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Decapoda goes to the Forest

From the very first time that I heard it as a child I have had strong (almost gut) feelings concerning the tale of Little Red Riding Hood: I was horrified by the killing of the wolf. Inconsolable, in fact – to the point where my father had to invent a whole new ending to the story so that I would stop the tantrum that the actual tale had provoked.

So, when storyteller Heidi Dahlsveen, with whom I have collaborated on wonderful projects before, asked me to work on “the other side of the tale” of LRRH I said yes immediately since I saw a way of laying my old childhood demons to rest by doing so. The Companion, Heidi’s island upon which my landscape is displayed together with Soror Nishi and Cherry Manga‘s gorgeous interpretations of “the other side of the story” will open to the public in a few more days.

I am not very good with stories, and I am especially not good with ending stories, so my tale of the other side of LRRH is also without an end. (Although, I have been toying around with some kind of ending which I may yet do at the end of the show in April, if Heidi will be able to give me the extra time for that since it will mean a lot of re-building).

My problem with ending stories is that unfortunately my mind seems to only work through absurd connections that inevitably lead to further complexities; and absurd connections and complexities usually do not wrap things up, but instead leave them hanging in a most unsatisfactory manner.

My “other side of the story” favors the wolf. And here things already get quite complicated since the story starts with the wolf killing the grandmother. And then LRRH kills the wolf (or has the hunter help her do it – but the hunter is not really a major figure here, I don’t think). So, why is LRRH a monster for me – and always has been? And why isn’t the wolf so, even though he started it all by killing grandma? The wolf kills to eat, and that is what wolves do. For him grandma is “meat.” LRRH however kills for a vendetta – to mete punishment upon a creature for following his need for nourishment. Which, in my book, makes her a murderess par excellence. Whereas the wolf is just like the rest of us – merrily sitting down to his juicy steak… And I am fairly certain that I saw this distinction even when I was a small child.

Yes, of course there are vastly complex symbolic aspects to this tale, such as sexual ones; or there is a homily in there about children not talking to strangers (which LRRH does in the beginning – she talks to a wolf who stands in lieu of  a stranger, a man she doesn’t know). I know that this is an allegory. The tale has its roots in medieval myths that revolve around the “werewolf.” I know all of this today – as an adult, yes.

However, at the end of the day, isn’t this meant to be told to little children? Are they likely to understand any of this symbolism? (Truly, I do not know the answer to this one, never having had much to do with small children myself). So, will they get the metaphors here? That this is an allegory? That there are many ways of interpreting all this and many levels of looking at this tale?

Or will they only be able to grasp the bare facts (like I did too, all those years ago): Wolf eats grandmother > Bad bad wolf! > Has to be punished!> LRRH seizes the moment! > Wolf gets stuffed with rocks > Serves him right!

And then the very cruelty of the punishment itself – getting stuffed with rocks!

Through the persona of LRRH I am putting us human beings in the dock, and I admit that I am relentless about it too. There is no compromise here, this story (for me) is one that brings a human being face to face with a member of another species on a one on one basis; and unfortunately, as the confrontation unfolds it brings to light some of our most unpleasant “human” characteristics: Be like me – or die! I will absolutely refuse to understand the needs of your nature! I will be utterly devoid of empathy towards “the other”  – in this particular case a non-human life form. And, oh yes – we are also extremely good at punishing “the other,” at sitting in judgement, at being self-satisfied moralists…

I do not think that I will win a lot of popularity contests with what I have done. I fear that my “other side of the tale” is uncomfortable – and as said, I am not willing to soften the blow in any way. I am obstinate in my belief, prejudiced and one-sided: For me, there is no redemption for humanity in this. And there really isn’t, as far as I can judge, you know? Not that what I made here is an “environmentalist work,” or not that I am a big voice for environmentalist causes (I am a major polluter myself – so, how could I possibly be?), but we have managed to wipe out how many species? 1000s? 10s of thousands? And wolves, I believe, are on the brink of joining the list?

