Arts
Nuri İyem: A painter of the people
by Sibel DORSAN
2005 saw the departure of Nuri İyem, one of Turkey’s best-loved painters, who died at 90 in June. With apparently no difficulty at all, İyem captured the spirit of an age and the recognition of a public wider than most fellow artists could dream of. But his skills did not come without practice, nor was his popularity a mere twist of fate.
Some may not recall Nuri İyem’s name, but everybody recognises his faces: the disturbing, thoughtful visages of village women and suburban folk who front his foreshortened canvases. Their large dark eyes now gaze after him full of concern. Did their moment also pass with the artist’s death in Istanbul in June, they wonder? Will anybody paint them again? Or should they finally store away their timidly-revealed hopes for some undated future era? For while carefully observed details allocate them to a disappearing rural or early urbanizing land, their worldly cares remain visible all around us.
The man who created these portraits - or to whom they were revealed – was academically trained, yet it was only by rejecting a certain scholasticism that he became a school in his own right. His primary commitment was to broadening the audience for art among his people. And the widespread familiarity of his figurative works suggests that he did more than anyone to achieve that.
A life-long obsession
Born in Istanbul in 1915, Nuri İyem embarked on his mission early. As a child he produced drawings on walls using pieces of charcoal, and while at school he neglected his lessons in his passion for art. Whether at home or in the classroom, with pencil or oil paints, he was always drawing something. It was the only thing which made him happy, he once recalled - a necessity like bread and water.
The young boy soon became piercingly observant. If he was a careful student of anything, it was of the environment around him, with its people, trees, animals, houses, streets and other objects. These scenes remained in his memory and were later to colour his canvasses - among them the villages in Mardin where he spent a part of his childhood, the pigeons - and the people carrying the tragedies of life in their expressions.
Other well-known Turkish artists have at the same time pursued independent professions or careers as teachers of art. But İyem’s parents hopes that he might become a doctor were always going to be dashed. Just as he spent all his time drawing and painting as a child, so as an adult he took up no other occupation.
While still studying at high school, İyem gathered up all his paintings and showed them to one of the professors of the Fine Arts Academy, Nazmi Ziya, who invited him to enter the Academy at once. Nuri İyem accepted the offer - of course – but his pleasure was marred by the disappointment of his parents. Throughout the decades that followed, the famous artist was to retain a sense of remorse. He was, after all, a person as well as a painter.
Academy and Reality
The budding artist entered the Academy in 1933 and attended the workshops of celebrities like Nazmi Ziya, Hikmet Onat, İbrahim Çallı and Leopold Levy. He graduated in first place in 1937. The training he received was within the figurative traditions of the Academy, but after participating in Levy’s workshop, he was also influenced by impressionism. Meanwhile, Ahmet Hamdi Tanpınar, who lectured in Art History, Aesthetics and Mythology, helped to shape İyem’s intellectual identity. The social aspect of art became an indispensable part of his identity.
In 1940, the Academy opened its doors to postgraduate students for the first time. Four years later, İyem again completed his studies with first prize. He soon became part of the movements and issues which were shaping the arts and politics of his country. In 1941, in the anxious atmosphere of World War II, he and three colleagues - Kemal Sönmezler, Selim Turan and Avni Arbaş – opened an exhibition on the theme of fishermen and harbor workers as they struggled to make a living. This led the next year to the formation of the ‘Yeniler’ – the “New Ones” in conjunction with other artists who shared their social realist perspective.
The movement was a reaction against the formalism of “Group D”. Rather than seeking to impose their understanding of art on society, like the previous generation, the New Ones would produce their works among the public, sharing their thoughts and lives. By removing the gap between artists and society, they hoped to create an interest in art among ordinary people. They soon received the support of artists and authors from outside academic circles. The so-called “Harbor Exhibition”, its follow-up “Woman” and the exhibitions which ensued, until the break-up of the group in 1951, became turning points.
Man with a mission
In 1946, İyem’s painting “The Blacksmith” was exhibited at an international exhibition sponsored by UNESCO at the Museum of Modern Arts in Paris. The same year, he married ceramics artist Nasip Özçapan and opened his first personal exhibition. Somewhat influenced by cubism, he started to paint scenes and objects in a more abstracted style, but without sacrificing their essential characteristics.
İyem appreciated that a society long closed to painting and sculpture would not embrace them at once. But he denied that there was any animosity towards art in Turkey. Hoca Ali Rıza, Generation 14 and Bedri Rahmi had already made pioneering efforts to engage larger segments of society. It was a question of starting a dialogue and being patient.
In 1952, İyem opened his second personal exhibition, featuring nudes and portraits of women. From then on, he was to hold exhibitions almost every year. In 1956 and 1957, he participated in biennials in Venice and San Paolo. Besides his canvases, he was to produce murals for architectural buildings – an office block in Ulus, Ankara, the Emlak Bank building in Alsancak, Izmir, and the headquarters of the Istanbul Municipality. All these have since been plastered over, but the artist is survived by 2,200 registered paintings – and an estimated 1,000 more in private collections which have not yet been registered.
The women of Anatolia
By the 1960s, İyem’s love of humanity, nature and social life had led him to develop a characteristic style of figurative painting, in which he depicted the people of Anatolia, often in their rural settings, sometimes as migrants inhabiting squatter settlements in the cities. These paintings do not merely record the realities of the 1960s and 1970s for posterity. At the same time, they mirror the spiritual worlds of their subjects. The silent, lonely, sorrowful glances of the artist’s women quickly became his trade-mark.
These women are in a sense an abstraction of Anatolia, a cradle of civilisations with its fertile soil. The country is portrayed in the form of a woman. Her eyes are the mirrors of her spiritual world. And in the depths of her pupils can be found the suffering and joy, traditions and troubles of an entire people, unchanging from generation to generation.
(DIPLOMAT - December 2005 - Ankara)