The millions who live in the cities of today are often polarized by economic stratification and ideological differences; the social rupture can be further exacerbated by heavy state policing of public spaces. In a tense cityscape like this, public art offers possibilities of interaction, inclusive dialogue, and agency. The Native American artist, Wendy Red Star, reminds us that “Art is not neutral, it holds power, shape, culture, and carries history.” This spring, while I spent a month researching Public Art of Istanbul, these words stayed with me as I tried to identify diverse works in streets, parks, and buildings.

One particularly fascinating public work is the Serpentine Monument that has survived for two millennia. Built to commemorate the Roman triumph over the Persians, it was reinstalled in Constantinople (Istanbul) by Emperor Constantine. During the Ottoman Period we can find it depicted in several paintings. Apparently, what safeguards it is the superstitious belief that it can prevent lethal harm an infestation of snakes. Istanbul is an intriguing mix of ancient sites and is dotted with monuments and sculpture. I found Sofa Poets Park with its life-size sculptures an interesting homage to the national past. Frequently prompted by the nearby community, it somehow has failed to be a part of the cultural consciousness of the city. When I spoke to a few art academics about this park, some were not aware of it and others were dismissive. Apparently, the city’s native culture and the work led to a very divided opinion surfaced around the controversial nude sculpture titled “Oh Beautiful Istanbul 1974” by renowned artist Gürdal Duyar. It was among the commissions that celebrated the 50th year of the Turkish Republic. The work was never fully accepted by the community where it was originally installed and had to be moved to a park.

The artist, with his reference to European aesthetics, saw the nude as a symbol of beauty but the local community who had no such references saw it as a disrespectful display of the female body. The works, in many ways underline the diverse taste and opinions within society and the exchange it generates is a way of negotiating the cultural gap. An encouraging fact is that the nude has not disappeared or been destroyed, as it would have been in tenor socialities. It still has a place in an obscure corner of a park and serves as a symbol of cultural pluralism, which is not completely lost. I walk along Istiklal Avenue, taking you to the Republic Monument; unfortunately, its view is marred by barbed wire, a heavy police contingent, and a sense of unrest. Someone explained this to me because Istanbul has been recently rocked by flash protests in the aftermath of the arrest of its popular Mayor. The changes within a country can also lend new meaning to public work, the grand Republic Monument in Ataturk and other leaders which started out as a celebration is now the focus of rallies for change. The city has a robust graffiti scene, with the most prominent being the ‘feel good’ ones in the Kadikoy District, where the mural tour has become a big tourist attraction and is helping to gentrify the area. The spontaneous graffiti, with social commentary, can often be found tucked away in less obvious streets, its defiant and provocative nature heightened by dystopian images. In many cases, women graffiti artists are also marking their territory by underlining gender issues. The iconic work of Kalliopi Lenos Round Voyage at the Bilgi University Campus highlights the desperate flight of the boat people. Standing next to the installation, created from suspended boats once used by refugees, it is easy to imagine the heavy load they carried and the trauma embedded in the wood. The Greek artist Kalliopi Lemos was so moved by the sight of the row upon row of abandoned boats on the shore that she gave up her practice in the US to return and create art on the lives of the economic refugees who took the precarious journey.

Displaced people is a social and political reality across Turkey as war rages in neighboring countries. Mahalla Festival focuses on the population of refugees and exiles that the city hosts. Its recent iteration invited Artlords, a group of Afghan graffiti artists who have created over 2000 murals across their war ravaged homeland. Their interaction with Afghan refugees was designed to bring familiar culture and hope into their lives in a new land.

According to a Turkish newspaper article ‘More than simply an exhibition, the Yeditepe Biennale was a cultural landmark that reminded us of the power of art to unite people, preserve heritage, and inspire the next generation’. I visited three of its four sites to see for myself how Yeditepe Biennale was able to accomplish this. The Biennale was divided between displays of exquisitely skilled traditional calligraphy and painting in a temporary tented space in the grounds of a historic Fort; and conceptual installations at the old train station and the cellar of the Nurosmaniye Mosque. At the last two venues the artists had interpreted the spiritual dimensions of the thematic of light. The young organizer, who guided us on both venues, spoke of the desire of artists to speak in a contemporary idiom to convey the Quranic and philosophical writings on illumination, darkness and shadow. One could see that it was quite a challenge for the artist to convey the depth of philosophical ideas while also respecting the desire to bridge the gap between contemporary and traditional knowledge. It was an interesting intervention that could have greater success if artists with a developed contemporary practice also engaged in this dialogue around identity and extended its understanding.

Working in the contested space of the streets has been the ambition of the Performistanbul platform for performative works. It’s women-focused, with Women Project by artist Tania Ostojic closely examining the controversial covering of the female body. In a street-based performance, the artist asked people to pin scarves on her till she was completely swaddled within them, a sight that conveyed now suffocating both physically and psychologically, the forced covering of the body can be for women. Occupy Subway by women artists, another performative work, aimed to discompose the discomfort of women under threat in public spaces.

Digital art is increasing its footprint via public online platforms to develop a global audience. I am an artist duo, Ahmet Rustem and Hakan Sorar, as they were getting ready to participate in the Chile Biennale. With a focus on the historical presence of the gay community across civilizations and its depiction in popular art of the time, they used augmented reality and built physical work via digital 3D printers to realize their ideas.

As a juror of the International Public Art Prize, I have had the opportunity to study Public Art across the world and have found that its best impact is in gaining traction as a strong voice for the community and effective intervention in many countries. To amplify this impact, academia and civil society need to play a stronger supportive role. In universities and colleges, as well as in formal study and documentation of Public Art practices, we recognize its diversity and transformative role. Civil society can help integrate it as a tool of awareness for responsible development and ecological protection. When harnessed for political activism, Public Art has the potential to be a catalyst alongside poetry and literature of resistance.

Title image: A work by Gamze Yalcin brightens the facade of an otherwise blighted building in central Istanbul. Yalcin uses heavily abstract images that usually depict women and nature. Image and image caption courtesy of @voanews.com