Social history, unlike political history, examines various aspects of life and culture from a bottom-up perspective—how governmental regulations affect people’s lives and behaviors. It delves into the processes and outcomes of human actions to provide a more complete picture of a period, beyond the achievements of political or intellectual history.
Orhan Pamuk, a Turkish writer, portrays a part of Istanbul’s history by writing the historical novel “The Museum of Innocence,” set in Istanbul, and by collecting objects related to fictional characters and events in the novel, establishing a personal museum in a building in Istanbul. He sees the philosophy behind setting up a museum as overcoming the linear course of time. In his novel, in accordance with Aristotle’s theory, he views time as having two aspects: the timeline (which ends in death) and the present time. According to Pamuk, this timeline connects all objects and moments, but contemplating this temporal course is very painful because it leads towards death. Yet sometimes these moments we call “now” can bring such joy and pleasure that it lasts for a century. The author considers collecting objects related to his lover as preserving these present moments. He believes objects have a soul that preserves and conveys the historical essence of the moment forever. For me, my hometown of Zanjan was akin to Pamuk’s character “Fusun,” his lover, which inspired me to try and document the existing artifacts by collecting objects related to each story and arranging them as a visual record.
This personal interest stemmed from the absence of written sources about cultures, rituals, and stories, and the fear of losing the customs and traditions of a period when my grandparents and parents lived. This led to the collection of stories, events, and the lives of the people of Zanjan from the 1920s to the 1950s, aiming to document a part of Zanjan’s social history.
Human sensory perceptions are one of the most important components in social history studies. The necessity of documenting Zanjan’s social history compelled me to attempt documenting the existing artifacts by collecting objects related to each story and arranging them visually. The result was an exhibition combining photography, literature, and arrangement, allowing viewers to touch, smell, taste the objects in the photos, and listen to the stories they represent.
LILI
The women of the family were sitting all around the room, whispering to each other. It was almost sunset, and the baby’s father had gone up to the roof to call the azan aloud. The expectant mother lay in the center of the room, with everyone staring, waiting for the baby to arrive. Khadijeh Khanom had been in labor for hours, and still, no child had come. The tension broke only when Mrs. Ghahramani entered the room, handbag in hand, and shouted, "This poor woman can’t give birth out of shame!" With that, she angrily ordered everyone out. Minutes later, she emerged with the newborn in her arms, handing him over with a hard stare to the father. In those days, Hakim Hidaji Hospital had yet to open, and most women gave birth at home. For many, childbirth was a constant in life, with several children over the years, and the idea that a few might not survive was widely accepted. Babies often perished for various reasons—cold, accidental trampling by siblings, or a lack of medical care. In Zanjan, there was only Mrs. Ghahramani. Not everyone practiced such traditions, but Mrs. Ghahramani knew her work well and loathed these outdated customs. She dreamed of changing the local culture, hoping to raise a new generation with her own hands, to "paint a new design upon the canvas of the world," as Hafez once said. Through loans and much hard work, she brought her two dreams to life. She built a cinema in the center of Zanjan, with its main doors opening onto Pahlavi Street, naming it after her only daughter, Lili. Upstairs from the cinema, she opened her own midwifery practice. Afterward, several other cinemas were built in Zanjan. Across from Cinema Lili, Cinema Moulin Rouge opened, and a little further away, in Sabzeh Meydan, Cinema Blue Star was established. Zanjan’s cinemas didn’t stop there, with two outdoor summer cinemas named Bet Club (a mix of the words “Boat” and “Club”) in Gizlar Bagh and Cinema Bagh-e Safa on Farmandari Street. The public’s enthusiasm for the cinemas was strong, and many people became regular moviegoers, seeing it as their main form of entertainment. Most films were Persian films, but occasionally, popular international movies were shown. People would watch Bollywood films like Sangam multiple times, lining up in long queues in front of the cinema. There were countless stories about students sneaking out of school to watch movies and proudly recounting their adventures of secretly entering the cinema. However, some religious townsfolk viewed the cinemas as a source of corruption. These individuals bore a deep grudge against Zanjan’s first cinema pioneer and called the cinemas "dens of sin." To them, the alcohol served at the bar of the Bimeh Hotel and the nearby Blue Star Cinema, with its Persian films, were symbols of moral decay. Conditions were such that children from devout families who loved the cinema had to sneak in secretly to watch the world’s big films like Doctor Zhivago, The Ten Commandments, and others. The people’s teasing didn’t stop there. The new generation that Mrs. Ghahramani had helped bring into the world had come up with a tasteless joke about the cinema’s name and location. Every time they took a taxi, when the driver asked, “Where to?” they’d respond, “To the front of Mrs. Ghahramani,” and laugh uproariously. After the revolution, a group of young revolutionaries gathered in front of the cinema to tear it down. Mrs. Ghahramani came to the window and shouted, “I know every single one of you. I brought you all into this world, and…” A few wiser ones among them managed to shame the crowd, and they dispersed. But a few days later, with an official order from the Revolutionary Court, Cinema Lili was seized and closed down for good.