How could this have come to pass? If we were so wonderful, how could we have done that? Butchered millions of beavers for fur? Festooned ourselves with minks and foxes? Covered our floors with animal pelts and mounted hunt trophies on our walls? And obviously none of these types of actions happened out of survival instincts – had they done so that would have made the whole sordid affair different in its very essence, since it would have made it akin to what all other predators do as well – spontaneous, indeed uncontrolled, impulsive. (It is the long-term strategizing, the “goal” in human killing that goes way beyond the actual hunt itself, that I find so awful… And yes, it could be argued here that some predators, domesticated cats especially, also kill for sport – which is probably one of the (hidden) reasons why we love them so much. But, wouldn’t the difference there be that feline sport only gives momentary satisfaction to the hunter, is thus essentially spontaneous?)…

With us it isn’t solely out of the spontaneous impulse of the hunt itself, and it isn’t only out of a need for food that we kill – our killer “instinct” comes out of a repulsive, deliberate self-righteousness, out of a notion of “entitlement.” And it comes especially out of that horrifying sense that we carry in our psyches of “the other” that validates this notion of entitlement, that makes it perfectly OK, indeed highly justifiable, to murder all other creatures that do not belong to our ilk, and that we are therefore not obliged to understand or to identify with…

Anyway, as said, my mind seems to work best upon absurdities. As I built my forest I decided to bring in another creature. Purely through visual association, at first: I used Ernst Haeckel’s biological drawings for the foliage of the woods. And then, I had used some other Haeckel drawings for an avatar that I made a couple of years ago. This is a “Decapoda” – a lobster, in other words. So, somehow Decapoda has now found her way into the forest. And the ending I have in mind may be all about lobsters… Scavenging animals that basically do no one any harm and that are almost impossible for us humans to not to see as “the other.” So ugly, so alien; and therefore, so eminently deserving of landing in cauldrons of boiling water.

So, I think in my tale they will now be the ones to save the day…


And – at the end, a clarifying note will definitely be needed, I think – so here it goes: By writing about all this I am not under any illusion that I am exempt from any of it. I recognize and acknowledge all of what I wrote above in myself. Sometimes overt, sometimes hidden – but nevertheless all there. Self-evident really, no need to even say this – had I not recognized it in myself, how could I have written it? But I still wanted to make a point of stating this, just in case…


*** I said yes immediately because I knew that I had the material to do it, thanks to long-lost, good friend Leben Schnabel, whose wolf head and paws I used as the pivotal elements of the rezz. Without these crucial bits I probably could not even have contemplated any of this…
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Reasons for staying around

Animals are a good reason to stick around. And then I like walking in the streets and sitting in cafes, I guess. Watching the animal-loving population of my city, I really like to do that. Crossing the Bosporus is nice. Buying nice clothes is another good one. Making stuff, that's probably one of the most important ones. And I guess, that's it. Those are the reasons to still be sticking around, continuing to live.

Other than that - forget it... I would bid my farewells tonight if it weren't for these little things, I think.
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Is the Internet making us crazy?

I came across this on facebook (of all addictive places!) thanks to an old friend of mine, Nazif Topçuoğlu, who posted it there. And yes - I too think that online social networks and domains are wreaking havoc on our psyches. And if I am saying this, if I am observing some very adverse effects in myself that have come about from being a virtual worlds resident of 5+ years, then I may well be a good candidate for some of the research that these folks are conducting.

The findings that are being reported in the article are all disconcerting. But, here is the bit that has terrified me more than anything else in there, I guess:

"We may appear to be choosing to use this technology, but in fact we are being dragged to it by the potential of short-term rewards. Every ping could be a social, sexual, or professional opportunity, and we get a mini-reward, a squirt of dopamine, for answering the bell. “These rewards serve as jolts of energy that recharge the compulsion engine, much like the frisson a gambler receives as a new card hits the table,”"

I find this notion of the "mini-reward" extremely worrisome since I can immediately recognize this type of compulsive behavior in myself also, when I think on how I have to go and check Flickr every half hour or so for the first 6 hours after I post an image, to see if my friends have commented on it and/or faved it. And to then realize how the "reward" is indeed so short-lived, that the "high" from getting the fave/comment evaporates almost instantaneously and I have to run back for more very shortly afterwards. And if nothing happens, I feel downcast. Not depressed maybe - I may not be that far gone yet - but definitely downcast...

However, a distinction, in my case, is that for me it is not about "opportunity" but about "affirmation". And also, that I am looking for this affirmation from people that I know and value. So, in my own defense, I am not a "ping" collector. I do not want lots of faves or comments, but instead I want them from people that matter. (And who incidentally are all avatars in Second life, and whom I therefore know only as virtual beings - an important attribute of their relationship to me, as I will talk about more just a little bit later).

