glazed time

The multimedia project GLAZED TIME has been produced with the assistance of the European Union within

the framework of the programme ‘Support to the Armenia -Normalisation Process’.

This project’s first exhibition in Diyarbakır issupported by Diyarbakır Metropolitan Municipality and Heinrich

Böll Stiftung Turkey.

NarPhotos

NarPhotos is an independent collective established in 2003 by photographers for whom documentary photography is a visual tool of ''understanding and expressing'' the world.

The aim is to show the various conditions in human life. For the members the way of making the projects has an importance as well as the final result. In these times where producing together, sharing the knowledge, support and collectivism become an exception. They belive that the function of the images has a priority over their plastic and esthetic values. Members do not accept what is given as the way it is, instead of staying satisfied with the answers they prefer to ask more questions.

They produce photo reportages with the idea of trying to change the situation instead of admitting and protecting the existing circumstances.

4 Plus Documentary Photography Center 4 Plus Documentary Photography Center is an initiative by three Armenian

documentary photographers, Anahit Hayrapetyan, Anush Babajanyan and

Nazik Armenakyan. The aim of 4 Plus is the development of Armenia's

photojournalism and documentary photography, as well as raising awareness

about issues in Armenia through photography.

Berge Arabian

Berge Arabian, born in Qamishly, Syria in 1957 of Armenian decent. Moved to Canada

and lived there for 37 years where he graduated in Political science and worked

for many years as a photographer for NOW magazine. A self-taught photographer

focusing on social documentaries. Has been living in Istanbul for 5 years and is a

photographer for the weekly Agos newspaper.

The two documentary photography

collectives NarPhotos from Turkey

and 4PLUS from Armenia got together

in the year of the 100th anniversary

of the Armenian Genocide to take a

closer look at the remains of a time,

starting from 1915, that has been

considered voiceless because no one

dared to talk about it. Together they

examined remnants of an age that has

been considered nonexistent because

no one dared to acknowledge it, a time

which has been covered, which has

been virtually glazed over.

The essence of the works that you are

about to see aim to present firsthand

testimonies by focusing on people’s

personal stories. These stories found

their places in a series of video and

photographic compositions that can

be considered as short expeditions

into the past by setting the starting

point at the present. Each narrative of

the present is showing insights into

its protagonist’s daily life and due to

the variety of these stories is drawing

the picture of a broader collective

memory. The Armenian population

of Turkey was significantly reduced

since the beginning of the last centu-

ry; they were forcibly detached from

their lands and houses; a majority of

them were sent to death marches and

G L A Z E D T I M E

were faced with genocide. As long as

they remain voiceless and do not try

to lift up the glaze of that era, they are

considered acceptable citizens. To put

it in a folkloric-nostalgic way, Turkey’s

Armenians that once used to play an

important part in Anatolia’s social

spectrum and who are now countable

on merely the fingers of one hand, do

not cease to constitute considerable

pieces of Anatolia’s colourful mosaic.

Those who dare to lift parts of the

glaze that has been put upon that age,

those who do not stop questioning no

matter what kind of consequences

they have to face, they won’t ever be

moving on freely without having to feel

the pressure of a repressive mindset

like a stick being banged persistently

at their necks.

One of the presented video composi-

tions is based on the story of eighty-

five years old Uncle Sarkis in Diyarba-

kir, who has had lost his wife ‘Bayzar’

last year. Uncle Sarkis, while heating

up his oven in a gentle and meditative

manner, repeats the following words

in Kurdish that each of us will relate to

and most of us will agree upon:

“Zor e… Tenêbûn pir zor e”*

Uncle Sarkis‘ grief upon the loss of

his wife that results in those words,

is certainly adaptable to a nation’s

deprivation of its own land, its cultural

relicts, its relatives, its lovers, its par-

ents, its sons and daughters: “Zor e…

Tenêbûn pir zor e”

On the other hand, as much as this re-

lates to Armenians of Turkey who lost

their lives; it also holds true for all the

other peoples of Anatolia as long as

they fail to question what happened

to their neighbours and friends, and

sincerely do not wonder about their

whereabouts. In this case, the only

thing to remind them of is:

It is difficult… Loneliness is very diffi-

cult!*

Anahit Hayrapetyan – Serra Akcan

LIFE IN ANCIENT TARON

100 years have passed. It’s been 100

years already, but the fight on these

grounds still has not ended. It continues

without distinguishing between reli-

gions, languages and races… What’s left

behind are the things told, the things

that have been written. And photographs

are what have been left behind.

