4 4

TurkeyAt the ThresholdTurkeyAt the Threshold

GUEST-EDITED BY HLYA ERTAS, MICHAEL HENSEL AND DEFNE SUNGUROGLU HENSEL

JAN/FEB 2010PROFILE NO. 203

4Architectural Design Forthcoming Titles

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Today the convergence of design, engineering and architectural technologies are breeding a new materialpractice in experimental architecture. The significant emphasis on the structuring logic of tectonics isresulting in a new structuralism in design. In this pioneering publication, this important shift is fullydefined as a highly dynamic synthesis of emerging principles of spatial, structural and material orderingintegrated through the application of materialisation and fabrication technologies. Providing the founda-tions for a new theory of structuring in architecture, The New Structuralism has broad implications for theway we both conceive and undertake architectural design, as its impact starts to emanate not only acrosseducation internationally, but also through architectural research and practice. Features exemplary work by research and experimental design-oriented structural engineering practices:

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Advancing a new relationship between architecture and nature, Territory emphasises the simultaneousproduction of architectural objects and the environment surrounding them. Conceptualised within aframework that draws from physical and human geographical thought, this title of AD examines the pos-sibility of an architecture that actively produces its external, ecological conditions. The architecture herescans and modifies atmospheres, arboreal zones, geothermal exchange, magnetic fields, habitats andtoxicities enabling new and intense geographical patterns, effects, and sensations within architecturaland urban experience. Territory charts out a space, a territory, for architecture beyond conceptualisa-tions of context or environment, understood as that stable setting which pre-exists the production ofnew things. Ultimately, it suggests a role for architecture as a strategy of environmental tinkering versusone of accommodation or balance with an external natural world. Features architects: Patrick Blanc, Gilles Ebersolt, Nicholas de Monchaux, Future Cities Lab, Fritz

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4Architectural DesignJanuary/February 2010

TurkeyAt the Threshold

Guest-edited by Hlya Ertas, Michael Hensel and Defne Sunguroglu Hensel

LEARNING FROM EXPERIENCEThrough their study of the 17th-century Yerevan Kiosk and BaghdadKiosk in the TopkapI Palace in Istanbul, Michael Hensel and DefneSunguroglu Hensel demonstrate there is much to learn from historicalstructures no-energy and low-energy solutions to climate control. P 20

THE PHOENIX RISESMark Garcia profiles the current work of Amanda LeveteArchitects (AL_A) led by Amanda Levete, previously co-directorof Future Systems with the late Jan Kaplicky. P 106+

RAVEN REVIVALDavid Littlefield reviews 6a Architects new art gallery atRaven Row, an 18th-century silk merchants premises inLondons Spitalfields, which refreshingly combines cheekyreferences with authentic craftsmanship. P 120+

4+

IN THIS ISSUE

ISTANBUL 2010 EUROPEAN CAPITAL OF CULTUREAn interview with Korhan Gms, the Director of Urban and ArchitecturalProjects for the Istanbul Capital of Culture Agency, reveals theprogammes aims and its most significant projects. P 70

Main Section

YOUNG TURKSHlya Ertas highlights the work of eight emergingpractices in Turkey whose integrity and originalapproach to design sets them apart. P 84

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C O N T E N T S

40The Making of EarlyRepublican AnkaraZeynep Kezer

46Medium-Scale Anatolian Cities:Conceptual and PhysicalRoutes of UrbanTransformationBanu Tomruk

52The Potential of IstanbulsUnprogrammed Public SpacesHlya Ertas

58Current Urban Discourse,Urban Transformation andGentrification in IstanbulTolga islam

64Developing Cities with DesignTevfik BalcIoglu and Glsm Baydar

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Architectural DesignVol 80, No 1 (January/February 2010)ISSN 0003-8504

Profile No 203ISBN 978-0470 743195

4EditorialHelen Castle

6IntroductionTurkey: At the Threshold Hlya Ertas, Michael Henseland Defne Sunguroglu Hensel

14Extended Thresholds I:Nomadism, Settlements andthe Defiance of Figure-GroundMichael Hensel and DefneSunguroglu Hensel

20Extended Thresholds II: The Articulated EnvelopeMichael Hensel and DefneSunguroglu Hensel

26Ottoman and TurkishOrientalismEdhem Eldem

32The Story of IstanbulsModernisationilhan Tekeli

4+70Creating Interfaces for aSustainable CulturalProgramme for Istanbul: An Interview with Korhan GmsHlya Ertas

76Extended Thresholds III:Auxiliary ArchitecturesMichael Hensel and DefneSunguroglu Hensel

84Transforming Turkey: Eight Emerging PracticesHlya Ertas

96To Integrate or Not to Integrate?Ugur Tanyeli

106+Practice ProfileAmanda Levete Architects(AL_A)Mark Garcia

114+Interior EyeJil Sander Boutique and DerekLam Boutique, New York CityJayne Merkel

120+Building ProfileRaven Row, SpitalfieldsDavid Littlefield

124+Unit FactorThe EmTech Wave Canopy 2009Michael Weinstock

128+Spillers BitsTelling Stories Neil Spiller

130+Yeangs Eco-FilesDesigning for Low-CarbonLifestylesMukti Mitchell and Ken Yeang

134+McLeans NuggetsWill McLean

136+UserscapeDynamic Light: The MediaFacades of realities:unitedValentina Croci

140+The Museum is the ExhibitJayne Merkel

142+Site LinesLibrary of BirminghamHoward Watson

Helen Castle

Editorialmiles (776,997 square kilometres) and a population of almost 75

million. It encompasses a large number of minority ethnic groups,

including Kurds, Circassians, Bosniaks, Albanians, Laz, Georgians,

Arabs, Roma, Pomaks, Jews, Greeks and Hemshins; in 2009, it was

also visited by approximately 25 million tourists. This all results in a

nation which is aptly described by the guest-editors in their

introduction as appearing highly heterogeneous from the outside, if

not at times outrightly contradictory. It has a predominantly Muslim

population and president, but an overtly secular republican

constitution. The tug of modernisation and the West seems to be

constantly vying with cultural hegemony and tradition. Nowhere is this

more the case than in the built environment. For this reason, the guest-

editors have centred much of the issue on the question of identity,

which is so much at the fore in this expansive country, whether it is

focused on the pervasiveness of Orientalism, urban development or

architecture. This theme of identity has a great deal of resonance

elsewhere in the world where the constant tug of globalisation pitches

the local and the vernacular against standardisation and the pressure

to roll out a built environment that is often executed economically but

of a low quality. What emerges, here, is a country that is not only

economically, geographically and culturally at the threshold, but also

at the point of assuming a new level of architectural confidence,

looking beyond the polemics of tradition and Modernism and

understanding its built heritage as a repository of received knowledge

that might provide the keys to a more sustainable future. 4

Text 2010 John Wiley & Sons Ltd. Images: p 4 Steve Gorton; p 5 Yann Arthus-Bertrand/CORBIS

When dedicating an issue of AD to a specific

country or geographical region, it is always with the

intention of transcending national boundaries and

providing valuable universal insights. Turkey is, in this

respect, the consummate example. A transcontinental

country, straddling Europe and Asia, it has been of

great strategic importance since classical times,

providing a significant axis for empires and trade

routes bridging East and West: Istanbuls position at

the head of the Bosporus Straits gave it unique control

over the Black Sea, while Anatolias position at the

southern end of the Silk Road to China made it pivotal

in the medieval period for the silk and spice trade.

The result of this was that when Constantinople fell in

the mid-15th century, the full force of its economic

impact was felt right across Europe with the maritime

Venetian Republic never quite regaining its mercantile

supremacy. Bordered today by eight countries

Bulgaria, Greece, Georgia, Armenia, Azerbaijan, Iran,

Iraq and Syria Turkey is over three times the size of

the UK with a land mass of over 300,000 square

4

Aerial view of the Grand Bazaar, Istanbul, opened in 1461Istanbul's important historic status as a trading centre at the crossroadsbetween East and West is reflected by the size of the Grand Bazaar, one ofthe oldest and most extensive covered markets in the world. It incorporatesmore than 58 covered streets and over 1,200 shops.

5

TabanlIIoglu Architects, Levent Loft, Maslak, Istanbul, 2008In this renovation of an old factory building(which was never completed), the boxesextending from the facade are intended toadd aesthetic value to function. Housingluxurious accommodation, meeting rooms,cafs and restaurants, Levent Loft attemptsto call back to the city centre the upper-middle classes who have moved to thesuburbs over the last decade.

Introduction

By Hlya Ertas, Michael Henseland Defne Sunguroglu Hensel

6

TurkeyAt the Threshold

7

There are a thousand beauties But they are neversold, never seen.

