AMILLA: The Quest for Excellence. Studies Presented to Guenter Kopcke in Celebration of His 75th Birthday (Prehistory Monographs) [Illustrated] 9781931534734, 193153473X

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AMILLA The Quest for Excellence Studies Presented to Guenter Kopcke in Celebration of His 75th Birthday

Guenter Kopcke in his office at the Institute of Fine Arts, New York University, June 2010.

PREHISTORY MONOGRAPHS 43

AMILLA The Quest for Excellence Studies Presented to Guenter Kopcke in Celebration of His 75th Birthday

edited by Robert B. Koehl

Published by INSTAP Academic Press Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 2013

Design and Production INSTAP Academic Press, Philadelphia, PA Printing and Binding Hoster Bindery, Inc., Ivyland, PA

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Amilla : the quest for excellence : studies presented to Guenter Kopcke in celebration of his 75th birthday / edited by Robert B. Koehl. pages cm. -- (Prehistory monographs ; 43) Includes bibliographical references. ISBN 978-1-931534-73-4 1. Mediterranean Region--Antiquities. 2. Classical antiquities. 3. Art, Classical. I. Koehl, Robert B., author, editor of compilation. II. Kopcke, Günter, honouree. DE59.A56 2013 937--dc23 2013013540

Copyright © 2013 INSTAP Academic Press Philadelphia, Pennsylvania All rights reserved Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

List of Tables in the Text. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ix List of Figures in the Text. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xi Preface and Acknowledgments. ................................................................................... xxi Guenter Kopcke: A Bibliography.. List of Abbreviations. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xxvii PART I. PERCEIVING ANCIENT ART 1. Ancient Egyptian Art: Image and Response by Dorothea Arnold.. 2. The Belvedere Apollo: On the Perception of an Ancient Work of Art after Antiquity by Annalis Leibundgut. .............. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 17 3. “Silence et fureur”: The Pythia in Berlin and in the Paris Opéra by Michael Maaß. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21 PART II. AEGEAN BRONZE AGE 4. The Larnakes from the Hagios Charalambos Ossuary by Philip P. Betancourt. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33

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5. From Representational to Narrative Art in the Early Bronze Age Cyclades by Christos G. Doumas.. 6. From Vase Painting to Wall Painting: The Lilies Jug from Akrotiri, Thera by Andreas G. Vlachopoulos............... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 55 7. The Crocus Gatherer’s Costume Revisited by Bernice R. Jones. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 77 8. Architectural Design, Bioclimate, and Palaces: The Loom, the Warp, and the Weft by Stella Chryssoulaki...................... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 91 9. A New Reconstruction of the South House at Knossos by Jane F. Lloyd. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 103 10. Cult Object—Image—Emblem: A Life-Sized Stone Bull’s Head from the Juktas Peak Sanctuary by Alexandra Karetsou and Robert B. Koehl.. 11. Animated Art of the Minoan Renaissance by J. Alexander MacGillivray.. 12. Realities of Power: The Minoan Thalassocracy in Historical Perspective by Malcolm H. Wiener. . . . 149 PART III. EGYPTIAN, ANATOLIAN, AND EAST MEDITERRANEAN BRONZE AGE 13. Figural Representations from the Predynastic Cemetery at Naga El-Hai and the Origins of Egyptian Style by Rita E. Freed. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 177 14. Kerma in Nubia, the Last Mystery: The Political and Social Dynamics of an Early Nilotic State by David O’Connor. ........................ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 189 15. The Origins of the West Anatolian Early Bronze Age by Jak Yakar. ................................. 207 16. An Early Anatolian Ivory Chair: The Pratt Ivories in The Metropolitan Museum of Art by Elizabeth Simpson.. 17. A Plaster-Encased Multiple Burial at Alalakh: Cist Tomb 3017 by K. Aslıhan Yener. . . . . . . . . . . . . . 263 18. Red Lustrous Wheelmade and Coarse-Ware Spindle Bottles from Ashkelon by Celia J. Bergoffen. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 281 19. Cypriot Bronzework and Images of Power: The Cesnola Krater and Tripod by Joan Aruz with a contribution by Deborah Schorsch. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 293 PART IV. IRON AGE GREECE, WESTERN ASIA, AND THE NEAR EAST 20. The Meaning of the Greek Cemetery from the Bronze Age to the Iron Age by Anthony M. Snodgrass. ................. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 311 21. “Old Country” Ethnonyms in “New Countries” of the “Sea Peoples” Diaspora by Itamar Singer†. . . . 321 22. Phoenician Clay Figurines Recovered from the Sea in the Hecht Museum Collection by Ephraim Stern.. 23. The Hasanlu Lovers by Oscar White Muscarella. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 345

TABLE OF CONTENTS

vii

PART V. ARCHAIC AND CLASSICAL GREECE, ITALY, AND WESTERN ASIA 24. Ships in Pre-Classical Asia Minor by Olaf Höckmann. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 353 25. Apollo and Herakles at Naukratis in the Archaic Period by Ursula Höckmann. ..................... 367 26. The Career of Mnesikles by James McCredie.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 379 27. The Classical Marble Pyxis and Dexilla’s Dedication by Jasper Gaunt. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 381 28. Helen’s Birth on a Calyx Krater from Acanthus by Katerina Romiopoulou. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 399 29. Observations on “La Stanca,” the Neo-Attic Weary Maenad by Beryl Barr-Sharrar. . . . . . . . . . . . . . 409 30. Some Notes on the Metropolitan Museum’s Pagenstecher Lekythos by Joan R. Mertens. . . . . . . . . . 415 31. What Role for Etruscans? by Larissa Bonfante. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 423 32. The Genesis of the Etruscan Round Throne by Irma Wehgartner..

List of Tables in the Text

Table 9.1.

Rooms with pillars at the ground-floor facades of nonpalatial Minoan buildings on Crete. ...... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 111

Table 9.2.

Stairways and windows in buildings at Akrotiri, Thera. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 113

Table 9.3.

Stairways in Minoan buildings other than palaces in the Neopalatial period. . . . . .

Table 9.4.

Exterior and interior windows in Early Neopalatial Minoan buildings. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 120

Table 9.5.

Stairways at porticoes in Neopalatial Minoan buildings. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 126

Table 9.6.

Stairways with raised landings in Neopalatial Minoan buildings. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 127

Table 13.1.

Chronological list of Naga el-Hai graves containing objects with figural representations. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 187

Table 14.1.

Grave floor size levels according to average floor area for subsidiary graves in Tumuli K X, K IV, and K III..

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Table 14.2.

Percentage of the total number of subsidiary graves in each tumulus. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 198

Table 14.3.

Percentages of surviving sacrificial burials for Tumuli K X, K IV, and K III. . . . . . . . . . . . 199

List of Figures in the Text

Figure 1.1.

The cattle of Khufu, limestone relief block (a) and detail (b) excavated at Lisht North, Fourth Dynasty, reign of Khufu, ca. 2551–2528 b.c.e.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5

Figure 1.2.

Relief representation of a goat, limestone relief block excavated at Lisht North, Fourth Dynasty, reign of Khufu, ca. 2551–2528 b.c.e.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7

Figure 1.3.

The sun god from the tomb of King Haremhab, Valley of the Kings, Egypt, Eighteenth Dynasty, reign of Haremhab, ca. 1323–1295 b.c.e. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7

Figure 1.4.

Seated couple from the tomb of Nakht, Theban Tomb 52, ca. 1400–1390 b.c.e. . . . . . . . . . . . . 9

Figure 1.5.

Group of party guests and harpist from the tomb of Nakht, Western Thebes/ Sheikh Abd el-Qurna. .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10

Figure 1.6.

The northern part of the western wall in the tomb of Nakht. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11

Figure 1.7.

Back view of the limestone statue of Nikare, second half of the Fifth Dynasty, ca. 2420–2323 b.c.e. .... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12

Figure 1.8.

Sandstone statue of an official from El Kab, Fourth Dynasty, ca. 2575–2465 b.c.e. . . . . . . 13

Figure 1.9.

Emblem showing the cosmic snake urobos surrounding “reality.”..

Figure 1.10. Head of a granodiorite statue of the goddess Sakhmet, Eighteenth Dynasty, reign of King Amenhotep III, ca. 1390–1352 b.c.e. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14

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Figure 2.1.

Apollo Belvedere, plaster of the bronze copy by Giacomo Zoffoli, about 1770 c.e. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18

Figure 3.1.

Interior of an Attic drinking cup found in Vulci (Etruria). . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22

Figure 3.2.

“Pythia,” replica of the bronze statue in the Paris Opéra, 1869/1870, by Marcello. . . . . . . 22

Figure 3.3.

Detail of the Cumaean Sibyl from the Sistine Chapel ceiling fresco by Michelangelo Buonarotti. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23

Figure 3.4.

Aeneas and the Sibyl meet Anchises, illustrated manuscript “Eneit” by Heinrich von Veldeke, Alsatia, 1418/1419. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25

Figure 3.5. “Priestess of Delphi,” oil on canvas, London, 1891, by John Collier. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 26 Figure 4.1.

Plan of the ossuary at Hagios Charalambos. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 34

Figure 4.2.

Larnakes 1–4. ...................................................................................... 35

Figure 4.3.

Grid of human long bones placed at the base of the deposit of human bones in Room 5. . . . 37

Figure 5.1.

Rock art from Korphi t’Aroniou on Naxos, now housed in the Bardanis Archaeological Museum, Apeiranthos. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 44

Figure 5.2.

Fragment of an askos with incised boat and human figure, from Phylakopi. . . . . . . . . . . . . 45

Figure 5.3.

Depictions of boats. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 45

Figure 5.4.

Lentoid askos from Phylakopi, Melos. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 47

Figure 5.5.

Ovoid pithos from Akrotiri, Thera. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 47

Figure 5.6.

Early Matt-painted pottery and fragments. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 49

Figure 5.7.

Abstract depictions of human figures. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 49

Figure 5.8.

Abstract depictions of human figures. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 50

Figure 6.1.

The Lilies Jug. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 56

Figure 6.2.

Drawing of the Lilies Jug. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 57

Figure 6.3.

The Lilies Jug, detail of rosette spirals from left side. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 58

Figure 6.4.

The Lilies Jug, detail of rocky landscape. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 59

Figure 6.5.

The Spring Fresco from Building Complex Delta. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 60

Figure 6.6.

Kamares Ware amphora from Phaistos. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 61

Figure 6.7.

Kamares Ware rhyton from Phaistos. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 62

Figure 6.8.

Middle Minoan III amphora from Knossos. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 63

Figure 6.9.

The Ganymede Jug. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 65

Figure 6.10. Pithos no. 4854 from the West House at Akrotiri (a); detail of lily on side of same vessel (b). . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 65 Figure 6.11. Sherd with representation of a male figure and a lily flower. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 67

LIST OF FIGURES IN THE TEXT

xiii

Figure 7.1.

The Crocus Gatherer fresco (a) and drawing with dress parts labeled (b).. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 78

Figure 7.2.

Construction diagrams of dress (heanos). . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 80

Figure 7.3.

Experimental replication by B.R. Jones (tassels by V. Bealle) of the Crocus Gatherer’s dress (heanos). . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 82

Figure 7.4.

Linear B ideograms *146 + WE (we-a2-no); *166, *166 + WE; and *181. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 83

Figure 7.5.

Construction of kilt. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 84

Figure 7.6. Experimental replication by the author of the Crocus Gatherer’s dress (heanos) and kilt. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 85 Figure 7.7.

Model replicating the Crocus Gatherer’s pose. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 86

Figure 8.1.

The Minoan palaces as collectors of solar energy: the case of Phaistos. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 93

Figure 8.2.

The orientation of the Minoan palaces. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 94

Figure 8.3.

Path of the sun on December 21 (a) and on June 21 (b), the winter and summer solstices. .. 94

Figure 8.4.

The placement of the palace of Zakros in relation to the prevailing northwest winds. . . . . 97

Figure 8.5.

Drawing a parallel between the architectural conceptions of two buildings: (a) Knossos palace, eastern megaron; (b) Frank Lloyd Wright’s Falling Water house.. . . 98

Figure 8.6.

The cistern on the eastern wing of the Zakros palace and its function. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 100

Figure 9.1.

The South House from the southwest..

Figure 9.2.

The western end of the northern facade of the South House..

Figure 9.3.

Sketch plan of the South House drawn by D. Mackenzie on June 22, 1908. . . . . . . . . . . . . . 104

Figure 9.4.

Plan and longitudinal section of the South House. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 106

Figure 9.5.

Plan and longitudinal section of the South House. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 107

Figure 9.6.

Plans of the basement rooms and reconstructed ground floor, first story, and second story of the South House at Knossos. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 108

Figure 9.7.

Reconstructed stairway in the Center Corridor of the South House. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 108

Figure 9.8.

Model of the South House from the northwest (a) and the southwest (b). . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 108

Figure 9.9.

Plan of the Upper Columnar Hall and a postulated room to the south in the upper story of the South House, 1928. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 109

Figure 9.10. Two steps and angle blocks found at the southern end of the Center Corridor. . . . . . . . . . . 125 Figure 9.11. Model of the West House, Akrotiri, Thera, from the south. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 125 Figure 9.12. Plans of the ground, first, and second stories of the West House, Akrotiri, Thera. . . . . . . 125 Figure 10.1. Stone fragment HM 4560.. Figure 10.2. Head-shaped bull rhyton from the Little Palace at Knossos. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 138 Figure 10.3. Plaster relief bull’s head from Knossos. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .138

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Figure 10.4. Reconstruction drawing of stone fragment HM 4560. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .138 Figure 10.5. Fragmentary ceramic bull’s-head vessel from Akrotiri. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 140 Figure 12.1. Map of the Aegean showing Bronze Age sites discussed in detail in the text and Minoan trade routes. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 153 Figure 12.2. Plan of House A at Hagia Eirene, Kea. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 155 Figure 12.3. Painted scene on the Hagia Triada sarcophagus. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 163 Figure 12.4. Middle Minoan I seal depicting a ship with sails and oars. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 164 Figure 12.5. Middle Helladic Aeginetan pottery. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 165 Figure 12.6. The Siege Rhyton. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 165 Figure 12.7. Detail of the Miniature Fresco from Akrotiri, Thera. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 168 Figure 12.8. View from southwest of Monastiraki Katalimata, East Crete. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 169 Figure 13.1. View of Naga el-Hai in 1913. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 178 Figure 13.2. Comb with ibex(?) handle from Naga el-Hai tomb K 495. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 179 Figure 13.3. Fish-shaped palettes from Naga el-Hai grave K 453 (a, b), grave K 527 (c), grave K 458 (d). . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 180 Figure 13.4. Naga el-Hai grave K 362. ...................................................................... 181 Figure 13.5. Ivory bracelets from Naga el-Hai grave K 481. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 182 Figure 13.6. Anthropomorphic figure from Naga el-Hai grave K 602. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 183 Figure 13.7. Feldspar amulets from Naga el-Hai grave K 128. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 183 Figure 13.8. Peg figure from Naga el-Hai grave K 128. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 184 Figure 13.9. Abstract reptile palette from Naga el-Hai grave K 2034. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 185 Figure 13.10. Falcon amulet from Naga el-Hai tomb K 627. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 186 Figure 13.11. Bull’s(?)-head amulet from Naga el-Hai grave K 681. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 186 Figure 14.1. Egypt and Nubia in the Second Intermediate Period. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 190 Figure 14.2. Reconstruction of a ruler’s burial at one of the great tumuli at Kerma. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 192 Figure 14.3. Plan of Tumulus K X showing the central burial compartment of the ruler and the numerous subsidiary graves subsequently cut into the tumulus. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 192 Figure 14.4. A typical example of a larger subsidiary grave, K 1067, in Tumulus K X. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 193 Figure 14.5. Schematic map of the southern sector of the Kerma cemetery. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 195 Figure 14.6. Schematic plans illustrating the locations and relative sizes (according to floor areas) of subsidiary graves in the three great tumuli.. Figure 14.7. Schematic plans illustrating the approximate outlines of the subcemeteries into which the subsidiary graves in each tumulus can be subdivided. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 202

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Figure 15.1. Map of western Anatolia. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 208 Figure 16.1. Ivory furniture attachments, terracotta fragments, and sealings donated to The Metropolitan Museum of Art in 1936 by Mrs. George D. Pratt, in memory of George D. Pratt. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 222 Figure 16.2. Burned remains of the Sarıkaya palace at Acemhöyük (level III). . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 222 Figure 16.3. Earth and burned bricks in the area of the palace where the ivory wing AH1 was excavated in 1965. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 222 Figure 16.4. Plan of the mound at Acemhöyük. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 223 Figure 16.5. Plan of the Sarıkaya palace at Acemhöyük. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 223 Figure 16.6. The four ivory sphinxes (P1–P4) donated by Mr. and Mrs. George D. Pratt to The Metropolitan Museum of Art in 1932 and 1936. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 230 Figure 16.7. The ivory sphinxes (P1–P4), back view.. Figure 16.8. The Pratt ivory sphinxes P1–P4, side view. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 231 Figure 16.9. Top and bottom views of the pink sphinx P1, facing left, showing a mortise in the top and a flat base. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 231 Figure 16.10. Drawings of the pink sphinx P1, showing the side, front, and rear views (top) and the joinery, top and base (bottom). . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 232 Figure 16.11. Drawings of the dark red sphinx P2. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 233 Figure 16.12. Drawings of the gray sphinx P3. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 234 Figure 16.13. Drawings of the light red sphinx P4. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 235 Figure 16.14. Pratt ivory sphinxes in a “reconstructed positioning” based on the curls of the wigs. . . 236 Figure 16.15. Dark red sphinx P2, exhibiting traces of gilding and damaged areas that do not show evidence of the red color. ......................................................... 236 Figure 16.16. Dark red sphinx P2, side view. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 236 Figure 16.17. Pink sphinx P1, detail of the left eye, showing inlay and gilding. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 236 Figure 16.18. Pink lion leg P5 (left) and gray lion leg P6 (right) from the Pratt collection. . . . . . . . . . . . . 239 Figure 16.19. Red lion’s leg fragment P7 from the Pratt collection, two views. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 239 Figure 16.20. Drawings of the pink lion’s leg P5, showing the front, rear, and side views (top) and the joinery, top and base (bottom). . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 240 Figure 16.21. Drawings of the gray lion’s leg P6. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 241 Figure 16.22. Drawings of the red lion’s leg fragment P7, which is now deformed and shrunken. . . . . 242 Figure 16.23. Reconstruction drawing of the left front leg of the ivory chair, composed of the light red sphinx P4 and pink lion’s leg P5, with joinery indicated. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 244 Figure 16.24. Reconstruction drawing of the right rear leg of the ivory chair, composed of the pink sphinx P1 and gray lion’s leg P6, with joinery indicated. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 245 Figure 16.25. Falcon and two gazelles P8–P11 from the Pratt collection. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 248

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Figure 16.26. Drawings of the falcon body P8, showing the front and side views and the top view, back view with joinery, and base. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 248 Figure 16.27. Falcon body P8 and left wing P9, showing the plaster restorations by the Metropolitan Museum. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 249 Figure 16.28. Falcon’s left wing P9. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 249 Figure 16.29. Drawings of the falcon’s left wing P9. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 249 Figure 16.30. Wing fragment AH1. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 250 Figure 16.31. Inner edge of AH1, showing the mortise. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 250 Figure 16.32. Drawings of wing AH1. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 250 Figure 16.33. Drawings of the two gazelles. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .251 Figure 16.34. Drawings of the falcon and gazelle composition as it may once have appeared. . . . . . . . . 252 Figure 16.35. Front view of the ivory chair reconstructed. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 254 Figure 16.36. Right side of the ivory chair reconstructed. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 255 Figure 16.37. Four ivory plaques from the Pratt collection (P12, P13, P15, and P17), exhibiting color variation, deformation and shrinkage, inlay for the eyes, and evidence of gilding. . . . . . . . . 256 Figure 17.1. Alalakh 2003 season squares, showing location of plastered tomb 3017. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 264 Figure 17.2. Individuals 3 and 4 in situ. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 264 Figure 17.3. Skulls of individuals 2 and 4 seen beneath plaster encasing. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 264 Figure 17.4. Prepared base of plastered tomb. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 265 Figure 17.5. Location of plastered tomb at the edge of the slope in area 3, square 45.71. . . . . . . . . . . . . . 266 Figure 17.6

Burials of individuals 1 and 2. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 266

Figure 17.7. Burials of individuals 3 and 4. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 267 Figure 17.8. Beads from tomb 3017. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 268 Figure 17.9. Embossed gold appliqués with rosettes and gold hair ring (a); amber pendant (b); gold ring (c). . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 268 Figure 17.10. Gold hair ring (a); bone spindle whorl (b). . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 269 Figure 17.11. Ceramic assemblage from burial group 3017. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 270 Figure 17.12. Ceramic assemblage from burial group 3017. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 271 Figure 17.13. Individuals 3 and 4. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 272 Figure 17.14. Individual no. 3. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 272 Figure 17.15. Embossed gold appliqué with rosette. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 274 Figure 18.1. Coarse-ware spindle bottle from Ashkelon made in southern Canaan. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 282 Figure 18.2. Coarse-ware spindle bottles from Alalakh. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 284 Figure 18.3. Red Lustrous Wheelmade spindle bottle from Ashkelon. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 288

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Figure 18.4. Coarse-ware spindle bottle from Ashkelon made in Lebanon. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 289 Figure 18.5. Coarse-ware spindle bottle from Ashkelon made in Cyprus.. Figure 19.1. Detail of gold bowl, Ugarit, ca. 14th century b.c.e. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 294 Figure 19.2. Detail of gold dagger sheath, Thebes, Tomb of Tutankhamun, 14th century b.c.e. . . . . . . 294 Figure 19.3. Gold foil chariot attachment, Thebes, Tomb of Tutankhamun, 14th century b.c.e. . . . . . . 294 Figure 19.4. Detail of bronze plaque attributed to “Tyre” but possibly found in Egypt, ca. 14th century b.c.e. .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 295 Figure 19.5. Detail of drawing of bronze sword hilt, Zapher Papoura cemetery, Knossos, ca. 14th century b.c.e. .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 295 Figure 19.6. Gold bowl, Ugarit, ca. 15th to 14th century b.c.e. ............................................. 295 Figure 19.7. Ivory game box, Enkomi, Cyprus, ca. 13th to 12th century b.c.e. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 295 Figure 19.8. Drawing of pottery sealing, Maa-Palaiokastro, Cyprus, late 13th century b.c.e. . . . . . . . 296 Figure 19.9. Cesnola amphoroid krater rim, bronze, Cyprus, ca. 13th to 12th century b.c.e. . . . . . . . . . 297 Figure 19.10. Cesnola amphoroid krater rim, detail. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 299 Figure 19.11. Drawing of LM IIIB sarcophagus design from Klema, Crete. .............................. 300 Figure 19.12. Drawing of Mycenaean IIIB “pastoral style” krater from Kition-Bamboula, Cyprus, 13th century b.c.e. ...... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 300 Figure 19.13. Rim from bronze tripod or stand from Myrtou Pigades, Cyprus, 13th to 12th century b.c.e. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 300 Figure 19.14. Steatite mold from Enkomi, Cyprus, 13th to 12th century b.c.e. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 300 Figure 19.15. Cesnola tripod, bronze, Cyprus, ca. 13th to 12th century b.c.e. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 301 Figure 19.16. Cesnola tripod rim, detail of groups nos. 14, 1, and 2; 6–8; 9–11, and 12–13. . . . . . . . . . . . 301 Figure 19.17. Drawing of LM I clay sealing with animal combat from Hagia Triada, Crete. . . . . . . . . . . 302 Figure 19.18. Bronze Cypriot rim fragment from Anthedon, Boiotia, 13th to 12th century b.c.e. . . . . . 302 Figure 19.19. Cesnola amphoroid krater, detail of rim radiograph showing extent of ancient cast-on section and two modern solder repairs. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 304 Figure 19.20. Cesnola bronze tripod, details of relief band and radiograph showing location of join in wax strips. ............................................................................... 305 Figure 19.21. Cesnola bronze tripod, details of relief band and radiograph showing location of join in wax strips with conflated animals. ...................................................... 306 Figure 19.22. Cesnola bronze tripod, details of radiograph showing repetition of animal elements on different areas of the band. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 306 Figure 19.23. Cesnola bronze tripod, detail of relief band showing “wax” drip on reverse. . . . . . . . . . . . . 306 Figure 19.24. Cesnola amphoroid krater, handle. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 306 Figure 19.25. Cesnola amphoroid krater, details of handle and radiograph showing borders of genii appliqués. ...... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 307

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Figure 20.1. Plan of MH graves in the West Cemetery at Eleusis, sector Δ. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 313 Figure 20.2. Distribution of the Mycenaean chamber tombs at Prosymna by date of construction. . . . 316 Figure 20.3. Plan of the LH IIIC chamber tomb cemetery at Perati. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 317 Figure 20.4. The Sub­mycenaean cemetery near the Pompeion in the Kerameikos at Athens. . . . . . . . . 318 Figure 20.5. Submycenaean burials in the Skoubris cemetery at Lefkandi. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 318 Figure 22.1. Phoenician horsemen. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 337 Figure 22.2. Syrian horsemen. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 338 Figure 22.3. Cypriot horsemen. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 338 Figure 22.4. The ruling god figurines. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 339 Figure 22.5. The blessing god figurines. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 340 Figure 22.6. Tanit-Astarte fertility goddesses. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 341 Figure 23.1. The Hasanlu Lovers in situ, from the east. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 346 Figure 23.2. Plan of Hasanlu IVB with find spot of the Hasanlu Lovers indicated by an arrow. . . . . . 347 Figure 24.1. Representations of Greek longships. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 354 Figure 24.2. Ships in Archaic representations from western and eastern Turkey and Egypt. . . . . . . . . . 354 Figure 24.3. Ships from the Levant and Cyprus. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 355 Figure 24.4. Representations of longships. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 355 Figure 25.1. Map of the Eastern Mediterranean with Egypt and Greece. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 368 Figure 25.2. Plan of Naukratis.. Figure 25.3. Inside of Attic cup showing Apollo with lions, ca. 540 b.c.e. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 369 Figure 25.4. Lion-tamer from Naukratis.. 370 Figure 25.5. Fragment of kantharos showing a scene from the Gigantomachy. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 371 Figure 25.6. Medinet Habu, Ramses III (1184–1153) on his Asiatic expedition. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 372 Figure 25.7. Votive inscription to Herakles on a Milesian cup from Naukratis.. Figure 27.1. Marble pyxis 28 with pedestal foot. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 382 Figure 27.2. Marble pyxis 22 with pedestal foot. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 382 Figure 27.3. Marble pyxides 87–90. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 383 Figure 27.4. Marble pyxis 91. ................ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 384 Figure 27.5. Marble pyxis 92. ................ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 384 Figure 27.6. Achaemenid diorite stemmed dish, Tehran, Archaeological Museum. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 386

LIST OF FIGURES IN THE TEXT

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Figure 27.7. Marble pyxis 86 with pigment.. Figure 27.8. Marble pyxis 43. ........ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 390 Figure 28.1. Attic red-figure calyx krater from Acanthus.. 400 Figure 28.2. Hole cut into base after the firing of the krater. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 401 Figure 28.3. Profile drawing of the krater. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 401 Figure 28.4. Detail of the shepherd and Hermes.. Figure 28.5. Detail of side A: seated Leda and Eros.. Figure 28.6. Detail of side A: figure with scepter and maenad. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 403 Figure 28.7. Detail of side B: satyr and maenad. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 403 Figure 28.8. Detail of side B: satyr. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 404 Figure 29.1. Marble slab of a maenad in The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.. Figure 29.2. Marble slab of a maenad in the Museo del Prado, Madrid. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 411 Figure 29.3. Fragment of a maenad on a round marble base from the 1935 excavations at Tolmeta in Cyrene, Libya. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 411 Figure 29.4. Collapsing maenad from the major repoussé frieze on the bronze Derveni krater. . . . . . 412 Figure 29.5. Detail of the seated maenad. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 413 Figure 30.1. Pagenstecher lekythos showing the Judgment of Paris. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 416 Figure 30.2. Judgment of Paris, detail of scenes from the obverse side. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 417 Figure 30.3. Scene from the obverse of a Pagenstecher lekythos showing a seated woman. . . . . . . . . . . 419 Figure 30.4. Lekythos with relief decoration showing the flaying of Marsyas. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 420 Figure 31.1. Traveler depicted on the neck of an Attic Late Geometric II/Early Proto-Attic Dipylon amphora, late eighth century b.c.e. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 424 Figure 31.2. Shipwreck krater from Pithekoussai, ca. 725 b.c.e. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 425 Figure 31.3. Nestor Cup from Pithekoussai, ca. 725 b.c.e. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 426 Figure 31.4. Details of scenes from the Aristonothos krater, from Cerveteri, ca. 650 b.c.e. . . . . . . . . . . 427 Figure 31.5. Miracle of the metamorphosis of the Tyrrhenian pirates into dolphins, black-figure hydria, 510–500 b.c.e., Painter of Vatican 238.. Figure 31.6. Attic red-figure amphora from Vulci, ca. 440 b.c.e. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 430 Figure 32.1. Round wooden chair from the Walchensee. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 438 Figure 32.2. Wooden throne from Verucchio (Rimini), eighth century b.c.e. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 438

Preface and Acknowledgments

I first encountered Guenter Kopcke when I was invited in 1978 to address the New York Aegean Bronze Age Colloquium, which he co-founded in 1974 with Ellen Davis and Malcolm Wiener (inspired by Edith Porada’s Near Eastern Seminar at Columbia University), and which continues to thrive in no small measure due to Guenter’s enthusiastic support and participation. But it was in the following years when, as a member of the American School of Classical Studies in Athens from 1979–1981, I became acquainted with his students that I began to gain a deeper understanding of the man whom they revered with an almost hushed awe: an awe of his brilliance and an awe of the extraordinary level of intellectual rigor that he brought to the field of ancient art and archaeology. It is this rigor and an especially probing desire to understand the ancient world—an άμιλλα (“a striving for superiority”) of the mind and spirit—that informs the thoughts and words of our honoree. Guenter Kopcke was born in Wiesbaden, Germany, in 1935 and grew up in Hamburg, handsome and athletic. Knowing that he was planning to enter the University of Tübingen, his teacher of ancient Greek at Gymnasium asked Guenter to send his regards to Bernhard Schweitzer, Professor of Classical Archaeology there, with whom he had studied. Schweitzer invited the newly arrived undergraduate to attend his lectures on the art and archaeology of Bronze Age Crete and Greece and to enroll in his seminar on Roman baths. Schweitzer’s lectures and seminar kindled in Guenter a lifelong passion for ancient art, history, and archaeology, especially for the world of the Aegean Bronze Age.

