There is a common misconception that puppetry is merely a form of entertainment intended for children – a fun and educational way to explain complex concepts or stories. Puppetry was important throughout the Ottoman Empire in the form of ‘shadow play’, which involved flat, cut-out figures held between a light source and a translucent screen, with a single puppet-master voicing all the characters representing the major ethnic and social groups. Two of the most popular characters were Karagöz and Hacivat: Karagöz stood for the common man (uneducated but direct and honest), whereas Hacivat represented the educated class and spoke Ottoman languages, often with a poetic flair. They told stories of good and evil, of honour and betrayal, of sensibility and impulsiveness, and yes, their audiences were mostly juvenile.

But, as with any art form, puppetry has changed tremendously over the years, globally and in Turkey. At the turn of the 20th century puppet theatre started making a move away from its folk roots and suitable-for-all-ages storytelling and evolving into something that could speak to adult audiences and reinvigorate the high-art tradition of theatre. The conventional marionettes, glove puppets and shadow puppets gave way to contemporary forms of puppetry, using not only puppets but aspects of the actors themselves.

The 16th International Puppetry Festival (May 8–19, 2013) encapsulates these, reflecting the dilution of the outdated conception of puppetry as entertainment for children using dolls hanging from strings, and challenging popular perceptions of the meaning of traditional puppetry. The question the festival poses – of the puppeteers themselves as much as their audiences – is ‘Are you into puppetry?’

At this year’s festival I have so far seen two very different performances, which seemed to me to mirror the ying-yang of puppetry theatre: one highlighted puppetry and its many possible forms; the other used puppets simply as extensions of the actors. The one thing they had in common was that neither performance hid the actors but rather used them as part of the narrative.

The first performance I saw was Dark Cabaret, by Turkey’s Ahşap Çerçeve Puppet Theatre. This show combines various techniques in a very pleasing adult cabaret. A trio of actors dressed all in black use their own bodies – the show opens with them attaching red noses to their knees to construct three disagreeable musicians – as well as table puppets, life-size puppets, and a spot of shadow play to present a fusion of music, colours and rhythm.

Ahşap Çerçeve Puppet Theatre’s Dark Cabaret

Without words – just a few decorations and creative use of ultra-violet light – the show is a mish-mash of international musical numbers (from Italian classics to Swan Lake to tango to gypsy sounds and hints of a didgeridoo) performed in a flamboyant and sometimes comedic style. There were also interesting examples of the bankaru technique, a traditional Japanese theatre form calling for at least three actors to manipulate each puppet and in which the manipulators appear openly, in full view of the audience. As one actor made a puppet with his hand, the other two put costumes on it or added body parts. The use of this technique elevated the show from a mere feast for the eyes and ears into a testament to the power of movement and teamwork.

The second performance, Hôtel de Rive, was a collaboration between Germany’s Figüren Theater Tübingen, France’s Bagages de Sable, and Switzerland’s Theater Stadelhofen. This show, which could not have been more different in flavour from Dark Cabaret, was based on four texts by Alberto Giacometti, the Swiss Surrealist painter and sculptor. The production, inspired by Giacometti’s writings, sculptures and drawings, presents a hypnotic landscape, in which an actor taking centre stage portrays Giacometti, with the puppets as a secondary feature.

Hôtel de Rive: 'Giacometti’ in his hotel room in Geneva

The stories are centred around the artist’s stay at the Hôtel de Rive in Geneva during the Second World War, where his room was also his studio space. Using tall, skinny miniature puppets, reminiscent of Giacometti’s sculptures (which were heavily influenced by Etruscan art) as reflections of the artist’s alter ego, the audience is transported into his subconscious. An empty jacket depicting Giacometti’s visions of Siberia, giant pipes, a spider attacking his face, a life-size flower dancing at the Le Sphinx club in Paris, goggle-eyed metal figurines reminiscent of Alex’s nightmarish experiences in A Clockwork Orange, and the concluding skeleton-like puppets dancing around Giacometti covered in a white sheet are perhaps figurative representations of his conceptual thoughts, feelings and desires.

Other performances that I will be seeing at the festival include the Austrian Christoph Bochdansky’s All About the World (May 14), in which the universe itself explains why the world was made; Kaplan, by the theatre company Banyan, a Mexican interpretation of Turkish shadow theatre (May 16, 17 and 18); and Turkey’s own Kadro Pa’s debut, Macbeth in the Kitchen (May 15), a unique take on Shakespeare’s Macbeth played out using kitchen objects.

