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EVERYTHING
SHOULD BE UNDER THE SUN |
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We have
only one WORLD yet! If we destroy it, where else can we go to? - 7th issue - Fall 2001 |
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Ulysses in Manhattan:
by Nilüfer KUYAS
Fragility and resilience. Those are the two themes that hit me whenever
I look at the walls of the world that Burhan Dogançay has been
documenting for years, with photo camera or on canvas, or when I view
his other photographs of city scapes, particularly those originating
in New York where he lives.
Detritus and debris. Destruction and rejuvenation. Vulnerability and resistance.These
are the other great themes that emerge from Dogançay's obsessive
documentation of urban graffiti, metropolitan building sites, or changing
city façades from all over the world. But nowhere is it as striking
as the work he has produced in New York, his adopted city where he struggled,
hungered and suffered to forge the unique style that became his signature.
Like Ulysses, his journey took him far away from the Aegean shores of
Turkey, the land of Troy that was his original home, but his Ithaca
turned out to be another island at the other end of the world, Manhattan.
It was on a New York rooftop that he first discovered the shadow play
on torn posters that led to some of the most exciting forms in his art.
It was on a wall in Manhattan that he first encountered the haphazard
collage that urban civilization offered and there was no stopping him
after that.
Like all true artists, Dogançay moved with the world but also moved
the world. He gazed at the human misery reflected on urban walls and
years ago predicted that terrorism would be on the rise in the new century.
It was not always necessary for him to go into the third world to see
the "human debris", the homeless sleeping on the streets.
He already knew that the third world is within us, in our own cities,
including New York. His photographs from the 1970s of the homeless in
New York sleeping in the gutters are ample proof of that.
It is impossible not to feel that same pioneering spirit in Dogançay
when one looks now at his photographs of New York building sites from
the 1980s. Plots of rubble, pulled down buildings lying in their own
debris, the destruction that was followed by the rebuilding, the cycle
of cities to which he was sensitive right from the start. There is energy
and big statements in our post-modern urban civilization, but the shadow
side of it is the destruction and the suffering. The heroic and the
wretched go hand in hand. So Dogançay not only documented the
wretched on the gutters, but he also saw the heroes on the scaffolding
of high-rises newly erected. The series of photographs he took on the construction
site of the famous "Lipstick Building" in the mid 80's show
us another heroic side of the New York working class. The same heroes
that today remove the debris form the World Trade Center disaster, were
also the heroes who erected the newest skyscrapers of New York in the
1980s. High up, they look like surreal trapeze artists in Dogançay's
dramatic black and white images. There is empty space, a steel beam
and two men standing on it as if they were chatting on a sidewalk. Simple
and striking.
Destruction, yes. Those heaps of rubble, the plots of urban no man's land
look chilling. But there is also rejuvenation, rebuilding, resilience.
It is not only money and power. It is simple human, day to day heroism.
The kind of heroism that knows not itself. The truest kind. Ordinary
men doing their "ordinary" work, fifty stairs up from the
ground, walking above the void.
There is a direct link between those images of resilience, and the images
of resistance coupled with fragility that Dogançay finds in his
collages of walls covered with graffiti, posters, signs, codes, messages,
images. The urban hell, the urban paradise. Like many an immigrant,
like many an artist, like many an Ulysses looking for a new life on
the shores of Manhattan, Dogançay embraces the energy of the
promised land, the dream of a new world, the nightmare of getting crushed
in one's own broken dream.
The kind of old fashioned humanism, the Eastern wisdom that Dogançay
brings into his work is exactly the kind of energy that fragilized Manhattan
shall need to reconstruct and to rejuvenate after the horrific disaster.
When the World Trade Center is eventually rebuilt, there is no doubt
that we shall see Dogançay on that construction site as well,
with his camera and his unique look.
At the end of the Odyssey, the inner struggle in Ithaca is about to turn
into a new war when the goddess Athena, the goddess of wisdom, intervenes
and calls a halt to hostilities, speaking for eternal world peace. Human
resilience in the face of adversity is followed by healing and the hope
for peace. When Manhattan, in its unique blend of ruthless power and
human fragility, roots for peace and starts healing, it shall need not
only its businessmen or moneymakers but its artsits as well, and I am
sure Burhan Dogançay will be among them.
Another Turkish artist who also lives in New York and who is also destined
for greatness is the pianist Fazil Say and among his compositions my
favourite is a small piano piece called "Dervish in Manhattan".
Ulysses and dervish, they are two sides of the same coin, and Burhan
Dogançay has a bit of both I think. New York is lucky to have
him. We in Istanbul do not mind sharing him with New York, as long as
through him and other artists our hands and our hearts are joined still
in the hope of a better world. That is the spirit in which The Light
Millenium Project was also founded I believe, and in paying tribute
to Burhan Dogançay I also salute all the firends who created
this project, and extend a specially warm greeting to NewYorkers in
their difficult hour.
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We will be celebrating the second anniversary with
the Winter-2002 issue. Deadline: January 7, 2002 |
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