Hagia Sofia

I'm totally pooped. Today was my first shift at the Out of the Cold Shelter. Up at 5:15 a.m. to walk there by 6:00. Two new volunteers on their first shift who were nervous about what to expect. It was a quiet morning from my point of view, but I think meeting two fellows who's faces had the recent cuts and bruises of being hit in the face was disconcerting for the newbies. For some reason we are very low on all shoes and boots, underwear, socks, mitts and hats. I am surprised, we usually have tons by now. There was some jockeying for underpants (har har)

Well, my feet are tired and legs are sore, so I am grateful that today's work involves sitting down to write a blog post. Steve and I were asked to make up a slide show of Turkey for some friends to watch. We tried to keep it to under 200 images, but gave up.

Today, I bring to you the Hagia Sofia. It began life as a Christian church and then morphed into a Mosque when Constantinople was captured and the Byzantium Era came to an end. The Haifa Sofia is now a World Heritage site, open to all faith groups and a partial museum of some artifacts, both Muslim and Christian. I saw images of this church way back in the old days in black and white. I thought what an amazing place, I wish I could see something so beautiful and historic. And there I was, standing under a candelabra that was massively round. I swear a game of Little Tykes Hockey could have been played inside this iron ring. The cables holding these candelabra in place rose miles up to the ceiling.

The entry nave. There was quite a crush as people thought they were in the spot that was most glorious but just wait and see what comes next.

There is probably some technical name for this space but it is the teaser. Go through those columns and...

KaPow! I've been to the Grand Canyon with three bus loads of experts who drew out the beauty of those amazing canyons and this church/mosque is next on the list of completely amazing things to experience. The size, the materials, the details, the symmetry, the sublime light. If there had been a sunset in a corner somewhere, it would have been perfect.

We didn't have a guide book with us for the entire trip. I was glad of it, because we experienced everything on the merits right in front of us, instead of reading some version of why something was special. Every space here was lovely in its own way.

This is the only spot on the entire trip that I wished for a guide book. I do not know if the stain glass was original or put in place when the building became a mosque. It was like swimming in a clear, sparkling brook, beautiful reflections everywhere, with shadows that deepened the colours of the glass.

The Muslims who converted the church were luckily not interested in destroying things, but rather made pretty intelligent alterations to suit their needs.

Many of the mosaics were simply plastered over, making them easy to restore or mosaics were covered over with medallions that could be removed.

 We headed up a long ramp that switched back and forth. This was the route that the women of Sultan's Harem would use to get to their private space.

The view on the way to the private areas.

My third favourite intersection of lines, colours, patterns and light.

The next three images are my favourite of all spaces and images. This is where the women and children sat, looking down on the folks below. Overhead are the most beautiful mosaics. They have a dark navy blue back ground, making the gold really glitter and the whites just spring out. It is a soft, contemplative spot amongst all the glamour. The detailing is very feminine and delicate. The column in the final image is a lovely alabaster, carved the way I think love looks like. Whoever was responsible for this area loved and respected women. I could have sat there for hours, just being.

Patterns and advice.

I love my Christmas cactus. It is the only plant that ever blooms for me and it isn't garish. Plus it  blooms just as everything else has collapsed for winter.

The two weeks with Karen Ruane's 'Doodle, gather, create' course is over and I loved it. Lots of fiddling around with paper and thread.

I'm not crazy about the white background paper. I painted the bottom most sheet a pale green, but left all the others white. The contrast doesn't show up here though. Sorry.

Bottom page to the left, middle page in development.

Bottom page finished.

Detail from middle page. French knots, Detached chain stitch and needle pokes from the back.

A detail from the topmost page. The middle page peaks through the cut out.

Topmost page with peak a boo to the other pages below.

And now I am on to other stitching projects. Stay tuned.

