photographing the void: the camera and the representation islamic architecture · 2005-02-12 · of...
TRANSCRIPT
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
National Library Bibiiotheque nationale du Canada
Acquisitions and Acquisitions et Bibliographie Services senrices bibliographiques
395 Wellington Stmet 395. rue Wellington OttawaON K1AON4 OLtawaON K t A W canada CaMda
The author has granted a non- exclusive licence dowing the National Library of Canada to reproduce, loan, distribute or seii copies of this thesis in microform, paper or electronic formats.
The author retains ownership of the copyright in this thesis. Neither the thesis nor substantial extracts fiom it may be printed or othemise reproduced without the author's permission.
L'auteur a accordé une licence non exclusive permettant a la Bibliothèque nationale du Canada de reproduire, prêter, distniuer ou vendre des copies de cette thèse sous la forme de microfiche/nlm, de reproduction sur papier ou sur format électronique.
L'auteur conserve la propriété du droit d'auteur qui protege cette thèse. Ni la thèse ni des extraits substantiels de celle-ci ne doivent être imprimés ou autrement reproduits sans son autorisation.
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.
Selected Bibliography
Aga Khan Award for Architecture. Architecture as Symbol and Se[f-ldentiiy. Jonathan Katz ed. Symposium in Fez Morocco, Oct. 9-12, 1979. Cambridge, Mass.: Aga Khan Awards, 1980
Aga Khan Program for Islamic Architecture. Theories and Principles of Design in the Architecture of lslamic Societies. Margaret Bently Sevenko ed. Symposium at Harvard University, Nov. 6-8, 1987. Cambridge, Mass.: Aga Khan Program, 1988.
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.
Bachelarâ, Gaston. The Poetics of Space. Translated by Maria Jolas. New York : Orion Press, 1964.
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.
. "The Photographie Message", A Barthes Reader, Susan Sontag ed., New York: W and Wang, 1982.
Beny, Roloff. Persia - Bridge of Turquoise, Boston: New York Graphie Society, 1975.
. The Romance ofArchitecture, New York: Abrams, 1985.
Brook, Donald. "Painting Photography and Representation" . Journal of -
Aesthetics and A n Criticism 42 (Winter 1983) 1 7 1 - 1 80.
Bugin, Victor, ed. Thinking Photographyhy London: MacMillan, 1982.
Busch, Akiko. The Photography of Architecture: Twelve Vie ws. New York: Van Nostrand Reinhold, 1987.
Cohgwood, RG. The Principles ofArt. London: Clarendon Press, 1938; reprint paperback, M o r d University Press, 195 8.
Colornina, Beatriz. Privacy and Publici@ Modem Architecture as Mms Media. Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 1994.
, ed. Architectureproduction. New York: Princeton University Ress, 1988.
Connor, Patrick. "The Mosque through European Eyes". Apollo, July 1984,44- 49.
Crary, Jonathan. Techniques of the Observer. Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 1990.
Eco, Umberto. Interpretation and Ovetinterpretation. Cambridge: Cambridge University Ress, 1992.
Elwail, Robert. Photography Takes Commond: The Cmnera on British Architecture, 1890-1 939. London: RIBA, 1 994.
Evans, Robin Architecture ond its Image: Four Centuries ofArchitecturd Representation. Montreal: CCA, MIT Press, 1989.
Gombrich, EH. The Inrage ami the Eye. Ithaca: Comeii University Press, 1982
. The Essential Gombrich, Richard Woodneld ed. London: Phaidon, 1996.
- Henri Cartier-Bresson. Ediaburgh: catalogue for a Scottish Arts Council exhibition, 1978.
Grabar, Oleg. The Formation of lskîmic Art. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1973.
. The Mediattion of Ornament. Washington: Princeton University Press, 1989.
Gregory, Richard. The Intelligent Eye. New York: McGraw Hill, 1970.
Guesî, Anthony. "Frozen Music" in A n ami the Cameru- London: 1907.
Hammond, Arme, ed. Frederick H. Evans: Selected Texts and Bibliograrphy. Boston: G.K. Hd, 1992.
Hill, Derek, Oleg Grabar. Islamic Architecture und ifs Decoration. London: Faber & Faber, 1964.
Lucien Golvin, and Robert Hillenbrand. Isfmic Architecture in North A f M Hamden: Archon Books, 1976.
Kïllenbraud, Robert. Islmic Architecture: fonn, finction and meaning. New York: Columbia University Press, 1994.
