Fellujah, Exp. Video clip with Bulutsuzluk Özlemi, 5 min, 2005, Mini dv


Delirium, Exp. Video, 6 min, 2005, Mini dv
Camera, montage, text, idea ethem özgüven 6’

Delirium… 2005

To all of them, it is not going to save you to give an abundant name to all of these efforts. There or here, familiar or unfamiliar, in every geography you are going to feel this loneliness, this poorness, this orphanhood, this dark, thick unfamiliarity, this statelessness, you will not have relatives, there will not be a team that you support, you will not have a buddies, you will not have friends that you play football at a carpet field, there will not be your barber, butcher, dressmaker, inferiors and superiors, their wives, husbands and kids.

This shivering which is not related with weather will come and go everywhere with you. You will not keep quite, will not keep quite, will not keep quite, so what. All the things you say will get lost between crosses and hot wine, highways, airports, new year pines and televisions. You will stop speaking at the end…

66.My Child;

You get out the door and assume that you are doing something. Does not matter what you do, how you do, how much you do. It is nothing to do with you; it is not your choice. This is not something that you may totally understand although how much I explain to you.

The only bearable thing in doing something is that, it is more bearable than not doing something. “This thing” is not what your teacher tells you to do at school, not what your wife tells you to do at home, not what your boss tells you to do at work. Does not need to have an aim, logic, a benefit, and a function. It is even better if it does not have; to do things to enable relationships and environments that you only desire are counted, good deeds and blessed. This will glorify you, only this will glorify you. With this aim you get out the door and do something; you tell lies, you use your money, power, others, you take advantage of your duty, commission, friends and tell lies again. This will glorify you. The only criterion to be a glorified person is the joyful moments and idleness. Idleness, with the shortest definition, is no letting anyone to understand, although you realize that all this nonsense that is pretending to exist is just a shity reflection. Even to your self; drinking a kastel nuova at a September mid-afternoon in Verona is something like, drinking a kastel nuova wine which is produced at senior Colombo’s factory in which you know that you have a part in producing it, your ass leaning against to the tractor, sometimes watching the sky, sometimes the Belgian whore standing across the road, and sometimes the old and settled face of one eyed Guiseppe. And if you are an unemployed, a stateless, an idleness who does the things that you like, only love may come out from this….only love would come out from doing the things that you like…


If there really is a problem, the main problem in the world must be rather than something like; being let wide masses unenlightened, never materialized justice, channeling great energies to abortive areas like fight at football stadions, money and power to be controlled by 3-5 persons’ hands.

At least it seems like this, from where I look…

The real problem is not the efforts of those 3-5 persons who own everything and decide for everything, to keep the situation stay like as it is, it is the unqualitativeness of these efforts.

The real problem is the despicableness, ordinariness, oldness and effortlessness of these powers’ actions, plans, and efforts for everything to be remained the same.

The people I am mentioning are not, the mafia, conservatives, representatives at the streets or at the council of the parties that are pretending to be leftist and religious parties’, building contractors who make grand housing projects causing thousands to die after the earthquake or sheiks as we use in our everyday language…

I am mentioning a group, which is able to hide all through the history and stand slippery; everything bounces over them, nothing is effecting on them.

Other then death…

Actually, we slaves, a long time ago accepted our pathetic position of being not taken into consideration and being crushed under the group that I have mentioned; I can say this for myself with a reliefness of a heart: I’ve accepted it… all those with extraordinary unqualitative efforts for the situation to continue without any change also means, no doubt, to be put into a fools place. it is the real problem…

Even the lacquers of this little groups’, elites’ who organizes the physical and virtual areas of life in the favor of themselves, don’t peeled off while doing this and as because they are very clever and very tall, their eyes very eye lined and run hundred meters in nine seconds they are there, we are not here.

Not like that either…

Don’t have much explanation either…actually they are short and thick and ugly...

As a slave; more hurtful thing then being a slave, as a slave who got used to being a slave, is the conditions of this slavery…

Life with its toughness which would not let a get away to exist, organized like the kast system in India, television actually advertisements which are the chine of the organization which is really not working in the favor of me; this area, with its whole processes the very blessed, the very untouchable area; and ones who are being parts of this area are the very…

Areas of life, which are not as important as this virtual area comes right after, it is in basic, Beyoğlu; actually it is the part, from Taksim to Tünel and from there to Nişantaşı, a region that is crooked like a dagger; every decision about this country are made here

One of the important characterizations of this organization, which does not even let breathing, is sport; with a more right declaration, it is football. This pressed and minimized, made easy to controlled; galatasaray, beşiktaş, fenerbahçe, rest is organizations’ garnish. As how advertisements are shot by three people and as how two people vocalizing them and as how whole country watches them, as how large geography like Anatolia is identified as two districts called Beyoğlu and Nişantaşı, it is same in the matter of sports, a narrowed, easy to control area



Fenerbahçe, Galatasaray, Beşiktaş...

