My work is focused on Istanbul and its personal psychogeography. Adopting documentary as a secondary function, I tell stories using the scenes of my city. My distinct color palette is a derivation of the look of Italian giallos from the ‘70s, and I take cues from the cinematography of classic horror films in my visual language. All of my photographs take place during the daytime.
More about my work
Favourites
Blog posts
2023-08-29 Suzan
Project statement
November 5, 2023
In late 2017, my external hard drive, which housed all my photographs, was stolen. This led to a period of unrelenting depression.
Throughout 2018, I left my job, found a new one, and was subsequently let go. I frequently visited a psychologist and a psychiatrist, and was prescribed numerous antidepressants. My ex-wife left me later that year, and I returned to my parents' home.
In 2019, after a major crisis, I decided to change my mental health support team and sought a new psychiatrist. Within the first fifteen minutes of our session, the psychiatrist diagnosed me with bipolar disorder. I left the house only ten times that year.
In 2020, during the pandemic, I went outside every time a lockdown was declared. Using my expired press card, I was able to explore the empty city without restrictions. However, by the end of the year, I suffered from Lithium poisoning, a medication I was using, which necessitated a change in my prescriptions.
It was only in 2021 that I was able to slowly return to life. By May of that year, the depression had ended. I fell into that severe depression when I was 31 and was able to overcome it by the age of 35.
Unutursan Darılmam (No Offence If You Forget) became a “message” to my city: I was alone, grappling with a challenging mental health situation and had made peace with the possibility of being forgotten.
Over the years, my work continued to focus on Istanbul. I captured the city's changing landscape during my “absence”. Everything happened in a room in my family's house.
The series explores themes of loneliness, the isolating nature of city life, my intimate connection with it, and, ultimately, a critique of Istanbul's current state. It's as if these photographs were stored in a time capsule for five years, only to be unearthed at the perfect moment.
Have you ever been forgotten to come back to remind the city that you’re still alive? I have. This is the story.