The Out of the Cold Shelter opens tonight. I'll be volunteering again this winter. In case you don't know, the shelter has 15 beds for the homeless and is what is called a 'low barriers shelter', meaning the folks coming in just have to be able to stand up on their own and get to the bathroom on their own. If it's cold, and there is room, they get a bed. So far, no snow in the city, and that means no frozen toes or fingers to start the winter off.

I'm also thinking about December and all it means. Usually it means Christmas and spending and avoiding cooking. Many years of suppressed anxiety that all will go according to plan and then trying to not explode when it didn't. Over the last 10 years the whole family has been working towards a Christmas in which no one has thoughts of exploding, except with eating too much.

My gift to you all this year is to let go of something. Talk to the people who you think have expectations of how those several days should all go. Find out what is essential to everyone's feeling of the 'Season' and have that person help in contributing to that element. These days, our son helps cook the turkey (bit of jostling between the two men for the baster now), both kids help with the shopping list for special food and our daughter helps out with cooking a favourite dish and participates in getting and decorating the tree as well as getting the turkey. In fact, one year we bought the tree without her and was that ever a mistake.

Yes, they are adults, but this conversation took place when they were teens and each year we have reviewed expectations until they are SANE ones. Steve and I now do the Christmas cards with wine and cheese on the go. We lick the envelopes the next day so as to not ruin the taste of our treats.

My advice is to start with those Christmas cards. Just what exactly is sane and what is from years of tit for tat responding? Buy cheap cards and a good bottle of wine.

I just trolled through the images of Turkey and they go on and on. Today's offering will be of patterns. Just look and enjoy.

The Giant Hanky and Turkey

There isn't a hanky on this anywhere, but since the other gals were working on hankies, I called my two pillowcases turned into a table cloth 'The Giant Hanky'.

It now resides on a small table that Lucas made for me (or maybe I stole it from him) while he was in Junior High School. This table is in my studio and is in pretty constant use.

The other view is just as nice, if I do preen so myself. I need to get a glass top to protect it from spills, this is so frail, it would not withstand a washing of any kind.

Scuffing more leaves while walking through the cemetery on our way to the library, Steve and I discussed the merits of different kinds of fallen leaves. While Japanese Maples look gorgeous at this time of year, with their various shades of reds and greens, the leaves dry up before they hit the ground and fall to pieces. Sycamore leaves are giant and if wet, pretend they are concrete and refuse to budge. Yellow Maple leaves are both lovely to look at while scuffing but become slippery when wet. Oak leaves are miserable to rake, wet or dry, but they make the best scuffing leaves of all. They tend to get a slight bend in them when they dry and do not break apart as readily as the maples leaves. They last longer, and due to the slight curve, they fly up in the air very nicely. Maples for colour, Oaks for scuffage.

On the cemetery walk we spied these purple berries on what we thought was Sumac trees. Now we aren't sure, because these don't look at all like Stag Horn Sumac berries, not as red or as fuzzy. These are a deep purple and squish like a blueberry. The sun was shining through them as they dried from a rain. Steve brought a fallen bunch home as a surprise. They look beautiful amongst the grass plant I brought indoors.

Now, about that Turkey trip. Can you believe I am just getting to the half way point of the photos. Steve said there are 3 gigabites (what ever those are) of photos. You really are seeing a very small fraction.

The Whirling Dirvishes are a religious group I studied in University as part of my anthropology section in Dance. We studied them for the trance dancing rather than the religious content. I was so excited to be seeing this in person. We climbed into a little loft balcony that surrounded the room on three sides. We sat around the ballistrade to watch. This is sacred dance and as such, I refused to take any photos of it. The theology is that as the dancer whirls and loses them selves in the spinning while keeping upright AND on the same spot. They are in direct communication with Allah or God. The upraised arm is the conduit between the human and the Divine, the lowered outstretched arm is the conduit between the human receptacle and his community who are waiting for the Divine Message. This dance is reserved for men.

This is the small domed ceiling in the recently restored mosque.

