THE DAYS OF THE FEAST OF THE ASSUMPTION OF THE HOLY MOTHER OF GOD IN ANI
Ani’s calm was disturbed on the days of the Feast of the Assumption of the Holy Mother of God; the ruined city’s soul would breathe again, and it would become lively. Ani was rejoicing, as if the dead city had come to life.
Peasants from villages near and far would rush to Ani; pilgrims would even arrive from Alexandropol. They would come in carriages, carts, horses and on foot to fulfil the mystery of their sacred oath in Ani’s Mother of God temple. Some would come to rejoice and for entertainment.
Shops selling various fruits and drinks opened near the northern fortifications. The zurnas resounded under the rhythm of drums and the Armenian round dances would form perfect circles in front of the massive monuments of the historic city.
Here, on the square near the cathedral, wearing colorful festive costumes, brides and girls danced round dances with young men, with boys and girls alternately singing. There was laughter and happiness everywhere. And the sounds of those songs, music and happiness echoed in the eternal cavities of the ancient city’s semi-ruined temples, beautiful palaces, strong walls, gorges and caverns and cliffs, creating a beautiful harmony of happiness and festivity.
In front of the Mother of God’s Temple, the pilgrims were sacrificing lambs and sheep in order that their desires and requests be acceptable. The fires were kindled and the pots sizzled, spreading the aroma of sacrificial meat everywhere.
Everywhere men, women and girls were walking around in groups through the ruins of the holy city.
They were strolling around to see the remains of their ancestors’ glorious monuments and miraculous deeds, once again.
And there, sitting on top of a tower, someone sings, mournfully and tearfully:
The city of Ani is sitting, crying
There is no one saying, “Don’t cry. Don’t cry”.
Oh, Armenian boy, pity me,
See how your Ani is…
Some were earnestly listening, squeezing compassion and grief from their hearts…
Some were kissing the polished stones and inscriptions with bitter tears in their eyes, grieving the fall of their creative ancestors.
An attentive viewer could not fail to notice how, far away from the throng, a grey-haired old man was praying on his knees before the Great Faith’s sacred altar-stone of this or that ruined temple, or a suffering mother was begging with pleading eyes to the one Most High, for mercy and atonement.
On those days Marr’s repository was filled with curious visitors. Spellbound, they looked at various objects that had been found during excavations, which had been placed with care behind glass exhibition cabinets. Here were the metal water pipes found during excavation in the royal bathhouse of the citadel. There were various colorful bracelets made of glass and metal; crystal and bronze vessels; large ceramic pithos; arrow points; coins; the small bronze torch found from the round Gagkashen church; food vessels and many other objects. In one of the showcases, the dress and the beautiful, tasteful, delicately-sewn bodice and maiden’s belt of a little girl, which were found in the family mausoleum-cavern of Tigran Honents, were kept. And under the arches of the columned hall stood the statue of the peace-loving and wise king of the Armenian world, Gagik I, carved from tuff. The visitors stared at the great master in awe: some let out bitter heartfelt groans, some were staring at that masterpiece in awe and some, with bitter hearts, travelled back in their minds into the depths of the centuries and imagined the glorious past of their ancestors and recalled their present.
And so, at around eleven o’clock, the large bell of Ani’s Holy Mother of God temple rang with heavy and rhythmic beats. The peals spread throughout the city, inviting pious believers to the Holy Patarag ceremony (Holy Liturgy) and prayer.
On that day priests and deacons came to Ani from the surrounding villages. The church liturgy would start. People had gathered in the church. They had brought requests and pleas for the fulfilment of the sincere desires that had filled their hearts. Some were touching the skirt of the compassionate Mother of God to communicate their sorrow, suffering and pain to her and to beg for healing and help. Many had come with guilty souls to beg for mercy and forgiveness. All of them, all of them, were kneeling reverentially and praying in Ani’s sacred Holy Mother of God temple with sincere hearts and great faith under the light of hundreds of candles and burning censers.
The Patarag was over.
The religious procession, together with a large throng, starts to move out of the temple with crosses, banners and burning thuribles. The procession solemnly moves in a circle around the large temple, accompanied by the sound of liturgical hymns. It stops for a short while in front of Armenian Queen Katranide’s inscriptions engraved on the southern wall and then moves east.
There, not far from the eastern wall of the ancient temple, rest the remains of pious Queen Katranide, the spouse of powerful Gagik. A chapel, which used to stand on her tomb, is now a pile of rocks.
