My Marrakesh

Ingrid Pullar: and photographing beauty

It was back in December that she had first heard of her.  Ingrid Pullar.  Ingrid was  photographing a story that the New York Times was running on Marrakech.   No slouch, in addition to the New York Times, she had taken photographs for Time Magazine. 

The blogging girl took one look at Ingrid's portfolio and emailed her.  The email didn't have to go far- - only to Casablanca where the Swedish photographer had lived for years.   Ingrid was friendly, and they exchanged a number of emails and phone calls.

Life hadn't been easy for the blogging girl recently, and so she turned to Ingrid's photos for beauty therapy.  Then she thought that perhaps, just perhaps,  you might be in need of a little beauty therapy, too...

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Picking Moroccan saffron.  The poetic spice culled from an equally poetic flower.....

A tagine, the ubiquitous Moroccan stew seen bubbling all around the city.  Cooked in a conical dish by the same name.  So delicious.

Moroccan roses in a hammam bowl......... Morocco has valleys filled with roses.  No wonder that Moroccan souks are filled with rose soap, rose cream, and rose oil, made fresh.

Marrakech: and shopping with the disciple of vintage

She had a fondness for things that were old, that were used, that were vintage.  She had an affection for items that were frayed at the edges, that were dogeared in the corners, that were worn on the ends.

No matter the missing button.  No matter the broken zipper. 
No matter the chipping paint.
No matter the wrinkle. 
No matter the gray hair. 
No matter the varicose vein....

Because everything (and everyone) deserved a second chance. 

Because she believed, truly believed, that middle aged and fabulous were words that went together......

But lest you think that she digresses, perhaps you might like to see some of her pre-loved items from the Marrakech souks....

A vintage Moroccan blanket in pink.  How fantastic it would look upholstering a headboard. More importantly, their dog, Rocky, thought it showed off his  complexion to great advantage.

Vintage kitschy peacock trays.  A whopping 75 cents for each.....

Vintage silvered  bowl with hand stamped patterns and blue  handmade resin beads.  (Set against  ikat fabric  for upholstering a chair at Peacock Pavilions.)

Vintage child's hat from high in the Atlas mountains.  Dazzling with mirrors and sequins......

A mixed flat weave and pile vintage carpet in the loveliest colors.

A Moroccan coin headband from the 1950s on a handloomed light -as-air cream wool throw.

Embroidered appliqued peacocks on a vintage velvet caftan from the 1920s or 30s.

And so if you find yourself one day in the Marrakech souks, perhaps you will find her -- the disciple of Moroccan vintage....

Marrakech: and Thomas Cook City Spots Guidebook

Eeek!  She had had a book published! 

Oh my, that pseudo-Moroccan girl clearly was prone to exaggeration.  She most definitely had not had a book published.  But she had updated a guidebook on Marrakech:  Thomas Cook City Spots, to be exact.  She was told it was on the book stands on this very day.  And she assumed that her name was in tiny letters somewhere inside. 

In addition to oodles of phone and address confirmations, highlights of the guide book updating process included: 

* Testing home made ice creams in ice cream parlors.  Demanding second tastes just to make absolutely sure of quality.  Putting only her most favorite in the guidebook.

* Loitering in gorgeous riad guesthouses, pretending to be a potential guest, meanwhile stealthily taking undercover notes

* Spending ridiculous sums of money while updating the shopping section.  Rationalizing the purchase of approximately 63 pairs of Moroccan sequined leather slippers.  Sigh.

* Sneakily slipping in a few of her own photos.  (shhh....don't tell the publishers!)

* Observing whether the snake charmers on Jemma el-Fnaa square were truly able to charm the snakes or whether the snakes had a skeptical look in their eyes.

Needless to say, it was arduous, and it was harrowing, and the blogging girl barely made it out alive.  But it was all for the good of her beloved new homeland. (Isn't this when the national anthem is supposed to start playing in the background?)

Marrakech: and do come in....

