Thursday, July 25, 2013
Magic
My last two evenings in Istanbul were achingly wonderful. They are intertwined in my memory and I cannot separate them without dismantling some of their magin, so they must remain combined as one evening.
Eric, Walter and I set out to find a place for dinner. We walked towards the south, along the right side below the royal palace from our hotel, an area neither of us had explored before. Passing place after place, Eric felt none were quite right, they didn't give off the right vibe. They certainly were set up for tourists and it didn't help when they did their "hey come to my place, see menu, steaks, shish, come look" spiel, as that took them out of consideration in Eric's opinion. Our course took us down a steep hill and soon into a real neightbourhood. A few ragged shops, children in the streets, laundry on a piece of wire, old Ottoman houses crumbling even as they housed families. Still we walked.
Walter started to worry about having to make the long walk uphill later in the evening and my left leg was aching and numb telling me my back was not all that keen. We were vagualy zigzagging down the hill, and every turn we made with optimism, which soon disolved. We passed under the train line and the housing became worse, very sad and poor. Walter and I wondered if Eric had lost his mind and where on earth was he taking us. Even Eric was starting to wonder if we should head towards the water and cafes he was familiar with. It was getting darker too. Would we even get dinner?
Another turn, and suddenly we saw dozens of little lights strung across the street, four lines of red and green and gold, and blue on wire above our heads. Was there a party in this street? There were a few more lights by an opening in the wall, and Eric and I exchanged glances before peeking inside. "I think we've found our place." said Eric. A garden with about 8 tables were set up inder the trees and more lights. There was no menu: everyone was given a selection of meze before a meal of fish. We drank white wine and finished with a form of Turkish brandy.
There wasn't a lot of conversation between us, it was too unexpected a find, such a grand reward for our walk. It was a very nice easy feeling between the three of us, now at the end of what has been an incredible experience and a beautifully planned and executed trip.
As we walked back in what was not after all such a long walk as it happend. We emerged near the space between Hagia Sofia and the Blue Mosque. We picked up a few pieces of backlava and Eric's favourite shop and took them to the forecourt of the blue mosque. It was the night of the "super" moon, a full moon that was a little nearer to earth than usual, which made its light a beacon that rivaled the mosque's. Suddenly, the call to prayer rang out. We sat on the stone in the cool of the night, listening to the call and silently eating backlava, watching sea birds wheel and dive around the minarets which we lit like white birtthday candles. It was the most magical night, I will never forget it, and I am so glad to have shared it with kindred spirits.
Eric, Walter and I set out to find a place for dinner. We walked towards the south, along the right side below the royal palace from our hotel, an area neither of us had explored before. Passing place after place, Eric felt none were quite right, they didn't give off the right vibe. They certainly were set up for tourists and it didn't help when they did their "hey come to my place, see menu, steaks, shish, come look" spiel, as that took them out of consideration in Eric's opinion. Our course took us down a steep hill and soon into a real neightbourhood. A few ragged shops, children in the streets, laundry on a piece of wire, old Ottoman houses crumbling even as they housed families. Still we walked.
Walter started to worry about having to make the long walk uphill later in the evening and my left leg was aching and numb telling me my back was not all that keen. We were vagualy zigzagging down the hill, and every turn we made with optimism, which soon disolved. We passed under the train line and the housing became worse, very sad and poor. Walter and I wondered if Eric had lost his mind and where on earth was he taking us. Even Eric was starting to wonder if we should head towards the water and cafes he was familiar with. It was getting darker too. Would we even get dinner?
Another turn, and suddenly we saw dozens of little lights strung across the street, four lines of red and green and gold, and blue on wire above our heads. Was there a party in this street? There were a few more lights by an opening in the wall, and Eric and I exchanged glances before peeking inside. "I think we've found our place." said Eric. A garden with about 8 tables were set up inder the trees and more lights. There was no menu: everyone was given a selection of meze before a meal of fish. We drank white wine and finished with a form of Turkish brandy.
There wasn't a lot of conversation between us, it was too unexpected a find, such a grand reward for our walk. It was a very nice easy feeling between the three of us, now at the end of what has been an incredible experience and a beautifully planned and executed trip.
