Although I feel some sense of connection to all of the people featured in this series so far – and that is my reason for selecting them – I feel a much stronger sense of affinity for the latest traveler to Türkiye, the Italian artist Fausto Zonaro (1854-1929), than for any of the others. One of my reasons for this sense of affinity leads to a question about his inclusion. Zonaro, like myself, made Türkiye his home for many years. Yet, the trips of all of the other travelers in this series were of limited duration, even if they sometimes ran into many months. Zonaro, however, settled in Istanbul from 1891 to 1910, so his status as a traveler is questionable. My definition of a traveler to Türkiye though is one who comes from outside and leaves, or if they die here, it is before they can be said to have settled, as in the case of Abu Ayyub al-Ansari. So Zonaro is included, but someone such as Sufi philosopher Mevlana Jalaluddin Rumi, who came from Balkh to reside in Türkiye and died here in 1273 will not be, regardless of the otherwise fascinating circumstances of his life and work.

Zonaro himself would almost certainly have liked to have been like Rumi and died here, as he did not want to leave Türkiye. He was uprooted from his home by political forces he was unable to influence, and this led to the last part of his life from 1910 to 1923 being spent in his native Italy, but he felt more like a refugee than a returnee there.

Era of artistic revolution

From the perspective of the 21st century, art in the second half of the 19th century is marked by revolutionary movements. If one painting were to be taken as the spark that set off the revolutionary gunpowder, it would surely be Claude Monet’s 1873 work, "Impression, Sunrise," regardless of how innocuous it looks to us today. This gave birth to the impressionist movement which, as its name suggests, sought to capture on canvas the impressions that we see in the world around us. It sought to reflect what we sense when we encounter the world rather than record strict dimensions, outlines and details as in traditional art. Although, as with most artistic innovation, it was reviled and misunderstood at the time of its emergence; it is this sensuousness, eschewing the erotic connotation of the term, that surely explains its continuing appeal today. Nevertheless, the impressionists were not the end of the revolution – indeed it cannot be said to have ended at all. Within the scope of the life of Zonaro, impressionism would be superseded by the even more abstract work of Vincent Van Gogh, Paul Gauguin and Paul Cezanne, who in their turn would spawn the expressionist movement in which the inner response to outer impressions is what is paramount and what is thus depicted on canvas. As Zonaro was approaching his death in 1923, abstraction had reached new levels in the work of Pablo Picasso, the most famous 20th-century artist of all.

The rapid pace of change at the cutting edge of the art world reflected that of its era, the industrial century, though the artworks themselves were often a protest against it. The sheer speed of technological change at this time is especially reflected in modes of transportation. Lord Byron came to Istanbul in 1810 onboard a wooden sailing vessel, similar to how seaborne visitors had done since the foundation of the city in 667 B.C., whereas Zonaro came on a metal steam-powered ship, although the gap between his and Byron’s visits could be encompassed by a single lifetime.

There to meet the disembarking Zonaro was Elisa Pante, the woman who was soon to become his wife. Elisa was a skilled photographer, photography being another of the key innovations of that century. It is probably no coincidence that abstract art takes off roughly at the introduction of the camera. With the camera able to produce perfectly accurate representations of people and places, it was no longer necessary for painters to attempt the same. Rather, they could now focus on their impressions of people and places, whether impressionists or not.

Yet, despite his use of modern transportation and the interests of his beloved Elisa, Zonaro was not an innovator, not in terms of his art at least. Zonaro’s art is fairly traditional. He was not unaware of or averse to the movements taking place in the art world, and it is true that his work can betray a degree of impressionism, yet, on the whole, his work is representational, as European art had been since the Renaissance.

Elisa Zonaro, Zonaro’s early life

Elisa Pante, who would take her husband’s surname upon their marriage, deserves to be looked at in more detail. Unlike Mary Montagu’s husband who was her intellectual inferior, Zonaro’s spouse was his equal. Elisa was an artist in her own right, and she was also more than capable of dealing with the world on her own terms. The reason Elisa was there to meet Zonaro from his ship is that it was she who had trailblazed their way to Istanbul, arriving two months prior to Zonaro to prepare everything for their life together there.