Nejt1

Displayed above is a truly remarkable carpet thatoriginates from eastern Anatolia. It featured in a book onearly Turkish carpets authored by Christopher Alexander,2

who most generously and enthusiastically granted uspermission to show it here. In his book, Alexanderdescribes this carpet as follows:

Most striking in the design are the bands of yellow,with small purple zigzags, and the animals whichare repeated throughout the field. The smalleranimals are apparently fishes. The larger animals the long yellow bands, with dragon-like heads arecertainly dragons. In addition, the manner of thecarpet, with its long dragon-like tendrils, isreminiscent of medieval Norwegian carvings. JosefStrzygowski has shown how the trade route fromNorway to Armenia, along the Danube, broughtmany motifs from Norway to Armenia and theMiddle East, during the first millennium3 The

linear dragon motif, that also appears in this carpet, isextraordinarily ancient. It does not only appear again and againon 12th and 13th century Norwegian stave church carvings fromthe Middle Ages, it appears in illuminations from the 7th century.It also appears in virtually the same form, in a prehistoricChinese carving from the 8th century BC.4

Alexanders analysis of the pattern of the carpet is less surprising thanit may initially seem. The Vikings did indeed have contact with theByzantine Empire and Istanbul, which they knew as Miklagarr orMiklagrd, meaning big city. To the east, the southern route of theSilk Road connected China, via India, Turkestan and Mesopotamia, toAnatolia. Likewise, the Persian Royal Road, part of the silk routes,connected Susa to Smyrna (todays izmir), on the Aegean Sea. TheGreek, Roman, Persian, Byzantine and Ottoman empires engaged herewith great intensity. From these significant historical aspects one maybegin to sense that the region that today is Turkey has been a vitalcrossroads and cultural amalgam over the ages, where closer yet alsofar more distant cultures engaged, interacted and left their marks andtraces. The cultural variety that resulted from these connections andinteraction was, and is, very rich indeed.

Today Turkey is unquestionably an economic and political regionalpower. It occupies an important strategic role in Central Asian and

8

above left: There are still some last remnants of nomads in Anatolia.However, Turkey has not ratified the Indigenous and Tribal PeoplesConvention of 1989 and the older Indigenous and Tribal PopulationConvention of 1957, and does little to protect and promote this keyaspect of its cultural roots. The ongoing, forced permanent settling ofthese nomads adheres unfortunately to a singular state-driven identityof a gentrified population. Now is probably the last opportunity forTurkey to embrace differences and to incorporate these into a robustcultural diversity from which many new impulses for a sustainablecultural, social and architectural future may arise.

Emre Arolat Architects (EAA), Milas Golf Hotel, Mugla, 2008above right: The design of EAAs Milas Golf Hotel is based on thepractices research on the conventional urban pattern of the area.Following this pattern, they suggest a roadbackyardhouse hierarchyand organised common, semiprivate and private areas accordingly. Usingstone and wood for the buildings facades, the complex does not distortthe form of the hill it is situated on, and indeed takes advantage of it tocreate underground spaces.

Middle Eastern relations, and is at the doorstep of theEuropean Union, though it has met with resistance to itsascendance from a group of European countries. Turkey isa NATO member, yet not part of the Schengen area (the25 European countries that have abolished bordercontrols between each other). Instead, its border with theEU is part of an area of sharpened border controls thatshuts off eastern countries from the EU. Several of itsneighbours are engaged in conflicts, and Turkeys conflictwith Greece over Cyprus is far from resolved. Yet anincreasing number of tourists love holidaying in Turkey.Taking the scope of foreign affairs and outside views of thecountry into consideration, the resulting image is indeedvery heterogeneous, if not at times outright contradictory.

Likewise, Turkeys internal affairs and views oscillatebetween secularism and Islam, between modernisationand nostalgia for a traditional narrative, in large partsdirected towards some version of Ottoman Orientalism.While the latter indicates a lack of recognition orappreciation of other historical or current cultural

references, opposite tendencies also begin to indicate a heightenedawareness of a contemporary local heterogeneous culture in themaking. The Turkish director Fatih AkIn, for instance, celebrated thebroad and fast-evolving local musical scene of Istanbul in hisdocumentary from 2005: Crossing the Bridge: The Sounds of Istanbul.Simultaneously globalisation forces its generic appearances strongly onto Turkeys culture, economy, development and also the built fabric,further fuelling the struggle for the search of either profit or identity.

In the face of all this diversity, the question arises as to whatcontent one might select for a themed journal focusing on Turkey. Whatare the criteria for selecting content and contributions? Which storiesshould be told and which omitted? In the preparation of this issue, itquickly became clear that a somewhat comprehensive portrayal ofTurkeys cultural heritage, built environment and architecture is neitherrealistic nor feasible. The aim could neither be an art-historicalsynopsis nor an architectural encyclopaedia. This had been done byothers at great length, depth and detail. Instead, the strategy was toembrace the diversity of views and aspects related to Turkish cultureand its built environment as a challenge. This challenge was met byutilising the multiplicitous readings of the notion of the threshold as

9

opposite: This early medieval eastern Anatolian carpet shows anastonishing pattern of yellow dragon-like motifs that resonate with thedragon motif of Viking culture. Given the actual exchange between theByzantium Empire and the Viking kingdoms it is, however, lesssurprising that such motifs might have been exchanged betweencultures. Given the extent of cultural and economic networks over thecourse of history one might begin to think of threshold conditions in arather different way: the coexistence of differences and exchanges overtime that is characterised simultaneously by both gradients and harddivisions. Turkeys cultural diversity can then be thought of in light ofthis alternative understanding of a threshold as a continuous unfoldingand differentiation, rather than a singular narrative outside of anOttoman nostalgia or a homogeneous nation-state profile.

inici Architecture and DB Architecture, Fibaline Housing, Istanbul, 2006top: The architects here began by creating a stacking logic for thehouses that provided a design method that does not resist theanonymous housing typologies of today, and instead plays on this tocreate a more dynamic environment. With the housing units as macro-form components, the design can also respond to the continuouslychanging demands of clients.

10

Boran Ekinci Architecture, Kemer 50 Houses, Istanbul 2008above: These two apartment blocks have open corridors, andunits open directly to the fresh air, giving residents a feeling ofvilla living. The double-height balconies and warm woodcladding of the facade encourage residents to spend time ontheir balconies rather than indoors.

impeding change, as accelerated difference, as latenttendencies and potentials that in their extensivemultiplicity could offer a first feel of the conditions anddynamics that have established the key attributes ofTurkey over the ages and also today. These differences arenot easily resolved in the dichotomies of East and West,Orient and Occident, globalisation and the locale,modernisation and tradition. Together all these aspects andmany more may well accelerate cultural diversification. Inconsequence, the conclusion was to introduce multipleselected traits, arguments and debates revolving aroundquestions of Turkish architectural identity, practice anddiscourse in a critical manner and to supplement thisdiscussion with a projective reflection of potentialsembedded within historical architectures and contemporarydesign experiments, with the intention to open up newavenues for debate. These discussions are chieflyorganised into three sections: the past, present andfuture. Reflections on the past intend to unlock potentialfor the future. Reflections on the present introducespecific urban discourses and developments that have

arisen over time until today. And finally, reflections on the futurehighlight promising traits that emerge from specific contemporaryefforts in practice, research and education in Turkey today.

Extended Thresholds I: Nomadism, Settlements and the Defianceof Figure-Ground (Michael Hensel and Defne Sunguroglu Hensel seepp 1419) pursues an analysis of ancient forms of inhabiting land asan antidote to the strict figure-ground organisation of global andTurkish developer architectures and its related problems. Taking theanalysis of threshold conditions to the scale of the discrete building,Extended Thresholds II: The Articulated Envelope (pp 2025)examines selected historical buildings with the aim of extracting anintegral relationship between spatial articulation and passiveenvironmental modulation strategies. In the following article, EdhemEldem discusses the background and make-up of Ottoman and TurkishOrientalism (pp 2631), concluding the chapters on the past.

The Story of Istanbuls Modernisation by ilhan Tekeli (pp 3239)opens the chapters on the present with an account of the developmentof Istanbul from a large city towards a metropolitan region. This isfollowed by Zeynep Kezers account of The Making of Early RepublicanAnkara (pp 4045), which reflects on the development of Turkeyscapital city. Contrasting the prior discussion of Turkeys two foremost

Teget Architecture, Novron AzurHouses, YalIIkavak, Mugla, 2008 Like many of the housing projects inthe region, the Novron Azur Housessit on a very steep hillside. Butunlike the many previous housingsettlements, which were composedof identical buildings constructed onlinear slate walls, the Novron AzurHouses take advantage of thetopography to melt the buildingsinto the existing context andmaximise the views.

11

cities, Banu Tomruk offers a reflection on Medium-ScaleAnatolian Cities: Conceptual and Physical Routes ofUrban Transformation (pp 4651). Subsequently, HlyaErtas returns to a discussion of Istanbul, with a focus onThe Potential of Istanbuls Unprogrammed PublicSpaces (pp 5257). Tolga islam follows with adescription of Current Urban Discourse, UrbanTransformation and Gentrification in Istanbul (pp 5863).Tevfik BalcIoglu and Glsm Baydar conclude this sectionwith a discussion on Developing Cities with Design (pp6469) and the possibilities arising from this.

