Over the last decades, historians of Seljuk and Ottoman art and architecture have paid increased attention to the ideological implications of their scholarship; many have worked hard to dispel Orientalist, nationalist, and various other outdated paradigms. Among these, one may count: the need to demonstrate artists and patrons’ Turkish ethnicity in the service of the image of a homogenous Turkish nation-state; the idea that one single genius-artist can represent a nation’s essence; the notion that after the “golden age” of the sixteenth century the Ottoman Empire (1299–1923) experienced decline in all aspects of life; and the repulsion of outside influences until the eighteenth century, when decline forced Ottomans to look toward the West. History and Ideology: Architectural Heritage of the “Lands of Rum,” a special issue of Muqarnas edited by Necipoğlu and Sibel Bozdoğan (vol. 24, Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2007), has in great detail examined these paradigms and their influence, while Gülru Necipoğlu’s The Age of Sinan: Architecture and Culture in the Ottoman Empire (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2005) (click here for review), Çiğdem Kafesçioğlu’s Constantinopolis/Istanbul: Cultural Encounter, Imperial Vision, and the Construction of the Ottoman Capital (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2010) (click here for review), and Shirine Hamadeh’s The City’s Pleasures: Istanbul in the Eighteenth Century (Washington: University of Washington Press, 2008) (click here for review) are among those works that have refined the picture of Ottoman art and culture.

These are more specialized works allowing for in-depth argumentation and therefore serve a purpose different from that of a survey book for readers encountering the arts of the region for the first time, as is Giovanni Curatola’s Turkish Art and Architecture: From the Seljuks to the Ottomans. Yet, one may still expect a survey to integrate, at least in broad strokes, in its narrative the latest scholarship and to make readers aware of recent debates. Surveys achieving this well do exist—for example, Yale University Press’s Pelican History of Art Series, regularly updated in revised editions—but unfortunately the reviewed work is mostly unsuccessful in this regard.

Against the background of the above-mentioned paradigms, the book’s title already gives pause: What makes an artwork or monument “Turkish”? The ethnic or linguistic identity of its patron? Of its maker? Or its location in the present-day Turkish Republic? (If the latter were the case, a better title might have been Art and Architecture of Turkey.) Curatola does not present a clear definition of his own, but instead anchors his narrative with a brief historical background chapter, from “the formation of the Turks as a people” (11) to “the brink of the modern age” (21). Like so many Turkish (art) historians writing in support of the nationalist project, he devotes several pages to the origins of the Turks, which should be a minor concern given the topic’s actual scope from the eleventh to the twentieth century. In contrast, the seventeenth, eighteenth, and nineteenth centuries are treated in a single paragraph. Of the factual errors in the introduction, one particularly deserves mention: according to the author, Mehmed III became sultan after strangling nineteen relatives (21), implying that he was a singularly blood-thirsty tyrant; in fact, Mehmed III became sultan before he had to commit institutionalized fratricide, meant to prevent civil wars between potential contenders to the throne.

The second chapter surveys Seljuk architecture, swiftly moving from monument to monument and generally concentrating on formal and aesthetic qualities, but sometimes also considering topics such as Anatolia’s road network as it pertains to bridges and caravanserais. Curatola takes readers on a tour starting at the twelfth-century cemetery of Ahlat in eastern Turkey, subsequently touching upon the famous thirteenth-century Mosque and Hospital of Divriği, and ending with the Gök Medrese of Amasya. Already in this chapter Curatola has difficulty maintaining the essentialist notion of Turkish art laid out in both title and chapter 1, as he refers to the Armenian craftsmen’s contribution to Seljuk buildings. Moreover, the individual descriptions of the buildings generally fail to convey their placement within the cultural landscape as a whole. Chapter 3, “Decorative Arts: From Byzantium to Central Asia,” similarly offers a “best of” Seljuk woodwork, lacquer, carpets, stone carving, ceramics, metalwork, and book painting.

“Transition and Innovation: 14th to 15th Century” turns to the early centuries of the Ottoman dynasty and discusses the mosque complexes in the successive capitals of İznik, Bursa, and Edirne in a manner that uncomfortably grapples with an evolutionary paradigm of architectural form. Chapter 5 moves on to post-conquest Istanbul, while also including excursions to Amasya and Edirne’s monuments built under Mehmed II’s son. In Istanbul, Mehmed II set out to make the formerly Byzantine capital his own, converting the Hagia Sophia into a mosque (which is only marginally mentioned), as well as building the Topkapı Palace and the Fatih Mosque. (On page 137, the latter is mistakenly called “Fethiye Mosque,” the Ottoman name of the church of Theotokos Pammakaristos, which Murad III converted in 1591.) Interestingly, Curatola does not discuss the palace in its entirety here, but only the Tiled Pavilion (Çinili Köşk).

