Počitelj // The End of the World

Aesthetic beauty is simple. In people, aesthetic beauty is laziness. Social media has exacerbated this, meaning a few handily shot photos of brooding faces and meaningless captions are all it takes to make a personality. Vogue! There is no depth, but since when has anyone actually wanted depth? Selfiestixamitosis, but that’s for another time.

Every now and then, the same thing rings true for places. Architecture is inherently about function more than form, but the latter has brushed the former off with distressing ease. In the right light, anywhere can be beautiful.

You don’t need the right light to appreciate the beauty of Počitelj. I mean, look at the photos that litter this article. Is there anything more alluring in Bosnia and Herzegovina? For want of a longer answer, no, there isn’t. The picture-perfect village rolls up the side of a hill, punctuated by minarets, towers, defensive walls and an aching sense of beauty. Aching is the right word. If beauty is genuine, aching is always involved.

This aching beauty sits peacefully on the side of the road running between Mostar and Čapljina, a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it view that is missed by far too many people. Pay attention to every moment, as impossible as that is.

Despite its popularity, the history of Počitelj is relatively murky. People have lived in these parts forever, largely because I am contractually obliged to put that in every article, but you get the point. Prevailing wisdom suggests that what we know and love as Počitelj was constructed in the middle of the 15th century, and it isn’t a stretch to say that it was always a spot of strategic importance. Major developments came between the 16th and 18th centuries, although a lot was left to ruin when the Austro-Hungarians came in. That doesn’t make sense to me, such was the Habsburg obsession with grace, but there we go. I don’t make the rules, you do.

Illuminating Počitelj with historical events and dates is a misrepresentation of the world ‘illuminating’. Why muddy the waters with information? Well, John, I’ll tell you why, although your commitment to hypocrisy is almost endearing. Why is it important to give depth and context to Počitelj beyond its aesthetics? Because of the first paragraph of this article, that’s why.

The singular image of the Šišman Ibrahim Pasha Mosque (also known as the Hadži Alija Mosque) speaks for itself on an aesthetic level. The džamija is chalk-white, its minaret another sparkling declaration of where all this is headed, its thick ashlar walls an anchor against degradation. The mosque is as classical as Ottoman mosques get here, a 17th-century pearl surrounded by mektebs, hamams, madrasas and other public buildings, a centre of social existence when Počitelj was at its most bustling.

But words aren’t going to work here. I could dress Počitelj’s central mosque in layers of flattery, but justice will not be done. It is a complete contradiction, a flimsy attempt at poetry, but the value of beauty isn’t found in its image. You are beautiful, but the aesthetics are raised because of the butterflies. There are countless beautiful mosques in the world, but the melody sung by the Šišman Ibrahim Pasha Mosque is different. There are billions of beautiful people in the world, but there is only one you.

People like to say that Počitelj is divided into three distinct periods, spanning its strategic origins in a pact between Vladislav Hercegović (the black sheep of the Kosača timeline), Matthias Corvinus (King of Hungary, Renaissance guy, big fan of taxing peasants), Ragusa (Dubrovnik, expensive) and the Pope (old guy, big hat, Vatican) through the Ottoman centuries to the Venetian times. This is window dressing. This is the mud in the water. You don’t need to know the life story to appreciate this.

The Gavrankapetanović House is arguably the most impressive example of residential architecture in Počitelj, although this feels like a liberal use of the term ‘residential architecture’. Zenica, this is not. Named after the old captains of Počitelj, it is actually a collection of buildings, two small and one large, that was carefully constructed in the 16th and 17th centuries. By the 20th century, they were abandoned, and steps were taken to establish an artist’s colony here in 1961. Sure, the colony damaged the original architectural integrity of the buildings, but nowhere near as much as the entire ‘neglect’ thing. Pay attention to things that you love.

But again, to labour a hollow point, why tell this story? The beauty of Počitelj has nothing to do with words. It is a beauty that needs to be experienced, felt. You can’t describe love. If you can describe love, it isn’t love.

Počitelj is crammed with beautiful architecture, buildings that ticked the most important of architectural boxes; function. Architecture has lost its way, and become obsessed with design over duty. Who was it that said that the sins of the architect are permanent sins? That buildings can’t learn if they don’t last? That it is better to preserve than to repair, better to repair than to restore, better to restore than to reconstruct? Buildings are erected to fulfil a purpose.

The Šišman Ibrahim Pasha Mosque was the centre of daily life, where the community came together. You see, that is one of the central points of Islam, buddy; community. The madrasa provided education. The single-storey Han was a place of respite for trade and travel, designed so those passing through Počitelj could exchange ideas, information, culture and currency. The clock tower? Yes, it looks nice, but the point was time-keeping, not aesthetics.

Beauty needs a point. Now, the idea of a point is largely meaningless, we’ve been through this so many times, but maybe there is something there. Yes, you are beautiful, but everything is accentuated because of the way you talk, the things you laugh about, your vulnerability. Počitelj is beautiful because of the way it looks, but also because of what it represents.

And then, the views. From the walls, the vista out toward the Neretva is astonishing. It looks as though Počitelj was built with the river as a reason, each structure an offering to a life-giver, each house an attempt at currying more favour from the largest river in the eastern Adriatic basin. The view towards Počitelj is even better, and the village goes from provider to receiver, a mighty king on an even mightier throne, a medieval Medusa with structure instead of snakes. The end of the world or the beginning of eternity. Both, probably. All three.

Words. What’s the point? Go to Počitelj. Aesthetic beauty is simple, lazy. Images are great, don’t get me wrong, but they will never replace the scintillating thrill of being there. Seeing is believing. You walk around a corner, and there she is. It is 20:15, raining. You are out of breath. You are always out of breath.

Počitelj // The End of the World

Foča // A Dull Catalogue of Common Things

Bihać // The Whole Idea of Architecture is Permanence