The final section, on the future, begins with anelaboration of the aims and activities of Istanbul 2010,by Hlya Ertas in conversation with Korhan Gms,Director of Urban and Architectural Projects for theIstanbul 2010 European Capital of Culture Agency

(pp 7075). This is followed by Michael Hensel and Defne SungurogluHensels Extended Thresholds III: Auxiliary Architectures (pp 7683),a discussion of the performative capacity of supplementary architecturesand a related report on a research by design workshop at the izmirUniversity of Technology. In her article Transforming Turkey: EightEmerging Practices (pp 8495), Hlya Ertas introduces the work of aseries of up-and-coming practices. The final article by Ugur Tanyelireturns to the question of To Integrate or Not to Integrate? (pp 96103)and reflects on this question based on a series of selected projects.

Working on this issue of AD on Turkey has yielded many interestinginsights for the authors, but, more importantly, it has raised anincreasing number of captivating questions to be further investigated.Invariably the feeling was that much more should be, and should havebeen, researched. The authors thus remain positively poised at thethreshold, much as their subject of interest, Turkey, does. The hope isthat it has been possible here to share some of the excitement thataccompanied the work on this issue. In the process of developing theproject, many critical discussions took place and difficult decisions inselecting and composing the content for the journal had to be made. Insome cases it was not possible to gain access to, and permission for,items we would have liked to include, with bureaucracy operating on ageological timescale. But hey.

We offer our heartfelt gratitude to Helen Castle, our enthusiasticEditor, to Hasan FIrat Diker, Michael Young, Simge Sunguroglu, Kuyasrs and all those others who have passionately helped us in this effort.

Cok tesekkrler! 4

Notes 1. GA Walter, N Black and M Kalpakli, Ottoman Lyric Poetry An Anthology, expandededition, University of Washington Press (Seattle, WA), 2006, p 41. 2. C Alexander, A Foreshadowing of 21st Century Art: The Color and Geometry of VeryEarly Turkish Carpets, Oxford University Press (Oxford), 1993. 3. J Strzygowski, Origins of Christian Church Art, Oxford, 1923. 4. Alexander, op cit, pp 13840.

Text 2010 John Wiley & Sons Ltd. Images: pp 6-7 TabanlIoglu Architects photo byCemal Emden; p 8 Don Tuttle Photography; p 9(l) Fatih PInar; p 9(r) Emre ArolatArchitects (EAA); p 10(t) inici Architecture and DB Architecture; p 10(b) BoranEkinci Architecture, photo Veysel zbey; p 11 Teget Architecture, photos CemalEmden; pp 12-13 Mutlu ilingiroglu Architecture, photos Cemal Emden

Mutlu ilingiroglu Architecture, Refiye Soyak Mosque, Istanbul, 2004With its simple forms, the Refiye Soyak Mosque was designed torepresent the inner purity of prayer. It does not rely on classical orconventional mosque typologies; it is a new building for worship thatallows in daylight from openings at the upper parts of the walls to createa holy atmosphere inside. The mosque is sited in a generic non-place,surrounded by parking lots, streets and nondescript high-rise typologies.It markedly closes itself off from its context, which is in stark contrast tothe vibrantly populated urban space of Istanbuls centre.

Working on this issue of AD on Turkey hasyielded many interesting insights for theauthors, but, more importantly, it has raisedan increasing number of captivatingquestions to be further investigated.

13

Extended Thresholds INomadism, Settlements and the Defiance of Figure-Ground

Since the onset of cartography in the 18th century, the fixed datum line and the figure-ground have become the predominant means of measuring and planning the builtenvironment. In the first of three articles on the subject of extended thresholds, MichaelHensel and Defne Sunguroglu Hensel challenge this reductionist convention. By takingDeleuze and his reading of nomadic smooth space as a starting point, they look atalternative models provided by historic settlements in Turkey. These include: the neolithicsettlement at atalhyk in southern Anatolia; the medieval hillside town of Mardin insouthern Turkey on the Syrian border; the carved spaces and cities of Cappadocia, such asGreme; and underground cities such as Derinkuyu, also in central Turkey.

14

A line drawn in the soil, marking a limit not to betransgressed or else! Such lines deliver distinction anddivision. They are used to draw up maps (contoursprovisionally excluded) to gain distance from the closerange that precludes the discernment of the overall. Forthis a fixed datum, a canvas as it were, is required andthe features that inhabit the datum are distinguishedagainst it. Thus what exists (map) or what is projected(plan) is visualised and communicated, distinguishing thefigure from the ground. Giambattista Nolli (170156)used this technique for his map of Rome, the Nolli Mapof 1748. Together with other maps of this type, but asperhaps the most famous of its kind, it ushered in a stillongoing tradition of surveying and planning the builtenvironment. Its different versions have become thepreferred means of planning not only for architects andurban designers, but for developers who increasingly takeplanning into their hands wherever a void of municipal orgovernmental control permits, and wherever money rulesand short-term profit is plentiful. Fast profit invariablyprecludes the search for alternative ways of organisingurban fabric, above and beyond the ubiquitous figure-ground and its associated problems: rampant sprawl, lackof long-term thinking and of cultural, social orenvironmental relevance, let alone sustainability. This,too, happens in Turkey: rapid land parcellation together

15

above: The planar arrangement of dwellings in Mardin shows the adaptation of themodular arrangement according to plot size, slope inclination and neighbouringbuildings. These plans also show that the roof terraces set out a second datum.

opposite: The few remaining remnants of nomadism in Anatolia are worthprotecting from a cultural point of view, as well as being a potent starting point forrestrategising modes and organisation of settlements.

below: View of Mardin.

environment. At the same time Turkeys history is rich in examples thatare characterised by a different relationship to the datum, its differentrelationship to spatial organisation and built fabric, the way it mayprovide for habitation and for projective cultural and socialarrangements. In order to commence such an analysis, it is notsufficient to simply replicate an art-historical or anthropologicalnarrative. Instead, it may be useful to extract specific arrangementsthat defy the prevailing figure-ground so as to yield effective diagramsthat may be enriched by contemporary spatial thought and actualisedthrough contemporary design methods. Several starting points for suchan inquiry are examined here: the neolithic settlement of atalhykand the hillside town of Mardin that multiply the ground, and the carvedcities of Cappadocia, such as Greme, and underground cities such asDerinkuyu, as examples that subvert the datum in a different way.

atalhyk, the largest neolithic settlement ever found, dates fromaround 6500 to 5500 BC, and is located in the Konya plain in centralAnatolia. Estimates of its population vary from 5,000 up to 8,000.This density of population brought with it dramatic developments intown planning, architecture, agriculture , technology and religion, asCharles Gates has explained.5 He describes such settlement as follows:The houses clustered together, their walls touching those of theirneighbours. Although small courtyards connected by streets lined theedges of the excavated area, within the cluster courts existed butstreets did not. People entered houses from the flat rooftops,descending to the floor by means of ladders. Since the town lay onsloping ground, the height of the roofs varied.6 This settlement wascharacterised by a duplication of the datum on which the buildingswere erected. In duplicating the datum and the free movementfacilitated by it, the provisional datum of the nomadic tradition was re-enabled, yet tamed by the control of the elevated perimeter of thesettlement. Descending within the cluster from the second datumimplied entry into an enclosed space, the interior of the house or,alternatively, a protected court. The dense fabric of the settlement wastherefore neither disassociated into discrete figures, nor did it reduce

with short-sighted profit thinking and nondescriptarchitecture accelerates the suburban sprawl, alongsidethe evolving shantytowns.

A line of variable direction that describes nocontour and delimits no form1 fundamentally defies thefigure and its relation to the datum. Deleuze and Guattariposited a nomadic absolute, as a local integration movingfrom part to part and constituting smooth space in aninfinite succession of linkages and changes in direction here the absolute is local, precisely because space isnot limited, while the desert, sky or sea, the Ocean, theUnlimited, first plays the role of an encompassingelement, and tends to become horizon: the earth is thussurrounded, globalised, grounded by this element,which holds it in an immobile equilibrium and makesform possible.2 If grounding is inevitable in order for formto arise, are then also the consolidation of figure-groundand its related consequences inevitable? Perhaps this isso. But more importantly, one may ask whether the line ofvariable direction can coexist and at the same timesubvert the immobile equilibrium of the horizon and thedatum, which also facilitates the local. Deleuze andGuattari stated this condition as the perpetual interplaybetween the smooth and the striated. It is thus in thenomadic condition and its interaction with the striated thata first trait for the intended analysis can be found: Neverbelieve that a smooth space will suffice to save us.3

Nomadism has a rich history in Turkey. Nomadic tribesdwelled in Anatolia from the time the first agricultural useof land occurred and Turkey was occupied in many wavesby nomadic Turks from Central Asia. Given these roots, itis astonishing that Turkey seems to do little to protect itsnomadic remnants,4 let alone foster them as its potentialinroad to prevent the fatal homogenisation of its built

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the ground to a singular datum. Instead, a much more intricaterelationship is established, in which the trapped courtyards areintimate and associated with different degrees of enclosure of whichthe interiors of the houses are the extreme. Through this sectionalarticulation, inner perimeters are defined on the duplicated datumwherever roof surfaces are absent. Speculations suggest differentreasons for the sectional organisation. Whatever may have been thecase, it seems fruitful for a projective outlook to assume an integralreasoning that incorporates social arrangements and spatial formation,the provisions embodied in the doubled datum in connection with thepocket-like spaces enfolded within the lower and upper datum, allfacilitated by the interplay of the two lines of fundamentally differentcharacter, one striating and the other smoothing.

