kuba

I went to see 'Kuba', an installation by Kutlug Ataman on Sunday. It was set in a disused sorting office, and though I couldn't take photographs of the actual installation, the image above should give some idea of the feel of it. Cavernous, with old tv's, sofas and two bar electric heaters, it felt like I'd walked into the last days of a post apocalyptic london..climbing up stairs after stairs, following the stencilled signs hard to distinguish from the graffitti, I was a zillion miles from Oxford Street on a busy Sunday...

All of this before I actually sat in one of those dusty old chairs and listened to the stories, told first hand, of a group of inhabitants of the slum area called Kuba, outside of Istanbul. Each film repeated on its own TV, so there was a lot of wandering about, eying up free places and dodging fellow lookers - but once in place it was easy to concentrate on the screens, the stories being told were so vivid and at times distressing. I was especially struck by the women's stories, those who were close to my own age, but whose lives seemed so far removed from my own.

There was a note of familiarity though - I come from a small place, with strong community values, and sitting there on a 1970's chair, my legs slowly turing red from the heat of the fire, I could remember doing the same in a neighbour's living room as a child - listening to her talking of the 'old days', offering me a cup of tea, and humming Gaelic airs. Easy to get carried away with community romanticism though - one of the defining features of many of the people's stories was a sense of isolation and a lack of control over their own destiny. It was also disturbing that they were sat in their own living rooms or outside in the sun and it seemed so peaceful; yet their stories were a reminder that these same places are the theatres of domestic and political violence.

Kuba by Kutlug Ataman
22 March - 7 May
The Sorting Ofice, 21-31 New Oxford St, London WC1
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