The commuter crowd was pushing forward towards the gang plank to catch the six o’clock ferry to Kadikoy, shuffling a few steps at a time in the chill January air, it hadn’t started to rain yet but within the hour it would.
In the crowd just to my right and a few steps in front I caught sight of the girl’s profile, that kind of face in a crowd that draws your attention and your gaze lingers a moment longer than perhaps it should.
The photographer’s eye is always twitching, alert for incoming light, shape or form, a habit that never switches off and perhaps only other photographers understand.
I climb the steps to the upper deck and there she was again, the crowd and headed inside for the warmth but she sat alone with her thoughts, framed by the ambient glow, a canvas complete.
She didn’t seem to notice me make the picture, my discretion paramount, as a street photographer I don’t like to be sneaky, I don’t like to intrude, just to record the scene, there is always good reason and intention.
It was 6.03 pm on the 13th January 2010 and seconds later the scene had changed and the ferry was cutting through the Bosporus swell.
I was very leased with the resulting image, one of my favorite Istanbul street photographs, I am not one for clever captions so this was known simply as “The Girl on the Ferry”
Then serendipity strikes yet again, some nine years after the image was made and shared several times on my social media pages, The Girl on the Ferry sent me a message; Hey that’s me in the picture.
I read the message with trepidation, please don’t hate the picture I kept thinking, with a contented sigh of relief she loved the picture.
Then in June almost a decade later we met in an Istanbul coffee shop where I presented her with the printed image, The Girl on the Ferry is Eda and she’s an artist.
Despite having grown up in the countryside I have never really had much of an affinity for it; as a child I learned the names of trees and grass, I learned to swim in the river a couple of miles along the track, I fished it too or at least I sat and stared at the ripples and bobbing float until my thermos of tea went cold.
Ultimately, I was bored and wanted away the first chance I got, village life rarely offers a teenager much and cannot compete with sordid appeal of the city.
So, it’s odd how now I am finding myself searching for the sanctuary of nature, as a photographer I had never really shot landscapes as such and yet here I am up to my arse in brambles.
It all started a couple of years ago, I arrived in Istanbul somewhat damaged by the war in Syria, bouts of PTSD interfered with my sleep, bankrupt financially and mentally, I had plenty to keep myself occupied with. trying to repair the mess I had caused myself from making the decision to stay in Syria when the war started but there where times when the city was too much for me, people were too much for me, as a photographer who has always tried to focus on people this became a concern, its easy to hide in a city of near on twenty million but its hard to be alone.
A bus from a stop close to Taksim would trundle along the shore of the Bosphorus and eventually wind its way up through wooded hills to Bahçeköy on the edge of the Belgrad Forest, fat street dogs lounge on the pavement of the sleepy village, with my headphones still plugged into my head I strode through the village and into the forest, like the city boy I had become even my Nikon was still at home.
A few minutes into the woods I stopped; looked up and unplugged my music and suddenly I could hear the peacefulness, bird song and the rustle of leaves fused, the creak of swaying branches and something or other scuttling in the undergrowth.
My next visit would follow very quickly and this time a bag with a camera and supplies enough to explore the wilderness on the edge of the megacity. I hardly shot an image, mostly I sat on tree stumps and pondered the Fungi, this though really did seem the point, it was not an assignment or project it was escape, I let the forest wash over me and from time to time I spotted order in the chaos and made a picture.
Rising with the lark has always been a challenge I’d failed miserably at, going to bed with the lark a farm more appealing proposition, somehow I managed to wake and set off in the darkness motivated entirely by caffeine, the dawn ferry would leave the European shore of the Bosphorus and sleepily sail to the Princess Islands, an hour into the sea of Mamara, the early boats usually empty and only those working on the Islands or making deliveries would be sipping tea and smoking on the chilly deck.
Alone with just the horses that roam Kinaliada I switched from sitting on tree stumps for the granite like rocks that tumble into the sea, my face damp from a mixture of rain and spray, somedays the wind would be biting cold and my fingers hardly able move the shutter dial, the colder my skin the more alive I felt, the longer I stand with my tripod the more I feel part of the landscape, I shot precious little on these visits, a couple of printable images exceptional, the time it takes far more valuable.
Now living in Sofia, the city is dominated by Vitosha mountain, it sits with patriarchal confidence at the end of every street, snow capped or shrouded in dark mist its alluring and intimidating in equal measure.
