glazed time
Post on 25-Jul-2016
229 Views
Preview:
DESCRIPTION
TRANSCRIPT
The multimedia project GLAZED TIME has been produced with the assistance of the European Union within
the framework of the programme ‘Support to the Armenia -Normalisation Process’.
This project’s first exhibition in Diyarbakır issupported by Diyarbakır Metropolitan Municipality and Heinrich
Böll Stiftung Turkey.
NarPhotos
NarPhotos is an independent collective established in 2003 by photographers for whom documentary photography is a visual tool of ''understanding and expressing'' the world.
The aim is to show the various conditions in human life. For the members the way of making the projects has an importance as well as the final result. In these times where producing together, sharing the knowledge, support and collectivism become an exception. They belive that the function of the images has a priority over their plastic and esthetic values. Members do not accept what is given as the way it is, instead of staying satisfied with the answers they prefer to ask more questions.
They produce photo reportages with the idea of trying to change the situation instead of admitting and protecting the existing circumstances.
4 Plus Documentary Photography Center 4 Plus Documentary Photography Center is an initiative by three Armenian
documentary photographers, Anahit Hayrapetyan, Anush Babajanyan and
Nazik Armenakyan. The aim of 4 Plus is the development of Armenia's
photojournalism and documentary photography, as well as raising awareness
about issues in Armenia through photography.
Berge Arabian
Berge Arabian, born in Qamishly, Syria in 1957 of Armenian decent. Moved to Canada
and lived there for 37 years where he graduated in Political science and worked
for many years as a photographer for NOW magazine. A self-taught photographer
focusing on social documentaries. Has been living in Istanbul for 5 years and is a
photographer for the weekly Agos newspaper.
The two documentary photography
collectives NarPhotos from Turkey
and 4PLUS from Armenia got together
in the year of the 100th anniversary
of the Armenian Genocide to take a
closer look at the remains of a time,
starting from 1915, that has been
considered voiceless because no one
dared to talk about it. Together they
examined remnants of an age that has
been considered nonexistent because
no one dared to acknowledge it, a time
which has been covered, which has
been virtually glazed over.
The essence of the works that you are
about to see aim to present firsthand
testimonies by focusing on people’s
personal stories. These stories found
their places in a series of video and
photographic compositions that can
be considered as short expeditions
into the past by setting the starting
point at the present. Each narrative of
the present is showing insights into
its protagonist’s daily life and due to
the variety of these stories is drawing
the picture of a broader collective
memory. The Armenian population
of Turkey was significantly reduced
since the beginning of the last centu-
ry; they were forcibly detached from
their lands and houses; a majority of
them were sent to death marches and
G L A Z E D T I M E
were faced with genocide. As long as
they remain voiceless and do not try
to lift up the glaze of that era, they are
considered acceptable citizens. To put
it in a folkloric-nostalgic way, Turkey’s
Armenians that once used to play an
important part in Anatolia’s social
spectrum and who are now countable
on merely the fingers of one hand, do
not cease to constitute considerable
pieces of Anatolia’s colourful mosaic.
Those who dare to lift parts of the
glaze that has been put upon that age,
those who do not stop questioning no
matter what kind of consequences
they have to face, they won’t ever be
moving on freely without having to feel
the pressure of a repressive mindset
like a stick being banged persistently
at their necks.