Christoph Bochdansky’s All About the World

There are plenty of shows geared to children as well, including a number of performances from the İstanbul Büyükşehir Belediyesi City Theatre (IBB City Theatre) and Hayalbaz Oyun Atölyesi’s The Town Musicians of Bremen. And I am looking forward to an exhibition, to be displayed all around İstiklal Caddesi, from the Italian photographer Mauro Foli, who has been travelling with his mobile studio for more than 25 years, taking black-and-white photos of puppet artists around the world. A workshop introducing the visual theatrical language of Philippe Genty, a French pioneer of contemporary puppet theatre performances, also looks fascinating.

Performances are on until May 19 and tickets can be purchased directly from the e-ticket section on the festival’s website. The festival is being held in venues both sides of the Bosphorus. The easiest way to navigate the website is to visit PERFORMANCES in the menu bar first, then PROGRAMME. For the exhibition and workshop, see EVENTS. You can also download the programme. For further information: +90 212 267 5444, info@biletinial.com

A Silk Road city a hundred miles south of Istanbul, Bursa has salvaged enough of its fabled beauty to make it well worth exploring. The birthplace of the Ottoman Empire, it is the best place to get an Iskender kebap, even the inspiration for Turkish puppetry (the shadow play characters Karagöz and Hacivat are based on historic personalities who lived in the city). 

Now, a book on Bursa is the latest addition to the ‘Heritage Protecting Cities’ series published by the Foundation for the Protection and Promotion of the Environment and Cultural Heritage (ÇEKÜL). The series aims to collate information on and analyse the Turkish cities which have undergone significant conservation work. It looks into why and how the cultural heritage of a place should be protected, and who should be responsible for it. 

ÇEKÜL was founded in 1990 and is presided over by architect and lecturer, Dr. Metin Sözen (a towering  figure in the field of Turkish architectural conservation who for many years was responsible for some of Istanbul's prized palaces, including Dolmabahçe Palace, Beylerbeyi Palace, and Yıldız Palace). The Foundation strives to help preserve the built and natural environment of the country by building networks and raising awareness. This, in turn, they hope will add impetus to the conservation movement which really started flourishing in the 1970s with the steps taken to protect the Black Sea town of Safranbolu , which has examples of some of the best preserved Ottoman-era vernacular architecture (Safranbolu has consequently been named a World Heritage site by Unesco in 1994 – though Çekül's finest achievements was the wholesale preservation of a small nearby town of very large kokaks built by  the families of prosperous palace pastry chefs, and birthplace of the diva of the Scala, Leyla Gencer: Yörük Köy, which featured in Cornucopia 47).

The book delves into Bursa's history, culture and architectural wonders, and discusses in detail the endevours that have been made throughout history to protect it. It is the fifth book to be added to the series, joining Sivas, Gaziantep, Birgi, and Mardin. 

For more on Bursa, Cornucopia 38 is a good place to start. 

Italian archaeologists have discovered what they believe to be the ‘Gates of Hell’ in Pamukkale. The find, announced by Professor Francesco d’Andria at a recent conference on Italian archaeology in Istanbul, included an inscription dedicated to Pluto and Kore, god and goddess of the Underworld.

The Greek geographer Strabo wrote of his experience of the cave where visitors were encouraged to hurl animals into its poisonous maw to watch the instant effect. ‘This space is full of a vapour so misty and dense that one can scarcely see the ground,’ he wrote. ‘Any animal that passes inside meets instant death.’ 

Photo: view of Pamukkale (Dick Osseman)

The time has rolled around again for the Cannes Film Festival, undoubtedly the most glamorous event in the film industry's year, which officially begins tomorrow (May 19). It is my favourite film festival (admittedly I have never attended), and its list of competing films is my touchstone for what to watch in the year ahead.

The selection of foreign films especially resonates with me, as a lover of world cinema. But, looking at this year’s selection, I am disappointed at the lack of Turkish films in competition. In fact, there is not a single one. Turkey’s involvement in this year’s festival materialises in Izmir-born director Semih Kaplanoğlu's appointment as one of five judges on the panel for the Short Film competition. And there is a tenuous connection with the Iraqi–Kurdish director Hiner Saleem’s My Sweet Pepperland, which is nominated in the ‘Un Certain Regard’ category. This tells the story of a Kurdish war hero who accepts a post in a village on the Iranian–Turkish border, which turns out to be a hotspot for illegal trafficking. There he meets a young woman who has come to work as a teacher in a newly opened school, despite her brothers’ strong opposition. Love blossoms.