At 6am on the 6th June I woke without alarm other than the fact it was my birthday and without hesitation I shouldered my pack and took the bus as far as it would go. The early morning sunshine was warm and I struggled the first steep paths, without map or app I just climbed and occasionally deviating into a shaded glade, bathing in natures forest bath, slowly the weather cooled and changed, rain began hitting the leaves and dripping through the canopy, cool and fresh I felt energized and continued up, somewhere on this mountain was a waterfall and it would make the perfect destination but I had no idea where it was.
My legs were beginning to remind me it was my birthday, I had reached something of a summit, a neighboring peak slightly higher, the pine trees were missing branches and many were laying like battle field corpses, the clouds were now on my shoulders, the sky rumbled and flashed and the heavens opened, the Pines offered little shelter, the rain became bullet like hail stones, the sound of the thunder reminiscent of the reasons that drove me to the forest in the first place, But now I was awake not sleeping, the forest so dark now only the lightening illuminating the silhouetted shapes of trees, I gave myself entirely to the storm, soaking not only the rain but the sound and fear.
Storms inevitably pass.
The Six Set.
To mark this moment I have made a selection of images available as limited editions;
Six Inch image printed on beautiful Hahnemühle fine art paper signed and limited to editions of Six
Only 66 Euros per print
The images have a lovely tone and texture which seems a little lost on screen.
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Syria, a country torn apart by a relentless war, five years of disturbing headlines, dreadful imagery, chemical weapons and a refugee crisis not seen since the Second World War: this is what we know of Syria.
Brutal media headlines reducing innocent people seeking peace and security to mere statistics and derogatory adjectives.
Individual stories and histories are removed as the media simplifies, homogenizes and represents people through stereotypes: often the sole source of information for the wider general public. After years of conflict, what does the public know about Syria and its now tormented people?
Turkey is currently hosting around three million Syrian refugees. Whilst the most vulnerable are living in camps, the majority are determined to continue their lives, not only to survive but flourish and follow dreams, overcoming adversity and the constant hurdles that the stigma of simply being Syrian brings
The reality of strong personalities, creative and inspirational people who in many cases prefer not to be labeled refugees, some are heroes and deserve the praise and attention but most are ordinary people forced to do extraordinary things to survive, wanting only to be judged on their own merits not as refugees or even Syrians.
War is dramatic and the media needs exciting images but for the most part the people caught in the middle are not exciting or dramatic they are normal people with normal backgrounds.
As a photographer who lived for so long in Syria it has been very hard for me to engage with the media narrative, not wanting to take sides despite my own feelings and not wanting to be part of the misrepresentation of the crisis, painfully aware of how little any contribution I make will effect change, yet as my many Syrian friends struggle and fight to survive I feel an obligation, as futile as it maybe.
The project Syrians Unknown had been in my mind for the last four years and I pitched the idea to several media outlets but without success before finally being accepted as an exhibition at the Pitt Rivers Museum in Oxford, the images will also importantly go into the museum archive alongside those of Sir Wilfred Thesiger, arguably one of the greatest travelers of the twentieth century and a personal source of my early inspiration.
I chose to shoot the images at night in black and white, in the shadows and simply strip away distracting context, I want the viewer to look these people in the eye and connect on a human level, I have also included snippets of the long conversations we had over often several meetings and countless cups of tea and coffee.
The exhibition will run until the 30th September Details below:
Erol and Erdem Kalaycioglu work in a tiny split level workshop in the impoverished Tarlabasi neighborhood, the gentrification process of the city is now at their doorstep, the building next door now disappeared and the ugly sounds of construction drowning out the genteel sounds of craftsmen at work, Erol hobbles around making tea while Erdem works a lathe, they specialize in the baglama and Mardin kemence, with three strings and distinctive round bowl known in the Arab world as the rehbab, the neighborhood is home to many musicians that ply their trade around the mayhanes and bars of Takism and the brothers do a good trade in repairs.
A customer enquires after a baglama, the price is accepted without negotiation and a credit card is produced, unable to deal with the transaction themselves they rely on a neighbor who can but sadly the card is declined and the customer leaves empty handed, Erol slurps his tea clearly disappointed.
As the urban regeneration inches closer the brothers Atelier is facing an uncertain future, almost half a century of artistry and tradition will no doubt be pushed into the suburbs and slip by wayside, in a world of shopping malls and hipster coffee joints it’s a battle few are left to fight.
So it seems street photography is a thing now, I guess the advent of social media and digital technology has thrust the genre tagged, tweeted and trending onto our flickering screens. So that’s nice.