Anahit Hayrapetyan‒ 4Plus

It is a cloudy day, we are in Moush

which used to be the center of the

Taron region during the middle ages...

a region where the majority of Turkey’s

Armenians used to live until 1914… 113

church, 66 monastery, 18 pilgrimage site

and 87 school…

First we walk through the center of the

city; we walk through the historical for-

tress district – or more precisely, what

has been left of it. In the course of an

urban transformation project a couple

of years ago, a huge part of the fortress

district, which has been an old habitat

for Armenians with around 500 houses,

has been demolished by TOKI.

It is hard to find any traces of the his-

torical past of this inner-fortress city

upon which the town Moush has been

built… Nailed inscriptions of the Urartu

King Menua (800 BC), the Mamigonyan

Family that has been ruling and pro-

tecting Armenia’s Taron district in the

8th century, the Pakradunis who have

been claiming their lands after them…

The Byzantine Empire, the Ottoman

Empire… Taron district’s Armenian past

got lost steadily in the course of war

fares, massacres, pillages, deportations,

genocides, economical oppressions and

forced islamization.

“My father is of Kurdish descent, my

mother Armenian… Everyone knows us

by the name of my mother’s father, my

grandfather, Hazar… There have been

three priests at the church, my grand-

father was one of them… he used to be

strong, he used to be great… Everyone

knows it and says it… There is nothing

to hide… I mean, even if you tried to hide

it, still everyone knows it… They know

my mother, they know my father, they

know where we came from, where we

have gone to, everything’s obvious…”

Snow is falling… We are walking

through the villages… Çengili, Tsıronk…

The sun comes through… Norşen, Mo-

ngunk… Doors open, stories are being

told, people who have migrated from

Sassoun to Moush are telling them…

“My grandfather Avadis moved from

Sassoun to Mongunk, Monguk belongs

to Moush. We were born after that, we

have been born in Mongunk. I remem-

ber now that my grandmother and my

grandfather, they have been suffering a

lot. Language for a start… the Armenian

language was forbidden, they weren’t

allowed to speak… To be able to speak,

they had to be in a safe shut up space…

Worshipping was impossible as well, it

was forbidden… I was 9 years old then…

My grandmother and I went to collect

herbs… my grandmother used to pray

there, at the church of Arak… I asked

my grandmother what she was doing

there… Naturally, I did not know any-

thing about worshipping until then… She

said one or two words in Armenian…

‘We are praying to God… for being able

to live a life without troubles and mis-

chances…’ I have kept these few Arme-

nian words in mind since then… Believe

me, our elders have been the ones who

have been suffering the most, just to

grant us the possibility of living on these

grounds… It is not imaginable… You can’t

explain this with just talking about it…

They had to work so hard, they had to

stand up against great oppressions… It

is too hard to understand them thor-

oughly, so hard to recall, to think back

on them…”

An

ah

it H

ayr

ap

ety

an

‒ 4

Plu

s

Anahit Hayrapetyan ‒ 4Plus

An

ah

it H

ayr

ap

ety

an

‒ 4

Plu

s

Serra Akcan ‒ NarPhotos

Muslim Armenians are talking about

the things that their grandfathers and

grandmothers have told them. They are

protecting their identities with memo-

ries only. They are talking about every-

thing that they have been silent about

since ages… It costs them a lot of effort

to explain the blessing that comes along

with being able to live on the grounds

they have been born onto.

- ‘Shall we go to Sassoun?’

- ‘Let’s go...’

