The Photography of Dr. Jeff Harper

These bread loop peddler's carts are as ubiquitous as, well, kabobs in Istanbul . . .

They are literally on every corner . . .

The carts sometimes seem like meeting places for old friends . . .

As we strolled around Istanbul for a week, I found myself drawn to photographing these peddler carts, even though I do not especially like roasted chestnuts . . .

At first I thought of them as only an interesting foreground detail in a photo frame . . . .

Then I began to see them as an inscribed pecuniary universe inhabited by the cart tender, the peddler . . .

These were mobile business dramas; personal survival was at stake . . .

I was surprised by the limited products offered by the peddlers . . .

There were corn carts, with chestnuts . . .

. . . and corn carts without chestnuts . . .

Some bread ring carts also sold water by the bottle . . . . like this thoughtful peddler . . .

Other carts sold only chestnuts, and very few at that . . .

An interesting business concept employing a cart . . . . Tea and a bowl anyone?  This was one of only a few carts I saw in Istanbul that was not selling either chestnuts, bread rings, corn, or water.

But, it was when the sun began to go down that my infatuation in these Istanbul peddler carts hit a crescendo . . .

At night the peddler carts became small planets arrayed around the monuments, markets, and main streets throughout the city . . .

At night many of the carts were replenished to meet the demands of the night shoppers and party-goers . . .

The pedestrian walks at the city center draw throngs of shoppers in the evening . . .

The carts become lanterns in the night . . . to draw customers, like moths . . .

Visitors, businessmen, tourists, and locals all succumbed to the chestnuts' inescapable allure.

I wonder how these 'locations' are apportioned?  Is there a licensing process with the city? . . .

This man was intensely arranging and rearranging the chestnuts on his cart in an effort, I suppose, to draw attendion to his attention-worthy fare . . .

In the realm of the night peddler cart . . .

As it got later and later in the evening, and the pedestrians thinned out, the carts stood out more and more as forlorn islands of light along the dim streets and avenues . . .

Some cart tenders packed it in and went home . . .

Some cart tenders made their decisions to call it an evening based on the day's take.  I wondered if this man, with a cart still full of chestnuts, had made enough to go home yet . . .

As the evening grew later, I ventured off the main pedestrian walking streets . . .

One last customer.  Who eats roasted chestnuts at midnight? . . .

Walking back to the hotel, along a bridge ramp, I encountered this lonely nut peddler and his cart . . .

Out here, along the broad boulevards with fast moving traffic and few pedestrians, there were still a few carts with their lights on.  This fellow had twisted doughnuts as well as bread rings.

Yes, still customers out at midnight, going who-knows-where . . .

Lit by the red brake lights of a passing bus, this man seemed to have chosen the darkest, most out of the way location possible . . .

This was the only drink cart I saw in seven days of walking Istanbul.  The presence of mayonnaise and catsup made me think that it wasn't going to be a hot drink poured into those cups . . .

Very late at night, the last corn and chestnut cart began to shut down . . .

The last hold out . . . with head hung low.

Emptied and secured for the night (next to a police stand), another day gone in the life of a street peddler cart.