Blurring the Boundaries Between Innovation and Imitation, or Tracing the Trajectories of Change in Ottoman Architecture Alev Erkmen

Introduction Contrary to what its title may suggest, this essay is not about innovation, imitation or change in Ottoman architecture. The following discussion neither identifies certain innovative or imitative features in the Ottoman architectural tradition, nor addresses innovation and imitation as causes of distinguishable changes in this specific architectural context. Instead, it intends to sketch an outline that questions whether the meaning and values attached to the very notion of change in this particular historical and cultural setting differ from our present-day recognition of the term; and if so, how acknowledging this difference may help define the periods attributions to innovation or imitation in architecture as a socio-cultural practice.1 The frame of the discussion addresses the problem posed by the difficulty of distinguishing between innovation and imitation in the production and reproduction of imperial architectural forms in the sixteenth-century Ottoman world. It is not engaged, however, in comparative analyses of selected buildings; it concentrates on contemporaneous Ottoman texts containing written representations of these buildings, in an effort to illustrate, how such representations may easily be (mis)identified as claims for innovation or confessions of imitation for the present-day reader. The (mis)identification seems to be due to the nature of the texts themselves, in the canonical way they tend to correlate each imperial building to a previous edificeeither by asserting a lineage between a building and a set of preceding monuments, pointing to an existing mosque being used as a model for a later one; or taking pride in demonstrating how a more recent building has improved the assumed flaws or deficits of a precedent one. In fact, what one finds in most texts is an association that includes more than one of these assertions, or all of these. The essay offers only brief reflections on each text, and reserves its deductions to the end of the discussion, where it suggests, first, that the application of these present-day concepts to premodern Ottoman architecture poses an issue of historical anachronism for studies interested in understanding the conditions of its production and reproduction; and, secondly, that a more complex set of issues await the historian in understanding both the innate mechanism with which the premodern Ottoman mindset sustained its architectural tradition, and the manner by which this mindset appropriated the changes that were to modernize that tradition. I start below with the discussion of passages from three texts from the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. Ottoman Buildings Modelled on Venerated Precedents Tarih-i Ebl-Feth The first passage is from a renowned fifteenth century Ottoman text, Tarih-i Ebl-Feth (History of the Conquest, this edition 1977) written by the historian Tursun Be. The author provides in the passage a description of the Mosque of Mehmed II (c.1463-1470),2 which was constructed shortly
1 An earlier version of this essay received one of the prizes in the 2002 Competition for The Best Essay on Urban and Regional Themes by Young Authors, awarded by Blackwell Publishers and the Foundation of Urban and Regional Studies. I would like to express my thanks to Uur Tanyeli for his contributions in shaping the discussions in the text. 2 Also known as the "first Fatih (the Conqueror) Mosque," this building was the first imperial Ottoman mosque to be built in Istanbul. It was commissioned by Fatih Sultan Mehmed II (1432-1481, reign 1444-1446 and 1451-1481), and built by the architect Sinaddin Yusuf bin Abdullah (a.k.a. Atik Sinan), as the focal point of an imperial complex located in the citys Fatih district. The building was severely damaged during the 1766 Istanbul earthquake, and was replaced by a new mosque, built in 1767-1771 by the architect Mehmed Tahir Aa. It is this second building which 1

after the conquest of Constantinople (1453) as one of the first imperial Ottoman monuments of the city. The description reads: ve ol yirde, Ayasofya kr-nmesi resminde bir ulu cmi bnyd itdi ki cem-i sanyi-i Ayasofyaya cmi olduundan gayr, tasarruft- mteahhirn zre nev-i ve-i taze ve hsn- bi-endze bulup, nuraniyette mu'cize-i yed-i bezas zahirdir." (Tursun Bey, 1977: 70) ( and he built a grand mosque based on the model of the Haghia Sophia, which not only possessed all the arts of the Haghia Sophia, but also drew praise and admiration for its fresh new style brought on by the accomplishments of the successors. [translation mine]) The reference to the Haghia Sophia speaks for itself. It is interesting to note, however, that the text offers no substantial description of the Mosque of Mehmed II (1432-1481, reign 14441446 and 1451-1481) other than its being built with some semblance to the Byzantine edifice. It is as if the author expects this reference alone will suffice to arouse a mental image of a monumental religious building crowned with a great dome that defines a centralized interior space. The description thus gives us grounds to believe that the Byzantine edifice held some sort of authoritative position tantamount to societal recognition of imperial architectural priorities. This is a position which texts from the following centuries will also validate. Meanwhile, the above quotation from Tursun Be implies that the semblance between the Haghia Sophia and the Mosque of Mehmed II was an intentional one; and also that the fresh new style of the latter building was acknowledged as an asset, and possibly even an improvement to the prototypical design. At this point, it seems crucial to note that Tursun Bes text is the history of a conquest, it is not a text on architecture. In this context, the Haghia Sophia is referred to not only as a building, but also as a symbol of a culture that has been overpowered. The successors cited in the passage obviously refer to the Ottoman architect/artists responsible for the new Ottoman mosque; that these modelled their design on a previous edifice, and moreover used a fresh new style in their work are both clearly credited as being equally praiseworthy. What is also of note is that Tursun Bes text seems to be one of a very limited number of Ottoman texts written prior to the eighteenth century, that refer to innovation in architecture as a culturally creditable act. It is particularly interesting to observe that next to none of the textual representations of exemplar buildings from the Ottoman classical age, which conventional historiography often appraises for their innovative and original assets, make mention of any adjective or idiom referring to novelty. Thfetl-Mimarn One example of these textual representations may be found in a passage from the sixteenth century text entitled Thfetl-Mimarn (The Choice Gift of Architects). Written by the poet sari, the text is among several Ottoman sources that chronicle the life and works of the renowned architect Sinan (c. 1489-1588)a legendary figure in Ottoman history whose name and works are credited as synonyms of the Classical imperial idiom in architecture.3 The passage refers, as may be
stands today as the "Fatih Mosque." 3 Texts on Sinans life and works are: Tezkiretl Bnyn (A Biographical Memoir on Building, this edition 1988); and Tezkiretl Ebniye (A Biographical Memoir of Buildings), penned around 1586-1587 by the artist painter and poet Sa elebi; Thfetl Mimarn, assumed to have been completed after Sinans death by the poet sari; Adsz Risle (Untitled Treatise) by an unknown author; the unfinished text Risaletl Mimriye (A Treatise on Architecture); and Padiahname (Ode to the Sultan) by the poet Eyyubi; and the Selimiye Risalesi (A Treatise on Selimiye) written in 1741 by Dayezde Mustafa Efendi (for a brief overview of these texts, and bibliographic information on those 2

