Sunday 31 March 2013

Bank Street

is the name of our street. It runs perpendicular to Street of Banks and is occupied by many tiny shops of industrial products - rubber feet, nuts, bolts, ceramic wares, chains, sheet metal, plastic piping, flexible hoses, hand power tools, etc. You get the idea.

Our entrance is on a particularly steep bit of the street:
Directly across the street the slope is a bit more evident:
On the ground floor is the workshop and Anika's practice space:
I'm standing on the mezzanine level where we take off our shoes:
The big blue bottle is a 19 ltr bottle of spring water we use for drinking and making tea. Tap water is fine for cooking. I have my very own bottle in my room. Love the over-scaled hand-pump on top. Next floor up is the organizers', Julie & Anika's, office area:
On this level the stairs move from the uphill side of the building to the centre. Next floor up is my room, where I sleep and exercise...
and work. Nice and bright when the sun is shining but will get quite warm soon, I've been told:
The shared shower-room is perfectly functional and rather nice:
Next floor up is the great kitchen:
I'm standing on the stairs leading up to the terrace (seen below) below, where Laleh, the other resident artist, is doing laundry:
On this fine day (22 deg) the Golden Horn  swarms with boats
and tourists on the ancient city side:
Tourists apparently bring crime, especially to this area where no tourists came until some hostels opened up within the past two years near the Galata Tower, the Genoese-built fortification dating back to 1348, with various restorations since. Now the open area at the base of the tower, a sort of piazza, has become a hang-out for drunks.

But I'm feeling a bit less uneasy with all the roast chestnut street vendors now I've been told they are actually undercover police, again, mostly for the tourists.

Happy Easter!

Thursday 28 March 2013

Turkish Take-away art

Before coming to Istanbul, I'd already practised something called the Turkish Map fold, a technique of folding a sheet of paper, normally square, into a pop-out. I'd brought a trial with me that I'd secured in an A4 folded in half as a book maquette.

While casually looking for a road atlas or other book of Turkish maps, I came across a publication entitled Kültüre Rotoları, meaning Cultural Routes. In this was a glossy magazine with evocative imagery of beautiful landscapes,  historic traditional rites, archaeological finds, and folk customs, a classic tourist guide. These full page images would be good subjects for the Turkish fold-outs. I made quite a few, and they sat on my desk for a few days. Then, one morning, I found some menus from one of the local tiny 'büfe' (say it aloud and it's buffet, a common linguistic occurrence in Turkish, like biftek, büro, çin [ç=j as in Joan], duş [ş=sh], şampü) shoved into the grill of the entry door. Gaudy and graphic these menus seemed a perfect counterpoint to the slick, travel industry-style images used for the Turkish Map fold: 
The wrinkled white sheet is from the butcher's where I bought my first beef mince. It was a matter of pointing at what appeared to be a very lean cut of sirloin, saying the magic words 'yarım kilo' or half kilo, and watching him cut off a piece which weighed, after he put it through the meat grinder before my eyes, 504 gr. Torn off a pack hanging on the wall, this paper is a very heavy waxy sheet, with a parchment-like weight. When I get a taste for kebaps again I will return and try to convince him to let me have some extra sheets - a perfect chemise for this book.

This ancient map was the first glossy image I wanted to be seen, a Turkish Map fold of a map:
Some archaeological finds:
Why is this called a Turkish Map fold? I'm not sure but it seems to me, after having folded and unfolded so many that the shape of the outer edge resembles one of the classic Islamic mosaic patterns,
easily seen here:
Note the menu selections on the carrier leaves. And finally, an archaeological site, with images of toasties.
When complete this will be a 32-page book with 16 tipped in fold-outs.

Monday 25 March 2013

And now a little architecture...

First, the Old City (original site of Byzantium) from the roof terrace: the tall singular tower is, I discovered, at telecommunications tower, with the New Mosque minarets just visible left of centre in front of a distant mosque which may be Suleymaniye  Mosque. Not sure about the one on the right.
Most of the buildings on this, the north side of the Golden Horn, reflect the mid-19th c European style of architecture, as this area was designated by the Sultans for foreign dignataries, who built their consulates in the style of the day.
This one is just outside my window:
And this beautiful Art Nouveau example, with details:
Finally, another building which looks more 17th c, and an Art Nouveau door that caught my eye:
As these are all part of my industrial/commercial/wholesale neighbourhood, note the cannisters and motors on display.

Saturday 23 March 2013

And now for some kitchen art...

