Saïd Nuseibeh and Abdur-Rahman Abou Almajd in dialog about The Dome of the Rock.

Saïd Nuseibeh and Abdur-Rahman Abou Almajd in dialog about The Dome of
the Rock .

 We have a fresh opportunity to reflect about The Dome of the Rock , more particularly his role in taking images around Dome of the Rock. At this point Said Nuseibeh  is going to remind us about the late Grabar’s role in Dome of the Rock .

Said Nuseibeh

 Palestinian American Artist

He was Conceived in Jerusalem and born in San Francisco, he is a professional photographer who balances his fine art work with commercial assignments. He has been photographing and exhibiting since the age of thirteen. Nuseibeh had the first photography exhibition at The Jordan National Gallery of Fine Arts in 1986, displaying his views of Wadi Rum and of the pastoral life of the Huweitat tribe. In 1996, he published a book in English and French entitled "The Dome of the Rock," featuring his photographs of the 7th century Umayyad mosaics which adorn this holy site. The photographs were exhibited at Darat al Funun in 2002. Recently the recipient of a Fulbright Senior Scholar Fellowship, Nuseibeh has been traveling throughout Bilad al Sham, exploring the Umayyad aesthetic legacy of the region. He currently shuttles between Amman, Damascus, and San Francisco .

Q: The Dome of the Rock, or the "Al-Haram al-Sharif"  Masjid Qubbat As-Sakhrah, is a little gem, is an important Islamic mosque and Jerusalem landmark located in the Old City of Jerusalem, could you tell us how you agree with Oleg Grabar in The Dome of the Rock ?

SN:  In the early days of the First US Gulf War on Iraq (1990-91), I was in California and despondent with the reports of casualties and destruction of property there. Saddam's missiles were flying over my family's heads in Jerusalem. I had dreamed about photographing in Iraq but it was clear that the country would now be unsettled for years. I was a practicing architectural photographer, working for publishers, magazines, architects and designers. I was also a custom b&w printer, producing archival silver photographs by hand for museums, collectors, and exhibitions. I had photographed the Qubbat al-Sakhra a few times but I never saw the details or had the audacity to request closer access .

At about the same time, I read a description about John Ruskin's Venice and how its historic center had been miraculously saved from Allied bombing in WWII by a flurry of appeals to western diplomatic capitals, particularly by an international group of art historians. (Recently told here: <http://www.thestar.com/entertainment/books/bookreviews/article/72267 3--the-monuments-men-by-robert-m-edsel-the-venus-fixers-by->) The efficacy of these people informed me greatly. I turned from watching TV news and began researching and reading the published writings and illustrations of Islamic art historians. Professionally, I was disappointed to find the writing far more informative and evocative than the photography .

So it was that I found myself one afternoon on the floor of Moe's Used Books in Berkeley, California. I was reading from a thin volume on the Friday Mosque of Isfahan by Professor Oleg Grabar. In the introduction he said, "... How is it that photographers can work with architects but not art historians?" I thought, 'That's silly. There is nothing but money that keeps me from going to Isfahan tomorrow.' To make a long story short, I wrote Professor Grabar a letter declaring my qualifications and readiness. He wrote back and asked me to send a portfolio. Then one day he telephoned saying, "I'm no longer working on Isfahan, I'm working on a project in Jerusalem. Would you like to photograph the 7th century mosaics inside the Dome of the Rock?" There was nothing for me to say but "Yes ."

So you see that my meeting with Professor Grabar was very much a product of chance and impulsiveness. War and one sentence in a book triggered a cascade of reactions that diverted me from a career photographing modern architecture to one of art, art reproduction and cultural preservation .

Q: Oleg Grabar (1929 –2011) was a French-born art historian and archeologist, Professor Grabar's imposingly broad range and analytical subtlety helped transform the Western study of Islamic art and architecture, could you tell us how both of you agree to work through a teem ?

SN: When I met Professor Grabar, he had already assembled a team of 2 former students (Muhammad al-Asad and Abeer Audeh) who were creating a computer-aided 3-D reconstruction of Old Jerusalem based upon literary sources. I was commissioned specifically to perform the first complete photographic survey of the original Umayyad 7th-century mosaics inside the Dome of the Rock. Professor Grabar's analysis of these photographs, of the CAD reconstructions and of historical texts were published in a volume titled "The Shape of the Holy" (Princeton University Press 1996) .