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Following the peripatetic system of a German university education, Guenter went on to the University of Basel to study with Karl Schefold, and then to the LudwigMaximilians University of Munich for additional study with Ernst Buschor and Ernst Homann-Wedeking. Under Homann-Wedeking’s guidance, he wrote a dissertation on fourth-century b.c.e. Athenian gilded Black Glaze Ware (published as Kopcke 1964). After receiving his doctorate in 1962, Guenter served for three years as an assistant curator in the Glyptothek of the Staatliche Antikensammlungen in Munich under Dieter Ohly, supervising the workshop created for the installation of the new exhibition of the pedimental sculptures from the Temple of Athena Aphaia on Aegina. Working with the sculptors engaged in their restoration and display taught him volumes about the practical and theoretical issues that confront artists, and it provided him with unique insights into the processes of artistic creation. During those years, Guenter also participated in the excavations of the Heraion at Samos and, thanks to his intervention, saw to it that the extraordinary series of Iron Age and Early Archaic wooden votive objects discovered there were carefully conserved, inviting science into the world of archaeology at a time when, unimaginable today, they would have otherwise been left to decay. Upon leaving the Staatliche Antikensammlungen, Guenter taught for two years as “wissenschaftlicher Assistant” in the Archaeological Institute of the University of Zurich under Professor Hansjörg Bloesch, the noted authority on Greek vases. When James McCredie left New York University’s Institute of Fine Arts (IFA) for the directorship of the American School of Classical Studies in Athens in 1969, Guenter was offered a three-year stint as his replacement at the IFA, and he eventually accepted a permanent position there as the Avalon Foundation Professor. Teaching at the IFA offered Guenter the freedom to explore a broad range of interests within the field of classical archaeology. Since his earliest years of study, he has been deeply interested in examining the Greeks in their varying artistic incarnations, in how they expressed themselves to one another and to the outside world. He has been concerned particularly with questions of cultural and artistic continuity, specifically how to bridge the “divide” from the Bronze to the Iron Ages. He has sought to trace the origins of the Classical Greeks back to the Bronze Age through seminars, at a major conference that he organized in 1990 at the IFA (“Greece between East and West: 10th–8th Centuries b.c.”), and in many of his publications. Indeed, Guenter has written masterfully and with credible insights on Aegean Bronze Age society, trade, and commerce; the art of the Shaft Graves; Mycenaean ivories and ceramics; Greek Geometric art and architecture; the wooden votives from Samos; Phoenician-Greek interactions; and Classical and Hellenistic ceramics and sculpture. Reading Guenter is an intellectual adventure: he constantly teases, provokes, and challenges assumptions (his own and those of his readers), not to play the role of provocateur, but to support—as he modestly likes to say—the case of the plausible. His writings are often peppered with personal reactions to the views of his colleagues and friends. And while he may describe his impressions and emotional responses to artifacts and cultural processes, these are based on a profound body of knowledge rooted in years of study and contemplation. Still, no one is quicker to express self-doubts, to admit the limitations of the available evidence, or, in its absence, to own up frankly to speculation. For Guenter, the questions are always at least as important as the answers, which, as he well knows, in the field of archaeology, can change instantly with the scraping of a trowel. The depth of his understanding of the possibilities and limitations that archaeology can bring to the study of cultural history, which I believe he regards as his overarching intellectual pursuit,

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derives from extensive and broad field experience. Besides work on Samos (1961– 1966), Guenter has participated in excavations in Greece at Olympia (1958–1959), on Aegina (1964), on Samothrace (1972–1987), in the Kerameikos (1993), and in Israel at Tel Hadar (1992). When I began to consider how to organize this volume, it became clear that if it were to reflect the fields upon which Guenter has made an impact, it could not be organized around a single theme, region, or time period. Rather, I invited articles from scholars whose lives Guenter has touched along the various stages of his own, and I also received many requests to contribute as rumors of the preparation of this Festschrift began to spread. I know that I speak on behalf of everyone whose thoughts and words appear here—that we wish Guenter many more years of teaching, thinking, and writing, inspiring us, his students, colleagues, and friends, to follow his example in the pursuit of scholarly excellence. I would like to thank the students in my seminar in Greek archaeology at Hunter College during the spring semester of 2008—Justine Ahlstrom, Dennis Ambrose, Danica Killalea, Kathleen Maloney, Michele Mitrovich, Harold Ohayon, and Elizabeth Shiverdecker—for the preliminary editing of many of the articles included in this volume and for the lively discussions stimulated by their presentations. I owe a special debt of thanks to Michele Mitrovich for her continued help in the preparation of this volume at many stages, and for the handsome photograph of Guenter Kopcke that serves as the frontispiece. I am also grateful to Irit Ziffer for invaluable advice and information, and to Irene and the late Ioannis Manolakakis (d. 2010) for their hospitality during the summer of 2009, when I was able to complete the editing of most of these articles at their home in Kalessa, Crete. Finally, I wish to thank my partner, Stylianos Manolakakis, for providing me with the Greek title of this volume. Robert B. Koehl New York City, NY October 2010

Bibliography of Guenter Kopcke

Kopcke, G. 1964. “Golddekorierte attische Schwarz­ firniskeramik des vierten Jahrhunderts v. Chr.,” AM 79, pp. 22–84.

. 1973. “Ein Siebgefäss in Zürich,” in Zur Griechischen Kunst: Hansjörg Bloesch zum 60. Geburtstag am 5. Juli 1972 (AntK-BH 9), Bern, p. 70.

. 1966. “Samos 1965: Holzfunde im Heraion. Fundlage und Konservierung,” AA 84, pp. 165–170.

. 1974. Review of Early Cretan Armorers (Fogg Museum Monographs in Art and Archaeology 1), by H. Hoffmann, ArtB 56, pp. 430–432

. 1967. “Neue Holzfunde aus dem Heraion von Samos,” AM 82, pp. 100–148. . 1968. “Heraion von Samos: Die Kampagnen 1961/1965 im Südtemenos (8.–6. Jahrhundert),” AM 83, pp. 250–314. . 1969. “Attische Reliefkeramik klassischer Zeit,” AA 84, pp. 545–551. . 1969. “Erforschte Vergangenheit: Eine Ausstellung in Schaffhausen,” Schweizer Monatshefte 49, pp. 498–500. . 1969. “Die Hündin Baracco: Beobachtungen und Vorschläge,” RM 76, pp. 128–140. . 1970. Review of The Archaic Greek Temenos: A Study of Structure and Function, by B. Bergquist, Gnomon 42, pp. 72–76.

. 1975. Review of Black and Plain Pottery of the 6th, 5th and 4th Centuries b.c. (Agora 12), by B.A. Sparkes and L. Talcott, Gnomon 47, pp. 183–186. . 1976. “Zum Stil der Schachtgräbermasken,” AM 91, pp.1–13. . 1976. “Eine Bronzestatuette des Zeus in der Münchner Glyptothek,” MüJb 27, pp. 7–27. . 1977. “Figures in Pot-Painting before, during, and after the Dark Age,” in Symposium on the Dark Ages in Greece, E.N. Davis, ed., New York, pp. 32–50. . 1979. “More about Olympia B1701 and B1999,” in Studies in Classical Art and Archaeology: A Tribute to Peter Heinrich von Blanckenhagen,

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G. Kopcke and M.B. Moore, eds., Locust Valley, NY., 1979, pp. 17–21. Kopcke, G., and M.B. Moore, eds. 1979. Studies in Classical Art and Archaeology: A Tribute to Peter Heinrich von Blanckenhagen, Locust Valley, NY. Kopcke, G. 1981. Review of Die Kessel der orientalisierenden Zeit 2: Kesselprotomen und Stabdreifüsse (OlForsch 11), by H.V. Herrmann, AJA 85, pp. 230–232. . 1987. “The Cretan Palaces and Trade,” in The Function of the Minoan Palaces. Proceedings of the Fourth International Symposium at the Swedish Institute in Athens, 10–16 June 1984 (SkrAth 4°, 35), R. Hägg and N. Marinatos, eds., Stockholm, pp. 255–259. . 1990. Handel (ArchHom M), Göttingen. . 1992. “Catalogue of Finds. 1. Ceramics,” in The Rotunda of Arsinoe (Samothrace 7), J.R. McCredie, G. Roux, S.M. Shaw, and J. Kurtich, Princeton, pp. 277–326. . 1992. “What Role for Phoenicians?” in Greece between East and West, 10th–8th Centuries b.c. Papers of the Meeting at the Institute of Fine Arts, New York University, March 15–16th, 1990, G. Kopcke and I. Tokumaru, eds., Mainz, pp. 103–113. Kopcke, G., and I. Tokumaru, eds. 1992. Greece between East and West, 10th–8th Centuries b.c. Papers of the Meeting at the Institute of Fine Arts, New York University, March 15–16th, 1990, Mainz.

Aegean Conference, Philadelphia, Temple University, 18–21 April 1996 (Aegaeum 16), R. Laffineur and P.P. Betancourt, eds., Liège, pp. 141–143. . 1999. “Male Iconography on Some Late Minoan Signets,” in Polemos: Le Contexte Guerrier en Égée à L’Âge du Bronze. Actes de la 7e rencontre égéenne internationale, Université de Liège, 14–17 avril 1998 (Aegaeum 19), R. Laffineur, ed., Liège, pp. 341–345. . 1999. “Akrotiri: West House. Some Reflections,” in Meletemata: Studies in Aegean Archaeology Presented to Malcolm H. Wiener as He Enters His 65th Year (Aegaeum 20), P.P. Betancourt, V. Karageorghis, R. Laffineur, and W.-D. Niemeier, eds., Liège, pp. 445–455. . 2000. “Handel und Kultur in Kreta und Mykene,” in Im Labyrinth des Minos: Kreta—die erste europäische Hochkultur. Ausstellung des Badischen Landesmuseums, 27.1 bis 29.4.2001, Karlsruhe, Schloss, M. Maaß, ed., Munich, pp. 181–189. . 2001. “Das schöne Gerät—Eine Betrachtung mykenischer Vasen,” in Zona Archaeologica: Festschrift für Hans Peter Isler zum 60. Geburtstag, S. Buzzi, ed., Bonn, pp. 239–248. . 2002. “1000 b.c.e.? 900 b.c.e.? A Greek Vase from Lake Galilee,” in Leaving No Stones Unturned: Essays on the Ancient Near East and Egypt in Honor of Donald P. Hansen, E. Ehrenberg, ed., Winona Lake, IN, pp. 109–117.

Kopcke, G. 1995. “The Argolid in 1400—What Happened?” in Politeia: Society and State in the Aegean Bronze Age. Proceedings of the 5th International Aegean Conference, University of Heidelberg, Archäologisches Institut 10–13 April 1994 (Aegaeum 12), R. Laffineur and W.-D. Niemeier, eds., Liège, pp. 89–92.

. 2004. “Mycenaean Kingship—A Speculative View,” in Commerce and Monetary Systems in the Ancient World: Means of Transmission and Cultural Interaction. Proceedings of the Fifth Annual Symposium of the Assyrian and Babylonian Intellectual Heritage Project, Held in Innsbruck, Austria, October 3rd–8th 2002 (Melammu Symposia 5), R. Rollinger and C. Ulf, eds., Stuttgart, pp. 170–177.

. 1997. “Mycenaean Ivories,” in Tεχνη: Craftsmen, Craftswomen and Craftsmanship in the Aegean Bronze Age. Proceedings of the 6th International

. 2009. “The First Great Temple on Samos,” in “Ephraim Stern Volume,” ed. J. Aviram, special issue, Eretz Israel 29, pp. 88*–98*.

List of Abbreviations

Abbreviations for periodicals in the bibliographies of individual articles follow the conventions of the American Journal of Archaeology 111.1 (2007), pp. 14–34. aux. BB BR ca. cm dia. EBA EC EM FN g h. in. L. LBA LC

auxiliary Burned Building Base Ring about centimeter diameter Early Bronze Age Early Cycladic Early Minoan Final Neolithic gram height inches length Late Bronze Age Late Cycladic

LH LM m max. MBA MC MH mm MM pers. comm. pers. obv. RLWM th. w. wt.

Late Helladic Late Minoan meter maximum Middle Bronze Age Middle Cycladic Middle Helladic millimeter Middle Minoan personal communication personal observation Red Lustrous Wheelmade Ware thickness width weight

PA R T I

Perceiving Ancient Art

CHAPTER

1 Ancient Egyptian Art: Image and Response Dorothea Arnold My focus is not to try to arrive at a “meaning,” in the sense of semiotic, symbolic, religious or political significance for the various images, but rather to understand their visuality. —Wells 2008, 16

As an Egyptologist and museum curator in charge of a collection of Egyptian art, one is frequently asked why this art is so popular in our time. Witnesses to the factual truth underlying this question are the vast numbers of visitors to exhibitions of Pharaonic objects, the sales of books and replicas of such objects, and the personal experience of this curator, who hears again and again people just entering the Great Hall of The Metropolitan Museum say: “First I want to go to the Egyptian galleries.” It is not easy to find an explanation of this phenomenon in the Egyptological literature, because even treatises such as the highly informative Consuming Ancient Egypt (MacDonald and Rice 2003) tend largely to just describe the situation as significant for our own time, and they do not link it to present day understandings of ancient Egypt on its own terms.

One aspect suggested by prevailing scholarly understandings of the purpose of Egyptian art that might be relevant in this context is the idea of exclusivity. John Baines, in his essay on the “Status and Purposes of Ancient Egyptian Art” (Baines 2007, 335–336), summarizes this in the concluding paragraphs. Egyptian art, he writes, “served the ordered cosmos, which was celebrated on behalf of the gods and which humanity, as represented by the king and the gods, defended against the chaos. Art defined, encapsulated, and perpetuated that cosmos. At the same time it served the perpetual destinies of ruler and inner elite and circumscribed their lifestyles in relation to the rest of society.” Baines draws from this general understanding a number of conclusions about the nature of Egyptian art, the important role played by tradition

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during its history, and its seemingly all-pervasive exclusivity. He states (2007, 335–336): The perpetual dialogue with the past and the use of different past models with diverse implications characterize an artistic discourse that is internally self-sustained and exploits this characteristic to assert its significance both to itself and to the wider society. This internal discourse, which provides an analogy within the culture for the relative isolation of Egyptian civilization from its surroundings, is both a legitimization of art and a way in which artists create a context in which only their own concerns matter. As such it is a typically professional phenomenon. Professions, both ancient and modern, are exclusive and assume that only their members can judge the validity of what they do, avoiding recourse to a wider constituency. This characterization applies strongly to the Egyptian elite, and hence to the status of the art.

This understanding of the purpose of Egyptian art would suggest that the pleasant and invigorating experience of visitors in Egyptian art collections and exhibitions is based on the viewers’ subconscious satisfaction that in seeing these artworks, they have become (posthumously, so to speak) members of the ancient Egyptian elite, or at least, of an Enlightenment elite that first “discovered,” collected, and displayed Egyptian works in the western world. Such an explanation neatly would link present scholarly views on the place of Egyptian art in its own culture with the experiences of museumgoers today. But frankly, I do not believe that it explains sufficiently the worldwide appeal of Egyptian works. The attainment of quasi-elite status may be an ingredient in the joyful experience of museumgoers and tourists that flock to the monuments in Egypt and museums all over the world, but it is certainly not all of it. John Boardman, the renowned scholar in your own field, Guenter, also understands exclusivity to be part of the attraction of Egyptian art and culture. But instead of Baines’s social approach, Boardman links what he calls the “idiosyncrasy” of Egyptian art with its primary function: the prolongation of life beyond death. The “idiom” of Egyptian art, he writes, “is based on close knowledge and observation of the real but it [the real] was deliberately translated into something else, something more timeless than mere realism. . . . The result is an art which brilliantly expresses what lies beyond

realism, the divine, the immortal” (Boardman 2006, 156). It is this beyond-the-real quality of Egyptian art that, according to Boardman, makes it “easy to see how it continues today to be a focus for speculation about the exotic, magical, even extraterrestrial in the arts” (Boardman 2006, 154). The latter aspect of its reception recaptures thoughts and experiences of viewers of Egyptian art from Renaissance and Enlightenment times through today and ultimately goes back to the reactions toward Egypt expressed by the ancient Greeks (Vasunia 2001). To be so long-lasting an ingredient of people’s fascination with ancient Egypt, the idea of the culture’s exotic, metaphysical nature can certainly not be disregarded as a factor in its allure to the present day. But again: Can that be all? Yes, among all the viewers that derive joy from visiting our galleries there are always a few who are seekers of the spiritual. The majority of viewers, however, simply derive visual pleasure and intellectual enrichment from the encounter with an extraordinary ancient culture. There must be something much more substantial about Egyptian art to generate that kind of reaction. Another recent deliberation about the reception of Egyptian art and objects today comes from Egyptologist-cum-anthropologist Lynn Meskell. In her 2004 book Object Worlds in Ancient Egypt, in which she advocates a prioritization of the physical presence of Egyptian objects (their materiality) in our quest for understanding that ancient culture, she also deals seriously and at fair length with the present popularity of all things Egyptian (Meskell 2004, 177–219). In her final pages she sums up: “Thousands of years after the demise of Pharaonic Egypt as a coherent cultural sphere, so many lay people as well as scholars are fascinated with Egypt’s tangible and spiritual achievements, although it is the overpowering physicality that serves as the bedrock for our fantasies and fascinations” (Meskell 2004, 218). This emphasis on the “thingness” of Egyptian art is very much part of any museum curator’s (as well as any archaeologist’s) life. But the physical presence of objects is not confined to ancient Egypt. It is true for any assemblage of objects from any human culture past and present. Therefore, the question remains: Why are the ancient Egyptian things so especially attractive to us today? I would like to suggest that this attractiveness is an outcome of the ancient

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Egyptian world view transmitted through a singularly visual artistic language. Let me start my explanation of what I mean by inviting you to look at a relief block found reused in the fill of the pyramid of Amenemhat I (ca. 1981– 1978 b.c.e.) at Lisht, but derived from a monument of the much earlier pharaoh Khufu, builder of the Great Pyramid at Giza (ca. 2551–2528 b.c.e.). An

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original Fourth Dynasty date for the relief, now housed in the Metropolitan Museum of Art (Fig. 1.1), is indicated by its style and the name of an estate that supplied offerings that include Khufu’s cartouche (Goedicke 1971, 18–19; Arnold 1999). The relief shows three oxen, the first one missing its head, the last its tail. These oxen are part of a cortege of offering animals driven toward the

a

b Figure 1.1. The cattle of Khufu, limestone relief block (a) and detail (b) excavated at Lisht North, Fourth Dynasty, reign of Khufu, ca. 2551–2528 b.c.e. New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Rogers Fund, 1922 [22.1.3]. Photo B. White; image © The Metropolitan Museum of Art.

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mortuary temple of the king. The bone structure, musculature, and skin texture of the cattle are depicted so accurately and with so much tactile sensitivity that the viewer experiences almost physically the smoothness of the creatures’ skin, the softness of their flesh, and the typical bone structure of bovines (see, esp., Fig. 1.1:b). Even the depiction of the tails follows nature in its most essential details. The tail grows smoothly rounded out of the flesh and skin on the animal’s back, passes along its hind parts, and then hangs down, weighted by the heavier end. This extraordinary detailing takes place on a sculptured surface raised less than a quarter of an inch above the background of the relief. It should also be noted that a considerable am­ ount of depth is suggested in the animal representations, not by any oblique views or foreshortening, but by the artist’s skillful shaping of the grooves between various parts of the body. They are carved in such a way that the viewer has the impression that the legs and belly flesh are situated at different levels of depth, although in reality most of the grooves separating the near legs from the belly and the belly from the far legs are more or less just that—grooves—and the surfaces of body parts at seemingly greater depth are actually situated at an almost equal level (Schäfer 1986, 76–77, fig. 31:d). The naturalistic details in the animal depiction and the illusion of depth in the relief are largely confined, however, to the interior of the figures. The outlines that determine the identity and posture of each figure are mainly composed according to a set of conventions that were put in place early in the history of Egyptian art and never totally abandoned. Heinrich Schäfer, in his Von ägyptischer Kunst of 1919, first identified and described these conventions as a “mental image which . . . is not faithful to a perceived visual impression but image-based (vorstellig)” (Schäfer 1986, 91; see also Baines 2007, 209), a term that comes close to what neuroscientists studying the visual perception of humans today call “object-centered perception” (as opposed to a viewer-centered perception that forms the basis for the eventual evolution of representational perspective; see Bruce, Green, and Georgeson 2004, 276). Following Schäfer, the object-centered conventions of two-dimensional Egyptian art have been described by others as a representational system in which each part of an object or figure is represented according to its most characteristic and

easily recognizable view (e.g., Smith 1978, 128, 273–350). The end result is an additive or, to use E. Brunner-Traut’s term, “aspective” image (BrunnerTraut 1986) that combines various different views of a figure or object into a conceptual rather than realistic representation. Human figures, for example, commonly are depicted with the head, legs, and feet in profile, while torso, eyes, and hands usually are shown in frontal view. Animals are rendered in profile with only such parts as ears or horns seen in frontal view. In both human and animal figures the legs are best made visible by rendering them in a striding posture. The cattle of the Khufu relief is fully in accord with this scheme of two-dimensional representation. The animals’ heads and bodies are depicted strictly in profile, whereas the eyes, ears, and, above all, the horns are represented as if seen from the front. Without any interior detailing, the result of such an outline drawing would be an easily recognizable image of a particular animal; and even with the naturalistic features of the finished relief in place, elements such as the horns of the cattle retain a largely decorative quality. The entirely abstract rendering of the join between the forehead and horns reveals unmistakably the basic conceptual character of the composition. Intriguingly, both the naturalistic and abstract elements could shift places somewhat from image to image. On another Old Kingdom block from Lisht (Fig. 1.2), for instance, the horns of a goat convey an astonishing impression of depth and verisimilitude th­rough an ingenious twisting of the grooving and the stepped, slightly overlapping position of the horns. In general, however, conventions had the upper hand over the outlines of figures, determining much of the figures’ postures and attitudes, while realism was played out in modifications of the conventional and in the detailed modulations of areas inside the outlines. More than 60 years ago, Ernst H. Gombrich, in his 1950 work The Story of Art (in its 16th edition by the year 2006), based a good part of his assessment of Egyptian art on the relationship between its firmly regulated “idiom” or “convention” on the one side, and the artists’ keen observation of nature and reality on the other. “The observation of nature,” Gombrich wrote (2006, 51), “and the regularity of the whole, are so evenly balanced [in Egyptian art works] that they [the art works]

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impress us as being lifelike and yet remote and enduring.” Then he formulated the general statement: the “combination of geometric regularity and keen observation of nature is characteristic of all Egyptian art” (Gombrich 2006, 51). Nowadays we are reluctant to accept such general statements in view of the complexities of objects of art and artifacts. Let me, nevertheless, take what Gombrich has written about the Janus-faced character of Egyptian art (keen observation of nature coupled with “regularity”) as a starting point for a demonstration of how Egyptian artists/artisans expressed a general world view by visual means. To a certain degree, an analysis of the realityversus-formality qualities in Egyptian twodimensional art is paralleled and further defined by the artistic process. The process of creating a relief like the one depicting the cattle of Khufu can be best observed in partly unfinished works. One

such instance, Figure 1.3, from the burial chamber of King Haremhab (ca. 1323–1295 b.c.e.; Hornung 1971, 45, pl. 31) shows the sun god Re with the ram head of the creator god. He stands in a shrine on a boat and is protected by a huge snake. In this obviously unfinished detail, red guidelines were used to position the figures while black outlines were used to determine the main features of each figure and object. The sculptor then started his work, which was interrupted halfway through and never resumed. We can see, therefore, that the sculptor began by chiseling away the background around the god’s figure. This lowering of the background transformed the outlined figure into a “cookielike” silhouette. After that, the sculpturing of the head created an unmistakable, albeit only sketchy, image of a living ram with its flapped ear, softly rounded muzzle, and deep furrow beside the nose. These latter naturalistic details again are located

Figure 1.2. Relief representation of a goat, limestone relief block excavated at Lisht North, Fourth Dynasty, reign of Khufu, ca. 2551–2528 b.c.e. New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Rogers Fund, 1922 (22.1.20). Photo B. White; image © The Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Figure 1.3. The sun god from the tomb of King Haremhab, Valley of the Kings, Egypt, Eighteenth Dynasty, reign of Haremhab, ca. 1323–1295 b.c.e. Photo A. Brack.

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inside the outlines of the figure; and it is interesting to see that they were carved toward the end of the creative process, or at least at a point when the sculptor was ready to think of the final shape of the work. Because the relief work is unfinished, its surface is lacking a final smoothening. While the decoration of the royal tomb of Haremhab is a highly sophisticated affair of stately character, paintings in nonroyal tombs of the Eighteenth Dynasty are much livelier in the choice of themes and with the introduction of inventive modifications in positions and gestures based on observations of real life. There is, however, a noticeable distinction in these representations between the main figures in a composition, which are largely guided by conventions and thus much less free, and the often more realistic looking subsidiary figures. For instance, a wall painting in the tomb of Nakht at Western Thebes/Sheikh Abd el-Qurna (Fig. 1.4; ca. 1400–1390 b.c.e.; Shedid and Seidel 1996, 74; for the technical process, see also Shedid 1988; Bryan 2001; Tiradritti 2007, 62–84) shows the seated tomb owner and his wife. As was customary for conventional figural representations since the early Middle Kingdom, a rectangular grid of red lines was initially laid out over this section of the wall (Bryan 2001; Robins 2001). The figures were then drawn in outline directly onto the grid, following the canon of proportions prevalent at that time, which placed the hairline of a seated figure at 14 horizontal grid lines above the ground line (Robins 1994, 73–99). Remains of the initial grid are still visible in parts of the painting where no pigments were yet applied. If the outline drawings of the seated or standing main figures again followed general conventions, the same is true for the drawing of main figures in action, although during the later Eighteenth Dynasty, such figures were frequently drawn freehand, without an underlying grid. Indeed, the striking ability of Egyptian artists of all times to lay out even and intricately structured figures in one sweep is not only apparent in the images themselves, but it is also expressed in a rare ancient text relating to artistic work: the early Middle Kingdom stele of Irtisen now housed in the Louvre. In this text the master sculptor and painter Irtisen lists among other skills that he “know(s) the striding of a male figure and the walk of a female . . . the movement of the arm of a hippopotamus hunter, and the movement

of the legs of a runner” (Delange 2000, 61). Such attitudes were clearly part of a traditional repertoire. After the first outline drawings were completed, painters applied solid areas of pigment over the various parts of the figures as indicated by the outlines (Fig. 1.4). Like the lowering of the background in relief work, this procedure transformed the drawn figures into silhouettes. It is important to realize that Egyptians evidently considered both outline drawings and silhouettes fully capable of serving the basic function of tomb decorations: to provide eternal life for the tomb owner. In the case of an emergency such as the premature death of a tomb owner, the work could obviously be left in this state without losing its life-preserving power. One might, indeed, compare the silhouette-like quality of basic Egyptian figural representations to certain well-known images from our own history and daily life. Traffic signs, for instance, or the heraldic images that adorned the shields of medieval knights are of a similar character. In both cases, instant recognition is (or was) the main aim of such pictures, as both cases warn of life in peril. By analogy, one could argue that the art of the ancient Egyptians first goal was to establish, in quite an existential sense, the sheer presence of a person or situation by flashing instantly recognizable outlined images and silhouettes. Once the recognition was achieved, the detail work could begin in order to give credence to the reality of the image and link it to human observations and the human environment. A closer look at the silhouettes of the seated tomb owner and his wife in Figure 1.4 reveals, however, that some naturalistic features derived from observations of the real world could occasionally enter into the creation of figural silhouettes. The tomb owner in Figure 1.4, for instance, wears two pieces of clothing: an undergarment that covers the left shoulder and reaches down to the ankles, and on top of it a short kilt. The undergarment is painted with a light pink pigment (a mixture of red and white; see Lee and Quirke 2000, 113) to indicate that it was made of so fine and thin a linen fabric that the reddishbrown color of the man’s skin shines through. The gestures and movements of lesser figures that are not the focus of the scene were not as strictly governed by convention, and all sorts of modifications and adaptations were employed in

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Figure 1.4. Seated couple from the tomb of Nakht, Theban Tomb 52, ca. 1400–1390 b.c.e. Tempera on paper facsimile by Lancelot Crane, 1909–1910, detail. New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Rogers Fund, 1915 (15.5.19f). Image © The Metropolitan Museum of Art.

the outlining process to introduce a certain measure of realism into the picture. William Stevenson Smith has described in detail the multiple ways in which Old Kingdom artists modified, often ingeniously, the conventions of two-dimensional art in order to introduce real-world attitudes, movements, and gestures into the pictures on tomb and temple walls (Smith 1946, 304–332). He called the chapter in which he dealt with such modifications “The Attitudes of the Subsidiary Figures,” and in the introductory sentences he stated that “although in general they [the minor or subsidiary figures] follow the conventions laid down by the drawing of the chief figures, the multiplicity of the actions required for subsidiary figures, and their comparative unimportance in relation to the dominant figure, stimulated the artist to a more careful

approximation to some of the transitory aspects of the human body in movement and repose” (Smith 1946, 304). Thus, a kind of visual hierarchy was established where main figures were mostly governed by convention and subsidiary figures were often substantially modified according to observations of the real world. Of course, for us modern viewers—but who knows, perhaps for the ancient ones too—much of the charm of narrative twodimensional Egyptian art is derived from such modifications of the conventional in the depictions of servants, agricultural laborers, herdsmen, craftsmen, and even festive guests and their entertainers and caterers (Figs. 1.5, 1.6). Many modifications and adaptations in these subsidiary figures soon became, of course, part of a conventional repertoire and were thus repeated

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Figure 1.5. Group of party guests and harpist from the tomb of Nakht, Western Thebes/Sheikh Abd el-Qurna. Photo A. Brack.

again and again, often with further modifications. But in many tomb scenes, especially those of the New Kingdom, there are also quite unprecedented, ad hoc inventions of a truly naturalistic nature. In Figure 1.6, the tufted hairdo of one of the grape pickers, the man at the trough beside the vintners, and the cook who cleans out the fowl for the master’s meal are each slightly varied according to the assumed age of the particular person, or just for variety’s sake. Golden earrings like the one worn by Nakht’s little daughter in the boat (Fig. 1.6, upper right register) or like those peeking through the strands of hair of the party attendees (Fig. 1.5), and the way that the female guests interact with complicated gestures and turned heads (Fig. 1.5) are all unconventional and naturalistic representations. One can easily envisage the conversation taking place in Figure 1.5 about the smell of the mandrake fruit that two of the ladies are holding: “Does yours smell differently than mine?” In the meantime, a third lady prefers the smell of a water lily. Especially intriguing are the hands of the blind harpist in Figure 1.5. The fingers of his upper hand

were so convincingly shaped with some bold brushstrokes (done at the silhouetting stage of the painter’s process) that the painter who drew the final consolidating outlines around each figure did not add to this part of the work. The fingers of the lower hand—mostly with final outlines—are even seen in perspective, with the thumb touching the little finger, a way of showing hands that would become even more prominent during the Amarna period (ca. 1352–1336 b.c.e.). The movement of the fingers of both the harpist’s hands are indeed so intriguingly suggestive of the musician’s action on the strings of his harp that it takes the viewer a while to realize that the painter has attached the hands to the wrong arms, because the upper hand is really a right hand, here attached to the left arm, and the lower hand is a left hand attached to a right arm. Do we have to assume that in a previous painting the hands would have been rightly distributed and that the Nakht painter mixed up his prototype? It was again Smith who made detailed observations, albeit in a style that nowadays seems uncomfortably patronizing, on the various ways in which Egyptian artists of the

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Old Kingdom dealt with the representation of hands in figures composed according to the conventions (Smith 1978, 275–289). What evolves from such observations is the notion that Egyptian artists approached “reality” on a piece-by-piece basis. How then does this same complementary relationship between convention and naturalism play out in Egyptian three-dimensional art? H.G. Fischer demonstrated in his memorable 1965 article “Anatomy in Egyptian Art” (Fischer 1965) how much detailed knowledge of the bone structure and musculature of the human body and their organic functions is evident in ancient Egyptian sculpture. Fischer, interestingly enough, recorded in his article that he gained such insights during the fulfillment of some basic curatorial duties. As he told me himself, he spent many hours in

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the Metropolitan Museum’s photo studio working with the photographers to obtain documentation of as many details of a piece as possible. Referring to the statue of Nikare (Fig. 1.7) as an example, he writes (Fischer 1965, 171–172): to demonstrate the amount of anatomical observation in the statue illustrated, the source of illumination must be varied so as to pick up selective portions of the surface. If the light is passed across the shoulder from front to back, two faint vertical grooves become visible; these deltoid grooves, a recurrent feature in Egyptian sculpture, provide one of the rare examples of a detail that is observable only when the muscle is under great stress. The back of the same statue, as seen under harshly oblique lighting, brings out the same detail as well as the scapular ridges and the seventh vertebra, or vertebra prominens, at the base of the neck.

Figure 1.6. The northern part of the western wall in the tomb of Nakht. Drawing by S. Murphy, after Davies 1917, pl. 22.

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Figure 1.7. Back view of the limestone statue of Nikare, second half of the Fifth Dynasty, ca. 2420–2323 b.c.e. New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Rogers Fund, 1952 (52.19). Image © The Metropolitan Museum of Art.

The traits in Egyptian three-dimensional sculpture that express “regularity” and the “permanent” have often been described. With rare exception, Egyptian statues present their front to the viewer, and their position is composed around an axis. All of the statues are, moreover, placed on a block- or slab-shaped base that forms an unalienable part of the whole figure, while at the rear a vertical “back pillar” or “back slab” draws attention to the statue’s upright attitude (Fig. 1.8). It has often been remarked that together, the back pillar (or slab) and base preserve the cubic structure of the original block of stone from which the statue was carved, reminding the western viewer of Michelangelo’s statement that a statue is hidden in the stone—the sculptor has just to free it by carving away what hides it (Gombrich 2006, 238). Dietrich Wildung has proceeded from there to interpret the base and back pillar/slab as constituting the space occupied by the statue, and he understands the forward moving stride of the left leg as an element that links the figure with the defined space of the base and back pillar (Wildung 2006).

