Following thirteen months behind my only sibling’s academic footsteps was hard. From elementary school on, she was a glowing student; absorbing, digesting, and understanding information seemingly by osmosis. She maintained straight A’s throughout her academic career and earned a college scholarship. I, on the other hand, struggled to maintain a C average and ran away from home at the age of fifteen.

Let’s take a moment and rewind…

I thought I was stupid. Compared to my sister, it certainly appeared that way. However, it wasn’t until many years later I discovered that I learn differently from how I was being taught.

There are three recognized learning styles:

• Auditory learners grasp things by hearing—the worst type of test for them involves reading passages and writing answers. They’re best at writing responses to lectures they’ve heard, and are also good at oral exams.
• Visual learners comprehend through seeing—the worst test type for them includes having to listen and respond. They’re best at diagramming, reading maps, essays (if they’ve studied using an outline), and showing a process.
• Tactile (kinesthetic) learners understand through experiencing/doing—the worst test type for them usually has lengthy tests and essays. They’re best at short definitions, fill in the blanks, and multiple choice.

When I was in school, the general teaching population were auditory teachers. A heavily tactile learner—with a smidgen of visual thrown in for good measure—I was missing the boat!

Fast forward…

Not having done any planning before running away, I didn’t know that if you leave high school before you graduate, you can’t test for a GED—General Education Diploma—until two years after your graduating class.

Biding my time, I went to work for a large, everything-under-one-roof store. Over the next few years I worked my way up to managing the women’s wear department, then added men’s wear, and topped it off with housewares and furniture.

I gained valuable life experience during that window of time. Part of this seat-of-the-pants wisdom was learning to say, “I don’t understand. Can you please explain that differently?” And that’s when I noticed that no matter how many times someone “told” me, it wasn’t until they “showed” me that I got it! When shown, I not only met, but exceeded what was expected of me.

I left high school as a sophomore in 1973. For four long years I waited and prepared to take the GED examination. On a hot day in late June of 1977, with the cut-grass tang of summer in the air, I slipped into a front row seat at the testing center; one of about twenty other people enveloped in the sterile classroom setting.

The all-day test was given in seven parts: Language Arts (writing), Language Arts (reading), Social Studies, Science, Math (calculator allowed), Math (calculator not allowed), and United States Constitution.

Hours later—head held high with a face-splitting grin—I left the facility with every confidence that I’d aced the test. Six weeks later I received my GED certificate, and that was just the beginning. Over time I earned my associate degree, then bachelor’s, followed by a master’s degree. Finally, two weeks before my fiftieth birthday, I sat and defended my Ph.D. thesis.

Hard-wired for buoyancy and tenacious as a terrier, when I set my mind on something I go after it with tremendous resolve. It took a while, but I eventually went from GED to Ph.D. And while I’m Ph.inisheD with brick-and-mortar academia, I’ll never be done learning.

Ebru, the art of crafting images and pictures with special paints on the surface of water, originated on the continent of Asia, spread to Anatolia, and from there to the rest of the world. Ebru has long been the name given to the original Turkish art of “paper marbling” [1].

Enchanted by their interaction with water, human beings started practicing the art of paper marbling. By practicing Ebru, one may interpret the time on the marbling tray as a sort of time travel in which the wiggles of the water take a journey between the past and the future.

For ages, people have been using long-lasting rock surfaces to transfer information to future generations. These artworks and writings are reminders of past civilizations and they have always gained the attention of mankind around the world.

Some natural ingredients for traditional Ebru art include rose branches, dust paint, bile juice, and gum from a wild licorice plant. This natural combination of each ingredient of Ebru art ensures its uniqueness.

Each careful sprinkle of a color on the surface of the water is the reflection of the emotions that are felt by the artist yet are difficult to express otherwise.

Ebru is a delicate reflection of a civilization in which water is exalted as glorious and precious. It is one of the major elements of our world, that are essential for existence, along with soil, air, and fire. Ebru is the art of enthusiasm presented with sincere feelings.

Ebru gives a new perspective to the world of art and to cultures that are not familiar with it, since the concept of water serving as a base might initially seem impossible.  Throughout history, eastern and western civilizations were established around sources of water. Water in fact attracts human beings to its vibrancy like a magnet. It is the source of life for all the people from different ethnic groups, colors, languages, and religions. The mosaic appearance of Ebru art reflects human diversity in its tank with harmony and coherence [2].