Here the men pray before the dancing begins. In the top upper corner you can see the backs of three women who are praying towards Mecca. Just under the balcony where the women are standing, are the instruments of the musicians and that narrow walkway is where the singers will stand. These are regular folks of the community. Sitting or standing is equally used, depending on the time of day. There is a time of day when everyone stands together to pray in unison. The little stage to the upper left is where the males guests can sit. The curved arch at the centre of the room is the place where the Imam stands or kneels or bows.

Small pencil sketch by me.

This is the Imam in formal garb at the conclusion of the ceremony, wrapping things up with a prayer.

A Rumi painting from Google Images.

Google images, artist unattributed.

There are many great images on Google if you want to see it in better detail. As a dancer and someone who has seen the intensity of what trance dance does to the dancer, I believe that the dancer is very committed to the listening and receiving. The discipline to achieve this kind of balance and not throw up is intense. We watched young apprentices, ages 10 and up. There was a teacher and the Imam guiding the apprentices and keeping everyone on course, literally. Otherwise one or two of them would have spun out the door and into the crowd watching via satellite image. There was one chubby little guy we were all rooting for (quietly). It was the boy who kept his eyes open who had to be excused. The proficient dancers do not usually dance in public, the communication between Allah and the other dancers being too private and powerful to share. Divine or not Divine isn't really the issue for me, it is the nature of the message, hopefully urging actions that come out of love and hope, rather than fear or anger.

Enough of that, let's move on to Ephesus at last. No religious experiences going on here, rather sun stroke, music and painting.

Near to the entrance is an upper street of columns and a small amphitheater. All constructed or more accurately, reconstructed by 19th century Europeans who thought they knew how it should all look, the columns and seats are more or less where they should be, but there is a lot of infill and romanticism involved. Due to time constraints, we had to rush past this.

I was paying attention to the guide. It is devilishly difficult to balance a sketchbook, water colours, water, look like you are listening to the paid guide and do what you really want to do, which is just be where you are.

I don't recall what this was for. One of those women who bear the weight of a building on her head and had some role in  myth as well, maybe? Or maybe it's a man, since there aren't any bare breasts and it looks like a lion's head is being held? Rush on to the next stone.

 

OK, this was cool. This is the original floor of a merchants home. All mosaic, some mythical, some imaginary, some related to business. The colours have bled out. I'm not sure why it isn't under a protective awning but then... I don't run the place, do I? I liked this because it gave a sense of real scale to the site. All the hills you see up in behind the first photo and others are un-cleared residential parts of the city. We are walking down the main road and it is huge. And long. This home helped us to grasp just how densely packed the city was. 

It is likely that I am wrong, but I think this is a side street, going up into the residential areas.

We have bypassed the Library of Alexandria, most annoying, because some people just wouldn't keep with the group and we lost time looking for them, while they had disappeared into the library. The irony.  Steve had dragged his banjo through the entire day and the hot cobbled street so that he could play at the amphitheater that is really an amphitheater. He is playing and singing three songs with his group of singers. They could be heard quite clearly right up to the back of the structure. I need to find a picture of this. Steve was busy playing and I sat down and did a painting of them in performance.

Steve's the one in the middle with the banjo, of course.

This is the far back right hand side of the amphitheater. The immediate right is another bank of seats and the same across the stage. Those fellows are about one quarter of the down, if you can figure out the scale from that.

 A very tired musician. He was so excited and then so exhausted after a dream come true.

 The beautiful dark clouds that set the scene so wonderfully blew past. The hot, humid air cleared and we all sat down to cups of Turkish tea to restore ourselves.

Checking in from Charlottetown, PEI

We are staying at the lovely Elmwood Historic Inn (here) for two nights. I've just finished a lovely breakfast and am sitting in the parlour, complete with an Anne of Green Gables rag doll beside me.

and

Steve is here for several meetings on his new research project, the ARK. It was a 1960's experimental project to combine old technologies with modern life expectations and was very cool. But the community it was built in thought they were mad, they had just added indoor plumbing to their homes, why would anyone want a composting toilet. Pierre Treudeau loved it but most of PEI didn't. Anyhow, out of this game little project, things like solar heating, passive solar heating, circles of carbon and so forth developed. Steve can write his own blog if he wants to explain it all better, but I'm moving on.

