Photography
Isabel Lauren Loewe
"Proof I exist (kind of)", 2025
Çağla Polat photographs melancholy in color. Istanbul appears through fog, neon, rain, motion blur, and the strange glow of streets seen before sunrise or after dark. The city is familiar to her in the way only a birthplace can be, but she photographs it as if it still has the ability to disappear. Her images often hold a lone figure at a distance, turned away from the camera or reduced to silhouette, allowing the scene to become both personal and anonymous.
Color is what gives that melancholy its shape. Deep teals, burnt oranges, muted purples, bright reds, and warm light move through her work with the sharpness of digital editing and the softness of analog memory. She uses Lightroom to pull out the image she already sees in her mind, but her goal is for even the most extreme colors to feel natural. The result is a body of work where beauty and loneliness seem to arrive through the same source of light.
Before photography, Çağla painted. That foundation is still visible in the way she frames a street, waits for atmosphere, balances color, and lets the edit complete the emotional shape of the image. She began by taking photos at night on her phone, then opened an Instagram account because she needed somewhere to archive them. Eight years later, the archive has become a way of seeing. “The world I wanted to create with my photos was in my head from the very beginning,” she says. Istanbul helped her find it.
"fragments of a dream", 2026
How did you first get into photography, and were you formally trained?
I’ve been involved with painting since childhood, and when I was 18, I wanted to try a different art form. I started this journey with photos I took at night, and since I was running out of storage on my phone, I thought opening an Instagram account would be an easy way to archive them. That account eventually turned into what it is today.
I’m self-taught, but my sister was into documentary photography at the time. Although it didn’t initially spark my interest, she helped me out a lot later on. Exploring new places and shooting alongside her is what really shaped my perspective.
You mentioned photography started as a curiosity seven years ago and became a way of seeing the world. What shifted it from one to the other?
When I started the account to archive my work, I was only thinking about sharing my pictures. A few months in, I realized my page was suddenly gaining traction among people into the same aesthetic. I figured I could turn this into something serious, so I put all my focus there.
What does your past look like, and how has it shaped the way you photograph?
I’ve been painting for way longer than I’ve been taking photos, and I think it really helped me with things like angles, framing, and colors. Also, when I first started, I was in high school. My school hours were very early, so when I left the house while it was still dark, I would see a lot of cool views, and I just turned them into an opportunity.
Growing up in Istanbul, how did the city get into your work? Was it something you sought out or something that was always there?
I was born and raised in this city, so I grew up knowing every single layer of it. The world I wanted to create with my photos was in my head from the very beginning. At first, I was chasing that specific feeling around the city, trying to find what I was looking for. But over time, the city itself shaped and strengthened my style.
Istanbul is a very different kind of place. You can get lost looking for one thing and end up finding something completely else. I think that’s what improved my work the most.
You photograph Istanbul repeatedly and have said it makes you feel something different every time. What is it about a familiar place that keeps giving you new images?
Even though the city stays the same, the experiences always change and life moments just keep building up. I can see the city that raised me, and its atmosphere, from different angles day by day. Even photographing the very street where I was born and raised feels exciting right now. I think this has a lot to do with our personal journey.
Your work has a very specific emotional register. How much of that comes from the shoot itself versus what happens in editing?
Both are really important, but the original photo holds the whole story. I already know what the final result will look like in my mind, so I just use the editing process to bring that out.
"time stands still", 2025
How long do you typically spend editing a single image, and does your editing process look the same for every image?
I usually finish my work in one go because I know exactly what I’m looking for. However, I don’t edit my shots on the same day. I need to clear my mind and forget the image first. When I struggle with a photo, I don’t give up on it; I just let it sit. Later on, I check my archives and work on it again with fresh eyes. It works out great.
Usually, my process starts with fixing the lights, and then I dive into the colors. Once the colors look right to me, I do the fine-tuning and cleaning up. I don’t use presets in my editing. Also, my camera doesn’t have a setting for double exposures, so I have a separate process for doing that. After that, I take the final image and combine it into the edit.
What software and tools are central to your editing process?
Only Lightroom, nothing else. Both the mobile and desktop versions are more than enough for me.
Color is one of the most immediately striking things about your work. How do you think about color choice?
Colors have always been with me in every moment of my life. I use a lot of colors in my drawings, too, and that’s where the comfort of working this way with my photos comes from. But my favorite part is that even though I use very sharp colors, the feeling of the photos can be completely different, mostly a sense of melancholy. I really love this contrast.
You seem to return to specific palettes: deep teals, burnt oranges, muted purples. Are those instinctive choices or something you plan?
I try not to get stuck in just one style while also trying to reflect my feelings. Since I work completely digitally, I really love the specific colors and feelings of analog photography, and I often try to catch that vibe. On top of that, the albums I listen to, the games I play, and the movies I watch are among the biggest sources of inspiration behind these choices.
Is there a color or combination you keep coming back to that feels most like yours?
I think bright reds and warm oranges are my absolute favorites and my comfort zone.
How do you decide when a color grade is finished? What does “done” feel like?
Even though I work with very extreme colors, I can say it’s done when it feels natural to me. The main thing I care about is making it feel like it hasn’t been edited. From time to time, some of my work might seem a bit too much to some people, but that’s just because of how I trained my eyes.
Your images often have a strong relationship between light and fog, motion blur, and atmosphere. How do you create those conditions? Are you waiting for them or constructing them?
