Interview | Elif Yavuz
For the opening of the 2015 calendar we have
two exhibitions from/about Turkey. Sarah Pannell’s project explores Turkey via
the Euphrates River and subtlety hints at the recently
heightened tensions embedded in the region.
Your project is about migration and growing
up as a Turkish woman in Australia and especially Mildura. To understand your
video works I think some inside information about your family is required. Tell
us about your parents and what they have achieved in Australia.
I’ve always loved hearing about my parents’
journey to Australia and their achievements. Living in farmhouses in their
village to share houses in Brunswick not knowing a word of English. They worked
in hard labour by learning through body language – trial and error. Like many
other immigrants my parents initial plan was to work in factories for a few
years, earn money and return to Turkey. Life became easier and they began to
build a life here, they started living the “Australian dream”. They were
supporting their families in Turkey, providing for our family, paying mortgage
and visiting their families in Turkey whenever they had the chance. Now that
they have retired, their ultimate happiness is spending time with their
grandkids. For them, this is an achievement.
For your Honours project at La Trobe University you held your
assessment exhibition during Mildura Palimpsest #9 in your parents Kebab shop
(which I miss). Can you tell us a little about this work?
During my Honours year, my research was based
on Nicholas Bourriaud’s Relational
Aesthetics. An art movement which emerged in Europe and America in the 1990s.
It generally observes artists who produce work about social interactivity that
relates to a particular space. In this case, holding a participatory event during
the Mildura Palimpsest added to the success of cross-cultural interactions in
the kebab shop where my family was also present. This work explored the notions
of cross-cultural interaction that mainly took place in the store by setting up
security cameras and recording the act of intervening with the guests and
customers alike. The participants were asked to meet at the back lane behind
the shop and welcomed in to interact with one another and eat food that was
made by my family.
A part of the work also explored independence
and ephemerality. The use of a neon sign that read in Turkish text istiklal meaning independence was a
representation of mine and my parent’s identity in Australia. The
de-contextualised elements in my photos and installations acted as a metaphor
for lived experience- decomposition, deterioration and the remnant becoming a
symbol of my parents’ life in Australia.
How were these videos made? Was it a casual approach
or did you have to bribe your parents and family?
HAHA! No, I didn’t have to bribe anyone. It
was a very casual approach. My parents were more than excited; as long as they
can be helpful, they were up for anything. I always had my crappy little camera
in my hand, if I knew my dad was going to trim the garden, I was there ready to
record. Prayer time meant that mum would be wearing her hand-knitted booties, a
hijab and she –as always – would be facing towards the direction of Mecca, and
I was there ready to record. Where as the video of myself is not as detailed as
my parent’s videos, but a reflection of myself as an individual rooted in my
Turkish family and our traditions.
And, importantly, did they act and interact differently
when the camera was on?
No, they were themselves throughout the
recordings. Only a few times they suggested to tidy or clean the table or
change into other clothes but I always insisted everything is natural and as it
is. At times when they wanted to do something while I was recording, they would
look at me first and just nod because they didn’t know if they should do it or
not, which made me laugh. It took a while for them to understand that things
don’t have to be proper or pretty to be recorded. Only natural and everyday
life that best conveys my ideas.
How do you and your parents feel about
showing such intimate moments in the public realm? Is it embarrassing? Or are
you perhaps proud? Or is it just all in the name of ‘art’ (or some such thing)?
The name of the work is Hoshgeldenez, which means welcome in Turkish and explains my ideas
well. When I told my mum about the title, she was impressed and she warmly said
“it’s like we’re opening our doors and home to everyone”. No, there isn’t a
reason to feel embarrassed at all. It’s all in the name of ‘art’ because I am
proud of my parents and our family. My parents always support my ideas and
enjoy being a part of my works.
Unfortunately, recent terrorist activity and
the heartless and utterly embarrassing “Islamic State” (which I refuse to refer
to them as) makes the work more complex than I originally intended. I want to take
any opportunity to create something that can make a difference and influence
people’s thoughts. The media is mostly biased, misleading, and controlled. If I
can make the slightest change with my video work, I will try to show people the
opposite of what they have been exposed to. My parents everyday goings on
represent this well – I think.
How does this work relate to performance art?
And, also, documentation of such work that has become so important since the
1970s and conceptual art? In many ways this work could be considered research –
but it is the work!
Performance art takes the form of live –
often prescribed – action, whereas in my videos I am documenting routine,
lifestyle, no scripts, no acting. Just raw life.
Performance art usually consists of 4
elements: time, space, the performers body, and a relationship between audience
and performer. I am the documenter, my parents and I are the performers, or the
whole three videos are a portrait of myself and a reflection of our home. These elements make it too hard to distinguish
between performances and documentation.
Yes, I agree, it could also be considered
research. As I record more videos, I see things my naked eye couldn’t see and
ideas start stemming out of these videos. I’ve began to pay a lot of attention
to decorative elements on my parents clothing. For example, the colourful
crochets around the edges of my mum’s hijab. An also, the transformation of the
backyard is evidence that my dads retirement has caused a lot of boredom – it
is evolving and constantly engages me.
You have worked with installation,
performance, neon, food (BTW I still haven’t drank the Grappa you gave me),
found objects, etc. And you are now doing your Masters – what’s next? What are
you making or planning to work on and does it once again research family and your
Turkish roots?
I am still planning to work with my Turkish
roots. Right now I am in the process of recording language barriers, so I will
be exploring the use of language, text and cross-cultural activities through my
art and research.
What artists are inspiring you to make new
work?
Adel Abidin has always been the most
inspiring artist. His practice consist of installations, video and photography
with themes usually revolving around war, terror and cultural identity.
Abidin’s concept may not be relevant to my entire production, but the most
striking aspect in his documentation of domesticity and raw life within his
parents natural surroundings is very inspirational.
As with all Wallflowerian interviews, I
wonder what is the soundtrack for this project (beyond the great ambient sound
in the work) that you would suggest may enhance the experience for viewers (not
Metallica)?
The videos have a combination of sounds, from
cars speeding past our home, Dad’s 30-year-old records, Mum’s cooking, the air-conditioning
and Mojo’s (pet Pug) panting and snorting. The sounds all overlap each
other to represent the busyness at home so this could be a chance for the
viewers to use their selective hearing skills. Don’t worry, there is a minimal
amount of Metallica!
