Ascent and Descent: Bells, Threads, and Memories on the Path to Saint George Koudounas

 

Ascent and Descent. (Bells, Threads, and Memories on the Path to Saint George Koudounas) 

3D print, carved and reworked by hand. 

Art has a way of stitching together fragments of experience into something cohesive, something that reflects both the personal and, if we are very lucky, the collective. The 3D-printed plaque titled Ascent and Descent began as a simple idea: a head, a tree, and the little houses that dot the shores of Büyükada, one of the Princes’ Islands near Istanbul. But as I carved and filled the piece, inspired by my pilgrimage to the monastery of Saint George Koudounas, it became much more than a landscape—it became a story of resilience, memory, and faith.

The head in my piece looks tired, cracked. Those imperfections were deliberate, reflecting the tension between idealized visions and the reality of what I encountered on that hilltop monastery. Saint George Koudounas stands as a beacon of faith, yet it is also a place marked by history’s scars—the population exchanges and the changes since the days of Istanbul’s multicultural past.

As I walked up the steep path to the monastery, I felt the weight of those cracks. They weren’t just in the landscape or the stone walls; they were in the collective memory of the place. But cracks, as I’ve come to believe, don’t diminish beauty—they reveal it.

Bells are a central symbol of Saint George Koudounas. Each pilgrim is given a small bell, a koudouni, when they make a wish. These bells are meant to be returned when the wish is fulfilled—some take years to come back, others decades, and some never return at all. The act of carrying a bell creates a connection, a promise that binds the pilgrim to the monastery and its sacred space.

I was particularly struck by a practice involving children. For mute infants, families sometimes pin the bell onto the child’s clothing, praying for Saint George’s intercession. It’s a poignant act of faith, deeply personal and yet part of a larger shared tradition.

Another beautiful ritual involves threads. Pilgrims purchase spools of colorful thread at the base of the hill and weave them along the path, tying them to bushes and trees. Each color represents a different kind of wish—healing, success, love. By the time the hill is climbed, the landscape is transformed into a living tapestry of hopes. It struck me as a deeply human act: leaving visible traces of intangible prayers.

These rituals—simple yet profound—reminded me of how we create meaning through physical acts. The bells ring softly as they are carried, the threads stretch across the landscape, and together they form an ephemeral record of faith, one that changes year after year.

The Pilgrimage as Inspiration

The pilgrimage to Saint George Koudounas is as much about the journey as it is about the destination. The steep walk is not merely a physical challenge; it’s a spiritual preparation. Some walk barefoot, feeling the roughness of the earth as an expression of devotion. Others weave their threads or silently pray, their actions blending into a collective rhythm that connects thousands of pilgrims.

I wanted to capture this blend of personal and communal experience in Ascent and Descent. The tree in the piece represents Büyükada’s enduring natural beauty, while the houses symbolize the approach to the island, a moment of transition between the everyday and the sacred. The tired face, with its cracks, embodies the weariness and hope of those who walk that path—not just to the monastery, but through life’s challenges.

Memory, Forgetting, and Moving Forward

The ascent to Saint George Koudounas holds a mirror to the layers of Istanbul’s history. Once a vibrant hub of multicultural coexistence, Büyükada now reflects the realities of erased identities and shifting demographics. Today, the majority of pilgrims are Muslim, yet the rituals transcend religious boundaries, creating a shared space of memory and hope.

This interplay of remembering and forgetting informed my decision to leave the artwork unpainted. The rawness of the material mirrors the rawness of the emotions and histories tied to the pilgrimage. The cracks are not flaws, they are the traces of what remains after centuries of change, loss, and resilience.

Final Reflections

Ascent and Descent is my way of processing the experience of Saint George Koudounas. It’s about the climb, the bells, the threads, and the prayers that transform a simple walk into something sacred. It’s about the cracks in our visions that reveal the deeper truths beneath. And it’s about the beauty of collective faith, where thousands of individual wishes come together to weave a colorful, living tapestry.

As I step back and look at the piece, I hope it resonates with those who see it. Whether they’ve walked the path to Saint George or simply carry their own metaphorical bells and threads of hope, I want it to remind them that everything we do—and do not do—creates a whole. A map, an autobiography, a step in one or another direction. But now, more than ever, it speaks to me of my mistakes. The things that hurt me the most. I am slowly but surely reframing them and seeing them as blessings—as stepping stones to a better understanding and a more forgiving approach to myself.

In a previous job (I was going to say life, but reconsidered), I was the head of a school that provided a place of education and refuge for young people who were experiencing major physical or emotional challenges. I was therefore very moved to discover that the monks of Saint George Koudounas took in people who were experiencing mental health problems, long before our understanding of the therapeutic value of human support and connection in treating mental health crises evolved and became an indicator of our willingness to transcend our human limitations. I had a realization that day that I was wrong to approach a particular challenge as a’ project’. I realised, belatedly, that it was a pilgrimage and as such greater reverence, patience and connection to a higher level was needed.  Now, I am working slowly towards that.