As mentioned in “Glimpses into the ARF Photo Archives: What is an Archive, Anyway?”, the materials in the collection offer a mix of items from the late 19th century on, capturing some recognizable historical figures and moments as well as images that have, for good reason or by chance, ended up among the 3,500 or so photographs across almost 40 boxes.

While going through the pictures, smoothing out the kinks in the catalog, performing additional research where needed, and uploading the images onto the website, I have pondered on a few themes and take-aways to share. This series of articles for The Armenian Weekly is meant to draw  attention to these pieces of the jigsaw puzzle of Armenian history and, above all, to invite readers to have a look at arfarchives.org/photograph for themselves. You never know what you might find there: an ancestor or relative, a friend, or an accompaniment to a school project or community event.

In the previous article in the series, I noted that there are many items marked “unknown” in the collection – especially “Unknown Man.” Here is one typical such entry.

ARF Photograph Archives – Box 3, Photo 61

Another similar image is, to me, among the most arresting of the portraits in the ARF photo archives.

ARF Photograph Archives – Box 3, Photo 27

There is a depth to the _expression_ in this picture that makes me consider it to be more of a work of art than a bureaucratic record.

These two pictures showcase a pattern of portraits, some of them with numbers noted on the back. They seem to be from the early 20th century, possibly members or recruits for the ARF in the United States.

Another, similar series is evidently from later, probably from the 1940s.

ARF Photograph Archives – Box 5, Photo 49 ARF Photograph Archives – Box 6, Photo 228

There is a chance these are images of prisoners of war from the Soviet army, at a camp in Germany – maybe the displaced persons at Funkerkaserne? But who would have taken these photographs and why, and how could they have ultimately found themselves in the ARF photo archives?

One of my favorite parts of going through the pictures is taking note of such mysteries and trying to solve them. Although the exact source of these images is yet to be verified, the quality of the pictures and the clothing certainly suggest a later time than the others displayed.

Those are some of the patterns to note in these specific pictures. One pattern in general in the ARF photo archives is that the unknowns are almost always of an “Unknown Man.” There are very few pictures in the collection that include women or depict women alone. This may not be so surprising, given the more patriarchal norms at the turn of the 20th century, but it is a pattern that holds even among the pictures from later.

Another, more fun, pattern to observe is the dapper fashion from the 1900s, 1910s or 1920s – the clothes, the hairstyles and the paraphernalia that went along with those decades.

ARF Photograph Archives – Box 4, Photo 215 ARF Photograph Archives – Box 6, Photo 158

Mustaches galore! The early 20th century was a time for unabashed facial hair. Out of the photographs uploaded so far, the most magnificent mustache award without a doubt goes to Garabed Bedrosian.

ARF Photograph Archives – Box 3, Photo 102

This was a bit more of a fun look at the ARF photo archives. Click through arfarchives.org/photograph and see if you can identify patterns or items of interest for yourself. A lot has happened in the past century and a half, needless to say. Many aspects of Armenian history and culture find their reflection among those photographs. Among other things, maybe you will find part of your family’s journey echoed in the pictures as well.

The original interview, conducted by Vartan Estukyan, was published in Agos in Turkish on January 7, 2024 and translated to English for the Armenian Weekly by Vural Özdemir. Estukyan is a journalist at Agos who reports on culture, art, music, human rights and current politics.

Hangardz Independent Theater Ensemble, founded by a few young Armenian actors from Istanbul, debuted on World Theater Day in 2018 with their play “Mer Çunetsadzı İrarmov Kıdnenk” [Let’s Find in Each Other What We Don’t Have] at the Synergy World Theater Festival in Serbia. Hangardz’s new play, William Saroyan’s “My Heart’s in the Highlands,” debuted for audiences in 2023. The group, which continues to stage the play, is preparing for its first tour of “My Heart’s in the Highlands” in 2024. Vartan Estukyan spoke with Yeğya Akgün, co-founder of the Hangardz Independent Theater Ensemble, about Hangardz and the current state of Armenian theater. 

Vartan Estukyan (V.E.): What gap does Hangardz fill in Armenian theater, the theater of the Istanbul Armenian community and the theater life in Istanbul?

