Travel narratives often capture the allure and mystique of ancient lands, bringing to life the echoes of the past. In “South from Ephesus,” Brian Sewell’s journey through Western Armenia is recounted with a vividness that transports the reader to the very heart of this storied region. Sewell’s account is not merely a travelogue; it is a tapestry of history, architecture, and natural beauty, intertwined with personal reflection and acute observations.
Sewell paints a picture of Western Armenia as a land where the grandeur of nature cradles the remnants of a profound Christian heritage. The “wooded and watered Alps of the far northeast” do more than just dazzle with their verdant allure; they safeguard churches whose magnificence is both a testament to Armenia’s devout Christian past and a pivotal architectural nexus. These structures, predating Constantine’s Creed and Decree, are not merely historical relics but vital links in the evolution of ecclesiastical architecture, connecting the Roman to the Romanesque.
It is suggested that the innovative designs of these Armenian churches could have served as the inspiration—the “springboard”—for some of the West’s most magnificent cathedrals, such as those in Angouleme, Speyer, Hildesheim, and Poitiers. Through Sewell’s eyes, we see these edifices not just as buildings but as a bridge across time and space, influencing styles and worship far beyond their geographic origins.
Sewell contrasts the man-made splendors with the natural wonder of Mount Ararat, a sight so stunning that it seems to transcend the works of humankind. He describes the “white peak free-floating in the sky,” a vision so ethereal that it appears to be part of the heavens themselves. The lower slopes blend into the azure of the heat haze, conjuring an image of a “woman’s ribcage,” a natural sculpture of divine artistry.
Yet, amid these praises of natural and architectural beauty, Sewell does not shy away from the less savory experiences of his travels. He speaks frankly of the public lavatory in Baskale, a town perched at Turkey’s zenith, as the nadir of his journey. This stark juxtaposition serves as a reminder that travel encompasses a spectrum of experiences, from the sublime to the disagreeable.
The churches of Ani, though lauded by many, are depicted by Sewell with a hint of melancholy—as “decadent offerings of a demented confectioner.” They stand deserted, near the Russian border, their mystery marred by their desolation. Similarly, the church on the island of Aghtamar is whimsically likened to “the work of a gingerbread man,” perhaps alluding to its intricate exteriors that evoke the fanciful details of baked goods.
Brian Sewell’s reflections on Western Armenia offer more than descriptions; they invite contemplation on the endurance of cultural and spiritual history through the ages. The churches nestled in the Armenian highlands whisper of a time when they stood as beacons of faith and ingenuity. In contrast, Mount Ararat’s enduring majesty challenges even the most impressive human feats, standing as a testament to nature’s unparalleled grandeur. Sewell’s journey, with its highs and lows, encapsulates the essence of travel—the pursuit of beauty and understanding in all its forms, whether they inspire awe or provoke distaste.
Artatsolum
Source: keghart.org
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