“Ornament, function, unlikely colour palettes, impulsive design choices, and juxtapositions of elements from contrasting eras and cultures all come together to create a kind of folk architecture. It’s fresh, and such a contrast to the contemporary design aesthetic we are bombarded with through social media”, says Ekin Ozbicer, of her project @hurriyetemlakblues, an Instagram account where she uploads screenshots from a growing archive of pictures from real estate sales ads.
Ozbicer is a photographer, and regularly took pictures of people in their homes: “I was always interested in the relationship between people and their environment, and the unlikely aesthetic choices they make”. With the pandemic, house visits came to a halt, and the novelty of exploring homes moved online. “I had been browsing real estate sites for fun and fantasy, looking at amazing houses that we could never afford, and places that were plain outrageous in their disregard for all cultural conventions”, Ozbicer says. While scrolling, she came across a place on Istanbul’s Bosphorus coast, in an affluent area populated with villas, palaces, and embassies, which has a painting of Turgut Özal, “a Turkish president from the 1980s, and a still politically controversial figure”. She took a screenshot to share with family and friends, which became the starting point of a sort-of archive of “oddities and peculiarities”. “There are a few main drivers for the archive. It’s based on my personal tastes and interests, and my main motivation for continuing with the project is the possibility of encountering — any given day — the vast potential of people to create aesthetics that have absolutely no place in the continuum of the history of art and design.”
Amber, tortoiseshell and marble -effect plastic, whirring fans, pattern on pattern, gold on gold, lace, velvet, tassels, wood polished up to a high gloss, chairs set up ready to receive. The look is maximalist, diametrically opposed to the sparse “mattress on the floor + one plant” Instagram aesthetic, and all the better for it. Many of the pictures on @hurriyetemlakblues are of communal areas, or rooms that guests are likely to see (the bathroom). They are made up like a scene from a film, dressed to impress, to entertain, and with hosting and generosity in mind. Living rooms have a formality to them that mimics reception rooms in palaces and grand villas, firm chairs and shallow sofas set up in a round for conversation, rather than cushions slouching back towards a TV.
The rooms on display are heavily-populated with furniture, objects, pictures on walls, pictures as walls, clashing colours or fully-committed-to themes, surfaces overlaid with surfaces. Those that lean towards sparse functionality don’t shy away from a throne chair or blousy bouquet, like Marie Antoinette in a high-rise apartment. To say it’s kitsch would be an understatement, it would also be reductive.
Tropical island wallpaper, a dome-effect mural of a growling leopard, or a stiletto chair, aren’t practical choices, but they are choices led by a desire to bring theatre into everyday life, to excite guests, to create a transportive setting. Such elaborate interiors are popular across the socio-economic spectrum (although there is also, obviously, a spectrum of tastes, as there is anywhere else), informed by celebrity homes photographed in magazines, houses on TV, the popular home stores of the time, or what’s available at markets. “It is easy to write these off as ‘kitsch’ or ‘camp’, but they are mostly choices made according to what had been readily available at a particular time, given their circumstances. The colours, lights and ornaments add life and joy to these rooms, and they are cultural artefacts; documenting the availability and abundance of Chinese products, witnessing cultural influences from a popular tv series, or a reflection of a social or political ideology.”
Driving along A-roads on the outskirts of town, you’ll see pile-ups of plastic statues and garden ornaments, bootlegged Louis XIV furniture; markets selling fake flowers, elaborate plastic kitchenware and lace. At my aunt’s apartment in Istanbul, the living room is set up like the set from an 80s drama, all white leather, carved wood, clear plastic and marble-effect. Coffee shows up on a tray, with rose Turkish Delight dusted in sugar and almond biscuits on a paper doily on a gold-trimmed plate, Turkish coffee in a tiny decorated cup, on a saucer. (Like an espresso, but with the opposite intention — it’s not designed to be quick — and with coffee grounds sat at the bottom of the cup, waiting for you to take a sip too far, and to be tipped out for your fortune read.) I’m part of the family, but every guest is met with the same offering of coffee (or chai), a generous theatre of hospitality. It’s a performance, but one rooted in the want to have guests feel celebrated and comfortable, welcomed into the home.
The smaller details, the air conditioning units, electric fans, layers of lace, plastic containers and protective coverings really feel like home. When the living room is “off duty”, or in the rest of the house — the kitchen, the bedrooms — the setting is often more sparse, focused on cleanliness and ventilation, and preserving high-impact furniture. The ‘Scarface-chic’ aesthetic that my aunt adores is dated, it’s also fun and light and envelops you in that one particular setting. The mishmash of references, eras and cultures meet in the kind of “folk architecture” Ozbicer describes, where interiors are informed by tastes, finances, experiences, histories, and traditions, not designed to fit with the ascribed aesthetic of the day. The homes on @hurriyetemlakblues have an emotional pull; of the soap opera, high drama variety, but also one rooted in the vulnerability of expressing your desires through your surroundings, and welcoming people into your home. “The images become truly unique and fascinating when they give these insights about the social and cultural circumstances that create them” Ozbicer says. “They are artefacts that deserve further reflection than an ironic smile.”
