Alan M Thornton Productions

Whirling Dervishes featured at the HP booth at Photo Expo

2006-11-06T09:09:00.000-05:00

Well, just when you think your walking out the door and seen everything, you then see everything!! I was getting ready to leave the Photo Expo Plus in New York City this weekend and decided to stop and talk with my friends at the Santa Fe Photographic Workshops booth. A dear friend informed me that Hewlett Packard both had my image of the Whirling Dervishes featured as one of three main images on the front of the booth to the right of the front entry. Now, when she mentioned that it looked great, I thought, how nice, I am sure it's a good 8x10 in size, nothing fancy. I come around the corner and see this huge, 20x24 print in a beautiful blond wood frame. All of it's blue and white richness set off by the warm glowing face of the Sufi as he twirled. IT WAS AMAZING! I had never seen it that large, and printed that well. I have to say, HP is looking pretty good right now in comparison to Epson. It really was incredible to see the colors beautifully rendered and smooth in transitions. There was virtually NO DIGITAL NOISE reproduced in the print, even though it was in the original image. It really was incredible. I had settled on having a fair amount of "grain" in the image, and possibly not have as large of a print made in the future. Now, having seen the quality of this HUGE print, I am strongly being swayed to the HP side.

Other great news, the exhibit of the Kurdish Portraits has received rave reviews from the students and faculty at the School of International Training in Brattleboro Vermont. We have made several connections to other schools and colleges to continue the exhibit and lectures in the near future. I am hoping to get it in two places at the same time, while leap frogging from one venue to the other. The idea is to generate as much public support as possible to gain further funding to continue the project. It has been far too long since I have been there, even it has only been a little over a year!

More soon,

Cease Fire...and possible peace.

2005-08-21T23:44:00.000-04:00

Nomadic Kurdish Village Guard

Thankfully, two days ago it was reported by the BBC that the Kurdish Workers Party, the PKK, located in South East Turkey would implement a cease-fire in the wake of current bombings in Anatalia and Istanbul, and kidnappings in Hakkari. Peace negotiations will begin in the capitol, Ankara, to hopefully resolve the disputes the extremist Kurds have with equality issues among the Turkish, including human rights, equality of pay and business opportunities, equal health care, as well as freedom of speech and practice of their culture. Disarming is the main focus of the Turkish governing officials, with the hopes of causing a disbanding of the organization all together.

In light of the recent disbanding of the IRA in Ireland, this may not be so far fetched, as even I would think. I am always hopeful for a peaceful resolve to any conflict, but can at times grasp the frustration and anger that can thrust people into action and violence. Unfortunately, this is a hard concept to impart on those doing the suffering.

The preceding are images of a village guard I met up in the mountains of Hakkari and Van. He is one of the men that would protect the villagers from not only raiders, but also the Gendarme in search for gorilla PKK fighters, and tragically snitches that expose those that are with the PKK. These are working people...beyond blue collar...beyond working class. They are true solders, and true men. He displayed great peace and intelligence to me, even gentle kindness.

He changed into his uniform and brought out his guns with its ribbons of bullets. What struck me more, and I think meant most to him, was his baby daughter; complete with blond hair, and blue green eyes, like mine. It was clear what he was protecting, and why.

I hope this cease-fire will bring about negotiations and peace accords that will benefit the Kurdish of Turkey, as well as set a precedent for the Kurds in Iraq and the remaining Middle East. There is the ability for all of them to exist and thrive with each other...not against one another.

Special thanks to Polaroid and John Reuter....

2005-08-17T14:05:00.000-04:00

Robert and DJ, 20x24 chocolate Polaroid.

I realized last night as I was sorting and cleaning the last of my Type 55 negatives that I have been remiss in thanking a great friend and supporter of my professional work and personal fine art, John Reuter from Polaroid.

I met John several years ago in Santa Fe, New Mexico at a workshop he was teaching on the world famous 20x24 Polaroid Studio Camera which he runs and operates out of Manhattan, New York. I was his wide-eyed and overly eager Studio Manager, he the nimble and quick witted Instructor. Needless to say, the workshop was a bit of a disaster due to shipping issues, but John kept a stiff upper lip and handled himself like a champ. He and I have managed to remain good friends, and revel in the story every time we meet, cause it’s a good one!

John not only runs the Polaroid 20x24 Studio in NY, but he is also an accomplished artist as well. His works are ethereal and often cerebral, encompassing several mediums and technologies from computer printing to 20x24 Polaroid Transfers with pastels painted over top. His work is always creative and inspiring, but with a firm footing in Fine Art.

John has been an appreciator of my work, as well as a supporter. He, and the Polaroid Corporation donated the Type 55 and Type 59 film that I needed for this trip to Turkey. If it had not been for John and Polaroid, I would have had to shell out even more money to create the portraits I has focused on creating.

It is sad to witness the difficulties Polaroid is enduring these few years in the wake of the Digital Age. In contrast, I would like to say that it is rare, and inspiring to see that there are still individuals and corporations that take an interest and initiative to back even small artists like myself. Cheers to you John, and Polaroid, I wish you both the best, and many thanks.

Please take a moment and check out Polaroid's web site which is chock full of great art and ideas, as well as John’s own web site that features his personal photographic and painting work.

http://www.polaroid.com
http://www.johnreuter.com

Home again......finally..no thanks to the French!

2005-08-16T09:14:00.000-04:00

Home, finally after a long and arduous journey home through Stuttgart, Germany and then Paris, France, then Washington DC, then Boston. All that in only 3 days, not bad considering that the French are the single largest pain in my ass. I am sorry, I have tried to not become an ignorant American, I have tried to not fall into stereotypes, but this is a large exception.

Now, I have very close friends that are indeed French, and they are great people...cool even. Somehow, the actual people in France seem to really live up to the standard that the world seems to label them with. We as Americans also seem to have this issue, I am by no means exempt from this problem as well, but this experience has tainted me forever against France, but mainly Air France.

Charles Dugalle airport is basically one large, and I quote a Belgian who said this..."Hungarian Cluster Fuck". Now I know a few Hungarians, but I cannot say that I have seen them cluster fuck, per say, but I can imagine what it entails. The airport is a menagerie of bizarre gate areas that are totally separated from other parts of the airport...it is not one contiguous building with gate wings. There is no rhyme or reason to the numbering or LETTERING of these gates, and you need to take a shuttle to get to other gate buildings, but you never really know what or where they are, or which one is yours! So I got lost for an hour. Traveled all of my life, been to a few random countries and been through WY too many airports, but I have NEVER been lost in one. This would prove to be an omen.

