Between Deity and Dedicator: The Life and Agency of Greek Votive Terracotta Figurines 9783110770223, 9783110768879

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Sanne Hoffmann Between Deity and Dedicator

Image & Context Edited by François Lissarrague, Rolf Schneider & R.  R.  R. Smith Editorial Board: Bettina Bergmann, Ruth Bielfeldt, Jane Fejfer, Chris Hallett, Susanne Muth, Alain Schnapp & Salvatore Settis

Volume 23

De Gruyter

Sanne Hoffmann

Between Deity and Dedicator The Life and Agency of Greek Votive Terracotta Figurines

De Gruyter

      ISBN 978-3-11-076887-9 e-ISBN (PDF) 978-3-11-077022-3 ISSN 1868-4777   Library of Congress Control Number: 2023932806   Bibliographic information published by the Deutsche Nationalbibliothek The Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliografie; detailed bibliographic data are available on the Internet at http://dnb.dnb.de.   © 2023 Walter de Gruyter GmbH, Berlin/Boston   Cover image: Terracotta figurine of seated woman from Lindos, ca. 400–330 BC. Courtesy of the National Museum of Denmark, inv. no. 10749. Photographer: Line Cecilie Eskerod Cover: Martin Zech, Bremen Typesetting: Dörlemann Satz GmbH & Co. KG, Lemförde Printing and Binding: Beltz Grafische Betriebe GmbH, Bad Langensalza   www.degruyter.com

Table of Content

Preface. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . IX Acknowledgements. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . IX Some Remarks on the Book. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . XI Chapter I: Introduction. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 1. Previous Scholarship on Greek Votive Terracottas. . . . . . . . . . . 11 The Terracottas as Archaeological Objects and as Votive Offerings . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11 2. Approaches to Archaeological Contexts through Time. . . . . . . 17 3. Method and Theory. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24 Chaîne opératoire. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24 Object Agency . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27 4. Structure and Focal Points . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33 Chapter II: Making and Moving . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 35 1. Making the Figurines . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Material . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Techniques. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Craftspeople . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Workshops. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Examples of Locations of Workshops . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Mass Production. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2. Moving the Figurines . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Distribution. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Models of Movement. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Economy of Votive Figurines . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3. Discussion and Preliminary Conclusions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

39 39 40 43 46 46 52 62 62 68 73 74

VI

Table of Content

Chapter III: Dedicating and Mediating. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 77 1. Placement . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Material Evidence. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Visual Evidence. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Written Sources. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Summary. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2. Discussing Iconography, Symbolism and Cultic Use . . . . . . . . . Iconography. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Attributes. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Ritual Paraphernalia. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Varia. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Summary. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Discussion. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3. The Dedicators and the Roles of the Votive Figurines. . . . . . . . The Dedicators . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Roles of the Votives . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4. Discussion and Preliminary Conclusions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

81 81 93 95 101 103 106 128 133 140 147 149 153 153 158 167

Chapter IV: Depositing and Discarding . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 169 1. Defining and Identifying Votive Deposits and Contexts. . . . . . 173 2. Observing and Analysing Find Contexts. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 179 Tiryns: The Heraion. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 181 Argos: The Heraion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 184 Corinth: The Demeter and Kore Sanctuary . . . . . . . . . . . . 188 Gela: The Acropolis and the Predio Sola Sanctuaries. . . . 192 Agrigento: The Urban Sanctuary. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 198 Chios, Emporio: The Athena Sanctuary and the Harbour Sanctuary. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 202 Rhodes, Lindos: The Athana Lindia Sanctuary . . . . . . . . . 207 Priene: The Demeter and Kore Sanctuary, the Kybele Sanctuary and the “Heiliges Haus”. . . . . . 210 Pergamon: The Demeter Sanctuary. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 213 Summary. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 216 3. The Practice of Deposition. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 219 Categorising the Concentrations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 219 The Content of the Concentrations. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 222 The Matter of What and Why?. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 223 But What about When and Why? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 224 Afterwards. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 227 4. Discussion and Preliminary Conclusions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 229

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Chapter V: Transformation and Termination . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 231 1

Considering Change and Continuity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Developments within the Sanctuaries. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Summary and Discussion of the Cultic Changes. . . . . . . . Changing Trends . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Continuities. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Discussion and Preliminary Conclusions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

2

235 238 242 244 250 253

Chapter VI: Discussion and Conclusions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 255

First Stage . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Second Stage. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Third Stage . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Fourth Stage . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

257 259 262 263

Abstract . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 267 Tables . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 269 References for Table 1. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Table 1. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Table 2 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Table 3 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Bibliography . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . List of Illustrations. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Index . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

271 278 280 288 289 309 341 344

Preface

Acknowledgements This book is a slightly revised and updated version of my dissertation (with the same title), which was defended in February 2019. It was a study carried out as a collaboration project between the Department of Ancient Cultures of Denmark and the Mediterranean at the National Museum of Denmark and the research project The Emergence of Sacred Travel at the School of Culture and Society at Aarhus University, under the supervision of Troels Myrup Kristensen and Bodil Bundgaard Rasmussen. The PhD project was made possible by grants from the Danish Council for Independent Research Sapere Aude programme to Aarhus University and the Danish Ministry of Culture to the National Museum of Denmark. Generous support from Elisabeth Munksgaard Fonden, The Danish Institute at Athens, Ingeniør Svend G. Fiedler og Hustrus Legat and the Nordic Graduate School in Archaeology have helped facilitate research stays, courses and travels during my time as a PhD student. Elisabeth Munksgaard Fonden has also kindly helped fund this publication. I am very grateful to the foundations and to my supervisors for making it possible to undertake the PhD project and present the results in this book and to the kind people at De Gruyter for their support and assistance with this publication. While a dissertation is often a lonely process, as many will know, there is still a small village that has helped raise this study and supported me through it all. I am grateful to everyone who have taken the time to listen, discuss the topic with me, give words of advice, offer practical help, or in other ways aided the process. I would like to mention those who were most entangled in the project: Much gratitude is owed to Alexandra Villing and Vinnie Nørskov. As examiners at my thesis seminar and again at my defense, they both read several versions of this text and their invaluable advice and feedback were most appreciated. I would like to thank Stephen Lumsden for many

XPreface

good discussions and for reading my dissertation in a patient attempt to improve my English – all shortcomings remain, of course, my own. I am very grateful to my kind and helpful colleagues at the National Museum of Denmark, including Lasse Sommer Schütt for practical help and scanning, as well as Anne Haslund Hansen, Stine Schierup and John Lund, who have always provided an encouraging, warm and appropriately humorous environment. Kristine Bülow Clausen, Amalie Skovmøller and Nicola Daumann kindly shared their PhD experiences with me through ups and downs. Many thanks are owed also to Eva Mortensen for helping me proofread the text and to Niels Bargfeldt for creating and adapting maps for me, but most of all to both of them for their hospitality and friendship. I wish to thank friends and family that have supported me and not questioned my life choices, even when there might be good reason to do so. Furthermore, David Nicholas Christensen deserves a special mentioning for always being the ever enthusiastic and helpful friend. And finally, much love to Felix, my dearest and most loyal companion through all of this.

Preface

XI

Some Remarks on the Book The amount of Greek votive terracotta figurines is potentially huge. Many are stored in excavation houses, museum storerooms and in collections and have not yet been published. Only published material has been used for this study due to two specific reasons. The first reason is to have the possibility to extract as much information as possible within the timeframe of the project. The second reason is that a specific purpose of this study is to examine how new approaches to the published material, including data acquisition that does not live up to current standards, might bring new insights into an established archaeological field. For these reasons, published material takes centre stage. It should be noted that the decision of using only published material stretches into the use of illustrations in this volume. It is my decision, thankfully with the kind support of my publisher De Gruyter, that the images in this book should act not only as relevant illustrations of the topics in question, but also function as a visualisation of the material available to me as a researcher working on published material. This means that scans of pages of terracotta figurines or sites from various publications will be left just as such: as visuals of the illustrative material used for this research. Only when the attempts to get image permissions inevitably led me to a newer photograph, have I deterred from the rule of using the images as they were in the publications (Figure 15 and 23). And since I did have direct access to the selection of material from Lindos in the National Museum of Denmark, I allowed myself a few new photographs of these (Figures 6, 38, 41, 43, 45, 53, 54, 84, 85), along with examples from the publication. Consequently, the images used reflect specific aesthetic and communicative choices of me as the author of this book as well as the same choices made by their original publishers.

Chapter I: Introduction

They give the prayer a concrete form and ensure that it will be repeated continuously and in perpetuity before the god.1

Terracotta figurines are found in many Greek sanctuaries, often in abundance, testifying to widespread votive practices that became prominent in the Archaic period. These practices were widely popular throughout the Classical and Hellenistic periods and even continued into Late Antiquity at some sites. The numbers and the types of terracottas vary, though, as do the deities worshipped at the sanctuaries in which they are found, as well as the length of their use. Terracottas and especially the votive terracottas, have recently experienced an increase in research and numerous studies are currently investigating different aspects of these objects. However, due to the large number of finds, studies have typically been restricted to specific topics, such as site assemblages, classifications, chronologies, areas of production, trade and cultic indications for specific sites or figurine types. It is the aim of this book to present a broadly oriented life cycle study of the Greek votive terracotta figurines. A further purpose is to give voice to these small-scale clay offerings found in such large numbers. What are often retrieved from Greek cult areas – and what tend to have the loudest voices – are the valuable offerings and dedications, i.e. monumental statues, major architectural structures and inscriptions, which mostly mention prestigious or expensive votives, telling us very little about the worshippers with more modest gifts. Yet, it is without doubt that this group of small objects encapsulates a large and important source of information about Greek votive practices. Due to the large amounts found and the easy accessibility of the raw material, terracotta figurines have typically been considered a widely available, somewhat inexpensive, votive gift used by so-called ordinary people of the ancient Greek communities. These were either people who chose something relatively cheap for simple offerings, or those who presumably could not afford the more expensive dedications.2 One of the aims of this book is to test whether such assumptions hold true. In the book, the characteristics of these particular objects and their uses are also investigated in order to understand their seeming popularity in a broad selection of Greek sanctuaries and to understand how they were perceived as cultic votive objects mediating the sacred. In essence: Why were the terracotta figurines deemed to be so suitable as votive offerings and why did they become so popular? Through the application of a methodological framework and a group of theoretical approaches, none of which have previously been applied to

4Introduction

published studies of votive terracotta figurines on such a broad scale, these goals are pursued. In this particular field of research, the primary publications of excavated material, as well as of museum and private collection catalogues, play a predominant role. These previous studies and earlier publications deal mainly with chronological and typological issues in a positivistic manner, so that the more interpretive, theoretical approaches undertaken here offer the opportunity for new insights. The problem of extracting as much reliable information as possible from older excavations and publications, which do not conform to modern standards, is also essential for this study. This kind of archival study has the potential to bring new knowledge forward. To sum up, the overarching aim of this study is to apply a broad-scale approach to the study of the life cycle of small-scale votive terracotta figurines in order to answer the following key questions: – How do the different moments in the life cycle of the terracottas illuminate the widely popular use of the figurines as votive offerings in the ancient Greek world? – How might the application of method and theory current in archaeology today contribute new knowledge to a long established and traditional archaeological field?

Delimitations and Definitions The study focuses on Greek Votive Terracottas and each of these three terms requires an explanation as to how they are defined within this particular project. In relation to the geographical framework, Greek is basically to be understood as including Greece, Magna Graecia and Asia Minor. Cyprus and the Black Sea region are not included. Greek is also to be understood as an iconographic style in relation to the terracottas. The time frame is essentially limited to the period of use of mould-made Greek terracotta figurines: from the early Archaic period, when production of these particular figurines emerged and then began to be used as votives, until the practice of dedicating terracottas as votive offerings significantly decreased – generally by the end of the Hellenistic period, although the practice continued at some places until the Late Antique period. Terracottas is to be understood as anthropomorphic and zoomorphic figurines of fired clay. Small relief plaques, or pinakes, as well as plastic vases are also included when relevant to the study of the figurines and when they are part of the collective find groups studied as a whole from each site. The term votive indicates that the focus of the research is on cultic material, in the present study restricted to public sacred contexts, although

Introduction

5

terracotta finds from other contexts, such as burials and dwellings, are included when considered relevant to the study. As the terracottas are studied in their use as votive offerings and dedications, some clarification on how this concept is to be understood in this particular study is necessary. The definition of a votive offering has been much discussed in the literature and it is possible that the meaning of the concept might depend on the context in which it is used. For William Henry Denham Rouse, who was the first to offer a generally accepted definition, a votive offering could be defined as this: “Whatever is given of freewill to beings conceived as superhuman is to speak strictly of votive offering. The motive is simple, but not always the same: the occasion is accidental, or, if it be determined, the gift is not compulsory.”3 This definition suggests that almost anything could be defined as a votive and consequently any context with an otherwise unexplained accumulation of objects can be designated cultic. So, additional criteria might be necessary – possibly depending on the purpose of the individual studies. Folkert van Straten, for instance, primarily focused on the difference between sacrifice and votive offering: one is intended for consumption and the other is “basically durable”.4 He further noted that this was: “a general definition which does indeed serve our purpose, although it does not do justice to the complex of phenomena contained in the term ‘sacrifice’”.5 The entry on Greek Dedications in ThesCRA I does not as such discuss a definition of votive offerings, but states that “a dedication was a gift of a very special type, one from which the giver benefited as much as the recipient”.6 In the fourth edition of the Oxford Classical Dictionary (2012), Irad Malkin writes: “Votive offerings are voluntary dedications to the gods, resulting not from prescribed ritual or sacred calendars but from ad hoc vows of individuals or communities in circumstances usually of anxiety, transition, or achievement.” However, the idea that votive offerings are free from prescribed ritual or religious calendars is not shared by Rouse or the authors of the ThesCRA entry. On the contrary, numerous occasions for dedications or votives are listed in ThesCRA – including dedications in relation to specific rituals, such as the initiations in Eleusis.7 These definitions indicate a flexible understanding of the votive system and leave us with very few limitations with regard to what might constitute a votive offering or dedication and how it is to be identified. In general, terracotta figurines have almost always been characterised as votive offerings rather than cultic paraphernalia. In order to more precisely identify objects as votives, however, a few other criteria are necessary. Primarily, such a criterion would be their presence in a sacred setting, such as a shrine or sanctuary – though it must be noted that domestic shrines and natural settings might also be places of worship. Another aspect of the object that may help identify it as a votive is its ritual role. The concept of

6Introduction

ritual has been discussed at great length.8 In this particular context, what is relevant is how ritual practice may be identified in the archaeological context and specifically how the objects involved could then be identified as ritual objects – as possible votive offerings or ritual paraphernalia.9 It is essentially the repetition of the rituals that may leave an identifiable trace in the archaeological record.10 This means that the number of objects can be indicative of a repetitive action, which again may be ritualistic and the objects themselves might then be votive offerings.11 For the practice of dedicating terracottas as votives the following defining characteristics might then be proposed:12 1. The presence in a sacred setting. 2. The votive object, i.e. the terracotta figurine. 3. An amount of the (votive) object that may indicate a repeated act, i.e. a dedicatory practice.

On the Selection of Sites In order to present as wide a geographical perspective as possible, sites from Magna Graecia, Mainland Greece and Asia Minor are included in this study. Equally, a broad time frame (Archaic, Classical and Hellenistic) is pursued for each phase of the life-cycle study and sites have been selected accordingly. The broad geographical and chronological scope of this study offers the opportunity for wide-ranging conclusions, but also for the identification, on a smaller scale, of possible regional and diachronical differences as well as similarities. Topics such as production and distribution, which are introduced in the section on Structure and Focal Points of the Study, are not presented through specific case studies, but are exemplified by relevant sites. For the study of the cultic use, in particular on the iconography and cultic meaning of the figurines, sites with as securely identified deities as possible and with only one known deity, have been selected. This allows for an unambiguous discussion of the iconography and its possible cultic meaning. At the same time, a broad selection of deities is obtained. When studying cultic use, the focus is also mainly on sanctuaries with female deities – with male deities being used for comparison. A focused examination of the largest group of recipients of terracotta offerings, in both numbers and variations, will make it possible to address the issue of whether terracottas may be used as identification markers for the specific name or identity of the deities to whom they were dedicated. Healing sanctuaries, such as those related to the Asklepios cults, are not included, in order to keep the focus of the study on the statuettes. The large numbers of votive body parts, typically found in such sanctuaries,

Introduction

7

constitute a category of their own – and these specific cults and cult practices have been studied in detail elsewhere.13 However, these votives are considered when they appear in the sanctuaries included here, but they are not a part of the overall study. In order to gain as complete a picture as possible of the various sites and figurine find groups, emphasis will be on sites that have been fully published. In particular, sites for which entire find groups have been made available in a suitable manner, or for which the entire iconographic repertoire has been provided, are preferred – so as to allow for a more comprehensive analysis of the data. This means that sites that may have highly interesting find groups, but are only partially published, may be used for reference when relevant, but not as case studies. The focus in regard to specific case studies is on sanctuaries from which terracotta figurines have been retrieved in large numbers or span several time periods. Yet, the purpose of the study is to carry out a qualitative analysis rather than a quantitative one, emphasising only sites with relevant information on the key questions. A consequence of the criteria mentioned above is that some sanctuaries and sites carry more weight than others for this study and, as such, come to function as case studies – that is, studies that cover more than one phase in the life process of these objects. This will not limit the option of looking elsewhere when necessary. These case-study sites are marked on the map (Figure 1).

8Introduction Fig. 1 Map of the operational case-study sites.

The Greek mainland and the Peloponnese: 1. Argos, the Heraion 2. Brauron, the Artemis Sanctuary 3. Corinth, the Demeter and Kore Sanctuary 4. Thebes, the Kabiroi Sanctuary 5. Tiryns, the Heraion Greek islands: 6. Aegina, the Apollo Sanctuary 7. Chios, the Athena and the Harbour sanctuaries 8. Knossos, the Demeter Sanctuary 9. Lindos, the Athana Lindia Sanctuary 10. Thasos, the Artemision

Introduction

Magna Graecia, southern Italy: 11. Agrigento, the Urban Sanctuary 12. Gela, the Acropolis and Predio Sola 13. Paestum, the Santa Venera Sanctuary Asia Minor: 14. Pergamon, the Demeter Sanctuary 15. Priene, the Demeter and Kore Sanctuary

9

1.  Previous Scholarship on Greek Votive Terracottas

The study of Greek terracotta figurines in general has its beginning several hundred years ago and the bibliography on the subject is extensive. A thorough historiography on the topic was produced by Jaimee P. Uhlenbrock in 1993: The Study of Ancient Greek Terracottas: A Historiography of the Discipline. The subject of Greek votive terracottas can be approached from several viewpoints. The focus in this section is primarily on past studies that have attended to the categorisation and chronology of these objects, as well as their use as votive offerings.