In “Sinan: Genius at Work,” Curatola gives a stock narrative of Sinan’s biography and oeuvre, presenting as undisputed facts many aspects of his life (e.g., his birth-date and ethnicity) that in the absence of primary sources are likely to remain in the dark forever. The reader can follow Sinan’s work in chronological order, culminating in the Selimiye Mosque in Edirne. In “A Glorious Empire: Ottoman Decorative Arts,” Curatola surveys calligraphy, bookbinding, metalwork, ceramics, textiles, carpets, jewels and weapons, miniatures, and woodwork. Here again the problematic of defining Ottoman art as “Turkish” emerges in several places: Abraham of Kütahya signed his ceramics in Armenian; “high-quality [eighteenth-century velvet] workshops were usually Albanian and Balkan” (208); Mehmed II had artists like Gentile Bellini and Costanzo da Ferrara portray him on medals. One would expect this chapter to contain a discussion of Ottoman painting after 1800, such as the well-known oil paintings of the Ottoman intellectual, archaeologist, and museum-founder/director Osman Hamdi Bey (1842–1910), who had studied in Paris under Jean-Léon Gérôme. Perhaps his work appears not “Turkish” enough to be included?

The last two chapters, “After Sinan: Life Goes On” and “The 19th and 20th Centuries: A Decline?” are condensed into thirty-five pages, which makes them appear as an afterthought to the earlier pages celebrating the cultural achievements of the Seljuks and sixteenth-century Ottomans. Amid the key monuments of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries—the Sultan Ahmet, Nurosmaniye, and Laleli Mosque Complexes—the reader is suddenly taken on a flashback to the fifteenth-century parts of the Covered Bazaar, the Galata Bedesten, and the Topkapı Palace. It is not entirely clear why these monuments are presented out of the otherwise consistent chronological order.

The final chapter briefly describes the İshak Paşa Palace in Doğubeyazıt (commissioned in 1685, completed in 1784, and greatly shaped by the tastes and skills of local craftsmen of Armenian and Georgian background); the Nusretiye Mosque, the Dolmabahçe Palace, and the Çırağan Palace, all built in Istanbul in the nineteenth century by members of the Armenian Balyan family; the Orientalizing Sirkeci Railway Station, designed by the German architect August Jachmund; and the contribution of the Swiss architects Gaspare and Giuseppe Fossati, well-known for their restorations to the Hagia Sophia. No mention is made of Ahmed Kemaleddin Bey (1870–1927), an architect who shaped the First National Movement and today is honored on the twenty-lira banknote. It is in this chapter that the artificial equivalence between “Turkish” and “Ottoman” most obviously breaks down. Curatola does refer to the Ottoman Empire and Istanbul as multi-ethnic and cosmopolitan in several instances, but the overall narrative does not allow him to step outside a nationalist paradigm. This is rather disappointing since this handsomely produced book will end up in the hands of many lay readers probably not equipped to view Curatola’s narrative critically.

Another point of criticism is the numerous spelling mistakes in the Turkish words. Taş Medrese has become Tax Medrese, İshak Paşa has become İşak Paşa, and so on. This may be due to typographical problems and/or the fact that the copyeditor did not know Turkish. Furthermore, a knowledgeable copyeditor should have caught statements such as “Art Nouveau style appeared at the end of the eighteenth century” (262)—likely resulting from a mistranslation of the Italian ottocento. Such mistakes should not occur in an expensive volume intended as “fascinating reading for anyone with an interest in Turkey, and an essential reference for any student of Islamic art and architecture” (dust jacket). Indeed, the bibliography is reasonably up-to-date and may serve as a useful starting point to interested readers. What makes this survey worthwhile, however, are the copious illustrations, all in color (except for the ground plans gathered at the end), stunningly photographed and well-chosen. It remains to hope that if this volume can direct its readers’ interest to Seljuk and Ottoman art and architecture based on aesthetic qualities (and, I believe, it does so very successfully), then one day they will also pick up a publication that leads them to a deeper (and post-nationalist) engagement with the cultural production of this part of the world.