One of the presented video composi-
tions is based on the story of eighty-
five years old Uncle Sarkis in Diyarba-
kir, who has had lost his wife ‘Bayzar’
last year. Uncle Sarkis, while heating
up his oven in a gentle and meditative
manner, repeats the following words
in Kurdish that each of us will relate to
and most of us will agree upon:
“Zor e… Tenêbûn pir zor e”*
Uncle Sarkis‘ grief upon the loss of
his wife that results in those words,
is certainly adaptable to a nation’s
deprivation of its own land, its cultural
relicts, its relatives, its lovers, its par-
ents, its sons and daughters: “Zor e…
Tenêbûn pir zor e”
On the other hand, as much as this re-
lates to Armenians of Turkey who lost
their lives; it also holds true for all the
other peoples of Anatolia as long as
they fail to question what happened
to their neighbours and friends, and
sincerely do not wonder about their
whereabouts. In this case, the only
thing to remind them of is:
It is difficult… Loneliness is very diffi-
cult!*
Anahit Hayrapetyan – Serra Akcan
LIFE IN ANCIENT TARON
100 years have passed. It’s been 100
years already, but the fight on these
grounds still has not ended. It continues
without distinguishing between reli-
gions, languages and races… What’s left
behind are the things told, the things
that have been written. And photographs
are what have been left behind.
Anahit Hayrapetyan‒ 4Plus
It is a cloudy day, we are in Moush
which used to be the center of the
Taron region during the middle ages...
a region where the majority of Turkey’s
Armenians used to live until 1914… 113
church, 66 monastery, 18 pilgrimage site
and 87 school…
First we walk through the center of the
city; we walk through the historical for-
tress district – or more precisely, what
has been left of it. In the course of an
urban transformation project a couple
of years ago, a huge part of the fortress
district, which has been an old habitat
for Armenians with around 500 houses,
has been demolished by TOKI.
It is hard to find any traces of the his-
torical past of this inner-fortress city
upon which the town Moush has been
built… Nailed inscriptions of the Urartu
King Menua (800 BC), the Mamigonyan
Family that has been ruling and pro-
tecting Armenia’s Taron district in the
8th century, the Pakradunis who have
been claiming their lands after them…
The Byzantine Empire, the Ottoman
Empire… Taron district’s Armenian past
got lost steadily in the course of war
fares, massacres, pillages, deportations,
genocides, economical oppressions and
forced islamization.
“My father is of Kurdish descent, my
mother Armenian… Everyone knows us
by the name of my mother’s father, my
grandfather, Hazar… There have been
three priests at the church, my grand-
father was one of them… he used to be
strong, he used to be great… Everyone
knows it and says it… There is nothing
to hide… I mean, even if you tried to hide
it, still everyone knows it… They know
my mother, they know my father, they
know where we came from, where we
have gone to, everything’s obvious…”
Snow is falling… We are walking
through the villages… Çengili, Tsıronk…
The sun comes through… Norşen, Mo-
ngunk… Doors open, stories are being
told, people who have migrated from
Sassoun to Moush are telling them…
“My grandfather Avadis moved from
Sassoun to Mongunk, Monguk belongs
to Moush. We were born after that, we
have been born in Mongunk. I remem-
ber now that my grandmother and my
grandfather, they have been suffering a
lot. Language for a start… the Armenian
language was forbidden, they weren’t
allowed to speak… To be able to speak,
they had to be in a safe shut up space…
Worshipping was impossible as well, it
was forbidden… I was 9 years old then…
My grandmother and I went to collect
herbs… my grandmother used to pray
there, at the church of Arak… I asked
my grandmother what she was doing
there… Naturally, I did not know any-
thing about worshipping until then… She
said one or two words in Armenian…
‘We are praying to God… for being able
to live a life without troubles and mis-
chances…’ I have kept these few Arme-
nian words in mind since then… Believe
me, our elders have been the ones who
have been suffering the most, just to
grant us the possibility of living on these
grounds… It is not imaginable… You can’t
explain this with just talking about it…
They had to work so hard, they had to
stand up against great oppressions… It
is too hard to understand them thor-
oughly, so hard to recall, to think back
on them…”
An
ah
it H
ayr
ap
ety
an
‒ 4
Plu
s
Anahit Hayrapetyan ‒ 4Plus
Anahit Hayrapetyan ‒ 4Plus
An
ah
it H
ayr
ap
ety
an
‒ 4
Plu
s
Serra Akcan ‒ NarPhotos
Anahit Hayrapetyan ‒ 4Plus
Anahit Hayrapetyan ‒ 4Plus
Serra Akcan ‒ NarPhotos
Muslim Armenians are talking about
the things that their grandfathers and
grandmothers have told them. They are
protecting their identities with memo-
ries only. They are talking about every-
thing that they have been silent about
since ages… It costs them a lot of effort
to explain the blessing that comes along
with being able to live on the grounds
they have been born onto.