The Terracottas as Archaeological Objects and as Votive Offerings The earliest literature on ancient terracotta figurines was written in the seventeenth century, when the first Etruscan and early Roman votive figurines were discovered in graves. In Sicily, extensive finds of Greek figurines were made in the eighteenth century.14 In these early periods, the perceived low value of the clay figurines led to a lack of interest into how they were made. While it was noted that the figurines could be of high artistic quality, the interest in other more luxurious materials, such as metal, marble and gemstones, was for long more pronounced. The clay figurines were studied without consideration for how the limitations of fired clay, as opposed to metal or marble, may have influenced iconographical choices or shape. The earliest finds were of votive figurines, followed by funerary figurines, which came to weigh heavily on the interpretations of the terracottas. Thus, the chthonic gods, such as Ceres/Demeter and Proserpina/ Persephone and in some cases also Gaia, became the favoured identifications of the female figurines.15 To a certain degree, these goddesses are still today the default interpretations, no doubt thanks to the extensive assemblages of votive terracottas that are often, but not exclusively, found in Demeter and Kore sanctuaries.16

12Introduction

The extensive quantity of figurines that have been uncovered in both funerary and votive contexts since the 1830s did not immediately spark any research interest. However, beginning with the 1870s, the finds in Greece and Asia Minor, as well as the discoveries of Tanagra figurines of exceptional quality, led to more interest in this group of mass-produced objects. Reinhard Kekulé published Griechische Thonfiguren aus Tanagra in 1878.17 Before that, publications of figurines consisted mainly of museum and sales catalogues. Unfortunately, the Tanagra finds also inspired both largescale looting and forgeries. In a response to this, Jules Martha published the collection of terracottas in the Archaeological Society of Athens in 1880, as these had well-known proveniences.18 His geographical organisation of the terracotta figurines became the model for the classification in later museum catalogues. As previously mentioned, the interpretations of the figurines were initially dominated by the funerary contexts. However, attempts were also made at understanding both the funerary and the votive roles of the terracottas. In 1883, Edmond Pottier argued that they were generalised images, suitable for a variety of purposes and the significance was established by the offerant at the moment when the figurine was dedicated.19 These suggestions have to a large extent come back in fashion, as may be seen in the following chapters. In general, however, research on votive offerings was somewhat neglected for a long period of time. In 1902, Rouse published Greek Votive Offerings, in which he sought to cover all aspects of the practice of giving to the gods: the recipients, dedicators, gifts and especially the occasions when votive offerings were given. It functioned well as a reference book for its time, but it stood almost alone on the subject for too long. The great quantity of terracottas, however, was still in need of proper classification tools. Help arrived in 1903 with Die antiken Terrakotten III: Die Typen der Figürlichen Terrakotten. Franz Winter had visited excavations and museum collections and he created a typology that would function as a starting point and work of reference for future studies and classifications of this specific material. The Danish excavations on the acropolis in Lindos on Rhodes, in 1902–1905, led to the discovery of a large number of votive terracottas, several of which were found in two votive deposits. These were published in the work Les Petit objects in 1931 by Christian Sørensen Blinkenberg, in the first volume of the series Lindos: Fouilles de l’Acropole 1902–1914.20 This thorough work on the terracotta types was of a standard ahead of its time and it has served as an important resource for the majority of terracotta publications since then. A selection of these terracottas that had been donated to the National Museum of Denmark was published ten years later, in 1941, together with the rest of the terracotta collection in the museum, by Niels Breitenstein in the publication: Catalogue of Terracottas: Cypriote, Greek, Etrusco-Italian and

Previous Scholarship on Greek Votive Terracottas

13

Roman.21 This volume has also served as an important reference point in multiple terracotta publications since then. The typology of the terracottas was improved by R. V. Nicholls in 1952, when he added a very useful framework that proved essential to the understanding of the terracottas and the concept of derivative production, with the article “Type, Groups and Series: A Consideration of Some Coroplastic Fundamentals”, which is analysed further in Chapter II: Making and Moving.22 Issues of chronology and of dating in relation to derivative production, were put on a firm footing by Dorothy Burr Thompson. In 1934, she published her doctoral dissertation, Terra-Cottas from Myrina in the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, in which she presented a new way of studying the chronological order of the figurines. This chronology was based, on the one hand, on the stylistic evolution of the terracotta figurines, perhaps influenced by monumental art but not always and on the other hand, on the datable finds from the grave contexts of the terracottas. She also identified technical details, which became essential for confirming dates otherwise based on stylistic features.23 In addition, she stressed the importance of the concept of binary dates for a figurine: the date of the creation of the original prototype and the date of the manufacture of a mould from the prototype. She presented the same concept in Troy: The Terracotta Figurines of the Hellenistic Period, in which she coined the term coroplastic style, thus delineating a style for the terracottas affected by the limitations of the mould and contrasting it with sculptural style.24 These important points are still occasionally forgotten when the terracottas are assumed to follow the chronology of the established sculptural development. Such an approach neglects issues like the lingering stylistic features, mostly due to long-term use of moulds and to the derivative production process, both of which lead to the continued production of lingering types much longer than within other media. Building on these advances in terracotta studies and on his own experience in studying this material, Reynold  A. Higgins published a catalogue of the terracotta figurines in the British Museum in chronological order.25 This work on an extensive amount of material serves as a resource in its own right, but seems to also have been the foundation for Higgins’ publication in 1967, Greek Terracottas.26 In this publication, he presented a thorough treatment of the material, within the now firmly established classifications of terracottas, working chronologically through the different production centres (when known) and other locations of finds for the figurines. These two catalogues continue to be the most comprehensive general references for the terracotta figurines. They are joined by the Louvre catalogues of the museum’s extensive collection of terracotta figurines and reliefs, published by Simone Mollard-Besques, with volumes published between 1954 and 1992.27

14Introduction

Thompson made use of the principle of derivative production in her studies of the Tanagra figurines, in which she continued the work of Gerhard Kleiner’s important study Tanagrafiguren and in so doing identified the origins of the Tanagra genre in Athenian figurines.28 Nevertheless, disagreements remain about how the derivative production actually took place and how the use of prototypes may have varied from site to site. Recent additions to this discussion have been presented by Karin Hornung-Betermes, Arthur Muller and Dominique Kassab Tezgör in their publication of a rare example of a prototype, or a patrix, from Volos. Tezgör also questions the derivative principle in a publication concerning Alexandrian Hellenistic figurines, suggesting that the prototype was unfired and thus only available for one single mould, the moule-mère.29 The derivative production, as well as the question of the prototype, or lack thereof, is further explored in Chapter II: Making and Moving. Turning now to the figurines in their role as votive offerings, van Straten took up this topic almost eighty years after Rouse published his general study in 1902.30 Van Straten studied the occasions and motives for dedicating votives, though based on literary and epigraphic sources rather than archaeological evidence. He reached a conclusion that was in agreement with that of Theophrastus, the Greek scientist and philosopher (ca. 372–287 BC), that one should sacrifice to the gods to honour or thank them, or to ask them for something.31 Votive offerings were given as an expression of a wish or prayer, as a gesture of gratitude for a prayer having been answered by the gods, or to honour them. Van Straten also defined the concept of offerings in terms of the distinction between sacrifices – perishable offerings – and votives, which were imperishable.32 This distinction continues to be used in the research within these fields, as the studies of the two rarely overlap.33 Studies of specific votive objects, such as the terracotta figurines, had mostly been included in archaeological site publications and had only rarely been the sole focus of research. In 1986, however, Christopher George Simon published The Archaic Votive Offerings and Cults of Ionia, in which he studied a wide range of Ionian sanctuaries, dividing their votives into overarching categories, which unfortunately were simply too general for understanding particular votive groups.34 In addition, a symposium was held in 1985 in Uppsala and published in 1987, with the theme Gifts to the Gods, in which the votive objects were the focus.35 Interest specifically in cultic paraphernalia and votives has since increased. In the publication of the terracotta figurines from the Demeter and Kore Sanctuary in Corinth from 2000, Gloria S. Merker took advantage of the extensive material there to make some valuable interpretations of the function of the votive terracottas.36 Although mostly dealing with this particular cult, she suggested an interesting distinction in the interpretation of the terracottas

Previous Scholarship on Greek Votive Terracottas

15

as functional or symbolic, the former involving the actual ritual and the latter the meaning of “underlying concepts inherent in the cult”.37 And, in 2004, David Baumbach published The Significance of Votive Offerings in Selected Hera Sanctuaries in the Peloponnese, Ionia and Western Greece, which was an attempt to use votives to analyse the cult, though somewhat overly dependent on mythology.38 A more recent general study of votive offerings can be found in the section on “Greek Dedications” in ThesCRA 1: Processions, Sacrifices, Libations, Fumigations, Dedications by Robert Parker et al.,39 in which both literary and archaeological sources on the topic are presented briefly but thoroughly and within an updated and broad perspective. A conference held in 2007 and published in a supplement to Kernos in 2009 as Le Donateur, l’offrande et la déesse. Systèmes votifs dans les sanctuaires de déesses dans le monde grec,40 combined ritual and archaeological studies on both the cultic paraphernalia and the votives, including specific terracotta studies. This publication is indicative of a recent increase in studies on dedications and their meanings, including information on both the cults and the devotees. Most recently, Ioanna Patera has examined both sacrifices and votives, based on written as well as archaeological sources. Her Offrir en Grèce ancienne, published in 2012, addresses the interactions between offerant, offering and recipient.41 In doing so, she highlights aspects such as the terminology of dedication, reasons for specific offerings and their placement. This approach offers a more nuanced and useful understanding of these concepts and challenges some established ideas in previous work. French scholarship has been at the forefront of cultic studies, as exemplified by the journal Kernos, as well as in recent publications of terracotta studies. This situation may have been sparked by the excavations at Thasos, where the Artemis Sanctuary has yielded around thirty-eight thousand fragments of terracottas since 1992, to be published by Arthur Muller and Stephanie Huysecom-Haxhi, among others.42 In addition, a rise in interest in studies of cult and ritual and in terracotta figurines, is reflected by the founding of the Association for Coroplastic Studies (ACoST), which also publishes the journal, Les Carnets de l’ACoST. Most recently, conferences under the auspices of ACoST and the research centre HALMA UMR 8164 (Lille, CNRS, MCC) and publications, such as Figurines de terre cuite en Méditerranée grecque et romaine 1: Production, diffusion, étude (2016) and 2: Iconographie et contextes (2015), have contributed a good deal of up-to-date research.43 Other recent publications with a larger scope include Koρoπλαστική και μικρoτεχνία στoν αιγαιακόχώρo από τoυς γεωμετρικoύς ρόνoυς έως και τη ρωμαϊκή περίoδo. Διεθηες συνεδριo στη μνημή της Ηoυς Ζερβoυδακή. Ρόδoς, 26–29 νoεμβρίoυ 2009 by A. Giannikourē et al. and Hellenistic and Roman Terracottas by

16Introduction

Giorgos Papantoniou et al.44 Updated bibliographies on general terracotta studies can be found on the websites of the Coroplastic Studies Interest Group and the above mentioned ACoST.45

2.  Approaches to Archaeological Contexts through Time

A special problem in the study of votive figurines and one which is crucial for this study, is the understanding of the archaeological context in which they are found. Since this study is based entirely on published material and since publications of terracotta figurines span over two hundred years, a historical understanding of the concept of archaeological context over time is necessary for integrating this diverse material in any cohesive way. Initially, the discipline of archaeology was closely intertwined with antiquarianism, at least up until the 1850s. The focus was on the collection of objects, as well as the registration, drawing and description of historical sites, which were exposed in an unscientific manner.46 The German antiquarian Johann Winckelmann contributed to early conceptions of chronology, by dividing classical sculpture into four successive stylistic groups, based on securely dated examples.47 Christian Jürgensen Thomsen, secretary of the Danish Royal Commission for the Preservation and Collection of Antiquities, devised a chronology for prehistoric times based on technology: the Stone, Bronze and Iron Ages.48 Through studies of closed contexts (graves), he created a cultural sequence and a chronology that was applied both to museum exhibitions and to Danish prehistory in general.49 These chronological models could be connected with stratigraphical models, which were borrowed from geology and which played an important part in the archaeological understanding of deposition and how it was to be interpreted. The principle of superposition, the idea that the relative vertical position of material indicates the passage of time, where lower positions are earlier and higher positions are later, to a large extent became the essence of archaeological excavation practice.50 Thomsen’s sequence was extended by Jens Jacob Asmussen Worsaae, who developed what has been called (by John Rowe) the principle of association – materials and objects found together could be assumed to have been in use in the same period and so have the same date.51 It addressed the notion that the

18Introduction

position of objects in space and in the stratigraphy, was directly related to their place in time. The term assemblage came into use for describing the objects or materials enclosed in a specific layer in a stratigraphic sequence. Among the early employers of stratigraphic sequencing were Heinrich Schliemann, Wilhelm Dörpfeld, Augustus Pitt Rivers, Mortimer Wheeler and William Flinders Petrie. In their work, they improved on excavation techniques and stratigraphic understanding. Dörpfeld refined the method of stratigraphic excavation, which Schliemann had introduced in Hissarlik, using ceramics to date the sequence. Pitt Rivers worked with trenches at right angles, leaving baulks to record the stratigraphy, a technique which Wheeler improved by separating grid squares with baulks. Petrie refined relative chronology based on ceramics, creating the technique of seriation. Seriation, used together with stratigraphy, developed into the so-called metrical stratigraphy, using artefacts found at different levels to establish chronological phases.52 V. Gordon Childe was the first to attempt to apply the concept of archaeological cultures and their relationships in a systematic way.53 Part of this work was to define an archaeological culture, which Childe defined as: “an assemblage of artifacts that recur repeatedly associated together in dwellings of the same kind and with burials of the same rite […] assumed to be the concrete expressions of the common social traditions that bind together a people”.54 The notion of assemblage became essential to archaeological debate and was used and defined by, among others, Gordon Willey and Philip Phillips, who considered the concept of the assemblage to be “implicitly grounded in the historical validity of the artifact-feature complex as a unit”.55 To them, a culture was represented by the stratigraphically deposited traces of its activities, that is, assemblages. In 1985, Willey and Phillips stated that “American archaeology is anthropology or nothing”,56 a view primarily promoted by Lewis R. Binford.57 Culture was no longer considered merely as the sum of the preserved artefact traits but as a set of historical or evolutionary processes, hence the name. It was the intent to create a more scientific and anthropological archaeology, in which not just objects but also their contexts were included.58 As Binford stated in 1962: “The formal structure of artifact assemblages together with the between element contextual relationships should and do present a systematic and understandable picture of the total extinct cultural system.”59 He held the view that the archaeological evidence for a culture would contain answers to questions on all aspects of that culture, whether political, economic, or kinship – as the archaeological structure resulted from events within the culture.60 Binford’s belief that it was possible to retrieve largely intact testimony of human activities in the archaeological record was reinforced by his own distinction between primary and secondary depositional contexts:

Approaches to Archaeological Contexts through Time

19

– Primary depositional contexts “have not been altered in their formal properties except through natural processes of the decay of organic material, or the physico/chemical alteration of features and items since the period of occupancy”.61 – Secondary depositional contexts “are those whose formal characteristics, defined in terms of soil, features and items, have been spatially altered through physical movement or deletion from the loci”.62 As possible post-depositional alteration factors, Binford mentions erosion, geophysical changes and destruction as a result of later cultural activity. The depositional history may vary according to occupational history, depending on whether it has been single or multiple, long or short-term occupation. The cultural history of a site, that is the possible variations of functions over time, may also create differences in the archaeological record.63 Michael Schiffer has criticised Binford’s idea that the archaeological record is able to provide an intact transcript of human activity. He addressed the need for greater attention to be paid to those post-depositional processes only briefly mentioned by Binford.64 He argued for more focus on the processes which led to the formation of the archaeological record. Significantly, he illustrated his ideas through flow models of the systemic context, in which the processes of the living culture and society took place and the archaeological context, in which the objects were found by the archaeologists.65 The flow model for durable elements can be seen in Figure 2. The processes which influenced the archaeological deposits were divided into so-called c-transforms (cultural processes) and n-transforms (natural processes), also referred to as cultural and non-cultural processes.66 Schiffer has also suggested three possible transferences from the systemic to the archaeological context: discarding, disposal of the dead and loss.67 Schiffer called his approach behavioural archaeology, since his models dealt with human actions and behaviours and the processes that led to the archaeological contexts. He described the archaeological record as “a distorted reflection of a past behavioural system”.68 Schiffer demanded that we “view deposits themselves as peculiar artifacts, the characteristics of which must be studied in their own right” and argued that in order to establish their relevance to research questions, their genesis must be determined. This is of paramount importance for dealing with possible votive deposits.69 In essence, processual and behavioural archaeologies can be labelled logical positivistic, archaeometric philosophies holding that through scientific methods objective conclusions can be made regarding the past.70 In regards to fieldwork, Binford argued for a need for greater reflection

20Introduction

Fig. 2 The flow model for durable elements by Michael Schiffer.

on the reasons for excavating and on which data were relevant, a greater standardisation of recording and a greater attention to the representivity of the samples.71 How the theories of processual archaeology and behavioural archaeology have influenced the field of classical archaeology has been a topic of discussion.72 Until the 1960s, classical archaeology (characterised as it was by large amounts of archaeological material and written sources) was not noticeably different from other branches of the field in its methodology and theory; however, with the onset of processual archaeology this changed, as classical archaeology largely ignored these new ideas. Generally, the new theories did not really take hold in classical archaeology, although examples were found on the outskirts of the discipline, where Colin Renfrew actively applied the theories to his own work on Aegean prehistory in The Emergence of Civilisation.73 Rather, classical archaeology rested firmly on the practices of gathering, organising and categorising material, often with the choice of integrating written sources. Things gradually changed with the ideas of post-processual archaeology, also within the classical field. In the late 1970s and early 1980s, archaeologists such as Ian Hodder, inspired by French Marxist social anthropology, as well as structuralism and postmodernism, moved beyond the strict archaeometric approach to consider the individual culture in which

Approaches to Archaeological Contexts through Time

21

the archaeological material was produced and used.74 In this approach, concepts such as ideology, social interaction, symbolism, gender, as well as human agency or intentionality, must also be taken into consideration when interpreting the archaeological material. The goal of an objective archaeology, advocated by the processualists, was questioned and a more subjective form of archaeology was believed to be unavoidable, as archaeologists will always bring preconceptions to their study.75 The deposits containing votives and/or small objects were recognised and documented through excavations almost from the beginning, but the concept of votive deposits, their meanings and functions were not, as such, points of focus for studies. When Schiffer suggested the three possible transferences from the systemic to the archaeological context – discarding, disposal of the dead and loss,76 none of these accounted directly for the votive deposition. Hodder also omitted votive deposition, when he discussed the formation of the archaeological record in 1982, but he did note that deposition was a practical consequence of human habitation, mentioning refuse.77 However, second-generation post-processualists gave more awareness to the concept of deliberately structured deposits, in particular ritual depositional processes.78 In 1990, Richard Bradley noted that votive depositions were still largely overlooked and Robin Osborne explicitly pointed to this neglect in 2004 in order to bring the concept into focus.79 Gavin Lucas has recently readdressed formation theory and makes a distinction between the assemblage formation and the deposit formation. In the former, the focus is on the objects in a layer or deposit, while in the latter, the focus is on the layer or deposit as a whole, in which the objects are simply an aspect.80 He argues that the assemblage-oriented approach focuses mainly on the relationship between pre-depositional activities and the deposition itself, while the deposit-oriented approach focuses more on the relationship between depositional and post-depositional processes.81 In addition, he discusses the problems with identification and interpretation of stratigraphy and argues that there is a general (though not necessarily consistent) disconnect between the perception of a deposit and the manner in which it was formed. This is a result of the fact that excavation and recording are often based on a largely geoscientific approach, whereas interpretation of the formation of the stratigraphy and the archaeological material are often based on cultural or social approaches.82 Here, an important technique is David Warburton’s distinction between analytical stratigraphy, essentially an identification and description of stratigraphic units and sequences and interpretive stratigraphy, explained by their formation process – intentional or unintentional.83 However, these divisions might be overcome through the concept or metaphor of the palimpsest, which may be explained as the dual process

