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About the PhotographerMagnum photographer Sabiha Çimen was born in Istanbul, Turkey in 1986. She is a self-taught photographer, focusing on women, Islamic culture, portraiture, and still life. Çimen graduated from Istanbul Bilgi University with an undergraduate degree in International Trade and Finance, and a Masters degree in Cultural Studies. Her Master’s thesis on subaltern studies, which includes her photo story titled Turkey as a Simulated Country, was published by Cambridge Scholars Publishing in 2019. |
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Truth in Photography: How did you become a photographer?
Sabiha Çimen: I grew up in Istanbul as a part of a conservative Muslim family. I started wearing a headscarf when I was eleven years old. But while l was going to high school, the government banned the wearing of headscarves in public and this affected the lives of millions of veiled women. We couldn’t study with our scarfs. And we couldn’t be a lawyer or a doctor because we couldn’t get a university education with our appearance. There was no public space for us. My mother always wanted me to study, with my twin sister. Always. Besides a Quran education, she wanted us to go to university to have a secular education as well, and to be active in social life. This always stayed with us (me and my sisters). We wanted our chance, but they didn’t allow us with our scarves. After four years, one university allowed us suddenly. The authorities said, “If their faces are not covered (identities), we will allow them to take the exam.” We were just shocked. “Okay!” we said. And I got into the exams, but there had been four or five years where I wasn’t able to study. So, I wasn’t prepared. I said to myself “How can l get something that l want?” With my score, I was only allowed to study international trade and business. During the years when I wasn’t able to study, l was always doing alternative education, reading, and home schooling myself. But when l got to take the exam l didn’t have a chance to focus and choose what l wanted, like thousands of other girls.
Sabiha Çimen: I grew up in Istanbul as a part of a conservative Muslim family. I started wearing a headscarf when I was eleven years old. But while l was going to high school, the government banned the wearing of headscarves in public and this affected the lives of millions of veiled women. We couldn’t study with our scarfs. And we couldn’t be a lawyer or a doctor because we couldn’t get a university education with our appearance. There was no public space for us. My mother always wanted me to study, with my twin sister. Always. Besides a Quran education, she wanted us to go to university to have a secular education as well, and to be active in social life. This always stayed with us (me and my sisters). We wanted our chance, but they didn’t allow us with our scarves. After four years, one university allowed us suddenly. The authorities said, “If their faces are not covered (identities), we will allow them to take the exam.” We were just shocked. “Okay!” we said. And I got into the exams, but there had been four or five years where I wasn’t able to study. So, I wasn’t prepared. I said to myself “How can l get something that l want?” With my score, I was only allowed to study international trade and business. During the years when I wasn’t able to study, l was always doing alternative education, reading, and home schooling myself. But when l got to take the exam l didn’t have a chance to focus and choose what l wanted, like thousands of other girls.
I always wanted to do something like fine arts or art history, but I couldn’t. l had barely finished the Trade and Finance department, and I went to a Masters in Culture Studies department, which is interdisciplinary. It had philosophy, literature, film, photography, sociology. And I just studied philosophy and sociology. After finishing my thesis, I wanted to make a photo project about the lives of Syrian adult women. Because with the Syrian civil war the Syrian population started to increase in our streets. It was a drastic change for both sides. How they come from Syria to Turkey, how they sustain their lives. Very educated women, they lost all of their belongings, and they had to sustain their lives in urban centers of Turkey. Now they’re just washing the dishes in Istanbul or drying hair in beauty salons. Or a woman engineer who lost everything, she’s doing something very out of her profession or let’s say formation. I just started to develop my network. I became very close friends with some amazing women and started to make their photographs. l was planning to write my thesis on subaltern studies which belongs to Postcolonial theory. Subaltern means a group of people who are marginalized socially and geographically, and politically excluded from the hierarchy of power. Subaltern is the low, within the dialectic of high and low economic culture. The condition of being subaltern is to be ruled by the dominant group or to be the other to the governing group. So in human history the largest groups of subalterns are women. In principle, the women are what the men say the women are. So, with this knowledge what is a widowed woman? Two times other, two times subaltern. During this time of researching l read Homi Bhabha’s Dissemination of Culture, Agamben’s Homo Sacer: Sovereign Power and Bare Life, Spivak’s Can the Subaltern Speak? and James C. Scott’s Domination and the Arts of Resistance. These readings provided me with a wider perspective, and I decided to blend my thesis with photography, and it became my book Turkey as a Simulated Country (by Cambridge Scholars Publishing)
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Walter Benjamin mentions Paul Klee’s painting Angelus Novus and says the angel’s eyes look back to the past, and the body towards the future. It was just like Syrian women, who have to run to the future to survive with their kids, but they have the memory and the trauma, their eyes stuck in the past and the torture of their beloved ones. l decided to photograph women under the dark sky with two synchronized flashes to partially light them to emphasize how they are excluded by the system. That’s why l chose this aesthetic, because it showed the practical result of being a subaltern, being a widowed woman who escaped from war. This project’s photos do not represent me and my style today, but as a topic, it is still a very important issue.