- ‘Shall we go to Sassoun?’
- ‘Let’s go...’
Just like a mountain refuge, Sassoun
has been an ancient cradle for Arme-
nian epics. Until 1914, about 25.000
Armenians in Sassoun have been able to
keep alive their ancestors’ way of living
within their 156 villages, 127 churches, 6
monasteries and 15 schools.
“We have been starving; we had to flee
into the caves, we stayed in caves. We
would flee in the mornings… we would
return home in the evenings. We would
be afraid of anyone we saw; bears and
pigs used to eat up all of our crops.”
Sassoun’s history is closely tied to
Taron’s. Despite all the pillages and
massacres, Sassoun has successfully
managed to keep the Armenian popu-
lation high. In 1904, in spite of military
expeditions in Sassoun, the Ottoman
governance has not been able to break
through the Armenian resistance. Al-
though the citizens of Sassoun had to
face a huge migration wave due to the
lack of safety and tax pressure, they
have been left alone after the resistance
in 1918. Following this, a great number
of Sassoun’s citizens had to leave their
grounds for Caucasian Armenia, Syria,
Lebanon and Europe.
“There have been two Ohanneses, my
uncle’s sons. My father used to go to
Syria to see them, he used to visit them
in the past… Those years have been
marked by great poverty… There has
been nothing...”
Rain is falling… A family opens its
doors; the family’s house is located on
the mountain’s foothills, at the very top.
Between trees, an oven made in a hole
in the earth is giving out smoke. A man
is chopping wood, a woman is kneading
bread dough and a child is embracing a
new born lamb.
“We have been living in the villages
below… We moved up to Pırşenk at the
end. We have been living in this village
for approximately 70 years. We have
made it this far, what shall happen from
now on is in Allah’s hands; he will know,
we do not know…”
Se
rra
Akc
an
‒ N
arP
ho
tos
Serra Akcan ‒ NarPhotos
Serra Akcan ‒ NarPhotos
Anahit Hayrapetyan ‒ 4Plus
Serra Akcan ‒ NarPhotos
Serra Akcan ‒ NarPhotos
Anahit Hayrapetyan ‒ 4Plus
Serra Akcan ‒ NarPhotos
Anahit Hayrapetyan ‒ 4Plus
- ‘We have come out of the 19th century,
did you notice?’
- ‘We are living in the 21th century right
now, still we are going through the
same things… massacres, migrations…
war continues without distinguishing
between religion, language and race…’
We have come a long way; poverty, in-
justice, treason and casualties which
have been left without compensation,
disillusionments… neighbours get angry
with each other, doors shut… migration
continues… the fight continues… doors
open, camps are getting set up… Some-
how it does not stop…
Serra Akcan ‒ NarPhotos
Nazik Armenakyan
IDENTITY ARMENIAN
It was my second visit to Istanbul and
the first time that I was supposed to
meet the Armenian community. In the
point where East fuses with West–Polis,
as the Istanbul Armenians usually call
it–there is a large Armenian commu-
nity of around 70 thousand. Living in a
place where the whole country does not
belong to your identity, yet you breathe
the same air and share the same
space – how do the Armenians of Polis
preserve their identity? This was the
main question that nagged at me. It is a
gigantic city where, after certain well-
known historic events, our forefathers
survived and continued to live, believing
that Istanbul is not like the other cities.
