EBRU ÖZSEĆEN
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EBRU ÖZSEĆEN
Once there was a girl I am afraid of printed matter not because it formalizes rules of its own, but because I tend to believe everything I read. If you ask me what I think about this work today - I am thinking of how young I was, I still remember how I drove my car in the middle of nowhere in Ankara in order to find the “coffee cups with envelopes” as props. The coffee cups in the photograph are a type, which is called “coffee cups with envelopes”. The chrome-plated metal covering on the outside surrounds the fragile white porcelain cup and conjures up a chastity belt. I remember how I borrowed the silver tray of my uncle´s wife, and asked my very own uncle for the legal papers to become a prostitute, without blushing. Probably, he knew what I was up to and luckily never told my father about it. He supported my research on the subject and as a high official in public administration he supplied me with the document needed. In the photo studio, when I wanted to produce the picture, I looked for a model bride. Everybody there said, like, “come on, you can do it yourself. Your black pullover will work out fine with the silver in contrast.” That is how I ended up posing myself, holding the tray. Probably, they were right, I was the most perfect model for the job in the entire territory of the university. Later I was advised to print this picture at least as an edition of eight and sell them for $ 800 each. I answered spontaneously “How is it possible? This kind of work can be only printed once, but maybe the paper behind could be multiplied, with the actual opening date printed on it”. Endless ceremonies at my grandfather´s home for my two beautiful aunts who ended up marrying at a late age. And all the coffee offering rituals when the boys´ parents arrived to sit in my grand parents´ salon. And when we lost my very dear grandfather the succession of ceremonies was transferred to our family living room with my dad acting as the senior family representative in order to see the candidate, or in other words: to show my aunts to them. For every ceremony my mum would buy new dresses for “bonne chance” for us kids. Or we escorted our aunts as a security chain. I remember ending up at pubs with them, in full daylight. Some people in town thought me and my brother were actually their children. And Friday nights always turned into a mix of embarrassment, fun, - and most of the time, very visual events, I must say - with the appearances of candidate grooms. Everything was about showing. Ebru Özseçen July 2003 |