It did not take for me to read this article to know that something is indeed wrong with me, that I am no longer quite "sane" when it comes to all this stuff. And I am not even one of the really bad cases, I suppose. For example I do not (yet) have a smart-phone. Or rather I bought one a while ago but haven't started using it since I do not like small fiddly gadgets with lots of buttons at all (mine is a Blackberry); and I absolutely loathe the touch system, so one of those is out of the question for me anyway. Nevertheless, lack of smart-phone notwithstanding, I am hooked through the computer, in front of which I spend enough time.

I think one of the aspects of this addiction, which is based on the "dopamine mini-reward" is something that, funnily enough, I wrote in an email to a friend of mine very shortly before I saw this article:

"IRL we can let others know how we feel about them through our expressions, our body languages, with how we look at them, in all kinds of ways, many of them probably not even all too consciously. And then "saying it out loud" that we think that they are great, that we care about them, may not be all that crucial; even may end up being somewhat obnoxious at times. However, in virtual life, all that we have is tangible, conscious, deliberate affirmation. And so we have to do it often, and repeatedly, whenever the person does something new that we can respond to, so that we can convey our continued support, our approval, our affection in the face of the lack of physical, bodily communication. Therefore silence in cyberspace means no support, no affection, no approval - or it means indifference of course. "

So, the "ping", the "like", the "fave", the "comment" or indeed the purchase of one's virtual merchandise (in my specific case, that is) probably stands in lieu of the physical (unspoken) affirmation. Which we no longer adequately have since we are all staring at our screens all the time - as is the person who is sitting next to us, or across from us IRL. And, this physical affirmation that can manifest in a million ways through body language is probably not replaceable in terms of its (long-term) impact through virtual means; not even with all the "pings" that one could possibly ever hope to get. The sense of being appreciated and valued by the ones we value - once and for all, through something even as fleeting as an affectionate gaze. The "ping" can only do that (no matter how inadequately) if it happens regularly, over and over again, all the time, in order to keep up a continuous flow of the nice hormone that we have become addicted to. So, we have to keep going back for more. More posts, more links shared, more tweets, more this, more that... Which, of course, takes us further and further away from the only panacea that can ever work - bestowing and receiving loving gazes.

I have recently been making a point of going out as often as I can with friends to eat and drink in nice places with nice sea views, and all the works, for long meals. And, I especially seek out friends who do not sit across from me with an iPhone in their hands, when it comes to these outings. (Thankfully I am of an age where I have the luxury to still have people around me who can manage to do so, albeit with difficulty sometimes, I have to admit). I no longer check my email when I go on vacation. Went for 10 days without doing so earlier this month - which I thought would be a very hard thing to do, and in the event ended up being a cinch. I nowadays shut down the computer when I decide to go and read my old crime novels. I try not to look at social networks more than twice a day, and never for longer than 10 minutes at the very most. And I try not to post more than one single item in any 24 hour period and try to be very selective as to what it is that I post. And, most importantly, I log off from them when I am done.

And I plan on reducing my online existence even further and further, professional involvements permitting of course...

Because, in the end, I have a very strong sense that this stuff truly ain't good for me, no matter what the short term buzz of it may be. Dopamine is highly addictive after all - and therefore, knowing this, I will continue to try and say "thank you, but no thank you..." to its charms...

(And the total irony of course, is that I am writing all of this on my blog...)
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During my last trip I bought very little, which is not really usual behavior for me, normally I go crazy shopping whenever I travel (or when I am at home, for that matter...). A lighter is one of the few things which I brought back with me. Because of the contradiction that it represents. I found it at the airport in San Francisco as I was leaving for New York. I am not sure if they still have this thing where you can not take lighters with you on board planes in the US, but obviously the person who left it there thought that they did and got rid of it before he went through security. (Which I did too with mine btw - couldn't face the potential aggro).

I already wrote about New York earlier this week, and also that the reason why the scales finally fell from my eyes while I was there was connected to the newest smoking ban, which basically decrees that you can only smoke outdoors if you are standing up. You can no longer enter parks with cigarettes at all, and sidewalk cafes and benches are also out of bounds. And much the same in San Francisco. I mean, it does change one's perceptions if you are relegated to leper status in a situation where you are actually doing something which is completely legal... In the United States it is legal to smoke...

And this is the first point: If smoking is such an evil, such an unspeakably degenerate act, one which you are only allowed to do whilst standing up, away from all others like the class dunce - then why not outlaw tobacco altogether? They are after all one of the largest manufacturers of the stuff in the world and 2 of the 4 big international tobacco cartels are American. Which is exactly why they will never make it illegal of course. The cost of that is way too big... Far more efficient to play a cat and mouse game through harassing the few remaining smokers at home, whilst merrily exporting cigarettes to the rest of the world!