In the past, people used to write thing they didn’t want to remember on water. Anything is doomed to disappear on the surface of water other than Ebru.

Using water as a medium is paradoxical because water signifies change as opposed to permanence. However, embroidery on the surface of the water is not something to be planned beforehand but rather an art form that the Ebru performer comes up with at the moment. A single stroke can be transformed but not reversed.

Once the artist has reflected his or her soul’s shape, and the colors have taken their place, the paper is gently laid on the water.

Ebru is like life itself; even if we think we do the same things every day, every moment differs from the others and is unique in its own way.

Ebru is either in the sky or on the Earth [3];

“O eye, do not sprinkle tears into my heart’s fierce fire, for there will be no way you can put out such a fire.
Is the revolving sky’s color the color of water? Or is it my tears that cover up the sky, I cannot know.”

Those who are interested in the art of Ebru and put their hearts into it will connect with a feeling of spiritual serenity and tranquility. Life in contemporary times is a never-ending wave of turmoil. Those who want to escape the hustle of the routines of life will never be rejected and will be welcomed to the ambiance of serenity by the peaceful waves of Ebru.

It takes people from their own world and brings them to another world of imagination where they can reflect on their feelings and get rid of the negative emotions within them.

For those who are stuck in the modern cycle of never-ending tasks, it is a way for them to reach a peaceful state of mind and relax.

Ebru art might take the artist back to their childhood when they used to play with dirt and mud. Perhaps the lack of preserving their childhood feelings can be remedied.

Ebru craftsmen use the biz, a tool used like a pencil to write on the surface of the water. In Ebru, every move on the water gives color patterns.

The art of Ebru in such a small container can take a human to anywhere that they wish to be or can be a canvas for any image that they wish for, such as a garden of flowers or a limitless sky. It will be anywhere other than any negative emotions inside.

Ebru art eventually makes the performer, as well as those that enjoy it, joyful once it is placed onto the wall of a house or at work and is thus able to begin emanating its bliss.

* This article was based on the speech given by Mualla Yazici in the Fountain Talks meeting at Fishers Public Library, Indiana.

References

1. Saracoğlu M. “Ebru or Water Marbling.” The Fountain 72 / November-December 2009.
2. Refik İ. “Uçsuz Bucaksız Bir Okyanusta Renklerin Dansı: Ebru.” Yağmur 3 Nisan, Mayıs, Haziran.1999.
3. “Su Kasidesi – Altın Nefesler,” Yeni Ümit Ekim, Kasım Aralık 1998.

Serge and I were buddies. Our interests were largely similar. We were both interested in Oriental mysticism, travel literature, art, architecture, and ceramics. 

“The mystical part about making pots is whether you are in a good state when you make them, or anything else. Trying to achieve a good state by throwing pots as a therapeutic undertaking must be difficult. No, the state comes first and everything else follows,” I suggested.

“Sounds rather obvious,” Serge said.

“That’s the trouble, really. We expect our jobs, our hobbies and everything else we do, to give us peace. Of course, we must do our work with our minds, but the mind had better be in abeyance or you have no chance of creating anything worthwhile.”

“But artistic aspirations…?”

“I like basic aesthetics. Slender pots appeal to me more than fat ones. A fairly minimalist approach is evident. A traditional Japanese house delights me. I too, of course, wish to be empty.”

“How about architecture?” he asked.

“It is about form, which by necessity is governed by function. I greatly admire architects and I can feel their dilemma when attempting to combine form and function. The great architects give us spaces that are comfortable for our interior worlds. “

“But empty…?” Serge prodded.

“I suppose I mean the ability, the luck or grace to receive vision. I am convinced that any artistic endeavor begins with an inner vision. A quiet mind is almost a prerequisite. Then comes the work of getting stuff made, which I contend is the job of the mind. I once read that Mozart claimed to have seen music floating before him; he then had the task of getting it all down as sheet music.”

“So you equate throwing pots with a mechanical process,” Serge said.

