Posts Tagged: Istanbul


26
Mar 10

‘’Istanbul-Pontivy, bir şehirde kesişen bakışlar ‘’- Fotoğraf Sergisi

Sergi açılışı 26 Mart 2010 Cuma, saat 18.30

Sainte Pulchérie Lisesi L2 sınıf öğrencileri ve Pontivy Jeanne d’Arc Lisesi’ndeki Fransız arkadaşları tarafından gerçekleştirilen sergi.

Fotoğraf sanatçısı, yönetmen Timurtaş Onan’ın motive eden enerjisiyle öğrenciler, Fransa ve Türkiye’yi gezdiler, birbirleriyle tanıştılar, birbirlerinin yaşadıkları yerleri ve kültürlerini tanıdılar. Pontivy ve İstanbul sokaklarında fotoğraf çekimi yaparlarken, aynı zamanda kendi bakış açılarını yansıtan çalışmalar da yapmış oldular. Bu sergi, “Fransa’da Türkiye Mevsimi” etkinlikleri çerçevesinde sunulmakta olup, Jeanne d’Arc ve Sainte Pulchérie Lisesi öğrencilerinin 6 ay süren ortak çalışmalarının bir ürünüdür.

Od’A – Ouvroir d’Art (Ziyaret Saatleri Pazartesi – Cumartesi 9.00 – 18.00 arası, Çarşamba günü hariç)
Sainte Pulchérie Fransız Lisesi
Çukurluçeşme sok. no 7 Küçükparmakkapı
BEYOĞLU
34433 ISTANBUL
TURQUIE


25
Feb 10

“BEDRİ BAYKAM’IN DÜNYASINDAN…” SERGİSİ SAİNTE PULCHERİE OKULUNDA

Sainte Pulchérie, “Festival de la francophonie” (Fransız Dili Festivali) kapsamındaki, etkinlikleri çerçevesinde, ünlü Bedri Baykam’ın işlerini sergiliyor.

163 yıllık köklü bir kurum olarak, okulda 2009’dan beri sergiler açan Sainte Pulchérie, bu şekilde kültürel etkinlikleriyle hem öğrencilerine, hem de İstanbullu sanatseverlere hizmet etmiş oluyor. Okul daha önce bünyesindeki etkinliklerde İdil Biret, Ayla Algan, Nedim Gürsel gibi sanatçı ve aydınları da konuk etti.

Türk Çağdaş Sanatının yıllardır yurtiçinde ve yurtdışında en çok tanınan isimlerinden olan Bedri Baykam, gerek sergileriyle, gerek sosyal duyarlılıklarıyla sürekli gündemde olan bir sanatçı. 1957 Ankara doğumlu sanatçı, 6 yaşından itibaren tüm dünyada açtığı sergilerle “Harika Çocuk” olarak tanındı. Daha sonra 12 yıl Paris ve California’da yaşayan sanatçı, halen Cumhuriyet Gazetesi yazarı ve Uluslararsı Plastik Sanatlar Derneği’nin Başkanı. 111 kişisel sergi açan Baykam’ın yayınlanmış 21 kitabı bulunuyor.

Sainte Pulchérie’deki sergisinde Baykam’ın değişik dönemlerinden tualler, kolajlar ve bazı desenlerin yanı sıra, sanatçının son iki yılda Monaco’dan Londra’ya, San Francisco’dan Berlin’e sergilendiği her ülkede büyük ses getiren lens tekniğiyle gerçekleştirdiği 4-D işlerinden örnekler yer alıyor.

Sainte Pulchérie, ”Od’A-Ouvroir d’Art” galerisinde
ziyaret saatleri : Pazartesi – Cumartesi
9.00 – 18.00 arası (Çarşamba günü hariç)

Küçükparmakkapı, Çukurluçeşme Sokak No 7 Beyoğlu Istanbul
www.sp.k12.tr


19
Jan 10

KIRILIM / REFRACTION Irmak Canevi

Irmak Canevi
KIRILIM

Acilis: 22 Ocak 2010, Cuma / 18.00-21.00

Ziyaret gun ve saatleri: 22 Ocak – 7 Subat Cars., Pers., Cu., Cmts /
15.00-19.00

Apartman Projesi / Seh bender sok. No:4/1 Tunel-Istanbul
www.apartmentproject.com

KIRILIM

Disarıya ait tanidik imge ve detaylarin proje mekaninin camlarindan sizarken kirildigi ve ic mekanda yeniden kurgulandigi bu enstalasyonda Irmak Canevi, Apartman Projesi’nin hemen otesinde var olan dis dunyayi soyutlastiriyor.

Cevreye ‘yakindan’ bir goz atan sanatci, ayristirip kaydettigi bir seri detayi oyunbaz bir denklem uzerinden bir araya getirerek renkli bir dunya yaratiyor. Canevi, bu yansimanin disarinin iceriye ‘karismasi’nin ve cevrenin onlenemeyen mudahalesinin bir metaforu olarak da algilanmasini amacliyor.
www.irmakcan.wordpress.com


13
Jan 10

BBC Serhat Köksal’ı keşfetti

BBC’nin efsanevi sunucusu John Peel, şehrin yeraltı müzik sahnesini keşfetmek için geldiği İstanbul’da doğrudan  Serhat Köksal (nam-ı diğer 2/5 BZ)’ı fark etti. Yani, banal Türk melodramlarıyla aksiyon filmlerinin, türkülerle ise derinden gelen elektronik casio melodilerinin iç içe geçtiği görsel/işitsel kolajlar gerçekleştiren İstanbullu bir sanatçıyı. Köksal’dan çok etkilenen Peel, Londra’daki radyo programında 2/5 BZ’nin parçalarını düzenli olarak çalmaya başladı ve her seferinde ”Türkiye’de dinlediğim müzikler arasında favorim 2/5 BZ” demeyi de ihmal etmedi.

1982 doğumlu Serhat Köksal, ”ilk tamamlanmış işi” olarak tanımladığı ”Pin Pon Oynayan Adamlar ve Ajda Pekkan Süperb..ktanadam’a Karşı”yı henüz 14 yaşında tamamladı. O dönemleri, kablolu televizyonun Türkiye’ye gelişi ve devletin bilgi üzerinde kurduğu otoritenin yıkıldığı zaman olarak hatırlıyor Köksal ve ekliyor ”tam bir popüler kültür bombardımanı gibiydi!”. O günlerde televizyonda gördüğü her şeyi kaydeden sanatçı, bu klipleri kendi gerçekleştirdiği performanslara yediriyor. Devlet tarafından desteklenen ve yayınlanan Türkiye görüntülerini, İstanbul’un bit pazarlarından bulduğu 16 mm’lik kısa filmlerle üst üste bindiriyor. Bu birbiriyle tamamen alakasız görüntülerden oluşan kolajlar ise giderek karmaşık ve hatta semfonik hale gelen görsel / işitsel performanslara dönüşüyor.

Köksal’ın Uluslar arası müzik sahnesinde belirişinde de bir miktar ironi var aslında. John Peel çekici ve sabır isteyen türdeki müziklerin iflah olmaz bir destekçisi olduğundan, 2/5 BZ’ye bir hayli arka çıktı. Ancak Köksal’ın beste ve performanslarına verdiği isimler (”No Cultural Pipeline No Energy Dialogue” veya ”No Turistik No Egzotik”), müzik eleştirmenleri tarafından biraz fazla acımasız bulundu. Bu süreç içinde, Köksal’ın işleri tam da eleştirdiği şey tarafından gayet uygun biçimde şekillendirilmeye başladı: sanatçılar ve eserlerini egzotik amblemlere dönüştüren küresel bienaller.

