecessary to detail at least 5 things that are embarassingly problematic. I will blow my nose and pass on to other subjects, and perhaps drift back at some point to bitch and moan. Seriously, guests!?

Something else, my now over psychoanalysis class was making me rather queezy about its dependence on 'science' and the other day we were talking about mirror neurons which are apparently a source of empathy in our brains. According to Bülent Somay, our professor, women have more of these, and are thus more empathetic. No its not because of sexism, it's only because of the age old division of labour among men and women, where women care for the child. Since the child cannot express its wishes in language for a while, the mothers communication with the baby depends on empathy, thus a greater number of mirror neurons in women.
My point however is not about men or women, its about language. According to this theory, because men have words to communicate with, they have less empathy. That there, is my whole belief in language and empathy hand in hand saving the world. Apparently, one trumps the other.
But as far as empathy goes, I was wondering, do you do what you see? Do you kill if you see someone else killing someone? Or do you empathize with the suffering? With whom do you empathize?

And this is the link of a New Yorker article about Hannah Arendt, her work, the world...

a less clever, more emotional quoting episode

2008-12-11T15:05:00.004+02:00

It is wisdom as old as time that we wish not to be sad, not to be in pain and strive for better conditions, happiness, joy, pleasure... Freud explains this as such: "It aims, on the one hand, at an absence of pain and unpleasure, and, on the other, at the experiencing of strong feelings of pleasure" (Freud 25). The holliday season -relevant here only as new years- is a time when we all want to be happier, apparently. Or it is pushed on us ever so much more, that we feel guilted into being happy.

"It is that we are never so defenceless against suffering as when we love, never so helplessly unhappy as when we have lost our loved object or its love" (Freud 33)

"Against the suffering which may come upon one from human relationships the readiest safeguard is voluntary isolation." (Freud 27)

"The birthplace of the novel is the solitary individual, who is no longer able to express himself by giving examples of his most important concerns, is himself counseled and cannot counsel others" (Benjamin 87)

"It seems certain that we do not feel comfortable in our present day civilization, but it is very difficult to form an opinion whether and in what degree men of an earlier age felt happier and what part their cultural conditions played in the matter." (Freud 41). And so, nostalgia too gets a kick in the balls.

A lot of Riffing and Quoting and Linking and Listing

2008-12-09T15:14:00.014+02:00

So, for the first time in a long time I'm making plans. I have approximately 40 days to go, and a very long and troublesome list of TO DO's. There are to do's for school, and then there are to do's for travel. The latter is more interesting so, here goes...
First of all there's a list of books to read, which is the fun part (there's also the part where you go to a fortress of a consulate to get a visa, and pay horrendous amounts of money for a ticket to cross the atlantic, but I'll let those get away for the sake of a mildly smiley blog)

Simone deBeauvoir's America Day by Day (1947)
Federico Garcia Lorca's Poet in New York (1929)
and just maybe John Malcolm Brinnin's Dylan Thomas in America

I like that all of these books reflect an uneasiness of being where they are, and a process of easing in which is never fully complete. It reminds me of the feeling of being in a new and unfamiliar city, walking on the street and suddenly seeing a little dog on its leash tiptoeing the sidewalk. I don't know why but this scene happens to me in every city.
I also like the fact that Beauvoir and Lorca's experiences are inundated with historical times and concerns. (Haven't begun reading the other one yet.) I was reading Halil Berktay's column in Taraf the other day and he mentions Lorca's relationship with Dali, and his fate in the hands of a Franco dictatorship. The times and events, especially the story of the grave reminded me of Walter Benjamin, whose name appears further in this blog.
Berktay also mentions this article in his column: http://www.nybooks.com/articles/21870
which if you're too indolent to read, begins with this lovely quote from Chekhov and is about Philip Roth's novel Indignation:

"There ought to be behind the door of every happy, contented man some one standing with a hammer continually reminding him with a tap that there are unhappy people; that however happy he may be, life will show him her claws sooner or later, trouble will come for him—disease, poverty, losses, and no one will see or hear, just as now he neither sees nor hears others."
-Anton Chekhov

-----

Some more links today:

http://www.nybooks.com/articles/22182

Orhan Pamuk's essay about his Turkish library struck me to be something very familiar, especially the part where he carries the books he likes from his fathers library to his own room. I do this to my family library too, and then I think about how hard it would be to leave this room if I ever got the chance. That is why, perhaps, I have decided to look for online books before I go out and buy them. As I've mentioned before I have also come to the conclusion that online subscriptions to magazines are the best thing ever. Well in light of all that another link is due:

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/11/30/opinion/30gleick.html?_r=1

News on the side of violence and accountability:
http://www.hrw.org/en/reports/2008/12/05/closing-ranks-against-accountability-0
This is the link to the human rights watch report on police violence in Turkey and how it cannot be tracked nor prosecuted for various reasons.
http://www.thenation.com/doc/20081222/scahill?rel=hp_picks
This link on the other hand is Jeremy Scahill's report on the indictment of several Blackwater operatives, for the killings of civilians at the Nisour Square/Iraq. It is a small step towards accountability, which is gravely needed in times of war. This is once again tribute to the fact that no condition, war or peace, is reason to legitimize the killing of people: human beings, no matter race, color, ethnicity, gender, sexual orientation etc. I do know a couple of people (!) who tend to forget that.

A little inspiration from Keith Olberman, let's count down for the 218th consecutive day of the youtube ban in Turkey, about which the prime minister has said lately, "I can view youtube, you should too". As much as it is a known fact that there are ways to access youtube and other banned websites, how is this statement not an invitation to break the law if "Access to this web site is banned by "TELEKOMÜNİKASYON İLETİŞİM BAŞKANLIĞI" according to the order of: Ankara 1. Sulh Ceza Mahkemesi". What's the use of law, if it is not to be enforced. What's the use of enforcement if it doesn't make sense. Who is protecting who from what?
This reminds me of Rachel Maddow's take on the Prohibition: the ban on alcohol in America from 1919 to 1932, a time when illegal solutions such as bootlegging and gangsterism were widespread. My point is: prohibitions and bans, especially on moral issues is a joke. People get around it! You cannot legislate morality!!!
Having said that, here is the link for the Prop 8 musical.

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Stuff I read this week were not all that interesting I must admit, except for the rereading of some parts in Walter Benjamin's Reflections and Illuminations edited by Hannah Arendt. (Speaking of self hating jews, -i am being sarcastic!- I'm looking forward to reading Norman Finkelstein's Beyond Chutzpah, possibly during winter break.)
Back to Walter Benjamin, I must say his Conversations with Brecht (which can also be found in Verso's compilation Aesthetics and Politics) is a must read. It is funny, intriguing and extremely stimulating to read the conversation of two great minds of that era.
Par example:
"We went on to talk about Russian policy toward literature. "With these people" I said, referring to Lukács, Gabor, Kurella, "you just cannot build a state." Brecht: "Or only a state, but not a community. They are quite simply enemies of production. Production makes them uneasy. It cannot be trusted. It is the unpredictable. You never know where it will end. And they themselves do not want to produce. They want to play the apparatchik and supervise others. Each of their criticisms contains a threat." (Benjamin 216)

This part got me thinking about the status quo loving Turkish literature -political and literary-, the literature that aims first and foremost to preserve the state. The hypocrisy of the mission to "enlighten" the masses, and then suppress their enlightenment has become an all too apparent fact today. The hierarchy of charity and tolerance have become transparent.

Here goes the quotation set of the day to "enlighten" those in need of it, about the difference between a secular state and a religious one.. (please do think of this as a contestation to both, instead of support for one)

"The nation draws its authority from reason rather than from revelation, reason being thus conceived as an aggregate of fundamental insights, innate or developed by speculation, not as an agency concerned merely with the means for putting them into effect." (Horkheimer 13).
+
"Myth is already enlightenment; and enlightenment reverts to mythology" (Adorno&Horkheimer)
=
none whatsoever.
(it is clear that secularism by no means effectively discourages legislation of morality and such.)

"July 26 1938. Brecht said yesterday evening: 'There is no longer any doubt -the struggle against ideology has become a new ideology.' " (Benjamin 217)

WMD's? or Think Small Do More Good than Harm?

2008-12-02T11:41:00.008+02:00

The latest attacks on Mumbai, and the latest report that says "if we were to map weapons of mass destruction all roads would converge in Pakistan" got me thinking about these scary weapons of mass destruction. I am far more scared of ruthless men torturing and killing than the A-bomb right now, thanks to Julius and Ethel Rosenberg in part.
http://query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html?res=9F0CE1DB1339F937A25752C0A965958260&sec=&spon=&pagewanted=2

The Russians having the A-bomb may have led to a bipolar world for a couple of decades, but consider this, if they hadn't the technology as well, it would have possibly been used more often since 1945.
Now we're afraid of wmd's and such large scale threats. What about what happened in Mumbai? It was small scale, people with nothing to lose. I do not honestly believe that they're afraid of being brought to justice. Bringing them to justice is far more complicated that we might see at first sight.

And what has the last eight years of American foreign policy done for the world exactly? It has believed in large scale threats, taking its que from the A-bomb or the 9/11 attacks, and in response has waged large scale wars. What we're seing now is smaller scale attacks. The way to deal with this is possibly to do small scale things in response. Nicholas Kristof of the NYT was on Rachel Maddow yesterday evening and he said this:
"India is refering to this as its 9 11 and its going to respond to this as we did after 9 11 which felt satisfying emotionally but ended up empowering our enemies. and I think there is a risk that India is going to put more pressure on Pakistan in all kinds of ways including its military in the border areas in Kashmir. In ways that will simply strenghten Pakistani military, undermine the moderates in Pakistan which will mean that less money going into literacy programs and more money to F-16's. "
The rest of the conversation can be found here: (He does seem to have hope for a better solution so do watch)
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/21134540/vp/28005987#28005987
I honestly think what Kristof is saying is important, in the sense that terrorism has been approached the wrong way for a long time in all parts of the world. If you hit an already angry person, they will attack stronger. Well, you can't ignore them either, that's not an option. So what is the way out of this mess?

