Andalusia

The Alhambra, with its calm amplitude, hypnotising proportions, mysterious calligraphy, and sweet-smelling gardens, stood true to its description as a “pearl set in emeralds.” Built around a theme of paradise on earth, the Alhambra and our Spanish expedition was an eye-opening experience. When one spoke of Islamic architectural wonders, what used to come to my mind was the architectural magnificence of the subcontinent – the Taj Mahal, Humayun’s Tomb, the Red Fort, and the Shalimar Gardens – of Mughal times. I was oblivious to the existence of Muslim architectural feats such as the Alhambra and the Great Mosque of Cordoba in the West. My oblivion in this regard may be a result of my ties with the subcontinent, but I also think that the way most of the Muslim architecture in Spain changed hands may have also impacted its popularity as “Muslim” architecture. For example, both the Grand Mosque of Cordoba and the Alhambra were subjected to Christian revisions with the onset of the Reconquista and the expulsion of the Muslims. The Alhambra, however, presents a unique opportunity to compare both Muslim and Western architectural styles as the Nasrid Palace is juxtaposed with the Renaissance palace of Charles V. In this blog post, I will discuss some of the most prominent elements of Muslim architecture, such as the calligraphy on the walls, the ornate ceilings, and the mosaics and colored tiles in context of the Alhambra.

Walking into the Alhambra, I was fascinated by the intricate detail of the walls and pillars, which symbolises centuries of Muslim rule in al-Andalus. The walls and the pillars of the Alhambra are adorned by Arabic calligraphy from floor to ceiling, which made me feel like I was walking into a story book. As I walked through the fort, I wondered what the inscriptions meant. Researchers have successfully decoded, dated, and identified 3,116 of the 10,000 inscription in the Alhambra. Some of the inscriptions are verses of poetry by Islamic poets like Ibn al-Khatib and Ibn Zamrak, while others are verses from the Quran. One inscription that is prominent throughout the Alhambra – on walls, arches, and columns – is “There is no victor but Allah”. Individual words like “happiness” or “blessing” recur throughout the palace, which some claim to be divine expression that were supposed to protect the monarch. Other prominent inscriptions include, “Rejoice in good fortune because Allah helps you” and “Be sparse in words and you will go in peace.” The inscriptions from the Quran are intentionally situated far from the ground and towards the top of the walls.The inscription in the throne room read: ¨From me you are welcomed morning and evening by the tongues of blessing, prosperity, happiness and friendship… has decorated me with the robes of his glory and excellence without disguise and has made me the Throne of his Empire: may its eminence be upheld by the master of divine glory and the celestial throne.¨

The ivory starry ceiling particularly stood out to me. As depicted in the photograph below, the intricate wood ceiling contains both eight pointed and sixteen pointed stars, which have exacting measurements. According to popular opinion, the 8018 multi-colored panels symbolise the seven heavens of Islamic paradise and the diagonal lines from the centre represent the four trees of life. It was interesting to think about how the light from the windows would have illuminated the throne, creating an effect of mysterious glory. Other ceilings in the Alhambra include scenes from court, and present a fascinating array of tempered glass and paintings. It was interesting to think about how these ornate structures were put into place without the availability of advanced machinery.

The mosaics and the colored tiles that I encountered in the palace were striking. Such mosaics and tiles are still used back home in Pakistan. In the Alhambra, they served a two-fold purpose of decoration and keeping the palace cool during the summer. The intricate design and the geometrical precision is awe-inspiring. Moreover, the colors themselves were not readily available and had to be made from cobalt (blue), manganese (purple), iron (red+green), lead (yellow). Plant motifs are vibrant throughout the palace from the arches to the ceilings and the floors, which is in line with Islamic disapproval of the depiction of human images.

Water fountains form an essential component of Islamic architecture, but the Fountain of the Lions in the Alhambra particularly stood out to me for its symbolism of strength, power, and sovereignty. A poem written by Ibn Zamrak adorns the edge of the fountain, which not only praises the beauty of the fountain but also provides insight into the workings of their complex hydraulic systems. The twelve smiling lions, each of which is slightly unique, are made out of white marble and underneath the base of the fountain are four water channels, which are said to represent the four rivers of paradise. All of the twelve lions also sprout water from their mouths, which creates a soothing vibrating sound as one stands in the center of the palace.

The Alhambra, as we saw it, was devoid of the rich silks, the rugs, the vases, musical instruments, and the intricate wood furniture that may have lined the palace during Muslim rule. One can only imagine what it may have looked like at its prime.

