Alexius Geyer

Alexius Geyer spent the 1850s wandering Constantinople’s hills with a folding stool and a camera lucida, sketching the city before photographers crowded the view. He liked to sneak into graveyards at dusk because the light turned crumbling Ottoman tombstones into lace. You can still see the exact spot he chose—head to the courtyard behind the Fatih Mosque at 4:47 p.m. on a March weekday and squint like he did; the marble will catch the same golden slant.