A rock and a soft place.

January.

2014-02-03T15:56:00.002+02:00

Just a few from our January.........

Visit the Facebook page, the Tumblr page, the Flickr page or the Twitter page of this blog

More of the same please....

2014-01-02T11:18:00.001+02:00

Please let 2014 contain more of this sort of thing (and the courage to just enjoy it). Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Visit the Facebook page, the Tumblr page, the Flickr page or the Twitter page of this blog

Outstanding.

2013-12-06T11:14:00.001+02:00

There have been many outstanding moments over the past few weeks: a Monday morning in the park with Neve, a trip to Santal Power Station that included ice-cream AND lollipops, a walk on Galata Bridge at dusk, watching Anton write all our names for the first time, the pleasure of recording Matti's beauty while he rested on Ville, the joy of having a non-stop dancer in the house, and a weekend in Konya. In Konya, while Ville was at a conference, Anton led Neve and I around the city with his map held proudly in front of him. We visited Rumi's grave and a museum that glowed with beautiful Selçuk tiles, walked through the village of Sille, and ate dinner in a revolving restaurant on the 40th floor looking down over a blue Konya. But my favourite moment of all was watching the glow on the little ones faces as they watched Charlie and Lola with Ville's arms around them.

Visit the Facebook page, the Tumblr page, the Flickr page or the Twitter page of this blog

Street.

2013-11-15T20:47:00.001+02:00

When I was staying in Jerusalem, in my late teens, I once walked out of the Central Bus Station onto a scene that made my fingers move spontaneously towards my camera. A man with only stumps where his legs should have been rested against a wall, while the wooden replacements stood redundant beside him. The man and the legs were of equal height and the scene had the makings of a great picture. Whoever I was with at the time (I can't remember whether it was Gary the photographer, Michael, now a Rabbi, or the bloke I was hanging out with because he told me he lived in Bath's Royal Crescent) noticed the twitch towards my camera and simply said "Don't". Years later I am still grateful for this small exchange. To my teenage self, poverty, disease and madness had a kind of glamour, and I am glad that one of those lovely men sowed the seed of questioning whether I wanted to photograph people who were on their knees (or stumps).

Last summer, while at Fotografiska in Stockholm to see an awe-inspiring exhibition of portraits by legendary photographer Helmut Newton, we wandered through Håkan Elofsson's "Bombay Boulevard". In a short essay on the wall, before you enter into corridors of prints hung on hessian, Håkan writes of a moment of realisation in a taxi, after which he wondered whether making 'art' of people in utter poverty was really the right thing to do. He did it anyway. Looking at the pictures is completely unsettling, anger seethes from his subjects. They just want him to go away. Of course there is always a place for documentary photography. I especially love the kind that people do about themselves and their own groups. But making a name by creating clever compositions of people's shame is just not nice.

I am still waking up every morning thrilled to live where we do. The energy of all those that come to have fun here, to enjoy a precious day off, pours in through our windows. We have the privilege of living in one of the most popular spots in a vibrant city, and the context for our lives is these streets. I am captivated by the woman who is caught in a stream of bubbles on Istiklal Street. I am utterly moved by the woman, a little further along, who stands for hours selling tissues when she should have had her legs raised on a stool, blanket over her knees, for at least a decade by now. The picture of the boy, probably a year older than Matti, sat on Galata Bridge with his pile of tissues beside him, while all life rushes by, is such an uncomfortable image for me. In the distance, next to the Tower, is our home, where our children are never cold or hungry, and everything is done to make sure their choices will be vast. I can see that one of the things I need to teach my children is not to stop noticing these injustices but to click the shutter deep inside and store, to make these images seeds.

So now that I am being sucked into street photography how do I make it sit right with me? Relative to many of my neighbours I am a queen in her castle. Is it right that I should immortalise their challenges? If I was the subject of a photographer on the street it would be all too easy to capture me wind in my face, carrying too many bags, shouting at Anton and Neve as they pull in opposite directions. I wouldn't appreciate it much. But, a moment later, both kids in my arms, shopping on the floor, in a moment of remembering to slow down and draw them in, I wouldn't mind so much at all. I think if I photograph only what I find beautiful, what I can respect, what moves me (precisely the conditions I would like to be photographed under), this journey can begin. I am so lucky to live in this pot of gold of humanity.