Here's Patrick Cockburn's take on the matter: http://www.counterpunch.org/patrick12012008.html

and here's another side of the story going on in Pakistan:
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/11/30/opinion/30kristof.html

As for my beloved Turkey, today the alternative newspaper Taraf 's headline was this. "27.800 people died in Bingöl, not just 33". The back story of this goes as such: On the 25th of May 1993, a general pardon was about to be discussed, and even the military was for it. That day, an attack on a military troop in Bingöl, which had been sent on a bus without guns or ammunition were ambushed and 33 were killed. Since that day, no pardon has been issued for PKK (Kurdish Workers Party) members who haven't killed. (That was the plan in 1993). And 27.800 people have died in the feud since.
This may seem like a very simple story line. Well its not, I agree. But still... Listen to Kristof again. This is no easy task to solve, there are many many people and institutions involved. It will not be easy, but there is the thinnest of thin silver linings and that is the line we need to pursue to get somewhere. Seriously.

Sometimes we feel crippled, and desperate in the face of such devastation in the world. We feel we need to do something big, something drastic to change it, and it looms larger than doable, it scares us and leads to passivity. We can do small things, smile to people we don't know, not antagonize people we don't know which generates hate and resentment, not judge and make faces at everyone who doesn't think or look like ourselves. These are small things, that have big outcomes.
http://www.peacecorps.gov/

on the other hand: http://www.altruists.org/static/files/To%20Hell%20with%20Good%20Intentions%20(Ivan%20Illich).pdf

*On our What the post?colonialism! corner this week:

What's up with these free trade agreements and Korea: The free economic zone! advertisements. Invest, in the lands of deregulation... haha

It sucks that redemption is taken for granted so much.

Pardon my ignorance

2008-11-20T16:54:00.008+02:00

In light of the unraveling economic crisis in the U.S., I got to thinking about capitalism, state, and ethics. Not necessarily my topic of interest, economics has made its way to the center stage of my attention lately and it might be a good opportunity to curb my ignorance on the matter.

The other day I was thinking, that Capitalism works only because some guys think they're more clever than the rest. Which apparently they are. Par example, it has become meaningless to protest the fact that many manufactured goods are sold at much higher prices than they're worth. This is the most basic form of inequality in the market right? The worker gets paid little, the brand gets all the money. Nike, was the example we grew up on in the late 1990's.

So I wanted to read Allan Greenspan's latest book, but the dolar has gone up so much its just plain stupid to buy foreign books here these days. If the dolar ever again hits 1.10YTL, which seems impossible, I will go on an absurd book shopping spree.

However, even if this is the guy who said: "Those of us who have looked to the self-interest of lending institutions to protect shareholder's equity -- myself especially -- are in a state of shocked disbelief," during his session with congress, I'm sure that's not the comprehensive synopsis of Greenspan's thought. (Still hoping, what happened to my cynicism!)

Paul Krugman's column in the New York Times gives you a knack of things, and has gotten even more popular since the author won the Nobel Prize for Economics. But what I urgently want to read is Naomi Klein's The Shock Doctrine. I was first introduced to this book by a short video, presented just before another documentary film at the Film Festival last year. We, the audience, weren't aware of this showing, so a couple of people actually thought they'd come to the wrong showing and left. I, personally, was shocked myself, having been exposed to such knowledge for the first time. I'm sure this short documentary can be found on YouTube and such, but I just can't be bothered to deal with the internet filtering anymore, so no links for that one. But here goes the link for another movie which I saw for the first time in a basement of a pub in London: The ZeitGeist Movie: http://www.zeitgeistmovie.com/

So, back to the concept of Shock! The first couple of days of the U.S. economy going down the drain was, in retrospect, a theatrical display of the shock method being used so clumsily that it made the whole plot show through. It was obvious, even accros the globe in Turkey, that Hank Paulson's panicy tantrums about the economy crashing if we dont do something soon!!! *enter horror movie suspense music* wasn't going to make anything better. On the contrary, from what I understand, they needed to make sure that credit kept flowing but instead they led to a shut down on all levels.

Now, you might not remember this, but at about the same time McCain was faulting Obama for having said that he would go into Pakistan if he had BinLadin in his sights. His argument was that you don't say that and give strategic inteligence out like charity money. Well, what Paulson was screaming throughout the corridors of Washington was giving away any strategic placebo for the markets. Hence the Dow fell 700 in one day. Yesterday, the markets plunged once more, when it was declared officially that: the US has been in Recession since last December!!!

Amidst this very depressing view of the economy, as well as the panic caused by the seeming incompetence or resigned attitude displayed by those entrusted to solve this, I somehow see hope. (What's up with this leitmotif of hope!!!) And I'm almost sure it's not the left-overs from the Obama win. A book I stumbled upon this summer was Richard Sennett's The Corrosion of Character.

The book is mainly about the difference of work ethics and habits between different generations. This kind of segways nicely into Obama's campaign rethoric of his grandparents, and other people of their generation who had worked so hard, just in the hope that their children or grand children could go to college or have a house of their own or whatnot. (Reread Artur Miller's Death of A Salesman for the real taste of things). The thing is, that according to Sennett, this kind of work is no longer possible. This generation (meaning perhaps my parents' generation) cannot stick at one job and have a steady income, or rise steadily. It seems so impossible to hold on to one job throughout ones life, that Sennett actually names the situation a drift: how personal character is attacked by the new capitalism.

So I'd say we're on the verge of something new, something to be created in the here and now. Any ideas anyone?

Life with the Russian Formalists

2008-11-18T22:41:00.006+02:00

For the past week I've been reading works of and about the Russian Formalists, preparing for a fifteen minute presentation. It's true that I've put more time and effort into this than anything else in my life right now (if I'd spent half the time applying last year it might have worked), but here's what happened: Last monday as I got out of my Ottoman class in the morning -which is my motivational kick-start to the week- I decided to go to the Boğaziçi University library to read Viktor Erlich's Russian Formalism: History and Doctrine. Having been deprived of a proper library, and a well lit table to work on for so long, I quenched my thirst in six hours straight that first day. I was there without permission, I hadn't payed up the 40 liras for a membership at the time, yet everyone seemed unsuspicious and smiled at me as I went in and out. I'm guessing I owe that to my geekier by the moment looks which help avoid any traffic inspections as well.

Yesterday, when I finally did pay and become a member on my fourth visit, I wasn't quite able to concentrate. I stayed for eight hours, went out for a sandwich and some tea for twenty minutes, and still only got two hours worth of work out of me. Not to worry, since my extra-curricular internet surfing resulted in the discovery of a very talented writer Elif Batuman, who was born in NY and has received her PhD from Stanford Comparative Literature! Coincidentally, one of her articles turned out to be on the exact! topic I was supposed to study on, -Russian Formalists remember?- and thus: concentration.
I went through Frederic Jameson's The Prison House of Language in English. Although I had bought the Turkish translation in the first month of 2007 I hadn't been able to read it since. Then re-read some of Terry Eagleton's Literary Theory: An Introduction. I never thought I'd be able to be the re-reading kind, so that was impressive too.
So in Palinian terms I'm "tooting my own horn". In GREian terms I'm a pedant. Someone who shows off learning.

Talking of Palin, did you see her "by the pool" photos!

Whatever
During my idle surfing I happened to buy a digital membership to The Nation. (Actually that's how I came across Elif Batuman, she also writes for n+1 and The New Yorker.) And still better, made my New Yorker membership a digital only one too. So now I can also brag about being somewhat greener. These memberships also allow you to browse all the past issues and arrives just in time, so hopefully I wont read about, say the elections, two weeks too late. Even greater is that I have almost run out of storage space in my tiny room and would soon be sleeping under magazines if it weren't for these online subscriptions. So that works too.
So a couple of links, sadly some of which non-members cannot reach:

This one is Batuman's article on Shklovsky:
http://www.thenation.com/doc/20051024/batuman

and her inspiring blog (just cuz I'm a stalker)
http://www.elifbatuman.net/

and for AlBo exclusively
http://www.lrb.co.uk/v30/n07/batu01_.html

Then again, once I am done with my presentation tomorrow, I have to think about paper topics: One for my theory of literature class, about which I thought I had a good idea, but the more I read, the wider the topic gets. It's becoming frustrating. Another is for a class called Politics and the Novel, and the theme of the course is Utopia in Turkish literature, of all topics and of all literatures. It simply does not exist. I might venture to explain in my final paper why it doesn't exist. I juuuust might argue that all but one of the authors we've read so far totally ignore the thin line between phenomenon and language, subject and fabula as my new Russian friends would have said. How I'd make the case for the non-existence of utopian narratives through this argument, only god knows. Given that, I am possibly the greatest believer in language and its potential. Language is my utopia. That sounds geekier than I thought it would.

And the latest book news:
My dear friend AlBo has given me Michael Chabon's Gentlemen of the Road which I intend to read before I stack it up with all the other books. I also have him to thank for The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay which has restored my confidence in contemporary literature. I read it in three days during the summer despite its heft and I recommend it to every single person on the planet.

From the lovely library, I cannot borrow but I do have a list of to reads:
Philip E. Wegner - Imaginary Communities: Utopia, The Nation and the Spatial Histories of Modernity
Ernst Bloch - The Utopian Function of Art and Literature

That's all for now. Back to toast with my Russians: Na Zdrovia

some quotes and links before i make sense of it all

2008-11-09T22:46:00.007+02:00

"Unity and diversity, after all, always coexist uneasily" -Fernand Braudel A History of Civilizations

"For one need not scrutinize the concept of 'identification' very sharply to see, implied in it at every turn, its ironic counterpart: division" -Franco Moretti Signs taken for Wonders

"I know that for more than two centuries, we have strived – at great cost and great sacrifice – to form a more perfect union; to seek, with other nations, a more hopeful world. Our allegiance has never been to any particular tribe or kingdom – indeed, every language is spoken in our country; every culture has left its imprint on ours; every point of view is expressed in our public squares. What has always united us – what has always driven our people; what drew my father to America’s shores – is a set of ideals that speak to aspirations shared by all people: that we can live free from fear and free from want; that we can speak our minds and assemble with whomever we choose and worship as we please." -Barack Obama Berlin Speech

"It becomes all the more important to think about the politics of exuberant identification with the election of Obama when we consider that support for Obama has coincided with support for conservative causes. " -Judith Butler
http://www.indybay.org/newsitems/2008/11/05/18549195.php

It seems odd to compare American politics to Turkish politics, but I have been hearing echoes lately. Barack Obama's election night speech went something like this: "And to those Americans whose support I have yet to earn, I may not have won your vote tonight, but I hear your voices. I need your help. And I will be your president, too." This rhetoric, in the exact same wording, has been said now in three different languages to my knowledge, Turkish, Greek and English.
My wildest hope is that this is reflective of a new and genuine spirit of the demand for a more perfect union: not in terms of being uniform, but in terms of being able to communicate. I look forward to see how a president Obama handles his promise to be the president of a"more perfect union"... (My naive and hopeful days are about to come to an end, I won't be uncritical of Obama either)

Some more links:

The mock New York Times Website.. a beacon of hope?
http://www.nytimes-se.com/

Keith Olbermann's reaction to Prop 8: http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/21134540/vp/27668766#27652443

More on Paul Auster from the knowledgeable guy:

"Ultimately, Auster reminds us that each of us looks at existence through story-colored lenses. The world we inhabit is literally shaped by Story. We all have our "life stories," and these govern how we see ourselves and others, how we interpret events and memories and expectations." -Michael Dirda http://www.nybooks.com/articles/22120

Just to be blacklisted by authorities:
http://www.nybooks.com/articles/22113

Another Brick in the Wall

2008-11-02T16:54:00.011+02:00

Paul Auster'ın son kitabı Man in the Dark tam şu sıralar okunacak bir kitap, Amerikan seçimlerine iki (2) gün kalmışken seçimlerden başka birşeyden bahsetmeme de vesile..