I later found my gate, but noticed no plane..and the gate was marked for New York. No one seemed to believe me that is should be a Boston flight. I later found my gate was moved to another gate terminal all together. I made it in time, after going through the 5th security point- (it gets old REAL fast). I sat for another hour, and then stood for another hour after we were to have boarded, only to learn that the flight was now going to be cancelled due to a "technical problem". My theory, the snails escaped and they couldn't find them all. Anyway, after waiting for two extra hours, they cancelled...CANCELLED the flight. No extra plane, apparently that blew up in Toronto a week earlier. So we were shipped back to the main terminal to stand in line for 9 HOURS. That was NINE (9) HOURS to find whatever flight there was that would get us to Boston via 3-4 other airlines. 9 hours, after 4 hours already...I was a little punchy and a little pissed off. The sad thing was I was about 3/4 of the way through the line, so I would get the worst and the latest flight combo available. Thankfully I became fast friends with a man and his daughter that were traveling in Spain and Portugal, as well as a girl that was traveling in Greece for a month. So we had a few laughs at the expense of the French of course. We finally got our flights through DC, Toronto or JFK. Now the over annoying issue I think we all have is the SEVERE LACK OF CUSTOMER SERVICE the French seem to have. They said nothing, literally, told me I had only one option, and that was it. I had to demand a hotel, I had to demand meals, I had to demand a phone card that never worked, and I had to demand transportation. If anyone knows me, I never demand anything other than maybe extra foam on my freaking latte, that’s it. But I had to DEMAND that I get theses things. These people were doing this for 9 hours, they had to have been doing the same thing for everyone, so why was this such and issue? Why did I have to demand? When I did, they would shrug their shoulders and say, "oh..do you need that?"..or " oh, I suppose I can ask my supervisor." Then, they just hand you the papers, with no explanation of where to go, what to do or anything. Where is the hotel, how do I get there, when does the flight leave, what is the gate, what is my connecting flight.... you know NORMAL SHIT! It was like pulling teeth! I received no refund, support money, or a functioning means of contacting anyone that I was alive and leaving a day later. BUT, these things happen in life, to a lot of people everyday when you travel abroad. It was just my first time to have a cancelled flight and first time to be trapped, and it had to be in France!

I left late the next day and flew to Washington DC to connect to Boston. It was a pretty good flight actually, although long. Good food, couple of good movies, and comfortable seats. I had the last open seat; thankfully it was an isle in a quiet and more open section of the plane. So 9 hours later we flew over Boston and landed in DC. Shipped through customs to get my bag and have it re-scanned and put back on the flight to Boston. I had to check in at the front to get a seat on the next flight, and that is when the French reared their ugly head, again. I as told I had to check into Air France for a new seat. I stood in the first class to try and just do it fast, since I was a charity case. That didn't work. I stood in the regular line for 2 hours, only to learn that my flight was not Air France, but United Air. Generally, I am a pacifist, very calm and very yielding to others, no matter what. I wish I knew what happened at that point, but it had to have been scary because all I remember is the guy at the desk leaned back in his chair and slipped out of it sideways as his eyes grew to the size of an orange. He looked like I was going to slap him. I do remember standing really straight, and I recall my voice sounding deeper that it normally is, and I think I threatened him which is NOT a smart idea to do at an airport in Washington DC! The next thing I know he was walking me over to the counter of United Air, and we went to the front of the line. He never really said much after that. He did give me a form to fill out to get a refund and lodge a formal complaint to Air France and the FCC....I think he slipped me 10 bucks too, but not sure about that one.

So I get my ticket, and learn I have 15 minutes to get to the gate, on the other side of the airport, after security points that are really...really....REALLY LONG. I know we need them, and I am very glad for them, they have done a lot of good I am sure. Although I have never ever heard of anyone getting caught with a hand gun, knife or explosive or having arrested any criminal or known terrorist, so they are still getting in somehow. Anyway, I got yanked out of line...literally. My bag got torn apart, my passport was run thought the computer and rechecked- somehow I was born in Arkansas a couple of years ago, oops, and I was thoroughly searched, and I was asked all sorts of questions. I think the Frog squealed on me. So now I was 5 minutes late for the flight. I ran out of there to the gate like O. J Simpson over luggage and small people and what I swear was a Pomeranian, and luckily made it to the gate, the flight was late to board. The fun doesn't stop there though!

We had no copilot, nor flight plan. So we sat for an hour with no A/C waiting for the copilot. Finally showed up, and filed the flight plan and got a spot to take off; pulled away from the gate only to turn right back and park again due to a storm system that was moving into Boston. So we say for another hour with a little A/C. The interesting thing was that I was really calm. I think I blew off what ever pent up rage and homicidal tendencies I may have had at the French guy earlier. I mean I was really Zen, just chilled and cool, even bodily. I liked it a lot. Well, I think it had to do to the really cute girl I was sitting next to. Thankfully she was cute, but a great conversationalist as well. We talked about her work and family as well as her travels, but we talked mostly about my trip and the Middle East. It was great to close the trip with a beautiful girl and her perspectives on what she thinks will happen to America and the Middle east, and how we can bring in some of those values of true family and support of fellow man into our seemingly self absorbed society, as well as teach them the balance of a more feminine society, human rights and release of grips on Holy Wars and Holy societal laws. I think in all sank in that flight.

It was actually the perfect way to end the trip for me. I will expand on this later today, but I think the whole trip and possibly my own self came and settled back on me on that flight. Something soaked in gently and completely, like a hot bath or a long sweet breath. It is hard to explain right now, but I realized that my trip had come to an end, and I was no longer in Turkey, I was no longer away, and no longer alone. I was back to where it all started, where I left from, but everything felt different, looked different, sounded different but I knew it was the same. Then I realized that it was I that was different, or at least my perspectives and my attitude were different, but I was still all of the good things that I liked before, and learned so many new things about me, and I like these things too. As I said I will expand on this later. I think I need to sit a little longer with it.

I am very sad this morning. I dearly miss Tahir and his family. I miss the 25 cups of Chi a day with total strangers. I miss the sounds and smells, the food and the children shinning shoes and selling trinkets in the streets. I miss the shy women in the market, and the stray cats darting from doorway to doorway. I miss the mosaic tile work on the mosques, and the adobe houses that surround the mosques. I really miss the Call to Prayer, never thought I would say that one. But what I miss the most. are the people. I feel very sad, like I have left my family, or a loved one has moved away. I didn't bank on that happening, but it is one of the things that I have learned is a true fact and trait of mine, I make wonderful and lasting friends no matter where I go, even if I don't speak the language. I kind of like that. I will hold them all in my heart always and try to stay in touch with them all so that I can return one day soon.

Funny how deeply a people or a place can affect you.

More soon

Fınal entry from Van

2005-08-07T07:18:00.000-04:00

Been a couple of days since last entry..been a little crazy here in what I thought was to be quiet and sleepy Van. There have been several power outages..nearly every day for a few hours...never predictable and always a pain when you want to upload images or need to charge batteries.

The above image is of an old Kurdish man, Çindi,(Chindi) who is the Grand Uncle of a person I met here in town. Decided after an unsettling trip up into the mountains to sort stay closer to home and see who/what I could find. Ill explain.

A few days ago my guide and I went on a hasty day trip with a friend and dolmuş driver to his town Çatak, and his nomadic village WAY up in the mountains next to a village called Nahir. When I say way, I mean WAY, like 4x4 pickup truck material. The mountains are exactly like those of Los Alamos and the Jemez; harsh nude volcanic mountains that just rocket up into the sky with deep rugged canyons. I think it was a good hour or so up switch back trails to get to the nomads. We spent time with the Shepard’s, and some of the men sheering wool. We then went down a canyon by foot to a plateau where the yurt tents were. The location was breath taking and very extreme..almost impossible to capture in photographs. We met the villagers who are not so distant relatives of our driver, Dirviş.

