In the center of a stone plinth is a deflated figure. As if a balloon with all the air let out of it, the gray, human-sized shape, its arms and legs outstretched, sinks into its background as if relaxing into the surroundings.
The polyester cast artwork (The Distance Between Me And Everything Else, 2017, by Turkish artist Mehtap Baydu) is part of the exhibition “Healing Ruins” at the Çinili Hamam, a 16th-century bathhouse located in the Unesco-protected Zeyrek neighborhood in central Istanbul. The hamam, designed by the renowned Ottoman architect Mimar Sinan, has been undergoing renovations for the last 13 years, far longer than originally planned due to the wealth of archeological findings that were discovered during its completion.
Ahead of its official reopening as a bathhouse next year, the stunning, lovingly restored building is hosting a contemporary art exhibition featuring works by 22 international and Turkish artists who consider the possibilities of transformation and renewal, and the healing potential of unearthing history. Split into four main chambers (men’s and women’s sections of the hamam each have a hot and cold room), the architectural project has restored many of the traditional Ottoman architectural details, such as the star-shaped holes that stud its semi-domed ceiling. The show will run through November 5th.
Another standout feature of the Çinili bath house is its blue geometrically patterned tiles, which also characterize Sinan’s other projects in Istanbul, such as the spectacular Süleymaniye Mosque. These tiles are the basis of Elif Uras’s Cosplay (2023), which paints a charming narrative onto five of them, inspired by an 18th-century account of visiting the women’s section of a Turkish bath by the English poet and writer Lady Mary Wortley Montagu. The curator, Anlam de Coster, also wanted the exhibition’s works to underscore the hamam’s historical role as a social space, which Montagu’s experience makes clear. In particular, de Coster explained in a walkthrough of the exhibition, the hamam was a place for women to gather in public in the Ottoman Empire.
As the exhibition’s title suggests, many of the artworks consider the way that historical remnants can help to restore both individuals and societies. For example, Ahmet Doğu İpek’s newly commissioned Conserved (Repair series) (2023) is a minimal watercolor depicting a building’s corner gently emerging from layers of undulating natural stone. The tension between the manmade and natural elements of the work seems to question which is the “finished” version.
Bodies, and the hamam’s history of containing so many of them, is another pertinent theme, as highlighted by Candeğer Furtun’s Applause (2010), in which a crowd of sculpted ceramic hands, apparently mid-clap, fill a small bathing room.
Despite the renovations, the Çinili Hamam presented many logistical challenges as an exhibition space. Nothing could be hung from the ceiling or walls, and doorways in the building only measure roughly 26 inches across. Added to those obstacles was the historical weight of the exhibition space, which the artists were tasked with addressing in their works. Many of the sculptural works included have an impressive, monumental impact that engages with the space, such as Francesco Albano’s V November (2023), a new commission for the show. The work consists of an eerie iron bed framecovered in paraffin wax that appears to have spikes throughout.
Meanwhile, Marion Verboom’s three brass totems are stacked with geometrical patterns similar to those found in the hamam’s architecture; and one has a crossed pair of human legs at its base. This focus on the body in repose is echoed in the work of Zoë Paul, whose specially commissioned work Conversational legs (2023) presents a curtain of individually sculpted beads portraying a pair of relaxed pale gray legs at the entrance of the show.
Themes of historical and social renewal are particularly pertinent to Turkey’s art scene in this current cultural moment. “There was a peak in the 2010s,” said de Coster, speaking about the country’s aspirations in the international art world. She added that since then, “because of political, financial, and other reasons, the Turkish contemporary [art] scene has been quite insular.” Noting the recent reopening of the city’s major art museum, Istanbul Modern, in a brand new Renzo Piano-designed building, along with a swathe of new commercial galleries, de Coster sees this moment as a hopeful time for Istanbul’s art community.
Indeed, she explained, hope was also found in the history of the hamam itself: Farsi poetry including odes to male beauty were found on the walls in the men’s area of the bathhouse. “It was quite fascinating that the Ottoman society accepted different forms of diversity,” she said. These poems in particular inspired the sound commission by Berlin-based artist and musician Basak Günak, which echoes through two of the chambers. Gesturing to these ideas of the past, de Coster suggested, allows viewers to “connect the dots.”
At the same time as the Çinili Hamam’s show, Istanbul gallery Anna Laudel opened “Glorious Century,” an exhibition of Sarp Kerem Yavuz’s photography that took direct inspiration from the steamed-up, sweaty social spaces of the Turkish bathhouse. In his series of photographs “WET_DREAMS,” the artist used an A.I. model trained on his own photographs along with those of Peter Hujar, Robert Mapplethorpe, and others to generate surreal, imagined photographs of male encounters in Turkish bathhouses.
“Growing up gay in Turkey, which I was cognizant of at a very early age, I wanted to figure out if there was even room for me,” said the artist at the opening. “I ended up spending a lot of time exploring different hamams and trying to see if there was a way where I could use that architectural space to construct a queer narrative that I knew existed, but I still couldn’t access…the architecture itself pushes you to dream.”
from Artsy News https://ift.tt/Khzq30T
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