Photographing the Void: The Camera and the Representation of

Islamic Architecture

by Gary Otte, B.A.

A thesis submitted to the Faculty of Graduate Shidies

in partial fulnlment of the requirements for the degree of

Master of Architecture

Carleton University Ottawa, Ontario

April 1, 1999

O copyright 1999, Gary Otte

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Abstract

Our first impression of a building is most ofkn foxmed, not fiom visiting the buüding, but vicariously, fiom seeing photographs of the building.

On the basis of photographs, the theory and history of architecture is taught, architectural awards are conferred, and public debates are generated. In the case of Islamic architecture, photography provides the only impression most westerners will ever have of its significant monuments, as a large portion of hem are difficult to see in person.

In spite of the predominant role photography plays in the

representation of architecture, its strengths and limitations in this area have been largely ignored. Using the Sultan Hasan Complex in Cairo as an example, this thesis examines the ability of architecturai photography to provide the spatial and material experience, and a measure of the phenomenal essence, of the

building being photographed. It especialiy looks at the often der-rated role the photographer plays in shaping our impressions of the buildings they represent.

Acknowledgements

The idea for this thesis began in 1989 with a comment made to me by Charles Moore. He noted that every preseniation by every architect starts with the same seven words: "please excuse the quality of my slides." It is to him that I owe my interest in trying to take photographs that need no excuses.

Brno Freschi, the architect for the Bumaby Jamatkhana near Vancouver, introduced me to Islamic architecture, and gave me my fint opportunity, in 1984, to photograph an outstanding exarnple of Islamic religious space.

Suha Ozkan, the Secretary General of the Aga Khan Award for Architecture, deserves speciai thanks. He not only encouraged me to pursue my studies, but made me feel that being a "memory" for an endeavour such as the Award is an important role to play. 1 would dso like to thank ali the staffat the Award office for dowing me access to their iibrary, their photography collection, and their opinions.

Ann Thomas, Curator of Photography at the National Gallery of Canada, showed me their collection of original platinum prints by Frederick Evans. She also taught me the ciifference between looking at photographs as a photographer and as a student of photography. The bulk of my research was carried out at the library at the National GaUexy with the assistance of the staff there. Louise Désy, Assistant Curator of the Photographs Collection at the Canadian Centre for Architecture in Montreai, introduced me to the architectural photography of J. August Lorent.

Finaüy 1 would like to express my gratitude to my thesis advisor, Dr. Gülzar Haider, who, through his painstaking guidance and criticism, has forever changed the way 1 look at space.

Contents

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Acknowledgements iv

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . List of Plates vi

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Introduction 2

The Photographic Image . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Photography and Architectural Space 19

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Representation of Islamic Architecture 31

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Towards a Structural Theory of Islamic Space 42

The Mosque, Madrasa, and Tomb of Sultan Hasan . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 60

The Photographs . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 74

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Concluding Remarks 110

Bibliography . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 123

Technicallnfonnation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 128

List of Plates

Figure

interior courtyard of Sultan Hasan Mosque; a photograph by Jakob August Lorent, taken in 1859. From Ewpren Alhambra Tlemsen Algier by Jakob Lorent, (Mainz: 1985). . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Page 7

Portal entry of Sultan Hasan Mosque; a lithograph fiom a painting by David Roberts, painted in 1839. From The Cairo Porrfolio: IO Fine Art Prints by David Roberts, (Cairo: American University in CaKo, 1998Fage 8

"Height and Light in Bruges Cathedrai"; a photograph by Frederick Evans taken in 1897. From Frederick H. Evans by Beaumont Newhail, (New York: Aperture, 1973). ............................ Page 29

Notre Dame du Haut by Le Corbusier; a photograph by Ezra StoUer. From Modem Architecture: Photograpk by E m Stoller by Wilfiam Saunders, (New York: 1990). . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Page 30

"A Sea of Steps", stairs to the chapter house of Wells Cathedral; a . . photograph by Fredenck Evans, taken in 1899. From Xewhall. Page 30

The S a k Institute by Louis Kahn; a photograph by Ezra StoUer. From Saunders. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Page30

hterior courtyard of Sultan Hasan Mosque; a iithograph fiom a painting . . . . . . . . . . by David Roberts, painted in 1839. From Porfoiio. Page 40

"The Seduction of Yusuf by Zulayka"; a painting by Bihzad, painted c. 1488. From Bihrad: Master of Persian Painting, by Ebadollah Bahari,

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . (London:Tauris, 1996). Page 10

The Sphinx; a photograph by Francis Frith, taken in 1858. From Photograptrs of Egypt and the Holy Land, (Cairo: 1999). ....... Page JI

The minarets of Cairo, with the Sultan Hasan mosque in the distance; a

photograph by Francis Frith, taken in 1858 . From Photographs . . Page 41

Floor plan of Sultan Hasan Mosque. Madrasa. and Tomb. adapted fkom CresweU . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Page 70

Exterior of Sultan Hasan Mosque fiom South . This photograph, and al1 following photographs. taken by the author. February 1999 . . . . . Page ' 2

Main Extenor Facade of Sultan Hasan Mosque fÎom the Easf showing the portal entry .......................................... Page 2

. . . . . . . . . . Central courtyard Looking West fiom the qibia i w m Page 72

Mihrab and minbar during Friday midday prayers . . . . . . . . . . . . Page 72

Srnail couttyard withia madraw . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Page 73

Interior of mausoleum under the main dome . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Page 73

Muqamas stalactite vaults in entrance vestibule . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Page 73

Entrance to courtyard f?om hailways . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Page 73

Courtyard view looking West towards entrance doorway . . . . . . . Page 88

Courtyard view looking towards South iwum . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Page 88

. . . . . . . . . . . . . View through fountain towards qibla and mihrab Page 89

Detail of the dome over the fountain, showing carved calligraphy . Page 90

. Detail of doorways to madrasas . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Page 90

View towards North i w m . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Page 91

View of North iwan .................................... Page 92

View of East, or qibla iwan . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Page 93

Madma courtyard seen fiom madrasa iwm. showing three floon of

vii

student residences and classrooms ......................... Page 94

Junction of hallways fkom main entrance. courtyard, and hospital, looking ................................... toward main entrance Page 95

Main entrance vestibule. showing muqarnas . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Page 96

Small stainvay in hospital . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Page 9 7

Detail of niche or mihrab . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Page 98

Hallway in hospitai . Iîght entering fkom courtyard ............ Page 99

South iwan . üght entering through smaii rwindow . . . . . . . . . . . Page 100

South iwan at sunset . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Page 1 O 1

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Morning light entering dark tomb chamber Page IO2

Detail of window Light and calligraphy in tomb chamber . . . . . . . . Page 103

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Central courtyard at night looking East. Page 104

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Entrance door to courtyard Page f O5

Northiwan . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Page105

Northiwan . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Page106

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Mihrab and minbar in qibla iwan Page 10 7

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Looking towards North iwan Page 108

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . View into the qibla iwan Page 109

Photographing the Void:

The Camera and the Representation

of Islamic Architecture

Introduction

Two of Islamic Architecture's transcendent themes are that Space is

the symbol of Divine Presence and Lighi is the syrnbol of Divine Intellect.

Islamic philosophy asserts that al1 fundamental realities and concepts such as

space, light, rhythm, fonn, and matter have a sacred context. In 1859. the

German photographer Jakob August Lorent (18 13-1884) illustrated these themes

in a photograph taken in the central courtyard of the Sultan Hasan Mosque and

Madrasa in Cairol (Fig. 1). Through carefûi fiamhg and composition, choice of

Lighting, and the technicai mastery of a very primitive photographic process, this

photograph represents the photographer's hope that the sacred power of this

architecture can not only be observed through photography, but c m be

experienced as weil. Within a two-dimensional space that is as much a

protagonist as the three-dimensional space it represents, Lorent fiamed an

'A rnadrasa is an institution of orthodox education for the teaching and promotion of Islamic religious, philosophical, and legal pnnciples.

3

allegory about architectural photography in which an interior architecturai space

was a metaphor for Divine beauty and the reintegration of multiplicity into

UILity.

The intent of this thesis is to develop methods by which architectural

photography can provide a two-dimensional translation which carries, at some

level, the spatiai and materid experience of the building being photographed.

The building used to illustrate these methods wiii be the same building that

Lorent photographed in 1859, the Sultan Hasan Mosque, Madrasa, and Tomb,

in Cairo.

Lorent's photograph was an unprecedented conflation of architectural

documentation and symboiic artistic composition. The architecturai information

is aU there, but the placing of the elements, the relationship between the solids

and the voids, the iight and the dark, the ambiguous size of the space, and the

bright light coming fiom above, al l assert the presence of a conception that

transcends literal architectural topographyY

The dome, sculpted here by the li& is one of the most recognizable

syrnbols of the moque and of Islam itself. The dome in this photograph is a

modest covering for a fountain in the courtyard, and is a relatively small echo of

the main dome whieh was built to cover the tomb of the founder. " It is

'Osman Rostem says, in Architecture of the Mosque of Sulm Hawm, (Beirut, 1970, p2.), that it is generally believed that An Nasir Hasan was killed by a slave in the

4

overshadowed by the enormous cl=like niche in the background, but as a

symboi (its obvious role iri this photograph) it is emphatic. It is the image of a

foxm which can inspire a sequence of historical or emotional co~ections in the

observer's mind. The definition and the animation of matter, such as this dome,

b y an apparently self-generated light was a Romantic symbol for the

transformation powers of the artistic imagination. It symbolùed the movement

from darkness to light, fkom the material to the ephemerai, and fiom chaos to

unity- "Unity" is the metaphysical principle behind aii the Islamic arts and

sciences. It is an abstract concept: God is present in all things and beyond ail

things. In the subject of Lorent's photograph, t he Sultan Hasan Mosque, this

unity is reflected metaphysicaiiy in the empty spaces or voids which h p l y the

presence of God and in the calligraphie decorations which are reminders of the

Word of God. Unity, in the Sultan Hasan Mosque, is also reflected rationaily

and functionally in the way spaces designed for worship are intercomected with

those designed for education, cultural activity, and pnvate Living. There is no

separation of the sacred fiom the profane, the spirituai fiom the mundane. Order

and harmony in a transient and temporal structure is a reminder of the order and

harmony of the natural world created by God.

Lorent's reasons for being in Cairo and taking this photograph were

desert and his body never recovered. The sarcophagus contains the body of his son, As Shehab Ahmed who died 26 years later.

5

mostly commercial. He was one of many European photographers travelling

throughout the Middle East photographing architechiral monuments, producing

visual artifacts to seil to a public that was becoming fascinated with exotic, far-

away lands. Their choice of subject was infiuenced by the nineteenth century

European market for travel views, and their approach to their subject matter was

formed through their roles as both entrepreneurs and strangers in a strange land

The photographs of Lorent stand out by nature of his sensitivity to the

architecture and his attention to light, shadow, fiaming, and composition. This

photograph of the Sultan Hasan, gives a very early indication of the potential of

architectural photography to do much more than provide a superficial visual

record of architecture. It is not so much a documentary record of the material

structure of the Sultan Hasan, but an evocation of how light animates the

surfaces of the building. Lorent's personal response to this space seems to have

as much respect for the sacred aspects of the space as it does for the matenal

aspects.

This photograph shows how architectural photography operates on

many levels. It is a representation of a particular space at a particular instant in

t h e . As well as being a representation of an object, the photograph is an object

'Ellen O' Dench, curator' s introduction to More Vivid Places - Victorian photographs of Britain, nie M d e East, and Orient, catalogue for an exhibition at Davidson Art Centre, (Middietown, Conn., l984), p3.

6

in its own right. Richard Gregory taiks about this paradox describing pictures as

being "unique among objects for they are seen as both themselves and as some

other thing entirely different fiom the paper or canvas."' Lorent's image can

fascinate and be inhabited by an observer without any reference to the onginal

place and time. It is a documentary, but it is much more than a v i s d record of a

building. Phyliis Lambert says that architechiral photographs, "beyond their

role as documents and like other works of arf are interpretive. Like the

buildings they represent, photographs are both art and science, both spiritual and

practical."' This particular photograph is a record of Lorent's point of view, his

technical SU, his choice of subject matter. We see the courtyard through

Lorent's eyes. His fiame is our frame, his focus is our focus. This photograph

perhaps says more about Lorent than it does about the Sultan Hasan Mosque.

Photography is not reality, or a "window on the worlâ". It is only a selective

interpretation of the parts of reality that a photographer considers to be

significant. Photography can never even be pure documentation. However

accurate an image may be in conveying information, the presence of human

sensibilities and selection processes tends to distort.

'RL. Gregory, nie Intellignt Eye, (New York, 1 WO), p32.

'P hyllis Lambert, introduction to Photopphy and Architecture: 18394939, b y Richard Pare, (Montreal, CCA, l982), p l 1.

Figure 1 : Courtyard of Sultan Hasan Mosque, by J. Aupust Lorent

Figure 2: Sultan Hasan Mosque Portal Entry, by David Roberts.

1

The Photographie Image

At about the same time as the invention and introduction of

photography in 1839, the mosques of Cairo were being opened to artists fiom

the West for the hrst tirne. Photography and the visual study of Islarnic

architecture grew up together. The travels to Cairo of photographers such as

Lorent were part of the nineteenth-centmy compulsion to bring the great

monuments of the world to the people of Europe. For years artists, such as

David Roberts (1796- 1864), had been very successful in producing images of

the Middle East in paintings and iithographs (Fig. 2). Photography now put

these images into much wider distribution, with the advantage that a photograph

is an actual image of reality rather than a representation.

The demand for travel photography must have been v e v great, as the

technical and physical challenges facing the expedïtionary photographer in

obtaining these images were enormous. Although extremely curnbersome tools

had to be canied and used in very harsh circumstances, tourists, artists, writers,

10

scientists, and commercial photographers took their cameras to the Middle East

to collect these travel views. Architecturai monuments were common subjects

for the travel photographer. They stood s u during the long exposures

necessary and possessed the kind of detail that photography could capture with

ease. They also had a he le s s serenity and grandeur about them that would

fascinate the observer. Architectural photography, as we know it today,

developed its approach fiom the work of travel photographers such as Lorent.

As a result of these travel photographers working in aii parts of the

world, architecture became a new consumer good. Beatrix Colornina says that

"until the advent of photography, the audience for architecture was the user.