Auster'ın beni başından beri etkileyen bir tekniği vardır: Yazınla gerçekliği, yazarla anlatıcıyı ve hatta karakterleri birbirine geçirip durur. Oracle Night'ta mavi bir defterin sihridir yazıyı gerçekliğe, gerçekliği de na-gerçekliğe dönüştüren. Man in the Dark'ta da yazılan defter değil de bir yazar/eleştirmen'in hayal gücüdür kendi kendine çukurlar kazan. Bana öyle geliyor ki Auster'ın derdi kelimelerin, dilin ve yazının her zaman onu sınırladığının ve hatta kontrolü yazarın elinden aldığının farkında olmasıdır. Ve bunu hiçbir zaman bu şekilde belirtmese de neredeyse bütün romanlarındaki sıkışmışlık, kapana kısılmışlık hissinin, yazarın dilde sıkışmışlığı hissine tekabül ettiğini düşünüyorum. Zira her romanda yazın/anlatı kendi kendini hapsedecek şekilde yazarın/anlatanın elinden çıkar ve yazarı/anlatanı hapseder.
Man in the Dark'ın yetmişküsürlük anlatıcısı Auguste Brill de, yası tükenmeyen bir Amerikan evinin anlatıcısı. Ve bu noktada Auster'ın romanına daha önce görmediğim bir katman geliyor, o da politik içerik. Bunun ne kadar iyi ne kadar kötü olduğu tartışılır, bence kitabı geçici kılmış, ama bunu da zaman gösterecek.

Auguste Brill, geceleri ayık yatarken ölen karısını, intihar etmiş kız kardeşini, kızını terkeden kocasını, torununun Irak'ta ölen kocasını düşünmemek için bir kurguya girişir. Kurgusunda Amerika'da 2000 seçimlerinin sonuçları çok farklı olmuş, ikiz kuleler yıkılacağına New York Birleşik Devletler'den ayrılmış, onu takip eden pek çok eyalet özgürlüklerini ilan etmiş ve iç savaş çıkmıştır. Kurgunun ana karakteri Owen Brick bu alternatif dünyaya gerçek dünyadan ışınlanmış, kendisini bir çukurun dibinde kısılı kalmış olarak bulur... Detaya girmeden, özetle, geri dönmesi için yapması gereken bu hikayeyi kurgulayan zihni yoketmek, yani Auguste Brill'i öldürmektir.
"Because he owns the war. He invented it, and everything that happens or is about to happen is in his head. Eliminate the head, and the war stops. It's that simple."

Bütün roman dört beş tane roman taslağının ve yazılmış sayfaların biraraya getirilmiş hali gibi göründüğü için, farklı parçacıkları ayrı ayrı yorumlamak isteği doğuruyor içimde. Brill'in torunuyla izlediği filmler ve bu filmler hakkında uzun uzun yazdığı yorumlar, incelemeler sanki Columbia Üniversitesinde bir öğrencinin film dersine yazdığı makalelerden parçalar gibi, romanın ana ekseninden uzakta, ona bağlanamayan başka eksenler üretiyor. Buna daha sonra ikinci dünya savaşından sahneler ve kurgusunun arasına giren hayatından parçacıklar da ekleniyor...

---

Auster daha önce bahsettiğim bu dil oyunlarını gittikçe daha açıkça yapıyor, ve son iki kitabında bu bir sorun haline gelmiş gibi görünüyor. Birincisi, benim gibi dedicated okurlar bir süre sonra bu oyunları ezbere biliyor oluyor ve Agatha Christievari bir tekrara maruz kalıyor. İkincisi de Auster daha açıklayıcı bir usluba soyundukça okuyucu için keşfedecek birşey kalmıyor. Bu romanında ilk defa yazının eksikliğini, dünyaların fazlalığıyla; dünyanın gerçekliğindeki eksikliği de tanrıyla açıklamaya girişiyor Auster. Bunu yaparken de aslında yazarın ya da anlatıcının yaratanla olan yakınlığını vurguluyor aslında.
"He (Giordano Bruno) argued that if God is infinite, and if his powers are infinite, then there must be an infinite number of worlds." diye Owen Brick'e durumu açıklamaya çalışan Frisk adlı herif daha sonra Quantum fiziği hipotezlerine sığınaraktan şöyle diyor: "There is no single reality, Corporal. There are many realities. There is no single world. There are many worlds, and they all run parallel to one another, worlds and anti-worlds, worlds and shadow-worlds, and each world is dreamed or imagined or written by someone in another world. Each world is the creation of a mind."

Derken Auguste Brill'in kurgusunda kendisi beliriyor, ve Frisk, Brick'e öldürmesi gereken yetmiş iki yaşındaki adamın fotografını gösteriyor. Geçenlerde bir arkadaşımla Orhan Pamuk'un da son kitabında beliriverdiğinden bahsediyorduk, ve bunun edebi önemini açıklamayı o sırada becerememiştim. Auster'da durum aynı değil tabi, Auster is nowhere to be seen. Ama Brill'in kendini kurgusuna atmasıyla kendine dönen kurgu, Rus Biçimcilerini eminim kendinden geçirirdi. Uzun süre gözümde defamiliarization'un ustası olmuş Auster'ın bu seferki başarısızlığını Berna Moran'dan bir alıntıyla açıklayayım: "yazınsallık alışılmışı kırmak olduğuna göre, bunu mümkün kılan yollar uzun süre değişmeden kalamaz. Çünkü uzun süre içinde bu yollar da alışkanlık yaratır ve bir zaman gelir ki alışkanlığı kırma gücünü yitirirler." (Moran, s.184). Auster'ın okuyucusunun küçüldüğünü değil büyüyüp olgunlaştığını anlaması gerekiyor.

Öyleyken de böyle, Virginia bu hikayede Brill'in emir kulu gibidir. Brick'i sözümona oraya o getirtmiştir ve onu geri dönmemeye ikna edemeyecek olsa da yaratıcısını öldüremeden kendi ölümüne sürükleyecektir. Bu sayede 118. sayfada anlatıcımız Brill, kendini öldürmeye doğru ilerleyen kurguyu öldürür. Bununla birlikte ikinci dünya savaşından bazı anlatıları düşünmeye girişir. Auster gene örgüyü tutturamamış, başka bir yerden çıkardığı anlatıları bu kitaba yamalıyor gibi görünse de aslında Brill'in başından beri böylesine dengesiz, böylesine bölük pörçük bir anlatılar içinde kaybolmasının sebebi asıl meseleden kaçıyor olmasıdır. Yazması gereken bir kişisel tarih vardır, ve onu yapmamak için quantum fiziğinden girip ikinci dünya savaşından çıkmıştır.
Bundan sonraki bölüm kırık dökük Amerikan ailesinin kendini affetme, gerçekle yüzleşmesidir ve Auster bile bunu yazarken sıkılmış olmalı ki bu kadar kısa sürede (50 sayfa) çözümlenir. Bir gece boyunca kaçtığı herşey gün ışığına kadar çözülür gibi yapar ve sonunda ailecek kahvaltıya gitmek ya günlük hayata dönüştür ya da iştahlı bir yaşlı amcadır.
The weird world rolls on roman boyunca pek çok kez tekrarlanır... evet hayat devam ediyordur etmesine ve Paul Auster romanındaki temposuzluğun, didaktik taktiksel tekniklerin ve iyi işlenmemiş iyi bir sürü fikirlerin suçunu yetmişiki yaşındaki mutsuz adama atmıştır.. ama bu eleştirilerinin Travels in the Scriptorium'dan beri düzelmiyor olmasını değiştirmiyor. En son New York Times eleştirisi acımasızlığından bir örnek:

"After, say, 10 books, maybe novelists should be retested, like accident-prone senior citizens renewing their driver’s licenses. Veterans of literary wars would anonymously submit a new manuscript to agents. Of “Man in the Dark,” I think they’d say, “third-rate imitation of Paul Auster.” Then the author might decide to rev up a first-rate imitation of his first-rate early work. Or he might write a fourth-rate attack on literary agents." -Tom LeClair

Bu kitap sanırım Auster binasına çıkılmış kaçak bir kattır.

istanbul dumanaltı, ben umutlu

2008-10-29T21:28:00.004+02:00

geçen yazdığımda sliding doors demişim, iki ayrı zaman çizgisi demişim... derken elime Paul Auster'ın son kitabını aldım. biraz tereddütle aldığımı itiraf edeyim, zira son birkaç kitabından new york trilogy ya da oracle night'tan aldığım zevki alamamıştım. bu benim okuma alışkanlıklarımdaki ve kitaplardan beklentilerimdeki değişikliklerden de ileri geliyor olabilir. neyse.. blurb şöyle

"August imagines a parallel world in which America is not at war with Iraq but with itself. In this other America the Twin Towers did not fall, and the 2000 election results did not lead to secession, as state after state pulled away from the union, and a bloody civil war ensued."

