5 minute read
Çok güzelim, çok güzel
Charlotte Schmitz spent more than two years living in the Balat district of Istanbul. As she wandered through the small alleyways, her interest was piqued by life behind the curtains, where she discovered a world that bordered on a fairy tale.
“I always work in whatever setting I find. My pictures are in part composed, but have arisen from a certain moment – I don’t look for deliberate backgrounds, they are there at any given time.”
‘Çok güzelim, çok güzel’ was the first sentence Charlotte Schmitz learnt in Turkish and it is also the title of her series. Translated as, ‘I am so beautiful, so beautiful’, they are the lyrics of a song that has a deeper meaning in the Balat district of Istanbul. Adorned with tinkling golden necklaces and countless bracelets, it is a song women dance to. From 2014, Schmitz rented a house in Balat, the historic district on the Golden Horn. Having lived in Berlin, she wanted to experience the country of her friends and neighbours; to discover what life is like in their Turkish homeland. Without a doubt, knowledge of the language opened many doors for the photographer: especially to the world of women, an intimate world, one that normally remains closed to outsiders. Yet even so, it is a world full of glitz and glamour, full of stories and dreams.
Balat was once Istanbul’s Jewish quarter, and is now home to mostly traditional Turkish, Kurdish and Roma families. The district is a maze of narrow streets, old houses standing tightly packed together, and washing lines strung across the alleyways, seeming to stop the walls from collapsing in on themselves. Pastel-coloured paint flakes off façades covered with graffiti. Small businesses, cafés and bars, as well as stray cats, hide in Balat. In a sense, it is a forgotten district, making it authentic and hopelessly honest. “I was mostly interested in what was behind the curtains. I began photographing the people, the spirit and cohesion of the neighbourhood,” Schmitz explains.
“I only work with a clip-on flash and use it deliberately to overexpose the pictures. The colours in Balat are bright, and this is emphasised by the flash. I prefer 4:5 format to 3:2, probably because I photograph analogue medium format 4:5 a lot.”
It was only as time went by that the project became a series that speaks exclusively about women. “I only met some of the husbands or fathers after a long time,” she adds. The women generally submit to the patriarchal structures, virtually all of them conform to the system. It is a very conservative district. “Most people in Balat vote for the AKP and are faithful to President Erdogan, though not always as in agreement with his politics as one might suppose,” Schmitz believes.
The private and public spheres here are clearly separated. The worlds of men and women rarely coincide, often even within the same family.
“Many of the women dream of an independent life, less patriarchal structures, less conformity. The new generation is in fact different. The solidarity and friendship among the women is very deep, and they visit each other often.”
The glimpse offered by Schmitz’s images is quite unique; the pictures taken with a 35mm lens on Leica M9 and M bodies. Without head scarves, she photographed women doing crafts or cooking, in sitting rooms, on sofas and on beds; some posed, others sprawled or played, sometimes they smoked or were provocatively dressed; but always just among themselves. Schmitz used a clip-on flash. Deliberate overexposure emphasises the colourful clothes and settings, while enigmatically revealing an invisible, private life. “For me, the pale shrillness underlines the dream world I found there – full of mannerisms of delight, beauty and performance,” she comments. When asked if she has any role models, Schmitz mentions US photographer Nan Goldin. “I like her photographs, her intimacy.” Schmitz’s imagery is also intimate and her pictures are light and empathetic. The perspectives she selects gives those portrayed, as well as the viewer, enough space. Consequently, her work speaks not only of dreams, friendship and solidarity, but also – as a result of the privacy – of something political. With the ideas of ‘privacy is political’ and ‘the personal is political’, women’s movements in western Europe and the USA opened up new areas of action in the 1970s: paternalism was rejected; political action should be initiated by those directly affected.
For Turkish women, the path ahead remains a long one. However, “to better fathom how autocratic parties come to power and how difficult the way back is for everyone, it’s necessary to understand the structures of the private sphere,” Schmitz comments. “And, of course, the private sphere in Turkish society is as private as everywhere else.” KATRIN ULLMANN
