Greetings, friends! If your year-end is currently defined by that particular brand of festive panic, you will understand entirely why my Tunisian dispatches have hit a temporary pause.
A Discovery at Galataport
In the interim, however, we found ourselves wandering through yet another Istanbul institution—the Museum of the Mimar Sinan Fine Arts University, nestled within Galataport—where we promptly uncovered a positive treasure trove of curiosities.
And so, by way of an aperitif between courses, allow me to present a rather delightful Turkish tour de force.
The Enigmatic Avant-Gardist
There is a certain Turkish-French avant-garde painter by the name of Fikret Muallâ—an artist notoriously famous among the happily initiated. Do run a quick search on him; his style is distinct, eccentric, and wonderfully unmistakable.
A Student Piece Among the Copyists
Yet, within the hallowed halls of this academic museum, there hangs precisely one of his works: a student piece tucked away in the copyists’ gallery. Picture the scene: a modest room lined with faithful copies of Western European masterpieces, each rendered with a precision that borders on the unsettling. And there, perched modestly in the corner like a poor relation at a ducal wedding, sits Muallâ’s charming canvas, bearing the modest inscription: “D’après le Greco.”
When Two Geniuses Meet
Anyone who has encountered Muallâ in Ankara, and subsequently communed with El Greco in Madrid or Toledo, will instantly perceive how exquisitely the young Turkish student in France managed to channel the very soul of the Greek master in Spain—while simultaneously forging his own eccentric idiom. He did not resort to the dull tyranny of literal copying, nor did he attempt to reverse-engineer an ancient technique. On the eve of postmodernism, he produced a magnificent, utterly singular authorial allusion.
In short, I have fallen rather hopelessly in love with the thing. I trust you shall find it equally charming. And a very merry Christmas to you all!
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