Just like a mountain refuge, Sassoun

has been an ancient cradle for Arme-

nian epics. Until 1914, about 25.000

Armenians in Sassoun have been able to

keep alive their ancestors’ way of living

within their 156 villages, 127 churches, 6

monasteries and 15 schools.

“We have been starving; we had to flee

into the caves, we stayed in caves. We

would flee in the mornings… we would

return home in the evenings. We would

be afraid of anyone we saw; bears and

pigs used to eat up all of our crops.”

Sassoun’s history is closely tied to

Taron’s. Despite all the pillages and

massacres, Sassoun has successfully

managed to keep the Armenian popu-

lation high. In 1904, in spite of military

expeditions in Sassoun, the Ottoman

governance has not been able to break

through the Armenian resistance. Al-

though the citizens of Sassoun had to

face a huge migration wave due to the

lack of safety and tax pressure, they

have been left alone after the resistance

in 1918. Following this, a great number

of Sassoun’s citizens had to leave their

grounds for Caucasian Armenia, Syria,

Lebanon and Europe.

“There have been two Ohanneses, my

uncle’s sons. My father used to go to

Syria to see them, he used to visit them

in the past… Those years have been

marked by great poverty… There has

been nothing...”

Rain is falling… A family opens its

doors; the family’s house is located on

the mountain’s foothills, at the very top.

Between trees, an oven made in a hole

in the earth is giving out smoke. A man

is chopping wood, a woman is kneading

bread dough and a child is embracing a

new born lamb.

“We have been living in the villages

below… We moved up to Pırşenk at the

end. We have been living in this village

for approximately 70 years. We have

made it this far, what shall happen from

now on is in Allah’s hands; he will know,

we do not know…”

Se

rra

Akc

an

‒ N

arP

ho

tos

- ‘We have come out of the 19th century,

did you notice?’

- ‘We are living in the 21th century right

now, still we are going through the

same things… massacres, migrations…

war continues without distinguishing

between religion, language and race…’

We have come a long way; poverty, in-

justice, treason and casualties which

have been left without compensation,

disillusionments… neighbours get angry

with each other, doors shut… migration

continues… the fight continues… doors

open, camps are getting set up… Some-

how it does not stop…

Nazik Armenakyan

IDENTITY ARMENIAN

It was my second visit to Istanbul and

the first time that I was supposed to

meet the Armenian community. In the

point where East fuses with West–Polis,

as the Istanbul Armenians usually call

it–there is a large Armenian commu-

nity of around 70 thousand. Living in a

place where the whole country does not

belong to your identity, yet you breathe

the same air and share the same

space – how do the Armenians of Polis

preserve their identity? This was the

main question that nagged at me. It is a

gigantic city where, after certain well-

known historic events, our forefathers

survived and continued to live, believing

that Istanbul is not like the other cities.

So they built new Armenian church-

es hospitals, educational institutions,

schools and Armenian daily newspapers

in various districts of the city, like small

relics. While photographing the Arme-

nian spiritual, cultural and educational

centers, or simply getting to know the

Armenians of Polis, I would take notes

in my notebook and attach small imag-

es. My notepbook soon became a unique

diary mirroring the Armenian commu-

nity of Polis–made of small bits here

and there that nevertheless constitute

strong pillars–and documenting how it

lives through its culture, language and

spirit, maintaining its Armenian identity

even one hundred years later by speak-

ing in Armenian, singing and dancing in

Armenian, and praying in Armenian.

Nazik Armenakyan ‒ 4Plus

Sona Zardaryan:

''It isn’t easy being an Armenian and living in Turkey. My family suffered losses but

continued to live in Istanbul. We sing Krunk even at the most joyous of feasts, and

everyone ends up shedding tears. It’s true that you can tell by looking at us that

we’re not Muslim, but we’ve put a lot into this city.''

Chairman and Preacher of the Religious Assembly at the St. Vardanants

Church in Istanbul, the Very Reverend Father Tatul Anushian:

''Each night follows each morning, each morning follows the previous night – it is a

chain. When we open our eyes in the morning, we might expect sunshine, but end

up with sudden rain, winds and storms… We don’t know how things will develop.