Visit the Facebook page, the Tumblr page, the Flickr page or the Twitter page of this blog

Behind the Wall.

2013-10-28T17:09:00.001+02:00

In the last couple of weeks I have finally got inside some of the buildings I have wondered about since moving to Galata. The day after Hellen, Oskar and Pepi left, and feeling a little homesick, I was dawdling with Neve a few minutes from home and peered over a wall to see a little piece of England: a Victorian Church in a leafy garden. There was a bell to ring that didn't get answered, but, after a week of trying, Ville and I walked past to see the gates open. The smell inside the Crimean Memorial Church (designed by George Edmund Street) took me right back to visiting countryside churches on walks with my Dad. A group was preparing to give a concert that evening, so Neve ran around on Victorian tiles covered in Turkish carpets to the sound of the ney. Ville and I also spent a lovely Saturday walking around Karaköy on one of Monica's marvellous tours. I was able to explore the synagogue just around the corner from us, and the Greek school five minutes in the other direction, that was filled with art for the recent Biennial.

I now often find that it is much easier to capture what touches me through photography, than trying to find the words. Like the picture of Neve spreading her arms ready to envelope a moody Anton. Their irritation with each other is thankfully not (quite) as big as their mutual adoration! Or the picture of the man who sits at the Tophane end of our street, perched like a pixie, chain-smoking. I don't know anything about him, wouldn't have any idea how to describe him, but here he is. Everything I know about him is in this picture. So little but quite a lot. Like the picture of Ruskin sat alone waiting for Matti's basketball practice to begin. I love the chance to catch him unobserved, so much his own person. And it's such a pleasure to catch the sun lighting the edges of the little rabble of humanity that I am so proud to call my family. Through photographs I can show how entranced I am by Istanbul in it's melancholy winter coat of rust reds and slate greys, and what a pleasure it is to see my little clan of characters moving through this dramatic backdrop.

Thank you so very much for all the beautiful comments after my last post. It is incredibly strengthening to feel this solidarity. I am surrounded by people of immense generosity, and it makes me very happy indeed. I am determined that I will meet you all face to face one day to thank you for your support on this journey.

Visit the Facebook page, the Tumblr page, the Flickr page or the Twitter page of this blog

Battle Scars.

2013-10-15T12:16:00.000+03:00

This week, while Ville was in South Africa (to introduce Turkish Ministry of Justice officials and law faculty deans to new methods of access to justice, and to Clinical Legal Education), my sister Hellen and two of her four boys came to stay. Hellen living in the UK, and me in Istanbul, I don't get to see her (or any of my other 7 siblings) half as much as I would like.

I loved getting the chance to document Hellen's loveliness this week. I love the texture of her skin as she gets older and the depth of her personality. I love that her beauty is not frivolous but forged through 37 years of trying to do right by herself and others. Around the time I first arrived in Istanbul Hellen had to give birth to a baby whose heart had already stopped beating. A couple of weeks later she sent me a picture of her holding her lifeless daughter in her arms. It is an amazing example of the power of photographs. Hellen, on what I am sure remains the worst day of her life, dared to look at her daughter and document her own pain. With that photograph she declared that her daughter was a real character in her story, and that her death would not be left unspoken.

I was thinking about that picture a lot this week after my friend Jo posted a self-portrait of her new haircut in preparation for her baby daughter's funeral. The power of the picture was immense. A marker on the journey to recovery from such devastating loss. I felt such pride in her for facing the camera. A few days later she carried her daughter's coffin into the church. A true hero of her own story. And a beautiful one at that.

