Whenever the word “art” is pronounced in connection with Turkey, it awakens in the mind of the westerners, especially the Americans, only carpets, embroideries and laces, and dark-skinned, thick-eyebrowed Armenian merchants trying to sell at exorbitant prices these dainty art works of the Orient--purchased by them for a song generally from some poor women who have used their eyes, their health and their time for the ultimate purpose of bringing some soothing touch of colour into the modern homes of Europe and America, and many many dollars, pound sterlings, or napoleons, as the case may be, into the bank accounts of the dark-skinned, thick-eyebrowed merchants. Even to an American or a westerner who has been in Turkey as a tourist the word “Turkish art” does not convey much more. In addition to carpets, embroideries and laces he may visualize some musty copper brazero, some delicate handwritings with painted arabesques of flowers, some richly painted porcelains or embossed leather bindings. All things which spell old age. In modern art he would only visualize some Oriental jewels--made in Germany! Few are the foreigners who think of Turkish art in the light of regular paintings, architecture or music and when they hear of art schools their curiosity is excited. As far as the Muslim religion is concerned westerners are, as a rule, even more ignorant on this subject than on that of art. They think of the Muslims as unbelievers, as pagans who deny God and the Christ, as fatalists who calmly await the fulfilment of the prophecies without having enough sense to get out of the rain even when it pours. The only activities they give the Muslims credit for are massacres and atrocities. They believe that theirs alone is a religion of love and mercy while that of the Muslim is one of fire and blood. I remember that an American from Pittsburg, upon hearing that I was a Muslim, asked me what god I adored, and absolutely refused to believe that I adored the One Almighty God. He had heard that we prayed to Allah. Say what I would I could not at first explain to him that “Allah” in Arabic means God in English, and he was only half convinced when I told him that at that rate the French were also unbelievers as they prayed to “Dieu.” But the request of our American friends was not one that could be immediately satisfied as I had to make the necessary arrangements to visit the art schools and medressés and I had to await an opportunity to put them in contact with people who could tell them more of Turkish art and of the Muslim religion than I could. It was therefore only a few days later that I could arrange to take them to the Academy of Art of Constantinople, the principal school of its kind in the Near East, where no other city--not even Athens, which is still considered as the cradle of art--can boast of as complete and progressive an art academy.