I explained: “One obviously must learn the mechanics. I spent a year at art school learning how to throw in series. I was fanatical and everyone said I was crazy because I never fired anything. I once worked on a Greek island and was made aware of Greek potters who have little or no artistic ambition. They see working with clay in the same way that a mechanic works on a car. I heard about one potter in Athens whose wheel head never stops turning. Balls of clay are usually weighed to make certain pots and one then places the ball on a stationary wheel head, gets the thing turning, throws the pot, stops the wheel and cuts off the pot to be placed on a board. The man in Athens simply grabs a chunk of clay of about the right weight, whacks it on to a running wheel head, centers and throws the pot and cuts it off and removes it while the wheel head is in motion. He does that all day long, hour after hour.”

“Wasn’t it the Bauhaus people who spoke about a machine for living?”

“Sure,” I said. “But for them function was an aim. The rest was a philosophy of de-cluttering. Décor art also has a function, I hope, because it can get people forgetting themselves, if only momentarily, which I believe is the best way to experience pleasure.”

“What do you mean by forgetting yourself to experience pleasure?”

“It is quite clear – and many doctors and psychologists agree – that the activity of the mind can be repressive. Mental activity is seldom conducive to healing if taken to an extreme. A patient’s first thoughts are naturally the stuff of concern and the need to seek help! If the patient can surrender his or her condition completely to the expertise of the doctor, the doctor’s task is simplified because the patient’s mind does not meddle with the doctor’s work. More important, the mind is placed in abeyance and permits, or releases, the flow of a natural healing process.”

Serge was confused. “But how does creativity come into it?” he asked.

“One could say that any flow of natural energy, meaning not mind-induced, could be pleasurable. But it is not simply a question of absolute faith in a doctor because the mind in this very complex world has often formed what in German is known as an Eigendynamic, a life of its own, which means that the mind could take control of a person’s life and becomes a personal, overriding function. That which should be a person’s servant has then reversed the roles.

“Most people find a feeling of equanimity in a state of passive focus. I once attended a concert featuring Ella Fitzgerald and a jazz trio. The lady was in such fine form that within a few minutes she had captured the attention, the hearts, and the minds, of the entire audience, thus giving them a release from self. The feeling of euphoria was utterly palpable. Any great artist can give this grace to people. To look at a Rembrandt, at least for the first time, can be stunning – meaning, the mind is stunned. Bach, Beethoven, Mozart, and many more, were capable of offering such grace. I would suggest that truly great artists are themselves in a state of mind abeyance, as mentioned above, when creating their pictures, sculpture, music, literature, and architecture. Great artists ‘receive’ rather than ‘conceive’ their works.

“We are encouraged to be selfless, to simply let go of the thoughts that constantly bug us and turn to what we instinctively know to be true. True art, design, architecture, and hopefully ceramics, can therefore not only be pleasing but also beneficial.”

“Is humankind sick?” he asked.

“Not at all but there does appear to be a widespread feeling of dissatisfaction as we travel down our days. We have little repose. You might say we don’t give ourselves a chance to be truly happy. Was it Krishnamurti who said that there is only one thing between you and God: you. Get out of the way.”

“So you think a mystical approach would be useful?”

“I really do believe that, but, naturally, one would need the time to get quiet. Having a family, a job, earning a living and all the rest is hardly conducive to achieving equanimity from the outset. I can now make ceramics at my leisure but I admire those creative people who are able to achieve great work within the hustle of daily life, especially the young ones.”

“Looking at the pictures, there seems to be an ‘Asian’ approach to your ceramics.”

I said: “The master-potter, Bernard Leach went to Asia to learn about ceramics. He returned to England in 1920 and brought the Japanese master, Shoji Hamada, with him. Hamada and Leach showed us the possibility of selfless pottery making. They constructed and fired a wood-burning kiln, which, opposed to the radiant heat of an electric kiln, brings out the inherent qualities of the clay beneath a glaze. This is achieved by reducing the air intake at a critical point during firing because, obviously, a naked flame requires oxygen to keep burning. Thus the flame starved of oxygen seeks oxygen in the glazes and the clay. The result is buttery textures and some marvelous hues. I have a potter friend, however, who studied with Leach and he said it took years to escape from his influence.”