So they built new Armenian church-
es hospitals, educational institutions,
schools and Armenian daily newspapers
in various districts of the city, like small
relics. While photographing the Arme-
nian spiritual, cultural and educational
centers, or simply getting to know the
Armenians of Polis, I would take notes
in my notebook and attach small imag-
es. My notepbook soon became a unique
diary mirroring the Armenian commu-
nity of Polis–made of small bits here
and there that nevertheless constitute
strong pillars–and documenting how it
lives through its culture, language and
spirit, maintaining its Armenian identity
even one hundred years later by speak-
ing in Armenian, singing and dancing in
Armenian, and praying in Armenian.
Nazik Armenakyan ‒ 4Plus
Sona Zardaryan:
''It isn’t easy being an Armenian and living in Turkey. My family suffered losses but
continued to live in Istanbul. We sing Krunk even at the most joyous of feasts, and
everyone ends up shedding tears. It’s true that you can tell by looking at us that
we’re not Muslim, but we’ve put a lot into this city.''
Chairman and Preacher of the Religious Assembly at the St. Vardanants
Church in Istanbul, the Very Reverend Father Tatul Anushian:
''Each night follows each morning, each morning follows the previous night – it is a
chain. When we open our eyes in the morning, we might expect sunshine, but end
up with sudden rain, winds and storms… We don’t know how things will develop.
Only one things matters – the importance of maintaining our identity.''
Nazik Armenakyan ‒ 4Plus
Matins and Morning Mass at the St. Trinity (Surb Errordutyun) Church of Istanbul
On 16 May 1914, Patriarch Maghakia Ormanian led a special ceremony to open
the Armenian national cemetery in Şişli.
Nazik Armenakyan ‒ 4Plus
Armenian spiritual leaders and famous figures, who have played a major role in the
development of both Armenian and Turkish culture and science, have been laid to
rest at the Armenian national cemetery in Şişli, Istanbul.
Sima Karateke:
''I am a pharmacist and have been living in Istanbul for 47 years. My sister and I
opened a pharmacy in this Armenian-populated district of Feriköy and we work
here.''
Nazik Armenakyan ‒ 4Plus
A portrait of Sima’s grandmother in the pharmacy.
The “Hermon and Anahit Variş” theater was founded in 1997. It mostly stages
comedies, predominantly in Turkish, in order to attract a bigger audience.
Nazik Armenakyan ‒ 4Plus
The theatrical group after one of their performances.
Sarem Külegeş Şeşetyan:
''I grew up in Istanbul and have been dancing in the “Maral” dance troupe for
25 years. I’m the troupe’s trainer now. Cultural life in the Armenian community of
Istanbul is very rich, all you need to do is stay informed. We give performances
with our songs and dances; that is very important work.''
Nazik Armenakyan ‒ 4Plus
The “Maral” song and dance troupe was founded in 1980 by Benon Kuzabaşi and
his friends. The main objective of the troupe is to present Armenian culture, dance,
song and music to the public.
Davit Khachatryan:
''I am from Armenia and have already been working at the Hrant Dink school for 2
years, teaching history and geography. Working at this school has been a special
experience for me, and the only way to maintain my Armenian reality.''
Nazik Armenakyan ‒ 4Plus
Hrant Dink School
This eight-year school, located in one of the Armenian-populated districts of
Istanbul, Kumkapı, has been operating at the Armenian Evangelical Church since
2003, and began to bear the name of Hrant Dink in 2010. The students consist of
the children of Armenian immigrants, living in the Armenian-populated districts of
Istanbul.
Children attending the kindergarten of the Hrant Dink school.
Nazik Armenakyan ‒ 4Plus
Children in second grade at the Hrant Dink school.
Alex Çida, an alumnus of the Central High School.
Nazik Armenakyan ‒ 4Plus
The Central High School, founded in 1886, is an Armenian high school in Istanbul
that hosts around 230 students from grades 9 through 12. The school has 50 – 60
graduates every year.
Hera Büyüktaşcıyan:
''I am an artist, I’m mainly into conceptual art now. I’m half-Armenian, half-Greek.
