By Mursi Saad El-Din Egypt has always attracted foreign writers; some of them chose specialised subjects to write about. One such is Melanie Gibson, who wrote about the flourishing of lustre pottery during the Fatimid rule of Egypt. One of the most extraordinary achievements of early Islamic art, she writes, was the sudden appearance in the 8th century AD of a new art of ceramics. The craft of pottery was certainly not new, but it was the genius of Islamic potters that changed its purpose from the functional to the decorative. The transformation was affected particularly through the invention of a new technique, known as lustre painting, which when applied to pottery gave a fiery, metallic shine. The technique became so popular with Islamic potters that it was in common use up to the 19th century. The golden age in the arts in Egypt, says the author, began with the conquest of the Fatimid and the founding of Cairo (Al-Qahira) in 358 Hegira, 969 AD. The dynasty had first established itself in Tunisia in the early 16th century. Later it fell under constant threats from two foreign powers, the Turkish Seljuks and the Crusaders. Throughout Fatimid rule, Cairo was a thriving commercial centre; and the artistic patronage of the court also helped make it an important cultural centre. New mosques and palaces were built, works of art of all kinds were commissioned, and lustre pottery was made in great quantities. Ninety per cent of Fatimid pottery was decorated with lustre; it was manufactured in Fustat, a suburb of the new capital, Betinassa in Upper Egypt and to a lesser extent in Syria and North Africa. The author goes on to explain the habit of signing art pieces. It was an unusual feature of the earlier pieces that many of them are signed by the artist. Signatures are known on Islamic pottery from the 9th century but only in this period do they become a common feature. Unfortunately the criteria which determined that a piece should be signed are still unknown. It may have been the policy of the workshop or of an individual potter, or could even have been a distinction granted by a guild. As in most areas of Islamic art, claims the writer, the study of Fatimid pottery is fraught with uncertainty. Hundreds of fragments and a good number of intact pieces survive, there is literary and archaeological evidence and yet only a few pieces can be accurately dated. A fragmented plate in the Museum of Islamic Art in Cairo is inscribed with the name of Ghaban, an officer in the Fatimid army. He is described as Commander-in- Chief, a position he held until his execution. A second has an inscription on the rim which names Caliph Al-Hakim. This piece is of crucial importance because it is signed by the artist Muslim ibn Al-Dahhan. The author describes the different styles, saying that there does not appear to have been a unified style in Fatimid art, rather a number of varieties. She mentions three main styles of decoration which can be identified in Fatimid lustre pottery. The first is generally described as the "Samairo" style. As its name implies it was derived from the earlier Abbasid tradition found on pottery and wall paintings in the palaces and houses of Samarra. Its chief characteristics are a monumental, very static way of depicting figures and a tendency to overload each design with pattern. The style was modified by Fatimid potters although certain details such as the peacock eye motif were incorporated without alteration. They are to be found on the ceiling of the Cappella Palatine, the chapel of the royal palace of Palermo, which was decorated by Egyptian artists. The second style was probably inspired by book painting, although lustre pottery is the only evidence we have of it since illustrated manuscripts have not survived from before the 13th century. The bowl with the lute player is a good example of this style which has been variously described as "Hellenistic", "realistic" or special. The third style of decoration is not so easily defined for it includes elements from both the other two. The themes are not intended to be naturalistic and yet they are well observed and the figures have substance. Often the main subject is almost obscured by the proliferation of patterns around it. A good example of what the author calls a compromise style is a bowl in the Benaki museum of a man leading a giraffe by a leash.
