Beckie Loewenstein

In her exhibit at the  Adahan Hotel for the 14th Istanbul Biennial Saltwater , the artist Meriç Algün Ringborg asks: Siz hiç incir ağacının çiçek açtığını gördünüz mü? Did you ever see a fig tree blossom? My student Selin and I enter and climb up the worn, polished grooves of the cool marble steps of the mansion-like Adahan hotel.  Fresh, fruity air greets us in the warm, joyful, calm space.  “You can smell a fig tree before you see it,” notes the artist.  Dried fig leaves cover the wooden floor and wardrobe of a simple yet majestic bedroom.  We discuss the symbolism of the fig (fertility), fig leaf (modesty), and bedroom (intimacy).  The installation includes a plaster cast of the fig leaf that covers Michelangelo’s David, a bedroom with dried fig leaves collected from local fig trees, a green couch, a mural of Masaccio’s Expulsion of Adam and Eve from Eden, graphite drawings of the streets ...

Before the 14th Istanbul Bienali Tuzlu Su (Istanbul Biennial Salt Water) arrived, Dükkân (Store) No. 106 on the corner of Hacımimi Mahallesi and Boğazkesen Cadessi collected dust as storage for machinery.   Now bright light enters clean windows onto the walls and staircase painted black.   An Iznik bowl serves as inspiration for the exhibit, and small clay plates glazed turquoise are lined up on a desk in front of it.   A record player spins playing jazz music while Theaster Gates, a potter and TED Conference speaker , sculpts a mound of rough, local clay into a tall vase on a Turkish electric wheel.   He speaks modestly about the clay bowls and plates drying on the b uilt-in shelves.  He will heat them in the kiln downstairs, and then glaze the hardened pottery.   As with the store space, the potter transforms the clay from nothing into something. Unlike the store, the parking garage venues on Çukurcuma Cadessi and Boğazkesen Cadessi feel underwh...