There is art and artists at the end of this whole organization and at zero level; art and artist do not say anything to all of these; cause they are added to all of this situation going on at a dashed part of it, if their declaration is to the power, they are crushing into pieces of their declaration until it becomes not understandable…With no doubt, the art that is produced, presented and consumed between the distance of Beyoğlu’s two tramway stations, at today’s incest position, with today’s cowardliness, it does not go any further from being a flank product of this whole endless death state and does not say anything in the name of dissidence. Nothing is produced in the name of truth and grief; besides they can’t produce and say anyway, nobody does have an intention to do something like that…

Today there is a little mass stucked into tiny area which holds the advertisements, mass media, determines the producing and consuming in it’s hands, made civil and official area accept its power. They call themselves elites, noble, elegant elites; no matter how much tubby, short and thick and even hardly speak one language, this is what elite is here, look around, to the mirror, our elite is this much… this is Turkey’s elite…They reproduce themselves as the advertisement writer, vocalization maker, director, creative something, foundation of beautification of Beyoğlu constitutive or Nişantaşı folks, supporters, board members or vice-president (whatever that means) of a large community, as owners of factories, banks, as the consumers of bosphorus scenery and fishes, as patron of artist and art, guests of television programs. This is what increment is; increment, this city that grows like reminding the increment at metastasis; as how grows this unhealthy structure; tumor grows and multiplies and decays by contaminating the sickness to the new cells and to the area it has absorbed; metastasis would continue with its maximum speed in such an area, in such a process and during the expansion, to loving and touching there is not any areas of life left back. At least from where I look nothing else more is seen.

Is it any different in your country…


F, Exp. Video, 6 min, 2004, Mini dv

Written, Directed and Edited By:
Ethem Özgüven

Ozan Adam, Selçuk Erzurumlu, Ulaş Şimşek, Özgür Şeyben

Asime Can Özözer

Stage Design:
Elif Özdemir

Tamer Karakulak

Visual Director:
Oğuz Yenen

Produced By:
Ethem Özgüven, Oğuz Peri

Men rule the world and try to dominate women and their lives. violence against women has many forms – physical, psychological, economical and social. the frameworks and names that allow violence are called honor, family peace, paid sexual workers, culture...

The only chance against violence directed towards women is to change the culture of male domination – in all senses.

Little Lake

Little Lake, Exp. Video, 4 min, 2003, Mini dv

Ethem Özgüven

Jakub Michalski

Alper Maral

Bülent Özcan

Actually richard was a barbarian

The logics of exploitation works like that. even if you - as a savage - would comprehend the values you own but you have not enough weapons to defend them, the colonialists will take them away. however, the quality of the savage, the attribute that differentiates him from the colonialist (at least in this case) is not to be more human or humanistic but to be more primitive. Even if he would have been aware of the values at hand he would not have been able to protect them.

Exploitation - in a sense it is a concept opposite to being human or being civilized. there is no chance to save any beauty or value from the hands of a barbarian in a world where almost throughout all times the balance was in favor of the barbarian or the colonizer. there is no chance for salvation. The people of southern Mediterranean coast of the 20th century were not aware of the values they possessed. Like the evening winds, bonitos and the ancient towns such as termessos, phaselis… the barbarian came and took it. with more plain words antalya was changing hands from one barbarian to another.

The ones who sold antalya or changed it to casinos, holiday resorts, show girls and concrete blocks were really barbarians. up to these days most of the antalians do not know how to swim or to eat fish. even today they don't know the names of most of the fish.

The narration of the changes, processes and results may sound very male. the decision mechanisms during all the times were male and maybe they still are. these circumstances don't contradict with anything we know.

Barbarian is male = male is barbarian

Today from all the ports of turkey boats without sails and souls, who resemble watermelon shells, who resemble anything else but boats set out with the "10th year march" screaming at highest levels as if they the went to war, as if they went to win back the lost battles... the voices on top of those boats destroy any meaning of the language.