The festival’s L’Atelier programme, founded nine years ago to help young and emerging filmmakers finance their productions, does have one Turkish offering (out of 15) this year. Directed by Özcan Alper, the film Memories of the Wind (a still from the initial takes can be seen above) will go into production in May 2014 and will be shot in Istanbul, Artvin (the director’s birthplace) and Batumi in Georgia. It tells of Aram, a poet, painter, translator and member of the opposition, of Armenian descent. The action takes place over the most crucial days of the Second World War and spans several locations, including Büyükada (the largest of the Princes Islands on the Marmara Sea near Istanbul) as well as towns on the Black Sea. Alper is an accomplished director, with two features already under his belt, so my anticipation is high.

Turkey’s film industry has been growing in recent years, both nationally and internationally, and from 2000 onwards the country has seen the most productive and commercially successful period in its film history. Consequently its presence at Cannes (which though substantial has never been huge) has also grown – especially in the past two years – so it is puzzling that its showing at this year’s festival is so dismal. In the first half of 2012 there were 137 theatrically released films in Turkey, so there is certainly plenty to choose from. Could it have something to do with genre? Festival circuits tend to favour long, poignant films dealing with the darker side of humanity, while in 2012–2013 Turkish cinema took a lighter approach.

Screened last year at Cannes was Fatih Akın’s excellent documentary Polluting Paradise (Akın also won Best Screenplay in 2007 for Edge of Heaven). Polluting Paradise tells of the idyllic Camburnu village in northeastern Turkey, threatened by a government decision to build a landfill site directly above it – much to the dismay of its villagers, the mayor and the tea-growers whose plantations are severely compromised. The young director L Rezan Yesilbas won the prestigious Palme D’Or for his short film Sessiz-Be Deng, which tells of a woman from Diyarbakır, whose daily routine is shattered when she goes to visit her husband in prison. And the aforementioned Semih Kaplanoğlu co-produced Aida Begic’s Children of Sarajevo, which was awarded a Special Mention in the ‘Un Certain Regard’ category.

A still from Polluting Paradise

In 2011, Nuri Bilge Ceylan’s Once Upon a Time in Anatolia (a film that helped put Turkey’s modern cinema on the map) won the Grand Prix (Ceylan has enjoyed the greatest success of any contemporary Turkish director at Cannes, with films in competition in 2011, 2008, 2006, 2003 and 1995); and Lufti Akad’s The Law of the Border was screened as part of the Cannes Classics. The Law of the Border is a 1966 classic about a man from Deliviran, a small village near the Syrian border, who while trying to stay away from a life of crime gets pulled into it, only escaping when he agrees to take a herd of sheep across the border. Once Upon a Time in Anatolia, on the other hand, is a modern classic, part murder mystery, part character analysis but overall an epic in all regards – stunning cinematography, acting, direction and narrative. Ceylan is also a consummate photographer, which could explain why the film was shot as it was – in all its sweeping landscape glory. To explore Ceylan's work, his book Panoramas of Turkey 2003–2009 is a good place to start.

A still from Once Upon a Time in Anatolia

These recent offerings from Turkey clearly demonstrate a maturing film industry. Let us just hope that in future we will see more Turkish cinema in festivals worldwide, including Cannes.

‘Trespassing Modernities’, the summer exhibition at SALT Galata, which opened on May 8 and continues until August 11, immediately piqued my interest, for the show traces the legacy of post-Stalinist architecture in the former Soviet Union – a place both familiar and mysterious to me, having been born in Russia but moving to Australia at the age of seven. I still have vivid memories of the grey, square, imposing monstrosities that were called ‘apartment buildings’ in those times – we lived in one in Odessa, Ukraine in the late 1980s. This stereotypical image of such buildings prevails to this day, amongst ex-Soviets who knew these buildings first hand as well as in the Western world. But is this the whole story?

‘Trespassing Modernities’, a title that doesn’t really do justice to the premise of the exhibition, attempts to break away from this stereotype and explore the lesser-known history of Soviet architecture between 1953 and 1990. Curated by Georg Schöllhammer and Ruben Arevshatyan, the show was spawned by a collaborative project initiated in 2001 (by them and others) called Local Modernities, with the aim of ‘showing how architecture is embedded in a wider, ideological landscape’ by tracing architectural movements in different parts of the world and different periods. They started their research in the Caucasus region, and the ex-Soviet states were a natural progression. Research of this kind is becoming increasingly important, Schöllhammer tells me, as countries fail to archive aspects of their past they would prefer to forget, resulting in ‘great treasures being lost’. The reluctance of ex-Soviet countries to keep records of architecture from this period is due, Schöllhammer believes, to the perception that it represents ‘colonialist architecture’.