Ozbicer is a photographer, and regularly took pictures of people in their homes: “I was always interested in the relationship between people and their environment, and the unlikely aesthetic choices they make”. With the pandemic, house visits came to a halt, and the novelty of exploring homes moved online. “I had been browsing real estate sites for fun and fantasy, looking at amazing houses that we could never afford, and places that were plain outrageous in their disregard for all cultural conventions”, Ozbicer says. While scrolling, she came across a place on Istanbul’s Bosphorus coast, in an affluent area populated with villas, palaces, and embassies, which has a painting of Turgut Özal, “a Turkish president from the 1980s, and a still politically controversial figure”. She took a screenshot to share with family and friends, which became the starting point of a sort-of archive of “oddities and peculiarities”. “There are a few main drivers for the archive. It’s based on my personal tastes and interests, and my main motivation for continuing with the project is the possibility of encountering — any given day — the vast potential of people to create aesthetics that have absolutely no place in the continuum of the history of art and design.”
Amber, tortoiseshell and marble -effect plastic, whirring fans, pattern on pattern, gold on gold, lace, velvet, tassels, wood polished up to a high gloss, chairs set up ready to receive. The look is maximalist, diametrically opposed to the sparse “mattress on the floor + one plant” Instagram aesthetic, and all the better for it. Many of the pictures on @hurriyetemlakblues are of communal areas, or rooms that guests are likely to see (the bathroom). They are made up like a scene from a film, dressed to impress, to entertain, and with hosting and generosity in mind. Living rooms have a formality to them that mimics reception rooms in palaces and grand villas, firm chairs and shallow sofas set up in a round for conversation, rather than cushions slouching back towards a TV.
The rooms on display are heavily-populated with furniture, objects, pictures on walls, pictures as walls, clashing colours or fully-committed-to themes, surfaces overlaid with surfaces. Those that lean towards sparse functionality don’t shy away from a throne chair or blousy bouquet, like Marie Antoinette in a high-rise apartment. To say it’s kitsch would be an understatement, it would also be reductive.
Tropical island wallpaper, a dome-effect mural of a growling leopard, or a stiletto chair, aren’t practical choices, but they are choices led by a desire to bring theatre into everyday life, to excite guests, to create a transportive setting. Such elaborate interiors are popular across the socio-economic spectrum (although there is also, obviously, a spectrum of tastes, as there is anywhere else), informed by celebrity homes photographed in magazines, houses on TV, the popular home stores of the time, or what’s available at markets. “It is easy to write these off as ‘kitsch’ or ‘camp’, but they are mostly choices made according to what had been readily available at a particular time, given their circumstances. The colours, lights and ornaments add life and joy to these rooms, and they are cultural artefacts; documenting the availability and abundance of Chinese products, witnessing cultural influences from a popular tv series, or a reflection of a social or political ideology.”
Driving along A-roads on the outskirts of town, you’ll see pile-ups of plastic statues and garden ornaments, bootlegged Louis XIV furniture; markets selling fake flowers, elaborate plastic kitchenware and lace. At my aunt’s apartment in Istanbul, the living room is set up like the set from an 80s drama, all white leather, carved wood, clear plastic and marble-effect. Coffee shows up on a tray, with rose Turkish Delight dusted in sugar and almond biscuits on a paper doily on a gold-trimmed plate, Turkish coffee in a tiny decorated cup, on a saucer. (Like an espresso, but with the opposite intention — it’s not designed to be quick — and with coffee grounds sat at the bottom of the cup, waiting for you to take a sip too far, and to be tipped out for your fortune read.) I’m part of the family, but every guest is met with the same offering of coffee (or chai), a generous theatre of hospitality. It’s a performance, but one rooted in the want to have guests feel celebrated and comfortable, welcomed into the home.
The smaller details, the air conditioning units, electric fans, layers of lace, plastic containers and protective coverings really feel like home. When the living room is “off duty”, or in the rest of the house — the kitchen, the bedrooms — the setting is often more sparse, focused on cleanliness and ventilation, and preserving high-impact furniture. The ‘Scarface-chic’ aesthetic that my aunt adores is dated, it’s also fun and light and envelops you in that one particular setting. The mishmash of references, eras and cultures meet in the kind of “folk architecture” Ozbicer describes, where interiors are informed by tastes, finances, experiences, histories, and traditions, not designed to fit with the ascribed aesthetic of the day. The homes on @hurriyetemlakblues have an emotional pull; of the soap opera, high drama variety, but also one rooted in the vulnerability of expressing your desires through your surroundings, and welcoming people into your home. “The images become truly unique and fascinating when they give these insights about the social and cultural circumstances that create them” Ozbicer says. “They are artefacts that deserve further reflection than an ironic smile.”