Yanısıra, Serhat Köksal geçtiğimiz sene Uluslararası Tahran Gezici Bienali’nin yola düşmesine de öncülük etti. Berlin, Istanbul ve Belgrad’dan sonra Gezici Bienal’in sonraki durağı ise Beyrut. Çalışmalarına devam eden sanatçı, son olarak Gözel adını verdiği tek kişilik bir plak şirketi kurdu. Gözel, multimedya alanda görünür kılınan CD, DVD, fanzinler, posterler ve kasetler yayınlamak üzere çalışmalara başladı.

http://www.myspace.com/2serhat5bz


5
Jan 10

ongoing interview with clemens von wedemeyer on the subject of ‘bad acting’

Title: Good bad acting

Clemens: When you look at old films, like 20's mute films, the way of acting has significantly changed today. During the days of Fritz Lang, acting was stylish, in a experessionist way. Today we laugh about these styles, or at least look at it with a strange eye, in mind all the time that has passed until today. In the 80s, Rainer Werner Fassbinder told his actors not to act: In "Katzelmacher", the guys hang around, nearly frozen, and just speak. Only the women sometimes move "normally", and the men only move to beat someone up or to order the next beer.

It seems that acting styles change like fashion every 5 years…

When i speak to people looking at my short films, i get strange reactions. I made different kind of films, and so people can choose: One kind of people like acting called "cinematic naturalism", others like the way,an actor trained in theater would play. Earlier I chose the persons I filmed in front of the camera in a conceptual way, for example an immigrant would play an immigrant, or visitors are suddenly extras, or prisoners remake laurel and hardy.

As for now, more and more i get bored of this conceptualist way, and i also get bored of acting and directing actors in general. I am not trained in theatre, but each time i have to work with actors, i get sad. For the project "The Fourth Wall", i wanted some actors and non-actors to be on a stage, rehearsing a play about a neolithic, peaceful tribe. The difference in acting capability is obvious, as also children and non actors, but also theatre trained actors and so on mix on the stage, forming a heterogenous group. We also just had not enough time and money to rehearse, but i like the outcome, which shocks some cinema-goers. For me it is a situation, which does not need to be "perfect", because it needs to transport an idea and an atmosphere, not the entertainment of perfect acting. But what is perfect acting to you? Not acting at all? In which way helps or destroys it the film or video we look at?

Köken: At the end of your text you are approaching something that also interests me: Accidental Acting. You are elaborating this very well in your work, but maybe without realizing in full. The excuses you are making here: about not having enough time, money, are maybe consciously created. Your heart is not in creating a good acting in the Stanislavksy sense of the word…

I will come back to that. But first I want to show you the origin of my personal problem with all these ‘acting things’… My problem is not in these recent acting theories, styles, like the Stankislavki method, cinematic naturalism, or Brechtian etc. but more with mimesis itself, in general. I am more interested in understanding Plato’s objection to mimesis, hence theatre itself. And we are talking about the Ancient Greek theatre here, which obviously had very different styles that what we are used to today when we talk about or see acting. If todays audience was transformed to the Epidarus Theatre of 485 BC to a performance of Aiskhylos’ Euminides, they would have been very surprised about the acting. Maybe it would not even count as acting to them.

Plato’s refusal of this theatre (not only acting) was an objection to many things within the Greek society; its polytheist religion, its obsession with creating images, stories. To him all these were leading the society to a world of fantasies, which in the end prevented them to see his ‘real world’. A world that he was trying constantly to discover and describe: The world of the one creator; the world of “idea”s. Against our world of copies, or of copies of copies…

But before diving into “The Republic” and discussing the problem of mimesis, I would like to make use of my background as an acting student and director’s apprentice and talk about acting in very practical terms:

What do I understand of the word “acting”? Well, basically two things:

1. 2.

Acting out (being) someone else Re-enacting (re-living)

with someone else’s words something that happened

(I am acting somebody else: to me in different time and

Antigone, Hamlet, Passenger #1) conditions

(They expect me to be that other (I am acting myself)

person) (Nobody expects me to be someone else, I am still myself)

Most people will not even accept number 2 as acting but it is very well acting, and I will try to demonstrate that it is essential to our discussion of bad acting as well as Plato’s objection to mimesis.

First of all, our topic “bad acting” does not apply to number 2. It only applies to number 1. If your wife is telling you what happened to her that day when she fell of the bike, she is re-enacting something that happened to her in the past. You were not there, and she wants you to picture in your mind the setting, the time, and what happened to her etc. She might use some gestures and recite some words that came out her mouth at that exact moment. She is acting because she is re-enacting a moment. It is an act of remembering. But you cannot say she is acting bad or good. Then she tells you about the meeting at the kindergarten of your child, which involves other parents. This time she might need to “act out” Mr. Smith for example. Mr. Smith said this and this. While doing so she is trying to become someone else, by using mimesis. This time you could say she is acting Mr. Smith good or bad, cause you are able to judge her mimicry. You can say to your self “well, this is not like Mr. Smith” or “that’s exactly how Mr. Smith would act like!” You can judge her ability to create the reality effect, an essential feature of theatre and cinema arts.

On the other hand, she is still re-enacting a moment she has witnessed herself. What she is saying, she heard. What she is acting out, she witnessed. But things change when the text and Mr. Smith’s character are written by someone else and given to her as a text and ordered: “Now play this guy called Mr. Smith.” This is what happens in most of theatre and cinema, in different degrees. Mimesis is no longer a mere device but becomes a technique and order on its own. This is the mimesis that Plato objects to in The Republic.

It is in this level of mimesis where bad acting is applicable. In other words, the idea of bad acting exists in the realm of this type of developed mimesis. It is in this aesthetic form of play that one must act good in order to make things look real – and this is even the case with non-realistic, expressionist acting you mention in the beginning. The action of acting out becomes an artistic expression and the performers become actors, in the professional sense of the word. In return we expect them to act good –whatever style of acting they have, and we expect the work to be good as well. We expect and expect… We judge. Even the actor judges himself.

Judgement is the key element here I think. It spoils a lot of things. If an actor fails in his attempt to be that someone else (Mr. Smith, Hamlet, Passenger #1) the acting becomes unconvincing to the audience, because the reality effect is not achieved. I know how terrible this feeling is for the actor, cause I have always been a bad actor myself. It is tormenting for a young actor who is instructed in the Stanislasvky method not to be able to achieve this reality effect. Now Stanislavksy always says that he doesn’t expect the actor to be someone else completely, he says the actor must use his own devices just to ‘act out’ that person within the time and space frame of the play in question. An actor must be like water, who takes the shape of any cup it enters. But I was never convinced of this. for example, how could someone like me, born and raised in Istanbul into warm climate, community atmosphere, to an Eastern and Muslim culture embody a highly individual character of Anton Chekhov of a much colder climate, Christian and Slavic culture. It is possible but not easy. Most important of all it is not in earnest. It is a simulation.

So when I realized this my acting studies became hell for me, and I gradually moved away from theatre and to video art, where I started to document ceremonies (I, Soldier), rituals (WEDDING) and other performative acts that are not made for art, to be a work of art, or judged in the same sense that an art work is judged. The acting you see in this kind of ritualistic phenomenon is closer to the # 2 acting I tried to explain above. We can very well preserve this acting within theatre and cinema, but first we will have to redefine these arts, or perhaps deconstruct them.