22Introduction

of inscription and erasure.84 The concept has been used in archaeology since the end of the nineteenth century and has been applied in various ways and with different meanings. Geoff Bailey has divided the concept into five categories: The first are true palimpsests, a situation where most or all traces of previous activity have been erased; the second are cumulative palimpsests, in which earlier phases of activity are preserved but mixed so that the sequence is obscure; the third are spatial palimpsests, where the activities are in separate but overlapping or adjoining areas; the fourth are temporal palimpsests, where assemblages may derive from different times although deposited at a single event; and the fifth are palimpsests of meaning, in which an object in the course of its life cycle or biography collects meanings as it moves through social contexts – and may by the time of deposition have changed its function and meaning completely.85 Lucas considers these categories as relevant to deposits (the first three categories), assemblages (the fourth category) and objects (the fifth category). The common understanding of palimpsests in archaeology comprises the second and third category: the cumulative and spatial palimpsests – the preservation of objects, but not necessarily of their order or sequence of deposition.86 Stratigraphic sequences, however, do preserve such an order. Lucas considers the two concepts to be intertwined, as ideal concepts, where reality lies somewhere in the middle and encompasses both assemblages and deposits. The archaeological record is made up of the two processes of inscription and erasure, or order and disorder and the results are a mix of the two.87 Finally, the concept of assemblage itself can be understood in various ways in archaeology. Primarily, however, it is either a depositional assemblage, a collection of objects considered to be associated either by their depositional or spatial context, or as a typological assemblage, a particular type of object gathered within a certain area. These two divisions might also overlap.88 The depositional assemblages are often regarded as specifically defined by context, in which a collection of associated artefacts is found. The typological assemblage may be defined as a collection of a single type or group of objects within a spatial parameter  – and the essential difference from the depositional assemblages is, then, that the typological assemblages are generally defined by the archaeologists, which may choose both the type of object and the relevant area. In this sense, the archaeologists convert depositional assemblages into typological assemblages.89 The same might be true for the division between the two concepts of assemblages and deposits: they are defined by the archaeologist. According to Lucas, the division is reflected in how the two concepts are treated in the field. While the deposits are excavated and described as the principal object, the assemblages are rather excavated and defined by the depositional envelope or context.90 As pointed out by Osborne, when a

Approaches to Archaeological Contexts through Time

23

complete understanding of the function and meaning of the objects is desired, it is essential to look at whole assemblages in their contexts, rather than dividing the objects into types as has been the case in most studies.91 In conclusion, the understanding of the archaeological context is very much a product not just of its time, but also of the archaeologists tasked with the job of excavating and/or interpreting the archaeological sites and material. This section has highlighted the evolution of contextual theories and which of the approaches to context might be of use in this particular study. This study treats excavated, published and for some sites reinterpreted material from a broad time period. The ideas of contextual archaeology allow both for a better understanding of the excavations and the publications in the time in which they were done and for providing the tools for a better understanding of the specific contexts studied in this book. The earliest theories outlined here created a baseline for field archaeology and the understanding of context. However, challenges to understanding contexts for the later, more sophisticated, approaches lie in the relationships between systemic contexts and archaeological contexts and their transferences. For this study, the predominant context is the archaeological context of ritual deposit or discard; however, an important goal is to interpret the life histories of votive figurines that culminate in their ritualised deposition. The votive terracotta has the potential for different transferences: votive deposition and discard, as well as dedication when the rare in situ finds may actually be preserved. Both the act of discard and the act of deposition, when it is possible to differentiate between the two, may be connected to a dynamic understanding regarding the objects, in relation to their cultic, social and economic value and meaning. In order to define assemblages as deposition or discard, a contextual analysis of the manner of placement must likewise be taken into full consideration. Such an integrated approach is necessary to define cultic and ritual intent in the archaeological remains.92 This study encompasses both notions of assemblages as defined by Lucas, depositional as well as typological assemblages: the study of the actual deposits in which the votive figurines were found by the archaeologists and a generic life history of the votive terracotta figurines within the Greek world.93 The notion of palimpsests, as defined by Bailey, is also relevant for this study. The first type, where all or most traces of activity has been erased, are of course unlikely to be present; however, the four other categories are included, with the fifth being representative of this entire project.

3.  Method and Theory

Chaîne opératoire In order to structure what will be a wide-ranging study, a suitable methodological framework needs to be established. The fundamental aim of this study, as has been noted, is to follow the entire life history of the figurines, from their production (or birth), throughout their use (an active and potent phase), until their discard (death: physical demise) or their loss of relevance as votives (extinction: conceptual demise). The study of the life histories of objects, in which object agency must be taken into account, includes such related approaches as life cycle, object biography and chaîne opératoire. The majority of artefact-history studies are largely inspired by Schiffer’s flow models or behavioural chains in which the cultural biographies of the objects are illustrated, with production, use and discard.94 Schiffer’s flow models provide a clear and applicable structure for the archaeological contexts that illustrate both the distinctive stages of the life cycle and the intermediate transferences between these stages. The use of these methods in the study of objects has become quite frequent in recent years. However, as pointed out by Lucas, only a few of these types of studies incorporate the issues of formation theory systematically in their methodology.95 Recent examples of this type of artefact study include that by J. Theodore Peña from 2007: Roman Pottery in the Archaeological Record.96 Peña works with the entire process of the life histories, going through the stages and transferences between them in order to study the behaviours that led to the formation of the Roman-pottery record.97 In 2011, Mark L. Lawall and John Lund co-edited a conference volume, Pottery in the Archaeological Record: Greece and Beyond, which follows the structure of Peña’s life-history approach.98 Others have taken their inspiration from this conceptual framework in studies of specific stages of the life cycle, such as The Afterlife of Greek and Roman Sculpture: Late Antique Responses and Practices, edited by Troels Myrup Kristensen and Lea Stirling.99 Another example of a life-cycle study is found

Method and Theory

25

in Jennifer Trimble’s Women and Visual Replication in Roman Imperial Art and Culture.100 Trimble uses a form of the life-cycle approach as a framework for a study of a large group of artefacts, the Roman statue type defined as Large Herculaneum Women. In doing so, she applies different theories to the various stages, such as the process of mass-reproduction and the agency of the object. While Trimble nowhere explicitly connects her method to the life-cycle approach, it is in line with the chaîne opératoire approach, as defined by, for instance, Marcia-Anne Dobres, together with Christopher R. Hoffman and John E. Robb.101 Also noteworthy is the recent study by Philip Kiernan on Roman cult images, explored through a biography approach.102 The idea of object biography had its origins in the concept of chaîne opératoire. The chaîne opératoire method was introduced in 1964 by André Leroi-Gourhan in Le Geste et la parole.103 He combined ideas from a wide selection of fields, such as philosophy, social anthropology, prehistory, palaeontology and biology, in order to achieve a social and evolutionary understanding of technology and symbolic representation.104 From an archaeological perspective, the core of the method consists in following a sequence of acts that envelop the artefacts from production, step by step, through use, till disposal. Both technological acts and social intentions are considered to be of equal importance and relevance in the understanding of the purpose and meaning of the objects. A chaîne opératoire approach allows for the linking between people’s work patterns, emotions, concerns, beliefs and everyday habits, all of which come to represent the social life of things. In doing so, this method considers the social aspects of production and consumption and so also emphasises the social, symbolic and behaviour-structuring elements of the lives of the objects.105 The method has been especially useful in relation to lithic reduction, in which the actions of the craftsperson on the cores to produce tools provide a perfect example of operational sequences and this reduction sequence is in close relation to the chaîne opératoire method of study.106 In recent years the method has also been applied in relation to terracotta figurines. Melissa Vetters thus tried to use the method on Mycenaean terracottas, but she was faced with problems such as the lack of evidence for production sites and a general lack of evidence for the stages in the production sequences of terracotta figurines.107 Muller has used the method with greater success as a way to follow the production sequences inside coroplastic workshops, thus providing a working hypothesis for the process from the Archaic period onwards.108 Still, Bisserka Gaydarska et al. have pointed out that the studies of lithics and prehistoric figurines remain predominantly typological, which, as already noted, also applies to the studies of Greek terracottas. They argue that, while the chaîne opératoire approach has often been used only to define the stages in the

26Introduction TYPOLOGY SECONDARY PRIMARY

RAW MATERIAL PROCUREMENT

distribution of cultures trade/gift exchange Fig. 3 Model of chaîne opératoire.

TECHNOLOGY

USE

DISCARD

technical traditions

activities, site us, subsistence

activity areas, post depositional effects

fabrication of a product, it is also suitable for identifying the complete sequence of the stages that make up the entire life history or life cycle of the figurines.109 Chaîne opératoire works as a methodological framework for analysing the operational sequence of production, but also use and discard and is applicable to both large- and small-scale studies. Research following this method has generally focused on specific production sequences, but the purpose of the study presented in this book is to apply this method more broadly to the full life cycle of the terracotta figurines.110 The method allows us to follow every single step of a sequence, whether it be linear or not and it can also be applied to focused studies of specific links in the chain, as visualised in Figure 3.111 The steps in the life cycle of objects are ordinarily limited to production, use and discard. However, for archaeological objects there is another step to be recognised in their life cycle, a kind of afterlife in the archaeological record, such as site publications, research, storage and museum exhibitions. Ann Brysbaert has discussed this particular step in the life cycle in relation to extending the chaîne opératoire approach into post-excavation processing and museum exhibitions.112 While it is understood that the study put forward here is an inherent part of this afterlife that Brysbaert describes, the primary purpose is solely to study those parts of the life cycle that end at the moment of archaeological discovery.

Method and Theory

27

The chaîne opératoire method has been chosen as a framework for this study because it allows for empirically based analytical methods to be combined with a range of theories suitable for each link in the chain,113 as already exemplified in the work of Trimble. It is suitable for largescale life-cycle projects such as this, as well as being flexible in relation to in-depth studies and their theoretical applications. To the best of my knowledge, this is the first time the chaîne opératoire method has been applied to such a broad-scale study of the life cycle of Greek votive terracotta figurines as an entire class of artefacts.

Object Agency As mentioned above, this study encompasses both concepts of assemblages, typological and depositional. However, the intent here is to move beyond typological studies and examine the use and the object agency of the terracotta figurines in their role as votive offerings. Frédéric Sellet has discussed the active use of the chaîne opératoire approach as opposed to a typological approach and concludes that the two are incompatible, as chaîne opératoire requires a more dynamic approach to the objects.114 This becomes obvious in this study also, as the method chosen allows us to go through the stages of the life cycle of the terracottas. However, the meaning and purpose of the object change through these phases. These artefacts go through a series of context changes and possible modifications during their life cycle, which may affect, transform and manipulate both its meaning and significance.115 This allows for and even requires the implementation of a suite of interconnected theoretical approaches as we go through the steps in the life cycle. First and foremost, the purpose here is to study the object agency of the terracottas in each phase, as well as the networks in which they act.116 While both object agency and network theories have been in general use in archaeological studies elsewhere, they have yet to be applied in this way and on this scale, to the study of votive terracotta figurines.117 The study and use of the concept of agency in anthropology and archaeology has grown extensively in the last three decades. The purpose here is to address the application of the primary approaches within this field. The concept of object agency, or objects as things of power, is not a new idea. Such a notion is part of many cosmologies and religions. It started to become a more prevalent part of Western culture with the rise of technology in the late nineteenth century.118 Karl Marx argued for the idea of technology as shaping society and stated that “the mode of production of material life determines the general character of the social, political and spiritual processes of life”.119 When Marcel Mauss published his essay

28Introduction

The Gift: Forms and Functions of Exchange in Archaic Societies (translated into English in 1954), the relationship between persons and things became central to anthropological studies of material culture.120 The social interactions of gift giving and exchange, where the objects given somehow required reciprocity, illustrated the power – and agency – of the objects. Furthermore, Mauss argued that once the gift had been given, the object still possessed something of the giver,121 an argument that is particularly relevant when working with votive objects. The discussion started by Mauss continued in the social sciences. Approaches to both the social life and the agency of objects have proliferated in archaeology. As noted by Hodder, previous models of material culture had portrayed it as passive and only reflective of the social actions that shaped them, rather than being an active part in creating the reality.122 The development of the concept in relation to the chaîne opératoire has been strongly influenced by anthropologists such as Arjun Appadurai in the edited volume The Social Life of Things from 1986 and Nicholas Thomas in Entangled Objects from 1991. Both of these scholars discussed the meaning of the objects and how their attributed meaning may change through a sequence of transactions – as the object moves through different life stages.123 The identities the object can assume, for instance a commodity or a gift, was discussed in relation to the distinction between the social actions involved.124 However, the focus was more on subject and object, in the sense that objects were passively reduced to a consequence of human actions and thoughts, as simple props on a stage.125 Similarly, Anthony Giddens introduced the concept of structuration, when discussing human social agency. The purpose was to end the opposition between the material world and the social world and he focused on the fact that social actions could only take place in a material setting, within the framework of material agency – a material condition that was again shaped by human action.126 While Giddens emphasised the mutual dependency between people and things, he still considered them as subjects and objects.127 The specific notion of object agency was introduced by Arthur Gell in Art and Agency: An Anthropological Theory in 1998, where he argued for the ability of objects to act as social agents. The objects were to take an active part within the network of social relations usually considered to be reserved for human agents.128 The term agency was introduced by Gell to describe the way in which objects might actively stimulate and influence thoughts and actions of others.129 According to him, people distribute parts of their personhood into the objects through which they act – objects that produce effects and so have (secondary) agency.130 He considered art to be a social technology or a specialised form of material culture, which was specifically constructed to provoke a response. Art could act on people, be designed to incite an emotional response through a technology

Method and Theory

29

of enchantment. Consequently, art is something to be studied not just for what it means but also for what it does.131 However, an important point for Gell was the fact that he considered objects, non-human agents, as passive media for the distribution of the agency of the human agents. The humans were primary agents, while non-humans were secondary agents.132 These distinctions between human and non-human agents, as presented by both Giddens and Gell, have been challenged by a more recent archaeological approach to agency, object-centred material agency. Chris Gosden has discussed the duality between people and things and he has argued that the material world not only reflects human relations, but also affects them.133 In that sense, there are no primary and secondary agents, as the objects are not just passive reflections of human actions. Rather, they influence these actions and take active part in dynamic interactions, which shape both culture, identity and sociality.134 The concept of material agency has also been promoted by Carl Knappett and Lambros Malafouris, especially through their edited volume Material Agency: Towards a Non-Anthropocentric Approach from 2008. Malafouris specifically argues for material agency in his own contribution to the volume, in which he explains how a pot is created by the interaction between the potter’s mind, his fingers and the responding clay. It is, in fact, within these interactions that agency emerges and agency exist. Agency emerges contextually.135 As Malafouris states: “Agency is a temporal and interactively emergent property of activity, not an innate and fixed attribute of the human condition.”136 Object agency opposes the assumption that only humans have agency and argues not only for a social life of things, but also a cognitive life of things.137 Malafouris has proposed interesting views of how objects may work as an integral part of human cognitive architecture138, that is as parts of an extended self. The notion of the cognitive life of things is related to the theory of the extended mind and Malafouris has discussed the intersection between cognition and material culture, the so-called brain–artefact interface, in relation to this theory.139 In keeping with the former example of the potter’s wheel, he argues that the cognitive map of knowledge and memory may well be extended and distributed in the neurons of the potter’s brain, the muscles of the potter’s body, the ‘affordances’ […] of the potter’s wheel, the material properties of the clay, the morphological and typological prototypes of existing vessels as well as the general social context in which the activity occurs.140

Malafouris and Renfrew have also discussed this cognitive life of things: the interaction between mind, bodies and things and how these affect each other.141 As objects are created, seen, exchanged, owned, valued, manipulated, revered and deposited, they cause both aesthetic and sensual experiences and the human cognitive processing extends into the extra-organismic environment.142 Such interactions and considerations are relevant for

30Introduction

several stages of the terracotta life cycle, but might be particularly interesting for votive practices, especially in the case of the votive figurines that can be perceived to act on behalf of the dedicators. The processes that lead to creation and use are inherent in the material actions and in the human mind in action.143 In order to understand the processes of the human mind, when interacting with objects – in this case the votive terracotta figurines – as well as a perceived supernatural being, the concept of the extended mind and the cognitive approach will be considered. Knappett has argued for the distinction between things, as undefined and ambiguous and objects, as “named, understood and transparent” and how the cognitive life and agency of the two are consequently different.144 In addition, Jane Bennett has discussed the power and agency of things in assemblages or large groups. Her theories of distributive agency and vibrant matter are relevant for understanding how large numbers of votives and in particular terracottas, may have acted as a group in the sacred space.145 Her notion of a congregational understanding of agency is an apt description for the power inherent in the large groups of terracottas in both dedicatory and depositional contexts.146 She argues for thing power – an active power arising from non-subjects – and refuses to consider matter as passive and inactive.147 The terracotta figurines emerge and perform in groups in several stages of their life cycle; they may have been produced, transported and sold in quantity, they may have been dedicated in groups – but most certainly, they were placed together in large groups of other votives in sacred places, until they were deposited or discarded, also often in masses. For these reasons, the theories of Bennett are highly relevant to the understanding of the use and the power of the votive terracottas and how they may have been perceived. The use of Bennett’s theories on assemblage agency are in agreement with the method of chaîne opératoire and provides a tool for understanding the terracottas not only on an individual level, or as actants in networks, but in particular how they acted and were perceived when placed in groups and large assemblages, or masses.148 Her theory is relevant for several stages of the life cycle of the terracottas, but it is particularly important in the case of dedication and deposition/ discarding in which they are purposely placed together in large groups or masses and it will be further considered in the following chapters. Agency works in the relations between agents and in that sense the actor-network theory (ANT) is also relevant to our understanding of the votive terracottas and the votive interactions. ANT and object agency are closely intertwined, as ANT argues “that both humans and non-humans actors be understood within a network wherein their identity is defined through their interactions with other actors”.149 In his studies, Gell also argued for the focus on the agents in their network of social relationships constructed through agency.150 Although referred to as a theory, it works

Method and Theory

31 Fig. 4 The model of actants involved in dedications, by François de Polignac.

rather as an ontology – the nature of being, in which both human and non-individual, non-human entities, actors, or rather actants are considered to have their own agency.151 The interactions of the actants, the forces they exchange and add within the network, are part of defining their roles and meanings. The primary actants of interest for understanding the role of the votive terracottas, both when acting individually or together in various groupings within the networks, are illustrated in François de Polignac’s model (Figure 4), which is further discussed in Chapter III in The Roles of the Votives and which serves as a starting point for new studies of the use of the terracottas as votive offerings.152 The acts of gift-giving in ancient societies have been studied from various perspectives: historical, anthropological and archaeological, with focus on the reciprocity, the economics, the status and the obligations these exchanges may or may not have entailed.153 The purpose here is specifically to study why terracotta figurines were chosen as votive offerings and how these objects might have functioned in the networks of the primary actants. The act of dedication is, of course, a cultic action, or a ritual. It is a formalised activity taking place at a special location, perhaps time-structured and happening at a special time or at a special occasion, as proscribed by tradition or doctrine.154 The archaeology of cult typically reflects such

32Introduction

rituals, since repeated acts are likely to leave a material mark when they involve special artefacts or places. However, not all rituals or repeated acts are necessarily religious, just as not all religious acts are necessarily rituals, though such a distinction between natural and supernatural, secular or sacred, is not made by all religions.155 The theory of cognitive archaeology is still evolving, but with regard to religion, methods used to study non-religious phenomena can also be applied. Such an approach to the study of religion focuses on the identification of the causal mechanisms or processes that lie behind the visible manifestations of religion, typically the ritual practices. In this sense, the cognitive approach works well with chaîne opératoire, as both methods seek to identify acts, mechanisms and processes in different systems; chaîne opératoire focuses on the actions, cognitive science studies the human cognitive system, i.e. certain types of behaviours and ideas that in this case constitute a certain religion or type of cult.156 The method of chaîne opératoire and the theories of object agency, distributive agency, cognitive sciences, actor-network theory and context theory are closely intertwined and complement each other in the understanding of the use and life of objects. Consequently, they are applied both separately and together in this study to achieve a thorough understanding of the use of terracotta figurines as votive offerings.

