interlude

I thought I would disrupt the flow of images from the steamy Mekong Delta to show you what has been happening here at home, in Istanbul.



We've had a solid eight days of snow falling on our fair city. Glistening icicles stabbing toward frozen ground, frosted domes, and that delightful crunch under boots... it has been magical!

thirty-three

I feel so lucky.

light lines and washes

I'm working on not overworking my sketches; keeping them light, minimal and free.

saint sophia and the crème caramel

While in the Sultanahmet area, it is always a great temptation to run away from the people you are with and sketch the Ayasofya— which is naturally, what I did. The sun was warming the small stone wall opposite the former basilica, upon which I planted myself for a quick scribble and a listen to Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds on my beat up little iPod. The cerulean sky was nearly cloudless and mesmerising in its depth, and I found myself staring at the blue, kicking my feet like a happy child, unwilling to add much detail to my drawing.



Lunchtime slowly rolled around and took us to the oddly named Pudding Shop, formerly known as Lale Restaurant, which was apparently a favourite haunt of hippie backpackers in the sixties. Traditional Turkish cuisine served cafeteria-style and a delightful selection of puddings are what an empty belly can look forward to at Pudding Shop. I selected a plump, rice and meat stuffed tomato called a dolma, topped with a dollop of puréed potatoes, and a plate of rice with semizotu, or purslane. It was insisted that I try the crème caramel for dessert, which was reportedly divine— and didn't disappoint.

Pudding Shop
Divanyolu No.6 Sultanahmet / ISTANBUL
212 522 29 70

morning, in the blue mosque

Morning never looked so magical as it did streaming through the curved windows of the mighty Blue Mosque, dancing off tiles and coiling around half and quarter domes. I always seem to be in the Sultanahmet area around prayer time, when the mosque is closed to tourists, but as I was accompanying a tour group of alumni from the now 100 year old Istanbul International Community School— of which I am also an alumnus, I got to set foot onto the well-worn red carpet of the mosque. When I was a little girl, the Blue Mosque could have leapt out of the pages of a fairytale— it was mythological; somewhere great heroes and heroines lived and loved. I did not grasp its religious purpose, but I felt its power and understood its holiness. While Rüstem Paşa Camii in Eminönü is by far my most favourite mosque in Istanbul for its intimacy and stunning tiles, it is impossible to deny the overwhelming beauty and magnificence of the Blue Mosque.

the magnificent greys of the blue mosque

the eyes of the seraphim

It's a wonderful thing to have guests in town— you end up with a perfect excuse to play the tourist again. Today I relished in wandering around the magnificent Aya Sofya, and though I have known the former church and mosque since I was seven years old, I found myself grinning from ear to ear with a pounding heart, like a child. There are a million and more ways to see something, and my goodness... I never tire of this beauty.



Do buildings have a memory? How many people have stood at this window to behold the Blue Mosque over the centuries?  How many personal histories hang like breath between these walls, under this enormous dome?

My own small history has woven itself around these well-worn columns—
my feet, in various sizes over decades, have helped smooth the stone floor.
The eyes of the seraphim have watched me grow.

bayram

It's Şeker Bayram— a three and a half day festival of eating sweets and spending time with loved ones in celebration of the end of Ramazan, the holy month of fasting for Muslims. Istanbul is buzzing with happy faces— children laughing and playing in shiny new shoes, lovers meandering with hands entwined in a lovestruck daze, fishermen grinning with satisfaction at their glistening catch. Hot pink candy floss, corn on the cob, juicy red watermelon. The energy in the city is electric, and though the crowds can be a bit much at times, you can't help but feel like a kid at the fair again.

aya sofya

I remember standing beneath the centre of the magnificent dome of the Aya Sofya as a child, and realising for the first time, that the world and its history was far greater than anything my little mind could fathom. I felt terribly small and insignificant, smaller than the smallest sweeping ʾalif in gold on its great green disc.

The Aya Sofya, or Hagia Sophia, is enormous. Gigantic. Overwhelming. Built between 532 and 537 CE by the Byzantine Emperor Justinian, the Aya Sofya would be the world's largest cathedral for the next thousand years. The height of the domed ceiling is exaggerated by the flight of pigeons and sparrows that have wandered inside, and the chains that hold the low-hanging, heavy chandeliers seem to disappear in the distance.


When Constantinople was conquered by the Ottoman Turks in 1453, the great church was transformed into a mosque. Mosaics were plastered over, Arabic calligraphy flowed in, and minarets, minber and mihrab were added. The architecture of the Aya Sofya (now a museum) is so distinctive with its massive dome that seems to float above its square base, that I'm surprised I never made the connection between it and the majority of Istanbul's other mosques. I was recently told that the Sultan was so impressed by the Aya Sofya, both structurally and aesthetically, that he had the city's future mosques based on the former church. How this escaped me, I will never know, because when I look at the Blue Mosque, Yeni Camii or Rüstem Paşa Camii, the similarities are as plain as day.

As a chaperone on a school field trip, I only managed the one quick sketch and few photos in this post— I need to go back. I have been to the Aya Sofya dozens of times in my life. I feel I know it intimately like an old friend and yet, I've never lost that feeling of experiencing its majesty for the first time. Twenty-four years later, I still feel unbearably and wonderfully small when I look up at that scalloped golden dome. Though the sun has risen and set nearly nine thousand times since I first stepped foot on the marble floor, smoothed by countless feet throughout history, the light inside feels magically unchanged.

The Aya Sofya Museum is open every day except Monday, from 9:30 to 16:30.
Entrance fee is 20 Turkish Lira.

istanbul sketchers in sultanahmet

Istanbul Sketchers met for the second time today in Sultanahmet, the area of Istanbul best known for the Aya Sofya and the Blue Mosque. Rain had been in the forecast, but fortunately it never fell. I've been busy running around with this and that, and haven't had a chance to get to working on the official Istanbul Sketchers blog, but when I do, I'll be sure to add a link so you can check out some of the work of our fabulous sketchers. In the meantime, here are a few of my drawings— above is a sketch of Sultanahmet Camii, famously known as the Blue Mosque.

Click on the images to see them larger.