a few forgotten sketches

Just some sketches I forgot to share— drawn at the Yeniköy Spor Kulübü earlier this month. Please click on the images to see them in greater detail.

drama

This is what 6:30 looked like on Friday morning.

This is what 6:30 looks like, Sunday evening.

that exhausted question

I met up with my friend Yelda at lovely Mangerie in Bebek for lunch, before heading off to the Istanbul Bienali. The 11th International Istanbul Biennial is a biannual art exhibition held in Istanbul that showcases the work of 70 artists from 40 different countries. The artwork is spread over 6000 square metres at three different locations. We visited one of the locations, held in the warehouse next to Istanbul Modern, our city's exquisite modern art museum— definitely worth a visit if ever in town.


I must say that what I saw today has got me asking that exhausted question: what is art? What makes someone pick one piece over another to display on a wall or pedestal, give it a white label with black type, and deem it worth looking at? At the moment, I am at a loss. That is a piece of bread with the centre cut out on that pedestal above. Rather than get into a lengthy critique of what I saw today, I thought I'd share a few photos I took of work I enjoyed.


I thought the mosque seen through the warehouse windows was quite a sight. It kind of looks like a video installation a bit, doesn't it?

I've gotten into the habit lately of celebrating a tiny victory every day, no matter how insignificant it may seem. Today's small victory was that I was able to ask of my minibus driver with relative fluency, "müsait bir yerde inebilir miyim?"— may I get off at a convenient place? This is preferable to the "inecek var" that Turkish phrase books push on you. Inecek var (ee-neh-jek var) roughly translates to "there is getting off," not something that makes much sense, even though it is understood by drivers that you want to get off. I had even asked my Turkish teacher this summer what I should say, and she told me that inecek var was fine— but I don't want fine, I want to know what that jumble of words coming out of my fellow passengers' mouths is; I have never once heard a Turk say inecek var. If you are a tourist, feel free to use it— you will be understood, and it's a lot easier than belting out müsait bir yerde inebilir miyim?
I've been practising the phrase all evening.

pen + paper + precipitation

I love alliteration. I apologise for the crappy photographs, but the drawings are too large for my scanner. I'll keep trying to capture these hairy ladies better.

5 kilos of glass beads

Fortunately, the rain this time around was nothing in comparison to the previous storm. I still chose to keep indoors, nursing my cough and keeping dry. I've been using this shut-in period to get a lot of work done— I've started a series of large nudes in oils, began another "memory" painting, continued with my hairy drawings and done a lot of writing. Rainy days can be quite fruitful.

I had this crazy dream two nights ago— what I remember most vividly was this necklace I was making. I woke up with the unbearable desire to recreate the necklace in real life, and so today, I bravely navigated my way through the labyrinth behind the Spice Bazaar in Eminönü, armed with a smattering of Turkish and a large canvas bag. I wanted to take photos of the chaos to share with you here, but I didn't dare whip out my camera for fear of being regarded a tourist. Most items do not have price tags on them, and if the shop people catch a whiff of wide-eyed wonder, the item suddenly becomes "very special", "unique" and "top-quality"— which is not to say that it isn't, but it's a plain fact that locals get the better deal. Fortunately for me, I can fool most people into thinking I'm a Turk. That is, until they ask me something more complex than, "would you like anything else?"

I used the fact that I am getting over a cold to my advantage— I whispered, put my hand to my throat, and answered most questions with a smile and a sad little clearing of my throat. It was understood that I needed to rest my voice, and so I got away with using very few words. Hey, sometimes, you've got to do what you've got to do. So after about an hour and a half of weaving in and out of pushy, sweaty crowds and working very hard at concealing all traces of yabancı— Turkish for "foreigner", I triumphantly walked away with around 5 kilos of glass beads. I even managed to get the local deal!


As I was heading to the tramway, I was struck by the beauty of this old lady selling birdseed by the Yeni Camii— the enormous mosque in front of the Spice Bazaar. Far from the bead shops, I snapped a picture, then decided I'd rather sit myself on the stone wall and draw her instead. During the course of the sketch, I was photographed several times by both tourist and Turk— which I always find amusing— I can't help but wonder who in the world has been looking at those pictures of that funny-looking sketching girl in Istanbul.

