Museum of Turkish and Islamic Arts: A Thousand Years of History Inside a Grand Vizier's Palace

When you stand in Sultanahmet Square, your eyes naturally move toward the obvious landmarks.

The Blue Mosque on one side.

Hagia Sophia a short walk away.

Beneath you, the remains of the Roman Hippodrome.

Obelisks.

Domes.

Minarets.

One of the most famous historic spaces in Istanbul.

But there is a large stone building at the edge of the square that many visitors barely notice at first.

Today, it is the Museum of Turkish and Islamic Arts.

Around 500 years ago, however, you would not have entered this building to visit a museum.

One of the most powerful men in the Ottoman Empire lived here.

His name was:

Pargalı Ibrahim Pasha.

And the end of his story was far more dramatic than the quiet palace you see today.

Before You Enter, Turn Around

Before walking through the museum doors, turn around and look at Sultanahmet Square.

Today, tourists take photographs here, sit on benches and walk between two great mosques.

During the Byzantine period, however, this was the Hippodrome of Constantinople.

Chariot races took place here.

Imperial ceremonies unfolded here.

Enormous crowds gathered here.

And sometimes rebellions erupted here.

Under the Ottomans, the area continued to function as an important public space known as the Atmeydanı, or Horse Square.

And in the 16th century, Ibrahim Pasha lived in a palace overlooking it.

Remember that.

Because when you later look through the museum windows, you are not simply looking at a beautiful Istanbul square.

You are looking at a stage where power displayed itself for centuries.

Who Was Pargalı Ibrahim Pasha?

Ibrahim Pasha's life was one of the most extraordinary rises in Ottoman history.

He is remembered as Pargalı Ibrahim Pasha because of his connection with Parga, in present-day Greece.

He entered the circle of Sultan Süleyman I, better known in the West as Suleiman the Magnificent.

He gained the sultan's trust.

And in 1523, he became Grand Vizier.

He was now one of the most powerful officials in the empire.

Diplomacy.

Military campaigns.

Government.

Relations with European powers.

Ibrahim Pasha became a central figure in the politics of Suleiman's reign.

And his palace was not simply the home of a wealthy man.

It became one of the most important surviving examples of Ottoman palace architecture in Istanbul.

Today, you enter its courtyards with a museum ticket.

Around five centuries ago, officials, servants, visitors and members of an elite household moved through these spaces.

Imagine Entering This Courtyard in the 16th Century

Forget modern Istanbul for a moment.

No cars.

No phones.

The Blue Mosque does not exist yet.

Its construction will not begin for decades.

In front of you is the Hippodrome.

Topkapı Palace is not far away.

And you are standing inside the palace of the Grand Vizier.

People move through the courtyards.

Government matters are discussed.

Foreign envoys arrive.

Preparations are made.

Ibrahim Pasha is not simply a rich man.

He stands extremely close to the centre of power during the reign of Suleiman the Magnificent.

But in the Ottoman court, extraordinary power could also bring extraordinary danger.

Then, One Night, Everything Ended

The year is 1536.

Ibrahim Pasha's remarkable rise comes to an end.

He is executed on the orders of Sultan Suleiman.

Historians continue to discuss the political developments, court rivalries and changing relationship with the sultan that contributed to his downfall.

But one fact is much simpler.

A man who had stood near the summit of the Ottoman Empire was suddenly gone.

The palace remained.

Its owner did not.

That is why you should not treat this building simply as a container for the museum's collection.

The building itself is part of the exhibition.

Once, it was a place of power.

Centuries later, it became a place of memory.

But the Museum's Story Is Much Larger Than Ibrahim Pasha

The collections of the Museum of Turkish and Islamic Arts do not keep you inside the Ottoman period.

Time begins moving backwards.

The Seljuks.

Ayyubids.

Mamluks.

Ilkhanids.

Timurids.

Safavids.

Ottomans.

Different regions of the Islamic world.

Eventually, you realise that you are no longer simply exploring a palace in Istanbul.

You are seeing how people across centuries wrote, wove, worshipped, decorated and lived.

That is what makes this museum powerful.

History here is not told only through sultans and armies.

Sometimes it survives in the knot of a carpet.

Sometimes on the page of a Qur'an.

Sometimes in a wooden door.

Sometimes in a small lamp.

Do Not Walk Past the Carpets Too Quickly

What can a carpet really tell you inside a museum?

At first glance:

Patterns.

Colours.

Knots.

Weaving.

But the carpet collection is one of the great strengths of the Museum of Turkish and Islamic Arts.

Some surviving examples, particularly those associated with the Seljuk period, preserve important evidence of the long history of carpet weaving in Anatolia.

Stand in front of one.

Do not look at it as though you were shopping for a carpet.

Think about the person who made it.

Every knot was tied individually.

The pattern slowly appeared.

The colours had to be prepared.