seen below, to two of Sinans mosques, the ehzade *Ottoman prince+ (1543-1548),4 and the Sleymaniye (1550-1557); both built in Istanbul in the mid-sixteenth century during the reign (1520-1566) of Sleyman I (1494-1566), and considered to be the first two milestones of his career. Ayasofya tarznda yaplan binalar, nezkete mtehammil deilken bu bendeleri (Sleymaniye Cmisine) numne olan ehzade Sultan Mehmed cmii erfin tekml edp badehu bu imreti liyyede env-i sr cemle zuhra getrlmdr ki her biri nezketle sret bulmudur. (qtd. in Meri, 1965: 51) (. . . buildings built in the style of the Haghia Sophia did not carry elegance until this servant of yours completed the mosque of ehzade Sultan Mehmed which served as a model for the [Sleymaniye Mosque]. Thereafter, in the latter lofty complex, numerous artistic works were created, each of which was designed elegantly. [Translation by Necipolu-Kafadar, 1996: 179-180].) The description informs us of a number of phenomena: firstly, it points to the existence of a plural number of buildings that were recognized as built in the style of the Haghia Sophia. Next, it places Sinans two buildings among this series. It then records that the Sleymaniye Mosque was modelled on Sinans earlier imperial commission, the ehzade Mosque; and finally, it reveals that the Sleymaniye was recognized as the latest and most outstanding example of its category as regards its elegance." Thus, we are presented with a linear progression of buildings and designs that culminate in the superlative qualities of the Sleymaniye. As pointed out by Glru NecipoluKafadar, Sinan is thus acclaimed for being the creator of a more elegant neo-Haghia Sophia style (1996:180). However, what seems equally important is that, unlike Tursun Bes description of the Mosque of Mehmed II, this text does not refer to the Haghia Sophia as the first-hand model of Sinans work, but refers to it as a distant prototype (antecedent) that generated a specific architectural genre. It is the ehzade Mosque, not the Haghia Sophia, which is recorded to have provided the immediate example for Sleymaniye. It seems as though what is at stake here is a patriarchal pattern of transmission in which the genus discendi of one work is venerated in the latter. In this line, the emphasis on elegance (nezket) is interesting, though hard to account for. It may possibly be a term used to denote the aesthetic effect that complements the structural efficiency of a monument, or perhaps a signifier of some symbolic meaning. On the other hand, it may also be relevant to consider that besides its immediate meaning of gracefulness; the Ottoman word nezket also stood for well mannered (edebli) or significant (ehemmiyetli); and that it was also one of the canonized words used in Classical Ottoman lyric poetry to praise the beloved (Andrews, 2000:62). Whatever its original implication(s) may have been, what interests the present discussion is that the word is evidently employed in the text in question to define some sort of ideal which Sinans monument (Sleymaniye) had reached. It is not a quality attributed to the Haghia Sophia, or one that Sinans model (ehzade) could fully achieve. In other words, whether he
manuscripts not yet published in Latin characters, see Snmez, 1998: 11-18). 4 The ehzade Mosque (also known as the "ehzade Mehmed Mosque" or "ehzadeba *Head of Ottoman Princes+ Mosque"), was Sinans first major imperial commission, and a building which, according to an undocumented quote, he later defined as an exemplar of the apprenticeship (raklk) period of his career. Commissioned by Sultan Sleyman I in memory of his eldest son ehzade Sultan Mehmed who died in 1543, the building is part of the ehzade Complex, whose layout basically follows that of the fifteenth-century complex of Sultan Mehmed II in Fatih (Kuban, 1997: 64). The mosque itself has a square plan, roofed with a large central dome which is flanked by four semi-domes and four smaller corner domes. It is mainly the use of these semi-domes that has linked the building to the Haghia Sophia. 3