Work on the giant hanky continues. I'll be stitching on it later this morning while I watch the latest video from Karen Ruane. 

 

 I have an applique flower coming for the last corner.

The cat had a panic attack while snoozing on the cloth and left a few reminders that cat's shouldn't be allowed to sleep on stitching. I patched the claw marks up and decided it made a nice addition.

Pale yellow flowers need to be embroidered in a few open spots. I am creeping towards being finished.

 I am impatient and have started on a new project.

My sewing buddies/artists group set a challenge for ourselves at the beginning of the summer. Antimacassars. Those doily things that protect the backs of chairs and couches from greasy hair etc. Somehow this veil came into my possession. It was worn to church probably up to the 70's. Women had to have their heads covered in Catholic churches. Possibly Anglican ones as well, but don't quote me. I decided it would make a good candidate for our challenge and cut a few holes into it, then did free motion embroidery around the holes to create a base for stitching.

Small holes didn't work as well as large ones, I'll have to go back to snip and sew the smaller ones.

I've added a bit of silky cord, lace on top of lace and have begun the hand stitching. I'll be adding some beads and am trying to decide if rhinestones will be too much. Maybe too heavy and it will tear the supporting machine lace? I'll think about it.

"Turkey?" you ask. "Alright!" I say.

Capedocia. Apparently this community arose from Christians fleeing persecution. The soft stone was chiseled out with tools that had blades about 2 inches wide. You could see the chisel stroke lines in the walls. This area was originally the site of volcanic detrius of different kinds. Soft stone underneath bals... stone. I know it wasn't balsamic, that's vinegar, but something that starts with bals... Chapels, homes, monestaries, convents, farms, and a larger Cathedral were all carved out of the rock. Guards pevented us from taking indoor photos. In the meantime, the inhabitants were chased out during the 1940's or so, and it is now a tourist destination. There are several towns and villages in the valley that still blend the caves with new construction but we could see these only from the look off spots.

This is a convent, but unstable due to earthquake damage. Doors originally tended to be set back as you can see below, but earthquakes have damaged most of the stair cases leading up to dwellings and front passage ways have fallen away.

As you can see from the dark opening, there was a huge difference in light quality inside the rooms. My camera didn't like the conditions, so I'll have to get Steve to see if he has inside images from the few rooms we were allowed to photograph. What is so interesting is the determination it took to make this work. Many of the chapels have fresco work that are charming. Most are damaged due to vandalism, age and sentiment. When people had to leave the area in the 40's, they took chips off the wall to remind them of home.

Ishel is enjoying the day in Capedocia. I nearly threw up when she did this. I have no idea if there is a steep drop behind her.

Each day in Turkey something happened that was huge, impactful, delightful, generous, thought provoking and (not or) life altering. We were there for 10 days. That is a lot of inputs. I am unable to have a favourite location because it was all so powerful. However, given a chance to return, I would vote for this spot. I would love to see how the farming was done in a desert valley, how the water was stored, how you moved from your own home to visit a friend across the gorge, how do you light the rooms without smothering yourself with fumes. It was fascinating. And the effort! In one chapel nave, where a statue would have stood, the tool used to chip away the stone was not much wider than a flat screw driver. I can't imagine the dedication to beautify a cave for a statue that might not be well lit. Or kneeling on stone floors to pray. Or hauling fuel or waste around. Or any of it. We think the pioneers must have had it tough, but this environment, with the harsh sun, little arable soil and no near by river must have been grueling. Yet is existed for hundreds of years and has modernized itself very nicely into the landscape.

What would you like to see next? The Haiga Sofia, Ephesius, more mosques, tile work, a palace?