Old Kirlangic Olive Oil Factory in Ayvalik, Turkey

Kirlangic Factory in Decay

Left unkempt, devoid of basic maintenance, a lack of general respect for preservation can turn a structure into a crumbling ruin in short order. I became acutely aware of how quickly solid structures could decay when I visited a couple of sites in Ayvalık. I am grateful for receiving the permission from the mayor’s office to wander around the old Kırlangıç olive oil factory, explore, and photograph one of the iconic structures in Ayvalık.

At the Municipality Office

A section of the complex is used by a branch of the municipal offices where I met Mr. Ali Akdamar, the art, and culture consultant, who approved my request to photograph the decaying structures. He asked me specifically to refrain from publishing the photographs for about a month or so since they had applied for some grants to convert the old structure into a cultural center. That was the best news I had heard about the place and, as promised, I have not published any photographs until this post. I sure hope they have secured financing to convert the place to a cultural center. Ayvalık will undoubtedly benefit from that.

Abandoned but not Forgotten

Built on the shores of the Aegean Sea, the old and mostly abandoned Kırlangıç olive oil factory still maintained a certain level of dignity despite the obvious neglect and ill repair. It invited me in and bared its emptiness in a touching but honest way. The entire complex appealed to me as a photographic project; I wanted to photograph it to tell the story of its current state.

As I slowly walked around the first building, I saw a long white building parallel to the one in front. An old rowboat laid against the tired wall, in the same state of decay as the building, down to its ribs. On the left, a tower-like structure soared to the sky and terminated a brick building that ran vertically to the long white building which seemed to serve like a dry-dock to the ghost of a boat. No Kirlangic around!

The Lord of the Rubble

The large opening at the ground level of the brick building, most likely a doorway with missing doors, revealed a large hall. Through its windows, I could see the Aegean Sea. Inside, the empty and spacious hall appeared strangely inviting, I felt comfortable being there despite the desolate and run-down state that was evident all around. As I stepped back to the yard, a large dog came out from the same opening, walked by me, and into another opening ahead, totally ignoring my presence. I gave it the name “The Lord of the Rubble,” as it owned the entire Kirlangic complex.

The gateway, the short tunnel, where the dog disappeared, was part of a smaller structure attached to the long white building I mentioned earlier. I followed the dog, but I could not see it anywhere. As I walked towards the next row of buildings, I went through another opening with strange, narrow, double door panels hanging overhead. They must have functioned in some way before but, now they stood like a visual riddle.