This year, I’m going to participate in the international Venice Biennale, presenting an
installation called “The Keepers” as part of the “Armenity” section.
I maintain my Armenian identity through my language, Armenian. Language is a
space through which you can discover many hidden things.''
Nazik Armenakyan ‒ 4Plus
Hera also works at the Greek school in Istanbul.
Sibil Bektorosoğlu:''I was born in Polis, my father was strict, but it was thanks to my family that I managed
to preserve my identity. My father would always worry – how would I manage to
succeed by always singing in Armenian? I am very surprised to see Turkish channels
broadcasting my music videos. My girlfriend knew someone who would buy albums by
Armenian singers in America. I would write out those songs word by word, then sing
them. This was like a dream for me – singing in Armenian in Turkey. Music knows no one
language, I preserve my identity by singing in Armenian.''
Nazik Armenakyan ‒ 4Plus
There are many small shops selling old items in the Balat district of Istanbul. At
one of them, I bought a stack of photographs that once belonged to an Armenian
family.
Nazik Armenakyan ‒ 4Plus
Small images from the Armenian reality of Istanbul.
Berge Arabian
LONGINGA Travelogue Story
In 1930, my father, an Armenian who
was born in Hazro in the province of
Diarbakir, moved to Aleppo, Syria along
with his family. He was nine years old
at the time and the family had been
living in the Armenian neighbourhood
of the city of Diarbakir for the previous
two years. The move was not a choice
but a necessity. Having lost most of the
members of their respective families
and relatives at a young age during
the 1915 genocide, my grandparents
had grown up and gotten married to
each other in the wake of the dark
days of the massacres. The human
losses, forced islamasization and the
persecutions by the locals because
of their Christian-Armenian past, had
forced my grandparents to flee Hazro
and take refuge in the city of Diarbakir.
But even that move had not put an end
to the persecution they felt as entities of
a minority in the new Turkish republic.
Thus, a decision was taken to leave the
ancestral homeland by fleeing to Syria
where many of their friends and distant
relatives had made their new home.
This project was an attempt to recreate
visually my father’s, and his family’s,
journey route from the city of Diarbakir
to Syria through the Kilis border.
Overall, the project was done in the
style of a visual travelogue in order
to evoke a memory of the Diarbakir
Armenians in the aftermath of 1915
through the story of my own family’s
flight. In a way it is also a visual
homage in memory of my father and my
grandparents.
DIYARBAKIR
Celal* is singing such a song of
longing... such a song full of sorrow. I
have been listening to him, 3 times. 4
times. And little by little all this longing
is rising inside me. I miss you. I miss
Qamishly. I miss my father. I miss my
childhood... Where did this longing all
begin from? Where? from Qamishly?
From my childhood? From the time
all my elders left Diyarbakir? But this
longing is so powerful sometimes that
my chest wants to blow up. I can not
bear this pain anymore. All my life ,
all my life living with this longing. it is
sometimes unbearable… It never stops.
* Celal Güzelses a Diyarbekir Kurd
musician (1899 –1957)
Berge Arabian
Berge Arabian
Be
rge
Ara
bia
n
Berge Arabian
Berge Arabian
Berge Arabian
Berge Arabian
Berge Arabian
Berge Arabian
Be
rge
Ara
bia
n
Berge Arabian
Berge Arabian
Berge Arabian
Berge Arabian
Be
rge
Ara
bia
n
Berge Arabian
Berge Arabian
Berge Arabian
Berge Arabian
THE ROAD
I am thinking of the young Syrian
refugee boy at the border, Mulham, and I
miss him too. I miss him… I want to hug
him to take his pain away. He had said
to me,” your pain is worse than mine…I
will go back to my Halep when the war
stops but you...you have been longing for
Qamishly for 50 years and you have not
been able to see it again. It is too much
to long and not to have.”