True, post-Stalinist architecture tended to encompass socialist ideals, conforming to the dictates of the central planning bureaucracy, which favoured a uniform, functional style and left little room for experimentation. Leonid Brezhnev, general secretary of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union from 1964 to 1984, was especially interested in architecture fitting into an industrialised-style mould. But in the 1970s he started allowing architects more freedom, which in turn gave way to buildings displaying decoration or following certain themes. The Paper Architects movement, which began in 1980s, was a further reaction to the lack of creativity allowed to architects. Through this genre of conceptual architecture – designs that were never built – young architects at least had a channel for their creativity. Their work, along with other newly revealed aspects of post-Stalinist Soviet architecture, is displayed at ‘Trespassing Modernities’.

The exhibition’s design reflects its themes and ideas, and a basement space, strictly structured and lit only by the various visual media on display, almost transports you back in time.

Here film, photography, scale models, drawings and ephemera are arranged chronologically and thematically. For example, a cartoon depicting the monotony of everyday Soviet life matches the monotony of its buildings.

Pioneer Camp Chaika, Alushta, Crimea (1968–1979). Architects Tatyana Belyaeva, Alexander Linkov. Courtesy of the Belyaeva Archive.

Emphasis is given to the way architecture reflected different demands and environments – industrial/factory, art/cultural, public/recreational/educational (the designs of a Ukrainian summer camp brought back memories for me) and spaces for the elite.

Ministry of Transportation, Tibilisi, Georgia (1974). Architects: George Chakhava, Zurab Jalaghania, T. Tkhilava, V. Kimberg. Courtesy George Chakhava's personal archive

This area also focuses on the Cold War dichotomy between West and East. George Chakhava, minister of highway construction in the 1970s, designed the Transport Ministry in Tbilisi, Georgia, a structure consisting of a monumental grid of interlocking concrete forms inspired by the designs of the Russian constructivists of the 1920s. By contrast, his free sketches of the summerhouses he designed for members of the Soviet elite show a far less structured style, reminiscent of Hollywood bungalows – a clear example of East borrowing from West, Schöllhammer points out.

Residential complex, Almaty, Kazakhstan. Photo: Markus Weisbeck (for the Local Modernities project)

A photo series showing scenes from Soviet life in the 1970s uses the strict structure of a photograph’s shape and an almost voyeuristic eye to zoom into the identical homes of ordinary citizens.

Scale model of Masonry precast concrete residential blocks

Level 1 of the exhibition is given over to a solo display of a 1:50 scale model of a standard housing project – an example of a building that somehow broke the rules, according to Arevshatyan. But how, and why? The design of residential housing was always a conflicting dialogue between the state and the architect. Though the state owned all the space and gave all the jobs to its own people, leaving architects no choice but to abide by the rules, they always attempted, Arevshatyan says, to ‘play with them’.

Fire Escape Monument, 1988. Architect: Yuri Avvakumov

House in House, 1988. Architect: Yuri Avvakumov

Level 3 displays artistic experiments of the Paper Architects. The space is set up like an art exhibition, in order, Schöllhammer says, ‘to comment on and do justice to the very personal language of the master architects of the time’. A bright red fire escape sketched on a Soviet Communist Party publication by Yuri Avvakumov (the man responsible for the term Paper Architecture), is a clear example of revolt. Likewise, his house of cards model suggests that it can all come crushing down at any second.

Schöllhammer describes the research responsible for this exhibition as ‘ground breaking’ and believes it will ‘contribute to the narrative’ of Soviet architecture. It is all the more important, he says, because the architects of that period are dying – and their architecture is dying with them.

The oldest medrese in Kayseri, and perhaps the first hospital in Anatolia, is being turned into museum devoted to the Seljuks/Selçuks of Rum, the Turkish empire that ruled over medieval Anatolia before the rise of the Ottomans.

The Gevher Nesibe Medrese is one of the key examples of 13th-century Seljukid architecture in Anatolia, with its elegant arcaded, eyvaned courtyard. It is part of a complex known as the Çifte Medrese  – the Twin Medrese. While one courtyard served as a medical school (built by Sultan Keyhüsrev I, who fought his way to power in the capital, Konya, between 1192 and 1196 and 1205 and1211), the other was a hospital endowed by his sister, Gevher Nesibe Sultan.