4.  Structure and Focal Points

The strength of the approach presented above is that it moves beyond a narrow view, drawing out similarities as well as differences in a broader scope. The danger, however, is that the amount of material is extensive, because of the ubiquity of this type of dedication. This means that careful consideration must be given to studying specific focal points of research. Armed with the method of chaîne opératoire and a set of theories to go along with it, I have selected four links in the life sequence of the votive figurines for this study and I will go through the four focal points explaining the purpose of each one below. The first link in the life cycle is treated under Making and Moving (Chapter II); it represents the starting point for the terracottas in their journey. The production of terracotta figurines has been thoroughly investigated and the purpose here is therefore not to study the circumstances of the production in depth as much as the interaction between the material and the various production methods, the craftspeople the workshops, the trade routes and options of transport, the sanctuaries and the consumers/ dedicators. The purpose of this focal point is to account for and analyse how these technical aspects of production and distribution played a role in the widespread use of the terracottas as votive offerings. The second link in the life cycle is treated under Dedicating and Mediating (Chapter III); it is that phase in which the terracottas exhibit their most vibrant agency. The aim of this section is to understand how the figurines actively functioned in their role of votives and how they fulfilled the cultic needs of the dedicators. Through studies of the location of their dedication in the sanctuary, of their iconographic symbolism and of their possible dedicators, it is the intent to explore how the figurines acted as votives, as well as why and for whom they were considered (so) suitable for this purpose. The third link in the life cycle is treated under Depositing and Discarding (Chapter IV); that is when the figurines are removed from their active role as votives and placed in the ground, either as depositions or discards. The

34Introduction

purpose of this focal point is to study the practice of deposition or discard of these votives, in order to define how the figurines were perceived at this stage in their life. The perceived status of the figurines may be revealed by the objects they were associated with, the state of their preservation and how they were cleared away. A thorough analysis of the objects and their contexts is undertaken in order to differentiate between votive depositions and waste deposits/discards. The basis of this study is a comprehensive analysis of a selection of sanctuaries with as well-documented find contexts as possible for the terracotta figurines, in order to register, analyse and discuss the archaeological contexts and their meaning. The fourth link in the life cycle is treated under Transforming and Terminating (Chapter V); this may be considered an expansion on the third link, the discard, as this includes a study of the shifts in use and the termination of the votive use of the terracotta figurines in Greek sanctuaries – the conceptual demise of the votive terracottas. The purpose of this focal point is to investigate the use or lack of use of the figurines as votive offerings in the sanctuaries previously studied, as well as to identify possible replacement offerings, which may indicate a general change in votive practice. The focus is on the periods in which the figurines ceased to appear in the sanctuaries and I ask the question whether they were replaced by other practices.

Chapter II: Making and Moving

This chapter studies the first stages in the life cycle of the votive terracottas. Several stages that would otherwise be considered independent steps are offered together here – production, distribution and consumption. These are closely related phases, although the contexts and thus the social relations and meaning of the objects can still change. These first steps of the life cycle of the figurines have generally been the most studied aspects of the terracottas and the purpose here is to identify and analyse the practical and technical circumstances that might have facilitated and promoted the widespread use of the Greek votive terracotta figurines. The possibilities and choices of the craftspeople, tradespeople and consumers, as well as their interactions with each other and the objects all affected the eventual role of the terracottas as votive offerings.

1.  Making the Figurines

Both the material and technique used for producing the figurines were significant factors in their wide distribution and use. The purpose of this section is to identify the qualities that facilitated the large and widespread production, trade and consumption of the figurines, as well as those that promoted their use as votives.

The Material According to Greek mythology, Prometheus created humankind out of clay and Athena breathed life into the figure. Prometheus also gifted man with fire, a gift which so infuriated Zeus that he ordered Hephaestus to mould the likeness of a goddess out of earth and water – the end result being Pandora.1 The possibilities of clay were endless! And this very basic resource was available in abundance to most communities in Greece and so were also the products made of clay, in varying qualities. The actual clay mixture that was used in forming the objects, the clay body, was not always simply raw clay. It could also consist of a variety of clays, to which could be added other natural substances in order to achieve a specific quality of consistency, of texture, or of colour.2 Pliny the Elder observed the practice of mixing in order to manipulate the colour of the clay. He mentions that it was a potter from Sicyon, working in Corinth, Butades, who introduced the practice of adding red chalk to the material. The Geoponica also mentions this practice, as some potters “prefer the yellowish red, some the white and others mix the two”.3 The clay body was a constructed product dependent on the nature of the available materials, often collected from several different clay deposits. Furthermore, grog, ground-up fired clay, could also be used in the mixture, possibly to ensure less shrinkage during firing or drying. A thorough analysis of local resources used in the production of ceramics has been provided by Ian K. Whitbread in a case study at Corinth.4 The

40

Making and Moving

identification of specific clay deposits used for the production of certain ceramics and terracotta objects can be difficult due to this mixing of clays and the altering of the material when fired. However, by means of various techniques, such as petrography, descriptive analysis of the material, x-ray diffraction to determine the atomic and molecular structure and chemical analysis of elemental or isotopic composition, it is possible to identify the clay used.5 No matter the method, its success in establishing the origin of the clay is dependent on having comparative examples of both local ceramic products and local clay or soil deposits. While clay must generally have been a locally abundant resource, achieving the desired consistency or colour required special effort – and while there is no doubt that the products most often were made of local materials, there is a slight possibility that some clays could perhaps be attractive enough for export before adapting it into shape. This is indicated by blocks of clay found in a workshop in Delos.6 To sum up, easy access to a clay source must have had an influence on the extent to which locally made figurines were produced and subsequently used. Most communities would have had the material readily available, with local variations of colour and texture, thus fully encourag­ ing maximum production and use. Besides clay, good water resources and wood were also necessary for the production of terracottas, or pottery in general. Various pigments for colouring of the terracottas were likewise needed, such as ochre or cinnabar, madder, blue frit, green ­malachite, black soot or charcoal and white chalk or gypsum and gold for gilding.7

The Techniques The techniques of transforming clay into figurines can be divided into three different approaches: modelling by hand, throwing on the wheel and moulding. Combinations of the three were also possible.8 The earliest and simplest method was modelling by hand. The result could, though not always, be a bit crude – perhaps hastily made. This earliest method was joined by the wheel-method around 700 BC. Certain parts of figurines could be thrown on the wheel, such as a cylinder-shaped skirt or body of an animal. This way, they were hollow and thus easier to fire. The third method, the use of the mould, allowed not only for a general high artistic quality, but also a more prolific production, in the sense of mass production. It was in use as early as in the third millennium BC in the Near East and in the fifteenth century BC in Crete. Otherwise, it did not come into regular use in the Greek area until the seventh century

Making the Figurines

41

BC, when it became the most common method of production.9 In order to produce the moulds, the most necessary component was a prototype, also known as an archetype or a patrix. Moulds could be made from the prototype, the first of which was called a matrix.10 Only a few prototypes in terracotta have been identified in the archaeological record and the limited number suggest that other perishable materials were used, such as wax or unfired clay. Baked clay prototypes may be recognised because of their solid rather than hollow form,11 and for their sculpted rather than moulded quality.12 However, other materials such as metal, stone, ivory, or wood might also have been used for prototypes. To make a mould, wet clay was pressed over the prototype, layer by layer, until it was as thick as required. When slightly hardened it could be lifted off the prototype. Frontal moulds were easily taken off, but if both front and back were to be formed, the mould had to be cut and removed in two sections (Figures 5a–b and 85). Then it would get a touch-up, before being fired in temperatures higher than for terracottas in general, as it had to endure more use. Simple moulds could have been made without a prototype by cutting into the clay. Only a few examples of plaster moulds have survived, but the terracottas from such moulds can be recognised by blisters on the surface as a consequence of bubbles in the plaster. They were used from the second century BC onwards, but were not common until the Roman period.13

Fig. 5a–b An example of a terracotta mould, for a grotesque figure from Tarent. The Hellenistic period. The National Museum of ­Denmark, inv. no. 3338. H. 10.5 cm.

42

Making and Moving

Mould-made figurines were created by pressing wet clay into the mould, again layer by layer. When the clay had dried enough and thus shrunk slightly, the figurine could be removed from the mould and dried out further. Solid figurines could be made in one mould or in two moulds put together – front and back. Most figurines were, however, hollow, in which case the mould would be lined with a thin layer of clay. A strip of clay could work as the backside, but otherwise and perhaps more commonly from the fourth century BC,14 two moulds could be put together, thus creating more variable and rounded figurines. A vent-hole was often made to allow for the air to escape, in order to keep the figurines from bursting. This could be a hole in the bottom of the figurine or a large vent in the back, but it could also just be a knife incision or a pinhole. And sometimes faith (and the porosity of the clay) was relied upon and the figurine left entirely closed. After firing, it could be necessary to make repairs, touch up details, or add parts that were separately moulded. Partial prototypes could be made specifically for adding parts later – elements such as bases, heads, arms, objects held in hands, headdresses, earrings and so forth. In the Hellenistic period parts of the figurines, such as heads and limbs, could be made in different moulds and assembled after moulding, making yet more dynamic figurines possible.15 The decoration of the figurine could take place before and/or after firing. Methods included, before firing, the application of the so-called glaze, liquefied clay, also used on pottery in general, which provided a monochrome decoration. This uniform colour could be varied by adding ochre or white clay to the glaze, or by scraping, which would reveal the underlying clay. The firing procedure that in the end could give the glazed sections a deep black colour and the scraped or unglazed sections a reddish colour was also used on pottery. The three stages in the process of firing are oxidation, reduction and reoxidation. The kiln master would initially allow a draft through the kiln, which turned the glaze red, then close the vent of the kiln and burn green wood or wet sawdust – which turned both glazed and unglazed sections of the clay black. And finally, when the temperature had reached about 950°C, he would reoxidize – open the vent – and the unglazed portions would turn from back to red.16 Perfection was not always achieved; colours could thus become uneven and those parts intended to be black could turn out reddish or brownish. Another method of decoration was first employed in the seventh century BC and was from the fifth century onwards universal: Either just the front of or the entire figurine was painted with a white clay slip and then fired – a simpler technique, since only one firing stage was required. The white slip also served as a white canvas for the artist, making the colour of the clay less important.17 Also, a lower temperature, between 750

Making the Figurines

43

and 950°C, was sufficient to achieve the desired hardness.18 After being fired, colours of a fugitive nature were added. Their binder is unknown as it has evaporated – however, egg white might have been used. Pigments for colours, as noted above, have been identified as ochre or cinnabar, a mixture of red ochre and white or rose madder for pink, yellow ochre, blue frit, green malachite, black soot or charcoal and white chalk or gypsum. In the Hellenistic period gilding could be used as decoration for details or for the entire figurine. Colours are used differently in the period from around 700 BC to the mid-fourth century BC than in the period afterwards. Before the mid-fourth century BC, vivid colours, such as red male flesh, are exhibited, while colours are more naturalistic and paler later on.19 This is due to the fact that the palette had by then expanded, as pigments from organic material were introduced in the fourth century BC.20 The larger repertoire in colours coincided with the more lively and vigorous figurines in the Hellenistic period. Both before and after the mid-fourth century BC, the colours presumably added to the understanding of the symbolism embedded in the figurines, whether cultic or secular, with greater colour detailing being possible in the later period. Due to their sizes, however, the colouring of the figurines remained less detailed than the larger sculptures and consequently probably more symbolic in nature.21 Nevertheless, the details to be found for example in the eyes, mouth, hair and clothing, still allowed for variation and lifelike features in the votive figurines (Figure 6). In summary, the use of moulds must have made the making of the figurines simpler, thus contributing to their widespread production. It also led to greater varieties in shape and details and to a broad spectrum in both quality of the production and iconography. The possibility of variation in quality would probably also have influenced the cost of the figurines, which could have operated within a broad range, making the product attractive for a wide range of customers. The range of variations of types of figurines that were produced must to a large degree have depended on the demand of the consumers.

Craftspeople The craftspeople who carried out the production of the terracotta figurines are today generally referred to as coroplasts, meaning “modeller of small figures”. As pointed out by Arthur Muller,22 the process of creating a terracotta figurine can be divided into different phases that required varying levels of skills and, depending on the workforce available, may accordingly have been carried out by craftspeople with different skill sets: the artist or artisan/craftsperson/coroplast and the labourer. Before the introduction of the mould, every figurine demanded knowledge of the

44 Fig. 6 Terracotta figurine of a seated woman from Lindos, ca. 400–330 BC, with painted facial ­features preserved. H. 11.6 cm.

Making and Moving

Making the Figurines

45

craft, but the use of a mould entailed that parts of the process became more mechanical. This meant that in workshops with a large production, parts of the process could be handled by labourers with more limited skills. The creation of the prototype and the making of the mould from that prototype for continued production were essential elements of this process and these tasks must have been handled by the coroplasts.23 The names of coroplasts are not known until the late Hellenistic period, when their names, or more probably what seem to be the names of the workshops, start to appear on the figurines.24 The roles played by coroplasts in the productive processes mentioned above may have varied from place to place and through time. Dorothy Burr Thompson has suggested that the coroplasts in Classical and Hellenistic times were more closely related to metalworkers than to sculptors, due to their shared use of clay, for modelling and moulds.25 The interrelations between coroplasts and metalworkers have also been studied by Beryl Barr-Sharrar and Gloria S. Merker and while there are only a few examples of direct linkages, similarities in motifs, style and techniques indicate that the two crafts could be interconnected.26 It seems likely that the craftspeople who made prototypes for terracotta production could also create models for the casting of bronzes. This connection would again perhaps explain the limited finds of terracotta prototypes, as they might then have been made in wax or bronze. Another indication of such a connection is proposed by Violaine Jeammet in relation to the origins of the Tanagra style in Athens in the Hellenistic period. She suggests that these figurines developed from the plastic decoration on vases, in particular loutrophoroi, which again may have been inspired by metalwork.27 In any case, the workshops may have accommodated not just one particular craft but several.28 Terracotta workshops have been identified through the finding of moulds or blocks of pigment and mixed waste deposits have been found that may also indicate dual production.29 These circumstances might shed light on the production of terracottas and the roles of the coroplasts in this process. There is no proof of workshops working solely on the production of terracottas or of kilns being used for terracottas only. However, this lack of evidence does not exclude the possibility. It may instead point to a large degree of flexibility in the workshops, with coroplasts either working alongside potters, painters and metalworkers, or they themselves being able to produce pottery, terracottas and metal objects – switching between crafts as demand required – for instance, when needs arose prior to specific religious festivals. The flexible craftspeople could suit their production for specific needs whether it was just for the local market or for export.

46

Making and Moving

Workshops The placement of the workshops supplying the worshippers in the sanctuaries with votive terracottas is of interest when one attempts to assess the connections between supply and demand. The purpose here is solely to study the proximity to the sacred areas and thus the possible interactions between sanctuary and workshop. Examples of very direct connections have been found – particularly in larger sanctuaries, e.g. in the four Panhellenic sites, Olympia, Delphi, Nemea and Isthmia, as well as in the Heraion in Samos – where there is evidence within the sanctuaries themselves in the form of casting debris, indicating that votive bronze figurines were produced.30 In order to produce bronze figurines you need little more than a metal supply and a small furnace – easily set up and easily torn down if necessary. With a mould and a portable tool-kit, business and a direct votive supply line would be open. It is somewhat less probable, however, that the same on-site production approach was used in regards to the terracotta figurines. The kiln alone would be a larger endeavour, materials less flexible and the production chain more extensive. This makes the setting up of temporary workshops aimed at festivals unlikely. However, for larger sanctuaries, the presence of permanent workshops with kilns for pottery, for building material such as tiles and/or figurines might have been a possibility. A more common solution seems to have been close connections between sanctuaries and workshops located within the polis, probably including shops and booths placed close to or even within the sanctuaries. Workshops have been identified at numerous sites and their location in relation to the cult site can vary. In addition, it is difficult to determine what qualifies as proper evidence for terracotta production within a cult site. Terracottas found within a kiln is a rarity, however; other finds might indicate terracotta production within sanctuaries, such as moulds, pigments, kilns, misfired products and waste.

Examples of Locations of Workshops The purpose here is to present a few illustrative examples of the possible production of votive terracottas within sanctuaries, as well as in workshops located outside sanctuaries but possibly providing figurines for them. It is hoped that this information will provide evidence for possible ties between production and votive use. The sanctuaries are listed according to their geographical location, in this order: the Greek mainland, the Peloponnese, the islands, Asia Minor and Magna Graecia.

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Inside Sanctuaries: It has only been possible to identify a few sanctuaries that have indications of production areas on the sacred grounds, though not necessarily for terracottas:31 Athens: There are traces of coroplastic production in front of the Sanctuary of the Nymphs south of the Odeion of Herodes Atticus.32 Other production sites in the city, but outside sacred areas, are mentioned below. Nemea: Bronze figurines were produced within the Zeus Sanctuary in Nemea; there was also a kiln area for tile production.33 The workshop area contains three kilns, a clay-mixing area and a well. There is evidence that this workshop produced a wide range of clay objects, such as tiles, jugs, lekanai, mortaria, pithoi, loom weights, kiln furniture and architectural terracottas. Again, however, no evidence can link this workshop directly to the production of terracotta figurines. Agrigento: The Urban Sanctuary site in Agrigento has revealed altogether thirty-three moulds spread all over the site. One mould was found at the base of the enclosure wall in the south-western part of the sanctuary. Four moulds came from the area by the southern enclosure wall, one was found in a well and twenty-seven moulds were found in the temple area itself. One mould came from a habitation area west of the sanctuary.34 The many moulds found there might indicate that this sanctuary actually had a production of terracotta figurines within the temenos. But the fact that the majority of the moulds – a high number in itself – were found in connection with the most sacred part of the sanctuary may suggest that the moulds themselves could serve as votive offerings, rather than demonstrating production on the site, as no other remains of production have been noted. Another possible option is that the sanctuary had its own moulds that it distributed to workshops for production. The more dispersed find spots of some of the moulds, may imply that they were part of fills consisting of soil that was brought there from outside the sanctuary. Gela: On the acropolis of Gela, in the so-called Stipi sotto l’edificio 2deposit, a fragmented mould in clay was found. The fragment would have formed a horse’s leg. It is dated to the period between the sixth and the late fifth century BC and is unfortunately the only indication we have of possible production on the site, where Athena may have been worshipped.35 Ingrid Edlund has also studied the evidence for workshops in rural shrines in Etruria and around Metaponto in Lucania. She has found examples of kilns located within sacred areas, along with moulds for both architectural terracottas and votive plaques – the connection between production and cult seems to have been closer in rural sanctuaries, since this may simply have been more convenient for a proper supply of votive offerings for the dedicators.36

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Outside Sanctuaries: Workshops outside of sanctuaries are more common. This study is not meant to be exhaustive: the intent is to exemplify particular locations within a selection of sites, as well as identify possible interactions with sanctuaries. Olynthus: Nicholas Cahill mentions a terracotta dump on the South Hill, east of the civic centre, as possible evidence for an early local sanctuary.37 But no sanctuaries within the city have, according to Cahill, been identified with certainty, which makes it difficult to assess the relationship between areas of production and areas of dedication. Furthermore, remains of what is considered to be a terracotta factory was excavated in the so-called shopping district at the south end of the North Hill in the Pompeian Red Room. Moulds, terracotta figurines, vases and reliefs were found. This district was located just one block east of the agora.38 Amarynthos: A deposit that included terracotta figurines has been found in Amarynthos just south of Eretria, dated to the fifth to third centuries BC. The deposit is considered to be evidence of workshop activity in relation to the Sanctuary of Artemis Amarysias. It contained many different types of figurines, such as standing and seated men and women, actors and animals.39 Athens: Different places in Athens have yielded evidence pointing to the existence of coroplastic workshops. In the Agora, on the north slope of the Areopagos, a pair of deep pits, known as The Coroplast’s Dump, was excavated in 1938.40 The dump contained figurines, moulds and lumps of red and white pigments. Miniature cups and kernoi also found in the dump indicate a cultic purpose for these objects. Other such dumps have been found in the Agora and they may have served several workshops in this central area.41 The Classical Commercial Building outside of the Agora, at its northwest corner, has been identified as a production site for terracotta figurines, in operation until the late first and second century AD. This interpretation is based on finds of pigments, moulds and terracotta fragments. It was also a site of metalworking and marble sculpting.42 Essentially, the Agora was the perfect place for selling votive offerings to be used in all the sanctuaries in Athens. A refuse pit or deposit with discards from a potter’s workshop was found north of the area of the Eleusinion, below the Roman Panathenaic way and the workshop seems to have been catering directly to this sanctuary, since many of the finds in the pit are similar to those found in the sanctuary. The pit or deposit is dated to the second half of the seventh century BC.43 It contained about 290 terracotta figurines, some misfired and none are left intact, along with other terracotta objects, such as spindle whorls, beads and buttons. The pit also contained neatly stacked ceramics,