Q: Professor Jonathan M. Bloom told me The Dome of the Rock, Jerusalem, 692. The first great work of Islamic architecture. It was built over the rock from which the Prophet Muhammad made his miraculous ascent to heaven, which is described in Chapter 17 of the Qur'an, , who got the idea of the book and how long does it take to finish it ?

SN: I photographed in the Qubbat al-Sakhra for 3 months, from December 1992 through February 1993. The activity was creative, cerebral (historic, aesthetic and literary) as well as social. There are many people working, playing and praying there. The Rock itself is cold, dry and bare. Spirituality and the sacred are animated more by people, than things. As important as the Umayyad mosaics were artistically and historically, a fear grew in me that in a purely art historical context, these artifacts would be extracted and alienated from their human and spiritual context. So I expanded the scope of my endeavor to include much more of the environment than the mosaics. One of the great capacities of Islamic art in general and the Dome of the Rock in particular is the way they welcome diversity of form, pattern, texture, color, and light. My personal goal became an auxiliary volume to Professor Grabar's, one that communicated the synchronic and diachronic character of the mosque. So on the one hand, I wanted to expand upon Professor Grabar's mandate and to publish the mosaic programme in its entirety, and on the other hand I wanted to include more of the architectural environment of the shrine housing the mosaics, then I sought more of the exterior, then the precinct as a whole, and finally the distinctive profile of the Islamic structures which make the Jerusalem cityscape exotic and immediately recognizable. Once I finished developing and printing the mosaic photography, I returned to Jerusalem in the Spring of 1994 and spent another month photographing more exteriors. It was important for me to help make the collection reflect a diversity of seasons .

I prepared a maquette of my idea and showed it to approximately 24 publishers in the US. All of them told me "No." Such rejection is notoriously depressing and one has to be very persistent and stubborn to see an idea or publication through to completion. Once when I visited Professor Grabar in Princeton to deliver prints, I asked for his help. He told me that this was something with which he really could not get involved. He had many projects and commitments already. I stayed stubborn and kept pushing, I think, because the conversation spilled over to his home before dinner one evening. His wife Terry overheard us talking as we sat down at the dinner table and she declaimed in favor of Oleg helping me. The very next day he did, and I was soon making calls from his office to the architectural editors at publishing houses in Boston, Washington and New York. I was able to secure a number of appointments that day and one of them led to my deal with Rizzoli in 1995. Professor Grabar agreed to write an essay for the book as well .

Altogether the Rizzoli book reflects work from 4 months of concentrated photography, 5 years of research and study, approximately 1.5 years developing, printing and interpreting the films (much of this concurrent with my research), and another 6-9 months working on the final texts and design with the publisher. From the start of photography to publication was five years, much longer than it should take me next time .

Note on terminology

One benefit of working with an art historian, teacher, and scholar of Professor Grabar's calibre is that one learns to pay critical attention to language. So, for example, I am horrified when you, Abdur-Rahman, mention

"The Dome of the Rock, or 'al-Haram al-Sharif' Masjid Qubbat al-Sakhra is a little gem... mosque... landmark ...."

The phrases you use are not equivalent and, thrown together like this, they are seriously misleading. They foster a lack of precision which will handicap your readers. If it is true that Arabic is a language of the depth and breadth of an ocean, then clearly there is great danger in drowning by imprecision and ambiguity .

SN: Please allow me to describe how I have learned to understand the names and the topography of the mosque. This is how I will use the language in our interview .

The Haram al-Sharif is a relatively modern and secular name for the mosque compound in the SE corner of the Old City of Jerusalem/alQuds. The Islamic name for this esplanade is MAsjid al-Aqsa, the Farthest Mosque, referring to the 1st Qibla and locus of two Islamic miracles: the Isra' and the Mi'raj. Curiously, the same name "Masjid al-Aqsa" is also applied in Arabic to the principal congregational structure at the south end of the courtyard .

This duplication of names has confused many people, particularly those accustomed to prayer in single buildings such as an ashram, church or synagogue. For them, the Farthest Mosque is the congregational building, period. For others like the Awqaaf (or Organization of Charitable Endowments and Trusts which administers the site) or of medieval Muslim chroniclers like the 10th century al-Muqaddisi, the entire esplanade constitutes the mosque. Prayer is permissible in any corner and there are no burials within the precinct .

To make the linguistic construction more familiar to English readers, I say that the duplication of names is like New York, New York. Both the city and state are referenced with the same name. It is easy to confuse spoken or written reference to the two meanings in the absence of specific context. I want to be very explicit about this verbal ambiguity of the Arabic in the hope that you and your readers may become aware of the confusion and become more precise in your use of the language .