is building in the style of the Haghia Sophia, or consulting his own model, Sinan is presumably not concerned with producing conspicuous likenesses, but seems to be stimulated by an impulse to attain an ideal by reworking on previous examples. Tezkiretl Bnyn A yet stronger allusion to revision and modification is manifested in the appraisal of Sinans Selimiye Mosque (Edirne, 1568-1574), which is often considered to be the final milestone and apogee of his career. In a passage from Si elebis Tezkiretl Bnyn (A Biographical Memoir on Building), Sinan recounts5 that Sultan Selim II asked him to build a mosque with no equal on earth (bir cmi binsna emr-i hmynlar oldu ki rzgrda misli olmaya). He then continues to describe how he fulfilled the Sultans request: Bu hak-ir dahi bir resm-i li eyledim ki Edirne iinde manzr- halk ola. Drt minresi kubbenin drt cnibinde vki olmudur. Hep er erefelidir. Hep er yollar ve ikisinin yollar baka baka vki olmudur. Ol mukaddem bin olunan erefeli bir kule gibidir. Gyet kalndr. Emm bunun minresi hem nzik hem er yollar olmak gyet mkil old ukalya malmdur. Halk- cihn dire-i imkndan hric didiklerinin bir sebebi Ayasofya kubbesi gibi kuvve delet-i slmiyyede bin olunmamdr, dey kefere-i fecerenin mimr geinenleri mslimnlara alebemiz vardr, dirler imi. Ol kadar kubbe tururmak gyet mkildir, didikleri bu hkirin kalbinde kalmd. Mezbr cmi binsnda himmet idp biavnillhi tal sye-i Sultn Selm Hnda zhr- kudred idp bu kubbenin Ayasofya kubbesinden 6 zir kaddin ve 7 zir derinliin ziyde eyledim. (Si elebi, 1988: 85)6 (This lowly creature [your humble servant] created a monumental design so that it [would] be visible [from all vantage points] to the people in Edirne. Its four minarets have been placed on the four sides of the dome. They each have three galleries; two of them have three separated staircases with different paths. The previously built minaret of [the] erefeli *Three-Galleried mosque] is like a fortress tower; it is extremely thick. But the great difficulty of constructing the minarets of this mosque both elegantly and with three separate staircases is apparent to smart people. Because everyone in the world said that a dome equal to that of Haghia Sophia had not been built during the Muslim era, the so5 As with all texts on his life and works (see earlier footnote), Sinan is not the first-hand author of the Tezkiretl Bnyn. Here, he reportedly recollects incidents in his life and recalls his career and works for its author, the painter and poet Si elebi. It is also of note that this text, and Sai elebis other text on Sinan (Tezkiretl Ebniye), are both written in the form of a tezkirea popular genre of premodern Ottoman literature which compiles biographical sketches of, generally, poets and samples of their verses. The Tezkiretl Bnyn and Tezkiretl Ebniye are the only two tezkires to be written for an Ottoman architect. 6 These expressions are repeated in verse form, in the mesnevi (Divan poem with rhyming couplets written in the aruz meter) at the end of the text: Nezket-i dikkat hem resm heyet Muhassl hatm olubdur anda sanat ... Ayasofya gibi bir kubbe asl Yaplmaz bahs ider hep cmle dny Bu li kubbe andan old azam Kalann bilmezem Allh alem (Si elebi, 1988: 86)