With photography . . . architecture's reception began to occur through an

additional social fom: consumption." ' This consumption of architecture was

noted as early as 1845 when John Ruskin said that possessing a daguerreotype

of a Venetian palace was "very nearly the same thing as carrying away the palace

itself. Every chip and staui is thereSw2 Calling architecture a consumer good is

not necessarily pejorative. The profile and knowledge of architecture was

greatly enhanced through this ccconsumption" of photography. The power of the

photographie image was well known to architects. In 1900, an editonal in

'Beatriz Coiornina, Architectureproduction, (New York, l988), p9

'John Ruskin, M&m Painters in The Complete Works of John Ruskin, vo1.3, Library Edition, (New York, 1903), p2 10,n.Z.

11

American Architect stated: "In these days when every building of interesthg

design is immediately photographe& and the photographs disseminated by

means of the press, it is useless for an American Ruskin to tell people that one

style of building is moral and another immoral. This sort of talk may make an

impression on people who never saw a building . . . but not on persons who have

photographs before their eyesSw3

Since 1890, with the proliferation of architectural joumais and

publications, and the perfection of the half-tone process for reproducing black

a d white images, photography has become the dominant conveyor of

architectural information. Almost aîi our knowledge of buildings - certainly the

"great" buildings - is through photographs. With the development of colour

photography and colour reproduction in books and magazines, this dominance

has increased to the point where our fkst and often only impression of a building

is formed by seeing a photograph of it rather than Msiting i t For forty years, the

3Smm colour slide has been the primary tool for teaching the history and theory

of architect~e.~ For most students, the slide, and not the building, has been the

major contact with architecture. Arthur Drexler observes that "for better or

'Editonal in Americm Architect 70, @ec. 29, 1 gOO), p97.

'In A Comreie Atl'tis, (Cambridge, Mass., 1989), Reyner Banham notes that the modem movement was the first movement in the history of art based on photographie evidence rather than on personal experience.

12

worse . . . photographs have been more reai to architecture students, and more

intensely expenenced, than most of the buildings they memorialize."

Sometimes the photograph will remind us of images we form from our own

expenences; however our expenence of architecture is usuaiIy vicarious and

based on what photographs and photographers have "told" us.

On the basis of these photographs awards are confened and public

debates are conducted. The fact that a building has been selecteâ, photographed,

and publicised is often the basis of its aesthetic value. Yet the role of the

photographer in this process is often underrated. The photographer gives us a

tiny fiaction of an experience, under a specific Light, fiom a single point of Mew,

at a specific t h e , with the only sure thing being that it is opticaiiy accurate. By

a simple tilt of the camera a photograph is able to straighten Pisa's tower, yet

remain optically accurate. Now, only because of the emergence of digital

imaging, we are just beginning to question the power that photographs have to

"alter, stabilize, obscure, reveal, configure, or disfigure what they repre~ent."~

Photography has made the public into observers of architecture as

much as users of architecture. By putting a fiame around a building and

'~rthur Drexler, "P hotographs of Architecture", introduction to an exhibition catalogue, quoted in Akiko Busch, The Photography of Architecturel (New York, 1987), pl6.

6~ CA, Architecture and ifs Image, (Montreal, 1 9 8 9), p2 1.

13

choosing the important details and the angle at which they are photographed, the

photographer "teils" the observer what is important about the building and how

it should be experienced and remembered. William Mitchell c d s the camera a

cc super-eye - a prosthetic device that can stop action better than the human eye,

resolve h e r detail, remorselessly attend to the subtlest distinctions of intensity,

and not leave unregistered anything in the field of it's gaze."' Photography

reduces the effort of obtaining first-band knowledge. Paul V f i o c a s

photography "a new kind of representation, a Msibility without any face-to-face

encounter. This is a private expenence of what used to be a public expenence.

Pnvate/public distinction is gone, near and fa, here and there don3 mean

anything.

The power of the photograph stems fkom the fact that it is not a

reproduction but an image of reality. It is more than just an image, it is a trace.

taken directly fiom the real. In the Lorent photograph light rays passed nom the

s d t courtyard through his lens and camera and onto his photographic plate.

Rays of light passed through the various stages of the photographic process and

ont0 the print. Light then travels tiom the print to the retinas of our eyes. This

process cm take seconds or, as in this case, over 140 years, but it is stiU a direct

'William Mitchell, nie Reconjigured Eye, (Cambridge, Mass ., 1 992), p27.

'Paul Viriiiio, "The Overexposed City" in Rethinking Architecture, Neil Leach ed., (London, 1997), p383.

line of radiation fiom the object to the eye.

photograph is literaiiy "an emanation of the

14

Roland Barthes says that the

referent."9 He sees the photograph

not as art or communication but as reference, a transmittal of reality. "From the

object to its image there is of course a reduction - in proportion, perspective,

colour - but at no time is this reduction a transformation. In order to move fkom

the reality to its photograph it is in no way necessary to divide up this reality

into units and to constitute these units as signs . . . . It is a message without a

code."'0 Photography has the power to authenticate, the apparent inabiiity to Lie.

Barthes sees the essence of the photograph to be what he calls "that-has-been",

the ability to ratify what it represents. "Language is not able to authenticate

itself - language is by nature fictional; but the photograph is indifferent to aü

intermediaries; it does not invent - it can Lie as to meaning, being by nature

tendentious, never as to existence.""

But architectural photographs are not indifferent images. The

ideologicai content of a photograph is hidden behind its appearance of the truth.

The photographer Lewis Hine said that the camera cannot Lie, but photographers

%oland Barthes, Camera Luci&, (New York, 198 l), p80.

'"Barthes, "The Photographic Message" (196 l), in A Barthes Re&, Susan Sontag ed., (New York, 1982), p 196.

"Barthes, Carneru Lucida. p85.

15

c a d 2 Umberto Eco thuiks that the photograph itself can "lie". For him a

photograph does have a code that one must be trained to recognize. "The image

which takes shape on ceiiuloid is analogous to the retinal image but not to that

which we perceive. We know that sensory phenomena are transcribed in the

photographic emulsion, in such a way that even if there is a causal link with the

real phenomena, the graphic images found can be considered as whoily arbitrary

with respect to these phenornena? Barthes would not agree with this, but he

does recognize a photographic paradox - the coexistence of two messages, one

without a code (the rat-g of an object's existence) one with a code (the

treatment or rhetonc of a photograph). He c d s this photographic denotation

and connotation.'"

Architectural photography has both these messages. It can denote the

space and perhaps the way a space is used, but it can also connote the ideology

behind the space. Because a photograph is often our only impression of a

building, then our understanding of the meanhg of a building is also based on

photography. Le Corbusier used photography a great deal, having caiied his

lZOften quoted phrase from an unknown source.

I3Umberto Eco, "Critique of the image", in minking Photogrqhy, Victor Burgin ed. @,undon, 1982), p33.

16

Vers une Architecture a "new concept of the book . . . aiiowing the author to

avoid flowery Ianguage. ineffectual descriptions; the facts explode under the

eyes of the reader by force of the images."" But he realized that architecture was

still "best appreciated walking on foot; it is by walking, by movhg through that

one sees the order of architecture de~eloping."'~

Susan Sontag discounts the idea that we can understand the world if

we "accept it as the camera records it." She c d s it "the opposite of

understanding, which starts nom not accepting the world as it looks . . . . Strictly

speaking, one never understands anything £iom a photograph. In contrast to the

amorous relation, which is based on how sornething looks, understanding is

based on how it hctions. And fimctioning takes place in time, and must be

explained in time. Only that which namites can make us understand." " Hegel

put it even more emphaticdy when he said that knowledge gained fkom

photographs "seems to be the truest, the most authentic, for it has the object

before itseif in its entirety and completeness. This bare fact of certainty,

however, is redly and admittedly the abstractest and the poorest kind of truth."'8

"Le Corbusier, Oewre Complète, vol. 5 , (Zurich, 1 %Z), p6O.

"susan sontag, on Photogrcyhy, (New York, 1 977), pZ3.

18 G.F.W. Hegel, Poehy, Philosuphy and the Mnor of Nuîure, quoted in Jonathan Crary, Techniques of the Observer, (Cambridge, Mass., 1 WO), p25.

17

in discussing the architectural journal Casabella, the editor Pierre-

Alain Croset taiks about the Limitations of photography in representing

architecture. "Any publication is by nature a reductive operation, since the

complex reality of the building, which can be understood oniy through an in-

depth visit, has to be represented by only a few reproducible images. In the

images what disappears is a fundamentai dimension of architecture: its temporal

experience, which by definition is not reprodu~ible."~~

The study of a photograph, such as Lorent's Sultan Hasan Mosque,

almost always starts with the photograph itseif. It almost never starts with a

philosophical question of the relationship between the photograph and the

architectural expenence that inspired Lorent to make this image. Arguments

spring fiom the photographs, without asking if the photographs were taken to

illustrate an argument or add something to an argument.

Architectural historians and students produce theones and cany on

debates which are based on smaU two-dimensional images of large three-

dimensional buildings. These images are presented in such a way that the

uniqueness and scale of a building is lost - the Taj Mahal can be the same

physical size as Robert Venturi' s mother 's house. The physical presence of a

building is very different from its image. Architecture is experiential and

'pierre-Alain C roset, "The Narration of Architechire", in Colornina, Architectureproduction, p20 1.

18

involves al1 our senses. Buildings have soumis and smells, and each has its own

feel. Photography, a visuai medium, does not have the simdtaneous expenence

that architecture has. It separates vision from our network of senses. To bnily

experience architecture, a visit is essential. Yet the merence between looking

at a photograph and looking at the real world can have some advantages. E.H.

Gombrich says that "the picture, -y locked within the four sides of its fiame.

does not change, we can examine it at our leisure and focus on each of its parts

ta1 they are all lodged in ou. memory." The photograph can be a valid

statement about architecture: it can supply factual information about

architecture, and can present this information in a visual context. The

information does not age or deteriorate; the building wiU always look the way it

looked at the moment it was photographed. Great architectural photographers

accept the strengths and the Limitations of the medium. They work within these

Limitations in an attempt to produce images bat go beyond the visual, and

hopefidly allow the viewer to comprehend the experience of the architecture.

'%.H Gombrich, Henri Curtier-Bresson, introduction to a catalogue for an exhibition by the Scottish Arts Council, (Edinburgh, 19 Aug. - 10 Sept., 1978), p5.

Photography and Architectural Space

Two architechual photographers who med to show that photography

could provide more than a superficial visual record of architecture were

Frederick Evans (1 853- 1943), who photographed Gothic architecture in England

and France at the turn of the century, and Ezra Stoller, the Amencan

photographer who has worked for most of the great architects of the Modem era.

Evans was hailed by his contemporaries as the greatest architectural

photographer of ali t h e . In 1903, Alfred Steiglitz called hirn the greatest

exponent of architectural photography. ' When Evans was elected as an honoras-

fellow of the Royal Photographic Society in 1928 at the age of 75, the society

stated that his "fame rests upon his photography of architecture, in which sphere

he has never been equalled. He showed us how the photography of our beautifid

cathedrals could be raised nom a matter of mere record into the domain of poetq

- -

'Beaumont Newhall, Frederick H. Evans, (Rochester, NY: 19641, p9, 19.

and pictorial achievement. "'

S tolier is generdy regarded as the undisputed dean of Amencan

architectural photographers.' His career began in the 1930s working with

Wright, Aalto, and le Corbusier, and now, aithough 84 and retired, he still

occasionaIly works with Meier and Gehry. StoUer was always searching for the

essence of a particdar structure or space whenever he fiamed a building in his

camera. Wiiarn Saunders descnbes Stolier's work saying: "A Stolier picture is

stripped of aii distractions. There is no dead spot, no less than optimal light, no

cheap effect, no fake prettiness. A big strength of the building is seen and

seized. "'

Evans and Stoiier came to architectural photography ffom very

different backgrounds. Evans had no architectural training, never worked for

architects, and his photographs were never in great demand. His fiiend George

Bernard Shaw wrote of him that he was, or pretended to be, "utterly ignorant of

architecture, of optics, of chemistry, of everything except the right thing to

'Quoted in Newhall, p4 1

' ~ k i k o Busch, nie Photography of Architecture, (New York: 1987), p 13.

'William Saunders, Modem Architecture: Photographs &y Ezra Sloller. (New York: 1990), p6.

2 1

photograph and the right moment to photograph it."' He was an amateur

photographer until he was 52 years 014 when he retired fiom his trade as a

bookseller and started accepting architectural photography commissions 6-orn

Cottntry Lifie magazine. Evans completed his most impressive body of work

while stiIl an amateur, tryïng to emulate the eariy watercolour work of J.M.W.

Turner (1775- 185 l), in the presentation of Gothic ar~hitecture.~ His approach to

architecturai photography was that of a painter. "The painter or sketcher

working at his positive image at the actual scene; can alter, correct, and re-

correct; try again and again for what he wants to record; but we photographers

rarely or never complete our positive image at or near the scene of the subject,

and so we are unable to really criticise or properly correct what our chance

exposure gave us. . . . My own ideal method of working at my architectural

pictures would be, if it were possible, to live a whole twelvemonth round in the

cathedral town chosen; develop and print everything, and oniy leave when 1 had,

on paper, the record that satisfied me."7

If Evans's approach was that of a painter, Stoller's approach was that

of an architect. He believed architecture to be a language and considered his

'George Bernard Shaw, "Evans - An Appreciation" in C a m Work, vol. 4, (October 1 NU), p36.

6Fredenck Evans, Camera Work, vol. 4, p17.

'~redenck Evans, writing in Amateccr Photographer, March 3 1, 1904, ~ 2 5 5 .

22

understanding of that language to be invaluable in his photography. He says "1

don't want to express anythtng; I just want to be honest to the subject. If

anything is expressed, the architect expressed ic not 1. If 1 can undentand what

it was - and architecture being a language, I'm fortunate that 1 understand the

language and at least can speak it to the same extent as the people who created

the architecture speak it?