The greater mosque esplanade supports numerous structures including 27 domed buildings, the largest of which is the al-Aqsa mentioned above. This building is used today for mens' congregational prayer. Women congregate in the second largest domed building, the Qubbat al-Sakhra or Dome of the Rock. This is the architectural jewel in the visual if not the topographical center of the mosque .

Q: you were the photographer, translator and writer, with co-author Grabar adding valuable commentary regarding the architecture of the dome,  could you describe your experience photographing the architecture of the Qubbat al-Sakhra ?

SN: My photography of the Dome of the Rock would have been impossible without the good offices of the Jerusalem Awqaaf. It is that authority, their councils, directors, staff, and artisans who have earned my profound gratitude. They are too many to name by name, but I have their autographs forever inscribed on one copy of the final publication by Rizzoli. That parade of names and memories are in many ways just as evocative to me as the long sequences of mosaic ornament and Kufic inscription that comprise the heart of the project. My family too were wonderfully supportive, instrumental and delicious .

The further catalytic intervention of the late Oleg Grabar in Princeton, New Jersey, both instigated and infused the project with a legitimacy and integrity that were unassailable, eminently fundable, and intellectually compelling. Professor Grabar effectively invited me to stand upon his colossal shoulders and to look and to share the view with others. For this I will be forever grateful. The activity was both joyful and exhausting: two poles that checked and balanced. I worked incredibly hard and enjoyed every second -- that about sums it up .

But what about bigger questions? Why was the architecture and my photography meaningful? What makes the site such a focus of international attention? Professor Grabar saw the Umayyad architectural creation as an expression of power, mostly political and economic, a contest which continues down to this day. Moreover, he saw the inscriptions primarily as a series of propagandistic statements to the Christians of the period. I cannot argue with this, but I see another layer of experience and meaning that may be easier for me to address as an artist and a Muslim than for an art historian for whom subjectivity is a liability .

What is holiness, the sacred, the spiritual? My mind and senses tell me that they are not merely fall-out from a dead caliph's power. They are palpable to me on the Masjid al-Aqsa platform. The holy is attested there by many peoples and traditions long back through recorded history. Umayyad caliphs beginning with Mu'awiyya travelled to al-Aqsa for their coronation, or bay'ah, presumably to sanctify or consecrate their rule in al-Aqsa's holiness. And they lavished a monumental building program there while removing their political apparatus to another city, al-Ramleh. Curiously, almost everyone has a unique explanation or emphasis on the holy in Jerusalem. Might I be able to address some of these questions without stepping on others' toes or compromising the mystery itself ?

In the Islam I was taught, spirituality is something that exists between the worshipper and the Divine; there are no intermediaries. It is with this thought in mind that I understand much of the architectural ornament in Mecca, for example, was purposefully destroyed by Muslims: it was seen to be a distraction and potential source of idolatry. Allow me to eliminate this possibility immediately: I never once felt the urge to bow down and worship the mosaics, however much I might praise them, their installers, and their designers. Yet there is something very special about the mosaic and other decoration in the Qubbat al-Sakhra, just as there is about the Rock which physically is far more pedestrian in appearance than the gilt and glittery mosaics. The charge, or frisson which energizes my contact with holiness in that shrine actually emanates from the contrast between the Rock, the epicenter of holiness, and the surrounding ornament, veneration and prayer. One is barren, rough, monochromatic, inert, and cold while the other is scintillating, colorful, variegated and polished. Ornament hints at life but stops short of being life itself. The mosaics surrounding the Rock are a practical mechanism for highlighting the dynamic nature of life and the life of nature. They expose and heighten sensitivities for the life-giving creator, holding the semblance up for viewers' veneration .

There are two interpretive ways to read the mosaic programme. The decoration can be seen as artistic garlands or honorifics for either someone or something referenced elsewhere, say in the inscription, such as God or the prophet Muhammad. In this reading, the figurative mosaics mean nothing. Because they were dedicated to a religious purpose, the mosaic designs still have become sacred and are thereby worthy of veneration .

Alternatively, the mosaics can be seen to represent, suggest, or symbolize "the holy," qualitatively. Evidence of this latter reading is the emphatic fecundity, fertility, symmetry and balance exhibited by the mosaic designs. Each of these characteristics were later given an explicit connection to the divine in the 99 Names. The generative powers of the creator are attested in the contemporaneous inscription too (yeh-yi wa yumayyet) but because they are associated with Christological controversies, these quotes are customarily explained in that context alone. Additional possible objects of holiness are the figures of life-giving water and the epigraphic word of God. In this reading, the objects of our attention are directly linked to God not just by topography but by an energetic contrast with the desiccated moonscape of Rock outcrop, and by identification with divine attributes and gifts .

