Mike Berg: 'A Small House of My Desires'

With a love of pattern, Berg's references to old wallpaper, architectural whimsy, Tajik suzanis and temple/mosque tilework are charmingly intimate and quirky, allowing the 'aesthetics of accident' which divides the personal from the mass-produced

Molly McAnailly Burke

Ihope that everybody with an interest in old fabrics, especially those from Central Asia, caught Mike Berg's show at the Dulcinea Gallery in Taksim, which closed on Saturday night. Even if you prefer the traditional to the contemporary, the sheer craftsmanship of these works, which are mostly large wall hangings, are bound to impress. With a love of pattern, Berg's references to old wallpaper, architectural whimsy, Tajik suzanis and temple/mosque tile work are charmingly intimate and quirky, allowing the "aesthetics of accident" which divides the personal from the mass-produced.

The image pictured here, titled, 'That day and the next,' is deceptive from a distance. You might well think, at first, that it is an abstract painting or a carborundu etching. It is only when you close in on the pitch-black brush strokes on a loose-hanging canvas that you realize they have been embroidered by master craftspeople, in this case a husband and wife team from Tajikistan who worked on Berg's designs through an intermediary in Istanbul's Covered Bazaar.

"It started as a gestural painting in oil, " says Berg, "which was then cut and recombined. It was than traced with carbon paper, and the registration had to be absolutely perfect. Then I filled in the lines with tailor's chalk I order to make it clear."

The Tajik couple, friends of an Istanbul Suzani dealer, took two months to complete the project with the perfect, flat embroidery ("lokay") typical of top quality Central Asian tent hangings. The result is stunning, and though the Tajik couple thought the designs a bit odd, they liked them and wondered where they had come from.


"I've always felt that suzanis were a type of painting with texture", says Berg, who recognizes abstract to Central Asian fabric art in Istanbul less than two years ago, but was no stranger to other types of folk art and architecture from around the world, and received particular kudos for an exterior wall mural at Colorado's Boulder Museum of Contemporary Art which is right next to a teahouse given to the city by the people of Tajikistan. This work, made up of enormous stencils, took only four gallons of paint, but the effect is enormous. With luck you can a see a repreduction in the few copies of an old gallery catalogue at Dulcinea. Another major exterior project, which was to heva been made out of oxidized plates affixed to a triangular-shaped building in Germany, was not so lucky as the to complete it were never realized.

Such vision, however, as well a decision to live in Istanbul for a while, ought to put Berg in the front line up consideration in the 2001 Istanbul Internatıonal Biennial, famed for its use of historic buildings. In fact, it's high time that some creative use was made of Istanbul's less-than-beautiful and even decrepit concrete tower blocks, a concept that has been going on in New York City and elsewhere for many years now, but has yet to surface in our metropolis. Berg agrees.

Other work in this exhibition are smaller examples of the artist's copper-plate works, and wall hangings patterned with rubber stamps which were also made to Berg's specifications. They may look like the classic images which sometimes emerge from a palimsest of a century's worth of wallpaper in a crumbling building, but that, too, is deceptive.

I was not to be alone in welcoming Berg and his delightful ideas to the artist's community of Istanbul, and hope that he may have an opportunity for many more such exhibitions as well as demonstrations for Turkish art students interested in reclaiming their own past. So if you missed this show, keep an eye out for future work. You'll be glad you did.