MAL MEYDANI1 (THE MALL)
The place where animals are marketed is called ‘Mal Meydanı’. My childhood was spent there, among the animals, an important part of my life. It saddened all of us, the villagers, when the animals were being taken to the market. One memory I can recall is when my father came back from the market one night, partly contented and partly sorrowful; he used to bring me a pair of the very fashionable then nylon shoes in bright colors like red or white. He used to bring my mom and my elder sisters things like pretty fabrics for sewing dresses or floral textiles for blanket covers, he brought new clothes for my younger siblings. All these were accompanied with lots of tea, sugar, and salt which made us feel safe in a way. Another memory I never forget is that year when our oxen were brought to the market for sale. The yellow one was called Altın2, and the dark one was Damga3. To this day I have no idea who chose these names, but these two oxen were our everything. Damga and Altın leaving the yard alongside my uncle’s animals, stepping heavily on the dusty soil, and me running after them, crying, is a memory that has stayed with me.
This project is the collection of my childhood impressions and my present observations. My work is based on the condition of the animals and the people there. I photographed them so they do not perish in oblivion.
Mal Meydanı is a place known for trading. However, it is more than that, it is a place that harbors various sociocultural relationships and forms of communication. At the market, you can feel a typical smell, you can hear the voice of people and animals mix into a characteristic tone. As a local, I could feel the order hidden in the chaos, I could notice the stages of a purchase almost like it was a holy ritual. By transferring this chaotic atmosphere into my photographs, I wanted to reflect the culture I came from. I translated my impressions into a photographic language because I know this area’s people very well. And the animals. And the market.
Most of my work comprises Mal Meydanı in Kars. However, I added some footages from Selimiye district’s Mal Meydanı too. Both places left me with warm memories of kindness and collaboration. I would like to greet all the people who were part of this project in some way. Interestingly, during the footages almost every person who passed me by asked why I was taking photos. When I told them about my idea, they wished me good luck; most of them are my friends now.
Kars, which is a very historically and culturally rich area, has started to lose its significance in the eyes of people; I wish to revive its atmosphere and document it so that it is left as a legacy for future generations.
Mal Meydanı is an integral part of the local culture. I started photographing it in 2006 with a film camera, and continued with a digital one for a total of 10 years. I have photographed the place in every weather condition: in a snowy winter, in the summer heat, during the rain, in spring, in autumn… I have seen every face of Mal Meydanı during my numerous visits.
Now, in the middle of the night I am standing in my usual rental room in Kars, I remember the first time I came back to Kars’ Mal Meydanı. It was a hot summer day. I hadn’t even taken out my camera for the first three days, I just observed. I listened. I woke up early in the morning every day, and visited Mal Meydanı, I blended with the crowd, looking for the scenes from my childhood.
So, what was Mal Meydanı like? – I asked myself. Herds of animals were walking in slowly, others were waiting patiently in front of the scales with children tending them, there were dental check-ups on one side, trading taking place on the other, baby animals were suckling, lambs and sheep were bleating, there were people gathered in the local cafe in front of the wood burning stove – those were the true owners of this vibrant place. Selling things, buying things, happiness, melancholy, taking things, giving things, a small place, a crowd, Mal Meydanı, Kars.
A. Kadir Ekinci
2016 Kars
English