The Kurds are from tribes, like our Native Americans. Dirviş is from the Xawişta tribe...nomads..raise sheep for wool and food, they have a few cows and some horses, as well as a few crops of vegetables. Their land is expansive and seems to have no real defined boundries with fences or markers..but they know what is theirs. Very nice people displaying the typical Kurdish hospitality of yogurt, bread, cheeses, tea and conversation. I really enjoy some of these rituals and have been learning how to move within them and use them to my advantage. The following is why.

It can be very difficult and awkward to be white, blonde and blue eyed, as well as large compared to these people. I am watched and gawked at more than I am able to observe and study the people. They are more curious as to why a man, an American man would want to visit them and their town or city or village. Everywhere I go I would be followed by mostly children and a few woman and men to see what I was looking at, photographing, what I did, how I responded, as well as wanting to practice the 5 words they learned in English. It can be exhausting at times. This time I thought I would work more with-in their system and culture: that was actually the whole point of this trip!

We decided to go midday and sit with them..have tea and talk and let them get use to me and ask all of their questions, which there were many! I was able to make a few simple images as we walked into the village and found the chief of the village and were invited into the gathering tent for food and tea. We sat for a couple of hours while they showed us their various tools, the wool, some of their ceremonial cloths, ate some of their cheeses and yogurt and bread. One gentleman, a village guard even showed us his uniform and their weapons.... which struck me as odd...not sure why. In these situations, I always ask but will defer to NOT photograph..again to let things get settled and let everyone get to understand each other, especially if I am within someone’s home or yurt...it can be considered insulting. So I hide the cameras till later. Tahir, my guide told me that it was permissible to photograph him if I wished, so I did. He, and everyone else liked this idea very much. At that moment one of the younger village men heard of me and ran into the tent to say his Turk/English -hello how are yous- and sat next to me. He wore new cloths, like a young soccer player, and had clean shoes. I even teased him about it since he is at least 3 hours from civilization and works like...well... a nomadic villager. He laughed and proudly said he was a strong village guard like the man I photographed. My guide, Tahir picked up on something, and said it might be time to move on..make 4x5 images and leave. The light was still bad..so I just walked around the village with 3/4 of the people I was to photograph following me everywhere. I walked up the hills to do an over view with the soccer guy leading the way, and Tahir yelled at me to come down...it was time to go. I snapped back and said I HAD to make 4x5 images first..that was what I paid for. We did finally..only 3-4..and not that great....something was off, just not there. This happens sometimes, just not the right light or subject or time..cant always have winners. I noticed that soccer guy was always near me, saying the 5 English words frequently..and I noticed Tahir and Derviş were not around. Well, I finally, after 4 weeks of traveling alone into bizarre areas and situations..got nervous. You have to envision that when I make these images, there are at least 30 people huddled around me as close as they can get to see and watch...it can be cute...at times...just not this time. I yelled for Tahir, and he came running. He said sharply in his Napoleonic way that we had to leave..NOW. Derviş came around the corner on a donkey with food and wool for his family, Tahir grabbed my bag from a kid that was helping me, and we walked briskly from the village up hill, through the next little tent camp and farther up the mountain where we left the van. Honestly, I really didn’t think anything was wrong...I was actually pissed that the light was getting good and they wouldn’t let me stop to make portraits. Tahir would have none of it...we had to go..It would be dark quickly and the mountains are unsafe at night. We left, quickly, with me pissed and fuming in the middle of the van.

We got to the bottom of the mountain and found a spot to refill our water bottles and wash up a bit for the ride home. Tahir and I had words about the trip and how disappointed I was. Tahir apologized profusely, and explained that he did not feel well, and felt unsafe in the village. My understanding was that these were his people, his culture, and his nation. He informed me that they were Dervişes people...his TRIBE. We spat for a bit, but I let it go..It’s not my town and not my business.

The next morning Tahir and Derviş met me for morning tea. Derviş speaks no English, so Tahır and another man would explain in tandem when someone spoke to me, as they did with Derviş. I honestly trust these people, they have helped me everyday to learn and study and photograph, I really do trust them...I have to. Derviş immediately proceeded to explain to Tahir and I what happened yesterday, and why things were so odd, apparently for all of us. Tahir and Derviş are from separate tribes of Kurdish people. Their villages are a few miles apart over the mountains that Tahir showed me in the village. Apparently a couple of weeks ago one of Tahırs tribe had killed one of Dervişes. I think we all know how this progresses...i.e. Hatfield/McCoy. Hang on, cause this is the twist...the person was killed because he was a military informant against the PKK..the Kurdish Workers Party.

Each village has its own guards to police and protect. They are village appointed and only applicable within that village. The military knows this. The PKK are backed and protected by these outer lying nomadic villages, like the Al Queda in the mountains of Afghanistan. The PKK are fighting to help the Kurdish gain independence. The Gendarme, or military has figured this out and has taken to bribing the village guards for information and the movements of the gorillas. The man killed was one of the informants. The guy with the soccer cloths was also an informant, but a very stupid one. Tahir figured this out, and lied to him to protect me, as well as himself. The guy could have killed Tahir for being from the tribe that killed his friend/relative, but he was more interested in me, and being a model, and had not heard what tribe Tahir was from, and wanted to be my friend. For once, dealing with vain idiots seems to have protected me from a slightly awkward situation.

Everything turned out fine and there was no immediate danger, but very good lesson to listen to your instincts...but more importantly to your Napoleonic friend and guide!

I leave tomorrow morning for Istanbul for another two days..and then back home to the USA, although it will be Oregon for rest, relaxation and re-entry into America. I am very sad to be leaving...but I will come back.

Portraits of the Kurdish Villagers..and the PKK.

2005-08-02T04:25:00.000-04:00

I think today is Tuesday...Finally got to the Internet cafe early enough to get a number of images up loaded. Thank God I stumbled across this one, since it has Photoshop and I can at least get the images sized and turned right side up!

The following shots are from the negatives of the 4x5 Polaroid’s, considering the villagers ran off with the print as soon as they saw it! These are the decedents of the original Kurdish people that came to Van centuries ago, and continue to live in the same nomadic ways as their ancestors. It is possible that they are mixed with the Armenians that also resided here after 612 BC.

