A Topography of Memory (Burak Çevik, 2019) (Patreon)

The relative clarity of the image above is a bit deceptive. If you actually watch Burak Çevik's new medium-length video piece, one of the main things you'll observe is a visual quality that is significantly degraded compared to what we are accustomed to in most professional art productions. That's because Topography is a half-hour compilation of closed-circuit footage from various wide-angle security cameras stationed throughout the greater Istanbul area. The authorities, as you can see above, cover the waterfront. They are also monitoring the public squares, the highways, the areas around the airport, the park perimeters, and other such "soft targets." 

What you find over the course of Topography is that, aside from a taxi here or a delivery truck there, Istanbul is rather quiet and underpopulated on this particular night. In the last shot, we see a jogger on the edge of the park, and his presence is rather jarring, which in itself is very strange. Where is everybody? 

The soundtrack gives us a few hints. We hear a family -- mother, father, and son -- all leaving the house and preparing to vote in the 2015 general election. While discussing logistics, like where the polling place is located and where they will find parking, the family also talks about political matters. In particular, the son and mother disagree about who to vote for. The son supports the more left-leaning HDP, while his mother is planning to vote for the center-left CHP. (The crux of their disagreement pertains to Kurdish nationalism and separatist violence, and whether the leftist parties have implicitly endorsed such tactics.)

Of course, the structuring absence of this conversation is Recep Tayyip Erdogan and his conservative-Islamist AK Parti, who have been consolidating power and reversing Turkey's tradition of Kemalist secularism for well over a decade. No members of the family plan to vote for the AK Parti and, given that we know that the 2015 election only strengthened Erdogan's autocratic power, there is a certain futility in their efforts that is emphasized by the empty streets. 

But then, Topography of Memory is actually a bit slier and more disturbing in its presentation of recent history. There is a disphasure in Çevik's presentation of sound and image: while the audio is from the day of the election, the images are from the evening of the day after, when Erdogan's victory has been sealed. What does Istanbul look like? There are no celebrations, to be sure. But more significantly, there is virtually no public existence, no sense of the freedom of movement. All of the city is "under his eye."