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Iznik

What do I say about Iznik? For one, it is absolutely gorgeous pottery!

Bowl, Iznik, ca. 1545-1550, fritware underglaze polychrome painted in green and blue, glazed, © Victoria and Albert Museum, London

I should probably start with what Iznik is… or better yet, where it is.

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Iznik is a small town in modern day Turkey – though it was part of the Ottoman Empire in the 15th and 16th centuries when it was being made. Similar to my last post on Delft, Iznik was said to have at one point been the result of trying to recreate and imitate Chinese blue and white porcelain. But for me, what I find really unique about Iznik pottery is the tile work!

Tile, Iznik, ca. 1550-1600, fritware,  polychrome underglaze painted, glazed, © Victoria and Albert Museum, London

Tile Work in Mosques

Iznik tile work is primarily found throughout the design scheme of Mosques, because after all, the Ottoman Empire followed the Islamic faith. I really wanted to do this post and look at the tile work, which is more religious in nature, as a way to provide an opportunity to take a step back from all of the Christmas fun to remember that not everyone celebrates Christmas. 

While Iznik had already established potteries and the technique to make a variety of ceramics and tiles, it wasn’t until after the refurbishment of the Dome of the Rock Mosque in Jerusalem that tile work really kicked off. Artisans from Iznik were sent to Jerusalem to establish workshops and train others in the craft. Other Mosques soon followed suit. Here is what the tile work looks like in the interior of the Blue Mosque (Sultanahmet Camii) in Istanbul, built in the 17th century by Sultan Ahmet I to mark the return of Ottoman power.

One of the reasons that you find this kind of elaborate tile work as decoration for Mosques, say compared to stained glass windows for Christian churches, is because the Islamic faith does not allow figural representations of ‘sentient beings’ – in other words, aniconism. Aniconism opposes the use of human icons or images to depict deities. It in part comes from a belief against idolatry, but also from a belief that to depict Allah or Mohammed as people would then make them equal to humans when they are beyond humanity. This is why you tend to find geometric, calligraphic or natural motifs used in sacred places instead. However, throughout the centuries, different boundaries have been pushed to allow animal representations as well. Often it depends on the aesthetic of the time period – though birds are more common, like this pheasant tile.

Tile, Iznik, ca. 1580-1585, fritware, polychrome underglaze painted, glazed, © Victoria and Albert Museum, London

Bringing the ‘Exotic’ Home

In the mid to late nineteenth century, Iznik tile work and ceramics moved beyond the walls of Mosques in the Ottoman Empire to adorn British homes as part of a fad for all things ‘exotic.’ Much like the Grand Tour in the eighteenth-century where people of high enough breeding could tour Italy to study the ruins and arts of the Ancients, come the mid-nineteenth centuries, gentlemen toured the middle east. One such house (that I have actually seen in person), is Leighton House, the London townhouse of artist Lord Frederic Leighton. Leighton himself had ‘visited Damascus, Cairo, Jerusalem and Rhodes in the 1860s and 1870s.’ (Porter, 1992)

The Arab Hall, Leighton House Museum, London, Copyright © 1998-2020 The Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea

He also asked friends and acquaintances who were traveling and procuring objects to bring him sets of tiles to build his Arab Hall (pictured above). Though beautiful and fantastical, it is really important to understand how these tiles came to Leighton. Most of these tiles were not bought directly from a pottery or artisan but taken from buildings, homes and even Mosques. I don’t know if the Englishmen who were collecting tiles and other goods, including Sir Caspar Purdon Clarke who was later a director at the V&A, went in and stole these tiles off of walls themselves; however, as the desire for these goods increased, there was likely a ‘black market’ if you will where locals could be paid to remove the tiles for tourists.Sadly, this is a tale as old as time and does not just apply to the British. I’m just using them as an example because of my location and familiarity with the collections here.

In the art and design history community, there is an ongoing debate surrounding the concept of repatriationRepatriation refers to the returning of objects that belonged to other countries and cultures, especially when the objects were acquired by looting or theft, from museums and institutions. You may be thinking, well duh, that should be a given. But it is a lot more complicated than that. One of the major arguments against repatriation is that the institution or person acquired the objects legally at the time. The largest repatriation debate, that we use in school to learn about repatriation, surrounds the Elgin marbles located at the British Museum. While they were technically purchased at the time, the legality and ethics of their purchase is in question, and most importantly, Greece wants them back. The museum’s main argument for not returning them is that they don’t feel like Greece can provide adequate protection and care for the marbles and are worried about their conservation. So my question for all of you to think about is: Do you feel like the museum should get to make that decision or should they be returned regardless? 

In the case of Iznik pottery and tiles, they are not at the top of the repatriation list. It is still crucial that we consider and understand how these objects got to where they are today and think about what we can do in the future to make sure our museum collections are ethical. With that being said, I first really came to learn about Iznik pottery at the beginning of this year in my Material Histories of Asia course. While we looked at several different countries and materials, we had the opportunity to spend time in both the V&A’s Jameel Gallery of the Islamic Middle East and the British Museum’s new Albukhary Foundation Gallery of the Islamic World in order to compare the two.

The Jameel Gallery at the V&A Museum, 2006, © Victoria and Albert Museum, London
The Albukhary Foundation Gallery of the Islamic World, © The Trustees of the British Museum

While the two museums take quite different approaches to what and how they portray their collections of Islamic art, Iznik ceramics and tile work feature quite prominently in both. I won’t say which institution ‘won’ in our comparison of the two, but I highly recommend checking them out for yourself if you are interested in learning more about Islamic art!

Alyssa

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