The emails generated from my last blog post showing more than a passing interest it seems and obviously I am very happy about this, questions that I am continuously asked are about my favorite locations and favorite images along with the usual which kind of camera is best for street photography kind of thing, also the nice people at Light kindly asked me to share some of my thoughts for their #VantagePoint project.
I think most photographers will say pretty much the same thing when it comes to their favorite photograph, that it’s a hard question to answer, I have many images that I love for various reasons but love can often be fleeting and what can start out as infatuation can soon change to something mundane.
Some images though do just continue to tickle my fancy and this image of the young Turkish lad, bored and arrogant, legs splayed wide, a typical teenage tear-away still makes me smile, not just his cocky pose but the little details, another lad was clambering through the window of the tram, a police water cannon can be seen just in the background, it’s an Istanbul image in so many ways.
Over the last few years living in Istanbul Istiklal Street has become one of my favorite locations to shoot; it’s a huge city with some wonderful neighborhoods of myriad personalities but living where I do Istiklal Street is always on my way, tourists and terrorists, shoppers and buskers, protestors and police, it has it all and never fails to deliver interesting images.
I am not a snob when it comes to the equipment I use, as a professional photographer I use whatever I need to use for whatever specific job I am doing and my street images are usually shot on whatever DSLR I am using at the time, probably this post would be way cooler if I hung sleek rangefinder or two over my shoulder, having a camera ready to hand is the important thing, I spotted the boy through the crowd of pedestrians, I wasted not a second in striding purposefully towards him, his pose and gaze could not be shot at a distance nor from the side, it had to be face to face, my mind was focused on one thing, simply the composition, having a camera to hand and not having to feck about with settings and zooms, the art is in the composition, the vantage point, I used what was in my pocket; an iPhone 4 and framed 30cm square print now hangs on my wall.
The photographer is always searching for the best vantage point, jostling for position, clambering cliff tops, being the right place at the right time is rarely an accident, as the great landscape photographer Ansel Adams says “A good photograph is knowing where to stand.”
The new compact camera technology under development at Light does look very interesting and I am more than happy to give them a plug so check out what appears to be game changing camera technology here: New Light Camera Technology
Now having said that; camera manufactures, I am more than happy to shoot with whatever latest technology you throw this way so let’s work together.
If you are feeling social please drop by and say hello on Facebook where I also post more Street Photography images.
“Sometimes I felt that my happiness issued not from the possibility that Füsun was near, but from something less tangible. I felt as if I could see the very essence of life in these poor neighborhoods, with their empty lots, their muddy cobblestone streets, their cars, rubbish bin, and sidewalks, and the children playing with a half-inflated football under the streetlamps”
The pathetic protagonist, actually he does not deserve the title protagonist since clearly the city is the hero, Kemal is the love sick overtly obsessed character from The Museum of Innocence beautifully crafted by Orhan Pamuk, like so much else of Istanbul Kemal is of the past, pathetic he may have been but at least he pounded the pavement in pursuit of Füsun, Facebook and Chatroulette has confined the modern stalker to malodorous bedrooms filled with tobacco smoke and crumpled tissues.
Kemal my friend if only you had carried a camera instead of pilfering underwear or whatever it was you filled your grubby little pockets with, then we too could see the essence of life in those poor neighborhoods.
Street photography is somehow the vehicle and the destination, with a Nikon slung over my shoulder I set off on a journey of no particular route or terminus, exploring a city in transition, in constant flux, and often my happiness is not in the image I have digitized or burned on film but that understanding that comes from a curious eye.
For those that missed it here is a previous post on Street Photography in Istanbul;
I have been in Istanbul four years now and high time I organized my Street Photography archive, anyone interested in seeing more images or perhaps the stories behind the images, or should you want to learn more about technique and the fiddly bits do please feel free to get in touch.
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Photographs really should be printed and hung on walls; I say this as someone who loves photography not as a photographer.
As I work towards launching a new website dedicated to print sales I am offering a generous discount to raise the necessary funds, buying a print will go a long way to supporting my work as well as the opportunity to own a beautifully crafted image.
The prints are made at a London lab that pride themselves in producing the highest quality Giclee prints using the latest Epson professional Ultrachrome inks on beautiful archival rag paper.
Only $75 for a 30cm x 40 cm print (+ postage) other sizes are of course available.
The images on this post are just a sample; please do search my website and Facebook page for alternatives.
(Please note a few images are not available due to lost hard-drives when I fled my house in Syria)
Have a browse and drop me a line and I will forward a detailed price list.