We spent the afternoon walking around the lake talking with some of the villagers about the lake, what the seasons are like for them, how long they have been there. They are obviously a very strong and resilient people, just look at the faces. They were very nice and accepting of me, again I think they were more interested in me than I was in them. I did learn a very important journalism lesson...DO NOT LET THE SUBJECTS KNOW THAT YOU ARE SHOOTING DIGITALLY AND THEY CAN LOOK AT THEMSELVES! This was a BIG mistake on my part. In less than 30 seconds the children noticed that I was looking at the back of the camera now and again..one spotted the image and I showed it to her...then all hell broke loose. Every child in the village came over to be photographed saying -shoot me shoot me shoot me- in Kurdish. I photographed every child at least three times. We left to let things calm down and had tea on the other side of the lake with a village elder. The sun was starting to set; I politely told him that I had work to do still. We gave him our food and headed back into the nomadic tent camp. All the kids came back around with the village leaders. Tahir had helped explain that I wished to make portraits of him and his family as well as the other villagers. With a very loud smile he agreed and had me come into his tent for yet MORE tea. I handed my 35mm to Tahir and started to set up the 4x5, and that all familiar silence fell over everyone. I talked through Tahir to explain what I was doing and how it all worked and what I needed...like a tripod! Well, I got a 5 gallon metal oilcan and a chair...good enough! I made one shot of the leader in the tent...and pandemonium broke out again. He ran out with the image, everyone saw it, and then tent became flooded with village kids and people. I had to go out side to get the better setting sun light. I wish Tahir could have photographed what I was doing because it was hysterical. There were 25 people gathered around the back of me waiting to be photographed. I would hand pick the ones I felt were best, since I had limited film. Thank God for Tahir, because he not only was trying to do crowd control, but he also was able to get the only elder woman in the village to sit for me..and he told me to do it fast. Fast...with a 4x5....no tripod...no loupe to focus....yeah..okay. Well, it all worked out. I made 9 great portraits, only had the camera knocked over once and my back twice.

These images are from our leisure day at Lake Van. Great warmish inland sea, and very easy to float in! It was great to get out of town again for a while, fresh air and WATER! My body really needed that after two days of literal mountain climbing and feeling like I have been working everyday since leaving Mass.

These are from a barbque we had at Tıeres home just in the Barrio type area of Van. His kids are great and his wife is very sweet. We had a great feast of Kurdish meatballs and -Hot Salad- which is just like Green Chili stew! We had a lot of fun and even better conversations.

I learned even more interesting things about the Kurds...especially the ones I happened to be in the company of. The older man that has been driving us around and teaching me about the history of Van, Muktar, was a gorilla for the PKK. Tahir, my guide and friend has two brothers currently in the PKK with one of them imprisoned as an organizer. It’s all very parallel with the events that have occurred in America centuries ago..and continue today in Israel and the Middle East, with possibly one exception. They do not wish to have back what was theirs centuries ago like most of the warring Muslim and non-Muslim nations throughout the Middle East and even Europe...they want equality with the nations they have been forced to live with. Sound familiar? They cant -go back to Kurdistan- it no longer exists. They know they can’t just make 5 nations give up land to remake Kurdistan. They just want representation for their people in the nations they do reside in. Unfortunately for them they had chosen a route of violence and guerrilla warfare; a tactic the world does not respond well to.

Today they are going to teach me more about the history of the Kurds and what they are doing now. I think we are going to plan a trip to Hakkarı, and possibly Iran to see a more established town of Kurds where I can make a more complete story..maybe make a few more portraits before leaving in a week. Everyday things get more and more interesting, and everyday the world gets smaller and smaller.

More soon

Images of Village above Van

2005-08-01T07:04:00.000-04:00

Okay, this is rough, but I hope they work. More about this amazing excursion into the mountains above Van later. Found a cafe with Photoshop! Too bad its an old version..cant open my RAW fıles! The main issue I seem to have is I can only get one or two images to actually load onto the blog...I think it has to do with the HORDES OF LAZY KIDS WITH NOTHING BETTER TO DO THAN INSTANT MESSAGE WITH VIDEO IMAGES TO EACHOTHER ALL AFTERNOON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Sort of clogs things up..and pisses me off! Can you tell?

Enjoy.

Kurds in Van

2005-07-31T04:43:00.000-04:00

Today is Sunday..I just learned. You can tell because the streets are empty, devoid of the honking cars and buses and seemingly hundreds of people. Its kind of nice walking around when it is like this. The Internet cafe is quiet as well, except he seems to be playing some kind of pop American country music..some girl..which I find odd...then again Turkish Pop is really annoying after awhile, so Ill take it!

Still pretty hot, even out here in the elevation of the mountains. It rains a little every night after the sunsets with the same cold rain that falls in the southwest. Actually, most everything here reminds me of the southwest...mountains, gorges, the smell of the rain, the blue skies and the adobe style villages. Even the people that reside here, predominately Kurds, have a similar attitude as that of the people of New Mexico..they consider themselves the -native people- of Turkey. I have learned, and even lived first hand some of the Kurdish culture, which was oddly my goal when I chose to come here. They are an interesting, passionate, aggressive and demonstrative people with many issues and ideals...some are very progressive and forward thinking, but there seems to be issues on the execution of these ideals that has grown a little worrisome on my part.

After the last entry, I actually met a group of university students on the street on the way back from registering my stay in Van. Being one of the only foreigners, actually, THE ONLY foreigner in Van right now, I seem to stand out even more than in Konya and Istanbul. Turks wear white, you are either English, or American. When I say that I am an American, everything seems to change. They invite me for tea, dinner or late supper, and we sit and converse about Turkey and America. This group was probably the best reprieve I could have had this trip. They are all students preparing for the Teachers exams to be teachers of either music, athletics or botany. The women made an amazing feast for dinner, and the guys and I talked about our cultures. I have spent time with older Turks, mainly men, as well as Kurdish people, so I have learned a lot about their perspective. It was amazing and refreshing to sit and learn about the younger generation, at least this one group of 20 something’s. They follow no strict religion or belief, other than equality and respect. They love music and singing, as well as literature and art. We actually had discussions about our Native Americans and how they wish to model themselves and their lives after the Native American beliefs of Earth and honor. They believe in love, the true concept, not sex and -partner hopping-. They believe in love of friends and family as all-important. They are savvy about money and economics, and very much about foreign policies and the war in Iraq. They were curious about America and our real perspective and the general stance on the war, especially on Bush. It is safe to say that there is no love for George out here, nor anywhere I have found across Turkey. It will be very interesting to see how Bush handles the Kurdish issue in Iraq as well as trying to get their own government body stabilized so we can pull out. We talked a lot of fear and travel and the future of Turkey and its culture, its people in the forward push to be apart of the EU. I think, like our own culture, or any culture for that matter, there are a set of ideals and concepts that we hold onto and carry that define us. They are beliefs and possibly idealistic values even, but we all hold onto them. These students want to incorporate more of a global awareness of cultures and lifestyles, more of their own cultural awareness, less politics and less preoccupation on money and purchasing. Yet they still wish to retain their old ways of family, respect and hospitality, rituals and holidays. These ideals are even more intensified by the Kurdish people in Turkey. These are admirable ideals for the young, but as devils advocate, I have reservations.