I think when you have casted immigrants to play immigrants (Otjesd), careworkers for careworkers taking care of homeless people in the train station in Munster (Von der Gegenüber) you were in earnest, but as soon as you cast any actor for a specific role, you are involved more in simulation and this clearly disturbs you. Maybe you can tell me why then you want to keep on doing this.

Maybe bad acting is an unconscious resistance against being forced to be someone else. Some actors might be comfortable to simulate someone else, this might be part of their character, but some actors and mostly non-actors are not happy with this world of simulations. They prefer to be more in earnest. Maybe we can even divide people into those who live mimetic and those who don’t. Actually Plato is clearly doing this. He simply does not want mimetic acts in his state. For him it is not about acting, or theatre; he is trying to explain a bigger world picture.

And I completely agree when you say “in bad acting at least some part of the actors own personality is preserved” (I cant find these words now but I remember u wrote it somewhere, can u add them back to your question?). This fits my explanation above about the degrees of acting. I want to see real people, not people who are acting out someone else’s reality. Instead of trying to be someone else, it is more fun for me to demonstrate the failure of being someone else. At least it is more honest… I can see this in your works prior to “Die Probe” and “the Fourth Wall”. This is also for all of Guy (Ben Ner)’s works so far. Imagine “Moby Dick” or “Stealing Beauty” for example.

After all, given the right supporting ingredients/features, the audience will understand or feel what the actor is trying to do, even though he/she acts bad. Imagine “Stealing Beauty” here. They are such bad actors, it is so good! Or the woman outside the train station in “Von Der Gegenuber” who is angry at protestors throwing fliers around.

Clemens: Before I can comment on your specific questions and talk about the interesting question of acting and democracy, which we should - I would like to raise the question of truth in acting as well as the boundaries, the blending between your points 1 & 2: Reenacting and Acting-out). You say that you could not, as a young actor, work in the Stanislavski-Method, and you said, because you did not achieve it: “It is a simulation.” This is very interesting, as the tool of acting is always, like art in general, a world of simulation. At least in the beginning. You simulate before things really start. This is the world of the model, the experiment, the rehearsal, the script, the making-of, which to me is the world the more interesting than to achieve a fiction, which looks too perfect, and so is unbelievable. Life is more interesting than heaven, where everything is in order;- Acting is a question of balance, and my perception of it changes with styles, knowledge and cultural differences. (ask this to Clemens in person, don’t understand now)

Concerning the basic elements of acting, which you started to define, let me now speak especially about mimesis in so called “first contact”- scenarios, that is to say when someone from the outside meets a people in a remote area of the world who before had no contact with the outside world. I am very interested in anthropology in this moment, and acting plays a big part here. Acting (and I mean acting here as a system of mimesis, mimicry, re-enacting etc like in your second point, which is probably the older function of “acting”) becomes a very important tool, because if you meet another culture for the first time, there is no interchangeable vocabulary of gestures and language, acting is the first step of learning a sign language, to communicate. Why that? Because you have to test gestures without absolutely taking them for real; you are in a sphere of simulation, of learning. The other wants to find out if you are cheating, etc.

By using mimetic codes, one tries to get a reaction. Some gestures are for example quite easy, like: “I would like to sleep here”, or “I am tired”, or “I am thirsty”. During first contacts between ethnologists and isolated groups, it would seem necessary to begin by using familiar gestures so as to develop a common language. Later it becomes more complicated, and through bad acting you would probably produce some misunderstandings -!

These first encounters are happening still today in the brazilian rainforest, and happened still in the 2030s, when goldseekers travelled in the highlands of Papua-Neuguinea.. Here they filmed during these contacts, which is very interesting. One case happened in 1971 in the Philippines, when a group of 26 people were discovered living in a cave, and using only stone tools, etc.

As NBC, National Geographic and NDR began with filming the following year, one member of the group frequently stood out in front of the camera: Belayem, an unmarried man who was in his mid-twenties at the time. Due to his talent for mimicry and ability to recount experiences with startlingly fine gestures, journalists from NBC dubbed him the ‘Marcel Marceau of the Stone Age.’ Soon he was imitating the photographers and cameramen, who felt they had rediscovered paradise and now presented a human zoo to the world. Belayem mimicked the camera men. On the older video footage he appears ready to clown at any moment. Soon Belayem was so adept at posing for the cameras, that he perhaps knew which gestures were most likely to please and which actions might most impress his viewers. The anthropologist Irenäus Eibl-Eibesfeldt hoped to avoid the charades by putting a 90 degrees mirror behind his camera lens, and pretending to be testing the camera.

It wasn’t until many years later that cameras from the West returned their attention to these talented mime artists. In 1986, after 12 years of isolation in a guarded reservation under the state of emergency declared during the Marcos’ dictatorship, the Tasaday were re-visited by a Swiss journalist who claimed that they had only acted out their Stone Age existence in the 1970s, and had been pawns of an external power seeking attention and political gain. Indeed an interesting possibility: 26 local farmers strip themselves of their clothes and begin to live in caves, feed themselves from the forest and let their hair grow long, and act as if they had always done so. Their act had so impressed the western media that deforestation had been halted and a reservation erected for their protection. A battle broke out among anthropologists, and in an effort to end the controversy, the government of the Philippines issued an official statement confirming the authenticity of the Tasaday. To confirm the Non-Acting!

Now here is the clue why I am copying this text here: Would an actor, already playing a role in which he builds stone tools, furthermore weave in a second theatrical layer of pantomime into the simple act of natural survival in the jungle? Perhaps. Either way Belayem was an accomplished actor, even more so in the case of a fraudulent play!

But as I mentioned before, you need acting talents when communicating. Charles Darwin, exploring the Tierra del Fuego from the Beagle in 1833, commented on the natives’ talented use of body language: ‘All savages appear to possess, to an uncommon degree, this power of mimicry.’ This skill seems much more developed in them than in the so-called civilized. While Darwin attributed this to their more highly developed sensory perception, one could rather cite the evolutionary necessity of oral transmission, also aided by gesticulation during narration.

Perhaps Darwin should have included mime artists along with the painters and writers he took on his journeys to aid in communication. In the case of Belayem, might the high art of pantomime testify not to willful duplicity, but rather give proof of the authenticity of isolated ‘savages’ existing in the 20th century? When viewing the original footage of the Tasaday, I find it hard to believe that a group of peasants might have convincingly imitated a Stone Age people for some time. But it would be possible.

If somebody says they are acting badly, they are maybe authentic, while good acting would make you suspicious. In this case the analyse of acting, beyond the question of good or bad acting, could be a key to the issue if this group was authentic or not.

Furthermore you can also see that only by shifting the perspective on a real subject, by stating a comment like: “He just acted!” you are looking at reality in a very different style. Suddenly the perception of cheating comes into ones perspective, as if bad acting, which is more self-reflective, would remind us of the life of life, of the impossibility of a perfect life.