Only one things matters – the importance of maintaining our identity.''


Matins and Morning Mass at the St. Trinity (Surb Errordutyun) Church of Istanbul

On 16 May 1914, Patriarch Maghakia Ormanian led a special ceremony to open

the Armenian national cemetery in Şişli.


Armenian spiritual leaders and famous figures, who have played a major role in the

development of both Armenian and Turkish culture and science, have been laid to

rest at the Armenian national cemetery in Şişli, Istanbul.

Sima Karateke:

''I am a pharmacist and have been living in Istanbul for 47 years. My sister and I

opened a pharmacy in this Armenian-populated district of Feriköy and we work

here.''


A portrait of Sima’s grandmother in the pharmacy.

The “Hermon and Anahit Variş” theater was founded in 1997. It mostly stages

comedies, predominantly in Turkish, in order to attract a bigger audience.


The theatrical group after one of their performances.

Sarem Külegeş Şeşetyan:

''I grew up in Istanbul and have been dancing in the “Maral” dance troupe for

25 years. I’m the troupe’s trainer now. Cultural life in the Armenian community of

Istanbul is very rich, all you need to do is stay informed. We give performances

with our songs and dances; that is very important work.''


The “Maral” song and dance troupe was founded in 1980 by Benon Kuzabaşi and

his friends. The main objective of the troupe is to present Armenian culture, dance,

song and music to the public.

Davit Khachatryan:

''I am from Armenia and have already been working at the Hrant Dink school for 2

years, teaching history and geography. Working at this school has been a special

experience for me, and the only way to maintain my Armenian reality.''


Hrant Dink School

This eight-year school, located in one of the Armenian-populated districts of

Istanbul, Kumkapı, has been operating at the Armenian Evangelical Church since

2003, and began to bear the name of Hrant Dink in 2010. The students consist of

the children of Armenian immigrants, living in the Armenian-populated districts of

Istanbul.

Children attending the kindergarten of the Hrant Dink school.


Children in second grade at the Hrant Dink school.

Alex Çida, an alumnus of the Central High School.


The Central High School, founded in 1886, is an Armenian high school in Istanbul

that hosts around 230 students from grades 9 through 12. The school has 50 – 60

graduates every year.

Hera Büyüktaşcıyan:

''I am an artist, I’m mainly into conceptual art now. I’m half-Armenian, half-Greek.

This year, I’m going to participate in the international Venice Biennale, presenting an

installation called “The Keepers” as part of the “Armenity” section.

I maintain my Armenian identity through my language, Armenian. Language is a

space through which you can discover many hidden things.''


Hera also works at the Greek school in Istanbul.

Sibil Bektorosoğlu:''I was born in Polis, my father was strict, but it was thanks to my family that I managed

to preserve my identity. My father would always worry – how would I manage to

succeed by always singing in Armenian? I am very surprised to see Turkish channels

broadcasting my music videos. My girlfriend knew someone who would buy albums by

Armenian singers in America. I would write out those songs word by word, then sing

them. This was like a dream for me – singing in Armenian in Turkey. Music knows no one

language, I preserve my identity by singing in Armenian.''


There are many small shops selling old items in the Balat district of Istanbul. At

one of them, I bought a stack of photographs that once belonged to an Armenian

family.


Small images from the Armenian reality of Istanbul.

Berge Arabian

LONGINGA Travelogue Story

In 1930, my father, an Armenian who

was born in Hazro in the province of

Diarbakir, moved to Aleppo, Syria along

with his family. He was nine years old

at the time and the family had been

living in the Armenian neighbourhood

of the city of Diarbakir for the previous

two years. The move was not a choice

but a necessity. Having lost most of the

members of their respective families

and relatives at a young age during

the 1915 genocide, my grandparents

had grown up and gotten married to

each other in the wake of the dark

days of the massacres. The human

losses, forced islamasization and the

persecutions by the locals because

of their Christian-Armenian past, had

forced my grandparents to flee Hazro

and take refuge in the city of Diarbakir.