Yeğya Akgün (Y.A.): Hangardz is an independent theater ensemble founded by a group of professional Armenian theater artists who gathered around a shared dream five years ago, with the will to perform theater in their native language, Western Armenian, and to reflect universal theater values along with their local motifs and colors. The theater ensemble was founded under the name ‘hangardz’, meaning ‘suddenly’, which conveys how we embarked on this journey.

When we look at the Istanbul Armenian community’s theater life in the last 20 years, I do not think it would be wrong to talk about a theater life led by amateur groups established within associations and schools or using the stages of these schools or associations. However, when we examine the much earlier history, it is possible to situate Armenian theater in a place opposite to this narrow area. To put it more clearly, when we contrast the contemporary moment with the establishment of theater in the Ottoman Empire and the Armenian theater artists who contributed to the development of Republican theater, we see that Armenian theater in Istanbul has since withdrawn to the confines of its own borders, with comedy plays that are generally repetitive. The theater does not have the will to open up to a larger society and is restricted to within the Armenian community. 

Hangardz is an ensemble whose precise missions are to open the doors of Armenian theater from local to universal after these long temporal gaps, to remember and to remind a society that is attempted to be rendered without a memory about Armenian theater, and while doing this, Hangardz prioritizes existing in its native language. In fact, we are saying this: “Come and hear our story from us too, after a long pause!”

Hangardz Independent Armenian Theater Ensemble

V.E.: How do you choose and evaluate your plays? What kind of a filter do you run them through?

Y.A.: Our priority is to stage plays by Armenian writers. Our aim in doing this, as I just said, is to remember Armenian writers in a society that is attempted to be rendered without a memory, to make the colors they added to the literary history of this country visible again, and to emphasize, without bending the narrative, the points that will open up the audience to some questioning and critical thinking. 

Our first play was created with the verses of Heranuş Arşagyan, a young woman writer who passed away at the age of 17. Our second play was the story titled “Kantsı” [Treasure] written by Zaven Biberyan. Then we performed Hagop Baronian’s “Bağdasar Ağpar” as a closet drama, and in 2023 we continued our journey with our playful genius William Saroyan’s “My Heart’s in the Highlands.” 

In fact, while remembering these writers, the issues they touch upon and the question marks they leave in people’s minds, we encourage the audience to question many untouched areas and the need to do research. For example, after our first play, many of our audience members requested from us the Turkish translations of Heranuş Arşagyan’s verses and Zaven Biberyan’s story “Kantsı,” which also prompted many people to ask new questions about 1915, the Wealth Tax and the pogroms as a result of the importance that “Kantsı” attaches to life. With “My Heart’s in the Highlands,” we are seeking for an answer to the question, “Where is a person’s home?” with our audience, and we are receiving striking feedback from such different identities that it makes us all happy as a team to be able to send out even a piece of stimulatory and questioning signals to the collective memory.

V.E.: What kind of challenges do you experience as an independent collective?

Y.A.: First of all, I would like to point out that the Armenian community urgently needs an independent stage. This is necessary not only for Hangardz but also for independent Armenian artists to be able to use it whenever they want, to rehearse, introduce their works, give concerts, stage their plays and hold workshops, without restricting themselves and their creative processes and without financial concerns. The reason I insist on underlining this is that people and organizations that carry institutional responsibilities will unfortunately have to bend their words in their work so as to take into account the interests of the institutions and relationships they represent, a kind of self-censorship.

Collective principled collaborations between independent artists in an independent venue will take Armenian theater, music, dance and art to a higher level.

The second is the issue of providing more financial support, but this should not be realized with vertical solidarity. What I mean is this: “I support you, and in return I have such and such conditions!” Such a form of solidarity harms our independent identity and independent principled production, so we need horizontal solidarities that extend beyond time and geography; that is, “I support you, because your existence and principled values are extremely valuable to me, for the peoples and fundamental rights, and for the past, present and future generations!” I think that we, as a society, need to understand and internalize this form of horizontal solidarity a little more.

V.E.: What are your future projects?