Second point: If a nation does not sign the Kyoto protocol, and then gets all sanctimonious about environmental pollution and health and whatever, and furthermore allows its cities to impose sanctions that humiliate people who dare to light up under a clear blue sky - sorry, but I think some very serious self-evaluation of motives is in order over there! Such as wondering about whether there may not be a deliberate strategy of diverting public awareness from the real evil of total environmental melt-down by focusing them on something related but relatively very minor? By creating a context in which people can feel good about themselves by venting their righteous indignation at others, who in their estimation are the ones who pollute their world? While they themselves remain squeaky clean?

Whereas in the face of the impending calamity it really doesn't matter in the slightest whether some poor sucker enjoys a smoke and a coffee, sitting down somewhere in the open air, even if it happens to be in your immediate vicinity, and even if the smell may come drifting over to where you are from time to time? With exhaust fumes from millions of vehicles billowing all over the place? Given that in all likelihood you will be going belly up with the rest of humanity in a few more decades anyway? (Not to even mention all the flora and fauna which between us we - smokers and non-smokers together - have managed to decimate en route...)

Smoking is bad for you. But of course it is! I really do not need a nanny state to lecture me about it - trust me, I know! I also know that if said nanny state is really watching out for my best interests (and for the interests of those around me, as they proclaim) - why, then they can outlaw the stuff altogether, can't they? But so long as they don't... As the old Catholic joke goes - most things that give pleasure are either unhealthy or morally suspect. Like food, for example. Obesity, they say, is the biggest health threat in the US. Far bigger than smoking it seems. The argument there may be that nicotine is addictive whereas food isn't. Oh really? Are you so sure about that?

Don't get me wrong: I do not advocate smoking in closed public spaces. In fact (and funnily enough like most other smokers that I know), I am very much in favor of no smoking indoors in restaurants, bars and so forth. Cigarettes, lovely little critters that they are, do stink terribly and the fug is extremely bothersome even if you are contributing to it yourself. So, we have the indoors smoking ban here as well. When it was first brought into effect I thought that there might be a public uprising, given what a nation of dedicated smokers Turks are. Nothing like that - people stopped lighting up indoors immediately. Know why? It makes sense, that's why. It is something that one can immediately understand! It is highly reasonable.

But making it into a heinous act to smoke outdoors? Apparently the reasoning behind it, Dina told me, is the litter that it causes. Please... Don't make me laugh! I was in Singapore a few years ago. Cleanest place I have ever seen in my life. Even the trees look like as if they are given a daily polish - which I am sure they are btw ;-). Not the tiniest bit of litter in evidence, and Singaporeans smoke quite a bit, I noticed. Lots and lots and lots of trash cans (always one within easy walking distance more or less) and also they have a special litter police. Problem solved! And even around here: This is a very crowded city. There is one area in particular which gets about one million people every night which only spread themselves over a couple of square kilometers at the most. Weekends it goes up to about 3 million people over there in Taksim. Most of them smoke. So, you would expect mountains of butts to pile up, right? Wrong. Again, plenty of trash cans - without even a need for a litter police, I might add - end of story.

So, this little thing that they have going across the pond - sorry people, I will now call a spade a spade: It is a social hysteria. And in view of the Kyoto thing it is also hypocrisy with a capital H. It is a "better than thou" mindset carried to ridiculous extremes. It is ridiculous - period.

However, for me it is also very sad on a personal level: I really used to love the States. And unfortunately I no longer do as much... And having had to smoke standing up while I was there this last time is what did it, I'm afraid. Of course, lots of truly great people over there whom I love - but... Somehow, just this tiny little thing (or so any non-smoker may think) has made me feel rather unwelcome, if not indeed downright shunned and unwanted. And really, all this for no good reason that I can identify. That I can see sense in and accept.

(And please do not ask me why I do not just quit. The answer is because I absolutely love it! And after all, I do not hold others to task over their particular vices either, you know?)
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Bidding farewell to an old sweetheart...

I was away for two weeks, went to San Francisco and New York.

I lived in New York for seven years during the 1980s. I had initially gone as a Fulbright scholar, so after going through many legal hoops to obtain permanent residency I was finally told that I had to fulfill my J1 visa obligations; in other words return to my country of origin for 2 years, after which point I could then come back. Thus, I returned to Turkey in late 1986, completely brokenhearted since I was leaving behind a life and a city, both of which I had come to care for very deeply. As things went, life took unexpected turns and when the 2 years were up I no longer wanted to return since at that point I was much engrossed in my new life here. But New York remained my sweetheart.