As we walked back in what was not after all such a long walk as it happend. We emerged near the space between Hagia Sofia and the Blue Mosque. We picked up a few pieces of backlava and Eric's favourite shop and took them to the forecourt of the blue mosque. It was the night of the "super" moon, a full moon that was a little nearer to earth than usual, which made its light a beacon that rivaled the mosque's. Suddenly, the call to prayer rang out. We sat on the stone in the cool of the night, listening to the call and silently eating backlava, watching sea birds wheel and dive around the minarets which we lit like white birtthday candles. It was the most magical night, I will never forget it, and I am so glad to have shared it with kindred spirits.
faces in the crowd
This tour is all about exploring human-made spaces for human needs. But somehow the people these spaces were made by and for are unformed, not real flesh and blood. I marvel at their creativity, their skill, their fortitude, but their humanity is missing. In the end it is their ancestors I connect to, those whose have inherited the legacy of the Byzantines, the Seljuks, the Ottomen, and who live among the ruins and interpret old lifestyles to us while they themselves carve out their own lives in a modern world. These are the faces of Turkey I will remember.
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
Toiling on Tiling
Ceramics came to Turkey way before there even was a Turkey. When the Seljuk's enjoyed victory over the Byzantines in 1071, ceramics came with them into Anatolia. Simple designs first,
then more complex and detailed designs were explored in colours that could be obtained easily from nature: black, royal blue and tourquoise
, then yellow and red and pale green.
Animals and people were avoided as subjects, appropriate to the Islamic aversion to depict or copy anything God creates. But somehow
plant and flower designs were used, as was calligraphy, and the most amazing geometric patterns. If you try to draw one of these, you must be very patient. You may think you are drawing a simple star, for example, but the lines of the star go beyond the star itself and maybe becomes part of another star. But still the line does not stop. These never-ending designs were an artistic expression of eternity. God is eternity and what he makes it eternity too - no beginning or end, only each thing a part of everything. It's a heady concept beyond a ring being the one design without end or beginning. A plain old circle is a pretty tame affair after you see these wondrous panels of ceramic tiles.
Vet a load of these!
The Ottoman Turks inherited all this craftsmanship and eye for design when they emerged from the Seljuk era. Innovation in the craft expanded hugely in the late 15th and early 16th centuries. The most important centre at the time was Iznik and it still is a key ceramics centre, as are Istanbul, Bursa and Kutahya.
One of the most interesting stops we made in Bursa was a mosque under renovation and repair. These historians are touching up the damage on these original tiles. They used tiny brushes and a bevy of blues and greens to try to match exactly.
We were told that two of them would take 10 long days to renovate a span of perhaps 6 feet by 12 feet. Which ain't much, honey, when this is the sort of space you are dealing with:
then more complex and detailed designs were explored in colours that could be obtained easily from nature: black, royal blue and tourquoise
, then yellow and red and pale green.
Animals and people were avoided as subjects, appropriate to the Islamic aversion to depict or copy anything God creates. But somehow
plant and flower designs were used, as was calligraphy, and the most amazing geometric patterns. If you try to draw one of these, you must be very patient. You may think you are drawing a simple star, for example, but the lines of the star go beyond the star itself and maybe becomes part of another star. But still the line does not stop. These never-ending designs were an artistic expression of eternity. God is eternity and what he makes it eternity too - no beginning or end, only each thing a part of everything. It's a heady concept beyond a ring being the one design without end or beginning. A plain old circle is a pretty tame affair after you see these wondrous panels of ceramic tiles.
Vet a load of these!
The Ottoman Turks inherited all this craftsmanship and eye for design when they emerged from the Seljuk era. Innovation in the craft expanded hugely in the late 15th and early 16th centuries. The most important centre at the time was Iznik and it still is a key ceramics centre, as are Istanbul, Bursa and Kutahya.
One of the most interesting stops we made in Bursa was a mosque under renovation and repair. These historians are touching up the damage on these original tiles. They used tiny brushes and a bevy of blues and greens to try to match exactly.
