Rummaging around for unusual ephemera
in a charity shop recently, I came across a handful of mid-twentieth century travel
photo sets, some colourised, some in black and white, each bundled up in its
own eye-catching slip case envelope. Among them was a set entitled Mes photos de Kairouan containing around
a dozen beautiful and fascinating images of the historic Tunisian city in
question, taken during the 1950s by a Parisian photography company. I was captivated and needed to find out more! 
The historic city of Kairouan is
one of the holiest cities in Islam and its ‘old city’ quarter, a labyrinth of
winding streets and minarets, is home to the masterpiece of Maghreban
architecture, the Great Mosque, as well as the Mosque of the Three Doors, which
is the most ancient known example of a sculpted Muslim art façade still in
existence. From the 9th to the 11th century, when the
city was in its prime, The Great Mosque was a place of both religion and
knowledge, a key, bustling centre of learning filled with scholars from across
the Arab and Islamic world exploring spiritual thought and the sciences. In the
1980s, Kairouan’s rich architectural heritage resulted in it being deservedly (and
thankfully) inscribed as a UNESCO World Heritage Centre.
The photographs I found are snapshots of a city that has changed little neither before nor since they were taken; this timelessness is silently preserved in their striking black and white. One image in particular is especially haunting. In the deserted, sunlit courtyard of the Great Mosque, stand two isolated figures: one, dressed all in black, is stood in the angular shadow of a building; the other, all in white and cloaked, is stood apart, nearer to the camera, in a somehow paler wall of shade. Both face us head on, yet both faces are obscured. The resulting image is unequivocally eerie. Its human subjects were probably unintentional and almost certainly unwanted, but they nevertheless help create an evocative piece of art.
The photographs I found are snapshots of a city that has changed little neither before nor since they were taken; this timelessness is silently preserved in their striking black and white. One image in particular is especially haunting. In the deserted, sunlit courtyard of the Great Mosque, stand two isolated figures: one, dressed all in black, is stood in the angular shadow of a building; the other, all in white and cloaked, is stood apart, nearer to the camera, in a somehow paler wall of shade. Both face us head on, yet both faces are obscured. The resulting image is unequivocally eerie. Its human subjects were probably unintentional and almost certainly unwanted, but they nevertheless help create an evocative piece of art.
So, be always on the lookout for those
small, easily overlooked mementos of the past – you never know what you’ll discover.
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