This trip to Spain was revelatory and provided me with a significant block of missing information about Muslim rule in the West. Walking through the gardens, the palaces, and the cathedrals, all that came to mind was the several prominent historical figures that had walked the same path – often in their chariots, on horseback, and on elephants – as I was. A personally exciting moment was when I saw the reflection of the Patio de los Arrayanes (Court of Myrtles) in the water in front of it, seeing what I had so far only seen in photos and dismissed as a product of photoshop. The following quote from ‘Perks of Being a Wallflower’ effectively describes up how I felt,  “And in that moment, I swear we were infinite.”

(A huge thank you to the Estee Lauder Foundation for making this trip a possibility.)

By Matthew Majsak

After travelling from city to city over the course of 8 days moving between ornate palaces and mosques with Islamic calligraphy in shimmering mosaic or carved into walls; seeing awe inspiring chapels with rich oil paintings and religious artifacts made from precious metals; and winding through neighborhoods steeped in rich history, I left Spain thinking a lot about the importance of space. In the history of Al-Andalus, space is an important representative of the religious and cultural interaction that defined the region for centuries. This is reflected in maps showing the constant shifting of dominance between Christian and Muslim kingdoms to the distinct culture of the Jewish quarters of Cordoba or Sevilla or the Moroccan quarter in Granada, space tells the story of Andalusia. And nowhere is this more prevalent then in the palaces of Spain. Ines mentions the overlap of Christian and Muslim architecture in her blog post and how this is can tell the story of the region’s politics and this is indeed an extremely important aspect. However, I want to focus in on the Muslim architecture, specifically in the Real Alcazar de Sevilla and Alhambra in Granada.

We spoke in class a lot about the architecture of the Muslim palaces in Spain and how both the Umayyads and the Zirtians built in a tradition tied very closely with Islam. The architecture of the palaces are constructed around big open spaces, either with fountains or reflecting pools, meant to evoke peace and tranquility. The ever-present noise of running water is an important staple of Muslim architecture, used to create this peaceful environment. The intricate calligraphy carvings repeat a mantra of sorts, praising Allah and Muhammad and referencing the royal family. The constant presence of Allah is literally built into the palace. The elaborate gardens throughout the complexes call to mind Quranic images of beauty and perfection. Thalia told me while wandering through them “it makes you realize why Muslims believe that paradise is like a garden.” The beauty of every inch of these palaces is breathtaking.

Yet as I wandered through these palaces, I could not help but feel as if something was missing. These palaces were supposed to be places of dwelling. Although impressive, there was a sense that these palaces felt almost empty. Much of that is no one’s fault but rather a product of a changing society and time. The furniture that would have been here originally has long since rotted away, was raided, or taken away through regime change. The colors that adorned most of the walls of Alhambra have faded over time as has the stained glass resulting in a loss of  a palace that was the center of life for the royal family, leaving behind a still gorgeous, but monochromatic space. I tried to recreate the life of the palace in my imagination as I stood in the midst of this majestic space but was struck  by how the presence of hundreds of tourists impacted this experience.

The hundreds of tourists move through these palaces day in and day out depersonalizes the space. What was in its peak an intimate space with its own community and living population has now become a series of rooms and ceilings and tiles for people to take pictures of. The sound of the fountains is drowned out by the hum of tourists groups. Unlike the mosques or cathedrals which were built with large crowds and movement in mind, these palaces were made to be lived in, and it felt to me as I was moving through them with hundreds of others that I was maybe missing something.  It was worth the effort to put down the camera and feel the space in all its grandeur recognizing the history these walls hold and the centuries of cultural influence that began in this place.

That is not to say that I think that things should change. For one I think that what is there now, if a different experience, is still stunning and worth every minute of the visit. Alcazar and Alhambra were my two favorite sites we visited in Spain. I think that is wonderful that so many people have the opportunity to see these important historical spaces and I pleased  that there is great care, and necessary precaution to protect these sites. Ultimately my reflection is more so a big “what if” than anything else. It was fun to imagine as I walked through those palaces what it must have been like when it was lived in. The dinners, the entertaining performances, the conferences of Muslim leaders from across Spain. I wish I could have a rare opportunity to go through the palaces alone and experienced the sounds and the silences and the balance of the spaces as they were intended.