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such as numerous skyphoi, kotylai and many fragments of similar vessels. Also ochre, trial pieces and lumps of burned clay were found.44 This pit seems a clear testament to workshops producing several different clay objects rather than specialising in, for instance, terracottas and to the close interaction between workshop and neighbouring sanctuary. It should be noted, however, that the deposit could have contained the discard from several workshops. Furthermore, moulds and figurines have been found on the Pnyx. Their exact origin is unknown as most of the figurine and mould finds on the Pnyx are scattered remnants from the residential areas and sanctuaries close by. Some may have come with the soil used to level off the assembly place.45 Coroplastic activity has also been attested in the Kerameikos, dating from the fifth century BC to Late Antiquity, although direct links to the local sanctuaries have yet to be identified. The finds from the potters’ workshops, such as terracotta figurines and moulds, may offer evidence for the existence of multifaceted workshops.46 Corinth: Terracottas have been retrieved from several areas in the city, but most prominently from the Potters’ Quarter and the Sanctuary of Demeter and Kore. The earliest production of figurines documented within the city of Corinth is from the last quarter of the seventh century BC.47 The workshops in the Potters’ Quarter were destroyed by an earthquake around 320 BC, but workshops were also located elsewhere in the city. Specific figurine types can be traced to specific workshops, either because they were uncovered in the excavations of the workshops, or because technical and stylistic idiosyncrasies among the terracottas found in the sanctuaries of Corinth point to specific workshops that have not been found and excavated.48 Some Corinthian figurines have been found in burials, but most appear to have been intended for cultic purposes. Some may have been directly linked to particular sanctuaries, since an excavated shop sold the same types of figurines found in a nearby votive deposit, thus linking Corinthian terracotta production closely with cultic activities.49 The majority of terracotta figurines from Corinth come from the Sanctuary of Demeter and Kore – 24,000 complete figurines and fragmentary examples. Some of them can be directly linked to specific workshops in the Potters’ Quarter through finds of similar figurines from both places. The sanctuary is located outside the centre of the city, on the hillside of Acrocorinth and was serviced by its own road leading up the hillside. The road was not paved and so too soft for carts.50 No workshops in the immediate vicinity of the sanctuary have been identified, although a single mould has been found in an offering pit on the Middle Terrace.51 Within the sanctuary are remains of a possible stall, dating to around the third century BC. It was on the Lower Terrace, west of the steps leading up to the entrance and open towards the street. A series of postholes in front

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of the building, perhaps for simple barriers, for an awning, or for torches, indicates that the structure was open to passing worshippers and thus a suitable place for the sale of votive offerings.52 Argos: Traces of coroplastic workshops are described by Giorgos M. Sanidas as being found close to and on the agora, as well as south of Mount Aspis just north of the city.53 While these workshops were at a significant distance from the Argive Heraion, where a large number of votive terracottas have been found, they were still close to the consumers – and the urban sanctuaries. Pergamon: Eight moulds have been found at Pergamon. Three moulds were found on the acropolis, in a cistern and the rest at unspecified locations within the city. A workshop with a kiln was identified northeast of the Upper Gymnasium, with a few terracotta fragments in the vicinity. However, no further evidence has been found within the city and as argued by Agnes Schwarzmaier, it is likely that larger production took place outside the city walls.54 Priene: Figurines have been found in numerous houses and in the sanctuaries of the city. In one of the private houses in Priene, remains of terracotta moulds were found.55 The house is located in the lower city centre, one insula row south of both the Athena Temple and the Zeus Temple. It is close to, but not in the immediate vicinity of, the sanctuaries. Neither kilns nor waste products have been found in this house or elsewhere in Priene. The city may have had a substantial production of terracottas. Arguments for this revolve around the uniformity of the clay of the figurines found in city and the fact that moulds have been matched with figurines from the area. Furthermore, many of the Hellenistic terracotta types found in Priene are not found elsewhere. But this situation, as argued by Frank Rumscheid, may simply be due to a lack of a substantial comparative material from neighbouring cities, such as Miletos, Samos, or Ephesus.56 While the terracotta production in Priene cannot be determined in regards to size and influence, it seems certain that it existed. This production could thus cater specifically to the local sanctuaries. There is a possibility that the buildings in the eastern part of the Demeter and Kore Sanctuary may have functioned as workshops serving the shrine.57 Jaimee P. Uhlenbrock has argued that the votive figurines found in the Athena Sanctuary are of a lesser quality than those found in the aristocratic houses from the same period.58 Perhaps this circumstance may indicate that the production of figurines was specifically targeted to different customers. Miletos: Volkmar von Graeve argues that the votive terracottas found in the sanctuaries of Miletos were produced locally, in workshops placed at the edge of the town, in Kalabaktepe. This is based on the fact that figurines found in the Aphrodite and Athena sanctuaries match both moulds and a prototype found on the site.59

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Summarising the Evidence for the Location of Workshops: The location of the workshops seems to have relied mostly on practical matters. While workshops within sanctuaries were not unheard of, these installations seem not to have been the norm, based on the limited amount of evidence for on-site production identified in this study. When present in the sanctuaries, kilns and production facilities were primarily geared towards building materials, but they could also produce pottery or votive plaques, though this is rarely the case. Moulds for terracotta figurines found in sanctuaries may indicate that votive figurines were also produced here, but they may also have served as votives in their own right. Without direct links between moulds and production areas, which has not so far been proven, they cannot be regarded as evidence for votive production in sanctuaries. When votives were produced within sanctuaries, this occurrence primarily seems to have been restricted to specific votive types and to specific occasions, such as festivals, with small, flexible and fast production facilities. A good example is the production of bronze figurines at the Panhellenic sanctuaries previously mentioned. The lack of workshops inside sacred areas may be due to practical aspects, such as a lack of space and the distance from the resources needed for production, such as clay, water and wood. Another factor may have been the desire to keep kilns – and the fire hazard they may have represented – away from crowded or sacred areas.60 A possibility suggested by Muller is worth noting: that moulds, such as those found within sanctuaries or within workshops in the city, were used to form figurines, but the firing of the figurines took place elsewhere – outside the city.61 Furthermore, there may also have been the matter of who benefitted from the production of the figurines – the craftspeople or the sanctuary. It seems unlikely that production within the sacred area could take place if it did not benefit the sanctuary itself. Perhaps this simply made it more attractive for independent craftspeople to keep their workshops outside of the temene, as long as suitable places were available not too far away. The evidence suggests that the large majority of workshops were placed outside of the sanctuaries, typically in the local general production areas. For urban or extra-urban sanctuaries, a close interaction was possible, as there was only a small distance between the urban production sites and the sacred areas – and examples from Athens and Miletos show direct commercial connections between workshops and sanctuaries. It seems that production often took place in a general production and shopping district of the town, where commodities could be bought directly by consumers, who intended to dedicate their purchases later. Finished products could also be distributed to temporary or permanent booths, which could be set up both outside and inside the sanctuary, as evidence suggests in Corinth and Priene. The craftspeople could then sell terracottas to the worshippers

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just before the act of dedication. In rural shrines, where the distance to the general production areas was greater, votives might have been produced inside the sacred areas as well, as is seen in Lucania and in the larger Panhellenic sanctuaries. Despite the fact that the workshops were generally located outside the sanctuaries, they did still naturally keep a close contact with these important consumers. Direct interaction between the workshops, the craftspeople, the tradespeople and the sanctuaries was possible and did take place. Since the terracotta figurines were not only used as votives but also as burial gifts, it is worth noting that the same type of figurines might be found both in sanctuaries and in graves.62 The general use of the terracottas, in sanctuaries, in connection with domestic cults and in graves, also allowed for a production and consumption independent from the demand of specific cults and the range of use for the figurines must have made them a rather steady source of income for the workshops and craftspeople. This meant that producers had the option of creating both generic terracotta figurines with commonplace motifs for a wide range of purposes, as well as targeting particular consumers, cults, sanctuaries, festivals, or ceremonies with more specific iconography and symbolism and perhaps also with different kinds of quality.

Mass Production Up until the seventh century, each figurine was a unique handmade piece. With the introduction of the use of the mould this changed and the doors opened for the manufacturing of large quantities, potentially what may even be understood as mass production – basically the manufacturing of goods in large quantities. The so-called derivative production, or sometimes also known as serial production, could begin. To understand the process and its outcome, the classifications by Richard V. Nicholls are very helpful. The definitions of series, groups and types were previously used randomly, but have been properly defined in 1952 by Nicholls as such:63 Series is “a number of figurines derived […] directly or remotely from a single archetype”. Group is defined as “a mass of material closely related stylistically, presumably, though not always quite certainly, because it is the work of the same modeller or, at least, of the same workshop”. Type is defined strictly as a number of terracottas “bearing a strong resemblance to one another in no more than general external appearance and shape”. When a prototype had been made, moulds could be taken from this and the so-called first generation of figurines could be produced. One of

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these figurines could subsequently have its paint cleaned off in order to be used for making moulds for a second generation of figurines and so forth, each generation being derivative of the previous. With each generation, the size of the figurines would decrease, as clay shrinks during baking (Figures 7–9). The shrinkage occurred both when the mould was fired and when the figurines from the mould were fired.64 This is how the so-called derivative production is generally assumed to have taken place. Rebecca Ammerman has shown how adjustments could be made to compensate for the shrinkage, such as elongating the headdress or adding a base to the figurine (Figure 9).65 Otherwise, a prototype of the same type, but of the original “regular” size, could be recreated when shrinkage had possibly gone too far.66 The fact that the same type could be reproduced into a whole series of figurines, produced over a long period of time, is important for the dating of these figurines. As Dorothy Burr Thompson pointed out in several publications, there is a date for the creation of the prototype and a date for the actual production of the figurine.67 New suggestions have been made since Nicholls’ important definitions of this process. For example, Dominique Kassab Tezgör has proposed a different approach based on her studies of terracottas from Alexandria. The original prototype is never fired, but is destroyed in the creation of the mould, thus, according to her, making the first generation of figurines the actual prototypes from which the working moulds would be taken.68 This is also a possible explanation for the small number of identified terracotta prototypes. It is not unlikely that

Fig. 7 Illustration of shrinkage within a terracotta series. From the Artemision in Thasos. Sixth century BC. H. 13.5, 12.1, 9.8, 8.7, 6.9 and 6.3 cm.

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Fig. 8 Hypothetical reconstruction of a mould series, with shrinkage illustrated, by Rebecca Ammerman.

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the processes differed from place to place or through time, as supposed prototypes have occasionally been found. As already noted, these might be recognised as solid or as sculpted (rather than moulded) figurines.69 However, as either technique allowed for production on both large and small scale, the production result and thus the impact on use must have been the same. While the means for mass production were available, some questions remain: To what extent was the possibility utilised? Did it necessarily result in a large flow of mass-produced terracottas into the sanctuaries? It would require more knowledge than we have about the workshops, such as evidence for expanded production facilities (larger kilns?) and tangible evidence for the derivative process within them, to answer the first question. Knowledge of, for example, the entire production from selected workshops or an entire polis would be required and such evidence is not available. On a smaller scale, it is also uncertain how many figurines a single mould could actually sustain before being worn out, as well as it is unclear how many moulds could be taken from a prototype. To some extent this would have been a matter of particular aesthetic preferences – or a lack thereof – as the detailing of the figurines would be gradually worn down with moulding and casting of moulds. These factors leave many questions unanswered as to the utilisation of mass production. The other question, however, of whether mass production of terracottas led to a large flow of votive figurines into the sanctuaries, can be approached with the proper precautions. All the terracottas that were offered as votives have obviously not been found, not even for the sanc-

Fig. 9 Illustration of compensation for shrinkage, by Rebecca Ammerman.

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tuaries with large votive deposits. The size of the sanctuaries may also prove to be greater than previously assumed – as for instance the Demeter and Kore Sanctuary in Corinth, which has recently been shown to have been larger than formerly believed.70 However, with this in mind, the objective still must be to extract the available information from the material known to us. And so, with cautious estimates of the preserved record within selected sanctuaries, some suggestions for the use of mass production of votive terracottas might be offered. Three sites have been selected in order to examine how the number of figurines found within a given sanctuary dated to a particular period of time might have been distributed throughout that period, as well as what the average number of types might have been  – based on the material recovered in archaeological excavations. The three sanctuaries selected for this test of perspective numbers are: The Demeter and Kore Sanctuary in Corinth, the Athena Sanctuary in Lindos and the Artemis Sanctuary in Thasos. The choice is based on the relatively large body of well-dated votive figurines at these sites. It is difficult to estimate how many of the dedicated votives are preserved in the archaeological record. Such estimates have been discussed by others within other groups of materials  – or as an estimate of the archaeological record in general. In 1959, R.  M. Cook discussed the matter in relation to Greek pottery and argued for an estimate of the preserved archaeological material to be barely 1 %. This amount is primarily based on the pattern observed for the Panathenaic amphorae, since it is possible to reasonably estimate the numbers produced of this type of vesseldue to their function as prize vases.71 Martin Bentz arrived at the same estimate for these vases in 1998.72 John Lund also mentions the 1 % for these amphorae, but argues for a survival rate of 0.5–0.75 % for the Eastern Sigillata A ware.73 For the votive terracottas, however, the estimate might be different – and higher – due to the practice of votive deposition. In regards to votives specifically, they were the property of the gods and so in theory supposed to stay within the sanctuary. For the terracottas this ideally would mean ending their stay in votive deposits. And ideally this would then allow for close to a 100 % percent survival rate of votive terracottas. But of course, this is not the case. Not all were deposited and not all deposits were left untouched through time. So, the actual survival rate will be somewhere between the 1 % estimated for material culture in general and the 100 % for perfect preservation. A general estimate is difficult, as the number of dedicated, deposited, preserved and excavated figurines vary greatly from sanctuary to sanctuary. For the three sanctuaries in this exercise, the estimates can be made individually, but certain factors are shared. The find contexts, the excavation process and the general state of the site must be

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considered. The numbers of excavated figurines are first used for calculations for each site and then afterwards the numbers are considered in regards to survival rate. Corinth In the Demeter and Kore Sanctuary in Corinth, 24,000 whole figurines and fragments have been found. Of these 24,000, about 1,800 were Archaic or Archaic lingering types. Of the 1,800 about 510 belong to the seventh and sixth centuries BC. With only 29 Roman pieces, the vast majority of the figurines, approximately 22,000 pieces, were dedicated in the period from the fifth century BC to 146 BC.74 Merker lists the approximate number of the most popular and clearly recognisable types found in the sanctuary:75 When listed, this gives us the following number of types within their respective periods: Period: Fifth to fourth century BC, lingering types: Fifth to fourth century BC, new types: Fourth to third century BC: Third to second century BC (until 146 BC): Types altogether:

Approximate number of types: 495 1165 375 175 2,210

If the number of figurine and figurine-fragment finds are divided by the number of identified types, this allows for a roughly estimated average of the number of terracottas per type: Amount of terracottas: Amount of types: Average terracottas per type:

24,000 ca. 2,210 11

The majority of about 22,000 of the preserved figurines were dedicated within the period of 500–146 BC. When the figurines are divided by the time span in years, this allows for a simplified average estimate per year of the preserved figurines: Amount of terracottas: Time span: Terracottas per year:

22,000 350 years 63

The sixty-three votive terracottas can again be roughly divided into an estimate of five figurines dedicated per month – of the preserved material.

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The (published) figurines are grouped according to the excavation lots they were found in, in the publication. Merker notes that about 480 lots contained terracottas. She also comments on the state of the objects, as some figurines were not fired very hard and so were badly deteriorated or crumbled when touched.76 The lots include all contexts such as surface finds, fills, deposits and disturbed contexts.77 The deposits are few and most are surface finds or fills.78 The finds are restricted to the terraces of the sanctuary, with the most abundant and better preserved finds coming from the Middle Terrace.79 Regardless of the large number of figurines, there are many indications that they are still only a fraction of the dedicated terracottas. The sanctuary is not fully excavated and the size of the sacred site may be larger than previously assumed, as mentioned above, so there must be still more figurines to find, possibly even votive deposits.80 Despite this, a very large amount of material was retrieved from the terraces from the entire period of use for the sanctuary  – primarily in fills, which indicates that the terracottas were deliberately placed in the ground, before ending in the fills. If 1 % is the number for material culture preserved in general, an estimate of the survival rate for a deliberately deposited material  – though within a site that has experienced much turmoil – might be 5–10 %. This would bring the average of monthly dedications up to 52–105 figurines – a daily average of maximum 3 dedicated figurines. Considering that the small cultic theatre could fit a maximum of 85 persons, it is possible that the dedications of figurines primarily took place in relation to specific ceremonies where groups of such a size brought votives to the site.81 Lindos On the acropolis of Lindos, in the Athana Lindia Sanctuary, about 2,740 terracottas have been found. They are dated within three periods: The Early Archaic period (ca. 880–750 BC); from the Early Archaic period to ca. 400 BC; and from ca. 400 BC to the beginning of the Hellenistic period, ca. 330 BC. The terracottas are divided into their respective periods as such: Period: Early Archaic period: Early Archaic period – 400 BC: 400–330 BC: Terracottas altogether:

Amount of terracottas: 100 1,240 1,400 2,740

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The 2,740 terracotta figurines are dated within a period of ca. 420 years, while the majority of 1,400 figurines are dated to the period of 400–330 BC. This allows for two averages to be calculated per year:   Amount of terracottas: Time span: Terracottas per year:

Average 1: 2,740 420 years 6–7

Average 2: 1,400 70 years 20

The terracottas are divided into approximately 795 catalogue numbers, i.e. types.82 The average number of terracottas per type is: Amount of terracottas: Amount of types: Average terracottas per type:

2,740 ca. 795 3–4

However, in Lindos there are examples of large amounts produced of a few terracotta types. These are the protomai. They cover 143 catalogue numbers, but two of these types are represented by about 100 and 300 pieces.83 If these large amounts are considered, the average of examples of the remaining types decreases even more. This indicates that Lindos could potentially be an interesting example of both productions in very small numbers, as well as what might be considered mass production. It can be noted, that examples of the protomai have been found in Naukratis, perhaps suggesting that the large productions were also intended for export.84 The majority of the figurines were found in three primary contexts:85 the so-called Archaic Layers, which seem to be fill layers under the Archaic stairs; the Large Deposit, which was a mixed votive deposit dated to ca. 525–400 BC; and the Small Deposit, which was a votive deposit almost exclusively containing terracotta figurines dated to ca. 400–330 BC.86 The votive deposits seem to be the result of clearances in the sanctuary. Ideally, the votive deposits within a relatively narrow time frame would contain the majority of the votives from these periods, but this seems not to be case, as up to half of the terracotta finds from the sanctuary were found in other contexts than the deposits, though still within the sanctuary. The deposits may instead only contain votives from a particular part of the sanctuary, such as the temple itself. The deposits may be assumed to have contained at least 20 % of the votive figurines dedicated within each of the three time periods. The examples found outside the deposits would then originally have taken up 80 %, of which 5–10 % may have survived – which is about 4–8 % of the entire estimated dedications. Altogether that leaves us with an estimate of 24–28 % preserved votive figures from the sanctu-

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ary, which might be set at 25 % for simplicity. For the period between the Early Archaic period until 400 BC, that would leave us with an average of 26 votive terracottas per year – approximately 2 per month. For the period between 400 and 330 BC, that would be an average of 80 figurines per year – approximately 6 per month. Thasos In the Artemision in Thasos 2,337 anthropomorphic terracottas were found. They are dated to the Archaic period, from the seventh to the beginning of the fifth century BC, roughly 220 years, which gives this average: Amount of terracottas: Time span: Terracottas per year:

2,337 220 years 11

The publication of the Thasos material catalogues the types of figurines according to the derivative process, which means that each type is numbered and the series derived from the type carries the same type number, though sub-numbered. There are 48 primary types numbers and only these are counted for this test, not the sub-numbered types. This allows for an average of 49 figurines per series, rather than type. The largest number of a single specific type is 124 figurines.87 However, an amount that numbers in the hundreds is unique, as most types are preserved in less than ten pieces, with some venturing further into the double-digit numbers. The finds from the Artemision are primarily from a large deposit and from compact fills within the sanctuary.88 The find contexts of this sanctuary seem relatively comparable to those of the Lindos Sanctuary and the survival rate may be estimated at similar levels, such as ca. 25 %. This would increase the yearly dedications to 44 terracottas – on average that is 3–4 votive terracottas per month. The three examples illustrated above are, however, not necessarily representative of the entire Greek world. There may be regional differences. Dedication practices in Magna Graecia, especially, seem to differ from the rest of the Greek region, with large numbers of votive deposits of terracotta figurines.89 In particular, Gela has revealed deposits with large groups of homogeneous figurines from a few, closely related moulds.90 This may be an indication of a difference in the frequency of the votive use of terracotta figurines, which may then have required a more extensive production and consequently greater use of mass production. The numbers of estimated dedications in the three selected sanctuaries seem to be at the lower end of what could have been expected, which

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may of course be a consequence of overly optimistic estimates. Yet, the sanctuaries are settings in which an effort was actively made to keep the offerings within the sacred area through deposits. This reasonably raises the survival rate in comparison to that of other types of archaeological material. Furthermore, the selection of types preserved may also be considered representative of the types dedicated in the sanctuary. Of these preserved figurines, only a few types may indicate mass production due to their numbers. It is clear that mass production was feasible, but perhaps it may not have been generally desirable – at least for the votive use of the figurines. This accentuates the question of the relevance of mass production in relation to votive use, as well as puts the possible flow of votive figurines into the sanctuaries into perspective. When looking at the actual time span for the finds, even when considering that the preserved figurines do not account for all figurines or types dedicated in the sanctuary, but just a fraction of the dedications, the numbers do not leave an impression of massive daily, weekly, or even monthly amounts of terracotta-figurine dedications. This is also the case for the Demeter and Kore Sanctuary in Corinth  – despite the impressive numbers of finds. These numbers must be considered when discussing the actual use of mass production, as well as they must be taken into account in subsequent studies of this particular dedication practice. The large number of different types, though found in limited numbers, could indicate that only a small part of the production was actually used for dedication – while the remainder of a possible mass production of figurines found use elsewhere, in other sanctuaries, in other cities, in graves, or in houses. Leaving room for variations of numbers within the types and keeping in mind that the surviving material is only a small part of the original amounts, while also considering that large numbers could have been exported, it seems as though it was possible to produce large quantities of the same type. However, it was not necessarily desired by consumers, which would consequently make it less appealing to the producers. To use the label of mass-produced items may be misleading as to their value and worth, in particular in cultic contexts. The most important point to take from the numbers may be that they allow for some scepticism in regards to the picture often painted of the figurines as the “everyman’s” dedication for the “everyday” ritual. Considering the numbers of figurines found in Corinth, Lindos and Thasos, there is no basis for assuming that they were in any way a daily dedication. This allows for interpretations of the terracottas that go beyond seeing them as a large stream of objects flowing through the sanctuaries as both mass-dedication pieces as well as mass-discarded and -deposited pieces.

