The next time you visit the British Museum in the Bloomsbury area of London, Musee du Quai Branly in Paris, the Weltmuseum Wien in Vienna or the Musee Royal de L’Afrique Centrale in Tervuren, Belgium, take a moment to have an unconventional and maverick reflection on the artefacts housed in these museums. Before you admire and appreciate the exquisite aesthetics of the many artefacts and objects of African origin in these grandeur European museums, ask yourself why are they here in the first place? And where do they belong to?

On November 27 this year, the Senegalese economist Felwine Sarr and French art historian Benedicte Savoy of College de France, published their highly anticipated report on African arts and artefacts housed in European museums in a book titled ‘‘Restoring Africa’s Heritage.’’ The writers of the report were charged by the French president, Emmanuel Macron, and their task entailed investigating and surveying African arts and artefacts in European museums and subsequently propose a clear framework on how to return them back to Africa. This plan of restitution of African arts and artefacts back to Africa is in good faith and ought to be hailed, but we cannot turn a blind eye on how they were acquired in the first place, and the commercial benefits earned by their commodification.

Before you admire and appreciate the exquisite aesthetics of the many artefacts and objects of African origin in these grandeur European museums, ask yourself why are they here in the first place? And where do they belong to?

In the report, Sarr and Savoy underlined that 90% of Africa’s cultural heritages were outside the continent and that they were on display in major museums in European capitals. They attributed this horrendous reality to the colonization of Africa by European imperial powers. The report suggests that arts and artefacts stolen, looted and plundered by colonial soldiers, travellers and European explorers between 1885 to 1960 be resituated back to their rightful owners – Tribes, communities and if necessary to African states.

European museums are now obliged by a substantiated report and basic human decency – morality and ethics – to return arts and artefacts stolen during colonial periods. The grim reality is that European museums, the so-called ‘‘guardians’’ of human civilizations and culture, housed and displayed purloined arts and artefacts. They were artistic scenes and complicit actors to crimes at the same time. So, can European museums un-puzzle this ethical Gordian knot, and do the right thing and salvage their cultural image?

After the report was published, France announced it will return 26 artworks back to the Republic of Benin, despite the West-African nation requesting more that 5000 artworks to be returned. The artefacts France promised to return were seized in 1892 as war spoiled when France conquered the Kingdom of Benin. What about the rest? Christine Mungai, a Kenyan journalist and writer is bewildered that as France promised to return only 26 artworks, ‘‘70,000 others remain at the Musee du Quai Branly in France, not to mention the 69,000 at the British Museum, the 37,000 at the Weltmuseum in Austria; the 75,000 at the Future Humboldt Forum in Germany and the 180,000 at the Musee Royal de l’Afrique Centrale in Belgium- in addition to an unknown number in the hands of private collectors.’’ These numbers are astonishing, and European museums will perhaps never return them all.

France has announced that it will return 26 artworks back to the Republic of Benin, despite the West-African nation requesting more than 5000 artworks to be returned. 

Right after the publication of the Sarr and Savoy report and their recommendations, the colonial logic and the Eurocentric approach to ethnographic arts and artefacts inherent in European museums rhapsodized and disembogue. Didier Rykner, a celebrated French art historian and the managing director of La tribune de L’art enunciated this racist logic, he claimed in a France24 debate that African arts “become works of art in museums, because Europeans said its art.” This is the same logic that dehumanised Africans and rendered them unintelligible sub-humans incapable of producing arts. Rykner proceeded by adding that African art “was not art. It was meant to disappear.”

Such paternalistic argumentations that aver that Africans produced art unconsciously or by mere chance, is what brought hundreds of thousands of stolen arts to European museums and still keep them there. Julien Flak, the famous Flak gallery owner protested: “returning the objects… is a good thing… but who are we going to return the objects to?” Julien Flak and his other analogous do not want to understand that these artefacts and objects were stolen goods that belonged to people: Africans. And that these arts have their rightful owners who were denied possessing their arts and cultural heritage.

90% of Africa’s cultural heritages were outside the continent and that they were on display in major museums in European capitals.

The looting and subsequent disappearance of artistic treasures from the African continent had two detrimental outcomes: the loss of national and personal identity and cultural heritage; and their potential contribution to African economies through artistic tourism. The arts council of England projected that for every 1 pound paid as a salary wage in the arts industry and its tourism, generated an additional 2.01 pound in the wider economy of the UK. And just in 2011, close to 10 million individuals who visited the UK contributed to the economy engaged with the arts and culture industry.

Apart from the economic loss for African states, the cultural heritage lost and effaced from the individual and societal imagination is of more seriousness. Colonizing the African continent and its peoples was not restricted to plundering resources, paralleling this process, their cultures, languages and religions were deemed primitive. And yet ironically the artefacts produced by the myriad of civilizations in the continent were shipped to European museums.

Didier Rykner, a celebrated French art historian and the managing director of La tribune de L’art enunciated this racist logic, he claimed in a France24 debate that African arts “become works of art in museums, because Europeans said its art.”

