Atölye Çalışması

Beliz Kudat
Yeşim Cimcoz

Buluşma Tarihleri:
Ekim 2016 itibariyle her ayın son Cuma günü

Buluşma Saati:
10:00 - 16:00

Buluşma Yeri:
Her ay belirlenen bir mekanda, sonra İstanbul sokaklarında, insanlarında, ruhunda.


Eskiyi Arayanlar İçin

Eski İstanbulu Yazıyorum çalışmalarının gittiğine üzülenler, keşke eskisi gibi kalsaydı diyenler, sadece amatör kalmayı isteyen, sadece içinden geldiği gibi yazmak isteyenler... sizi unutmadık! Biz ayrıca hala yılda en az iki defa İstanbul'un bir semtine gideceğiz. Hatta bazılarınızın çok istediği gibi bir hafta sonu gezisi bile düşünüyoruz. Bu gezilerimiz tam eski İstanbul'u Yazıyorum tadında olacak. Tek şartımız yazmanız. Katılım yine ücretsiz olacak, yeme içme sizden olacak. Yazılarınız yine yayınlanacak, yine beraber yazıp okuyacağız. Sadece yılda iki defa olacak. :) Buradan tarihler hakkında duyuruları takip etmeyi ihmal etmeyin.

Anasayfa Writing Istanbul



Writing Istanbul is about a dream... a dream I once had of bringing together writers, in the city where East meets West. A friend of mine once visited this city and after a day of sightseeing she sat exhausted on my balcony, sipping Turkish tea and said "the city is an assault on my senses...I still have colors, images, smells, sounds and tastes coming at me!" After that day I walked this city and looked at her through the eyes of a foreigner. She was beautiful, full of passion, mystery, magic and heavy with history. I wanted to share more of her with others...

Then Sheila Bender came into my life. After many years online writing with Sheila, we finally met in İstanbul and it was with Sheila that I had my first visit to a Turkish Hamam. We spoke of my dream. Sheila told me that whatever stories were in a person, they called to be told and we should tell them if only to ourselves. Then when she went back to the States we kept in touch...and she asked about the dream. I was scared, I didn't know where to start and the project just seemed to large...larger than I was anyway.

They say there are spirits that help us through life, watch over us and guide us...and we can live all that we dream should we take the time to listen to those voices and walk through the doors they open for us. After Sheila opened the door to the dream, other doors opened and somehow every month for 1 and a half years I found myself walking through the streets of Istanbul with sometimes 20 sometimes 30 women, and a few men :) as we let our senses open up, allowing us to remember the Istanbul of our childhood and weave it into the İstanbul of our today. We wrote. There were no judgements, no rights and no wrongs. No one said, you can't write a story like one said this is how a poem should sound... we let the city touch us and allowed the stories in us to pour out.

I put them on a website...and our numbers grew. By the end of the year and a half so many writers had emerged, others had found their voice and others just a place to belong. Then Sheila said, let's do what you're doing in English...and that is when the Writing Istanbul project came to life...

You are invited to a four day journey into the ancient city of Istanbul, Turkey, where the East meets the West. You'll stay in the old part of the city, walk through streets that trigger images, shift things in you, eat authentic foods and share all this on paper with other writers like yourself... On these pages you'll find more information about the workshop and what awaits you on these four days...

We hope you decide to join us... and leave you with a poem...

Through her billows weaves the glimmering sun
the undulation of her voice against the stone
Fishing boats break the early morning dew
and fresh cracked muscles slip
amidst carnation gypsies

Dusty pavements swept in bristle strokes
as aged men laze in the unclaimed day
sipping crimson heat from a morning brew.
Cigarette smoke touched by fresh baked dough
lain on early tables next to raven olives

Starched white collars on blue
braided hair and white bows
fill courtyards with laughter
when bells have chimed for children's pleasure
Elders rest on playground banks
watching over their future

On waters so familiar she gently drifts 
to travel through the braided sun
with a glass of crimson brew
Istanbul has arisen

Yeşim Cimcoz


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