Ebru: Wonders on Water
Colour spreading through water, emerging, opening like buds. Ebru, traditional Turkish paper marbling, dates back to the 16th century during the Ottoman period, when it was used mainly inside the covers of books. Today, it is also found hung on walls, adorning calligraphic works and is even used as wallpaper.
In May this year, after endless research on the art and trying to understand its method, I was fortunate enough to discover perhaps the only Ebru workshop in London. Ebru Art, located in North London, is run by Hayrettin Kozanoglu, who developed his skill and expertise of the art in Turkey. And of course, I seized the opportunity.
As I walk in, I observe the large table which is currently host to the materials of the previous class; trays of dark liquid, vivid jars of colour and the smell of ox gall. After a brief introduction, Hayrettin begins demonstrating step-by-step. Finally, the mystery of this traditional art is unfolding.
The water in the A4-sized metal tray has already been prepared with ox gall. This ensures that the paints spread instead of sinking. Now, selecting one of the vibrant jars, he gently spatters the paint over the water surface with a rough-looking brush. Ebru paints are derived from natural pigments, ensuring it spreads gradually over the water. He then picks up another jar of paint, gently spattering another colour over the same surface. Art begins to emerge. The colours glide over the surface without mixing or sinking, and a beautiful pattern comes to life. He then adds another layer, before carefully placing a thin absorbent sheet of paper directly onto the surface, and then sliding the paper out over the edge of the tray. He now holds the paper up by its corners; the pattern has transferred perfectly and the colours look brighter, sharper. Whilst the paper dries, I am introduced to new techniques including using a metal comb, creating floral motifs and a Spanish influence.
(Below: a short video of the workshop from my Instagram.)
By the end of the workshop, I have several pieces I’ve created myself: flowers and patterns from layers, drops, the sharpness of a comb and the gentleness of manipulating curves with a thin wire. The entire time, I find myself struck by the gradual formation of art from literally a drop – like a nucleus of possibilities opening out into perfect circles of colour, upon colour, upon colour. The movements and grace of Ebru feel like therapy; calm against the bustle of this city. But first, about the smell of ox gall…