Maegan Stanley

In Andalusia, orange trees were everywhere. They were most present in Cordoba and Seville, but we saw them throughout the region, although Seville itself is said to have more than 14,000 of these ornamental trees. They truly are ornamental – some of us ventured to try a fallen orange and were amazed by the fruits’ unpleasant, sour flavor. After a little research, I learned that interestingly, the oranges are collected by the city when they fall to the ground to avoid them rotting, and are sold to the United Kingdom to be made into bitter orange marmalade, which is a common English breakfast condiment. On the tree they are certainly beautiful, however, and they themselves are another remnant of al-Andalus’ Muslim past.

The first oranges were brought to Spain by Muslim traders around 1000 AD. They flourished in the hot climate of southern Spain, and provided ample shade in public and private courtyards, and along city streets. The oranges were exotic rarities in Europe, and their bold color added greatly to the lush, ornamental gardens that were carefully cultivated in Muslim Spain as places of retreat and reflection. These fruitful and lush gardens were made possible by Muslim advancements in irrigation during the medieval period. The Andalusian oranges and their springtime blossoms were often featured in Islamic poetry for their beauty and lovely smell, which was often made into perfumes.

Maegan Stanley

Mosque-cathedral interior, showing arches

May 10 was the first full day we spent in Spain, and we began our exploration of Cordoba with a guided visit to the Mosque-Cathedral. This site is perhaps the most indicative of the inter-religious interaction that took place within medieval and early modern Andalusia. The very first religious structure built on the site was that of the mid-6th century Visigothic Christian Basilica of San Vicente, whose ruins we could glimpse through a glass panel on the floor of the Mosque-Cathedral. The mosaics visible in the basement were still partially-preserved, and imagery of the Holy Trinity could still be seen.

Abd al-Rahman I then built a mosque on the site once Muslim Umayyad power was solidified in al-Andalus in the mid 8th century, which he intended to rival the great mosques found in Damascus and Jerusalem. This goal was a result of the innate power struggle between different caliphates across the globe, as well as the cultural struggle between the cities of Damascus and Cordoba which both claimed to be the world’s center of culture and learning. When the mosque was built, it used recycled material to speed along construction, which included the Visigothic material from San Vicente. It was easy to see such changing materials and building inconsistencies as we walked through the oldest part of the mosque. As Cordoba’s population and power grew, the mosque was expanded further – first by Abd, al-Rahman II, then by Abd al-Rahman III, then by Al-Hakam II, and then finally by Almanzor – until the interior became a cavernous wonderland of endless, striped arches.

Then, as Christian power reclaimed Cordoba in the 12th century, the mosque was re-dedicated as a cathedral under King Alfonso VII. In the 14th and 15th centuries, the Royal Chapel and then the great gothic nave were added. Something that continuously fascinated my classmates and myself as we toured al-Andalus was the accepting nature that Christians had towards Muslim design and decoration, despite their intolerance for the Muslim faith’s presence on the Iberian peninsula. They eagerly adopted rather than replaced Muslim structures, such as the Mosque-Cathedral – and even employed mudejar artisans to continue rather than disrupt the style in future additions.

By Jordan Diamond

Towering cathedrals and skyscraping minarets shape the landscape of Andalusian cities, incorporating religious aesthetics into residential and industrial communities. Seville, home to the world’s largest gothic Cathedral, begs travelers to embrace the city’s Christian character. Notably missing from this architectural framework is the legacy of the city’s and region’s former Jewish inhabitants.

Catedral de Sevilla towers over the former Jewish ghetto.

Given the rich Jewish history we’ve studied in class, I was struck by the overwhelming – or rather, underwhelming – lack of Jewish homes, synagogues, or community spaces. Standing in the shadows of Seville’s Cathedral, within the boundaries of the city’s former Jewish ghetto. One had to wonder how the ghetto’s residents felt looking at the massive towers in front of them: did they know their vacated homes would one day serve as restaurants and hotels? I quickly realized that the Inquisition was more than an effort to weed out Jews, but an effort to erase Jewish culture.

Sites of Sephardic memory, then, are an intentional effort to reconcile Spain’s racist and antisemitic past. Throughout Andalusia, small gold circles reading “Seferad“ (Hebrew for Spain) marked sites of Jewish interest. Many of these sites, though, have been so reformed over time that they didn’t resemble their former Jewish natures anymore. Walking through the city’s commercial district (where I bought the cutest striped shirt), our group stumbled upon a Jewish history museum. Venturing away from itinerary, I was surprised to find relics of an erased Jewish past: Hanukkiot, letters, and biographies of notable Sephardic figures.

Joaquin Turnia y Areal’s painting depicts Jewish exile from Spain.