şimdi elbet bu kitabı okumam gerekecek. ama gene de bugün kitapçıya gittim ve uzun zamandır cimrilikten ve miskinlikten almayı reddettiğim bazı kitapları aldım. tabi benim aklımsıra cimrilik ettiğim bu miskin dönemde dolar 1.1'den 1.7'ye fırladığı için biraz canımı yaktı bu alışveriş.
aldığım kitaplardan biri Nick Hornby'nin Believer dergisindeki aylık kitap okuma yazılarını içeren The Complete Polysyllabic Spree. Hornby (hornbee diye yazasım geldi) bu yazılarının başında her ay aldığı ve her ay okuduğu kitapların ayrı ayrı listesini yapıyor, ki Felatun Bey gibi her kitabıma ay ve yıl işlesem de liste yapmayı, hele de alınan ve okunanları ayrı ayrı listelemeyi uzun zamandır ben de yapmak istiyordum.
a. gibi gereğinden ve okuyabileceğimden çok daha fazla kitap alıyor olmamı kınamayınız. elbet bir gün gerek oluyor hepsine. gecenin bir yarısı aklıma birşey gelip rafımda buluverdiğim zaman, ya da sabah 6'da saçma sapan bir geceden gün doğarken eve gelip Kundera'nın Gülüşün ve Unutuşun Kitabı'na başladığımda bunun değerini ben anladım. Bir gün sizin de anlamanızı dilerim.
Thus; bugün alınan kitaplar (genellikle dersler ya da kafamdaki teze yönelik olarak)
Max Horkheimer - Eclipse of Reason
Michelle Foucault - The Archeology of Knowledge
Paul Ricoeur - The Rule of Metaphor
ve tabi Nick Hornby - The Complete Polysyllabic Spree

Kitaplarımı yüklenmiş eve dönmeye çalışırken bir de baktım Taksim'de yollar kapatılmış. Cengaverlik edip bi taksiye bindim Sıraselvilerden, 2.5 ytl yazdığında adama parasını ödeyip indim. Galatasaray lisesini geçtikten sonraki ilk starbucks'a yürüyüp Hornby'i tüketene kadar bir küçük latteyle oturdum. Tükendi demek haksızlık olur, zira ilham verici, canlı (Hornbyesque) ve içerikli yazılar. Tekrar ziyaret edilmeli. Arada dışarda ikinci dünya savaşı filmlerinden sahneler gösteriliyormuşçasına sesler geldi, bilmemkaç milyon liralık havai fişek gösterisi olduğu tahminim tabi ki doğru çıktı.
Tekrar taksiye binip Fenerbahçe maçını dinleyerekten eve dönerken savaş filmlerindeki duman ve sisin film abartısı olmadığı kanısına vardım.
İşte iki buçuk milyon ytl (sayıyla 2.500.00) (sıfırları atalı baya oluyo, benim gibi eski kafalılar o sayıya 6 sıfır daha eklesin) bütçeli kutlamalardan görüntüler:
http://www.ntvmsnbc.com/modules/habervideo/video.asp?CatID=3&cbVideo=8125&cbQuality=1
ve yurdumdan insan manzaraları,
http://fotogaleri.hurriyet.com.tr/galeridetay.aspx?cid=17317&rid=2

İsraf, kirlilik, gürültü, gösteriş... doğadan bahsetmeyelim bile.

Evet umutlu olduğumdan bahsedecektim yazının başında... Geçen hafta Viyana'dan çok sevgili bir arkadaşımla kahvaltı üzerine Türkiye'yi kurtardığımız bir fikir alışverişinden enstantaneler aktaracaktım, ama heyhat istanbul duman altı... ve ben umutluysam bile şu an aktaramıyorum bunu. Şimdi daha çok aklıma kadınlara karşı şiddetteki artış, hapisanede ve sokaklarda kayıt içi ve dışı ölümler, kafkaesk davalar, kapatılan ve tekrar kapatılacak olan sevgili blogumun akıbeti, amerikalıların 4 temmuz kutlamalarını aratmayan havai fişekler geliyor. Başka bahara sevgilim...

bir sonraki yazı için kendime hatırlatmalar:

-umutluyum umutlu
-Frank Furedi - Politics of Fear ve demokrasiden ne haber?

sliding doors

2008-10-17T12:45:00.003+03:00

artık haftalardır takip ettiğim amerikan seçimlerinde ister istemez bir taraf tutuyorum. Obama kazansın diye dua etmeye başlicam yakında, o derece. Ama öte yandan da Mccain'i, hele hele de Palin'i dinlerken; onları dinleyenlerin nasıl tepkiler verdiğini izlerken düşünüyorum da keşke bir sliding doors durumu olsa. Önümüzdeki 4 seneyi iki türlü de yaşasak, yaşasalar; ve sonunda hesap yapsak. Son debate'in ana teması Joeseph Wurzelbacher aka Joe the plumber'a gidip sorsak, naber ? diye.
Bu sosyalizmi yeren "bilinçli seçmen" Joe (ki gerçekten fena değil aslında baya ilgili ve bilgili kendisi, en azından Obama'nın arap olduğunu iddia etmiyor) Mccain'in başına gelmiş en iyi şey olabilir. Hatta Mccain'in bu seçimi kazanması ancak ve sadece bu adamla mümkün. Şöyle ki, Cumhuriyetçilerin Obama'ya yönelttiklerinde işe yaramaktan çok zarar veren bütün "suç"ları Joe the plumber "Sosyalizm" diye bir canavarda birleştirdi. Evet, Obama'ya siyahi olduğu için, genç ve deneyimsiz olduğu için, eğitimli olduğu için bir sürü eleştiride bulundular. Hepsi ters tepti. Ama şimdi McCain'in yardımcılarının aylardır aklına bir türlü dank etmeyen has küfürü buldular: Sosyalist!!! Bir araştırma yapılsa Amerikalıların Sosyalist lafından siyahi bir adamdan daha fazla korktuklarını bulacağından neredeyse eminim.
Neyse, McCain bu seçimi kazanırsa Paulson'un yerine de Joe'yu getirir herhalde. Eğer getirmezse, 4 sene sonra bu adamın işini satın alıp alamadığını, şimdi 250.000 dolar kazanıp kazanmadığını, bu 4 sene boyunca ne kadar vergi ödediğini de çok merak ediyor olucam. Takip etmeyenler için açıklayayım, Joe çalıştığı şirketi satın almak istiyor, ve bu şirket senede 250.000 dolar kazanmıyor şu anda. 250.000 dolar da şu yüzden önemli, Obama diyor ki o meblağnın altında kazananların vergisi artmicak. Joe da diyor ki, birincisi belki seneye 250.000 dolar kazanırım, ikincisi o 250.000'in yarın Obama seçildiğinde 100.000'e düşmeyeceğini nerden bileyim. Haklı. Bu kuşkuculuk çok çok yerinde. Ama kanımca Obama'nın "herkesin vergisini düşüremeyiz, 250.000den fazla kazananlar zaten biraz daha vergi ödeyebilir" demesi; "herkesin vergisini azaltıcam" iddiasında bulunan McCain'den daha inandırıcı. Zaten hesapları tutmayan devlet, vergilerin hepsini de azaltırsa, nasıl 4 senenin sonunda bütçeyi dengelemeyi planlıyor onu da kimse anlamış değil. Amerika kapitalist bir ülke, ama sanıyorum ki yatırımın önemini henüz kavramamışlar. İleriye dönük, uzun vadeli yatırım: eğitim, sağlık, enerji...

Seçim esnasında sıkça dinlediğim ve çok taktir ettiğim Campbell Brown'un yeni bombasına da değinmeden geçemicem: http://edition.cnn.com/video/?/video/bestoftv/2008/10/16/ec.campbell.brown.negative.ads.cnn
Şimdi buna ilk atlayan adayın vay haline.. Sosyalizm mi dediniz?

Neyse gelgelelim kadınlara:
Bugün McCain'in son eventini izlerken çok güldüm. Aslında her gün görmeye alıştığım bir sahneydi beni güldüren ama birden bire farkettim ki Cindy McCain her konuşmasında kocasının arkasında durup her söylediğini şakşaklayıp, her eeeah esprisine gülüp kafa sallıyor. Öte yandan Michelle Obama kocasından ayrı, onun için olduğu kadar Amerikalılar için gezip insanlarla konuşuyor. Jon Stewart'a dediği gibi, kocasının onu herhangi biriymiş gibi ikna etmesini bekliyor ve onu dinleyen diğer insanların arasından dinliyor.
Bir şey daha dikkatimi çekti, Cindy'e neden bu kadar taktığımı merak edenler için videonun linkini de vereyim: http://edition.cnn.com/video/?/video/politics/2008/10/16/sot.mccain.joe.cnn

3:17. saniyede adeta çocuklara hitap eder gibi dinleyicilerine seslendiği anda Cindy McCain'in yüzüne bakın. İşte bu anaçlık ve babaçlıkla; bu hiyerarşiyle bu işe soyunmuş insanları ele veren an. McCain istediği kadar akıllı insanların kabusu "hâlk"tan Palin'i yardımcısı atamış olsun, ne kendisi ne de Palin kendsini halktan biri gibi görmüyor. Bunu anlamayana da ben ne diyim.

everything to lose

2008-10-15T12:22:00.009+03:00

"Rush, I've got nothing to lose in this" demiş çok sevgili Palin'ciğim Rush Limbaugh kendisine neden Obama'ya bu kadar fütursuzca saldırdığını sorunca. Evet, gerçekten de kaybedecek birşeyi yok, Alaska Valisi olmaktan birden bire WhiteHouse yoluna fırlatılınca kendisi, burdan düşebileceği en derin yarık extreme republicanların sözcüsü ve konuşma başına milyon dolar alan rujlu, elbiseli barbi bebeği olmaktır ancak. Kaybedecek birşeyi olmaması çok korkutucu değil mi, ne onuru ne dürüstlüğü ne etiği umurunda değil anlaşılan. Daha da garip olanı VP adayı olarak kendisinin Amerika'yı temsil etmesi gerekeceğini hala anlamamış olması, onun kaybının onun Amerika'sının kaybı olacağına aklının ermiyor olması. Bu eksik bilinçle serseri mayın gibi oraya buraya ateş saçıyor. Geçen gün bir konuşmasında "america let john mccain turn that anger into action" dediğini duydum. Günlerdir sürdürdüğü teröristlerle takılmak retoriğinin üstüne yapılan eleştirilerden bir haber olmalı ki yangına körükle gidiyor, "kill him" diye bağıran extremistlere bir de action öneriyor. Sonra da John McCain geçmiş bu durumu kendi avantajına çevirmeye çalışırken diyor ki, "Unfortunately I have heard the same things said about me in Senator Obama's rallies." Hadi canım ordan, kim, neden McCain'in terörist, traitor ya da ölmesi gerektiğini düşünsün ya da bağırsın. Böyle bir saçmalık olamaz. McCain'e Demokrat Parti tarafından yöneltilen eleştirilerin hiçbiri bu kapıya çıkmıyor ne de olsa. Ama Palin hanım geçip de "Senator Obama finds America to be so imperfect as to pall around with terrorists" buyurunca ortaya çıkan bağırtılar haliyle bir başka tonda oluyor.
Bu ithamları racial olarak değerlendirenlere de ayrıca katılmıyorum. Bu ırktan da öte birşey, bu düpedüz başkalaştırma, korku ve xenofobi körüklemek. Evet Obama'nın ten rengiyle ilgili bir yorum yapmıyorlar, ama onu un-American olarak lanse edenler de bu adamlar. Zira artık Amerikalılık ten renginden daha önemli bir faktör. Bu da son 8 yılın ürettiği korku ve xenofobi ortamının bir sonucu elbet.
İki tane çok taktire şayan yorum dinledim bu hafta, biri pek tabiki favorim Campbell Brown'dan geldi. Buyrunuz linki: http://edition.cnn.com/video/?/video/bestoftv/2008/10/13/ec.brown.commentary.monday.cnn
Bir diğeri de artık sinirlenmiş Olbermann'dan. Buyrunuz onun da linki: http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/3036677/#27188417