After I finished my thesis in 2014, I wanted to focus more on photography. l studied in a Quran School with my twin sister about 20 years ago during the scarf ban period, and this experience stayed with me always. Between 2013-2016, I re-visited the Quran schools with a digital camera. In 2015, I bought myself a secondhand medium format film camera, a Hasselblad. I discovered that I could easily transform my emotions through it. A perpetual enigma for me is to improve and develop my style, and discover my true potential and learn everyday by making photographs, by practicing. So, the Quran schools project is not like my previous work. The camera was like a part of my body, which gave me amazingly nice confidence. I went with my Hasselblad to the Quran schools many times and expanded the project all around Turkey over three years. With this project, I gained a lot of recognition and some amazing awards. Only afterwards did I start to think of photography as a career. Because I’m self-taught, I never thought of photography as a career. My initial motivation was never career-based. I was transforming my emotions, my feelings, my fantasies, my hate, and everything without any rigid rules. l built my own rules. Career came later.
TiP: How do you interact with your subjects? Photographers can feel like predators to certain people. You think about Muslim women in western society, there’s a lot of sensitivity about their image and the way in which they’re represented. Talk about that in relationship to your work.
After I finished my thesis in 2014, I wanted to focus more on photography. l studied in a Quran School with my twin sister about 20 years ago during the scarf ban period, and this experience stayed with me always. Between 2013-2016, I re-visited the Quran schools with a digital camera. In 2015, I bought myself a secondhand medium format film camera, a Hasselblad. I discovered that I could easily transform my emotions through it. A perpetual enigma for me is to improve and develop my style, and discover my true potential and learn everyday by making photographs, by practicing. So, the Quran schools project is not like my previous work. The camera was like a part of my body, which gave me amazingly nice confidence. I went with my Hasselblad to the Quran schools many times and expanded the project all around Turkey over three years. With this project, I gained a lot of recognition and some amazing awards. Only afterwards did I start to think of photography as a career. Because I’m self-taught, I never thought of photography as a career. My initial motivation was never career-based. I was transforming my emotions, my feelings, my fantasies, my hate, and everything without any rigid rules. l built my own rules. Career came later.
TiP: How do you interact with your subjects? Photographers can feel like predators to certain people. You think about Muslim women in western society, there’s a lot of sensitivity about their image and the way in which they’re represented. Talk about that in relationship to your work.
Çimen: With my subjects, when I went to the schools, I worried about how they would react to me. This was the hardest thought about the project. A woman, a sister, like us, headscarfed, coming towards us with a camera. She wants to photograph us in every corner of the school. When I went there, I was afraid of the reactions also, because a Quran school is very closed to others. No one, even in Turkey can just walk into a Quran school and photograph. Girls are covered. That means they don’t want to be shown. On the first day of my visit, I went into the giant prayer room – masjeed – and hundreds of students were in front of me. With the help of the teachers, I explained to them what I wanted to do and how l had studied in the same corridors years ago, and that now l am following something so emotional and poetic for me. And l asked them if they wanted to be photographed or not, and l saw the initial reactions. I saw some hard reactions, but even the hardest ones who never allowed me to photograph them became very close friends and we built a very solid trust between us. And in time, they wanted to be part of this project. We talked about how scarfed Muslim girls are indoctrinated, but at the time, some Islamic authorities say that “headscarfs make you free.” So when they reacted to me, I asked, “Why are you reacting? The system says that veil makes you free, it allows you to go outside, socialize, laugh, or whatever you want. So, why you are still hiding and reacting?”