The story is a romantic one. Keyhüsrev and Gevher Nesibe Sultan were the children of the powerful Sultan Kiliç Arslan (1156–92). Gevher Nesibe fell in love with one of her brothers horsemen, a match he diisapproved of, ordering the young man into battle, where he was killed, which proved the death of his sister as well. Full or remorse, the sultan visited his sister on her deathbed – her last request was the hospital.

As the mayor of Kayseri, Mehmet Özhaseki, laments, while the province of Kayseri dates back to the days of the Seljuk Empire, there is nowhere in the city where a visitor can learn anything about its civilisation.

The hospital dates from between 1204 and 1206, and the medrese was finished soon afterwards – an octagonal tomb with pyramidical roof inside the medrese almost certainly belongs to the princess. When the buildings were restored in 1968, the hospital continued to be used as the administrative centre of a medical school. The new museum will include an arts centre, an archaeological wing and a performance area.

Turkey is rich in examples of Seljukid architecture. Particularly important centres were Alanya, Afyon, Miletus, Konya and Aksaray.  Seljuk influence also extended across the Black Sea to Crimea, Cornucopia 49 features the domed mosque built by Keykubad II in 1226 in the well-preserved fortress of Sudak.

My brief sojourn in Berlin late last week turned out to be perfectly timed as I was able to attend the opening night of ‘Agoraphobia’, the prologue exhibition to the 13th Istanbul Biennial. Taking place at TANAS – an art space dedicated to maintaining the dialogue between the players of the Turkish contemporary art world – the exhibition officially opened on May 25 and continues until July 27.

The cultural landscape Turkey finds itself in, and the political and social environments surrounding it, are making it increasingly more important for cities in other parts of Europe and the world to pay attention to Turkish contemporary art, which has been growing with a speed that cannot be contained. Considering the strong connection that exists between Germany and Turkey, and the fact that Berlin and Istanbul’s relationship in the arts was cemented when they become partner cities in 1989, Berlin and TANAS in particular are the perfect places to host this kind of event.

Curated by Fulya Erdemci and Bige Örer, the curator and director of this year’s Istanbul Biennial respectively, and co-curated by Kevser Güler, ‘Agoraphobia’ aims to explore what is meant by the public domain by questioning the politics of space in relation to freedom of expression. The word comes from the Greek word ‘agora’ and is used most commonly to mean ‘the fear of public spaces’. This is central to the conceptual framework of the Istanbul Biennial, which asks ‘Mom, am I barbarian?’ (another word with a Greek root) and seeks to explore this very same theme but on a much larger scale.

The space at TANAS has just one floor but it is a sprawling, wide area with many different sections. The space is open, inviting and feels very public, yet little nooks and crannies allow the visitor to find some privacy or a place for reflection somewhere. As I visited on opening night on May 24, the space was quite crowded so anyone who had a real case of agoraphobia would not have been able to tolerate it.

Visitors were treated to refreshments in true Turkish style with simit and rakı being served (only the hamsi were missing) as they made their way through the exhibition. The works of the 11 artists on display – whether photographs, drawings, paintings, video art or sculpture – comment on the way the collective public’s growing discontent with existing regimes, governments and ideologies manifests itself in urban public spaces, whether these are streets, squares and parks, or whole cities. 

It was unbeknownst to me then just how relevant this exhibition and its theme would become the following week. The protests that have been going on in Turkey that started rather peacefully six days ago have escalated to some of the most intense acts of collective public action in the country's recent history. To protest against Taksim's Gezi Park getting demolished for construction purposes, Istanbullites gathered in what should be considered a completely public domain to express their dissatisfaction. The people of Turkey have been put to the test of what it means to express themselves and reclaim something that should belong to everyone. To me, scenes from this protest are as shocking as they are powerful, but most important of all, is the bravery of those who are in the midst of the action. These are exactly the questions and themes the artists are dealing with in this exhibition – the plight of those who take action and who take action together, and how this is expressed through various forms and mediums. 

To me, most of the works were highly conceptual and, as is the case with lots of contemporary art, open to audience interpretation. But, all were united in their messages about freedom of expression and its obvious importance. Some works, such as the Freee artist collective’s ‘Protest is Beautiful’ (main image) and Cinthia Marcelle’s ‘Confronto’ are more obvious interpretations of what freedom of expression means in public spaces. Freee, consisting of Dave Beech, Andy Hewitt and Mel Jordan, produce slogans, billboards and publications that challenge the commercial and bureaucratic colonisation of opinion formation of the public. ‘Protest is Beautiful’, a wreath made with silk flowers by a funeral florist in 2007 at the time of a resurgence of protest after the invasion of Iraq in 2005, represents both the apparent death of the protest and its obvious beauty. This piece resonates with me all the more now that I'm back in Istanbul.

