ARA GÜLER -- 3

PHOTOJOURNALIST

Though I have seen him quoted as saying he's not a photojournalist or artist -- he's an historian with a camera -- Ara Guler is arguably the greatest photojournalist of the 20th century.

And he continue to document his beloved Istanbul, well into the 21st century, well into his 80s.

When I found out there's a book on him, I couldn't want to order it.

Amazon screwed up the first delivery. Hoping the second order arrives before the weekend.

Here's a mini blurb on the book:

Photojournalist, a book by Nezih Tavlas, provides a compelling and in-depth look into the life of Ara Guler who is regarded as one of the most accomplished documentary photographers of the 20th century and the pioneer of photojournalism in Turkey.

http://photojournalistaraguler.com/

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/

ARA GÜLER

THE EYE OF ISTANBUL

As a photographer, I don't know when I first discovered the black and white images of Turkish photographer Ara Guler.

His mastery of light haunted me, in a good way, from the first time I looked at his images of Old Istanbul, often in the old Armenian neighborhoods now long lost to development.

My first time in Istanbul, I sought out galleries with his images and came how with a few modern books of his work.

On my very recent trip, I bought so much of his work that I knew it wouldn't fit in the suitcase.

So I went to a shipping agent and spent about 300 Turkish Lira to ship his stuff home.

After that, I vowed to put the buying on hold for my last few days in the city.

Then I went to explore a hotel's wheelchair access, near Taksim Square.

As headed toward Taksim Gezi Park, beyond the square, I noticed a carnival of sorts set up.

As is common for Ramazan in Turkey, most public squares set up large areas for dinners, shows and activities for the sundown breaking of the long day's fast.

A paved area next to Gezi had a carnival of crafts, food and antiques set up.

Try as I might, I was drawn to a row of book sellers.

One had tons of photography books.

Were I a wealthy man, I would have bought out the whole tent and sent it home in trunks.

As I am not, I looked for a special Guler book.

One of trams caught my attention.

It was especially poignant, as the nostalgic tram that goes from Taksim to Tunel along Istiklal Caddesi had been ripped out and taken away since my last visit.

Orhan Pamuk often writes of the Tramway through old Pera.

I settled on the book, haggled...paid way less than the opening price but probably more than I should have.

Worse yet, it is a hard back. Meaning my book bag, already stuffed with a sweater and thousands of dollars worth of high end Nikon lenses, would feel like an army back pack.

But hours later, near sundown, my purchase would pay off.

Istanbul Trams, trough Ara Güler's Eyes, is the translated title of the book of photography

link to great documentary about Guler