When editing pictures it is too easy to remove the depth that been hard won through thousands of tiny victories. You can slide away definition in a stroke. Every day, looking at photographs, I see teenagers and children whose documenters have chosen to given them skin so flawless it has ceased to exist. Girls on the cusp of womanhood have all the character removed from their skin, and then their eyes sharpened and saturated. My own skin is a messy patchwork thanks to 'teenage' acne that lasted well past my first grey hairs, and heavy brown pigmentation that appears with every pregnancy and period of stress, and in between. It's hard to face the camera but I am equally determined not to edit my life away. While we were sharing a glorious moment, eating breakfast over-looking the Bosphorus, Hellen said that we are still beautiful but the range has become much greater: catch us in harsh light on a bad day and we can be ugly. I like this idea of having greater range, despite it being hard to see in the mirror.

Early on Sunday morning Ville arrived home full of tales of incredible heroes. We all felt overwhelmed by his experiences. While he slept off a night spent flying I dressed Neve in a Zulu necklace, fresh from Africa, and Hellen and I took the kids to dance to street musicians on Istiklal Street. Neve bears battle scars from a week in which she learnt to hold her own against her same-age cousin, and there is no way I am editing them away.

Visit the Facebook page, the Tumblr page, the Flickr page or the Twitter page of this blog

Flowers for Alma.

2013-10-03T23:25:00.002+03:00

Tomorrow my friends will have to get through the funeral of their beloved daughter Alma, who lived for two precious weeks. They would have made her life unfold like a path of petals, whatever challenges she faced. I wanted to give her these little pink shoes because they are as soft as shoes can be. I want to give flowers to Alma and strength to her Mum and Dad.

Visit the Facebook page, the Tumblr page, the Flickr page or the Twitter page of this blog

Pattern Power!

2013-10-01T14:46:00.002+03:00

A bit of our week.....

Visit the Facebook page, the Tumblr page, the Flickr page or the Twitter page of this blog

Conkers.

2013-09-24T15:51:00.001+03:00

The last couple of weeks have been all about the kids getting used to that September feeling, and for Anton that has meant the first time in kindergarten. He is already singing songs in Turkish, and I am coming to terms with our lost freedom. It is not easy to feel the tension in your 'baby' as they learn to tackle new challenges, but we both enjoy his giddy happiness when he has done his hours (currently two) and regains his liberty. On the plus side I am waiting for Anton to do his time by drinking tea at Malta Köşkü in Yıldız Park with Neve. So you will find us sitting in a palace amidst statues and fountains, with a stunning view of the mouth of the Bosphorus. It's not expensive and there are three playgrounds within five minutes. Happily there are also trees and conkers and dirt to sit in. Matti finishes early on Fridays now so the weekend starts earlier than ever before. I sort of love that we get to ride the metro home and count five escalators up to Istiklal Street, from where we can run through some wonderful streets to our door.

When I started this blog, two months after Neve was born, I didn't really read any. I just had an idea that it could be a way of keeping myself writing and taking pictures through the tired fog of a new baby. 16 months on it has given me a far wider community than I had before, and some great cheerleaders and friends. Deciding to 'Document Delight' with a group of photographers from all over the world has been one of the best things I have ever done. They have become a group of friends whose talent and generosity means so much. This week, Vanessa Cook, whose work Ville and I have been admiring together over the past year, agreed to come from Australia to photograph our wedding in Finland in July 2015. I am over the moon, both because I trust this woman's eye completely, and because I will be delighted to meet her face to face. I will put my camera down for a whole day! Now I just need to work out how I can meet the rest of the awesome Documenting Delight crew.

I have also been feeling so touched by some of the bloggers that keep popping in to say hello, and have had a bigger impact on me than they would guess. I found Suzie over facebook and realised she had a blog which contained some of the most beautiful words I have ever read about being a mother. Since then she has written many more, and become a great friend that I wish I could speak to as much as I read! I 'met' Rach when I read her blog and took an instant liking to her. We have been waving at each other (with most of Europe in-between!) ever since. Joy and Özlem, seasoned bloggers, with two of the most mouth-watering, beautiful and up-lifting blogs you are ever likely to read, have been a real inspiration, and incredibly generous in sending people to look at my somewhat more modest offering.