5
Jan 10

interview with november paynter

originally published in the Performing Arts Journal, issue 85, 2007 THE INSPIRATION OF HOME Köken Ergun interviewed by November Paynter August 2006 Born in 1976, in Istanbul, Köken Ergun studied with actress Yıldız Kenter and playwright Güngör Dilmen at the Istanbul University Acting Department, followed by a postgraduate diploma in Ancient Greek Theatre at London’s King’s College. He holds a Masters degree from the Istanbul Bilgi University Visual Communication Design Department, with his dissertation entitled Stress on the Contemporary Body in New Media Arts. An earlier Post-Graduate Diploma dissertation was written on The Representation of Iphigenia in Euripides, Racine and Goethe. Ergun is currently a Phd candidate at the Theatre Dramaturgy Department of the Istanbul University. Between 1998 and 2001 Ergun worked as Assistant Director to Robert Wilson on productions such as The Days Before: Death Destruction & Detroit III. In 2001, he presented his first solo work, a large-scale installation performance, in Istanbul’s Rumeli Fortress. This initial step into art performance led Ergun to move into the field of art video and performance and he began exhibiting in Europe and the United States, at institutions including KIASMA Museum of Contemporary Arts (Helsinki), Platform Garanti Contemporary Art Center (Istanbul), Exit Art (NYC), Art in General (NYC), Badischer Kunstverein (Karlsruhe), Sparwasser HQ (Berlin) and Sculpturens Hus (Stockholm). His video works have been screened in film festivals in Europe at both the Oberhausen Film Festival, the Odense Film Festival and at The Amsterdam Documentary Film Festival. In 2004 Ergun was an artist-in-residency in New York, at Location One and he is currently an artist-in-residence at Kuenstlerhauser Worpswede, Germany and the Foreign Artist Exhange of the Austrian Government, in Vienna. Köken, please tell us a little about your interest in theatre and performance and how you moved away from these fields to begin working in the field of contemporary art. I think I have always been “dramatic” in a sense. When I was a child I always dreamt of “the other”, almost always being better, stronger than “the self”, but not because I was unhappy with my current state or upbringing. I think I just liked fictionalising and dreaming for the sake of creating a different world around me. So I would dramatize other states, other people, like I was creating my own mythology. My roots go back to the lands of the Ancient Greeks of Asia Minor so I was already very familiar with the myths and legends of the Aegean from an early age. One of the reasons I wanted to study theatre was because of this connection with Greek mythology and theatre. Maybe I also sensed an existential suffocation at that early age towards the greater world (not necessarily to my immediate surroundings) and escaped from that general reality by being dramatic. Istanbul is a very gray city, it can be very depressing in the winter, very misty and dirty, even more so during my childhood. Not everybody is lucky enough to have a fantastic view of the city or the Bosphorus, and sometimes all you see is a gray city skyline, a poor skyline. I remember Istanbul being perpetually gray, and even as a child I understood about the political struggles and the hard times that consumed it. I knew that there was a better world out there, one that was not so full of struggle and political contestation. So I pictured our surrounding reality from the position of different characters all the time. I could easily relate to those who didn’t live in Istanbul, those that came from other places, non-places. I still like these non-places and enjoy the ability to locate myself somewhere else that is not necessarily anywhere in particular. Through this relationship with a drama of sorts, I ended up being accepted to an acting school having attended an audition merely to test my abilities. I entered prematurely which perhaps manifested its problems later on and thus I soon realised that theatre was not for me. Or rather this form of representation was not for me. I didn’t find it sincere. I disliked all those Checkovs and Shakespeares. They didn’t fit my body, my body was too Eastern for them. But the teachers forced us to adjust our bodies to these heavy minded creatures that existed in their plays. For me there was little of interest in theatre produced between the time of the Ancient Greek writers and Beckett. The body in these two examples were closer to mine. All the plays and characters that came after Euripides and before Beckett were a mere nuisance to me. With a few exceptions of course, like Maeterlinck who I still feel comfortable with. Then, just as I was preparing for auditions for film schools I found myself working with Robert Wilson. He showed me a different aspect of theatre. He made me aware of the importance of timing. Not specifically his own timing, but a sense for timing in/for a work of art. I think this is one of the most important elements of art production. It is all about timing, as Bob (Robert Wilson) would say. Bob wouldn’t “teach” me things, he wouldn’t teach anyone anything. What he did was much more interesting, he would create a space for you to think that there is an alternative. This is very important and many people who criticize his work today overlook this important motive in his practice. Once you understand that there is another, you can move on yourself. This is pretty much similar to the teachings of Shamanism, Taoism, or that of Bektashis in Turkey. As soon as I understood this other, I moved towards contemporary art and away from theatre, also away from Bob’s work, which I found a very natural development, and I think he would be comfortable with it too. So, with this new sense of timing that I had acquired, I felt more comfortable working in the field of contemporary art, especially with video and performative video. Can you explain why you chose not to pursue this new sense of timing within the genre of performance itself and instead chose to work mainly with video, which steps away from the act of live performance into that of documentation? I am still not content with the representation techniques of either theatre or performance. Many things disappear in repetition or staging. In other words, there are two kinds of performance: the first is performed not for the sake of performance, but for any other reason, either to continue the flow of life (like eating or sex) or to serve a cultural reason (like discipline or punishment). I call this life performance as opposed to live performance. The second is performance made only for the sake of re-performing these first forms of performance. It is pure repetition, but we are somewhat afraid to call it so. We call it art instead. We call it theatre. Brecht said “everything is theatre”. It is true, but then why repeat it on stage and ruin it? I have gradually come to have a problem with this. When I was in the first years of my acting studies I absolutely loved the idea (of mimesis), but now I prefer the first form of performance, the natural one. Actually you don’t even need to describe it as natural because there should not be an unnatural. Just like the Chinese do not specify gender in language, so being male or female doesn’t mean anything and being naked doesn’t mean anything either… I want the Western world to be more like this in terms of performance. It would be interesting if there were no theatre for a while, no stage, no performances, just a very long hiatus; during which period we can come to accept that everything is an act of performance by itself, without direction by another. The world exists and moves by itself, not by mankind. The whole idea behind Western performing arts is the central figure “I”. And this is why I don’t like the theatre we see everywhere, or the performances we see in the art world. The most selfish “I” is still too central. Both the actor and the director think that by putting themselves in the foreground they will achieve something. What they achieve is a perfect repetition. Or perfect egoism. But, I think to re-present a performance (of the first form) by another un-live medium like video is more interesting. This is why I started to document performances of the first kind and apply my own direction with a very little editing, just to help link the timing of the individual segments into a single work. I don’t want to add more to the original performance I have simply filmed. There seems to be a strong tendency for artists in the region of the South East Mediterranean and East Europe to work in the medium of video and often by using some form of documentary technique. Reasons for this include the relatively cheap cost of shooting simple handheld video footage, the ease of sending work abroad for exhibition and the perception of curators from overseas who still seem to prefer work that depicts other cultures as succinctly as possible. Along with a shift towards photography this similar approach to video was prevalent in the Free Kick exhibition presented during the 9th Istanbul Biennial and in which you participated. Can you comment on the commonality of video in the region? I think it is not only these practical reasons that make video a preferred medium amongst artists in the Middle East. I think we have much to tell and video seems to be the perfect medium for this. Video is an extension of film, which is an extension of theatre, which is an extension of performance, which is an extension of ritual. All of these creative forms contain drama in it one way or another. Or rather a form of story telling, if we attribute an Eastern term instead of the Western use of “drama.” If you look at the region’s past; painting and sculpture have not been a common artistic practice for story telling. While in Christian culture they prospered due to their depiction of religious myths backed by the church. Islam and Judaism prohibited any visual representation of religious figures or myths. Therefore, painting does not exist in the same way as a driving force for contemporary fine art practice in this region. In the same way periods such as Abstract creativity did not emerge in the medium of painting, but proffered more in the form of literature (mostly poetry), and much later, via a borrowed modernism, from film. A clear example of this is the strength of filmmaking in Iran. On the other hand, for us documentation is also a way of story telling, because I think there is so much happening in the region that it cannot be interpreted in a logical way. We like to capture