It was an amazing place. I recently told someone that I did not see some of the attire one would regularly see on New York streets back then even in Second Life - which is quite a statement, I know, but true nonetheless. Such as Rollerena, for example. That persona is of course a unique landmark in history, however the point is that Rollerena was not the only one, the city was altogether wild enough to house such levels of eccentricity as par for the course. Par for the course being the operative words here. Not "performance art" or whatever - but "par for the course". Very important distinction that.

Of course older folk would tell us that what we were seeing in the 80s was but a pale shadow of what the city had been like during the 50s and 60s, its true heyday. For me however, what was around me was more than enough for me to fall in love with. And also I had wonderful friends, one funnier and more intelligent than the other. We had converged from all across the globe to be in the haven of crazies. Or so we thought anyway...

I have not been back very often. Before this last visit, the last time was in 2006. Every time I returned I felt more estranged, the city was no longer what it was, which is probably why I was never terribly anxious to go back. But, nonetheless, it is hard to bid an old love goodbye inside your mind, so although I knew that New York was no longer 'my' New York, I hung on to my feelings for the place. This time, also exacerbated by the most recent version of the smoking ban (basically you can only smoke outdoors if you are standing up - you can no longer sit down and smoke anywhere), the loss hit me full bast.

How can a place change so much? What happened here for God's sakes? Where is everyone? Where did the humor go? The tongue-in-cheekness? The off-the-wallness? The flamboyance? The in-your-face outrageousness? Why do all the young people look like little business persons? Where are all the crazy colored mohawks? The roller blades? God - where is the DANGER even? The danger that was the price for the pulse of the city? Gone... Hordes of clean-cut people. Two basic clothing types as far as I could make out: Business attire or urban outdoors casual. And then a small sprinkling of neo-conservative, highly toned down, quasi-artsy outfits, which are basically just a slightly trendier version of either the business clothes or the urban outdoors casual stuff. All very tasteful, I should hasten to add. Not a hair out of place. Smart phones clutched to ears, hands on i-pads... An army of 20something year olds (as well as their seniors and bosses of all ages obviously) decked out as entrepreneurs of various callings, including the 'business of art'...

And what is really sad about it all? It is this myth that rests entirely on the past laurels of the city, and which is nonetheless desperately propagated by its present denizens, that this is still "the coolest place on earth to be". With Banana Republic, Uni-clo, and American Apparel having replaced the likes of the Unique Clothing Warehouse on lower Broadway? "Cool" by schedule and appointment is very much what it appears to be to me. Sorry...

And then where did all the salsa music go that used to blast away on the streets? All those ghetto-blasters for that matter? Back then we didn't ever plan to 'go out'. We were 'out' all the time anyway, given that the place was cheap enough and accommodating enough for us to be constantly on the move hopping from place to place, even on our non-existent incomes. So, where did all the Greek Diners go? They used to be our mainstay... Which brings me to how expensive the city has become. Not that I am terribly well known for saving money, so normally I don't even notice what I pay; however the change in prices in New York I did notice since they inevitably lead me to the conclusion that the city is simply catering to a new clientele that vastly prefers designer coffee joints to pastrami on rye places.

And then another strange thing: Listening around me on the subway I no longer seem to have heard much of the good old Brooklynese accent. What is that all about, I wonder? Are the natives leaving in droves then, or are they all taking elocution lessons in a final frenzied attempt to fit into their own city?

So, the love affair is over. It seems unlikely now that I will ever go back. Not that some of what I have been describing is not in evidence on this side of the pond either, I have to admit. Nonetheless, I cannot help but think that there is still a discernible difference in degree between here and there. And then the really important difference is that no other city ever flew quite so high as New York, and consequently no other city has come crashing down as hard after the high either.

So, given the long flight hours, the ensuing swollen extremities, the horrible jet-lag - why would I put myself through the torture of visiting a lost old lover at all that cost? To lament on all that has been lost?

Well, there is one reason to go back and I will end this post on that positive note: My friend Dina. She is my oldest living friend, and I totally adore the woman, and so I would go just to hang out with her... Sitting at her old wood table, puffing away on our smokes like two disgruntled old Indian chiefs! That is totally great! But then, Dina really likes Istanbul - so...