Flotel Europa

  • September 20, 2015 / 15:00
  • September 26, 2015 / 14:00

Director: Vladimir Tomic
Denmark, Serbia, 2015, 70’, color

Bosnian with Turkish subtitles

In 1992 a wave of refugees from the war in Bosnia and Herzegovina reached Denmark. With existing refugee camps completely full, the Red Cross pulled a giant ship into the canals of Copenhagen. The ship, Flotel Europa, became a temporary home for a thousand people waiting for decisions on their asylum applications. Among them was a 12-year-old boy, Vladimir, who fled Sarajevo with his mother and older brother. They spent two years in limbo at Flotel Europa. Two decades later, director Vladimir Tomić takes us on a journey of growing up on this ship filled with echoes of the war — and other ordeals of an adolescent. This coming-of-age story is juxtaposed with personal VHS archive material shot by refugees who shared the “space-time vacuum” of the Flotel.

Halima’s Path

Halima’s Path

One Day in Sarajevo

One Day in Sarajevo

Flotel Europa

Flotel Europa

Belvedere

Belvedere

Self Reflection

Self Reflection

Trailer

Flotel Europa

Horror Vacui <br> Alejandro Almanza Pereda

Horror Vacui
Alejandro Almanza Pereda

Pera Museum, in collaboration with Istanbul Foundation for Culture and Arts (İKSV), is one of the main venues for this year’s 15th Istanbul Biennial from 16 September to 12 November 2017.

The Search for Form

The Search for Form

A series of small and rather similar nudes Bedri Rahmi Eyüboğlu and Eren Eyüboğlu produced in the early 1930s almost resemble a ‘visual conversation’ that focus on a pictorial search. It is also possible to find the visual reflections of this earlier search in the synthesis Bedri Rahmi Eyüboğlu reached with his stylistic abstractions in the 1950s.

Midnight Horror Stories: The Last Ferry <br> Galip Dursun

Midnight Horror Stories: The Last Ferry
Galip Dursun

I remembered a game as I was waiting in the passenger lounge for the ferry to arrive just a few minutes ago. A game we used to play at home when I was young, in my country that is very far away from here, a relic from the distant past; I don’t even remember how we used to play it. The kind of game that makes me feel a thousand times lonelier than I already am among the crowd waiting to get on the ferry.