In other news:

Rüyamda da bu durumlarla kafayı bozmuşluğum kendini gösterdi. Önce önünde foreclosure tabelası olan evlerin önündeki tabelaları çaktırmadan çıkarıyordum. Sonra bir tanesini manyak gibi kırdığımı çekmiş bir video kaydı gördüm. Bir kaldırımda yürürken baktım ki banka memurları milletin arabalarını alıyor ellerinden arabaları çelik iplerle binalara ve yerlere bağlamaya başladım. Tam o sırada önümdeki bir apartmandan bir daireyi vinçle çekip çıkarttıklarını gördüm. Amerika'nın henüz farkedemediği hayhuyundan neden bu kadar etkilendiğimi bilmiyorum. Ama rüyalarımda istediğim kadar superheroculuk oyniyim, sabahları yataktan çıkmak bir cehennem azabı.

Ne garip ben burda insanların evlerini kaybetmesinin derdine düşmüşken Palin hanımcığım kaybedecek birşeyi olmadığı demeçleri veriyor. Hey gidi. Öte yandan orda insanlar evlerini kaybetmenin derdindeyken dünyanın binbir köşesinde bilmemkaç milyon insanın evlerinin olması diye bir şey söz konusu dahi değil ve ailelerini, çocuklarını ve hayatlarını kaybetmek derdinde düşmüş vaziyetteler çooook uzun bir zamandır. Birisi geçen ay New York'taki UN toplantısında Afrika'daki açlık sorunundan bahsederken şöyle dedi: "people might have thought 10million children dying every month is an emergency, but no it isn't a emergency.. africa needs a failing bank clearly". Palin hanımcığım da orada birkaç tane ülkenin başkanlarının ismini falan öğrendi (Karzaaaai), Kissinger'dan ilk dersini aldı falan. Buyrun burdan yakın.

help yourself

2008-09-16T05:33:00.002+03:00

Dün izlemesi çok acılı bir film gördüm. Stuck, American Beauty1'den aklımızda kalmış, artık yıldızı sönmüş bir Mena Suvari'nin baş rolü paylaştığı ve her ne kadar izlemesi çok acılı da olsa hakkında yazmak istediğim bir film.
Film dandik bir amerikan şehrinin dandik bir yaşlı bakım evinde başlıyor. Mena Suvari, filmdeki adıyla Brandi, genellikle özveri ve ilgiyle bağdaştırılacak bir işte yaşlıların altlarını temizlemekle meşgul. Patronuna karşı davranışlarındaki aşırı nezaket, sahnenin birden bire bir gece kulübüne dönmesiyle bir ipini koparmışlıkla karşıtlanıyor. Ve gün ve gece gibi karşıtlıklar üzerine Brandi'nin karakteri kuruluyor.
Hap atmış ve sarhoş bir şekilde gece kulübünden çıkan Brandi ve koca zenci adam tiplemesine uyumu Cadillac SUV'siyle cilalanmış erkek arkadaşı Rashid (isimdeki İslami tandansa da ayrıca dikkat çekerim) ayrı ayrı arabalarına binip farklı yollardan Brandi'nin evine doğru yola çıkııyorlar.
Gündüz ve Gece meselesi filmde, iyiyi ve kötüyü, akı ve karayı, ahlakı ve ahlaksızlığı güzelce kapsayacak şekilde keskin çizgilerle ayrılmış ayrılmasına. Ama asıl olay, bu keskin çizgiyi altüst eden taşkınlık şimdi başlıyor.. Brandi eve giderken zaten sarhoş kafasıyla cep telefonundan Rashid'i arar.. Arabasını ikinci başrolümüz Stephen Rea'nın oynadığı Thomas Bardo'nun üstüne sürer ve adam ön camın yolcu tarafında kafası içerde bacakları kaputun üstünde Brandi yoluna devam eder. Şimdi burda bir flashback yapmam lazım ve Thomas Bardo'nun bir önceki gününü kısaca özetlemem lazım. Ev sahibi onu kirasını ödeyemediği için evden kovuyor, (ya paramı verirsin ya da eşyaların burda kalır.. seçim senin!) iki parça giysisini eline alıp kaçan Thomas kendini saat 1 randevusu olan iş bulma kurumuna atıyor. Üç buçuk saat bekledikten sonra adının sisteme işlenmemiş olduğunu öğrenip tekrar bir form doldurup postalaması söyleniyor (ya prosedürü izlersiniz ve sizinle çalışabiliriz, ya da sizinle çalışamayız.. seçim sizin). Parkta uyumaya çalışıyor ama polisler parkta uyumasının yasak olduğunu söyleyerek onu ordan da atıyolar (ya burda uyumazsın ya da seni içeri atarım seçim senin). tam parkı terkederek yanlış seçim yaptığını, hapse girseydi en azından uyuyacak bir yeri olacağını düşünürken kendini bir arabanın yolcu koltuğuna bakar halde ve seçimsiz bir şekilde stuck bulur. artık seçim Brandi'nindir. arabayı kullanmaya devam eder, bir ara hastaneye gider ama ortalık hareketlenince ordan da fıyar. Ne idüğü belirsiz adam kaputunun üzerinde evine kadar gelir, garaja arabayı sokar ve kapıyı kilitler.

Help Me

Adamın hala hayatta olduğunu gördükten sonra evine gider, erkek arkadaşı gelince bir kaza yaptığını söyler ama detayları anlatmaya gerek görmez. Odasına gidip sevişirler, gördüğü kabusane halüsinasyonlara attığı çığlıkları orgasm sanan adam iyice gaza gelir ve sonra uyuyakalır. Brandi sabah uyandığında yan komşusunun gazetesini çalar, haberlerde bir şey bulamayınca 911'ı arayacağına, giyinip işe gitmek için bir taksi çağırır. Gitmeden garaja bir uğrar, adam hayattadır (Yardım et bana! der), yardım çağırdığını söyleyip gene fıyar. Taksi geldiğinde adamımız kısmen ayılmış kornaya basıp durmaktadır, taksici adam olayı keşfetmeye çok yaklaşır ama Brandi zaten kan revan içindeki adamın kafasına bir kütük geçirip onu gene bayıltır ve işine gider.
Bir latino çocuk asıl adamımızı keşfeder (Yardım et bana! der gene), ve annesinden başkalarının garajını gözetlediği için azar işitir. Gene de ikna olup durumu görmeye gelen anne polisi aramak istediğindeyse evin babası hiddetlenip "Ne buraya polis mi çağıracaksınız, bize ne canım" der ve iş burda biter.
Filmin çoğunda asıl adamımızın sıkıştığı yerden kendini çıkarmak için çabalamalarını izleyip, kan ve et kesilmesinin vıcık seslerini dinlerken; Brandi işten kaytarıp erkek arkadaşının evine yardım istemeye gider (Yardım et bana!). Orada bulduğu kadının suratına bir tava geçirip çıplak olarak dışarı attıktan sonra Rashid'le durumu görmeye garaja gelir. Adamımız bu arada kendini arabanın içine çekmiş, kırık bacağına kafasına vurulan kütüğü bağlamış ve sürünmeye başlamıştır. Adamı tekrar bayıltıp, işi halletmek için geceyi beklemeye başlarlar... Rashid durumu halletmeye elinde bir yastık bir de silahla gider. Asıl adamımızın elindeyse bir kalem vardır. Silahın güvenliğini duyduğunda ayaklanıp koca zencinin gözüne kalemi sokar ve onu öldürür. Arada silah patlar ve gene kimsenin umrunda olmaz. Brandi duruma bakmaya geldiğinde adamımız arabayı çalıştırmaya uğraşmaktadır. Araba kapısıyla onu bayıltıp sürünerek oradan kaçmaya çalışırken Brandi onu yakalar ve garaja geri sürükler. Asıl adamımızın, arabanın ve zenci erkek arkadaşın üzerine benzin döker.. buna uyanan asıl adamımız arabanın gaz pedalına eliyle basarak Brandi'ciği duvarla arabanın arasına sıkıştırır. Help me...! der, ve Bardo bey şaşkınlıkla ona döner. Manyak mıdır bu kız? Neredeyse 24 saattir ona ne acılar çektirmiş bu salak minik kız şimdi ondan yardım mı istemektedir? Eline bir kutu kibrit alır ve kibriti yakar, neden bana yardım etmedin? der. Cevap alamaz, kibritin kendi kendine sönmesini bekler. İşte bu gerçekten bir seçimdir aslında. Arkasını dönüp gitmek üzereyken silah gene ortaya çıkar, kız ateş eder ve arabanın üstüne sıyıran kurşunun yarattığı kıvılcımla araba, kız ve Rashid yanıp bitip kül olur. Asıl adamımız garajın kapısını açar, dışarda bekleyen bir sürü meraklı amerikalıya doğru kendini atar...

The end...

Bu film Amerika'nın en boktan yönlerinin bir toplamıdır. İzlemesi acı verir. Bir yandan umursamazlık, öte yandan hukukun bu umursamazlığı tetikleyip beslemesi içini burar insanın. Bu umursamazlık sadece başkalarına karşı da değildir üstelik, kendine karşı da bir umursamazlık vardır. İşte başka, evde başka birisindir ve bu çifte hayat ne senin ne de başkasının umrudur... Karakterlilik, bir bütün insan olmak değildir artık. Hayatlardan birinin yalan olduğunu söylemek isterdim ama o da değildir mesele... Hayatların hepsi yalandır, çünkü kendi yoktur insanın. Bir nehirdeki toprak tanesi ne kadar çaresizce savruluyorsa, bu hayatlar da öyle çaresizce akıntıya kaptırmış gidiyorlardır.

