Opening Session

“Intersections in Architecture”

The opening session of the IABA 2011 Antalya Architecture Biennial was held on Wednesday, October 26, 2011, at 2:00 PM at the AKM Perge Hall, under the title “Intersections with Architecture.”
The session was moderated by Mr. Ismail Ünal, Mayor of Beşiktaş Municipality.

 

Speakers and Topics:

• Prof. Dr. Rahmi Aksungur – Plastic Arts and Architecture

• Prof. Dr. Reha Günay – Photography and Architecture

• M.Sc. Architect, Journalist-Author Oktay Ekinci – Media and Architecture

• Sculptor Mehmet Aksoy – Sculpture and Architecture

• Lawyer Turgut Kazan – Law and Architecture

• Director-Author Hasan Özgen – Cinema and Architecture

We share with you a selection of the striking ideas and perspectives presented during the opening session.

 

İsmail Ünal – Mayor of Beşiktaş, Architect

“Our country is going through significant times, dear friends—terrorism and earthquakes. We all share similar thoughts about terrorism; it pains us deeply. We are truly saddened by it. But as a nation, we must know how to overcome it.

Earthquakes are also a critical issue. Especially during an event like this, I sincerely congratulate those who have worked hard to make this Biennial happen. I believe it’s worth emphasizing how timely this event is, particularly in relation to the subject of earthquakes.”

 

 

Prof. Dr. Rahmi Aksungur – Sculptor

“This is the first time such a Biennial is being held in Turkey. Our country has many shortcomings. It is a large nation with a rich culture; but I believe there is a fundamental deficiency we must address—and perhaps this Biennial can be a catalyst for it. I’d like to begin by expressing this clearly.

For example, we do not have an architecture museum. We have a deep-rooted architectural heritage—it is visible everywhere, and it is also multicultural. Yet, not a single architecture museum exists in any of our cities. Whether in Istanbul or elsewhere, it doesn’t matter—this gap must be filled.

Up until the 1960s, architecture remained connected to the arts. I want to express this from my perspective as an artist—you may or may not agree. This disconnection may have stemmed from the growing influence of other disciplines—like engineering, mechanics, and more—on architecture. Of course, my architect colleagues may evaluate this more precisely.

But I do believe architecture became disconnected from art. I know this because, in the past, architects were admitted through talent-based exams. That is no longer the case; now they’re admitted based on academic scores. However, there are still schools in the world that rely on talent exams.

So what happened when that link with art was broken? It wasn’t just in Turkiye—it happened across Europe as well. It was actually a result of the industrial revolution. Technology advanced rapidly. Engineering disciplines rose in prominence and became essential in construction. As a result, they began to dominate. This became a problem within education.

Today we have architecture faculties, engineering-architecture faculties, and engineering faculties with architecture departments. Clearly, something is off—even at the educational level, the identity of architecture is not fully defined.

In my opinion, the identity of architecture is being interfered with. It feels like we must allow architecture to breathe again—to restore its freedom. It seems as though that freedom has been taken away.

Various other disciplines have asserted dominance over it in different ways.”

 

 

Prof. Dr. Reha Günay – M.Sc. Architect, Photographer

“It is a fact that photography is an art form. On the other hand, it is also a very important form of documentation. If photography had existed in the 17th century, I would have given almost anything to take a photograph in Istanbul. Photography is also a tool of communication.

Personally, I have tried to use photography more as a means of promotion and messaging. Through it, I aim to communicate with society. I especially invite people to recognize and protect our cultural heritage. Of course, I have no objection to artistic photography. If the opportunity arises, I enjoy experimenting with it too. I believe landscape photographers, for instance, are also working to protect nature.

Any new field you intersect with will undoubtedly add something to your life. In fact, architecture and photography share many fundamental similarities. Both are rooted in art and technique. In that sense, they are not strangers to one another—although their techniques and modes of expression differ. The more buildings you photograph, the more your architectural knowledge, understanding of structures, and ability to critique architecture will grow.

Therefore, photography and architecture support one another. Still, architects may see you as a photographer, and photographers may see you as an architect.”

 

 

Oktay Ekinci – Journalist, Author

“Why don’t I like the word ‘media’? Because it has made us forget the word ‘journalist.’ There is something called the press, publishing, and journalism. It’s a profession, a craft, and a historical pursuit. Schools were established for it, academic programs were formed—it needs to grow even further.

