Nicole says: some might wonder why I call Ned by his full name, and why we use both names on this site. My love of cultures and travel unite perfectly in Turkey, a crossroads of civilizations, an ancient empire, a place where family and ancient history and beautiful poetry are steeped in a melting-pot culture that has embraced the most beautiful arts of all the nomads passing through for millennia! I could feel it, when i first traveled in Turkey 7 years ago. When I learned (about) Nedim's full name, I was delighted to know so much of that history was represented... He will explain a bit about it:

What's in a name: Nedim Turan Sahin

Ned says: My full name is Nedim Turan Sahin. The meaning and history of the name touch on several things I love about Turkish culture and history, and I have come to appreciate this all much more through Nicole! She has truly embraced it as she has embraced me, and she has long had a deep and studied view on the history of the region. It must be the part of her that started toward a PhD in anthropology! .. I will try to explain a bit about the name here for those who might be interested.

Nedim was a poet (~1681-1730) from the Tulip Age of the Ottoman empire. His style is bright, exuberant and passionate, and his themes feel eerily familiar to me. While I knew of him as a poet, I knew little else until Nicole, whose love for poetry and for me run deep, surprised me with several modern books of his works. He has a brief Wikipedia page here. Also, Nedim as a word means “intimate friend”. Important to me, the name is pronounced with a short “i” sound, as in kiss, not a long “i” sound like seem.

Turan signifies unity among people and peoples, even across boundaries imposed by government and conflict. It connects to a semi-mythological view of the many tribes of central Asia, including classically Turkic ones, being unified under a “Turanian” heritage and identity. As such it is emblematical of inclusiveness of all people in a larger whole. [Sadly, the flip side of intentional inclusion is often inadvertent exclusion, and sometimes more intentional. The term was hijacked politically after WWII to fuel nationalist sentiments – but I want to ignore that episode in the long history of this name.] The name is originally Farsi.

Sahin means “falcon” or “eagle”. This carries the connotations and characteristics in Turkey as in America, and also resonates with intellect. It is a proud sounding name, and I think it is clear from this section that I am proud of my name as a whole. Thanks, Dad! And thank you, Nicole, for embracing my name and history, and giving me infinitely more appreciation for both.

Turkish Elements in our Wedding

We’ve worked a few Turkish elements into the U.S. wedding. Here are a couple examples:

Baklava: You may have eaten baklava, whether it was called Turkish or Greek or Armenian or Syrian or whatever. We like to think this sticky sweet dessert is a symbol of the cultural similarities that bind the peoples of the region, and we only wish the various governments would be as sweet to each other! That being said, every region (even within Turkey) has its own variant. We really love good fresh baklava, and hope we can pass on that love to you.

We may not be able to obtain “what mom used to make” but we are sampling several vendors right now for the best. (Did I mention wedding planning can be fun!?!) One of those vendors, with some historical info on its site, is here.

Ebru is an ancient Turkish art that produces the marbled papers you may have seen lining the inner covers of classic leather-bound books. It also produces free-standing art pieces, and is characterized by flowing, semi-regular yet stochastic patterns of strong color.

The art form lies not just in the product but in the process. Its original practice lay at the core of the meditative and introspective ways of ancient Sufi orders, especially a branch founded by the great poet Rumi (1207-1273). It is another tradition that cuts across political states. We employed ebru patterns in concert with Rumi quotes in our invitations, and will work some into the reception.

The process: Paints are dripped, splattered and splashed on the surface of specially-prepared water, then manipulated with needle- or comb-like implements. The resulting patterns a.) build on themselves and seem to evolve, b.) can be guided but not exactly predicted or controlled, and c.) are completely unique. Further, the patterns are “printed” by laying a piece of paper on the water surface, assuring only one print can be made. Ebru thus parallels biological and mental life, which is in keeping with its meditative and spiritual tradition. To understand, it helps to see it done - if you wish to, please watch these beautiful demonstration videos here, here, and here.