by Omer Kokal
Before the advent of photography the artists who painted murals relied
on their own observations, the descriptions of others, or their own
imagination alone when depicting cities or objects. In 18th century
Turkey wall paintings were a fashionable form of decoration, not only
on houses, but mosques and fountains, the most popular subjects being
views of Istanbul and ships. Istanbul was not only capital of the
empire but a city of unparalleled scenic beauty, and thus a favourite
subject for provincial artists and their patrons, particularly in
inland towns and cities where the sea and ships were fascinating
novelties. But their exuberant imagination did not end here. We find
paintings of a windmill amidst trees, rushing streams and even ancient
ruins on mosque walls, and in more appropriate vein pictures of Mecca
and Medina.
Since the artists had often seen neither these cities nor Istanbul,
errors abound in these naive paintings by folk artists.
But their naivety and innocent enthusiasm is what makes these
paintings so charming, and to discover them in quite unexpected places
is a pleasure of which I have never tired. I first came across a
landscape of this type quite unexpectedly in the small village mosque
of the village of Emre near Kula in western Turkey. Since then I have
travelled long distances in search of these paintings. Sometimes
disappointment has been my reward, as when I went to photograph the
mural paintings which decorated both the interior and exterior of
Bahattin Aga House in Milas, only to find that the house had collapsed
along with its beautiful wall decoration. Some I managed to capture at
the last moment, as at the Haci Sami Tartan House in Karaman and a
house in Birgi, both of which were in an advanced state of decay.
Yet the paintings were as vivid as when they were first executed.
Thankfully, however, many fine examples have survived in houses in a
good state of preservation, or that have been restored. Once such is
Latif Aga House in Tokat, which is now open to the public, Nizamoglu
House in Yozgat, and Cakiraga House in Birgi. Many other mural
paintings of this type can also be found in mosques.
Little information can be gleaned about the artists themselves; their
identities, their personalities, or way of life. We can only
conjecture from clues in the paintings themselves and trends in art at
the time. Mural paintings became fashionable during a period marked by
increasing western influence on the Ottoman Empire in the political,
economic and cultural spheres.
This influence can be traced back to the 17th century, and naturally
had its repercussions on Ottoman art and architecture. The traditional
art of miniature painting reveals particularly striking changes at
this time, such as the introduction of perspective for the first time,
and by the end of the 18th century miniature painting had virtually
died out altogether, superseded by western style painting in oils on
canvas.
Western influence had a similar impact on architecture, beginning in
Istanbul, and then spreading to the provinces, where every new fashion
in the capital was faithfully followed. So the concept of
representational mural paintings, as opposed to the traditional
abstract or floral painted wall decoration, was quickly taken up by
provincial artist.
But what is particularly interesting is that this fashion became far
more popular than in Istanbul itself. While few examples of 18th
century mural paintings are to be found in Istanbul outside Topkapi
Palace, many village and small town mosques elsewhere in the country
are veritable art galleries. A style of decoration that sophisticated
city dwellers would have considered inappropriate for a place of
worship was perfectly acceptable to less rigid-minded provincial
people.
In rare instances we find the artst'sc signatures on these paintings,
such as that of Zileli Emin in mosques and houses around Amasya and
Merzifon, and Ali Miralaygil in other buildings in the vicinity of
Harput.
Although little but their names is known to us, the naivety and
spontaneity of the paintings speak for themselves. One painting
depicts a waterpipe and oil lamp standing on shelves, while a clock
shows the time at which the artist completed his work in the house.
These artists had not received any academic training, but were either
traditional craftsmen whose skills were passed down from master to
apprentice, or in some cases took up the trade merely by coincidence
and personal inclination. This form of folk art strikes a chord in us
today, conveying the sincerity and unaffected delight which the
painters poured into their work.
* Omer Kokal is a freelance writer