Bu filmde gördüklerimin çoğunu, şu aralar yakından takip ettiğim Amerikan seçimlerinde de izliyorum. Aslında her gün hayatımın her köşesinde görüyorum bu umursamazlığı ama söz meclisten dışarı olsun diye Amerikadan başlayalım...

Barack Obama'nın Convention sonrası retoriği ne yazık ki eskisi kadar etkin değil. Bunda hem Palin etkisi var, hem Ike, hem ekonomi.. Sürekli söylediği bir şey var ama.. "McCain just doesn't get it!". Evet katılıyorum, bence de McCain olayı anlamamış.. ama sorun bu değil. Sorun McCain'in durumu anlamaması değil. Sorun çoğunluğun durumu anlamaması, anlamaya gayret etmemesi veya kısaca umrunda olmaması. Çünkü ne de olsa bana dokunmayan yılan bin yaşasın. İsterlerse bir sürü yalan söylesinler, hiçbir anlam ifade etmeyen sözcük öbekleriyle insanları televizyonun karşısına sabitlesinler, insanlıktan ve tanrıdan bahsedip Irak'taki savaşı bir amerikan cihadı gibi lanse etsinler.. Irak'taki insanların insan olduklarını tammamen unutsunlar. Bir türk bütün dünyaya bedel ya, bu da onun gibi bişi. Bir amerikalı 100 ıraklıya falan denk geliyor sanırım. Bütün bunlarla o kadar çok gürültü yapsınlar ki, kimsenin sesi duyulmasın. Ama hiç kimsenin! Palin'in kendi konuştukları bile duyulmasın, ne kadar cahil olduğu kimsenin umrunda olmasın. Çünkü bütün kadınlar birbirleriyle aynı şeyleri düşünmektedir.. Palin ve Clinton'un vücutları ne kadar aynıysa politik görüşleri de o kadar aynıdır çünkü!?

Günlerdir Matt Damon'un Sarah Palin'i bir Disney filmine benzetmesi hakkında düşünüyorum. Soccer Mom goes to the White House. Böyle filmler var, bir tanesinde başkanın look-alike'ı bütçeyi kurtarıyodu mesela (şimdiki ekonomik krizi de Paris Hilton kurtarsa ne güzel olur, zira olmicak iş diil şu gidişle), dün MovieMax'te gördüğüm bir tanesi Wellcome to Mooseport'u görürseniz kaçırmayın derim. En azından bu filmlerde komedi faktörü çirkef ruj sürmüş pitbul faktöründen ağır basıyor ama durumun abzürdlüğünü anlamak çok da zor değil. Herkesin herşeyi olabileceği ülke söylemine kapılıp gitmiş bir seçim kampanyası Palin'i Hillary ve Obama'nın Demokrat Parti kriterleriyle tırnaklarıyla kazıyarak açtığı yolun ortasına attı.

Brandi ve Palin suyasabunadokunmayanların en basit örnekleridir. Ne kendileri ne de etraflarındaki insanlar pek umurlarında olmaz; adam garajımda ölüyor mu? eyvah terfi edemicem. Oğlum Irak'ta katle mi gidiyor? Down sendromlu bir bebek mi doğurdum? tamam seçim kampanyası için harika olacak bu.. Önem tamamen kapitalist sistemin açgözlülüğü ve benmerkezciliği ve dış gözlerin dayatmasıyla ortaya çıkan bir sıralamaya girer. Kişisel öne geçme herkesin derdi bir kenara hayatından daha önemlidir. Ve nerededir o, kendinden büyük birşey için varolmak retoriği? Tam bunun ortasında, milliyetçi özvericiliğin; vatan millet washington'un gözündedir. Ama kimse umursamaz, tek boyutlu bir suda boğulur giderler.

1. American Beauty'de American dream gone bad kıvamında bir umursamazlık, karaktersizlik ve kendini kandırma timsalidir. Filmden aklımda kalan yegane replik "Never underestimate the power of denial" da sanırım filmin özetidir.

defter ve kriterler ya da mutluluk ve mutsuzluk

2008-09-02T22:07:00.007+03:00

kendimi ilk defa bi bok sandığım 2003 yılının yaz aylarında staj demekle yetineceğim bir işten çıkmış, metroda otururken şöyle yazmıştım "eğer ola ki bir tanrı olsaydı, onun insanları inançlarına göre yargılayacağını düşünüyorum. yani insan kendi mantalitesine uygun davranıyorsa..." tabi bu noktada baltayı taşa vurduğumu farkedip hitler'in doğru bir şey yaptığını düşündüğü meselesine takılmışım.
bu anektodu yazmak ihtiyacı hissettim çünkü tanrıdan bahsetmeyecek olsam da bugün kriterler ve politikaya değinmem gerekiyor. son aylarda yakından takip ettiğim amerikan seçimleri beni ilginç hissiyatlara gark ediyor mütemadiyen. bir yandan idealizmi görüp taktir ediyorum, diğer yanda çoğu insana idealizmden çok daha kolaylıkla yutturulabilecek bir tekdüzelik, çözümsüzlük, kısa vadelilik ve hatta mediocrity görüp umutsuzluğa kapılıyorum ve hatta nefes alışım bozuluyor.
beni bu kadar dertlendiren aslında McCain'in başkan yardımcısı olarak seçtiği Sarah Palin ve amerikan siyasi arenasında bu kadına verilen ve verilemeyen tepkiler.
Sarah Palin kürtaj hakkına karşı ve okullarda cinsel eğitim verilmesi yerine çocuklara sex yapmamalarını söylemeyi savunuyor. Yani kendisi pro-life ve pro-abstinance. Bütün bu söylediklerimin bir demokraside hiçbir sorun teşkil etmemesi gerekir, çünkü bu sistemde birilerinin size birşeyi dayatması öyle çok kolay değildir. büyük kitlelerin ikna edilmesi gerekir.

neyse ben demokrasiden bahsetmeyeceğim. ben insanların kriterlerine göre yargılanması gerekliliğinden bahsedicem. daha doğrusu iki yüzlülük yapılmamasını rica edicem.

şimdi şöyle; dün Sarah Palin'in 17 yaşındaki, henüz lise öğrencisi ve bekar (bakir değil bekar, allaha şükür Meryem Ana mitolojisine girmeye kalkmadılar) kızının 5 aylık hamile olduğu açıklandı. Republican party tabiri caizse çevirdi kazı ve yanmadı.. şimdilik. Palin bir açıklama yaptı ve kızının çocuğunu doğurma kararıyla gurur duyduğunu ve onu destekleyeceğini söyledi.
Bu meselenin üzerine atlayıp eleştiren demokratlar da hırpalandılar ve bu kadının aile değerleri ve çocuklarının yaptıklarının siyasete karıştırılmaması konusunda uyarıldılar diyelim. Barack Obama bile bir demeç verip bu kadının ailesinin tartışma konusu olamayacağını, onun yerine eğer seçilirse nasıl bir başkan yardımcısı, veya McCain'e birşey olursa nasıl bir başkan olacağının üzerinde durulması gerektiğini söyledi.

Ben de bu noktada çok sevdiğim ve hatta haddimi aşarak tuttuğum Obama'nın diplomasi gereği yaptığı bu açıklamanın genel olarak doğru olduğunu düşünsem de minik bir detaya dikkat çekmeden edemiyorum.
Sarah Palin eğer tüm amerikan vatandaşlarının, ya da en azından kadınların hayatlarındaki çok büyük iki seçime -hem sex yapmak hem de kürtaj konusunda burnunu kadınların vücuduna sokuyor- karışmak ve hatta bu seçimi kısıtlamak hakkını kendinde görüyorsa, kanımca o insanların da Sarah Palin'in aile değerlerine karışmak ya da en azından izlemek ve değerlendirmek hakkı doğuyor. Eğer Amerika gerçekten eşitlik demekse, eğer başkan ya da başkan yardımcısı gerçekten "halktan biri"yse, o zaman Sarah Palin'in kendi ailesine karışamadığı konularda ülkedeki bütün ailelere ve bireylere karışması ne demektir?
Eklemek ihtiyacı hissettiğim bir nokta daha var argümanımı tamamlamak için. Eğer ola ki bu mesele kürtaj ve sex konusunda herkese karışmak eğiliminde olmayan Obama ailesinde vuku bulsaydı işte o zaman gerçekten de siyaseti ilgilendirmemesi gereken birşey olurdu. Off-limits olurdu Obama'nın da dediği gibi.

Amerika'dan bu kadar.
bu meseleyi deşmek için 2003 yazı defterimi açmak garip bir şekilde ter bastırdı ve muhtelif mutsuzluk yazılarımı okudukça başım zonklayıp alnıma ince dikenler batıp, başımdan aşşağı kaynar sular dökülmesi hissiyatına döndüm. bu kadar uzun zaman sonra, tam tamına 5 sene sonra bu kadar etkili bir mutsuzluk tablosu çizdiğim için kendimle gurur mu duysam yoksa korksam mı bilemiyorum. ama bir bölüm var ki "bilseydim mutluyken de yazardım, mutluluğu şişeleyip saklayabilmek isterdim" diye yazmışım.
Garip bir şekilde Orhan Pamuk'un son kitabı Masumiyet Müzesi de benzer bir kaygıyla açıldı. "Hayatımın en mutlu anıymış bilmiyordum."
Daha kitabın yarısına bile gelmediğim için henüz bu konuda yazmak istemiyorum, ama bana öyle geliyor ki Orhan Pamuk duygular, algılar ve materyalizm arasında çok güzel bir kumaş dokumuş. Belki Proust'un kurabiye kokusu gibi, Kemal de Masumiyet Müzesindeki objeler üzerinden bir hatıra gezintisine çıktı, ve bakalım nerelerde gezinip nerelere varacak.

yorgunluk?