One basic fact should always be remembered: back pillars and back slabs are not remnants of a “primitive” state of Egyptian art when sculptors did not yet dare to free the figure entirely from the stone. The earliest Egyptian sculptural works do not have back pillars or back slabs (Eaton-Krauss 1998; only known exception: Ziegler 1999, 178– 179, no. 10). These elements were intentionally developed from high seat backs during the Fourth Dynasty (Wildung 1972, 151–152). Once chosen, however, they became indispensable components of the Egyptian sculptural language and were adhered to until the very end of Egyptian art history. During that millennia-long history, the back elements changed their meaning repeatedly, of course, a fact that is well demonstrated by the changing repertoire of texts inscribed on them (JansenWinkeln 2000). The basic kinship of Egyptian stone sculpture with geometrically defined bodies is further emphasized by the various rectangular, triangular, trapezoidal, or otherwise multiangled supports that link—as so-called negative space—the legs with each other, the arms with the body, and the body with the back pillar, while also securing beards and other protruding parts of the figure. These noniconic components of Egyptian stone statues are fundamentally different in character from the tree trunk–shaped or otherwise imitative supports in classical sculpture. Although they function in some cases as static supports, most are not necessary to maintain the stability of a piece, and none of them is disguised as an object from the real world. In congruence with their noniconic shape, the elements comprising negative space are conceptual entities that underline the nonreal character of the framework of Egyptian sculpture. It is important to stress that the base, back pillar/­ slab, and the various inner supports and “fill” areas turned many statues into high relief, and thus link them to the architecture that was in their sphere of existence. Egyptian statues were placed in chapels, statue chambers, or niches, and, when located under the open sky, they stood against walls or pylons or between the columns or pillars of a court. Even processional ways that were often flanked by rows of statues were mostly closed by long walls on both sides of the passageway. Carved from stone, the main construction material for temples and elite tombs, the sculptures were even more closely

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linked with the architecture by the geometric elements that they incorporated. Since stone was almost exclusively the material of sacred buildings in ancient Egpyt, the statues’ close connection with architecture was also a link with the divine. Images of wood, ivory, metal, or clay were—in most cases—deposited in shrines, which were also often made of wood, or in boxes, or even just placed underground. Rarely fitted out with back pillars or support elements, they were less closely linked with architecture. For these works, linen wrappings often played the role of an accoutrement that lifted the statue (or statuette) from this world into the realm of the divine (Davies 2007, 179–180, fig. 77). This then is what Egyptians evidently considered to be the right balance between regularity and realism in three-dimensional art. Each sculpture had to be endowed with a framework that ensured its existence in an environment of a superhuman character. Only inside that framework could the earthly and “real” come alive. It is clear that this understanding is essentially not different from the hierarchical relationship between the conventional and the realistic in two-dimensional art discussed above. In both cases the conventional and conceptual are linked to the superhuman while the transitory, narrative, and realistic, although of no lesser importance, takes second place. After all these words, it is humbling to realize that ancient Egyptian scribes had already expressed similar ideas in one single image. Andrzej Niwinski and Erik Hornung were the first to recognize the significance of the hieroglyphic emblem in Figure 1.9. As Hornung has written (1992, 51– 52), “the urobos [a cosmic snake called ‘the one who bites its tail’] surrounds a rabbit, the Egyptian written sign for wen (being). The rabbit appears on a standard otherwise reserved for images of gods.” We do not need to go here into Hornung’s interpretation of the urobos aside from its reading as a symbol of an all-enveloping horizon of timeless nonexistence through which this world is again and again regenerated, like the sun rising from the underworld, but in which everything will dissolve at the end of time. For the present purpose it is enough to see that, according to this particular early first-millennium scribe, the Egyptians understood reality in its essential (divine) quality as existing inside a larger context of a nonreal/ super-real character.

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Figure 1.8. Sandstone statue of an official from El Kab, Fourth Dynasty, ca. 2575–2465 b.c.e. New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Harris Brisbane Dick Fund, 1962 (62.200). Photo B. White; image © The Metropolitan Museum of Art.

I want to close these remarks with a look at an example of a well-known Egyptian statue type: the beautiful Sakhmet (Fig. 1.10; Metropolitan Museum of Art, acquisition no. 15.8.3). This statue is one of literally hundreds of such dark granodiorite sculptures that were dedicated to Sakhmet, the mighty goddess of war and pestilence, by King Amenhotep III in his mortuary temple at western Thebes (Hayes 1959, 238, fig. 143). All of these statues have a common form: the goddess’s body is that of a mature, rather broad-hipped female who sits on a throne holding a sign of life in one of her hands while wearing the tripartite wig, the usual

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Figure 1.9. Emblem showing the cosmic snake urobos surrounding “reality.” The rabbit reads wen, “to be.” Drawing after Hornung 1992, 52.

Figure 1.10. Head of a granodiorite statue of the goddess Sakhmet, Eighteenth Dynasty, reign of King Amenhotep III, ca. 1390–1352 b.c.e. Photo B. Schwarz; image © The Metropolitan Museum of Art.

head covering of female deities, over her head and shoulders. As the daughter of the sun god Re, she is crowned by a solar disk to which a uraeus cobra is attached in front. The head is that of a lioness, shaped with all the features characteristic of the animal in nature. Strongly emphasized cheekbones define the greatest width of the face at the height of the eyes. Below them, the cheeks are strikingly hollow, hinting at the presence of long and powerful jaws that enable lions and lionesses to open their mouths especially wide for the decisive bite into the back or flank of their prey. The large nose broadens expressively at the tip, and the chin sags under the thin-lipped, double-bow-shaped mouth. The eyes, hooded by fleshy lids, look slightly downward with an uncompromising watchfulness that is well known to anybody who has observed the animal in a zoo or in the wild. In short: the sculptors of these hundreds of statues took the greatest care to endow each deity’s head with the typical features of the real animal while transferring properties of fur and flesh into sculptural elements. That is not to say, of course, that each sculptor, or even each supervisor of a sculptors’ workshop, went into the wild to sketch lions from nature. The basic features of the animal had been observed and depicted for thousands of years by the time Amenhotep III commissioned the Sakhmet statues. What is important is that the essential components of the image, however much due at this point to a tradition taught to young sculptors through the generations, were still understood as congruent with the real and reinforced, most probably again and again, by renewed observation. Evidence for this understanding is provided by the astonishing degree to which the features of the Sakhmet statues are still recognizable as the ones of real lions and lionesses; the opportunity to check the longheld artistic tradition was amply provided at the time the Sakhmets were created by the king’s extensive hunting feats (Hayes 1959, 232). It is all the more striking that the superbly rendered animal features in Sakhmet’s head are surrounded by and combined with other forms of (at least partly) conceptual character. Female lions, for instance, have furry ruffs around their faces that are somewhat reminiscent of the mane around the face of the male lion, but differ from it by not covering the gap between the ears. The ruff around the face of Sakhmet, however, has been transformed

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into a star-shaped collar. Similarly, the animal’s whiskers are shaped in the sculptures as a palmettelike decorative feature, and the tufts of hair inside the ears, although following beautifully the undulations of the flesh, are rendered as decoratively distributed thin lines. Also intriguing are the claw-shaped, raised areas below the eyes of the Sakhmet statue (Fig. 1.10). The eyes of living lions and lionesses are visually elongated at both the inner and outer corner by dark-colored markings that make the eyes look larger than they are and add to their menacing character. Based on the markings that run from the inner corner of the living animal’s eye toward the nose, the sculptors have created sculpturally circumscribed areas shaped like a half crescent. Since the eyes of the statues are more horizontally

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positioned than the slanted feline eyes of the living animal, possibly to make them look more human, the half crescent-shaped features in the sculptures have become attached to the lower eyelids, and their direction is almost vertical. The sharply pointed ends of these features, however, contribute markedly to the piercing quality of the deity’s glance. In short, the impressively sculpted head of the goddess Sakhmet (Fig. 1.10) is another example of the Egyptian artists’ close familiarity with nature and their ability to integrate the knowledge derived from that familiarity into a more than just realistic whole. Do you still wonder why people love Egyptian art? Don’t we all look for the fullness of life under an umbrella of something that is not “just real”?

References Arnold, D. 1999. “King Khufu’s Cattle,” in Egyptian Art in the Age of the Pyramids, D. Arnold and C. Ziegler, eds., New York, pp. 222–223. Baines, J. 2007. Visual & Written Culture in Ancient Egypt, Oxford. Boardman, J. 2006. The World of Ancient Art, London. Bruce, V., P.R. Green, and M.A. Georgeson. 2004. Visual Perception: Physiology, Psychology and Ecology, 4th ed., New York. Brunner-Traut, E. 1986. “Epilogue: Aspective,” in Principles of Egyptian Art, H. Schäfer and E. BrunnerTraut, eds., Oxford, pp. 421–446. Bryan, B. 2001. “Painting Techniques and Artisan Organization in the Tomb of Suemniwet, Theban Tomb 92,” in Colour and Painting in Ancient Egypt, W.V. Davies, ed., London, pp. 63–72. Davies, N. de. G. The Tomb of Nakht, New York.

à l’ancien empire (Bibliothèque d’étude 120), N. Grimal, ed., Cairo, pp. 209–225. Fischer, H.G. 1965. “Anatomy in Egyptian Art,” Apollo: The Magazine of the Arts 82, pp. 169–175. Goedicke, H. 1971. Re-used Blocks from the Pyramid of Amenemhet I at Lisht (Publications of The Metro­ politan Museum of Art Egyptian Expedition 20), New York. Gombrich, E.H. 2006. The Story of Art, 16th ed., New York. Hayes, W.C. 1959. The Scepter of Egypt: A Background for the Study of the Egyptian Antiquities in the Metropolitan Museum of Art. II: The Hyksos Period and the New Kingdom (1675–1080 b.c.), New York. Hornung, E. 1971. Das Grab des Haremhab im Tal der Könige, Bern. . 1992. Idea into Image: Essays on Ancient Egyptian Thought, New York.

Davies, S. 2007. “Bronzes from the Sacred Animal Necropolis at North Saqqara,” in Gifts for the Gods, Images from Egyptian Temples, M. Hill, ed., New York, pp. 174–187.

Jansen-Winkeln, K. 2000. “Zum Verständnis der ‘Saitischen Formel,’” Studien zur Altägyptischen Kultur 28, pp. 83–124.

Delange, E. 2000. “Der Künstler spricht: Die Stele des Irtisen,” in Ägypten 2000 v. Chr. Die Geburt des Individuums, D. Wildung, ed., Munich, pp. 60–63.

Lee, L., and S. Quirke. 2000. “Painting Materials,” in Ancient Egyptian Materials and Technologies, P.T. Nicholsen and I. Shaw, eds., Cambridge, pp. 104–120.

Eaton-Krauss, M. 1998. “Non-Royal Precanonical Statuary,” in Les critères de datation stylistiques

MacDonald, S., and M. Rice. 2003. Consuming Ancient Egypt, London.

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Meskell, L. 2004. Object Worlds in Ancient Egypt: Material Biographies Past and Present, New York. Robins, G. 1994. Proportion and Style in Ancient Egyptian Art, Austin. . 2001. “The Use of the Squared Grid as a Technical Aid for Artists in Eighteenth Dynasty Painted Theban Tombs,” in Colour and Painting in Ancient Egypt, W.V. Davies, ed., London, pp. 60–62.

. 1978. A History of Egyptian Sculpture and Painting in the Old Kingdom, reprint, New York. Tiradritti, F. 2007. Ägyptische Wandmalerei, Munich. Vasunia, P. 2001. The Gift of the Nile: Hellenizing Egypt from Aeschylus to Alexander, Berkeley. Wells, P.S. 2008. Image and Response in Early Europe, London.

Schäfer, H. 1986. Principles of Egyptian Art, E. BrunnerTraut, ed., trans. J. Baines, Oxford.

Wildung, D. 1972. “Two Representations of Gods from the Early Old Kingdom,” Miscellanea Wilbouriana 1, pp. 145–160.

Shedid, A.G. 1988. Stil der Grabmalereien in der Zeit Amenophis’ II: Untersucht an den thebanischen Gräbern Nr. 104 und Nr. 80 (Deutsches Archäologisches Institut Abteilung Kairo 66), Mainz am Rhein.

. 2006. “Die Thematisierung des Raumes: Zur Struktur der altägyptischen Skulptur,” in Mensch und Raum von der Antike bis zur Gegenwart (Colloquium Rauricum 9), A. Loprieno, ed., Munich, pp. 169–174.

Shedid, A.G., and M. Seidel. 1996. The Tomb of Nakht: The Art and History of an Eighteenth Dynasty Official’s Tomb at Western Thebes, Mainz.

Ziegler, C. 1999. “Male Deity,” in Egyptian Art in the Age of the Pyramids, D. Arnold and C. Ziegler, eds., New York, pp. 178–179.

Smith, W.S. 1946. A History of Egyptian Sculpture and Painting in the Old Kingdom, London.

CHAPTER

2 The Belvedere Apollo: On the Perception of an Ancient Work of Art after Antiquity Annalis Leibundgut

Since we have often discussed the problem of the perception of ancient works of art, dear Guenter, I am encouraged to take an extraordinarily famous “eidolon” of antiquity as a starting point for presenting some theoretic considerations in this field: the Belvedere Apollo (Fig. 2.1), on whom much of my work has focused (Leibundgut 2006; forthcoming).* The statue is particularly well suited for illuminating the problem since, from its discovery in the late 15th century (Magister 2002) to our day, it has caught the interest of both scholars and the general public, with alternating intensity. Whereas earlier archaeological research from the 19th century onward dealt mainly with problems of Kopienkritik and their likely Greek prototypes (Himmelmann 1998), the recent research of E. Gazda and her American followers (Gazda, ed., 2002) on Roman aemulatio attempts to understand

these works from the point of view of Roman artists (Perry 2005, 1–6). In the case of the Belvedere Apollo, the problems are enhanced by the fact that no copies of the statue are known, making any attempt at Kopienkritik futile. The Munich head, a terracotta from Kayseri, and a bronze head from Sirmium—all recently claimed as ancient copies (Fuchs 2004)—have persuasively been shown by Himmelmann to be post-antique in date (Himmelmann 2005). Links between representations of Apollo in Hellenistic friezes from Pergamon and Lagina (Fuchs 2004, 145 nn. 106–109) and in the Roman Agora Gate at Aphrodisias (Linant de Bellefonds 1996, 179, fig. 5;

*I am grateful to Olaf Höckmann for providing an English translation of my German text.

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Figure 2.1. Apollo Belvedere, plaster of the bronze copy by Giacomo Zoffoli, about 1770 c. e. Kulturstiftung Dessau-Wörlitz. Photo T.M. Weber.

Fuchs 2004, 145 n. 110) and the Belvedere Apollo demand fresh critical analysis, since typological correspondences between the Late Hellenistic reliefs of the god and the Belvedere Apollo are too arbitrary to be conclusive. The Steinhäuser head in Basel (Kammerer-Grothaus 2004, 52–55) has been modified too much by later retouching to be accepted as a true replica of the Belvedere Apollo (Himmelmann 1998, 215–217, figs. 10–13).

With regard to the perception of the Belvedere Apollo from a present perspective, even a scholar who has devoted much of his lifetime to studying that statue and now could see the original on a daily basis would likely respond to its individual, sensual qualities differently each time. In other words, the spontaneous aesthetic impression created by that masterpiece is bound to collide with all that the viewer has in his or her mind about earlier literary

THE BELVEDERE APOLLO: ON THE PERCEPTION ON AN ANCIENT WORK OF ART AFTER ANTIQUITY

sources, about his or her proficiency in the history of art, and earlier perceptions of the Belvedere Apollo since its discovery. Our perception and appreciation of an ancient work of art cannot be immediate and spontaneous anymore, but is inseparably entangled in our knowledge of its effect on educated men of the past. Their reflections on and understanding of art were naturally embedded in the habits of their time, and thus they were subjected to the political, sociological, and intellectual conditions then valid. The Belvedere Apollo illustrates this aspect particularly well since the documentation of its effect on the viewer now goes back for six centuries starting as early as the late 15th century c.e. (Magister 2002). Its impact is not confined to written interpretations but can also be traced in the sculptural and pictorial art of past centuries (Roettgen 1998; Winner 1998; Leibundgut, forthcoming). In Greek sculpture, only the Laoköon group seems to have had an impact parallel to that of the Belvedere Apollo (Settis 1999). Unlike the Laoköon, however, the fascination with the Apollo has changed over time, although the statue’s fame has never paled. Indeed, negative judgments of it can be found as early as the early 16th century, whereas positive ones prevail to this day (Leibundgut, forthcoming). It is well known that J.J. Winckelmann’s description of the Apollo started a boundless worldwide euphoric craze as did almost no other work of ancient art (Winckelmann [1764] 2002). When I, at the outset of my consideration, apostrophized the statue as the most famous “eidolon” of antiquity, the term was meant to express the effusive admiration of

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an “idol” in the modern sense. In Winckelmann’s words, the Belvedere Apollo personified “the highest ideal of art” (Winckelmann [1764] 2002). To Winckelmann, that was a dogma, and few contemporaries undertook to question it. This sentimental admiration, in the spirit of a naively emotional dedication to German idealism, can be traced down as far as the middle of the past century when the archaeologist and neoidealist L. Curtius stated that he “never would separate himself from the Belvedere Apollo . . . I remain faithful to him” (Curtius 1947, 364). The quest for the backgrounds of the differing aesthetic judgments has to be seen in relation to their ideological premises. To summarize: an ancient work of art does not in and of itself determine the emergence of interpretations. On the contrary, the viewer interprets it subject to the trends of his time, his social and educational horizon—subjective conditions on the one hand, and his knowledge of earlier interactions between its effect and its reception on the other. This methodological approach goes back to the study of literature concerned with Rezeptionsästhetik and Wirkungsästhetik (Jauß 1982, 1992) and has been applied for some time to the history of art (Kemp, ed., 1992; Kemp 1996). In classical archaeology, the problem of the reception of ancient works of art has been considered for many years, but it never has been approached under the aspect of a systematic theory, or the “aesthetic of reception.” I need not tell you, Guenter, that this is just a superficial survey of one special aspect of archaeology. A more thorough one would call for conditions beyond those of a Festschrift.

References Curtius, L. 1947. “Begegnung beim Apollo von Belvedere,” Merkur: Deutsche Zeitschrift für europäisches Denken 3 (1), pp. 363–379. Fuchs, M. 2004. “‘Nach allem, was schon über diesen Apoll gesagt worden . . .’: Ist der Typus Belvedere für die griechische Kunst noch zu retten?” Bollettino della Commissione Archeologica Comunale di Roma 95, pp. 123–148.

Gazda, E.K., ed. 2002. The Ancient Art of Emulation: Studies in Artistic Originality and Tradition from the Present to Classical Antiquity (MAAR Suppl. 1), Ann Arbor. Himmelmann, N. 1998. “Apoll vom Belvedere,” in Winner, Andreae, and Pietrangeli, eds., 1998, pp. 211–225.

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. 2005. “Apollon von München,” Bollettino della Commissione Archeologica Comunale di Roma 96, pp. 161–166. Jauß, H.R. 1982. Ästhetische Erfahrung und literarische Hermeneutik, Frankfurt. . 1992. Literaturgeschichte als Provokation, Frankfurt. Kammerer-Grothaus, H. 2004. Carl Johann Steinhäu­ser, 1813–1879: Ein Bildhauer aus Bremen, Berlin. Kemp, W. 1996. “Kunstwerk und Betrachter: Der rezeptionsästhetische Ansatz,” in Kunstgeschichte: Eine Einführung, H. Belting, H. Dilly, W. Kemp, W. Sauerländer, and M. Warnke, eds., Berlin, pp. 241–258. Kemp, W., ed. 1992. Der Betrachter ist im Bild: Kunstwissenschaft und Rezeptionsästhetik, Berlin. Leibundgut, A. 2006. “Neuplatonische Elemente und deren Ironisierung in einem unbekannten Loblied von 1539 zum Apoll im Belvedere,” Pegasus: Berliner Beiträge zum Nachleben der Antike 8, pp. 117–167. . Forthcoming. “Der Apoll vom Belvedere: Zur ‘intellektuellen Biographie’ einer antiken Statue,” in Stendaler Winckelmann-Forschungen, M. Kunze, ed. Linant de Bellefonds, P. 1996. “The Mythological Reliefs from the Agora Gate,” in Aphrodisias Papers (JRA

Suppl. 20), C. Roueché and R.R.R. Smith, eds., pp. 174–186. Magister, S. 2002. “Arte e politica: La collezione di antichità del Cardinale Giuliano della Rovere nei Palazzi ai Santi Apostoli,” Atti della Accademia Nazionale dei Lincei, Memorie 399, pp. 536–544. Perry, E. 2005. The Aesthetics of Emulation in the Visual Arts of Ancient Rome, Cambridge. Roettgen, S. 1998. “Begegnungen mit Apollo: Zur Rezeptionsgeschichte des Apollo vom Belvedere im 18. Jahrhundert,” in Winner, Andreae, and Pietrangeli, eds., 1998, pp. 253–274. Settis, S. 1999. Laocoonte: Fama e stile, Rome. Winckelmann, J.J. [1764] 2002. Geschichte der Kunst des Alterthums, vol. 4.1, A.H. Borbein, T.W. Gaethgens, J. Irmscher, and M. Kunze, eds., Mainz, p. 780. Winner, M. 1998. “Paragone mit dem Belvederischen Apoll: Kleine Wirkungsgeschichte der Statue von Antico bis Canova,” in Winner, Andreae, and Pietrangeli, eds., 1998, pp. 227–252. Winner, M., B. Andreae, and C. Pietrangeli, eds. 1998. Il Cortile delle Statue. Akten des internationalen Kongresses zu Ehren von Richard Krautheimer, Rom 21.–23. Oktober 1992, Mainz.

CHAPTER

3 “Silence et fureur”: The Pythia in Berlin and in the Paris Opéra Michael Maaß

“Silence et fureur” (“Silence and Fury”) was the title of a 1996 exhibition held in Avignon that explored the conflicting forces in the lives of Greek women from antiquity and in the folklore of more recent times (Cavalier, ed., 1996). The antagonism between those extreme states, whose origins were surely rooted in the social and cultural position of women, was often expressed effectively in artistic representations (Reeder, ed., 1995; Tzedakis, ed., 1995). These profoundly conflicting conditions are well illustrated by comparing the depiction of a quiet Pythia on the interior of an Athenian drinking cup (kylix) of about 440 b.c.e. (Fig. 3.1; Furtwängler and Reinhhold 1904–1910, pl. 140; Beazley 1963, 1269.5; Maaß 1997, 4–5, 238 n. 24, fig. 2) with that of a raging Pythia in a bronze statue of 1869 by the sculptress Adèle d’Affry, Comtesse CastiglioneColonna (pseudonym “Marcello”), which is

displayed on the grand staircase of the Opéra in Paris. A smaller replica of the statue, made according to the last will of the artist and now in Fribourg at the Musée d’Art et d’Histoire (inv. MAHF 2006– 111), is illustrated here (Fig. 3.2; Holsten 2007, 47– 49, 256–258, no. 127). Which of these two images best fits the evidence? On the cup we see a dignified man crowned with a wreath and a woman sitting atop a tripod (Fig. 3.1). Her association with the tripod clearly indicates that the woman, who appears solemn and absorbed in thought, is the Pythia; thus the locale is Delphi. Furthermore, the names of the figures are inscribed: the male is Aegeus, and the female is Themis. The image must therefore refer to a specific mythological episode rather than to a generic cult scene. The story to which the images allude tells how Aegeus, king of Athens, came to the oracle asking for the birth of a son. The Pythia uttered

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Figure 3.1. Interior of an Attic drinking cup found in Vulci (Etruria). Athens, ca. 440 b.c.e., so-called Kodros painter. Berlin, Antikensammlung, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin F 2538. Courtesy Antikensammlung, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin. Photo I. Geske.

an ambiguous and rather indecent warning (Eur. Med. 666; Apollodorus 3.15.6) that the king should not open the tip of his wine skin before reaching home, an obvious sexual pun, which was clarified by subsequent events. The myth relates that Aegeus’s friend and host Pittheus made him drunk as a part of his scheme to produce a grandchild by Aegeus and Pittheus’s daughter Aethra. To us this ambiguity seems rather cabaret-like, more than religious or devotional. Since the Pythia on the cup is named Themis, the Goddess of Right, she might be understood in this scene as a divine, archetypal Pythia. Indeed, mythological traditions indicate that Themis was the mistress of the Delphic oracle before Apollo (Luc. Bellum civile 5.81). J.J. Winckelmann’s characterization of classical Greek art as “nobly simple, quietly grand” seems apt for the spirit of this image, which seems to encapsulate the aesthetics and ethics of the Periclean age (Winckelmann 1755, 24, quoted by Büchmann 1972, 162). In contrast to the Pythia of the drinking cup, the statue of the Pythia in the Paris Opéra lacks any semblance of ritual dignity. She sits on the tripod with her legs crossed, her head twisted sharply

Figure 3.2. “Pythia,” replica of the bronze statue in the Paris Opéra, 1869/1870, by Marcello. Signature on the pedestal: “Marcello / Rome 1870.” © Fribourg, Musée d’Art et d’Histoire MAHF 2006–111.

to her left (in opposition to the turn of her body), her arm outstretched, and her fingers curved like claws as if to foretell some impending doom. Her intense facial expression and snaky Medusalike locks seem to conflict with the allure of her garment, which exposes her arms, shoulder, breasts, and left leg. This Pythia’s tripod bears no resemblance to the classical Greek one, consisting of a tapering stand marked by deep flutes and ridges. Its upper end is concealed by her garment. The stand is surrounded by an arabesque of large reptiles, whose repetition forms both a decorative motif and a reminder of the dragon Python,

“SILENCE ET FUREUR”: THE PYTHIA IN BERLIN AND IN THE PARIS OPÉRA

who guarded Delphi until Apollo killed it, thereby gaining control of the sanctuary (Pierre 2003). The movement suggested by her pose recalls that of the Cumaean Sibyl on the Sistine Chapel (Fig. 3.3), while her intense expression of ecstasy seems to derive from High Renaissance art. The theme of the statue, however, may have been inspired by a romantic orientalism, popular in 19th-century Europe, as well as by the symbolist movement. D’Affry and Henri Regnault, with whom d’Affry worked (Pierre 2003), expressed their fascination with the character of the femme fatale through images of women like Salome and Herodias in the story of St. John the Baptist, or the “favorite slave” of oriental tales, or Wallada bint al-Mustakfi, princess of Córdoba, the “Poétesse de Cordoba,” who died ca. 1091 c.e. (cf. Walter 2004, 61–63). D’Affry had already taken up the subject of Salome. At first, the artist did not associate the statue in the Paris Opéra specifically with the Pythia, and she actually named her “The Sibyl” (Pierre 2003). This interpretation distances the subject from the erotic motifs of the Salome story and, rather, links it to notions of existentialism and fate. The Sibyls of antiquity were regarded as prophetesses of ill, like Homer’s Cassandra, though in later Christian tradition they evolved into prophetesses of salvation (Parke 1988). Yet another name derived from Pythia, but with a less sublime, indeed quite debased meaning, was attributed to the statue: pythonissa (Fontaine 2004, 20). In the Old Testament (Vulgata 1979, 585: 1 par. 10:13) this term connotes a soothsayer or sorceress (cf. Georges 2010, II, 2110, s.v. pythonissa; Goethe, Faust, “Der Tragödie zweiter Teil”, act 3, v. 9135). Critics of the statue chose this interpretation (see below, the remark of Ménard 1870, 64). By using the pseudonym “Marcello,” Adèle d’Affry successfully concealed from the public that she had used her own body for molding parts of the figure (Pierre 2003; Holsten 2007, 47–49, 256–258, no. 127). This explains why the nudity looks more natural and individualized than idealized. The work has a rather personal, confessional appeal (cf. Fontaine 2004, 20, and ills. on pp. 18, 19, 22). It was protected from public criticism stemming from its female authorship and subject matter by use of the male pseudonym and an appreciation of the statue by the architect of the

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Opéra, Charles Garnier, as “une oeuvre virile, robuste et loin d’être indifférente” (“a masculine work, powerful and far from being unimportant”) (Garnier [1878–1881] 2001, 296). Important to the history of its interpretation is the fact that the statue was not conceived originally for the Paris Opéra, but for the exhibition of the Salon of 1870. D’Affry offered it as a substitute for a marble statue of Orpheus, whose completion was delayed. The reaction of critics and the public was divided between appreciation and rejection. The critic René Ménard wrote, “La grande dame qui signe ses ouvrages du nom de Marcello a fait, cette année, une tentative plus audacieuse que réussie. Sa Pythie ressemble bien plus à une sorcière du moyen âge qu’à la prêtresse inspirée d’Apollon” (“The great lady who signs her works under the name Marcello has made an effort this year that is more presumptuous than it is successful. The figure resembles more a medieval sorceress than a priestess inspired by Apollo”; Ménard 1870, 64). Significantly, the statue is absent from

Figure 3.3. Detail of the Cumaean Sibyl from the Sistine Chapel ceiling fresco by Michelangelo Buonarotti. Vatican, 1508–1510 c.e. From Avenarius, ed., 1911–1912, unnumbered plate.

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otherwise detailed guidebooks, such as the French guidebook by Baedeker (1924, 73). The classically ideal interpretation of the Pythia seen on the cup in Berlin stands in contrast to the personal, romantic, and symbolic approach of the statue in the Paris Opéra. Our perception of the statue is also affected by its location at the bottom of the great staircase (Fontaine 2004, ill. on p. 22). She stands in a niche underneath the first, central flight of stairs, which then splits in two directions. Does its narrow space and practically underground location carry dark and demonic connotations in contrast to the wide open, brightly illuminated space that opens above it, where music and art are united? One could think about the inevitable contrast between the Dionysian and Apollonian—but maybe these speculations are leading in too vague and general a direction. What do the various traditions reveal to us about these opposing interpretations of the Pythia? Poets and historians emphasize two different directions: standard cult practices and specific dramatic events in myth and history. The Berlin cup emphasizes the ethos and reputation of the Delphic cult, whereas the statue of the Pythia in the Paris Opéra refers to her reactions to extreme situations of history. This conception is echoed by Paul Valéry in his poem “La Pythie” (Valéry 1957, 130–136) with distinct allusions to the statue in the Opéra (Pythie reflects on “Mon cher corps” and “mon épaule”). The modern perception of the Pythia derives from Lucan’s tale about the disastrous force that was used against the Pythia in the Civil War in order to extract an oracle from her (Luc. Bellum civile 5.161–174; Amandry 1950, 19–24). Lucan, in describing the psychosomatic symptoms of her state of prophetic ecstasy, follows Virgil’s famous description of the Cumaean Sibyl in the sixth book of the Aeneid (6.42–51), to whom he specifically refers: rolling eyes, convulsive mimicry, changing facial complexion, disheveled hair. Even in the Eneit of Heinrich Veldeke (6.85.2–5) we read: “grôz und grâ was ir daz hâr / und harde verworren / daz wir wol sprechen torren / als eines pharîdes mane” (“her hair was long and gray / and in great disorder / so we could say / like the mane of a horse”), a trait also emphasized by the medieval illustrator of the Berlin manuscript (Courcelle and Courcelle 1985, figs. 58–66). Her panting and palpitations are symptomatic of her reluctant and

unenthusiastic participation as a conduit of divine omniscience. A modern interpretation comments “although traditionally the Sybil was a virgin, the passages concerning her in Virgil’s text are extremely sexual” (Pierre 2003). Indeed, Virgil twice names her longaeva sacerdos in the Aeneid (“very old priestess,” 6.321 and 6.628). The longaevitas (“long life”) is also characteristic of other Sibyls, though it has a special meaning in connection with the Cumaean Sibyl. According to a myth told by Lactantius, one of the Fathers of the Church, she sold her books of prophecies to the Roman king Tarquinius Priscus (Lactant. Div. inst. 1.6). The question, whether she was young when she met Aeneas and whether the attribute longaeva refers to her long life until the age of Tarquinius is too subtle. Does longaeva mean “grown old” (i.e., now) or “growing old” (i.e., later)? Computations and deductions of this kind are hardly compelling; moreover, there are two distinct traditions concerning Cumaean Sibyls, which only complicate such an argument (Clemens 1851, I, 44.). One should not argue without distinguishing the mythical and historical aspects of chronology. Virgil, in his tale of the sixth book also calls the Sybil horrenda (Aen. 6.10). Normally meaning “dreadful,” it is probably an allusion to her appearance of decay, although the ancient commentary of Servius explains this word as veneranda, or “reverend.” Servius, in his commentary on the Aeneid 6.321 (Thilo and Hagen 1884, 55) somewhat oddly contradicts the intentions of Virgil. He reports a myth according to which Apollo granted the Sibyl the fulfilment of a wish. She grasped sand with her hands and asked for a long life—as innumerable in years as the grains of sand she held, an allusion to the god’s omniscience, who knew the number of grains of sand at the shore of the sea (Pind. Pyth 9.44–49; Hdt. 1.47.1). This is a favorite motif in baroque painting (Pigler 1974, 38). She was granted those years, but her body wasted away so that in the end nothing was left but her voice. Redemption was brought by a letter, sealed with clay from her place of birth, since separation from her birthplace was the prerequisite for the fulfilment of her wish. This comment throws a bad light on the Sibyls and is hardly consistent with the underlying verses of Virgil. It is clearly a parallel to the story of Tithonus and Eos. The goddess of dawn (Eos or Aurora) had asked Zeus to grant Tithonus eternal life, a favor

“SILENCE ET FUREUR”: THE PYTHIA IN BERLIN AND IN THE PARIS OPÉRA

that Zeus granted maliciously, because she had failed to ask also for eternal youth (Hymn. Hom. Ven. 220–238). These stories reveal the boundaries that must not be transgressed by insolent mortals in their hubristic quests to equal the gods. Late Gothic and Renaissance artists at first emphasized very different characteristics of the Cumaean Sibyl. They represented her in the bloom of youth, as an idealized or elegant, fashionable figure, as she is illustrated in manuscripts of the Aeneid (Fig. 3.4; Courcelle and Courcelle 1985, figs. 58–66) or in woodcuts of early printed books (e.g., the Strassburg Aeneis of 1502; see Lemmer, ed., 1984, 144–177; Suerbaum 2008, 51–55, with DVD 1\VP 1502 Suerbaum BSB Res. 2 A.lat.a. 292 nur Bilder JPG\Pict.112–125). Some outstanding images can be seen in the choir stall of the Ulm cathedral, which date to 1469–1474 (Gropp 1999, 96–99, figs. 73–76), and the wall paintings in the Allegiance Hall of the Goslar Town Hall that date ca. 1506. Carl Wolff (1901, 275) describes her as: “sehr jugendlich, mit reichem Gewande aus weissem Seidenstoffe mit eingewirkten Blumen, dazu mit weisser Haube auf losem Haare” (“very youthful, with a rich garment of white silk, a white cap and flowers woven into her loose hair”). The Italian Renaissance artists preferred representations of idealistic and youthful Sibyls who wear antique-style high-girdled gowns, as did Andrea del Castagno on the frescos in the Villa Carducci at Legnaia, ca. 1450 (Hansmann 1993, 103, 278, fig. 5; for valuable information and discussion, see now Augustyn 2005). Another famous representation is Raphael’s Sibyl in Santa Maria della Pace (Fischel 1962, 133–136, pl. 198). But artists were also aware of her attribute “longaeva.” The Sibyl in the last judgment, painted by Luca Signorelli, is slender, but the wrinkles of her face show that she is far beyond the flourishing years of youth (Testa 1996, 129). Her facial expression of prophesized horror, however, leaves uncertain whether this is the Erythrean or Cumaean Sibyl (August. De civ. D. 18.23). Giovanni di Stefano depicted the latter in 1481 on his marble mosaic floor in the cathedral at Siena also as quite haggard (Santi 1982, 19, fig. 4). The statue in the Cappella della Madonna dell’Acqua of the Tempio Malatestiano at Rimini, which dates to ca. 1454, exaggerates her emaciated physiognomy to the level of caricature (Pasini 2000, 185, unnumbered fig.). Michelangelo,

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however, made her into a powerful old woman “with heroic arm muscles” in his 1508/1510 masterpiece in the Sistine Chapel (Fig. 3.3; Pfeiffer 1995, 104). This representation gives her dignity and the rank of a goddess of destiny, elevated beyond the horrors she foretold. To the reader or listener of Virgil’s verses, the attribute longaeva does not evoke an image of virginlike beauty and innocence as the youthful Renaissance Sibyls suggest, but rather alludes to a grand age. And while the superhuman measure of age endows her with mythical timelessness, she does not actually prophesize, but, acting as a mystagoge, a priestess of initiation (Quiter 1984, 52– 53), she leads Aeneas to his father, Anchises, in the “abode of the blessed,” which is described with clear allusion to Pindar’s Threnos 7. Aeneas experiences a grand vision of the past, of the Trojan War, and of the future, including the civil wars of Rome and their resolution by Augustus. Thus questions

Figure 3.4. Aeneas and the Sibyl meet Anchises, illustrated manuscript “Eneit” by Heinrich von Veldeke, Alsatia, 1418/1419. Heidelberg, Universitätsbibliothek, Cod. Pal. germ. 403, fol. 77v.