Filled one of the rubber feet with my special shellac mix, topped it with my peacock pigment, popped it in the oven at 50 deg C for an hour and, lo, it shrank to half the volume.
I finally dug out the still soft chunk of shellac today, and it resembles an unnatural piece of Turkish Delight.
But the pigment looked rather good on the black, so experimented with eggwhite and the other colours I'd mixed:
In a shop just beyond the pigment supplier were large bags of what I assumed to be thread waste. Julie thought it was what the plumbers used to pack and seal joints. But it looks wonderful I think.
Again, 5 TL for a half a bag, about the same size as four rolls of kitchen toweling. The threads are a mix of dull and glossy (natural cotton and poly I suppose), coiled, stretched, ragged, pulled, skeined, knotted, yet still so very clean. Perhaps from sail making? as these shops are adjacent to the chandlerys. 

Another food post...

Friday night met up with Korhan Erel, http://korhanerel.com/, another of the PPP artists, and Jesper Aabille, http://www.aabille.dk/, a Danish artist just finishing a three-month residency courtesy of the Danish Government, at Çiya, an eatery on the Asian side of Istanbul. To get there we took a ferry, about 30 min diagonally SE across the top of the Sea of Marmara and walked through one of those amazing food markets. Even at 20.00 it was buzzing and crowded, possibly more so as the weather was chucking it down with rain, the awnings dripping sheets of water off their edges.

The restaurant itself is very unpretentious, http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2010/04/19/100419fa_fact_batuman. At the entry, unloading our umbrellas, we were flanked by two short counters, one cold self-service mezes (the laden plate weighed for price), and the other at which one ordered hot dishes brought by the waiters. All generally familiar but specifically unknown to me - an assortment of of soups, legumes (lentils, mushrooms, chickpeas and the Turkish broad bean), stuffed aubergines, lambs intestine sausages (may sound exotic but all Italian Barase sausages are made using this same finger-breadth casings), lamb casserole with spring garlic and who knows what else.

Upstairs at our table the waiters brought rye bread and a speciality large flat bread, the Turkish equivalent of  a tortilla or wrap. While waiting for the hot dishes we ate our mezes plates and ordered a kebap with spring mushrooms (a seasonal mushroom which grows truffle-like underground, but without the truffle's pungency). The kebap was spectacular. All dishes were shared across the table.

However, before ordering the sweet, we were given a glass of oregano tea,
followed by the tiny glasses of fresh mint, parsley, dill, apple and pear juice or chilled infusion. The dill gave a remarkable twist to the flavours. Then the sweets appeared, each dish a simple array of preserved 'fruits' in a very light sugar syrup. This one is pumpkin overlaid with a drizzle of tahini topped with crushed nuts, with green olives scattered below. The olives were remarkable, as the green olive flavour only arose, almost like a perfume, after the sweetness passed.
The other three 'fruits' were green walnuts (one below cut in half), a pistachio dough enclosing more of the clotted cream accompaniment and the peel of a particular but unknown citrus fruit. Again, the walnut was a startling taste. Despite all the fruits being presented as 'in syrup' they maintained such individuality of texture and flavour that there was no sense of 'more of the same'.Finally, yet another small drink concoction, this one hot: an infusion of spices (clove, cinnamon, nutmeg perhaps?) topped with crushed walnuts. The only slightly sweet flavour contrasted wonderfully with the bitter walnuts.
Tab for 6? 300 TL, a little over £100 total or £20 ea. Hester, eat your heart out!

Friday 22 March 2013

Perşembe Pazarı means Thursday Market

This is also the name of a parallel hill-climbing street as well as this area. We are bounded by Banklar Caddesi (Street of Banks) to the north, Perşembe Pazarı to the west, Tersane Caddesi to the north and Yüsek Kaldırım to the east. Our street is named Banka Sokok, which means Bank Street. Caravansari's building name, a common feature here, is Tan Han, a Han most recently being known as a warehouse, or place of business but may be derived from khan/caravansari meaning inn, hostelry, road house, rest house.
Leaning out my third floor window I can just make out one of the minarets of the New Mosque, or Yeni Camii, started in 1597.

Thursday 21 March 2013

First off, the fish was delicious


Didn't bread it, just sautéed in olive oil. Shared it with Ughetta after we returned late from a PV at a rather unusual location, a posh fashion/design emporium in Sultanahmet, the area around the Ayasofya and the Blue Mosque full of tourists, hotels and shops for tourists. Not normally where art galleries are found. It seems that to attract viewers to opening, galleries must offer free wine and food. This had both.