Lovingly deemed “the Second Jerusalem” by some Sephardic Jewish exiles, emigrants remembered and revered a land whose leaders that didn’t hold the same regard for them. Joaquin Turnia y Areal’s painting, seen in the museum and pictured below, depicts the Sephardic exile. I was reminded of the exile narrative in much of Jewish history, starting with the exile from Jerusalem.

This art, and other remnants of Jewish life throughout Andalusia, were deeply moving, and I’m grateful for the chance to experience this land, culture, and memory.

By Tyler Goldberger

When thinking about our weeklong journey in Andalusia, there are so many moments that stand out as special, meaningful, and awakening. The history covered in our academic course regarding the convoluted relationship between Christians, Muslims, and Jews in al-Andalus has really been engaging, and I wish I could express how visually seeing the construction of Christian iconography over a number of Islamic and Jewish places of worship demonstrated the complex nature of religion in Spain. If one were to visit Spain, they would be inundated by the constant reminders of Christian dominance and wealth in the Spanish Golden Age, especially since these leaders came to power by exerting force over other Abrahamic religions in the process. The prevailing narrative of Catholicism appears all throughout Andalusia, depicting the heroism of Catholic figures and architecture for the generations to come.

Our day in Granada emphasized the large role that Catholic leaders of the past still play in developing the identity of Andalusia. When entering the Alhambra, the state-of-the-art artistry and symbolism shows the beauty of Islamic culture and Arabic scripture. The fortress is adorned with some of the most beautiful fountains, flowers, and decorative rooms that I have ever seen in my life. It is truly amazing the amount of work and effort Muslim rulers put into “The Red” as its own functioning town.

The Alhambra was infiltrated by Christian rulers and redesigned in order to serve the needs of Charles V. This large complex serves as a symbolic shrine to the culture of the Islamic faith, yet Charles V decided to implant his own show of dominance within the Alhambra. Therefore, constructed right in the middle of this old Islamic fortress lies an unfinished Catholic palace. This directly hints at the power Charles V held following the official end of the reconqusitain 1492. This display supports the nation that the Catholic narrative was the one that was to remain the prominent story, re-signifying the history of Muslim leadership within al-Andalus in the process. Ironically enough, this monument was never finished and has never served a functional purpose, built only because this Catholic king wanted to demean Islamic power by asserting Christian dominance in a Muslim space.

Following the Alhambra tour, I yearned to learn more about how Christian iconography manifests itself in the last city that fell to the Reconquista. As I imagined, the fact that the Muslim community in Granada held up a fight for over 200 years following the fall of Sevilla (which essentially served as the last stronghold of Muslim rule in al-Andalus) would incite Catholic leaders to assert their dominance in this land. As we walked around the city, it did not take long to see the massive royal cathedral which started construction just 13 years after the Catholics officially conquered Granada. Luckily, we had the opportunity to tour both the Royal Cathedral and Royal Chapel, where Isabel and Ferdinand are buried today.

I was first drawn to these sites by their grandiose nature. They are large and placed prominently in the city, showing that these sites served as important meeting hubs and religious centers as the Catholics took over all of al-Andalus. Entering the royal cathedral, I immediately recognized just how important the Catholic Church was for members of the Christian community during this time. Christianity had to prove their power, especially since they had just taken over this land, so they decided to build an immaculate structure that reminds you of the religiosity of the site at every turn. The central mural, the ambulatory, the sacristy – all of these settings within the cathedral show the need to show Christianity as the prevailing narrative in Granada.

We also entered the Royal Chapel, a separate building that very much alluded to the power of the Christian leaders during this time. What amazed me most was the placement of Ferdinand and Isabel’s tombstones inside this religious site. Not only did the Christians have to remind the Muslim and Jewish communities of their dominance by completing the Reconquista and taking over the landmass of al-Andalus, but they also wanted these minority communities to be reminded constantly of the leaders who fervently legitimized the Inquisition against heretics. Therefore, they rested the remains of the leaders of the Jewish expulsion and manifestation of Christian dominance in the city that most stubbornly held on to its Muslim leadership. The Christian community capitalized on its newfound power to silence all other religious communities.

This overlap between Muslim identity and Christian power really appeared all throughout our trip to Granada. I was amazed at how stark the difference was between almost 800 years of Muslim rule in this city and the iconography of Christian religiosity that constructed itself directly following the finished Reconquista. I know that the overwhelming Christian identity that swept the city of Granada after 1492 would not have been acknowledged without visually seeing the layout of the city and overlapping religious identities that still present themselves in Granada today.