On the flip side, I went on a trip up into the mountains that over look Van, with an older Kurdish man and a local carpet sales man/guide. These mountains were the destination of thousands of Kurds that fled during the Armenian War, First World War, and again during the first Gulf conflict. These mountains are hellish in the summer, and brutal in the winter. They were left denude of the amazing trees that once grew there after the government burned them all down during the war to drive the Kurds out. I could still make out the paths and walkways up the side of the mountain, sometimes even old rock foundations that the Kurds had laid decades ago. These older men are part of a so-called -tribe- or association of Kurdish men that get together and revel in the old Kurdish ways. They sing old traditional Kurdish songs, they talk about the old life and discuss ways in which the Kurds will rise up slowly, but powerfully against all of the governing bodies within each of the Middle Eastern countries, similar to what the Kurds are doing now in Iraq. I am unsure how they are regrouping or uniting as of now, but there is a rise in awareness of the Kurdish culture and nationality here in Turkey. I can only liken i, as they do, to the Native Americans, or even the African Americans. They seem to associate with them in the sense of having this one whole country broken and divided, and being forced to encampments in other countries. The Kurdish were then forced to assimilate into the respective countries that were then formed, and Kurdistan was no more. They no longer had a country or nation to call their own and continue their own culture. So they are bounced around, sometimes driven out of the countries they were originally forced into, and tragically sometimes boldly attacked for no reason and euthanized, like in the first Gulf War. It is a quagmire of an issue that many nations and many cultures face. Some may even say a root cause of Americas own issues of gluttony and over consumption and waste; our own loss of who we are, since we are ourselves an amalgamation of so many other cultures. Again it’s an amazing ideal but not without its own pitfalls. When is enough, enough? What is enough?

Again, I am not posing any solutions or severe criticisms, just observations and possibly even more questions. There are still issues with all of the Middle Eastern Nations that need to be altered and advanced for anything to work. The government needs to follow some strict guidelines to be a part of the EU, removal of corruption, more accountability and ımplımentaıon of certain human rights as well as other polices. There are still concerns and a need for equal rights for woman in these nations, there are no programs or facilitation of resource recycling, little to no practice of alternative energy resources, no land conservation or more importantly management, the land is deforested and covered in rubbish and junk. There is a sense, despite limited income, rampant wastefulness. Luckily, they have very good water (lucky for me since I had to drink it on the mountain!). But we in the South West as well as Mexico know the limits of the availability and ease of contamination of our water..the Turkish people do not. One of the many benefits here is they do not use hormones or fertilizers on their land...they cant afford them! So there is a good chance that their water will remain good for quite some more time. As a result the food actually tastes like, well, FOOD! I do mean taste too, its weird. Tomatoes are everywhere and cucumbers, as well as eggplant-which I never thought really had a taste! So hooray for Turkish farming!

It is a continuing experiment as we grow in numbers, but smaller as a world, how do we remain who we were/are, and yet incorporate and accept everyone else’s ways and cultures. Maybe, over time and as necessity, we will just become a world of people..which is all we really are. We will learn as much as we can, incorporate what works, assimilate what we like and need individually, and make our bonds and groups as we may through who we meet and who we resonate the most with, as well as who we share blood with. I don’t know, but ‘it does make me wonder, but I think maybe I wonder too much...at least today!

I’m off now for lunch and then to photograph in a Kurdish village up in the mountains. I hope to have images soon for you all!

Alan

Van

2005-07-28T05:58:00.000-04:00

Finally made it to Van after probably one of the worst travel days in my history. I think Mercury is in retrograde or some crap like that. Just not a fun adventure, which is to be expected from time to time I think. Seemed pretty odd though that it all happens at one time. I woke up that day to a screaming kid at 1:30am, then again at 3:30am for morning prayers, then again when the kid woke up at 6:30am. So I went down for breakfast at 7:30, and proceeded to WACK my head on the doorway, (sucks to be tall at times). At that one moment in time I actually uttered the words out loud- that is not a good omen-, and I was right. It took three hours and two different Internet cafes to upload one image and blog entry! Now I hate self-fulfilling prophecies, and try not to buy into them, but this is extreme. The whole day just kept saying- it will be a bad day, stay at the air conditioned hotel, go in two days!- But there are times I just have to plow ahead and learn from the experience...and if I really don’t have to go, then I have learned not to go. Trust your instincts and follow them if you can, if not do your best.

So the bus was late, but that happens. It was also packed, which was a surprise to me when several people mentioned how quiet and remote Van was. The first omen was the cracked windscreen...that grew and grew as the trip went on.

Next was the attendant that removed his tie and shirt as soon as we left the station. The amazing service and assistance you receive on busses only happens from major city to major city. The bus from Konya to Van...yeah, one cup of tea.....uhhhh..thats it! He removed his shirt because the AC would only work once in a while, and was turned off when there was a hill. So a 14-hour bus ride with 28 Turkish men would prove to be interesting I thought. But hey, that’s the joys and price for international travel.

Anyone that has traveled anywhere outside the US, especially to Italy and Mexico know how frightening the drivers can be. Turkey is no exception to this rule. Several times in my journeys I have felt like -this is the point where I die in a STUPID taxi/truck/bus accident-. They do go fast, they do like to pass everyone, but they also like to just drive on the left side of the road...at night...when the freight trucks can travel the easiest and fastest. This coupled with very narrow, very old, and very rough secondary roads provide great material for -Worst Bus Crashes- videos back in the States. Well, lets just say that from now on, I will be listening to my instincts.

The freight trucks generally travel average speed, but in very long caravans like in Australia. It sort of looked like Mad Max with 10-20 trucks with a dozen lights on each winding around the hill side and crosscut passes. Buses seem to hate these because they go slower than us...and we were already late for our other pickups. So a few blasts of the horn and we would pick our way forward. Keep in mind that there is a line of trucks in front of us as well, coming AT spatial navigation, and us, so timing is very critical in this game. I’ve driven a couple of racecars and a few sports cars in my days, and I know this is a higher brain function. Now, I’m not exactly sure what or how it happened since I had a very bad seat in the middle of the bus and it was late at night, but all I know is that we were performing one of our many passing maneuvers and, well, law of averages would have it..we clipped an oncoming truck and put him into the ditch alongside the road. He was carrying rebar. There is a careful ballet that they perform when they drive, flashing of lights to signify passing, move over, slow down, go faster, fuck you..etc. There is also the famous tooting of the horn for the same purpose. After 3-5 hours of this maneuvering and horns and flashing lights I think I actually grew accustomed to it..sort of like mortar fire. He hit the horn and lights, but I think we had no room to swing back over, so the oncoming truck had no choice and no shoulder to ride into. His load shifted and down he went. He was injured; some of the rebar came through his rear window. After an hour or so, the cops and the Gendarme worked everything out and we were sent on our way..again this felt like everyday events. So the men were all chattering and tsking like women. I just wanted to throw up.

Now at 2:00am we are heading towards Siva’s. We have made no stops, no food, no drinks, and the occasional blast of AC to cool things off. Again, not sure how it happened, but I am sure why... we ran out of gas. Yeah...gas...ran out....empty..no fumes..no reserve....yeah..in the middle of nowhere...don’t even mention cell service. So, an hour and half later, a policeman took one of the THREE drivers to a gas station and we got 5 liters of gas. This act of running out of gas is a quintessential male function, we have all done it once or three times...so I can almost understand...almost. Now the story could have ended there, we fill up, head to a gas station fill up etc etc. No. We had to continue to be, well, MEN! The driver forgot to get a funnel. You kind of have to have one. So another 30 minutes and 3 drivers later, they figured out how to cut a 2 liter coke bottle into a funnel, filled most of it and decided to wear the rest of it. They got the bus cranked up and off we go! An hour later, and around 10 gas stations later, we ran out.... again. Why didn’t he stop? Because we were already late for our next pick up, and he thought we could hold out, and he was a MAN! Just cant admit defeat can we. So, needless to say, we did stop finally and got gas, and we all ate and stretched, and we made the rest of our normal stops, with a little more AC.

