Burak Delier, artist at 10th Istanbul Biennial

In 2005, artist Burak Delier – unable to find a gallery outlet for one of his photographs – decided to exhibit it on his own, in the Istanbul streets. The poster he made showed a wide-eyed woman, veiled in the European Union flag. Seized upon by internet fans and the international media, Delier's veiled woman became one of 2005's most iconic and memorable images. In an ironic twist, the art community that had initially shown little interest in Delier's photograph now embraced it: the artist was invited to participate in a show called “Free Kick,” which took place in the 9th Istanbul Biennial's “Hospitality Zone.” The posters, it seemed, had accumulated street cred – a rare quality in the world of contemporary art, whose conceptual complexity or unfamiliar formats stereotypically alienate the “man on the street.”

Delier's poster was a success in the street and the media because it worked quickly and forcefully, in a manner most people associate with advertising rather than with art. His project for the upcoming 10th Biennial has a similar effect – Delier takes an explicitly political subject, embeds it in a familiar location, and waits for the audience to react without thinking.

The artist has created an imaginary company called ReverseDirection which only exists on paper. But the imaginary company, housed in a local shop front, will sell a very real product for very real money. The idea, notes Delier, is not just to take an economic system as a subject for his work, but to get “inside” it. With his imaginary company, Delier aims to subvert society's present forms of production and consumption, by using it to sell a controversial product.



Called ParkaLynch, the product is a protective jacket made to counter the risk of becoming a victim of “lynching.” In Delier's interpretation, “linç,” borrowed into Turkish from English, refers to a general phenomenon: citizens violently enforcing justice where the government does not have the means. But for Americans in particular, the term comes with other visual and historical associations – in particular, the wrongful hangings of African-Americans during the Civil War era, or later, by the Klu Klux Klan. Today, photographic images of these hangings have made their way into a general consciousness through books, internet sites, and the work of contemporary artists such as Ken Gonzales-Day, an L.A.-based photographer who erased the victims from old postcards to disturbing and eerie effect.

Delier acknowledges that, in the past, his efforts to exhibit politically-themed artwork in alternative Istanbul locations have provoked unexpected and violent local reactions. It remains to be seen how this year's Biennial audience will react. Will Turkish and English speakers' reactions vary dramatically, depending on their understanding of the words “linç” and “lynch?” Who will purchase this controversial product? And perhaps most importantly: who will use ParkaLynch – the art-lovers, or the protest mobs?