‘Confronto’ is a video of a group of fire jugglers who come out to perform each time the traffic lights turn red at an intersection in Belo Horizonte, Brazil. An almost hypnotic visual display (I watched the video on loop not being able to walk away), the artist does not wish to concentrate on the narrative or the medium, but instead show the spectator an example of an intervention in public life. The jugglers are not interrupting life – the traffic lights are red anyway – but the public’s reaction whether non-existent, aggressive or anything in between is significant.

Other works, such as the ‘The Doorman’ by Jimmie Durham and ‘Time Divisa’ by José Antonio Vega Macotela are a bit less discernible in their connections with the theme. ‘The Doorman’ is the first work at the entrance of the exhibition – he is, after all, the doorman. An imposing sculpture made out of iron, Murano glass and gold, and with his heart exposed, he personifies the Aztec mythical figure, Tezcatlipoca, who is often associated with darkness and depicted on one foot only (an association which inspired the artist).

‘Time Divisa’ is a project which explores what would happen if money was replaced by a time-sharing system. It consists of 365 individual exchanges with inmates at a prison in Mexico City. Macotela would carry out tasks at the request of the inmates that they were unable to complete themselves as they were imprisoned (such as delivering a letter to a mother or attending a friend’s wedding) and in exchange, they would complete a task assigned to them by Macotela. One such task was collecting cigarette butts and making some sort of form out of them showing that isolation and limited resources in a space reserved for the public’s rehabilitation are still able to contribute to the production of something that can be considered art.

The only Turkish artist in the exhibition Şener Özmen uses himself as the protagonist in a five-part photographic series which shows him with a naked torso and holding a megaphone. He shouts through the megaphone which is sometimes pointed outwardly or pointed at himself with aggressive, but also almost comical, facial expressions. This prompts the spectator to ask whether he is satirising the act of propaganda or is simply an artist trying to be heard. Again, I think of the protesters. They are just trying to be heard.  

The great historian puts it all down to ‘yet another example of the politician’s 10-year itch. If, as they said of Margaret Thatcher, he had given up office on his 10th anniversary earlier this year, he would have gone down in history as one of the great Turks.' (Evening Standard, Protests show the frailty of Turkey’s ‘progress’, June 4,). ‘All of this has come to a head with the vast demonstrations in Istanbul. People from almost all sections of the country have come together, outraged at the initial police brutality against some harmless souls who wanted to stop the building of yet another shopping mall over one of central Istanbul’s few remaining green places. The demonstrations have spread to every sizeable place in the more advanced parts of the country... They fear that, if Erdogan proceeds in his present mood, the whole country will come to resemble Trabzon on the Black Sea coast – a place with a magnificent natural situation and splendid monuments, buried in a mass of hideous concrete...’ Read more

In The Spectator, (What's Eating Turkey, June 8), Prof Stone again gives credit where credit is due, comparing the early years of AKP rule with that of Italy's Christian Democrats – 'The party’s representatives were often approachable and took a joke; Zaman, the intellectual Islamic newspaper, is well edited and has columnists with varied opinions. The currency was stabilised – no more of these million notes that made foreigners titter and Turks cringe – and exports boomed.' Then all of a sudden, 'instead of recognising differences, and allowing dissenters to support who they choose, an Islamic absolutism has taken hold. The details are grotesque.' 

'The government has dug its heels in, and the silly puritanism goes on and on: injunctions in the Tube stations to ‘behave morally’, and internet censorship (if I search for Daily Mail in my internet café the word ‘forbidden’ comes up, because someone mistakes ‘Mail’ for ‘male’). There are plans for a gigantic concrete mosque on the last remaining green hill on the Asiatic side of the Bosphorus. It will be a universally visible eyesore… and yet another nice earner for the construction companies who form this government’s brigade of guards...' Read more

Norman Stone is the author of Turkey: A Short History (Thames & Hudson, £9.95)

Also see Rod Liddle Specator blog on the BBC's coverage, Turkey redux (June 8)

Out of sensitivity for the situation in Turkey, current and upcoming arts and performance events in Istanbul have either been postponed or cancelled. Gallivanting through art galleries or jumping up and down in the crowds at music events doesn’t seem to be on anybody’s mind anyway – many Istanbullu have made Gezi Park their home for the next who knows how many days and impromptu concerts, music jams, breakdancing and even yoga sessions among their united, likeminded peers seem to provide better forms of entertainment. But, to echo the words of many social media proponents, perhaps a free concert from an international or local act at Taksim Square would be just the trick to lift spirits and demonstrate the square’s role as a central public space.

