ARA GÜLER - 2

I DON'T HAVE HEROES, BUT I MET AN IDOL

Yesterday's post introduced the reader to Ara Guler, the 88-year-old Turkish Armenian photographer belovedly known as the Eye of Istanbul.

His understanding of humanity, captured in black and white film -- as well so some color and moving images -- is unmatched.

He is, without question, the greatest living photographer on earth.

Burdened with a heavy, but well worth it hardback edition of his photos of trams, I was heading down Istlikal Caddesi for another night of roaming the backstreets of Beyoğlu.

I do my own photography -- digital, color, never improved with PhotoShop -- of Istanbul's constantly changing streets.

I was near Galatasaray, when I decided to stop into a cafe to get some tea, or perhaps limonata, for the privilege of using a nice clean restroom before heading out for that golden light.

I sat down, ordered and next to me, was an octogenarian, bald, bearded man who looked a lot like an older version of the legendary historian with a camera who I idolize.

Knowing Guler had opened Time-Life's branch in Turkey in the late 50s, I figured he must know some English.

My phrasebook Turkish is just not adequate.

So I took a sip of Çay, took out the fine bound book I'd purchased hours earlier, and told Guler that I thought he was an artist.

A bit hearing impaired, he leaned forward to ask me to speak up.

Thankfully, he (1) was actually Guler and not a look alike, (2) does speak English and (3) didn't run me off for imposing on him.

I scooted over to the table -- clearly, he was having a bottled water and unwinding from a day in his nearby studio before meeting friends -- and chatted a bit.

He asked me what I thought of Istanbul.

I said it is one of my favorite cities on earth, but I feel it is getting too modern too rapidly.

He observed that it has to find room for 20 million people.

I agreed, but I said not at the expense of an old neighborhood getting sacked in return for high rise tomb stones.

He nodded.

I told him no artist in any medium captures and understands humanity better than him.

He appreciated it.

I handed over my book.

He studied each image.

Many looked to be about a half century old.

He told the story of some of them.

His aged hands glided over the pages, as if he was still looking for some imperfection, some magical angle of light, some way of doing even more brilliant story telling with his still images.

Two men arrived. Much younger than him, but not college age.  Contemporaries? Protegees?, or simply neighbors or friends?

I didn't want to over impose. We'd chatted quite a bit about light -- how a photographer's eye for it is 100 times more important than any fancy camera body, zoom lens, filter, etc.

We also talked about humanity. How humanely portraying people in pictures is important on dozens of levels.

From a pure artistic standpoint, introducing humanity into pictures is one thousand times more useful than the most advanced photo editing software -- we agreed.

Getting ready to pay for me tea and limonata -- I ordered both -- and let the great photojournalist get on with his life, I bashfully asked him if he would sign the book that I had purchased at a book fair part of a Ramazan carnival earlier.

His told me he know I wasn't some Ebay profiteer, pretending to befriend him so I could up the value of a book with the autograph of a famous person.

He lovingly inscribed the book.

Till the end of the trip, on the flight and on the taxi ride home, I clutched the signed Guler book like it was more important than my passport.

Classic Ara Guler photo of trams in Beyoğlu, 1960 -- four years before I was born.

http://photojournalistaraguler.com/

UNBROKEN

BY HEIDI JOHNSON-WRIGHT

Dear America:

It’s been nearly a quarter century since the Americans with Disabilities Act was passed. Many of you may think folks with disabilities are equal now. That perhaps we should just shut up already and move on. 

I understand that reaction. People with disabilities haven’t told their story. We’ve let others – usually clueless, often cruel -- tell it for us.

A common but inaccurate story is told by the business owner who resents the ADA. He thinks he’s done everything for those gimps, even put in a ramp. Why can’t they just be grateful, even if the ramp is dangerously steep? The local news airs a story of the struggling business owner allegedly on the verge of bankruptcy, because those darn gimps insist his ramp isn’t up to snuff.  

But the story fails to explain that the ADA is not a burdensome building code but a civil rights law. It fails to point out that its requirements are usually less expensive to meet than already existing structural, electrical and plumbing codes. The story doesn’t say ramps are involved so people with disabilities can get into the building like everyone else. The story doesn’t clarify that refusing to remove physical barriers is the same as denying basic civil rights by posting a sign saying “Whites Only” or “Men Only” or “Christians Only.”

There are other stories told about people with disabilities rather than stories told by them. Like when the media made Christopher Reeve the de facto spokesperson for every disabled person on the planet. 

I have no ill feelings toward Reeve. But Reeve expressed a very different mindset than the majority of folks with disabilities. He lived many years without a disability. After his injury, he was focused on curing disability rather than making a meaningful life with it.

Fueled by the national media, Reeve’s message aligned with the medieval way of thinking: a disabled person is a broken person. And the only way to deal with someone who’s broken is to fix him. There are normal people and there are disabled people. The normal are whole and valuable, and the disabled are broken and worthless. 

The media’s focus on Reeve and his obsession with a cure took away the focus on everyday folks living with disabilities. The message was that every red cent should be used to find a cure. Why direct resources to fund affordable, accessible housing so 30-year olds in nursing homes can have full lives in the community with in-home attendant care? The lives of the broken hold no value until they are fixed.

Only a fraction of news stories focus on the modest investments in the built environment and simple reapportionment of government funding that would truly improve the quality of life for millions of disabled folks. The majority of media coverage reinforces vile stereotypes of the pathetic, pitiable and broken.

If news outlets repeated reprehensible stereotypes of African Americans, Jewish Americans and Hispanic Americans, the public would be justifiably outraged. But pigeonholing Disabled Americans as pathetic is still acceptable.

So I implore disabled men and women to tell their stories. To assert their civil rights to employment and transportation and goods and services. To claim the right to a life, just like anyone else.

Tell your story now, or someone else will tell it for you. 

http://earthboundtomboy.blogspot.com/2015/07/unbroken.html