Ezra StoUer was the consummate professional, a craftsman with a job

to do. He was providing a service for architects, caphiring the ideai essence of a

structure and space with mrth and clarity. He was trained as an architect but

turned to photography early in his career when he redued "it was much more

fun dealing with finished building^."^

In spite of their daerences, the photographs of Evans and StoUer

have much in common. Both photographers acknowledged the Limitations of

photography, but constantiy pushed against these limitations - the W t e fiame,

the monocular conicai vision, two-dimensionality, long exposure times, and

limited range of film sensitivity. Stoiler says "An architectural photograph cm

never do more than suggest a part of that space in a segment of time. . . . As

interpreters with cameras we are called upon to resolve a myriad of confiicting

'Daniel Naegele, "An Interview with Ezra Stol fer", History of Photogrqhy, ~01.22-2, (Sumer 1998), pl 10.

Waegele, "Interview . . .", p106.

conditions in ternis of an extremely Limited medium and to communicate a four

dimensional experience (yes, tirne is one of the elements Uivolved) with a flat

piece of paper and restncted tonal palette." 'O Both Evans and Stoller realized

that the main work of the photographer was done behind the camera before the

picture was taken, perhaps before the camera was set up. Evans said to "wait

until a building makes you feel intensely, then try and analyse what gives you

that feeling, and then see what your camera can do towards reproducing . . . the

same measure of feeling the original inspired in you."" Similady StoLier spent

time discoverhg what he calîed the essence of a building. "A work of

architecture is a spatial experience and one must wander through it and about it

until its organization becomes clear. I'U go in advance so that 1 can quietly

spend some thne walking arouud without any pressure, studying the thing and

deciding what it says to me and what the best angles and Light would be." IZ

Both were choosing the right thing to photograph and the right moment to

photograph it. Gombrich describes the "right moment" as that moment "when

the language of reality becomes distinct and distinctive. not in the obvious

cliché but through the mutual elucidation and articulation of aU the sights within

l % ~ s ~ h , pl3, quoted h m lecture notes made in Rye, NY, August 1984.

llFrederick Evans, writing in Amateur Photographer, May 12, 1904, p3 73.

'%usch, p 15.

the fia~ne,"'~

Evans and Stoller both photographed the space of architecture. They

conveyed a particuiar sense of space in the architecture by using the sarne sense

of space in theu two-dimensional representations. They hune the view that best

shows the space and then wait for the right moment, when the light transfonns

the space. Thus the dimension of time is inhoduced into their work. They don?

just photograph a building, but a building at the instant when the light produces

the effect they want. Phyllis Lambert says that "there is in the best photographs

of architecture an intention of space that can be portrayed through the intention

of tirne. The photographer seeks to reved aspects of space through his

understanding of the eEects of time. . . . The success of a particular photograph

depends largely on the photographer's interpretation of space through time." ''

The photographs of both Evans and Stoiler are not only of architecturey but of

light, time, and space.

This is shown clearly in two photographs that share many feahires

with Lorent's photograph of the Sultan Hasan Mosque. î h e photograph of

Bruges Cathedral by Frederick Evans (Fig. 3), and the photograph of Le

--

"E.H. Gombrich, Henri Cartier-Bresson, p7.

'Pare, Photogrcphy md Archifeciwe, p 12.

Corbusier's Notre Dame du Haut by Ezra Stoiler (Fig. 4), üke that of Lorent, are

of religious space. The photographs themselves are more than pictorial, they are

religious. The photographs alI concentrate on the light, and that iight is coming

fiom an unseen, perhaps Divine, source. The Stoiler photograph contains a

figure (unusual in a Stoller photograph, unknown in an Evans photograph), but

this figure is a small silhouette and only adds to the Divine quaiity of the light.

The power of the source of this Light apparently requires the figure to place his

hand on the wali to steady himseif. Anthony Guest, in describing Evans's work

said that "architecture is hard and solid, and light sof't and mystenous, and if one

tries to accentuate both these qualities, each m u t suffer." By accentuating the

quality of light rather than the architectural details one c m show the essence of a

building. "Study the l i g k and the detaits will corne of theû own accord where

they are wanted; but if you study the details of architecture, the effects of light

and shade will evade y~u." '~

in both photographs, the canera is kept low and the viewer is kept

grounded, aUowing the building's drama to be observed calmly. Both the Evans

and Stoiler photographs are composed in such a way that the placement of iight

within the frame is used to imply the dimension of tirne. The lighter areas are at

the m e r points of the scene which increases the feeling of depth and

"Anthony Guest, "Frozen Music", in Art und the Camera, (London: 1907), p127.

26

movement, in M i e , fiom the fiont to the rear. The eye moves systematically

through the fiame and the time that this takes, however short, defines the space.

You can view the photographs as you would a building in your own tirne and at

your own pace. Architecture is a spatial experience, about how forms and

spaces connect with each other. Photography can also be a spatial experience,

putting these connections into a two-dimensional composition.

Two other photographs, quite different in concept, show how

photography can be a spatial enterprise. In Evans's photograph of the Chapter

House stairs in Wells Cathedral, often referred to as ''A Sea of Steps", he uses a

lens on his camera that fiames only a s m d portion of the scene in fiont o î b

(Fig -5). By leaving out foregro~nd~ side walis and handrails, he fills the name

with steps that are "steep and untreadable", leaviag the viewer disoriented and

the stairs looking "like the surge of a great wave." l6 The stairs are a symbol that

invites the eye to c h b through the fiame, and the Light in the chapter house

above draws the viewer up fiom the darkness, encouraging passage through the

photographed space.

In Stolier's photograph of Louis Kahn's Salk Institute, the frame is

tightly cropped leaving a carefully controiled composition of inûicate spaces,

planes, shapes, iïght and shadow (Fig. 6). The solid concrete forms are

I6Frederick Evans, "Wells Cathedral", Photography Magazine, July 8, 1903, p6S.

fleetingly washed by the setthg sun giving both a sense of space, as the eye

moves fiorn layer to layer, and a sense of the passage of t h e , as the Light fkom

the sun is obviously changing while the picture is being taken.

The work of Evans and Stoller provides an approach to architectural

photography that addresses the intangible aspects of the architectural expenence.

Evans's quest to reproduce the sublime experience of grandeur and awe that one

feels inside a gothic cathedra1 and Stolier's relentless concentration on showing

the essence of architecture, simply and clearly, by defining spatial relationships

provide approaches that go far beyond architectural documentation.

Neither of these photographers wodd consider photography to be a

substitute for seeing architecture by visiting a building, but both would believe

that it is the closest to a substitute you can get. However, the experience of the

photographs is always Limited by choices the photographer has made. Saunders

says that StolIer "does not give us an accurate representation, or anything like it

of . . . the mundane daily experience of buildings, in their context, disturbed by

people, fiirniture, other buildings, min, cars. He does not teii us what it is iike to

work in the office towers or to see the cracks in Falling Water's balconies. His

record is not for historians, anthropologists, or sociologists. It may not even be

inclusive enough for architecturai historians. Stoiier was not hired to teii the

28

whole story and he does not do so. But he does teii one true story whoily; the

real ideal of the building."17 Evans on the other hand tried to convey his

persona1 experience, considering it the role of his photographs to "convey to

another the vital aspect and feeling of the original subjecf so to translate one's

own enjoyment of a scene hto a visual record? They both would put a fiame

around what they perceived to be the facts that are a building. Their skili was in

their ability to comprehend these facts and clearly state them in a photograph.

Their photographs were not only a visual record of the buildings, but a record of

the way they perceived and experienced the buildings.

"Saunders, p7.

18Evans, Carneru Work, VOL 4, p17.

Figure 3 : Heighr and Li@ in Bruges Cathedrai by Frederick H. Evans

Figure 4: Le Corbusier's Notre Dame du Haut by Ezra Stoller.

Figure 5: Chapter House Stairs in Wells Cathedral, by Frederick Evans

Figure 6: Louis Kahn's Salk Institute, by Ezra Stoller

The Representation of Islamic Architecture

Frederick Evans, in his photography of gothic architecture, used

visual elements that were aU part of J.M.W. Turner's rhetoric of sublime effects

developed fiom the repertoire of G.B. Piranesi.' There was a long history of

representation of medieval architectural space which photographers could draw

upon for inspiration. The photograph by Jakob Lorent of the Sultan Hasan

Mosque was of an Islamic architectural space, and certainly one of the fnst

examples of architectural photography of an Islamic architectural interior.

Lorent did not have the inspirationai tradition to draw upon that Evans had.

Islamic architecture had never been represented, in any medium, on a large scale.

In the early nineteenth cenhiry, the painter and iithographer David

Roberts had painted scenes throughout Palestine, Egypt, North Afnca, and

'The influence of Piranesi on the work of J,M.W. Turner is discussed in Andrew Wilton, firrrer md the Sublime, (London: British Museum, 1980), p66; and in John Gage, Tzrnler, A Wonderfit1 Range of Mind, (New Haven: Yale, 1987), p 10 1.

32

Southem Spain, and was the main source of inspiration for photographers

travelling to the Middle East. In addition to his romantic depictions of

antiquity, he produced a series of drawings of mosques in Cairo that are stiil

among the most f d a r images we have of Islamic architecture. In 1839, when

the Sultan Hasan Mosque was fust opened to European artists, David Roberts

was one of the fïrst to enter and draw views of the interior. ' Before that, it is

unlikely that the interior of this or any other mosque in Cairo had been

represented visualiy (Fig. 7).

One of the few pre-nineteenth-century visual records of IsIamic

architecture cornes fkom the Persian miniature painting. However this art fomi is

usually associated with book illustration or illumination, so the narrative quality

of the art takes precedence over topographical, formal, or spatial realism. In the

fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, architecture was a cornmon subject in the

miniatures and was rendered in exquisite detail and cl-. However, because

of the primary namative function of the a* the conventions ofrealism are

ignored. There are no shadows or darkness of any kind Day or night, inside or

outside, on the horizon or at the bottom of a deep well - we see everything

ciearly under a brilliant light. Figures in the distance may be larger than those

nearer depending upon their importance to the story. Architecture is part of an

'Patrick Comor, "The Mosque Through European Eyes", Apollo, (July 1984), ~ 4 4 .

"artifkially staged environment that is theatrical in its presentation, an effect

which irnmediately transforms the forms and intentions of the painting to

metaphysical Ie~els."~ Architecture in the miniatures was a convention-bound

part of a fornial composition, a few elements used as stage setting, rather than

the optically faithfid representation of a particular building.

The miniature artist Bihzad (1455- 1535 approx.) brought a subtle

realism to the representation of buildings, using techniques that could have

applications in architecturai photography. Buildings can appear brighf spacîous

and anirnated or they can appear claustrophobic, complex and eerily vacant

Space is irnplied by h a h g the eye progress fiom the foreground, through

overlapping planes, arches and doors, to the background, giving a sense of depth

to the flat composition. In the painting The Seduction of Yusuf by Zulayka

(1489), the building is the protagonist, the doors and empty rooms evoking a

seme of labyrinthe danger as weii as decorative splendeur (Fig. 8). Bihzad's

work showed "a renewed interest in the transitory, physical aspect of reality."'

This transitory, physical aspect of reality is what photography shows very weil.

However any relationship between photography and Persian

miniatures is very tenuous. Ezra Stoiier compared modem photography to the

'Thomas Lentz, "Changing Worlds: Bihzad and the New Painting", Mmg, vol. 41-3, p45.

34

work of Piranesi stating that "Piranesi was a great photographer, he just didn't

have a camera."' Such a cornparison couid never be made with the work of

Bihzad. Photography is ali light, shadow, and perspective, whereas the Persian

miniature eliminates these elements completely. Yet both forms of

representation are "sweeping abstractions of the world" and represent "a world

that is one stage removed fiom reality as it appears to the eye? What they have

in cornmon is the combination of a simplicity of form, which aliows for

symbolism and recognition, and an intensity of detail and proportions, which

allows an observer to enter the fiame and discover the detds over tirne,

The Persian miniature artists were unusual in the Muslim world in

that they did depict figures dong with architecture and landscapes in thek art. 1 t

is commonly stated that figurative art is prohibited in Islam to prevent the

possibility of worship of physical idols or images. Oleg Grabar notes that

"general works on the history of art simply assert that, for a variety of reasons

which are rarely explored, Islam was theologicaily opposed to the representation

of liWig beings."' The philosopher and authority on Islamic thought, S.H. Nasr

rationahes the use of figures in the Persian miniature by saying that the

6Ehsan Yar-Shater, "Penian Poetry and Painting: Common Feahues" in Arthur Pope ed., A Sirntey of Persim Art, (London: 1938), p3 125.

'Oleg Grabar, me Formation of lslamic Art, (New Haven: 1973), p72.

35

miniatures "depict not a profane world but this intennediary world which stands

above the physicai and is the gateway to al1 higher states of being."' The world

in the Persian miniature is not the physicai world we know, but the buildings

represented would have been based on buildings that the artists could see around

them, so this art f o m provides some of the few examples of architectural

ilIustration in Islamic art Although the prohibition against image-making is

directed only at the depiction of Living or animate fonns, it has the effect of

limiting the production of aii foms of representational art.

Islamic religious texts offer very Little conceming the description or

representation of architecture. Some useful concepts related to the

representation of religious space can be found in such verses of the Quran as the

"verses of iight" (24,35-8), which contirm that the Lght in the mosque is indeed

a syrnbol of Divine presence. Grabar says that "symbols, signs or meanings

were discovered in the Quran but, at least as fa. as the arts are concemed, do not

actively denve fkom it-"' Few other wrîtten sources give descriptions of

architecture. Poetry and literature give fantastic accounts of imaginaxy palaces,

'S .H. Nasr, Islmic Art and Spiritual@, ((Albany: 1 987), p 180.

901eg Grabar, "Signs and Symbols in Islamic Architecture", in Aga Khan Award symposium Architecture as Symbol and SeFI&ntity, Jonathan Katz ed., (Cam bridge, Mass.: 1980), p7.