Before getting to their life in Istanbul, a brief sketch of Zonaro’s pre-1891 life will be made. Fausto Zonaro was born in Masi, Padua in 1854, just before the great era of Italian reunification would begin in earnest. His calling as an artist manifested itself as a teenager, and later, he moved between Venice, Naples and Paris to develop his artistic talents and began painting, including some of his best-loved works such as "Girl Carrying a Pumpkin." In Venice, he taught art, one of his pupils being Elisa. There they fell in love. It was the artistic temperaments of the couple that brought them to Istanbul in 1891. As Erol Makzume puts it, "The couple envisioned a better life together in a place where they could fulfill their artistic aspirations."

Settling in Istanbul

For Zonaro, as he approached the city by ship, Istanbul proved to be a case of love at first sight. In the city, not only had Elisa sorted out their accommodation in the district of Pera, though they were subsequently to move to different addresses in this part of the city, but she had also already found employment and thus some stability for them both, as a teacher of Italian and art.

Love for Istanbul and love for Elisa found fitting expression in the marriage of the couple in the local Church of St. Espirit in 1892. In the same year, recognition of Zonaro in Europe led to his being noticed in Istanbul by members of the Ottoman and foreign elite, from whom he gained teaching commissions. He soon had an impressive list of connections including the Turkish polymath Osman Hamdi Bey, for whom he had great esteem. He also came to the notice of the Ottoman ruler Abdulhamid II himself, who was deeply impressed upon being shown photographs of Zonaro’s paintings. Although Zonaro had yet to meet the sultan in person, this would symbolically mark the beginning of another long-term beneficial relationship in Zonaro’s life.

Artistic success in Istanbul

In his first years, however, the Zonaros did face financial difficulties. It is one painting in particular though, that changed his fortunes. That it did so is fitting, as it is his masterpiece. It is called "The Ertuğrul Cavalry Regiment crossing the Galata Bridge." With it, he finally secured his position in Istanbul when it was presented to Abdulhamid II. The sultan was so impressed that he had Zonaro invested as Hazret-i Şehriyari or palace painter.

It is easy to see why Abdulhamid II liked this grand painting of Ottoman cavalry crossing the Galata Bridge so much. In it, Zonaro depicts the splendor of the mounted troops each holding aloft a lance topped by a vermillion pennant and provides a further striking color contrast between their dark uniforms and their bright white mounts. Istanbul, sometimes referred to as "the city of dreams," is hazily dreamlike in the background, partially obscured by a pall of smoke. Zonaro achieves in this painting what he also does so well with the one of Wilhelm II’s visit – he depicts both uniformity and individuality within the same subjects. For whilst they are one troop kitted out identically, each cavalryman manifests his individuality in the tilt of his head, the direction of his gaze, how his shiny boot rests in his stirrup or his grasp of the lance.

Indeed, there is much opposition that is harmoniously juxtaposed in this huge painting. There is the juxtaposition of age, and thus patient wisdom, with the white-bearded commander sitting immobile and erect at the front of the troop looking forward, his saber in his hand. He is so certain of his leadership that he feels no need to turn and check on his men. Just behind him though, is his youthful subordinate with his jet-black mustache who in his vigor has made a half turn in his saddle in order to keep an eye on the proceedings.

Also, the painting depicts the cosmopolitan nature of fin-de-siecle Istanbul. Those standing to the side to watch the procession are a mixture of spectators. In the left foreground, there is a lady and a gentleman, who resembles Zonaro himself, kitted out in Western clothes and just behind them a stooped Turkish woman in a headscarf is showing the passing troop to her child who is wearing a fez. This type of admixture of people continues off into the background.

Moreover, for those who know the city of Istanbul well, the setting of the piece represents a further harmonizing juxtaposition. Galata Bridge is the crossing between the traditional Islamic city of old Istanbul to the south and the modern Westernized suburbs of Karakoy and Pera to the north. As the troop is crossing the bridge from south to north, they perhaps symbolically demonstrate that those who belittle the Ottoman Empire should not write off its military potential that has deep roots in the past but is also capable of modernizing in order to adapt to the military challenges of a new time.

