Traces of the different religions and all the cultures of the East are evident in the stone decorations around doors and windows in Mardin

We are in Mardin, one of the world's most ancient cities, inhabited since 1800 B.C. The city takes its name from the Assyrian, 'Marde'. Borrowing the name from the Assyrians, the Romans called it 'Maride' while the Arabs said 'Maridin'. Ruled in tum by the Persians and by Alexander the Great and his successors in Antiquity, subsequently Mardin was in Roman, then Byzantine, hands for a long time until it fell to the Ottomans in the Battle of Chaldiran. Sun-worshippers, moon-worshippers, Jews, Assyrians, Catholics, Chaldeans, Yazidis, Hanefis... pagan beliefs were integrated here with the monotheistic religions which have co-existed in peace and harmony ever since.

A DOOR OPENING ONTO THE PAST
The windows and doors of the city, which has the appearance of a labyrinth, seem to open onto different times, different layers of history. As the houses built of the light yellow limestone tum a darker saffron in the changing light of day, chiaroscuro and the play of light accent the endless forms of the relationship between space and time, its 'multi-coloured' nature.

Mardin is a typical symbol of stone construction. The mainly two-storey houses, which stretch from the lower edges of the citadel to the Mesopotamian Plain, rise above one another in terraces, their front courtyards all facing south. These houses have been built according to certain principles which have been passed down from generation to generation though never written down: "No one can block anyone else's sunlight; no one can pollute anyone else's water; no one can cut off anyone else's fresh air; no oh'e' can set any building on fire." The labyrinthine streets, connected by a series of passages called 'abbara', occasionally turn into steep staircases. Arranged so as to avoid exposure to the sun's  scorching rays, they provide cool shade even in the sizzling heat of summer.

LIGHT AND SHADOW... The uniformity of the Mardin structures, which resemble a gigantic block consisting of U- and T-shaped modules, is balanced by the carved stone columns, doors, niches, window openings, liwans and arched porticoes which impart movement to the facades. Light and shadow, solidity and void. The rhythm repeated in all the facades by the arrangement of doors and windows is like a

visual expression of the concept of 'integrity'. As E. Füsun Alioğlu explains in her book, 'Mardin / Texture of a City and Houses, ' published by the History Foundation: ‘As a traveler, you can give  eaning to the monumental structures in many cities by putting them in religious categories. But you will quickly grasp that, with a few exceptions, this will not be possible here, because the buildings, all of which are stone, are different versions of each other with the same arrangement of doors and windows and decorative pattern.

If your professional training enables you to comprehend spatial structuring, you will see that not only in the facades but in the floor plans as well certain spaces are used with the same frequency in structures with different functions. In designs realized without distinguishing between mosques, medreses, hamams, churches or houses, you can find references to the various cultural strata which have their origins in the Middle East"

Narrow streets shaded by high
courtyard walls create a labyrinthine
urban texture

Doors opening onto the rooms are more ostentatious, adorned with three different  designs consisting of rich intertwined motifs. Some doors are emblazoned with the Seal of Solomon, or with coats of arms embellished with motifs such as carnations or tulips inside a round frame amid successive rows of motifs around the edges. As in all traditional Anatolian houses, the main entrances of Mardin houses also exhibit inscriptions giving the date of construction.

In Mardin the stones speak... Human emotions like joy and sadness are expressed in the windows of Assyrian monasteries, churches, mansions and houses, on bell towers and medrese doors, even on gravestones.

Let us give the last word to Murathan Mungan, a 'Westerner from Mardin', who in his poems and enigmatic 'Şahmeran' stories evokes the associations of a I boyhood spent in the city: "In Mardin I learned the language of the stones. The nearness and vastness of the sky. Detours, impasses, summits, solitudes...

On the long summer nights we slept on beds spread side by side in the courtyard and fell asleep I counting the stars. As we drifte' off to their cool whisperings, our fingers remained there, entangled in the stars.