2008-08-08T11:34:00.008+03:00

nispeten sessiz bir ara sokakta karanlık bir binanın girişindeki merdivenlere çöktük. içimde sanki bir bomba patlamış da kalabalıklar akın akın üstüme geliyormuş gibiydi ve ben gene o kalabalığın içinde tek başına akıntıya karşı dikilmek ve hatta ilerlemeye çabalamak moduna girmiştim nedense. üstüne tazyikli su sıkılması gibi nefessiz bırakan bir hissiyatı oluyor bu durumun hep. nefes almak aynı anda acayip bir ses çıkarmayı gerektiriyor hatta.

söylemek istediğin şey kafanda kelimelerin dışında oluşuyorsa eğer onu anlatmak daha da zorlaşıyor. bir duyguyu betimlemenin zorluğu gibi. kim anlıyor ki paslı sarı inşaat makinelerinin nasıl bir hisse tekabül ettiğini? çeviri metinler gibi konuştuğumu düşünüyorum bazen.

yaz akşamı serin serin rüzgar var, koridor yapan ara sokakta iyice şiddetli esiyor. üstümüze sarı, genç bir kedi zıplıyor. arkamıza sığınıyor önce, sonra üstümüze başımıza dolanıyor. sonunda kucağımda rahat edip ben onun boynunu okşarken uyuyakaldı. onun huzuru bana bulaştı. ben sakinleştim. tanıdık bir boyna gömdüm ben de kendimi, bir güzel ağladım. burnum aktı sonra, suçu kediye attım. iyice üşüyüp kalkmaya karar verdiğimizde adını "lan saRı" olarak hatırlayacağım kediyi yavaşça kapı girişindeki kartonun üstüne koydum. kartonun kapının altında kalan kısmını biraz daha dışarı doğru çektim ki rahatça yatabilsin orda. aklıma sokakta yaşayanlar geldi, altlarına karton koyarlar soğuğu kesmek için. oysa ben yatağımı yere koyduğumda koskoca bir şilte yetmiyor üşümememe. üşü-me-me-me. ne acayip bir dil bu.

sabahında çok umutluydum halbuki. içinden hayat çıkacak materyel vardı elimde. üstüne hayat kurulacak, çiçekler açıcak, büyüyüp kocaman olacak şeyler vardı ufukta. hep düşüncelerde kalıyor bunlar, gerçek hayatın, günlük konuşmanın, kelimelerin ve algının tekdüzeliğinde yokolup gidiyor.
ne okudum ben dün akşam, şu mealde birşey söylüyordu: mutluluk hep geçmişten hatırladıklarımızda. çünkü istediğimiz gibi hatırlıyoruz. nostalji.
bu biraz kötümser bir yaklaşım olabilir. mutluluk gelecekte de olabilir, 4 sene sonrada sonra 2 sene sonrada sonra.. hep sonrada. hep bir sonraki basamağın ardında..
sonunda bütün bunlardan çıkan tek şey, mutluluğun şimdi ve burada olamayacağıysa eğer.. sonra da şimdi ve burda olamayacak. işte şimdi kötümser oldum sanırım.

sabah eski kırık bardaklar'ı açtım. tekrar okudum. tekrar n.zade'ye minnet duydum. tennessee williams'ın ölümünden yıllar sonra bulunan Blue Song'unu okudum. aynı minvalde algıladım ikisinde de. Oturup düşündüm nedir bu yorgunluk daha önce hiç yakalanmadığım bir diğer hastalık gibi. Vücut ilginç tepkiler veriyor, heycanlanmadığımı düşündüğüm anlarda karnımın ağrıması; streslenmediğimi düşündüğüm dönemde kafamın acıması gibi. Ama işin aslı şu ki, kolaylığından sıkılıyorum /kurtulmak elimden gelmiyor veya I am tired /I am tired of speech and of action.

x,y ya da yeldeğirmenleri

2008-07-07T12:32:00.010+03:00

başımıza gelen en korkutucu şey ne x ne de y.
başımıza gelen en korkutucu şey korku.
bu korkuyu x veya z tetikliyor olabilir, ama zaten muhtemelen x korkusunu y, y korkusunu da x tetikliyordur. sadeleştirmelerime kanmayın, iki tane korkumuz yok; çok daha büyük BİR korkumuz var ki başlarımızı en büyük belaya sokacak olan da o sanırsam.
evet açıklıyorum, korkumuz tartışmak.
hiç de öyle canavar gibi birşey değilmiş dimi. o kadar ortamı hazırladıktan sonra loch ness canavarı diyeceğime, yavru bir kedi demiş oldum böylelikle.
açıklayayım, durum şöyle: y'nin fişteklediği x korkusuyla y'yi kaybetmekten o kadar korkuyoruz (ve tam tersi de geçerli) ki, y'yi tartışmaya kapatıyoruz. y tartışmaya kapatılınca, bir çaresizlik, bir mecburi seçim, bir parçalanmış, bir yamutulmuş y olarak da önümüze sunulsa, açık denizde bir kurtarıcı gibi üzerine saldırmak ihtiyacı duyuyoruz. ama işin aslı o ki, sarıldığımız y, ne bizim hayallerimizdeki, ideallerimizdeki y; ne de fişteklediği x bir tartışma çerçevesinde onun tamamen dışında duran bir tehdit. hatta ve de hatta işin en kötüsü şu, x tam tersine y'nin içinde olmadığı ve dışlandığı sürece y'nin gerçekleşmesini engelleyecek bir etken olabilir. olabiliteler söz konusu yani.
ama "amman y elden gidecek tartışırsak" havasına bürünürsek olabiliteler kaybediliyor. kesinlikler koskoca betonarme-karkas duvarlar gibi karşımıza dikiliyor. ve donkişotluğumuz falan da kalmıyor, çünkü duvarlar hareketsiz, ve onlara doğru saldırdığımız taktirde bize tepki vermeyerek bizi ekarte edebilecek kuvvetleri var. sesimizi kısacak, duymayacak duvarlar onlar. oysa varsın ne olduğundan emin olmadığımız, canavarlar sandığımız yeldeğirmenlerine karşı taaruza geçelim. gidip yanlarına onların yeldeğirmenleri olduğunu keşfedebilelim böylece.

not: (politik bir yazıdır, x,y,z gibi bilinmeyenler, cumhuriyet, demokrasi, türban, islam şu ve de bu gibi bilinmeyenler yerine düşünülebilir. bu bilinmeyenler tarihsel olarak şekil ve içerik olarak değişebilir, komunizm gibi iç veya megali idea gibi dış tehditler olarak önümüze sunulabilirler. ama bilinmeyen oldukları için bilinmeyen olarak kalmaları tercihimdir. biri birine direkt olarak tekabül etmemektediri etmemelidir, edemez)

4. küçük siyah defterden notlar

2008-06-24T13:45:00.006+03:00

"as though, in night's terrible mirror man, raving, denied his image and tried to disappear.. "
-Akhmatova

Geçen sene bu zamanlarda mıydı, Londra'daydık. Londra'yı İstanbula çevirmiş, geziyorduk, ve Akhmatova şiir okuma gününe gitmemiştik. onun yerine Gower street'te aşşağı yukarı yürümüştük yağmurlu havada, yalınayak, başı kabak.

Son makalemi fakültedeki güzel odanın posta kutularına yerleştirip odama dönerken, son bir kez, tek başıma, Kandinsky'i ters çevirmemden 6 gün geçti. altı günde, altı kere odamı topladım. yerleştirdim, tekrar yerleştirdim. oturduğu yerde kıpırdaşıp poposunu rahat ettirmeye çalışan bir tavuk gibiyim. fazla da yerleşmemek gerekir aslında ya, neyse. yerleşmek zor, kalkması kolay aslında.
elimde kalemle birşeyler çiziktirdiğim bir çocukluk fotografı buldum. Herhalde dört-beş yaşlarındayım. aynamın kenarına iliştirdim ki otobiyografik bir kısıtlama oluşturup, şimdiye geçmişe bağlamak için bir vesile olsun diye. mitlerimin çelişik olması zamanını, ortaokul hatırasızlığımı geride bırakayım artık diye.

yerleşmenin ve tekrar yerleşmenin güzel yanı, unutmamak için defterlerce yazdığım şeylere tekrar bakıp ne kadar unutulduklarını görmek. Akhmatova da 4. küçük siyah defterden çıktı. berlin defteri; Peter Weiss, Rosa Luxemberg, Hannah Arendt'in başları, Habermas'ın kokusu, Kristeva'nın, Berlin'in ve kısmen benim devrimimin defteri.

"The world as represented object, gives the will the mirror by which it becomes conscious of itself." - Schopenhauer

başka.

2008-05-02T21:53:00.005+03:00

içimdeki ağırlıktan ve sarı paslı inşaat/yıkım makinalarından başka birşeyden bahsedeyim öyleyse:

madem çocukluk hikayelerimizi anlatıyoruz;
anadolu yakasındaki evimizdeki son geceden hatırladıklarım muhtemelen sonradan bana anlatılanlardan canlandırdığım bir kurmaca. bir de fotograf var, babamla salondaki beyaz koltukta oturduğumuz.
hiç istemiyodum ben taşınmak. orda arkadaşlarım olduğundan falan değil, evim olduğundan. üç yaşında babam sakallarını kesmiş olarak eve döndüğünde, sakalını arkadaki karanlık bahçeye sakladığını ve tekrar takacağını sandığım evim. dört yaşındayken önündeki yolda paten kaymaya çalışırken düşüp kolumu kırdığım evim. yuvadayken her eve döndüğümde o gün yaptıklarımı "dün şöyle böyle yaptık" diye anlattığım evim. servisten "hiiymeeen, güç bende artııık", "şiiiyra bıdıbıdı" diyerek inip zıplaya zıplaya koştuğum evim. penceremin önünden küçücük bir evin yıkılıp, yerine onküsür katlı beyaz bir binanın inşa edildiği evim. çok soğuk bir günde elektrikli sobayı alıp ailecek benim odama sığınarak yaşayabildiğimiz evim. aynı odasında su çiçeği geçirdiğim evim. annemin buklelerini hala sakladığı ilk saç kesimimden sonra yan sokağındaki kuaförden ömür boyu nefret ettiğim evim. düşüp dişimi çatlattığım mutfağındaki mozaik döşeli yerlerinde hayal gücümün sınırlarını zorlayan şekiller gördüğüm evim. büyükannemin bir yaz sabahı bana boyama yapmayı öğrettiği evim. kim erken kalkarsa televizyonu kapacağından, sabahları 7de babamdan önce uyanıp ayıyogivearkadaşları'nı izlediğim evim. ilk defa saatlerin ileri alındığını, bir saat kapının önünde servis beklediğinde öğrendiğim evim. hastalandığımda televizyonun karşısındaki tepsinin önünde bağdaş kurup kabak böreği yediğim evim. tatile çıkarken sabaha karşı 3 civarında önünden arabaya doluşup yola koyulduğumuz evim. kütüphanesini hatırlamadığım, ordayken okuma yazma pek bilmediğim evim.
muhtemelen seneler sonra, yeni evimizin kütüphaneye ayrılmış karanlık arka odasında tavana kadar yükselen, çift sıra dizilmiş kitaplıkların önünde durduğumu hatırlıyorum. okyanusa bakıp, görmediğin karşı kıyıya asla yüzemeyeceğini bildiğin zamanki his gibiydi sanırım. büyük ihtimalle bunu şimdi düşününce kurgulayabiliyorum ancak. ama ciddi bir umutsuzluk yaşadığım kesin. hala ordaki kitapların ufacık bir kısmını bile tüket(e)medim. dün kütüphanede çalışırken, bu geldi aklıma. şimdi bunu yazarken kendi tavana kadar yükselen, ama kesinlikle çift sıra dizmeyi reddettiğim kitaplığımın önünde o kadar da umutsuz hissetmiyorum. sadece panikliyorum bazen.
ediyle büdü'nün bir bölümünde bir tabakta 5 tane kurabiye vardı. edi büdüye bu kurabiyeleri emanet edip yokoluyodu ortalıktan. sonra büdü dayanamayıp kurabiyelerden birini çaktırmadığını sanarak yiyiveriyodu. tabağa bakıp 5 değil de 4 kurabiye görünce de ediye vereceği hesabı düşünüp panikliyodu. durumu düzeltmek adına çabalayıp dursa da, ne kadar farklı şekilde organize ederse etsin tabakta 4 kurabiye olmaya devam ediyodu.. biraz da böyle hissediyorum bazen.