From the boats concrete heaps of cities are to be seen. on the boats there are barbarians who still don't know how to swim and actually don't like the sea dancing with their backs to the sea.

And shortly I will tell you this story this way:

The antalians learned swimming or that swimming is actually a nice thing from the back bag tourist Richard.

The istanbuller who look down on the antalians learned about antalya and kaş as well as the rest of the beautiful places at the south coast from the same richard in the coffee houses in sultan ahmet. with this knowledge istanbuller settled down in Antalya.

That is why the destruction of antalya was so cruel and out of hands. the newcomers were as barbarian as the locals. the invasion was in a whole quest of colonization…

Antalya is a town on the south coast of Turkey with ancient history. Today it is a tourism center.


AMN / 2001 / 3’15’’ / Color / English / Turkey / DV

Director, Camera, Script, Text:
Ethem Özgüven

Music By:
Alper Maral

Post P:
Serkan Çifci, Dylan Pank, Bülent Özcan, Alper Kırklar

All My Nightmares

At first sight, it was not so clear that he was from a small town, on the contrary; even when you took a closer look at him you would not have understood that he was a redneck. after hearing him speaking you still would not have understood that fact; he would have spoken very fluent indeed, perhaps even better than average person, much better.

His hands which had just lost their calluses were neither beautiful nor ugly, and he used them comfortably.

From the way he walked you could have guessed that he was a sailor; yet, not a redneck; still not…

One day, someone we had known for years or at least we thought we knew, positions himself towards the light or sunlight, positions himself towards the earth, at a certain moment of the day or night, the angel from which you look at him suddenly shows for one second who he is, and suddenly, something spoils the situation like the light changes or he moves or you move and this picture of him disappears as fast as it appeared but after that moment until the end of your life you will always know that he is the one you have seen for a second; crazy, liar, coward, schizophrenic, extremely emotional or he looks exactly like his uncle that he seemed to be so different.

You would only understand that he was a redneck if you could have ever caught that moment.

He never liked the city, he always carried his pity with him. his pity and poorness had no relation with having a social status or money. he never understood women but he had serious trouble at his neck, front lob, elbow, heart and he had no idea of those problems and would continue to bull shit, talking crab.

His instincts were strong; even at times when he seemed eating pudding, traveling by boat he was trying to escape. only, he thought that he was trapped, he was giving high importance to himself, in reality he had problems in both legs and nobody cared for him, nobody gave a damn about him.

He was an ignorant. no matter how much he read he could not build any philosophical basis. like every prey he could not solve the mechanism of the trap; he could not escape.

He hated being indoors. for him the whole city looked like indoor; without horizon, boring, dirty. he used to love the sea but after arriving there his ideas about the sea being real disappeared. sometimes I see him in front of his tire repairing shop, he had a fat wife who is epileptic, and his children look like idiots.

He seemed to be sullen with the entire world and he talked just to talk…


LID/2001/2’25’’/Color/English/Turkey/ DV

Director, Camera, Script, Text:
Ethem Özgüven

Alper Maral

Post P:
serkan çifci, dylan pank, bülent özcan, alper kırklar

Text of LİG (the third work)

We sat right where the shore adjoined the rocks. the sun was about to disappear. we were sitting by the rocks, the girls, him and I. I felt at ease, but happily tired. I thought we were all at ease and tired. the girls, him and I. thought we were all waiting for the night; the position of the sun, the mountain, the position of the light, air, water and the universe bewildered us. but it wasn’t the case. not at all. I started getting sick of being misunderstood back then;

Even though I never open my mouth to say anything, I feel like I talk too much. I’m someone crazy about kindness and being a gentleman. the degradation of the living species hurt me and cause everything to become obsession for me. my interests focus only on being gentle. Once they almost beat şükrü to death in the dead end near the high school walls. the gang were 5-6 people. the toughest boy was slim with a pressed face and tiny eyes; looked ugly; after the beating up şükrü and he became equal in terms of beauty, at least for some time. şükrü, though battered, had around 50 national records, mostly windstroke, backstroke and butterfly.

By recovering from this beating-up, he proved that record breaking was a part of his being. we watched as we watched the records he broke in four hundred metres backstroke. his brother and I. tiny eyes stroke with no concern. he had two elder sisters, still not married. the make-up they did every morning, you could use for the girls of the whole neighbourhood and it would be enough. tiny eyes had a small grocery store. we played football across that grocery store. he watched us, it was back then I felt I started to hate everything.


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