36

bu: these are usually o d y settings for the stories they teil. Although the setting

for The Thozisand and One Nighrs is not really the Baghdad of Harun &Rashid,

but fourteenth-centuy Cairo,'O the tales provide very iittle information about the

architecture of Cairo and its part in the culture of the tirne. Grabar proposes that

written texts show us that "traditional Islamic culture identified itself through

means other than visual: the sounds of the city, the caü to prayer, the Word of

the Revelation but not its fomis, the mernories of men and events. . . . The

importance of written sources Lies in the paraiielism they provide for visuai

p henomena". '

Since 1840, photographers such as Lorent have provided the

architectural photographer with Msual examples of approaches to the

representation of lslamic architecture. Some of these photographers were

architectural scholars, some were camyïng out official surveys, and some were

arc heo logists. However, the vast majority of them were photographie

entrepreneurs, and they were virtuaily all Europeans. They revealed theu

paaicular bises in what they chose to photograph, and what they kept out of

l''Robert Hillenbrand, "Egypt - The historicd setting, the architecture, the cultural serting", in Derek Hill, Islamic Architecture in North Ajica, ('amden: 1 W6), p27,

"Grabar, Architeciwe as Symbol . . . , p7.

their frames. "One must search hard to fmd pictures that portray the Middle East

before World War I with depth, sensitivity, and tnithfulness. The concept of

'Orient' provided photographers with the same liberties that it gave writers and

painters for fictitious reporting."I2 Some of the photographers produced

outstanding images that are stiii wondered at today. In 1852, Maxime Du Camp

(1822- 1894) of France produced a book of 125 photographs taken in the Middle

East which were masterpieces of subtlety. Francis Fnth (1822- 1898), fkom

England, was greatly infiuenced by the drawings and paintings of David Roberts

and travelled to the Middle East three t he s , between 1856 and 1860, publishing

eight albums of photographs. l3 "He could focus upon a small detail in such a

way as to give it monumental importance, and make panoramas that were large

and mysterious; lookiig at thern, one feels indeed like a traveller in an antique

land."LJ However the photographic approach was always commercial and the

depiction of architecture was always secondary to the presentation of the exotic

features of these lands (Fig. 9).

The Lorent photograph is unusual and Ulformative in that it is of an

12Louis Vaczec, Gai1 Buckland, Traveilers in Ancienf Lands, (Boston: 1 98 1), xxii.

13Camline Williams gives a good account of Frith the mist and entrepreneur in the introduction to Photographr of Egypt and the Ho& Land, by Francis Frïth, (Cairo: 1999).

38

interior space. Most of the photographs fiorn that time in that part of the world

showed general city views, landscapes, the pyramids and other scenes of

antiquity. The most common Islamic architectural subjects were the minarets of

Cairo, as they were an exotic symbol of Islam and the Orient (Fig. 10). Lorent

not only shows us an Islamic monument, but he goes inside it and tries to

recreate the experience ofbeing inside this space. He was a dedicated

architectural photographer and was well known for his architechiral studies of

Venice. His interest in architecture and its documentation took hirn throughout

the Muslim world and resulted in the publication in, 186 1, of the book: Egyplen

AIhambra Tlemsen ~ l g i e r , lS which included two photographs of the Sultan

Hasan Mosque. Nissan Perez describes Lorent's work saying: "Lorent's images

distinguish themselves through their impeccable composition as well as a

technical peifection in their execution. Although his primary concem was

architecture and its documentation, the photographs display supenor artistic

qualities in the best European tradition."16

AU these expeditionary photographers were 1ooki.g at the Middle

East fiom within a European tradition. Unfortunately there were very few local

"Jakob August Lorent, Egypten Alhambra 7ïemsen Algier, (Mainz am Rhein: 1985), this is a reprint of the original book of photographic p ~ t s pubiished in Mannheim in 186 1.

I6Nissan Perez, F m s East: Earb Photography in the Near Easl(1839-1885/, (New York: 1988), p192.

39

or Muslim photographers working during this tirne. The prohibition of

figurative art and the association of the "maker of images or pictures" as being

"the enemy of Go&'" would certainly have limited the business of any

commercial studio. There were a few importaut exceptions such as the Egyptian

officer, Mohammed Sadir Bey, who photographed Ui Mecca, and Suleiman

Hakim in Damascus, but until well into the twentieth century it was very rare for

Muslims to become photographers, or if they did their photographs have not

survived.'* In a religious space such as the intenor of a mosque, a Muslim

photographer would have a completely Merent sense of the space around them.

It would be more than just observation of the architecture, but more like an

observance. As Jonathan Crary says: "Though obviously one who sees, an

observer is mqre importantly one who sees w i t . a prescribed set of

possibiiities, one who is embedded in a system of conventions and

limitation^."'^

''An often used saying of the Prophet Muhammad, quoted in Oleg Grabar, ïhr Formation of lslmic Art, p82.

Ig ~onathan Crary, Techniques of the Observer, (Cambridge, Mass. : 1 WO), p6.

Figure 7: Courtyard of the Sultan Hasan Mosque, by David Roberts.

Figure 9: The Sphinx, by Francis Frith

Figure 10: View of Cairo wilh Sultiin Hasan Mosque visible in &e distance, by Francis Fnth

4

Towards a Structural Theory of IsRamic Space

Today it is relatively easy for a competent professional photographer

to fly to almost anywhere in the world, take a hundred rolls of nIm with

sophisticated cameras, retum home to have them processed under ideal

conditions, and then select the five or six best images for publication. The

photographs might be very beautifûl, yet may teil us nothhg about the place or

the culture. The nineteenth-century photographers could only have taken two or

three negatives per day, forcing them to take much more care in selectuig what

they photographed. To choose which pictures to take, they would have to use a

weil considered approach, if not a theory, for capturing their subject matter.

Similady, modem architectural photographers need to ask serious theoretical

questions if they are to achieve anything more than a superficial visual image of

the complex reality they are attempting to represent.

It is unrealistic to expect photographers from the West, who wish to

work in the Muslim world, to study Islam, leam to speak Arabic, or immerse

themselves in the local culture (although this would be an enormous advantage).

43

However, they must discover the intentions, meaning, and order of whatever

type of architecture they are trying to cornmunicate. In contemporary

architectural photography this is most often accomplished by discussing each

project with the arcbitect. It becomes problematic when working in remote

countries, and especially when looking at pre-modem architecture, where the

architect is no longer dive or may be unknown. This is the problem with

Islamic architecture.

The tenn "Islamic" is difficult to define as it refers to architecture

that spans a tirne fiame of over one thousand years and an area fkom Western

Europe to South East Asia. Dogan Kuban says that Islamic architecture is

simply the buildings created by those people who call themselves Muslirns.

Islamic architecture "remains a comprehensible area of research, but it defines

neither a homogeneous area of study nor a homogeneous style, or a succession

of styles, or a comprehensible system of relationships. The label is an example

of utmost reductionism, a crystallised museum of orientalist thought." ' To Say

that Islamic architecture is dependent upon any implied value in forms is

inherently anti-islamic. Islam est ablished patterns of behaviour, not fonn.

"Fonns are transient. Only Allah, who is f o d e s s , is etemai. Thus the

'Dagan Kuban, "Perspectives on Islamic History and Art", Suha 0zkan ed., Fairh atld the Built Envirotment, (Lausanne: 1 W6), p3 1 .

44

perception of any continuity of form is not a religious but a cultural attitude." ' A building, such as the Sultan Hasan Mosque, should be studied to fuid what it

meant within the culture of Mamluk Cairo and, if it has since lost its original

meaning, what it means to the people who use the mosque today. It shouid be

possible to have a modem interpretation of the essence of Islamic architecture,

no matter what the forms. Kuban says that symbolic meanings may be attached

to different forms but they donTt corne fkom the forms. "Symbolic value is

present wherever a meaning is attached to any amfact in the environment. We

cannot assign symbolic meaning to the mosque, the gate, the dome. . . . The

symbolic value of architectural fonns lies in theu visual impact as perceived by

ordinary pe~ple ."~ But Gülzar Haider contends that "faith", specifically faith in

the Quran being the Word of Gad, can give symbolic meaning to forms. The

Quranic imagery of creation, "the idea of splitting the unity in order to affirm the

unity c m be seen operating in a wide range of Islarnic artistic expression. The

archetypal house of the classical Muslim lands resdts fkom the splitting of

'earth' mass on cardia1 axes to form a courtyard into which is welcomed the

'heaven' that is the divinely split other of the earth."' The courtyard of the

'Kuban, "Symbolism in its Regionai and Contemporary Context", Aga Khan Award, Architecture as Symbol and Serf-Ialentiîy, Cambridge, Maso. : 1 WO), p 1 3.

'Gülzar Haider, "Faith is the Architect, Reflections on the Mosque", ~ z k a n , Faith arzd. . ., p69.

45

Sultan Hasan Mosque with its high walls and crucifiom design can clearly be

seen as a symbol of such splitting of unity.

If, as Haider says, the building of a mosque is an act of faith by the

patrons, architects and builders, then modem Western photographers c m only

have a limiteci understanding of the essence of a mosque if they don't share the

Muslim faîth. However if architectural fortn is considered as symbolic to the

user or the viewer of a building, then the photographer could understand and

respect this symbolism even if their viewing is just observation rather than

observance. Umberto Eco, in taking about writing, stresses the Merence

between what an author intended to Say and what a text can Say independently of

the intentions of its author.' Sirnilarly, with architecture, what the viewer

understands can be based on the underlying symbolic system, or it cm be based

on the viewer's own systems of expectations. Architectural photography adds

another level to this process. The photographer can be a viewer but is also an

interpreter of the architecture for the eventual viewer. Eco talks about the

difference between using and interpreting texts, and how an interpreter must

respect the cultural background of an author? A pardel can be drawn for

architectural photography. A building can be used sirnply as a source of shapes

and forms to make a pleasing composition within a photograph. But ifthis

--

'Urnberio Eco, lnterpretation and Overinterpretation, (Cam bridge: 1 992), p 78.

%id, p69.

46

photograph is meant to be an interpretation of the architecture, it must respect

the culhiral background of the designers and builders and their motivations in

creating that building, even though it is not n e c e s s q to share this background.

EH. Gombrich talks about the "beholder's share" of any interpretation of art as

"the contribution we make to any representation fkom the stock of images in our

rnind." What the viewer brings to the experience of art, based on images

previously seen, is as important as what the d s t provides. ' With Islamic

architecture it may not be easy to understand the motivations of the original

builders, but it is possible to study the culture of the past and present beholders.

and it is possible to carefiilly analyse one's own responses to architecture as a

beholder oneseK

The study of pre-modern Islamic architecture and its culturai context

is difficult for someone nom the west. It is very difncdt to study the actual

monuments. So many of them have disappeared and what do remain are ofien in

remote and inaccessible locations. Climates are severe, transportation and

infrastructures can be problematic, and the political situations -and travel

restrictions in some c o d e s make many of the existing sites difncult to visit.

As a result, this monumental, ornate, and highly coloured architecture is studied

by looking at small, usually black and white, two-dimensional images.

'E.H. Gornbricû, The Image and the Eye, (Ithaca: 1982), p 145.

A M e r problem facing the typicai western scholar is the very

"foreign" contea in which this architecture exists. The political history, the

geography and climate, the names of the people and places, and the narnes of the

architectural components are all very foreign to even the architecturaily iiterate.

Names are Wcul t to pronounce and not easy to distinguish one fiom the other.

Because of the Merence between Arabic, Persiau, Turkish and Far-eastem

alphabets, the same name can be spelled many different ways depending on the

system of transcripti~n.~

Scholarly work on Islamic architecture naturally concentrates on the

existing monuments, most of which are religious buildings. Because they have

been considered precious and important to the whole community, they have been

well cared for and have s d v e d in the greatest number and best condition.

Although these buildings would only be a smaU fiaction of what actually

existed, they are the only structures that we can actuaiiy study. Secdar

buildings, especialiy the domestic secular buildings that reflect the culture of the

people who used the religious buildings, do not receive a balanced treatment in

texts on Islamic architecture.

The level of interest in Islamic architecture has led to the publication

of many books on this subject in recent years. This increased interest has been

'Koran and Quran; Soussa, Susa, Sousse; Kairouan, Qairawan, etc.

48

partly due to the growing interest in vemacular architecture of al1 types, along

with an increase in the sensitivity to cultural and ethnic divenity and

regionalism. There has also been a recent growdi of interest in Islam itseif,

caused by the publicity surroundhg the OPEC countries, the revolution in han,

confiicts in Afghanistan, Algena, former Yugoslavia, and the Arab-Israeli

dispute. ArchitecturaUy, there has been the construction boom in post-colonial,

oil-rich countries iike Saudi Arabia, Iran, Malaysia, etc. The Aga Khan Award

for Architecture, with its programs at Harvard and MIT, its international

seminars, and its conferring of awards every three years, brings outstanding

examples of Islamic architecture worldwide publicity and encourages

scholarship in this area.

The books that have been published are designed to appeal to a wide

range of interests: shidents, architects, art historians, social geographers,

conservationists, journalists, and tourists. As a result several different

approaches have been taken in presenting this subject. Almost ail these books

use photographs to some extent but none provide a formal Msual analysis of the

buildings - the photographs are only included to illustrate architectural details or

simply as decoration. However each of these approaches provides concepts with

some value to the photographer interested in analysing Islamic architecturai

Qemard Rudoifsky made traditionai and vemacular architecture popular with the exhibition at the Museum of Modem art : "Architecture without Architects", (1967).

space.

Perhaps the most common, and certainly the most visible kind of

book is that containhg a well iüustrated collection of Msudy impressive

buildings and building details. The book Islam - Volume 1, by Henri Steirlin,"

and Rolof Beny's Persia - Bridge of Turquoise, I L are examples. They are

attractively photographed with a brief descriptive text and broadly generalised

(thus ofien misleading) historical information. They are written for the

interested amateur, travelier, and those who We to read about exotic places.

Grabar says that such a book has enomous documentary value, "but its

inteilectual merits are, with some exceptions, relatively low . . . it arouses the

senses and sometimes even leads to thought." l2 Buildings in these books are

chosen for their visual qualities and are presented in a way that makes the most

of theu visual presence.

Two examples of large surveys atternpting to present the entire

subject in a single volume are Islamic Architecture, by John D. Hoag, and

Islamic Architecture: form, function and meaning, by Robert HilIenbrand.

Hoag's method is to accumulate a large amount of data and present it

-

'"Henri Steirlin, Islam - Volume 1, (Koln: 1996).

"Roloff Beny, Persia - Bndge of Turquoise, (Boston: 1975).

1201eg Grabar, Times Lilerary Suppernent 4280, (August 18,1999, p 16.

13John D. Hoag, lslamic Architecture, (New York: 1977). Robert Hillenbrand, IsIumic Architecture: fwm, finclion, and meaning, (New York: 1994).