n.zadeyle ciciye documented procrastination

2008-04-28T01:39:00.004+03:00

bugün odama ilk defa güneş girdi.. güneş yükseliyor demek ki yavaştan yavaştan. geceyarısını biraz geçe çıktım bir yürüyüşe. bir zamandır tepeme çullanmış nostalji cinleri gene peşimi bırakmadılar, düşündüm ki birkaç ay sonra bir daha gece vakti çıkıp kampüsün orasında burasında dolanamiycam.
ama belki orasında burasında dolanabileceğim bir şehrim olur seneye, orda ya da burda. dünden beri geçmeyen, kısa aralıklarla zonk diye beynime saplanan bir ağrıdan mustaripim. düşünüyorum ki acaba beyninde tümör çıkıp genious olan tiplerden olabilir miyim.. henüz bir belirti yok.
geçen gün bir psikanaliz case study'si okuyodum. adamın psikanalize karar vermesindeki sebeplerden biri kendini yazılı olarak ifade edemeyişiymiş, ve fakat psikanalistin gözlemlerine göre bu kişinin konuşma dili adeta yazılı cümleler kadar yapılı ve düzgünmüş. bunu niye anlatmaya başladım bilmiyorum. aslında ben de yazamıyorum uzun zamandır, hem de hiç. ama sanırım benim çözümüm psikanalizden çok yazmakta.
klavyenin karşısında donup kalmaktan bıkmışlığım hakkında yazmak yardımcı olacak gibi durmuyor. aklıma new yorktaki son günlerimden biri geldi nedense, gitmeden keşfetmediğim son birkaç sokağı da keşfedeyim diye uğraşırken saçma sapan bir arka sokağa girdimdi. duvarlarda graffiti, binaların arasında etrafı tellenmiş terkedilmiş yerler.. (rafet elroman şarkısı gibin.) ve sokağın ortasında yaz sıcağında simsiyah şalvarlar giyinmiş bir kadın çömelip işemişti.
art supplylarım hakkında bir karar vermem lazım artık. ya birine verilmeli ya da açıp kullansam mı acaba tekrar.. yazamazken çizerim belki biraz.

dünyanın hiçbir köşesinde olmayan köşem

2008-04-06T15:17:00.008+03:00

pazar sabahı, sanki uzun zamandır pazar sabahı yaşamamışım gibi geldi çattı. bir önceki pazar sabahımı hatırlayamıyorum şimdi düşününce. bu hissi en son cici burdayken, sabah 6 civarında eve gelip, uykumuz olmadığı için amazondan yeni gelmiş siparişleri karıştırırken hissetmiştim sanırım.(yıl 2006 olsa gerek) yavaş yavaş güneş doğmuştu, ve o sabah başlamıştım ilk milan kundera kitabımı okumaya. herhalde sabahın köründe alkollü ve uyumamış olmanın da getirdiği bir yanılsama sanmıştım o sırada gülüşün ve unutuşun kitabının hayatımın kitabı olabileceğini düşünmüş olmayı. bu pazar sabahı hissi içerisinde, tekrar öyle bir hayatımın kitabı anı yaşamayı istedim sanırım.. geliniz görünüz ki espiyes 303 kodlu zorunlu ve insanları aydınlatmaya yönelik ders, güncel içeriğiyle bile bu konuda yetersiz kaldı. salıya sınavım, çarşambaya yazılması na-mümkün bir peypırım olmasa başlayabileceğim pek çok potansiyel hayatımınkitabı bir yığın halinde oda(ları)mın muhtelif köşelerinde takılıyor oysa.

dışardan aydınlık düşen yatağımın üstünde ders çalışmaya çalışadururken yeşeren ışık, ince ince yere dik bir açıyla yağan yağmurun hışırtısı derken pencereyi açtım bu güzel havayı solumaya.. köfte!?
köfte kokusu geliyor dışardan. pencere açık durabiliyorum odamda. bahar mı geldi ne? gerçi güneş yok, ve it might as well be spring söylemiyorum, ve köfte kokusunun arasından yeşilliğin, çamın ve çimenin kokusunu pek ayrımsayamıyorum. bahar yavaş yavaş gelicek, hava ısınacak ve elbet sonunda o heycanla beklediğim bahar geldiği gibi geçicek yerini yaz buhranlarına bırakıcak. sonbaharda sıkıntılar geçmiş gibi görünecek belki, ama kışın soğuğunda donan sevgisizliğimize nasıl dayanırız bilmiyorum.. en güzeli göçmek olsa gerek, her daim ilk bahar'ı yaşayacağım dünyanın bir köşesine.

özlemişim köşemi dünyanın hiçbir köşesinde olmayan. :)

geçen zamanı blog ve festivaller üzerinden takip etmek

2008-02-18T12:33:00.005+02:00

blog'a bakılırsa 2007 yılının 9 ayını yaşamışım. 3/4.

son iki haftanın da 1/4ünü yaşadım sanırım. o sırada da dışarda biryerlerde oturup, yan masada birbirlerine sevgililer günü hediyesi verip mutluluktan garipleşen ya da vıcır vıcır kavga eden çiftleri dinledim.

film festivalinin belgeselimsi filmleri cezbetti beni şimdiye kadar. Annie Leibovitz: Life through a Lens çok güzel olmakla beraber çok rahatsız edici birşeyler düşünmeme sebep oldu, biraz gözlerimin dolmasına vesile oldu 68'de Berkeley kampüsünde fotograf çekerek başladığı için. Ve sonunda, hem boyanmış blues brothers suratlarını, hem de fashion fotografçılığını yadırgatmadı mı emin değilim. Bosna Hersek fotografları, sanki en başta romantize ederekten beni yakaladığı sürekli yolda olmak için fotograf çekmek amacının daha güzel birer örneğiydi. Nitekim taktir etmek gerekir ki harika bağlamışlar, we were looking at the world through a ready made frame, the car window. İnsanların hayat hikayelerinde geçmişlerindeki çok alakasız şeyleri incorporate edebilmelerine hayranım. Tarih yazımıyla, biyografi/otobiyografi ne kadar benzer sorunlar etrafında dönüyor aslında, ikisine de aynı skeptisizmle yaklaşıyorum.

Bugünü bugün yazmakla yarın yazmak arasında da bir fark arz eder herhalde şu dediğim.

Sigur Ros ayrı güzel bir belgeselvari filmdi. Ülkesinin değerini bilmek ve geri vermek üzerine milliyetçilikten ve vatan millet sakaryadan çok daha gerçek ve içten bir yorum da içeriyordu ki oldukça etkilendim. Müziğin çıktığı kaynak resmen bu dört muhteşem çocuğun doğayla olan ilişkisi ve toplumsal olarak boşluk/yer ihtiyaçlarının üzerine oturtulunca arkadaki kemanların sakin eşliği, hızlanmalarındaki umutlu su akışı akisleri anlaşılır hale geliyor. Buna da aynı kuşkuyla bakmak istiyorum, müziğin altına koydukları görüntülere kandığımı biliyorum aslında. Ama.. ama.

2. ayın 18inde başladığım bu yazıyı ancak ve ancak 4. ayın 6sında, bir film festivali bitmiş, diğeri başlamışken post edicek olmam da içler acısı mı desem yoksa güzelleştirilebilecek bir tesadüf mü?

iksv'nin film festivali cuma akşamı başladı. eea sağolsun davetiyemizle gidip, en güzel tepeden izledik açılış filmi olan Caramel'i. Nadine Labaki'nin yönettiği, ve aynı zamanda başrolünde güzelliği ile e.yi de beni de cezbettiği film Lübnanda geçen ve savaşın yakınından uzağından dokunmayan bir film olmasıyla söylediği kadar, söylemediği; günlük hayatın ipiçinde olduğu kadar tamamen dışında olanları da hatırlattı ( ya da hatırlatmıştır inşallah) izleyenlerine. açılışın iğrenç ve gereksiz seremonyalitesinden sonraki filme orayı tıklım tıklım doldurmuş insanların en fazla yarısının kalması da içimi acıttı açıkçası. Yönetmenin bulunduğu bir gösterimde ses konusunda teknik sorunların yaşanmış olması da işin cabasıydı. Herhalükarda, kadın halleri hakkında pek de güzel bir film izlemiş bulunduk; kadınlık durumlarını gösterip, özellikle victimize etmeden gösterdiği için de taktir-e şayandı. Örneğin evlenmek üzere olan kıvırcık saçlı koyu tenli güzel kızımız meğer daha önce bekaretini kaybetmiştir filmde, ve bu yüzden zarını diktirmek için doktora gider. Bu bir insanlık hali olarak aktarılmış, ne dikilirken ne kadar acı çektiği, ne sonradan bilmemne prosedür yanlış yapıldığı için öldüğü gibi dramatizasyonlara gidilmiş. Sanıyorum ki film göze sokmadan göstermek, hayat halini neredeyse filmleştirmeden göstermek konusunda gördüğüm en güzel örnekti şimdiye kadar..