I just want to shout here. To scream
and take out this 50 year pain that I am
carrying inside me…
In a way it is good to have done this
story. I am still doing it. I am realizing
that truely, my father’s departure story,
which I tried to recreate with the little
information that I have and with all
the little bits and pieces, there is no
complete story. I only know a few things.
unfortunately when I was young, I did
not listen well. And they did not tell
me in detail or in a way so that I could
carry this story, their story, to the next
generation after me, or to the ones I
love. So in a way to have come here
and to have taken this journey from
Diyarbakir to Kilis, without knowing if
I am in the right track or at the right
places that they traveled through, is not
important. Because what is important
now is that for so many years, in my
mind I had been trying to piece together
a complete story. And it is very difficult
to know what really happened. How they
went through these roads, with new
hopes to start a new life. For me also,
it is the start of a new life because I am
leaving behind me all the mystery. All
the painful mystery that I have always
tried to imagine. Therefor I have created
my own story. I have retraveled and
retaken the same steps I think they did.
Whether the right ones or the wrong
ones, I think that I did my own journey
and left behind me unknown details
which I never had. But for me it is as
if it is a fresh start with a new hope, a
new beginning. It is like cleansing this
heaviness that has been inside me for
so many years. Always imagining my
child father , a child on the streets of
Diyarbakir. Imagining my grandfather,
washing or cleaning in a courtyard.
Imagining everything. But now, I do
not need to imagine anymore. I now
know. This was the journey that was
calling for me. And I took it…I took it
and it embraced me totally and now
Diyarbakir is a new Diyarbekir… with a
new hope.
Everywhere on the journey, I met Syrian
refugees. They are everywhere. In small
towns… on the road…. some of them
are cotton pickers, some of them are
clearing rocks and on vast lands…
sitting on the streets. Everywhere...
But when my father and family had
to leave Diyarbakir and went to Syria,
they were like these refugees… with
nothing on their backs… with nothing
in their pockets. Almost... They stayed
in a refugee camp. It is strange that 80
or 90 years later the children of those
people who accepted them, helped
them or shared with them some human
compassion, have now come to the
same lands that my elders had to
leave…. Seeking the same refuge in a
place where at least they can feel safe.
And yet, the story does not end here. In
other places, in other times, this same
forced exchange will always happen.
People will always be forced to leave
their ancestral lands. Lands that they
have known for a very very long time. A
land where they drank its water. They
breathed its air. They are always forced
to leave their land and start a very long,
painful journey. Starting a life full of
memories. Memories that start from
their childhood, their youth. And there
is no going back. Landless they will
be. Once you leave, it will never be the
same. And that’s the tragedy of it…. The
tragedy of Human history.
Berge Arabian
Berge Arabian
Berge Arabian
Berge Arabian
Berge Arabian
Berge Arabian
Be
rge
Ara
bia
n
Berge Arabian
Berge Arabian
Berge Arabian
Berge Arabian
Berge Arabian
Berge Arabian
Berge Arabian
Berge Arabian
Berge Arabian
Berge Arabian
Berge Arabian
Berge Arabian
Berge Arabian
Berge Arabian
Berge Arabian
Berge Arabian
Berge Arabian
Berge Arabian
Berge Arabian
Berge Arabian
Berge Arabian
Berge Arabian
my
hear
tfelt
than
ks to
my
dear
roa
d fri
end
Hus
amet
in B
ahce
w
ho k
ept r
epla
ying
Cel
al to
mak
e m
e cr
y.
Berge Arabian
Anush Babajanyan
THIS IS OUR HOME
Turkey is their home. They played upon
its streets and alleyways as children.
Istanbul is the labyrinth of their up-
bringing. As adults, they attend Turkish
universities in this cosmopolitan city
west of the Bosphorus, enlightened and
bonding with Istanbulites of all nations.
Istanbul is home. Yet in their dwellings
and upon its thoroughfares, they feel
vulnerable, unsettled. Insecure.
