IF YOU PREFER TO TOUR THE FIRST TWO GALLERIES AT YOUR OWN PACE, YOU CAN ENTER THE EXHIBITION BELOW:
ISTANBUL TO CONSTANTINOPLE
A PERSONAL ODYSSEY
George Sfougaras
I spent fourteen days in Istanbul between 1 and 15 August. Later, using the materials, memories and experiences I had collected, I worked for several months to create a body of work which I hoped would extend and develop my artistic practice, in line with the Arts Council’s guidance in funding the undertaking.
The experience was rich, complex and nothing like I had expected. I went through several stages of expectation, anxiety, friendship, concern, discovery, heightened sensitivity, religious reawakening and love for fellow human beings. I came away feeling that times had changed, and that holding on to the past serves little purpose if it prevents us from seeing one another clearly.
I do not want to give up the history or the rich stories I inherited. Some of these stories are very sad, others incredibly inspiring. They have sustained in me a deep sense of gratitude and a lack of complacency. When you know that your parents experienced displacement, war and danger, it is easier to keep a sense of perspective regarding life’s frustrations. However, having visited the country they had to leave, I now feel a sense of love for the people there. I see how similar we are. I also realise how easily things can go wrong, and how ordinary people can suffer untold hardship.
I wrote the preceding words a year or more ago, and it has taken me that long to restore the title Constantinople to this undertaking. It has also taken a year of self-questioning, and at times regret, that I came away from the city with such mixed feelings and even sadness. Perhaps one day those regrets will be replaced by greater acceptance. For now, I hold these thoughts to myself and keep sailing towards a better vista, a happier place in my work.
Many have asked me why I called the project Istanbul to Constantinople and not the other way round. The reasons were twofold.
First, the name is sensitive to both Greek and Turkish people. The situation in Istanbul is complex and requires tact, historical awareness and emotional discipline. I cared deeply about this, but I now recognise that good intentions do not easily translate across sensitive and historically fragile contexts.
Secondly, this was a trip from the present, Istanbul, to the past, Constantinople. It was not just a project. It was a journey, and not one felt equally by all. For many Greeks, especially those whose families carry the memory of Asia Minor, Eastern Thrace, Constantinople and the population exchange, the sense of loss persists. For Turkey, the same period is also bound to the War of Independence, the end of foreign occupation, and the founding of the Republic in 1923.
The memory, therefore, is not absent on one side and alive on the other. It is differently held. In Greece, it is often remembered as catastrophe, exile and loss. In Turkey, it is more often framed through national survival, liberation and foundation, while families descended from Muslims displaced from Greece also carry their own memories of uprooting.
This difference in historical feeling is part of what made the journey difficult. There were things I came to understand more fully by not saying them too loudly. That restraint became part of the work: pain, hope, caution and affection all jostling for space.
The outcomes were unpredictable and moving. They can be briefly subdivided into four interconnected stages, distinct in character and content:
THE BARE BONES
MAKING SENSE
PLAYING WITH FIRE
THE TRUTH WILL SET YOU FREE
Below is a brief example of the range of works produced during the months that followed my residency, followed by a free full catalogue and a paper.