The procession stops around the pile of rocks and the clergy conduct the Hogehangist (requiem).
Many candles were lit in front of the polished sacred stones of the consecrated piles of rock and the incense was smoldering, spreading its aroma all around. Everywhere, there were hearts filled with emotion, and tearful eyes and lips murmuring fervent prayers in memory of the pious Queen…
And the shocking images of these emotional scenes were squeezing my soul with an inexplicable, heavy, thought.
An eternal tomb, covered in piles of stones and fragments of the tomb-chapel… Just one line from the pages of history…
And thousands and thousands of souls kneel before the tomb of the Armenian Queen…
I, KATRANIDE, QUEEN OF ARMENIANS
DAUGHTER OF VASAK, KING OF SYUNIK
TRUSTING IN GOD
AND BY THE ORDER OF MY HUSBAND GAGIK, KING OF KINGS
I BUILT ST. KATOGHIKE, FOUNDED BY SMBAT THE GREAT
AN AMUSING INCIDENT
In 1914 Professor Marr sent an expeditionary team to Shirakavan, comprised of the following members: 1. Ashkharhbek Loris-Melik Kalantar (excavation leader), 2. Architect N. Buniatian, 3. Taragros (apprentice to the architect), 4. Aram Vruyr and a Russian photographer (I do not remember his surname).
The expedition was given the mission of conducting control excavations around Shirakavan’s ninth-century temple and taking measurements of the temple.
Marr had handed seven bottles of fine wine – for the scientific expedition’s dining table – to Ashkharhbek. These were placed with care, under lock and key, in the expedition leader’s luggage as all of the members of the excavation, with the exception of the leader, could not be indifferent towards the above-mentioned seven bottles.
“Oh, scissors of economy, you are a good thing if you are not exploited.”
The excavation had been going on for twenty days, yet the wine bottles were still lying in Kalantar’s luggage. This was creating dissatisfaction and anger amongst the fans of Bacchus and instead of the shower of complaints falling on the leader, it was directed at Aram Vruyr, the “High Priest”, as the most senior priest in the temple of Bacchus. While Buniatian was upset, as per his habit, he was silent. It was Taragros who would disturb Aram’s already troubled soul with his complaints and he would frequently say,
“High Priest, how is this going to end? When are you going to conduct the “requiem”, my throat is parched.”
However, the day before wrapping up activities at Shirakavan, an amusing incident occurred, which became a “source of Torment” for the excavation leader and a “Door for amusement” for the High Priest, Taragros, Buniatian and the Russian painter. A group of four: a woman and her spouse and an old priest and his child, had arrived in Shirakavan from Alexandropol. They were Ashkharhbek’s close acquaintances who had come specifically, both to visit Ashkharabek and to see the ancient monument.
Kalantar welcomed his dear guests with immense pleasure. They toured the excavation site and visited the monument. During the tour, the leader of the excavation was painstakingly explaining about both the monument and the excavation work. In the evening Ashkharhbek invited his guests for dinner.
That evening the dinner was lavish and special. Nine people were seated around the table. By the way, Taragros was seated to the right of the High Priest and Buniatian to his left and the Russian painter was by his side – that was the Bacchanalian assembly.
They had just sat down when Ashkharhbek came out of the adjacent room with a bottle of wine in his hand.
“And the peak of Mount Ararat became visible”, recited Vruyr solemnly.
“Blessed be God”, concurred Taragros.
“Amen”, added the architect.
“Yes, this I understand”, said the Russian painter with a smile.
The High Priest filled nine cups – the bottle emptied.
“And the base of the earth became visible”, gently mumbled Vruyr.
“Be attentive, God is speaking”, joined in Taragros.
“Peace…” said Buniatian.
As the eldest person at the table, Aram Vruyr raised his cup and proposed a toast to the honorable guests. The cups were emptied; the bottle was empty too.
“I did not understand anything High Priest”, whispered Taragros.
“Be patient, son”, Vruyr assuaged him.
Five minutes had not passed since making the first toast, when Vruyr took the bottle of wine, pretending to not know that the bottle was empty, and said the following, “Gentlemen, let’s drink to the honorable lady, who is a public figure. In our reality, the Armenian woman has always been the vanguard and has encouraged and inspired us with her exemplary and devoted work in the public sphere …
He was speaking in a declamatory, poignant tone, praising the devoted and exemplary Armenian woman who had thrown herself into the public sphere. And throughout the entire length of that colorful toast, he was holding the empty bottle in his hand.