50

chronologically and regionally. This foUows Cressweil's doctrine that

"chronology is the spinal column of history."" Hoag tries to present as much as

possible as clearly as possible. The buildings and their architectural elements

are described in great detail, but the ideas behind the buildings and the people

who use the buildings are described very briefly or not at d. Hillenbraad's

book mes to bridge thi-s gap between the architecture and its cultural context by

describing the relationship between form and fiinction based on building "type".

This approach shows how difFerent types of buildings were used and how they

evolved within Muslim society. The strict typological fiamework imposes a

certain restraint on our understanding of the meaning of a building, especially in

the case of a building complex such as the Sultan Hasan. The mosque, madrasa,

tomb complex, with minarets belonging to mecent time periods, is spread out

over four different chapters when its real character is just as one dense

expenence.

There are books which provide cultural analyses of Islamic

architecture. Architecture of the lslamic World, edited by George Micheii, " is a

collection of essays, each dealing with a different aspect of the subject. This

book, in aoalysing "the complex interplay of theological, sociological,

econornic, political and technological factors in Islamic culture . . . in terms of

%.AC Creswell, Emly MÜsZim Architecture, Vol 1 , (Oxford: Clarendon, p xxxv

"George Michel1 ed., Architecture of the Isiamic Wodd, (London: 1978).

51

their influence upon architect~re",'~ answers many of the questions raised in the

attempt to form a structural theory of Islamic architectural space. It provides a

more global view of architecture by including essays which look at the

relationship between the arc hitect, the builder, the powerfüi patron, and society.

It tries to explain the theory and symbolism of the decoration and how climate,

materials, and the people's way of life affected the design of their buildings.

Oleg Grabar's The Formation of lslamic Arr describes the evolution

of Islamic art and architecture, and tries to isolate the unique features that make

it "Islamic". He identifies problems, divides the problems into questions, and

then divides the questions into aspects that can be studied. He calls the book "a

theoretical tool adaptable both to the historian of Islamic civiluation and to the

historian of medieval art-''" It is an approach that provides a logical fiamework

for a visual analysis of architecture.

Another book by Grabar, The Alhambra, " is an example of a single

building monograph, a book which deals with the fimdamental unit on which al1

architectural history is grounded. By concentrating on one building he is able to

explore questions of function and meaning without having to establish universal

truths. This thesis is looking at a single building for the same reasons. By

16Michell, p7.

"Grabar, Formation. . ., p203.

1801eg Grabar, The Alhambra, (Cambridge, Mass. : Harvard, 1 978)

52

studying the Sultan Hasan, and relating a persona1 reaction to this one building,

a methodology c m be demonstrated without attempting to codifjr any universal

principles or techniques for the photography of Islamic space.

Islamic Art and Spiritualiy by S.H. Nasr, a leading authorîty on

Islamic thought, looks at Islamic art within the broad h e w o r k of Islam's

philosophical cosmology. His book deals entuely with ideas and uses art and

architecture as illustrations for his characteristic theories. He tries to explain the

meaning of architecture by presenting his theory as to what the architect was

thinking at the t h e of conception. "The art of Islam is Islamic art not because it

was created by Muslims but because it issues forth fiom the Islamic

re~elation."'~ The different foms and styles of Islamic architecture did not corne

about because of material or social changes, but through a Divine force working

through the architects and patrons and recognized by the users. Art and

architecture are "a casting of the Divine Realities upon the plane of material

manifestation in order to bring man closer to GO^."^' It is an idealistic theory

arguing that the power of architecture cornes ûorn the spiritual intentions of the

architect or author and discounts the power of the political and cultural

institutions. Some may Say that, whatever his ~pirituality~ the architect must

serve those with the money, land, and authority to erect buildings. Nasr

53

counters by saying that "no aspect is left outside the authority of spiritual

pruiciple least of aii that which deals with temporal a~thority."~'

Nasr believes that for the question: What is Islam?, "one could in

answer point to the courtyard of the Sultan Hasan mosque in Cairo . . . if the

questioner were only capable of reading the message [this stmcture] conveys." " This provides a wonderful challenge to the photographer as Nasr implies that

one could answer this profound question ushg photography.

The common elements in these dif5erent and often contradictory

approaches can be used to develop a structural theory of Islamic space which

will provide direction for the photography of Islamic architecture. Although the

literature reviewed contains very little in the way of visual analysis, the

historical, theological, political, and theoretical analyses provide essential

concepts that can legitimately be considered Islamic, and can be identified with

sufficient clarity to be used as detexminants in creating a theory of Islamic

architectural space.

The &st concept *is that of Unip. God exists in ail things yet nothing

can be compared to God. It was the role of architecture. both physicaiiy and

syrnbolically, to bridge the gap between the multiplicity of the matenal world

54

and the oneness of God. Architectural space and f o m are there to facilitate the

remembrance of God and to provide an accord between man, nature, and God.

Nader Ardalan says that the ''recunhg foms of rnosque architecture constitute

the major elements of inclusion that have evolved over the centuries: mihrab,

minarec gateway, courtyard, portico, place ofablution, plinth and dome. Acts of

exclusion are relatively few and are primdy restricted to the removal of

specific imagery that would limit the transcendent unity of the D i ~ i n e . " ~ The

reintegration of multiplicity into unity, uniting both space and t h e , is show in

the harmony of architecturai foms, rhytbmicaily articulating space in different

scales. Nasr caiIs the mosque "an extension of nature created by God within the

environment constructed by man. It becomes encornpassed by and participates

in the unity, interrelatedness, harmony, and serenity of nature even within the

city and tom. It becomes in fact a centre fiom which these qualities emanate to

the whole of the urban envir~nment."~~

Among the many symbols of Unity, the most profound is the second

concepG that of lighr. Burkhardt says that "according to the Koran, 'God is the

light of the heavens and e h . ' Light is one. It only appears multiple and

=Nader Ardalan, "The Viswl Language of Symbolic Form: A Preliminary study of Mosque Architecture", Aga Khan Award, Architecture as Symbol and SerfIcicrntity, (Cambridge Mass .: 1979), p2 1.

'*Nasr, Islmic Art. . ., p37.

55

diverse because of the intervention of darkness which lacks intriwic reality?

Light is the symbol of the spiritual world here in the materiai world and

represents clarity, intellect, the good and the Divine. It is the opposite of

darkness, evil, the obscure, the confùsed. The Qwan says that "the man fkom

whom God withholds His light shail find no Light at all"(24:40). Light

symboiicdy corresponds to existence because no form cm be perceived without

i t Yet light cannot be understood without darkness, shadows accentuate the

radiance of light. This interdependence of opposites affirms the unïty of al l

things.

The next concept, also a symbol of Uni% is the use of the void in

Islamic architecture. Haider says that the ritual prayer that takes place in a

mosque is a smvhg "to 'see the Unseeable', to 'imagine the Unimaginable', to

be 'closer to the One Who has no location'."" He also says that the mosque

conveys this sense of divine presence through its empty spaces. "Concrete

sensual reaiity is always overpowered by the pewasive presence of the spirit

which is independent of the senses. The Divine is beyond image and

representation. . . . The divine presence can only be duded to by the absence of

matter.""

''Burckhardt, Comments during symposium, Architecture Syrnbol. . ., p37.

%aider, Faith and. . . , p68.

nHaider, "Islam, Cosmology, and Architecture", Aga Khan Program, Theories and Principles of Design in the Architechrre of lslamic Societies, (Cambridge: 1 988),

56

Just as the emptiness of the mosque provides no object to attract

attention, the concept of orientation provides no sacred spot within the mosque.

"The Muslim has always been trying to orient himseif in the undifferentiated

vasmess of the earthly exile."" The floor of the mosque symbolizes this

vastness. The w d in the direction of the Ka'ba in Mecca, the qibla, with its

mihrab or niche, determines the orientation for prayer, but it is not a focal point

for prayers. The minaret or dome may have incredible height and decoration,

but the spintual focus is not directed upward. The orientation is strictly

horizontal, dong the floor, through the qibla waii, and across the surface of the

earth in the direction of Mecca. With no furniture, the emphasis is on the floor.

the terrestrial surface. The worshippers kneel on the floor, place their foreheads

on the floor, and wallc on the floor without shoes.

If the orientation within the mosque is directed away fkom the intenor

space, the visual attention is kept within the space. The next concept,

introversion, is characterised by the courtyards and gardens which effectively

provide a peaceful refuge from the outside world, and the inner facades which

direct concentration inward encouraging meditation. Fountains and

watercourses are common in these interia spaces, as reminders of the "running

water" that is so frequently mentioned in the Quranic descriptions of Paradise

(29%). Within precise boundaries, these courtyards provide a single

uncluttered settuig with no disparate or distractkg elements. The courtyard

walls provides a setting for meditation and contemplation - the kind of

boundary referred to by Heidegger as "not that at which something stops . . . the

boundary is that fiom which something begins its pre~encing.''~~

The use of caIIigraphy as decoration is a concept that, if not unique to

Islamic architecture, is certauily one of its main Merences fkom the architecture

o f other societ ie~.~~ The quotations fkom the Quran, fonning seemingly abstract

patterns around the w d s of a mosque, represents the word of God and the

presence of God. The message contained in this calligraphy is usually an

affirmation that there is no other god but God, and that there is nothing on earth

or in heaven except that which God has created. Each word is a part of the

revelation and, as such, is God's Word. Even if the words cannot be read, the

symbolic content of this decoration is clear. Burckhardt says the "Divine word

goes beyond reading. It is quite legitimate that the noditerate members of the

community are aware that the Koran is inscribed there and that it has a sacred

quality."" klamic architectural calligraphy is consistent with Gadamer' s

definition of the nature of decoration in that it performs a two-sided mediation:

%h.rth Heidegger, "Building, Dwelling, Thinking", Neil Leach ed., Rethinking Archilecture, (London: 1997), p 1 OS.

"Burckhardt, comment, Architecture as Symboï. . ., p41.

58

"namely to draw the attention of the viewer to itself, to satisw his taste, and then

to redirect it away fiom itself to the greater whole of the context of Iife which it

ac~ompanies."'~

The concepts of geometry and symmetry brhg discipline and order to

IsIamic architecture. It is ofien stated that Islamic architecture and decoration

are characterized by a strong reliance on geometry and mathematics with

symmetry being one of the basic principles of its design." These principles are

difficult for an observer to experience because they depend so much on the

point of view. Roger Scruton says that "what is harmonious fiom one angle is

not necessarily hamonious nom another . . . . How then can any purely

mathematical theory be used to predict a 'harmony' that is in essence visual,

dependent upon the aspect of the building from many points of view."

However, even if, as Grabar states, "[tlhere does not exist a single instance

justifj4ng the view that the Muslim community . . . as opposed to individual

thinkers, understood mathematical foms as symbolizing or iliustrating a Muslim

cosmology,"35 geometry, symmetry, and cosmology are fundamental concepts in

3%ans-Georg Gadamer, "The Ontological Function of the Occasional and the Decorative", in Leach, Rethinking. . . , p 13 5.

33Yasser Tabbaa, "Geomeüy and Memory in the Design of the Madrasat al- Firdows in Aleppo", Aga Khan Program, meories . . ., p23.

34Roger Scruton, n e Aesthetics of Architecture, (London: 1 979), p6S.

''Oleg Grabar, nie Medation of Onuunent, (Washington: 1989), p 1 5 1 .

59

the design of Islamic architecture, leading fkom complexity and multiplicity back

to uIlity.36

The finai concept in the study of Islamic space, within the Limited

criteria of providing direction for the photograp hy of Islamic architecture, is that

of the trmsition zone as experienced in the physical and Msuai movement

through space. The portal enhies and psssageways both help to ease the

transition from busy Street to peaceful courtyard and generate anticipation and

surprise in the discovery of the interna1 spaces. Within the individual spaces,

these transition zones exist in a small scde. The stalactite muqums vaults and

squinch zones in the domes provide a transition fiom the square space below to

the dome above, fiom the solid foms of the vault to the void encloseci, "fiom the

earth to the heavens."" Richly decorated dooa and stairways invite passage

through the small spaces. Wmdows, screens, and shutters d o w filtered light to

enter the space and control the views fiom this space to the outside.

Thû outline of concepts is not meant to be complete. It is a synopsis

of common concepts found throughout the various sources of information on the

visuai nature of Islamic architecture - concepts which wiU give direction to any

attempt to capture the essence of a particular building or space in a visual

representation.

'%eith Critchlow, "Astronomical and Cosmologid Symbolism in Islamic Pattern: The Objectivity of Sacred Geometry", Aga Khan Program, Theories. . ., pS6.

5

The Mosque, Madrasa, and Tomb of Sultan Hasan

To find the essence of the Sultan Hasan Cornplex, it is necessary to

briefly outline the nature of the building and the context a d putpose of its

construction. Although Islam did not have a clergy structure comparable to that

of Chnstianity, fiom the eleventh century onward inteiiectual and spirituai - leaders appeared within Muslim communities forming a sort of religious

institution. This led to the development of nadrasas. or religious schools,

which were built and endowed by ruling princes or m i r s as institutions of

oahodox religious, philosophical, inteiiectuai, and legal educatioa The mosque

was often no longer an independent building but part of a larger complex that

could include a school. hospital, library, accommodation for hovellers. and the

tomb of the patron. The Sultan Hasan is such a complex, bringing together ail

parts of social Me, both sacred and secular - prayer, education, shelter, social

gathering. health, and remembrance.

61

The Sultan Hasan Madrasa wasn't necessarily built to fill a need for

more classroom space; it was predominantly a memonal and a monument to its

founder, b d t to stand out among other such monuments in Cairo, and

throughout the Musiim world. Grabar says that "the building of madrusas

became the single most cornmon way in which the wealthy could show their

worldly success preserve theù wealth by making thek endowment halienable.

and prove their piety and concern for the spiritual weif'are of others." ' Hillenbrand has pointed out that for the mirs to erect monumental tombs to

themselves was in clear contradiction of strict Islamic priaciples. By attaching

them to pious fomdations, such as mosques or madrasas, they were able to

deflect the criticism that they were merely creating cornmernorations to

themselves.' The Prophet said "three things will live beyond the life of an

individual: pious progeny that wiii pray, knowledge that will keep benefiting,

and the charity that will not cesse.") It is this view of Life beyond derth through

the spreading of knowledge and charitable acts that die Sultan Hasan mosque,

madrasa, and tomb present

'Oleg Grabar, in Hiii, Isimic Architecture md its DecordonY (London: 1964). p42.