called architects of the infidels claimed to have triumphed over the Muslims. Their statement about the extreme difficulty of stabilizing such a large dome had wounded the heart of this lowly creature. Working hard on the construction of the dome of this mosque, with the help of God and under the shadow of Sultan Selim Han, I demonstrated my power by building it 6 cubits [4.50m] higher and 4 cubits [3.00m] deeper than the dome of Haghia Sophia. *translation by Necipolu-Kafadar, 1996: 186]) The paradox is obvious. Sinans architectural response to a demand for a mosque with no equal on earth is presented as a concoction of two pre-existing buildings: a fifteenth-century Ottoman mosque, and a sixth-century Byzantine basilica (converted to a mosque in the fifteenth century). However, as Necipolu-Kafadar indicates, Sinan is not referring to the buildings in their entirety, but to the minaret of the erefeli ([with a minaret which is] Triple-Galleried) Mosque (14431447) in Edirne, and to the dome of the Haghia Sophia (1996: 186). In other words, he does not seem concerned with either building as architectural wholes, but focuses his attention on a single architectural element from each. The question remains, Why so? The text is clear as regards the challenge posed by the monumental dome of the Haghia Sophia. Adding to this is the fact that the famous triple-galleried minaret of the erefeli Mosque is known to have been the tallest in the Ottoman world until the construction of the Selimiye; it may seem that Sinans claims for building a unique mosque had some (perhaps symbolic) relation to exceeding existing limits in height. However, as the text gives no reference to the height of the erefeli minaret, this interpretation is bound to remain a speculative one. In a different light, Sinans comment on the extreme thickness of the minaret, and his accent on the difficulty of constructing it elegantly call to mind different associations as regards a claim for proficiency in engineering as well as in architectural design. Still, it seems difficult to answer, by modern-day concepts of eclecticism or historicism alone, questions concerning the reasons these particular references were selected in the first place, and the manner in which forms of such diverse historical origin were brought together. On the other hand, Sinans allusion to Haghia Sophia as an alleged insignia of the infidels triumph over the Muslims candidly reveals that the meaning assigned to the edifice was more complex than the previous passage from sari implies. For, while the former text implies an intracultural relationship with the edifice, whereby it is referred to as an antecedent of the ideal imperial Ottoman mosque (and thus placed in the imperial architectural tradition); the tone of this passage is reminiscent of Tursuns Bes fifteenth century description, and addresses this relationship as an intercultural one, whose major ingredient seems to be an urge to match, or furthermore to surpass both the qualities of the edifice itself, and also the culture it is seen to represent.7 "Artistic Innovation" vs. "Imitation" No doubt these passages, and the texts they are quoted from, deserve closer scrutiny than they have received in this discussion. The principal intention in reflecting on them here has been, to repeat, to illustrate how these architectural descriptions blur the modern-day boundaries set between "artistic innovation" and "imitation" by offering just as many implications to each of the two termsas indeed do, from a modern-day perspective, the material forms of the buildings they describe. Likewise, on a broader scale, if one is inclined to identify innovation with any notable variation within the defined limits of a particular genre; then the six centuries of Ottoman architectural production will easily provide an abundant number and range of innovations to define and address. Reciprocally, it would be just as simple to dismiss numerous Ottoman artists and artefacts as respectively mere imitators or imitations, once one identifies any distinct affinity
7 The concepts of intracultural and intercultural imitation are drawn from Rita Copeland (1991: 26-29). 5

between a forerunner and successor as a premeditated act of copying. It all seems to depend whether the historiographical model at hand attaches significance to difference or to similarity. However, neither model seems to foster far-reaching interpretations, basically because the other is equally verifiable. It is perhaps because of this ambiguity that architectural historians have devoted considerable scholarly effort to discussing issues such as the following, expressed in question form: Was Ottoman architecture innovative? Was Sinan imitating the Haghia Sophia; or was he innovating ex novo? Was Sinan experimenting with new formal/structural compositions or replicating existing ones? Was Sinan a classicist or a historicist? (Why) were Sinans successors merely imitating him? Needless to point out that any answer that may be offered to questions such as these will be, first and foremost, an opinion, and part and parcel of a general conception of the nature of Ottoman architectural culture. The motive in referring to them here is, however, not to offer yet another estimation, but to suggest that these questions (and the answers they may incite) may in fact be rooted in a historiographic lapse that confuses or imposes our modern-day conceptions with those of the classical Ottomans. Two significant points may be made to clarify: Firstly, any account that may be offered as regards the innovative nature of Ottoman architecture in general, or the works of Sinan in particular, is bound to, and therefore must, be coherent with the manner we believe the premodern Ottoman world conceived of change. For, considering innovation and change are innately inter-related (Hobsbawm, 1997: 14-15), it may be suggested that the meaning and values attached to innovation are representative of whether a society perceives of change as a synonym for better or for worse. From a wider angle, one may reason that a society which recognizes change as an unavoidable and desirable agent of progress will welcome innovation; while one which believes change is avertable and leads to decay will try to resist it through acts of, what may be termed, non-innovation. This distinction may be addressed as both a cultural and an historical one: the belief in progressthrough which change becomes its own legitimization, and innovation is met with little, if any, resistanceis something we have attained (once and, presumably, for all) through the experience of modernity. Likewise, the belief that the future should reproduce the past, and the resultant disinclination towards change and novelty have often been identified as constituting together a predominant modality of the premodern world in general (Hobsbawm, 1997: 14; and Le Goff, 1990: 11-13). Thus, if one was to place the Ottoman sixteenth century in the greater temporal and cultural context of premodernity (since the 1500's may be characterized as a premodern era in Ottoman history), one could contend that the values assigned to innovation in the Ottoman mind were not quite compatible with a will to change. This is, in fact, an opinion which a number of studies on the centralized absolutism of the Ottoman institutional system have already drawn attention to. For instance, erif Mardin has indicated how the theocratic worldview characteristic of the classical Ottoman era generated a prevailing belief that the world, as God created it, was already in an absolute state of perfection; and that the very idea of change was threatening, as it implied a deviation from divine harmony (1991; this edition 1995: 246-247). From another perspective, Mehmet Gen has shown that the dominance of the past provided a rigid formative framework for Ottoman politico-economic conduct, whereby the principle of teml-i kadm (ancient precedence - doing things as they have always been done, since time immemorial) was a main pillar of Ottoman statecraft (2000: 90). Can one, then, impute an innovative prerogative to a premodern Ottoman architect when the world around him appears to have reserved limited, if any, room for innovation, and the sense of the past that characterized his age was, seemingly, irreconcilable with the modernist perception of history as incessant change?

