– “Huzun is my name” Huzun is one of those untranslatable words, a Turkish word used by the writer Orhan Pamuk to describe Istanbul’s melancholy. It’s a way of looking at life, a communal emotion, a black mood shared by millions. It’s a sense of longing, perhaps for something we are not exactly sure of. In Sufi philosophy, Huzun is a spiritual aguish from the distance felt between oneself and god. For me, Huzun is a Turkish woman.
– “A scent of mountain ash” My long stays in the Tatra mountains – the traditions and wildlife – meant a lot to me. A Holga, used without proper technique is just plastic. It requires intention and purpose. Fleeting moments, multiple exposures fuse into childhood memories. Happy, sad, but always compelling. They come, they go, or seep in for ever. Fragrant journeys. Often I am reminded of these smells in dreams. I longed for them in Paris. Sometimes they converge like photographic exposure… into the scent of mountain ash.