“But what of selfless pottery?”

“Again, it is the state of having one’s mind in abeyance. Leach maintained that if six potters were to each make a simple tea bowl and one of the potters was in a quiet state the result would be noticeable. In fact, he said that eight out of ten observers would instinctively choose that one bowl.”

“This would seem to imply meditation,” Serge said.

“I have nothing against meditation, but I never did it.”

“So what is your approach?”

“I do nothing really special: just get quiet, relax, begin, and watch what happens. I’m sure many others are happy with the way they operate.”

“Is there a learning process, in all this?”

I told him, “It’s like learning to drive a car, which is initially undertaken as a mental process. Beginners tend to be nervous. Gear changes get snarled, the rear-view mirror is largely forgotten, and so on. The mechanical learning process gradually becomes internalized and a natural flow takes over. Gear changes and all of the other skills become automatic. When this has occurred the mind is set free to concentrate, although focus would be a better word, on what is coming at you on the road.”

“So how did you learn?”

“It may sound far-fetched but one might say that the hands learned what to do. There is a marvelous video on YouTube showing the jazz guitarist Stanley Jordan playing a number (Jumpin’ Jack). Jordan has the ability to play melody and bass simultaneously, somewhat in the way a pianist plays. Deep into his solo one sees Jordan looking down at his hands and there is a smile on his face that seems to say ‘…hey, you guys are really having a good time.’”

“Oh come on, jazz and a quiet mind?”

“Jazz means improvisation engendered by freedom. The freedom from self, conflict, and anything else that hinders creativity.”

“Of course it would be impertinent to speak for other artists but I love the idea of what the Japanese call Shibui. It is a feeling engendered by quiet reticence, something that gives pleasure for reasons beyond explanation. I suppose it means a special rightness about something. Since I am not a Mozart, I do not expect to stun or startle with my work. I am satisfied if a bit of Shibui arises through a combination of shapes and glazes.”

“Talking about shapes…” Serge said.

“As I said before I prefer slender pots; pots that narrow down to a small foot. This gives the pot an appearance of floating – is soaring too presumptuous? My bowls usually have a turned foot. It gives them a lightness that I find pleasing.”

“Have you not been copying the painter Giorgio Morandi with his still-life renderings of ceramic vessels, especially the fluted bottles or those with cut sides?”

“I had never heard of the man before you mentioned him,” I told my friend. “But Morandi does appeal. Thanks for introducing me to his work.”

“The glazes are obviously an enhancement!”

“True but there is a lot of science involved. I fire with an electric kiln because it was given to me as a gift. We are too strapped for cash to buy a preferred gas or wood-burning kiln. My glazes have therefore been things to overcome rather than just use.”

“Build your own kiln!”

“I would love to but for the time being I am where I am at. The electric kiln I use is not particularly large, 60x75x50 centimeters inside, and it does have its eccentricities. All potters have this problem and have adjusted their glaze recipes and firing cycles accordingly. After several test firings, I have been lucky to achieve a good off-white, a really luscious chocolate black, a rather startling blue, a gorgeous dark green thinning to brown on the edges. I also have a nice pale green, which is supposed to be a celadon, but never really came out that way. I am still looking for a classic Chinese tenmoku glaze that fires at 1250°. It is a wonderful black breaking to brown on thin edges.”

“Your glaze application sometimes seems somewhat free-form,” Serge said. “What is behind that?”

“Well, if you have ever tried to draw an arc or a circle you will see the distinct wobble of the line because of an unsure hand. Just swish the pencil around on the paper and the result is likely to be much more graceful. You may not achieve a perfect circle but the result will be more pleasing to the eye. Lord knows how Giotto did a perfect circle in the thirteenth century. Splash glazing is a sort of just do it endeavor. There is no foresight involved, I dribble a glaze on to a pot and…”

“Watch what happens?”

“Right,” I said. “It is again the idea of not really putting one’s mind into a thing. Otherwise I dip my pots into a bucket of glaze in the usual way. Of course, large vessels must have a glaze poured over them, but it is still uncontrolled.”

“Clay?”

“The stoneware clay I use has been great help in achieving texture, although it is not very easy to throw. I mix two clays, with and without grog. The clay is speckled with pyrite and it looks good on the unglazed parts of a pot. The pyrite also shows through the glazes, especially in the off-white.”