Y.A.: As Hangardz members gain experience in new staging styles and techniques through different workshops and training, it will pave the way for the plays currently waiting to be staged. There are many projects that my friends want to realize. Of course, this can be possible through financial and moral support. I have had a dream of staging a play related to Gomidas since my high school years. One of my most important goals is to stage the genius of Gomidas through an interdisciplinary work, and one of the upcoming projects I have been thinking about for a long time is to bring to the stage the life of Vahram Papazyan, who has written his name in history in golden letters with the character “Othello.” Our priority is to stage each of these plays in our native language, Western Armenian.

Another project of ours is the Hangardz Writers Collective. Our first article was written about Hagop Baronian’s life and his valuable works produced in many fields such as theater, journalism and publishing under difficult conditions in the second half of the 19th century. As the Hangardz Writers Collective, we would like to produce, on a regular basis, articles and writing at the intersections of art, culture and topical subjects.

Yeğya Akgün, Hangardz Co-Founder and Director (Photo: Tara Demircioğlu)

V.E.: In your opinion, what is the biggest problem faced by Armenian theater and association theaters in Istanbul? What is the state of association theaters? What should be done to restore Armenian theater to its former condition?

Y.A.: Actually, it would not be right for us to answer this question exactly, because the plays staged by very valuable theater people such as Hagop Ayvaz, Misak Toros and Arto Berberyan and their struggle for the art of theater 30-40 years ago are still remembered with great respect. I wasn’t even alive in those days, but considering the more recent period of the last 20 years that I can remember, I think it is necessary to move away a bit from repetitive plays that are not quite compatible with theater motives. I am in favor of considering the processes as a whole. Of course, it is an option after long hours of work in the office to go to the association or the school stage, rehearse for a few hours and make plays that do not require much thought. The audience may wholeheartedly laugh at these comedies, but how much they contribute to professional Armenian theater and its deserved place is a serious mystery.

We can gradually raise the quality and the bar of our association and school theaters with, first of all, the support of institutions and society, but also with works that are independent from institutions, performed by experienced independent artists beginning from the alphabet of the theater, so to speak, and at the end of an arduous process through which contributors prepare together as a whole. 

V.E.: You also do radio theater. What have you performed so far, and where can we listen to them?

Y.A.: The radio theater recordings that I started in the first days of the pandemic and performed in Western Armenian have truly turned into a corpus today. There is a recording archive of approximately 30 episodes on Spotify and YouTube, and especially students taking Western Armenian courses received these recordings with great interest. Through social media channels, I reached a wonderful audience, especially outside Turkey in the United States and in France, and moreover, an Armenian institute in France offered to add subtitles in three languages (English, French, German) to these recordings and save them in their archives, which I gladly accepted. So far, I have performed the works of Hagop Baronian, Yervant Odyan and Rober Haddeciyan. During this process, I learned how to edit and strengthen the theme with effects and music. I must admit, it was a fairly difficult process. I have recently discovered some Armenian texts written for radio theater, and soon new episodes will be available to listeners on platforms such as Spotify and YouTube (you can search for “Yegya Akgun” or “Western Armenian Radio Theater” and subscribe).

The first time I tried jingalov hats was in Armenia this summer, en route to a big, Armenian wedding in the mountains of Lori. 

Our bus made a pit stop at a market along the way, and before I knew it, someone had acquired a huge box filled to the brim with this flatbread. I’ll never forget the fresh, herb-filled smell that wafted from the box, let alone the earthy, flavorful and fresh herbs that came with each bite. 

When I received an email announcing that the Armenian Church of the Holy Martyrs in Bayside, Queens was holding a cooking class to learn how to make jingalov hats, I jumped at the opportunity and immediately signed up. 

Before I took the lesson, however, I wanted to learn more about this dish and its significance to Artsakh. 

The jingalov hats made in the Armenian Church of the Holy Martyrs in Bayside, Queens

So, what exactly is jingalov hats?

Our priest, Father Abraham – whose mother is from Artsakh – shared with me that the origins of this dish come from the Artsakh dialect “jingal”, meaning greens or herbs native to the land. It’s an oval-shaped flatbread stuffed with all kinds of greens, pinched together and then fried in a pan. It turns out this nutrient-rich dish is also vegan-friendly and popular during the Lenten season.

