Third issue of Mardin Photographs Book is published. Lütfi Özgünaydın continues to work on new albums, in which he will combine his photographs with essays.

HACI BEY’S MANSION… by Lütfi Özgünaydın

In my last visit to Savur, I was hosted and guided by Abidin Öztürk. We turned right from the Mosque in the center of the marketplace and went uphill. We stopped in front of the mansion that I adore. I have loved the interior of this mansion which is located behind walls that resemble a bulwark. I was surprised to see the museum room in our first visit.

Zeynel Abidin Erdem’s grand grandfather Hadji Abdullah Bey had this mansion built one hundred and eighty years ago. Since the mansion got to fail to accommodate the children and the grandchildren in process of time, he had to have the manors that are clustered around the Mirrored Mansion built. One can not help wondering how such a building could be built in a period when the access facilities were so insufficient. With its gate, windows, pillars, arches, floor moldings, the mansion resembles a chateau. High like a rampart, it stands tremendous. As if who had this building built wanted to display his power. Or he just whispered from above that the town was under his protection. Two naïve windows in the center of the wall that is built with century-old stones which have obtained their color from the sun surprises one. One, who is thinking of all those shows of force, battles, raidings at first gets confused. When you go through the main gate and go past the courtyard into the house, you desire to take a breath in front of a mezzanine-like, wooden section. Food supplies for the winter, apples, quinces, grapes would be stored in here. They would remain fresh until the cold winter. Those who remember the cellars of their grandmothers must be familiar with this smell. The sweet smell of quince nestles to the walls as if it won’t come off for centuries. As for the smell of the apple, it’s on the floor cedar. I just stared with admiration at this interesting cellar. Then, I had a look into that magnificent room of the mansion that I knew. I stared at length at the cedars on which beautiful hand made embroideries were placed, century-old chairs, the famous mirrored ceiling which is the symbol of Mardin. I couldn’t find it in my heart to touch the door. What would happen if the one hundred and fifty year old wooden door was touched by hundreds of people everyday? I stepped in. I aspired to listen to their stories as an unexpected guest of god. With my eyes closed, I felt the whispers, heard the prayers, the hymns. In Aramaic, Syriac, Arabic, Turkish… In many nice languages, they told their memories. My heart warmed at that moment. For one last time I admired at every corner of the room, engraving it into my mind; bestowing my gratitude to Zeynel Abidin Bey’s grand grandfather.