Esra Belgin
PX3 Prix de la Photographie Paris 2024 – State of the World
Curatorial Selection – Hope in Her Hands: A Young Voice for Peace
Q: How has your personal background or life experiences influenced the global issues and stories you choose to capture through your photography?
I became interested in photography during my university years after reading Roland Barthes’ Camera Lucida. I stumbled upon the book by chance while searching for another work by Barthes in the library. In this book, he described how photography captures a single moment and reproduces it infinitely, something that would otherwise be impossible in an existential sense. His reflections were accompanied by several photographs, one of which deeply moved me—an image taken in Nicaragua in 1979, showing a dead child covered by a white sheet, while the mother was carrying another sheet. That photograph conveyed the horror and suffering of war more powerfully than a thousand pages ever could. After reading Barthes, I began seeking out photographs that told stories from distant places. The impact of these images was far stronger on me than words alone. I went on to read Susan Sontag and John Berger, and studied the work of masters like Henri Cartier-Bresson, Robert Capa, Diane Arbus, André Kertész… and others.
After spending some time reading about photography and studying the works of the great photographers, I bought an analog camera and started taking photos. I was mostly drawn to ordinary street scenes. After coming home from work, I would develop the films and print the photos in my darkroom. Usually, I was not fully satisfied with the results. I wanted to tell stories through images, but I also aimed to create photos that were technically and artistically strong. Those were the days before the internet and digital cameras. In a small circle of friends, we would choose a theme each month, then shoot and print our photos the old-fashioned way. Later, we’d gather to share our work, rate each other’s images, and award a symbolic prize to the one who earned the highest points.
The shift to digital photography changed everything—it made the process faster and more accessible. We could now review our shots instantly, reframe them, and fine-tune elements like exposure, saturation, and contrast during post-processing. Beyond the technical advantages, the digital era also opened up new possibilities—connecting with photographers around the world, submitting our work to online contests, and being inspired by an ever-growing stream of creative expression. I believe photography workshops are also valuable opportunities for learning and sharing experiences. I have had the chance to attend workshops with Magnum photographers like Thomas Dworzak and Nikos Economopoulos, as well as an online recorded course with Steve McCurry and some other photographers. I often go back to McCurry’s video series. Each revisit offers a new insight, a fresh nuance, and expands the way I view the world through the lens.
Q: What inspired you to submit your work to The State of the World competition, and how has receiving this recognition from PX3 impacted your journey as a photographer?
I had never submitted to the State of the World competition before and wasn’t even aware of it. I was looking for a photography platform where I could share images I took in solidarity with Palestine. I felt a strong urge to do something—witnessing thousands of innocent people, including children, being killed and feeling powerless was incredibly painful. I knew that many platforms would turn a blind eye to these images. In a world numbed by mainstream narratives, so many have become indifferent to suffering that unfolds far from their own lives. Still, despite the frustration and heartbreak over how this war has been handled globally, I believe we cannot afford to lose hope. Hope is the quiet force that keeps us moving forward.
After some searching, I came across the State of the World competition. I browsed through the works of previous winners. They were powerful images telling human stories from across the globe, and I felt it—this was the right place. Being selected was a great honour. My work stood alongside powerful photographs from every corner of the globe, each one carrying a truth of its own. That experience stirred something in me, leading to a new photo story, one that explores a different kind of pain and sorrow, distinct from the Palestinian tragedy. I have just finished it and intend to submit it for this year’s competition.
Q: Can you take us behind the scenes of your winning series? What was the story you aimed to tell, and did any unexpected moments shape the final result?
At first, I intended to submit a series of photos from various Palestine solidarity demonstrations. But after hours of reflection, I chose to submit just one image—a little girl holding the Palestinian flag and gazing at it while sitting on her father’s shoulders. I deliberately excluded the father from the frame, as she alone created a powerful and evocative scene. There was something in that moment that quietly stirred a sense of hope in me. I felt that including it in a larger series might dilute its quiet strength. This image needed the space to speak for itself. With this photo, I wanted to express that even in the face of the world’s horrors, we must not lose hope. Light finds its way through the cracks because there is a crack in everything. I want to quote at this point Mariame Kaba, who says: “Hope doesn’t preclude feeling sadness or frustration or anger or any other emotion that makes total sense. Hope isn’t an emotion, hope is not optimism. Hope is a discipline we have to practice every single day.”