%obert Hiiienbmd, in Hill, Isiàmic Architecture in N i h Afic4, (Hamden: 1 976). p3 1. . -

'A widely accepteci saying of the Propha Muhammad quoted in Haider. meories and Principes. . ., (Cambridge, Mass.: 1988), p80.

62

The Sultan Hasan complex was built between 1356 and 1362, duting

Mamluk reign in Egypt The highly centralised system of government of the

Marnluks led to the emergence and dominance of a class of wealthy patrons.

Cairo was the principal ci@ and site of the principal religious and culturai

institutions of Islam- Artists and artisans came to Cairo fiom al1 parts of the

Near East and, as work was plentifid, few ever le&. Cairo was growing

enormously at this the , and space for building was becoming limited. A

building had to f i t within existing stmts and buildings and, as in the case of the -

Sultan Hasan complex, the irreguiar exterior gives no clues as to how the interior

spaces develop (Fig. 12). Hillenbrand describes how "facades were heightened

util they towered clinlike over the narrow streets, almost blocking out the light

(Fig. 13). TaU and profbsely decorated minarets, with successive storeys -

square, octagonal, and fially circular - superimposed on each other, underlined

this vertical ernphasis."'

The order and symmetry that is lacking on the exterior is ernphasized

in the interior. At the centre of the building is a courtyard faced by four iwrrns,

or high vaulted recesses. one on each side facing each other in a cruciform

pattern (Fig. 14). The i w m on the south-east side in the direction of Mecca (this

'Robert Hillenbmd, "The Histoncll Seaing . . .", in Hili, Islcmc Architecture in North Afica, p34. Here he gives a gwd account of the central impoxtance of the city of Cairo, and how the Sultan Hesan complex "faithfuliy reflects a society moulded by a single city, a single class of patrons and a single religion."

63

direction of orientation is called qibia) serves as the mosque. The qibla iwan is

the most richly decorated and contains the mihrab niche, which indicates the

direction for prayer, and the mi*, or pulpit (Fig. 15). However, prayea c m

be carried out in any of the four i w m as long as the orientation towards the

qibla is observed The iwan arches have been enlarged util they take up

ahost the entire dimension of the four w d s , and have such a remarkable height

that their emptiness dominates the whole building. The walls are so high and

thick that an interior world of calm is created in the midst of a very busy city. -

Even today, the chirping of a single bird inside the courtyard easily drowns out

the noise of the Cairo traffic.

Although the formal focus of the decoration is the qibla wall with its

mihrab and minbar, and the visual focus is the ablutions fountain in the centre,

the features that have the greatest effect on the Mewer are the four v a t and

empty i w m . Of course the real centre of focus in this space is none of these - it

is the Ka'ba in Mecca This is unique to Islamic architecture where tfiere is no

sacred spot widiin the Mosque itself.

In the four corners of this courtyard, doors lead to the classrooms

and residences of the saidents and other scholars. These form dmklabyrindis of

haliways, stairways, courtyards and aparûnents which are a startling contnrst to

64

the vast emptiness of the courtyard (Fig. 16). Behind the qibla wall is the

mausoleurn, with its own mihrab, covered by the enormous dome that can be

seen fiom the outside. The interior of the mausoleum dome is richly decorated

with muqamas squinch zones in the corners (Fig. 17). The madrara rooms and

the mausoleum are entered through doorways in the courtyard and have no

separate access to the outside. The transition and orientation fiom the mundane

to the spirituai must be experienced by everyone, every the they enter the

building.

There are numerous transition zones that mediate movement through

the spaces. The grandiose portal entry is in striking contrast to the measured

vertical bands of windows on the exterior facade. The entrance foyer is very

large and dark, with a crucifonn shape that foreshadows the courtyard to corne.

Here the sky of the courtyard is replaced with a wzuqums stalactite vault being

lit only by the light that bounces off the entrame floor (Fig. 18). Dark narrow

passages lead to the courtyard, bending and angling to change the orientation

fkom that of the entrance to that of the qibla. The effect of entering the

courtyard from the passageway is overwhelming, and one of the world's great

architectural experiences (Fig. 19).

The decoration is very understated, t a h g nothing away fkom the

pwity and piousness of the architectural fonns. The colours are very subdued so

65

that even the compiicated detded marble floor of the courtyard, and the marble

decorations on the mihrab wall have a sense of caim about them. The blank

walls are used to great effect. Bands of calligraphy in carved Stone or wood, two

tone patterns of inlaid marble, and smaii rnzrqamas above the dooa are the only

decorative elements. The architectural elements take precedence over the

decoration. If there is a hierarchy in the architectural elements, the highest

would have to be the floor. Frank de Miranda says that in M u s h religiow

architecture "the broad and completely open surface of the floor, bat nowhere

establishes a special point, but simply hinctions as the face of the earth, creates .

. . a dimension of height that brkss about an involvement with 'above' without

realkhg it and bears wimess in the central space to the infinite and the awe

inspiring."'

in the Sultan Hasan Complex there exists this visual paradox of

horizontal and vertical emphasis. The eyes are constantly being directed up, by

the towering iwans, the courtyard walls, the minaret, and the stalactite muqamas

vaults, yet the spiritual focus is kept on the horizontal plane by the immense

decorated fioor, the carpets in the prayer h a , the bands of calligraphy on the

walls, and the mihrab decorations.

'Frank de Miranda, The Mosque as Work of Art rmd as Hmse of Pruyer, (wassenaar: 1977), p90.

66

The concepts discussed in chapter 4 are ail present in the Sultan

Hasan Cornplex, and provide a good point of depamire for detennining the

essence of this building. If one can define the essence, then photography

becomes the act of recogniring situations that characterize this essence, and then

successfidly capturing them on 61m to somehow communicate these

"essentials". There are many wonderfd views and details in this building and

by denning the essence it is possible to corne up with criteria for selecting what

to include and what to leave out.

Light, the symbol of divine intellect, is the primary feature of this

building. In the courtyard it can be direct and severe, or indirect and soft as it

bounces off the w d s and floors. Light and shadow climb up and d o m the

walls and move nom one i w m to the next as the day progresses. The way the

sun moves around the high wails and into the layered recesses and niches makes

this space a kind of sundial. The sun movhg through the courtyard promotes a

geocentric view of the world in which the visitor is indeed at the centre of their

own experience. In the comdors, stairweiis, and smder courtyards, shafts of

sunlight iliuminate the spaces by bouncing off floors and down nmow shaftr.

Often their effects 1st only a few minutes. In the interior spaces, Light enters

through recessed, screened, and coloured windows, making temporary displays

67

of light on the w d s and floors. Light orden the movement through the

building. Time has to be spent in transition as the eyes adjust to the changes in

light from the dark entrance comdors to the courtyard, fiom the shady prayer

hall to the darhess of the tomb. Part of the effect of the Iight is the apparent

colour of the building. The Limited colours of the Stone, marble, plaster, and

wood are muted even M e r by the soft indirect light. Most often the colour of

the light is the reflected hue of the plaster w d s or the marble floor. The interior

of the building is a world with its own unique lirnited palette.

The experience of the void is one of the strongest feelings within the

spaces of the Sultan Hasan Cornplex. The enonnous empty iwan vaults with

their simple massive forms give an intense feeling of the insignificance of monal

Iife. This space is purely symboiic and metaphysical in that it goes far beyond

anything that could be considered rational or fiiactional. The shelter fkom the

elements and the circulation of air does not need space that is thiay metres high.

The sense of the void is continued into the smaller spaces, the dark comdors

with their narrow shah going up and out of sight AU this empty space draws

attention to that which is invisible, beyond comprehension. It provides a setting

without images which encourages contemplation and meditaiion.

The orientation of the mosque towards Mecca is another strong part of

the sense of this building. The entrance corridors, in a subtle way, put the

68

visitor on the correct axis, and the path across the dorninating courtyard floor,

through the prayer haii and into the tomb keep them on this horizontal axis.

However this strong horizontal focus is in direct contradiction to the overall

impression that this building gives of incredible height. The eye is constantly

drawn upward. From the portal entry through to the tomb, every element

requires that one back up to see it better, but the space makes that impossible.

One of the real challenges in the photography of the courtyard and the i w m

would be to show their temarkable height, yet not lose sight of the horizontality

of the functions carried out in these spaces.

Geometry and symmetry are important in this building at aU scales -

fiom the overail cruciform shape of the four iwan court, to the inlaid pattern on

the courtyard floor, to the smaliest detail on the mihrab. Squares become

octagons which become circles, ending in the point of a dome. Single geomemc

shapes are repeated in many different scales, in many dinerent materials, in

widely different situations. As these proportions are dependent entuely on point

of view, camera position is of utrnost importance ifthis element is to be

represented visuaily.

The decoration in Sultan Hasan is understated, but what there is, and

the way it contrasts with the blank walls, is extremely important to the sense of

space. The bands of calligraphy and inlaid marble decoration must be

69

expenenced as a contrast to the blank w d s and the empty spaces. The

decorative details are interesthg in themselves, but it is their context that is an

important part of the essence of this building.

The Light, the void, the sense of height, the horizontal orientation, the

symmetry and geography, and the relationship between decoration and empty

space are essential elements that must be included in the visual representation of

this particular building. With photography, camera positions must be chosen to

illustrate these concepts. A beautiful photograph that ignores the fiindamental

essence of a building is of Little value in the representation of architecture.

There is no code of principles of visual design that can assist in the expression

of the essence of architecture. It is simply a case of care and forethought in

i d e n m g a theme, finding a camera position and a h e that conveys this

theme, and then having the technical resources to make the exposure. The

photographs of the Sultan Hasan Complex that make up the next chapter were

taken over the penod of one week, with a great deal of care and forethought, and

are an attempt by the author of this thesis to show that photography can indeed

show the material and spatial experience of Islamic architecture.

Figure I 1

Figure 12: Exterior of Sulian Hasan Moyur h m ihe south.

Figure 13: Principal Faca& with Portal Entry

Figure 1 4: rnterior Courtyard looking West from qiblu h m .

Figure 15: Afil~rubutdbfitrburduring Friday midday pnyers.

Figure 16: Madrasa Courtyard Figure 17: Mausoleum

Figurc l lS; Muqarnas in Entrancc Hall Figurc IL): Encrancc to Courtyard

6

The Photographs

These photographs of the Sultan Hasan Mosque, Madrasa, and

Mausoleum are a personal response to the architectural space. They represent

my interpretation of the essence of Islamic architecture and how it is expressed

through this building. They are also rny persona1 attempt to evoke a feeling

through the photographs that resembles the feeling evoked by the experience of

the space itself.. The photographs were ail taken over a seven day period using a

4"xY large-format camera, as weU as a 35mm camera for colour slides. The

large-format camera imposes a nineteenth-century discipline to the work.

Exposures are long and composition is carefdly controiied on a g l a s screen.

Each sheet of film had to be loaded on site using a black changing bag. Because

of the dust in Cairo, the camera had to be packed away between photographs and

while changing formats. With this procedure 1 was able to take only two or

three pictures per hour. Each exposure required a great amount of forethought,

both in choosing which pichires to take, and what to include in the h e (or

75

what to keep out). 1 needed at l e s t a week for this work. Photography is most

often about missed oppominities, and when 1 missed a photograph 1 was able to

r e m the following day to the same place at the same tirne. The usual case was

that when 1 saw a photograph, it was already too late to capture it. The Sun

moved across the surfaces of the courtyard so quickly that within five minutes

an efTect would be lost. 1 spent as much time obsewing and recording potential

photographs in a notebook as 1 spent doing camera work.

The amount of tirne was dso essential to my understanding of this

space. 1 had not spent time in this building before and it is only with tirne that

the strengths and the essence of a space can make itselfevident. Photographs

should reflect the response of a photographer to the space and so it is important

that a photographer have enough t h e to respond. Edward Weston said: "1 start

out with my mind as fiee fiom an image as the silver nIm on which 1 am to

record, and 1 hope as sensitive."' Even seven days was not realiy long enough.

With aii its sameness, the courtyard was constantly changing and appeared

different to me each day. Certainiy photographs taken on the seventh day

pleased me more than those taken on the first day.

1 should explain a few pre1imina.y decisions. The fkst decision was

on the question of including people in the photographs. For the most part 1 have

'Edward Westoa, "Photography - Not Pictoriai", Nathan Lyons ed., Photographers on Photography, (Englewood Cliffs : l966), p 1 56.

76

chosen not to, and when I have included people it usually is to give a sense of

scale, and the people are shown to be of an insignificant size. George Bernard

Shaw thought that, in a cathedral, "both the Mass and the masses should be

conspicuously absent because these elements are boisterous distractions, which

can oniy sabotage a genuine spintual e~perience."~ Ezra StolIer says that "the

picture that contains people is a picture of people. . . . You always see the people

fint and not the ar~hitecture."~ ln the Sultan Hasan there is the furllier problem

that, except for at Friday mid-day prayers, it is populated mostly with tourists,

who add nothing to the medieval architecture. However 1 have used peopie very

sparingly in the photographs and I feel that it is enough to give the human

element to the building, and that the effect of the figures is even stronger as a

result of their rarity.

The photographs are all in coloui, although 1 had planned to take

black-and-white photographs as well. A photograph is an abstraction, and a

black-and-white photograph makes this abstraction clear. It does not try to be

reality. Gombnch says: "The easier it is to separate the code fÏom the content

the more we can rely on the image to communicate a particular kind of

information. . . . a selective representation that indicates its own prhciples of

2 Quoted in Kristin Potter, "Frederick H. Evans and G. Bernard Shaw", m o r y r,/ P h ~ t ~ g r ~ p h y , Vol 1 9-2, p 1 78.

'Naegele, "Interview . . .", p 1 12

77

selection will be more informative than a replica."' 1 too feel that a black-and-

white photograph can show spatial information more clearly. but after spending

time in this particular building, 1 felt that the limited colour palene was an

important part of its meaning and that the colour of the light was as important as

the nature of the light It would be impossible to get a sense of this space

without these colours. Even in the monochrome interior spaces, the colour of

the ancient stones and plaster, and the way the iight changed colour depending

on the reflecting surface. made colour film essential.

AU the photography is "straight" photography. There is no image

manipulation, no deliberate focus shifts, and no effect fdten used. in ail cases

the lem aperture was stopped down to leave aii parts of the h e in sharp focus.

