One of Bulgaria's oldest settlements, Plovdiv is a city marked by successive civilizations. Known as Philippopolis in antiquity and Filibe during the Ottoman period, it has a layered history extending from the Thracians and Romans to the Byzantines and Ottomans. Developed on both sides of the Maritsa River, the city is also known as the City of Seven Hills. Its historic streets, houses, religious buildings and ancient remains bring together traces of these different eras.
When I first came to Plovdiv in 2017 for the Balkan Summer School, and on my later visits, one of the places that impressed me most was the Old Town, or Stari Grad. With its cobbled streets, high garden walls, stone stairways and imposing mansions, the area has largely preserved its historic architectural character. Walking through it, one may encounter a Roman ruin, a building from the Ottoman period or the house of a prosperous nineteenth-century merchant. This variety makes Plovdiv more than a collection of historic monuments: it is a place where different periods coexist.
The finest examples of Plovdiv's traditional domestic architecture developed particularly during the Bulgarian National Revival, from the late eighteenth through the nineteenth century. The large mansions commissioned by families enriched through trade reflect the economic strength and aesthetic tastes of the period. Built with timber frames on stone foundations, they are known for their plastered, brightly coloured façades, broad eaves and projecting upper storeys. Upper floors that extend beyond the lower ones create striking views along the narrow streets.
Another distinctive feature of these houses is the importance of symmetry. In some large mansions, rooms are arranged on either side of a central hall. High ceilings, woodwork, painted walls and decorated doors reveal the richness of the interiors. The colourful façades seen from outside hint at the elaborate decoration within. Yet this architecture cannot be explained by aesthetics alone: Plovdiv's position on trade routes and its contacts with different cultures also contributed to its development.
What particularly caught my attention in the Old Town was the relationship between buildings and streets. Because the hills are steep, the streets continually change direction and elevation. Along stone-paved lanes, stairways and narrow passages, façades appear from shifting angles. Some mansions remain hidden behind high walls, while others dominate the street with their broad projections and coloured surfaces. Each turn offers a new architectural composition.
Among Plovdiv's historic houses are the Balabanov House, the Hindliyan House and the Kuyumdzhioglu House. Now used as museums or cultural spaces, these mansions are valuable examples of the architecture of their time. The broad, symmetrical façade of the Kuyumdzhioglu House is especially notable as a monumental example of Bulgarian National Revival domestic architecture. Preserving these buildings helps carry forward not only individual houses but also the ways of life and craftsmanship of an entire period.
Plovdiv's architectural identity is not confined to the mansions of the Old Town. The Dzhumaya Mosque from the Ottoman period, remains of the Roman Stadium, the ancient theatre, churches and neighbourhoods from different periods all make the city's multicultural past visible. The proximity of old and new structures reveals how historical continuity is experienced here. Moving from one street to another can feel like moving through time as well as space.
During my photographic work between 2017 and 2019, I was interested in more than the large, impressive mansions. An old wooden door, a wall with peeling plaster, a narrow cobbled street, carved decoration above a window or a small passage between two buildings could attract my attention just as strongly. A city's architectural identity is preserved not only in its important monuments but also in these small details of everyday life.
Looking at my photographs of Plovdiv today, I see how different periods have continued to exist alongside one another without entirely erasing what came before. Ancient remains, traces of the Ottoman era, Bulgarian National Revival mansions and contemporary life are all part of the same urban fabric. For me, photographing Plovdiv's houses and streets meant not simply recording architectural forms but following the traces of cultural memory accumulated over centuries.