Ole Blu imagines he's in Istanbul.
Lulu had no idea what to expect from Istanbul. When she told people she was going there to live and work for 3 months she was bombarded with opinions. Her artist friends in San Francisco were jazzed and wanted to go too. Her family in Montreal issued warnings about Moslem countries and appropriate dress and behaviour. Muslims don’t drink alcohol, they said. Don’t accept any hashish – remember the movie ‘Midnight Express’! The Turkey Travel Planner website recommended being reserved, meaning: no smiling at men. At the same time she was reading Orhan Pamuk’s “Istanbul: Memories and the City” which describes an Istanbul more European assimilated than Mideast Moslem. A city marked by its special brand of Turkish sadness or hüzün. Lulu had visions of an Istanbul littered with the human and architectural detritus of an ancient Empire, a kind of Rome after the fall, dancing in her head. No doubt imagination is the driving force for any artist but if you ask a gas guzzling road veteran of 27 years such as myself, when it comes to travel - there’s no substitute for experience.
View of Istanbul from the Princes' Islands.
And so Lulu, our intrepid nomad artist packed up her studio, a modest wardrobe of longer skirts and higher necklines and a bag full of health supplements to leap into the unknown of a Turkish art adventure. She was expected by the Halka Art Project, an artist residency located on the Asian side of Istanbul in the neighbourhood of Kadikoy. Lulu had chosen Halka because the directors were Turkish (rather than expat) and would provide her with a studio and venues for teaching a workshop and mounting a show.
Maiden's Tower.
Artist residencies are like reality TV shows where random people are thrown together to live in a house to see if they can get along despite their elevated sense of themselves or floundering egos. Lulu can get along pretty well with anyone as long as they know how to have a good time. She was lucky to have Aleksandra Farazin from Slovenia as her residency mate. Aleksandra had a few Turkish friends and within a week of her arrival Orkun Aytar invited Lulu and Aleksandra to a Tasavvuf (Sufi or spiritual Islamic music) concert in Taksim on the European side of Istanbul. And so in the minaret lit, blue dusk of an Istanbullu evening they hopped onto a ferry, wide-eyed and breathless to glide across the Bosphorus Strait.
Istanbul's soccer fans.
As it happened, a championship soccer match between two Istanbul teams: Fenerbahçe and Galatasaray was playing that night. In Turkey soccer tends to be a political sport with teams representing certain ideologies. By the time they reached Taksim the streets were exploding with drunken, ranting fans, a scene that made hockey night in Montreal look like a prayer meeting. Lulu held on to Aleksandra for dear life.
The Sufizen concert.
She was grateful when they arrived at the concert venue and entered what felt like a sacred space. The concert was called “Sufizen”; a kind of jam session of Turkish and Indian spiritual music. Lulu surrendered to the transcendent melodies of the ney, a Turkish wind instrument that has been in use for 5,000 years. She felt the cleansing and healing power of the music filling her soul. A wave of tears welled up inside her. Here finally was the Istanbul she’d imagined: an ancient city steeped in unfathomable mystery and beauty. As the concert ended, Lulu was struck by the ney player’s gesture of reverently clutching his heart in response to the audience’s applause. She stumbled back onto the streets, dazed and speechless.
Galata Tower.
Although the crowds had dissipated there was still partying going on. People danced around makeshift bonfires all along Istiklal Caddesi, the main drag. She trailed after Orkun and Aleksandra as they bought some beer and walked to the Galata tower to drink. Finally, at about 4 in the morning they piled into the back of a dolmuş (shared taxi) to return to the artist residency. It was a relatively cool night in Istanbul but the man sitting in front of her had his head out the window. As the taxi picked up speed, Lulu, who is always quick to chill, wondered if she couldn’t get him to close his window when she realized the man was suffering from an overdose of alcohol. The speed of the taxi forced his vomit to splatter across her window leaving her (besides nauseous) grateful that her window was closed. Ha! Welcome to Istanbul, Lulu, city of contradictions. In the space of a few hours she had gone from the sublime to the gross and back round again. Gone were all her preconceived notions. A large segment of Istanbul women were attired in tight jeans and T-shirts. People were openly drinking in the streets, which despite the fact it was illegal never solicited reactions from the police. As for hüzün – she saw no signs of it. There are over 13 million people living in Istanbul and the streets are continually jammed packed with people celebrating life with food (an amazing and infinite amount of delicacies), drink, tobacco and talk. It was a joie de vivre both chaotic and profound. And Lulu couldn’t help but smile: at her own delusions, at the contradictions this crossroads of east and west provided, at the magic of that ancient place. And no one, least of all a man, attacked her for it.
A raki party at Halka Art Project.
Samuel Johnson said, ”The use of traveling is to regulate imagination by reality, and instead of thinking how things may be, to see them as they are.”
There’s more to come on the adventures of Lulu in Istanbul but Ole Blu here has got to hit the road. Catch you later!
There’s more to come on the adventures of Lulu in Istanbul but Ole Blu here has got to hit the road. Catch you later!
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