Put on My Geneva Armour

by Ogulcan Arslan from Istambul, Turkey

“(...) There is no weapon like words, no armor against words.”

Jurgen, James Branch Cabell 

For me, photographs are like words. Or better; they are letters, punctuations, and words. 

When they come together, they form narratives — even though sometimes a single photograph can tell us the whole story —.

The fact that I’m using photographs on their own, or with diptych and tryptch, resembles creating a sequence of words to form a sentence. When the correct sequence is established, every line hinges on the previous one. 

I can foresee the final sentence of this story. Like a lightening in the sky; brightening the room first and thunder thereafter prolongs the feeling of that illumination until the nature settles down. 

What I struggle to describe within me is in the metaphors of these charged photographs. 

It’s not difficult to be a good person in Geneva. But it is far from simple. You feel like the ugly duckling among the noble swans. 

Switzerland’s chosen color is red. Still everywhere I look is in turquoise: the lake, the sidewalks, the whole city. Unnerving. 

My soul drifts from darkness to light, lightness to dark. Without feeling a moment of belonging, I’m in pieces. 

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