The drive through the country itself was amazing and a great way to experience more of the rural aspects of Turkey. The landscape itself is remarkably similar to New Mexico around the Grants area and parts of Taos. Its desert like, but with more grasses and a few more trees randomly spread throughout the long sloping hillsides. Most of Turkey is volcanically formed and not the best to grow things in. Turkey seems to have one big advantage of large aquifers that they can pump and irrigate from. There were spots on the way to D?vr?? that looked like the lava fields around Acama Pueblo; very rocky and very rugged, yet they would clear as much as they could and farm it as pastures for their goats. Let me tell you, as a goat lover, you can definitely get your fix on goats out here!

We went south through the mountain and river passes into Elaz?? down to D?yarbak?r. Again with features and landmasses like the Taos gorge and the drive up along the Rio Grande in New México, the drive was amazing to watch. They get snow in the winter and heavy rains in the spring, making a lot of the roads just dirt washboards. The good news if I come back for the same trip in 3 years they will have completed the construction on they were doing. I wash I had a better seat to photograph from, even if it was just bleak canyons and rock walls. The rest of the trip was around D?yarbak?r and up to A?r? and then down to Lake Van. It was probably the most circuitous way to have gone to Van, as well as one of the most grueling and unnerving, but there were beautiful aspects as well. Tons of Sheppard’s and goats feeding on the countryside, the amazing canyon and pine tree hills in the river passes, and the drive around lake Van. Lake Van is outstanding, and sort of plain. There were no boats on it; there are no real beach or lake front resorts or houses, no docks and very little lakeside life. Its not really a lake, but more an an alkaline inland sea with the best cobalt and turquoise colored water. You would see from time to time naked kids running in and out of the water, with their fully over coated and scarved mothers and sisters watching them. There looked like places where villagers would take horse drawn cartloads of sheered wool to be washed at the lakeside.

We finally arrived in Van around 5:00pm....nearly 24 hours after leaving Konya...it was to take 15 hours. All I could think of was taking a tax? to the hotel, taking a shower and laying down for a long air conditioned nap. I think I have sort of hit that point that my buddy Tim mentioned of fatigue and overload on long trips. I just needed to go easy. But not yet. I got into the city of Van, which is much more modern and metropolitan than I anticipated. Got to the hotel, and the tax? driver took off with my bag in his trunk. I know this has happened to a few of you, so I didn’t panic. I thought maybe, since he dropped me of across the street, he would loop around to drop off the heavy bag. Yeah.......no. SO I told the desk clerk, and he said it happens a lot, not to worry. Checked into the NON air-conditioned hotel. only the 4and 5 star have a/c, took a cold shower and laid on the hot bed listening to the amazingly LOUD sounds of remote little Van. I think I did sleep for a half hour. Decided I got myself into this mess, I better try and do what I can. Went to the front desk; no bag. Now the desk clerk is kind of young and speaks pretty okay English, but thankfully he does not know the word -asshole-. He stared to accuse me of forgetting the bag, being careless and lazy. I explained that I just wanted another tax? to go to the bus station to find the driver and get the bag..Im sure it was a misunderstanding..no accusations..just want my damn bag! The manager came out; the kid explains the situation, and the manager replies- you need to take a tax? back to the bus station and look for the driver and ask for your bag-, uhhh.....yeah..thats what I said. I swear, I know this shit happened to everyone, but this was getting extreme. So after I laugh, say a few choice words in Spanish,(just in case) and the manager gives me the hotel security guard to go to the Ottogar, where as soon as I walk over, 5 guys start yelling Hasims name..who just left. They have me sit down, I go through the mime routine of what happened..we all have a laugh, and Hasim shows... with the bag intact. I say thank you, and go back to the hotel-not sure what the hell happened, why, or what I did to deserve all of this...all I know is that I was treating myself to chocolate ice cream for dinner, and I did!

Today is a new day, and everyday always brings something amazing, I believe that. I received a letter today from a friend that I bumped into in Istanbul. He came to Van last week ahead of me, and climbed My Ararat! He made it back safe, and had a great time. The bad news he told me that kidnappings are on the upswing the past few weeks,(sorry mom). So today I am taking it easy, writing, looking at plane ticket changes and making sure that I am still registered with the Consulate here in Van. I may go back to Konya and explore an archeological site I heard about on my way out. It is being dug by the Germans and English in the countryside outside of Konya. Then again, I may just be a typical man, buckle down and come up with a new plan for Van. I would like to do a side story on the carpet makers in the villages around Van, as well as see Ararat. There are a lot of great photos to be made there! Or I may bail and go to Oregon...who knows!

Enough for now, more soon.

New images from Konya

2005-07-26T05:17:00.000-04:00

Tuesday, July 26

Okay, so picked up the mood a bit after the last entry. Went to see my friends Fatih and Arif in the market next to Mevlana yesterday afternoon. Fatih has been teaching me about Turkish traditions and culture as well as the language, and I have been teaching him about our traditions and language. We are having a blast. His younger cousin, Ali, is studying English from Fatih and at school as well. He is one of the funniest kids I have met. He thinks my photography is amazing, so I have been teaching to use the camera. Lets just say he can hold the thing! Fatıh seems to be a very responsible older brother to everyone in his family, it’s interesting. He runs the kilim shop like a seasoned businessman, and always takes time to teach his brother or cousin about the carpets, people, business and language. He tells Alı to listen to what I tell him, that I am a much better teacher than his school prof. Can’t seem to escape this teaching thing! We had a fun afternoon making portraits and talking about girls. A few other shopkeepers came over for a while to sit and practice their English, even get a portrait made. Funny how I seem to be teaching more English than I am learning Turkish! I translated an application for one gentleman that is applying for a government grant to be a computer engineer through the E.U. Honestly, Turkish people are amazingly friendly. The one down side: they LOVE to talk, especially the carpet salesmen. Actually, in Konya, the only people that have talked to me are carpet salesmen...its kind of tiresome. Fatih sells as well, but is much more gentle about it. He feels these men are bad for business, as well as Turkey.

İ also met the mayor of Konya yesterday, a wicked cute old guy about 5 feet tall, Kurdish. He spoke English fairly well. He was eager to talk about current affairs and political positions of Konya/Turkey. He was very curious to know about how we handle our government and issues, even simple infrastructure. The economic stuff I went sailing off on, but we had a very interesting talk. The upside to all of these meetings and talks with all these people...lots of tea and snacks and Turkish coffee! They are VERY well known for their hospitality!

So some other travel advice for you all:

1) What the hell is with the letter İ,i,ı,I on this freaking keyboard!?!?!?.

2) Do NOT think that when someone talks to you in English that they are interested in just talking...they are trying to sell you a kilim or carpet...or they are trying to sell for their brother/uncle/father/friend/grandfather/cousin/brother in law/nephew.