The city of Mardin is located in southeastern Anatolia, on a south-facing mountain slope that overlooks the plateau and the northernSyrian plains. The beginnings of this settlement date back to the 3rdcentury AD. Over time, Mardin benefited from its strategic locationrelative to the trade routes, and in particular one of the silk routes. Thecity is most famous for its dense terraced fabric of Arabic-stylebuildings, which are modular in their layout. The layout of both the

above: This generalised combinatory chart of the underlying modularlogic of Mardin strongly resonates with contemporary methods ofparametric modelling and algorithmic processes, such as are used inevolutionary design methods. Terrain form, environmental data andso on can serve as drivers of a computational method the same wayas they do in the evolution of an actual settlement over time. If acomputational approach was built around this logic it wouldcertainly be interesting to involve some form of economic variablethat addresses, for instance, the availability of resources (materialsetc), which in turn could modify the size and arrangement ofmodules. Eventually this could lead to a very different way ofdesigning settlements that incorporate key characteristics ofevolving settlements and could make such undertakings more robustand sustainable.

opposite left: The sectional arrangement of dwellings in Mardinutilised the slope of the terrain to double up the datum through theuse of roof terraces. On the less inclined slope the roof terraces oftenprovide a more continuous datum, while the more steeply inclinedslopes result in a more clearly terraced arrangement.

opposite right: This chart shows how the combination of basicmodules results in different types of spatial arrangement fordwellings. Taxonomising the different units of the built fabric doesnot only shed light on the logic of arrangement of the settlementpattern and organisation, but may also serve as a way of strategisinga much denser form of contemporary settlement.

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introverted, mostly two-storey buildings and the compactsettlement adhere to the topography of the steeply slopedhill, as well as to local climatic conditions. The formerdetermined the orientation of buildings, while the latterdetermined the density of the built fabric and the moredetailed layout of the dwellings, due to the Anatolianplateau experiencing sharp differences between hot drysummers and very cold winters. The inner streets of thecity are narrow and cater for pedestrian circulation. Inmany instances buildings bridge over these narrowstreets. The circulation system is labyrinthine in nature,with staggered roof terraces sometimes a part of thecirculation, sometimes connected or entirelydisconnected, some serving as a datum for the buildingabove. The figure-ground arrangement is defied through thedoubled datum of these roof terraces, yet not quite like inatalhyk, where the new datum is more continuous.

Mardins labyrinthine circulation that partly interruptsand partly integrates the doubled datum to a degree hasthe character of a burrowed organisation wherever it isroofed over by other buildings. Another distinctive featureof the circulation is that it both divides the built volumesin specific locations, but also reconnects it in otherlocations. The quasi-modular character of the circulationtogether with the modular character of the buildingsmakes this kind of fabric particularly suited to parametricand associative modelling methods driven by algorithmicprocedures. It is indeed remarkable to what an extent theorganisation of the settlement pattern of Mardin resonateswith such contemporary design methods.

Cappadocia is a region on the central Anatolian plateau. Its uniquelandscape is characterised by sedimentary rocks and volcanic deposits,consisting of tuff, a rock of consolidated volcanic ash that has erodedinto astonishing formations of pinnacle-like forms, such as the fairychimney formations of Greme. The softness of the volcanic depositenabled the locals to carve inhabitable spaces into the rock sinceancient times. In the case of the tuff pinnacles, this entailed carvingabove ground, reaching in some instances up to 16 floors.7 Paul Oliverexplains that carving out dwellings is an excavating, hollowingprocedure, essentially sculptural, except that the carver works aroundhimself, turning solid into void, rock mass into room. To do thisrequires a mental map of the section of the rock pinnacle so that thesides are not breached, and the position and number of steps in aflight of stairs, as well as an awareness of the necessary thickness offloors that must be left above the room below. There is no latitude formistakes.8 Regarding the organisation of the dwellings, Oliver continuesto elaborate that most families carve out their rooms on the south orsoutheast face of the Cappadocian pinnacles, to get the benefit of anysun in the hard and cold plateau winters. Three or more rooms may becarved, with short inter-linking passages and balconied access to theouter faces.9 Other carved spaces of Greme include spectacularmonasteries and churches that feature magnificent Byzantine frescoes.

Carving into freestanding or clustered tuff pinnacles is a differentproject to that of carving downwards into the ground. In the Nevsehirprovince, over 200 underground cities of remarkable size and depthhave been discovered, with living quarters, refectories, chapels,stables, storage rooms, wine and oil presses, spaces for metallurgicworks, ventilation shafts, wells and tunnels for circulation. The largestunderground city of the region is Derinkuyu. Construction commencedpossibly as early as the 8th century BC, but its main expansion took

A group of carved tuff pinnacles in Greme, Cappadocia.

The carved tuff pinnacles arecontinuous with the datum and thelandscape in an amalgam oflandscape features, thus figure andground cannot be distinguishedfrom one another, whereas theunderground cities cannot bethought of as ensembles of figuresreading against a datum.

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place between the 5th and 10th centuries AD. The citywas organised over eight to eleven floors, although anumber of floors have not yet been excavated, and adepth of about 85 metres (279 feet). Large millstone-likestone doors weighing up to 500 kilograms (1,102pounds) were used to close the entry points to preventraids by Arab tribes commencing from the 7th century. Inaddition, Derinkuyu was connected to other similarunderground settlements through tunnels. Other largecomplexes include KaymaklI and zkonak. The latter wasorganised over 10 floors and a depth of about 40 metres(131 feet). It is estimated that zkonak could house upto 60,000 people over several months. Each room hadsecured ventilation even when all entry points wereclosed to prevent raids.

The carved tuff pinnacles are continuous with thedatum and the landscape in an amalgam of landscapefeatures, thus figure and ground cannot be distinguishedfrom one another, whereas the underground cities cannotbe thought of as ensembles of figures reading against adatum. Instead these constitute burrowed space thatescapes the dominance of the horizontal datum entirely.Greg Lynn posited that labyrinthine organisations suchas the burrow are light because they are essentiallyungrounded, or rather they are not grounded by thesingle gravitational force of the earths horizon. Becausethese structures are both mounded and subterranean,gravitys influence in the organisation of the burrow doesnot mandate any single or essential plane of organisationand within the labyrinth, vertical and horizontal

movements are separated by degrees of gravitational forces ratherthan by right angles. In this way there are as many gravities andgrounds for such structure as there are potential orientations andvectors of movement.10 The latter can play themselves out in alocal integration moving from part to part and constituting smoothspace in a succession of linkages and changes in direction,11

albeit more constrained by the material perimeter. In this way thearrangement inverts Deleuze and Guattaris argument that thenomadic absolute is local, precisely because space is notdelimited.12 The labyrinthine carved space is obviously physicallydelimited by the material threshold that surrounds it everywhere,yet the multiplicity of movement vectors prevails.

While it is not feasible today to literally carve dwellings due tothe increasing demand for space, labour costs and lack ofsuitable context, it is nevertheless interesting to speculate whatkind of design process may be extracted from this. The mentalmap that Paul Oliver alludes to above with reference to the act ofcarving, has little to do with the spatial and organisationalreductivism of figure-ground relations. Instead, theinterdependency between material and spatial organisation is atstake. To this should be added that spatial organisation andconnectivity is not simply a question of connecting rooms orcirculation of people, but also of ventilation, the simultaneouslyconstrained and free flow of air or, in a broader sense, thenecessary environmental modulation of deep space. This firstarticle on the extended threshold can be preliminarily concludedwith the realisation that potent (historical) examples exist thatcan inform alternative design strategies in the service ofrethinking reductive threshold conditions and impoverishedspatial organisations. 4

Notes1. G Deleuze and F Guattari (1988), The smooth and the striated the aestheticmodel: nomadic art, A Thousand Plateaus Capitalism and Schizophrenia, Athlone(London), 1988, p 499.2. Ibid, p 494.3. Ibid, p 500.4. Turkey has to date not ratified the Indigenous and Tribal Peoples Convention of1989 and the older Indigenous and Tribal Population Convention of 1957 set intomotion by the International Labour Standards Department of the InternationalLabour Office (ILO) in Geneva. See www.ilo.org/normes.5. C Gates, Ancient Cities: The Archaeology of Urban Life in the Ancient Near Eastand Egypt, Greece and Rome, Routledge (London), 2003, p 24.6. Ibid.7. B Rudofsky, Architecture without Architects: A short Introduction to Non-pedigreed Architecture, University of New Mexico Press (Albuquerque, NM), 1987[1964], p 23.8. P Oliver, Dwellings, Phaidon (London and New York), 2003, p 89.9. Ibid.10. G Lynn, Differential gravities, Folds, Bodies and Blobs, La Lettre Vole(Brussels), 1988 [1994], pp 956.11. Deleuze and Guattari, op cit, p 494. 12. Ibid.