Their speech is subtle and brave, an
even tenor that emits the worries they
feel, the concerns of being Armenian
and the consequence it can bring, trou-
bled that this potential discomfort even
exists.
Presented together with their portraits,
these are places of refuge they love,
seeking comfort, a bonding and reaf-
firmation of self-context. It is in these
oasis’ where they connect to the land
and themselves.
It is where there is warmth.
Anush Babajanyan ‒ 4Plus
Anna:
''We are here only for work. Of course we will go back to Armenia in the end.
Right now I do not want to go back, because the situation in Armenia is not so
well.''
Anush Babajanyan ‒ 4Plus
Aren:
''I have not been to Armenia, I would really like to go. Birthright Armenia
organization came to the Kendronakan Union and we made an event for them.''
Anush Babajanyan ‒ 4Plus
Artin Jan:
''We have always been here, we should always be here. Because our lands, the
lands of our fathers have always been here. I cannot go anywhere else.
God knows, if I was living in 1915, I would protect my lands until the end. I would
not leave.''
Anush Babajanyan ‒ 4Plus
Aykun:
''There is a huge garden behind my school, and I passed my childhood right there.
They sold it and they will build a commercial centre. I am afraid to enter the school
now.''
Anush Babajanyan ‒ 4Plus
Gayane:
''I do not feel calm. I grew up with a complex. I am Armenian, someone else is
Turkish. I cannot get married with a Turk. I do not want my child to grow up with
those things.''
Anush Babajanyan ‒ 4Plus
Jessica:
''It was difficult when I was a child. They asked me what my name was, and I said
Jessica. They asked where I was from. My mother and father did not want me to
say that I was Armenian. But I would say that I was Armenian.''
Anush Babajanyan ‒ 4Plus
Kamer:
''There was one voice, and it was silenced. But it returned with thousands of
voices.''
Anush Babajanyan ‒ 4Plus
Maral:
''I used to say that I was Turkish with Armenian origins. Now I say that I am
Armenian, because the university makes me think in different ways. Yes, I am an
Armenian in Turkey. I am an Armenian woman actually. This also puts a level on this
label. It is nice to be different, to be Armenian.''
Anush Babajanyan ‒ 4Plus
Naira:
''I did not know how to behave in the beginning. I did not even know what would
happen if I spoke Armenian in the street. Muraz told me that I could speak
Armenian and that no one would say anything to me.''
Anush Babajanyan ‒ 4Plus
Nare:
''I love the sea and nature. We thought of going to America or moving to Armenia.
But we cannot move to Armenia because there is no sea. We cannot live in a place
where there is no sea.''
Anush Babajanyan ‒ 4Plus
Norayr:
''When we went into the streets or when we had issues with the Turkish History
teacher in the lyceum, we saw that we were different. They separated us from the
others. When the Genocide is recognised in Turkey, we will have an easier life, we
will have more freedom.''
Anush Babajanyan ‒ 4Plus
Sona:
''It is really hard to live here. As much as you get familiar with the city and accept it
as your home, it is really hard not to feel like you’re always the other, the one that’s
the deviation from the norm. As much as you accept it as you home, it is really
hard to escape what others qualify you as.''
NarPhotos
VIDEOS
https://vimeo.com/149918232 NarPhotos
A FAMILY PORTRAITWith Istanbul based Armenian Yetvart Tomasyan’s
own words, ‘We are able to successfully hide
and protect the ties with our past through the
medium of photography. One of these photographs
is exceedingly meaningful for us, for my family.’
Saying this, Tomasyan takes a photograph out of
his family album and begins to tell us Mardik’s
story.
https://vimeo.com/149918232 NarPhotos
https://vimeo.com/149986501 NarPhotos
THE DOORS HAVE SHUTAccording to a population census made 140 years
ago, 8000 Armenians used to live in Diyarbakır. Today,
the only Armenian left in Diyarbakır is Sarkis Eken.