Q: Your work highlights some of the most crucial and pressing issues in today’s world. How do you balance technical precision with the raw emotion needed to create a powerful, thought-provoking image?
So far, what I have learnt from the masters is that visual storytelling involves a joint operation of the brain, the eye, and the heart. When even one of these elements is absent, the result may be a hollow image, stripped of meaning. A photographer must remain attuned—thinking, seeing, and feeling all at once. I believe the decisive moment is born precisely when these three are in perfect harmony. That is when an image gains its power. Stories are everywhere. One doesn’t need to travel to distant places like Calcutta or Marrakesh to capture meaningful photographs—suffering, beauty, and quiet moments of truth exist just across the street from where we live. Life’s smallest details can become thought-provoking images when observed with care and intention through the photographer’s eye.
Q: Photography has the ability to raise awareness, shift perspectives, and even inspire action. What role do you believe visual storytelling plays in addressing global challenges?
Visual storytelling can have a profound impact, often more immediate and powerful than words. An image can reveal the harsh realities of life in a way that language may struggle to convey. How many pages would it take to convey what Capa captured in a single frame of the dying soldier? Powerful images have the ability to evoke strong emotional responses and inspire action. The jolt of a powerful image can stir something deep within us, something primal. I believe it is precisely this impact, through photographs and video footage from Palestine, that compels thousands to flood the streets in protest. The image speaks where words fall silent.
Q: Your winning image is a reflection of an important moment or reality—how do you approach the responsibility of documenting such impactful stories?
If we aim to tell stories through our photography, we carry a responsibility to stay true to our subjects, to ourselves, and to those who will engage with our work. Honesty is what gives an image its strength—it is the invisible thread that connects the viewer to the moment captured. When we photograph with sincerity, our emotions inevitably become part of the frame. They live within the image, shaping its tone, its truth, and its power. When it was later revealed by Robert Doisneau’s daughter that his iconic photograph The Kiss by the Hôtel de Ville was in fact staged with a hired man and woman, I remember feeling a sense of disappointment, even betrayal. Perhaps Doisneau never explicitly claimed it was a candid moment, but the illusion of spontaneity was part of what made the image so compelling. Discovering that it was orchestrated disrupted that emotional connection. Staged photographs presented as documentary work can weaken the invisible thread of trust between the photographer and the viewer, especially when the image is meant to speak to something as universal and intimate as love.
Q: Looking ahead, are there any social or environmental themes you feel compelled to explore further through your work?
I have a few ongoing and upcoming projects in mind. One of them, which I have just completed, focuses on the families of people who have been forcibly disappeared in Turkey while in custody during the 1980s and 1990s—a painful and often silenced reality. And the next project I am considering is about refugee children living in Istanbul, the city where I come from. Another project I am still working on in post-processing tells the story of one of Istanbul’s most iconic historical buildings, an architectural landmark that, for decades, served as a haven for artists, writers, and intellectuals. When news broke in 2014 that the building would undergo restoration, the public responded with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. The promise was to preserve its cultural heritage while giving a new life into its structure, ensuring that the rich history embedded in its walls would endure.
But that promise was not fulfilled. Today, the building no longer stands as a quiet sanctuary of creativity—it has become a bustling commercial space. The echoes of typewriters and the soft murmur of creative minds at work have been replaced by the clatter of espresso machines and the buzz of high-end shops. Before the renovation began, I had started documenting the space—its worn corridors, silent rooms, and the atmosphere that once nurtured artistic spirit. For a long time, I avoided revisiting those photographs. They felt too heavy, a visual reminder of a legacy erased. But recently, I came to see them in a new light—not just as memories, but as valuable documents. A record of what once was. I have now begun reviewing and processing those images with the intention of telling that story. Each of these stories carries weight, urgency, and the need to be seen and remembered.
Q: What motivates you to continue capturing the world through your lens, and where do you hope to take your work in the future?
Being recognized by respected and prestigious organizations gives me a sense that my work is not only seen but truly valued. It affirms that the stories I strive to tell through my images matter to others as well. That recognition becomes a powerful source of motivation—it encourages me to keep going, to continue documenting the world around me with honesty and purpose. My primary interest lies in capturing the lives of individuals in public spaces, in moments of everyday existence—unposed, and unaware of the camera’s presence. Photography, for me, functions as a visual journal, a means of personal and social reflection. I intend to persist in the role of an invisible flâneur, documenting the rhythms of everyday life, capturing people in their ordinary moments.