Küba, named after the island republic, is one of the most notorious ghettoes in Istanbul. Squeezed in the midst of a circle of low-income, high-rise suburban blocks near to the airport, the makeshift houses of Küba are made of cheap construction materials, scrap metal and soil: single storey hut dwellings in stark contrast to the rest of the buildings in the distant Istanbul megalopolis. Living in Küba—above all else—defines the Küba resident’s sense of identity, unique in the way that it has no political, ethnic, gender, religious or national determination. If you’re from Küba, then that is enough. In the past I have revisited the method of using talking heads and created a body of work revolving around the discourses of individuals.
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