Topkapi Palace

"I love this. Humans have been the same for so long," I coo, pressed against a glass cube protecting the 18th century sherbet jug inside. Its scalloped, geometric pattern reminds me of the millennial pineapple... or art deco stained glass... or 80s furniture.

"There's another dissertation for ya," Kendon says. 

I laugh.

"You could put it on your bloOoog," he adds, trying to convince me it'll be fun.

"Can you imagine? Blogging a dissertation..." I say, laughing again, "although honestly? What a flex." 

Kendon likes to do things together, and since he's been writing a dissertation for 3 years, he wants all his friends to write dissertations too. Getting us to start playing Simcity was an easier sell.

We're exploring Topkapi Palace, the former home of Istanbul's Sultans and now a museum with a very diverse collection. So far we've seen Ottoman clothing, libraries, household items, weapons, religious relics, and are currently in the kitchen exhibits. I'm learning a lot, and grateful they don't have the comically biased messaging we saw at the exhibits at the Blue Mosque ("while we acknowledge that this technology/technique was invented by so-and-so in Asia/Europe/Africa, it was only because of this particular tweak by our beloved Ottoman man that the technology became useful, so really he is the most important.") Topkapi Palace shows the interconnectedness of Istanbul without the need to posture itself. 

As I browse various food vessels, many of which were gifts from international diplomats over the years, I'm struck by how familiar their styles are.

"This one reminds me of the whimsical ceramics Gen Z loves. Like those cake mirrors."

"And what about this? Tell me you haven't seen this at Olive Garden."

Trends come in cycles, and microtrends come in faster cycles, but these cycles seem to have always existed. I don't say this so you'll agonize over whether "original" creative ideas can exist. I think it's beautiful that everything we make connects us to people throughout history and cultures. Forms and shapes don't have to be original to be valuable. 

Besides, so much of what we create is inspired by patterns we see in nature anyway. If letting nature do more of the thinking gives us more time to enjoy baklava, I'm not complaining. 

Hagia Sophia and Blue Mosque

"Well now it looks huge!" Kendon says, "why does it look bigger when you're further away?"

I'm too distracted by the smell of roasted corn to think about scale factors right now. Roasted corn is my favorite monsoon snack but it's way too hot to eat right now. Right? Right.

We are walking back towards the Hagia Sophia after visiting the museum nearby. I decide not to get the corn because it really is too hot to enjoy, and our conversation eventually returns to the complexities of repatriating artifacts, especially in places that are politically or geologically unstable. I share that what happened to Khaled al Asaad still rattles me, and that it reshaped how I made sense of the preservation and restoration of historic artifacts. 

We talk about this as we read about the cycles of destruction and rebuilding and destruction and rebuilding of this very building.

The Hagia Sophia was an Eastern Orthodox Church, then a Roman Catholic Church, then an Eastern Orthodox Church again, then a Mosque, then a museum, then a Mosque again. In many of these eras, it was looted, artifacts were destroyed, and an earthquake destroyed the roof and made some of the arches lopsided. 

Inside, it very much feels like a duomo. Many of the mosaics are different, and the aisles have been repurposed to be walkways to observe the nave, now the prayer room. The dome has words from the Quran where the portrait of Jesus used to be. But you can tell where the pews were. The frescoes of Mary and the disciples on one of the domes are covered with a white cloth. The building feels like it was retrofitted to reflect the changing community that surrounds it.  And I'm grateful that some of the art was preserved, even if its covered up.

  

The Blue Mosque, on the other hand, has very clearly been a (very beautiful) Mosque the whole time. Depictions of flowers and reeds cover the mosque's interior almost entirely. Detailed patterns in baby blue, mustard yellow, and burnt sienna cover the walls, columns, and arches. The stained glass shows the same in vibrant steel blue, kelly green, and amber. 

If you're wondering, sometimes huge objects like mountains and buildings can look bigger when you're further away because of the relative distance between your eyes and the things around it. Let's say you're 1000 feet away from a big building and 20 feet away from a roasted corn cart. If you walk 20 feet further, you're 40ft away from the cart and 1020ft away from the building. The distance between you and the cart has doubled, making it look smaller, but you're only slightly farther away from the building so it probably looks the same. Because the cart looks smaller while building doesn't, it can make the building look bigger in comparison.