Whoa, his second show ever was the Venice Biennale, after being celebrated at the Istanbul Biennale for “semiha b. unplugged” (1997), an 8-hour documentary on Turkey’s first opera singer, whom he filmed almost every day for 14 months in her bedroom. He wasn’t even at the Istanbul opening, ‘cos he was making a feature film in Berlin.
He’s showing us clips from “Women Who Wear Wigs” (1999), which shows stories of phenomenal Turkish women who’ve had strange encounters with wig-wearing: a post-chemotherapy blonde bombshell, a stewardess accused of terrorism, a transsexual sex worker, a Muslim university student who uses a plastic wig instead of a chador. Played simultaneously on a long cacophonic oblong of four screens.
KA: I want viewers to be able to say they saw the piece, but no two people saw the same piece. I want viewers to do the editing itself.
It’s eleven years old and the work’s still popular. Being exhibited currently in Sweden.
KA: They’re people I knew before I became an artist. I don’t call them friends, because as soon as I do the artwork they stop being friends. I’m surgical, as an artist. And of course, Turkish people like to talk about themselves.
Now he’s showing “semiha b. unplugged” – the opening, as the ancient singer rises from her grave, represented by her bedframe, and her insistence that her mother conceived her immaculately, without the necessity of male contact. Self-construction, contradictions. He loves them.
He talks about his return to Turkey after 15 years abroad, and his realisation of how constructed the country is. Kamal Ataturk, the Lee Kuan Yew of Turkey, changed the culture of the nation overnight: Arabic script to Latin script, wearing of the fez outlawed.
KS: Her room is very lush, very Oriental, what Westerners expected of Turkey. But then you stopped doing things that were typical. You stopped being this Turkish delight.
KA: It was only when I travelled to Europe that I realised that their image was so exoticised. Younger countries are actually more open to ideas. And I think I profited from this, because they did not expect to see opera singers instead of women with headscarves, they did not know there were Turkish transsexuals. I really profited from this.
Oh wow. He’s being sued by Semiha’s daughter right now, because she claims that he was only the cameraman, and her mother was the real artist here. Some pieces he hasn’t even screened in Turkey. Though he’s had a bigger scandal in Vienna than in Turkey with “Never My Soul”, which involves sexual intercourse and a lady who takes out her penis behind a curtain. Of course, this was partly because the Viennese curators were dumb enough to project the video in front of a mosque.
Whoa. And now he’s telling us about the democratic revolution in Turkey now: three biennales in different cities, hundreds of different films festivals, and while speaking Kurdish was outlawed two years ago, now you’ve got Kurdish TV channels. KS is applauding the artistic diversity in the country. And yet…
KA: I was the first Turkish artist to be shown in Venice, first one to be shown in Documenta, first one to be collected by MOMA, first one to be nominated for Turner Prize, first one to get the Carnegie Prize. I’ve done all that. And I’ve only been shown once in the Istanbul Biennale. I’ve never had a solo show. There is always this jealousy.
One audience member worries that Semiha’s been exploited by the film, since she looks so ridiculous on video. And well, it turns out we’ve all been hoodwinked. Semiha wanted to be featured because she was pissed off at not being featured on stage, and after the work got attention, she was cast in a show by Robert Wilson, and toured the world, and had her paintings featured in the Venice Biennale (the only Turkish artist besides Kutlug to do so), and when she got to La Scala in Milan, where her arch-competitor Layla performed, she asked the interns if they’d heard of her and they hadn’t, and she announced that she’d go back to Turkey and reveal that the bitch had lied, she’d never been there…
KA: That’s why I don’t believe in “marginal people” or “marginal characters”. Because we are all the stars of our lives. We create our lives, and we are the actors of our own scripts. To me there are the repeating common roles, and those who play them are the middle-class, and there are those who play different roles, and they are the stars.
Ooh. We’re gonna screen the porno-esque one now. “Never My Soul” (2001).
Man, there’s a lot of swinging dick and fake eyelashes in that. And it’s really weirdly synthetic, as he says: improvised lines by the trans performer written down and re-performed over the course of months in the same costumes of drag and bath towels. An impoverished transwoman acting as a Turkish starlet acting Hollywood starlet acting as an impoverished transwoman. He’s a reconstructionist, he says. It’s like Sharazad (i.e. Scheherezade).
KA: And eventually I move to “Journey to the Moon”. Younhave story, and you have documentation, and it becomes history. And geography. What is periphery? Periphery is actually something created to tell the centre, “These are your limits.” This is exotic, but don’t go there because there are people with huge heads and weird legs out there. There are a lot of travel writers during the Middle Ages bullshitting about that.
And they have the same thing today in news. Exactly the same tools and methods. If you look at the lives of Hollywood stars, it’s just like the Indian gods or Greek gods, fighting with each other, impregnating each other. We need these dramas in order to….
Television functions in the same way today. Like Arundhati Roy, she says, “Today in the news rooms you don’t need journalists anymore, you need theatre directors.” And I completely agree with this. The whole world is completely fictionalised.
Cinema that used to be art till the 1970s, is now just entertainment due to all these neoliberal policies. Globalisation and this commercialisation actually means if you have to access everyone in the world, you have to reach the common denominator, which is the banal. You have to achieve the Big Mac.
You cannot get an art film financed anywhere in the world now. You do not need a fascist regime for that. Fascism is acceptable now.
KS: In Cambodia, if you dance, everything is true. It’s been passed down for years and years from the kings. So now, they were quite empowered seeing the film, because they thought, wow, we can use fiction.
I think we’ll leave it there.
UPDATE: One last quote.
KA: If I have a group show, I make sure I get the last room, because when they get tired they go to my room and rest. And they’re like, “This is really great! Your room is full of people.” You have to do these things, you know.
And one last piece: “Turkish Delight” (2007), where he recreates a character based based on his old bellydancing female bar friends, for which he gained 20 kilos to become the attractive, repulsive object of desire.
KA: In Moscow, I was seen as protesting against the pwoer of money, and at the Armoury Show all the copies sold out. So they couldn’t decide where I was. And I liked that. I don’t want to position myself.