It is to be noted that the version of the picture that remains in Türkiye today is a slightly later repainting of this scene, the original version having been gifted to France.

As his residence in Istanbul lengthened, Zonaro painted for Abdulhamid and achieved success in exhibitions. Also, as Makzume notes:

During these years Zonaro’s house studio on Akaretler became one of the favorite gathering places for Istanbul’s intellectuals and leading figures of society in the afternoons. People from every sector of society, including foreign visitors and clerics of various faiths and sects came to see his work or just to converse.

Included in this number were Enver Pasha and Winston Churchill, destined to be the prime movers of their respective countries.

Although he was the court painter, Zonaro was not a political figure and was indeed politically naive. While unlike other foreigners in Istanbul at the time, Zonaro had not meddled in the affairs of the country, those affairs were about to meddle with him. Due to his exceptionally close association with Abdulhamid II, Zonaro was destined not to survive – in terms of the continuation of his settled life – his patron’s fall.

Departure of Zonaro

Even though Zonaro regarded Enver Pasha, the head of the revolutionary Young Turks who overthrew Abdulhamid in 1908-1909 as a personal friend, the new government of the Ottoman Empire, as Makzume notes, was determined to get rid of everything, good or bad, associated with Abdülhamid II and as such "Zonaro became persona non grata." Zonaro lost his position as a court painter and was even told that he owed rent on the house that Abdulhamid had granted him. He was deeply hurt by this and decided to leave Istanbul and return to Italy, which he did in 1910.

The new regime came to regret its treatment of Zonaro, and in the following year, invited him to return. He rejected the offer and he was perhaps wise in this decision. A place once deeply loved and lost, when left is perhaps best left for good, especially when it has changed in one’s absence. Yet, Zonaro faced problems in Italy too. As nationalist fervor swept his country in the 1910s when Italy proved a foe to the Ottoman Empire, a painter who was an ardent Turcophile found himself out of favor. That was to pass, however, and toward the end of his life, he was able to make a living from reworkings of his Istanbul scenes. When he could no longer use the originals to copy from, he made use of Elisa’s photographs of them instead.

The fate of artists is often in an inverse relationship to the status that they hold in their lifetimes. Van Gogh and Gauguin, who struggled merely to escape starvation, became sensations after their deaths, whilst Zonaro, who had witnessed great artistic success, fell seriously out of fashion following his. Which kind of fame is best, contemporary or posthumous, is of course an open question. Yet, Zonaro’s fate was not settled for good in the 20th century. As Makzume notes, recently his work has begun to be "reappraised" in Italy.

Moreover, those who fall in love with Istanbul, as Zonaro did, may come to value his work highly. And this is ironic. For, as has been intimated, to a 19th-century individual, nothing would have seemed more modern than a black-and-white photograph. Yet, to us, with the passing of time, it has become symbolic not of modernity but of nostalgia. Hence, the numerous sepia photographs that exist of fin-de-siecle Istanbul, including those taken by Elisa, do not appear to us fresh and representative at all. Rather, they appear to be of a place far removed from us in time and replete with nostalgia for a lost world that can never be regained.

Zonaro’s work, on the other hand, with its relative artistic conservatism, for us now, abounds with the directness that colored images produce. For instance, in his "The Flagellants," the Shiites lamenting the martyrdom of the prophet’s grandson Husain on the 10th day of the Islamic month of Muharram by lacerating themselves with swords has, though its lurid use of color, a shocking directness that a black-and-white photograph simply could not convey to us. Or in his "Seraglio Point," the rippled waters of the Bosporus prettily reflecting the azure sky at the point where this waterway meets the Marmara Sea, the rowing boats with their bright red fez-wearing rowers and large ships of sail or steam jostling for their places in this busy sea lane appear as fresh as the day it was painted. As such, it is his work, and not that of his more modern wife, which now allows us a real immediate view into the late Ottoman city.