Moving On From Istanbul

Kebabs, coffee and creativity

I have now left Istanbul. A city that wraps you up in chaos and kisses you goodnight with vibrant seduction. I realise now that it’s a city of conflict, of energy, of history and of adaptation. When I first arrived in Istanbul I struggled to fit in. The flow of the people was so different from my own. Language and culture created space between us and yet brief moments of serendipity continued to draw me in closer and closer to the vibrating frequency that holds the whole place together. I learned over time that I had to change to meet this city where it was at. I had to wake up earlier and sleep later. I had to embrace the constant noise, and cigarette smoke, catching moments as they inevitably played out rather than trying to chase them.

I felt very alone there for the first few weeks. I felt like I wasn’t able to relax into the momentum of how things naturally played out. I was exhausted and struggling to conceptualise a creative outcome from my four week artist residency. I was having trouble sleeping and felt like there was a reckoning happening inside of me. In retrospect, I realise that I was recalibrating. I was recalibrating my relationship with the world around me, processing and contextualising all that I was seeing, feeling and dreaming. The buzz of the 15 or so million people that make up Istanbul is intoxicating. It’s challenging at first, but over time it starts to draw you in and ignite this part of you that you didn’t realise existed.

I started getting smiles and waves every morning from local Borek sellers. The man at the baklava shop would always yell out to me and all the staff at the local coffee shop knew my name. Small things that gave me enough social interaction to be confident in my transformation from “Zed Before Istanbul” to “Zed After Istanbul”. In the last week of my time there the chaos swallowed me whole and I kind of loved it. I felt like my circadian rhythm had aligned with the city’s and everything else began falling into a place of cosmic significance. I hiked across the Princes Islands and met local rockstars in local bars. I got drunk while reading a book about surrender and then ate hamburgers and kebabs to warm the pathway between my stomach and soul. I fell a tiny bit in love with the way things existed there. All the inefficiencies and frustrations became unique reflections of of bubbling culture, politics and social systems. I began to see with an element of acceptance, overcoming the triggers I had placed in my own mind about how things should be or could be. I surrendered into it all.

And then I saw the Whirling Dervish…

And I was transported back in time. I saw the elements of ritual and trance that had caught my attention across Asia. I saw the foundations of my understanding of reality, art and music shifting as bearded men played music while others spun in choreographed circles for just over an hour. The sounds of drumming, sharp strings and flute music transported me beyond the corridors of a hidden train station and into a space of spiritual encounter. Despite the countless phones held above people’s heads and the few uninterested attendees, I entered “that space”.

“That Space” (Noun) - A transitory space accessed when the perfect combination of visual stimulus connects with trance inducing musical patterns, allowing your brain to surrender into sober intoxication and spiritual transcendence. Trance and Dance.

And then I finished my art project…

I made 40 paintings over my four weeks living in Kadikoy on the Asian side of Istanbul. They became a series in which I surrendered into weirdness and painted intuitively. They evolved over the time I was there and caught the flashes of stimulation and inspiration that moved through my mind, body and soul while living in such a bustling city. The process of creating like this was liberating in itself. I was constantly battling with my own standards of perfection and productivity, and by the end of my residency I felt so much more relaxed in my practice.

I think this is something that makes residencies like this effective for anyone (artist or not). Being forced to dedicate a block of time to a creative process is incredibly powerful. It allows you to analyse your life and thoughts with deliberate intent, unlocking space inside you to receive from the external world, while also encouraging you to transmit this external stimulus into something new. You become a filter for the world and all its newness and even if that project never goes anywhere, the experience of creation or at the very least pursuit of creation is incredibly important in the development of your relationship with yourself. Making shit is hard, and hard is good.

And then I said goodbye…

My last few days were hectic. All of a sudden I had events to go to and things to do. Time was pressing in and I had to prioritise what was most important. My last evening was particularly eventful. After spending the day digitising all of my prints, the residency team and I went out for beers. We sat in a sprawling strip of bars and drank local beer. We chatted about how the city takes time to settle into and how the culture of the country is complex, riddled with unspoken rules and shadowed by censorship. I learned about love, and how artistic practice evolves over time. I heard stories of immigration, refuge and passion. I felt my feet on the ground beneath me and smiled. I felt fully there. Fully present and fully aware. For the first time of my four week journey, I felt that warm sensation of home.

I packed my bags that night and left a few hours later on the bus to the airport. I caught my flight to Amsterdam, and now I am HERE. Another new space. Another new city, culture and community. I can feel that I am different here yet again. I am changed in my own unique way thanks to Turkey. From the awareness of my own Australian identity and the lineage of the ANZACS to the confidence to be alone amongst busy streets, I am comfortable in all this discomfort. I have a lot of thoughts on Amsterdam to share, but the buffet breakfast is about to end at my hostel so I’m going to go steal some boiled eggs and then go to a park.

Thanks for reading.

Stay Weird,

Zed

P.S. THE FOOD IN ISTANBUL IS ABSOLUTELY BRILLIANT. I love the food and the way food is shared. I love kebabs and doner and baklava and Islak hamburgers. I love the family run restaurants and big turkish breakfasts. I will miss the food.