This is what photography does best, and is the most valuable contribution it can

make to the representation of architecture. It is also one way in which

photography cornes as close as possible to the actual experience of architecture.

These photographs aiiow you to enter a place where time can be spent looking

around, in every corner, at your own pace. All details are accurately recorde4

even those that were not noticed at the time of exposure. These incidental

details are just as important as the main subject, the edges of the fiame are just

as important as the centre. The pictorial field is presented as a whole without

'Gombrich, "The V~suai Image: Its place in Communication", in Richard Woodfield ed., The fisential Gombrich, (London: 1996). p5 1.

78

forcing us to choose between figure and field. As in architecture, we are able to

deiecr things fiom photographs that were not actuaiiy depicted by them.'

However "straight" photography does not mean "objective"

photography. The photographs may contain chance details, but the views have

not been chosen by chance. The amount of time taken in choosing, fhning, and

composing ensures tbat th is is the most subjective kind of photography of dl. In

the Sultan Hasan 1 recorded exactly what I saw, but 1 chose what to see. Not

only was I attracted to what interested and afTected me in the building, but, as an

expenenced photographer, I was also attracted to what 1 knew would make a

successful photograph. Gombrich says that "art supposes mastery, and the

greater the artist the more surely will he instinctively avoid a task where his

mastery would fail to serve him."6 in my case, if my "mastery" ever failed me,

the photographs codd be discarded. With photography, the subjective selection

process begins with the initial choice of camera position and continues ail the

way to the evenhlal choice of the images that are presented for publication and

'~atrick Maynard, The Engine of VisziaIitallin, (Ithaca: 1997, p220.

%ombrich, "Tmth and Stereotype", in fisential. . ., p107. Here Gombrich quotes a poem by Nietzsche:

Ail Nature faiffilly - But b y what feint Can Nature be subdued to art's constraint? Her smallest fragment is still infinite! And so he paints but what he likes in it. What does he like? He likes, what he can paint!

display.

The photographs used to illustrate the Sultan Hasan Complex in

Chapter 5 are examples of what was referred to earlier as photographic

denotation. They were taken to show the size of the spaces, and how the spaces

deveIop as one moves dirough them in sequence. The camera positions were

chosen to convey the maximum amount of information with the maximum

amount of detail. The photographs should give the viewer a good idea of how

the building looked. Roger Scruton calls this the derivative fûnction of

photographs, where the picture is a means of access to the subject and is oaiy of

value if there is not a better means of access available, such as a visit7

The photographs in this chapter, are examples of photographic

connotation. It was my attempt to illustrate the ideology of the building, to fmd

the meaning and essence behind the architecture, and to hopefully recreate in the

viewer the feelings that 1 expenenced while doing the photography. They not

only show how the building looked, but how to look at the building. Scruton

sees the photogaph here as an object of interest in itself The interest is not in

the subject matter but in the use of the medium - the way that photography

presents the subject and the way the subject is seen by the photographer.

'Roger Scruton, "Photography and Representation", Critical Inpîiry 7, (Spring 198 l), p585.

80

"Interest is no& and cannot be, an interest in the literal trutii of the picture."'

The basis for my decisions on both the subject matter, and the

representation of the subject, is the structural theory developed in Chapter 4, and

the application of that theory to the Sultan Hasan Cornplex, in Chapter 5, where

I deterniined what I beiieved to be the essence of the architecturai space. The

most famüiar view of the interior of this building is the view of the courtyard

fountain shown in the David Roberts painting and the Lorent photograph (Fig.

20). It is an important view, as it is the first impression one gets after leaving

the dark comdor. 1 enjoy this view very much, but it is almost too obvious, and

does not Say what 1 feel is important about the meaning behind this space. This

building is not about a fountain in a square, it is about the relationship between

man and space, and between man and God.

1 photographed the fountain many times because the iight on it was

constantly changing as the sunlight hit it directly, reflected off the surrounding

wails, or was obscured by clouds. However 1 found the foutain most useful as

a means to show the symmetry of the courtyard (Fig. 2 1). in the photograph

looking towards the south ilvan, by showing only one of the four courtyard

facades, the symmetrical elements are accentuated and the iwan is just part of the

8 1

composition rather than a spatial element In the view through the fountain

toward the mihrab, a long focus lens has been used to radically crop the image.

Space is eliminated and the symmew takes over (Fig. 22). The photograph has

the feel of a Persian miniature painting with all elements equally detailed and

equaily important. The eye moves fiom plane to plane with ease.

The dome over the fountain was also usefui as a reminder of the dome

over the mausoleum, and the ubiquitous dome of Islamic architecture. in the

detail photograph of this dome, the unmistalcable shape is a symbol of Islam and

the calligraphie inscription, carved in wood, is the holy Word (Fig. 23). This is

placed on a field created by the empty vauk, and lit by a soft glow nom an

undetennined source. The detail of the doorways to the students' chambers is lit

by this same glow. The soft iight, casting no shadows, tums this photograph

into a geometric composition of Stone, marble, and wood shapes (Fig. 24).

The photograph of the shadow climbing the w d is another geometric

composition, this time formed by the proportions of light and shadow (Fig. 25) .

The shadows let us understand the shapes and the fonns and emphasize the small

projections as weil as the large recesses. They also show the passing of the,

and add a fourth dimension to a photograph. The shadows in this building were

iike the hands of a docks. Mer two days in there 1 could teil the tirne within

ten minutes just by the position of the shadows.

82

These same shadows defme the space in the next photograph, but this

time the essence of the photograph is height. The sharply defined shadow makes

an icon out of the emblematic shape of the iwan (Fig. 26). The shadows on the

wall, acting as sentries on either side, have their source revealed at the top of the

fiame. The large dark void in the recess, and the tiny figure on the floor signiw

not ody the enormous physical size of the space, but also the insignificance of

mortal Me in relation to the Divine Presence represented by the void-

Darkness is not the only way to draw attention to the void. In the

photograph of the qibla iwan, a mystic light fiom down below, bouncing off the

courtyard floor, takes ail the weight out of the vault and 1- the eyes up into the

empty space (Fig. 27). The concept of height, the vault, and the void is repeated

throughout the building in every different space and at every different scale. tn

the photograph of the s m d madrasa courtyard a üght £iils the space fiom an

unseen source high above (Fig. 28). The Puanesian imagery of confinement,

repeated over and over, drawing the viewer in, then up, and finally out, is h m e d

within the same arch shape that dominates the previous photograpbs.

- This theme continues through the corridors and stairweils. in the

photograph of the corridors and gate, the shape of the arch is repeated several

tirnes, the colours changing as the source of the light changes nom the blue of

the sky to the warm tones of the sunlight reflecting off the carpet on the noor

83

(Fig. 29). In the entrance haii, the niche shape is repeated again, but this time

the infite height is replaced by the innnite detail of the high muqamas vadts

animating the deep shade with fascinating craftsmanship (Fig. 30). in the

photograph of the small stairweii, again leading up towards Li@& the pointed

arch, the niche, and the void, appear on a very human scale (Fig. 3 1).

Even at the smdest scale, in the mihrab niche detail, the void is

clearly shown. The presence of the Divine is also symbolized by the presence of

his Word in the highlighted calligraphy. The ambiguous shape, that can just as

easily be read as a darkened dome, adds even more of a sense of mystery as to

what reaLly is present in this photograph (Fig. 32).

It is a cliché that photography is the study of light, Light is di that the

film is sensitive to and ail a photograph can record. Yet in the Sultan Hasan, the

light makes its presence felt, not just in the way it transforms objects, but as an

object itseif. The photograph of the dark comdor with shafts of light seems to

capture the exact moment when light entered the space. The shafls of light,

streaming through the screen, tum light into a physical object (Fig. 33).

The photograph of light strikiog the single lamp is an image not only

of light and space, but t h e as well (Fig. 34). The height and the void are

obvious, but the iight is caught in the act of entering this space at the instant it

entered. This representation of time is quite iiteral as weli as metaphorical. This

84

effect lasts for only a few minutes each day, and only on a few days each year.

In the photograph taken of the same iwan a few hours later, the wam light of

Divine intellect is waiting out of si& and conûasts with the soft coolness of

the empty intenor (Fig. 35).

Sometimes light can be so potent that it seems to be able to dissolve

matter. n ie ïight entering the dark tomb chamber has burst through the window

in three places, sending shafts of light to the floor (Fig. 36). At the same tiuïe

this light is putting pressure or; the door, and we feel that before long it too wiU

be unable to contain the force of the iight. In the close up of the window, the

Divine light has passed through the window and points to the Divine Word (Fig.

3 7).

In spite of the pervading sense of height expressed by this building,

the spiritual focus or orientation is horizontal, dong the floor, dong the surface

of the earth, towards Mecca As a photographer it is easy to be so irnpressed by

the height that this important orientation is lost The night photograph of the

courtyard keeps ail the vertical elements in the fiame, but the low canera

position, the row of lights, and the reflections highlighting the floor, keep the

focus of attention low (Fig. 38).

The photograph of the people at the doorway uses the high doors to

maintain the sense of height, but the floor, the carpet, and the altemathg bands

85

of marble make the horizontal orientation clear. The Line of sight between the

figures in the fiame adds an unseen additional horizontal iine to the picture (Fig.

3 9).

To show this horizontal orientation in a vertical composition is more

challenging. The two photographs taken in the north iwan, in the direct

sunlight, try to accomplish this by guiding the eye to the horizontal elements.

The figure seated in the iwan, white against the darkness, draws our attention to

the floor (Fig. 40). The next photograph tries to do the same by filiing the

vertical fkame with a series of horizontal lines: the large expanse of courtyard

floor, the line of the carpet, the iwm floor, and the Line created by the shadows

on the wall and the Lamps. The size and height of the iwun are inferred; the

shape is described by the shape of the small niches, and the scale given by the

large shadow of the arch (Fig. 4 1).

The photograph of the mihrab again uses a seated figure to emphasize

the floor Fig. 42). Even though the height and emptiness of the vadt are

strongly represented, the frieze of calligraphy, the lamps, the carpets, and the

niche itself, keep the viewer grounded. Similarly the seated figure in white,

whose legs echo the lines of the carpe& the step, and the shadows, provides a

strong horizontal contrast to the vertical lines of the waii and columns (Fig. 43).

The most magical part of this photograph however is the dark void of the

background, lacking any de finition or dimension.

Ezra Stolier cded Frank Lloyd Wright's Faliingwater, "an

ovenvhelming grand motif that is repeated and reeinforced in many ways and by

means of many leitmotifs. . . . a symphony that is experienced over time. To

show but one photograph, as is so ofken done of Fallingwater, is like presenting

one bar of Beethoven's Fifth Symph~ny."~ This is the view of a photographer.

and no matter how valid, in the presentation of architecture, ualike the

presentation of music, the use of the single image is most often the nom. The

Sultan Hasan is another building that resists the single view. The last

photograph in the portfolio is my attempt to overcome this resistance, and

present what 1 feel is the essence of this building and this space in a single fiame

(Fig. 44).

The floor, the blank wall, the void, and the decoration of the mihrab.

share the space of the representation in their symbolic proportions. The camera

is low to allow the viewer to relate to the beautifully decorated floor. Horizontal

and vertical lines offset each other. The Word winds its way through the

composition. The geometry of the space is evident in the shape of the half-arch.

as well as in the proportions of the composition of the photograph itself. The

entire scene is washed with a soft light, nom an unseen source, creating subtle

'Saunders, Modern Architecture, p76.

87

shadows. This particular view lacks a great deal of factual Monnation about

how the space looks, but it contains ail the elements that 1 determined to be the

essence of this building.

Figure 20: Courtyard looking West

Figurc 2 1 : Courtyard looking South

Figure 22: View througli Fountain to Mihrub.

Figure 23: Dome over Fountain.

Figure 24: Doonuay to hludrc~su.

Figure 25: North lwur and door to Aludt-ustr.

Figure 26: View towards North lwurr,

Figure 27: View towards Qiblu /WUIL

Figure 28: A~drusuCuurtyard fmm hun.

Figure 29: Corridor from Entrance Hall to Courtyard

Figure 30: Eninnce Hall wi th Afuqurir~s Vaulis.

Figure 31: Stainvay in Hospital

Figure 32: Ali/irah detail.

Figure 33: Hall way to Hospital.

Figure 35: South iwutl at sunset.

Figure 36: Mausoleurn

Figurc 37: Window and Calligmphy &tail in Mauîolcum.

Figure 38: Courtyard and Qiblu Iwun at night.

Figure 39: Courtyard Enirance

Figure 40: North l ~ i c u r .

Figure 4 1 : North [WUIL

7

Conciuding Remarks

RG. CoUingwood says that "the tme definition of representative art is

not that the amfact resembles the original, but that the feeling evoked by the

artifact resembles the feeling evoked by the original."' Photography through its

denotative and connotative messages, is able to both resemble and evoke.

Because the photographic image is actually caused by the original, it can't help

but visually resemble the subject, even if one camot recognize the point of view.

For a photograph to evoke a feeling, the photographer becomes as important as

the original subject. The photographer had to be moved enough to want to

record the original scene, and any feeling evoked by the photograph is fïitered

through the photographer's own experience and vulaerabiiity. Some

photographs cm communicate on their own and a few evoke such strong

feelings that they have become the images used to represent an entire epoch.

The astronaut on the moon reflecting his spaceship in his visor, the execution in

'R.G. Collingwood, The Principles of Art, (London: 1938), pS3.

1 1 1

a Saigon Street, the crowd at Woodstock, the gates of Auschwitz, ai i are images

that have gone far beyond the original circumstances, or the reactions of the

photographers, that led to their creation. They no longer speak to their original

subject, but refer to universal concepts. Such photographs are unique, often

accidental, and their effects are completely unpredictable. To consciously try to

summon up or recreate feelings in a photograph requires planning and care long

before the photograph is taken.

The two fbnctions of denotation and connotation, providing facts or

feelings, are quite separate. They may not be possible in one photograph,

although even the most connotative photograph will likely contain some facts.

With the photographs of the Suitau Hasan, some basic visual facts were

necessary in Chapter 5 to provide a context for the other images. Farniliarity

with a building, especiaily if it is an unfamiliar kind of structure, is helpfûi - one

should know what a building looks iïke before they try to h o w what it feels

like.

