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Heart of Stone

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<i> Nitza Rosovsky is the editor of "City of the Great King: Jerusalem from David to the Present" (Harvard University Press)</i>

Soon after the announcement of the invention of photography in August 1839, the French government purchased and published “free to the world” the details of the process. Within two months pioneers of the medium began to head East, drawn by romantic ruins and exotic-looking people. Sites associated with biblical events were especially popular, and the first book of photographs ever published, “Excursions Daguerriennes: Vues et monuments les plus remarquables du globe” (Rittner et Goupil, 1842), contains views of Jerusalem, Nazareth and Acre. Photographic books of the Holy Land have continued to appear ever since.

In creating his own niche, photographer Steven Brooke has stressed “the preeminence of the landscapes, architecture, and urban spaces over the superficially picturesque.” Shunning color photography “with its mundane immediacy and literalness,” he prefers black-and-white images th1635000321”suppress the insistent and unwanted effects of contemporary construction and debris” and invite “contemplation and interpretation.”

Some of the photographs in the book are indeed awe-inspiring. Witness the interior of the Stambuli Synagogue or the crypt at the Crusader church in Abu-Ghosh. Even the gilded lamps and icons at Calvary--which Mark Twain described as “tawdry ornamentation”--appear ethereal in black and white. The desolation of the Judean desert, the mysteries of the Valley of Hinnom and the arcades at the Dome of the Rock suspended against a stormy sky remind one of the “luminous landscapes”--the phrase is Brooke’s--captured in the sepia-toned photographs of the 19th century.

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Few people appear in the book because some residents still object to being photographed, and as Brooke explains, “photographs of sacred sites and historic architecture are more contemplative without the distraction of other people.” While a busload of tourists in front of a holy site i1931476992certainly distracting, many scenes in “Views of Jerusalem and the Holy Land” seem too pristine, like the Stations of the Cross devoid of worshipers or marketplaces without shoppers. In contrast, the balance between monumental architecture and the human figure is most appealing--there at the fountain of Qa’it Bay, for example.

As a Muslim rug weaver will purposely introduce a “mistake” into his design because only Allah can create a perfect thing, so too no book can be completely free of errors, especially a book about Jerusalem, with its tangled history. Still, it was startling to jump in Brooke’s introduction from the story of King Josiah directly to the Jews’ imprisonment in Babylon and their return to Zion without reference to Nebuchadnezzar’s destruction of the city and the First Temple. On a somewhat different level, another glaring omission was the name of archeologist Yigal Shiloh at the City of David excavations. And how could Muhammad Ali of Egypt have defeated Napoleon in 1831, 10 years after the Emperor’s death? And perhaps it is not very important that Suq Aftimos was built by the Greek Orthodox bishop after whom it is named and not by the Latin Patriarchate, but it is just another example of needless errors.

Brooke avoids politics in his treatment of the places holy to Jerusalem’s three major religions. Yet photographs can speak more eloquently than words. For example, on Mount Zion, a minaret, the Hall of the Last Supper and the “Tomb of David” uneasily occupy one building, which abuts a church, a yeshiva and a synagogue. Ironically, the seemingly innocent depiction reminds us that disputes over the territory have gone on for centuries, even though no one really knows where Ki1852252161David was buried and there is another Hall of the Last Supper nearby.

Jerusalem’s harsh sunlight, which shortens exposure time and therefore attracted early photographers, can also create such a sharp contrast between shadow and light that details disappear. Brooke masters the light and softens its effect by starting his work at dawn. His “luminous landscapes” stress the holy and avoid the profane to create a somewhat idealized Jerusalem. Perhaps at this time of year, it is not such a bad idea.

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