Since the repatriation of African artefacts back to the continent was raised by President Macron, heated debates raged throughout Europe. Many raised issues that utterly insinuated that colonialism did a favour for the African peoples: Europe protected African arts; ‘‘they could have disappeared;’’ private art collector Adam Lindemann interjected, ‘‘who does it belong to?’’ Africans don’t have museums to protect these artefacts. It was surreal watching the indisposed mentality of some of Europe’s most respected artists and intellectuals broadcast. Benedicte Savoy, in an interview with the Le Point made clear that there are more than 500 museums in Sub-Saharan Africa that can accommodate these artefacts in the event that they are returned back. Arguments that claim these arts will get lost in Africa are racist and unfounded. When Al-Qaeda was ransacking the ancient city of Timbuktu to destroy historical manuscripts and artefacts, local peoples smuggled them out using donkeys at night, and it took months to protect them. Africans know how to treasure their arts and artefact

The Felwine Sarr and Benedicta Savoy report is significant for African nations. It anticipates the decolonisation of African arts and cultural heritage. However, implementing the report’s recommendations will be practically unfeasible. For instance, France and Britain have to change their laws that stipulate stolen African artefacts as state property. Returning all the artefacts and objects will take years, but it is critical that European museums heed and react to the contents of this report. They cannot be celebrated as artistic epicentres and yet house stolen arts and artefacts.

The looting and subsequent disappearance of artistic treasures from the African continent had two detrimental outcomes: the loss of national and personal identity and cultural heritage; and their potential contribution to African economies through artistic tourism.

This is not a matter of obsession with colonialism or neo-colonialism as some suggested including the president of the Quai Branly museum, Stephane Martin. African arts in European museums ought to be in the hands of their legitimate owners, no matter how Europe safe-guards and treasures art. These are stolen goods. It is time to allow African youths to have access to their heritage, craftsmanship and artistic ingenuity. There is no need of displaying these artefacts in countries where African youth hardly get visas to visit them.

Indira Gandhi

“I interviewed her in her residence in New Delhi and I flew to Bangkok on the same night. When was entering my hotel room, I saw a report on a newspaper that read Gandhi was apprehended, which meant that I was the one having the last picture of her at that moment.”

Indra Gandi, Ara Guler archive

Charlie Chaplin

“Chaplin is the man who shaped my world and vision and taught me how to look at life. Back then, he was living in a manor house in Switzerland. His wife Oona was the daughter of the renowned American writer Eugene O’Neill. I waited in front of the manor house for three days to shoot photos without paying attention to the severe winter cold. Finally, Oona was afraid that I might freeze and told me that I could talk to Chaplin as long as I would not take any photos. He didn’t want to be remembered as a paralytic on a wheelchair as he knew that the camera I was holding was relentless. It would be unkind to shoot him in that condition as he embodied the most nimble character of the world, so I didn’t took any photo of him although I had a chance to do so.”

Salvador Dali

“I went to his hotel in Paris; he was staying in room 101. I opened his door; he stared at me and said: ‘Why do you want to shoot my photo?’ I said: ‘Because you are very famous.’ Then he said, ‘My one minute costs 25 thousand dollars,’ to which I replied: ‘Great, but I can’t take photos within one minute!’ then he kicked me out of the room. On the same night, I had dinner with a Jewish friend of mine and told him that Dali kicked me out, upon which he said that he was his godfather. I told him: ‘But how is this possible? You are Jewish and he is Christian.’ He told me not to fret over it, and spoke with Dali. Next morning, we went to Dali’s place at 11 o’clock. As we were staring at each other, I said to Dali: ‘I must take a photo of you. You do not have any decent photo.’ And he told me to come over again when there was no one around. I went over again the next day at 10 o’clock, but three other journalists showed up with me. So I told him, ‘you said there won’t be anyone but me,’ he said that he would dismiss the others. Then, showing his cane with a silver handle, he asked us: ‘What is tar’s formula?’ to which no one could give a proper answer. He made up some random formula and said: ‘I am Salvador Dali. If I plunge this cane into tar, this halfpenny cane becomes 50 thousand dollars. If you do the same, they call you crazy. Now go and write what you could make from what I just told,’ and kicked the three journalists out. I took his photos on that day.”

Savlador Dali, Ara Guler archive

Alfred Hitchcock

“I could never forget the photoshoot with him because it was a tough one. I wanted to take a photo with a focus on his feet. As he was a director, he knew much about photography and so he acted . I can never forget that we started working at 11 a.m. and finished at 5 p.m. He was angry at me at first, to which my inner voice said: ‘I am working with big-time guys like Picasso. Who are you? If you are Hitchcock, I am Ara Güler.’ After a while, we started joking around and got used to each other. At some point, he saw that I was at least as funny as him, so we ended up getting on well.”

Alfred Hitchcock, Ara Guler archive

Picasso

“I tried very hard to meet Picasso but couldn’t make it as he wasn’t allowing anyone to see him in order to focus on his painting. Our publishing house was going to publish a book of his. And its boss was my friend from the tavern. I told him that I would never speak to him again if he did not take me to Picasso. This is how I managed to meet Picasso. He liked me, and I stayed at his house for three days. One time, he turned to me and said: ‘You are shooting my photos, so let me draw a picture of you.’ Imagine that, Picasso, the greatest artist alive at the time, was going to draw me; but he was around his 90s then. Thinking that he might forget what he just said, I looked around to find a piece of paper but couldn’t find any. So, I picked a book out of his library, opened its cover and handed it to Picasso, thinking that I would tear the page and take it anyway. He drew me and signed the picture. There is one original Picasso work in Turkey, which happens to be in my house.”

