“Asking for a portrait is ultimately the excuse you have to strike up a conversation with a total stranger, hear their story, let them impart their wisdom,” says photographer Mert Berdilek to the Phoblographer in an interview discussing his very human process. “But, it requires courage that you develop through every successful portrait, little by little it becomes easier. I’ve always been an introverted person, always finding it challenging to strike up conversations with strangers or feel comfortable with people I don’t know.” Mert has used it to gauge his personal growth as a photographer and to get rid of some of life’s craziness.
All images by Mert Berdilek. Used with permission. Check out Mert’s Instagram @mertber and website for more.
…it’s been fascinating to witness my own personal growth, photography and portraits has been my way of overcoming something that has afflicted me my entire life.
Mert Berdilek
How Mert Berdilek Got Into Photography
Mert Berdilek got into photography when he was a child. His parents migrated from Türkiye to Australia, and he was always stuck between two cultures. At a young age, he was drawn to cinema and photography. He adored elements like composition, light, and camera movement and how they could all affect the emotions in a scene. “In photography, I was always speechless when I saw an impeccable photo and confronted with the idea of how a single static image can speak volumes,” Mert tells us. “These fascinations didn’t leave me and only grew in intensity. Ultimately I pursued filmmaking and photography as an act of self-determination, of the only things that made sense to me in my life.” This ultimately led Mert to Tersine Göç — his first big photography project.
Sometimes the result of the portrait is secondary, and hearing their story is the primary outcome. This story, exchange of words and wisdom, might not be shareable, like a photograph is, to a broader audience. However, it is indeed a piece of personal wisdom you take away, instilling you with the resolve of why you do what you do, with your camera in your hand.
Mert Berdilek
This project is about reverse migration, he tells us. Mert originally intended to be a location scout for a feature film project going into production in December 2024. But in the process, he found the people to be very profound and turned it into a photography project. “I traversed by road with 95 rolls of medium-format film at my helm, 8000+ kilometers across Türkiye,” he tells us. “These 6 weeks on the road serendipitously coincided with the preparations for the 100th anniversary of the Turkish Republic and the final frame from these images was shot on the eve of the centenary celebrations. The project is named ‘Tersine Göç,’ as I believe at one point, anybody living in the diaspora will gravitate back to their roots, searching for their heritage, to discover their culture and reclaim their identity.”
A Love for the Pentax 67
“The notion of ‘gear doesn’t matter’ has always been controversial to me, and I’m not sure I agree,” Mert tells us. “Especially when so many mediums exist, how do you as an artist find your voice and achieve your vision that complies with your sensibilities. The gear you choose ultimately plays an essential part in this journey you embark on.” Mert adores larger negatives and the way they look. With film, you get different colors and dynamic range that isn’t really possible with 35mm. It’s not quite unlike medium format digital, where the whole quality of the light you’re rendering changes too.
Mert grew up seeing square photos from the 40s, 50s, and 60s. He was awestruck and never really understood why they looked so different from small negatives. His explorations of this are why he got the Pentax 67 — the camera he used to do Tersine Göç. Typically, he shot handheld or with a tripod. “You really do need to pick the tool you have a symbiotic working relationship with, and can assimilate into the environment you’re shooting (physically but also culturally – black SLRs are familiar to people in remote areas, not drawing too much attention),” he tells us. “Of course, the Pentax 67 has its cons or quirks, like any camera, but you find ways of amalgamating that into your process. Almost like safety flags on a beach, swim between these flags, and you won’t run into issues.”
I’ve owned many cameras in the past, but none of them have spoken to me like my trusty Pentax 67 (the second generation, 1989 release). It’s a piece of equipment that inspires me as it renders the world differently through its viewfinder, accentuating what might be mundane and imbuing it with a visual profundity. It now serves 95% of what I use in the field and I doubt this will change as I strongly believe in sticking with and mastering the tools you love.