But in the last 15, maybe 20 years at most, the term ‘media’ has gained more widespread acceptance. Yet, is there a ‘Media School’? A ‘Media University’? Do journalism faculties say, ‘let’s rename ourselves as a media school’? Ask the professors of communication faculties why their departments aren’t called media faculties—they’ll chase you out of the room. But still, the discussion has become relevant enough to warrant attention, let me put it that way, politely.

Why is that? Because ‘media’ is, in essence, an industry. But press, publishing, and journalism are public services.

We are part of a generation raised with the belief that public service should not be commercialized. That’s how we were educated. At this age, I won’t suddenly claim that public service can be carried out for profit or for high earnings. Public service is something done for society, without expecting personal gain. Of course, you put in your labor, and you should earn enough to live, but the purpose is to serve society. No one is arguing the opposite.

Now, when I look at things from the perspective of architecture, I say:
Architecture and media don’t intersect—they collide. And thank goodness for that.

As the late Çelikçi once said, today, in Turkey and in many other countries, architecture and media are colliding. Because, as my dear colleague Prof. Rahmi Aksungur beautifully put it, he spoke of mass and space—and the harmony between the two. He expressed this idea in an extraordinarily refined way.

But the media doesn’t want that. The media industry doesn’t want harmony—it wants chaos, it wants scale and spectacle, not proportion. Because proportion hinders profit—just like planning does. They reject proportion for the same reason they reject planning. They do not want harmonious architecture.

So, I apologize to all media personnel—but I urge all journalists to listen carefully:
Architecture and media are in conflict.”

 

 

Mehmet Aksoy – Sculptor

“When we speak of ‘intersections,’ I believe the intersection between plastic arts and architecture is extremely important. Yet somehow, we never truly intersect. This is a serious issue.

While we wish to intersect with architects, to engage with them, to blend architectural space with sculptural space, in reality, we end up intersecting more often with power structures, falling under their influence—in other words, we never truly intersect at all.

The fundamental concern of sculpture lies in mass, space, and light. Without incorporating the relationship between these three, we cannot create anything. This is also where architecture and sculpture meet. Architecture is also based on the presence of a mass within a space—a form that shapes the space and creates a sense of architectural place. Unfortunately, that architectural sense is often lacking—especially in Turkey, where voids dominate the urban environment. Architectural voids…

Cities are filled with empty, meaningless spaces. You never feel a sense of place. On the contrary, these spaces induce stress. We often speak of an urban anxiety, of ‘city-induced psychosis,’ where people’s tolerance thresholds have shrunk. You see this in traffic, in daily life…

This comes from the spatial conditions of everyday life. If the city isn’t thoughtfully designed, if human psychology hasn’t been considered, if profit takes precedence over content, the result is not the creation of restorative architectural spaces. Instead of promoting comfort and tranquility—a sense of ‘coming home’—we experience the opposite. And that sense of coming home is a very powerful thing.

So, when do they come to us? After the space is already built, someone eventually says:
‘Hey, let’s put a sculpture over there.’
As if it’s an afterthought—something to be squeezed in, added last-minute.

In fact, from the very beginning—even during the planning phase of a city—plazas and parks should be considered together with artists. This requires interdisciplinary collaboration. Today, I believe every architecture office should have a sculptor. Sculptors have a strong sense of form. Since we’re not as focused on function, we instinctively give more weight to form. In that sense, we have more creative freedom than architects.

That’s our strength, and perhaps the architect’s weakness. Why? Because they are bound by function:
There must be a kitchen, two rooms that fit into 50 or 80 square meters, a living room, etc. Or if it’s a 30-floor building, maybe we can squeeze out two more floors, raise the height to 70 meters…

But in all of this, there is no architectural aesthetic being considered. When profit dominates, the outcome is bad architecture. And when bad architecture becomes the standard, inevitably bad architects arise to fill the gap.

The much-debated sculpture in Kars—later labeled a ‘monstrosity’—had actually found its rightful place. It had connected with the city, given it meaning. It was in dialogue with the castle, with the mountains. Its scale was based on that context.

There’s always a relationship between space and scale.

Then a mayor comes along and says:
‘I want a very big sculpture—something grand and meaningful.’
We ask: ‘How big? 10 meters?’
‘No, more.’
‘20? 30?’
‘No, I want a 100-meter sculpture.’
He thinks the bigger it is, the better and more meaningful it will be.

