Following the narrative from “Part I – The Beginning of a Passion,” which was featured last week, Tahir recounts the bustling forestry activities in the village of Kiçir in Simav: “Every villager had at least one truck. In every household, three or four people had come from neighboring villages to work. Our village’s population nearly doubled during the summer months. I wanted to introduce Yılmaz Abi to these people. I decided to show his films in our garden. My father gets very angry with me again, but since I work so hard, he doesn’t want to hurt my feelings. Still, his dissatisfaction is written all over his face. We work in the forest during the day, and in the evening after work, I set up the equipment. Next to our house, we have a space we call ‘hayat (life)’, a place enclosed on three sides. I put on the shows there. The shows I put on in this ‘hayat’ give me life, too.”
Who facilitated the meeting between Tahir and Yılmaz Güney?
In July 1980, Tahir traveled to Istanbul to see Yılmaz Güney, who was then an inmate at İmralı Prison. This meeting took place in Moda, Kadıköy, while Yılmaz Güney was out on a temporary release. During the encounter, Nihat Behram introduced the young man to Yılmaz Güney, noting, “This kid has been working for a year, investing all his money in posters and photographs.” When Yılmaz Güney inquired about what he had collected, Tahir detailed his findings. Yılmaz Güney then gave him specific instructions: “Now you’re leaving here, go to Güney Film, and take whatever you find there. Later on, I’ll take them from you, take photos of them, and give them back to you. There are some brochures here in the island; I’ll send those to you, too.”
What occurred during the visit to Güney Film?
Immediately after the meeting, Tahir went to Güney Film, which was a hub of intense activity. Nihat Behram handed him three or four boxes of slides from the production Arkadaş (Friend) and told him, “You know him best out of all of us. Pick out the good ones; we’ll send them abroad,” Tahir examined the slides under a lamp, selecting the quality ones for a box while keeping approximately 25 for his own archive. Director Canan Gerede was also reviewing photographs, including one of Yılmaz Abi cooking at İmralı. Tahir asked for and received this photo from her. At the time, they discussed sending materials to England for better preservation. Tahir later learned with deep sadness that Canan Gerede had destroyed her own collection of documents and photos in her bathroom out of fear. He describes his failure to speak up that day as one of his deepest regrets.
Why did Tahir decide to compile a book?
Following the 1980 coup, Güney’s cinematic works were confiscated and likely destroyed in the boilers at Selimiye. This motivated Tahir to share his collection, as he observed, “That’s when the idea of compiling a book and sharing what I had with others began to take shape,” Tahir further noted, “There weren’t enough photographs in the books written about Yılmaz Güney. If the films weren’t available, there should at least be posters and photographs.”
Many of the images Tahir recovered were in poor condition, having been damaged by rain or staples on cinema boards. To address this, he purchased a photographic drying machine from an İzmir flea market in 1983. He meticulously washed and dried the photos before digitizing them. Using Photoshop, he spent ten years repairing imperfections and tears in the posters, lobby cards, and photographs.
How did the archive transform into “Light in the Darkness”?
The culmination of these efforts is the 640-page volume Karanlıktaki Işık, Yılmaz Güney (Light in the Darkness, Yılmaz Güney). Tahir began developing this work after 1984, viewing it as the legacy Yılmaz Güney left in his care. This heavy, signed book now holds a place of honor in my personal library. Tahir emphasizes that the true legacy of a filmmaker includes the entire body of memory surrounding them. His current archive even contains items thought to be lost forever.
“Eight films that had disappeared without a trace turned out to be among the films in my archive,” he remarks. “I sent one film directed by Yılmaz Atadeniz, as well as some films belonging to İrfan Atasoy’s company, back to them, and they returned them to me after the telecine process. Also many posters, and hundreds of photographs.”
For Tahir, the act of collecting Yılmaz Güney’s scripts, photos, and clippings was also a way of preserving his own youth. He reflects, “I remember with a smile the older brothers at the film companies who welcomed me sincerely, as well as those who scolded me and chased me away. I also remember with a smile the owner of Dadaş Film, whose door I knocked on twenty times before finally wearing down his resistance. I have never forgotten my older brother Pehlivan, who worked at Dar Film and helped me enormously. Every film, poster, lobby card, and photograph takes me back to my childhood, my youth, the moment I first saw the film, and the days when I found those posters and photographs.”
A particularly notable item in the archive is the shirt Yılmaz Güney wore during the filming of Duvar (The Wall). This was a gift from İsmail Yıldırım, a painter and former prison companion of Yılmaz Güney. The shirt was presented to Tahir at the 2019 opening of İsmail Yıldırım‘s exhibition at Kuytu Artline in Istanbul, which ran from 26 October to 21 November.
Tahir Yüksel, Simav, 10 August 2014, Photograph Mahir Yüksel
