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?
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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.
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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…
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THAT MAGAZINE: worth looking and looking for?
OCTOBER 2011 — My burning red eye lights upon a small blurb in Monocle Magazine telling me about the existence of an English language publication out of Istanbul, aimed at helping the local community of English speakers to “CONNECT, CREATE, EXPLORE and LIVE GOOD.” What! I nearly shout, leaping from my seat, nearly toppling the table.
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Cobalt into red gold: the alchemy of autumn color.
Start with the three distinct primary colors (red, yellow, blue — right?) fade the seasonal light, wither a few leaves and see what begins to happen…
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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.