The Essence of Istanbul
Occasionally, on afternoons when I found myself at home, I could hear a dull thudding through the walls of my Airbnb. Home, for that brief period of time, was an antiquated apartment packed tightly amongst other old apartments in the lower part of Beyoglu, a few hundred metres below Taksim Square, toward the port district of Istanbul.
In that part of Istanbul any number of other-worldly (for this traveller at least) sights present themselves to you the moment you walk out the door. Life, in all manner of colour, texture, and strata can be seen, if you open your eyes.
Istanbul definitely isn't boring or sanitised.
Which presents a bit of a dilemma for a photographer; just where do you point the camera?
The main attractions offer some obvious focal points but that leaves you spending a lot of time just to capture images of places like the Hagia Sophia, which has been captured countless times before and can be easily seen online. That's not to say I wouldn't or don't do those places, they’re a fascinating window into the past and quite simply, amazing.
It's just a much more enticing and challenging idea to capture the essence of a place like Istanbul. That's not an easy thing to do in city that is steeped in history but also ever changing and growing, but at least you won't get stuck walking well-trodden paths.
Eventually the penny dropped; the richness and essence of Istanbul lives in the people, living in a place of history, in what seems barely contained chaos, where a different type of economics seems to operate. "How do these people survive?" I wondered, more times than I could remember.
So that's where I started pointing the camera; the people and the everyday happenings that couldn't possibly happen in common western cities.
A place where almost nothing should surprise but everything does…You just won't see a family metal working operation, working chrome, on a makeshift kerbside smelter, in Sydney. Or cart-vendors, or hole in the wall tailors and mechanic shops, or cars used as display props for rugs, or welders working without eyewear at midnight, and shops that sell eggs. Just eggs.
All these things happen within a few hundred metres of each other in Istanbul, not far from a hammam that's been operating since 1484.
And then there's the clothing, a mixture of traditional seconds and hand me downs. Colourful and showing a healthy disregard for ubiquitous global brands.
Much later, when I was on a train to Bulgaria, my newfound travel friends and I were discussing the clothing my photography subjects were wearing. They suggested the styles and avoidance of western brands wasn't so much a choice, it was probably all they could afford.
It was a thought that hadn't occurred me. I'd like to think some of it was choice, retaining and feeling more comfortable in a unique outward expression of their own culture.
Whatever the reason, I'm glad I captured what I did, as eventually the scarves, vests, and cardigans of unknown origin will slowly and quietly disappear.
So it was, my best photos of Istanbul were the people that live in, and pick their way through, the chaos that is Istanbul. Their stories etched into the lines on their faces and alive in their eyes.
Put other people in that same city, amongst the same buildings and steep cobbled streets, and it wouldn’t be the same.
I think that is also a measure of how photography changed the way I observe my surroundings because I can't say I remembered too much of the people the first time I visited Turkey. I think I was more taken by the sights than the people. And it's probably also true to say this time, the people of Istanbul changed my photography and gave it a new meaning.
Back to the thudding sound…It wasn't exactly rhythmic, but it didn't sound like the pounding of construction work either. The mysterious thudding originated from a flamenco studio about 5 doors down from my apartment. "Flamenco dancing in Istanbul?" I thought. "Well, why not, everything else happens here!".
After all, Istanbul has been the juncture or thoroughfare through which multiple cultures have passed or occupied throughout history. It’s part of what defines the city.
I can't say I really paid much attention to the studio on previous days because it was never open and even looked a little like it wasn't a going concern. That changed one afternoon when the studio was open, the door slightly ajar, through which I could see one of the dancers warming up, practicing her moves.
To my untrained eye, it looked like she knew what she was doing. Focussed, determined, absorbed in the moment, critically assessing and refining every movement in the studio mirror in the pursuit of perfection.
She was mesmerising. Camera in hand, I captured what I was seeing.
I could tell straight away I had caught something special; a combination movement, the joy of someone expressing themselves freely and without any self-consciousness, and the doors framing the shot, giving a secret or distant admirer feel.
If I'm excited about some photos I've taken, I like to share them with the subjects, if possible. Maybe by just showing them on the camera display or sharing on social media.
Since my apartment was only up the road from the studio, I raced back, processed the best images on my laptop then raced back to pass the photos onto the dancer, Beste.
Beste loved what she saw! I was invited into the studio, introduced to a few other dancers who then invited me to an upcoming studio performance. Sadly, I would be leaving Istanbul beforehand so couldn’t attend.
Regardless, I had chosen the right direction to point my camera, the people of Istanbul. I still caught some tourist pics as well because it's just so hard not to love the sights...time to rejoin the tourist throng at Hagia Sophia!
Post Script. A year or so after seeing and capturing Beste practicing, she messaged me to say she had changed dance studio and shared the images with her new teacher.
This was the bigger unexpected discovery I made with solo travel and a camera in hand; occasionally I capture a place or moment that moves or inspires people. We’d only met once, on the day I described, and briefly at that. But that was enough. With these images a unique connection was made, based on a few slices of time, and she captured in her element.
Another moment in the daily commotion of Istanbul, but one that will never be repeated.