Moving away from the interpretive dimension, my encounter with the mosaics was physical. In the course of months high on a scaffolding among the dark recesses of the upper arcades, touching gold- and silver-filled tesserae pressed exactingly and expressively in the plaster over 13 centuries ago, I could not help feeling a sense of awe at the creativity, precision and lucky far-sightedness of those craftsmen in Abdal Malik's era. The figures coming alive for me in the brightness of my lights represented the forms and colors and textures and texts most associable with what the Umayyad patrons —and most likely their public— thought holy .

By proximity to the Rock and other nearby relics of devotion, the mosaic devices —the Quranic texts, the flowers, fruits, trees, jewelry, wings and water— acquired for me the aura of sacredness. That they still survived relatively intact and in such quantity before my eyes like very few other specimens of that era was miraculous. Their survival was testimony both to the skill of the original craftsmen and to the unusual resonance of the designs which so many subsequent generations of artisans and patrons have nurtured with their respective resources, skill and labor. Palestinian, Syrian, Fatimid, Crusader, Ayyubid, Mamluk, Ottoman and modern artisans... their collective ministrations to this beauty before me was a bond which I could now professionally and personally share. These commingled facets of art and devotion stir in me a strong appreciation of the divine, a sense of oneself transported beyond the material concerns of today; one begins to savor connections to others in the context of timeless mysteries. The vestments of art in this building are not holy like the Rock, but they have attained a level of sanctity by proximity and association with the mystery and the miraculous Night Journey. There are no definitive boundaries to holiness or the mysteries celebrated here: He merely says. "alladhi barakna hawlahu" and therefore the lesson I take away is the importance of remaining receptive to the divine at all times, especially in Jerusalem/alQuds .

Much more work is required to elaborate the signification of the mosaic figures and how they might have been perceived as "holy" in the late antique eastern Mediterranean. What is important for readers to see is how many questions exist and how photography can be much more than a fortuitous act of pushing a shutter-button. Direct contact with the sacred, the mysterious and the miraculous are rare in this life and a great honor to experience personally. My great hope is that my photographs can and will communicate —if not unleash— some of this vision for others .

Q: How do you make the mosaics' sing ?

SN: Well, first by getting all the technical details like focus, lighting, and color right so that the viewer's experience is not disturbed or interrupted. Second, I believe that it pays to learn as much as you can about a subject before photographing so that the mind and heart are informed in addition to the photographer's eyes. Unfortunately, it is impossible for me to point to any one photographic decision that was irrevocably changed by months of prior research and reading. Knowledge informs practice which in turn begets new knowledge .

Ultimately, what makes the biggest difference quality-wise is the photographer's willingness to spend more time and energy than the minimum required to get an image or to solve a problem. Using Polaroids, I studied each image looking for errors, blemishes, and weaknesses. When I printed the films, or prepared duplicates for reproduction or when I created prints for exhibition, I spent hours fine-tuning the results. For many photographers, this time-intensive outlay is not cost-effective and therefore not done. However there are times such as this when we allow our aesthetic sense to overrule our business sense; especially with regards to the Umayyad mosaics, I spend a great deal of my time polishing the work. I suspect that this urge has been increased by study of the many generations of past creative contributions to the arts of the mosque there. Faced with such a rich legacy, it would be cheap or stingy for me to give less than my best. I pushed myself at every stage to remain patient, to identify and acknowledge problems, and to work to make things better, and better, and more better .

There's another practical procedure which I can identify as bolstering the mosaics' voice in the photographs. For me architecture is a face of those who create and maintain it. Buildings are not just cold stone, glass and steel. Therefore I approach the photography of the Qubbat al-Sakhra as a portraitist, striving to illuminate character, to reveal personality, and to freeze-in-time individuality. When I am successful, viewers see humanity in the work. The trick to art, though, is not to stop with what we can confirm or identify with personally, which is a form of complacency with the familiar. We must allow ourselves to be pushed in new provocative directions and territories. The mosaics and their creators have done this for me; why not try and pass the vision along ?

Abdur-Rahman: Thank you very much for what you called provocative questions that mange to make you talk nicely and deeply !

SN: Thank you for your interest in my work

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