Bir de pencerelerde oturan yaşlılar, çocuklar, kediler, saksılar: Sanki yalnızlık, hüzün ve sevincin sesi. Sanki, sessiz sesleri ya da... Her evin, sokağın, kapının, pencerenin asıl izleyicisi ya da en yakın tanığı fotoğraf sanatçıları... Yaşamın bir anlık kayda geçirilmesini onlara borçluyuz. Evin, evlerin yalnızlıkları da sevinçleri de onlara ait.
Son söz Necatigil'in: "Dünyada mutluluk adına ne varsa başkaca Evcek, evlerde yaşar yaşarsa!" (Arka kapaktan)
Houses are our refuge, our sleep, our illnesses, our dreams and our secret playthings... The dreams of those who build their houses of stone, mud, wood or concrete have always swung between wealth and poverty. Wealth and poverty are reflected in the appearances of houses. Those who build their houses of mud brick remember the legacy of their ancestors from Çatalhöyük. Life on the flat roofs and the interior and exterior decoration form an abiding passion... Some put a crescent and star on the door, others adorn the walls with flowers...
And then there are the children, old people, cats and flowerpots in the windows as if they are the silent voices of loneliness, melancholy and joy... The real observers of each house, each street and each window, those that are most intimately familiar with them all are the photo artists. It is to them that we owe the recording of a single fleeting moment. It is to them, too, that the houses owe their joys and sorrows.
The last word belongs to Necatigil: 'Whatever exists in this world in the name of happiness, comes to life in families, in houses..." (From back cover)
Bir de pencerelerde oturan yaşlılar, çocuklar, kediler, saksılar: Sanki yalnızlık, hüzün ve sevincin sesi. Sanki, sessiz sesleri ya da... Her evin, sokağın, kapının, pencerenin asıl izleyicisi ya da en yakın tanığı fotoğraf sanatçıları... Yaşamın bir anlık kayda geçirilmesini onlara borçluyuz. Evin, evlerin yalnızlıkları da sevinçleri de onlara ait.
Son söz Necatigil'in: "Dünyada mutluluk adına ne varsa başkaca Evcek, evlerde yaşar yaşarsa!" (Arka kapaktan)
Houses are our refuge, our sleep, our illnesses, our dreams and our secret playthings... The dreams of those who build their houses of stone, mud, wood or concrete have always swung between wealth and poverty. Wealth and poverty are reflected in the appearances of houses. Those who build their houses of mud brick remember the legacy of their ancestors from Çatalhöyük. Life on the flat roofs and the interior and exterior decoration form an abiding passion... Some put a crescent and star on the door, others adorn the walls with flowers...
And then there are the children, old people, cats and flowerpots in the windows as if they are the silent voices of loneliness, melancholy and joy... The real observers of each house, each street and each window, those that are most intimately familiar with them all are the photo artists. It is to them that we owe the recording of a single fleeting moment. It is to them, too, that the houses owe their joys and sorrows.
The last word belongs to Necatigil: 'Whatever exists in this world in the name of happiness, comes to life in families, in houses..." (From back cover)
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