And I say:
‘Do you even know where you want to place it?’
He doesn’t. All he knows is that it must be 100 meters tall. That’s the priority.

But it’s space that determines scale. Space is what matters most.

And the same goes for content. What has that space witnessed? What has it endured? Does it have a history? What have the buildings, trees, and stones around it seen and experienced?

There is a sense of lived experience. That is the true content of the space.

The content of your sculpture must integrate with that—in terms of scale, form, and meaning.

It’s a delicate, refined way of thinking.

But of course, such delicacy is rarely part of the process…”

 

 

Turgut Kazan – Lawyer

Law and architecture… I must admit, this is perhaps the most difficult intersection—and unfortunately, a very troubling one. In fact, calling it simply “bad” doesn’t do it justice; it is an intersection that is only getting worse.

Let me give you a current example. Earlier, Oktay Ekinci referenced today’s Milliyet; I’ll start by reading a short excerpt from Hürriyet, written by Yalçın Doğan. In it, the President of the Van Chamber of Architects states:

“It was discovered that permits were being issued for buildings that lacked the signatures of architects. We requested an investigation. Eventually, an investigation was launched—they had no choice. But it led nowhere.”

That’s the first key point.

The second is:

“We have a lawyer who deals exclusively with these cases. We win them, too. But sadly, nothing comes of the victories. No consequences follow.”

This statement, made by a Chamber President, is an open exposure of how law and architecture intersect in the context of today’s earthquake-related crisis.

And this alone is enough to show us what kind of intersection we are dealing with.

What’s happening in Turkey when it comes to this intersection? How is it playing out?

The things that should happen are not happening. In other words, when law and architecture meet, the right outcomes do not materialize. Instead, the wrong outcomes continue to unfold.

There are countless examples. Protected sculptures are labeled as “monstrosities” and torn down—sometimes even by court order. I don’t know all the details, but it’s a well-known story.

Meanwhile, the real monstrosities, the buildings that should be demolished, are stubbornly preserved…

 

 

Hasan Özgen – Director, Writer

Looking back on today’s gathering, I would like to divide my takeaway into two parts—for the sake of clarity. One is the architect’s design ability, and the other is the integrated aspect of architecture with its realization.

In my view, architecture—like filmmaking—is primarily a design art, or perhaps better said, a design-driven intellectual act. You sit down to design something in response to a human need—be it a workplace, a house, an apartment—and you are obliged to invest all your skills, knowledge, and accumulated experience into that creation. It must be functional, it must achieve artistic expression, and it must strike a balance with its economic context… Many elements come together in this process.

From this perspective, I believe architecture contains a revolutionary aspect. Its design capacity is its revolutionary strength.

This is very much akin to cinema.
If you are determined to tell the right stories through film, the opportunities cinema offers—to dream and realize those dreams—are deeply progressive.

There is, however, a difference between us and you (architects).
You are required to think about things that are very close to the tangible.
We, on the other hand, must reconstruct space and time.

That is, the way cinema handles time and space is slightly different from the way architecture does. They are two disciplines, each with its own logic.
Perhaps that’s why, through all these years, I’ve felt a sense of closeness with architects—brought on by this shared orbit of design.

Let me share with you something I learned during my documentary filmmaking journey—a lesson from a master craftsman in Tatvan, if I’m not mistaken. It helped me understand why architecture is a moral discipline—a very serious form of ethics. And I learned this from him.

When you travel eastward from Cappadocia, you’ll often see circular motifs carved into stone structures. These may feature palmettes or patterns radiating outward from the center, all enclosed in a circular form.

I asked the master what it was.

We were touring Tatvan together.

He said:
“That is the wheel of fortune (çarkıfelek).”

I asked:
“What do you mean by ‘wheel of fortune’? Is it some kind of charm, something to ward off the evil eye?”
That was my first assumption.

He replied:
“No, it’s not a charm.”

I asked, “Then what is it?”

He said:

“Look, this means:
My father came and went;
I came, and I too will go;
My son will come, and he will go;
My grandson will come;
Spring leaves, summer arrives;
Summer ends, autumn follows…
This is the cycle of the world.”

A profound life lesson.

What is the master, or perhaps the homeowner, trying to say by carving that into the house?

‘My dear fellow, dear citizen, dear Ahmet Efendi—do not try to gain power from this home. You too are only passing through.’

That became my moral understanding:

Enjoy this home with dignity.
Intersect with whomever you are destined to intersect.
And live well—right here.