Beyond the Palace Walls: Islamic Art from The State Hermitage Museum
Until November 5; Royal Museum, Edinburgh

It doesn’t seem possible, right here, right now, to utter the word “Islamic” without landing one’s self in the centre of a political debate. At the same time, most of us rely for our political judgements on a simplistic view of Islam far-removed from the complex realities of the creed, or of its many associated cultures.

These cultures are the focus of a major new exhibition at the Royal Museum in Edinburgh. Following on from last year’s spectacular Nicholas and Alexandra show, the museum is collaborating once again with The State Hermitage Museum in St Petersburg. The Russian curators have brought with them 200 works of Islamic art, some of which (like the sumptuous embroidered tent at the centre of the exhibition) leave Russia for the very first time.

The story which they tell is not a simple one. In fact, I come out more confused about Islamic art than I was when I went in. But that’s not necessarily a bad thing; this is no Mickey Mouse version of world history. Instead we are presented with a myriad of fusions, of peoples, of objects, of styles, of eras, of materials, and even of religions.

Yes – of religions. This is Islamic art in the widest sense of the word. So while there are prayer mats and ceremonial dishes specific to Islam, you can also spot the occasional Madonna and child, or Christian saint complete with halo. These are included because they have been made in Islamic countries, by Islamic craftspeople, or in a recognisably Islamic style.

The overriding emphasis of this show is to demonstrate the versatile, almost ubiquitous role of Islamic art in all our cultural histories. Islam was built on cultural foundations which existed long before the Prophet Mohammad was born in around 570 AD. As a result, the art is a mix of pre-Islamic traditions (such as Byzantine art, and that of Persia and Coptic Egypt), along with local vernaculars, brought together under the new unifying principles of Islam.

Keen to stress its diversity rather than its unity, the curators gloss over Islamic art’s underlying principles. These include the mathematical structuring of decoration, with its infinite repetition and emphasis on the written word. Life-like representations of humans and animals are frowned upon in a religious context, but – because much of the art here is secular – they are quite abundant in this show.

While Islamic art grew up from pre-existing cultures, its own innovations fed, in turn, into other cultures. This two-way exchange is demonstrated beautifully by one glass case containing three dishes. A 9th century Iraqi plate is coloured with an opaque white glaze, by Muslim potters keen to imitate the pure white of Chinese porcelain. On top of the white, they added their own designs in cobalt blue.

The Chinese saw these interesting new plates and started to put blue patterns on their own. The next dish in the cabinet, from the Ming Dynasty in the 16th century, shows how this style became archetypally Chinese. The final dish, a 17th century plate from Iran, contains identifiably Chinese motifs borrowed back into the Islamic world.

Another striking example of cultural interaction is the pair of royal portraits, painted in oil, of 19th century ruler Fath Ali Shah. The ostentatious Shah, who had his likeness carved into the rock faces of Iran, encouraged an odd combination of old-fashioned Persian painting with European portraiture. In one, his pose is modelled on Napolean. In the other, the moonlit landscape behind him has more in common with Elsheimer than with anything remotely Persian.

In Scotland, we too are part of the story of Islamic art. I can’t believe my eyes when I approach two bronze cauldrons, one from 14th century Daghestan and the other from 11th or 12th century Iran, signed in Arabic script by its maker, Bu Bakr Mahmud Saffar. There in front of me are clear examples of Celtic knotwork and animal motifs, as if borrowed straight from the Book of Lindisfarne, or from a Pictish stone.

The Russian curators haven’t made the connection, but after a tour around the museum’s collection, their eyes will surely pop out too. This happy accident proves their point perfectly: the story of Islamic art is our story too.

Catrìona Black, Sunday Herald 16.07.06