The 41st Istanbul Music Festival postponed its opening night concert from June 4 first to June 9 and now, rather confusingly, to October. As part of the festival, the Yoga Classic event has been postponed from June 6 to June 19.

The opening night of Kendell Geers' solo exhibition, a South African artist working in various media including sculpture, installations, performance art, drawing, photography and video, at Galerist, has been postponed from June 4. The exhibition can still be viewed until July 13. 

Lure, a four-piece group of musicians with Turkish origins from Boston, have cancelled two concerts in Istanbul on June 4 and 5.

First the Vodafone Istanbul Calling festival announced the cancelling of some events such as a concert by London-based indie duo Public Service Announcement and a set from world-famous DJ Tiesto, which were scheduled for June 6 and June 7, respectively, but now most of the shows which were scheduled for the rest of June and early July have also been cancelled. The fate of the shows scheduled for late July and early August have not yet been decided (or at least announced). 

Dutch photography duo, Inez & Vinoodh, who have photographed a bevy of famous faces and haute couture editorials worldwide, have postponed their first ever Turkish exhibition to be held at ISTANBUL'74 from June 7. 
 
IST. Fest, the Istanbul International Arts and Culture Festival, which was meant to run from June 6 to 9 at ISTANBUL’74, has been postponed to dates later in the year, which have not yet been released.

Denizli-born Hatice Güleryüz’s first solo exhibition in Turkey ‘Moving Forward in Circles’ (‘Döngülerde İlerlemek’) at RAMPA, which was meant to open on June 7, has been postponed.

The lecture series organised by the Turkish Cultural Studies Association and Kadir Has University entitled ‘Investing in the Turkish American Community and Building People-to-People Cultural Bridges between the United States and Turkey’ conducted by Güler Köknar, the Turkish Cultural Foundation Director at Turkish American Studies, was meant to be held on June 7 and 8 but has been postponed.

The Mind Body Festival, a three-day event which endeavours to explore wellbeing, health, nutrition, culture and community, meant to be held at Santral Istanbul from June 7 to 9 has been postponed.

The Burn Electronica Festival, Turkey’s first and only dance festival, meant to be held on June 8 at KüçükÇiflik Park has been cancelled.

The Efes One Love Festival, which promised an array of popular indie and dance acts from Europe, the USA and Turkey, scheduled for June 20 to 22 has been cancelled.  

For some artists, the show must go on – but one that still shows its support for the ‘civil movement taking place in Istanbul’. Berlin-based artist Carla Mercedes Hihn’s exhibition 'EXIT' at Hayaka Artı, which opens on June 12 and focuses on the different layers of a city, invites the audience to come and participate by sharing their thoughts and feelings through letters, photographs and drawings that they are encouraged to add to the gallery walls. ‘We are supporting the Taksim demonstrations believing that this is an important peaceful civil movement. We will continue with our activities as long as the circumstances allow us, and in line with this approach will keep on saying’, she says.

As the tear gas cleared, Izmir’s state opera and ballet company took Carmina Burana onto the streets of Izmir in solidarity with the protesters. Click on image below.

Turkey’s state theatre and opera and ballet companies are currently being threatened with forced closure by the government. 

They call themselves the çapulcu anneleri, the vagabond mothers. People of all ages, backgrounds and colours (football, that is) flocked to Taksim's Gezi Park to do their bit. Here a Fenerbahçe mother and a Beşiktaş brother provide free nosh. If positive energy was all it took…

Medical volunteers, including trainee doctors and nurses, attend wounded protesters on the floor of the 19th-century mosque – note that shoes have been respectfully removed. The night of Sunday June 2 saw some of the worst violence in Istanbul. This video includes disturbing scenes, but says much about camaraderie and the extraordinary cool-headed calm that prevailed among the protesters. Once the authorities allowed the exhausted police to stop their assault, the violence ceased completely. One Cornucopia subscriber writes: 'I am in İstanbul and staying on Gümüşsuyu [the avenue that leads down from Taksim to Dolmabahçe]. Our area is closed to traffic and there are barricades made from the pavements' bricks everywhere. All night they march and sing till dawn and we actually have a broken pane on our front door, probably the only one on the avenue! Tons of graffiti everywhere.'

