3 October— Tuesday
Homeless man in his 40s.
He is drunk.
He has a dog.
It’s a massive dog.
I’m not normally like this,
it’s because I’m drunk.
Only six months old.
She’ll be six months on the 6th of October.
I had another one who lived 7 or 8 years.
This one is probably going to live 7 or 8 years too.
She is going to outlive me.
You’re going to outlive me, right girl?
Good girl.
40 yaşlarında evsiz adam. Adam sarhoş. Köpeğiyle. Kocaman bir köpek.
Normalde böyle değilim, sarhoşum o yüzden. Sadece Altı aylık. 6 Ekim’de altı aylık olacak.
Bi’ tane daha vardı, 7-8 yıl yaşadı. Bu da 7-8 yıl yaşayacak muhtemelen.
Beni gömecek. Beni gömeceksin dimi kızım? Güzel kızım.
27 September— Wednesday
ET (click here for his website) is nominated by British Society of Cinematographers for best cinematography award for our film Céline on a Cloudy Day.
Making of Céline on a Cloudy Day
Photography by Cem Demirer
11 September—Monday
14 August — Monday
As usual, I took Bal to the park near our house in the evening.
Evenings after a sunny day are beautiful there.
After playing fetch with him for half an hour, we both got tired and settled on a bench.
The park was pink and blue.
A woman passed by with her two tiny dogs on leads. I found them funny and sweet.
Bal must have felt the same because he stood up and smelled their asses.
The owner got extremely panicked and said: “Oh no. No, no. This is not good. Can you please clear out your dog?”
I picked Bal up as she continued: “If it doesn’t have a recall, it should be on a lead. My dogs don’t like dogs.”
6 August — Sunday
Poster I made for Blue Buttercream
written by Martha Crow
directed by Santiago Giraldo Arboleda
produced by Masha Thorpe
23 June — Friday
4 May — Monday
Eleonor for SNX Studio
17 April — Monday
I’m a great customer.
I never complain, and even if I do I make it as if it was my fault.
I almost apologize for my complaint.
I always smile too. I try to be as helpful as possible for them to solve the problem that they caused.
If they can’t solve it, fair enough. I should be grateful that they even considered it.
“I definitely understand.”
If I order an espresso, and they give me a decaf cappuccino, I drink it - despite the fact that I’m lactose intolerant.
Customer services love me. I’m popular among them. They save their biggest mistakes for me because it’s much more fun to deal with me than a regular angry customer. I was once told on a customer service live chat that I was the best customer that they had talked to.
I’m just a great customer.
31 March — Friday
23 March — Thursday
We finally saw the Giorgio Morandi exhibition in Estorick Collection, a small museum on Canonbury Road, in Highbury and Islington, for modern Italian art. It’s incredible how niche things can be in London.
Instead of a large white rectangular ticket, they gave us a small yellow square sticker and told us to stick it on ourselves. I first put it on my bag, then on my coat, but then had to put it on my bag again as there was a little storage cabinet where I left my coat.
Estorick is a peaceful sanctuary with a garden and a beautiful café. There is something magical about museum, airport and hospital cafés. The function of these places, although serving a very similar selection of beverages, food and cutlery, fundamentally differs from a regular café on the street. In contrast to your friendly neighbourhood café where you only meet, argue, break up, propose, read and socialize, a _______ café, exists only as an extension of the _______. Although invisible to an outsider, its physical space is formed with thoughts and reflections carried from the _______. Based on what “_______” is, all the espressos in the room are filled with unusual energy, anxiety, fear or inspiration. Regardless of your background, there is always an unspoken connection in the room.
A museum café, compared to a hospital and a airport café is not only a lot calmer overall but also gathers a more specific sample: people who are interested in art. As art is considered one of our most delicate creations, one would assume people who are interested in art would also bear some of this delicacy.
But if you listen carefully to other people, especially to those with meticulous social/table manners, sophisticated observations, and beautifully ironed trousers, you might easily hear overtly arrogant, covertly racist, judgemental, and prejudiced comments about various people and situations. I remember very clearly when a waitress asked an old couple if they were done with their cups, the exquisitely dressed 60-year-old gentleman who was complaining about how horrible Dalston is, immediately closed his both ears and yelled:
- “Oh Gosh! Can you please not scream in my ear? You are so loud.”
The waitress, probably embarrassed and a bit scared, could only say:
- “I’m sorry, that’s just my voice”
- “Well, that’s just my ear.”
I’m not even sure what that means but it’s good to remind yourself loving, studying, buying or making art doesn’t necessarily give you a kind heart - or brains.
***
Poor Morandi got lost in my thoughts on the way. I had never heard of him before and felt very lucky to see his work. I bought a postcard* of a still life he painted in 1953.
On our way back home we saw a traffic light post with a lot of stickers from Estorick. It made us smile. But instead of being a modest part of a simple joke, I decided to keep my sticker in my diary. I kind of regret it though.
*Still Life, 1953