and represent narratives with no personal commentary, either visual or verbal. So the documented event tells its own story. This does not mean that our Western counterparts have less to tell. But I do believe that they have been saying the same things for over a century now. Back in the 30s, one of the strongest critics of the modern Western individual, Robert Musil argued in his The Man Without Qualities that “in history there is no change.” The exhaustion of the Western civilization, and the Western self (again the “I”) was almost complete at the time of his writing. Since then the dam has not broken, it has not even cracked. Western society continues to chew over what it already had in its mouth back then. I think in the Eastern parts of the world we have more food on our plates, so we don’t hold it in our mouths for so long, we either spit it out in anger, or digest as much as we can. I think mediums that have more “storage space” for story telling transform our large resources and our desire to project them in a more productive way. Painting, sculpture and even photography have less storage space in this sense, so maybe that’s why we resort to video. Those who left Turkey in the 60/70s to follow opportunities in Europe and America rarely returned. But, now the trend appears to have shifted and this generation find it more productive to divide their time between home and away, and to communicate the inspiration they get from life in Turkey elsewhere and to share their experience of living elsewhere back home. Your movements over the last six years, with periods spent in Istanbul, London and New York, exemplify this tendency. But you maintain that your inspiration nearly always comes from home, in particular from Istanbul. Do you therefore find it beneficial to produce work elsewhere with distance from the original subject and in the context of a different form of cultural perception and how do you differentiate the way you experience and are inspired by your home city of Istanbul and other cities you have lived in such as London and New York? I have never been as inspired by any city other than Istanbul. This doesn’t mean that most of my works taste of Istanbul, as they say. I think it is the embodiment of the city and its character in my work, and in my character. In a city you grow up in and interact with; you copy attributes of its architecture, its people, its public transportation system, its nightlife. I operate pretty much like the architecture of Istanbul for example. And with architecture I am talking about is the architecture that you wouldn’t even call architecture. It is an architecture that develops not according to styles or creators (again the “I”), but according to necessity and flow of daily life. So just like the two forms of performance I described earlier, architecture also comes in two forms. It is the first form that integrated with my body, but the second I was taught to integrate my body with. Unfortunately, in modern Turkey we are being taught to live in the organized and self-centred created by Western culture. Just imagine: teaching a child of Istanbul to live as a Western urban citizen in an organized system. Imagine what he sees around him and what he is taught. This is why the new expensive schools in Istanbul are built outside the city like gated communities of say 70s/80s London, so that the children of wealthy or pretentious Western-type families can’t see the real world outside. This points out the most obvious character of Istanbul: it is a city of dichotomies. This city is the epitome of being ‘bi-’. It can embody any given attribute in two or more different states at the same time with an absolute chaotic comfort. For example, if you leave it to its most natural form, many Western attributes will not apply here. But, we don’t leave it to its natural form. We force it to change. We raped this city and its people to look like, to feel like, to walk like, to dress like Westerners. The petrified, mutant body that comes out of this rape is what inspires me the most. And ironically I am one of these mutant bodies, so I constantly question my own existence and my own positioning in Istanbul first as a micro-cosmos and also in the world as a macro-cosmos. Therefore, being away from Istanbul and re-thinking it from a Western geography and culture does lead to a more cohesive understanding of my own self and culture. On the other hand, in Western cities I am more interested in the minorities than the indigenous community. In New York for example, I am inspired by black culture. Although we Turks have no immediate historical or geographical similarities with them, I feel closer to them for some reason. I think it is something to do with trying to distance oneself from colonial attitudes. I first felt this attraction to black culture at a nightclub, in one of the old Body & Soul parties. Everyone was dancing with the same enthusiasm and exorcism I saw in the countryside of Turkey. I was not taught to dance like that, I was taught to imitate the Western detached way of dancing. It is very hard to explain. I can’t describe it with words… Two recent works in particular reflect on the mutant body. The first is “Untitled”, 2004 and the second “I, Soldier”, 2005. In Untitled you present a series of self-portraits of yourself applying and donning a variety of headscarves in different styles and with different ties devised by a range of Islamic traditions. Viewing a man undertake this procedure at first gives the work a comic stance, but the austerity and seriousness of his intent and later his tears imply the societal contradictions and trauma that this solitary appendage induces. Whereas “Untitled” is concerned with a female, religious relationship with the bigger societal picture, “I, Soldier” presents the opposite extreme of bodily trauma experienced in Turkey, that from a male, secular position. Filmed during a national day dedicated to the youth of the republic, this two-channel work shows a soldier voicing with grandiose authority a nationalistic military poem. In Turkey every male youth must complete a period in the military and many view this imposition as a form of mental and bodily trauma. In “I, Soldier” it is not only those in official uniform that are seen going about their regulated duties, but also boys from the military school who perform rehearsed activities either in synchronisation with the rest of the group, or its antithesis - in competition against one another. Can you describe your interest in specific cultural bodily trauma in the two works “Untitled”, 2004 and “I, Soldier”, 2005. Both are similar in the way they deal with the mutant body I mentioned earlier and its dichotomies (I deliberately use it as plural) - in both works I celebrate these dichotomies. The headscarf piece Untitled was inspired by a deliberate and ugly act of the current president of Turkey. The wearing of headscarves is not permitted in state controlled spaces in Turkey, such as its universities, court-houses and even the parliament for that matter. Despite Turkey being one of the strictest secular countries in the world, its public elected a conservative party with Islamic tendencies, which was actually quite successful for a while. However, as soon as they came to power the lowbrow, high-bureaucrats and the army started to exaggerate the headscarf issue, which has been an ongoing argument since the 70s. On the Republic Day the president always hosts a ball at the presidential palace, which is also another state space where headscarves should normally not be allowed. But, because almost all wives of the members of the Justice and Development Party wear türban (headscarves), in order to avoid this clash of the secular and sacred, the president arranged for and distributed one-person invitations for the ball, in effect allowing only the husbands to attend. This outraged me and I wanted to apply the stress of living with a headscarf on my own body. So I made Untitled in which I wore different types of headscarves over and over until eventually I burst into tears at the end. The work I, Soldier is a personal exorcism about my fear of the military discipline and also my secret attraction to its male qualities. There are two national days in Turkey dedicated to certain age-groups: the 23rd of April (denouncing the Ottoman parliament in Istanbul and opening of the new Turkish parliament in Ankara in 1920) is dedicated to kids of primary school age, and the 19th of May (the start of the war of independence against the Allies in 1919) is dedicated to the youth of high school age. So, during one’s schooling, you experience both of these horrid relics. For the celebrations, children are trained to take part in choreographed performances, which take place in the biggest stadium in the city. And despite the bitter Istanbul weather (it often rains during these two days and is even colder in the East of the country) you are forced to wear tights, march around the running circuit, salute the mayor and an available general, make ridiculous movements, mimicking both the socialist-realist ceremonies (and some of the Russian Futurists for that matter) and the Olympic games… So one day, I decided to video tape all the state day celebrations of the Turkish republic one by one, thinking that I would put them all together at the end. But, there was one soldier that I came almost face-to-face with in the stadium, screaming nationalism from the top of his lungs, and it was his position that encouraged me to make a single work around the May 19th celebrations. Every male citizen of Turkey has to do his military service for twelve months and I still haven’t done mine because I am studying. When I listened to this one soldier it occurred to me that I would be trained in the same manner whenever I do my military service. Even after months of completing the work, I am still afraid of him, my hair stands on end when I hear him screaming. The more I show him to other people the better I will exorcise him. So I think it is a very personal work, but it also means a lot in different ways to other people. One European curator resembled it to Leni Riefensthal’s Olympia for instance. Do you think that the bodily stress that you perceive in these subjects is just that, a perceived stress from outside, or is it a stress that is also endured by the subject and how do you differentiate between the two? In Untitled, it is her stress and my stress combined, and both are very internal. In other words, I didn’t make this video as an Orientalist would write about Beirut from his cold home in Weimar… The headscarf