Ottoman Architecture as Premodern Cultural/Artistic Practice This leads the discussion to a second point, which concerns placing Ottoman architecture in its greater context of premodern cultural/artistic practice. The allegorical nature of the Ottoman cultural context finds perhaps one of its best descriptions in the words of the Ottoman-born literary/intellectual figure Ahmet Hamdi Tanpnar (1901-1962): [T]he olden (arts) were expressions of a world enclosed upon itself, in which every part was mutually inclusive with another; and everything submitted to a hierarchic order that descended from top to bottom. Naturally, religion, the cosmic world, political conduct and individual life were arranged according to this lineage as reflections of each other. Each was a mansion of an absolute (idea), which was arranged in levels descending from the divine world to below. Each level is expressed with allegories of the same style. (Tanpnar, 1956, xxv; translation mine)8 Tanpnars depiction may offer grounds on which one may explain why Sinan, as a classical Ottoman artist, identified himself in the passages quoted above with self-effacing expressions such as this lowly creature or this servant of yours, while he was actually making claims for the brilliance of his own works. These paradoxical expressions cannot be dismissed as a casualty of literary conduct, since the sign on Sinans seal does indeed read Sinan the poor, Sinan the lowly (el fakir el-hkir Sinan), and the inscription he designed for his own tomb reads Sinan the poor, chief architect (el-fakir Sinan ser-mimarn- hassa). A significant contribution concerning the innovative qualities of his works may be found in the words of Doan Kuban (1926- ) who observes that Sinan spent his entire lifetime trying to solve the same problem (1997: 201).9 Setting aside the undeniable efficiency and splendor of Sinans solutions, one is inevitably tempted to ask, Why did he not, in the course of his long career, abandon solving the same problem, and attempt to redefine it? In other words, How come all his mosques (imperial commissions and others alike) may be reduced to a set of variations with a restricted number of elements that can only be combined in a certain number of ways? As Kuban specifies: Sinan worked in complete accordance to a predetermined set of rules. None of his works questioned the form of the dome or deviated from the tambour form of the Haghia Sophia. He neither questioned the rectilinear form of the main prayer hall, nor the relationship between the mosque-porch-courtyard. We cannot speak of a novelty he introduced to the standard set of architectural elements, or to prevailing construction techniques He abided by all technical and liturgical traditions. (1997: 200-201; translation mine) A most straightforward explanation that may be offered as regards the reason this was so would maintain that Sinan acted in such a manner because he could not have done otherwise. Not that his creative faculties were restricted; he acted thus simply because his social role did not require, and possibly would not have authorized him to act in any other way. In Uur Tanyelis
8 The original Turkish text reads: ... eski (santlar) her noktas birbirine cevap veren kapal, yukardan aaya doru dzenlenmi bir lemin ifadesidir. Tabiatiyle din, kozmik lem, siyasi rejim, ferd hayat bu silsileye gre derece derece birbirinin aksi olacakt. O ilh lemden aaya doru inen kademelerde dzenlenmi bir mutlakn mlikanesidir. Bu kademelerden hepsi ayn tarz istiarelerle ifade edilir. 9 Interestingly, Kuban refers to this point in a study that also describes Sinans style as the sum of his architectural innovations (1997: 201; translation mine). 7

unconventional, yet strongly convincing portrayal, Sinan is characterized as, first and foremost, a bureaucrat who merely functioned as a component of a predetermined system, with the only measure of his personal capacity being to secure that the system continued to operate as it had done before him (1996: 109; translation mine). Such a claim for the socio-cultural function of the Ottoman artist could perhaps also account for the reason(s) why: one, Ottoman Divan poets spent more than two centuries depicting the same image of an ideal beauty, and remained within the limits of what Walter Andrews has recently shown to be a rather restricted vocabulary (1985; this translation 2000: 53-80); two, students of classical Ottoman music devoted their entire training to memorizing the existing compositions of their ancestors whose musical repertoire was strictly bound to a limited number of temporal rhythms (Behar, 1998: 16-20); and three, the erh (commentary)10 and nazre (parallel)11 continued to be the two most popular forms of Ottoman literature until the mid-nineteenth century (Holbrook, 1992: 447-448; and 1994, this translation 1998: 29-46).12 Experimentation with the acquired cultural repertoire, innovation par excellence and change per se may well have been oxymorons for the Ottoman artist. However, this does not imply that the absence of the notion of innovation must lead to identifying sixteenth century Ottoman cultural practices as acts of imitation. Quite the contrary, it seems that the very notion of imitation itself, which is today disparaged as a culpable act and as an antonym of innovation, is just as much a product of the modern mind as the notion of innovation is. It is probably not coincidental that prior to the eighteenth century, a period often identified as the advent of Ottoman modernization, the Ottoman word for imitation (takld) had a substantially different meaning than its present-day connotation, varying at the time from the verbs to lock to to gird on clothes or a sword. It appears to be only towards the eighteenth century that the word acquired its present meaning of "copying" or "creating a semblance to." Furthermore, it apparently took another fifty years or so before the word acquired a pejorative connotation, almost equivalent to our modern-day conception of it (in the form of taklit) as a counterfeit or less valuable copy.13 It may be questioned, in this frame, how the Ottomans can be assumed to have engaged in what we today define as conscious acts of imitation, if they had no verb for such an act in their vocabulary.

