Stephanie
Hard as it is, I love what I do, and working in Cappadocia confirmed that the perks of working in art history are vast. My major field of study is Modern art, so I jumped at this unique opportunity to get out of the archive and into the field. The past weeks in Cappadocia became a kind of art history methodological boot camp, primarily of iconography and style, and I was able to really hone my eye (and my calves) as we inspected every minutia of these many churches. Working directly with art objects has secured my knowledge that art history is about honoring the work that you study, and that this field begins and ends with the object.
Brad
This was my third season in Cappadocia and by far the most valuable. My first two seasons correspond to my first two years of graduate school. I was naive and a newbie to art history, Byzantine studies, and fieldwork. I just assumed research in Cappadocia---side-by-side with my Professor in locked rock-cut churches-- was a given rather than an exceptional experience. I made those first two seasons about me and asked Meryamana what she could do for me. This season was entirely different. We did not set foot in Meryamana but she was ever-present. Each rock-cut church spoke to us in a variety of ways, most notably through iconography and style. With each conversation we learned more and more about Meryamana and Byzantine Cappadocia. This summer I learned about our responsibilities as art historians. We are stewards of the monuments. Our job is to listen to what they have to say and find ways to articulate the meanings that have been silenced for nearly a millennium. I felt like the work we did this summer helped us to hear, if only a whisper, what Meryamana has to say.
Sarah
I have acquired a variety of skills during our time in Cappadocia, including how to differentiate between tuff and ignimbrite and how to distinguish the styles of Armenian workshops from those of Constantinople. I have learned that the foundation of these skills lies in the ability to see relationships forming around you. My time in Cappadocia made me realize that the rock-cut churches continue to be intertwined with the local culture. In order to reach the churches we had to pass through modern tourist traps, trek through farms and herds of livestock, and have photo-ops with the Turkish national military. My realization that these churches are approached from a variety of perspectives – i.e. an example of cultural heritage versus a pre-fabricated pigeon coop – encouraged me to see the monuments with fresh eyes. Only then could I begin to see important possible relationships, such as the connection between the brushwork of single decorative motif and the rendering of the Theotokos’s veil by a single hand.
Chris
Our days in the field introduced me to the practicalities of conducting research in Cappadocia. Rock-cut churches are rarely on the map and asking for directions often leads to further confusion, so perseverance is absolutely required. Inside the churches I was first overwhelmed by the sheer amount of imagery that survives; with time I was able to discern smaller variations from church to church. In the evenings, tracing motifs not only resulted in the first drawings of mine that I could consider fridge-worthy, but also trained my eyes to look for the nuances of brushstrokes and technique. Knowing how to search, knowing what to look for, and knowing how to look are all tools I am very thankful I can bring back with me from Cappadocia.
Now we present to you a photomontage full of adventure and bloopers. Thank you for following us this summer.
Turkish Dining
In order to prepare ourselves for our treks through the valleys, our meals always included a layer of the nutritious mineral known as volcanic tuff. Tuff is also useful as a skin salve, nose protectant, and hair styling product.
We had to protect our daily rations from the encroaching local wildlife.
Aside from all the tuff that we ingested we also sampled the exotic local cuisine. Airplane 'cuisine'.
Entries and Exits
Getting into rock-cut churches often proved to be a challenge, and required cooperation among the group. (Lynn would like to point out--on the left pic-- that she was waiting for the guides to get their act together so that she could get down, and on with her day.)
X doesn’t always mark the spot in Cappadocia, but the landscape offers clues.
Road hazards and never-ending stairs became a part of life. Here at Ihlara it's 361 steps down--and 361 back up.
Thankfully, aside from exhaustion and a few scraped knuckles, our injuries were limited to the infamous “church neck” and “tracing neck.”
Wizard Staffs and Wild Dogs
As we hiked through the Cappadocian valleys, we often had to arm ourselves as rumors of wild dogs circulated. Grrrrrrr.
Dr. Jones protected us with her bare hands against the reptiles lurking in the grass and under stones. (Lynn would like it to be noted that she waved tortoises in the general direction of these herpetological threats, and that it seemed to work.)
The local tour guides proved to be fountains of wisdom, retelling the narrative of Iconoclasm through depictions of pre-Iconoclastic chickens and Satanic grasshoppers.
An important lesson learned: always befriend the people with guns, even if they are a little too friendly.
As tempting as it was, we proceeded on foot and were thus deprived of a “nice experience.” We somehow managed, and saved ourselves twenty Turkish Lira a piece.