Finishing his toast, the High Priest brought the bottle close to his cup and… alas… the bottle was empty.
Uncomfortable situation.
He cast a reprimanding look towards Ashkharhbek and with his gaze showed the empty bottle in his hand as if he was trying to say, “This is disgraceful”. All that happened in an instant, with great acting skill. Taragros fueled the master’s performance with his displeased facial expression.
The situation was saved. Ashkharhbek brought the second bottle of wine from the adjacent room.
At this point, Ashkharhbek also made a speech to toast the lady.
The glasses were emptied.
“Wine makes people happy”, said Taragros emptying his glass and placing one thigh from the fried pullets onto his plate, as an inseparable bite for his future drink. He still had that hope.
The table companions were pleasantly conversing and dining when the High Priest once again raised the empty bottle of wine and interrupted their pleasant conversation with his bass voice. This time he proposed a toast to the great scientist Nicholas Yakovlevich Marr.
The bottle was empty. The High Priest’s scolding glance forced Ashkharhabek to bring out the third bottle from the adjacent room.
Next day, unfortunately for Ashkharhbek and fortunately for the followers of Bacchus, seven empty bottles could be seen lying carefully in the excavation leader’s luggage.
1915
In 1914, two new faces were seen in Ani’s expedition team: architect N. Buniatian and Taragros, who both worked in Ani for two years. In 1915, I also had the opportunity to participate in Ani’s expedition. As a technical laborer, I was supposed to support architect N. Buniatian, whose assistant was Taragros. That was my first step in life: I started work, which lasted 47 days, for one ruble per day.
My job consisted of transporting the measuring instruments to the site, climbing walls, sometimes going up a ladder, measuring this or that wall, column, chapiter, and base, following the architect’s instructions and reporting the measurements to N. Buniatian, who was writing them down on the drawing board in front of him. Together with Taragros we would put a horizontal line at a certain height on the interior and exterior of the walls of the monument that was being measured and together connect the sizes of the various sections of the building. We would measure the width and height of the walls, doors, windows and other parts.
In 1915, we began our work on St. Grigor Church in Apughamrents, which lasted 15 days. Then we moved to the measuring of the temple excavated near the ruined minaret and its surroundings for 10 days, and then we went to Yereruk.
Loading our measuring equipment and our beds on the cart, I travelled with wagoner Ohanes of Khoshavank, under the leadership of Ani’s messenger, towards the Kurdish (Yezidi)-inhabited village Ghzlghula, in the center of which stood the Yereruk basilica, one of the massive monuments of sixth century Armenian historic architecture.
Early in the morning our cart moved towards Khoshavank, passing through the Dvin gates of the northern walls, as it was only possible to travel by cart, through there. It is possible to cross the Akhuryan River near Khoshavank. The riverbed is quite wide there. Even though that route is three times longer, it is the only convenient route for a cart. N. Buniatian and Taragros were going to take the short route to Yereruk (Ani-Kharkov-Ghzlghula), the following day.
We reached Ani station in about two hours, after passing by The Church of the Shepherd, Khosher, Horomos monastery, and crossing the Akhuryan. From there we went to Ghzlghula village. In other words, we took a circular, indirect route from Ani to Ghzlghula.
Ghzlghula was an arid, small village consisting mainly of underground houses. The village did not have water. It used water from the railway’s water supply building constructed one kilometer away, while the wheat and barley fields of the village were left to the mercy of the heavens.
Ani’s messenger had already rented a room which would have been considered the best, in that village. The room had two windows – which was a rarity in Ghzlghula. About 250 meters away from our apartment stood the venerable ancient – Yereruk.
Buniatian and Taragros arrived the next day.
Our activities began: Taragros and I first placed posts at a certain height around the temple, a small distance away from the walls, and with a metal wire cordoned off the monument in a rectangle and began passing horizontal lines with a water meter on the internal and external walls of Yeryeruk. The architect was busy sketching the façade of the temple.
The measuring began.
Taragros and I took the general measures with a roulette and then went into the details.
Every single stone of the monument was measured. I was climbing the walls of Yereruk and communicating the sizes of the frescos in detail. The architect was noting it down on his board where he had previously drawn the façades of the monument and the details.
Buniatian and Taragros had opposite characteristics: the first one was silent, immersed in thought, completely absorbed in his work; while the second one, although actively working, made the hours of the day pass unnoticed by making witty remarks from time to time. The architect addressed Taragros’s witty remarks with just a gentle smile.
