Byline: Melik Kaylan
In New York, the glories of Islamic art are laid before the world.
A gorgeous salad-bowl-size ceramic dazzles the eye upon entry. The bowl suggests a highly refined and thoughtful curatorial choice as the first display in the reopened Islamic wing in New York's Metropolitan Museum, as intentional as the galleries' wordy new handle: "The Art of the Arab Lands, Turkey, Iran, Central Asia, and Later South Asia." Creamy-hued with wispy dark calligraphy beneath the rim, the 10th-century object neatly embodies the virtues of early Islamic culture: aesthetic purity, affluence with austerity, and a fierce commitment to simplicity. Rippling outward, Islam reinvigorated such forgotten places as Nishapur in northern Iran, the pottery bowl's hometown on the edge of Central Asia. Within a century, the town could spawn a savant for the ages like Omar Khayyam. The galleries tell an overall story, and many ministories on the way. It's worth paying close attention to their message.
Closed for renovation since 2003, the Islamic department's reopening is a huge event in the annals of culture, so it's safe to assume that no detail is left to chance. The overall design, the choice of objects, their order of display, the high-tech lighting, and much else will be pored over, imitated, and critiqued for years to come. There are 15 galleries, with 1,200 objects on show at any time out of 12,000 in the full collection. What the objects say individually, and the argument they make collectively, are a state-of-the-art manifesto of museum philosophy in the new millennium. According to Navina Haidar, the supervising curator, a consideration that differentiates the present from previous eras is the "global audience of a place like the Met these days, through the Internet and easy international travel. In earlier times they addressed more local audiences. Now we are conscious that our audience includes large numbers of Muslims worldwide."
So, we can assume, as we look at the show, that Muslim eyes aplenty will be looking, too, not least the many Muslims who live in or near New York. The Metropolitan is their museum equally. The curators have kept that in mind. When you think that they've updated their mission from merely enlightening the West about a "foreign" tradition, namely Islam, to also enlightening Muslims about the complexity of their own heritage, the show's narrative looks even more interesting. Behind and to the left of the bowl stands a nine-foot-high monumental page of Quranic calligraphy from about A.D. 800, likely the biggest-ever Quran until modern times: a straight, exquisite testament to bibliolatry as a central art form in Islam. But on either side stand sandstone Mughal screens across windows that look onto a later gallery from the Mughal era. In catching sight of a multicolored 16th-century Delhi tunic, you glimpse a much more sumptuous and sophisticated Islam to come 700 years later, that of the Mughal emperors in India. Subtly but indelibly, the galleries make their first argument: this is what Islam began with, and here is where it went in a far-off future as it settled into deeper cultural pastures.
The galleries proceed in a circle above a kind of atrium of preexisting Greek and Roman statuaries. If you drift close enough to the windows, you glimpse the marble figures down below and you catch another subtle contextual message, namely that a great deal of Muslim culture grafted itself onto classical soil. Haidar points out the juxtaposition as a happy accident. "We were given an extra 20 percent of space, which allowed us to turn a long gallery into a circular one above the classical galleries." However serendipitous and …