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I had a lot of discussions with more than 200 students in a giant prayer room, hours-long talks with the girls about image making, about being visible. l wanted to hear about their ideas, and I was seeking deeper conversations. We had authentic intellectual conversations and argued openly about our experiences as Muslim women. So many complex and toxic layers, that we feel anxious and hopeless sometimes. We had talks over many days with hundreds of girls together. Some of them, or let’s say most of them, already had their own Instagram and social media. They are already there. Some of them are hiding their Instagram from their parents, but they are there. This is their decision in the end. There is unfortunately still a negative connotation between photography and headscarfs in İslam. Women are covering and hiding, but the camera is showing. The camera as an invention is regarded in Islam as modernization, closing the holy book (Quran) and opening, freeing women by visualizing it. The ‘male’ reactions show me that this understanding is still so common in the Muslim sphere, but this will change, and it is actually changing. But the camera still has not been accepted and is questioned by Muslim people, especially men. In my photographs, I want to discover the different layers of Muslim society that I am part of. I show something private that Muslim women are experiencing and the many layers of their lives. To discover these layers is so positive for me, to question the concepts of women-privacy. Actually my relationship with my subjects is very intimate so that gave me great and honest observations. Because I am one of them. Photos are like a reply to this vague side of what it means to be a woman with emotional depth, while memorizing Quran and keeping it alive for future generations.
Trust is the main thing for me. I had so many memories that in a way the girls photographed me, showing me I who I was. They helped to make my photographs better. 20 years ago, I studied in the same corridors with my twin sister. The teachers, also, were my classmates. Now they are teachers. So my relationship with the teachers, and my background story made them connect with me, and they loved what I wanted to do. I spent a lot of time with my subjects. And I didn’t lift up my camera for a while. Sometimes for a long while, until they trusted me.
It’s my world, and I can easily empathize with them. When I go to the Quran schools certain images were already in my mind. I already knew what I wanted to photograph, based on my own experience, and when I saw it, it didn’t surprise me.
Trust is the main thing for me. I had so many memories that in a way the girls photographed me, showing me I who I was. They helped to make my photographs better. 20 years ago, I studied in the same corridors with my twin sister. The teachers, also, were my classmates. Now they are teachers. So my relationship with the teachers, and my background story made them connect with me, and they loved what I wanted to do. I spent a lot of time with my subjects. And I didn’t lift up my camera for a while. Sometimes for a long while, until they trusted me.
It’s my world, and I can easily empathize with them. When I go to the Quran schools certain images were already in my mind. I already knew what I wanted to photograph, based on my own experience, and when I saw it, it didn’t surprise me.
TiP: How old were the girls you were photographing?
Çimen: Seven to eighteen or nineteen.
TiP: Who was able to give you consent to make the photographs?
Çimen: I went first to the capital of Turkey. I sent a letter, through the help of my friends, to the religious affairs of Turkey. They never like to give consent for a person to photograph Muslim women. They told me that, “Oh, do you want to photograph the male part of the Quran schools? Because girls…” I said, “I understand. Probably my parents would react like that. They’re always protective, but I totally understand.” In a respectful way, I explained what I wanted to do. It’s not something negative about Islam, it’s not questioning Islam and its rules. It just focuses on girls and their daily life. Just basic as it is like that. I wanted to focus on their daily life. While they’re studying, while they’re not studying, their childish dreams, the fantasies of the girls, whatever. They just said, “Hmm. Okay.” And so they sent to me an official letter from the religious affairs of Turkey, “If the managers of the Quran schools allow you, you can make this project, but if they don’t allow you, you cannot make it.” I said, “Okay.” My classmates that I studied with, they became the managers of Quran schools. They became the teachers of the Quran schools. Through their networks, thanks to them, they opened the doors of the Quran schools. They trusted me in what I’m doing. They trusted my vision. Finally I did this project. I traveled to six cities in Turkey. North, west, and east parts of Turkey. I just did a mix of Turkey, actually, by traveling. I wanted to have a rich experiment.
TiP: How many years did you spend doing this?
Çimen: Three years.
TiP: How many images did you make? Thousands?
