Artist Hayrettin Kozanoglu lays out his paint and tools on a large table. Here, on the top floor of a north London community centre, is where he creates his miniature masterpieces. But Hayrettin is not a painter as we traditionally understand it. His technique is known as ebru, and it produces stunning results.
Ebru involves painting on the surface of water, then transferring the moving image to paper or fabric using what Kozanoglu describes with a smile as “a little bit of magic”. The results are spectacular – strikingly contemporary, yet rooted in the tradition of a centuries-old art form.
The magic is provided by two key ingredients in the ebru artist’s palette: tragacanth, a soft gum which is mixed with ordinary tap water to increase its viscosity; and ox gall, or bile juice, which is blended with hand-crushed, natural pigments and plant extracts to make the paint. The ox gall has two essential properties: first, it allows colours to float and spread on the surface of the thickened water; second, it prevents the colours from merging or simply dissolving.
Kozanoglu demonstrates by dipping a horsehair brush into the pots of vivid hues arrayed around a shallow rectangular tray of water, then sprinkling paint on to the surface. “I can drop on green, then blue on top, then add yellow, and the colours stay completely separate,” he says.
“The art is in controlling the behaviour of the paint when it touches the water.”
Next, he takes a small comb and swirls it across the surface. Instead of the colours merging into a muddy mess, as would happen with oil or acrylic paint, the tray fills with sumptuous art nouveau-style curls and twirls of the kind found on the inside of old hardbacks. Finally, Kozanoglu places a piece of A3 paper on to the tray, carefully presses it flat without submerging, then deftly slides it out. The pattern he created in the tray has been transferred to the sheet with absolute fidelity. Magic indeed.
The origins of ebru
Ebru means “marbling” in Turkish, which gives a clue to the method by which the technique is best known in Europe. In 1853, Charles W Woolnough wrote The Whole Art of Marbling, which led to the art form being taken up enthusiastically both as a popular handicraft and by publishers, who used the decorative paper to bind books. Browse the shelves of an antique bookshop today and you’re likely to find volumes with these intricate designs inside the front and back covers.
Prior to arriving in Europe in the 17th century, styles of marbling had developed across Asia. A 10th-century Chinese tome mentions “drifting sand notepaper” made by dragging paper through a fermented flour paste mixed with colours, while suminagashi, or “floating ink”, was known in 12th-century Japan. By the 15th century, India and countries across central Asia had their own indigenous versions. The current Turkish tradition of ebru dates to the mid-19th century and the work of a series of Sufi masters, who passed on their skills to apprentices including Necmeddin Okyay, who went on to become the first to teach ebru at the Fine Arts Academy in Istanbul.
Keeper of the tradition
Kozanoglu’s career followed a similar path. After studying art management in his native Turkey and working on the fine art scene, he began learning ebru in 2009 from another acknowledged master, Nesrin Bilsel. He then moved to London, opened a studio and began organising workshops to promote the technique.
“The beauty of ebru is that you can create attractive and complex works of art quickly and easily,” he says. “I really enjoy giving classes for kids and putting on fun sessions for families, but I also like longer courses where people can really develop their creativity – ebru has the potential to surprise us because the water and paint permit new and exciting things to happen.”
Ebru artists are renowned for intricate depictions of flowers, as well as abstract patterns. Kozanoglu explains that the technique is evolving: “Before the 20th century, it was only about flowers. As more people are learning about ebru, interesting experiments are happening. Artists are creating landscapes and even portraits – although it takes many years of practice to reach that level.”
Kozanoglu also recognises the therapeutic value of ebru in helping people with mental health problems: “To make ebru art, you need to concentrate, to be calm and patient. Also, the colours you choose can be a reflection of your personality, your mood and your circumstances. Water is the source of life and I believe it holds memories. That’s why the way in which people make the connection between the water and the paint is important.”
In 2010, Turkey’s Ministry of Culture and Tourism created an inventory of its cultural heritage and submitted the list to Unesco. Three years later, “Turkey’s coffee culture” was among the items inscribed on Unesco’s Representative List of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity – and in 2014, ebru became the 12th Turkish tradition to be so recognised.
It’s a fitting accolade for an art form that gives such pleasure to the many people who practise it – and recognition of the power of water in helping to create a more colourful and inspiring world.
For more information on ebru, see ebruart.co.uk