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MICHAEL MAAß

Figure 3.5. “Priestess of Delphi,” oil on canvas, London, 1891, by John Collier. Adelaide, Art Gallery of South Australia O. 108.

about the age of the Sybil might be left open. Her youthful aspects in combination with sexual metaphors hardly play any role. The tradition that some of the Sibyls were daughters of Apollo (Hederich [1770] 1967) would also contradict a relationship between prophecy and sexuality. The metaphors describing the symptoms of the divine inspiration lead to an entirely different characterization. We find the words freni (bridles) and

stimulus (goad), instruments by which animals are driven and instigated (Verg. Aen. 6.176–177). The image of prophetic seizures, described as suffering reluctantly in the Old Testament (cf. the story of Jonah [Jon. 1:1–3]; also Ezek. 3:15) has many traits in common with mysticism, but differs from it in the context of compulsion. Prophecy, however, is not always viewed as a threatening burden. Plato lets Eros convey prayers and sacrifices from men to gods, and directives and prophecies from gods to men (Pl. Symp. 202e). Mystic visions, cognition, and unification with the divine as experienced by Plato, Jalâl-ed-Dîn Rûmî, or Mechthild of Magdeburg belong to the realm of spiritual, not sexual love. The sexual allusions to the Pythia described as the bodily absorption of vapors from the rock belong to Christian polemicists in order to discredit the prophesying aspects of the old religion (Amandry 1950, 21). The combination of the dread in which the prophetess was held and the view of her as a femme fatale exceed the ancient conceptions of the Pythia and the Sibyls. The snakes that coil through the hair curls on the statue in Paris is a motif borrowed from another ancient tradition, best known from the Medusa Rondanini (Buschor 1958; Vierneisel-Schlörb 1979, no. 7, 62–70, figs. 31–35). An ancient motif that resembles that of the modern femme fatale would be the seductive and deadly singing Sirens, whose spell was broken by the dextrous cunning of Odysseus. In 1891 the English painter John Collier (1850– 1934) offered another interpretation of the Pythia. In this painting (Fig. 3.5), now in the Art Gallery of South Australia, Adelaide (for general information about the artist, see Thieme and Becker, eds., 1912, 225; Bissell 1998), the motifs of the laurel branches and vapors rising out of the fissure in the earth correspond to the ancient tradition. Her veil, the bowl, and the branches also recall the imagery on the Berlin cup. No other details, however, allude to the setting; rather, the background is shrouded in a mysterious darkness. The priestess nearly faces the viewer, but turns slightly aside with her eyes covered by the dark shadow of her veil. The shadowing of her eyes evokes thoughts of the blind seers and poets of ancient traditions. Her rounded posture indicates that she is in the trance of a divine medium, while her raised head suggests a state of inspiration. Her bared left shoulder tinges

“SILENCE ET FUREUR”: THE PYTHIA IN BERLIN AND IN THE PARIS OPÉRA

her virginal beauty, however, with a slightly erotic appeal, creating in the painting a tension, or frisson, typical of Symbolist fin de siècle art. But let us return to the mood of the Berlin cup. Does the appearance of classical serenity and dignity conceal anything enigmatic? Philostratus (V A 6.10.4) highlighted the plain—one would even say stoic—ethos of the oracles. Plato characterized divine inspiration as a mania, not to be understood as a distressed state, but rather as an enthusiastic one (Pl. Phdr. 244a–244b). Pindar called the Pythia melissa Delphis (“Delphic bee”; Pind. Pyth 4.60). The ancient commentaries explain this expression as a reference to the beelike purity of the priestess, but we find a more convincing explanation in the Homeric Hymn to Hermes, where the bee nymphs of Mount Parnassus prophesize under the intoxicating influence of sweet honey (Hymn. Hom. Merc. 5.552–568). Yet there were also occasions when the Pythia lost her calm and serene demeanor. In the sixth and fifth centuries b.c.e., the Pythia played a role in fatal threats, tragic destinies, and decisions bearing on world history. The first oracle on the occasion of the Persian invasion (480 b.c.e.) is imbued with an utterly dramatic awe, appropriate to a Pythia who is in rapture (Hdt. 7.140; trans. De Sélincourt 1954): Why sit you, doomed ones? Fly to the world’s end, leaving Home and the heights of your city circles like a wheel. The head shall not remain in its place, nor the body,

27

Nor the feet beneath, not the hands, nor the parts between; But all is ruined, for the fire and the headlong God of war Speeding in a Syrian chariot shall bring you low. Many a tower shall he destroy, not yours alone, And give to pitiless fire many shrines of gods, Which even now stand sweating, with fear quivering, While over the roof-tops black blood runs streaming In prophecy of woe that needs must come. But rise, Haste from the sanctuary and bow your hearts to grief.

Neither the Berlin cup nor the Paris statue portrays the Pythia in a generalizing sense or with a universally applicable meaning. Both illustrate very special but rather opposite aspects, whose complexities are barely suitable for visualization in art. The classical serenity and dignity of the Berlin cup is an appropriate manner for the Goddess of Divine Right to assume in response to a question put to her in her role as the original Lady of the Oracle. Her dignity also reflects the interest in and respect for the cult that many poets and philosophers held. By contrast, in her ferocity, the Paris Pythia illustrates the archetypical motifs of untamed ecstasy and fatal awe. While this fureur has indeed played an important role in the traditions about the Pythia and her kindred Sibyls, it was not the exclusive or dominant one. Rather, with its fureur, the Paris Pythia of 1870 expresses the extravagant self-consciousness of its female artist.

Acknowledgments I want to express my gratitude to Dr. Holger Jacob-Friesen, Staatliche Kunsthalle Karlsruhe, for information about baroque and modern paintings; to Tilman Kossatz, Martin-von-WagnerMuseum Würzburg, for image research; to Tracey Dall, Art Gallery of South Australia, Adelaide,

for information on the painting by Collier; to Maria Effinger, Universitätsbibliothek Heidelberg, and Ursula Kästner, Antikensammlung, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, for helpful assistance; and last but not least to Robert Koehl, for nursing my English text.

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References Amandry, P. 1950. La mantique apollinienne à Delphes: Essai sur le fonctionnement de l’oracle, Paris. Augustyn, W. 2005. “Zur Bildüberlieferung der Sibyllen in Italien zwischen 1450 und 1550,” in Zukunftsvoraussagen in der Renaissance (Wolfenbüttler Abhandlungen zur Renaissance­ forschung 23), K. Bergdolt and W. Ludwig, eds., Wiesbaden, pp. 365–434. Avenarius, F., ed. 1911–1912. Michelangelo (Kunstwart 25 [6]), Munich, pp. 393–397. Baedeker, K. 1924. Paris et ses environs: Manuel du voyageur, 19th ed., Leipzig. Beazley, J.D. 1963. Attic Red-Figure Vase-Painters, 2nd ed., Oxford. Bissell, G. 1998. “Collier, John,” in Allgemeines Künstlerlexikon: Die bildenden Künstler aller Zeiten und Völker, vol. 20, G. Saur, ed., Munich, pp. 300–301. Büchmann, G. 1972. Geflügelte Worte, 16th ed., Berlin. Buschor, E. 1958. Medusa Rondanini, Stuttgart. Cavalier, O., ed. 1996. Silence et fureur: La femme et le mariage en Grèce. Les antiquitès grecques du Musée Calvet, Avignon. Clemens, R. 1851. Die sibyllinischen Orakel: Die Aussprüche und Weissagungen der alten Sibylle über die Vergangenheit, Gegenwart und Zukunft der Welt, 2 vols., Stuttgart. Courcelle, P., and J. Courcelle. 1985. Lecteurs païens et lecteurs chrétiens de l’Enéide 2: Les manuscrits illustrés de l’Eneide du Xe au XVe siècle, Paris. De Sélincourt. A., trans. 1954. The Histories, by Herodotus, Harmondsworth, Middlesex. Fischel, O. 1962. Raphael, Berlin. Fontaine, G. 2004. L’opéra de Charles Garnier: Archi­ tecture et décor intérieur, Paris. Furtwängler, A., and K. Reichhold. 1904–1910. Griechische Vasenmalerei, Serie 1–3, Munich.

Hansmann, M. 1993. Andrea del Castagnos Zyklus der “uomini famosi” und “donne famose”: Geschichtsverständnis und Tugendideal im florentinischen Frühhumanismus (Bonner Studien zur Kunstgeschichte 4), Munich. Hederich, B. [1770] 1967. Gründliches mythologisches Lexikon, new ed., Leipzig. Holsten, S. 2007. Elegant/expressiv: Von Houdon bis Rodin. Französische Plastik des 19. Jahrhunderts. Ausstellung in der Staatlichen Kunsthalle Karlsruhe vom 28. April 2007 bis 26. August 2007, Heidelberg. Lemmer, M., ed. 1984. Vergil, Aeneis, trans. by J. Götte, Leipzig. Maaß, M. 1997. Das antike Delphi: Orakel, Schätze und Monumente, Stuttgart. Ménard, R. 1870. “Le Salon de 1870: 2e et dernier article,” Gazette des beaux-arts, July 1870, pp. 38–71. Parke, H.W. 1988. Sibyls and Sibylline Prophecy in Classical Antiquity, London. Pasini, P.G. 2000. Il Tempio Malatestiano: Splendore cortese e classicismo umanistico, Milan. Pfeiffer, H.W. 1995. “Gemalte Theologie in der Sixtini­ schen Kapelle III: Die Sibyllen und Propheten,” Archivum historiae pontificiae 33, pp. 91–116. Pierre, C.Y. 2003. “‘A New Formula for High Art’: The Genesis and Reception of Marcello’s Pythia,” Nineteenth-Century Art Worldwide: A Journal of Nineteenth-Century Visual Culture 2.3 (http:// www.19thc-artworldwide.org/index.php/component/ content/article/73-autumn03article/271-qa-newformula-for-high-artq-the-genesis-and-reception-ofmarcellos-pythia). Pigler, A. 1974. Barockthemen: Eine Auswahl von Verzeichnissen zur Ikonographie des 17. und 18. Jahrhunderts, 2nd ed., Budapest. Quiter, R.J. 1984. Aeneas und die Sibylle: Die rituellen Motive im 6. Buch der Aeneis (Beiträge zur klassischen Philologie 162), Königstein.

Garnier, C. [1878–1881] 2001. Le nouvel Opéra, Paris.

Reeder, E.D., ed. 1995. Pandora: Women in Classical Greece, Baltimore.

Georges, K.E. 2010. Ausführliches lateinisch-deutsches Handwörterbuch, 2 vols., 8th ed., repr., Darmstadt.

Santi, B. 1982. Der Marmorboden des Doms von Siena, Florence.

Gropp, D. 1999. Das Ulmer Chorgestühl und Jörg Syrlin der Ältere: Untersuchungen zu Architektur und Bildwerk, Berlin.

Suerbaum, W. 2008. Handbuch der illustrierten Vergil– Ausgaben 1502–1840, Hildesheim.

“SILENCE ET FUREUR”: THE PYTHIA IN BERLIN AND IN THE PARIS OPÉRA

Testa, G. 1996. La Cappella Nova o di San Brizio nel Duomo di Orvieto, Milan. Thieme, U., and F. Becker, eds. 1912. Allgemeines Lexikon der bildenden Künstler von der Antike bis zur Gegenwart, vol. 7, Leipzig. Thilo, G., and H. Hagen. 1884. Servii Grammatici qui feruntur in Vergilii carmina commentarii, vol. 2, Hildesheim. Tzedakis, G., ed. 1995. Από τη Μήδεια στη Σαπφώ: Ανυπότακτες γυναίκες στην αρχαία Ελλάδα. Εθνικό Αρχαιολογικό Μουσείο, 20 Μαρτίου–10 Σεπτεμβρίου 1995, Athens. Valéry, P. 1957. Oeuvres I (Bibliothèque de la Pléiade 127), J. Hytier, ed., Paris.

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Vierneisel-Schlörb, B. 1979. Klassische Skulpturen des 5. und 4. Jh. v. Chr., Glyptothek München. Katalog der Skupturen 2, Munich. Vulgata 1979. Nova Vulgata Bibliorum Sacrorum editio, Vatican City. Walter, W. 2004. Kleine Geschichte der arabischen Literatur, Munich. Winckelmann, J.J. 1755. Gedancken über die Nachahmung der griechischen Werke in der Mahlerey und Bildhauer-Kunst, Friedrichstadt. Wolff, C. 1901. Die Kunstdenkmäler der Provinz Hannover 2/3. II: Regierungsbezirk Hildesheim. Parts 1 and 2: Stadt Goslar, Hannover.

PA R T I I

Aegean Bronze Age

CHAPTER

4 The Larnakes from the Hagios Charalambos Ossuary Philip P. Betancourt

A group of four larnakes from the Hagios Charalambos cave provides good evidence for the early history of mortuary practices in Crete.* The cavern was excavated in two campaigns. After it was discovered in 1976, it was investigated by C. Davaras from 1976 to 1983 (Davaras 1982, 1983, 1986). More recent excavations were conducted under the direction of Davaras and the author in 2002, with E. Stravopodi joining our team as codirector in 2003 (Betancourt 2005; Betancourt and Muhly 2006). The Hagios Charalambos cave is located on the western side of the Lasithi Plain in East-Central Crete. The plain is a polje that is ringed by lofty mountains, and, like all poljes, it has no outlet aboveground for the rain and snow that falls in large amounts in this high and rugged landscape. Like their predecessors during the Bronze Age, the more recent people of Lasithi have been

shepherds and farmers until modern times, raising a number of crops that grow well in the fertile soil of this well-watered land. Lasithi is well known archaeologically. Italian excavations in a sacred cave at Psychro began in the 1880s (Halbherr and Orsi 1888), followed by British excavations there beginning in the 1890s (Hogarth 1899–1900). An important burial cave at Trapeza and several other sites, including the Late Minoan (LM) IIIC town of Karphi just outside the plain, were investigated in the 1930s

*It is a pleasure to offer this article to my good friend and colleague Guenter Kopcke. His teaching and his scholarship have contributed immensely to our knowledge of the Bronze and Iron Ages. Abbreviations employed include the following: HCH = excavation field number; HNM = Hagios Nikolaos Museum.

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by a British team of archaeologists (Pendlebury, Pendlebury, and Money-Coutts 1935–1936, 1937– 1938; Bosanquet 1939–1940). The Psychro cave was included in the investigation of Cretan caverns by P. Faure (1964, 151–159). An intensive surface survey was conducted in Lasithi by V. Watrous (Watrous 1982, 1996, 2000, 2004; Blitzer 1982, 1990). The recent work in the Hagios Charalambos cave adds substantially to our knowledge of this inland region. The cavern once contained seven rooms, but the front two chambers are no longer preserved (Fig. 4.1). It was used as an ossuary, and human bones and associated artifacts were deposited there in Middle Minoan (MM) IIB. Grave goods included over 15,000 Minoan sherds and vases along with stone tools; seals and seal rings; objects of copper, bronze, gold, silver, and lead; stone vessels; female figurines; animal bones; jewelry of several types; examples of a musical instrument called the sistrum (Betancourt and Muhly

2006); and many other items. A number of artifacts suggest trade patterns with various places, including overseas (Betancourt 2005). The deposit included datable pottery from as early as the Final Neolithic (FN), but a majority of the artifacts were from Early Minoan (EM) III to MM II. Among the finds were four elliptical larnakes (Fig. 4.2). Both rectangular and elliptical ceramic containers were used to bury the dead in Minoan Crete. Some writers prefer to use the word larnax only for the rectangular boxes (e.g., Watrous 1991, 285 n. 2), while others use the term for both classes. This study follows those like Preston (2004, 178), who use the word larnax for both rectilinear and elliptical burial containers. The elliptical ones, often called bathtub larnakes, have been regarded as tubs for bathing, a theory that is reinforced by the depiction of fish and other marine animals painted inside some of the LM III examples, while the rectangular larnakes are regarded as clay imitations of wooden chests (Watrous 1991).

Figure 4.1. Plan of the ossuary at Hagios Charalambos. Drawing T. McDermott.

35

THE LARNAKES FROM THE HAGIOS CHARALAMBOS OSSUARY

1

2

3

4

Figure 4.2. Larnakes 1–4. Drawings D. Faulmann.

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PHILIP P. BETANCOURT

The Larnakes Four larnakes and a lid come from the cave (Fig. 4.2). They are made from a coarse red-firing clay paste containing small fragments of phyllite, which is the typical local fabric used for a large percentage of pottery in the region of Crete that includes Lasithi and the Pediada. The larnakes are all elliptical and relatively small, ranging from 81 to 91.4 cm in length and from 28.8 to 40.4 cm in height. They have flat bases, almost straight sides, and rounded or flattened rims. Number HNM 14,280 (4) has four small feet. Three of the four larnakes are pierced with tiny holes near their bases.

The lid is made of two separate pieces. It has a flat top, rounded corners, and an edge that fits down over the upper rim of the larnax. Its fabric, like that of the larnakes, is a red-firing clay containing fragments of phyllite. The edges of the two pieces that join together were smoothed before the lid was fired, indicating that the decision to divide it into two sections was made early in the manufacturing stage. (It did not break during the firing.)

Catalog 1 (HNM 14,279, HCH02-32), Fig. 4.2. Larnax, almost complete. H. 32; rim max. w. 31.4; rim max. L. 93; base max. w. 35.4; base max. L. 91.4 cm. Lasithi-Pediada Red Fabric Group, coarse (red near surface, 2.5YR 5/8, and core weak red, 2.5YR 5/2), with typical inclusions of phyllite and other stones. Bathtub larnax with flat base; elliptical base and rim; top of rim flattened; straight walls; two pairs of drain holes near one end, placed at the level of the floor, 2 cm above base. Comments: “Larnax 1” from Rooms 4, the 4/5 Entrance, 5, and the dump from the 1976–1983 seasons (units: Room 4, 1983 season; HCH02-Dump; HCH02-2/3Ent-Surface; HCH02-3-Surface); the larnax lid (here, cat. no. 5, HNM 6826+13,887) probably goes with this larnax; it fits well, and the clay color is similar. Date: EM III–MM II. 2 (HNM 14,278, HCH 6), Fig. 4.2. Larnax, almost complete. H. 40.4; rim max. w. 29.4; rim max. L. 85.6; base max. w. 32.4; base max. L. 81 cm. Lasithi-Pediada Red Fabric Group, coarse (red, 10R 5/6), with typical inclusions of phyllite and other stones. Bathtub larnax with flat base; elliptical shape; base with one rounded corner, two almost square corners, and the other corner not preserved; elliptical rim; top of rim flattened; straight walls; no drain holes. Comments: “Larnax 2” from Rooms 3, 4, the 4/5 Entrance, and the dump from the 1976–1983 seasons (units: Room 3, 1983 season; Room 4, 1983 season; HCH02-Dump; HCH02-­ 2-2; HCH02-2/3Ent-Surface; HCH02-3-5; HCH02-3-5Surface; HCH02-4-2). Date: EM III–MM II. 3 (HNM 14,281, HCH 50), Fig. 4.2. Larnax, almost complete. H. 33; rim max. w. 31.6; rim max. L. 90.4; base max. w. 34.8; base max. L. 88.4 cm. Lasithi-Pediada Red Fabric Group, coarse (light red to red, 2.5YR 5/6 to 6/6), with typical inclusions of phyllite and other stones.

Bathtub larnax with flat base; elliptical base and rim; top of rim slightly thickened, 2.2 cm thick, with top of rim flattened; straight walls; four pairs of drain holes at base, 3.6 to 4.2 cm apart at the level of the floor, 2 cm above the base; exterior covered with brown to dark reddishbrown slip. Comments: “Larnax 3” from Rooms 3, 4, the 4/5 Entrance, 5, 7, and the dump from the 1976–1983 seasons (units: Room 3, 1983 season; Room 4, 1983 season; HCH02-Dump; HCH02-1-Cleaning; HCH02-22; HCH02-2/3Ent-Surface; HCH02-3-3-Below Surface; HCH02-4-2; HCH02-5-Surface; HCH03-7-3). Date: EM III–MM II. 4 (HNM 14,280, HCH 10), Fig. 4.2. Larnax, almost complete. H. 28.8 (including feet); rim max. w. 26; rim max. L. 87; base max. w. 31.6; base max. L. 87 cm. Lasithi-Pediada Red Fabric Group, coarse (red near surface, 2.5YR 5/6, and core weak red, 2.5YR 5/2), with typical inclusions of phyllite and other stones. Bathtub larnax with flat base and small feet; elliptical base and rim; straight walls; slightly thickened rim, with top of rim rounded, 1.8 cm thick; four small feet 8.5 cm long x 3.8 cm wide; four pairs of drain holes above the feet, 1.5–3.4 cm apart, at the level of the floor, 2 cm above the base. Exterior covered with brown to reddish-brown slip. Comments: “Larnax 4” from Rooms 3, 4, the 4/5 Entrance, 5, and 7 (units: Room 3, 1983 season; Room 4, 1983 season; HCH02-1-1; HCH02-1-Cleaning; HCH022-2; HCH02-2/3Ent-Surface; HCH02-3; HCH02-3-3Below Surface; HCH02-3-5-Surface; HCH02-5-5-2). Date: EM III–MM II. 5 (HNM 6826+13,887, HCH 9). Larnax lid made in two halves, almost complete. Both halves put together: L. 96, w. 35.8; L. of first half 49.5; w. of first half 36.2; th. of rim 2.0; L. of second half 26.5; w. of second half 34

THE LARNAKES FROM THE HAGIOS CHARALAMBOS OSSUARY

cm. Lasithi-Pediada Red Fabric Group, coarse (reddish gray, 5YR 5/2, in the interior, with the clay surface reddish yellow, 5YR 6/6). Flat lid with almost vertical edges, with elliptical shape before it broke in half near the center. Exterior covered with yellowish-red (5YR 5/6) to reddish-brown (5YR 5/4) slip. Comments: from Room 4, upper units (1983 season); the larnax lid broke

37

in half before firing; the two broken edges were covered with coils of clay, and the coils were then smoothed to create a finished appearance; the two pieces were then fired separately, making a single lid, in two halves; the color of the clay matches larnax no. 1 (HNM 14,279), but the lid also fits no. 3 (HNM 14,281). Date: EM III– MM II.

Interpretation The way that the burial containers from the Hagios Charalambos cave were deposited in the ossuary is crucial to their interpretation. The cave was a natural cavern consisting of seven small chambers (Fig. 4.1). Room 5, which had a steeply slanted floor, required the construction of two stone retaining walls to help prevent the deposit of human bones and grave goods from tumbling into the lower part of the cavern and sliding into Room 7. Where the floor of this room was uneven, a grid of leg bones was placed carefully to form a sort of platform to help hold and support the disarticulated jumble of human bones placed above it (Fig. 4.3). These preparations, which were found in place when the cave was excavated, showed that the mixed nature of the pottery was placed in the cave as one event, dated by the latest pottery to MM IIB. Sherds from all dates, from FN to MM IIB, were found scattered throughout the deposit. The larnakes were obviously broken before they were put in the ossuary. All of them were mended from fragments found scattered in many parts of the cave, including in different rooms. Because of the lack of stratigraphy, their date of manufacture is uncertain. Their form is generally similar to the earliest known examples of the class, such as the examples from Pyrgos, found with large numbers of EM I vases (Xanthoudides 1918). However, their date of manufacture cannot be this early because the fabric of the larnakes at Hagios Charalambos is not attested until the time when rounded cups with large vertical handles appear at the cave, which is in EM II (for the EM II date of the rounded cup with vertical handle, see Warren 1972, pl. 46). The rounded cups are made from the same fabric as the larnakes. This fabric, called the Lasithi-Pediada Red Fabric Group, is a red-firing clay containing

many fragments of phyllite. It has been analyzed by petrography by E. Nodarou. The best parallel for assigning a date to these larnakes is the discovery of similar examples from Kalo Chorio (Haggis 1996, 647–656). The pottery from this context was from EM III to MM III, suggesting a later date than the earlier finds from Pyrgos. The examples from Lasithi are probably from within the same period. The tradition of using larnakes and other containers for burial has a long history in Crete (for bibliography, see Orsi 1890; Rutkowski 1966; 1968; Pini 1968; Long 1974, 75–77; Watrous 1991; Preston 2004). Its gradual increase as a Minoan custom, replacing burials without containers inside communal graves with hundreds of persons, expanded greatly during the closing years of the

Figure 4.3. Grid of human long bones placed at the base of the deposit of human bones in Room 5. Photo P. Betancourt.

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EM period and during the Middle Bronze Age (Pini 1968, 12–13). The development has been associated with a rise in the importance of the individual (Branigan 1993, 141). In placing a body inside a larnax and then placing that larnax within a communal grave, the duality of the person’s existence is stressed, because the larnax separates the deceased from the others in the tomb while the context as a whole retains the membership in the collective group. The same change from communal action to individual performance within the larger group has also been recorded in the Early Minoan change from communal ritual vessels intended to be passed around among a group of mourners at the graveside to the use of individual cups at funerary ceremonies (Day and Wilson 2004). With only four larnakes within this large assemblage of material, the custom of burial within a larnax was obviously still very restricted at this site at the time when the ossuary was used. The size of the larnakes, their details, and the presence of a lid show that the containers cannot have been bathtubs used in life that were reused in a mortuary context. They have eight small drainage holes near their bases, a detail used in funerary coffins on Crete until the Late Minoan period to allow fluids to drain while a body decomposes. (Tubs for bathing need only a single drain, or none at all.) Some of them also have slightly constricted mouths, which is a disadvantage if containers are used for bathing. The lid (made in two pieces so intended to be left in place) is also a mortuary detail that would have no purpose in bathing. Since these are very early larnakes, from a time when no actual tubs of this shape are known from settlement contexts, the implication is that the shape may have begun as a specialized funerary object that may later have been copied as a tub for bathing. The four larnakes are too small to place adults inside them. Even subadults would be too large to

fit within containers this narrow. They can only have been intended for small children or for the disarticulated bones of secondary burials. If they were for the secondary deposit of bones, however, the drainage holes would not have been needed. The most likely conclusion is that they were made for small children. The larnakes were found broken into fragments and scattered through several rooms. (See the Catalog above for the lists of different levels and rooms in which the fragments were discovered.) This circumstance is exactly like the other items found in the cave. Like the larnakes, the pottery, the human bones, and the other objects in the ossuary were also scattered during the process of deposition. In addition to about 40 skulls found on top of the deposit of other bones, more than 180 additional skulls were mended from fragments found in various levels and in more than a single room. Apparently the contents of one or more earlier tombs (perhaps a tholos tomb?) were moved to the cave within a short period of time during MM IIB, probably by a whole series of persons who gathered up bones and artifacts and transported them to the cave. If the roof of this earlier burial place had collapsed, it would explain both the fragmentary condition of the larnakes and the presence of several stones in the cavern that did not belong there geologically. In any case, the final context for these larnakes was at the end of their mortuary history. Like the scattered and mixed human bones, they were no longer recognizable as parts of specific burials. Instead, they were part of the community’s collective ancestry. They had become representative of the anonymous early history of the settlement as a whole, to be revered and commemorated as a larger unit rather than being remembered as individuals.

References Betancourt, P.P. 2005. “Egyptian Connections at Hagios Charalambos,” in Emporia: Aegeans in the Central and Eastern Mediterranean. Proceedings of the 10th International Aegean Conference, Athens, Italian School of Archaeology, 14–18 April 2004, R. Laffineur and E. Greco, eds., Liège, pp. 449–454.

Betancourt, P.P., and J.D. Muhly. 2006. “The Sistra from the Minoan Burial Cave at Hagios Charalambos,” in Timelines: Studies in Honour of Manfred Bietak, vol. 2, E. Czerny, I. Hein, H. Hunger, D. Melman, and A. Schwab, eds., Leuven, pp. 429–435.

THE LARNAKES FROM THE HAGIOS CHARALAMBOS OSSUARY

Blitzer, H. 1982. “The Nineteenth and Early Twentieth Century,” in Lasithi: A History of Settlement on a Highland Plain in Crete (Hesperia Suppl. 18), L.V. Watrous, Princeton, pp. 30–36. . 1990. “Pastoral Life in the Mountains of Crete,” Expedition 32, pp. 34–41. Bosanquet, R.C. 1939–1940. “Dicte and the Temples of Dictaean Zeus,” BSA 40, pp. 60–77. Branigan, K. 1993. Dancing with Death: Life and Death in Southern Crete c. 3000–2000 b.c., Amsterdam. Davaras, C. 1982. “Σπήλαιο Αγίου Χαραλάμπους,” ArchDelt 37 (B′, 2 Chronika), pp. 387–388. . 1983. “Σπήλαιο Γεροντομουρί,” ArchDelt 38 (B′, 2 Chronika), p. 375. . 1986. “Πρώιμες μινωικὲς σφραγίδες και σφραγιστικοὶ δακτύλιοι ἀπὸ το σπήλαιο Γεροντο­ μουρὶ Λασιθίου,” ArchEph 125 [1990], pp. 9–48. Day, P.M., and D.E. Wilson. 2004. “Ceramic Change and the Practice of Eating and Drinking in Early Bronze Age Crete,” in Food, Cuisine and Society in Prehistoric Greece (Sheffield Studies in Aegean Archaeology 5), P. Halstead and J.C. Barrett, eds., Oxford, pp. 45–62. Faure, P. 1964. Fonctions des cavernes crétoises (TravMem 14), Paris. Haggis, D.C. 1996. “Excavations at Kalo Khorio, East Crete,” AJA 100, 645–681. Halbherr, F., and P. Orsi. 1888. “Scoperte nell’antro di Psychrò,” Museo Italiano di antichità Classica 2, pp. 905–912. Hogarth, D.G. 1899–1900. “The Dictaean Cave,” BSA 6, pp. 94–116. Long, C. 1974. The Ayia Triada Sarcophagus (SIMA 45), Göteborg.

