Tags
arts, exhibition, film, Grant Gee, Innocence of Memories, Istanbul, Literature, melancholy, Orhan Pamuk, photography, place, psychogeography, The Museum of Innocence, W G Sebald
Are memories inherently melancholy? When in the form of objects or photographs they do seem to be. Is it the element of absence or loss inherent in being of the past or separated from life? Objects and photographs are dissociated physically from their subject or owner, but can be associated in the mind, by the viewer. Or are they innocent of our memories. Do they have a life of their own?
(quote from Pamuk in exhibition)
Orhan Pamuk investigated memory in his novel ‘The Museum of Innocence’, about a doomed love affair, whilst simultaneously collecting related objects for an actual museum, both set in Istanbul.
Vitrines from the museum are now on show in London, at Somerset House, timed for the release of the film by Grant Gee ‘Innocence of Memories‘ inspired by the book and the museum, with excerpts showing in the exhibition. This rather circular activity, together with Pamuk’s documentary book on Istanbul itself, has given me a strange familiarity with a city I have never been to, one completely embodying the concept of hüzün, a Turkish form of melancholy.
“The hüzün of Istanbul is not just the mood evoked by its music and its poetry, it is a way of looking at life that implicates us all, not only a spiritual state but a state of mind that is ultimately as life-affirming as it is negating.” (Pamuk)
What is real though? Who are the people in the photos and who did the objects really belong to? Does it matter?
The film shows us a version of reality – a view of Istanbul at night, its back streets, or seen from a cab, mainly deserted, disembodied, filled with melancholy.
Grant Gee made a film previously on W G Sebald and both authors play with memory, with reality and fiction, blending found photographs, fiction and autobiography in their work. The melancholy evocation of place is also vital to both.
(quote from Pamuk)
dianajhale 
Interesting post – I think I may be way off the mark but reading above reminded me Of Time and the City which is wonderful and of course full of memory and melancholy. I visited Istanbul a long time ago and it is a great city. Wonder how its troubled present affects memory of the past.
I’ve not seen the film yet, but loved his previous one on Sebald. What to say about Istanbul? It’s a unique city – the biggest in Europe – and it has its own pulse of life and overwhelming buildings (the mosques mostly). Have you read Pamuk’s book on Istanbul? It’s really lovely. And Ceylon’s film Uzak reminded me of Pamuk. Thanks for sharing this Diana!
Thanks, Paul.The book on Istanbul is very evocative, enhanced by the old photos too! I haven’t got round to seeing Uzak but I loved Winter Sleep.
Thanks Diana for this glimpse into what looks like a fascinating exhibition, especially for those of us who live too far to get to it. Very thought-provoking ideas here. I wonder, though, if objects always give rise to this kind of melancholy memory? Objects/ photos from one’s own past can also bring back the pleasure or love that it was embedded within, although in a fainter form? Does it depend on the viewer’s relations with this past and how they are feeling about their present?
I was totally caught up in the atmosphere of the film, I loved it, though wouldn’t want to see it again. I’m currently reading the novel. I love the idea of curating one’s memories as a museum.
Juliet Wilson
http://craftygreenpoet.blogspot.com
Thanks for your comment. I love the idea too, maybe more than the actuality here!
I saw the film last week and I must say that it did not compel me in the same way as Gee’s earlier WG Sebald film did. I will confess that I even nodded off for a short while near the beginning. The problem was probably partly because I had not read this particular Pamuk book. It captures a very precise era (60s) in upper middle class Istanbul life and, as most of it appears to be shot on wet deserted streets at 3am, it invokes an atmosphere that I can only partially recognise as a long term visitor to the city.
As you say, Diana, it is just a version of reality, a rather obsessively melancholy view of Istanbul. There’s plenty of hüzün on show here, but in Istanbul hüzün can adopt many different forms.
Interesting to hear your views Laurence, especially as you know Istanbul. I do have some reservations about Pamuk in fact, but I found the film quite hypnotic.