This series examines the gymnastics of power between men, coalescing and clashing in waves. I wanted to test how far aging bodies can push their physical boundaries when passion becomes the motivating factor.
The inspiration came from two avenues; Parliament and Roman statues. I was always intrigued by Parliament meetings broadcasted on live television; not so much for the topics discussed but for the people-watching of each individual member. Some were theatrical with their presentation in white wigs, others in their stuffy business suits yelling over each other. Whenever the room got heated, it would be dissected on the news and we would watch it over and over again like a tragicomedy. Sometimes these men would jump over the podium or over desks to physically confront their peers.
I bet if you asked any of them a day prior to lift another man they would tell you they couldn’t; like my dad’s friends they’d all complain of their backpain; but put in a position where they are humiliated infront of their constituents on live television they transform into street fighters. Then other Parlia ment members from each side would try to split them up and they would end up get involved in the fight and utter chaos would ensure, converting the room into a fight pit. Played back in slow motion these men were so poetically choreographed that they reminded me of Roman statues; men displayed frozen in action with their fists of fury for eternity. In that moment they are no longer members of parliaments but individuals whose pride and ego gives them a strength beyond their natural abilities. They become “Dayı” or Uncle to me, Istanbul, June, 2021.
The inspiration came from two avenues; Parliament and Roman statues. I was always intrigued by Parliament meetings broadcasted on live television; not so much for the topics discussed but for the people-watching of each individual member. Some were theatrical with their presentation in white wigs, others in their stuffy business suits yelling over each other. Whenever the room got heated, it would be dissected on the news and we would watch it over and over again like a tragicomedy. Sometimes these men would jump over the podium or over desks to physically confront their peers.
I bet if you asked any of them a day prior to lift another man they would tell you they couldn’t; like my dad’s friends they’d all complain of their backpain; but put in a position where they are humiliated infront of their constituents on live television they transform into street fighters. Then other Parlia ment members from each side would try to split them up and they would end up get involved in the fight and utter chaos would ensure, converting the room into a fight pit. Played back in slow motion these men were so poetically choreographed that they reminded me of Roman statues; men displayed frozen in action with their fists of fury for eternity. In that moment they are no longer members of parliaments but individuals whose pride and ego gives them a strength beyond their natural abilities. They become “Dayı” or Uncle to me, Istanbul, June, 2021.
