Adventures in Art

I feel as though ever since I got to Istanbul I have been surrounded by photographers. There are of course my two roommates, but I we have also had numerous guests. Charlie is a photographer, as is Filip. Orçun's friend, another photographer is currently staying with us.

Ingo, in particular, has really helped me to expand my idea of art, and of beauty. He takes objects most would consider trash, and sees the beauty in them. Plastic on a building being restored, trash on the beach, wrappers tied to a tree for wishes, a dirty dish rag, all of it can be beautiful if looked at through Ingo's eyes.

I have watched him take numerous photos, but two of his photos have involved more adventure than the others. The first was nearly two weeks ago. I somehow ended up with a four day weekend, and so we spent Friday exploring Üsküdar. Mostly this just involved walking and walking. We visited an old abandoned mosque, and found the theater. Ingo had mentioned that he wanted some motor oil for a photograph he was working on, and as we were walking we passed a car shop. So I decided I would just go in and ask.

When we walked in the man in charge was on the phone but he motioned us to sit. I think he was a bit surprised when I chose the chair closest to his desk, instead of letting my guy take it. When he got off the phone I started my question, the same way I have started many requests - Thıs is a really weird question, but do you have some motor oil we could have. Not really knowing the word for motor oil, just the word for oil I managed to convey what we wanted. I explained right away that Ingo wanted to use it for a photograph because oil looks so colorful when you put it on water. Although I am sure they were thinking the whole thing was highly amusing, they were polite enough to agree with me, and a short while later a guy came back with some slightly used motor oil in a plastic water bottle.

Then we were offered tea. The only thing was apparently the boss man didn't realize that they were out of tea when he offered. So we sat and I tried to converse while we waited. I remember discussing cars. They all agreed that Mercedes, or just German cars in general were the best cars. Of course we discussed the weather. Football. What I was doing in Istanbul. How all Turks want to go to the US but here is a weird american girl that came to Istanbul to work. When we were just about to go the tea was ready, and the boss man sent out one of the other guys to buy some biscuits. So there I was, surrounded by guys, drinking tea and eating biscuits in a car repair shop with half a bottle of free motor oil in Ingo's backpack that they would not take any money for. Ingo has finished the photograph now. Always better to have a story to go with the photograph. And I am sure we provided the amusement for the week.

Adventure in art number two. This weekend Ingo and I went to the first of the prince's islands - Kinaliada - which means Island with Henna, perhaps named because of the red sandstone that they mine from the island. The island is much different from the other islands. The others are covered in pine forest, but this one is covered in very dense short vegetation - mostly bushes. Perhaps it burned, perhaps it is due to the stone, the wind, I am not really sure. We set out with my backpack full of picnic food, Ingo's full of his camera, and walked. Two hours and half of the island later, I decided we had found the picnic spot and I was not going further until I had eaten. Ingo had to go look around the corner, but when he spotted some plastic blowing in the wind decided that this could be a good picnic spot, and then he could take a photo. The spot was beautiful - a view of marmara and not a house in sight. Well, unless you looked around the corner to see the sprawl of Istanbul.

The food was fantastic, better because it was eaten outside with a view. I think picnics definitely make my top 10 list of favorite things, perhaps they are even in the top five. So food finished, I looked at the view and Ingo started the business of photography. It was only when I saw him pick up the object that he was photographing that I told him he needed to photograph it in the air - not on the ground. It was a tree branch, sort of resembling a harp, that had gotten tangled in white plastic. As I held it and looked up it felt very might like I was at a wedding and holding a veil in the air. Before, all I would have seen was old dirty plastic. Ingo tried to photograph it, but concluded the spot was not right.

So we walked down the hill we had climbed before I declared a halt for the picnic, and then started scrambling up this slope that was covered in medium sized rocks (not very small rocks) It was sort of like the place was just waiting for an avalanche. Up we went, climbing over purple rocks, red rocks, striped rocks, rocks with lichen. But that spot wasn't good either and so we left the backpacks and went all the way to where some short trees were growing. Ingo went first and I followed with the veil and tree branch harp. At one point Ingo yelled my name and I looked up to have a rock tumble past where my head had been a second before to instead hit my food before thundering on.

Ingo put his object in a tree and I sat there and kept the plastic uncaught. Occasionally Ingo would move to get a better angle, and every time he did, I found a small avalanche go past me. The worst of it whacked me in the elbow. But neither I, nor Ingo, nor the camera tumbled down the hill, although we all tried at one point. Sitting perched on the hill, defying gravity, the plastic looked amazing against the blue sky, water and the trees. A police car drove past on the road below, saw us and stopped. One can only guess what was going through their heads. They waited a while, and then we breathed a sigh of relief when they drove on again.

Inching my way back down on my butt, I thought I might be crazy. But turning around and looking back, the plastic blowing in the tree still looked beautiful.