Ghosts in the Machine

A philosophical consideration of resilience in the first weeks of Türkiye's twin earthquakes, February 2023.

My photographic practice is inclined towards the things we hold in common: our susceptibility for wonder; an innate curiosity of the planet and all things in it; a desire for immortality even if we are not fooled by our finite contingency of presence in this world.

So, when twin earthquakes decimated Turkey’s southern and central regions (and northern and western Syria) in February 2023, I did not wish to bear witness to this suffering, too keenly aware of the hand of man in abetting the earth’s upheaval. I felt I could not add to those vivid and suffocating media images of desperate acts of rescue and courage interspersed with dwindling moments of hope. Within minutes, buildings had crumbled, too many disintegrating like puff pastry, dissolving and fusing with its innards, no longer able to secure or protect what was inside. Those who lived wailed, ‘but how will I live?’, an anxious, probing question, and one that raises structural and pragmatic concerns. What is the worth of our frenzied, life-long activities when so much of what is rooted, certain and significant can be taken in moments, when the manner of our death is down to negligence, disorder or indifference.

I could not turn my mind to other things, and with my son, made my way to those ruins and to those traces of violence, confronting this dread so as to cleanse it of its strangeness. I wish to convey if but a few of the impressions called forth by the maws of buildings that opened into the intimate spaces of those that until recently had been like us, striving, embryonic. Orphaned belongings and familiar things, palpable traces of lives lived testify to our oneness. We crave and pursue fundamental things: warmth, nourishment, safety, fulfilment and opportunity – to be seen and held. May these images spark those sensitivities and help us create safe spaces and communities in which to thrive.

I saw much of what was lost, but also what small feats of recovery and mindful acts of industry must propel us forward to face the overwhelming evidence of our metaphysical contingency, our time together brief and precious, but an irrelevance in relation to the age of the Earth.

© Eli Pimentel - Image from the Ghosts in the Machine photography project
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Left, and its twin Found objects collapse a conceit between actuality and the appearance of things. Objects are not only attempts to make reality intelligible, they function as grounding mechanisms in the face of changes in the lived world.

© Eli Pimentel - Left, and its twin
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Left, and its twin

© Eli Pimentel - Image from the Ghosts in the Machine photography project
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A Humble Loaf Bread sits within a complex system of signification that creates symbolic meaning: establishing order and social boundaries; making sense of fear; providing hope and protection; and defining the ritual practices that bind communities.

© Eli Pimentel - Image from the Ghosts in the Machine photography project
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A Humble Loaf Bread brings us comfort and surety. Sadly, bread also represents contradictions of society which can no longer be overlooked.

© Eli Pimentel - Image from the Ghosts in the Machine photography project
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Little Boy Tragedies have a distinct way of revealing prejudices and injustices levelled at communities outside the mainstream. Where once refugees lived alongside residents, now they face anger which manifests in precarious living arrangements.

© Eli Pimentel - Image from the Ghosts in the Machine photography project
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Uncanny Spaces In their formal conventionality of togetherness, tables and armchairs anchor us to the world. Their use, however, has been usurped by the overwhelming stench of calamity, and the objects become alienating.

© Eli Pimentel - Image from the Ghosts in the Machine photography project
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Carcass The gaze settles upon this randomness as a perfectly formed, truncated body at its most eviscerated . From this perspective, the question is whether our needs are so very different from others’.

© Eli Pimentel - Image from the Ghosts in the Machine photography project
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Public service Rhopography (rhopos: trivial, everyday) runs counter to the idea of greatness: it favours the tedious, the dreary uninteresting-ness of life, the messiness and the absurdity of the human condition.

© Eli Pimentel - Image from the Ghosts in the Machine photography project
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Tea Break Sidewalk soup kitchens and makeshift tea stands are the necessary blessings of these uncertain times. Stray domestic spaces are suddenly suffused with life at the prospect of sharing a warm meal and drink with others who yearn for the same.

© Eli Pimentel - Image from the Ghosts in the Machine photography project
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Uncanny Spaces A thwarted desire to understand the self through them is subsumed to these narratives. Disturbing yet intimate, these things wait patiently for life to return to them.

© Eli Pimentel - Image from the Ghosts in the Machine photography project
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Housekeeping There are aspects of our lived world that do not make clear why certain practices – those related to the precariousness of the body such as keeping it clean and protected - are not valued.

© Eli Pimentel - Image from the Ghosts in the Machine photography project
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Melancholia The frantic activity of the early days has given way to an anxious listlessness. Life is shifting, its purpose and meaning elusive in the face of chaos and uncertainty.

© Eli Pimentel - Image from the Ghosts in the Machine photography project
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Mothering Humans are remarkably resilient. Mothers cook and clean, and care. Their efforts have turned makeshift encampments into homes, equipped with the welcome relief of what is known: a roof overhead, a mattress and food.

© Eli Pimentel - Image from the Ghosts in the Machine photography project
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Housekeeping Small acts of industry and care now define public life. In times of crises, these mundane activities reassure and sustain us.

© Eli Pimentel - Image from the Ghosts in the Machine photography project
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Sisyphus Three volunteers pull the length of the same hose on a main street, without being certain of its beginning and ending. Like Sisyphus, says Albert Camus (1942:85) ‘the path of struggle leads me to the flesh…my only certainty.’

© Eli Pimentel - Image from the Ghosts in the Machine photography project
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Carcass The exposed façades heave with exhausted despondency and, unnervingly, unconceal the spaces where our vulnerabilities are laid bare.