3) No matter how much they say there is no obligation, trust me, there is.

4) If you find yourself somewhat trapped, tell them that you have already bought your carpets. They will ask what you paid; tell them you bought two big ones for 200.00 US dollars. They will say -is good price! - And leave you alone, for you are shrewd!

5) Do NOT let them get you into the shop! Once you are there and have a glass of tea, you’re sunk!

6) If you do get suckered into their shop, immediately feign that you are nauseous from the smoke and heat.

7) The best defense is to ignore them, or speak in Spanish, they hate that! People from Spain RARELY travel to Turkey, so they do not know that language yet. But let me tell you, they know all others!

8) If anyone offers you tea, accept it, and the second one as well, they like to think you like them and they are acceptable to you as well. Hell, I went all day a couple of times just accepting food and drink from people I met on the street.

9) No matter how tempting it is to photograph older women here, just don’t bother. You think you can get an ear full from the African American women in the south, man look out!

10) Looking Turkish men in the eye, good: looking Turkish women in the eye, BAD! Got one in trouble last night with her mother...man can they be strict!

I think that is all for now. I will be traveling to Van tonight, and arrive in the later morning. Lets hope there are no kids barfing this time; it’s a long bus ride!

More soon

New day ın Konya

2005-07-25T04:59:00.000-04:00

Wish I could post new images, but unable today. Had an interesting day yesterday, went on a moped ride with a guy up to the countryside overlooking Konya. It was very hot and dusty, couldn’t see much, but it was good to get out of the city, get fresh air and be on a bike for a while. Konya has a number of sımılarıtıes to New México in landscape, so I like it here just fine!

I’m kind of left a little numb, and disheartened from all of the news I have been catching in local newspapers and conversations with local people about the attempted bombings in London and the attacks in Egypt. It has been difficult to attain info, thank god for Internet. The people here are very concerned and upset at the terrorists, and what it is doing to their country. Turks cannot attain a passport to the states due to terrorism; homeland security and patriot act enforce. They are struggling to become a member of the E.U., which will take a few more years, but will aid in their stability and economic growth. These attacks and growing fears among the other countries towards Muslim nations seems to be having a much greater affect FOR Osama, not in favor for Bush and not living in fear. Consuming does not seem to be a very good long-term solution to -not living in fear-, or worse ignorance. It seems to me that one of the facets to true freedom is the ability to move, to travel, to come and go as you please where you please. We removed the Berlin wall, and are now building walls in Israel. I can pose no solutions myself, but it angers me that these amazing, family oriented and very hard working people are not allowed one of our greatest freedoms, to travel.

It’s been interesting to see how well they function and live. They all have cell phones, most have computers, some internet access, families, small gardens, a TV, typical amenities. The thing I see the most need for is dentists, (man they love sweets!), and sustainable development programs that will protect and improve some of their farm lands and select out lying forests and natural resources, possibly water and refuse recycling and some solar power, then they are good to go. Their water is still pretty amazingly clean, I drink it, and I am sure the lesions will go away soon! They consume very little in comparison to the US. They ride bicycles everywhere and motor bikes. Bus travel is very well controlled and subsıdısed, and very well used. What I appreciate the most is their devout love for family. Granted, there are a number of issues with the position of women in this culture, or more importantly lack of position of power and responcıbılıty for women here. In regard to the men, however, they are very expressive, loving, giving and always hospitable. They seem to do everything, and love to work. The women simply, well, run the household. Some have jobs, go to school and work for their families. I have only seen ONE waitress, a few women working in cell phone stores, and one carpet saleslady. Not my idea of free and equal society, but that is changing.

They seem to want to become a little more modern, but hey still seem to be fairly happy and very functional with buying fresh fruits and vegetables off of horse drawn carts in town, their meat from a local butchers, and their bread from hundreds of bakeries in town. There are a couple of super markets, but only two, maybe three at most. Everything else they need they get in the Bazaars, like they do in México. Let me tell you, I would take a bazarre over Wal-mart any day! They are amazing and more entertainment than TV anyway.

I guess maybe the American dream isn’t all its cracked up to be. There are pitfalls and large difficulties to living this way as well...so maybe there is a way we can learn from each other, incorporate some of the benefits from each of our cultures. Maybe a joint Amerı-Euro Dream. As long as it incorporates a siesta and some of these great bazarres I am a happy man!

Okay, enough soap box for thıs city. Today I photograph Fatıh and his younger brother Mehment at their small carpet shop next to the Mevlana Mosque. Fatıh is my age and speaks perfect English, Italian and some German, and is learning French. We met about a half hour after I got into Konya and was trying to write out ın front of the Mosque. He is a very well read guy, and a pretty good philosopher. We have been hanıng out and exploring together with Mehemet and talking about travel, religion, commerce and family. He is a pretty responsible guy, and loves his kid brother very much. He has become a good friend and taught me a lot about Turkey and the different cultures here. So the next entry should have an image or two of them.

More soon, leaving for Van along the southern route Tuesday night.

Alan

Fınally from Konya!!!

2005-07-23T04:41:00.000-04:00

AGHHHHHHH! Finally able to sıt down and actually create an entry on the blog. I have to apologıze for the typing which maybe pretty hard to read at times due to the international keyboard ıssue..whıch means there are and are not certain letters, or letters are switched...which is a BLAST!

So...what’s up? Well, the best and smartest thing I can do as go backwards, and from there you can piece things together. First, I am fine and very healthy and very happy, if not a little tired and a little leaner than when I left. I have no idea what today as, Friday or Saturday or what...and I like that! There have been a few glitches and the international travel, getting around, local attitudes and getting bumped my mopeds and cars, but hell you get more than that and NYC. So all in all, I am just fine...now for the good stuff!

I’m an Konya, which is in the South Western part of the country, near a very New Mexico looking place of Cappıdocıa. Konya has no real draw other than the setting of the mystic teacher, Mevlanı Rumı, the founder of the Sufi Mystics and the Whirling Dervishes, who are on vacation right now. Konya is pretty generic all in all, just thousands of concrete buildings and storefronts and crıss-crossed streets, some cobble stone, some just dirt. Its not at all a tourist destination other than Mevlanı and the Dervishes in December, so its actually easy going here with no tourists...other than me.....which leads me to...

TRAVEL TIPS:
1) Don’t think that if your 6 feet, blue eyed and walking around with a huge camera and a bright orange backpack that you don’t stand out. YOU DO!

2) Even though its a world easer to walk in the middle of the street...DONT!

3) No matter how much time you think you have to make a shot from the center of a street, you really have 2 seconds till the next rıckshaw/bus/bıke/moped/horse cart/kid comes barreling out of NO WHERE and clobbers you. (I looked I swear!)

4) If the hotel boasts having a view of the Mosque in town, that’s a BAD thing. Call to prayers happen at around 3am, right when you really want to be asleep.

5) Speaking of hotels...being close to it all and being cheap means no AC, a room right on the main street into the center of the city, honking clanging and yelling people ALL NIGHT and all the heat you can handle. Sweet!

6) Do NOT drink pickle juice. don’t ask

7) Do NOT eat sheep’s head. Again, don’t ask

8) Just because you cant speak the language does not mean that sign language also does not work, cause baby it does!

