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#armenian

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Daniel Ohanian

​#Armenian history has tended to lionize figures like Lord Byron, an Englishman who briefly set his sights on mastering Armenian in the nineteenth century. But it rarely shines a spotlight on the scores of Armenians in the past who were born into #language s other than Armenian and spent years of their lives learning it and making it their own.

gesariaservices.com/glimpses-o

Gesaria Armenian Research and Academic ServicesArmenians Learning Armenian in the 19th & 20th Centuries​Somewhere deep in the Armenian imaginary lies the idea that all Armenians in the past were perfectly proficient speakers, readers, and writers of Armenian. As the thinking goes, these model...
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Daniel Ohanian

These guys weren't Catholics, so this is a little off topic, but it's interesting. Three #Armenian s were arrested and sent to the galleys for dressing as #Muslim s. The generally accepted view on clothes in the early modern #Ottoman Empire is that sartorial laws were applied inconsistently across time and space (on which see Quataert 1997). I wonder what their story was and what they were up to… Mischief? 4/?
@histodons @earlymodern #prison

An entry from a prison register written in Ottoman Turkish.
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MikeDunnAuthor

Today in Labor History March 22, 1920: Azeri army soldiers, in collaboration with Azeri civilians, attacked Armenian civilians in Shusha (Nagorno Karabakh) and destroyed the Armenian half of the city. The pogrom continued through March 26. The true death toll may have been well over 20,000. Between 1905 and 1920, there were at least 9 pogroms in the region, against both Armenians and Azeris, with a death toll of at least 57,000, and possibly well over 100,000. At least another 10 pogroms resumed after the fall of the Soviet Union, with hundreds more people slaughtered.

Ruins of the Armenian half of Shusha after the city's destruction by the Azerbaijani army in March 1920. In the center: the defaced Armenian Ghazanchetsots Cathedral. By Unknown Soviet photographer - Public domain - State Archives of Armenia photo release 7.7.2010, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=15911154
#workingclass#LaborHistory#azeri
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knizer

Saturday- NAGASH ENSEMBLE “With three female vocalists accompanied by players on the #duduk, #oud, #dhol, and piano, this #Armenian group brings together the folk music of their native land, #medieval texts and #polyphony, and new classical music. What results has been described as “the sound of ancient #Armenia reinvented for the 21st century.”” #Berklee Performance Center #Boston www.globalartslive.org #bostonMusic
#BostonWeekend 19/x

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Daniel Ohanian

“A Princely Ploy: Inside the Ruse of a French-Armenian Scammer”

After proclaiming himself the direct descendant of a 12th-century #Crusader king, the #Armenian priest and educator Ambroise Calfa hit upon an ignoble scheme: grant knighthood to anyone willing to pay. These are the cunning exploits of a forgotten 19th-century #conman, whose initially honorable intentions quickly escalated into all-out #fraud.

@publicdomainrev @histodons #histoire
publicdomainreview.org/essay/a

The Public Domain ReviewA Princely Ploy: Inside the Ruse of a French-Armenian ScammerAfter proclaiming himself the direct descendant of a 12th-century Crusader king, the Armenian priest and educator Ambroise Calfa hit upon an ignoble scheme: grant knighthood to anyone willing to pay. Jennifer Manoukian recovers the cunning exploits of this forgotten 19th-century conman, whose initially honorable intentions quickly escalated into all-out fraud.
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earthling

Don't Court Loneliness by Tathev Simonyan

Don’t court Loneliness; She will never leave.
Do not bow to Her; don’t offer your soul,
for the lips that kiss will turn into chains,
and Her warmth will freeze
the blood in your veins.
Don’t court Loneliness, She'll feed you to Grief
and burn what remains.

via metamorphesque

#Armenian
#poetry
#loneliness

Don’t court Loneliness; She will never leave. Don’t take Her to bed; do not raise your hand, and trace her rivers with trembling fingers, for Her smell lingers and won’t go away. Don’t court Loneliness, for She will linger. Don’t whisper Her name; She will answer back. Don’t speak in the dark; do not let Her hear, and echo your words in the dusky light, for Her breath will dight the wounds of your skin. Don’t court Loneliness, for Her voice unsights. Don’t offer Her wine; She will sip it slow. Do not hear Her sing; do not let Her sway, and dance in the corners of your dim-lit room; it’s a treacherous tune and will never fade. Don’t court Loneliness, don’t dance to your doom. Don’t court Loneliness; She will never leave. Do not bow to Her; don’t offer your soul, for the lips that kiss will turn into chains, and Her warmth will freeze the blood in your veins. Don’t court Loneliness, She'll feed you to Grief and burn what remains.
Public
earthling

Dead Doesn't Mean Absent by Tathev Simonyan

Dead doesn’t mean absent.

Dead doesn’t mean I've stopped setting a plate for you
at our kitchen table.

Dead doesn’t mean forgotten.

Dead doesn’t mean the music stops,

or that your laugh has no echo.

I still hear you in the creak of the floorboards,

see you in the blue hues of the morning,

feel you in the sunlight pooling on your chair.

Dead doesn’t mean gone.

(...)

via metamorphesque

#poetry
#Armenian
#death

Dead doesn’t mean absent. Dead doesn’t mean I've stopped setting a plate for you at our kitchen table. Dead doesn’t mean forgotten. Dead doesn’t mean the music stops, or that your laugh has no echo. I still hear you in the creak of the floorboards, see you in the blue hues of the morning, feel you in the sunlight pooling on your chair. Dead doesn’t mean gone. You’re the space between my breaths, the pause before I dare to speak your name aloud, as if the air still welcomes your voice better than mine. Dead doesn’t mean I let go. I keep your coffee mug by the sink, your favorite book on the nightstand, and the scent of you folded into the blankets I can’t wash away. Dead doesn’t mean an end. It means carrying you in the quietest of times; the world gallops on, but I slow it here—in this room, where the light still falls as it did when you were here; I keep you anchored here— in the rituals, in the ordinary, in the space where absence becomes presence. I make a shrine of the mundane, and there are two plates on the table— one for me, and one for the memory of you.
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earthling

"If there is no love...", Vahan Teryan (translated by Tathev Simonyan)

If there is no love – then, tell me, what for
Must I strive and toil in this wicked world?
I’ll retreat to the dark embrace of earth,
And shall fall silent, as if turned to stone:
Let the cold heavens sneer at my expense,
Let the earth revel in its greedy feast -
If stars hold no meaning, no divine intent,
If no one hearkens to the prayers I send…

via metamorphesque

#poetry
#Armenian
#art
#love

Orpheus leading Eurydice from the Underworld, Corot, 1861
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