Pablo Picasso, Ara Guler archive

Maria Callas

“I heard that Onassis’ yacht was coming. So, I immediately rented a fishing boat and found the yacht. Then I climbed over the yacht’s mast and started taking photos. Maria Callas saw me at that point. She liked that I was taking photos from there and called me over. Then, she opened her purse and started putting on makeup, and I took loads of photos of her.”

Maria Callas, Ara Guler archive

Ara Güler, who sadly passed away at the age of 90 this week, was Turkey’s most notable photojournalist and one of the best seven photographers according to the Photography Annual published in Britain in 1961. He assumed the title of “Master of Leica” in 1962.

He was born in Beyoğlu, Istanbul; lived there for his entire life, and his funeral was held at Beyoğlu Üç Horan Armenian Church. He once said: “Same house, same wife, same Beyoğlu. I have always been happy about living in Beyoğlu.” Although having lived in Beyoğlu his entire life, he witnessed many lives from all over the world and conveyed all these lives to millions with his lens. He recorded every aspect of life with his camera in times of war and peace, opulence and poverty, military and civilian regimes. He said: “Do you think shooting a photo only takes camera? No, it above all takes heart. I shoot life, and I am dealing with the problems of the human race. I photograph people’s lives and troubles.”

He was born on a summer day in 1928, five years after the foundation of the Republic of Turkey. His mother was the daughter of a wealthy Istanbul family while his father was an orphan who lost his family during the 1915 Armenian deportation. Growing up on his own, his father was a notable chemist who was running one of the five pharmacies in Istanbul. “Of course, back then, the medications could not be readily purchased, they were made in pharmacies. My father was a great chemist”, Güler said. He grew up in an intellectual family in which everyone spoke at least two or three languages, and studied in prestigious schools. In his own words, he was a mischievous kid who went to good schools. According to him, “One who does not repeat classes cannot come to their senses. Good students are always apprehensive; they constantly study due to this feeling.”

Istanbul, Ara Güler archive

After finishing secondary school, his father sent Ara Güler to work at İpek Film, the company of former Turkish Foreign Minister İsmail Cem’s father, with the hopes of taming his mischievous nature. He undertook all kinds of tasks assigned to him in the company, yet he did not become a filmmaker. “Every other colleague of mine having worked there became filmmakers, but my adventure was left incomplete. Once, a huge fire broke out in the building during the screening of an upcoming film’s trailer. I was the last one saved by the fire service. My mother got diabetic on that day out of stress, and my father did not allow me to work at film-making any longer.”

Güler then developed a keen interest in theater: “Muhsin Ertuğrul, (an actor, producer, screenwriter and art director who directed the first Turkish sound film, the first Turkish movie featuring an actress, and the first Turkish film receiving an international award) was a friend of my father. All the makeup products used in the plays were made in our pharmacy. Theater has always had a special place for me. I used to watch plays from behind the stage every night. I also have a major on drama.”

But this “infantile fancy” – to quote his own words – did not last very long despite his love for theater and the nine plays he wrote. While writing short stories for the Armenian-language newspapers and literary magazines, he studied at Istanbul University Faculty of Economics. His father helped him find a job in Yeni Istanbul Newspaper and this was where he started his photojournalism career. “Back then, there wasn’t such a concept as photojournalism, there was only photographer. I was the first one doing this profession in Turkey. Taking a photo means shooting a view or any other thing and make something out of it. But in photojournalism, you photograph the very incident and it is recorded in history. As the photojournalists and cameramen of the 20th century, we write the visual history. And it does not contain anything fabricated unlike the history written by writers. We see, write and document only facts. It is like stopping time with a machine and putting it in a capsule.”

India, Ara Güler archive

He also worked as a war correspondent and conducted interviews with guerillas in Palestine, Philippines, Ethiopia and Sudan. “Bombs exploded right by me. Of course, I was very frightened but I did not run away, and it was impossible to run away. Bullets, bombs, and smog were covering all over. Even if you managed to escape, you would still have to take 900 km to return from the front. For example, Sudan is a desert. You cannot walk there. How could you survive thirst and hunger? There were no vehicles. The only vehicles were the military trucks carrying goods or ammunitions that were constantly pounded by jets. Everything posed a danger, and you run this risk once you go there. This is what journalism is; bearing witness to the world. We are writing about the world.”

Aside from working in war zones, he photographed and interviewed many renowned figures including Bertrand Russell, Aragon, John Berger, Arnold Toynbee, Jacques Prevert, Winston Churchill, Indira Gandhi, Picasso, Salvador Dali, Fellini, Hitchcock, Sophia Loren, Marlon Brando and Dustin Hoffman. Güler once said about Charlie Chaplin: “I sent a letter to Chaplin, but received no reply. So I went to his house and spoke to his wife. He was paralytic; he did not want to pose in that condition. Einstein was already dead. But fortunately, I managed to shoot Picasso. Picasso even drew a picture of me. And Dali gave me the hell. He pecked at me, as he did to everyone. But I did not give up, I never give up! A photojournalist does not give up.”