I am collaborating with my sister Natasha on this bead project, and as it develops, I'll be sure to share it with you. We're pretty excited about it— it'll provide us with hours upon hours of good sisterly bonding! In the meantime, here are the rest of today's sketches— they document the stages of public transportation I take to get from my town to Eminönü.

the flood

Due to a nasty cold and some catastrophic weather— the heaviest rain in 80 years, I have been indoors watching movies, drinking tea and drawing. The devastating flash floods in Istanbul yesterday have taken the lives of at least 32 people and caused millions of dollars in damage. Truly, I have never before seen so much water or heard louder thunder for so long a time. The lightning flashes were blinding. I was on a bus on the road that passes by the airport highway that was swallowed up by the muddy water. I saw a violent, yellowish river that didn't belong there, and semi trucks torn like paper. Ambulances, people shouting, hoisting, climbing... it was terrifying. I am very thankful that all I have is a leak in the ceiling, and nothing more. My heart goes out to all those who have lost their loved ones.

Today we had a break from the rain, but it is expected to return tomorrow.
I hope it won't be as it was yesterday.

under grey skies

a ferry and a cherry kebap

It was a beautiful Saturday, made for meeting friends for a ferry ride and a delicious lunch at the divine Çiya in Kadıköy's fish market district. Çiya specialises in Anatolian cuisine— everything feels so home-cooked and fills you with a feeling of warmth. The bread is thick and soft, the salads full of flavour— I had a stuffed tomato dolma, a grapeleaf dolma, a spoon of bulghur salad, rosemary salad, and a parsley tomato salad with pomegranate seeds. I have no idea what any of these are called in Turkish, but each were all so fantastic— the rosemary salad was incredibly delicate, I've got to learn the name so I can find a recipe.

There are two Çiyas almost across the street from one another— we went to the smaller one that has more of a cafeteria-like setup. You get a plate from the salad bar, pick out what you want and have your plate weighed by the nice lady at the scales. She gives you a slip of paper with the weight, then you check out the hot food across the entrance, select what you want and get a post-it from the nice man behind the counter with your choices written on it. Sit down at your table and dig into your salad. A waiter will come around to collect your slips of paper, then bring you your hot food. It may seem confusing to walk in without knowing the system, but the restaurant staff are so friendly and willing to help you get it right.


I chose a portion of Vişne kebap (pictured on the bottom right), which is an incredible dish of buttery meat cooked in a sour cherry sauce. The little cubes of village bread tossed in are a happy addition; they soak up the tangy sweet sauce like a sponge. I also selected some green beans cooked in olive oil that were just perfect— firm, but not crunchy. The dollop of yoghurt on top was refreshing, and became a fantastic bread-dipping sauce when mixed with the oil of the beans. That nuggety-looking thing on the top left plate, is called içli köfte— a bulghur shell stuffed with spiced ground meat— a yummy little treat.


I cannot recommend visiting Kadıköy enough— lots of tourists are unaware of Kadıköy entirely, and plenty of residents overlook it. It's a charming part of town, best accessed by one of the many ferries leaving from Kabataş or Eminönü throughout the day, for only a lira and a half.

the benevolent postcard society

I am lucky and thrilled to have been squeezed into the 257 member Benevolent Postcard Society, a marvellous art project founded by Canadian illustrator Lori Langille, whose blog automatism, is a constant read of mine. The goal of The Society is "to bring a smile to its members through the random exchange of postcards from September 2009 to September 2010." Every month, each member mails off a handmade or store-bought postcard to another randomly selected member, with words and images of kindness and inspiration. Once the year is up, all the postcards will be collected and published as a book.

I chose to draw the above postcard for my person, whom I have never met or communicated with, which is quite a funny thing. I used Micron Pigma pens, gouache and Turkish tea on thick watercolour paper. I hope it is enjoyed. I can't wait to get mine in the mail— I haven't a clue who is sending it and where they are— pretty exciting!

Please click on the image to see it larger.