Hoag, John D. Islantic Architecture. New York: Abrams, 1977; reprint paperback, Riuoli, 1987.
Kuban, Dogan. Muslim Religious Architecture. Leiden: E. J . Bd, 1974.
Leach, Neii, e d Rethinking Architecture. London: Routledge, 1997.
Le Corbusier. Oeuvre Coniplete, 5' Edition. Zurich: Girsberger, 1952.
Lentz, Thomas. "Changhg Worlds: Bihzad and the New Paintingt'. Ma@, volume 41-3.45-60.
Lorenî, Jakob Aug-t. Egypten Alhambra Tlemsen AIgier. Mannheim: Buchdmckerei Von Heuinch Hogrefe. 186 1. Reprinted by the University of Karlsruhe, Mainz am Rhein: Veriag Philipp Von Zabem, 1985.
Lyons, Nathan, ed. Photogrcphers on Photograp?~~: A r ri tic ai ~nthoiogy, Englewood CMs, N.J. : Prentice-Hail, 1966.
Maynard, Patrick. The Engine of Vis~~aiitation. Ithaca: Comeii, 1997.
Michell, George, ed. Architecture of the Islumic Worid. London: 1978.
Mitchell, William. The Reconfigured Eye. Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 1992.
Miranda, Frank de. The Mosque as Work of Art and crs House of Prayer. Wassenaar : Miranda, 1 977.
Naegele, Daniel. "Editorial." History Of Photography, vol. 22-2 (Summer 1998).
- "An InteMew with Ezra Stoiler." History of Photogruphy, vo1.22-2 (Summer 1998), 105.
Nasr, Seyyed Hossein. Ishnic A n and Spirituulity. Albany: SUNY Press, 1987.
Newhali, Beaumont. Frederck H. Evans. Rochester: George Eastman House, 1964.
O'Dench, EUen. More VNid Places: Victorian Photographs of Britain, The Middle East, and Orient Middletown, Conn,: Davidson Art Centre, 1984.
Ozkan, Suha, ed. Fairh d the Buill Environment. Lausanne: Comportements, 1996.
Pare, Richard. Photography and Architecture 18394939. Montreai: CCA, Callaway Editions, 1982
Perez, Nissan. Focus East: Early Photogrqhy in the Near East (1839-1885). Jenisalem: Domino Press, New York: Abram, 1988.
Pohlad, Mark. "Frederick H. Evans: The Stigma of Technical Penection-" History of Photography, v d 16-3 (FaU 1992). 247
Pope, Arthur U., ed. A Suwey of Persian Art- Vol. 5, The Art of the Book. London: Oxford University Press, 193 8,
. An Introduction to Persian Art. London: P. Davies, 1930
Roberts, David. The Holy Land. Tel Aviv: Terra Smcta Arts, 1982.
Rostem, Osman R Architecture of the Mosque of Sultan Hasan. Beirut: Beirut Arab University Press, 1970.
Ruskin, John. The Complete Works of John RUSRNI. Volume 3 -Modem Painters. Library Edition. New York: Green, 1903.
Saunders, William. Modem Architecture: Photographs by Ezra Stoifer. New York: Abrams, 1990.
Scniton, Roger. The Aestheiics of Architecture. London: Meîhuen & Co.. 1979.
. "Photography and Representation". Critical Inquiry 7 (Sprhg 198 l), 577-603,
Shaw, George Bernard. "Evans - An Apprcciation." Camera Work, vol. 4 (October 1903). 36.
Shawcross, Nancy. Roland Barthes on Photogrcrphy. G a i d e : University of Florida, 1997.
Simoën, JeamClaude. Egypte Éternelle. Paris: J.C. Lattès, 1993.
Sontag, Susan. On Photogmphi,. New York: Doubleday, 1977; reprint paperback, Anchor Books, 1989.
S teirlin, Henri. I s l m - Volume I , Koln: Taschen, 1996.
UNESCO. Iran: Persian Mîniatures, Wodd Art Series N0.6. Greenwich, COM: New York Graphic Society, 1956.
Williams, Caroline. Fruncis Frirh - Photograpits ofr't and the Hoiy Land. Cairo: Amcrican University in Cairo, 1999.
Vaczec, Louis, Gail Buckland. Truvellers in Ancient Londr. Boston: Little, Brown, and Co., 1981.
Zevi, Bruno. Architecture as Space. New York: Horizon, 1957.
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. . -