10 A popular form in Islamic religious, literary and academic traditions, in which a text is interpreted or explicated by an author qualified on its subject, with the purpose of clarifying it to those less skilled in understanding it (Kortantamer, 1994: 1; translation mine) 11 Verses in which a poet engages in a dialogue with an admired and challenged predecessor by writing a poem in the same form, same rhyme scheme, and on the same subject as one by the predecessor. The Ottoman parallel should not, as it has been, confused," however, "with the British-American imitation, composed with the intention of reproducing the style of another author. The parallel ... [is] more of competition delimited by rules of form. (Holbrook, 1992: 448 n. 35). 12 A similar, and further in-depth comparison between Sinans architecture and this literary tradition has previously been made by Glr Necipolu-Kafadar who writes that, Just as Ottoman intellectuals of the time were busily producing commentaries, erhs, on older texts considered to be classics of the past, so Sinan was preoccupied with a structural and aesthetic criticism of earlier architectural masterpieces," adding that "[h]is imperial mosques can therefore be seen as architectural counterparts of emulative poems called nazires, which were composed on the model of admired exemplars in order to invite a competitive comparison (1996: 188-189). At this point, it seems significant to note the distinction, referred to in the footnote just before this one, that Victoria R. Holbrook makes between the Ottoman "parallel," and the British-American "imitation." 13 Compare, for instance, the item on takld in these two Ottoman dictionaries: (Sir) James W. Redhouse (18111892)'s Mntahabat- Lugat Osmaniye, (1838, this edition 1853); and Ahmet Vefik Paa (1823-1891)'s Lehe-i Osmn (1888). The Redhouse dictionary offers two meanings for the word: the first being, to lock, or to gird on (a sword, etc.); and the second, to resemble, act or speak in the manner of. Ahmet Vefik Paas dictionary adds to these a third item, which reads: fake (as stone); mimic or ridicule. 8

Novelty to Ensure Continuity? It seems then, on the one hand, that the application of present-day concepts of innovation or imitation to premodern architectural practice poses an historical anachronism; and, on the other, that one needs to ask questions of a different nature in order to understand the conditions of production of premodern Ottoman architecture. One such question will obviously involve investigating which concepts should replace innovation and imitation in identifying the trajectories of change in the Ottoman cultural context. For instance, how is one to account for Sinans references to the Haghia Sophia or to the erefeli Mosque, once one acknowledges that his motive could not have been imitation? Similarly, how is one to explain the intention with which he produced almost-exact planimetric replicas of earlier examples, such as the Tatar Han (Khan) Mosque (1552) in Crimea; and the Sinan Paa Mosque (Istanbul, 1554--1556); or the Kl Ali Paa Mosque (1581) in Istanbul.14 How then, is one to explain Sinans role in the Ottoman architectural tradition? It seems crucial to acknowledge that the nature of architectural interconnection in a premodern setting was far more convoluted, and had more various forms than may be explained by our present-day categories. As Richard Krautheimer has illustrated, premodern men had a tertia comparationis utterly at variance with those to which we are accustomed (1942; this edition 1969: 116-117); meaning the premodern conception of what made an edifice comparable to another was different from our own.15 While questions such as these may help in verifying the presence of what Victoria R. Holbrook has defined as the intertextuality of Ottoman artistic production (1998: 63-69);16 they may also be of assistance while investigating why the cultural mindset that privileged the old 14

Located in the (then Ottoman) city of Gzleve (which is called Kezlev by Crimean Turks and Eupatoria in the West, and which finds itself today within the autonomous republic of Crimea in Ukraine), the Tatar Han Mosque was commissioned by the Crimean Khan Devlet Giray I (1512-1557, reign 1551-1577). Its general composition presents a small-scale copy of the Mosque of Mehmed II in Istanbul. The Sinan Paa Mosque is located in Beikta, and takes its name from its patron, the Grand Admiral Sinan Paa (d. 1553, grand admiral *kaptan- derya] 1550-1553). The building repeats the planimetric composition of the erefeli Mosque of Edirne on a smaller scale. The Kl Ali Paa Mosque is located in the Tophane district, and takes its name from its patron, the Grand Admiral Kl Ali Paa (15001587, grand admiral 15711587). Its general architectural composition presents a smaller-scale replica of the Haghia Sophia. Due to their close resemblance to earlier buildings, these mosques have often been labeled as historicist examples of Sinans works. However, whether this term is applicable within a historical/cultural context which has yet to witness the advent of modern historiography or not remains to be debated (for a discussion of the issue, see Collins, 1998). Various interpretations have also suggested that these buildings were probably executed by Sinans junior assistants, or that their similarity to earlier buildings was due to their patrons requests. Both explanations are, however, far from being convincing, as all of these buildings are recorded in Sinans lists of works, which must prove that even if he did not attend to the construction of these buildings himself, he at least supervised it. On the other hand, there is ample evidence to believe that the mechanism of Ottoman patronage did not involve the patrons active participation in the architectural composition of buildings. 15 In his renowned study of copies in medieval architecture, Krautheimer analyses a series of medieval buildings which were erected as copies of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem. Comparing them both with the original building, and also with one another, he arrives at the striking conclusion that these copies present an "indifference" towards the precise imitation of the original, and that they differ substantially from each other. Differences in plan, in the composition of architectural elements and in spatial measurements outweigh the similarities in each comparison, leading Krautheimer to assert that *t+he architect of a medieval copy did not intend to imitate the prototype as it looked in reality; he intended to reproduce it typice and figuraliter, as a memento of a venerated site and simultaneously as a symbol of promised salvation (1942; this edition 1969: 128; emphasis in the original. For a brief commentary on this text, see Erkmen, 2002). 16 Holbrooks use of intertextuality (1998 passim) is based on the poststructuralist theorist Julia Kristevas definition of the term as the transposition of one (or several) sign system(s) into another (1984: 59). The basic concept of intertextuality is that, although it may sometimes appear or claim to be so, no text is original and unique in itself but is a body of unavoidable references to other texts. 9