Our work was progressing with great speed but the burden of procuring food and not knowing the language was constraining us, and the inhabitants of the village did not know any other language but Kurdish. We put in a lot of effort to explain our need to procure food. In Ghzlghula very few people spoke even a smidgen of Armenian.
We were forced to send a message to Ani and the professor immediately sent Ago from Alashkert, who was fluent in Kurdish. We were very happy to see Ago, as if a rescue angel had appeared.
But alas… Ago’s presence did not save the situation. The Kurds of Ghzlghula ignored us.
One day the village was in chaos: there was an unusual unrest. The villagers, young and old, were quickly moving out of the village towards the wide road leading to the village. What had happened?… Why were the Kurds in such a stir?
Yesayi, the messenger of Ani appeared at the top of the hills outside the village. He could be seen riding his red horse, with his bandolier, rifle, sword, switch, fur hat, high riding boots and, most importantly, the round copper medal on the left side of his breast on which the words “Ani’s messenger” was engraved, the shiny surface of which was glinting and playing under the rays of the sun. And in the eyes of the Kurdish villagers, that sign conveyed the certitude that it’s owner, Ani’s messenger “possessed special privileges”.
And the honorable guest entered the village; someone took hold of the horse’s bridle, the other the stirrup and the rider descended solemnly.
The villagers welcomed the honorable guest and led him away, hosting him in one of the village’s houses.
The Kurdish women removed his high-riding boots and sweat-soaked socks, and washed his feet. A rooster was sacrificed, and the smell of fresh lavash came from the saj (metal sheet for baking bread). The villagers had gathered around the guest and were chatting.
Dinner was ready… The hospitality was fitting.
After finishing work, we returned to our house, where Yesayi conveyed Professor Marr’s letter to Buniatian.
Taragros addressed Yesayi with a sarcastic smile on his face, “Oh, man, you’re greater than the Pristav (Russian supervisory officer), you have become our “master” and we have been unaware of any of it, ball, rifle, horse, “medal”… tell these people to take care of us, we are dying of hunger, ……….May you choke on the rooster you ate….”
The Messenger got angry and furrowed his brows. Turning around, he erupted in anger at the Kurds, who had entered our room and were standing silently.
“How dare you mistreat my people? Next time I do not want to hear similar complaints and dissatisfaction about you”
The Kurds were apologizing for their careless treatment towards us from their “almighty” messenger and trying to appease his anger by making thousands of promises. The messenger’s anger was mostly acting, which was being complemented by Taragros frequently addressing him as “master”, which left a good impression on the Kurds.
In short, we lived in Ghzlghula for two days by the compassion of the messenger, after which the Kurds would again ignore us, forgetting all their promises. And we would await the arrival of the messenger. He would visit us once every five days, after which the friendly attitude of the Kurds would be renewed, of course, again for a short period of time.
After finishing the detailed measuring of Yereruk in twenty-two days, Buniatian and Taragros returned to Ani taking the short route and I, together with Ago and the messenger, once again returned to Ani with our goods loaded on the cart, via the Ani station-Khoshavank-Ani route.
And so, 1915 was the threshold for my very first achievement. Over a period of three months I was engaged in metrology for 47 days and the rest of the time I helped my father out with his photography. Apart from that, my father had given me three boxes of 9/12 photographic plates with which I began to take my first steps in photography.
One Saturday, picking up the photographic camera after finishing excavation work, I left for Khoshavank with Ohanes from Khoshavank who also worked on Ani’s excavations with his oxen and cart, returning to the village on Saturdays and coming back to work on Monday mornings.
On Sunday we toured Khoshavank from morning until evening. I took pictures of the general views of the exterior and other details of Horomos monastery and the churches in the gorge, choosing positions with favorable lighting and interesting spots, about which I had heard my father’s instructions.
After returning to Ani on Monday, without wasting time, I hurried to the dark room to develop my pictures.
I had just finished developing and washing the negatives and was carefully organizing them on a wooden stand when H. Orbeli entered. His sudden appearance embarrassed me. I was upset and was in an uncomfortable situation because I was an unauthorized person in the photography studio of the excavation and I had done some work on the side. The young scientist threw a glance at the negatives and asked what they were. I shyly related my two-day journey to Khoshavank and my photography. He carefully studied each negative and without saying a single word, hurriedly left the studio. I felt like a criminal.
After a short time Orbeli returned accompanied by the honorable professor. They began to attentively study all of my negatives. My heart was beating… I was awaiting a reprimand and cautioning… but on the contrary, I heard words of encouragement and inspiration for the criminal…
After a couple of days, the honorable professor said, “Artashes, if possible, please take pictures of the inscriptions on the front of the door that was excavated near Prkich Church.”