Çimen: Thousands, yes. With the film camera, actually. Over one thousand images. I chose to do them in color because in my imagination it was colorful. Actually there is a uniformity. Every woman, every girl has to wear the same color of scarf. But it also gives you repetitional images, amazing compositions. 600 students coming towards you. Amazingly rich composition. It’s always stayed with me from my childhood. And when I decided to photograph, with these rich visuals, it forced me to go into this different story. I like the color palettes of the Quran schools. The teenager soul. So I just thought that I can tell this with the colorful images.
Çimen: Seven to eighteen or nineteen.
TiP: Who was able to give you consent to make the photographs?
Çimen: I went first to the capital of Turkey. I sent a letter, through the help of my friends, to the religious affairs of Turkey. They never like to give consent for a person to photograph Muslim women. They told me that, “Oh, do you want to photograph the male part of the Quran schools? Because girls…” I said, “I understand. Probably my parents would react like that. They’re always protective, but I totally understand.” In a respectful way, I explained what I wanted to do. It’s not something negative about Islam, it’s not questioning Islam and its rules. It just focuses on girls and their daily life. Just basic as it is like that. I wanted to focus on their daily life. While they’re studying, while they’re not studying, their childish dreams, the fantasies of the girls, whatever. They just said, “Hmm. Okay.” And so they sent to me an official letter from the religious affairs of Turkey, “If the managers of the Quran schools allow you, you can make this project, but if they don’t allow you, you cannot make it.” I said, “Okay.” My classmates that I studied with, they became the managers of Quran schools. They became the teachers of the Quran schools. Through their networks, thanks to them, they opened the doors of the Quran schools. They trusted me in what I’m doing. They trusted my vision. Finally I did this project. I traveled to six cities in Turkey. North, west, and east parts of Turkey. I just did a mix of Turkey, actually, by traveling. I wanted to have a rich experiment.
TiP: How many years did you spend doing this?
Çimen: Three years.
TiP: How many images did you make? Thousands?
Çimen: Thousands, yes. With the film camera, actually. Over one thousand images. I chose to do them in color because in my imagination it was colorful. Actually there is a uniformity. Every woman, every girl has to wear the same color of scarf. But it also gives you repetitional images, amazing compositions. 600 students coming towards you. Amazingly rich composition. It’s always stayed with me from my childhood. And when I decided to photograph, with these rich visuals, it forced me to go into this different story. I like the color palettes of the Quran schools. The teenager soul. So I just thought that I can tell this with the colorful images.
TiP: They’re very evocative. I like the colors. I think that it brings it into the present. It makes you feel that you were there, and that you’re experiencing what you’re photographing. When you’re making these photographs, what do you think about when you’re framing them? What are you looking for compositionally in the making of the photo? Do you want to be able to show their reality? Or are you still focused on what you’re feeling about their reality?
Çimen: Through the girls I find myself. Their reality is my reality or vice versa. This project was kind of an inner discovery for me. All the girls somehow became my twin. It was an amazingly nice and silent collaboration, hidden collaboration between me and my subjects. They immediately understood what I wanted. Some of them were very strict and they never wanted to be photographed. I totally respect that. I created an amazing friendship with them. Now, still, with this experience with most of them, I have a good friendship. Their amazing stories are in my life now, and it’s my duty to tell them. Somehow Muslim girls’ life adventure, it’s going on the same stairs, going on the same lines, having the same feelings and the same language. So it’s again my story. When I photograph the girls, they helped me to portray themselves, actually. I was allowed to photograph their real situations. And then I can easily collaborate with them to make an image because l am one of them.
TiP: In what ways do you think you see yourself in these girls?
Çimen: Through the girls I find myself. Their reality is my reality or vice versa. This project was kind of an inner discovery for me. All the girls somehow became my twin. It was an amazingly nice and silent collaboration, hidden collaboration between me and my subjects. They immediately understood what I wanted. Some of them were very strict and they never wanted to be photographed. I totally respect that. I created an amazing friendship with them. Now, still, with this experience with most of them, I have a good friendship. Their amazing stories are in my life now, and it’s my duty to tell them. Somehow Muslim girls’ life adventure, it’s going on the same stairs, going on the same lines, having the same feelings and the same language. So it’s again my story. When I photograph the girls, they helped me to portray themselves, actually. I was allowed to photograph their real situations. And then I can easily collaborate with them to make an image because l am one of them.
TiP: In what ways do you think you see yourself in these girls?
Çimen: (reply in video)
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TiP: Do you see yourself as an activist?