against the new was so enduring in the Ottoman world. For, it seems that the authority of the old persisted even in the eighteenth century, when it was realized in many fields that, without coming to terms with the idea of change, the institutionalized system could no longer function. As recently appraised in an extensive study by Shirine Hamadeh, this (eighteenth) century welcomed a new attitude towards novelty and change, and innovation and inventiveness were operative criteria of architectural appreciation. The word new (nev) and its synonyms were recurrent adjectives employed to praise the overall form and/or elements of contemporary buildings (1999: 262-269). One important instance Hamadeh draws attention to is the chronogram17 on the Ahmet III (16731736, reign 1703-1730) Fountain (Istanbul, 1728),18 the work of Vehbi Hseyin Efendi Ayvansary (1747-1787), who proudly declares the edifice to be a new invention (nev cd) in his Mecmua-i Tevrih (this edition 1985: 151).19 Yet even though numerous aspects of the age indicate that the premodern cultural temperament was breaking away at this period, it seems that this process (of modernization) was a neither rapid nor undeviating one, as the advent of the new was still somehow tied in with the well-established urge to connote the old. For example, Glsn Tanyeli has called notice to how a late eighteenth-century text, written by the historian Ahmed Vsf Efendi (d. 1806), records that the initial plan of the Lleli Mosque (1760-1763) in Istanbul20 was similar to and reminiscent of (Sinans) Selimiye Mosque (bed-i nazarda Sultan Selim Camiine mbih ve mkil), built two centuries earlier (2000: 321). What seems almost paradoxical, as G. Tanyeli has points out, is that the construction process and the organization of labor through which the Lleli Mosque was erected involved almost radical transformations when compared with those of Sinans buildings (2000: 317). Could it be that novel methods of production were merely instrumentalized to ensure the continuity and permanence of venerated values? Were the builders of the Lleli Mosque innovating their age-old production techniques so that they could carry on reproducing an age-old architectural blueprint through easier means? Were they, in other words, employing change in one field to ensure non-change in another?21 This cultural dominant that apparently fostered the advent of the new, amidst the persisting authority of the old, finds perhaps one its best expressions in poetry, in the work of the late eighteenth-century Ottoman poet eyh Galip (d. 1799), who claimed having composed fresh verse (kelm- taze-mazmun) in his romance Hsn- Ak (Beauty and Love, written in 1782, this 17

A chronogram is a type of commemorative inscription (kitbe), generally placed on the main faade of an edifice, indicating its date of construction and/or restoration. It is composed of a literary text, (a Quranic verse, a prophets saying, or a new poem) in which specific letters stand for numerals that form a date when rearranged according to a certain literary code. 18 The Ahmed III Fountain is located immediately outside the Grand Gate (Bb- Hmyun) of the Topkap Palace in Istanbul, and is the first example of a free-standing (meydan) fountain, a new architectural type peculiar to the Ottoman eighteenth century. 19 Line 29 of the versed text reads: Bu mevki bd edp bir tarh- nev cd edp . . . (By making this site prosperous and this design, a new invention . . . [translation by Hamadeh (1999: 264]). The significance of this expression in the context of the changing meaning and value attached to the idea of novelty in the Ottoman cultural tradition has also been singled out by U. Tanyeli (1999: 47). 20 The Lleli Mosque, is part of the imperial Lleli Complex (Klliyesi) commissioned by Sultan Mustafa III (17171774, sultanate 1757-1774), which stands as the last imperial Ottoman complex in Istanbul. Its building is often attributed to the architect Mehmed Tahir Aa, while the role of the architect Hac Ahmet Aa is also documented. The mosque is built in the Ottoman Baroque style of the eighteenth century, and has a main dome that rests on eight pillars forming an octagonal plan, somewhat similar to the structural solution found in Sinans Selimiye Mosque. However, the general spatial composition, and the stylistic qualities of the two building are dissimilar. 21 This may also be considered as an architectural example of how, in Eric Hobsbawms words, *t+raditional systems can be stretched or modified, either consciously or in practice, without being officially disrupted, that is, [how] innovation can be reformulated as non-innovation (1997: 15; emphasis mine). 10