“There seems to be lifestyle aspect in what you do.”

“I got around to it a bit late but consider myself lucky. We have a nice old house and a small pottery room. The garden is up and running. My marriage seems to be good, although I am definitely not going to ask her opinion about that. How you live, where you live, and what you do are largely a matter of circumstance for most people. An organized human environment is rather required.”

“Do you remember us talking about Francesco Patrizi, the author of many works of philosophy and the arts?”

“That’s right. He was looking for perfection of a sort,” I said.

“Patrizi wrote a book tantalizingly called The Happy Town. The work is Utopian and an attempt to counter Thomas More’s notion of separating church and state. Patrizi proposed the integration of both. He was born into the nobility in Croatia in 1529 and had the time and inclination to consider the improvement of the world around him. La città felice was written in 1551 in Padua and was printed in Venice in 1553, when Patrizi was only 22 years old. His book proposes a topographical situation that is obviously seen as the Croatian town of Cres in its deep, protective bay, and is about achieving an ideal state. We are confronted with a man who wished to create order, but it was order-imposed. His architectural notions encompassed ‘…straight streets to enhance winds in the hot season’ and ‘…streets meandering like a river to divert winds in the winter months.’ There were to be squares and institutional buildings for commerce, but his main thrust was the stuff of social order. Fabrizi proposed two social groups, the nobility, composed of soldiers and the priesthood, and workers and peasants forming a second group. This second group in The Happy Town were not actually meant to be happy but were only to serve and ‘…not to attain a state of bliss.’”

“Ho hum for Fabrizi. Thomas More was really a humanist, someone who cared.”

“Exactly!” Serge said. “Patrizi was an architect who wished to tell people what is good for them. One debatable point about art could be about what it does to people. Should art bring people to quiet reflection – bliss would be an exaggeration in my case – or should it provoke? Personally, getting people all riled up doesn’t make sense to me.”

“So what is the message?”

“Not offending anyone’s sensibilities, which means offering stuff that calms rather than antagonizes.”

“Your method…?”

“Get quiet, relax, begin.”   

“And watch what happens?”

“That’s about it.”

As planets have been moving like whirling dervishes around the sun for millions of years, the Milky Way and billions of galaxies in the universe constantly keep turning in space, whose boundaries we are unable to define, in a realm of ether. As the world completes rotating around its own axis in 24 hours, it orbits around the sun with a speed of 30 km/hr and it does not even make a second’s delay in completing its yearly tour. A crowded family formed by the other nearby worlds and their satellites are travelling toward the Vega system with a speed of 220 km/second. Thanks to this rhythmic order, the orbits of planets and their positions at a given date, the times for lunar and solar eclipses, and changes with the length of days and nights, can be predicted years in advance, or calculated for historical times. The repetitive nature of these movements and continuity of the present order, for millions of years, show that everything depends on a certain plan and law, and that nothing acts on its own. There is no place for coincidence when things happen within a frame of laws, where order and rhythm exist.

The continuity of existence depends on the repetition of existing motions within a certain period – namely, on rhythmical motion. The cessation of motion in the cosmos would mean the non-existence of rhythm. It is not possible to talk about rhythm without motion and activity. This movement in existence must have a meaning and purpose. It is exceedingly difficult to explain, with physical laws, why existence came to be and the purpose in this motion. In addition, why this motion began and how long it will last, cannot solely be explained with physical laws. However, there is great meaning in this harmonious turning; an unbroken bond in existence, and a unity. Everything uses a silent language to give a meaningful message to insightful hearts. Then, how is this message supposed to be read and understood?

As we understand from holy scriptures, existence is made subservient to humanity. Existence stands as a means for human comprehension of the meaning within. A person who can view existence with eyes of wisdom and manages to hear creation’s silent melody becomes enraptured with this rhythm and feels like a whirling dervish awed by the Divine.