Beginning from Turkey’s second President İsmet İnönü, Güler interviewed and shot the photos of all the political leaders. One of them was the incumbent President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan: “I know him since he was the metropolitan mayor. We grew up in the same neighborhood. I photographed him while he was a mayor and while he was entering the prison. He is undaunted. How many presidents have so far defied the U.S. in Erdoğan’s way? Which leader could speak up against America other than Erdoğan? For example, they called [former President Süleyman] Demirel ‘Morrison Süleyman.’ I like Ecevit, but I never liked Demirel. I like Erdoğan, too, as he defies the U.S. policies”, Güler once said.

This is the 5th edition of the Jameel Prize, which is awarded annually to a shortlist of artists who use ‘contemporary art and design inspired by Islamic tradition.’ The 2018 exhibition is back at the V and A Museum in London after the last event took place at Pera Museum in Istanbul (2016). The exhibition is prominent (to the left of the main entrance after you walk in) and is usually teeming with people. Being a historical Museum filled with the wonders of the world from everyday objects to intricate costumes and ornate works of art the viewer may be accustomed to soaking in innumerable works in finite rooms. However, the cramped location of the Jameel Prize would be better served by a larger and better installed space that would allow the viewer to ‘breathe’ and meditate on this art in a more contemporary context (something which felt more successful at the last edition at Pera- which is also a historical, albeit smaller, Museum). As one enters the exhibition a massive video monitor seduces many of the visitors (with benches nearby) and gives a 20-minute overview of each of the shortlisted artists which is both informative and well-produced but which tends to overshadow the actual work in both its prominence of place and scale.

And the winner is…

The world is (and has been for a long time) about lists of the best and winners and losers – sports culture is the perfect example of how the drama can be sustained, written about and marketed on a near continuous basis. Art on the other hand should be about an experience of contemplation, adventure, discomfort or even shock (or all of the mentioned and more) and the relevance of a ‘winner’ has to be questioned since there can be several works that are strong without having to choose a clear winner and loser. It should also be noted that as time passes, few people remember the winners at awards ceremonies but rather the great films, books and art that have been created over the last century. Mehdi Moutashar and Marina Tabassum were declared co-winners by the jury for this years’ prize.

Moutashar (b. 1943, Iraq – lives and works in Arles, France) is a veteran artist who in some ways feels like a ‘safe’ choice. Many modern artists (masters such as Klee, Matisse and Mondrian) were influenced by Islamic Geometric patterns and Moutahar’s work is reminiscent of early Malevich or the 1960s hard-edged, minimalist abstract painters such as Rothko or Elizabeth Murray with some added sculptural elements. In the biographical film he discusses the orientalist discourse he encountered when a student in 1960s Baghdad. However true this may be (and it certainly still happens) it feels very distant and out of step with the discussions going on today.

Tabassum (b. 1969 Bangladesh – lives and works in Dhaka, Bangladesh) is an architect and heads her own architecture firm that is interested in ‘climate, materials, site, culture and local history.’ Her use of light and materials brings to mind the legacy of Louis Khan’s work in Bangladesh (and a number of architects who have been influenced by his aesthetic). The Bait ur Rouf Mosque (2012) she designed places airflow (and the need for a building that breathes the humidity of Dhaka) alongside the creation of a minimalist sacred space of beauty. The curious observations are why is an architect’s building included in an Art competition; not because the two don’t overlap and mix but more because it is a completed building (that is six years old) and is represented by a scale model and photograph. An installation would make more sense since the viewer cannot experience, interact or appreciate a building or Tabassum’s interesting solutions to light, airflow and sacred space in this exhibition.

Emerging women artists?

Some of the artists included have work which lack some of the sophistication and conceptually rigorous strands of the cutting-edge in contemporary Islamic Art. Instead their inclusion feels forced as part of a curatorial ‘balance’ of gender/youth.

Hayv Kahraman (b. 1981, Iraq- lives and works in Los Angeles, U.S.) uses poetry to express a feminist discourse in her biographical video about her practise. The paintings use an interesting formal approach with a series of physical collages using wooden panels – the trouble is the repeated rendering of miniature-inspired self-portrait styled women feels underdeveloped both technically and conceptually. A disconnect between the poetry of identity, the use of a miniature aesthetic and the physicality of the display exists.

Hala Kaiksow (b. 1990- lives and works in Manama, Bahrain) has created a garment that appropriates Berber women with a contemporary fashion slant. She works with ‘traditional’ weavers and discusses process and the craft-based details extensively. The garments look similar to much of the fashion world over the past decade or more (many works like this could be seen in the early 2000’s in the NIFT fashion colleges of India). The work lacks a contemporary conceptual drive and tries to make up for it with a lazy ‘post-feminist’ slant that doesn’t seem convincing.

Wardha Shabbir (b. 1987, Pakistan- lives and works in Lahore, Pakistan) is another artist from the National College of Arts in Lahore. As stated in the biographical video many successful and cutting edge artists have emerged from this institution over the last few decades and several representative examples have featured in the Jameel Prize over the years (including last years’ winner Ghulam Mohammad). Shabbir invokes a minimalist aesthetic while borrowing from traditional miniature painting technique and is interested in light and temperature (and the scorching heat); the problem is Shabbir’s work feels underdeveloped in comparison to other NCA alumni and her discussion of future projects and where the work may go (installation?) prove more compelling than what the viewer is actually left with.