edition 1968).22 As Holbrooks immaculate study (1994; this translation into Turkish 1998) of the work lucidly describes, Galips romance marks a significant turning point for the waning of the allegorical nature of the Ottoman artwork. Holbrook draws attention to how Galip was clearly aware of the unconventional nature of his claims of novelty (1992: 440-445; and 1998: 65-69, 137, and 175-179), as towards the end of his romance, he complains of poets of his time who insist there can be no such thing as new poetry, and thus make a virtue of imitating the ancients: Akl klnda baz mecnun Yokdur diyeddi tze mazmun Gy ki shan-vern- pn Hep sylerler zman- pn Hi kimsede kalmayub liykat irlerin ola kr srkat ... Birbirlerine edip tekp Derler ki efendi byledir bu Var m hele sylenilmedik sz Kalm m meer denilmedik sz

(Some lunatics dressed as rational men Claim new poetry has come to an end As if the great poets of former times Did no more than re-phrase former times In no man is there found worthiness left The business of poets must then be theft ... They bow and cow to each other and say: Thats how it is gentlemen I daresay Is there anything that has not been said? Even one single word left unexpressed?" [Translation by Holbrook, 1992, p. 446-7]) However, both this complaint, and Galips assertion for the novelty of his own work acquire a different tone after one reads that he, too, associates his work with a venerated precedent: Esrrn Mevlevden aldm Aldm ama mri ml aldm (I took its *Beauty and Loves+ secrets from the Masnavi I stole, but I stole common property [Translated by Holbrook, 1992: 453 n. 55]) Read in context, Galip's verses stand out as expressions of homage rather than confessions of literary piracy or imitation. While his appeal to tradition (i.e., collective property) may have served
22 One such claim reads: "Tarz- selefe tekaddm etdim / Bir baka lgat tekellm etdim" (Ive surpassed the old school of my heritage / Ive articulated a new language) ( translated by Holbrook, 1992: 448). 11

as a legitimization of Galips claims for the novelty of his poetry, his mentioning of poets conforming to ancient forms as lunatics is interestingly indicative of a (newly emerging) disapproval of mimicry as a worthless act. Conclusion Hence, the watershed of Ottoman modernity seems to run, not in a revolutionary moment when change became its own justification, but along a period when custom was gradually redeemed compatible with innovation, and the appreciation of cultural forms relied on more than their ability to rephrase former times. For periods prior to this ridge, the concepts of, and distinctions between, innovation and imitation seem to exist, not in the Ottoman mindset, but in our own.
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----- (1992) "Past/Present." History and Memory. Trans. Steven Randall and Elizabeth Claman. New York: Columbia UP. 1-21. Mardin, erif (1995 *1991+) Trk Modernlemesi. 5. Bask. stanbul: letiim. Meri, Rfk M. (1965) Mimar Sinan, Hayat, Eserleri I: Mimar Sinann Hayatna, Eserlerine dair Metinler. Ankara: Trk Tarih Kurumu. Necipolu-Kafadar, Glru (1996) "The Emulation of the Past in Sinans Imperial Mosques." Uluslararas Mimar Sinan Sempozyumu Bildirileri. Der. Azize Akta-Yasa. Ankara: Atatrk Kltr, Dil ve Tarih Yksek Kurumu Atatrk Kltr Merkezi. 177-190. Redhouse, (Sir) James W. (1853 [1838]) Mntahabat- Lugat Osmaniye. stanbul: Matba-i Amire. Sa elebi (1988) Tezkiretl Bnyn. Haz. Sadk Erdem. stanbul: Binbir Direk. Snmez, Zeki (1988) Mimar Sinan ile lgili Tarihi Yazmalar-Belgeler. stanbul: Mimar Sinan niversitesi. eyh Galip (1968 *1782+) Hsn- Ak. Haz. Abdlbki Glpnarl. stanbul: Altn Kitaplar. Tanpnar, Ahmed Hamdi (1956) IX. Asr Trk Edebiyat. stanbul: stanbul Edebiyat Fakltesi. Tanyeli, Glsn (2000) "18. Yzyl Osmanl Mimarlnda Yapm Sreci: Lleli Klliyesi rnei." Celal Arseven Ansna Sanat Tarihi Semineri Bildirileri. Yay. haz. Banu Mahir. stanbul: Mimar Sinan . 317-326. Tanyeli, Uur (1996) "Trk Mimarnn Etik Sorumluluu: Bir Tarihsel Deerlendirme Denemesi, Kimlik Meruiyet Etik: Trkiye Mimarl Sempozyumu II:. Der. Alev Erkmen ve Glnur zdalar Gven. Ankara: Mimarlar Odas. 108-112. ----- (1999) "Bir Historiyografik Model olarak Gerileme-k ve Osmanl Mimarl." Osmanl Mimarlnn 7 Yzyl: Uluslarst bir Miras. Editrler Nur Akn, Afife Batur ve Seluk Batur. stanbul: YEM. 43-49. Tursun Bey (1977) Tarih-i Ebl-Feth. Haz. Mertol Tulum. stanbul: stanbul Fetih Cemiyeti.

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