issue has been an ongoing issue for the Turkish public as long as I remember. It is all around us, whether you are a believer or not. So there is absolutely no way of staying perpetually isolated from this bleeding wound in our society. Over the years, my observations accumulated to be able to have a general idea of what these women are facing and prior to performing the piece for video, I spent time with friends and distant relatives who wear headscarves. I have listened to their stories about the hardships as well as the comfort of wearing a headscarf. You would always read such stories in newspapers, or see it on television, but this is perceiving the stress from the outside, because there is the medium of “the media” in between you and the subject. And most of the media in Turkey is either pretentious (mimicking the West), or controlled in one way or another by the state or corporations who suck on the tits of the state. But when you have a closer human contact with the türbanlılar (Turkish slang for women who wear headscarf: türbanlı) you can appreciate their dilemma more. On the one hand, you have the Islam religion, which says you have to obey the book, Kuran-ı Kerim, which in turn says all female believers should cover every part of their body, but the face and hands. If you consider yourself a Muslim woman, you must apply this to yourself. At least this is what they believe. Then on the other hand, you have a republic of only eighty something years on top of an Islamic empire of five hundred years who prohibits women covering their head in state controlled spaces. Is this freedom? Of course a third aspect to the story is radical Islam, which we Turks knew and experienced centuries before the West woke up to its reality after 9/11. Radical Islam is operated solely by male power and intellect, and often uses the turban as a symbol for their case against the secular state. They often use the word “chastity” in relationship with the turban, placing the other women who don’t wear it in the category of prostitutes, and this in return forces the turban wearing women, to act like symbols of chastity. Can you imagine a bigger stress than this? At the end, as you can see there are three major kinds of stress imposed on a türbanlı women; one by the religion which orders them to cover up, the other by the state which “encourages” them not to, and third by the radical Islamists who uses them as the symbol of their case/movement. Therefore, women who wear türban cannot be free and detached from all these major stressors, but they will also not go out there and scream at the top of their voices that they are stressed. To think like this is very naïve. So they often keep the depression inside, which I find very sad, and unfair. It is these feelings, which bring me close to them. I know that having been raised with a secular-Western attitude, I cannot fully appreciate their situation, but I definitely got a hint of it when I was wearing these turbans and constantly watching myself in the mirror. It helps to deconstruct your given identity for a moment. “I, Soldier” was shown in the hospitality zone of the 9th Istanbul Biennial in the exhibition “Free Kick. A number of works in this exhibition caused political backlashes. Were you concerned that your piece could create controversy in this context? I was a little bit concerned about the specific soldier in the work, who reads the poem. I recorded his entire performance at a very close angle and didn’t ask his official permission. But on the other hand, this entire performance in the stadium is open to public and anybody is allowed to film it. That is the whole idea behind this public performance, promoting pride and honour of your homeland. I had infiltrated into an area where only press is permitted, but still, as part of the loose discipline that you see in Turkish police, the guards who are supposed to control that area didn’t even ask me what I was doing. If you look “different” enough, they wont touch you. They think you are the other, eccentric media/artist type. This is part of the chain of dichotomies that I keep talking about. The irregular but friendly use of discipline in Turkey is something I absolutely adore. The Western world would describe this as “uncivilized.” Showing your works in different locations can result in complex questions that relate to locality and geography. “Untitled”, (2004) was recently shown in New York, how do you feel this work translated in this specific context and how was the response to the work different in New York to the response it received in Turkey? Most viewers there found it beautiful, and intriguing. I can never forget an Upper East side type woman with heavy make up and huge hair exclaiming: “Oh wow! This is so beautiful, I’d love to have it in my living room!” If you don’t know the wide conflicts around the issue of the headscarf, it is natural that you would find it beautiful, because in a way it is also playing with religious portraits in Western art but this is not the primary concern of the piece. My concern was more about portraying the stress on the female Islamic persona, enforced by the secular state. First of all, although America is defined in its constitution as a secular state, in practice I believe that it does not truly maintain a secular situation. Therefore, Americans are not familiar with the secular sanctions against religious practitioners, as you would see in France or Turkey. It is not part of their life yet, but I am sure it will be. This work can best be understood by viewers who are enlightened about Islamic practices, because it is complex and confusing enough and I like that, I like to point in one direction, but shoot in another. For example, although I have a critical approach to the military pride in I, Soldier, I also like the fact that some elder women in Istanbul cried while watching the work. They thought it promoted the army in a very strong way. You see, nowadays because of the new government the army is criticized a lot in public and the elder generation finds it hard to believe because they are still under the impression that they lived with its support for so many years. When I showed it to my mother and aunts they also thought I was promoting being a soldier in Turkey. The performance “Homeland Security” that you made while on residency in New York refers to a more recently enforced form of bodily stress that in America became most evident after 9/11. By introducing a security control at the gallery entrance were you more interested in exploring the audience’s reaction or the effect of the work as a statement within your own practice? Both. It was a playful work, even a nasty one. Like in Untitled and I, Soldier it points in one direction, but shoots in another. It was dealing with a form of discipline we were already accustomed to in the Middle East, but was new to the West at that time. When I was working for the Istanbul Festivals I witnessed many Western audience members complaining about our routine security checks prior to their entrance to the concert halls. Some guests arrogantly attributed this to Turkey being a police state, and some argued that it was a violation of human rights. They simply didn’t comprehend why such controls were necessary and didn’t have the remotest idea how they could be daily routine for us. After 9/11 the “Free West” became introduced to the security discipline of the “Policed East.” However, the art world was still immune from these security checks, so when I was invited to make a new work for a public art exhibition called Public Execution that used Exit Art as their opening venue, I wanted to see all the so called “art elite” subject to a security check. Virtually every guest was surprised to see be confronted by a metal detector and two security officials waiting for them. While some guests were obviously annoyed, the majority entered in silent submission. Almost nobody thought that it was a work in the exhibition, which I liked a lot. I also deliberately used African American security officers to add to the stress, and documented the whole process with three cameras. In New York you did produce several works related to the local context. How do you feel that the new influences that surround you in Germany and Austria, where you are currently based, will affect your artistic practice in the short and longer term? Will these other cultures ever inspire you more than home? They both trigger different kinds of inspirations. I have found home away from home in Berlin for example. I am working with Turkish immigrants, shooting their wedding ceremonies. Weddings are another form of life performance for me and the Turkish community in Berlin is very “grotesque,” stuck between their conservative but relaxed Eastern origins and a liberal but uptight society. In a way, I have found the perfect Turkish mutant bodies in Germany, and to see them perform with their confused identities within the traditional ceremony of a wedding refreshes me. I am planning to represent this condition of the “grotesque” in my new works. Of course, in Europe, wherever there are immigrants, there is also nationalism, and even racism. In Austria this is strikingly noticeable. Last year, during an election campaign, the ever-homogenous streets of Vienna were adorned by the billboards of a right wing political party that read “Vienna Will Not Be Istanbul”. This text was accompanied by a portrait of the party leader, his arms crossed, trying to look serious, but with a stupid grin on his face. It was frightening. This form of constipated racism infuriates me, but it also gives me a lot of material to work with. In general, I have serious issues with nationalism. I find it dangerous and aesthetic at the same time; very performative. In my works I have been trying to deal with this phenomena, and what I see in present day Europe drives me to keep working with it. Ironically, nationalism is as yet still a baby. It is a relatively recent product of the dual revolution (the French Revolution and the British Industrial Revolution). This new-born nationalism finally led the world to its partial destruction in the 1st World War. Despite this destruction humankind cultivated it into a form of racism, which in turn caused the 2nd World War. I think that this history is only the teenage angst of nationalism and there is so much more to come. I won’t be so naïve to say that art can save us from this evil, but it can at least propose a different perspective. I myself would be happy if I can facilitate this slightly. Therefore, yes, in general the West also inspires me.