Conceptualizing tradition

The strongest works in the exhibition are those that rigorously explore Islamic artistic traditions while bringing something new in terms of material and concept.

The Naqsh Collective consists of Nermeen Abudail (b. 1980, Jordan) and Nisreen Abudail (b. 1976, Jordan). Nermeen has a background in graphic design and Nisreen is an architect and the work they have collaborated on takes the delicacy of embroidery and places a textured sculptural durability within a large scale. The artists let the materials speak while also respecting and researching the tradition.

Kamrooz Aram (b. 1978, Iran – lives and works in New York City, U.S.) displays fragments that have an architectural quality to them. The juxtaposition of historical pieces with modernist, geometrical canvases and sculptural stands lets the viewer re-interpret how one should approach ‘Islamic Art’ in a Museum context. His approach is to ‘look at objects as contemporary objects’ and these ideas are at the core of the entire Modernist view and interpretation of Islamic Art and are a welcome perspective from a visual artist.

Younes Rahmoun (b. 1975, Morocco – lives and works in Tetouan, Morocco) presents a compelling work titled Tâqiya-Nôr (Hat-light) from 2016. The illumination creates a sublime feeling and effortlessly mixes new technology with the Sufi object (the head-gear) while touching on Islamic numerology (the prime number) and the ubiquity of repetition in Islamic Art and Architecture. He remarks in the biographical video ‘…7 and 3- I love these numbers…’ and he also draws from a large, generalized aesthetic and simultaneously creates something that comes specifically from his hometown of Tetouan (he reflects that ‘the medina is my house’). These admirable qualities become transcendental with the inclusion of light and a contemporary use of space and media make it the best example in Jameel Prize 5 of the possibilities for Contemporary Islamic Art.

Be it Susan Sarandon’s tacit support for the Trump administration following his presidential inauguration in February 2017, or Meltem Cumbul’s unprecedented discourtesy to Semih Kaplanoğlu, one of Turkey’s well known contemporary film directors, during the 24th Adana Film Festival award ceremony held in September 2017… There are countless examples that illustrate how artists intervene in the socio-political field, not particularly with their artistic production but their words and opinions, which are occasionally blended with clear-cut political positions, worldviews, or ideologies. No doubt, few can argue against the involvement of art in politics. However, the focus here is on the artist and the issue, being styles, kinds, and limits of artistic expression in engaging with politics.

In today’s world, power is not only about political power or governmental authority. There are centers of authority that simultaneously operate in society such as local, regional and global actors, pressure groups, lobbies, research centers, think tanks, foundations, trade associations, the media and academics that are all actively involved in the socio-political field. In other words, power is not composed of a single, political center alone. Every center of authority is in competition to produce, re-shape, or influence the perception of reality. Whether or not the scale of influence affects large masses is a separate matter.

Artists constitute one of these centers of power. Leaving aside debates surrounding the value of art in regards to the genre or convention to which artistic productions belong, individuals who are recognized as “artist” have partial influence not only on people who recognize them but also on those who do not. This is the point: an artist has potential to transfer the prestige and authority well deserved in the field of arts to the political arena but this transfer of authority might be problematic since the contents of arts and politics may intersect, their nature is different.

Like other citizens, artists can feel a responsibility to support or criticize political decisions and they are, in no way, expected to turn a deaf ear to socio-political or environmental issues. Moreover, for art to be counted as art, it does not have to be disconnected from life, the realities of time, society or politics. For example, a work of art, with its contemporary relevance, can, on a universal level, illustrate how a social or political status can open doors to character defects by negatively changing one’s self-perception. When this occurs in an artwork, the audience – whether a viewer or reader – is free in contextualizing the episode with contemporary circumstances. However, if and when this message is linked with contemporary affairs with vulgarity and asperity, the audience is ripped from the freedom of choice and is fiercely imposed with a particular perspective. When the message wanting to be displayed in the artwork is turned into countenance, defense or opposition to a political party, it becomes difficult to convince the audience that the work is not a form of political propaganda.

For instance, drawing analogies between the political affairs of contemporary Turkey and former European dictatorships through theater plays written during the communist regime in the Balkans, the fascist era of Germany, or dictatorial regimes in Italy and Spain, with apparently no contextual concern, merely reduces art to an instrument of opposition. This is evidently one of the aspects of social polarization in Turkey. Political charges made in theatre halls, in an exhibition, during an awards speech or in literary work, cause social polarization on the level of arts and culture. Transgressing the reasonable limits of criticism, by creating an “other” of its respondent, the “artistic” opposition diminishes any opportunity for communication on a common ground.

It is highly problematic if artists perceive themselves to be guiding society in the right direction through some sort of cultural and artistic elitism without questioning the position that they possess and acknowledge as a natural right. This is an example of the democratization of culture approach, well known in cultural policy research, but this time not coming from state officials but cultural elites, who hide their political ideology under the “unquestionable” narrative of art while speaking in the name of their own truth, however.