By Tyler Goldberger

This trip has been one of the most memorable experiences of my life. I came into the Andalusia course eager to learn about such a fascinating time in history, but I did not imagine how much this history and these narratives would come to life over our week in Spain. I have been lucky enough to have been to Spain twice in the last eighteen months – first, a semester abroad in Madrid, and second, a summer research position looking at historical memory in Spain to jumpstart my double theses in History and Spanish. Even with these experiences, this class trip felt much more intimate and much more concentrated on such an important topic. Our Andalusian adventure toured the development and restrictions of Christian, Muslim, and Jewish communities during and follow Muslim rule in al-Andalus. There were so many memorable portions of the trip, and I want to highlight a few that were significant to me.

Our time in Sevilla resonated deeply with a lot of the class due to its beauty and historic nature. Our bond strengthened over the course of our Sevilla adventure, and it was an added bonus to form such strong relationships with my classmates. We knew we had to end up in Granada by the end of our last day in Sevilla, so we decided to take the morning leisurely. We found a nice café and then made the decision to go through the Jewish Museum located in the Jewish Quarter of Sevilla (judería de Sevilla) even though this was not an original destination of ours. We ran into it the day prior and thought it would speak to the themes of Reconquista and Convivencia that have been so crucial to our understanding of this complex time period.

I cannot express how much I appreciated the visit to this museum. While small in size, this space gave Jewish people the voice to explore their own past history. As we have learned, Jews were severely mistreated by the Christians once they claimed much of the territory and eventually were expelled in 1492. Therefore, it was rare for Jews to have the opportunity to express their version of this time in al-Andalus. This museum developed the life and experiences of Jews in southern al-Andalus because of its concentration on important Jewish figures and events that impacted the Jewish population. Instead of giving an abridged historical account, the museum made sure to emphasize Jewish stories and voices of suffering and survival under Christian rule. The narratives highlighted the pain and loss that came from tragic moments in Sevillian history, including the July 1391 riots that left many dead. We were able to engage with the policies and practices of the Inquisition from a Jewish perspective, something uncommon when considering how minority/oppressed voices find it difficult to distribute their version of history. These ideas and themes came to life at this Jewish museum.

We also learned about an old mosque that was a large synagogue while the Sevillian Jewish Quarter still existed. Today, however, this important Jewish worship site transformed into a large church now called Iglesia de Santa María la Blanca. It was unfortunately closed when we attempted to enter, but we were able to see the original entrance door of the old synagogue. Right in front of me, I saw the transfer of religious power that came with political leadership and land/territory acquisition. Sevilla presented a rich and accurate story of the relationship of Abrahamic religions in Spain in medieval al-Andalus. Grateful is an understatement for being able to experience this history where it happened many years ago.

Now, I see myself interested in the current Jewish population in Sevilla and all throughout Spain. As someone who studies post-Franco historical memory in Spain, I have engaged with the more contemporary aspects and population of this region. However, I find myself wanting to focus more specifically on how Jewish populations have developed since 1391 and 1492 in this region. When we toured the old synagogue of Córdoba, I asked the tour guide how many Jewish families still reside in this prosperous city. Quickly, she acknowledged that only five families still call Córdoba home. What has influenced the Jewish population to stay away from Spain? Are there any attempts to pull these Jews back to their Sephardic roots? Our trip has brought so much history to life for me, and I come back yearning to know how this history has manifested itself in today’s make-up of Spain’s religious population.

Through a gracious grant by the Lauder Family Foundation, we are proud to present this website dedicated to our embedded travel course, Andalusia. 

This course explores the intersection of cultures, religions, languages, and peoples through the history, architecture, poetry, music, philosophy, and everyday life of southern Spain. Special focus on the cultural flourishing resulting from the contact—and sometimes clash—of European, Spanish, Islamic, Arab, African, Middle Eastern, and Jewish civilizations and of the Arabic, Spanish, and Hebrew languages. Analyzes overlaps in mystical conceptions of the divine, in philosophical ideas about rational knowledge, in poetic and musical forms, in architectural styles, and in shared histories. We also explore how Andalusian culture continues to thrive in modern consciousness (through music, poetry, art, dance, architecture, etc.) as a crossroads of civilizations.

COURSE GOALS

1. to understand the specific histories and cultures of these three different religious traditions during the medieval period
2. to understand how these specific religious traditions interacted with, borrowed from, and inspired each other
3. to understand how this history informed the trajectory leading toward the European Renaissance and Enlightenment
4. to understand how this history informed the trajectory leading toward the conquest of the Americas
5. to be able to think critically about issues of cultural diversity and coexistence, as well as intolerance, and how it relates to the world we live in today