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Orsi, P. 1890. “Urne Funebri Cretesi,” MonAnt 1, cols. 200–230. Pendlebury, J.D.S., H.W. Pendlebury, and M.B. MoneyCoutts. 1935–1936. “Excavations in the Plain of Lasithi. I: The Cave of Trapeza,” BSA 36, pp. 5–131. . 1937–1938. “Excavations in the Plain of Lasithi. II,” BSA 38, pp. 1–56. Pini, I. 1968. Beiträge zur minoischen Gräberkunde, Wiesbaden. Preston, L. 2004. “Contextualising the Larnax: Tradition, Innovation and Regionalism in Coffin Use on Late Minoan II–IIIB Crete,” OJA 23, pp. 177–197. Rutkowski, B. 1966. Lanarksy Egejskie, Warsaw. . 1968. “The Origin of the Minoan Coffin,” BSA 63, pp. 219–227. Warren, P.M. 1972. Myrtos: An Early Bronze Age Settlement in Crete (BSA Suppl. 7), London. Watrous, L.V. 1982. Lasithi: A History of Settlement on a Highland Plain in Crete (Hesperia Suppl. 18), Princeton. . 1991. “The Origin and Iconography of the Late Minoan Painted Larnax,” Hesperia 60, pp. 285–307. . 1996. The Cave Sanctuary of Zeus at Psychro: A Study of Extra-Urban Sanctuaries in Minoan and Early Iron Age Crete (Aegaeum 15), Liège and Austin. . 2000. “Lasithi,” in Crete 2000: A Centennial Celebration of American Archaeological Work on Crete (1900–2000), J.D. Muhly and E. Sikla, eds., Athens, pp. 153–154. . 2004. “New Pottery from the Psychro Cave and Its Implications for Minoan Crete,” BSA 99, pp. 129–147. Xanthoudides, S. 1918. “Μέγας πρωτομινωϊκὸς τάφος Πύργου,” ArchDelt 4, pp. 136–170.

CHAPTER

5 From Representational to Narrative Art in the Early Bronze Age Cyclades Christos G. Doumas

Visual representation as a means of expression is known in Europe and the greater circum-Mediterranean zone since at least the Upper Paleolithic in the form of two- and threedimensional representations that were engraved, painted, or modeled in the round, on rock surfaces, or on movable objects of stone, bone, antler, ivory, clay, and perhaps perishable materials (Powell 1966, 12–13; Leroi-Gourhan 1979). Visual representations can play the role of texts for the archaeologist in the study of nonliterate ancient societies, since stories, legends, myths, and other oral genres could be transmitted through artistic manifestations (Rubinson 2006, 250, 261). Aside from its aesthetic merits, visual representation follows specific ways or conventions in depicting particular entities that are difficult to understand and interpret through iconography (Leyton 1978, 25–27).

Since “all art is conditioned by time, and represents humanity in so far as it corresponds to the ideas and aspirations, the needs and hopes of a particular historical situation” (Fischer 1963, 12), we shall attempt here to examine the development of visual representation in the Cycladic islands in the context of the developments, as revealed by the archaeological evidence made by Cycladic society during the Neolithic and Early Bronze Age periods. The opportunity to present this paper as a small token of friendship and esteem to Guenter Kopcke, the man who sincerely and modestly dedicated his entire career to the study of ancient Greek art and society, and who has honored me and my family with his friendship, gives me great pleasure. As soon as the Cycladic islands were permanently settled in the Middle Neolithic period, two categories of representational art appeared: minor

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sculpture, which is three-dimensional, and rock art, which is two-dimensional. Clay and marble figurines, mostly anthropomorphic, are among the typical finds recovered from coastal sites such as Saliagos near Antiparos (Evans and Renfrew 1968, 88) and Ftelia on Mykonos (Sampson 2002), while rock art seems to have prevailed in the recently discovered settlements at Strophilas and Plaka on Andros (Televantou 2001; 2007, 75–81, 89–91; 2008, 46–50). Whether these different categories echo different ideologies of respective communities is hard to say. What is rather obvious is that rock art, with scenes of activities from daily life, is more eloquent than figurines, with their recondite symbolism. The area excavated so far at either site on Andros is extremely limited and one cannot exclude the future discovery of other forms of art. It is sufficient, however, to explicate the significance of these settlements for the early history of Andros, whose archaeological exploration has been relatively limited, and also for the Aegean islands in general. Although the investigated areas are restricted only to trial trenches, the emerging picture seems to confirm the existing evidence regarding the pattern of settlement in the Neolithic Cyclades of rather densely built areas located not far from the sea. Moreover, the abundance of rock art depictions and the variety of subjects illustrated may reveal other new facets of early Aegean history. Impressive among the rock art at Strophilas is the hunting scene showing a stag surrounded by dogs (Televantou 2007, 77, fig. 9). We can only guess at the significance and the symbolism that this scene had for the people of Strophilas. For example, it eludes us whether the depiction of a stag indicates a preference for the male animal or simply renders identification of the species easier by showing its antlers. It is worth noting, however, that the stag—though rare—is not unknown in the artistic repertoire of later periods, whether in rock art or vase painting. Of great interest too are the boats depicted on a rock at Strophilas that illustrate the types of vessels used by the early settlers of the islands (Televantou 2007, 77–78; 2008, 49, fig. 6:10). The boats differ little from those shown in Early Cycladic (EC) rock art or incised on EC “frying pan” vessels. Furthermore, their depiction in a row may have some significance, perhaps indicating the collective character of maritime

activities. This row of boats recalls the Late Cycladic (LC) I Flotilla painting from Akrotiri, Thera (Doumas 1992, 68–70), and could perhaps be considered its remote ancestor. Moving from Neolithic to the Early Bronze Age, the EC I period shows a dramatic change in settlement pattern. Despite the complete absence of architectural remains from that period, the cemeteries that had served the respective communities are scattered throughout each island and consist of no more than 15 to 20 graves each. Given the fact that each grave contained only one burial, it is surmised that the cemeteries in their centuries-long use served small communities, perhaps extended families, living in farmsteads dispersed according to the potential of the land (Doumas 2002, 22– 25). This pattern explains the lack of evidence for larger settlements and indicates a rather restricted communal life. The individualistic character of the EC I communities is also reflected in the art of the period, consisting of small marble anthropomorphic figurines, either schematic or naturalistic (the so-called Plastiras type), deposited in the graves. Despite the many attempts made to understand the significance of these figurines (see Broodbank 1989, 322–323; 2000, 55, 173; also Doumas 1968, 88–94; Renfrew 1972, 374, 377; Getz-Preziosi 1981; Doumas 2002, 68; Hoffman 2002, 526), all that can be said with confidence is that they were part of the ideology of the people living in remote farmsteads (Doumas 1972). Along with these figurines, other objects that could also be considered as artistic expressions, such as marble vases, including zoomorphic ones, and pottery decorated with incised rectilinear geometric patterns, were also deposited in the graves (Doumas 1977, 58–63; 2000, 22–26). At the beginning of the EC II period (or the Kampos phase), the number of burial grounds seems to have decreased considerably and were replaced by larger cemeteries with multiple inhumations in each grave. This perhaps reflects a major change in the social organization; the population of the Cyclades was now living in small villages, with the result that the extended family burial grounds of the previous period were apparently replaced by single (or nuclear) family graves (Doumas 1977, 54–58; 2002, 39). Innovations in the artistic domain include the marble folded-arm figurine, an increase in the repertoire of marble

FROM REPRESENTATIONAL TO NARRATIVE ART IN THE EARLY BRONZE AGE CYCLADES

vases, and the use of curvilinear motifs (circles and spirals) incised or stamped into the decoration of pottery (Doumas 2000, 30–35; 2002, 29–32). These artifacts are still known mainly from cemeteries where they were deposited as grave goods. The evidence from both the cemetery and settlement sites dated to the middle phase of the EC II period (or the Syros phase) suggests that nucleated villages had developed, served by even more extensive cemeteries with multiple burials per grave. During this phase, there were notable developments in sculpture, with the folded-arm figurine being produced in several types and varieties (Doumas 2000, 43–47). Moreover, from early on, sculptural renderings of human figures appeared in specific states or performing certain roles—for example, pregnant women, flute players, and harp players (Doumas 2000, 48–49). Perhaps it is not without significance that during this phase isolated figures occasionally appeared incised on pottery or marble vessels. These include animals (Marangou, ed., 1990, 109–110, 132, figs. 109, 136), boats (Tsountas 1899, 90, figs. 16–22), and vases (cf. Marangou, ed., 1990, 108, fig. 107). In the last phase of the EC II period (or the Kastri phase) further changes in the settlement pattern are observed, with a marked decrease in the number of settlements. This suggests a further concentration of each island’s population in fewer but larger villages, with a preference for coastal sites (Doumas 2002, 25). Some hilltop settlements seem to have been fortified during this phase, indicating that these were troubled times. Marble sculpture gradually declined and finally disappeared by the end of the phase (Renfrew 1969, 26; Doumas 1988, 24–25; 2000, 50; 2002, 68). Despite their degenerated appearance, the extant figurines, known also as the Chalandriani variety (Renfrew 1969, 17; Doumas 2000, 49), can be classed among the most representational works of EC art. The rendering of hunters or warriors, who carry a dagger suspended from a baldric (Doumas 1968, 146; 2000, 49; Getz-Preziosi 1981, 25; Fitton 1984, 78– 80), seems to conform to the more martial ethos of the period, as suggested by the fortified hilltops, as well as by the new custom of including bronze daggers among the grave goods (Renfrew 1972, 324). It is perhaps not without significance that rock art reappeared in the Cyclades during the Kastri

43

phase, as the finds from Korphi t’Aroniou on Naxos demonstrate (Doumas 1966, 1967). Though limited in both space and time, this art may indicate the complete abandonment of threedimensional in favor of two-dimensional representations. The small blocks from Korphi t’Aroniou, today housed in the Bardanis Archaeological Museum at Apeiranthos, Naxos, constitute a veritable picture gallery of the Early Bronze Age islanders’ activities (Fig. 5.1). Men, quadrupeds, and boats are depicted with such care that not only the animal species (goats, bovines, stag, and perhaps dog) but also the tasks depicted can easily be identified. Herding (Fig. 5.1:a) and hunting (Fig. 5.1:b) appear to be sources of inspiration, and it is interesting that the stag is again present, as it is in the rock art of Neolithic Andros. On one block, an archer following a quadruped is already aboard a boat (Doumas 1966, 48–49, fig. 4, pls. 35:b–36:a), while two “boxing” men, also aboard a boat, are depicted on another (Fig. 5.1:c). The boats, exhibiting angular sterns like those incised on the “frying pan” vessels of the Syros phase, appear to constitute a further development of the type of boat depicted on the Neolithic rock art of Andros. On another block three men are shown as if in a circular dance (Fig. 5.1:d). Despite their rustic character, these scenes can be considered the earliest attempt in Cycladic— perhaps Aegean—art to present narratives. The depiction of boats carrying animals indicates that sea transportation, at least from one island to another, was not exclusive to an elite minority, as has been suggested (Broodbank 1989, 336). The technique of pecking allowed more freedom in rendering movement than did sculpture, making the pictures more “talkative” and more explicit. Moreover, the depiction of the “dancing” men may be reflective of the social life in the villages of the period. The choice of material, the manner of execution, and the subject matter could class these pictorial representations as “folk” art, which, notwithstanding its limited artistic merit, provided the best and easiest way to immortalize daily human activities. The whitish appearance of the figures, resulting from the fine fissures made in the pecking process on the gray surface of the rock, creates a vivid effect that emphasizes the narrative character of the scenes.

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a

b

c

d

Figure 5.1. Rock art from Korphi t’Aroniou on Naxos, now housed in the Bardanis Archaeological Museum, Apeiranthos: (a) a goat surrounded by three men, inv. no. 16; (b) man following a stag, inv. no. 14; (c) two “boxing” men on board a boat, inv. no. 15; (d) three men dancing in a circle, inv. no. 19. Not to scale.

Rock art, which, according to the existing evidence, was not continuously made and did not have a wide geographical distribution in the Cyclades, may not have been the only medium in which two-dimensional figures appear in scenes. Slightly later in date is a fragment from an askos (or “duck vase”) from Phylakopi City I, now in the National Archaeological Museum of Athens (Edgar 1904, 92, pl. V:8C). Incised on this sherd is a scene that could be characterized as narrative: aboard a ship, of which only the stern is preserved, the lower part of a human figure survives in front of the rudder (Fig. 5.2). The curved stern of the ship and the presence of the steering oar constitute a novelty in the typology of EC ships (Doumas 1970), and perhaps the aim of the artist was to illustrate a fast vessel in the command of a man, whose gender is clarified by his carefully drawn genitals.

Painted pottery decoration consisting of linear geometric motifs was introduced in the EC II period (Doumas 1977, 21). By the end of the period, the so-called Early Matt-painted style was established, consisting of “bands round the neck and a pattern round the body,” with abstract and geometric motifs often combined with pictorial themes (Edgar 1904, 96–97). Among these themes, specific objects, animals, and human figures are included (Renfrew and Evans 2007, 161). Unfortunately, the fragmentary preservation of Early Matt-painted pottery with pictorial subjects inhibits speculation about its thematic compositions and syntax: very rarely is more than one figure preserved on any sherd. Despite their fragmentary state, however, these themes can be considered as a prelude to the emergence of true narrative scenes (Figs. 5.3–5.8).

FROM REPRESENTATIONAL TO NARRATIVE ART IN THE EARLY BRONZE AGE CYCLADES

The tradition of including boats in the iconographic repertoire of EC rock art and pottery decoration continued with the Early Matt-painted pottery. The type of vessel depicted constitutes a novelty, however, since it is equipped with a mast and rigging. The boat painted in black on a yellowish slip on a closed vase (ewer?) from Phylakopi (Fig. 5.3:a) is also provided with a steering oar, while the fine lines along the keel may indicate paddles. A similar boat was perhaps included in the scene painted in brown on a whitish ground on the fragment of a pithos or bathtub from Akrotiri, Thera (Fig. 5.7:b). The human figure painted to its right was perhaps associated with the boat. As we have seen, fish, birds, and quadrupeds were occasionally incised on EC II vases as part of their decoration, and their more frequent occurrence as motifs on the Early Matt-painted style is indicative of their increased popularity. Isolated fish, painted in black on a smooth pinkish ground between oblong/rectangular panels, comprise the decoration on the sloping sides of a lentoid askos from Phylakopi (Fig. 5.4; Edgar 1904, 97, pl. IX:11). Though geometric in design and static in appearance, the fish seem to have been executed with special care in the rendering of the fins. The ovoid pithos (or “barrel jar”) was a typical storage vessel of the period. As a rule, its upper part was reserved for decoration and its field was “divided into vertical strips filled with varied designs” (Edgar 1904, 97). Most of the vertical strips on an upper-body fragment from an ovoid pithos from Akrotiri with a flaring horizontal rim were filled with a net pattern; two of the strips, each divided into two registers, hosted fish and human figures, respectively, painted in brown on a buff ground (Fig. 5.5). Geometric in appearance, the fish were painted solid, with three in each register (Fig. 5.5:b). Again, the tail and the fins were rendered with special care. Their arrangement, with heads facing upward, recall the fish on the aforementioned askos from Phylakopi (Fig. 5.4). The depiction of fish with crosshatched body and fins, as on another sherd from Phylakopi (Edgar 1904, pl. XII:28), appears to be rather rare. On the contrary, crosshatching appears to have been more popular for filling the bodies of birds, as the finds from Phylakopi demonstrate (Edgar 1904, 97, 104, pls. VII:4A, B, XI:2, 5, XII:24, 26, 27). So far, no birds have been located among the

45

Figure 5.2. Fragment of an askos with incised boat and human figure, from Phylakopi. Athens, National Archaeo­ logical Museum 11440. Not to scale.

a

b Figure 5.3. Depictions of boats: (a) from Phylakopi (Athens, National Archaeological Museum 11444); (b) sherd from Phylakopi with a X-like human figure (Athens, National Archaeological Museum 11446). Not to scale.

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themes in the Early Matt-painted style at Akrotiri, while the serpentine motif occurring once on a sherd from Phylakopi seems to be unique (Edgar 1904, pl. XII:22). Quadrupeds are more frequent in the Early Matt-painted style, as finds from both Phylakopi and Akrotiri demonstrate. A fragment from the belly of a closed vase, probably a jug, from Phylakopi carries a depiction of a quadruped (Edgar 1904, pl. XII:29), which, to judge from its slender body and the claws, may represent a dog (Fig. 5.6:a). On another sherd from Akrotiri, probably also from the belly of a jug, an ibex is painted in black on the white ground (Fig. 5.6:b). Both the “dog” and the ibex are shown almost in a flying gallop pose. As it has been noted, the fragmentary condition of the surviving sherds with pictorial motifs leaves little leeway for discussing the syntax of the various decorative themes. Nevertheless, zonal arrangement of the decoration on the upper part of the vase seems to have been the rule. Thus, on a fragment of a fine cup from Akrotiri there are three zones of decoration subdivided into panels. In the panels of the upper and lower zones are geometric patterns, while a quadruped is painted inside each panel of the middle zone (Fig. 5.6:c). From their long horns and the bodies of better preserved examples, the animals can be identified as goats. Besides paneling, there is evidence that continuous friezes were also included in the zones of decoration on pottery. For example, a row of birds occupied the upper zone of a pithos from Phylakopi, as its surviving fragment shows (Edgar 1904, 97, pl. VII:4A). Unique for both its excellent preservation and decoration is the beak-spouted jug in the Antikensammlung of the State Museum in Berlin (inv. no. 33733; Fig. 5.6:d). The shape of the vase is well represented at Phylakopi (Edgar 1904, pl. IX:4), and although no secure context for this specific jug is known, its association with Melos seems most likely. It belongs to a group of eight vases presented to the museum by a private collector in the 1980s. The group includes a kernos (inv. no. 33730; cf. Edgar 1904, pl. VIII:14), a beak-spouted jug with plastic bands on the shoulder (inv. no. 33731; cf. Edgar 1904, pl. IV:11), a narrow-spouted jug with linear painted decoration (inv. no. 33732; cf. Edgar 1904, pl. IX:2), a two-mouthed “feeding bottle” (inv. no. 33734), an

undecorated kantharos (inv. no. 33735), an undecorated cup (inv. no. 33736; cf. Marinatos 1969, 21, fig. 6), and a bowl (inv. no. 33737; cf. Marinatos 1969, 21, fig. 5). The fabric of the clay, their shape, and their style of decoration leave no doubt about the Cycladic, and more specifically, the Melian provenance of these vases. The entire surface of the jug is divided into three zones (Fig 5.6:d). The spout and the neck, encircled by horizontal bands, constitute the upper zone. A single and a double row of solid triangles respectively define the upper and the lower limit of the middle zone, while the lower half of the vase is covered entirely by horizontal zigzag bands. The middle zone, which is subdivided into two registers, accommodates two friezes of stags moving from left to right. Special care was taken by the painter to emphasize the sex of the animals by rendering their genitals. Although rare in EC art, the stag is not unknown, occurring, as we have seen, in rock art since Neolithic times. Of particular interest is the development of the human figure in the Early Matt-painted style of pottery decoration (Figs 5.7, 5.8). Its rendering in abstract/schematic, geometric, or more realistic forms indicates that, at least since the EC I period, the human figure never ceased to inspire the artists, whether sculptors or painters. The so-called stick figure from Phylakopi, consisting of “an upright line for the torso, simple arms and a blob for the head” (Renfrew and Evans 2007, 147, fig. 5:16, pl. 18:b), appears to be the most abstract human representation. A similar stick figure painted on a sherd from Akrotiri in white on a reddish-brown ground (Akrotiri inv. cat. no. 11674) has more elaborate arms, which are bent at the elbows, and hands with clearly drawn fingers (Fig. 5.7:a). To the abstract class also belongs the X-shaped figure from Phylakopi (Edgar 1904, pl. XIII:16), with one vertical bar representing the neck and another two depicting the arms (Fig. 5.3:b). Less abstract, but still rather schematic, is the so-called hourglass type of human representation, a partly preserved example of which is incised on the aforementioned askos fragment from Phylakopi City I (Edgar 1904, 92, pl. V:8C), which seems to belong to the man steering the boat (Fig. 5.2). Considering this type as “an exaggeration of the conventional mode of representing the human figure with shoulders to front and waist and legs in profile,” Edgar

FROM REPRESENTATIONAL TO NARRATIVE ART IN THE EARLY BRONZE AGE CYCLADES

47

a

Figure 5.4. Lentoid askos from Phylakopi, Melos: (a) photo; (b, c) drawings. Athens, National Archaeological Museum 5745. Water color by the late painter George Voyatzis.

b

a

suggested that in some cases “the lower of the two triangles may have been intended for a loincloth” (Edgar 1904, 105 n. 4, pl. XIII:14). Indeed, his identification of a loincloth seems to be confirmed by two examples from Akrotiri, where a fringe can be seen along the base of the lower triangle (Fig.

0

5

b

10 cm

c

Figure 5.5. Ovoid pithos from Akrotiri, Thera (excavation inv. no. 9438): (a) upper half of pithos showing fish at upper left and human figures at lower center; (b) detail of the strip with geometric fish.

5.7:b, c). These examples, along with some clay figurines from Protopalatial Crete, constitute perhaps the earliest representations of the loincloth, and they indicate that by the end of the third millennium b.c.e. this element of male attire was already established throughout the Aegean.

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It appears that the hourglass type became very popular as the standard model for the human figure, with arms and legs often used as means of expression. For example, the figure painted in black on the white-coated ground of a sherd from Phylakopi, now in the National Archaeological Museum of Athens, consists of two opposed hatched triangles (Fig. 5.7:d). A stick springing from the shoulders represents the neck and the blob at its top the head, while the arms are bent at the elbows with forearms raised upward. Slightly different in the filling of the triangles—solid black instead of hatched—is a partly preserved figure on a sherd from Akrotiri (Fig. 5.8:a). Still in the style of the hourglass type, this figure appears to attempt a more naturalistic rendering. A sherd from Phylakopi preserves the right half of a man’s body painted in white on the uncoated ground of the vessel (Fig. 5.8:b). The legs are missing but the arms are bent at the elbows and hands are shown with palms open. A dagger with a rounded pommel is worn at the waist. A similar dagger is worn in the same manner by another man depicted on a sherd from Akrotiri (Fig. 5.8:c). The arms and the legs of the figure are bent at the elbows and the knees, respectively, as if the artist wanted to depict movement. The long lock of hair stretching from his head to the right shoulder could be understood as a personal characteristic of this hunter/warrior. A warrior might be depicted on a sherd from Akrotiri (Fig. 5.8:d), if the vertical line crossing its right shoulder actually represents a spear (Marinatos 1969, 44, fig. 30, upper right corner). Men wearing daggers seem to be the painted equivalent of the “hunter/warrior” marble figurines of the Chalandriani variety, presumably expressing the same ideology. Perhaps these “warriors” represent heroes and/or the leaders of their communities, for which they were ready to fight by dueling with the respective hero/leader of the enemy. The bent arms and legs in the painted versions are also indicative of the freedom enjoyed by the painter in depicting figures in action, and, in this respect, these figures might be regarded as attempts at narrative art. A good example is the human figure painted in white on the brown-coated ground of a sherd from Phylakopi (Fig. 5.8:e). Still of the hourglass type, to its left is a black vertical strip constituting

the ground on which a stylized tree with spiraling branches is painted in white. The neck of the figure is drawn obliquely over the right shoulder, so that the head, with curly hair, is turned toward a rayed celestial body above, most likely the sun. Staged in the open air, the scene might have a religious meaning: the person, shown with raised arms and open palms, may be a worshiper of the sun. Whatever it means, it is certainly one of the earliest painted scenes in Cycladic art, and one of the earliest examples of the technique of combining light and dark colors to enhance the imagery. The narrative character of the Early Mattpainted style is made more emphatic by the scenes that depict more than one human figure. Although the pair of men shown in each of two registers on the aforementioned barrel jar from Akrotiri could hardly be considered as representing specific scenes (Fig. 5.5), they might be considered as attempts in this direction. Drawn in the manner of the hourglass type, the figures are entirely geometric in appearance, with slightly concave legs, arms bent at the elbows, and triangular heads. A few fragments of a jar recovered recently at Akrotiri with geometric black decoration painted on uncoated whitish clay (Fig. 5.8:f) are decorated with a group of three armless figures of the hourglass type in a panel, more rigid in aspect than the figures on Figure 5.5. Of the same type, but with fleshier legs, are two single figures, each preserved on a fine-ware sherd from Akrotiri (Fig. 5.8:g). The fine fabric of the clay, the proportions between sherds and figures, as well as their style, suggest that the sherds belong to the same vase, in which case these figures may belong to a group. The hourglass-type figure seems to have been abandoned while the Early Matt-painted style was still in use, as a very fragmentary jar from Akrotiri indicates (Fig. 5.8:h). The fragments of the human figures preserved on each of these sherds are particularly interesting, not only because they were rendered in a more naturalistic manner, but also because of the awkward poses in which they are rendered in relation to one another. Although their fragmentary condition does not permit a reconstruction of the complete scene, the pose of the figures strongly recalls that of the dead humans illustrated in battle scenes on Predynastic Egyptian and Early Dynastic Mesopotamian art (Doumas 1985, 33). The importance of the fragments from

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FROM REPRESENTATIONAL TO NARRATIVE ART IN THE EARLY BRONZE AGE CYCLADES

0

a

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2 cm

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2 cm

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d Figure 5.6. Early Matt-painted pottery and fragments: (a) fine ware fragment with quadruped, from Phylakopi (Athens, National Archaeological Museum 11432); (b) fragment with ibex, from Akrotiri (excavation inv. no. 11677); (c) fragment with goats, from Akrotiri (excavation inv. no. 8319); (d) beak-spouted jug with two friezes of stags, from Phylakopi (Berlin, Antikensammlung, State Museum 33733). Not to scale, unless indicated.

0

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Figure 5.7. Abstract depictions of human figures: (a) fine ware fragment with stick figures, from Akrotiri (excavation inv. no. 11674); (b) jar or tub fragment with a sailing boat and human figure, from Akrotiri (excavation inv. no. 11676); (c) fine ware fragment with human figure wearing a loincloth, from Akrotiri (excavation inv. no. 11672); (d) pithos fragment with human figure painted dark on a white ground, from Phylakopi (Athens, National Archaeological Museum 11442). Not to scale, unless indicated.

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Figure 5.8. Abstract depictions of human figures: (a) fragment, from Akrotiri (excavation inv. no. 11673); (b) pithos fragment with white-on-dark figure wearing a dagger, from Phylakopi (Athens, National Archaeological Museum 11456); (c) coarse vessel fragment showing figure with a lock of hair and wearing a dagger, from Akrotiri (Athens, National Archaeological Museum 501); (d) fine ware fragment showing warrior with spear, from Akrotiri (Athens, National Archaeological Museum 500); (e) pithos fragment with white-on-dark “sun-worshiper,” from Phylakopi (Athens, National Archaeological Museum 1435); (f) jar fragments showing a group of people, from Akrotiri (Athens, National Archaeological Museum 10600); (g) fine ware sherds with isolated figures, from Akrotiri (excavation inv. no. 11562); (h) coarse ware sherds with people, from Akrotiri (excavation inv. no. 11675). Not to scale, unless indicated.

FROM REPRESENTATIONAL TO NARRATIVE ART IN THE EARLY BRONZE AGE CYCLADES

Akrotiri lies in the fact that the artistic convention of depicting dead bodies may have been borrowed from the art of those regions and was introduced to the Aegean at least by the beginning of the second millennium b.c.e., via the Cyclades, where it developed, culminating in the scene of the shipwreck in the LC I Miniature Frieze from the West House at Akrotiri (Doumas 1992). Whether borrowed or not, this manner of portraying inert, perhaps dead bodies by a vase painter of the Early Matt-painted style, demonstrates an interest in and effort to depict narrative scenes. From this point of view, despite its very fragmentary state of preservation, the jar from Akrotiri initiates a long Middle Cycladic tradition of pottery decorated with expressive and talkative scenes (Marthari 2000, 886–887; Nikolakopoulou et al. 2008, 317– 319; Papagiannopoulou 2008; Vlachopoulos, this vol., Ch. 6), and thus it stands as a landmark in the history of Cycladic vase painting. Although piecemeal, the archaeological evidence presented here shows that representational art is a characteristic feature of Cycladic culture from the Neolithic down to the Late Bronze Age. Figurines fashioned in various materials and painted pottery, common in Neolithic coastal settlements such as Ftelia and Saliagos, do not seem to continue into the Early Bronze Age; this perhaps indicates that mainland traditions were transplanted to the islands by these early settlers. On the other hand, the rock art found at Plaka and Strophilas along the western coast of Andros introduces a different mode of artistic expression as yet unknown on the mainland, while the depiction of boats presages the maritime activities in which the new settlers were involved. Community life appears to have ended with the Neolithic settlements, and the dawn of the Early Bronze Age finds the population of each island scattered and living in farmsteads, according to the potential of the terrain (Doumas 1972). Thus, the role of the individual or small social unit (nuclear or extended family?) was enhanced, as is indicated by the single burials accompanied with their rather personal belongings, including marble figurines and vases, and pottery with incised decoration. This practice continued until about the middle of the EC II period, when nucleated villages made their appearance along with cemeteries consisting of

51

family graves. Although the importance of the individual was still emphasized by the grave goods, some communal life is hinted at by the marble figurines depicting musicians or groups of more than one figure. Developments after the middle of the EC II period came faster, and there was a proliferation of innovations such as the spread of tin-bronze metallurgy and the intensification of copper mining in the Cyclades (Renfrew 1972, 314; Bassiakos and Philaniotou 2007; Betancourt 2007; Catapotis 2007; Doonan and Day 2007; Doonan, Day, and Dimopoulou-Rethemiotaki 2007, 111–115; Doumas 2011), the spread of viticulture (Renfrew 2003, 62– 63; Doumas 2006), and the introduction of the pomegranate (Assouti 2003, 477–479; Doumas 2008). The “international spirit” attributed to this period (Renfrew 1972, 34, 450) seems to be justified by the evidence of these and other innovations, a characterization that is further emphasized by the discovery at Akrotiri of transport amphorae dating to this period and originating from different parts of the Aegean (Kariotis, Day, and Wilson, forthcoming). The fortification of certain hilltop settlements (Barber 1987, 138–140; Renfrew 1991, 45; Doumas 2000, 38; 2009, 63) and the practice of burying long tin-bronze daggers and/or spearheads as grave goods (Renfrew 1967, 10–12; 1972, 376– 377; Sherratt 2007, 255) are perhaps indicative of insecurity in the islands, which were experiencing rapid changes. This insecurity may also be reflected in the appearance of marble figurines of the Chalandriani variety representing “warriors.” The following phase is characterized by the emergence of harbor towns and the almost complete abandonment of hamlets and villages in the countryside (Shaw 1990, 423; Doumas 2009), suggesting an intensification of maritime activities (Dimopoulou 1997; Wilson, Day, and Dimopoulou 2008). Marble sculpture ceased to be the artistic means of expression and was replaced by the Early Matt-painted style of pottery, which seems to have been produced for the consumption of urban communities. The uncertainty implied by the marble “warrior” figures of the previous phase appears to have persisted for a while even in the harbor towns, as their painted counterparts on pottery may indicate. Such isolated figures were soon abandoned,

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however, to be replaced by compositions of a rather narrative character, which were apparently more

easily understood by wider audiences, as their frequency and distribution suggests.

Acknowledgments I am greatly indebted to Christina Televantou, who generously shared with me the fruits of the excellent work she has done on Andros. I am also very grateful to Ursula Kästner of the Antikensammlung of the State Museum in Berlin, for her friendliness and generosity in showing me in May 1986 the group of eight Cycladic vases

referenced here, for providing photographs “as an aid to memory,” and for permitting me to publish here the photograph of the stag jug. Last but not least, I wish to thank Lena Papazoglou-Manioudaki, head curator of the Prehistoric Collections of the National Archaeological Museum in Athens, for her constant and most valuable assistance.

