• Photography,  Places

    Feel the Istan Blues?

    GALATA BRIDGE. It’s not easy to be blue in Istanbul. Once you were a celebrated color of the Empire, shimmering under the sun or glinting in candlelight. Now you’re neglected and marginalized. Everyone’s seeing red. Maybe I’m getting a little melancholy here, but that which was once boldly blue now looks a little cracked, a little withered and is turning a bit grey or green (maybe with envy?).  Which begs the question: is it safer to pretend you’re something different, a shade other than true blue? Whatever the truth, I’d like to celebrate the virtue, the beauty, of being blue. Doesn’t matter if you’re cracked, or peeling a bit, today is the day to stand up and declare yourself turquoise and proud! Right?

  • Photography,  Places

    Dystopian Wonderland

    THIS ATRIUM BELONGS IN A SCI-FI DYSTOPIA. If you ask me, Istanbul is inherently cinematic. I just left Switzerland which you could say is inherently picturesque — with its mountains, its lakes and its pristine architecture, it would make a good location for several of my cinematic fantasies. But could you do a dystopian epic with a nicely understated sci-fi twist? I think not. I regularly dream movies up in my head, like the other day when I decided to cut through this han to get to Karaköy Lokantasi, and for about two-three minutes I completely forgot my ravenous appetite.

  • Photography,  Places

    The Wood Next Door.

    TRESPASSING IN AN OVERLOOKED PLACE. Beside my house there’s a vast wooded lot which both fascinates and haunts me. It has a voice. Looking outside our side windows, I see tall, ivy entwined trees and long weeds obscuring a darkening western sky. This overgrown, unkempt expanse feels both beautiful and malevolent. One of the pines—old, gnarled and unforgiving as Chronos himself—looms over the gully separating our balcony, and regularly dumps branches without warning or even a whisper of wind. He’s like a neighbor who never smiles or meets your eye but wears a constant sneer. Three weeks after we’d moved into our apartment one of our cats answered the nocturnal calls of this strange wood.  As soon as we took up residence, the cat itself started howling out in a new voice, as if answering some inaudible cry that stirred from without. Despite the baying of dogs, and the fact…

  • Photography

    Volumes of silence, Part I.

    KARAKÖY QUAY, MID-MORNING. In a city of 15 Million, it’s not always easy to find space, let alone quiet to fill it. But Istanbul is full of surprises, whether you’re in ferry-crowded Karaköy, or Sirkeci Train Station. Can you feel the silence? Amazing.