I am so thankful that it would take a very long time to write about all the people that have made the past year great. But thank you! I hope you all know who you are!! Especially you Ville, you legend!

Visit the Facebook page, the Tumblr page, the Flickr page or the Twitter page of this blog

Up on the Roof.

2013-09-12T21:24:00.000+03:00

I find that I am struggling to write about our day to day because this was, for someone I like very much, the very saddest of weeks. It was the week of Baby Alma's ascension beyond the reach of her family's loving arms after only two weeks of life.

We are very lucky that our week contained these moments.....a photo shoot on the roof in which Neve did her bit as assistant stylist. Hours of happiness thanks to a cardboard box. Fun with CCTV (and as close as I have got to a self-portrait in a while) on the way to kindergarten, and Anton's happiness to be on his way home. Here is Matti having done his first days in a new yeargroup and Neve grinning just because.

Visit the Facebook page, the Tumblr page, the Flickr page or the Twitter page of this blog

Saturday.

2013-09-07T22:25:00.001+03:00

Visit the Facebook page, the Tumblr page, the Flickr page or the Twitter page of this blog

Fountain.

2013-09-06T13:53:00.001+03:00

It has been a big couple of weeks for us all: Anton's birthday, Ruskin returning to England for the start of term and Anton starting kindergarten. Anton has now done four days at 'school' while I sit in the office there in case he needs me. Anton has managed very well, I less so! But today as all the kids were up early and bouncy, and the light on the Bosphorus shimmering gold I gave up on the routine (yes I know I should try harder!) and we all went to run around on our nearest patch of Green. The closest patch of grass to us is at Tophane where there is a mosque, hamam and a particularly beautiful fountain. Breakfast was a picnic of poğaça fresh from the baker's oven. We played energetically, but not too loudly, so as not to wake those that use it as a place to sleep. By half past nine we were all ready for an ice-cream.

And ummm yes, it was me who cut Anton's hair!

Visit the Facebook page, the Tumblr page, the Flickr page or the Twitter page of this blog

Forest.

2013-08-31T15:11:00.000+03:00

I had lots of fun this week with make-up artist Gipsy Shears and model Sabrina, playing with a 70s vibe in a gorgeous patch of forest light.

Visit the Facebook page, the Tumblr page, the Flickr page or the Twitter page of this blog

Castle

2013-08-23T12:10:00.000+03:00

When I went to photograph my friend's new baby earlier in the week she told me that part of the name of our street means moat, so it was once part of the system of walls and water that protected this historic hill. We certainly feel as if we live in a castle. For the first time in my life I have a (working!) dishwasher, a bath, a tumble-dryer and a home I could throw a party in. There is also the non-stop party that goes on outside our 'palace' because this is perhaps the most free and energetic part of town (though so mixed is this area that at the other end of our street, where shoe-shiners congregate by the mosque, it is not possible to buy alcohol). We are all getting used to new characters and sounds: pigeons cooing, a cruise ship departing or red-jumper man having an argument with the pavement. We are learning the spots where drunks and dogs sleep, where the most delicious things can be eaten, where to escape the crowds.

There is though a troubling aspect to feeling like kings of our castle and that is that this neighbourhood, once glorious but recently rife with drugs and prostitution, is so newly improved that the mix of fortune here is extreme. Wealthy ex-pats live next to slums. A building can be dire at ground level while the inhabitants at the top have commissioned architects to make modern changes, whilst preserving frescoes and marble. To live a life that would be considered normal in the UK or Finland places us firmly amongst the 'haves' in a city that contains far, far too many 'have-nots'. We will have to get used to living with the dangers that such inequalities bring whilst remaining angry and sorrowful about the unacceptable conditions in which so many we share these streets with live.

Galata has always been the district of the 'other': Greek, Italian, Armenian, French, Jew, Catholic. I have a slight shame that it is the first place I have felt really comfortable since I got to Turkey, that my plans to integrate never came to much. But oh how I love it here. And I promise, I really do, that we will finally, five years since I arrived in Turkey, have a party!

