Ani, the sacred city of memories: A photo story

It would be a lie to say that all I felt in Ani was awe and wonder. The sight of the Turkish flag and description boards welcoming us at the northern gate of this medieval Armenian town without a single mention of the Armenians made me want to cry out: “You’ve already tried to wipe us out! Can you at least leave our memories in peace without attempting to Turkify them?”

But walking in silence, ahead of the group I was traveling with, toward the Church of Saint Gregory of Tigran Honents, overlooking the Akhurian River and the breathtaking Armenian steppe, every step I took brought me back to presence.

With a sense of aliveness, I entered the place of worship, which was built in 1205 and commissioned by the affluent Armenian merchant Tigran Honents. A true revelation! The finest frescoes, bringing to light various scenes from the life of Christ and Saint Gregory the Illuminator, covered its walls and its dome.

As substantial fresco cycles are rarely found in Armenian churches, I was mesmerized by this unusual sight. Before me were magnificent works of historical and artistic value, which had stood the test of time.

The Church of Saint Gregory of Tigran Honents, the city’s best-preserved structure, was my architectural highlight by far. Not only for its remarkable interiors, but also for the detailed frescoes painted on its exterior walls. 

From the Church of the Redeemer, only half remains. Yet, this monument featuring a large central dome and 19 archways built out of pink lava rock is of crucial importance, as it testifies to the artistic prowess of the Armenians under the Bagratuni Dynasty.

It was outside the cathedral, surrounded by the vastness of nature, when I stopped for a moment. Listening to the whispers of the wind, the fresh air caressing my skin, I could feel my ancestors’ presence all around me.

The natural sceneries in and around this walled city, which counted over 100,000 inhabitants by the 11th century, were not only awe-inspiring, they also added to the mysticism of the place.

In the imposing cathedral also known as the Church of the Holy Mother of God, I gazed up at the bright blue sky from where its conical dome used to stand before it collapsed in the 1319 earthquake.

Crossing paths with two fellow filmmakers who had come from Istanbul searching for traces of a common past, filled my soul with joy. We connected instantly and deeply. With song and laughter, we continued our walk, which was in and of itself very healing.  

How convenient and ironic, I thought, that after having offered natural protection to the city over the centuries, the deep ravine with the Akhurian river flowing along its bottom now offered a natural delimitation. Indeed, to the left of the river is modern-day Turkey, while modern-day Armenia is on the right.

Before long, I remembered the words of the Armenian poet Hovhannes Shiraz, who had once expressed his longing to see Ani before he died—this historic city listed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site in July 2016.

Just outside the fortified city, we spotted a cave village carved into the surrounding cliffs. We were told this “underground city” was inhabited until the early 20th century and that flocks of goats and sheep benefit from the caves’ cool interiors today.

The last monument we saw that day was the 10th-century Church of Saint Gregory of the Abughamrents—a 12-sided private chapel with a beautiful dome. Its precious arches were designed solely for aesthetics.

It was with a sense of fullness that I bid farewell to this ancient city in ruins, where majestic places of worship—all built out of tuff, the local volcanic stone in different shades of pink—still welcome visitors.