2.  Moving the Figurines

Distribution The topic of the distribution of terracotta figurines across the Mediterranean is a complicated one and the purpose here is simply to examine how flexible the terracotta market was in relation to trade and distribution. Were the clay figurines worth transporting long distances and could such imports affect local production? This section aims to briefly study general distribution tendencies as well as a few sites as examples of import/export: Due to the flexibility of the coroplasts and the workshops and the use of the mould, production of the terracottas could take place both on a small scale as well as on a large scale. Many production sites seem to have catered mostly to local needs, but others produced enough – and of such a quality – that the figurines could be exported outside their source region. Terracottas from East Ionian production sites, which are difficult to identify with certainty, but are generally assumed to be sites such as Kos, Miletos, Rhodes and Samos, seem to have circulated widely in the eastern half of the Mediterranean area and equally so in Magna Graecia at sites such as Selinunt, Gela and Catania, though not in the Greek mainland. These East Ionian types, especially the so-called Gorgoneion and Aphrodite Groups, many of which also functioned as perfume containers, were popular in the sixth century BC and were also imitated locally.91 On the other hand, wares produced at sites such as Corinth and Attica, while also being traded in the eastern end of the Mediterranean, dominated sales in the Greek mainland.92 Corinth Corinth was one of the major production sites that produced for both local and export needs. Terracotta reliefs may have been produced earlier than figurines and these were also intended for export for use at the sanctuaries further away, though still within the territory of the polis, such as

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Perachora. The period of more extensive export, which primarily originated from the Potter’s Quarter, started in the early fifth century BC and lasted until around 320 BC, when this area was destroyed by an earthquake. The most popular figurines produced here were the late Archaic types from the fifth and fourth centuries BC. The busy workshops in the Potter’s Quarter managed to not only fulfil the high local demand for terracotta votive figurines, but also to create a surplus available for export – as evidenced by the numerous finds of Corinthian figurines across the Mediterranean.93 Rhodes Rhodes is situated in the eastern half of the Aegean, close to Asia Minor, Cyprus and the Near East and consequently the island held a central location in regards to the trade routes. Most of the 2,740 votive terracottas from the Lindos Sanctuary were locally produced, with some other East Greek imports and a few imports from Attica.94 The clay for the figurines in Lindos is distinctive and can be distinguished from the material used in the other large cities on Rhodes, such as Kamiros and Ialysos.95 The Greekstyle terracotta figurines represent the largest group of votive offerings in the sanctuary, though imports are present among the other votives. In the early Archaic period, until 525 BC, there are only ca. 100 Greek terracotta figurines documented, but from the same period we have a large amount of Cypriote figurines: ca. 700 limestone figurines and ca. 150 terracotta figurines. Besides the Cypriote figurines, there are ca. 100 Egyptian faience figurines, as well as ca. 200 Egyptian seals.96 The latter are a testament to the close ties between Rhodes and Egypt, through the port of Naukratis, where the Cypriote figurines could have passed before reaching Lindos.97 In contrast, from the period 525–300 BC, there are about 2,640 Greek terracottas, generally locally produced terracotta figurines, while the foreign figurines disappear. This may be due to both a change in the trade patterns, around the time the Persians advanced to the Aegean, as well as an increase in local production of votives.98 Terracotta figurines from Rhodes travelled far and wide, to places such as Cyrene and Naukratis, indicating either a proper export of these, or sailors bringing them to be dedicated upon arrival in other cities.99 Naukratis Figurines of both terracotta and stone, such as limestone and alabaster, arrived in Naukratis from mainland Greece, eastern Greece, Cyprus and the Near East, but the majority of figurines are Egyptian, most likely made at Naukratis itself.100 There is considerable variation in both date and loca-

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tion of the figurines in the city. In the seventh and sixth centuries BC, the votive assemblages from the sanctuaries of Aphrodite and Apollo contain a majority of Cypriote figurines, both in terracotta and limestone (as also seen in Lindos), while, in later periods, Egyptian, East Greek, mainland Greek and Hellenistic material are represented. In the Greek shrines of the Hellenion, late Archaic, Classical and early Hellenistic East Greek terracottas were found and protomai were especially frequent. Egyptian figurines from the Late Period and Early Ptolemaic Period were found across the entire town, but most of them were concentrated near the Hellenion in the eastern part of the town.101 The types of Greek terracotta figurines found in Naukratis date almost entirely to the period between 620 and 300 BC and are concentrated in the sanctuaries. They were produced in workshops spread across different parts of the ancient Greek world, with a small number of locally produced copies of Greek types. However, the East Greek group dominates. Most prominently, the terracotta protomai have many parallels among protomai found in Lindos and some have been traced directly to Rhodes.102 The function of Naukratis as a trade port in the eastern Mediterranean area in the Archaic and Classical periods is clearly reflected in the votive figurines. The local production of figurines was influenced by the imported terracottas; in the Classical period hybrids were created by the craftspeople of Naukratis and they adopted Greek techniques and style for locally made figurines, alongside local traditions and techniques. The last imported Greek figurines in Naukratis date from early in the third century BC, when the local figurines that reveal Hellenistic coroplastic techniques take over.103 Cyrene In Cyrene, there is also evidence for imports. The earliest dedications in the Demeter and Persephone Sanctuary date to the second quarter of the sixth century BC and consist mostly of imported East Greek terracottas, both perfume containers and figurines. The majority of the early votive terracottas were East Greek imports and the local products were generally of a very poor, coarse quality in this period. By the end of the sixth century BC figurines from Athens and Corinth make their appearance among the votive terracottas. However, during the fifth century BC the East Greek terracottas increased and dominated imports over any other external production centre supplying the sanctuary. Also, in the fifth century BC, local Cyrenaica production grew in scale, characterised by the imitation of Athenian figurines.104 By the mid-fourth century BC, the amount of dedicated terracotta figurines fell considerably. At the same time, imports from Sicily and south Italy influenced the local production; however, soon the Tanagra style took over as the preferred source of influence. Finally, by

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the end of first century BC, terracottas were only sporadically offered as votives in the Demeter and Persephone Sanctuary.105 Asia Minor Examples of closely related trade are found in Asia Minor. As the capital of the Pergamene Kingdom and so the most influential centre in the area in the Hellenistic period, Pergamon also affected terracotta production and trade. Myrina is situated about 40 km southwest of Pergamon and in the middle of the third century BC it was part of the Pergamene Kingdom. This is reflected in the terracottas, since many of those found in Myrina are either imported from Pergamon or produced locally, either with prototypes or figurines from Pergamon or in imitation of the Pergamene types. This system is partly recognised through the signatures of workshops, which appear now in the Hellenistic period, although it is also possible that the Pergamene workshop founded local branches in Myrina.106 Myrina imported Tanagra types and produced imitations locally as well, which may indicate that mainland Greeks resided in the area, perhaps lured there due to a more lucrative market.107 Hellenistic Smyrna prospered due to both maritime and overland trade. Smyrna was likewise an active coroplastic centre and it played a part in the local terracotta trade, since both Pergamon and Myrina have examples of terracottas from Smyrna, which are easily identifiable due to a distinctive clay and a careful technique.108 Troy was a minor centre of trade and artistic activity in the Hellenistic period. There, imports, both of the Tanagra types and the types from Pergamon, influenced the locally produced terracottas, but these imitations kept the local production dominant.109 Priene seems also to have been self-sufficient in production, though influenced in style in the third century BC by the Tanagra figurines as well. Interestingly, at this site at least, there seems to be a certain difference in the quality and style between the figurines intended for votive offerings and those found in private homes, with the latter being the more superior.110 In general, in the Hellenistic period the local styles were often overshadowed by a uniform style, the Tanagra style, which appeared around 340–330 BC. The style originated in Athens – despite the name, Tanagra, which is where figures in this style were first found.111 The figurines spread rapidly from the production centres in Athens and Tanagra in Boeotia. They almost immediately appeared in places such as Macedonia, Eretria and Cumae and by the end of the fourth century BC they were spread across the Mediterranean, due to a network of trade routes established by Athens when exporting red-figure pottery. It seems, however, that the different production sites also serviced different locations. Boeotia, for instance, supplied Lesbos and Chania, while Athenian figurines domi-

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nated this trade, as they were imported in Knossos, Macedonia, Cyrenaica, Egypt, Myrina and Italy.112 Once the figurines reached their destination, they served as inspiration for numerous local imitations, which in turn were exported, reaching yet farther away, as explained by Jeammet: from Macedonia to the Black Sea region, from Tarentum to the rest of Apulia, from Paestum and Naples to Campania and Etruria and from Myrina, Pergamon and Alexandria farther afield to Lebanon and Iran.113 To sum up the terracotta situation in the sites presented in this section: Corinth was a large production centre with an excellent source of good clay, many workshops, a high local demand to be met and a capacity to produce for export. Rhodes was initially an interesting mix of local production and imported, eastern products, but later the local production supplied most of the cultic needs. Naukratis is characterised by a large local production of terracottas, but also by imports reflecting the general trade patterns for the port. However, in the Greek sanctuaries of the city, Greek terracotta figurines dominate and show connections to, for example, Rhodes. Cyrene was a flourishing colony, well served by lucrative trade routes, bringing high-quality, imported figurines to compete with and inspire local production, since there the votives were in high demand. These centres were the most active in regards to production and distribution in the sixth to the fourth centuries BC in the eastern half of the Mediterranean. The Asia Minor system described here was more active in the Hellenistic period. Pergamon, Myrina and Smyrna illustrate close interaction in production and export between the large dominant city and the smaller cities within reasonable proximity to the centre, while the cities of Priene and Troy seem to epitomise more independent centres of production and use. Discussing the Distribution of Votive Figurines and the Role as Identity Markers In conclusion, it is clear that the terracotta market served much of the Mediterranean, with figurines being transported across long distances. While the level of activity in regards to production and distribution of both imports and exports varied at sites through time, the Mediterranean-wide exchanges continued. Though the networks of exchange were complex, the overall tendencies seem to indicate – for the Archaic and Classical periods – the domination of the trade by the eastern Mediterranean sites and Corinth. The Asia Minor interactions, as discussed above, was most active in the Hellenistic period. Athens, however, set the trend for terracotta figurines with the Tanagra style and became the primary centre for production and distribution in the Hellenistic period. Imported terracottas were used as votive offerings and often influenced the style of the local products. The wide distribution of terracotta figu-

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rines illustrates another aspect of the relations between production and votive use, which is the long-distance connections. While it was possible to purchase terracotta figurines that were produced close by and which were probably aimed directly at specific shrines, there was at many locations also the possibility of chosing figurines coming from afar, which must then have been in possession of attractive qualities for the consumer different from those of the local objects. While these qualities are not necessarily easy to determine from an outsider’s perspective, the incentive to move them across considerable distances was certainly present. In order to understand the widespread demand for these particular products, it is necessary to comprehend their attraction. There are different aspects that may be relevant. The Greek world consisted of, in the words of Plato, “frogs around the pond”114 – as such describing a homeland of various city-states with large-scale migration around the Mediterranean Sea. The so-called colonialism of the Greek world has been much debated and it should not be compared to – or understood in light of – more recent examples of colonialism. Rather than Greek colonies and all that this term implies, they should be considered Greek settlements – with a shared culture.115 According to Herodotos, the Greeks could be defined as a unified group due to their shared blood, language, religious life and customs.116 Lin Foxhall argues that some commodities were exported due to their ability to link the individual “to larger, global sets of value and ideologies”, resembling the modern concept of fashion.117 This is an interesting association, especially in regard to the terracottas. Common exported figurine types may have represented a shared tradition and thus unity throughout the Greek world and in the Greek religious system, which could be just as relevant and important as figurines aimed at particular local traditions and rituals. Jeammet considers the terracottas to have acted as “a vector for Greek values” as they followed in the wake of Alexander the Great.118 The figurines were imported by Greek expatriates or local populations wanting to embrace this Greek way of life.119 The use of votive terracotta figurines were thus part of a shared religious life and shared customs. Chris Gosden has argued for the construction of identity through material culture, specifically Greek material culture and Greekness.120 He suggests that the agency of a person is not restricted to just the body or its surroundings, but extends to the objects and products of the person as well. As objects and people are entagled (in networks), they take part in bringing each other into being on a social level, through the social relations they create and exist in.121 Gosden discusses the differences between group identity and individual identity and extends this distinction to the non-human agents, since people relate to these as either things or objects, that is, a distinction between their qualities and/or abilities. Things are

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understood as those artefacts that have value based on their material qualities, while the value of objects is determined by a more abstract or conceptual form of worth.122 The two definitions are relevant for understanding how material culture influences the behaviour of – and the construction of identity by – human actors. He also emphasises the importance of these non-human actors specifically in relation to colonisation – as motivators for movement and as participants in value systems, both locally and as shared values through consumption in larger networks.123 The concept of Greekness may have had a varied and broad definition across the Mediterranean, as the various Greek settlements interacted with existing cultures. However, objects acted to create a shared culture – through their qualities as well as their quantities. There are two qualities that might function as signifiers for wealth in objects and consequently be desirable: beautiful and/or standardised. Through these qualities, it is possible to enter large networks, both to interact through common shared values, commonly defined standards and to distinguish the individual from the group through wealth or beauty.124 The objects are part of the networks that help define the individual through their interactions with the agents – human as well as non-human. Through their purchases – their consumption – people can define or reinforce their affiliations with other individuals and groups.125 Consumption was and is a means to construct identity, as it goes beyond a strictly economic scope and into the social sphere.126 The widespread production, distribution and consumption were reflections of shared material culture, as well as shared social behaviours.127 Consumption, in particular, is considered an agentive social action,128 allowing for symbolic construction of identity and of cultural transformation. For the widespread Greek settlements, as well as for colonisation in general, mass-produced commodities or mass consumption over long distances contributed to the formation of identities.129 When acquiring the terracotta figurines, the consumers and worshippers, both consciously and subconsciously, would perform a shared social practice, emphasize a connection to Greek religious life and actively take part in the shared customs, rituals and values, thus creating a sense of shared identity, as well as unity across the “pond”.

Models of Movement How and to what degree the actual transport and trade took place is uncertain. Some distinctions in regards to the extent of the trade and transport have been proposed by Uhlenbrock. Based on her studies of the distribution of specific types of terracottas in various sites, she suggests three different categories of trade and transport possibilities for the figurines:130

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Targeted/bulk trade There is evidenced to suggest that certain markets in the Greek world were targeted specifically in regards to terracotta figurines. This is the case particularly in the Archaic period, when East Greek figurines in large numbers made their way to northern Greece, Sicily and other Ionian trading posts such as Naukratis.131 The ship-owners, the naukleroi, may have received orders for 300 or 400 figurines to be transported directly to a given city to satisfy cult needs. This may be suggested by the presence – in some sanctuaries such as Gela and Thasos – of large groups of homogeneous figurines from the same period and of few closely related moulds.132 Basket trade This type of trade might have taken place when the naukleroi decided to bring a basketful of figurines, possibly aimed at a specific religious festival. This seems to be documented by votive deposits with several dozens of terracottas of the same date, fabric, technique and moulds or similar mould families, as seen in the Demeter and Persephone Sanctuary of Cyrene.133 Trinkets/bazaar trade A somewhat indirect kind of trade, in which a bundle of merchandise, possibly a small lot of terracottas, was taken on board the ship and during the long voyage, with many stops, there would be selling, buying and exchanging, thus turning the ship into a travelling bazaar – also known as cabotage. This seems evident by the presence in some sanctuaries of figurines of East Greek clay, but in a great variety of shapes over a long period.134 These models should be considered mostly as illustrative reflections of the flexibility of the terracottas as small objects. The amounts to be transported could be scaled up or down, depending on both demand and available cargo space. The figurines were not necessarily expensive objects, though valuable enough (either in economic or cultic terms) to be considered for transport. In small quantities, they could fill cargo gaps easily and they would possibly be worth bringing in larger quantities for specific markets and occasions, such as festivals. However, these models are based solely on the appearance of the figurines in sanctuaries, as the evidence from preserved shipwrecks is sparse. For instance, in A. J. Parker’s 1992 catalogue of shipwrecks from the Mediterranean there are only listed four wrecks with terracottas:135 1. A single terracotta boar has been retrieved from an Archaic shipwreck outside Gela.136 2. A Punic wreck, dated to the seventh or sixth century BC, off the coast of Cádiz, Spain, carried at least two figurines: a head and a female deity.137