You see, Moroccans intrinsically understood something very basic:  the power of paint.  Even in the smallest villages, doors were painted in fantastical colors and designs.  It was......poetry...or it was Prozac.  Or it was both..... 

The blogging girl admired their bold confidence, their happy curly-Qs, their it's-only-paint-for-goodness-sake nature.  She was fond of their fondness of turquoise and pink... 

How was it, she wondered, that everyone else had become so....... boring....?

P.S.  Do take a peek here to see the lovely vintage Moroccan wedding blanket (or wedding quilt) that darling Barbara in Australia purchased from me.  I have a new stash of wedding blankets, in case you would like to have a little sparkley glamour, too.  Drop me a line:  maryam at mtds.com

Rachel Silveston’s Encounters: Portraits from Morocco

Morocco is unquestionably a photographer’s paradise.  The colors, the light, the patterns, the architecture – a picture seems around every corner. Like so many before her, Rachel Silveston, an American photographer, fell under Morocco’s charms.

After studying photography at Massachusetts College of Art, Rachel Silveston moved to Switzerland where she has lived for 25 years.  Over the years Silveston has freelanced as a commercial photographer, focusing principally on portraits and sports photography, as well as other subjects.  In June 2007, Silveston’s show, Encounters, portraits from Morocco, opened. The show featured black and white images taken during Silveston’s two trips to Morocco in the fall of 2006 and the spring of 2007. Recently I caught up with Silveston for an interview.

Who, what, where and when?

There are so many things to photograph in Morocco. However, when I examined my potential subject matter, I found I was drawn to everyday scenes of Moroccans living in the countryside. Accordingly, my portraits are of ordinary Moroccans that I met in the villages surrounding Essaouira, Taroudant, Ouarzazate, and Marrakech. During my two trips to Morocco, each day I would set off on foot, accompanied by a local guide who served as my translator. I liked the slow rhythm of life in the villages, and I was lucky enough to find Moroccan villagers who were willing to stop their work, talk with me, and let me photograph them.

What were you trying to capture through your photographs?

With Muslims and the Arab world frequently in the news, through my portraits I wanted to express the underlying humanity and beauty that we all share regardless of religion or politics. While I concentrated on Moroccan faces, I was also drawn to women’s hands, particularly as I noticed how much manual work they accomplish in the rural areas.  While in my career, I have generally preferred studio situations where I have a great deal of control, the Moroccan series was the exact opposite -- allowing me to push my own limits as a photographer. 

How willing were Moroccans to be photographed? 

This was the most difficult aspect of my work.  Through my guide, I would ask people to let me photograph them. More often than not, they were uncomfortable with the idea but then, by surprise, someone would say yes.  As a photographer, it was very important for me to establish a relationship with my subjects -- I think you can see that they are observing me just as much as I am observing them.  Apart from sight, feeling is my other most important sense, and a kind of friendly intimacy sometimes emerged.  Often our photographic sessions would end up back at their homes, where we would share a cup of mint tea together.

In terms of Morocco, what does the future hold for you ?

The positive feedback I have received so far has given me the confidence to continue with this project.  I would like to return to Morocco and spend more time taking photographs.  I would also like to exhibit my work in Morocco and perhaps, begin working on a book.

For more information on Rachel's work or to buy one of her beautiful photographs, please contact her here.

 

Many thanks to the Bloggy Award for awarding me a Bloggy and their generous review of My Marrakesh.

Morocco: and a mystery man's photographs

I learned of him from a mystic in Marrakech named Margot.  Margot is a banker by day and a mystic -in-training by night.  She told me in a blog entry -- or maybe it was a dream pretending to be a blog entry (mystics are crafty that way, you see) -- that there was a photographer named Per-André Hoffman who had taken photos of Morocco worth seeing. 

I found she was right. 

Now this Per (Is that pronounced purr, I wonder?) is a rather suspicious character.  He was allegedly raised in Brazil and Norway, but schooled in England and the US, and is now living in both Germany and Manila.  Do you follow?  He is pictured with Fidel Castro - need I say more?  Making matters yet more complicated, Per has blue eyes and the kind of good looks that make women weep for the road not taken. 

