“Every encounter between a person and an object contains a story”

– From the Netflix series, The Museum of Innocence

by Orhan Pamuk

Beginnings

Several years ago, I began a series of blogs about some of the artworks that adorn my home. I shared the stories behind the pieces, what they mean to me, and what they might say if they could talk. The first blog was inspired by some conversations my wife claimed to be having with two masks we had bought, one from Lima, Peru and the other from Venice, Italy. She said she would talk to them during the day when she passed them in our hallway, asking them how they were feeling, how they were getting along, what they thought of each other, etc. https://laserwraypublishing.com/2021/12/22/the-secret-lives-of-things/

My next blog of that title concerned two decorative bowls that I had purchased from the extremely talented studio potter, Ian Thompson, whom I had visited in London to personally retrieve the second bowl. During that visit, Ian graciously took the time to explain the inspirations behind the two works, their themes, and the symbolism of their wonderfully eccentric figurative decorations. https://laserwraypublishing.com/2022/06/23/the-secret-lives-of-things-2/

Materialism of a Different Sort

I began this series of blogs with the following declaration: “ I am a big believer in expressing gratitude and appreciation for the blessings in my life and feel this sentiment should also include being thankful for mundane things”  before going on to list some examples,  ‘my bed, pillows, blankets, the shower, hot water, dishes, cutlery, dishwasher, fridge, stove, TV, and my home.’  In that respect, you could call me a radical materialist. These days, people mostly use the word materialistic to refer to an excessive preoccupation with wealth and physical comfort – the desire for a huge salary, a fancy car, and a large house in the suburbs being only a few examples. But I embrace a more fundamental form of philosophical materialism based on respect and gratitude for all the tangible things of the material world. I am trying to make gratitude a reflex that embraces not only the big things in life, like feeling thankful for my family, my home, my health, and the career I only recently retired from, but also addresses the little things which make life easier or more enjoyable; for example, well-made can openers and drill bits or a tasty cup of coffee – the things we rarely notice or often take for granted.

 My Happy Place

Nowhere is my sense of gratitude stronger than while out at my wife’s family’s summer place in Parkköy on the shore of The Sea of Marmara near the town of Silivri. Return visitors to my blog may recall my referencing it several times. It is my happy place and more and more often, my fortress of solitude. So many experiences happened there; so many memories are attached to each appliance, piece of furniture, and decoration. My wife and I experienced the 1999 earthquake there, cradling our infant son in our arms while the building shook, dishes crashed, and car alarms wailed around us. My son and I built many sandcastles on the beach below us, he learned to swim in that sea, we entertained family and friends from abroad there, enjoying many sumptuous Turkish meals and barbeques on that balcony. I even finished writing my first children’s book there. For me, it is a place like no other. Even to this day, I make sure to say thank you to the flat as I lock up before heading back to Istanbul. I murmur that I’m grateful for the peace I experience there, for the meals I’ve eaten while staring at the ever-changing sea and sky, for the fresh air and good sleep I enjoyed in my old “camp” bed. I even repeat these words on the highway as I am passing by Parkköy on the bus from Silivri back to Istanbul.

The Museum of Innocence

No wonder then, that the opening quote of this blog resonated with me so strongly. I was already a fan of Orhan Pamuk when The Museum of Innocence came out in 2008 and I immediately bought a copy. However, it was only recently, after watching the Netflix series, and particularly, after hearing the words that encapsulate the essence of the main character, Kemal’s, obsession with his lovely distant cousin, Fisun, that I felt THIS GUY GETS IT. He collects every single item that his beloved has touched during their tempestuous relationship – even cigarette butts – seeing in each of them a manifestation of the love and memory of every single moment he had spent with her.  Eventually, he even creates a museum of these stolen things, elevating these mundane objects to a higher cultural significance, much as Marcel Duchamp did when he submitted a signed urinal (Fountain) to an art exhibition in 1917. In fact, after the success of his book and having received the Nobel Prize in literature, Orhan Pamuk actually had a meta installment built in Çukur Cuma, the real neighborhood where his character Fisun lived with her family, recreating the fictional museum down to the tiniest details – including  the butts from the 1000s of cigarette that had touched Fisun’s lips during their nine year relationship. The Museum of Innocence opened in 2012 and currently hosts hundreds of visitors each day.

Nothing Lasts Forever

After the most recent 6.2 magnitude earthquake in Istanbul on April 23, 2025, only 25 kms off the coast of Silivri, my wife’s family has understandably put their summer home in Parkköy up for sale. Although I feel devastated to be losing the place that has provided me with such peace and so many fond memories, I have no plans of creating a museum dedicated to every plate, nail, and piece of faded wallpaper in the flat any time soon. I intend to spend as much time as I can  there until they find a buyer but, in the meantime, I will continue to cultivate my gratitude for the place which has provided me with so much joy over the past 32 years.