Journal Entry for the Week of March 7 to March 11

Unless we're artistically trained to do so, rarely do we go into a building and appreciate the magnitude of the work that goes into making paper plans and sketches into a living entity. Whether it is St. Peter's Basilica in Rome, the Greek Parthenon, or Istanbul's Hagia Sophia, it is astonishing to study the details of the procedures and labour that make these monuments possible, the exhaustive trial and error, the constant reinvention to suit both the changing times and the changing temperaments of the rulers running an empire. In the case of emperor Justinian and the Hagia Sophia, envisioned as a monument to his triumphant legacy, the margin for error was very small; rulers like Justinian were not revered for their kindness towards those who did not follow through with their expectations. Of course, for emperors who dreamt of such grandiose projects, the construction of that building was intimately linked to their own reputations and immortality. Even after they died, these great buildings would be a symbolic representation of these emperors, forever imprinted on the landscape of history and human consciousness. These buildings were a way for these emperors to convey both their artistic vision and extend their influence to all corners of the world. Of course, a more Freudian analysis might also suggest that these great pillars and erect structures were the emperors' none-too-subtle way of compensating for defects of a more physical nature. But I digress.

In the specific case of the Hagia Sophia, it was almost a comedy of errors that finally brought the project to fruition. By all reasonable means, the project should not have worked. Although the details are exhaustive, I can say the documentary we saw in class provides viewers with a solid idea of the endless engineering feats, innovations, and—dare I say—shortcuts that went into the construction of what was to become the greatest Christian church in the Byzantine Empire. There was a particularly amusing image in the documentary that spoke of the great unveiling of the finished church; we had Justinian entering the church with a magnificent procession, pomp and circumstance galore, while around him the weight of the dome was already causing the marble columns to flake. Perhaps Justinian and his emperors all overestimated the immortality of a building that had to go through a series of serious cutbacks and constant changes just to stand up. To serve his need for grandeur, Justinian overlooked more practical concerns such as his friendly neighbourhood earthquakes, which this region was particularly prone to. Indeed, a mere 20 years after its completion, Hagia Sophia's dome was shattered in an earthquake. Though the reliance on natural disasters to get us to change our ways is a little disheartening, at least Justinian and his minions learned their lessons the second time around. Better materials, sounder structures and in general more common sense allowed the Hagia Sophia to be rebuilt; it thereafter stood for 1400 years. It is ironic that with all the work that went into the building, it eventually became the emblem of another empire. The church envisioned as the crowning jewel of Christian Byzantine was eventually turned into an Islamic mosque when the Ottoman Turkish Empire took control of the region. Nevertheless, despite the ethnic and religious variation of its owners, Hagia Sophia remained a majestic symbol of power and glory for both empires. Perhaps it didn't happen in quite the way Justinian envisioned, but there is no doubt that Hagia Sophia has remained one of the glorious religious and artistic symbols of our antiquity.