4
Jan 10

‘Emploi Saisonnier/Seasonal Work’

‘Emploi Saisonnier/Seasonal Work’ project, proposed by Veronique Collard-Bovy and Celenk Bafra, is based on the research and exchange on and/or in the cities of Istanbul, Izmir, Antakya, Diyarbakir, Paris and Marseilles since 2008. The starting point was to have a closer look on the urban, social and cultural issues in the Mediterranean cities, and more specifically Turkey, together with the characteristics of the artistic practices nourished from them. This research, focused on multi-layered social and cultural problematics of the cities, on modes of collective production as well as the artists that try to stand together by various systems of exchange, resulted as a program composed by three art projects that were developed or invited from Turkey. It was especially crucial for the artist-in-residency programme to invite artists from Turkey that are familiar with collective ways of living and working. This is why four artists from Izmir, third biggest the city of Turkey and an important sea port in the Aegean Sea, leading figures of major artist initiatives in Izmir, namely K2 and (-1) are invited in Marseilles to live and work. Even though their work, questioning on everyday life and its modes, has outcomes as individual artist works, a common approach and a certain spiritual affiliation exist due to the shared back-ground and city. The process of their residency and works contributed to the development of the exhibition ‘Arrangements’ together with the invitation of invaluable artists and artworks from Turkey supporting the theme of arrangement related to the issues of everyday life by their own approach and position. Regarding ‘Die Weisser Stadt’ project following the residency of four members of Xurban collective, as a collective working in different parts of the globe on urban issues since 2000, it was indispensable to invite them to produce a new project on cities with a focus on Marseilles. In a city where urban transformation is harsh and controversial, Xurban comes up with new proposals by revisiting their own research and questions on contemporary politics and ideology. A strong proposal from the city of Diyarbakir by Sener Ozmen, a city with deep political and social conflicts in the south-eastern region of Turkey, was invited as the third project to fulfill the approach of ‘Emploi Saisonnier/Seasonal Work’. Video and photography works from Diyarbakir by three artists, often making collaborations alongside with their individual artistic practice, present a common understanding on the difficulty to find a common front to agree nowadays in Turkey and the strategies of resistance in every possible way and field including the art world.

26
Dec 09

Contemporary Istanbul, 3 Aylık Stajyer Başvuru Çağrısı

 Contemporary Istanbul, 3 Aylık Stajyer Başvuru Çağrısı Contemporary Istanbul, 3 aylık staj programı başvurularını kabul etmeye başladı. Lütfen, başvurularda aranılan temel şartlar ve kalifiye özellikler için aşağıdaki listeye bakınız. - Gönüllü stajyerlik - Haftada en az 3 tam iş günü (09:30 - 18:30) - Zaman ve günler konusunda esneklik - İngilizce ve Türkçe konuşma, yazma - Çalışma konusunda...

24
Dec 09

NEUES DEUTSCHLAND

Von Tom Mustroph 22.12.2009 / Berlin / Brandenburg

Ironische Weltenretter

Zehn türkische und kurdische Künstler in der Galerie Tanas

S. Özmen »Kreuzung«
S. Özmen »Kreuzung«

Manche Dinge sind nicht einfach. Die Welt zu retten zum Beispiel. Erst recht, wenn man nur 90 Tage Zeit hat. Die zehn türkischen Künstler, deren Werke insgesamt 90 Tage in der Galerie Tanas in der Gruppenausstellung »Nicht einfach, die Welt in 90 Tagen zu retten« präsentiert werden, beschränken sich daher auf subtile ironische Interventionen.

»Ich kann nicht die ganze Welt ändern oder sie einer kompletten Analyse unterziehen. Aber ich kann auf meine Art eingreifen«, sagt Cengiz Tekin. Der im kurdischen Diyarbakir lebende Künstler unternimmt dies auf eindrucksvolle Art und Weise. Seine fotografischen Inszenierungen geraten zu Allegorien der Wirklichkeit. In »Normalisierung« etwa platziert er eine traditionelle Familie in einem mit Teppichen ausstaffierten Raum, dessen rechte Hälfte von einem ein mächtiges Loch ausschachtenden Mann besetzt wird. Es stellt sich die Frage, ob der Bauarbeiter in diesen privaten Raum eingedrungen ist oder die Bewohner sich, vom permanenten Prozess des Bauens und Abreißens abgestumpft, hier einfach häuslich eingerichtet haben. Für Tekin symbolisiert die Grube jene Löcher, die der Krieg in die Gesellschaften des Mittleren Ostens reißt.

»Freistoß« hingegen bildet die neuen Möglichkeiten, die sich nach der Entspannung der Situation in den 90er Jahren ergeben haben, metaphorisch ab. Jeder kann nun wie der Mittelstürmer des örtlichen Fußballklubs zu einem Freistoß antreten und darauf hoffen, diese Ausgangslage in einen Vorteil umzumünzen. Die Verhältnisse wären aber nur unzureichend beschrieben, wollte man nicht auch auf die gucken, die sich diesen neuen Möglichkeiten ängstlich entgegen stellen. Tekin hat seine Familie eine Mauer im Strafraum bilden lassen. Fußball-geschult schützen die Männer mit ihren Händen die Unterleibspartien. Auch die jüngere Schwester verhält sich so. Mutter und Großmutter des Künstlers stellen sich ohne diesen Schutz verzagt dem Mittelstürmer entgegen. Der jüngere Bruder, der vermutlich noch am häufigsten selbst Fußball spielt, krümmt sich angesichts des bulligen Profis, der ihm gegenüber steht, und in Erwartung eines fulminanten Schusses furchtsam zusammen. Das Doppelpanorama aus Möglichkeiten und Zumutungen ist grandios in Szene gesetzt.

Bei einem weiteren Werk von Tekin stellt sich heraus, dass die sich im ersten Moment aufdrängenden Lesarten mitunter in die Irre führen können. Ein paar Buben werfen lachend einen Haufen Geldscheine in die Luft und lassen an ein Ritual des großzügigen Schenkens und Tauschens denken. Jedoch handelt es sich um das exakte Gegenteil. Tekin, der als Kunsterziehungslehrer an einer Grundschule arbeitet, nimmt seinen Schülern, die sich exzessiv dem Glücksspiel hingeben, immer wieder das dabei verwendete Falschgeld ab. Den im Bild zu sehenden Kindern, die nach der Schule auf den Feldern arbeiten und gar nicht die Gelegenheit zu dieser Art von Freizeitvergnügen haben, gab er die Scheine. Doch diese vorzeitig Erwachsenen erkannten die Geldscheine als falsch und damit wertlos und warfen sie deshalb in die Luft.

