On Friday, January 30, 2026, international photographer Hrair Hawk Khatcherian presented “Aghtamar: The Armenian Architectural Masterpiece,” the culmination of 27 years of documentation, research, and artistic collaboration. Khatcherian’s presentation was part of the Spring Lecture Series of the Armenian Studies Program and was co-sponsored by the Armenian General Benevolent Union, Greater Fresno Chapter.
Khatcherian’s recent work centers on the Holy Cross Church of Aghtamar, built on Aghtamar Island in Lake Van between 915–921AD, during the reign of King Gagik I of the Armenian Artsruni dynasty. Through photography, digital reconstruction, and historical research, the 300-page volume reintroduces the medieval monument as both sacred text and living cultural memory.
Khatcherian’s journey to Aghtamar began long before the publication of the book. Reflecting on his childhood in Lebanon, he recalled opening schoolbooks in the 1970s and finding almost no photographs of Armenian heritage sites. “I wasn’t a good student,” he admitted. “But, I was always dreaming of something else.” That dream turned into a lifelong mission to document Armenian churches, monasteries, manuscripts, fortresses, and khatchkars. Since 1997, he has made 34 trips to Aghtamar alone, carefully photographing every relief, facade, fresco, and inscription.
He described the church as an “open-air Bible,” where Old and New Testament scenes unfold across its exterior and interior walls. From “Adam and Eve” to “Daniel in the Lion’s Den,” from “David and Goliath” to the story of Jonah, the reliefs narrate scripture in stone for a medieval audience that relied on visual storytelling. “When someone visited Aghtamar in the 10th century,” he noted, “they didn’t have Instagram or Facebook. The architect sculpted the Bible on the church itself.”
The church follows a traditional Armenian architectural orientation, built east to west, with the altar on the eastern side and the main entrance on the west. Each facade carries distinct theological and historical imagery. The northern facade features “Adam and Eve,” including the serpent, remarkably depicted with legs before its biblical curse. The southern fa-cade includes Moses receiving the Ten Commandments, apostles, royal imagery connected to the Artsruni dynasty, and vivid narrative scenes such as Abraham and Isaac.
On the western facade, King Gagik presents a model of the church to Christ, symbolizing both devotion and royal patronage. One detail concerns the possible self-portrait of the architect. Khatcherian showed a kneeling figure carved on the church and suggested that, following manuscript tradition, the architect may have carved his own likeness on the monument. “Whoever accomplished something like a church is always on his knees,” he explained, referencing parallels found in illuminated manuscripts. By comparing reliefs with medieval manuscript imagery, the book reveals how sculpture and manuscript art informed one another.
Central to the project is the work of graphic designer Lilit Khachatrian, whose digital re-constructions bring damaged carvings back into focus. In a recorded video message played at the start of the lecture, she described her role as “preserving the logic of the stone and translating it into line.” Over two years, Khachatrian meticulously transformed Khatcherian’s photographs into detailed digital drawings, reconstructing missing faces and relief fragments using archival glass plates taken by Armenian photographers between 1910 and 1915. “The aim was never decoration, but honesty,” she explained. “The reliefs seemed to come alive again.” For Khachatrian, whose family roots trace back to Van, the project was deeply personal. She described it as “a way of reconnecting with my own roots.” By isolating the reliefs from shadow and erosion, her illustrations clarify the medieval artist’s original vision and make the church’s visual language accessible to contemporary audiences.
The lecture also showed the technical and physical demands behind the book’s creation. Khatcherian described waiting for precise seasonal lighting, often early morning or late afternoon, to illuminate difficult facades. At times, artificial light and reflectors were necessary to capture details invisible to the naked eye. He climbed facades, negotiated access with guards, and used specialized equipment, including a $11,000 camera lens, to photograph high relief portraits such as that of King Gagik. Each image in the book is dated, providing readers with a visual timeline of the monument’s changing condition over decades.
Beyond the carved reliefs, the book also records Aghtamar’s long and complex history. Later additions to the church, such as the bell tower built in 1827 and the 18th-century narthex, are carefully documented. Khatcherian studied and translated inscriptions, including one that dates the bell tower to 1827 by reading the Arabic numerals, and used early 20th century memoirs to recover texts that have since been lost. He also recorded de-tails like the 1883 Holy Muron cauldron, the interior frescoes, and the annual liturgy that has been allowed since 2010, when the first liturgy was held there again after many years of closure.
A particularly interesting historical narrative involved the relics of St. Gregory the Illuminator, which once resided at Aghtamar, and were essential for ordaining a Catholicos. For nearly eight centuries, Aghtamar functioned as a seat of a Catholicosate, underscoring its profound ecclesiastical im-portance within Armenian Christianity.
Khatcherian concluded by reflecting on preservation and responsibility.
Although travel to Aghtamar is less restrictive today than in past decades, the monument remains guarded, and documentation requires persistence and official permission. His work is not only artistic but archival, ensuring that whatever happens to the physical structure, its details are permanently recorded.
Ultimately, Aghtamar stands as more than a photography book. It is, in Khachatrian’s words, “a bridge between past and pre-sent.” Through lens and line, the collaborators restore not only damaged stone, but also cultural memory.
As Lilit Khachatrian stated, “Some monuments do not belong only to their time. They continue to speak, if we are willing to listen.”