Text 2010 John Wiley & Sons Ltd. Images: p 14 Fatih PInar; pp 15(t), 16-17 Drawn after Fsun Alioglu, E. (2003). Mardin Sehir Dokusu ve Evler. 2ndEdition. Istanbul: Trkiye Ekonomik ve Toplumsal Tarih VafkI YayInI; p 15(b) Zeynep Atas; p 18 Jeff Goldberg/Science Photo Library; p 19 NoboruKomine/Science Photo Library

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A carved tuff pinnacle that once housed a monastery,located in the Greme Open Air Museum, Cappadocia.

ExtendedThresholds IIThe Articulated Envelope

Yerevan Kiosk (Revan Ksk), 16356opposite: Interior view of the YerevanKiosk showing one of the three apseswith a diwan. The openings in theexterior wall have both an outerwindow and inner timber shutters. Theupper windows follow the box-windowprinciple: two single-layer glasswindows with a space between them.

below: Southeast elevation as seen fromthe garden level. The lower gardenlevel, the large roof overhang, themeandering facade and the balconywith its baldachin roof all contribute tothe passive environmental control of thebuilding and its adjacent spaces.

Previous to the widespread adoption of air conditioning in the 20th century,which introduced a distinct differentiation between controlled interior spaceand the external environment, a wealth of strategies were developed inTurkey to moderate the transition between inside and outside. There is muchto learn from these no-energy and low-energy solutions to climate control.Here, Michael Hensel and Defne Sunguroglu Hensel describe the originalresearch and special study they undertook of external vertical thresholds inan extended envelope when they gained special access to the 17th-centuryYerevan Kiosk and Baghdad Kiosk in the TopkapI Palace in Istanbul.

With an area of some 780,000 square kilometres(301,159 square miles) Turkey plays host to a widevariety of climates, ranging from coastal (Mediterraneanand Black Seas) to continental (Anatolian plateau). Whilethe former is characterised by hot and often humidsummers and relatively mild and wet winters, the latterfeatures strongly pronounced seasons with exceptionallycold winters. In addressing such extremes of climatetraditional regional architectures, whether representativeor vernacular, exhibit a wealth of spatial strategies tomoderate the transitions between inside and out thatmaximise user comfort and passively controltemperature within and adjacent to buildings.

Despite this rich heritage, however, like many othercountries Turkey embraced electricity-powered airconditioning and central heating as status symbols. As aresult, today the vast majority of the countrys buildingsresemble tightly sealed envelopes with a hard thresholdbetween the fully climate-controlled interior and the fullyexposed exterior. New buildings that utilise both artificialtemperature control and transitional spaces are in theminority. In large part, such architectural interventions asrecesses, protrusions and spatial pockets in theenvelope, layered thresholds and intermediary devicesincluding arcades, porches and loggias, as well asprotruding elements such as balustrades and canopieshave all but disappeared from the built environment. It istherefore interesting to revisit historical examples ofmuch more articulated, varied and sometimes multipliedenvelopes and spatial organisations. It has proved farmore difficult, however, to choose examples from amongthe broad range of available building types on which tofocus the discussion here.

The type selected was the Ottoman kiosk. The wordkiosk (kusk) is of Persian origin, meaning offeringshade and initially indicating a type of more or less open

garden pavilion. Kiosks became widespread in Persia, India, Pakistanand the Ottoman Empire from the 13th century onwards. Introducedby the Seljuks the kiosk has also come to exemplify Ottomanarchitecture perhaps, as has been suggested, because it was the firststationary interpretation of the Seljuk nomadic tent embodied in abuilding type that endured over the centuries. Prime examples ofOttoman kiosks can be found in TopkapI Palace in Istanbul, theofficial residence of the Ottoman sultans from 1465 to 1853 and themost important complex of Ottoman architecture featuring styles fromevery period of the four centuries during which the palace served as aresidence. Kiosks have often been described as Turkish, Persian andArabic influenced and a direct connection between the historicalgarden pavilions of Persia and the Seljuk and later Ottoman kiosks hasoften been postulated. As it seems, however, most scholars nowdismiss the theory of the kiosk as an eclectic architectural collage,favouring instead the view that such buildings represent a distinct andintegrated synthesis of Ottoman, Persian and Mameluk influences.

The following focuses on two kiosks that are part of the FourthCourtyard (Sofa-i Hmyn: the Imperial Sofa) of TopkapI Palace: theYerevan Kiosk (Revan Ksk ) of 16356, and the Baghdad Kiosk(Bagdad Ksk) of 16389, assumed to have been constructed by theroyal architect Hasan Aga under Sultan Murat IV. The Yerevan andBaghdad kiosks served different purposes over time ranging fromleisure as summer houses, to celebratory, to turban storage (YerevanKiosk) and to library (both). The use of the basements has not beenestablished beyond doubt. The kiosks are quite similar in their design.Both are double-storey buildings, with the lower floor accessed fromthe lower-level garden with the upper-level access provided by theraised level of the Fourth Courtyard. Further, both kiosks are organisedon an octagonal footprint with four of their faces recessed, a planwhich would normally result in a symmetrical arrangement. In bothcases, however, the symmetry is broken. One of the protruding faces ofthe Yerevan Kiosk is shorter than the other three and contains thefireplace. In the case of the Baghdad Kiosk, a space has been addedto one recessed section and extends beyond the flanking protrudingcorners, housing an additional, but separated room.

Miniature of the Fourth Courtyard (Sofa-i Hmyn:the Imperial Sofa) of TopkapI Palace with thegilded iftar Kiosk in the centre background and thefountain and water pool in the foreground.Arcaded kiosks flank the space to the left andright. On the right the arcaded space displayshanging carpets as temporal thresholds.

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Yerevan Kiosk (RevanKsk), 16356Northeast elevation of thekiosk as seen from thegarden level.

Northwest elevation with thewater pool and fountain inthe foreground.

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The meandering outline of the envelope of the pavilion organisesthe interior into four apses. In the Yerevan Kiosk three apses areoccupied by diwans (rooms originally reserved for drinking orsmoking) directly adjacent to the windows with the fourth apseoccupied by the fireplace. In the Baghdad Kiosk all four apses areoccupied by diwans, resulting in a much more symmetrical interiorand the possibility of utilising all four apses. The glass elements ofthe windows can be opened and closed. In addition there areopaque timber shutters in the interior that can be opened and shut,regulating the amount of light and the internal temperature. Whilethe Yerevan Kiosk features windows set within its doubled-layereddome, the Baghdad Kiosk does not. It displays instead a morecontinuous row of windows along its exterior walls, resulting in amuch brighter interior than that of the Yerevan Kiosk. Also, aroundthe Yerevan pavilion, the upper-level terrace and circulation is notcontinuous, while terrace and circulation are continuous around theBaghdad pavilion, with the exception of the protruding room, thusoffering greater choice in the use of spaces created by thearticulated meandering envelope.

For both kiosks the irregular outline of the exterior createsdifferent spaces that are set back and shaded by the protrudingroof overhang, as well as positioning the windows in the protrudingcorners in a more exposed location to allow light to penetrate theinterior. The differentiated, meandering profile of the envelope thusproduces pockets that differ markedly in their climatic exposure,both on the exterior of the envelope and in the interior of the kiosk.Interestingly, the two kiosks are not oriented in the same direction.The Yerevan Kiosk is oriented with its protruding corners along thenorthsouth and eastwest axes, whereas the Bahgdad Kiosk isrotated 45 degrees so that its protruding corners face northeast tosouthwest and northwest to southeast. The kiosks ought thereforeto be seen as variations on a theme that delivers greater variety inorientation and environmental adaptation. While they are clearlyintimately connected by virtue of the variation of this sharedorganisational theme, their relation must be elaborated with regardto their spatial connection and their relation to the ground datum.

At first-floor level some of the several kiosks of the FourthCourtyard are linked by an arcade and grouped around a waterbasin with a fountain, a detail that greatly contributes to thecooling of the interior space of the arcades. Together they form acomplex that elevates the importance of the outer spaces. In thepast, the arcades were either fully exposed or covered with carpetsand textile drapings, transforming the upper level into a more openor, alternatively, more private zone. This strategy served to multiplyand distribute the various vertical thresholds that organise thespace while simultaneously modulating the environment throughthe presence or absence of the provisional textile screens. However,these screens should not be viewed as auxiliary architectures afterthe manner of those discussed in Extended Thresholds III (see pp7683), since the latter are an addition to the built environmentthat was not originally part of the design, while these textile screensare integral to the design of the complex, serving to modify its

The floor plans of the Yerevan Kiosk (top) and theBaghdad Kiosk (bottom) demonstrate the use of thearticulated envelope as a spatial device. Themeandering envelopes of both kiosks result in asuccession of adjacent exterior and interior spacesthat are differentially oriented towards and exposedto the sun path and airflow direction over time. Thisorganisation and modulation of a heterogeneousspace enables the migration of activities accordingto choice and preference of the inhabitants.