In fact, when talking politics bare and naked with vulgarity and asperity, an artist does not say anything about the art that he/she knows best and which brought him/her fame. The thoughts and opinions expressed by an artist in regards to the political agenda do not require them to be fed with the provincial authority of the arts. Just like other people, an artist has a political position that is shaped by a particular social background, an outlook on life, individual needs, expectations and preferences. If they do not have a unique experience, understanding or ability in politics, their political positions or arguments cannot directly be privileged. Of course, the particular circle one belongs to, their manners and proximity to certain networks will widen their possibility of producing more qualified evaluations and analyses. It must be noted however that a person who performs extraordinary works in the field of art can manifest extremely flawed ideas in politics. It is an open illusion to render authoritarian comments of an artist about political affairs justifiable merely due to a discursive authority driven by artistic capabilities. Therefore, a distinction ought to be made between the artist’s political statements and his/her artistic production.

The reason for this is because art and politics are separated from each other in many ways. This includes their ways of thinking, modes of production, sources of information and social responses. Politics is, to some extent, more practical and concerned with the current. While taking care of issues that appear on the forefront, a politician has to decide on incomplete procedures on what can be described as a slippery and changeable platform, thus, governing in a form that includes quick thinking and practical action. In addition to burdens faced by politicians such as time constraints and social responsibilities, they also occupy seats in which they can be taken to account.

However, in comparison to a politician, an artist, or an artistic production, is derived from the individual to the social, carries aesthetic concerns in one form or another, is not under time constraint, has the opportunity to evaluate issues in depth, can appeal to the common feeling and finally, is a contestant in universal validity and durability.

On the other hand, despite all its meaning and vitality, political perspectives are often not of the nature to surround the aesthetic value and expressions of artistic reality. Positions in everyday politics are built on limited information, produced on certain alignments and shaped through various channels led by effective rhetoric. A good artwork is, however, long-lasting; its value exists independent of political perspectives and the uproars of everyday life, and it carries continuity within its own field. Therefore, in terms of nature and quality, art and politics are separated from each other.

So, where can one draw the line for a sound ground on which artists can talk politics? There is no doubt that “we” are all political entities. Artists might talk politics through their arts by focusing on universal humanitarian aspects of things, as otherwise instrumentalizing arts for the sake of political pragmatism not only belittles the artist but also diminishes the value of art. The reduction of art and culture to a tool of political opposition carries two dangers for all segments of society. First, impeding the prospect to form a common public, and secondly, deceasing the overall quality of the arts or debates around artistic production due to the political color they carry.

When viewed from a managerial and administrative point of view, extreme polarization and alienation between artistic and cultural sectors, like the present situation in South Korea, precludes communication and interaction between various actors operating in the cultural sector and thus restricts the opportunities for collaboration for new regulations to be made in the field. This dynamic works for everyone and makes it more complicated to keep governance and administrative mechanisms more transparent. Moving away from polarizing attitudes that lead to artistic infertility and narrow the sphere of the common public to a more moderate standpoint, while also ensuring that artistic production is not damaged for mere political interest, will be in the good for all the segments of our society.

This article has first appeared in Daily Sabah on March 4, 2018.

Other than the problem of combining the word “tradition” with the non-traditional word “art”, the retreatment or appropriation of traditional crafts in artistic terms today requires much more than personal initiatives.In nineteenth century Britain, those who wanted to tackle the same problem had found a traditional way to get organized: the guilds. In the pre-modern World, guilds were the organizations of craftsmen, from shoe makers and carpenters to painters and masons, which imposed rules and offered solidarity to the members. Generally speaking, the members of the guilds continued the traditions and techniques of the crafts they took over from their masters. The Renaissance artist, however, was an individual creator and had the license to change traditions. Throughout the four centuries since the Renaissance, Western arts, crafts and architecture incessantly transformed due to the dynamism brought by the concept of fine arts.

In the nineteenth century, in Britain many artists sought new ways to introduce art into society, when machine production and unskilled labor threatened free artistic production. The resistance of romantic artists required a gathering of forces, and as a result, the guilds of the Middle Ages were recalled. It was first Welby Pugin who, in as early as 1836, presented the Christian Middle Ages as an alternative to the present time corrupted by mechanized industry. It was also he who first pointed out the problem of ornament, which was for him once an ecclesiastical language. Pugin’s campaign for restoring the values of Medieval Christian communities by means of restoring the values of “Christian architecture” did not go unheard. On the contrary, it started a movement that changed the course of arts and architecture in the West. Especially the ideas of cooperation and solidarity of skilled craftsmen, and their hand-made production of meaningful ornaments, beautiful objects and buildings captured the imagination of at least two generations who sought for the preservation of artistic freedom through solidarity and collective production of brothers organized around modern guilds.

Pugin’s campaign for restoring the values of Medieval Christian communities by means of restoring the values of “Christian architecture” did not go unheard.

Pugin’s immediate follower, John Ruskin, analyzed the medieval artists’ soul rather than the vocabulary of the forms he produced. The moral principles Ruskin derived from the Gothic through interpretation – principles which were heavily depended on nature as God’s creation – were to shed light on contemporary artistic production. Because in his writings the handwork of the medieval artisan was elevated to the level of highest art, Ruskin can be considered the founder of the moral philosophy of the Arts and Crafts movement. He was also critical of the various outcomes of capitalism in society. The St. George Community which he had founded in 1871 was to be the first modern guild and agricultural cooperative, but Ruskin’s nervous breakdown prevented him from fulfilling his dream of a modern agrarian society where Nature would once again be the major inspiration for the arts.