We were told that two of them would take 10 long days to renovate a span of perhaps 6 feet by 12 feet. Which ain't much, honey, when this is the sort of space you are dealing with:
Sketching and Kvetching
This trip through central Turkey is happening at all due to Catholic University's Architecture and Design program. There are fourteen students here, one professor, one professor emeritus and me, the "Scribe". Everyone is here to learn about Turkey from an architecural perspective, but they are also here to sketch and improve their drawing techniques. So much of modern architectural practise is done on computers through a plethora of 2D and 3D programs, and students are in danger of moving through the corridors of education without a fundamental skill.
sketching in Safranbolu |
sketching in Kayseri |
After an hour or two, sketch books are laid out for all to see and analyze what they like or what is unusual, etc. etc.. Everyone is very good at participating with opinions and questions, which is even easier as every person here was already proficiant at drawing when they arrived. Walter, although a seasoned architect, sketches along with everyone else and puts his book out when asks, his work of course always of great interest and proficiency.
When we arrive somewhere someone invariably asks "Do we need our sketchbooks?" to which Eric always replies "You always need your sketchbooks." There's often a bit of a groan as some of these books are on the large side of portable. Despite this, books seem to make their way to dining tables and hotel lounges before and after hours.
I ask you, when someone is 24 and gorgeous and staying at an multi-star hotel with a free evening, what do you think they would do? Well ok, maybe sometimes. But a lot of the time they were finishing the sketches they couldn't conclude within the 2 or 3 hours set earlier. !!!!
At the end, I found it truly astounding to see how much every single student here had improved, many by an enormous leap. It's very exciting, as was asand I feel lucky to have been a paid up student along with them.
Of course just paying for the trip does not a student make, and I have always been a complete boob when it came to drawing - anything. But I tried gamely, taking out this pencil or that, using my eraser in a day more than anyone else in a month, and trying to "see" space the way Eric described it. I learned a lot looking at everyone's sketches but I never put my sketchbook out at 'show and tell' time - there was nothing the students could learn from my work.
But I did promise to open my book, and so I do, with some sketches here vaguely in chronological order. I am still not proficient at drawing and may never be, but I now know the difference between a vault and a squinch, and I also know that, with practice, I can occasionally draw what I see reasonably accurately. To me, that's a complete success.
it all starts with a wiggly line and a cube |
my first dome |
drawing an intersection |
yes there really was a mosque with 20 domes! |
3 facades |
a cave house in Capadoccia |
a site plan |
Tuesday, July 23, 2013
Do the Monster Mosques
Turkey has mosques. A lot of mosques. And after awhile they do start to look the same (sorry EJ but there it is). that's not to say I don't like them. In fact I love them.
Each one has a fountain outside to wash ones feet or wet one's whistle. Each one has a place for or. storing the shoes taken off at the door. Each one has a lovely, soft, clean carpet with an orientation Mecca-ward. Each one has a series of round chandeliers at human height. Each one has a niche indicating the location for prayer (i.e., Mecca). Each one has a seperate area partitioned off for women, which is the only thing I don't really care for.
Some are plain, some are incredibly decorative. Some have one dome, some have two, one had 20 domes! Some use tile, some paint, and some wood for their primary decoration. Some were empty, some held a few devotees, some were crammed full of tourists. All are holy places and worth investigating, no matter how out of the way or touristic.
Here are some photos of the mosques I visited. I won't identify them, just present them as a sample of the genre in the country. Enjoy.
Each one has a fountain outside to wash ones feet or wet one's whistle. Each one has a place for or. storing the shoes taken off at the door. Each one has a lovely, soft, clean carpet with an orientation Mecca-ward. Each one has a series of round chandeliers at human height. Each one has a niche indicating the location for prayer (i.e., Mecca). Each one has a seperate area partitioned off for women, which is the only thing I don't really care for.
Some are plain, some are incredibly decorative. Some have one dome, some have two, one had 20 domes! Some use tile, some paint, and some wood for their primary decoration. Some were empty, some held a few devotees, some were crammed full of tourists. All are holy places and worth investigating, no matter how out of the way or touristic.
Here are some photos of the mosques I visited. I won't identify them, just present them as a sample of the genre in the country. Enjoy.
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