According to Ara Zada, author of the infamous Lavash cookbook, you can make it in two ways: herbal or sour. If you crave a more herbal flavor, you can use greens like chervil, cilantro, dill, flat-leaf parsley or tarragon. If you’re looking for a more sour jingalov hats, you can use dandelion greens, radish tops, sorrel, arugula and watercress. 

This bread is practically synonymous with Artsakh, considering it’s made from plants indigenous to the land. According to an article in the Armenian Weekly, jingalov hats originated during times of scarcity and was sometimes referred to as “forest bread,” likening it to the method of using whatever one could forage in order to survive. 

Jingalov hats has been through the thick and thin of Artsakh history, especially rising to the challenge of feeding civilians during times of famine and war. According to Eurasianet, during the blockade of the Berdzor/Lachin corridor, markets turned to frying up this bread before supplies became scarce. 

Our priest reiterated this sentiment: “It’s an Artsakh recipe, and [after making it] I just feel like I’m in Artsakh.” However, he lamented that nothing could ever replicate the taste of eating authentic jingalov hats. “This was wonderful, but it can’t really replicate [the real thing]. Especially knowing that today we won’t be able to go there again – but this dish gives us some hope that we will never, never forget Artsakh.” 

How do you make jingalov hats?

For the cooking class, we used a recipe loosely based on Lilia Harutunyan’s, a local baker from Artsakh published in the New York Times cooking section. 

Our cooking session was led by Yerezkin (Fr. Abraham’s wife), who told me she has many friends from Artsakh and grew up eating this dish. She started by making the dough, which she handmade for us using two pounds of flour, two teaspoons of salt and warm water. 

Co-teacher Elsie Halajian shared: “Dough, in our culture, needs a lot of massaging – play with it, put your soul into it.” That being said, our Der Hayr (priest) blessed our dough to ensure our souls and love were kneaded into the dish.

Dill, scallions, bok choy, fresh garlic, dandelion, swiss chard and watercress washed, dried and laid out in preparation for making jingalov hats

For a personal portion, use three cups of all-purpose pre-sifted flour, one teaspoon of kosher salt and three-fourths cup of lukewarm water. This was set aside to rest while we made lahmajun and selected our “jingal.” 

Yerezkin had already washed, dried and labeled all of the greens herself, which saved us plenty of time. We got to select from a luscious green table overflowing with beet greens, dill, scallions, bok choy, fresh garlic, dandelion, swiss chard, spinach, mint, parsley, cilantro and even grape leaves. 

We made sure to add extra grape leaves, dill and spinach

My table selected from almost all the greens, and we added in extra helpings of grape leaves, dill and spinach. We began by chopping everything, until Yerezkin informed us to not cut everything too small. The stems and all went into the filling too, which was surprising.

After tossing everything into a bowl, we added salt, paprika and olive oil. According to Harutunyan’s recipe, some even throw in pomegranate seeds if they enjoy a sweeter jingalov hats. 

Adding hefty amounts of paprika, salt and olive oil

We then pieced off and rolled out our dough into oval shapes onto a flour-dusted surface. This was the tricky part – especially because Yerezkin taught us that the dough must be paper thin. I kept adding in more flour to keep the dough from sticking to the rolling pin. Many people took their own liberties while making the shapes of dough – some made massive, pizza-sized portions while kids made mini, handheld jingalov hats surprises. 

After making imperfect football-shaped dough pieces, we filled them with as much greens as we could and then firmly pinched them shut and attempted to flatten them out. 

The trickiest part was getting the dough to be paper thin

These were fried in pans with some oil for about three minutes on each side. Harutunyan’s recipe calls for sunflower oil, but we used the olive oil that was handy in our church kitchen. After each side had some nice char marks, we knew we were done and ready to eat our warm, fresh jingalov hats. 

Jingalov hats is a healthy reminder that there is hope

Echoing what Father Abraham mentioned earlier, I couldn’t help but feel the tangible pride and hope seated within all generations of my Armenian community replicating this Artsakh-native dish. 

Although I’m sure nothing will ever taste as good as authentic jingalov hats, we were able to pay homage to Artsakh’s identity – and I was reminded that no matter what, our culture can’t be erased.

I will definitely be making jingalov hats again – and I encourage all readers to try making it, too.