Stories forged in fire
Picture the scene
The air is thick with particles, rising from the furnace like the mushroom cloud of a nuclear explosion. The only source of ventilation is a domestic fan in the window, reminding me of one we had in our family kitchen in the 1970s. My lungs were crying out, my body melting with the heat, Cemal has been working in this environment for over 50 years.
Right and below
The young boy here is Cemal’s nephew, he initially was going to take on the trade and carry it on, I noticed him spending most of his time on the phone, Yusif knew it and I knew it, this was the end of an era.
I was there by appointment, multiple emails to a local fixer who negotiated the introduction. When we arrived I was touched by the most Irish of welcomes, three cups set out and the tea on the pot, I was introduced to him as master Cemal, the cuppa broke the ice and we hit it off together.
Above:
May 2024
All images by Noel McIntyre
The end of an era.
The network of "Hans" feels like being in a cave, thick stone walls, dim light, low ventilation and vaulted corridors. Over centuries they formed a dense commercial network of workshops, storage rooms and caravan lodgings powering the city's craft economy. Nowadays cheap imports have put an end to all but one.