I don’t just happen to stumble upon these conditions. I actively look for chances to find them. I check the weather a lot, and if the atmosphere doesn’t give me enough, I use editing to help create that. I’m a bit obsessed when it comes to capturing the vibe I want. For instance, if it’s snowing and I know it won’t be heavy around where I live, I instantly decide to go to higher and more distant parts of the city.
A lot of your work is shot on iPhone and processed in Lightroom. How do you think about the camera you shoot on in relation to the final image?
My photography journey actually began with a phone, and it’s still my go-to tool sometimes. If I’m out without a camera, my phone always saves the day. However, the biggest difference between a phone and a camera is the depth of field. So, I always start by editing my phone shots until they look like they were taken with a real camera. Once it feels right to my eyes, I move on to the actual editing process.
Your double exposure self-portrait got significant attention. How did that piece come together, and what did it mean to you to put yourself in the frame?
For a long time, I swore I would never do portrait photography. But I eventually learned that’s not what photography is about. I first began by shooting my mom and sister, and then moved on to taking self-portraits. With that particular piece, I was just doing some experimental work in my room, and after a few shots, I saw exactly what I wanted. By the next day, I finished the whole edit in just a couple of hours.
Lone figures appear constantly in your work, often from behind or in silhouette. Is that a conscious choice, and what does the anonymous figure do for you compositionally?
It makes me really happy that this gets noticed. Actually, I love telling stories in the entirety of my photos, and having people remain unseen, just being an element in the frame, keeps them from overpowering the photo itself. This both sparks curiosity for the viewers and allows them to add something of their own to the story.
On top of that, a person’s solitude with themselves inspires me deeply, and I don’t see it as a bad thing. Instead, I believe these moments are incredibly valuable and help us grow. I’m trying to reflect these thoughts in my work.
"Untitled", 2025
How do you find your subjects or scenes? Are you out shooting regularly, or do you wait until something calls you out?
I don’t have a schedule like, “I’m going to shoot on this specific day.” I’m not really consistent about it either, but my camera is always in my bag because I don’t know what I might run into. On top of that, sometimes a place I already know comes to mind, and an image just flashes in my head. I try to go there as soon as possible to capture what I imagined.
Also, whenever I travel outside of my own city, like for a vacation or another trip, I open up the map, walk around, look around, and find spots that inspire me. I spend my time working in those areas for as long as I’m there.
What does a shoot actually look like for you, day to day?
Sometimes, just to keep myself from breaking my routine, I throw myself out onto the streets even when I have absolutely nothing in mind. This is completely just to keep my hands from getting rusty. And it always works, because I come back home with at least a few ideas. The exact opposite happens, too, where I hit the road knowing exactly what I want and where I’m going to shoot it.
Your titles are often short and poetic: “Roads,” “fragments of a dream,” “waves crashing on distant shores of time.” How much thought goes into how you name an image?
I don’t like explaining my work at great length. I prefer describing it in just a few words because I want to leave room for everyone looking at it to find a piece of themselves. My biggest source of inspiration for this is the music I listen to. In fact, music is the biggest yet most invisible part of my creative process.
How has your style changed from your earliest work to now?
From the outside, it might look like a lot has changed, maybe even like there’s no trace of my old work left, but to me it still feels the same as day one. The world I wanted to create in the very beginning is still the same. It’s just that this journey has helped me grow so much and taught me a lot. I’ve gained new techniques and new perspectives, and that has simply allowed me to see what I want to create much more clearly.
Is there an image you have made that you consider a turning point?
Six years have passed since then. It was during the pandemic, my classes were remote, and I was living at our summer house for a while. It was a great period for me to completely focus on photography, so I was constantly trying out new things. This piece features my mother and a photo I took on the road while traveling to the summer house.
One day, while experimenting, this image just came together. I didn’t have any expectations, but it received an incredible and beautiful response back then. It was shared in many places and even won a competition. To this day, it remains one of my most important works.
What is the hardest thing to get right in a photograph?
For me, I’d say it’s color balance. Even now, there are many times when I end up with a really bad edit or just think to myself, “What on earth did I just do?” I’ll open it up the next day, tell myself there’s no way I could have made this, and start all over again from scratch.
Do you think post-processing is part of the creative act, or a separate stage?
In practice, they are different stages, but from a creative standpoint, they are absolutely inseparable. They feed into each other, and I view post-processing as an essential part of the creative act that brings the whole vision to life.
Are there photographers or visual artists whose work has shaped how you see?
I can definitely mention Greg Girard, Todd Hido, and Henri Prestes.
What is something about your process that would surprise people who only see the finished images?
People might think my photos are all taken in the moment, but the truth is, I constantly go back to my archive. There’s always fresh material hiding in there. I have years of archived work. Otherwise, it would be impossible to catch perfect weather or be in amazing locations every single day, as much as I’d love to.
What are you most interested in exploring next in your work?
I’m really looking forward to spending more time away from the city. I want to explore rural settings and bring the atmosphere of those quiet, isolated places into my work.
Is there a place, light condition, or subject you have been wanting to photograph but have not yet?
It has to be Japan. It’s the number one place I’ve wanted to go to for years, a country that I love entirely and that has heavily inspired my work from the very beginning.
What do you want someone to feel when they spend time with one of your images?
The most rewarding thing for me is when people connect with an image on a personal level. I want it to trigger a feeling of nostalgia or a lived experience, making them feel connected to a certain place or a specific emotion.
