Tuzla Cemetery overlooks Tuzla Shipyards. Now start walking down the cemetery slope. On your left is the military zone. Green and free of humans. Then all of a sudden you see nothing but concrete blocks of flats. The workers leave their homes around seven in the morning to work "outside", in the shipyards, in leather and side industries. Among the family flats you can also find bachelor apartments filled with beds and longing for the family. Keep walking down the slope: factories manufacturing small ship parts, the unceasing roar from the ?çmeler Köprüsü on the E5 freeway, the never empty labor pick-up strip at the crossroads, the sound of the local express train. Walk pass the ?çmeler stop, and here is Ayd'nl' Bay packed with almost all of Turkey's shipyards. The workers who go through forty eight different doors everyday, hundred men high cranes, steel sheets, the speed and sweat which merge them into one. The time unit in the shipyards is the fleeting instant a cigarette bud is dropped on the floor, the split second between making a living and death between hope and pain, their and ours. Tuzla Cemetery overlooks Tuzla Shipyards.
Turkey
16 Archival description results for Turkey
Since 1989 multinational mining companies have been coming to Turkey in order to mine gold with the cyanide leaching process. Eurogold, an Australian and Canadian joint venture is one of them. Their mine is situated in Bergama. The people living in Bergama and the 17 villages in the surroundings started to resist the project. The people won all the instances of their legal struggle. However, the mine still operates. This documentary followed their struggle since 1996.
UntitledTHE FILM WHICH IS WRITTEN AND DIRECTED BY HAKAN MET?N MERCAN WHO IS STILL A PRISONER, IS SHOOTED IN REAL LIVING SPACES WITH PROFESSIONAL ACTORS, REAL GUARDIANS AND REAL PRISONERS. FILMS SUBJECT IS THAT MERCAN HAS CONFRONTATIONS ABOUT HIS LIFE. HE COULDN'T TELL THAT HE IS A PRISONER TO HIS SON AND HE COULDN'T ABLE TO ATTEND HIS FATHERS FUNERAL. HIS MISTAKES TELL US THAT WE MUSN'T POSTPONE OUR LOVES.
In this documentary, director Ethem Ozguven records the gradually disappearing culture of fishermen in small Turkish towns and villages on the Mediterranean coast. He only occasionally lets local fisherman talk to his disinterested camera, as they nostalgically recall the days when fishing could maintain an entire family without any problems. In recent years, however, they can barely scrape by due to various directives limiting fishing an ever-declining fish stocks. The film also draws attention to the fact that it is not just fish that are disappearing from these places, but the previously numerous Greek community as well.
UntitledCan Baz is a film made from the perspective of a member of Alevi Kirmanc in East Anatolia, whose religious philosophy is expressed in the statement: What you seek, seek not in Mecca, not in Kaaba and not in Jerusalem, seek rather in yourself. The effects of the last massive annihilative attack, which began in 1994, can be refound in the example of Murat and Ahmet Öztürk, two brothers living in exile and addicted to drugs in Istanbul-Beyoglu. The film portrays their life with their band, Siya Siyabend; their friend Hasan Isik, an inhalant-sniffing street kid; and their pursuit of freedom by the wrong means.
Untitled“I, Soldier” is the first part of Köken Ergun's video series in which he deals with the state-controlled ceremonies for the national days of the Turkish Republic. The nationalistic attributes attached to these largescale ceremonies are underlined in a non-descriptive and almost voyeuristic point of view. “I, Soldier” was shot at the National Day for Youth and Sports, the day that marks the start of the independence war of the Turkish republic under the leadership of Mustafa Kemal Atatürk against the Allied Forces back in 1919.
Untitled“With my passing travels, Istanbul remains enigmatic and without secret, far from prevailing visibilities.” (M.J. Mondzain) Everything is mixed, everything is there – not in organised, protected, preserved strata, but in accumulations, wearing, erasing, emptiness and chaos. A wild garden, here; the cycle of life and death; nothing is destroyed, everything is alive, wearing out, continuing. The clock: the Bosphorus. This city is way, the passing of. Here as nowhere else I perceive something of infinity, of the unceasing mixing of times, constant flux, appearing and disappearing; the presence of other times at the edge of the visible...
UntitledWith modern tourism, where is that “lake”, called the Mediterranean?
Is staying home enough to stay alive? In Remember the March, Güliz Sağlam documents the days when women took tothe streets despite the pandemic to protest male violence. First, the camera watches the empty streets from a window. Sağlam narrates excerptsfrom Purple Roof Women’s Shelter Foundation’s reports on violence against women during the pandemic period, specifically cases that expose how Law No.6284 is not put into practice. And then, as women go out to the streets, the camera becomes part of the crowd, reminding us of the power in solidarity in hopeless times.
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