The wool had to be worked.

Not hours, but days and weeks passed.

Then the carpet was used somewhere.

People walked across it.

Perhaps people prayed on it.

Perhaps it covered the floor of an important building.

Centuries passed.

The people who once used it died.

Their world changed.

States disappeared.

But something they made is still here.

Sometimes history survives in materials far more fragile than stone.

Then Move Closer to the Manuscripts

Today, thousands of words can appear on a screen in seconds.

We can copy them.

Enlarge them.

Send them to another continent instantly.

Forget all of that for a moment.

You are entering a world before mass printing.

If you wanted a book, somebody had to write it.

By hand.

Line by line.

Page by page.

That is why the manuscripts and Qur'ans in this museum are not simply religious or artistic objects.

They are also physical records of time.

A calligrapher wrote the letters.

Another craftsman decorated the page.

Someone created the binding.

The manuscript was protected.

Then it passed into other hands.

Sometimes for centuries.

When you stand in front of a manuscript, you are not simply looking at words.

You are looking at hours from another person's life.

Stone, Wood and Metal Speak Too

One of the museum's strengths is that it shows you Islamic art beyond monumental mosques and palaces.

Woodwork.

Stone carving.

Metal objects.

Ceramics.

Glass.

Calligraphy.

Objects used in everyday life.

Civilisations are not built only through wars and monumental architecture.

They are also built through doors.

Lamps.

Books.

Chests.

Tiles.

Household objects.

Small things that people touched every day.

That is why ignoring the smaller objects while searching only for masterpieces would be a mistake.

Sometimes an ordinary object can tell you more about the past than a ruler can.

It shows you how someone actually lived.

Then You Step Into a Home From Damascus

One of the museum's most memorable displays takes you away from palaces and governments.

It brings you into a home.

A reconstructed interior representing the domestic world of Ottoman-era Damascus.

Suddenly, you leave the language of dynasties and enter someone's living space.

Walls.

Wooden decoration.

Seating arrangements.

Details of everyday life.

Stand here for a moment and ask yourself something.

For the people who once lived in homes like this, was any of this “history”?

Of course not.

It was home.

People woke up here.

Guests were welcomed.

Meals were eaten.

Conversations happened.

Children grew up.

People grew old.

Today, we call their ordinary lives “history.”

They were simply living them.

That thought makes many of the objects in this museum suddenly feel much more real.

In the Ethnography Collections, History Comes Even Closer

The museum's ethnographic collections move away from rulers and dynasties and toward everyday life.

Clothing.

Textiles.

Household objects.

Traditional crafts.

Ways of living from different regions.

History is no longer the distant world of a ruler who lived a thousand years ago.

It becomes the inside of a home.

The life of a village.

The hand of a craftsman.

An object used by a family.

The thing you remember most when you leave may not be the most expensive or spectacular object in the museum.

Sometimes a small everyday object is more powerful.

Because suddenly the centuries separating you from its owner seem much shorter.

Then Walk Toward the Window

One of the best things to see in this museum is not inside a display case.

Look outside.

Beneath and around the Sultanahmet Square you see today are almost two thousand years of urban history.

The Roman Hippodrome.

Byzantine Constantinople.

The Ottoman Atmeydanı.

Ibrahim Pasha's palace.

The Blue Mosque.

Modern Istanbul.

And you are looking at all of it from an old Ottoman palace.

The geography is the same.

The worlds are different.

That is why the location of the Museum of Turkish and Islamic Arts is more than simply convenient.

The square outside feels like a continuation of the exhibition.

Before You Leave, Remember Ibrahim Pasha One More Time

When you finish the museum, return to the courtyard.

Try to imagine what this place looked like around five hundred years ago.

A man lived in this palace.

He was one of the most powerful figures in the empire.

Foreign envoys dealt with him.

Affairs of state surrounded him.

Then came 1536.

Ibrahim Pasha was executed.

The political world around him eventually disappeared too.

Suleiman died.

Centuries of Ottoman rule passed.

The empire ended.

The Atmeydanı changed.

Sultanahmet became one of the most visited areas of modern Istanbul.

But the palace is still here.

And today it protects things left behind by other people.

Carpets.

Manuscripts.

Woodwork.

Stone.

Metal.

Ceramics.

Objects from everyday life.

A building that once represented power now preserves memory.

Perhaps that is the thought worth carrying with you when you leave.

Ibrahim Pasha's power disappeared within years.

But a knot tied by an unknown craftsman centuries ago still survives.

Letters written by a calligrapher can still be read.

Wood shaped by someone's hands can still be seen.

An object once used by a family can still tell a story.

The owner of the palace disappeared.

The empire disappeared.

The worlds of the people represented inside disappeared.

But some of the traces they left behind survived.

And that is what you are really looking at when you visit the Museum of Turkish and Islamic Arts:

Traces that outlived the people who made them.