A few notes about the pictures: I took a picture of Galata Tower from our apartment and then the other way round. The tourist shops Anton is looking at are on the street that begins at the corner of ours (Galip Dede). The graffiti child is just near our building. I photographed the construction of the new metro bridge from Eminönü. The writing on the wall says 'whoever throws rubbish here is without honour'. I took the picture across the Golden Horn from us in an area where beautiful old houses are now crumbling slums. The rather theatrical ducks were also taken there while people were leaning out of the windows to laugh at their posing. A really happy moment. From our apartment we watch cruise ships come and go, and the picture of Anton photographing me is taken in Karaköy, where they dock. One of the kids favourite things to do is eat fried hamsi (anchovies) or fish sandwiches at Karaköy fish market, where you can see Anton dawdling, eating hazelnuts he has just bought from a street vendor.

Visit the Facebook page, the Tumblr page, the Flickr page or the Twitter page of this blog

Botanics

2013-08-20T11:35:00.001+03:00

This week I spent some happy hours photographing plants and a girl with eyes like passionflowers...

Visit the Facebook page, the Tumblr page, the Flickr page or the Twitter page of this blog

Shift

2013-08-10T16:21:00.002+03:00

It's nearly two weeks since we returned from Finland and we have been busy sorting out our new apartment. Now that the walls have been painted (thanks Ville!) and the windows perfectly reveal the view of boats on the Bosphorus (ummm thanks again to Ville!) I have had the chance to look through some of the pictures I took in Finland. I wanted to find pictures of Neve just before she became the independent speed walker she turned into during our weeks away. The days where she still needed a hand to hold and her siblings stepped up. I also chose some pictures of a day at the beach with Ville's brother's family and some of my favourite memories of Turku, Kimito and the boat journey through the Archipelago to Sweden.

I have only taken a couple of pictures of our new place, one of them of a little bowl from Finland, but I have been walking around noting (gleefully) the shifts of light through its windows. Whether we live here one year or five I know that we will treasure this time and that I will love capturing frames of it, but for the moment I just want to watch the shadows and imagine. Though we have mainly been pre-occupied with organising, Ruskin and I did have a great day on the rooftops of Istanbul where James Bond rode his motorbike at the beginning of 'Skyfall'. We bought some fake Ray-bans and I took some moody shots of Fox, Ruskin Fox!

Visit the Facebook page, the Tumblr page, the Flickr page or the Twitter page of this blog

The Reunion

2013-08-02T11:17:00.000+03:00

At the end of our month in Scandinavia we travelled to Sweden to meet up with relatives from Ville's Dad's side of the family. We took an overnight boat from Finland to Sweden, and I was delighted to finally get a look at some of the hundreds of islands in the Archipelago. We only had a couple of hours in Stockholm before getting a train south and I was really happy to fit in an exhibition of Helmut Newton's kick-arse photography at Fotografiska, which I haven't stopped thinking about.

Ville's family is fantastic in so many ways and one of the best things is that somehow all the kids have a cousin of a similar age. It was perfect to watch the pairs playing together. This reunion was also made really special for me because I got to see some of the photographs taken by Faffa's eldest sister's ex-husband who is a great photographer. It was extraordinary to see the lives of the family through the years through such a beautiful eye, and it really spurred me on to keep capturing. The last few pictures were taken in Lund where we stayed a night on our journey home.

Visit the Facebook page, the Tumblr page, the Flickr page or the Twitter page of this blog

Return to The Garden.

2013-07-24T09:29:00.000+03:00

The garden that surrounds Faffa and Fammo's summer house in Finland is a really special place for us all. Living in Istanbul is a magical experience for the kids but it doesn't include a sense of the vastness of nature, or an experience of anything remotely wild. It means so much to me that every summer all our children get to be barefoot and free for a while. Last summer Neve was only four months old during our visit. I imagined that this year she would be starting to toddle, and would weave her unsteady way through the paths in the meadow. In the glorious reality of this summer we sat and watched as she walked confident long circuits around what she quickly made her domain. We listened to her giggles while she played in the tent with her brothers, already becoming one of the gang. My pictures of the last few days are a celebration of all the fun Neve had in the garden this year. Tomorrow we are travelling by boat to Sweden and by Monday we will be back in Istanbul. As every year I am gulping fresh air while I can.