References Assouti, E. 2003. “Wood Charcoal from Santorini (Thera): New Evidence for Climate, Vegetation and Timber Imports in the Aegean Bronze Age,” Antiquity 77, pp. 471–484. Barber, R.L.N. 1987. The Cyclades in the Bronze Age, London. Bassiakos, Y., and O. Philaniotou. 2007. “Early Copper Production on Kythnos: Archaeological Evidence and Analytical Approaches to the Reconstruction of the Metallurgical Process,” in Day and Doonan, eds., 2007, pp. 19–56. Betancourt, P.P. 2007. “The Final Neolithic to Early Minoan III Metallurgy Site at Chrysokamino, Crete,” in Day and Doonan, eds., 2007, pp. 56–67. Brodie, N. J. Doole, G. Gavalas, and C. Renfrew, eds. 2008. Horizon: A Colloquium on the Prehistory of the Cyclades, 25–28 March 2004, Cambridge (McDonald Institute Monographs), Cambridge. Broodbank, C. 1989. “The Longboat and Society in the Cyclades in the Keros-Syros Culture,” AJA 93, pp. 319–337. . 2000. An Island Archaeology of the Early Cyclades, Cambridge. Catapotis, M. 2007. “On the Spatial Organisation of Copper Smelting Activities in the Southern Aegean during the Early Bronze Age,” in Day and Doonan, eds., 2007, pp. 207–223. Day, P.M., and R.C.P. Doonan, eds. 2007. Metallurgy in the Early Bronze Age Aegean (Sheffield Studies in Aegean Archaeology 7), Sheffield.

Dimopoulou, N. 1997. “Workshops and Craftsmen in the Harbour-Town of Knossos at Poros-Katsambas,” in Texnh: Craftsmen, Craftswomen and Craftsmanship in the Aegean Bronze Age. Proceedings of the 6th International Aegean Conference, Philadelphia, Temple University, 18–21 April 1996 (Aegaeum 16), R. Laffineur and P.P. Betancourt, eds., Liège, pp. 433–438. Doonan, R.C.P., and P.M. Day. 2007. “Mixed Origins and the Origins of Mixing: Alloys and Provenance in the Early Bronze Age Aegean,” in Day and Doonan, eds., 2007, pp. 1–18. Doonan, R.C.P., P.M. Day, and N. DimopoulouRethemiotaki. 2007. “Lame Excuses for Emerging Complexity in EBA Crete,” in Day and Doonan, eds., 2007, pp. 98–122. Doumas, C. 1966 “Κορφή τ’Αρωνιού,” ArchDelt 20, pp. 41–64. . 1967. “Le incisioni rupestre di Nasso nelle Cicladi,” Bollettino del Centro Camuno di Studi Preistorici 3, pp. 111–132. . 1968. The N.P. Goulandris Collection of Early Cycladic Art, Athens. . 1970. “Remarques sur la forme du bâteau égéen à l’âge du Bronze Ancien,” in Valcamonica symposium. Actes du Symposium international d’art préhistorique, E. Anati, ed., Capo di Ponte, pp. 285–290. . 1972. “Early Bronze Age Settlement Patterns in the Cyclades,” in Man, Settlement and Urbanism, P.J. Ucko, R. Tringham, and G.W. Dimbleby, eds., London, pp. 227–230.

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. 1977. Early Bronze Age Burial Habits in the Cyclades (SIMA 48), Göteborg.

Getz-Preziosi, P. 1981. “The Male Figure in Early Cycladic Sculpture,” MMAJ 15, pp. 5–33.

. 1985. “Conventions artistiques à Théra et dans la Méditerranée orientale à l’époque préhistorique,” in L’iconographie minoenne. Actes de la Table ronde d’Athènes (21–22 avril 1983) (BCH Suppl. 11), P. Darque and J.-C. Poursat, eds., Athens, pp. 29–34.

Hoffman, G.L. 2002. “Painted Ladies: Early Cycladic II Mourning Figures?” AJA 106, pp. 525–550.

. 1988. “EBA in the Cyclades: Continuity or Discontinuity?” in Problems in Greek Prehistory, E.B. French and K.A. Wardle, eds., Bristol, pp. 21–29. . 1992. The Wall-Paintings of Thera, Athens. . 2000. Early Cycladic Culture: The N.P. Goulandris Collection, Athens. . 2002. Silent Witnesses: Early Cycladic Art of the Third Millennium b.c., New York. . 2006. “Σταφύλι και κρασί στη Θήρα εδώ και τρεισήμισι χιλιάδες χρόνια,” in Ampelos 2003: First International Conference on the Grapevine, 5–7 June 2003, Santorini, Athens, pp. 1–11. . 2008. “Τι έφεραν οι Αργοναύτες από την Κολχίδα; Οι ενδείξεις από το Ακρωτήρι Θήρας,” in Austauch von Gütern, Ideen und Technologien in der Ägäis und im östlichen Mittelmeer: Von der prähistorischen bis zu archaischen Zeit, A. Kyriatsoulis, ed., Weilheim, pp. 39–56. . 2009. “Early Urbanization in the Aegean Islands,” in A History of the Greek City (BAR-IS 2050), A.F. Lagopoulos, ed., Oxford, pp. 53–68. . 2011. “Searching for the Early Bronze Age Aegean Metallurgist’s Toolkit,” in Metallurgy: Understanding How, Learning Why: Studies in Honor of James D. Muhly (Prehistory Monographs 29), P.P. Betancourt and S.C. Ferrence, eds., Philadelphia, pp. 165–179. Edgar, C.C. 1904. “The Pottery,” in Excavations at Phylakopi in Melos (Society for the Promotion of Hellenic Studies Suppl. Paper 4), T.D. Atkinson, R.C. Bosanquet, C.C. Edgar, A.J. Evans, D.G. Hogarth, D. Mackenzie, C. Smith, and F.B. Welch, London, pp. 80–176. Evans, J.D., and C. Renfrew. 1968. Excavations at Saliagos near Antiparos (BSA Suppl. 5), London. Fitton, J.L. 1984. “Perditus and Perdita: Two Drawings of Cycladic Figurines in the Greek and Roman Department of the British Museum,” in Cycladica: Studies in Memory of N.P. Goulandris, J.L. Fitton, ed., London, pp. 76–88. Fischer, E. 1963. The Necessity of Art: A Marxist Approach, Hammondsworth, Middlesex.

Kariotis, S., P.M. Day, and D.E. Wilson. Forthcoming. “The Early Bronze Age Ceramic Sequence at Akrotiri,” in The Aegean Early Bronze Age: New Evidence. International Conference, Athens, April 11–14, 2008, C. Doumas, O. Kouka, and A. Yiannikouri, eds. Leroi-Gourhan, A. 1979. “The Evolution of Palaeolithic Art,” in Hunters, Farmers, and Civilizations, C.C. Lamberg-Karlovsky, ed., San Francisco, pp. 36–47. Leyton, R. 1978. “Art and Visual Communication,” in Art in Society, M. Greenhongh and V. Megaw, eds., London, pp. 21–30. Marangou, L., ed. 1990. Cycladic Culture: Naxos in the 3rd Millennium b.c., Athens. Marinatos, S. 1969. Excavations at Thera II: 1968 Season (Βιβλιοθήκη τῆς ἐν Ἀθήναις Ἀρχαιολογικῆς Ἑταιρείας 64), Athens. Marthari, M. 2000. “The Attraction of the Pictorial: Observations on the Relationship of Theran Pottery and Theran Fresco Iconography,” in Proceedings of the First International Symposium: The Wall Paintings of Thera, S. Sherratt, ed., Athens, pp. 873–889. Nikolakopoulou, I., F. Georma, A. Moschou, and F. Sofianou. 2008. “Trapped in the Middle: New Strati­ graphical and Ceramic Evidence from MC Akrotiri, Thera,” in Brodie et al., eds., 2008, pp. 311–324. Papagiannopoulou, A. 2008. “From Pots to Pictures: Middle Cycladic Figurative Art at Akrotiri, Thera,” in Brodie et al., eds., 2008, pp. 433–449. Powell, T.G.E. 1966. Prehistoric Art, London. Renfrew, C. 1967. “Cycladic Metallurgy and the Aegean Early Bronze Age,” AJA 71, pp. 1–20 . 1969. “The Development and Chronology of the Early Cycladic Figurines,” AJA 73, pp. 1–32. . 1972. The Emergence of Civilisation: The Cyclades and the Aegean in the Third Millenium b.c., London. . 1991. The Cycladic Spirit: Masterpieces from the Nicholas P. Goulandris Collection, Athens. Renfrew, C., and R.K. Evans. 2007. “The Early Bronze Age Pottery,” in Excavations at Phylakopi in Melos 1974–77 (BSA Suppl. 42), C. Renfrew, ed., London, pp. 129–180.

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Renfrew, J.M. 2003. “Archaeology and the Origins of Wine Production,” in Wine: A Scientific Exploration, M. Sandler and R. Pinder, eds., London, pp. 56–69. Rubinson, K.S. 2006. “Over the Mountains and through the Grass: Visual Information as ‘Text’ for the ‘Textless,’” in Beyond the Steppe and the Sown (Colloquia Pontica 13), D.L. Peterson, L.M. Popova, and A.T. Smith, eds., Leiden, pp. 247–263. Sampson, A. 2002. The Neolithic Settlement at Ftelia, Mykonos, Rhodes. Shaw, J.W. 1990. “Bronze Age Aegean Harboursides,” in Thera and the Aegean World III. Proceedings of the Third International Congress, Santorini, Greece, 3–9 September 1989, D.A. Hardy, ed., London, pp. 420–436. Sherratt, S. 2007. “The Archaeology of Metal Use in the Aegean—A Review,” in Day and Doonan, eds., 2007, pp. 245–263.

Televantou, C. 2001. “Στρόφιλας: Ένας Νεολιθικός οικισμός στην Άνδρο,” Άγκυρα 1, pp. 203–211. . 2007. “Ανιχεύοντας τόλο της Άνδρου κατά τους Προϊστορικούς Χρόνους,” Νήσος Άνδρος 1, pp. 61–97. . 2008. “Strofilas: A Neolithic Settlement on Andros,” in Brodie et al., eds., 2008, pp. 43–53. Tsountas, C. 1899. “Κυκλαδικά II,” ArchEph 1899, pp. 73–134. Wilson, D.E., P.M. Day, and N. Dimopoulou. 2008. “The Gateway Port of Poros-Katsambas: Trade and Exchange between North-Central Crete and the Cyclades in EBI–II,” in Brodie et al., eds., 2008, pp. 261–270.

CHAPTER

6 From Vase Painting to Wall Painting: The Lilies Jug from Akrotiri, Thera Andreas G. Vlachopoulos

During the 2001–2002 academic year, while I was a research fellow at the Institute of Fine Arts at New York University studying the Theran wall paintings, Guenter Kopcke was teaching a seminar on the Late Bronze Age and asked me to present some classes on Aegean iconography. One of the issues raised was the emergent relationship between Middle Cycladic (MC) iconography and the Late Cycladic (LC) wall paintings at Akrotiri. This conversation was stimulated by recent discoveries at Thera of figural MC pottery from deeper levels of the prehistoric settlement reached during

the excavations in preparation for the new roof, and the new horizons these discoveries opened in the study of monumental painting. I remember Guenter’s reaction when discussion turned to the recently discovered polychrome Lilies Jug. He had been impressed by the MC “Ganymede Jug,” which was already known (Doumas 2005, 315, fig. 478), and he agreed that these vases invited new questions regarding various issues of Theran mural painting. I dedicate this article to my respected friend as both a postscript to that iconography seminar and a token of my profound esteem.

Archaeological Context of the Lilies Jug The Lilies Jug (Figs. 6.1, 6.2; Akrotiri, Thera Excavation inv. no. 8578) was discovered at

Akrotiri in 2000, in the excavation of the shaft for pillar 43, located in the middle of Room 14

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a

b

c

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e Figure 6.1. The Lilies Jug: (a) left side; (b) right side; (c) back view, facing handle; (d) front view, facing spout; (e) top view. Pottery Conservation Laboratory of the Akrotiri Excavation. Photos Ch. Papanikolopoulos.

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a

b

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Figure 6.2. Drawing of the Lilies Jug: (a) front view, facing spout; (b) cross section of profile; (c) side view and rim; (d) back view, facing handle. Drawings A. Kontonis.

of Building Xeste 4, in a LC I context. The space originally had a central wooden column, the imprint of which was found in situ (see Akrivaki, forthcoming). The ground floor, the first story, and the second story of the room were investigated, yielding 51 intact vases, of which nine were Late Minoan (LM) IA imports. The majority are domestic vessels, mainly cups; three pithoi were found full of barley. The Lilies Jug comes from the fill of the first story, which contained an additional

13 complete vases. On the ground floor, a basket contained a pair of wooden hand-shaped “clappers/ castanets” and a third “clapper/castanet” with a representation of a bird in a rocky landscape filled with crocuses (Papadima 2005; Akrivaki, forthcoming). Xeste 4 was founded in the final phase of life at the settlement. No level earlier than early LC I was identified; the several MC sherds were not associated with the period of the building’s use.

Shape The Lilies Jug is of the tubular-spouted type, a characteristic shape of the MC period that continued to be produced locally until mature LC I (Marthari 1993, 148; 2000, 878, figs. 8–10; Doumas, Marthari, and Televantou 2000, 60, fig. 64; Vlachopoulos 2000, 649, figs. 15, 16; Doumas 2001, pls. 79:γ, 81:α). Recovered as sherds, the jug mended into a nearly complete vase, with minor restorations on the rim and body. Its measurements are: height 37.2; max. diam. (at belly) 28; diam. of mouth 12.7 cm. The inverted piriform body ends in a flat, disk-shaped base (diam. 11.5 cm). Its rim

is flat. Attached to the shoulder is a vertical handle, round in section; diametrically opposite the handle is a lipless, tubular beaked spout. The low, inwardcurving neck flares to a flat rim. The jug is made of Theran clay and has no slip, as is usual in the local MC pottery tradition. This is in contrast to LC jugs with tubular spouts, which have more careful surface treatment. It is painted in a red and brown bichrome style with added white dots that create complementary motifs on the brown and red; thus, the jug should be regarded as trichrome.

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Painted Decoration The Lilies Jug is one of the most original and densely decorated of the thousands of painted vases from Akrotiri. The large bichrome symmetrical spirals on the sides, a unique subject to date in Theran pottery, are complemented by pictorial representations of lilies and rocks in the narrower oblong zones on its front and back. The base and lower part of the jug are covered with two equidistant pairs of wide bands, alternately red and brown. A narrower brown band above these forms the ground line for the remaining painted decoration. The decoration on the main body divides the vase into four fields (Fig. 6.1:a–d). The two sides are filled by a large double spiral composed of a pair of bands (brown outside, red inside) that spring from the base on the back, below the handle, and spiral and taper in four convolutions, terminating in a solid red circle at the center of which is a reserved quatrefoil rosette with elliptical petals (Figs. 6.1:a, b, 6.2:c, 6.3). The distance between the two strands of the spiral is approximately the same as that between the bichrome bands encircling the lower part of the vase. Indeed, the observation that the two spirals were drawn with the paintbrush starting from inside the upper of these bands indicates that the correspondence in color and drawing between these two decorated areas was intentional. The spiral on the right side (for the viewer), coiling counterclockwise in the direction of the spout

Figure 6.3. The Lilies Jug, detail of rosette spirals from left side. Pottery Conservation Laboratory of the Akrotiri Excavation. Photo Ch. Papanikolopoulos.

(Figs. 6.1:b, 6.2:c), is more neatly painted than that on the left side (Figs. 6.1:a, 6.3), which is rather slipshod. On the last inner circumvolution of the latter, the smoothly tapering brushstroke of the spiral disappears and the central circle of the resultant rosette is larger. In order to restore the spiral, a few hasty corrective brushstrokes were made, but these did not succeed in improving the result. The ineptitude in drawing the clockwise spiral, which logically would have been executed more easily by a right-handed painter, and the better drawing of the counterclockwise spiral, is possibly due to the fact that the vase painter was left-handed. While full discussion is outside the scope of this paper, it is worth noting that, in general, it is difficult to decipher the particular hand with which a vase painter worked. It has been observed, however, that the development of narrative representations from left to right in Mycenaean pictorial pottery may be due to right-handed vase painters (Pliatsika 2004, 31; on the development of dextrograde representations, see Doumas 1999, 61). The spiral-form bands cover the greatest part of the surface, from upper shoulder to lower belly, forming a system of an opposing bichrome coiling-tentacle motif. The added white dots painted in two rows along the outer edge of the brown spirals suggest that they are suckers on the tentacles of highly schematic polypods. Indeed, added white dots to render suckers occur on more naturalistic depictions of polypods (for LM IB, see Müller 1997, pls. 19–29; for Late Helladic [LH] IIIA:2, see Mountjoy 1999, 756, fig. 293:52). On the red spiral-form “tentacles,” added white dots are grouped in threes to form the oblique protuberances of a zigzag, resembling corals or rocks on a seabed. The thin-lined triple arcade motif, or scale pattern, painted on the rim’s upper surface is frequently used to render schematic waves in Aegean iconography, and thus also alludes to a marine subject. Painted outlined eyes on the sides of the spout are an anthropomorphic feature, as may also be the alternating bichrome wavy bands on its rim, perhaps to indicate hair. The dotted band around the base of the neck, which resembles a beaded necklace, underscores the vase’s anthropomorphic

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qualities. Indeed, the shape of the vase itself, with its harmonious curves and elegant beak-shaped spout, intensifies the vase’s resemblance to a female figure. Encircling the base of the spout is a wavy monochrome band, the upper edge of which ends in two symmetrical pairs of lanceolate leaves. The elongated band could be meant to render the trunk of a palm tree and the two symmetrical leaves on either side its branches. There is an analogous schematic “palm tree” around the upper root of the handle, but even if this particular pictorial motif was far from the intentions of the vase painter, the way in which he makes use of every structural surface of the jug should be pointed out. On the front, below the spout, six triangular rocks of unequal size, painted in brown, with

an almost zigzag outline and filled with vertical streaks on the topmost of the bands around the belly, stand on the ground band (Figs. 6.1:d, 6.2:a). A sense of landscape perspective is suggested by the depiction of two small rocks behind the larger ones. From the three middle rocks sprout small clusters of lanceolate leaves and five stems of differing height, also in brown paint, which undulate on either side of the spout—three left and two right—and terminate in a lily flower. The lilies are shown in full bloom, painted dark brown on the petals and red on the filamentous (three to five) stamens and anthers (Fig. 6.4:a). The same landscape is repeated, with minor variations, on the back (Figs. 6.1:c, 6.2:d). Here the six triangular rocks have reserved interiors, although again, perspective is suggested by the

a

b

Figure 6.4. The Lilies Jug, detail of rocky landscape: (a) below spout; (b) below handle. Pottery Conservation Laboratory of the Akrotiri Excavation. Photos Ch. Papanikolopoulos and A. Vlachopoulos.

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overlapping of the smaller ones. From the rocks sprout two pairs of lilies, one on either side of the handle, with their flowers turned toward the spirals, like those on the front (Fig. 6.4:b). The vertical serpentine arrangement of the blossoming lilies and the cyclical coiling nature of the spiral tentacles are in complementary movement, balancing two unconnected elements in the painting, one geometric and the other pictorial. The rhythm of the representation is completed by the bichrome bands at the base of the vase, the upper ones of which seem to curve symmetrically, giving rise to the two-stem spirals of the sides. The combination of the elegant shape and the calculated polychrome imagery make the Lilies

Jug particularly important. The anthropomorphic elements, previously known primarily from the slender Theran beak-spouted jugs, and especially the nippled ewers (Marthari 1992, 102, pls. 39, 43:δ; Papagiannopoulou 1992, 178, pl. 67:γ; Doumas, Marthari, and Televantou 2000, figs. 3, 10, 12, 59; Boulotis 2005, 59, 63, figs. 43, 47, 48, 51), are here even more pronounced: the soft curvature of the profile alludes to the female body; the modeling of the spout schematically renders the neck and head; and the large eyes, under a bichrome coiffure just hinted at on the rim of the spout, enliven the vase with the functional possibility of “seeing.”

Date of Manufacture The rendering of the Theran landscape with rocks and lilies, while familiar from the Theran Spring Fresco (Fig. 6.5), is otherwise unattested in Aegean ceramics. Although the jug comes from the LC I level of the settlement, it clearly does not date to this period. It belongs to the final examples of the MC Theran bichrome-polychrome style and has a few but significant parallels at Akrotiri. The shape belongs to the fully formed type of tubularspouted jug, but its slenderness in relation to LC I examples assigns it to the years of transition

Figure 6.5. The Spring Fresco from Building Complex Delta. Athens, National Archaeological Museum. Photo courtesy of Akrotiri, Thera, Excavation Archive.

between the late MC and the early LC period (for further discussion of dating, see below). The major problems of dating the vase focus on its painted decoration. The trichrome spiral tentacle motif, unique at Akrotiri, derives directly from the mature Middle Minoan (MM) IIB Kamares Ware tradition of Phaistos and is not encountered later in Minoan or Theran pottery. On the other hand, the bichrome naturalistic representation of a rocky landscape filled with lilies does not occur on pottery that is earlier than or contemporary with the Spring Fresco of Building Complex Delta, which is dated to the advanced LC I period. The dating of the wall painting is most reliably secured by tracing the production of its painter, whose main body of work is located in Xeste 3 (Televantou 1994, 381; Vlachopoulos 2008a, 275– 276; 2008b, 454). The excavations of 1999–2002 into the MC levels of the settlement confirm that the art of wall painting did not appear at Akrotiri during the MC period (see Vlachopoulos 2007a, 132; 2007b, 117 n. 88; forthcoming). Knowing for certain that the earlier examples of mural painting at Akrotiri (Doumas 1992, 185, figs. 149, 150; Doumas, Marthari, and Televantou 2000, figs. 35, 36) are all aniconic and date to the transitional phase of the late MC/early LC I period (Televantou 1994, 129, 358–360, pl. 2:α, β, color pl. 22; Kariotis 2003, 437–438, fig. 25; Vlachopoulos 2007b, 116–117; forthcoming), the

FROM VASE PAINTING TO WALL PAINTING: THE LILIES JUG FROM AKROTIRI, THERA

appearance of the Lilies Jug—with its unique pictorial thematic repertoire that dates to precisely this period—begs us to reconsider the question of the relationship between pottery and Aegean wall painting. Particular iconographic and syntactic elements will be discussed below—the aim being

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to shed light on the obscure relationship between polychrome pottery and monumental painting through an analysis of antecedent and contemporary motifs in vase painting and their subsequent occurrence in wall painting.

The Lilies Jug and Middle Minoan Pottery The decoration on the Theran jug shows clearly that behind its original iconography and syntax lie the polychrome light-on-dark pottery of the first Cretan palaces, and particularly that of the mature Kamares Ware of MM IIB. At Phaistos, amid the riotous polychromy of the MM IIA period (Levi’s phase Ia), the use of white and red is triumphant in geometric and spiraling curvilinear motifs, as well as in attempts at pictorial subjects (Levi 1976, pls. 8–19). In phase Ib of the palace (MM IIB), the ceramic art becomes “monumental” and more polychromatic and geometric, with the parts of the vase composed of specific painting fields (Betancourt 1985, 97). A few recognizable plant motifs such as palm trees, ivy leaves, and rosette daisies coexist with geometric ones (e.g., circles, spirals, serrated stems) and are transformed into filling motifs with limited pictorial impact. Of the shapes of this phase, the elegant jug with cut-away spout comes close to the Cycladic shape of the jug with tubular spout. The spiral, the basic pictorial unit of Kamares Ware, is frequently painted with barbed edges and acquires large dimensions (Levi 1976, pl. 27:c), thus contributing to the development of the running spiral motif found commonly on vase bodies (Levi 1976, pl. 27, 30:a–c). Sometimes the spiral takes on the form of a tentacle (Levi 1976, pl. 36:a, b). Spiral-form whorl motifs, around which pictorial subjects move, become de rigueur. The tentacle spiral; the double spiral; the pictorial subject of the fish, which is combined with the spiral; and the octopus, the spiral-form motif par excellence on account of its symmetrical tentacles, all are the starting points of these permutations (Betancourt 1985, 98, fig. 70:G, U, AP, AQ–AS, AU, pl. 11). The rosette, reserved or monochrome, also appears in the thematic repertoire (Betancourt 1985, 98, fig. 70:O–T). The rotating spiral, sometimes

enclosing a rosette (Betancourt 1985, 98, fig. 70:U) or in its whirling quadruple version with vegetal motifs and inscribed within a large circle (Betancourt 1985, 101, fig. 74), appears in the same period. In the same phase (Ib), the inscribing of spiral-form tentacles (Levi 1976, pl. 29:b; Walberg 1976, fig. 4:b) and rosettes (Levi 1976, pl. 30:b) in a spiral are common. Phaistos has yielded the best parallels for a convoluting double spiral in the pottery of phase Ib. In fact, some pieces display such close affinity to the Theran Lilies Jug that there is no doubt that the Theran motif is a survival of a style linked with products of the famed Protopalatial Phaistian pottery workshops. An exact parallel for the spiral tentacle on the Theran jug is encountered on an amphora with bichrome (white and black) double spirals painted on the dark ground of both faces of the vase (Fig. 6.6). The narrow sides of the handles are covered with spiral-form motifs (Levi 1976, no. 3496, pl. 74:b, c), an arrangement repeated on the Lilies Jug. Furthermore, on the black part of the spiral there are dense dots of added white. Walberg classifies the decoration as Classical Kamares

Figure 6.6. Kamares Ware amphora from Phaistos. Hera­ kleion Archaeological Museum 3496. After Levi 1976, pl. 74:b, c.

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Ware (1976, 50–51, fig. 37:5.ii.5). Nevertheless, white dots on concentric circles already exist in Early Kamares Ware (MM IB–IIA: Walberg 1976, 48, fig. 35:1.9) and remain a popular manner of decoration (Levi 1976, pl. 26:a). The syntactic model that may have inspired the Lilies Jug appears on the Kamares piriform rhyton, no. 5938 from Phaistos (Fig. 6.7), also of phase Ib and unique in the placement and combination of its motifs (Levi 1976, pl. 45:a). Symmetrically painted on its maximum diameter are bichrome concentric circles; the parallel white streaks on the black

Figure 6.7. Kamares Ware rhyton from Phaistos. Herakleion Archaeological Museum 5938. After Levi 1976, pl. 45:a.

parts of the spiral heighten the motif’s radiate visual impact. On the sides of the rhyton are a convoluting red tentacle with added white dots denoting the suckers (cf. the added white dots for suckers on the red tentacles of the polypod on Phaistos jug no. 2410: Levi 1976, pl. 36:b). At the center of the spiral denoted by the tentacle is a reserved vegetal motif. The polychrome marine environment of corals and rocks, which dominate the lower part of the vase, in combination with the syntax and decoration, leaves no doubt as to the pictorial prototype for the Lilies Jug. The repetition of a sparser spiral on the shoulder of a bird-shaped askos from the same phase at Phaistos (Levi 1976, pl. 46:a), and of white dots on a motif of concentric circles on another askos (Levi 1976, pl. 46:b), points to the isolated use of these decorative motifs (see Levi 1976, pl. 55:d). The reserved quatrefoil rosette at the center of the monochrome circles on the Lilies Jug can be “read” alternatively as two painted double axes intersecting crosswise (Figs. 6.1, 6.2:c, 6.3), since it is only the attention of the beholder to either the painted or the reserved part that differentiates the subject’s identity. This visual game is not new. Reserved double axes occur at the center of circles in Classical Kamares Ware (Walberg 1976, 48, fig. 35:1.18), as does the reserved quatrefoil rosette (Walberg 1976, fig. 40:10.3). This indicates that both motifs had been included concurrently in the vase painters’ repertoire, and that in their painted execution they could be treated as filling ornaments (for a variation of the double axe on a MM III pithos from Knossos, see Evans 1921–1935, I, 583, fig. 427a; for its occurrence on LM IB pottery, see Müller 1997, 253–257, figs. 147, 148). The appearance in this phase of composite polychromy, of the reserved rosette (Levi 1976, pl. 51:d), the white lily flower growing from a running spiral (Levi 1976, pl. 53:b), the palm tree, and the curved arcade pattern (Levi 1976, pl. 63:k, 1) like the one painted on the rim of the Lilies Jug complete the quest to find the decorative elements on the Theran jug among the Kamares Ware repertoire from Phaistos (for the introduction of the palm tree in MM IIB Kamares Ware, see Papagiannopoulou 2008a, 438; on bichrome MC pottery at Akrotiri, see Doumas 1999, 55, pl. 5:c).

FROM VASE PAINTING TO WALL PAINTING: THE LILIES JUG FROM AKROTIRI, THERA

In phases II (Levi 1976, pls. 70–75) and III at Phaistos (Levi 1976, pls. 76–84) the spiral, the dots, and the kindred subjects so far referred to no longer occur. In phase III (MM IIIA–B), which includes the end of Classical Kamares Ware and the so-called Post–Kamares Ware (Walberg 1976), aniconic geometric motifs give way to a variety of pictorial subjects. In the period when the new palaces were founded (MM IIIA), the combination of a basic geometric motif with intrusive pictorial units was widely disseminated in light-on-dark decoration. In the MM III pottery of Central and South Crete there is a dynamic development in the pictorial elements of the MM II period (e.g., fish caught in net: Walberg 1986, 85, fig. 103; cf. MacGillivray 1998, 132, pl. 7:198). Many are executed in relief (ibex in rocky landscape: Levi 1976, pl. 78; bull in flower-filled landscape: Sakellarakis and Sapouna-Sakellaraki 1997, 555, figs. 553–559; lion attacking a bull: Knappett and Nikolakopoulou 2008, 19, 27–29, 34, fig. 17; dolphins: Levi 1976, pl. 79), and these landscape compositions present overt elements of mural painting. Concurrently, there are the first realistic depictions of plants in their natural environment: palm trees with lilies(?) and other flowers (Evans 1921–1935, I, 594, fig. 436:C; Betancourt 1985, 111, fig. 84:G, J, K; 1990, 109, 111–112, figs. 29, 31, pls. 33, 38); reeds growing out of the water (Levi 1976, pls. 71, 77); and lilies sprouting from the earth (Levi 1976, pl. 83:a; Walberg 1986, 874, figs. 91, 92). Earlier combinations of figural and abstract motifs continue with a bichrome crocus at the center of a running spiral (Levi 1976, pl. 84:c), or sprouting crocuses amid a zone of eyed running spirals, which function as a kind of landscape on a MM III hydria from Kommos (Betancourt 1985, 109, figs. 82, 83; 1990, 110, fig. 30, pl. 34). On one crocus, however, two lily petals spring symmetrically between the stalk and the flower, a pictorial innovation that predicts the kind of floral hybridization that henceforth characterizes Minoan mural painting. A MM III oval-mouthed amphora from Knossos (Evans 1921–1935, I, 605, fig. 446), a characteristic example of Post–Kamares Ware (Walberg 1986, 76, fig. 93), is even closer to the Theran Lilies Jug;

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Figure 6.8. Middle Minoan III amphora from Knossos. After Evans 1921–1935, I, fig. 446.

the similarities between the two vases go beyond the pictorial elements and extend to the syntax of the representation (Fig. 6.8). On the side below the lower handle attachments, slender three-stemmed tulips sprout from the two oblique ground-line bands, while, on the front side, double concentric circles enclose a plant motif. Syntactically similar is a MM III amphora from Akrotiri (Building Beta), decorated with a triple spiral on the front and a rudimentary plant motif on the sides (Marinatos 1970, 35, 60, pl. 56:b–c). Naturalistic lilies also occur on MM IIIA–B light-on-dark Post–Kamares Ware (Walberg 1976, 66, fig. 25:2–3; 1986, 72–73, fig. 90). Their bestknown depictions are on the Knossian “lilies vases” (Evans 1921–1935, I, 576–579, 603, fig. 443; Petrakis 1980, 15; Walberg 1986, 62, fig. 78; Blakolmer 1999, 48), although Betancourt dates them to LM IA (Betancourt 1985, 123, fig. 92). These vases, on which long-stemmed white lilies grow from the straight edge of the base, are clearly related in subject, scale, and rendering to the contemporary (MM IIIB) or slightly later (LM I) wall paintings of lilies at Amnisos, as will be examined below.