With architecture it takes time to understand what feelings should be

represented. Meanings of buildings are seldom obvious. Walter Benjamin says

that this is because "architecture has always represented a prototype of a work of

art the reception of which is consummated by a coliectivity in a suite of

112

distraction."' Most people see and use buildings without ever looking for a

meaning. Buildings have a fimction and fit in with the life of a community, they

are not ends in thernselves. For a photographer, the m e d g or essence of a

building must be approached in two ways. By studying the culture that

produced a building, a photographer can surmise the intentions of the architects,

patrons, builders and users. By studying the building itself before starting to

photograph it, the photographer can defhe bis or her own response and the

images that triggered this response.

Photographing architecture is a tirne-consuming process. To

understand a building, and to present this understanding tnithfully, one has to

take enough time to get to know a building. Of course it is possible to

photograph a building in an h o u or two, and the photographs may be quite

stunning. But architectural photography is more than producing pleasing neutral

compositions using buildings as subject material. Photographers must prepare

themselves for what they will see, and then once at the site, spend time

expenencing the space in all its aspects and conditions. This tirne has to be

spent before the photographs are taken. To arrive at a site and take hundreds of

photographs with the expectation that they can be cropped and edited later

according to some criteria is unlikely to produce usefbi results. Photographers

'Walter Benjamin, "The Work Of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction", IZZztminations, Hannah Arendt ed., (New York: Harcourt Brace, l968), pz4 1.

113

working quickly look for views that are visually striking and compositions that

have been successful with other buildings. While they acknowledge the

relationship between the viewer and the subject, their main criteria is the

relationship between the Mewer and the photograph. The main work of the

photographer has to be behind the camera, before the picture is taken. Edward

Weston said that "until the photographer has learned to visualize his final result

in advance, and to predetermine the procedures aecessary to cany out that

visualization, his finished work will represent a senes of lucky - or unlucky -

mechanical accident^."^

This amount of time and preparation may not be possible as it is a

very expensive way to work. Spending many days at a site to discover the

essence of a building could pose an economic hardship when time or budget is

limited, and cm be disruptive to the fûnctiouing of the building. Sometimes al1

that is required is a superficiai visual record. However ifphotography is to

facilitate the understanding of architecture, then the photographer has to take

enough time to reach an understanding of the building. There is no prescribed

amount of time for this, it depends upon the site and especially the

photographer. The two photographers discussed in Chapter 2 took their equally

remarkable images using very different approaches. Frederick Evans, an

'Weston, Phofographers. . ., piS6.

114

amateur, would spend as Long as necessary at each site until he felt that he had

on film an accurate representation of his own emotional response to his Gothic

interiors. Ena S toiier, the consummate professional, could efficiently discover

what he believed to be the essence of a building, either by discussing it with the

architect or by using his own architectural background for judgement He

understood exactly what Light would do to the building over fime and had the

technical ski11 to capture the image he had pre-visualited.

The role of the photographer, in selecting what to photograph, is

fundamental to the way a building is understood through photographs. If, as this

thesis contends, most of us gain our knowledge of architecture not from visiting

buildings, but f?om seeing photographs of buildings, then our knowledge of

architecture depends upon the reactions, preconceptions, and sensitivities of

photographers. It also depends upon the equipment used and the technical

ability of the photographen to use this equipment appropriately. The ability of

the camera and the lem to alter the way the world looks is well known but not

widely understood Even f i e r years of seeing the narrow Mews of far away

objects provided by telephoto lenses, one is still puzzled by the apparent

squashing of perspective. The prosecutor in the O.J. Simpson trial thought it

necessary to remind the jury that the photographs presented by the defence had

been taken with a telephoto Lens and "the compression of space is prejudicial to

accurate description."' Of course the same codd be said about the enlargement

of space by wide-angle lenses, the ususal lens used in architectural photography.

There is a dwerence between actual space and the view of space through a

camera Iens. With digital imaging, and image manipulation, the ability of

photography to be "prejudicial to accurate description" is greatly enhanced..

The camera not ody sees Merently than the eyes do, it also sees

diEerently with evexy different user. When photographs are used by juries for

the confeming of awards of architecture or the judgement of architecturai

competitions, the contributions of the different photographers is largely ignored.

Different photographers have different technical and artistic abilities, difTerent

equipment, and different approaches to architecture. These merences are

unavoidable and, depending upon the individual and the circumstances, they can

be enormous. It is an act of faith on the part of any viewer to assume that a

photograph honestly represents a building, and that the building actuaiiy looks

the way it looks in the picture. They have to trust that the fiaction of a second

captured on film is representative and gives an accurate indication of the

character of the building through cycles of changing conditions. h i e s in

architectural compe titions have to have this same faith, mdtiplied many times

over, when l o o h g at dinerent entries taken by many dinerent photographers.

'Marcia Clark, from the coun record, Sept. 8, 1994, quoted in Maynard, p196.

116

Edward Weston summed up the role of the photographer as: "Man is

the actual medium - not the tool he elects to use as a means. Results aione

should be appraised; the way in which these are achieved is of importance oniy

to the maker- To the extent that the completed work realizes depth of

understanding, uniqueness of viewpoinî, and vitality of presentation, will the

spectator respond and participate in the original experience."'

The photographs of the Sultan Hasan Complex cm be used as both a

means of discovery and demonstration of what the camera can do in representing

an Islamic monument- In taking them, 1 reached severai conclusions about the

development of a methodology for the photography of Islamic architecture.

Oleg Grabar has cautioned that there is danger in trying "to seek general and

abstract meanings in what has been a concrete and personal experience . . . its

danger is that unique cultural expenences can much too easily be transformed

into meaningless and obvious generalities? My conclusions are not meant to

suggest a code of design principles, d e s of composition, or a List of

photographie techniques for caphiring Divine light on film. However, the

impressions gained by an experienced architectural photographer, afier eight

'Edward Weston, "A Contemporary means to Creative Expression", 1932, in Pho~ogruphers . . . , p 1 58.

%rab ar, Architecture as Symbol, p 1.

117

days paying very close attention to one building, provide a valuable insight into

the meaning of architectural space and how to show this meanhg in a

photograph.

The void, the idea of *te empty space, is one of the strongest

sensations felt in the Sultan Hasan complex. hfbity is a sublime and spiritual

concept. The contemplation of the infinite universe is a spiritual activity even

for the sceptic or the atheist. W t y and the spirituai effect of the innnite are

rarely evoked by architecture itself. Buildings usualiy exist within normal

human dimensions- Islamic architecture tries to evoke the hfhite cosmos

through the use of emptiness, endlessly replicated forms and spaces, and the use

of complex geometncal decoration. Photography c m suggest or imply the

Sini te by simply not showing a complete space. In the photographs of the

Sultan Hasan presented here there is always a promise of something more. A

doorway leads to somewhere unseen, Light cornes around a corner fiom an

unknown source, a shaft or a wali disappears up to a potentially limitless height.

These photographs also use both empty space and darkness within the

frame to Mply the void. Photographers instinctively place objects in the

foreground and background to show scale, fill the fiame, and avoid empty or

"dead" space. When photographing Islamic architecture, this emptiness is an

important part of the space and must be represented.

In my photographs the most common way the void is implied is

through the use of darkness. StrictIy speaking, darkness is not an appropriate

symbol for the void of Islamic philosophy. The void represents Divine

presence, that which cannot be represented, whereas darkness represents Divine

Iight being withheld. However Edmund Burke said that "darkness is more

productive of sublime ideas than light", and has a greater effect on the

emotions.' For a photographer, the use of darkness is one of the most powefil

ways to suggest the infinite in a &te fkame.

V i a i i y every photograph in the portfolio shows the floor. That a

viewer feels more grounded by seeing the floor may seem a triviality, but in

Islamic architecture there is behind this apparentiy simple point the significance

of the floor representing the surface of the earth. It is a focus of attention and

central to the acts of wonhip in a mosque. Camera positions are kept low and a

wide angle lem is used to keep the floor in the picture, even while showing

remarkable height. The floor of the courtyard in Sultan Hasan, with its intricate

patterns of inlaid marble, is also a focus ofvisual attention. The photographs

taken in the courtyard use this floor in many Merent ways to bring the viewers

attention down to the horizontal. Views nom high up looking down to this floor

'Edmund Burke, A Philosopfiical Enquiry into the origins of our ideas of the Strblime md Beautifid, (London: Routledge and Paul. 1968), p57.

119

were very striking and would be of great topographie interest, but the feeling of

walking across this cool marble, in bare feet, would be lost unless the viewer

remained grounded.

Penian miniature paintings demonstrate the magic of having details

placed throughout the fiame, ail parts rendered in the same exquisite sharpness.

There is no merentiation between figure and ground. Subjects are given

dominance through their geornetric position, the Luies that make up the

composition (including the invisible h e s of sight between the figures), or the

relative splendour of their settings, but dl elements are equaZy well-defhed.

Recordhg detail is what still photography does better than any other medium.

Francis Frith believed this to be the spiritual characteristic of photographs.

"Every stone, every Little perfection, or dilapidation, the most minute detail,

which in ordinary drawiag would merit no special attention, becomes in a

photograph worthy of careful s t~dy . "~ The photographs of Sultan Hasan were

all taken at the lens aperture which allowed every part of the fiame to be in

equally sharp focus, an invitation to the viewer to enter in and carefûily study

each detail. It is popula. in editoriai photography today to limit focus to one

very narrow plane, leaving much of the £kame soi3 and ambiguous, adding a

Turner-like sense of mystery to a photograph. The justification for these images

'Quoted in Maynard, p20 1.

120

is the same as Ruskin used in Modem Painrers to describe the works of Turner:

the eye cannot focus on al1 planes at the same t h e , so this fom of

representation is actualIy more like reality. But reality is not viewed as a senes

of short exposures either, even though photography has made it feel that way.

One is able to move around and study things over the . The details in a Persian

miniature painting let the viewer move around an image in this way, and

accurately recorded detail in an architectural photograph can do the same. Even

if the amount of time spent Iooking is only a few seconds, aspects appear over

t h e that may have been missed at f is t glance. The fourth dimension of t h e is

an essential element of the architectural experience. Architecture's images don ' t

p a s by quickly; they can be contemplated and visited again and again.

In the Sultan Hasan, the sense of time passing is overpowering. The

photographs try to express this added dimension in different ways: through the

meticulous recording of detail and placing the details throughout the fiame; by

- showing the same subject at various times of the day and on Werent days; and

especially by recording the movement of suniight. Sualight shines through

wuidows and doors, into the courtyard iwans and niches, and d o m the long

narrow openings to the sky that light the hailways. It bounces off waLls, floors,

and carpets, changing colour depending upon the colour of the reflecting surface.

S hadows, caused by rhis light, moved quickly across the floor and up and d o m

121

the plain walls. These lighting effects changed so often, and so fast, that their

representation goes beyond literal expression and seems to embody the

ternporaiity of their expenence.

As for my persona1 methodology, 1 spent my first day at the Sultan

Hasan, fiom s u ~ s e to sunset, without a camera. 1 observed what happened at

different times of the day and made detailed notes and diagrams - practising

taking pictures. Even with this preparation, and d e r seven days of

photography, I was constantly being surprised by what light would do, by

eEects 1 hadn't seen before. It was this surprise, happening in tirne, that 1 tried

to show dong with the space itself. A beam of light, bursting through a

window, pouring through a screen, dancing dong a textured wall, or bouncing

off a floor into a dark recess, would become the subject of the photograph. 1 had

seen the effect 1 wanted, the camera position had been decided a day earlier, the

lens was chosen to fiame only those elements that revealed what 1 wanted to

show, and I would wait for the moment when the Light moved to its desired

effect. My hope was to catch the space at its moment of changing fiom dark to

iight, and to pass my original sense of surprise on to the viewer.

This is very far fiom documentation. 1 have not told the whole story

of the Sultan Hasan and have not tried to. The photographs Say nothing about

122

the relationship of the mosque to modem Cairo, either visually or culturally. If

fact it says very little about the extenor of the building at dl. Many architectural

details have gone unrecorded. The tour busses parked outside, and the tour

guides ushering groups around speaking five or six different languages at once,

the imam giving the c d to prayer for the video cameras, are a i i missing fiom the

photographs. 1 have picked the aspects of the building that afSected me and that

1 thought were important. Anythllig that feu outside the context of my perceived

essence of the building either was not recorded or the photographs have not been

included. If my identification of the essence is correct, the photographs

truthfully and consistently show this essence, using the techniques and rhetoric

of still photography. If my interpretation is not valid, all one cm have

confidence in is that if one stood at the same spot on the same day (and closed

one eye), the view of the building wouid resemble the view in the photograph.

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Men, Terry. Five Essays on Islamic Art. New York: Solipsist Press, 1988.

Anand, Mu& Ra., Norah Titley, B a d Gray, B.W. Robinsbn. Persian Painting Fifieenth Century. New Delhi: Marg, 1977.

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Barry, Michael, Roland Michaud. Design and Colour in Isiarnic Architecture. New York: Vendome, 1996.

Barthes, Roland. Camera Lucida. Translated by Richard Howard. New York: Hill and Wang, 1981.

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Gombrich, EH. The Inrage ami the Eye. Ithaca: Comeii University Press, 1982

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Technical Information - Pbotography

The photographs of the Sultan Hasan Mosque, Madrasa, and Tomb

were ail taken over a seven day period fiom Febnury 20 - 28,1999. Matchbg

pictures were taken using both a 4 " d " view camera for colour negatives, and a

35mm. camera for colour slides. A tripod was used for ali photognphy. A

spirit level and a chorneter were used to keep the nIm plane verticai.

The 4"x.S" colour negatives werc taken using a Linhof Techika

camera on Kodak Vencolor Professional (ISO 160), type S film. Lemes used

were Schneider 90mm and 120mm, and Rodenstock lSûmm and 2 lûmm. The

, 35mm colour slides were taken using a Nikon F3T carnera on F u j i c h e

Professional Rovia (ISO 100) film.. Lenoes used wcre a 28mm perspective

control, a 35- mpective control, 55mm, 80pM, and 180mm, aii manual

focus NiWEor leases. nim was no ertincial lighthg useci.

Light meantrement was done ushg a Minolta incident meter, and a

Minolta spot meter. In aü cases the aperture used wu the minimum requircd to

achieve sharp focus tt~oughout the entire thme. Ai nIm was erq>osed and 4

processed normaüy. . -