Atatürk Street
I like this street in Istanbul.
There are tall stone walls on either side of the street which guard the palaces of the Ottomans. Stone walls to keep out the enemies of the state and the poor. It was the week of the celebration of the founding of the Turkish republic and the trees, wrapped in red, white and gold silk, trunks bent and curved like the bodies of women dressed like fashion models on the runway.
Along the stone wall hung large black and white photographs of Atatürk in various battle scenes, with soldiers, with politicians and people. In one photograph, he wears a boler cap. In another, he rides in some fabulous old fashioned car. I wanted to photograph this street but during the day it is impossible, the street is bumper to bumper with the mad traffic of Istanbul. This makes it impossible to photograph in the day time. It’s the last night of my stay. I know I will come back to this city, but just in case the trees are not wrapped in silk again, just in case, these black and white photographs are never hung along the same stone wall again, I must photograph what I see. Because the way it is now is the way I want to remember it and it may never be like this again. This vision is mine.
That it is night, that the street lights are harsh against the darkness, I imagine this scene has been prepared for only me. Lovers walk arm in arm, single men walk alone upon the stage of this street lit by the stark night lamps, the stone wall, the black and white photographs.
There is a lone man, he sweeps the street and he pauses from his dreary task, leaning against his broom and looks up at the photograph of Atatürk wearing his dashing bowler cap. I like this photograph of Ataturk. I once read a very long book about Ataturk and found it incredibly boring. Pages and pages of Atatürk’s military escapades and his military schooling. So much war, it could put an insomniac to sleep. I wanted to read about him, his personality, his lovers, his famıly, his scandals, his admiration of Marilyn Monroe and French culture but it is all about war and more war. All around Istanbul there a thousands of photographs of him. It seems as if he has movie star status. He sort of reminds me of Clark Gable, charming and debonair with handsome good looks.
A friend of mine in New York loves Atatürk. She thinks he’s marvellous. She has a book about Atatürk – a large coffee table kind of book, with big photographs of him accompanied by his famous quotes. Atatürk appears to have been an extremely witty man, always coming up with the perfect thing to say at the right moment and somebody was there to write it down. That is what makes a great man of history. I’ve read some of his quotes and also agree that he said some brilliant things especially upon the status of women. He modernized the country bringing it into the 20th century, transforming the country into a democratic, secular state. He was a great military strategist, establishing the Turkish Republic in 1923. His views of women were progressive, ahead of some of the European nations at the time. Women achieved full political rights in Turkey in 1934. That he achieved so much culturally and socially for Turkey, his death was a great loss for the country. There are not many leaders today who can achieve a tenth of what he achieved for the good of their country. He died on November 10, 1938, at 9:05 a.m. At this moment, each year in Turkey, people stop what they are doing and remember in silence, the man, the founder of their country, Atatürk.
Nobody sees me on the other side of the street taking photographs I sort of feel like a spy in the house of love and a thief hiding in the darkness, stealing the images of people without their knowledge. But it’s only for the memories.
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