Mert Berdilek
He finds inspiration in the Pentax 67. He’s also been using the Mamiya 6 and 7 — though he misses the aesthetics of the mirror slap and the rhythm of shooting. “This might be purely a psychological thing, but the silence of a leaf shutter system, the absence of the gargantuan mirror slap, and the immediate feedback of ‘you got the shot!’ really got in my way and impacted the psychological rhythm of my shooting, as I was always second guessing my decisions, a strange phenomenon I wasn’t able to shake off. He also feels like the rangefinder didn’t give him the creative control he could get with the Pentax 67. All his photos are shot with Kodak Portra 400 or 800 along with ND filters when needed.
Physical film is incredibly special to shoot with, in a world so hamstrung through technological innovation in cameras, you forget that we reached the pinnacle of the craft, decades ago. Since the advent of digital all we’ve been trying to do is emulate film in post, with varying success. But why not go to the source. So, as long as film is being produced I’ll be shooting with it.
Mert Berdilek
The Art of Portraiture
Mery believes that people and their portraits tell universal stories. “It’s why the human figure in the annals of history, from statues to paintings, now photography has been the principal subject and focus for so many artists,” he explains. “It’s all an attempt to explore and unveil the human condition, and portrait subjects communicate this more effectively with greater resonance for the viewer.” To him, it’s incredibly important and he thinks of it almost like cinema — but you’re in the front row seat no matter what as a photographer. Mert believes in developing real connections when shooting portraits partially because it helps him satiate his own desire to feel something in its raw form.
It was twilight, I was driving down a remote road from Doğubeyazıt to Iğdır. Next to me, the snow-capped Ağrı Dağ / Mount Ararat. It is said that the mountain is the final resting place of Noah’s Ark, and the rebirth point of civilisation. At the foot of the mountain, a lone shepherd and his donkey, accompanied by hundreds if not thousands of sheep caught my eye. So I stopped on the side of the road and began walking to this speck of a figure. He was surprised to see me, he told me I was the first person he had seen in a few days. “How old are you?” “Eighteen, abi” – this took me by surprise. There was something about the donkey, especially its eyes, that emotionally reminded me of Robert Bresson’s Au Hasard Balthazar. “What’s his name?” there was a pause. “He doesn’t have a name.” I looked at the donkey again, noticing dried tears on the fur surrounding the eyes. “How old is he?” “He’s 9 years old” “You’ve been together for 9 years?” “Yes” “But he doesn’t have a name?” he shook his head. There was a long pause, I finally asked “Is he your friend?”. He took a moment to reply. When he finally did, his voice dropped, and he muttered almost under his breath “He’s my only friend”. Those words cut right through me. “Shouldn’t he have a name then?” “Yes.. he should” “Let’s name him then”. After some back and forth of who should name him, he insisted for me to name his donkey. My mind immediately went to my childhood pet dog, who we had lost and I still think about. When leaving, I heard him calling his only friend, by his new name while riding together toward the distant sheep. I had unshed tears in my eyes not knowing why I felt the way I did, but I was moved in a way I couldn’t really explain. I recounted this story to a close friend this week, in which he said “You know, your interaction probably changed his life”. I never thought of that, I don’t know if it changed his life but I know it definitely changed mine. It crystallised to me, why we do what we do, with our cameras or our pens, seeking art out there in the real world.
The story of the Lead Image
Thoughts on AI Imagery
Of course, Mert has thoughts on AI imagery and finds it rather disconcerting. To him, visual art has what he calls a poignant dynamic that shows us reality. Once humans are removed from the equation, he reasons that there isn’t artistic intent. He wonders if it’s even art without human creation — and for him, it isn’t. Ultimately, he thinks that we shouldn’t allow it to get to the point of the same numbness found on so many social media platforms. “I believe as a society we shouldn’t allow it to get to a point of content numbness caused by AI inflation, as it puts future generations of creatives at risk of facing artistic bankruptcy.”
AUTHENTICITY STATEMENT
The Phoblographer works with human photographers to verify that they’ve actually created their work through shoots. These are done by providing us assets such as BTS captures, screenshots of post-production, extra photos from the shoot, etc. We do this to help our readers realize that this is authentically human work. Here’s what this photographer provided for u