The penetration of socialist ideas among the middle and upper classes in Britain helped pseudo-medieval collectivism to gain wide currency, especially in the romantic world of the artists. William Morris started his prolific career in such an atmosphere. The company Morris founded in London in 1862 for the purpose of producing hand-made household items for average middle class people set the standard for the cooperation of artists and craftsmen – a modus operandi which would be called Arts and Crafts. Morris aimed to transfer the techniques of the crafts to art, and the aesthetics of art to the crafts, and thus to connect utility with beauty.  As a result, the work would no longer be the impersonal labor offered to the capitalist and become once again an artistic craft, which was the key to make the meaningful environments of the pre-industrial past. To that end, Morris tried and succeeded in revitalizing old craft techniques in order to produce new art forms.

Meanwhile, modern guilds followed one after another. The Art Workers’ Guild was founded in 1884 by five young architects from the office of Norman Shaw, whose major inspiration were English country houses. In 1888, Charles Robert Ashbee started the Guild of Handicraft, which became a model for many other Arts and Crafts societies in Britain such as Newlyn, Keswick, Surrey and Birmingham. Ashbee’s carrying the guild from London to a small town named Chipping Campden in 1902 testifies to the eagerness of socialist architects and artists to create a utopian community outside the present one, although the experiment failed.

The Century Guild of Artists, which was founded in 1882 by three artists headed by Ruskin’s protege, Arthur Heygate Mackmurdo, seems to be a turning point in the development of the guilds. The Century Guild was not open to new memberships, but invited freelance contributions to be produced by the Guild, so that it would not exercise pressure on the independence of the artists – a model which would be followed by similar organizations in Germany like the Vereinigten Werkstätten für Kunst im Handwerk. The separation of the approaches is very clear in Mackmurdo’s introduction to the first issue of the Guild’s journal, the Hobby Horse, in which he criticized Morris for mixing art with big matters like politics. For Mackmurdo, instead of seeking the naturalist or realist representation of the world, the artist should reflect his inner world in his work. The individualistic and psychological approach towards artistic representation would be the distinguishing characteristic of Art Nouveau in Continental Europe.

Created by progressive designers and architects around the turn of the century and generally with the motivation of creating psychological effects with mystic scenes, Art Nouveau is distinguished from its precursor in Britain by its lack of real socialist objectives. By quickly dominating the aesthetics of any consumer goods, Art Nouveau as a style proved that aesthetics, or design, had serious value in the market. It was perhaps the most important factor behind the erosion of the historical or traditional elements in the realm of artistic production. It was – as it is now – so important that designing the aesthetics itself became a central issue for the national policies of manufacture shaped by the powers of influence around the state, especially in Germany during the Wilhelmine and Weimar Republic periods. In that country, reaction to the social and environmental problems caused by industrialization had on the one hand created the rather traditionalist Heimatschutz (Protection of the Homeland) movement, and paved the way for the rather modernist Kunstgewerbe (Arts and Crafts) movement on the other.

The national Kunstgewerbe organization in Germany, the Verband des Deutschen Kunstgewerbes was created partly by the efforts of an architect affiliated with the German state, Herrmann Muthesisus, who had studied the Arts and Crafts movement in Britain for around six years. The same Muthesius initiated in 1907 an elite and even more progressive organization named the Deutsche Werkbund, following the ideas of the politician-thinker Friedrich Naumann. Muthesius and Naumann were both against the historicism supported by the landlord aristocracy (junker) and advocated a new attitude towards the values of the urban (bürgerlich) society.

With its efforts to bring together modern aesthetics and industrial techniques, Bauhaus became a world famous school of modern design.

As a politician and a thinker, Naumann’s main objective was to prevent class struggle and socialist revolution, and for that objective he was seeking a pragmatic synthesis between nationalism, socialism, liberalism and Christianity. Unlike Art Nouveau artists like Henry Van de Velde, who romantically believed creating a “beautiful environment” was the key to the solution of social problems, Naumann had practically found the link between aesthetics and welfare. His key concepts were business and quality. Even art works needed buyers and the mass produced goods were the real market for the application of modern arts and crafts, that is, the design. The “culture of visible things” (Kultur des Sichtbaren) has been an important issue since the Kunstgewerbe discussions. But Naumann believed that neither the appearance, nor the physical quality of the objects produced would be enough. He believed that the conditions of work were also essential for the Qualitätsarbeit, which involved the design of the work place, humane working hours, the democratic participation of workers in the direction of the production, and even sharing the profit with workers. All in all, Germany’s competition in the world market depended on quality, and quality was to be represented both by design and living.

In 1919, Walter Gropius, an architect and member of the Werkbund, took over the direction of the Weimar Kunstgewerbe school and rearranged it as a common space for the education of various crafts, like a modern school of guilds. The school, which was later moved to Dessau and renamed as the Bauhaus, included in its staff famous avant-garde artists like Paul Klee, Wassily Kandinsky and Laszlo Maholy-Nagy. With its efforts to bring together modern aesthetics and industrial techniques, Bauhaus became a world famous school of modern design. After the Second World War, the United States and many other countries adopted the model of the Bauhaus for design education. Thus the history of artists’ struggle against the industrialized capitalism ended up with coming to terms with the mass-consumer markets.