Großes ironisches Potenzial weisen auch die Arbeiten von Sener Özmen, Köken Ergun und Servet Kocyigit auf. Letzterer formt aus bunten gehäkelten Deckchen, die von Ferne an Neonelemente erinnern, den Spruch: »Alles, was du über türkische Männer hörst, ist wahr«. Özmen ist mit seiner ebenfalls in der Ausstellung »Istanbul Next Wave« im Gropius Bau zu sehenden Videoarbeit, die zwei als Sancho Pansa und Don Quixote verkleidete Künstler den Weg zur Londoner Tate Modern suchen lässt, präsent. »Natürlich ist klar, dass die Tate Modern nicht unmittelbar hinter dem Gebirgszug liegt, den die Männer durchstreifen. Aber mir war von vorneherein klar, dass ich mit diesem Video in der Tate Modern landen werde«, beschreibt Özmen seine launige Doppelstrategie.

Köken Ergun schließlich lässt in seinem Video einen Panzer durch eine kleine dänische Ortschaft fahren und verlagert so die früher in Kurdistan allgewärtige Militärpräsenz ins satte und friedliche Nordeuropa. Mit dem neuen, von Angst getrübten Blick der Europäer auf die islamische Welt spielt Fikret Atay mit seinem Video »Theorists«. Bei den »Theoretikern« handelt es sich um Koranschüler, die nach simpler westlicher Lesart allesamt potenzielle Terroristen sind und hier Suren murmelnd den Raum durchschreiten.

Die Ausstellung ist von dem exzellenten Türkeikenner René Block zusammengestellt. Weil das Gros der Künstler nicht aus dem mittlerweile unglaublich gehypten Istanbul stammt, sondern entweder im Ausland lebt oder noch im heimischen Diyarbakir arbeitet, weitet die Ausstellung den Blick auf die zeitgenössische türkische Kunstszene. »In Diyarbakir kann ich in Ruhe arbeiten. Man kommt von hier aus vielleicht nicht nach Istanbul, aber doch in die Welt«, meint lächelnd Cengiz Tekin. Und Galerist Block hält seine Ausstellung für eine »vitale Ergänzung« der Istanbul-Ausstellungen, die gegenwärtig im Martin Gropius Bau stattfinden. Die Ausstellung in der Galerie Tanas ist nicht nur vital; sie sprüht über vor Witz und Lebendigkeit.

Tanas, Heidestr. 50, bis 13.3. 2010, Di.-Sa. 11-18 Uhr, Informationen unter


18
Dec 09

art-in-berlin

Nicht einfach, die Welt in 90 Tagen zu retten, TANAS Berlin


(Einspieldatum: 18.12.2009)

TANAS Berlin

Der Weg zur Tate Modern ist steinig. Der schmale Pfad führt durch karge Gebirgslandschaften, fernab von jeglicher Zivilisation, zwischen Bauern, Bächen und Felsen.

Sener Özmen und Erkan Özgen, zwei türkische Gegenwartskünstler, wandern in ihrem Film „Road to Tate Modern“ (2003) als Don Quijote und Sancho Pansa mit Stock und Esel durch den „wilden Balkan“. Ihr Ziel: Das bekannteste Museum für Moderne Kunst Europas.
Nicht die Tate Modern, aber der Projektraum „Tanas Berlin“ stellt derzeit Werke zeitgenössischer türkischer Künstler aus und beweist mit der Ausstellung „Nicht einfach, die Welt in 90 Tagen zu retten“, dass die Türkei keineswegs als künstlerisches Hinterland gelten kann. Mit dieser Einschätzung sind die Ausstellungsmacher nicht allein. Auch in der Akademie der Künste und im Gropius-Bau scheint die türkische Kunstszene Einzug gefunden zu haben. Mit dem großangelegten Projekt „Istanbul Next Wave“ wird gleich in drei Ausstellungen Istanbul als neue Kunstmetropole gefeiert. René Block, der die Ausstellung für „Tanas“ kuratiert hat, versucht hingegen den Blick über die Grenzen der Metropole auszuweiten und junge, international noch unbekannte Kunstszenen aus Izmir, Ankara, Eskisehir und Diyarbakir mit einzubeziehen.
Die Türkei auf Tate-Modern-Kurs?

TANAS Berlin

Die Spannung zwischen Tradition und Moderne erscheint dabei in vielen der Fotografien und Videoarbeiten als das grundlegende Thema. „Free Kick“ (2005) von Cengiz Tekin zeigt einen Fußballer vor dem Freistoß. Vor ihm bilden kopftuchtragende Frauen, schnurrbärtige Männer und Kinder eine „Mauer“. Die Familie als Wächter von Tradition wird zur Einschränkung, zum Hindernis.
Auch der Film „Mirage“ (2009) von Halil Altindere spielt mit Brüchen und kontrastierenden Lebenswelten, wenn ein hagerer, einfach gekleideter Mann mit einem Bodybuilder konfrontiert wird. Oder wenn sechs betende und wild gestikulierende Bauern auf einer Traktorschaufel wie Kinder in einem Leiterwagen durch die Ackerlandschaft gekarrt werden. Die Gebete-murmelnden Köpfe wippen im Takt der Erschütterungen und wirken lächerlich altmodisch, während die Ausrichtung nach Mekka durch die Bewegung des Traktors ad absurdum geführt wird. Klischees von türkischer Tradition, Familie und Religion werden in diesen Arbeiten angekratzt. Es entsteht ein bröckelndes, zerrissenes Bild einer Türkei – kurz vor dem Freistoß.
Gelangweilt, fast mechanisch scheinen auch die uniformierten Männer in Servet Kocyigits Videoarbeit „shake it ´til it drops“ (2007) an eingefahrenen Traditionen festzuhalten. Zu orientalischer Musik schütteln sie mit lustlosen Mienen eine Bauchtänzerin hin und her – wobei der im Titel angekündigte „Fall“ ausbleibt.

Bodybuilder und Bauer, Fußballstar und Kopftuch – findet man die Realität der Türkei zwischen diesen Polen? Manche Bilder lassen die Gegensätzlichkeiten auf den ersten Blick plakativ erscheinen. Und dennoch, gerade das provokative Spiel mit den Klischees und deren Verwandlung in Karikaturen ist es, was diese Positionen so erfrischend macht: „Everything you heard about turkish men is true“, so bekennt Servet Kocyigits ironischer Schriftzug aus zusammengesetzten Garnrollen. „Everything you heard about turkish art is true“ - so könnte man den Satz umwandeln und gleichzeitig entlarven, dass wir kaum etwas über türkische Kunst wissen. Die Türkei als Hinterland der Gegenwartskunst, das den Weg zur Tate Modern mit Packeseln beschreitet, gibt es nicht. Und so führt uns die viel versprechende „Road to Tate Modern“ nicht nach London, sondern vielmehr direkt nach Diyarbakir.

Abbildung:
- Servet Kocyigit, Motherland, 2007
Courtesy: The artist, Copyright: Tanas Berlin
- Cengiz Tekin, Normalizasyon
C-Print auf Dibond, 150 x 200 cm
Courtesy: The artist, Copyright: Tanas Berlin

Künstlerliste:
Halil Altindere, Fikret Atay, Köken Ergun, Ali Kazma, Servet Kocyigit, Ahmet Ögüt, Erkan Özgen, Sener Özmen, Cengiz Tekin, Nasan Tur

Öffnungszeiten:
Di-Sa 11-18 Uhr

TANAS Berlin
Heidestraße 50
10557 Berlin

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