But even that move had not put an end

to the persecution they felt as entities of

a minority in the new Turkish republic.

Thus, a decision was taken to leave the

ancestral homeland by fleeing to Syria

where many of their friends and distant

relatives had made their new home.

This project was an attempt to recreate

visually my father’s, and his family’s,

journey route from the city of Diarbakir

to Syria through the Kilis border.

Overall, the project was done in the

style of a visual travelogue in order

to evoke a memory of the Diarbakir

Armenians in the aftermath of 1915

through the story of my own family’s

flight. In a way it is also a visual

homage in memory of my father and my

grandparents.

DIYARBAKIR

Celal* is singing such a song of

longing... such a song full of sorrow. I

have been listening to him, 3 times. 4

times. And little by little all this longing

is rising inside me. I miss you. I miss

Qamishly. I miss my father. I miss my

childhood... Where did this longing all

begin from? Where? from Qamishly?

From my childhood? From the time

all my elders left Diyarbakir? But this

longing is so powerful sometimes that

my chest wants to blow up. I can not

bear this pain anymore. All my life ,

all my life living with this longing. it is

sometimes unbearable… It never stops.

* Celal Güzelses a Diyarbekir Kurd

musician (1899 –1957)

Berge Arabian

Be

rge

Ara

bia

n

Berge Arabian

Be

rge

Ara

bia

n

Berge Arabian

Be

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Ara

bia

n

Berge Arabian

THE ROAD

I am thinking of the young Syrian

refugee boy at the border, Mulham, and I

miss him too. I miss him… I want to hug

him to take his pain away. He had said

to me,” your pain is worse than mine…I

will go back to my Halep when the war

stops but you...you have been longing for

Qamishly for 50 years and you have not

been able to see it again. It is too much

to long and not to have.”

I just want to shout here. To scream

and take out this 50 year pain that I am

carrying inside me…

In a way it is good to have done this

story. I am still doing it. I am realizing

that truely, my father’s departure story,

which I tried to recreate with the little

information that I have and with all

the little bits and pieces, there is no

complete story. I only know a few things.

unfortunately when I was young, I did

not listen well. And they did not tell

me in detail or in a way so that I could

carry this story, their story, to the next

generation after me, or to the ones I

love. So in a way to have come here

and to have taken this journey from

Diyarbakir to Kilis, without knowing if

I am in the right track or at the right

places that they traveled through, is not

important. Because what is important

now is that for so many years, in my

mind I had been trying to piece together

a complete story. And it is very difficult

to know what really happened. How they

went through these roads, with new

hopes to start a new life. For me also,

it is the start of a new life because I am

leaving behind me all the mystery. All

the painful mystery that I have always

tried to imagine. Therefor I have created

my own story. I have retraveled and

retaken the same steps I think they did.

Whether the right ones or the wrong

ones, I think that I did my own journey

and left behind me unknown details

which I never had. But for me it is as

if it is a fresh start with a new hope, a

new beginning. It is like cleansing this

heaviness that has been inside me for

so many years. Always imagining my

child father , a child on the streets of

Diyarbakir. Imagining my grandfather,

washing or cleaning in a courtyard.

Imagining everything. But now, I do

not need to imagine anymore. I now

know. This was the journey that was

calling for me. And I took it…I took it

and it embraced me totally and now

Diyarbakir is a new Diyarbekir… with a

new hope.

Everywhere on the journey, I met Syrian

refugees. They are everywhere. In small

towns… on the road…. some of them

are cotton pickers, some of them are

clearing rocks and on vast lands…

sitting on the streets. Everywhere...

But when my father and family had

to leave Diyarbakir and went to Syria,

they were like these refugees… with

nothing on their backs… with nothing

in their pockets. Almost... They stayed

in a refugee camp. It is strange that 80

or 90 years later the children of those

people who accepted them, helped

them or shared with them some human

compassion, have now come to the

same lands that my elders had to

leave…. Seeking the same refuge in a

place where at least they can feel safe.