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spatial organisation relative to user needs. In addition, aseries of gardens and open spaces surrounds the complexat the lower level, which contributes to the carefulmaintenance of climate control in the Fourth Courtyard.

TopkapI Palace was built over an extended period in anaccumulative manner and did not have an underlyingmasterplan. Unlike most other great palaces, TopkapIevolved over time much as did the various settlementsdiscussed in Extended Thresholds I (see pp 1419), yetwith much greater emphasis on and control over theevolving ensemble and its coordinated appearance andperformance. Where the first essay challenged thehorizontal datum and examples of settlementorganisations were discussed that rendered this datumprovisional by multiplying it or subverting it, in this essayit is the singular vertical threshold that is under scrutiny.The temporal or permanent multiplication of the verticalthreshold leads to a richly heterogeneous spatialorganisation with a series of spaces that at timesconstitute a more gradual transition from inside to outsideand offer differing degrees of exposure to the weather.Moreover, the Fourth Courtyard example also shows adistinct strategy of treating the datum as varied andworking hand in hand with the spatial and environmentalstrategies of the buildings, treating the latter not asdiscrete entities, but rather as interdependent elements ofthe built fabric. Much can be learned from the sensitivetreatment of this architecture of the extended threshold.Further research is currently taking place in collaborationwith FFI the Norwegian Defence ResearchEstablishment, which focuses on the specific airflow andthermal performance of the two kiosks. 4

We extend our warm gratitude to Hasan FIIrat Diker at the DirectorateGeneral for Cultural Heritage and Museums, Istanbul Directorate ofSurveying and Monuments, for his unwavering assistance, for making hispersonal research available1 and for his support of the articles preparation.

Note1. HF Diker, TopkapII SarayIInda Revan ve Bagdad Kskleri, Mastersdissertation, Istanbul Technical University, 2000.

Text 2010 John Wiley & Sons Ltd. Images: pp 20-1, 25(b) MichaelHensel and Defne Sunguroglu Hensel; p 23(t) Ahmet Gnel; pp 23(b),25(t&c) IlgIn Kleki; p 24 Drawn after SH Eldem (1986). Trk EviOsmanlI Dnemi - Turkish Houses Ottoman Period Vol. II. Trkiye AnItevre Turizm Degerlerini Koruma VakfI

Baghdad Kiosk (Bagdad Ksk), 16389top: Southeast elevation as seen from the garden level.

centre: East elevation as seen from the garden level.

left: Interior view showing one of the four apses with a diwan.The exterior wall openings have both an outer window andinner timber shutters. The storage spaces set within the wallhad different functions over time.

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Osman Hamdi Bey posing inOriental garb, Fritz Luckhardtphotograph studio, Vienna, c 1873 opposite: Osman Hamdi Bey wasappointed commissary to theOttoman section at the ViennaUniversal Exposition of 1873.

Cover of Feridun FazIIlTlbenti, SultanlarIIn AskII(The Love of the Sultans)Istanbul, 1968 left: A typical cover for a prolificwriter of popular historicalnovels glorifying the sultans asstatesmen and lovers.

Ottoman and Turkish Orientalism

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Since the early decades of the19th century, Turkey hasundergone successiveprogrammes of modernisationthat have closely identifiedreform with Westernisation andits implied European successand superiority over Turkishculture. Here EEddhheemm EEllddeemmreveals both the external andinternal dynamic of TurkishOrientalism, which has provedsuch a complex multilayeredprocess with an enduringinfluence on how Turkish societyand elites view themselves today.

The Ottomans were a target and an object of Orientalism,out of curiosity and as a Western intellectual construct ofessentialist otherisation.1 Yet they also accommodatedOrientalism as part of the Westernisation programme they embarked upon, sometimes appropriating orinternalising it, sometimes deflecting or projecting it,sometimes opposing or subverting it, sometimes simplyaccepting and consuming it. Excellent scholarship hasalready pointed to the existence of an OttomanOrientalism that ganged up on the Oriental within generally the Arab, the Kurd, the Bedouin in anattempt to emulate and deflect Western Orientalismwhile at the same time exerting a form of colonialpressure on certain ethnic or religious groups.2 Othershave stressed the aesthetic and cultural reception ofOrientalism, from a noted tendency of the Ottomans todisplay themselves in Orientalist ways to Westernaudiences, to the adoption of Orientalist forms,especially in architecture, in their own environment.3

My research has mostly been concerned with oneparticular Ottoman Orientalist, Osman Hamdi Bey, thefirst Western-trained Muslim painter, and founding fatherof Ottoman archaeology, and with mapping the mentaland cultural continuum of Ottoman, and later Turkish,Orientalism within the broader perspective of everydayor popular Orientalism.4 The aim here is to show thatfrom the mid-19th century to the end of the 20th,Ottoman and Turkish Orientalism have formed a complex,long-term, multilayered and multifaceted process thatstill informs much of the way in which Turkish societyand elites view themselves and the world around them.

Oxymoronic as it may sound, Ottoman Orientalism has a verystrong logic behind it. From the moment Ottoman elites decided thatWesternisation was the only or most efficient way to catch up withWestern material success a phenomenon that can be dated back tothe early decades of the 19th century and which gained momentumafter the Tanzimat (Reorganisation) Decree of 1839 they hadimplicitly agreed to one of the most basic tenets of Orientalism: thatthe East was essentially different from the West, that it wasessentially stagnant and lacked the capacity to change without anexogenous stimulus. In this sense, as long as modernisation wasconflated with Westernisation, a latent or overt admission ofOrientalist tropes was practically inevitable. Westernising reform wasan implicit recognition of Ottoman failure and inferiority, a mirrorimage of European success and superiority.

A disturbing corollary of this is that Ottoman Orientalism isinevitably linked to a complex of inferiority, which explains whyrelations with the West have always swung back and forth betweenlove and hate, admiration and execration. Western Orientalism waspartly responsible for this, since it kept sending demeaning andoften mixed messages: Ottomans were barbarians who had to civilise(Renan),5 but their aping of the West meant the destruction of theirexotic and somewhat noble self (Loti).6 Damned if you do, damned ifyou dont; either way they were incapable of really pleasing the West.

The Ottoman elites had several options in order to manage therather heavy burden of this awkward situation. At one extreme, thedesire to prove Orientalism wrong could take the form of rebellionagainst the West and Westernising reforms, by either reviving someidealised Islamic past, or by finding a non-Western path to modernity.At the other extreme, total submission to the West could develop intoself-loathing and a desire to convert to a Western identity. For mostof the elite, however, there was a middle ground that allowed for

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greater flexibility and pragmatism. The point was todissociate the term Ottoman from the notion ofOriental; after all, the Ottomans were perfectlyconscious that their Christian compatriots were muchless targeted by Western Orientalism. The precondition,then, was to find an Oriental Ottoman on whomEuropean scorn would be deflected. To some, likeOsman Hamdi Bey, who lived in the ivory tower of hisstudio and his museum and frequently played Oriental,that would be pretty much all the rest of the population;most, however, would have to be more specific anddirect their attention towards the savage Bedouin, theuncouth Turkish peasant or the unruly Kurd.

Not surprisingly, the system worked pretty well. Bycreating the categories of the civilised Ottoman and thesavage Oriental, most members of the elite made peacewith an ideology that had been originally designedagainst them. There were two glitches, though. First,there was a limit to how demeaning one could be tofellow Muslims; second, some non-Muslim Ottomanshad a tendency to uphold the Western clich of theunspeakable Turk. These inconsistencies wouldgradually weaken with the rise of Turkish nationalismand would totally disappear with the establishment of

the Turkish Republic in the 1920s, following the War ofIndependence fought after the collapse of the Ottoman Empireunder the leadership of Mustafa Kemal Pasha. Kemalism, namedafter the new regimes leader, soon to become Atatrk, gaveTurkish Orientalism the three magic tools that OttomanOrientalism had lacked: the notion of a homogeneous nation thatexcluded ethnic and religious minorities; the principle ofsecularism allowing for the stigmatisation of Islam; and thechange of regime making it possible to relegate the negative imageof the Turk to a reinvented Ottoman past.