Perhaps he is a photographer.  Perhaps he is a spy.  Perhaps he is both.  (She says, feeling a bit weak in the knees.)

Whatever it is that he is, I present you his photos of that place I love to write about......Morocco.

Morocco: and photographic inspiration

Morocco is unquestionably a photographer's paradise.  Veteran American photographer Larry Broder has been under Morocco's spell since his first trip in 2003.   Indeed, when friends ask him what has changed his photography the most, Larry answers with one word, Morocco. 

It was the omnipresence of color in Morocco that had such an influence on Larry's photography.  He explains, I remember clearly the excitement of having my eyes flooded with the unfamiliar intensity of color in clothing, buildings, walls, windows, and even a basket of rags.  Everything seemed more vivid to me - - colors, lines, angles - - and it seemed that everywhere I turned, there was a photograph.  He adds, I love the sights and sounds, the light and the abstract things I can photograph there.  No other place in the world has so much color and movement---I just love it. 

Larry practices a natural light philosophy in his photography.  This means that he does not "boost" the color in the computer, nor does he use a flash.  He illustrates this example for me by referencing his photo of an old building with light streaming through the shaded roof.

Larry advises travelers and photographers to go to Morocco with an open mind and an open heart.  He stresses that the people in Morocco are very friendly, and says that he never felt uncomfortable at any time.   He suggests bringing a a short telephoto lens, as well as a wide angle lens, if possible.

You can see Larry's portfolio here, including his photographs of  wildlife and nature, as well as those from his different travels. 

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Morocco: and its beautiful garb

Even after  six years of living in Morocco, I still find it exotic.  It's one of those places where a single encounter or image can fuel my imagination for hours, if not days.  Perhaps that's part of the reason why my family and I decided to pick up everything and move to Morocco in the first place - a decision that put us on a tiled path that wound its way to the magical city of *Marrakesh* and to the little olive grove that we now call home.

And if I am intrigued by Morocco now, I can only imagine what it used to be like fifty or a hundred years ago.  Recently, my father gifted me with a first edition of the book, Costumes du Maroc by Jean Besancenot.  Inside hides a secret world. 

An artist, Besancenot came to Morocco for the first time in the 1930s and it was here that he did the 60 illustrations that are found in his beautiful book.  He writes of his fascination with the artful blending of cultures that make up Morocco's identity - the combination of Middle Eastern, European and Amazigh influences.  I think it's this very intermingling that makes Morocco and Moroccans so special; so evident in the country's architecture and design sense, as well as in the ways people live, think, and dress. 

Of course, not all Moroccan clothing is the same as it once was.  There is very little that separates the look of teenagers in Marrakesh or in Paris.  But sometimes when I find myself lost in the meandering alleys of the Marrakesh old city, or medina, I can still see glimpses of the Morocco that Jean Besancenot saw almost 75 years ago.  Let me take you there with me today.

Morocco: and how to protect your home in one easy step?

You only need to spend a few days in Morocco to realize that the power of the evil eye is a very important force for Moroccans. One way of warding off the evil eye is to show the hand of Fatima or the khamsa, which means five in Arabic, and alludes to the five fingers on the hand.  Fatima was the compassionate daughter of the Prophet Mohammed and miracles have been attributed to her; for example, it is said that when she prayed in the desert, it started to rain.  Morocco is not alone in this belief -- the hand of Fatima is used for superstitious protection throughout the Middle East and in parts of Africa. 

The hand of Fatima can frequently be spotted on entryway doors of Moroccan homes particularly in the shape of door knockers -- in this way the home and its inhabitants may be protected from the evil eye.  Hands of Fatima also are often seen worn as pendants around necks.  Chris a few birthdays ago gave me a small hand of Fatima made out of paved diamonds (I know, lucky girl am I).  Even just alluding to the hand of Fatima can bring protection; when a compliment is given, Moroccans, worried that it might provoke jealousy, will sometimes say, (I have) five and five [two hands of Fatima} for people with the eyes of Satan. 

