A colleague from academia sent me a note from
Leuven, the capital of the province of Flemish Brabant in Belgium. He wrote:
“You have been dealing with light and shades since I
have known you. I just read about a new study from Germany and thought about
you. You should read it.”
Of course I did. It is a quite novel approach to
archaeological “diggings” from the academic angle by Mary Shepperson entitled “Sunlight and Sade in the First Cities: a
Sensory Archaeology of Early Iraq.”(1). There are a number of theses
to the publication, but the one that attracted me most was the study of how
from ancient Mesopotamia to the present,
we have encroached upon the natural rhythm of existing creatures, humans
included, by altering the natural cycles of light through technology. Building
cities, their architecture and the impact of artificial light has impacted
civilizations by modifying the behavior of people and animals.
.. Of course, to a photographer, especially one like
me who does all his work in Black & White, it is all about shades. I like
the concept of “sensory archaeology” as I think that it is a perfect description
of what an artist does, even if the definition is never as elegant as Mary
Shepperson puts it. Artists are about defining, capturing and transmitting the sensory
in various forms of art. And, it is impossible not to be an “archaeologist” for we
always learn from past works, and build upon the successes of the best
practices in transmitting the sensory experience.
Art without the consciousness of archaeology is an
empty vessel from which no one can drink.
.. Building a house, planning for the architecture
of a neighborhood or that of a city is based both on the utilitarian concept of
constructing a comfortable place to live, and the identity of the people who
would inhabit these houses. Thus the inevitable imprint of the art and culture
of the community upon the architecture of their dwellings and environment.
Regarding construction of a house, the author states:
“The salient
process is the reciprocal relationship between architecture and human behavior;
this sees architecture shaped to accommodate specific practices and meanings,
while in return, the material architecture shapes meaning and mode of living
for its inhabitants.”
This statement reminded me of a famous speech Winston
Churchill gave in the House of Commons on October 28, 1944. He said:
“We shape our
buildings, and afterwards, our buildings shape us.”
Having lived in 3 continents, dozens of houses and
countless transient dwellings, Churchill’s quote has always been on my mind.
Because houses are identity in stone, concrete, wood or steel. The architecture
of Amsterdam is more about the willingness of its people to live below sea
level than about the parsimonious use of space. And the villages perched upon
mountain sides around the Mediterranean is more about independence than
bravado.
.. Back to my friend from Leuven. In his note he
adds:
“Ancient Mesopotamia built its streets at a diagonal
to have shade part of the day under the arc of the sun. We seem to have forgotten
the usefulness of such geometry and instead, build at right angle.”
Here is a photo I took in Leuven. A rather typical
European architecture. The stone buildings have thick walls to negotiate
temperature and luminosity with the sun, the wind, and the seasons.
In contrast, the balconies of Barcelona have always
attracted me as they reflect the people’s affinity to communication and perhaps the comfort in closeness.
Yet narrow streets can still provide enough personal
space for dreaming. Here is a moment I captured in Ferrara, Italy.
Eventually, it is all about shades of light. A
building or a street changes character with the position of the sun and the moon.
Here is how I like to think about Amsterdam.
But the sun, rain and vastness of space can also be
solemn. I took this photo in Oswiecim, Poland, of the Birkenau “Death Camp” part
of the Auschwitz complex. The archaeology, the ending rail lines, the coldness
of the rainy evening seemed to have frozen the conflicting identity of various
groups of people in time. Or hopefully at one point in time. I tried to summarize the feeling in one frame on B&W film.
Yet that very identity is what makes us identify a group’s
attitude behind the walls of structures they build. Take Cairo, Egypt. When I
saw the carpets hanging from balconies, I knew I was in an environment when the
sun is more than just a source of light and heat – it is part of the daily
living process of the inhabitants of this over-crowded city where time has
passed over countless generations.
Regarding the relationship of light and time, the
author of this study concludes:
“Time is, of
course, a major concern of architecture, but it is generally approached at the
scale of decades, centuries or longer.”
Perhaps that is where a photographer does not have the
luxury of an archeologist. I do not have decades or centuries to capture
passing time. Tempus fugit and I have the urgency of seeing its ravages or
blessings.
Here is a sequence of photos I took from Baltimore
to Prague, showing attitude, architecture, and the relationship of light and
the passing of time.
.. So, when I finished reading the study report, I
thought about the few years left to my life under the scorching desert sun of
the American Southwest. And my mind escaped to a Christmas evening next to a
lake in snowy and cold New England. In that small village, all was silent and
cold, yet my dog had that attitude of gratitude. He was old, but healthy. For
him, time passed as a daily blessing.
September 23, 2017
©Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2017
(1)Vandenhoeck
& Rupercht Cmbh & co. KG. Göttingen ISBN Print: 978352554054 – ISBN E.
Book: 9783647540535
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