Rhythm in nature

There exists a balance in nature and a meaningful bond between beings. As everything runs in harmony, beings both help and compensate for one another. The sun, the earth’s source of energy and light, and essential for the continuity of life, is made dependent on a certain order with its rhythmical motion; the world and other planets move in accordance with this main rhythm. Day and night happen by the earth’s spinning around its axis, which is another rhythmical and constant occurrence. An absence of rhythm causes uncertainty and the situation is defined as chaos. If the future is completely uncertain, it gives way to utter chaos and life on earth cannot continue.

The holistic and integrated nature of beings is reflected in human biology, as it is in all living beings. Humans can always perceive, in daily life, that the motions in the universe are in a rhythmical order. As a person comes to this world connected with these rhythms; one can feel their effect in every stage of life and in one’s own body. The circular motion that occurs with the periodical repetition of minutes, hours, days, seasons, and years influences us. The inner rhythm we call our “biorhythm” is adjusted in accordance with the order outside, and there is a 24-hour periodical rhythm in daily life. Every individual has an innately given, peculiar, and distinctive bio rhythm special to the person’s biological and spiritual structure. As in human beings, a periodical rhythm is observable in many living things’ metabolism, heartbeat, and bodily functions, like respiration and sleep; this is known as the circadian rhythm. If the rhythms of living beings are upset, their biological balance is also upset, a situation which can sometimes cause death.

There is no place for coincidence in the universe; everything runs in a regular order established by the One of infinite wisdom. What brings order to life is the existence of rhythmical motion and the continuity of this order, which gives people a sense of security and makes life easier. One can make daily, weekly, monthly, and yearly plans. For example, the fact that the sun’s motion depends on certain physical laws that can be defined with mathematical formulas, and that we see it rising at a certain hour from the same direction every day, gives a sense of comfort to our mind and feelings. Most people do not even worry whether the sun will rise the next day. A person with sound reason does not fall into contradictions while observing occurrences and looks to future with trust. Thanks to periodical occurrences, a person finds a beauty in one’s memories and feelings by remembering the past. These recurring seasons can help us to remember things that, otherwise, might be forgotten.

As an inherent quality of human nature, a person wishes to see an order to social life and expects consistent behavior from others. People with consistent behavior are more preferable as friends and inspire trust in those around them. The order formed as a consequence of individuals’ living in harmony can be seen as social rhythm. Just as a social life that respects others’ rights, and acting in accordance with the existing order, is peaceful and harmonious, a social life that runs counter to the idea of order and trust can lead to chaos and unrest.

Arts

Laws prevalent in existence can also be expressed with arithmetical equations. Mathematical curves, fractals, number series, and many other things reflect a rhythmical pattern and a plan. For example, works executed with the proportions of Fibonacci numbers and the golden ratio give aesthetic pleasure to viewers. The eye perceives numerous patterns and motifs formed by ranges of colors, and the ear perceives all melodies and sounds as rhythm. For a person who views creation with eyes of wisdom, the positions of leaves on a tree, a soaring bird, a flowing river, and all of spring’s colorful blossoms are causes of admiration and enthusiasm. Beauty appeals to human nature. And what lies in the essence of all art is aesthetic beauty and harmony, which evoke this feeling of admiration. The human reason, spirit, and emotions have their share from the mysterious activities observed in creation; they express these through art. An artist is essentially inspired by this order and harmony in the universe. If art is the name for sensing this rhythm and harmony in the universe, then the artist is a person who expresses this rhythm in one’s works. Those who grasp this fine meaning and aesthetic beauty in creation can be said to have caught the true spirit in art.

Music is the art where rhythm is sensed best. The patterns and harmony in music perfectly agree with the harmony in nature. Perhaps, how music appeals human feelings and gives us delight is a consequence of such a correspondence. A person’s recognition of this harmony and rhythm in the universe makes one conform to it and become unified with existence.

To conclude, humans have not been left to run wild in this world; an order is needed for their material and spiritual life. The balance, harmony, and beauties existing in creation are reflected in human nature as well. Without a rhythmically working order, the balance of life will be upset, chaos will begin, and maybe the world will come to an end!

As one of Turkish national arts, ebru is carried out by transferring onto special paper a design which is formed by scattering dye on dense water. It is argued that the root of the word “ebru” is from “ebr” (cloud-like), “ab-rû” (water surface) in Persian, or “ebre” (moiréd) in Chagatai. Owing to its moiréd appearance, it is called “marmor papier,” “papier marbre,” or “marbled paper” in European languages, and “waraqu’l-mujazza” in Arabic.