9) People in Turkey like to do two things, A LOT: honk horns and smoke...both not real good for long term health.

10) Leave any and ALL preconceived notions behind except one...you never know how amazing your day maybe!

So now for the amazing stuff!!

Yesterday, 7/22:

I went back to the Grand Bizarre in the center of town to photograph and spend a little more time with my new friends Musa, Işmaıl, and Mevlüt. They are makers of these cool portable bar-b-ques, hand made. Musa was working on one two days ago as I was working in the bizarre, and he allowed me to stop to photograph him. What shocked me the most was how mush he resembled my Uncle Kevin when he was younger. Probably even more shocking is the fact that he has lost most of his fingers on has right hand, yet he can still work as thought they are there! So I stayed for a few hours and we spoke about everything from building, to America and the War and relıgıon..but mainly we shared about food, travel, fishing and his family. Oh, and we laughed, A LOT! They were the greatest people I have met, making me cups of Caı-tea, and ayran which is a yogurt drink, and then yesterday Mevlüt made this HUGE casserole with 30 eggs and lamb, tomatoes, peppers and onions, with paprika and oregano on top over this crude gas tank with a burner. We ate at a table in the deep recess of his aluminum shop in front of his office with the only single fluorescent light in the shop, other than the dim light that traveled back from the front of the shop. It was like a diesel mechanics shop, oily and dark with centuries of dust and dirt. We ate at a newspaper covered table, all 12 of us, with a huge chunk of bread to break off and dip and scoop up the egg casserole. They gave me a fork, but I threw it behind me and used my hands like they did...everyone laughed and patted me on the back. It was an amazing feast with all of these men, young and old and dirty and really not smelling good, but the food was amazing! They asked all sorts of questions about my family and my home and what I do, and if I was marrıed..a large topic these days with many of my friends..

Musas grand uncle seemed to be impressed and kept a-calling me a -good man- in Turkish, so he decided to take me to Mosque for afternoon prayers after lunch. Now, this will be explained more later on, but for some reason, either past life or something, but the Call to Prayers seems to affect me. The night before I heard them from on top of a roof over looking the Mevlanı Mosque, watching the blood red full moon rise off to the East. It actually brought tears to me eyes and chills up my spine, and do even now. I thought how amazing it would be to be able to sit and watch it happen; to see them first hand inside the Mosque, bowing and touching the floor with their heads, sitting on their feet, chanting and answering the Imam, how amazing would that be!?!?
Yesterday, I received that wish. He led me to the Mosque and showed me how to wash my hands under the brass water faucets that lined the marble troughs outside the Mosque. I had to wash my hands, and feet, being sure to scrub in-between my toes,(the guy next to me and I were having a competition as to who had cleaner toes) and then my face. Now I was pure and clean enough to be seen in front of Allah. He passed me a pair of flip-flops, being sure not to touch them with my hands and then we walked into the Mosque, barefoot. It was cold on the marble, but the air was very hot and still. We walked upstairs to the balcony so I could see the Imam and the congregation below and see how they did the prayers. There were also less people up there to annoy I think, but that soon changed. He showed me how to sit, and how to move. Soon, a large group of men came up and sat right next to me, and I do mean next to me. This culture fosters very close and dear contact with men, nothing weird or sexual, just close and honest. The man smiled and I think he understood this Anglo was here to learn, and meant no disrespect. Soon the prayers began, and we stood and bowed a lot, touched the floor with our heads and knelt as we listened to the Imam. It was about the most incredible religious experience I have ever seen, aside from a Hindu cremation ceremony. I still get goose bumps as I think about the Imam singing the Koran, and the Mosque reverberated as the group replied. I think most of you know I am not a religious person, but a bit of a spiritual person. I think if at times we could all just see the rituals and the functions we all perform to pay respect and honor to our loved ones, the ones that gave us life, and maybe that one big creator out there somewhere, possibly, maybe we could understand US a little better, not God. I witnessed the same love of humans and of a great entity that I have seen with Hindus, Muslims, Catholics, Protestants, and Jews.... it really is all the same. I know you all know that, but to sit within it anchors it a little firmer.

After prayers were over, we went back to Musa,s shop and had Caı, and then I made images! I finally pulled out the 4x5, and let me tell you, I am WAY out of practice. I had done a few new images before leaving the states to practice, but ı had forgotten how hard it is to photograph people! Musa and his family and friends were amazed at the camera, they all became very excited to see it and how it worked, more so than the digital camera! Musa helped a lot, he seemed to sense my dilemmas with shooting with it, and made a table for me to set the camera to hold still and set the film back and the film on. He even knew that when I was to make the image, to tell him and he would hold perfectly still and looked into the lens. After the first couple, EVRYONE became very excited and wanted me to photograph Musa more, and his little brother Işmaıl. We laughed and make pictures for hours, drank more caı and vışhnı, and ate sweets and told more fishing stories. We had an amazing day all of us, laughing, using bizarre sign language and broken Turkish and English, feasting and praying together. I left late and promised Musa to send the images on a CD once I got to the States. He had a small tear in his eye, as did I when I left. I am a part of their family now. He touched his hand on his heart, as I always did, to show respect and acceptance as well as admiration, we shook hands firmly and I walked away with everyone standing and shaking my hands and thanking me for spending time with them...thanking me for spending time with them.... odd.

The following are the best images from the 4x5 camera that I copied with the 35mm digital, they are rough, but I hope they work. Oh, I usually shoot in a format that I cannot upload from here, so I switched and made a few images so you can see some of what I see everyday. So enjoy, and please post any comment you would like to share with me and our friends, and please pass this onto your own friends and everyone we know: I wish you could all be here and I cant reach all of you, so I rely on you to spread the news with me!

More soon........possibly from Van!

Images from Africa for Live 8-SPEAK UP TO FIGHT POVERTY!!

2005-07-02T12:19:00.000-04:00

These are some images from a trip two years ago to Maputo and Namaacha in Mozambique Africa.
The trip was to pay respects to a man that fought and lost his life while working to end poverty in third world countries.
Join his fight and help raise awareness and create government and grassroots programs to combat world hunger,
aids and human rights. The G8 Summit is just one avenue and marker to look up to.
Become involved with your local communities, growers and farms and learn what it means to be a part of your
own societies sustainable development and growth.

I respectfully post these images as a way to show how others live everyday in various parts of the world.
The trip taught me a lot about humanity, life in the 'real world', surviving, thriving, love, and even what
it can mean to want to be a man, or admit to being just a boy.

live8 summit

live8 phili

Other random images......

2005-07-01T22:49:00.000-04:00

The following are some other fine art and random images from around my travels, or even simple quiet times at home. It's amazing how you can find imagery anywhere you go these days. The joy, as always, is sharing it with others. I hope you enjoy and can share with others as well.

Random stuff

2005-06-26T14:03:00.000-04:00

The following images are just some random images from Santa Fe, Massachusetts, and somewhere else.
There will be lots more coming from my travels around the states, and soon, Turkey. So check in when you can.

You can also view my professional/fine art work at www.amtproductions.com

Ciao