Çimen: My main motivation is not being an activist on this project. My main motivation is me, myself. My own individuality, what makes me me. That drives me to photograph what’s around me, my close circle. The deeper thoughts come later. With the concept of activism or feminism, let’s say my project stands for or reflects something important of course and it has not happened by chance. My initial motivation once again was myself, but at the end we are having a deeper conversation. Muslim women are generally represented in western media in a very degrading, cartoonish, not respectful way. I’m giving them a chance to speak, and they speak for their representation. I allow them to represent themselves as they want to be. This is the capitalist age. Women are always taught by a system how they should look. Beauty standards show you how to look. But the girls, these Muslim women with their slippers, they’re very free from all the standards of the beauty. They’re very free from this kind of capitalist understanding of beauty. They’re free from all the secular things. I’m mesmerized with their confidence on their outfits and how they want to be portrayed in this visual age. Without the male dominance, without the parent’s dominance, they speak for themselves. That’s the essence to me.
You cannot see a Muslim woman in a soap opera in a main, lead character. In Turkey, for example, you cannot see a Muslim woman in the desired character, and portrayed as beautiful. They are always on the side, feeding the main character’s ego. Not just because of this reason l made these photos. This is a deeper conversation. It was important to give them a chance to portray themselves freely and make fun of this system and its capitalist dynamics not sarcastically, but poetically.
Çimen: My main motivation is not being an activist on this project. My main motivation is me, myself. My own individuality, what makes me me. That drives me to photograph what’s around me, my close circle. The deeper thoughts come later. With the concept of activism or feminism, let’s say my project stands for or reflects something important of course and it has not happened by chance. My initial motivation once again was myself, but at the end we are having a deeper conversation. Muslim women are generally represented in western media in a very degrading, cartoonish, not respectful way. I’m giving them a chance to speak, and they speak for their representation. I allow them to represent themselves as they want to be. This is the capitalist age. Women are always taught by a system how they should look. Beauty standards show you how to look. But the girls, these Muslim women with their slippers, they’re very free from all the standards of the beauty. They’re very free from this kind of capitalist understanding of beauty. They’re free from all the secular things. I’m mesmerized with their confidence on their outfits and how they want to be portrayed in this visual age. Without the male dominance, without the parent’s dominance, they speak for themselves. That’s the essence to me.
You cannot see a Muslim woman in a soap opera in a main, lead character. In Turkey, for example, you cannot see a Muslim woman in the desired character, and portrayed as beautiful. They are always on the side, feeding the main character’s ego. Not just because of this reason l made these photos. This is a deeper conversation. It was important to give them a chance to portray themselves freely and make fun of this system and its capitalist dynamics not sarcastically, but poetically.
TiP: You engage with the girls, and then you encourage them to be themselves. In one sense, there’s the engagement, which is the context in which you interact to the girls, but then you encourage them to separate themselves from the camera, so that you can observe them being themselves. Is that true?
Çimen: I observed when I was photographing the girls they turn into their own selves, how they act. First of all, they know that in their Quran school there’s a sister going everywhere in the corridors with her camera. When you have this knowledge of the camera, of course you cannot act like yourself, that’s why I didn’t lift up my camera at first. That’s why I gave them time to get acclimated and get used to me. But it was really not that hard. I became one of them, their headscarfed sister, and that gave me absolute intimacy and honesty. I could see they were very childish, between childish and growing women. I have dozens of photographs, in a good positive way still idyllic and joyful, that are so real, so honest, and meaningful to me. I showed the photos to their mothers and fathers sometimes. And we laughed together, because the girls were so funny, and that I was able to photograph these moments, like the girls with the gorilla-faced masks in the long corridors trying to scare their friends. These are real girls on their way to becoming women. |
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TiP: How have they responded to your photographs? Did they like them?
Çimen: At that moment we were having great fun, but at the end when I printed them and gave them, they said, “Oh, I’m so ugly, sister. Look at my slippers!” I said, “You didn’t know that you were in slippers? If you don’t want me to, I won’t publish it.” She says, “No sister, I don’t care.” They brought a really rich view and experience by portraying themselves. Of course, they’re growing girls. I’m saying they don’t care about aesthetic values, but not totally. But generally l got positive reactions for the photos and they are keeping the photos on their walls near their pillows.
TiP: How do their families respond?