The art of Ebru, which is believed to have origins in Bukhara (a city in Uzbekistan, Central Asia) in the eighth or ninth century, reached Anatolia and Istanbul via Iran along the Great Silk Road. Ebru, like other book arts, continued to develop in Istanbul, reached maturity in the sixteenth century, and experienced its brightest period of time in the seventeenth century. The Ebru that was produced in that period in Istanbul was enough to meet the demand from Europeans.

The oldest example of Ebru ever known is in Istanbul University Library. It is estimated that it was made before 1519. Another piece of Ebru, which is believed to have been made in 1539, is kept in Topkapý Palace, in Istanbul. It is impossible to know much about early Ebru artists, (except those from the last period of the Ottomans) because there was no tradition of adding the artist’s signature to the work in that period. sebek Mehmet Efendi, Hatip Mehmet Efendi, seyh Sadýk Efendi, Nafiz Efendi and Hezarfen Ethem Efendi were famous Ebru artists who lived in the Ottoman period. Names such as Necmettin Okyay, Sami Okyay, Sacit Okyay, Abdülkadir Kadri Efendi and Mustafa Düzgünman were famous Ebru artists who lived in the early Republican period. Today, in Turkey, where the art of Ebru is becoming even more popular, there are a lot of contemporary Ebru artists.

Early Ebru artists produced almost all the equipment that they used. The materials which are used are paper, kitre (a gum-like substance made of cow’s gall), a table, naphtha, an awl set, combs, dyes, and brushes. The dye that is used in Ebru is water-proof. In traditional Ebru, soil pigments are used. The pigments are crushed on a marble base with a hand-carved stone called a “destezeng.” They are then put in a bowl, and mixed with water and gall. The mixture is left to stand for some time so that it reaches the right consistency. The period of waiting may be from several weeks to several years according to the type and quality of the dye. Owing to the difficulty of its preparation, this technique has almost been completely replaced with using readymade products.

Ebru is categorized according to the design and the motif used. By manipulating the dye on the surface of the water, different styles of Ebru can be made such as “the tide,” “the shawl,” “the striped,” “bülbülyuvasý,” (drawing spirals from outside to inside) “Hatip,” (drawing concentric circles with drops of colors) and “flowery.” Battal Ebru is made without manipulating the dye and transferred to the paper directly.

To judge the beauty of a piece of Ebru, three points should be taken into consideration. These are hav (the nap), the nimbus (hale), and the design. The nap is the height of the dye on the surface of the water. It feels velvet-like when it is touched with the fingers. The best nap can only be obtained with a soil dye. The nimbus is a white, glimmering circle around every drop of dye. It is achieved with the gall which is added to the dye. The design is the general appearance of the Ebru. It is composed of color distribution, coherence, form, and the location and size of motifs.

In the contemporary world, different schools of Ebru can be distinguished. The Turkish art of Ebru is one of these styles or schools. Hundreds of Ebru artists perform Ebru in their own way.

Today, most Ebru artists practice it as an independent art. In addition, Ebru is also used with miniature, calligraphy, tezhip, and other arts such as painting. The production of Ebru for book binding has declined in recent years.

There are different arguments about the relation between traditional and modern Ebru. While some artists are more sensitive about carrying on the traditional school, others are freer about the use of equipment and technique. It is useless to argue on which is better. There are already hundreds of Ebru artists around the world who deal with Ebru in the way they want. Whether the work is admired or not depends on art lovers. It is probable that a technique or a school which does not attract any attention today will be demanded more in the future.

There are too few Ebru artists who have received education and license to teach from the early masters. For that reason, the condition that every Ebru teacher should have a teaching license may restrict the art and artists. It can be understood whether one is really an Ebru artist or not, through one’s works, not just by looking at a person’s certificate. On the other hand, it would be beneficial if expert trainers could come together and determine some criteria.

The art of Ebru in today’s world has been experiencing a period of revival. Both in Turkey and in the rest of the world, there is increasing interest in Ebru. In tandem with the fact that many Ebru artists have been trained, there have arisen new techniques and schools.