Turkey has today become an industrialized nation, 90 percent of whose population is urbanized. Any panorama from any urbanized part of the country – whether from 70 years ago or recent years – will leave no doubt that Turkish society is not interested in the aesthetics of tradition, except in mosques. Among many other things, the fact that the erosion of traditional material culture occurred before industrialization became the major dynamics of the society, proves that Turkish culture does not inhere ideological barriers against change brought by the introduction of new material cultures. Besides, the intellectual reactions to industrialization and capitalism in the West, which is very shortly summarized above, has almost no equivalent in Turkey today or in any other part of the developing world. This, of course, is not always a good thing.

Like many industrialized Eastern nations, people in Turkey are also experiencing the alienation to the idea of the self, whether they are aware of it or not.

Like many industrialized Eastern nations, people in Turkey are also experiencing the alienation to the idea of the self, whether they are aware of it or not. The efforts to continue the tradition of Ottoman crafts (“traditional arts”), or adding Seljukid-Ottoman architectural motifs to despicable public buildings will not solve the problem, as nothing really has been intellectually problematized. As a final blow it should be said, that the story of revitalizing craft traditions in the West shows us that in industrialized capitalism, art can only serve the aesthetic value of an object as the design, with the intention to make it more preferable than others – a fact which does not leave much space for the so-called “traditional arts”.

After all, something must be done! Turkish reaction to the outcomes of industrialization, consumerism and urbanization must find a unique way to challenge the Zeitgeist, and this must involve both the idea of the self and the experience of the West. The disconnection between self-identity and the built-environment will remain an acute problem if traditions will be seen only as techniques or forms, because traditional techniques and forms cannot compete with global trends. The solution may be in looking for a new culture of vision, a unique Kultur des Sichtbaren, and that culture may be derived from our traditions.

Similarly visual artists from Iran and Pakistan have increasingly become prominent in the gallery scenes of New York City, Dubai and London; trained in some of the ‘traditional’ techniques (for instance classical miniature painting is still taught at the National College of Arts in Lahore) while also being citizens of the complex and media-saturated 21st century world they mix media and push aesthetic boundaries while also respecting, using and in some ways continuing certain genres, styles and techniques. Imran Qureshi’s current show at the Barbican in London provides a scintillating example of this.

Istanbul City of Culture 20..?

Historic, dynamic and energizing – Istanbul has managed to preserve much of its Ottoman architecture and has major areas which are designated as UNESCO world heritage sites (Sultan Ahmed complex and Suleymaniye quarter). Compared to other cities of the Islamic world buildings are relatively well-maintained and respected (although Republican period ‘modernization’ was a balderdash for many functioning fountains and Mosque complexes and more recently some well-intentioned renovations for the cultural events of 2010 feel rushed). By comparison cities such as Old Delhi or Hyderabad, India which were once jewels of Mughal and Deccani architectural splendour have disintegrated through a combination of neglect, pollution, encroachment and politically motivated destruction.

Istanbul remains a destination for the Muslim world because of its location, accessibility and beauty. First impressions of the city’s visual landscape reverberate minarets and water and there is a collective pride in visiting historical mosques, palaces and streets that remain so breath-taking.

The International Istanbul Biennale remains one of the major Contemporary Art events in the world and yet there is a major disconnect between the style of work shown and the city itself; it could be shown in any place (New York City, London, Toronto, Berlin) and has not in any significant way reconciled itself with the Ottoman-Islamic heritage, culture and art that surrounds it. The last two Biennales have been criticized as too political, too text-driven and too obscure by the very International Art World that feeds it (eg. New York based publications); the city’s Biennale is more ‘Western’ in its approach to Contemporary Art than the West itself.

The notion of Contemporary Islamic Art is challenging for many people. For some the very word ‘Contemporary’ has certain connotations of vulgarity or obscurity; for others the term ‘Islamic Art’ is politicized.

On the other side of the divide there are pockets of local exhibitions which display Calligraphy and other traditional arts such as miniature painting; these are often held in municipality-run cultural centers and exude an amateurishly derivative mix of mediocre skill, poor lighting and installation and an absence of any concept. The work displayed is often done as a hobby on the side and often seems honored simply because the viewer admires its ‘Islamic’ aspirations rather than on the merit, quality or idea behind it.

Istanbul needs dedicated National Art and Film Institutes that are portfolio driven (rather than grade and exam based) and which move beyond simply being a department in a University. Specialized departments that present visual art, design, film, fashion as parts of the same world as well as a reconciliation between traditional crafts and techniques and contemporary approaches to Art which highlight the importance of concept and self-expression. A move beyond calligraphy as the only authentic ‘Islamic Art’ – an opinion which has become increasingly prevalent through narrow perspectives being given wider platforms – is also necessary.

The notion of Contemporary Islamic Art is challenging for many people. For some the very word ‘Contemporary’ has certain connotations of vulgarity or obscurity; for others the term ‘Islamic Art’ is politicized. Beyond the borders of Turkey a global embrace of all the quality Islamic Art and Architecture that exists (including examples like miniature painting, patterned objects, fountains, tombstones and mosque and palace interiors) and the preservation of this work alongside an equally great thirst to create, build and express new and innovative ideas that branch out from this heritage is a noble objective – and one that is already starting to happen.