Çimen: Families, at first, didn’t understand what I wanted to do. They thought that I may not be a real scarfed woman and l may do something negative. When I show them I’m not focusing on what Islam says, I’m focusing on the girls and me, it is a personal project, they easily understand me, and then we formed common ground. When I talked more with their parents, they were very nice, kind. Some of them, they just don’t want their kids to be shown. I had, of course, respect. I withdrew some photographs. I have a lot of photographs that shouldn’t show. l like this too, to have something just for myself. It is a process.
TiP: Do you feel like photographically Shirin Neshatt has had an influence on you?
Çimen: I don’t know really, but when I was very young, I was always looking at Shirin Neshatt’s works. Maybe subconsciously. Also Newsha Tavakolian is an artist where l got inspiration. But more than photography, I am influenced by paintings. Renaissance paintings, classic portraits, Rousseau, Wyeth, and Hopper or more contemporary painters. More than looking at photographs, I’m feeding my soul with paintings. I never look at photographs. I get my daily inspiration from paintings and the color palette of paintings. The situations and emotions keep me in my imagination.
TiP: I identify a lot with your growth into photography. I am a self-taught photographer. I came to photography, like you, later.
Çimen: I’m a little late, I have to tell you. Because of the scarf ban l feel I started my life very late. This ban took four to five years of my life. It was like a hell. Everybody was studying something but I couldn’t. l left rigid education when l was going to junior high school because of the ban and l home schooled myself. l had open school and just applied to the exams to graduate from high school. It’s a terrible trauma for a child. I always think I’m late for everything. Deep inside of me l know that this is just a feeling, and l am strong. And Magnum came through. It’s of course an amazingly big honor for photographers to be in Magnum. But when it came, I just saw that, wow, nothing is late. Being yourself, and then discovering yourself through art and through your own voice freely, not with the help of structured and rigid education. Freely! That’s so tasty. At the end I saw that, it’s not late. It’s never late.
Çimen: At that moment we were having great fun, but at the end when I printed them and gave them, they said, “Oh, I’m so ugly, sister. Look at my slippers!” I said, “You didn’t know that you were in slippers? If you don’t want me to, I won’t publish it.” She says, “No sister, I don’t care.” They brought a really rich view and experience by portraying themselves. Of course, they’re growing girls. I’m saying they don’t care about aesthetic values, but not totally. But generally l got positive reactions for the photos and they are keeping the photos on their walls near their pillows.
TiP: How do their families respond?
Çimen: Families, at first, didn’t understand what I wanted to do. They thought that I may not be a real scarfed woman and l may do something negative. When I show them I’m not focusing on what Islam says, I’m focusing on the girls and me, it is a personal project, they easily understand me, and then we formed common ground. When I talked more with their parents, they were very nice, kind. Some of them, they just don’t want their kids to be shown. I had, of course, respect. I withdrew some photographs. I have a lot of photographs that shouldn’t show. l like this too, to have something just for myself. It is a process.
TiP: Do you feel like photographically Shirin Neshatt has had an influence on you?
Çimen: I don’t know really, but when I was very young, I was always looking at Shirin Neshatt’s works. Maybe subconsciously. Also Newsha Tavakolian is an artist where l got inspiration. But more than photography, I am influenced by paintings. Renaissance paintings, classic portraits, Rousseau, Wyeth, and Hopper or more contemporary painters. More than looking at photographs, I’m feeding my soul with paintings. I never look at photographs. I get my daily inspiration from paintings and the color palette of paintings. The situations and emotions keep me in my imagination.
TiP: I identify a lot with your growth into photography. I am a self-taught photographer. I came to photography, like you, later.
Çimen: I’m a little late, I have to tell you. Because of the scarf ban l feel I started my life very late. This ban took four to five years of my life. It was like a hell. Everybody was studying something but I couldn’t. l left rigid education when l was going to junior high school because of the ban and l home schooled myself. l had open school and just applied to the exams to graduate from high school. It’s a terrible trauma for a child. I always think I’m late for everything. Deep inside of me l know that this is just a feeling, and l am strong. And Magnum came through. It’s of course an amazingly big honor for photographers to be in Magnum. But when it came, I just saw that, wow, nothing is late. Being yourself, and then discovering yourself through art and through your own voice freely, not with the help of structured and rigid education. Freely! That’s so tasty. At the end I saw that, it’s not late. It’s never late.
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