I did not understand why the professor gave me that task. Maybe he wanted to test my proficiency?… I do not know…
It is correct that I was still inexperienced. The art of photography was still fairly new to me, but I must confess that I attentively followed and studied the art of light and shadow, as well as composition in my father’s photographs. In particular, when touring with him on new shoots he would explain the arrangement of light on objects and elucidate many other skills in the art of photography
I was walking around Ani’s ruins with the photographic camera in my hand and stopping in front of this or that sculpture, inscription or architectural detail – beautiful chapiters, massive bases, high arches, sculpted crowns and entrances, and choosing the general views of various monuments and after preparing the photographing camera, waiting and attentively following the play of light and shadow to emphasize the shape and size of the object to be photographed.
I had long ago used the three boxes of photographic plates that my father had given to me. Now I was photographing without plates, pretending that I was taking pictures, pretending that the best plates were placed in the cassettes of my camera. And so, I constantly walked around the ruins taking fake pictures and preparing the camera. I would focus on the object to be photographed, wait for the arrangement of lights, connect the empty cassette to the device, and with great care open the cassette, capturing the moment to be photographed.
My father gave me two 13/18 size photographic plates with which I was supposed to carry out the professor’s tasks.
Next day I was standing near the inscription. I adjusted the camera and was nervously waiting for lighting. The rays of the bright summer sun began to caress the inscriptions of the Tseratsats Temple. The beautiful Mesropian letters which had been created with a metal pen and were buried under thick shadows a short while ago, slowly began to come to life and take expressive form. I moved my hand towards the lid of the lens… my heart was beating, and my hand was shaking… I somehow took a picture and hurried to the dark room.
I am developing… one by one the inscribed letters of the Tseratsats Temple begin to take shape in front of the red light. They are speaking, shining on the surface of the glass. However, encouraged by my success, losing all sense of measure, as a result of my inexperience, the negative comes out very thick. But I think everything is very good.
I informed the professor, who immediately came, took a look and said, “Artashes, I think you kept it in the developer too long.”
“No, professor, it is good”, I said.
“Do you think so…?” said the professor and fell silent.
My father chastised me quite a lot: in such cases he was unsparing. Good lighting, good exposure, but bad developing. I did not sleep that night – I was reprimanding myself the entire night.
Next day I was once again standing with the device set, in front of the inscription, waiting for the lighting.
I finally took a picture. The past, failed attempt had warned me. This time I developed it carefully and, after removing the negative on time, I was staring in awe at the glass, on which the beautiful letters inscribed on the front of the door of the Tseratsats Temple were shining… “…I renovated this my Tseratsats Temple…” This was my first test.
That year architect Toramanyan was busy studying the monuments of Bagnayr and returned to Ani in August. Together we toured Ani in order to take pictures of several monuments. I was carrying the architect’s massive photographic camera (size 24/ 30) with its heavy tripod: we went up to various monuments and took pictures.
There was a distribution of labour between us, which had not been decided in advance, but it was naturally how it should have been. I did all the technical work: carrying the camera with its cassettes and tripod, attaching the device to the tripod, bringing the monument to be photographed into focus, connecting the cassette to the device, and taking the picture. It was the job of the honorable architect to choose the lighting and the parts of monuments to be photographed, check the focus set up by me and determine the size of the diaphragm and the amount of exposure. After all of that I took the picture. A merely technical job: opening and closing the objective lid.
One day we went to photograph the circular St. Gregory church of Gaghkashen and here the beloved architect related the reason he studied photography.
“One day I asked your father to take pictures of several fragments of Khoshavank, which were extremely important for my work. Even though your father accepted, and had always supported and fulfilled my requests to photograph different monuments, after two years Khoshavank had still not been photographed. I got sick and tired of reminding him and finally one day I got angry and decided to learn photography for myself, and I did.
And truly Toramanian learned and mastered the art of photography.
Ani’s expedition used British “Ilford” brand photographic plates and Toramanian used French “Lumière” brand photographic plates, which he received by special order from the “Lumière” factory.
This small tour through Ani’s ruins with the great scientist became yet another testing ground for me in the work of photographing archeological architecture. He explained the limits of including fragments of architectural structures on photographic plates in order to make it completely comprehensible to the specialist.
Fhoto – Ani walls, by Gevorg Haroyan