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3. A wreck off Shavé Ziyyon on the Israeli coast, dated to the late fifth – early fourth century BC, has yielded several hundred Phoenicio-Punic terracotta figurines. Neutron activation analyses indicate a local origin. Thirty-two different types have been identified, mostly so-called goddesses standing on a base upon which is the sign of Tanit or the sign of a dolphin.138 4. A fifth-century BC wreck off the coast of Tyre in Lebanon carried at least seven terracottas, also portraying a goddess with the sign of Tanit on the base and a terracotta model showing a priest, four worshippers and a goddess gathered around an oven for a cake-baking ceremony.139 Recent studies, however, have revealed that the third wreck listed by Parker is, in fact, not a shipwreck at all. Analyses by Meir Edrey, Adi Erlich and Assaf Yasur-Landau of the site have shown it instead to be an assemblage of figurines and ceramic vessels. The objects were most likely accumulated through ritualistic casting into the sea as dedicatory acts in relation to a maritime cult.140 And so the evidence of terracottas in wrecks has become even more sparse (and with only one Greek wreck). However, if we consider the above-mentioned studies by Uhlenbrock of imported figurines, together with the three remaining wrecks mentioned by Parker, we may still discern two different purposes for transporting terracottas: I. Catering to the cultic needs of the sailors/travellers. This seems to account for the three wrecks (nos. 1, 2, 4) with a few but seemingly cultic related terracottas. II. As commodities. There are as of yet no wrecks to illustrate this practice, but it is evident in the presence of imported figurines across the Mediterranean.141 The terracottas belonging in the first category – catering to the needs of the sailors or travellers – must necessarily be perceived as adaptable. The cultic needs of the sailors or travellers could suggest use for cultic purposes aboard the ship, as well as transport for dedication in a sanctuary. If the latter was intended, it might be as a thank offering from the traveller for having arrived safely, as seen by the example mentioned by Athenaeus, in which the Naukratite sailor Herostratos dedicates a statue, previously bought in Paphos, when having safely arrived in Naukratis.142 Or they were brought for particular offerings in a particular sanctuary, in what may be considered either a personal pilgrimage or a form of ancient sightseeing – examples of a form of sightseeing at sanctuaries are mentioned by Euripides and Herodas where guests take the time to admire the statues and surroundings.143 The question of why travellers might bring their own figurines along for their journey – apart from cultic use while travelling – is not easily

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answered. The purpose of the travels could involve more than a simple dedication, for instance participation in specific rituals or festivals at the destination. Such ritual events could have been unique for the site or especially prominent within the Greek religion – as the Panhellenic festivals were, in, for example, Olympia, Delphi, Nemea and Isthmia and as the Mysteries were in Eleusis and on Samothrace.144 It might be added that the journey itself may have carried its own meaning for the votive object as well, as taking an active part in the pilgrimage, in the sense of a ritual journey. It is also possible that bringing a votive from home to a foreign destination may have carried a special meaning in regards to the dedication as construction of identity, in confirming the unity of the Greek religious system and so the feeling of belonging. The dedication of an object coming from one place to another would strengthen the feeling of the bond between the two. This seems particularly relevant in the case of so-called mother–daughter cities (such as founding cities and their settlements/colonies and trading hubs), where the connection could be confirmed with the offerings being brought especially from the one to the other145 – as seen with Rhodian and Samian figurines in Naukratis, Rhodian figurines in Cyrene and East Greek figurines in Gela, as mentioned above.146 It is also a possibility that the votives were moved by other kinds of travellers, such as the Greek mercenaries in Egypt, who sacrificed in the local temples – and scratched their names in stone, in an early example of sightseeing tagging.147 Upon departure from the foreign destination, the sailor, traveller, or pilgrim may perhaps have felt the urge to take another votive or figurine with them. A figurine “for the road” might simply have been considered a necessity for cultic purposes aboard the ship or for the next necessary thank offering.148 The additional figurine may also have been meant for a dedication by the visitor or pilgrim back at the home sanctuary. Perhaps the extra figurine might also have served as a reminder of a festival its owner had travelled far to attend, a sanctuary they had wished to visit for many years, or a special role played at a ceremony (alone or with family). It might be a token of a memory of a particular wish that came true or a kind of souvenir – to be kept in the house as an embodied memory, perhaps then later befitting a role as the last offering in the grave. The question of how to distinguish between a single votive brought for dedication and bulk-traded objects is a difficult one. In theory, the single figurine brought for dedication might be discernible if it showed signs of use or wear prior to dedication, or if it seemed to evince a character of being a personal belonging, i.e. appearing older than the general context or having signs of wear which could stem from handling of the object before it entered the role as a votive offering. A rare example is found in the Demeter and Persephone Sanctuary in Cyrene, where a few figurines

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that seem older than the foundation date for Cyrene have been found. Whether they were heirlooms dedicated in the sanctuary or they were brought as part of the founding of the cult is uncertain.149 Such examples are not often found or easily distinguished in larger contexts. The most useful distinction, as has already been mentioned above, is to identify the amounts present of the individual types and to determine whether there are in fact several identical or closely related figurines to be found – or if there are any figurines uniquely different from the others. As noted above, in relation to the mass production and the transport categories, large amounts of the same type can occasionally be present and they may be considered commodities which could be mass-produced – and both transported and traded in bulk. However, many votive deposits contain a large variety of types, a situation that testifies to the individual choices in the use of the votive figurines – whether they were locally chosen and bought or instead brought from afar by travellers of various sorts. The finished terracotta figurines were not the only part of the production system that travelled; there are also examples of traveling moulds being discovered, for instance in Cyrene, where not only imported Tanagra figurines have been found, but also imported moulds.150 Another example comes from Delos, where a mould signed by a coroplast from Myrina has been found.151 It is also possible that the coroplasts themselves travelled as itinerant craftspeople or as immigrants to other areas, bringing both their mould-making and artistic techniques and know-how with them, as well as the moulds and finished figurines as examples of their work.152 How the terracotta figurines travelled and to what extent, plays a part in the understanding of their use as votives. The fact that large amounts of terracotta figurines travelled over long distances indicates that they may have served a particular purpose upon arrival. Perhaps they simply fulfilled a need which local workshops could not cover, as in a large demand for particular occasions such as festivals, while the trade may simultaneously have played a part in strengthening ties between cities (perhaps mother–daughter cities). The smaller amounts transported also leave open several interesting questions, since they could have been transported by various types of people and for different reasons. As with larger amounts, they may represent a bond between two cities, but they may also indicate that the journey itself served a purpose or the figurine had a purpose on the journey, before being dedicated upon arrival.

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The Economy of Votive Figurines The worth of the terracotta figurines can be understood in terms of their economic value and of their cultic value. Their purely economic value naturally had an effect on their sizeable production, although their cultic value undoubtedly stimulated and improved their value as commodities. The use of figurines as votive offerings, whether of metal or terracotta, represented a preference for what Anthony Snodgrass defines as converted dedications rather than raw dedications.153 Raw dedications are to be understood as those unmodified objects with a real, secular function, such as jewellery or weapons, which could potentially have been used for a considerable period of time prior to dedication. The converted dedication represents a conversion of a part of the wealth of the dedicator and it has typically been produced for this specific purpose.154 These two categories are simplifications, but illustrate a possible advantage of the terracotta figurines as a commodity specifically suited for a large market. Snodgrass and James Whitley have discussed a possible shift in votive preferences, from the pre-Archaic and Archaic-period preferred use of metal offerings, such as dress pins, fibula and metal figurines, to the Classical period in which these types of objects seem to be replaced by the terracottas.155 This may be an overly simplistic interpretation of the finds and, as noted by Whitley, it may also be due to depositional practices. This twofold division of dedications does, however, highlight the advantages of the figurines as converted dedications and commodities specifically meant for cultic demands: both their market and their consumers were clearly defined and the demand was steady and potentially growing as their use and popularity as votives increased. While the motivation to produce figurines might have been purely economical, the demand for the terracottas was fuelled by their cultic use.

3.  Discussion and Preliminary Conclusions

Production, distribution and consumption of the Greek votive terracottas were intertwined; at the same time, these processes represent different socially determined stages in the life cycle of the figurines – birth and socialisation (use). The terracotta figurines possessed several advantages as products and commodities, which promoted their popularity and use. The terracotta figurine was an adaptable product. It was made of a readily available material, which could be formed to serve disparate desires. A technological revolution was set off with the introduction of the mould and mould-made figurines. Production increased rapidly and could even on occasion grow to what may be defined as mass production. The derivative production allowed for styles and types to spread afar, to be imitated and to linger long past their date of creation. The craftspeople who modelled and produced these figurines, the coroplasts, seem to also have been rather flexible. They interacted closely with other craftspeople, such as metalworkers and may even themselves have served as both, as well as being potters and painters. This had the advantage of making them less dependent on terracotta production alone, allowing them to produce and sell them according to market demands. While workshops that produced both building material and clay objects can be identified in a few sanctuaries, as well as the on-site production of certain types of votives in specific areas, this does not necessarily seem to have been the case for the terracotta figurines. Moulds are not a rare find in the sanctuaries; however, the moulds themselves may have been given as votives rather than be evidence for production, especially when they are the only indications of production. There is also the option of moulds being used within the sanctuary to form figurines which were subsequently fired elsewhere. In general, though, terracotta workshops were usually located elsewhere, preferably in reasonably close proximity to the sanctuaries, so as to allow them to gear their products directly for cults nearby and probably for particular festivals as well. It is likely that

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shops or stands for the sale of votives, including terracottas, were set up close to the sanctuaries, even inside them, as may have been the case in Corinth and Priene. The terracottas had a strong presence in the sanctuaries and the extensive finds of votive deposits have led to the idea that these particular votives were the “everyman’s” dedication for the “everyday” ritual, creating a notion of a massive flow of figurines into the sanctuaries. However, when such large votive deposits of terracottas are considered within their actual period of use, as well as in relation to their estimated survival rate, this notion becomes less clear. There seems to be a discrepancy between the possibility of mass production and its actual utilisation for votive figurines. There are two points to notice in this regard: First of all, only a few of the types of figurines are actually found in the sanctuaries in large, mass-produced numbers. The individual types are typically very numerous and even if there are, for example, ca. 200 seated female figurines, they may easily constitute 40–50 different types.156 If the types were generally made in large numbers, they must have found their use elsewhere also, in houses and graves. Secondly, the numbers of votive figurines altogether are not large enough to warrant the notion of “massive” daily/weekly/monthly intakes of votive terracottas in the sanctuaries. This does not mean they were not popular. When the mould-made figurines appeared, they quickly acquired an important role in the Greek votive system. However, the impression of the terracottas as overwhelmingly dominant may to a large degree simply be a result of their durability and consequently their accumulated presence, in both the sanctuaries then and the deposits now. The votive use of the figurines was by no means insignificant, but there is the real probability of their use being more restricted than is often assumed, indicating that the worth of the figurines both in an economic and cultic sense was not insignificant. A clear testament to this is the fact that the terracottas were traded. They could travel far, in both large and small numbers, to nearby cities as well as across the Mediterranean. Such efforts would not have been made if the commodities were not worth it. Their economic worth may have been the primary cause for the production and the incitement for a largescale trade, but their cultic use would have fuelled the demand that made these commodities so profitable. The details of the votive use are studied in the coming chapters. However, as a commodity – and as a standardised type of product – the terracottas were equal participants in a value system and a network that allowed for construction of both individual and shared worth and identity. The choice of using the figurines as votives, whether consciously or subconsciously, was a way for the consumers and dedicators to enter a shared belief and value system – to subscribe to a form of Greekness, Greek identity and religion. In that sense, the terracotta figu-

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rines played an active part within the religious network and in their materiality they mediated important connections between Greek settlements and their religious beliefs. As a product, the mould-made terracotta figurine was a small perfect miracle that stumbled onto the scene, both creating and fulfilling a large demand. The required material came in abundance, the technique was quick and (relatively) easy to learn, the production was flexible and could be adapted according to specific needs. It was easy to transport and it appealed to consumers all over the Greek world. The product targeted a need right in the centre of Greek religion – the demand of the votive practice for dedications. The terracottas were created specifically for such a use with an adaptable, yet standardised appearance that made them recognisable and relatable to all Greeks. And as the method of production made them easily attainable, there was almost no end to the possibilities of expansion for these figurines.

Chapter III: Dedicating and Mediating

This chapter focuses on that link in the life cycle in which the terracottas in the act of dedication are able to fulfil their purpose as votive offerings. The aim is to attempt an understanding as to why, by whom and at which occasions they were dedicated. This chapter focuses on three aspects of the dedication: the placement of the votive, the iconography of the terracotta figurines and the possible dedicators of the votive figurines. It concludes with an analysis and discussion on the role of the figurines themselves, in the act of dedication and thereafter. The first section of this chapter presents both archaeological material and written sources that may tell us about where dedications would be placed and the iconography of the votives, in order to achieve a better understanding of what the use of the terracottas as dedications meant to both the dedicator and the possible witnesses to the act.

1. Placement

The placement of the votives in the sanctuaries might reveal information in regards to the specific advantages and disadvantages of the clay figurines, as well as the understanding of their meaning and value as a votive. The placement can be identified through several different media, such as archaeological context and written sources. This section will focus firstly on those sources that may be specifically related to the dedication of terracotta figurines and secondly on the sources related to what may be considered other minor dedications, such as figurines in other kinds of materials, as this added evidence may answer questions that cannot be addressed solely through the terracottas. This section is divided into three categories: Material Evidence, Visual Evidence and Written Sources.

Material Evidence In situ finds of the terracotta figurines in sanctuaries may be limited, but there are still many indications as to where they were placed when dedicated. In these instances, the votive figurines are typically found on or in close relation to offering tables or benches and, of course, altars, which are not necessarily easily distinguishable. The following are those examples identified in Greek contexts, listed both according to the relevance of the finds and to their closeness to what may be considered the epicentres of the cultic areas – the altar or the cult statue, depending on the layout of the sanctuaries: Heloros: A rare discovery of in situ finds was made in Heloros in Sicily, south of Syracuse, in a small, extramural shrine, which consisted of several small building units. Terracotta figurines were found in the area surrounding the shrine. The most interesting find was made in a room which has been interpreted as the most important one in the shrine. Several figurines were embedded in the stucco on the eastern wall of the room, or they were standing on low benches that extended along the walls (Figure 10).1

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Fig. 10 Terracottas stuck in the stucco on the wall of the shrine in Heloros.

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The terracottas found outside the shrine, as well as those embed­ded in the stucco in the shrine, were Hellenistic types portraying females with torches and piglets, and Archaic examples of the so-called Athana Lindia type portraying seated females with several pendants (Figure 11).2 In addition, Archaic figurines were found in several small bothroi in front of the shrine (Figure 12). The votives were placed along the sides of their respective bothros, leaving room for sacrifices in the centre, where traces of ash and small animal bones were found.3

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Heloros is quite exceptional in terms of the preserved contexts of the terracotta figurines, both with those embedded in the stucco, in what may have been the cella and the careful arrangement of the votives in the bothroi. As noted above, only a few other in situ finds of votive figurines have been made. Kalapodi: An altar or votive bench was found in a small temporary shrine in Kalapodi in the central Greek mainland, dated to 480–450 BC. On the altar, in a layer of ash, were placed a bronze kouros figurine, set into the bench with lead and two terracottas, a rooster and a protome, as well as other small objects (Figure 13). Perhaps the placing of these objects might be an example of a kind of funerary ceremony that was performed when the building went out of use. In addition, a bench was placed just outside the building, on the east side, on which some iron objects, such as swords and lance heads had been placed.4 The ash and bones on the altar are not unique to this site, as in situ finds are found at other locations with similar indications of sacrifices on the altar. Dreros: Three well-known sphyrelaton statuettes were found in the Apollo Sanctuary in Dreros on Crete. They were discovered in connection with an installation, perhaps of an altar, along the south wall of the build-

Fig. 11 Examples of the Athana Lindia types from Heloros. H. unknown.

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Fig. 12 Plan of the Heloros ­Sanctuary, with the bothroi marked with B.

ing, next to which stood a bench or offering table. On the table some terracotta fragments of at least three female heads dated to the seventh century BC, a bronze gorgoneion and pottery were found, along with remains of bones and ash (Figure 14).5 Kommos: At Kommos on Crete, a terracotta bull was found standing in the southwest corner of the sanctuary on an Archaic altar (known as altar C), covered with a layer of ash and fragments of burnt bone. A fragment of a leg of another terracotta figurine was also found on the altar.6 Araxos: An altar has been excavated at Araxos in Achaia, placed in front of the main gate of the Dymaian Wall. Some terracotta figurines – a ram, a dog and a satyr playing a double flute – were found on the altar and within crevices on the surface of the altar, mixed with earth, animal bones, lamp fragments and pottery. Some of the terracottas had been damaged by the adjacent ritual fire.7 Although Cyprus is not otherwise included in this study, Agia Irini in Cyprus deserves to be mentioned, since a large number of figurines were found in situ, standing in concentric semicircles around the altar and sorted according to size.8 This concludes the group of only six securely identified examples of what must be considered actual in situ finds of votive figurines, presum-

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ably left where they were originally dedicated. There are other examples of finds of votive figurines in close proximity to what must be considered their primary placing as dedications. Emporio: There is a possible example of figurines in the Athena Temple in Emporio on Chios. An altar had been transformed into a larger votive platform in the corner of the cult building in the sixth century BC. It seems that in the alteration of the altar, votives had been heaped behind the altar; some “had been almost tidily stacked before being buried in this way”.9 Among other votives, fragments from two kore statuettes were found in this fill.10 While no longer in their original location on the altar, these offerings were still kept in close connection to the place of dedication.11 Vroulia: In the Archaic settlement of Vroulia on Rhodes, a terracotta figurine was found close to an altar placed against the fortification tower of the city wall.12 Kokkinovrysi: At the stele shrine in Kokkinovrysi, found just outside the city walls at Corinth, there was a deposit of terracotta figurines surrounding the stele. Theodora Kopestonsky has reconstructed and recreated the shrine with the votive offerings placed on the large stone block that supported the stele (Figure 15).13

Fig. 13 The altar or votive bench from the Kalapodi Shrine.

86 Fig. 14 Plans of the Apollo ­sanctuary in Dreros.

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Fig. 15 Reconstruction of the stele shrine in Kokkinovrysi, by Theodora B. Kopestonsky.

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There are other examples of votive terracottas not actually found on altars and platforms but in close proximity to them. Olympia: Such is the case of the Artemis altar in Olympia, in the southeastern part of the sanctuary. Both early bronze figurines and Classical and Hellenistic terracotta figurines have been found near the altar, including over 1,000 fragments of female protomai with veil and polos.14 Priene: A platform or bench found in the cella of the Demeter and Kore Sanctuary in Priene is about 1.23 m high and runs along the southern and western walls, along part of the northern and perhaps also the eastern walls. Three grooves had been made on top of the bench for securing small figurines or statues, although no votive finds were recorded in connection with these. To the south of the temple building is also a bothros or possible offering pit.15 No finds were made within the pit either, although a deposit of 194 terracotta figurines and five miniature vessels was found between the pit and the temple.16 Also in Priene, in the “Heiliges Haus”, fragments of terracottas were found in front of a cultic bench in a destruction layer caused by an earthquake  – supposedly they had fallen from the bench during the catastrophe.17 Selinunt: In Selinunt an interesting example of a workshop cult has been found. Although this is an example of private cultic activity, the finds of terracotta figurines, including two females sitting on thrones, a standing female, the head of a male and part of a bull, along with a few other finds, including miniature vases, a pyxis containing a bronze coin and a terracotta altar, are still noteworthy.18 There are many other examples, since altars, offering benches, tables and platforms are not uncommon in sanctuaries and shrines and votive tables as well as altars could function as votive offerings in themselves.19 Brita Alroth has previously examined the positioning of Greek votive figurines, in a study covering more than sixty sanctuaries in the Greek world and she concludes that votive figurines found around the altar, on the altar and in ash layers constitute about two thirds of the studied examples. This clearly shows an interest in putting the votive as close to the divinity as possible.20 There is also evidence for placement of the votives in the sanctuaries, apart from in the immediate vicinity of the altar or cult statue. Corinth: An example of this is found in the Demeter and Kore Sanctuary in Corinth, dating to the Classical period. Many votives were found in an area in the eastern end of the Middle Terrace, including a concentration of terracotta figurines in the southeast corner of Room A. These were lying close together, as if they had fallen from a shelf – as noted by the excavators.21 Gela: Something similar is found in the Predio Sola Sanctuary in Gela. Fifty-two of the large type of protomai have been found in this small naiskos. At least forty of them were found at the foot of the walls and in

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Fig. 16 The reconstructed wall of the Athana Lindia Temple in Lindos.