Under the liberating effect of these transformations, TurkishOrientalism blossomed in the 1930s. Now that the Arab provinceswere lost, Turkish cartoonists could freely vent their scorn for theirinhabitants. The same tactic could be used against the domesticenemy, Islam, by ridiculing the Ottoman past, stigmatised asbackwards, primitive and reactionary, much like Western anti-Turkish Orientalism had done only decades earlier. In a sense, therepublic had brought Ottoman Orientalism to its extreme andunthinkable limit: it wanted to do away with Islam, with tradition,with the Orient, with primitiveness. Its dream was to becomemodern, secular, homogeneous, united and white. Oneintellectual would declare that the aim of the language reform wasto free Turkish culture and mentality from the obstacles that linkit to Oriental and Islamic civilisation, so that they can, as rapidly

Cover of Salih Erimezs Tarihten izgiler(Sketches from the Past), Istanbul, 1941The cover of this album by cartoonist SalihErimez depicts a Muslim priest abusing youngwomen under the guise of exorcism.

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Cover of Karikatr, 41, 10 October 1936, by Ramiz above: The [dark and Arab] sweet seller (in an Arab-accentedTurkish, and holding a bowl marked Syrian Mandate): Youngladies, Ive made them for you. Made in Damascus, sweet assugar! The [white and Turkish] women (representing the cities ofIskenderun and Antakya): We dont want any of it. Neithersweets from Damascus, nor your face.

Le visage turc (Turkish faces), from LaTurquie Kamaliste, 19, June 1937A typical example of the urge to convince theWestern audience targeted by this magazinethat Turks have a European physiognomy.

as possible, catch up with western culture, to whichthey decidedly belong.7 Western Orientalist literaturecame under heavy criticism; previously hailed for hissupport of the Ottomans, Pierre Loti was now reviledfor depicting the Turks as Orientals. In fact, theKemalist establishment agreed with every point ofWestern Orientalism, as long as it concerned the Arabs,the Kurds, the Ottomans; in short, anybody but theTurks. In its desire to integrate with the Western worldthrough modernity, the Turkish Republic had becomean Orientalist project, albeit tainted withOccidentalism, considering that the West was to alarge extent turned into an essentialist representationof what it was supposed to stand for.

This was the heyday of cultural authoritarianism,when local forms of art were standardised (and oftenbanned) in order to be controlled, while Westernartistic norms were systematically imposed on thepopulation, with the rather naive expectation of a deepcultural transformation. Acclaimed by the West for itscivilising mission, the republic had to use all sorts oftactics to keep its image of success alive. One of thesewas to use censorship and bans on elements deemedincompatible with modernity, ranging from music to

the Arabic alphabet, or from Ottoman Turkish to the veil; another wasto maintain the illusion of success through camouflage and staging,presenting, for example, the veiled peasant woman in such a way as toavoid possible Islamic references.

By the 1950s, this situation came under attack from outside andfrom within. The main external challenge took the form of tourism andits expectation of an Oriental appeal rather than a show of peripheralmodernity. The Turkish state eventually played along and started usingimages that flirted with an Oriental vision of the country, still under somekind of Mediterranean camouflage, or even went the whole way andused good old Orientalism to market its Ottoman past. At a domesticand popular level, it was more of a backlash against the suppression ofthe Ottoman past and of Islamic identity. Due to the political changesof the 1950s, popular culture could start responding to the frustratedneed to glorify a historical narrative that made more sense than theinvented notions of Central Asian, Hittite or Sumerian ancestry.

From the perspective of Kemalist ideology, Ottoman history waseasier to accommodate than Islamic identity. All it really took was toTurkify the Ottomans and integrate them into the nationalist constructof Turkish greatness. What the state was much less eager to do was tolet loose the Oriental and the Muslim that lay beneath the Westernmake-up of the modern Turk. The 1970s were particularly tense withthe struggle of popular culture to break free from the Westernist normsof a still vibrant Kemalism. This was the time when an extremely

Due to the political changes of the 1950s,popular culture could start responding to thefrustrated need to glorify a historical narrativethat made more sense than the invented notionsof Central Asian, Hittite or Sumerian ancestry.

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Arap lemi (An Arab Orgy), by Cafer Zorlu, oncover of Akbaba, Vol 26, 1, 19 December 1973 This take on the 1973 oil crisis depicts Europe asa half-naked belly dancer performing amidst agroup of cheering Arab sheikhs.

Album cover of Pop Oryantal, Oscar Records, Istanbul, date unknown The cover of this LP is a caricature signed by Sinandepicting a scantily clad belly dancer performing inthe presence of a reclining Arab sheikh.

Sidney Clark, Turkey for the Best, Turkish Information Office, New York, c 1955This cover combines, in a single image, the blue sky, themosques and minarets of Istanbul, the wooden houses ofthe Bosporus, a sandy beach, the sea and sailing boats, andthe welcoming smile of a Carmen-like Turkish woman.

Cover of 7 Gn, 346, 24 October 1939This depiction of an Anatolian peasant woman byRatip Tahir tries to play down Islam (the veil) bypromoting the image of a healthy Mediterraneancharacter in a classical pose.

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popular musical genre, dubbed Arabesk, was banned fromradio and television on the grounds of un-Turkishness,being associated with the still thriving image of thelecherous and uncouth Arab. Under the strange effect of amilitary coup, followed by the rise of liberalism and ofTurkish-Islamic conservatism, all hell broke loose in the1980s. Oriental demons that had been kept at bay byKemalist policies were unleashed as Turks rediscovered(or reinvented) Oriental music and belly dancing (quaintlyreferred to as Oryantal), revelled in a nostalgicreinterpretation of Ottoman history, and startedconsuming the very same exoticism that they had begunselling to Western tourists.

As if this Postmodern self-exoticisation was not strangeenough, Turkish Orientalism has made a spectacularcomeback in the last decade in the form of a neo-Kemalist backlash against the claim to political and socialpower of a rising conservative-Muslim middling class,embodied by the political success of Tayyip ErdogansAdalet ve KalkInma Partisi (Justice and DevelopmentParty), or AKP. The combined shock to the white elites ofseeing the theatrical set of Westernised Turkey crumble atthe seams, and of losing their hold over the politicalsystem, has radicalised them into adopting an aggressiveand authoritarian reaction that targets and stigmatises theMuslim masses as a threat to secularism and to modernlifestyles. Typical of this attitude were the so-called

Republican Meetings of the past few years, where masses ralliedagainst what they considered to be a threat to secularism, sometimesimplicitly invoking the desirability of a military intervention. Properlyanalysing this Orientalist polarisation of Turkish politics would requirea full-length article; for the moment one can just wonder at the powerand capacity of a 19th-century Western ideology to define the terms ofa political struggle in Turkey in this new millennium. 4

Notes1. Edward Said, Orientalism, Pantheon Books (New York), 1978 is still the basic andclassical reference on Orientalism as an ideological construct.2. Ussama Makdisi, Ottoman Orientalism, The American Historical Review, 107, 3, June2002, pp 76896; Selim Deringil, They Live in a State of Nomadism and Savagery: TheLate Ottoman Empire and the Post-colonial Debate, Comparative Studies in Society andHistory, 45, 2, April 2003, pp 31142.3. Zeynep elik, Displaying the Orient: Architecture of Islam at Nineteenth-CenturyWorlds Fairs, University of California Press (Berkeley, CA and Los Angeles), 1992; TurgutSaner, 19. YzyIIl istanbul MimarlIIgIInda Oryantalizm, Pera Turizm YayIInlarII (Istanbul), 1998.4. Edhem Eldem, Osman Hamdi Bey ve Oryantalizm, Dipnot, 2, WinterSpring 2004, pp3967; Edhem Eldem, Consuming the Orient, Ottoman Bank Archive and Research Centre(Istanbul), 2007.5. The French philosopher, historian and philologist Renan (182392) was a typical, andcertainly not unique, advocate of the stigmatisation of the Turks as barbarians. A politicalequivalent would be Prime Minister William Gladstone (180998) and his notion of theunspeakable Turk.6. The French novelist Pierre Loti (18501923) was a fervent admirer and staunchdefender of the Turks, but obsessively enamoured with an exotic and Orientalist vision ofthe land and people, as illustrated by his novels Aziyad and Les Dsenchantes.7. Falih RIIfkII Atay, Notre rforme linguistique, La Turquie Kamliste, 7, June 1935, p 5.

Text 2010 John Wiley & Sons Ltd. Images: pp 26, 28(r), 30-1 Courtesy of theOttoman Bank Museum; pp 27, 28(l), 29 Edhem Eldem, authors collection

Turks in Retrospect, Turkish Information Office, New York, c 1955 The engraving reproduced here is Thomas Alloms Constantinople,from Cassim Pacha, first published in Thomas Allom and RobertWalsh, Constantinople and the Scenery of the Seven Churches of AsiaMinor, Fisher, Son, & Co (London), 1838.

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Lon-Henri Prost, Istanbul Master Plan, 193658 above: Plan for the years 1943 to 1953 showing a small-scale industrialzone, a cemetery zone, an area for the Olympic Games, public squares, amedical zone, airport, large-scale industrial zone, new housing areas, anarchaeological park and new port location.

opposite: The Bosporus Bridge and its connecting freeways today.