And yet, the story does not end here. In

other places, in other times, this same

forced exchange will always happen.

People will always be forced to leave

their ancestral lands. Lands that they

have known for a very very long time. A

land where they drank its water. They

breathed its air. They are always forced

to leave their land and start a very long,

painful journey. Starting a life full of

memories. Memories that start from

their childhood, their youth. And there

is no going back. Landless they will

be. Once you leave, it will never be the

same. And that’s the tragedy of it…. The

tragedy of Human history.

Berge Arabian

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Berge Arabian

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Berge Arabian

Anush Babajanyan

THIS IS OUR HOME

Turkey is their home. They played upon

its streets and alleyways as children.

Istanbul is the labyrinth of their up-

bringing. As adults, they attend Turkish

universities in this cosmopolitan city

west of the Bosphorus, enlightened and

bonding with Istanbulites of all nations.

Istanbul is home. Yet in their dwellings

and upon its thoroughfares, they feel

vulnerable, unsettled. Insecure.

Their speech is subtle and brave, an

even tenor that emits the worries they

feel, the concerns of being Armenian

and the consequence it can bring, trou-

bled that this potential discomfort even

exists.

Presented together with their portraits,

these are places of refuge they love,

seeking comfort, a bonding and reaf-

firmation of self-context. It is in these

oasis’ where they connect to the land

and themselves.

It is where there is warmth.

Anush Babajanyan ‒ 4Plus

Anna:

''We are here only for work. Of course we will go back to Armenia in the end.

Right now I do not want to go back, because the situation in Armenia is not so

well.''

Aren:

''I have not been to Armenia, I would really like to go. Birthright Armenia

organization came to the Kendronakan Union and we made an event for them.''

Artin Jan:

''We have always been here, we should always be here. Because our lands, the

lands of our fathers have always been here. I cannot go anywhere else.

God knows, if I was living in 1915, I would protect my lands until the end. I would

not leave.''

Aykun:

''There is a huge garden behind my school, and I passed my childhood right there.

They sold it and they will build a commercial centre. I am afraid to enter the school

now.''

Gayane:

''I do not feel calm. I grew up with a complex. I am Armenian, someone else is

Turkish. I cannot get married with a Turk. I do not want my child to grow up with

those things.''

Jessica:

''It was difficult when I was a child. They asked me what my name was, and I said

Jessica. They asked where I was from. My mother and father did not want me to

say that I was Armenian. But I would say that I was Armenian.''

Kamer:

''There was one voice, and it was silenced. But it returned with thousands of

voices.''

Maral:

''I used to say that I was Turkish with Armenian origins. Now I say that I am

Armenian, because the university makes me think in different ways. Yes, I am an

Armenian in Turkey. I am an Armenian woman actually. This also puts a level on this

label. It is nice to be different, to be Armenian.''

Naira:

''I did not know how to behave in the beginning. I did not even know what would

happen if I spoke Armenian in the street. Muraz told me that I could speak

Armenian and that no one would say anything to me.''

Nare:

''I love the sea and nature. We thought of going to America or moving to Armenia.

But we cannot move to Armenia because there is no sea. We cannot live in a place

where there is no sea.''

Norayr:

''When we went into the streets or when we had issues with the Turkish History

teacher in the lyceum, we saw that we were different. They separated us from the

others. When the Genocide is recognised in Turkey, we will have an easier life, we

will have more freedom.''

Sona:

''It is really hard to live here. As much as you get familiar with the city and accept it

as your home, it is really hard not to feel like you’re always the other, the one that’s

the deviation from the norm. As much as you accept it as you home, it is really

hard to escape what others qualify you as.''

NarPhotos

VIDEOS

https://vimeo.com/149918232 NarPhotos

A FAMILY PORTRAITWith Istanbul based Armenian Yetvart Tomasyan’s

own words, ‘We are able to successfully hide

and protect the ties with our past through the

medium of photography. One of these photographs

is exceedingly meaningful for us, for my family.’

Saying this, Tomasyan takes a photograph out of

his family album and begins to tell us Mardik’s

story.