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The Lilies Jug and Middle Cycladic Pottery The limited picture of the MC period at Akrotiri, mainly formed from meager pottery finds (Papagiannopoulou 1991, 1992), has now been spectacularly widened by the recent excavations of the MC levels in the settlement and their systematic study (Nikolakopoulou et al. 2008; Papagiannopoulou 2008a, 2008b). Four MC stratigraphical levels have been recognized (phases A–D). Pictorial subjects begin to appear on the black-and-red pottery of phase B, and they increase dramatically in phase C (Nikolakopoulou et al. 2008). Phase D, however, did not yield satisfactory quantities of pictorial material, and this phase seems chronologically attached to Phase C, being its last stage in the final MC years (Nikolakopoulou 2009, 34). The next identified ceramic phase at Akrotiri is well into LC I (Nikolakopoulou et al. 2008, 319), connected with the Seismic Destruction Level, as defined by Marthari (1984). Phase C is contemporary with MM IIB– MM IIIA, according to the imported ceramics (Knappett and Nikolakopoulou 2005, 176; 2008, 7–9, fig. 3; Nikolakopoulou 2009, 33–34; for earlier discussions of MC pottery and its synchronisms with Minoan pottery, see Papagiannopoulou 1991, 254, 263, 265; 1992, 181–182). Nonetheless, imported Minoan light-on-dark pottery and local imitations of Kamares Ware are not common at Akrotiri in this phase (Nikolakopoulou et al. 2008, 317–319; Nikolakopoulou 2009, 35). During this period the Bichrome Ware becomes essentially polychrome, mostly from the use of added white (Papagiannopoulou 1991, 39). Large vases, pithoi, and bathtubs feature pictorial scenes, some of which are narrative in character and include griffins, hunting scenes, and ritual acts. From undisturbed MC excavation strata that are clearly assigned to Nikolakopoulou’s phase C come two important pictorial vases: (1) a pithos with griffins in a landscape of palm trees (Akrotiri Excavation inv. no. 8885; see Kariotis 2003, 428, fig. 14; Boulotis 2005, 58, figs. 37, 38; Papagiannopoulou 2008a, 436–438, fig. 40:5– 8); and (2) a tubular-spouted jug, the so-called Ganymede Jug (Fig. 6.9), with its representation on one side of two male figures performing a libation and an eagle with its eaglet on the

other (Akrotiri Excavation inv. no. 8960; see Boulotis 2005, 59, figs. 42, 49; Doumas 2005, 315, fig. 478; Vlachopoulos 2007b, 116, pl. 32:a, b; Papagiannopoulou 2008a, 441–444, fig. 40:14– 20; 2008b, 257; forthcoming). Discussion of its iconography has also touched on the possible thematic links of this vase with later Theran wall paintings (Vlachopoulos 2007b, 117). Many vases stylistically assigned to Phase C were, however, found in LC I levels in the settlement, like the Lilies Jug. These include: (1) a bathtub with a male figure, whose presence seems to frighten quadrupeds and birds that run to escape, and figure-eight shields on the other side (Akrotiri Excavation inv. no. 8886; see Kriga 2003, fig. 16; Boulotis 2005, 50, fig. 31; Papagiannopoulou 2008a, 433– 436, fig. 40:1–4); (2) a pithos from the West House with dolphins, seagulls, and a bull (Fig. 6.10; Akrotiri Excavation inv. no. 4854; see Marthari 1993, 257–258; 2000, 880, figs. 11–15; Doumas 1999); (3) a small pithos with a griffin and lion in flying gallop (Akrotiri Excavation inv. no. 9323; see Papagiannopoulou 2008a, 438–440, fig. 40:9–12; Knappett and Nikolakopoulou 2008, 7–9, fig. 3); and (4) a pithos sherd with a griffin (Akrotiri Excavation inv. no. 7256; see Papagiannopoulou 2008a, 440–441, fig. 40:13; 2008b, 258, fig. 7). Also belonging to this group is the imported Theran pithos with a griffin from Hagia Irini on Kea (Marthari 1998). Tubular-spouted jugs proved to be a popular shape in phase C, mainly bearing representations of birds of “Cycladic type,” familiar from Melos and Thera, but also foliate bands (Doumas 2001, figs. 79:γ, 81:α; Papagiannopoulou 2008a, 444–446, fig. 40:24–26), palm trees, and perhaps pomegranates (I. Nikolakopoulou, pers. comm.)— drawing from the rich thematic repertoire of pictorial subjects of this period (e.g., swallows, ibex,

FROM VASE PAINTING TO WALL PAINTING: THE LILIES JUG FROM AKROTIRI, THERA

a

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b

Figure 6.9. The Ganymede Jug: (a) left side; (b) right side. Pottery Conservation Laboratory of the Akrotiri Excavation. Photo courtesy of Akrotiri, Thera, Excavation Archive.

a

b

Figure 6.10. Pithos no. 4854 from the West House at Akrotiri (a); detail of lily on side of same vessel (b). Museum of Prehistoric Thera. Photo courtesy of Akrotiri, Thera, Excavation Archive.

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clusters of grapes, leafy stems)—some of them rendered in Bichrome Ware (Papagiannopoulou 1991, 38 pls. 6, 7:a; 2008b, 245–257, figs. 5, 7; forthcoming, tables I–III; Doumas 1999, 55, pl. 5:c; 2004, pl. 63:α; 2006, fig. 3). Although a reliable sequence has recently been established for the development of MC pottery, many of the aforementioned bichrome pictorial vases cannot be dated securely to a specific phase of the MC period because of their later find contexts (e.g., the West House pithos, the bathtub with hunting scene, the Lilies Jug, and the Kea pithos). Stylistic comparisons of their decoration reveal that they were not made in the same period. Some vases—like the Ganymede Jug, the pithos with griffins and palm trees, and several jugs with plants and birds—are outstanding for their quality of manufacture, notably the red burnished decoration of the motif’s monochrome surfaces. The black outlines, on the contrary, are matt.

By contrast, MC vases such as the small pithos with lion and griffin, the West House pithos, and two other pithoi that Doumas discusses (Doumas 1999, 55, 62, pls. 1–4, 5:a–c), as well as the Lilies Jug, are not burnished. Their painted surfaces are dull and the pithoi are badly fired, although none of this adversely affected the quality of their design. Furthermore, the Lilies Jug is less slender than the Ganymede Jug and the other hydriai with burnished pictorial subjects. Its body is piriform tending toward globular, but it is not yet ellipsoidal-globular, like the LC IA jugs with representations of reeds and palm trees (Doumas, Marthari, and Televantou 2000, fig. 64; Marthari 2000, 878, figs. 8–10; Vlachopoulos 2000, 649, figs. 15, 16). Thus its shape and technique of decoration suggest that the Lilies Jug was made late in MC phase C or in the early LC I (Seismic Destruction Level) phase of Akrotiri.

The Iconography of the Lilies Jug We begin by looking for iconographic parallels to the Lilies Jug among Theran vases. While the use of “white dots on zones of black or red paint, in imitation of the MM III pottery of Crete” is a common decorative device on MC Bichrome Ware at Akrotiri (Papagiannopoulou 1992, 179), the spiral tentacles and their symmetrical placement on the Lilies Jug are without parallel there. Perhaps the closest parallel, in motif choice and syntax, if not style, is the column of running double spirals on the lateral sides, below the handles, of the pithos from the West House (Doumas 1999, figs. 3, 5). There are also isolated bichrome spirals on the lower body of the pithos with the griffins (Boulotis 2005, figs. 37, 38). Double spirals, usually running, are common on the LC I pottery of Akrotiri. The triangular rocks depicted on the sides of the Lilies Jug do not appear in LC I pictorial vases with representations of animals in rocky lily-filled landscapes (Doumas 1999, 61–62, pls. 9:b, 10:b; Marthari 2000, 876, figs. 2, 4, 5). As we shall see below, the rocks on the jug—though rendered in a miniaturist vein—directly refer only to the rocky landscape of the Theran wall paintings.

The dissemination of the lily flower is limited on MC pottery at Akrotiri, appearing on three very fragmentary vases of phases B and C at Akrotiri. (These will be published by I. Nikolakopoulou, who kindly drew them to my attention.) On the shoulder of one jug (perhaps with a tubular spout) is a large monochrome lily, strikingly similar to those on the Lilies Jug, depicted in front of a bird’s (or perhaps a griffin’s) head. The best example— a bichrome schematic lily with horizontal fusiform anther—occurs in the rich terrestrial environment represented on one face of the ovoid pithos with the dolphins and bull from the West House (Fig. 6.10; Doumas 1999, 57, figs. 4, 5, 6:d, pls. 1, 4, 6; Doumas, Marthari, and Televantou 2000, fig. 66; Marthari 2000, 880, 883, fig. 15; Papagiannopoulou 2008b, 251, fig. 2:α). On this same vase, the bichrome wavy lines on the body of the dolphins and their monochrome eyes (Doumas, Marthari, and Televantou 2000, fig. 68) bear a striking resemblance to the wavy outline on the rim of the spout of the Lilies Jug. Doumas dates the pithos to MC (Doumas 1999), while Marthari thinks it is slightly later, and dates it to the transition to LC I

FROM VASE PAINTING TO WALL PAINTING: THE LILIES JUG FROM AKROTIRI, THERA

(Marthari 2000, 883, 886, table 1). Indeed, there are close stylistic similarities between the pithos and the West House Miniature Fresco (e.g., the rendering of the dolphins and land animals), which provide a crucial chronological link between the polychrome pithos and the miniature frieze, which is considered one of the earliest Theran wall paintings (Marthari 2000, 880). The third example is a sherd with the representation of a male figure bending toward a lily flower (Fig. 6.11; Marinatos 1971, 39, pl. 96:c, color pl. G:a; Marthari 2000, 883, 885, fig. 16). Because this sherd is painted in the same bichrome manner as the lily on the pithos, Marthari holds the view that it is a product of the same workshop as the pithos, if not of the same vase painter. This sherd comes from the first Seismic Destruction Level at Akrotiri. Its secure dating, with a terminus ante quem of early LC I, shows that both vases can be dated confidently to the final MC or, at the latest, to early LC I. The bichrome rendering of the lily, with brown petals and red stamens, is also encountered on a sherd from a MC bathtub from Phylakopi (Atkinson et al. 1904, 141, fig. 114; Vlachopoulos 2000, 651). The Fishermen Vase from Phylakopi (Atkinson et al. 1904, 123–125, 263–264, fig. 95, pl. 22), also in a bichrome style, can now be linked not only with this sherd but also with the Ganymede Jug from Akrotiri based on their similarly rendered human figures. Unfortunately, it is not possible to classify the male figure on the polychrome bathtub with the hunting scene, also from an LC I context, since his upper body is not preserved (Papagiannopoulou 2008a, 435, fig. 40:1). The lily is a very common subject on the LC I pottery of Thera, although it was never as popular as the crocus (Marthari 1992, 105–106, pl. 40). Both flowers, executed in red and brown paint, sprout together on a paneled cup, which is most probably of mainland provenance, perhaps dating to the late Middle Helladic (MH) period; to date, this cup is the only MH pictorial example found at Akrotiri (Marinatos 1972, 31, pl. 62:c; Dimakopoulou, ed., 1988, 155, no. 107). On Theran pottery the lily occurs mainly on shapes for special uses (i.e., kymbai, flower vases, pyxides with strainers), and they are usually painted in the light-on-dark style, presumably

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Figure 6.11. Sherd with representation of a male figure and a lily flower. Fira, Museum of Prehistoric Thera. Photo courtesy of Akrotiri, Thera, Excavation Archive.

a conservative attachment to the earlier principles of Kamares Ware (Marinatos 1970, pl. 48:2, color pl. A:1; 1971, pls. 63, 64; Marthari 1992, 105–106, pl. 46:ε; 1993, 257; Angelopoulou 1995, 33–35; Negbi and Negbi 2000, 597, fig. 2; Kriga 2003, 463, fig. 2). This principle is even observed when the vase otherwise belongs to the dark-on-light style, as in the case of the pyxis strainer with the swallows (Marthari 1992, 105– 106, pl. 45:γ; 2000, 874–875, fig. 1). A Theran pithos with multiple-stemmed white lily plants growing from the flat base and projected against its dark ground clearly copies Knossian MM III pithoi, but these lilies appear to be later in style than those of the Lilies Jug (Marinatos 1971, 34, pls. 24:b, 64:a, b; Doumas, Marthari, and Televantou 2000, 52, fig. 50). The manner in which the quatrefoil rosette on the Lilies Jug is reserved at the center of the spiral resembles the biconcave motifs reserved on the monochrome outlined disks on the upper part of the small Griffin Pithos (Papagiannopoulou 2008a, 438, fig. 40:9–12). The attachment of the handle and the spout are comparable on the Lilies Jug and the Ganymede Jug, while on the latter a vegetal motif corresponding to the palm tree sprouts from the outline of the spout. Also, in the vertical zones of the corresponding sides, the Ganymede Jug has a foliate band in the same position as the rocky landscape on the Lilies Jug (Papagiannopoulou

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2008a, fig. 40:14–20). Although these similarities are perhaps of secondary importance, they nevertheless underline the Theran elements of the Lilies Jug and bring it into a better relationship with wellknown examples of MC pottery from Akrotiri. The combination of stratigraphical and stylistic data provides a reliable and flexible scheme for Theran polychrome pottery of the Middle Bronze Age, the main corpus of which is dated to the mature MC period (phase C), with the bichrome Ganymede Jug dating to an earlier phase and the polychrome Griffin Pithos to a later one. To the final MC period (late phase C)—or less probably to the early LC I (Seismic Destruction Level)

period—belong the pithos with dolphins and bull, the sherd with male figure, and the Lilies Jug, with the first and the last vase passing as conspicuous heirlooms to the residents of the West House and Xeste 4, respectively. After this period the polychrome style is no longer encountered on large vases at Akrotiri (Doumas 1999, 62), and the pictorial scenes of narrative character from the world of nature and of men cease. The parallel appearance of polychrome plaster in the houses in the settlement (Vlachopoulos, forthcoming) and the burgeoning of mural painting that followed provide a logical explanation for this abrupt change in the direction of pottery production.

Wall Painting and Pottery Our understanding that the profusely decorative Kamares Ware was in dialogue with the art of wall painting is owed mainly to the polychrome pottery from Phaistos (Levi 1976, pls. C, D; see Blakolmer 2000, 230, fig. 84). The prevailing style in mural painting of the first Cretan palaces (MM IB, IIA, and IIB) and during the founding of the new palaces (MM III) is orientated toward contemporary Kamares Ware (Evans 1921–1935, I, 265; Niemeier 1985, 58; Walberg 1986, 58; Boulotis 1995; Blakolmer 1999, 43), which seems to have inspired rather than copied the thematic repertoire of wall painting (Walberg 1986, 62, 70–72). The triad of colors—red, black, and white—was used concurrently at phase III Phaistos in mural painting and Post-Kamares pottery for spiral, curvilinear, and denticulate motifs (wall painting: Blakolmer 1999, 44–45, pl. 9:c–e; pottery: Blakolmer 1999, 43, pl. 9:a, d, e; on pictorial Kamares Ware and its relation to monumental painting, see Sakellarakis and Sapouna-Sakellaraki 1997, 555, 559, figs. 553– 559, in their discussion of the MM II–IIIA bucket from Anemospilia, with a bull in polychrome relief in a flower-filled landscape). Indeed, it cannot be ruled out that craftsmen who specialized in polychrome pottery moved over to the art of mural painting (Boulotis 1995, 14– 16; 2000, 853), something that most probably happened later at Akrotiri as well. It should be borne in mind, however, that MM Kamares Ware was an essentially aniconic art form that did not itself

produce pictorial iconography (Walberg 1986, 70– 72; Blakolmer 1999, 47). The Middle Bronze Age Cyclades did not participate in the dialectical fermentation taking place in the Minoan palaces between pottery and wall painting; they merely capitalized on its outcome through some imported vases. The first wall paintings at Akrotiri appear later, at the turn of the LC period, obviously under Cretan influence but not necessarily imitating Knossian models. In the same period, however, in the MC pottery at Akro­ tiri, the development of a polychrome vocabulary that boldly articulates a narrative iconography was taking place (Papagiannopoulou 2008a, 2008b). Marthari has proposed that the influence of monu­mental painting on pottery was one direction and suggested that the MC bichrome vases were influenced by pictorial wall paintings adorning the houses at Akrotiri prior to the seismic destruction (Marthari 2000, 884, 885, 887). This hypothesis, however, is not supported by evidence from the recent excavations, since wall-painting fragments have not been revealed anywhere in the MC settlement (Vlachopoulos, forthcoming). What remains, then, is to explore a different paradigm, one in which the iconography of the MC vases of the Theran pictorial “school” prepared the thematic vocabulary for the wall paintings when these monumental pictures appeared at Akrotiri, as a fashion and an expressive need of an emergent “bourgeois” mentality. The experienced and audacious

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potters will have moved easily from vase painting to the more demanding wall painting using their

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tried and tested drafting skills, artistic vocabulary, and syntax.

The Lilies Jug and the Art of Wall Painting The white lily (Lilium candidum/Madonna lily) is native to Crete and the Greek mainland (for ancient references and discussion of its properties, see Negbi and Negbi 2000, 596–599). Its flower has white petals that curve slightly at the tips, yellow stamens and anthers, a long stalk, and characteristic triangular leaves that taper upward (Evely 1999, 100; Warren 2000, 373). The lily is a very frequent subject in Aegean iconography (Televantou 1994, 161; Angelopoulou 1995, 27–36). It occurs on MM IB–II seals (Yule 1980, 142–143) and, as we have seen, on MM IIA– IIIA Kamares Ware. At the end of MM III the lily appears in various minor arts (Evans 1921–1935, I, 499, figs. 356, 498; Hood 1987, 161), and later it becomes a very common decorative motif. The earliest fragments of wall paintings with lilies come from the Southeast House at Knossos (Evans 1921–1935, I, 537, color pl. 6; Petrakis 1980, 15, fig. 3:a). According to Evans, they date from the MM III period; that is, they are contemporary with the MM IIIA–B pithoi with lilies from Knossos, as discussed above. The wall painting of blossoming white lilies sprouting against a red ground on the northern wall of Room 7 in the villa at Amnissos is dated to the MM IIIB/LM IA period, possibly later than the Knossian vases with lilies (Marinatos 1932, 87; Walberg 1986, 62, 72–73, fig. 78; Angelopoulou 1995, 18; Evely 1999, 182– 184; Warren 2000, 373, fig. 10). The other walls of the same room were decorated with irises, crocuses, spearmint plants, and biconcave altars. Representations with lilies from the House of the Frescoes at Knossos and from Room 14 of the villa at Hagia Triada are dated to early LM IA (Knossos: Cameron 1968, 19, 26; Petrakis 1980, 15, fig. 1:a; Evely 1999, 246–247; Hagia Triada: Evans 1921–1935, I, 605, fig. 444; Evely 1999, 241– 243; Militello and La Rosa 2000, fig. 4; Warren 2000, 373, fig. 8). In Minoan wall paintings with the polychrome backgrounds, the lilies are always white, with the exception of the red lilies at Hagia Triada (Petrakis 1980, 15, fig. 2:a; Davis 1990,

220). From LM IA onward, the lily is depicted on pottery either with three stamens and flat anthers, corresponding to the pictorial type of the wall paintings, or with more stamens and circular anthers, which derives from the Kamares Ware tradition (Marthari 1993, 253–261; Angelopoulou 1995, 30). In the Cyclades, white lilies against a red ground occur on a fragment of a LC I wall painting from Phylakopi (Atkinson et al. 1904, 75– 76, fig. 64; Petrakis 1980, 16), and red lilies are depicted on two fragments recovered in the old excavations at Akrotiri (Perrot and Chipiez 1894, 537–539, figs. 211, 212; Petrakis 1980, 16). From the major campaign of excavations at Akrotiri (1967–1974), it is apparent that the lily was one of the most popular subjects of the Theran wall-painting workshop, culminating in the Spring Fresco, which covered three walls of the small Room 2 in Building Complex Delta (Fig. 6.5; Marinatos 1971, 20–25, 49–51, pls. 33–41, 121– 126, color pls. Α–Γ; Doumas 1992, 100–107, figs. 66–76; Angelopoulou 1995; Televantou 2001). Red lilies with blue stems are depicted in flower vases in Room 4 of the West House (Marinatos 1973, color pls. 2, 3, 5:left; Doumas 1992, 49, 96–97, figs. 63, 64). Lilies with the same coloring are also depicted on the door frame of the shrine (“altar”) from the eastern wall of the lustral basin in Xeste 3 (Boulotis 2005, 29, fig. 6; Vlachopoulos 2007b, 109, pl. 27:a) and on wall-painting fragments from the fill (i.e., the upper floor) of Corridor 15 of Xeste 4 (Vlachopoulos, forthcoming), while similar lilies are mentioned being found in the unexplored “kitchen,” a building south of the so-called Porter’s Lodge (Doumas 1992, 185; Vlachopoulos 2007a, 128; forthcoming). Red lilies embellish the bodice of one of the ladies represented in the procession extending along the length of the corridor leading from the service staircase to Room 3 in the upper story of Xeste 3, presumably imitating an actual embroidered garment (Doumas 1992, 170, figs. 133, 134; Vlachopoulos 2003, fig. 23; 2007b, 114, pl. 30:a).

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White lilies are depicted on the headdress and in the bouquet held by one of the ladies in the same procession (the so-called Lady with Lilies) on the opposite wall of the corridor (Vlachopoulos 2003, 521, figs. 20, 22; 2007b, 114, pl. 30:b), projected against the red “silent wave” in the field of the representation, as at Amnissos. The color of the lilies in the wall paintings has figured prominently in debates over their identification. Marinatos thought the ones in the Lily or Spring Fresco were the scarlet martagon (Lilium chalcedonicum), which is native to mainland Greece (Marinatos 1971, 50; see also Evely 1999, 100; Warren 2000, 373, fig. 11), but its flowers are pendent shaped, its petals curve backward, and its stamens are red. Davis and other scholars identified them as the white Madonna lily (Lilium candidum; Davis 1990, 218, 219, figs. 9, 10; Negbi and Negbi 2000, 598), which is painted red at Thera because of the use of white ground in the wall paintings. Indeed, the red lilies in the Spring Fresco are identical to the white ones in the bouquet of the Lady with Lilies, indicating that the painters represented the flower according to their artistic needs and not as a slavish rendering of the actual species (Warren 2000, 373). Also dating to the same period as the Theran wall paintings (LM IA) are the wall-painting fragments with white lilies from Miletos (Evely 1999, 47) and red lilies from Ialysos (Petrakis 1980, 17, fig. 1:b; Davis 1990, 225; Immerwahr 1990, 47; Marketou and Papachristodoulou 2005, 362, fig. 554), which also differ only in their color. All the plants on the Lilies Jug are depicted in full bloom, whereas in Theran wall painting they are rendered as buds, open and closed, and halfopened flowers (Angelopoulou 1995, 10). The lilies on the pithoi from Knossos and Akrotiri are similarly rendered, apparently because the surface available for decoration allowed for the depiction of these successive stages of growth. The lilies on the jug are comprised of two petals that form a deep fold in the middle, like the lily on the MC pithos from the West House (Fig. 6.10:b). On both vases the stamens and anthers are a different color than the petals, in contrast to the monochrome red lilies of the Spring Fresco. Distinguishing the three to five stamens of the lilies on the jug in lighter color (Fig. 6.4) permits their identification as the Madonna lily, a

convention not followed by the life-sized lilies of the Spring Fresco. The earlier lilies in the flower vases of the West House nonetheless make this distinction (Televantou 1994, 46–48, 160–164, fig. 38, color pls. 15, 16, 18). As mentioned already, the triangular rocks shown in perspective on the Lilies Jug are not encountered elsewhere in MC and later pottery at Akrotiri, but parallels are found in the wall paintings of the LC I settlement. The rocks in the Spring Fresco and the Theran landscapes from Xeste 3 (Doumas 1992, figs. 95–100, 116–120, 129; Vlachopoulos 2008b, figs. 41.12–15, 41.17– 20) are rendered in imperfect perspective but with convincing overlapping of colors, and they are triangular, pyramidal, or markedly curvilinear, with perpendicular zigzag or wavy hatchings describing the folds of the formations. Although the scale of the rocks on the Lilies Jug is miniature, space was reserved for similar vertical zigzag lines, which obviously render their relief volume. Indeed, it is notable that the rocks on the jug resemble most closely the flower-filled rocks of the painter who decorated Xeste 3 and created the Spring Fresco (Vlachopoulos 2008a, 275–276), as opposed to resembling the bare rocks of the Porter’s Lodge for example (Vlachopoulos 2007a, pl. 15:1, 4), which, being in a miniaturist vein, ought to resemble those of the jug more closely. The apparent thematic and syntactic similarity between the Spring Fresco and the Lilies Jug testify that the iconography of rocky landscapes where lilies blossom had been a subject of experimentation in the earlier Theran pottery production. The Spring Fresco and the Lilies Jug refer to an immediately recognizable natural world (Doumas 1992, 24; Angelopoulou 1995, 14–15)—to a specific place, as defined by the rocky landscape (although Negbi and Negbi [2000, 599] believe lilies were cultivated, and thus the wall paintings may depict gardens rather than rural landscapes; see also Evely 1999, 100), and to a specific time, as determined by the spring to early summer blossoming period of the lilies (Petrakis 1980, 15; Negbi and Negbi 2000, 598), a season also suggested by the courting swallows on the Spring Fresco. The most important difference between the vase and the wall painting lies in the scale of the pictorial elements. The relation between rocks and lilies in the Spring Fresco convincingly serves the

FROM VASE PAINTING TO WALL PAINTING: THE LILIES JUG FROM AKROTIRI, THERA

rendering of the real, with the height of the lilies growing from the rocks in acceptable proportion to them. This proportion is inverted on the jug, where the rocks are in miniature in relation to the flowers. The supple stems of the lilies stand slender, but sprout from rocks of rudimentary size, as if the representation was intended to be seen from above. The artist presumably chose the “decorative” effect of the blossoming lilies, whose depiction dwarfed their natural setting. The volcanic rocks have been downgraded to miniature pyramids, but in design they have retained all the elements of the subject in large scale: zigzag or dotted outline conveying the relief; oblique lines inside denoting the formations; and, most significantly, rendering of perspective by the superimposition of the rocks, which is curiously not as clear in the large-scale landscape of the wall painting. Discussion of the lily’s symbolic significance, a subject with undisputed iconographic gravitas in the symbol-rich world of the Creto-Mycenaean Aegean, is beyond the scope of this paper, although the flower is frequently associated with the feminine, masculine (cf. the Lily Prince Fresco), divine, or mortal (Angelopoulou 1995, 43–46; 2000, 547–549, table 2a), or with the expression of human sentiments (Sarpaki 2000, 659–660, fig. 5:IV; cf. Sakellarakis and Sapouna-Sakellaraki 1997, 325). As with the Spring Fresco, there is no consensus among the scholarly community with regard to decoding the symbolism of its imagery (Marinatos 1984, 89–92, 93–96; Immerwahr 1990, 47; Doumas 1992, 100; Angelopoulou 1995, 2–4, 43–46; Televantou 2001, 157). It is sufficient here to praise the artistic originality of a Cycladic vase painter who decorated a jug with a universe that combined natural/figural and abstract/geometric elements, which he composed and imprinted with his own aesthetic criteria. The Lilies Jug is an important vase of late MC Theran pottery. It impressively balances the freedom that the treatment of a polychrome pictorial vase of the MC “school” at Akrotiri allowed with the symmetry that utilization of a spiralform subject of Cretan inspiration in the highly Minoanizing southern Aegean imposed. The Theran vase painter was active in the final stage of the MC, a period in which the local potters had completed their inquiries in color, techniques, and thematic repertoire and had developed artistic

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idioms of complex representations in innovative combinations. On the Lilies Jug, the motif of the convoluted spiral is not treated as a fossil of polychrome MM pottery taken from the pattern book of some itinerant vase painter. The Kamares influences on the vase are direct and reflect more developmental stages of the long-lived polychrome pottery of MM II and MM III times. Obviously, they are due to the wide range of Cretan ceramics that reached Thera and to the deep impression that these luxury vases made on the local potters, as shown by their echo in the MM III amphora from Building Beta at Akrotiri (Marinatos 1970, 35, 60, pl. 56:b, c). Kamares Ware created the ground from which the Theran lilies “blossomed” and sprouted elegantly between the spirals of the Minoan hybrid seabed. The vase maker at Akrotiri, aware of the decorative potential of the piriform jug, successfully transplanted and combined a Cretan lighton-dark ware embellished double spiral with a flower-filled landscape and rendered an “impressionistic” landscape in which bichrome lilies grow on the rocks of the light-colored horizon of the Theran ceramic art. On the Lilies Jug, the Minoan tradition of polychrome pottery revolves alongside the pictorial explorations of mature and final MC Theran art. This exploration found its full narrative development in mural painting, a monumental art that began to take root concurrently in the cosmopolitan settlement and expressed the urban mentality of its inhabitants. The fact that the swallow, the third pictorial subject in the Spring Fresco, occurs on MC Theran pottery (Papagiannopoulou 1992, 180, pl. 68:β; Angelopoulou 1995, 4, 36–43; Boulotis 2005, 50, 63, 72, figs. 31, 47, 62), drafted and painted like the swallows on the later-dating monumental painting (Immerwahr 1990, 241; Marthari 1993, 228; 2000, 874, 887; Vlachopoulos 2000, 652), completes and reinforces the argument that certain figural motifs began on MC pottery and were later adopted in wall painting (for corresponding conclusions regarding the reed motif on MC pottery and monumental painting at Thera, see Vlachopoulos 2000, 652–653). Barely narrative but superbly decorative, the polychrome Lilies Jug is like a fleeting miniature preliminary design for the monumental Spring Fresco that talented painters created in Building

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Complex Delta at Akrotiri. We do not know exactly how many years after the lilies on the jug the lilies of the wall painting were made. What the jug from Xeste 4 shows, however, is that themes or

concepts such as “spring” germinated earlier from the brushes of the painters of polychrome pottery, in the first true springtime of Theran art.

Acknowledgments I am grateful to Angelia Papagiannopoulou for her remarks on MC pictorial pottery, to Irene Nikolakopoulou for providing the stratigraphical data on the MC pottery, and to Dimitra Kriga for discussion of the LC I pottery sequence at Akrotiri. These three collaborators of the Akrotiri Excavation, as well as Christos Doumas, were also

kind enough to read and comment on this text. Alexandra Doumas undertook the English translation with her well-known enthusiasm, and Robert Koehl edited the article, making very useful comments. I also warmly thank the painter Andreas Kontonis for the drawings of the jug in Figure 6.2.

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Niemeier, W.-D. 1985. Die Palastilkeramik von Knossos: Stil, Chronologie und Historischer Kontext, Berlin. Nikolakopoulou, I. 2009. “Beware Cretans Bearing Gifts: Tracing the Origins of Minoan Influence at Akrotiri, Thera,” in The Minoans in the Central, Eastern and Northern Aegean: New Evidence. Acts of a Minoan Seminar 22–23 January 2005, in Collaboration with the Danish Institute at Athens and the German Archaeological Institute at Athens, C.F. Macdonald, E. Hallager, and W.-D Niemeier, eds., Athens, pp. 31–41. Nikolakopoulou, I., F. Georma, A. Moschou, and Ph. Sofianou. 2008. “Trapped in the Middle: New Stratigraphic and Ceramic Evidence from Middle Cycladic Akrotiri,” in Brodie et al., eds., 2008, pp. 311–324. Papadima, E. 2005. “Conservation of Wooden Krotala (‘Castanets’) at Akrotiri, Thera,” ΑΛΣ 3, pp. 81–87. Papagiannopoulou, A. 1991. The Influence of Middle Minoan Pottery on the Cyclades, Göteborg. . 1992. “Το Μεσοκυκλαδικό Ακρωτήρι,” in Ακρωτήρι Θήρας 1967–1987: 20 χρόνια έρευνας, C. Doumas, ed., Athens, pp. 173–183. . 2008a. “From Pots to Pictures: Middle Cycladic Figurative Art from Akrotiri,” in Brodie et al., eds., 2008, pp. 433–449. . 2008b. “Μεσοκυκλαδική Εικονιστική Παράδοση ως Πρόδρομος των Τοιχογραφιών,” in Ακρωτήρι Θήρας 1967–1997: 30 χρόνια έρευνας, C. Doumas, ed., Athens, pp. 243–263. . Forthcoming. “Η Πτηνόμορφη θεότητα του Ακρωτηρίου και οι Ανατολικές της συγγένειες” in Χ. Ακρωτήρι Θήρας 1967–2007: Σαράντα χρόνια έρευνας. Επιστημονική Διημερίδα, Αθήνα 15–16 Δεκεμβρίου 2007, C. Doumas, ed. Perrot, G., and C. Chipiez. 1894. Histoire de l’Art dans l’Antiquité VI: La Grèce primitive, l’Art Mycénien, Paris. Petrakis, S. 1980. “Madonna Lilies in the Aegean Wall Paintings,” TUAS 5, pp. 15–21. Pliatsika, B. 2004. Ο Εικονιστικός Ρυθμός στην Κεραμική της ΥΕ ΙΙΙ περιόδου από τις Μυκήνες, Ph.D. diss., University of Athens. Sakellarakis, J., and E. Sapouna-Sakellaraki. 1997. Αρχάνες: Μία νέα ματιά στη Μινωική Κρήτη, Athens. Sarpaki, A. 2000. “Plants Chosen to Be Depicted on Theran Wall Paintings: Tentative Interpretations,” in Sherratt, ed., 2000, pp. 657–680.