He and his deceased wife Bayzar Alata used to live
together at the St. Mary Church in Diyarbakir. Now,
that Sarkis is left all alone in their house in the
church, he claims that the state of loneliness seems
to be too hard. He describes the loss of his wife
like this, ‘Life is different with a woman at home. As
Bayzar was still alive, the door was always opened.
Now that door has shut.’
Sarkis Eken is looking out of the doors which have
been shut one by one; the doors which got shut and
declared nonexistent.
https://vimeo.com/149986501 NarPhotos
https://vimeo.com/147198919 NarPhotos
TRACING VOICES“The voice has been born out of the water, out of
the bird, out of lullabies, out of mothers’ lullabies,
out of women’s lullabies; it is nature’s voice... it is
the voice of the mountain, the voice of the sea”
Due to censorship on their culture’s history,
‘Ashug and Dengbêj‘ musicians have always
carried on their folks’ stories verbally. ‘Ashug and
Dengbêj’ musicians’ struggles therefore nurture
strong protagonists who have to stand tall against
oppression, bear persistence and passion. And of
course, the difficulties that the protagonists have
to cope with, generate intense solidarity within
their communal relationships. Ashug Leyli and
Dengbêj Gazin came together within an ‘Ashug
and Dengbêj’ project for women. Together they
started on a journey to vouch for love, peace and
friendship, using their voices as a tool. They deliver
their memories from generation to generation in
order to keep their culture alive and make their
struggles known; to revive their memories while
talking about them, to revive themselves… In
defiance of the ones that want to make them forget,
remembering against all odds, making people
remember against all odds…https://vimeo.com/147198919 NarPhotos
https://vimeo.com/147395255 NarPhotos
OJAKHEduard’s story stretches out from the
Azerbaijanian-Armenian war to Istanbul where he
is living together with his family as a migrant since
ten years. Out of the overly crowded grounds of
his kind that nevertheless seem foreign to him –
which is Turkey – he whispers the following, ‘Yes,
I am living in Turkey now, but by any means, you
cannot call that living; I am merely existing. That is
because I am a foreigner here. Outside of home, a
foreigner will always feel foreign; he will always be
longing for home.’
https://vimeo.com/147395255 NarPhotos
Adnan Çelik, Altuğ Yılmaz, Anush Babajanyan, Anush Suni, Arman Shahnazaryan,
Armine Avetisyan, Aylin Dilaver Vartanyan, Azer Keskin, Baruyr Kuyumciyan, Berge
Arabian, Besse Kabak, Beyhan& Hakan Peker, Binnur Aloğlu, Buğra Dedeoğlu, Bur-
cu Becermen, Eduard Shahnazaryan ve Venera Apresyan ailesi, Elîxan Loran, Eylem
Ertürk, Fahrettin Yıldız, Fatoş Kılıç Arabian, Garo Paylan, Gönül Hasanoğlu, Hayret-
tin Taş, Hüsamettin Bahçe, İlhami Baran, Kayane Gavrilof, Kiritor Ağabağoğlu, Maro
and Asdgho Turbendians, Marlene Schäfers, Mihran Tovmasyan, Nedim Özkırtay,
Öznur Pervanlar, Pakrat Estukyan, Razmik Apresyan, Refik Tekin, Reşo Ronahî, Sa-
liba Aciş, Sarkis Seropyan, Sona Dilanyan, Süslü&İsmail Adanır, Tamar Nalcı, Tolga
Taş, Ümit Kıvanç, Yetvart & Paylin Tomasyan, Daron Muş Armenians Social, Soli-
darity and Tourism Foundation, Diyarbakır Mother Mary Church, Gendronakan High
School, Sayat Nova Choir.
T h a n k s . . .
The copyright of all contents of this book, photographies and downloadable
(portable document format-PDF) documents belong to the NarPhotos and 4Plus
collectives. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be published without
the permission and knowledge of the publication's owners.
Year of Publication: 2015
Catalogue Layout: Serap Ergel
top related