Free watermelon from the watermelon man in Gezi Park. Carved onto one of the fruit is the saying (both philosophical and, given the copious clouds of tear gas, all too true): Sebepsiz gözler ağlamaz (lit. Eyes don't weep without a reason).

This morning, the 15th day of the civil movement that blew up over the destruction of the Gezi Park in Taksim Square, Turkey’s mainstream NTV channel was on hand, apparently for the first time in two weeks, to film police retaking the square. According to the Governor of Istanbul, ‘the sole purpose is to remove bannners and placards’. They would stay on just to make sure that they weren't put back up.

‘Our history is NOT FOR SALE’ is the message of a poster propped up against a chapulcu tent in Gezi Park yesterday. A key issue in the protests was the government’s selling off of historic landmarks. In a particularly contentious case, the Atatürk Çiftliği, a recreational model farm established by Atatürk in what is now the heart of Ankara, had been downgraded from 1st degree sit alanı (protected area) to 3rd degree in 2011, and is now being built over. Yesterday it was announced that Istanbul would lose its botanic garden, below the Süleymaniye Mosque, after the Presidency of Religious Affairs demonstrated that it had belonged to the clergy in Ottoman times, and that 250,000 trees are to be felled at Erçiş, north of Lake Van.

Within an hour of riot police establishing control of Taksim, the Cumhuriyet Anıtı (Republic Monument), seen here on Friday, was stripped of its colourful whacky regalia, and gas bombs were blotting out the blue sky. This sunny postcard is a happy reminder of a time when Taksim briefly became the world’s speakers’ corner.

Facing the monunent is the AKM (Atatürk Cultural Centre), the operatically decked-out Istanbul opera house. The building is high on the Prime Minister's demolition wishlist in spite of the Sabancı Group’s offer to fund the restoration of the building and make it earthquake-safe.

A stroll through Gezi Park is so mesmerising that it is easy to forget the drama that lies behind the outflowing of creativity. As a veteran artbook printer put it, what is there left for the coming Istanbul Biennial to offer? The theme this year is protest and public space! Back to the drawingboard, boys and girls.

A wishing tree: Gezi konuşuyor, Gezi speaks, Gezi spricht.

And the wishing well, where doves take fright. This would be scene of some of the worst violence this morning.

There have been many incredible scenes in Gezi Park. Thank you, Altay Genç, for posting this video on YouTube of rabble-rousing children raising the spirits of Gezi Park protesters on Sunday, June 9. Two days later gas bombs were being rained into the park in an attempt to clear it.

There have been many incredible scenes in Gezi Park. Thank you, Altay Genç, for posting this video on YouTube of rabble-rousing children raising the spirits of Gezi Park protesters on Sunday, June 9. Two days later gas bombs were being rained into the park in an attempt to clear it.

The civil movement has produced miles of fascinating documentary footage. Few art films made in Istanbul will ever compete with this vimeo, filmed from a remote-control toy helicopter at 5am the morning the police retook the square. The filmakers, bianet, wanted to 'send a message from the people to the government' by making a comprehensive record of slogans painted on the walls of the streets around the square. 

More and more events are feeling the heat of the protests. As I mentioned in the first part of this blog, a concert by an international or local act at Taksim Square might do wonders for lifting the spirits of the devoted protesters, but this looks unlikely. Music festivals, aimed at a younger audience especially, are cancelling performances by the minute. Maybe they should follow the example of one group of schoolgirls (see The age of innocence) or the German pianist David Martello (see Music is the key) who have showed they are not afraid to take the stage at Gezi Park. 

The Dutch photography duo, Inez & Vinoodh, who have photographed a bevy of famous faces and haute couture editorials worldwide, have postponed their first-ever Turkish exhibition, which had been planned for ISTANBUL'74 from June 7.

First the Vodafone Istanbul Calling festival announced the cancellation of some events for early June, but now most of the shows scheduled for the rest of June and early July (as well as side shows at various venues around Istanbul) have also been cancelled. The fate of the shows scheduled for late July and early August has not yet been decided (or at least announced). Check the festival's website for a list of which shows will not go on. 

The Efes One Love Festival, which promised an array of popular indie and dance acts from Europe, the USA and Turkey, scheduled for June 20 to 22, has been cancelled. The festival announced that the new laws, which prohibit the sale of alcohol from 10pm to 6am, are partly to blame for this.

Yet another festival focusing on contemporary rock and indie acts, the Avea Escape to Music Festival, scheduled for June 29, has been postponed.

Watch this space for updates on future events.