Since reform started under Ottoman rule in the early19th century, Istanbul has undergone a substantialperiod of modernisation that has spanned more than150 years. ilhan Tekeli outlines the metropolis enduringdevelopment, characterising Istanbuls transformationinto a modern city into four distinct periods. It is a storythat bridges the collapse of the Ottoman Empire and thereconstruction of the Turkish Republic as a nation-state,with the initial demise of the city in favour of Ankara;and continues with Istanbul regaining its status as aworld city; as it evolves from a monstrous industrial cityto an urban region and global centre.

The Story ofIstanbuls Modernisation

For the last 2,000 years, Istanbul has been a world city.Situated in an important strategic position on theBosporus Strait straddling two continents Europe andAsia it has served in succession as the capital of theRoman, Byzantine and Ottoman empires. Today it mayno longer be the government seat of Turkey (underAtatrk, the capital city of Turkey moved to Ankara in thecentre of the new republic in 1923), but it remainsTurkeys largest city and very much its cultural andcommercial capital; with over 13.5 million inhabitants,Istanbul is a megacity and the 21st largest city in theworld. Tracking Istanbuls metamorphosis into a moderncity, this article identifies four distinct periods in thehistory of the citys modernisation: first, the era of ShyModernity, which lasted from the 1860s until thecollapse of the Ottoman Empire; second, the phase ofRadical Modernity, which commenced with thedeclaration of the Turkish Republic in 1923 and endedafter the Second World War when Turkey accepted amultiple-party policy; third, the period of PopulistModernity, which took place during the multiparty systemuntil the 1980s; and finally, the period that began at theend of the 1980s and continues to the present day,which can be regarded as the Erosion of Modernity.

The Onset of Transformation: Shy Ottoman ModernityThe Ottoman state was founded by Osman I in 1299 as asmall principality. In the second half of the 15th century,it reached empire scale, with territories both in Rumeliaand Anatolia. However its expansion stagnated at the endof the 17th century, and in fact reversed as aconsequence of the modernisation and industrialisation inEurope at the time. By the beginning of the 19th century,the Ottoman Empire had reached a crossroads: would itbe allowed to dissolve into small states, each followingtheir own path towards modernisation, or was it toundergo a centralised modernisation process that wouldmaintain its integration as an empire. Mahmud II (the

30th Sultan of the Ottoman Empire) opted for the second road, takingTurkey into an era of Shy Ottoman Modernity.

This manifested itself in two ways: through the institutionalreforms of central government and wide-scale infrastructureprojects, and through the countrys introduction to internationaltrading and the implementation of capitalism. In essence this wascentrally governed, top-down modernisation. It is not possible togive an exact date as to when Ottoman modernisation was initiated;it can most appropriately be viewed as an accumulation of changesover time. However, it is possible to state that the structuralchanges within the countrys government began in 1826 when theJanissary corps (the sultans troops) was disbanded by Mahmud II.The English Trade Agreement in 1838 facilitated the growth ofcapitalism and opened up the Ottoman economy to internationalmarkets. With the Glhane Decree, declared in 1839, and the RoyalDecree, declared in 1856, ownership rights, individuals legal rightsand equality were guaranteed, activating the processes of capitalaccumulation in the empire.

Changes in Istanbul influenced by these governmentalimplementations became apparent during the 1860s. Subsequently,and in addition to, the emergence of entrepreneurship in the form ofbanks and corporations, after the 1880s the creation of moderneducation and health-care systems resulted in the multifaced characterof the Shy Ottoman Modernity period.

At the end of the modernisation process, during the 1860s,modern business districts started to appear alongside traditionalOttoman town centres composed of covered bazaars, markets and portcheckpoints. While the Ottoman economy was linked to the worldeconomy by capitalist interests, banks, insurance companies,commercial buildings and hotels were founded in the centres of portcities. Economic developments such as this required theimplementation of new infrastructures and the construction of trainstations in or around Istanbuls centre, port, docks, warehouses andpost office buildings. As an effect of modernisation, and in parallel tothe formation of new state institutions and bureaucracy, governmentdepartments were also established in the city centre, whichconsequently expanded, resulting in the diversification of its functions,and the further differentiation of its traditional and modern areas.

Postcard of Galata Bridge from the late 19th century. Postcard of Galata Bridge from the mid-20th century.

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Galata Bridge, today.

The second important change came with the introductionof public transportation systems such as trams, ferriesand suburban trains that replaced the once pedestriancity transport. Also significant was the differentiation ofhousing areas according to nationality and social class the result of changes in the social stratification and theformation of new social classes due to new economicrelations and new forms of organisation. Thesuburbanisation of Istanbul was now evolving.

City planning applications in Istanbul began in the1850s. Interestingly, city planning in Europe was alsounder development during this time in response to theproblems caused by industrialisation. In the OttomanEmpire, this affected the transformation of the traditionalcity, a process in which urban planning was notdetermined by masterplans but by partial site plans, puttogether like mosaic tiles by cartographers, of the areasthat were burnt after the numerous fires in this citydominated by wooden buildings. For example, themodernisation of the central business district (CBD) wasrealised on the one hand by the Historic Peninsula plansafter the 1864 Hoca Pasa fire, and on the other by thesite plan that was prepared after the collapse of theGalata city walls during the same period. The CBD waslater expanded from Galata to Beyoglu, and spreadalongside the main transportation lines (trams, rail andsea) in parallel with the rise of the urban population. Thiscity formation can be visualised as settlement bands.

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City planning applications in Istanbulbegan in the 1850s. Interestingly, cityplanning in Europe was also underdevelopment during this time inresponse to the problems caused byindustrialisation.

Postcard of Voyvoda Street, on which bank buildingswere starting to be built in the late 19th century.

brought in to design the Istanbul Master Plan (193658). Theconstruction of new apartment blocks in the shrinking city was thestart of the reshaping of Istanbul, which created differentiation interms of building hierarchy and organisation. These new blocks weredensely constructed along the newly opened Atatrk Boulevard and thesurrounding areas of Taksim, Harbiye, Maka, NisantasI and Sisli. Theopen countryside between KadIky and Pendik was turned intopermanent residential areas with the development of KIzIltoprak,Gztepe, Erenky, BostancI, Maltepe and Suadiye.

Populist Modernity Under a Multiparty Political Regime The implementation of a Radical Modernity project with a socialengineering approach proved difficult after the Second World War,when Turkey accepted a multiparty political regime. The result was theimplementation of a modernisation process with populist tendencies.

The transition from traditional agriculture to agricultural productionon a national and international scale, due to mechanisation,accelerated the disintegration of a large rural peasant class of farmlabourers. Extensive investment in the service and manufacturingindustries was necessary to create job opportunities for the largenumbers of migrants who had recently flocked to the cities. In order forthese groups to be integrated and settled in compliance with the normsof the modernity project, further large-scale investment in housing andinfrastructure was required. However, Turkeys capital accumulationprocess, at this point, was far from being able to invest at this level.Rural migrants also needed to be educated in terms of the ways andculture of the modern city and how to use it. Having just left theirvillages, these newcomers did not have such a capacity and theinevitable outcome was the emergence of urban slums.

Istanbuls population rose from 938,000 in 1950 to 1,467,000 in1960 and could thus no longer fit within its municipal borders. Thenumber of municipalities that as a consequence formed around thecity had reached 32 by 1980. If this new municipality complex was tobe understood as the metropolitan area, its population had risen from2,849,000 in 1970 to 4,643,000 (or 10.4 per cent of the entirecountrys population) in 1980.3

Three mechanisms can be used to effectively identify thedistribution of housing at this time: the structural modification ofIstanbuls CBD; the new industrial arrangement within its urban fabric;and the construction of the Bosporus Bridge and connecting freeways.During this postwar period, the CBD, located in the historical peninsula,functioned as an incubator for the citys growing production andservice functions which, as they further expanded, were forced to moveoutside it. It was not possible to move the small- and medium-scale

Improvements in quality of life brought about bydevelopments during the years of Shy Modernity helpedto contain epidemics, thus by 1829 Istanbulspopulation had grown to 329,000. By 1864 it had risento 600,000, in 1877 it was 720,000, in 1885 it stoodat 873,000, in 1897 1,059,000, in 1901 1,013,466,and in 1914 1,200,000.1

The Nation-State and Radical ModernityThe reinvention of the Turkish Republic as a nation-stateafter the collapse of the Ottoman Empire challenged themindsets of Turkish intellectuals. Prior to this, the mainproblem concerning the Ottoman elites was the salvationof the empire. However, with the declaration of the republicthis shifted to the setting up of a new and strong nation.

The Radical Modernity process followed spatialstrategies at two different levels: first, it focused on thetransformation of the country into a nation-state; second,cities were to become places of modernity. The first stepin the creation of the nation-state was to declare Ankaraas the capital city. Next came the construction of railwaynetworks to integrate the domestic market, followed bythe creation of industries in small-scale Anatolian cities inaccordance with the governments industrialisation policy.In addition to this was the founding of Halkevleri(community centres) in every Anatolia