Do I believe that the hand of Fatima is endowed with helpful, magical properties?  Maybe not.  But then again, maybe so.  It certainly couldn't hurt and it might - just might - help.  And so you will surely see them on the doors of our guest houses.

If you are so inclined, you can purchase a hand of Fatima door knocker here or here.

Now confess, are you superstitious in some small way?  Any ladders not walked under?  Any little rituals?  Any amulets in the pocket?  I have a particularly funny superstitious story to tell.  But I will only tell you, if you will tell me....

Morocco: And tiny stitches

I have a weakness for embroideries. Could you have guessed?  The mathematical precision that embroidery requires amazes me; so much concentration, so much patience is needed. And when it comes to embroidery, Moroccan embroideries are some of the most lovely.  While I have a few new Moroccan embroidered pieces, it is the antique pieces that I covet, but sadly, can not afford.

But with the help of Abedelmajid Rais El Fenni, I thought I would share my love of Moroccan embroidery with you.  Fenni has a well known antique shop in Tangier called Boutique Majid.  He has recently written about Moroccan embroidery - so fascinating.  Here is what he has to say:

While some samples of incredible Moroccan hand embroidery date back to the early 18th century, Moroccan women started this time-consuming occupation long before. Beginning centuries ago, Moroccan women decorated their hands and feet with henna for special occasions.  Later these patterns were transferred onto pottery and then into embroidery.

The Moroccan newborn baby often gets a beautiful embroidered pillowcase and sheets. The importance of embroidery in Moroccan life can also be seen in the traditional ceremony held for infant girls at the age of four months, when the baby is placed in a chair and given a needle and thimble along with some silk thread to hold, in anticipation of a life blessed with the needle's art, according to the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

When young, Moroccan girls were taught the art of embroidery in special workshops. The teacher, the maalma, would keep all the work as her commission for free training. Clients would come to order new embroideries, or have their old ones restored. In the early 20th century, when the tradition was still strong, more than two thousand women were teaching embroidery in Fez alone. Well-to-do families would buy cotton fabric, oriental silks, and special looms, so their daughters could practice at home the skills and art they learned from the maalma.

A Moroccan girl's dowry -- embroidered curtains, bed covers, tablecloths, and many other pieces -- could easily take a generation to build. Before the wedding, the Moroccan bride would be accompanied to the steam bath, the hamam, wearing clothes embroidered on the sleeves, the belt, the veil, and even the under garments. There were also pieces especially embroidered for the henna ceremony. The wedding sheet, made of crepe de chine embroidered on the ends, would later be shown to everyone at the party, to prove the virginity of the bride. The girl's dowry was displayed at the wedding to demonstrate the wealth of the family. Sometimes the family rented out particularly magnificent pieces for this purpose.

Cities  such as Tetouan, Chaoen, Meknes, Rabat, Salé, Zemmour, and Fez are all known for their unique embroidery styles, techniques, colors, and fabric. Women from Tafilal, in the south of Morocco, Berber Jews, mainly made fantastic embroidered clothes. Fez embroidery is perhaps the most celebrated -- easy to identify because of its highly graphic and geometric design; the triangle represents the eye, but may also symbolize the female sex if there are other triangles in each corner. The hand of Fatima is also embroidered for protection against evil eye.

The picture above is from the Metropolitan Museum of Art, showing the mastery of a Chefchaouen needlewoman's skills. The description says that it is an arid, used to cover the surrounding areas of interior arches in matching sets.

Unfortunately today, relatively few Moroccan women practice the art of hand embroidery. Many items now are machine embroidered.  It is such a pity that this beautiful tradition is slowly being lost. 

For those interested (ahem, that would be me), you can purchase the book Moroccan Textile Embroidery by Isabelle Denamur.  So sophisticated on your coffee table, no?