Visit the Facebook page, the Tumblr page, the Flickr page or the Twitter page of this blog

That Finland Feeling

2013-07-18T17:03:00.000+03:00

Visit the Facebook page, the Tumblr page, the Flickr page or the Twitter page of this blog

Wild Strawberries.

2013-07-13T18:34:00.000+03:00

We are in Finland.....

Visit the Facebook page, the Tumblr page, the Flickr page or the Twitter page of this blog

Take Me With You When You Go

2013-07-04T13:01:00.000+03:00

For our last few days Heybeliada put on her most vibrant clothes. One afternoon I sat on the kerb watching one of the men who sweep the street with a brush and an oil tin cut for the purpose. The pools of debris he collected were only brittle shards of old leaves and freshly fallen blossoms. Even the rubbish was exquisite that day! Talking of rubbish, I have really enjoyed seeing the Island recycling in practice this week. Determined not to take anything at all that we didn't need or love to our new home (and we were taking every item in suitcases by boat!) I put box after box of stuff next to the bins. Over the following days I saw the things turn up in the places they were needed.

We arrived, nearly four years ago, to an apartment with vomit-coloured lino, peeling paint, a toilet that wasn't really attached to the floor, no lock on the back door and the name of the previous occupant's son written all over the walls, and that is also as we left it! So much money has flowed through our hands during the last few years but none of it into creating a little comfort at home. However, this Island has given all of us air and space and natural beauty so close to the overwhelming, overcrowded city we are now excited to take our place in the heart of. But first, tomorrow, we are going to Finland....

This weeks pictures are of Anton chilling in the baby bath before it goes to Island recycling. Of Neve on our kitchen balcony that never had a single plant on it, while the one opposite had an abundance! There are evening walks and sleeping children on late night vapur trips laden with luggage. There is fun with fantastic friends. Here is Anton (with Başak) and Neve being carried onto the vapur on our very last day and Ville cleaning the windows. Here is our record of Ruskin's incredible growth, the flowers Anton picked and we gave to the apartment in deep gratitude for so many happy days in its walls. I caught Anton, on our last vapur as Islanders being persuaded to give kisses to girls! On Monday Ruskin and I walked to our new apartment to pick up the key and we took a few shots of our new neighbourhood. We were (easily) persuaded to drink a few glasses of Calvados with the current occupants and I took some pictures of their girls in their final days in their home. The last pictures are of Ruskin getting a haircut and the shoes that form a ring around the Beşiktaş bird, part of the on-going, though thankfully relatively calm, protests.

Visit the Facebook page, the Tumblr page, the Flickr page or the Twitter page of this blog

Standing Girl.

2013-06-25T17:09:00.000+03:00

I am really pleased to report that the start of the week brought calm to our neck of the woods. The first photograph shows Anton as he stood by the window from which no gas-masked protesters could be spotted. His relief that there was 'nothing out there' that day was palpable.

On Thursday we picked Ruskin up from the airport for a long summer together, now that his exams are finished. Of course he was curious to see Taksim Square (I am sure he was actually quite sorry to miss all the action) and on Friday we went to take a look at the scars of the protest and it's latest incarnation: 'standing people'. Since one man (quickly dubbed 'standing man') stood for hours in the middle of the Square in a silent, peaceful continuation of the protest, others have started to do the same. The kids played among the 50 or so protesters stood at Taksim under the watchful eye of the huge Atatürk picture that replaced the protest banners. If you were visiting Taksim for the first time you might not notice the changes that Ruskin and I saw. You might think one end of Taksim was a bus station if you didn't know that the municipal buses are full of police. The memorial, like so much of the centre of the city, is covered in grey paint hiding anti-Erdoğan slogans. Gezi Park is lovelier than it ever was before (it was never very pretty) with new turf laid and flowers planted. This time will take its place in Turkish history and there is a strange feeling to the physical manifestations of this unrest being the backdrop to the small milestones of our kids histories: Neve's steps, Anton's vocabulary stretching to meet what he has witnessed, the siblings forging ever tighter bonds (though we are all missing Matti who is visiting his Grandma near Ankara before we go to Finland).