When walking with Julie around the 'down' area of our neighbourhood Wednesday, she introduced me to several shops, including one that carries powdered paint pigments and a variety of additives: bags with chunks of pine resin, bags of glitter in every conceivable colour, bags of metallic powders the consistency of talcum (copper, gold, bronze, champagne, silver) and kg bags of Indian shellac flakes, made from the tunnels exuded by the lac bug. Naturally, this is what I had to have, along with denatured alcohol to dissolve it into a liquid.


The black object in the upper right corner is a rubber 5-sided box, presumably for fitting on the bottom of a metal leg. This shop specializes in rubber gears, grommets, rubber feet of all sizes and descriptions, and a most covetous square accordion-folded collapsible hose which I must photograph. I went back today and selected some smaller, rectangular rubber feet.
Here is the entire 100 gr bag of lac flakes dissolved in about 75ml of alcohol. The flakes should have been crushed to a powder before being melted but with some vigorous stirring and then letting it simply sit and relax, it has turned into a pourable liquid about the consistency of single cream.

Note also the two bags of powdered pigment, red and yellow, the blue and black out of shot. The shop had two pallets covered with large bags, quite heavy I imagine, of different colours, one pallet of Turkish powders and one of European powders (another photograph to get). The shop owner steered me to the European powders, saying they were better quality. He was so very nice, we chatted using Google Translate. 

What is the connection between the rubber feet and the shellac? I am using the feet as forms for casting the shellac - will take a very long time to dry out and harden. The forms will be topped with powdered pigments I mixed below:
In bags, pure red, blue and yellow; in cups, pure green, blue-green and yellow-green, red-purple, blue-purple, orange.

Shellac is quite an interesting material. Different colours (from blonde to ruby) arise depending upon which sap the lac bugs feed; when de-waxed it is edible and used to coat pharmaceuticals for slow release action, and on citrus to act as moisture barrier; finally it can be considered a natural polymer plastic as it is mouldable. 

Imported from India it almost seems as if everything available in the neighbourhood is not from Turkey. But in fact, this is the way of life here, and has been for thousands of years. The geography of this spot on Earth is unique for North/South and East/West. Trade with China (think Ghengis Khan), trade with the Vikings (they gave Russia its name), trade with the Italian city-states, everything comes here.

Wednesday 20 March 2013

Artist Residency at Caravansari in Istanbul, 18 March to 31 May 2013


Arrived Monday mid-afternoon, with little experience of famed Istanbuli traffic. Julie, one of the organizers of Caravansari, met me where the taxi driver dropped me on the street corner closest to the residency building, since the street is so narrow and full of delivery and transit vans supplying the wholesale sellers of goods the taxi could not navigate to the door. This area, Perşembe Pazarı, is known for plumbing, electrical, surface finish materials, and hardware and is a bricoleur's paradise.

Looking down the street, down the hill towards the Golden Horn:
and looking up the hill towards Bankalar Caddesi, where the Ottoman bank is (not visible in the image).
The bank building has been split laterally, and the eastern half is now occupied by SALT Galata, an art space: http://saltonline.org/en/anasayfa

My first night I met the other two artists in resident, Laleh Torabi from Berlin and Ughetta Dallimonti, also from London. Ughetta is just here for a month and Laleh and I will be here for the same amount of time. The four of us ate dinner at a restaurant specializing in a regional Antakya (ancient Antioch) cooking - mezes and a very interesting meat dish.

Since the best way to get to know a new place is through food, my initial forays into vegetables included aubergine, onions, tomatoes and courgettes, the light green skinned variety - a kg of each cost around 3TL, or a little over a quid each. Package goods are much more expensive. Lunch on Tuesday therefore was a version of ratatouille with lentils:

Sat outside in the bright sunshine on the roof terrace here, from which Ayasofya/Hagia Sofya and the minarets of the Blue Mosque are visible.

I had also previously discovered a yoghurt drink called ayran, and the low-fat yoghurt here is delicious! (pink means low-fat here):
Yesterday Julie walked me around the 'up the hill' area, and today we walked around the 'down the hill' area, including the fish market, a 8 min walk:
These three fish were 10TL, about £3.6, and the seller gutted and chopped off their heads (didn't want them smelling up the rubbish). They are marinating in ayran, with chopped fresh dill and some type of fresh spring garlic. I may roll them in a little maize meal and then sautee in butter/oil tonight for dinner after we go to a PV in a new gallery space at a local department store.

The azan, or call to prayer, is broadcast several times a day - a few hours before dawn (noticed it this morning but promptly went back to sleep), midday, in the afternoon , and then again at dusk. The early morning call seems to come from a single source, but the other iterations seem to come from two different mosques, as there is a distinct delay, a muddling of the sounds and the times, a blurring of the tones. My second sonic event here, the first being the sound of running water under the sewer grills in the streets.