Sherratt, S., ed. 2000. The Wall Paintings of Thera: Proceedings of the First International Symposium, Athens. Televantou, C. 1994. Ακρωτήρι Θήρας: Οι τοιχογραφίες της δυτικής οικίας (Βιβλιοθήκη τῆς ἐν Ἀθήναις Ἀρχαιολογικῆς Ἑταιρείας 143), Athens. . 2001. “Η ‘Τοιχογραφία της Ανοίξεως’: Ένα θηραϊκό αριστούργημα της Αιγαιακής μεγάλης ζωγραφικής της Εποχής του Χαλκού,” in Σαντορίνη: Θήρα, Θηρασία, Ασπρονήσι, Ηφαίστεια, I. Danezis, ed., Athens, pp. 151–158. Vlachopoulos, A. 2000. “The Reed Motif in the Thera Wall Paintings and Its Association with Aegean Pictorial Art,” in Sherratt, ed., 2000, pp. 631–656. . 2003. “‘Βίρα-Μάινα’: Το χρονικό της συντήρησης μίας τοιχογραφίας από την Ξεστή 3 του Ακρωτηρίου,” in Vlachopoulos and Birtacha, eds., 2003, pp. 505–526. . 2007a. “Disiecta Membra: The Wall Paintings from the ‘Porter’s Lodge’ at Akrotiri,” in Krinoi kai Limenes: Studies in Honor of Joseph and Maria Shaw (Prehistory Monographs 22), P.P. Betancourt, M. Nelson, and H. Williams, eds., Philadelphia, pp. 127–134. . 2007b. “Mythos, Logos and Eikon: Motifs of Early Greek Poetry in the Wall Paintings of Xeste 3 at Akrotiri, Thera,” in epos: Reconsidering Greek Epic and Aegean Bronze Age Archaeology. Proceedings of the 11th International Aegean Conference, UCLA, 21–23 April 2006 (Aegaeum 28), S. Morris and R. Laffineur, eds., Liège, pp. 107–118. . 2008a. “Η ‘Τοιχογραφία του Δονακώνος’ από το κτίριο Ξεστή 3 του Ακρωτηρίου,” in Ακρωτήρι Θήρας 1967–1997: 30 χρόνια έρευνας, C.G. Doumas, ed., Athens, pp. 265–289. . 2008b. “The Wall Paintings from the Xeste 3 Building at Akrotiri, Thera: Towards an Interpretation of Its Iconographic Programme,” in Brodie et al., eds., 2008, pp. 451–465. . Forthcoming. “Η διασπορά των τοιχογραφιών στον οικισμό του Ακρωτηρίου Θήρας. Τα δεδομένα ύστερα από τις πρόσφατες έρευνες,” in Ακρωτήρι Θήρας 1967–2007: Σαράντα χρόνια έρευνας. Επιστημονική Διημερίδα, Αθήνα 15–16 Δεκεμβρίου 2007, C. Doumas, ed. Vlachopoulos, A., and K. Birtacha, eds. 2003. Αργοναύτης: Τιμητικός τόμος για τον καθηγητή Χρίστου Γ. Ντούμα από τους μαθητές του στο Πανεπιστήμιο Αθηνών (1980–2000), Athens.

FROM VASE PAINTING TO WALL PAINTING: THE LILIES JUG FROM AKROTIRI, THERA

Walberg, G. 1976. Kamares: A Study of the Character of Palatial Middle Minoan Pottery, Uppsala. . 1986. Tradition and Innovation: Essays in Minoan Art, Mainz.

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Warren, P. 2000. “From Naturalism to Essentialism in Theran and Minoan Art,” in Sherratt, ed., 2000, pp. 364–380. Yule, P. 1980. Early Cretan Seals: A Study of Chronology (Marburg Studien zur Vor- und Frühgeschichte 4), Mainz.

CHAPTER

7 The Crocus Gatherer’s Costume Revisited Bernice R. Jones

When Guenter Kopcke accepted my dissertation (Jones 1998), he considered it to be somewhat of a “work in progress.” Some of the ideas contained therein were subsequently published (Jones 2000, 37–38; 2001, 261) and now need

modification. It is therefore my pleasure to present this article to him, which incorporates new developments in my research on the construction of the dress and kilt of the Crocus Gatherer from Akrotiri, Thera (Fig. 7.1).

The Dress (Heanos) Although the construction of the dress is very similar to the one I had originally proposed (Jones 2000, 37–38), recent research described in this article reveals a different hem shape, new suggestions for band and cloth manufacture, and relationships of the dress to the warp-weighted loom and to Linear B texts. As it is virtually identical in construction to several of the dresses depicted in other Thera frescoes, especially that of the veiled maiden, discussed elsewhere in detail (Jones 2003, 443–445),

it will suffice to summarize the major points here. The Crocus Gatherer’s dress (heanos) is visible above the kilt’s waistband and beneath its lowest white flounce on both legs (Fig. 7.1). The outlines of the legs, visible through the fabric in the area between the kilt’s white flounce and the dress hem, make it clear that the fabric was sheer and that the dress was calf length. The dress has a deep V-shaped open front, contoured sides, bands across the shoulders and edges of the center front and sleeves, and tassels emanating from the shoulder

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bands. The orange-colored cloth is decorated with an overall diagonal black dotted grid pattern, and each dotted square has a black cross in the center. Elizabeth Barber suggested that the pattern was achieved either by using a diaper weave with supplemental weft or possibly a plaid cut on the bias, which would better accommodate the tight fit of the bodice (Barber 1991, 317–318 n. 6). The garment is not a bodice, however, but rather a long dress that, if cut on the bias, would result in an excessive waste of fabric. In addition, as weaver Valerie Bealle has pointed out to me, although a supplemental weft is appropriate for opaque fabrics, it is inappropriate for the diaphanous cloth of the Thera dress because the floats on the underside of the fabric, formed by the patterned threads, would show through the cloth and obscure the surface pattern. Bealle suggests that the Crocus Gatherer’s dress could have been cut on the straight from a loom-shaped rectangle of plain-weave cloth

with the diagonal grid and crosses embroidered. Alternatively, she notes that the dots on the diagonal grid, like the dots in many patterns on Minoan textiles, including scales at Hagia Triada (Jones 2007, pl. 18:1C) and spirals at Knossos (Evans 1921– 1935, III, fig. 20) and Pseira (Shaw 1998, 59, 63, 69– 70, color pl. E), could well be tiny beads of the types found on Crete (Effinger 1996, 23–40, esp. 25, cites 2,400 globular-type beads [kugelför­mige perlen]). As beads decorated prized garments in the Near East, so they appear to have adorned the clothes of the Minoans and Therans. Stephanie Dalley connects archaeological evidence for the tiny beads sewn onto a cloth from Acemhüyük in Anatolia with textual evidence in a letter from Iltani to her husband, Aqba-hammu, a vassal of Hammurabi, dated by Dalley to 1848–1806 b.c.e., which reads, “send me quickly the garments, both with appliqué and without appliqué, which you have made” (Dalley 1984, 53).

HEANOS

KILT

2 3

BAN D

HEANOS

1

2

3 HEANOS

a b Figure 7.1. The Crocus Gatherer fresco (a) and drawing with dress parts labeled (b). Photo Doumas 1992, pl. 120; drawing R. Ruppert.

THE CROCUS GATHERER’S COSTUME REVISITED

The orange dress is trimmed with shoulder and center front bands of blue, decorated with alternating black zigzag and vertical lines between black borders. Red ocher cords emanate from the shoulder bands and end in double tassels with three to four pendant drops. The narrower sleeve bands are also blue, bordered in black, but with only a thin black stripe running lengthwise across the center. The latter pattern is the same as that on the bands on the veil of the Veiled Maiden from Thera, and, like them, it was probably woven in a warp-faced plain weave, as reconstructed by Bealle for that veil (Jones 2003, 442, pls. 84:c, d, 85:a). Bealle has suggested that the sleeve design was probably woven in warp-faced plain weave with the design in warp pick-up. This is similar to the technique she employed for reproducing the dress band on the kneeling figure from Hagia Triada (Jones 2007, 156, pl. 18:3). Since the Therans used the warp-weighted loom for weaving (Tzachili 1990, 380–386), and that loom required a header band at its top from which the cloth descended, Bealle suggested that such a band likely was incorporated into the robe, presumably at the top, where it would serve as a shoulder band. The lateral warp fringes resulting from this weaving method could be worked into tassels. Thus, the diagram in Figure 7.2 illustrates a proposed construction technique whereby parts of the robe were cut from a double-length loom-shaped rectangle of cloth with the back of the robe cut from the top half and the front from the bottom half (Fig. 7.2:a). Since the center front edges of the dress are banded at the torso but not below (that is, beneath the kilt), they were possibly selvages (edges naturally bound by the weave structure), unembellished below the waist but banded to prevent fraying where they were cut diagonally at the torso. Thus, the bottom half of the dress was likely cut in half lengthwise to make two panels for the front of the dress, with the front panels arranged so that the selvages were placed at center front, their upper parts cut on a diagonal for the opening at the chest, and banded. Since the shoulder/ header band of the Crocus Gatherer overlaps the tops of the bands down the center front (Fig. 7.1), we can surmise that the back with its header band was joined to the front two panels after their diagonally cut front edges were banded, and that the sleeve edges were banded last (Fig. 7.2:d, e).

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Based on evidence for side seams on the closefitting robe of the Bending Lady from the House of the Ladies in Thera (Doumas 1992, 41, pl. 10), the sides were cut in to form sleeves and to curve inward toward the waist, then outward to the hips, and were seamed together (Fig. 7.2:a, c–e). The fact that bands were not required at the side seams reinforces the argument for the special use of the header band at the shoulder seam. Because this method of construction left the bottom edge of the robe raw and unfinished (Fig. 7.2:a, warp ends at the front panels and a cut edge at the back panel), it is not surprising that it was cut further so that the hem arched downward toward the center front edges in order to match the hem curves of the kilt. Since the line at the bottom leaves us uninformed about how the edge was finished, it presumably was either hemmed or rolled and whipped, judging from methods used in preserved Egyptian dresses (Vogelsang-Eastwood 1993, 120), or narrowly banded. Although many scholars (Peterson 1981, 211; Televantou 1982, 113–123, figs. 3:α–γ; Marinatos 1984, 100–102, figs. 67, 70; Harrison 1991, 224– 225, fig. 10; Peterson Murray 2004, 104–123) have recognized that the detailed depictions of dresses from Thera have provided us with a different view of dress construction than the short and tight-fitting jacket proposed long ago (originally by Evans 1902–1903, 80; Marinatos 1967, 29–30), this view is still maintained by some (Wardle 1988, 469–476, esp. 471–472, fig. 1; Barber 1991, 317– 318 n. 6; Wardle and Wardle 1997, 86–88; some of their views are summarized in Jones 2001, 260). A recent hypothesis put forth by Barber and her student Abigail Lillethun misinterprets the underarm contour line of the Crocus Gatherer (Fig. 7.1) as a garment fold and proposes six construction possibilities for achieving it (Barber 2000, 6; Lillethun 2003). Random folds, however, from garments adorning figures are never indicated in Aegean art, and there is no break in the sheer cloth’s diagonal grid pattern to indicate a fold. An example of a grid’s break is visible in the overlapped edge of the kilt on the Necklace Bearer from Thera (Doumas 1992, 140, pl. 103). Indeed, the consistency of the grid is more reminiscent of fabric laying on a flat surface than responding to the curves of the anatomy (on patterned cloth grids, see Shaw 2003, 185– 186). This is characteristic of Minoan art, as seen,

1.35 m

a

1.07 m

RIGHT FRONT PANEL

LEFT FRONT PANEL

BACK PANEL

HEADER BAND

2.73 m

c

SELVAGE

b

SELVAGE

SELVAGE

WARP THREADS BECOME TASSLES

LEFT FRONT PANEL

0.43 m

LEFT FRONT PANEL

Figure 7.2. Construction diagrams of dress (heanos). Drawing R. Ruppert.

RAW EDGE

SELVAGE

RAW EDGE

1.35 m

0.38 m

1.07 m

SELVAGE

0.33 m

SELVAGE

1.35 m

RIGHT FRONT PANEL 0.17 m

RIGHT FRONT PANEL

d

SELVAGES

e

HEM

SEAM

APPLIED BANDS

TASSLES HEADER BAN

D

80 BERNICE R. JONES

THE CROCUS GATHERER’S COSTUME REVISITED

for example, on the kneeling figure from Hagia Triada, where the dress’s dotted arch design is consistently upright, following the verticality of the thighs but remaining vertical instead of conforming to the bent horizontal lower legs (Jones 2007, pl. 18:1C). Since the line is visible through the sheer fabric of the Crocus Gatherer’s dress, as are the legs, the line defines the anatomical contour of the armpit at the back of the underarm, not a construction detail of the dress. One can compare this line to similar anatomical contour lines at the underarms of the bare torsos of the male vessel holders from Xeste 3 (Doumas 1992, 114–115, pl. 81). Lillethun and Barber ignore the absence of sleeve seams (and thus set-in sleeves) in Aegean art, overlook the presence of side seams (Doumas 1992, 41, p1. 10), and disregard the continuation below the Crocus Gatherer’s kilt of the same grid-patterned sheer cloth with centered crosses that appears on the torso and identifies the garment as a long dress. Their experiments to measure the comfort of their bodices, made of heavy, opaque modern commercial wool and linen cloth and cotton bands on a live model and apply the results to the ancient Therans are equally implausible because the Theran dresses, by contrast, are made of hand-spun and woven, fine, sheer, patterned linen, wool, or perhaps even silk, and their comfort level is forever lost to us. In addition, Helmut Nickel’s (2004, 120–121, figs. 9:b–10:a, b) proposed Ur-Chiton, a long dress with a frontless top, lacks the V-shaped bodice front, seamed at the sides to the back, of the standard Minoan dress (heanos) exemplified both on the Theran women from Xeste 3 and the House of the Ladies and the Knossos snake goddesses, and it is thus completely unrelated to them. Nickel credited Ruth Bleckwenn-Fasold with the design of the short frontless bolero-style blouse (Bolerojäckchen) and with the connection of it to the women on the Knossos Grandstand Fresco and on the Hagia Triada sarcophagus (Nickel 2004, 120–121, fig. 9:a), a convincing attribution for a design unrelated to the one worn on Thera and by the Knossos Snake goddesses. On the Hagia Triada sarcophagus, the short bolero-style blouse is worn both alone by the hide-skirted women and in conjunction with the heanos of the bucket carriers; and it is also worn by the Mykenaia over her

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heanos on the fresco from Mycenae (Jones 2009, 326–334). Based on the evidence for construction cited above (Fig. 7.2), an experimental replication of the Crocus Gatherer’s dress was made, using commercial fabric (Fig. 7.3). Undecorated diaphanous orange-colored cloth was substituted for the gridpatterned one on the fresco. It was cut and shaped to size. Bands were painted to match the motifs on the originals and were added across the shoulders, down the center front, and at sleeve edges. Tassels of red threads (presumably added to the blue warp threads from the shoulder and arm bands) were imitated by Bealle and knotted intermittently to form pendant drops, as in the painting. Besides terminating from the sleeve and kilt bands on the Veiled Maiden from Thera (Jones 2003, pl. 84:a, b), such tassels also appear in Minoan art, preserved on Late Minoan IB fresco fragments from Hagia Triada (Militello 1998, 121–122, pls. F:a, V:12.1– 12.3), and on the belt cords that secure the kilts of the Keftiu in the Theban tombs of Rekhmire (ca. 1504–1450 b.c.e.; Vercoutter 1956, 257, fig. 156, pl. 19) and Menkheperraseneb (ca. 1475–1450 b.c.e.; Wachsmann 1987, fig. 11, pl. 36:B). Linear B, which some thought would not yield information on the Minoans (and, by extension, the Therans) because it was a Mycenaean script, has not only provided new evidence for Minoan dress, but also confirmed that the Mycenaeans actually wore the Minoan-style costume, at least for cult purposes. With its deep V-shaped front, before it is shaped and cut at the sides to form sleeves (Fig. 7.2:b), the Crocus Gatherer’s dress bears a striking resemblance to Linear B ideogram *146, a sign for we-a2-no (Fig. 7.4), Homeric ἑανὸς (heanos), a ready-made fine linen garment frequently mentioned on tablets specifically dealing with religion (Jones 2003, 444–445, pl. 87). The fabric of this garment was probably similar to the sheer, fine linen cloth in the Metropolitan Museum of Art from the Eighteenth Dynasty (ca. 1466 b.c.e.) tomb of Hatnofer and Ramose (Roehrig 1995–1996, 22), which parallels the diaphanous look of the Crocus Gatherer’s heanos. Although scholars rightly point out that the we-a2-no could also have been made of wool (Nosch and Perna 2001, 472–473), and wool can, indeed, be spun very finely, such transparency

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Figure 7.3. Experimental replication by B.R. Jones (tassels by V. Bealle) of the Crocus Gatherer’s dress ( heanos ): front view (left); back view (right).

is likelier achieved with linen, given the actual parallels for it from Egypt. Archaeological evidence for the weaving of linen may be inferred from the discovery of rhyta with loom weights at several sites, including Akrotiri (Macdonald 1990, 85–86, fig. 8; Koehl 2006, 334, table 17). Because linen is easier to work with when moistened (Tedder 2005, 43; Mårtensson et al. 2006, 14; V. Bealle 2007, pers. comm.), the rhyta could have been used as water sprinklers during the weaving process. Such vessels or others could also have contained olive oil, which Linear B tells us made medium-weight linen soft, flexible, and sheer (Robkin 1981, 213), and

perfumed oil, which specifically made *146 + WE, or we-a2-no (Homeric ἑανὸς [heanos]), fragrant and shiny (Shelmerdine 1995, 103–104). Alternatively, Eva Panagiotakopulu reminds us that silk is also possible since a wild silk cocoon was discovered in Akrotiri. She further points out that since cotton cloth was woven in the Indus Valley in the early second millennium and cultivated in Egypt ca. 2500 b.c.e., both silk and cotton may have been imports into Akrotiri (Panagiotakopulu 2000, 586–589). Although we know that during the Harappan civilization, ca. 2600–1900 b.c.e., Indus cities cultivated cotton, produced cotton cloth, and traded with the Mesopotamian cities

83

THE CROCUS GATHERER’S COSTUME REVISITED

of Susa and Ur (Kenoyer 2003, 377–381), and although we have evidence for Aegean contacts, including the trading of textiles, with Mesopotamia and Egypt in the Bronze Age (Jones 2005, 707– 715), we lack evidence for cotton having reached the Aegean at that time. Nevertheless, that the Mycenaean, Linear B wea2-no (the Minoan-style linen robe like that portrayed on the painting of the Crocus Gatherer) continued to be produced and worn for cult purposes until the end of the Bronze Age suggests that it may have filtered down into the Homeric period as the heanos of Hera in The Iliad (Hom. Il. 14.178–186). Thus the dress is labeled heanos in the diagram (for further discussion and bibliography, see Jones 2003, 443–445; 2007, 154–156).

*146 + WE we-a2-no

*181

WE

Figure 7.4. Linear B ideograms *146 + WE ( we-a2-no ); *166, *166 + WE; and *181. Drawing R. Ruppert.

The Kilt The main fabric of the kilt is also orange and decorated with a grid pattern. Unlike that of the dress, however, the diagonal grid pattern is made of solid red lines with a red dot centered within each quadrant (Fig. 7.1:a). This design is paralleled at Hagia Triada, Crete, on a fresco fragment that may also depict a textile (Militello 1998, pls. F:b, V:7). The grid pattern is bordered by a narrow black band at the waist and a wider dark band below, which separates it from an orange area decorated with three thin, dark, horizontal stripes across the center, hemmed by a dark band. A blue and then a white flounce follow beneath, each decorated with black split-lozenges-with-angled-bars and four horizontal lines within. Black bands at the hems of the white and blue flounces end in pendant tassels, the white one preserved, the blue one missing its tip. Suggestions for the design of this and other Minoan female kilts include skirts (Marinatos 1967, A26–A28), trousers, or pantaloons (Hogarth 1902, 79; Smith 1965, 79; Foster 1979, 78; Alexandri 1994, 29, 43; Stefani 2000, 73, 78); a skirt over a long dress (Peterson 1981, 211; Marinatos 1984, 100–102, figs. 68, 70); a trapezoidal skirt (Marinatos 1957, 536; Fasold 1959,

6–8; Wardle 1988, 471); two to three rectangular pieces of cloth with curved bottoms (Televantou 1982, 121–122, fig. 3:δ–στ); a “barrel-shaped (and ‘double-barreled’) hang of the skirt fronts” achieved by banding (Barber 2000, 6); a rectangle (Marcar 2001, 142; Nickel 2004, 121–122); and an “envelope” skirt with V-shaped hem and wraparound flounces (Stefani 2000, 72–74, pl. 6:α, β, γ). Suggestions for the design of the Minoan male kilt include a rectangle with arched hems (Vercoutter 1956, 279–282, figs. 91–93; Sapouna-Sakellaraki 1971, 116–117, figs. 56, 57) and a plain rectangle (Rehak 1996, 40–51, fig. 2; Marcar 2001, 132). Lacking preserved kilts in the archaeological record, and believing that cutting cloth must have been kept to a minimum in the Bronze Age Aegean, I originally suggested that the kilt was made either of strips of cloth sewn onto a rectangular cloth backing, or of three rectangular pieces of cloth of graduated lengths sewn together at the waist. Either could have been manipulated on the body to achieve the downward curves at the front. An experimental kilt using the latter technique was made and modeled in the pose of the Crocus Gatherer (Jones 1998, 236–246; 2000, 36–41).

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My subsequent research into Linear B, however, provides evidence from the Bronze Age for a different construction, not only of the Mycenaean kilt, but, of equal importance, its Minoan prototypes, and the Minoan-influenced Cycladic version, including the kilt of our Theran Crocus Gatherer (Marinatos 1990). The double-axe shape of Linear B ideogram *166 (Fig. 7.4), a ritual linen garment convincingly associated with Minoan male kilts (Duhoux 1974, 117–123) and with male and female deities (Nosch and Perna 2001, 471–476, esp. 475), also conforms well to the shape of the female kilt represented in art, with its angled point formed by the overlapped edge at the side of the waist and downward-curving fronts. I have demonstrated this in experimental replications of kilts shaped with incurved arches at top (waist) and bottom (hem) of the Veiled Maiden from Thera (Jones 2003, 445–447, pls. 86:b–d, 87:a–c), the “goddess” from Hagia Triada (Jones 2005, 709–710, pls. 179:a–g, 180:a–g, 181:Ia), and a crouching woman on the Ivory Triad from Mycenae (Jones 2009, 321– 323, fig. 18). Preserved Egyptian linen loincloths from the Middle and New Kingdoms provide actual cloth parallels in the eastern Mediterranean for the waist contour of ideogram *166. Their top

35"

edges are cut and shaped into similar incurved arches, the raw edges hemmed, and the corners fitted with strings for fastening around the waist (Jones 2003, 446, pl. 87:d–f). In accordance with this evidence, the following new experimental replication of the kilt of the Crocus Gatherer is proposed and illustrated here in a diagram (Fig. 7.5) and held by a model (Fig. 7.6). The diagram in Figure 7.5 illustrates how incurved arches could have been cut into the top and bottom of a rectangular length of commercial opaque orange cloth with a similar woven grid pattern. Three flounces (strips of fabric) were sewn onto it, each following the arched curve of the hem. The top orange one (flounce 1) overlapped the top of the central blue one (flounce 2), and that, in turn, overlapped the top of the bottom white one (flounce 3). What was previously thought to be the horizontally striped border of the grid-patterned cloth was actually the top, orange flounce (flounce 1), narrower than the others, with three parallel horizontal stripes across the center (57 x 5 in.). A dark band at its top masked its join to the main cloth (Figs. 7.5:c, 7.6). The patterns on the flounces were painted in imitation of those on the fresco: three parallel, thin, dark, horizontal stripes across the center

51"

FRONT

23"

1 2

c

1

3

a

2 60"

5"

FLOUNCE 1

8"

FLOUNCE 2

8"

FLOUNCE 3

BACK

1 b

2 d

3

Figure 7.5. Construction of kilt. Drawing R. Ruppert.

e

3

1

2

3

THE CROCUS GATHERER’S COSTUME REVISITED

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Figure 7.6. Experimental replication by the author of the Crocus Gatherer’s dress ( heanos ) and kilt. Dress tassels and kilt belt by V. Bealle; model: D. Oktay. Photo M. Gammacurta.

of the orange flounce, and black split-lozengeswith-angled-bars, and four horizontal lines within across the center of both the blue (57 x 8 in.) and the white (57 x 8 in.) flounces (Figs. 7.5, 7.6). Narrow bands terminating in tassels were added to the hems of the flounces to reflect the tassels that hang from the inside corner of the white flounce at the figure’s left leg and the partly preserved one from the corner of the blue flounce. Another tassel presumably once decorated the top, orange flounce. I am grateful to Ellen Davis for discussing the problems of this tassel with me. Although unclear, the remnant of the tassel may be indicated by the smudge that continues below the point of the top orange tier (Fig 7.1:a). Perhaps the tassel continued downward and melded with the preserved red line that defines the vertical edge at the bottom of the dress (at the inside edge of her right leg), because what appears to be a red tassel there would not have belonged to the dress. The red line

that runs along the inside edge of the blue tier at the figure’s left leg likely defines the inside edge of the white tier at the figure’s right leg. These tassels are simple versions of the far more elaborate ones that decorate the kilts on the male processional figures from Knossos (Evans 1921–1935, II.2, fig. 453, suppl. pl. XXVII). While the thin Theran hem band culminates in a simple tassel with a single pendant, the wide, patterned Knossian hem band terminates in an oval “weight” and produces an elaborate network of fringes with bead pendants. The comparison emphasizes that although the Theran kilts are modeled after Minoan ones, the details are greatly reduced from the far more intricate Knossian examples. The replicated kilt was placed on the model and secured around the waist with a black twisted cord belt terminating in a tassel, the latter made by V. Bealle (Fig. 7.7). It was tied in a loop at her back just as the one on the Crocus Gatherer (Fig. 7.1).

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Figure 7.7. Model replicating the Crocus Gatherer’s pose. Photo M. Gammacurta.

Such cord belts also secured the kilts on two other crocus gatherers (Doumas 1992, 154, 160, pls. 118, 123), on the Wounded Maiden (Doumas 1992, 142, pl. 105) from Xeste 3, and on the striding and bending ladies from the House of the Ladies (Doumas 1992, 38, pls. 6, 7). An actual prototype for the Theran cord belts in linen (5–7 mm and Z-plyed), along with the loincloth it secured, survives from Theban Tomb 37, dated from the Middle to New Kingdom, located beneath the temple of Hatshepsut (Vogelsang-Eastwood 1993, 10– 11, pl. 1; Jones 2003, pl. 87:e). Further evidence for cord belts actually exists on Crete in Linear B tablets from Knossos. The

ideogram *181 (Fig. 7.4), a loop with crossed ends, and its word, e-to-ro-qa-ta, is interpreted by José Melena as a twisted cord presumably of linen because it accompanies ideograms *166 + WE and *146, both made of linen (Melena 1975, 50–63, fig. 4). Noting that it is associated with *166 + WE, which he perceptively interpreted as a male kilt, Yves Duhoux went further to suggest that *181 is a belt (Duhoux 1975, 122). Indeed, the twisted cord belts on the kilts of the Thera maidens and the other figures discussed above are perfect candidates for this ideogram. Knossos tablet Oa 878 lists 18 *166 + WE (kilts) and 16 e-to-ro-qa-ta (belts), and Knossos tablet M 757 lists 250 *146 (linen dresses/heanoi) and 10 *181 (belts) (Chadwick, Killen, and Olivier 1971, 244, 256; Duhoux 1975, 121–122). The dichotomy between the number of kilts to belts versus the number of dresses (heanoi) to belts is appropriate. Whereas wraparound kilts require belts to secure them at the waist, heanoi do not. Shown both with and without belts in art, heanoi are cinched at the waist with cord belts on the little girls on the Ivory Triad (Wace 1949, pl. 102:c) and in a wall painting from Mycenae (Jones 2009, 312–321), but they are unbelted on the female bucket carrier and male musicians on the LH IIIA:2 Hagia Triada sarcophagus (Jones 2009, 316, fig. 11), the latter contemporary with the Knossos Linear B tablets (Driessen 2002, 2). Interestingly, similarly looped and tasseled cord belts secured the kilts of the Keftiu from the Theban tombs of Rekhmire (Vercoutter 1956, 257, fig. 156, pl. 19) and Menkheperraseneb (Wachsmann 1987, fig. 11, pl. 36:B), mentioned above. The oval ornaments on the Keftiu’s hem on the tomb of Menkheperraseneb even resemble those on the Cup-bearer from Knossos. This provides further evidence for connecting the Keftiu with Minoans and Therans and for using the Keftiu belts as parallels for the Crocus Gatherer’s costume.

Conclusions In sum, a comparison between the earlier, heavier, opaque replicated heanos (Jones 2000, 37–38) and the newly replicated light, sheer one (Fig. 7.7) reveals little difference in the draping of the cloth on the model. Because they are

made of commercial fabric unrelated to the handwoven textiles of the Crocus Gatherer’s heanos and kilt, these experiments are meant to provide only a general idea of how the original garments draped. The new replicated double-axe-shaped

THE CROCUS GATHERER’S COSTUME REVISITED

kilt (Figs. 7.5–7.7), however, conforms much better to the body at the waist area and to the downward curves of the flounces in art than did the earlier replicated rectangular kilt (Jones 2000, 37– 38). This is, of course, due to the incurved waistline and the arched hem and flounces of the new kilt. The new kilt requires no manipulating, as it naturally hugs the waist and hangs in downward curves along the front. This is especially notable because the model was six months pregnant when she posed in the new costume (Figs. 7.6, 7.7). This illustrates the style’s versatility, practicality, and ability to adapt to changes in body weight, and to the transitional phases of women. All this is especially apparent from the paintings at Thera that illustrate that women of all ages and roles wore the open-front dress: from the Older Women and the Young Goddess, to her acolytes, including the Crocus Gatherer, and to those in the adyton in Xeste 3, to the ladies in the House of the Ladies, to the women carrying water vessels in the Miniature Fresco in the West House (Doumas 1992). Like the open-front robe (heanos), so the wraparound kilt appears to have been designed to adapt easily to expanding and contracting waistlines. The new interpretations of the construction of the Crocus Gatherer’s heanos, and especially the kilt, are consistent with my analysis of the costume of the Theran Veiled Maiden and the Minoan “goddess” from Hagia Triada (Jones 2003, 443–446; 2005, 709–710). While the kilt’s double-axe shape remains consistent in each costume, the number of flounces and their arrangement can vary considerably. For example, the single set of three overlapping flounces on the Crocus Gatherer’s kilt differs from the two separated flounces on the kilt of the Veiled Maiden from Thera (Jones 2003, pl. 86). The Theran examples are simpler than those from Crete and the mainland. Note the double set of two overlapping flounces on the fancier kilt of the Minoan “goddess” from Hagia Triada (Jones 2005, pls. 178, 179) and the more complex double set of three overlapping flounces on the elaborate kilts of the Ivory Triad from Mycenae, which many believe to be a Minoan heirloom (Jones 2009, 321– 323, figs. 17, 18, and online figs. 1, 16). Our evidence to date suggests that the splitlozenge designs on the Thera flounces appear to be an indigenous motif that differs from the vertical stripes/striations that proliferate on the

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Minoan (Hagia Triada) and mainland (Ivory Triad and Mykenaia) flounces, to name a few examples. Both of these designs, however, may have religious connotations, as I have argued in detail elsewhere (Jones 2005, 712–714) and shall pursue further here. I have suggested that the Minoan and Mycenaean striped or fringed flounces may be referred to in the Linear B o-nu-ke (Greek ὄνυξ = nail, claw), thus, (finger)nails (translated in the context of cloth as a border or fringe by Killen [1979, 157–158]), and further, to the contemporary ancient Near Eastern practice of impressing fingernails and hem fringes vertically into tablets as marks of symbolically surrendering oneself to the power of another (Jones 2005, 713–714). Since crosswise impressed nail marks also appear on Near Eastern tablets, as the one from Susa of the Old Babylonian period (Scheil 1930, 119, no. 105), the same symbolism could hold for the row of X-like designs on the flounces of the Necklace Bearer (Doumas 1992, 140, pl. 103), the Veiled Maiden (Doumas 1992, 144, pl. 107, replicated in Jones 2003, 445–447, pls. LXXXVI:b–d, LXXXVI:Ia, c) from the adyton in Xeste 3, Thera, and the row of split X’s (>