This is our last week on the Island of Heybeliada where we have lived until we started spending the majority of our time in Beşiktas a few months ago. The Island looks incredible right now but I am ready to leave it. Typically for us we have not involved any removals service and are moving our things case by case by boat and taxi! Happily there is still time in the evenings to enjoy the abundance of flowers against the mellowing sparkle of the sea.

Visit the Facebook page, the Tumblr page, the Flickr page or the Twitter page of this blog

Through a Lens, Brightly (Despite the Clouds!).

2013-06-17T00:08:00.000+03:00

What a strange week. Wonderful in that it has been the first time in a very long time that I have had my Mum to my self and the new camera has been a real joy, but also tense because of the worsening situation in Turkey.

Being the eldest of nine having Mum come to Istanbul to keep me and the two little ones company while Ville was in Sweden was something of a miracle. She is someone who would remain unflustered in the face of much worse so she was the perfect visitor to alleviate the knots in my stomach, and keep the kids laughing. We spent our time just playing with Anton and Neve or exploring the area close to home. I won't forget opening the windows in the early hours of one morning to watch the crowds streaming past, or that, as I had so hoped, it was into Grandma's arms that Neve landed into after her first steps. I think the tension that I have is largely to do with trying to hold my views in some central position in the face of complete polarization and intense propaganda from both sides. This situation is not a simple one. Right does not lie fully with any group involved.

This morning I listened to a string quartet playing at the summer residence of the German consul. Surrounded by high trees and a rose garden I felt like a film character who calmly sips tea while listening to rising strings as the world, or the waves, crash down. The children played on the mossy floor of this paradise with high walls, beyond which the Bosphorus shimmers. On the road outside the gates we could hear the occasional convoy of the pro-Gezi horn tooters. While waiting for a taxi home we saw a boat with a banner nearly covering one whole side making it's way to the waters near Kazlıçeşme for the pro-Erdoğan rally.

By the time we got home large, loud groups were making their way past our apartment towards Taksim. I have not denied the kids their chance to bang pots with wooden spoons with the enthusiasm that would bring complaints in any other circumstances, so Anton asked to go on to the street for a moment to make some noise. The passionate anger in the air was so overwhelming I had to drag him inside so I could sob for a moment. And have a stiff whisky. I don't know where this is headed but it doesn't feel like a path to somewhere good, despite some (and of course some not so) worthy intentions.

I have now had my new camera for nearly a week and I am enjoying more than I even thought I would. Waiting for it's arrival I had become a little nervous of how long it would take to use manual settings instinctively but any changes in how setting changes are made are for the better, and intuitive to use. I had a day of feeling daunted before feeling really liberated by how much easier it is to get what I want. Because we really pushed the boat out to afford it I had to buy the cheapest prime lens I could find (it's a 50mm 1.8) so I know that I am right at the beginning of seeing what this camera can do. I have so much to learn and I love it!

So my pictures this week are of relaxed, happy trips to various parks away from the fray. Of Anton banging his pan. Of an idyllic morning at the summer residence of the German consul in Tarabya. And of Anton's expression as he watched the chanting crowds make their way past him towards Taksim Square.

Thanks again to all of you who wrote us lovely comments and messages and held us in your thoughts this week. It has really meant a lot.

Visit the Facebook page, the Tumblr page, the Flickr page or the Twitter page of this blog

Talking to Kids About Tear Gas.

2013-06-10T01:00:00.000+03:00

Everyone who follows the news in countries with better media than ours will know that we have had a very interesting week. The resistance against the destruction of Gezi Park is over 10 days old and the barricades blocking off Taksim Square and Gezi Park are large and numerous. Very quickly, once the police brutality ceased, Gezi Park turned into a well organised festival of protest.

