Sarphan led me to the basement of his apartment in New York City, where he kept his six mannequins. In the dark, spacious room stood six life-like bodies; their facial expressions blank and serious, as if waiting for an exciting or active moment. Dressed in modern American clothing, one would think these were actual people living in the apartment. He called the mannequins his family.
“It took me nearly twenty years to make these,” Sarphan
said. “They represent various stages of life and the specific emotions
associated with these stages.”
He pointed each one of them out to me individually like a
museum tour guide sharing his knowledge of the finest sculptures. The first
mannequin he showed me was a little boy dressed in overalls and a baseball cap
carrying a toy car. The little boy represented the innocence of a child and the
curiosity towards the world around him. To the right of this mannequin was
another boy, somewhat taller than the little boy. This boy was dressed in a
basketball jersey and jeans and his left hand was making the “gang sign”. He
represented the rebelliousness and the insecurity of the teenage years.
“Did you feel those exact same emotions growing up?” I
ask Sarphan.
“I built these mannequins as a means of getting these
emotions out,” he replied. “I feel like I can relate to each one of them.”
He then went on to show me his next mannequin; a military
soldier in his twenties saluting, which represented emancipation and strength
while becoming an adult. Next to that was a somewhat older man wearing a
business suit and holding a briefcase, symbolizing knowledge and confidence
within a career. Then, I saw a mannequin of a father holding his son,
symbolizing love and responsibility for family. Finally, I was shown a
mannequin dressed as an old man holding a cane, symbolizing reflection and
pride towards a worthwhile life.
“I can tell your father inspired you to do this,” I said.
“Do these mannequins give some kind of message?”
“My father always said to pay attention to the gestures
that make us who we are,” Sarphan replied. “I think it’s especially important
to see those gestures as a person matures.”
A few weeks after I visited Sarphan, his mannequins were
chosen to be displayed in The Metropolitan Museum of Art. He invited me to the
opening day of his exhibit. Afterwards, we went back to his apartment for
coffee. We found his 14-year-old son Baysan starting to build his own mannequin
in the basement.
“I see he’s taking after your talent,” I said to Sarphan
with a laugh.
“Oh, it’s a family tradition,” he replied. “Not only are
the men taught how to build mannequins, but they’re also taught the importance
of studying people and their gestures.”
This is really great. The story, although a different situation entirely, sticks closely to one of the messages of the original Master Bedii's Children. You incorporated it really well. Although the format is a little bit off, the mannequin making and the family tradition bits that you added tied it together nicely. This reminds me a little bit of an Edgar Allen Poe story I once read called "The Masque of Red Death," if only because both have physical representations of the different stages of life (in Masque of Red Death, there are rooms painted in different colors).
ReplyDeletePat, great job! I love how you created your own story but of course kept the story of Master Bedii's Children in mind. I think its cool that you used the quote from Master Bedii's Children in your fan fiction. You did well with creating your own story but also adding the story you picked in your writing as well. Nice work!
ReplyDeleteThis is a really awesome story. I think it was cool the way you had each mannequin symbolizing something different depending on the different stages of life.
ReplyDeleteA lovely story that really shows the motivations Master Bedii had for building his mannequins, while also adding a new dimension to it. I love the way you use actual Turkish names, and take a quote directly from Pamuk's story and build it into your own. Very nice!
ReplyDelete