Color Explorer: Harry Gruyaert
On the city’s streets, everything that happens takes center stage through the potential of colors. Harry Gruyaert brings Istanbul to life with his images at 212 Photography.
When a photographer steps out of their own familiar ground into another city, the images that emerge are often a surprise to those who live there. Perhaps the city has never been seen in that way before. At the same time, the photographer willingly loses themselves in the city, embracing this disorientation with pleasure and discovering a brand-new flow. The surprise and the unexpected work both ways.
Harry Gruyaert captures this entire flow through colors. Even in the dullest of streets, like an explorer, he reveals the hidden hues and thrusts them before our eyes. His transition from black-and-white to color marked a bold departure from the traditions of his time, making color the central element—and establishing him as a pioneer who recognized its potential.
Magnum and Gruyaert
At the heart of the world’s most critical events and in the most ordinary moments of the streets, a few provocative eyes record history with mastery and courage, taking responsibility and sharing it. Founded by Henri Cartier-Bresson, Robert Capa, George Rodger, and David Seymour—legends of their era—Magnum Photos has now surpassed 78 years as one of the world’s most important photo agencies. Gruyaert joined in 1982 and became one of its key members. In Istanbul, where he photographed for the first time, Gruyaert continues his ongoing exploration of color, which he himself describes as a “pickpocket” approach, this time on our very streets.
While shooting in Istanbul, did the city feel any different to you compared to others?
In no city I know is there such a powerful presence as the Bosphorus and all the water traffic it carries.
What called you to Istanbul? What was the real reason behind your desire to photograph the city? Did you have any preconceptions, and did they change or did you discover something new afterward?
I discovered Istanbul with other Magnum photographers and loved it. Then I came back several times. I never have a clear plan of what I want to do beforehand. I simply act on intention. If I get lost, I can always take a taxi back to my hotel.
Colin Westerbeck and Joel Meyerowitz, in their book on the history of street photography, argue that photography itself was born in the street, and that street photography sits at the very heart of photographic practice. In your view, what is the enduring allure of street photography?
I love the street because it is an open space. You are free. I work with a certain tension. A bit like a pickpocket. I rarely talk to people. The quality of light and the architecture are as important as the people themselves. In my work, I try to bring order out of chaos.
You transitioned to digital in the 2000s. Photography itself has gone through many transformations—from paper negatives to digital. Accepting these changes can also help photographers grow and lead to new directions. Did this shift make a difference for you? Do you still shoot film?
The only color film I loved was Kodachrome; Kodak stopped producing it in the early 2000s. That’s why I had to switch to digital. At first, I didn’t like the quality, but it became much better later. We work a lot on the files. The advantage of digital photography is that you can work in lower light conditions more than you ever could with slide film like Kodachrome.
You studied film and photography at university. Did your interest in cinema continue afterward? Did you ever think of writing or directing your own film?
I shot several films as a director of photography. If we had had digital cameras of today’s quality back then, I probably would have made more films. Shooting on film was much more expensive and required many people to work around it.
You once said, “If I don’t take pictures for a while, I don’t feel well. It’s a vital need.” I deeply relate to this. Do you find greater satisfaction in sharing your work with the world and communicating through it, or is the act of taking the picture itself what fulfills you?
What matters is that I am satisfied with what I do. If the public enjoys my work and takes pleasure in it, I’m happy. I don’t claim to be making art. That is for others to decide. I am a photographer.
Are there photographers in Turkey whose work you follow?
Arif Asçı, who later became a painter. Emin Özmen, a Magnum Photos photographer.
Lastly, as a photographer, I often feel uneasy when my own photo is taken. I’m curious—are you comfortable being photographed yourself?
It’s not something I prefer.
Harry Gruyaert, who perceives the street most vividly through its colors and senses the potential of light in life’s still moments, will be presenting his first Istanbul series at 212 Photography, opening on September 27 at Akaretler No:49.
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