This week I had to explain to Anton that the windows needed to remain shut because of the gas in the air designed to hurt people so they run away. Matti's head was quickly filled with anthems and shouted slogans and slightly understood notions of civil war, military coup and revolution. While Beşiktaş, where we live, was at its worst, I kept the kids inside, only going to the playground across the street. One afternoon we were playing there when a march passed loudly on the road that separated us from the house. Anton asked me with a serious expression whether they were coming to get his farts! Oh the wisdom imparted by big brothers.

A few days in, when it seemed calm, I took the kids to see what had happened to Dolmabahçe Caddesi and we admired the glitter of the broken billboards. Then we sat and watched as municipal workers battled to paint over anti-government graffiti, only for the paint to serve as fresh canvas. We saw that where, a couple of days earlier, there had been pavements, there was only sand. Bricks and stones all over the centre of the city have been used to reinforce the barricades.

Amidst all this, on Wednesday, Başak got married and we went to Yildiz Park to take some pictures. The park was full of exhausted policemen, bused in from other cities to work long horrific shifts, drinking tea or trying to sleep.

I haven't been keen to take the kids to Gezi Park, though I know that for the moment it is reasonably safe, and there are many children there during the day. Just before the last elections I was returning from a very rare moment without Anton when my tram stopped between stations and everyone began running out. It took me half a second to realise that I needed to cover my mouth and eyes which was long enough to feel the tear gas that had filled the street burn my throat, nose and eyes. When I got home I sobbed with relief that, the then baby, Anton hadn't been with me. I am determined that none of the children will feel the terror and confusion of pain that comes in the air till they are old enough to choose and prepare.

On Thursday, while the kids were safe at home, I walked with Ville to work as his route goes past Gezi Park and across Taksim Square. I was shocked by the number of buses used as barricades and how quickly the entire landscape had been written on. Seeing the park I felt so proud and protective of the protesters, many of whom were still sleeping. I sat in the park and watched people get moving, stretch, even skip. It was great to see that those in need could also get fed thanks to the abundance of food donated by and for the protesters. Then on Saturday Sophie, Ville and I joined the throngs using the weekend to offer support and see history in the making with their own eyes.

While I have nothing but admiration for the majority of the protesters my feelings about this time are not straightforward. Ville and I have spent the past week with knots in our stomachs trying to unravel right from wrong in the midst of so much passion and rumour. The violence that has hit, here and in many cities in Turkey, is incredibly upsetting. We are also cautious. We are only here so that we can be part of Matti's everyday, and our residence permits are shortly up for renewal. Thank you so much to everyone who wrote to us this week to send their thoughts and check how we were. It has meant a great deal. Tomorrow my birthday camera is arriving from England with my Mum so my spirits are high. I hope I will be able to use it to record new peace and pluralism over the coming months.

Visit the Facebook page, the Tumblr page, the Flickr page or the Twitter page of this blog

Park. Life.

2013-06-01T00:37:00.002+03:00

All my pictures this week are of our children enjoying some of the green spaces of Istanbul. In this over-crowded city these places are essential for the well-being of the millions of people who live here. Today Anton and Neve were completely and simply happy surrounded by the abundant trees in Yıldız Park. Now just past midnight I am watching live images of the growing protest playing out in streets fifteen minutes walk away and spreading throughout Turkey. The footage is punctuated by the incessant pop of tear gas cartridges. Streets I have grown to love are serving as a battleground.

It began with opposition to the destruction of Gezi Park, one of Istanbul's desperately needed green areas, in order to build a shopping mall. I have used this park on many occasions when the kids needed to stretch and run in the heart of the city. It's not Istanbul's prettiest park, nor very big, but being next to Taksim Square it provides a retreat from the intensity and crowds. Obviously the protesters have greater grievances against the government than the threatened removal of the chance to breathe under the trees of a particular park. This is about breathing freely in all aspects of life. Among many hopes my first is that there are not too many casualties during the night.

Visit the Facebook page, the Tumblr page, the Flickr page or the Twitter page of this blog