I remember some point in my childhood hearing the name Constantinople; like the name Zanzibar it conjured something exotic and romantic in my mind. Of this kind of romance there was no shortage in my childhood. Early on my mother had a massive National Geographic atlas, easily the largest book in the house and I’d lie on the floor looking at the maps and wondering what was to be found in those far off places. Hemingway and Heyerdahl and Sir Edmund Hillary all figured prominently at various points as I grew up, fueling my imagination. Somehow into that imagination crept the spires of the Ottoman Empire.
That empire collapsed before I was born, of course, and it hasn’t been called Constantinople for over 500 years, but last week as I walked the streets of the city that was once Byzantium and then Constantinople and finally Istanbul, the smells of the spice markets and street food mixed with the calls to prayers lifting from the hundreds of mosques, and the bell of the tram way, and the hard-sell of the men in the Grand Bazaar, all against a backdrop of ancient spires and domes, many of them made by Sinan, one of the great architects of history. I sat with friends for long hours smoking the nargile, the water pipe known elsewhere as shisha or hookah, ate more baklava than is good for me, and drank glass after glass of tea.
At one point, while drinking tea, I looked around the coffee shop at so many faces, most of them talking to each other, laughing, and conspiring – so connected, often touching – and I wondered what it would take to find those connections at home in the west, so many of us preferring the glow of our iPhones and laptops and disposable coffee cups. Sure, there were iPhones aplenty, and there were loners too, but by far the common desire seemed to be connection, not isolation. I want more of that.
I made a few photographs, wrote some poetic drivel, schemed my return and thought back on the last 5 weeks in Kenya, Tanzania, India, and Turkey, and felt tremendously grateful for having been there, with people I’ll now count as friends for the rest of my life. And now I’m on the final flight home to Victoria and the mounds of work that pile up in my absence, happy to spread a new Rajasthani quilt on our bed, and stay home for a while with meaningful work and great stories to keep me busy. Thanks for following the adventure and putting up with the absence. But man, what a trip. Sometimes you take a journey, sometimes the journey takes you.
Thanks most of all for being part of the how, and the why, of these adventures.
Comments
Oh I love your photos, I can learn a lot from you.
Thank you! Welcome here, Kai!
Man, that does sound like an eye-opening place, and, yes, romantic as you claimed when a child. Your images of the interactions taking place do nothing to hinder that vision! Thanks for taking us along David – safe travels home – I’m sure you’re already there!
I’ve always admired your consistency in capturing a series that so greatly feels connected, photo to photo – tone, color, and subject.
Beautiful photographs.
Man David every time I look at a your images it still blows me away on why you capture these perfect shots
What a journey! beautiful images. Loved your comment about connection. May we all spend more time being connecting with family, friends, and community.
I especially liked your two b&w images. Can you recommend one of your ebooks for post processing b&w? I use PS, but wonder if I should switch to Lightroom. Thank you for all your inspiring images and essays.
Hi Lisa – Thanks so much for the kind words. Try this book by Piet van Den Eynde – http://craftandvision.com/collections/black-white/products/the-power-of-black-white
Or my After the Camera video series that covers some B&W post-production from my own perspective:
http://craftandvision.com/collections/lightroom-photoshop/products/after-the-camera
Simply, beautiful. I was swirled up into the smoke of your vision and beauty of this moment. Thank you, as usual. I love your sweet reminders. Safe travels.
It is so nice to see my own city with your eyes. It is accepted to be a very photogenic city through when you are a resident, you usually take it for granted. You mention a lot of tea but should I take that you have never tried rakı? The unique Turkish alcohol?
Burcu – No, that would not be the best assumption! 🙂 We most certainly tried raki. And boza. And pretty much anything we could find. Turkish food and drink is fantastic. Missing it already!
Awesome. Especially love the photograph of the two men at the food cart, with the lady in the red shawl passing on the left of the frame. Very cinematic.
David, your photographs and poetic drivel are inspirational, never stop. Inspiration to make art, photograph, travel and for more poetic drivel. Thank you. may the adventures continue, and may I join you on at least one!