THE DOORS HAVE SHUTAccording to a population census made 140 years

ago, 8000 Armenians used to live in Diyarbakır. Today,

the only Armenian left in Diyarbakır is Sarkis Eken.

He and his deceased wife Bayzar Alata used to live

together at the St. Mary Church in Diyarbakir. Now,

that Sarkis is left all alone in their house in the

church, he claims that the state of loneliness seems

to be too hard. He describes the loss of his wife

like this, ‘Life is different with a woman at home. As

Bayzar was still alive, the door was always opened.

Now that door has shut.’

Sarkis Eken is looking out of the doors which have

been shut one by one; the doors which got shut and

declared nonexistent.


TRACING VOICES“The voice has been born out of the water, out of

the bird, out of lullabies, out of mothers’ lullabies,

out of women’s lullabies; it is nature’s voice... it is

the voice of the mountain, the voice of the sea”

Due to censorship on their culture’s history,

‘Ashug and Dengbêj‘ musicians have always

carried on their folks’ stories verbally. ‘Ashug and

Dengbêj’ musicians’ struggles therefore nurture

strong protagonists who have to stand tall against

oppression, bear persistence and passion. And of

course, the difficulties that the protagonists have

to cope with, generate intense solidarity within

their communal relationships. Ashug Leyli and

Dengbêj Gazin came together within an ‘Ashug

and Dengbêj’ project for women. Together they

started on a journey to vouch for love, peace and

friendship, using their voices as a tool. They deliver

their memories from generation to generation in

order to keep their culture alive and make their

struggles known; to revive their memories while

talking about them, to revive themselves… In

defiance of the ones that want to make them forget,

remembering against all odds, making people

remember against all odds…https://vimeo.com/147198919 NarPhotos

OJAKHEduard’s story stretches out from the

Azerbaijanian-Armenian war to Istanbul where he

is living together with his family as a migrant since

ten years. Out of the overly crowded grounds of

his kind that nevertheless seem foreign to him –

which is Turkey – he whispers the following, ‘Yes,

I am living in Turkey now, but by any means, you

cannot call that living; I am merely existing. That is

because I am a foreigner here. Outside of home, a

foreigner will always feel foreign; he will always be

longing for home.’


Adnan Çelik, Altuğ Yılmaz, Anush Babajanyan, Anush Suni, Arman Shahnazaryan,

Armine Avetisyan, Aylin Dilaver Vartanyan, Azer Keskin, Baruyr Kuyumciyan, Berge

Arabian, Besse Kabak, Beyhan& Hakan Peker, Binnur Aloğlu, Buğra Dedeoğlu, Bur-

cu Becermen, Eduard Shahnazaryan ve Venera Apresyan ailesi, Elîxan Loran, Eylem

Ertürk, Fahrettin Yıldız, Fatoş Kılıç Arabian, Garo Paylan, Gönül Hasanoğlu, Hayret-

tin Taş, Hüsamettin Bahçe, İlhami Baran, Kayane Gavrilof, Kiritor Ağabağoğlu, Maro

and Asdgho Turbendians, Marlene Schäfers, Mihran Tovmasyan, Nedim Özkırtay,

Öznur Pervanlar, Pakrat Estukyan, Razmik Apresyan, Refik Tekin, Reşo Ronahî, Sa-

liba Aciş, Sarkis Seropyan, Sona Dilanyan, Süslü&İsmail Adanır, Tamar Nalcı, Tolga

Taş, Ümit Kıvanç, Yetvart & Paylin Tomasyan, Daron Muş Armenians Social, Soli-

darity and Tourism Foundation, Diyarbakır Mother Mary Church, Gendronakan High

School, Sayat Nova Choir.

T h a n k s . . .

The copyright of all contents of this book, photographies and downloadable

(portable document format-PDF) documents belong to the NarPhotos and 4Plus

collectives. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be published without

the permission and knowledge of the publication's owners.

Year of Publication: 2015

Catalogue Layout: Serap Ergel

glazed time

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