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particular in the corner of the two surviving walls, which indicates that the protomai were hanging on the walls of the building.22 The period of use is dated from 550 BC to the end of the fifth century BC.23 Lindos: Shelves are not usually preserved but can occasionally be traced in other ways. A good example comes from the temple on the acropolis of Lindos. On the inside walls of the naos there are ridges and grooves in the walls, indicating where wooden beams, supports and shelves would have been placed. Ten vertical ridges are spaced along the entire length of the walls, while one horizontal ridge also runs the entire course of the wall (Figures 16–17). Although Ejnar Dyggve, the architect who published the architectural remains on the Lindian acropolis, considered the ridges to be of later date, it seems quite certain that this was not the case, as indicated by sources which testify to such occurrences elsewhere, as will be further illustrated below. Similar ridges were also found in the stoa.24 Nail holes are likewise found in the walls. Delphi: Another example is found in the Stoa of Attalos in Delphi, where horizontal grooves in the wall would have supported wooden panels (Figure 18). Unlike those found in Lindos, they are assumed to have been for wooden panels covering the wall, possibly painted.25 Athens: Although it is not a sanctuary, the Stoa Poikile in the Agora at Athens may be added to the evidence as another example of wall fittings.

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The wall blocks from the building show traces of nails, which may either have held wooden panelling or a framework of some kind. Cuttings also indicate that some boards could have been partially set into the face of the blocks or fastened with both wooden dowels and iron pins. Paintings could have been fastened directly to the wall or hung on woodwork set into the wall for this purpose. The latter seems the most practical.26 Olympia: Votives fastened to the wall were not limited to the inside of buildings but could also be seen on the outside of the walls. An example of this is found at the Hera Temple in Olympia, were holes left by nails on the outside of the southeast anta wall show that plaques, whether made of wood, terracotta, or metal, were fastened to the wall (Figure 19).27 Cuttings were found in the columns of the peristyle, where votives might also have been hung.28 However, such plaques have not been found at Olympia, indicating that they were made of wood, for which reason they are no longer preserved, or of metal that was reused at a later time.29 In general, the material evidence shows a close connection between the votives and the most sacred features of the shrines and sanctuaries – the altars and cult images – whenever possible. However, their use could extend to outside the sacred structures, such as the outer walls of the temple, outside offering benches and stoas. There is also the appearance

Fig. 17 The preserved and partly reconstructed wall of the Athana Lindia Temple in Lindos.

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Fig. 18 Reconstruction of the grooves and the ­possible fixation system for wooden panels in the stoa in Delphi.

Fig. 19 Drawing of the holes on the outside of the southern east-ante of the Hera Temple in Olympia.

of offering pits or bothroi in the Heloros Sanctuary, while carefully built bothroi in other sanctuaries, such as Priene, are devoid of terracottas. This might indicate a ritual practice somewhere between dedication and deposition, which is why the bothroi and votive pits will be further treated in connection with deposits.

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Visual Evidence Depictions of votive terracottas in their cultic settings are unfortunately sparse. When they appear, it seems to be as props to illustrate a particular setting, rather than the focus of the depiction in itself. There are few examples of vase-paintings in which what may be votive terracottas and pinakes are depicted. One example is found on a Lucanian crater attributed to the Dolon Painter. The scene depicts the judgement by Paris of the three goddesses. Athena, recognisable by her armour lying behind her, is depicted next to a small fountain, which appears to be a sacred fountain, as two female figurines are lying at its base. A pinax is also depicted on the wall (Figure 20).30 Another, more common, depiction is seen on fragments from an Attic red-figured bell-crater, which shows pinakes hanging on a tree, or on a wall behind the tree, next to an altar. The scene depicts Heracles and youths making a sacrifice at the altar, overseen by Athena (Figure 21).31 Although it is not evidence for votive placements in a cultic setting, the Berlin Foundry Cup from the early fifth century BC depicts four pinakes and two protomai as if they are hanging on the wall next to the furnace in a foundry. They may have been hung in the workshop to ensure good fortune, or perhaps their placement is an example of private cult activity.32 Sometimes, a scene is depicted in terracotta (or a terracotta mould) as well, such as a terracotta pinax mould from Priene, which shows a mantled female, possibly a bride, accompanied by Eros. They are depicted standing in front of a small naiskos on a column, containing a protome.33 An example of a terracotta figurine depicted as a scene with a setting comes from Myrina. It portrays a female seated on a rock, in which a votive protome or bust has been placed (Figure 22).34 Other terracottas found in the Grotta Carus at Lokri Epizephyrii also illustrate settings. One example shows a reclining Silenos and votive terracottas placed on a rock ledge, including what seems to be a protome and a figurine of three nymphs. Such terracotta types with three nymphs were incidentally also to be found as votive offerings in the grotto (Figure 23).35 Two fragmentary terracottas from Theangela and Iasos in Asia Minor show how the protomai could be carried prior to dedication, since the protomai appear to be suspended from a string or chain (Figure 24).36 It seems plausible that they were carried like this, as most terracotta protomai are supplied with a hole either on top, most likely for suspension, or at the front, which might also have been used for inserted ornamentation. A terracotta protome has also been found with the remains of a nail in the hole.37 It might be noted that practically all terracottas necessarily had a vent hole in the back, of various sizes. It is possible that these could also serve to hang the figurines on nails on the walls, if necessary.

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Fig. 20 Detail from the crater by the Dolon Painter, depicting Athena by the fountain with the figurines. Ca. 380 BC. ­Médailles et Antiques de la Bibliothèque nationale de France, inv. no. De Ridder.422. Height of vase 48 cm.

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The visual sources are very limited but do show placements for the terracottas, which are not otherwise preserved among the archaeological remains, though especially for pinakes and protomai. Although few in number, they add to our knowledge, in particular in relation to placement in a natural setting, such as trees and caves, as well as fountains, of which there are otherwise no material evidence preserved.

Written Sources When it comes to the written sources, none refer specifically to votive terracotta figurines. There are, however, a limited number that mention votives in general, with properties similar to those of the terracottas. These few sources provide information on possible placements of votive terracotta figurines. The most telling are the inscriptions erected to restrict and regulate the placement of votives in the sanctuaries.

Fig. 21 The Attic bell-crater showing hanging pinakes. Second half of the fifth century BC. British Museum, inv. no. 1847,0806.54. H. 26 cm.

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Fig. 22 Terracotta figurine from Myrina portraying a female seated on a rock, in which a votive protome or bust has been placed. The Hellenistic period. The National Museum of Antiquities, Leiden, inv. no. I 1894/6.5. H. 9.1 cm.

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Miletus: An inscription from Miletus, from the third century BC, reads that it is forbidden to fasten to the woodwork of the new stoa in the sanctuary of Apollo either a votive tablet or anything else, to prevent the woodwork from being damaged, nor to the columns. And if someone wishes to place any votive offering in the new stoa, he must place it against the plastered sections of the walls, underneath the stone course supporting the beams.38

Offenders will be fined ten staters sacred to Apollo.39 Clearly, certain precautions had to be taken to keep the eager dedicators – and their offerings – in order and this was the case not only in Miletus. Rhodes: A decree from Rhodes, also dated to the third century BC, concerning the Asklepieion, states “that no one is permitted to request that an image or some other votive offering be set up in the lower part of the sanctuary (---) or in any other spot where votive offerings prevent people walking past”.40 Apparently even the pathways were in danger of being obstructed with votives and it seems that this problem was not restricted to the most sacred buildings but to the entire sanctuary. Delphi: From Delphi comes a decree dated to 218 BC that attemps to protect the stoa of Attalos from the clustering of dedications.41 Athens: An inscription from Athens, dating to the second century BC, explains how the priest is authorised to remove from the temple any votive tablets – and whatever else is unworthy of the sanctuary – that block the

Fig. 23 Terracottas from Lokri Epizephyrii, illustrating settings and example of terracottas of three nymphs, as seen in the other terracottas. The Hellenistic period. Museo Archeologico Nazionale Di Reggio Calabria. Example of height, terracotta on the left: 16 cm.

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Fig. 24 Terracotta figurines from Theangela and Iasos, carrying protomai. H. unknown.

view of the cult image. These were then moved to the stoa. In addition, in the future no one would be allowed to set up (any) votive offering in the sanctuary without consulting the priest.42 These types of inscriptions seem to indicate that the practicalities of votive placement may have kept cultic personnel rather busy. Loryma: From Loryma is a third-century BC decree regulating the placement and handling of the dedications: “It is forbidden to carry away the offerings from the sanctuary, to damage them, not even one and to change the order of the arranged plaques and bring others without the authorization of the priest.”43 These inscriptions are very relevant sources since they come directly from the sanctuaries and even speak clearly about our subject of interest. In their effort to structure the placement of votives in the sacred spaces, they show us what was common practice – to put the votive at the most beneficial site, no matter the impracticalities – and leave us wondering whether such rules were actually followed or simply bypassed to a certain extent. The

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inscriptions certainly leave us with the image of annoyed cultic staff again and again moving or removing ill-placed votives, which sometimes even blocked the pathways and access to the cult image. There is some question as to whether or not such inscriptions can be categorised as actual “sacred laws”, a label often attached to epigraphic texts regarding any kind of cult.44 In the instances noted here, however, it will suffice to simply consider them practical regulations in a cultic setting. Temple inventories also mention the votives, but they have a purpose entirely different from the regulations, which is why they only secondarily provide information as to the placement of votives. The inventories from Brauron, for example, list metal offerings that could not be weighed because they were “on the wall” and so it is indicated that they were literally nailed in place.45 Inventories from the Asklepieion in Athens likewise list votives hanging on the wall, as well as from the roof or ceiling, among these “a woman’s face”.46 Sarah B. Aleshire points out that there are more dedications on the walls than on the ceilings, perhaps because this location was more easily accessible. The higher spaces were difficult to reach and the top of the wall might have been occupied by paintings as is mentioned by Pausanias.47 Shelves may also be mentioned specifically in the inventories (as στίχος), as is the case in connection with a small silver flask attached to a wooden tablet that was placed on the first stichos on the wall.48 And, other inventories also give indications of dedications hung on the walls in the sanctuaries. An inventory from the Plinthinos Oikos in Delos, dated to ca. 280 BC, mentions nails used expressly for dedications.49 Another inventory, from the Amphiaraion in Oropos and dated to the third century BC, mentions that dedications that had fallen off the walls and so were broken, could be melted down.50 Ancient writers also occasionally mention the placement of votives, although it is rarely in a direct fashion. Only for one writer is it the purpose to provide information regarding the sanctuaries and so the votives are mentioned: Pausanias has described some characteristics of votive placement. This includes mentioning a mirror fitted to the wall of a Despoina Temple in Lykosoura, which reflected the sculptures in the temple. He also refers several times to small and large dedications hanging from the roof, such as a chariot at Phlious, an egg at Sparta and a curtain in Olympia,51 but most relevant here are the small figurines he mentions as hanging from the eaves or the ceiling of the Asklepios Temple in Epidauros.52 For other writers, the sanctuaries and their votives are mentioned in passing in historical accounts: Pliny the Elder indicates how the walls and doorposts may have been a preferred place for votives, when he describes how after the sack of

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Ambracia in 187 BC by Marcus Fulvius, the Ambracians were most disturbed by the fact that they were left to adore and pray in temples that had been stripped of ornaments and gods, the walls and doorposts left bare.53 For Plato, the votives are used to create a scene and might have been used as identifiers of the cult: In Phaedrus he describes a conversation between Socrates and Phaedrus, in which Socrates mentions a small spring flowing at the foot of a beautiful tree that he supposes is sacred and dedicated to the nymphs and Acheloos, judging by the figurines and statues (κόραι and άγάλματα): By Hera, it is a charming resting place. For this plane tree is very spreading and lofty and the tall and shady willow is very beautiful and it is in full bloom, so as to make the place most fragrant; then, too, the spring is very pretty as it flows under the plane tree and its water is very cool, to judge by my foot. And it seems to be a sacred place of some nymphs and of Achelous, judging by the figurines and statues. Then again, if you please, how lovely and perfectly charming the breeziness of the place is!54

A small reference to the placement of votives is also made in a theatre play, again concerning votives in a natural setting: Aristophanes in his play Plutus mentions a custom of nailing possible votives to wild olive trees.55 Herodas, in his fourth Mimiambus, takes us to a sacrificial and dedicatory ritual in an Asklepios Temple with the two friends Kynno and Kokkale. First, Kynno perfoms a sacrifice of a rooster to the god and then tells Kokkale to “put the dish (πίναξ) on Hygeia’s right”.56 This gives us a rare account of the sacrificial ritual and highlighs the importance of placing the votive close to the cult image. In his study of the placement of votive offerings in sanctuaries of Artemis, Eric  L. Brulotte mentions Athenaeus in relation to the single extant vase-painting of figurines associated with a fountain, since Athenaeus in Deipnosophistae remembers the words of the harper Zethos: Once he saw a richly decorated shrine beside a poor bath-house which supplied only cold water. When he came out, after an uncomfortable bath, he said: I don’t wonder that there are so many votive tablets dedicated here; every man who takes a bath here makes an offering for having been rescued alive.57

Finally, we may consider the ancient Greek terms used to describe the dedications and votive offerings. Most common was the word ΑΝΑΘΗΜΑΤΑ, while the word for “setting up an offering in a sanctuary” was ΑΝΑΤΙΘΕΝΑΙ. With ΑΝΑ meaning on or above and ΤΙΘΗΜΙ meaning to place, the term itself indicates that the gifts were preferably to be raised or placed on something.58 Another common word for offering could be ΑΓΑΛΜΑ, which is generally considered to mean a pleasing gift, as in something that pleases the god, due to beauty for instance, although the term was also used for statues and cult statues. ΚΟΣΜΟΣ may also be used to describe the offering, perhaps likewise as a pleasing gift or as an

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ornament. Less common was ΔΩΡΟΝ, simply meaning gift.59 Finally the term ΕΥΧΗ refers to the vow made in relation to the offering and this is perhaps the only term specifically referring to a “votive offering”, while the other terms are more flexible and interchangeable.60 The written sources add a great deal to our understanding of where votives were placed, as well as the use of the votives; placement is explicitly mentioned and also illicit clustering and the intentions behind the placement – to be close to the deity – are indicated.

Summary The material, visual and written evidence support each other well when trying to determine where the votives were placed – and what the intention could have been behind the choice of placement. The material evidence of in situ or almost in situ finds of dedicated figurines primarily indicates a close relation between the votive terracotta figurines and the centre of worship – the altars. This seems to be most evident in smaller sanctuaries and shrines, or smaller shrines within larger sanctuaries – places where an intimacy is attainable between the votive and the location of active worship. When an intimate proximity was not available or achievable, it seems the next best thing was to place the votive in a location with a good view of the most holy – the cult image or the altar. Among the secondary options were placing the dedication on the offering tables or benches, which could be placed both inside and outside the temples and shrines. The walls were also an option, both nailing the votives directly to them, hanging them, or sticking them in the stucco, attaching them to panels or to beams, or placing them on shelves, depending on the décor of the building. The terracotta protomai seem to be have been made in order to be suspended, whether when being carried, as shown on the terracotta figurines, or when hanging on the wall, as may have been the case in Predio Sola in Gela. Hanging the votives from the eaves or the ceiling was, according to the written sources, also a possibility. Another option, as attested by, for example, Agia Irini and the rare vase-painting, is simply placing the votives on the floor – preferably as close to the cult image as possible, as is clear from Kynno’s instructions to Kokkale in the text by Herodas. However, the prime location within the temple was not always achievable. Why this could be the case is indicated in the many decrees trying to regulate and restrict the placement of the votive offerings: they were steadily dedicated and eventually crammed into all available spaces. This probably made it necessary to seek alternatives, such as the stoas, occasionally the outer side of the temple walls and trees. In regards to trees, votives

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could be hung from the branches or nailed into the trunks; elsewhere in nature, at sacred springs for instance, it seems that the votives would be placed on the ground, or when in caves also on natural or artificial shelves. That the votives and dedications in general were in abundance is quite clear not only from the many decrees trying to regulate their placement, but also from the evidence for their placement on literally all surfaces of the temple and their dispersal out across the sanctuaries, both to other buildings and to trees. An important aspect of this was the great advantage that the terracotta figurines may have had due to their small size, which allowed them to fit into crowded spaces, as close to the divinity as possible, serving as an insistent presence and close reminder of the dedicators’ needs, wishes, or thank offerings.

2.  Discussing Iconography, Symbolism and Cultic Use

The iconography of votive terracottas is often used to identify the possible original divine recipient – both in shrines and in votive deposits not associated with specific shrines – when no other identifiers are present. The purpose of this chapter is both to examine the symbolism of the terracottas, how they are commonly understood and categorised in current interpretations and to study whether it is reasonable to rely on their iconography for identification purposes. As such a study has the potential to be massive, it will here be limited to a selection of case studies, both in regards to sanctuaries and types. Sites with as securely identified deities as possible have been selected as case-study sites, so as to allow an unambiguous discussion of the iconography and its possible cultic meaning. There will always be a slight uncertainty, as a simple altar could be dedicated to another deity within a sanctuary, but it has been the intent here to choose sites, where no other divinities have been assumed present by excavators or convincingly argued as present by researchers – and so where the probability of the terracottas found were dedicated to the main deity is as great as possible. For example, Artemis and Apollo often share sanctuaries, such as at Claros or on Paros. However, for the two Artemis Sanctuaries chosen here, there have been no indications of a shared cult between the two.61 The second aim has been to obtain a broad selection of deities, while still keeping the study manageable. The focus is also primarily on sanctuaries with female deities – with male deities being used for comparison. The purpose of this is to undertake a focused examination of the terracotta offerings, in both numbers and variations and also to address the issue of whether terracottas may be used as identification markers for the specific name or identity of the deities to whom they are dedicated. For this purpose, the sanctuaries dedicated to the female deities are more relevant, as these are the ones most often subjected to such (uncertain) speculation. Furthermore, sites are chosen for the reason that entire find groups have been made available in a suitable manner, or because the entire iconographic repertoire

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has been provided. This means that sites that may have highly interesting find groups, but are only partially published, may be used for reference when relevant, but not as case studies. Finally, it has been an aim to cover both the whole period of use, from the early Archaic period till the end of the Hellenistic period and beyond and have as broad a geographical representation as possible. This has left us with thirteen sanctuaries as case studies (Figure 1). These case studies will be discussed in the following order: Firstly, they are presented in an order based on the gender of the deities, secondly, they are grouped according to the name of the deity and thirdly they are presented in chronological order, as far as possible, within these groups. Their find location, the name of the deity to whom they were dedicated and the period within which the terracottas are dated are listed in a table (Table 1) along with the selected types of figurines, which will be further discussed below. As an introduction, each sanctuary is presented and the evidence for their identification is highlighted. Athana Lindia, Lindos, Rhodes: The starting point of the study is the acropolis Sanctuary for Athana Lindia in Lindos on Rhodes.62 This choice is based on the wide selection of terracotta types found in this sanctuary, as well as the securely identified name of the deity. The deity is identified as Athana Lindia, a local version of Athena, through numerous inscriptions from the site, as well as ancient written sources. In the Hellenistic period Athena is joined by Zeus in the sanctuary. The earliest mention of him in inscriptions (as Zeus Polieus) are from ca. 313 BC and the name becomes a part of the titles of the priest in 266 BC.63 H. R. W. Smith has argued for a possible cult for Demeter on the acropolis as well.64 The argument was primarily fuelled by the large amounts of terracotta protomai found on the site, mostly in one of the two identified votive deposits, which Smith believed to have a chthonic meaning and so unsuitable as votives for Athena, in the sense that we usually understand her. It has also been argued, that the deposit which holds the largest amount of protomai is situated outside the temenos and so possibly does not belong to Athena. However, the upper terrace is interpreted as the most sacred area of the site, marked later by the propylaea, but the entire acropolis is considered part of the sanctuary, as is evident by the many statuebases, altars and steles found in the whole site – including the later “Small Deposit”, which was closed ca. 330 BC.65 It is the topography of the acropolis itself which defines the sanctuary, making the sacred area of Athana Lindia significantly larger.66 The argument for a Demeter cult also includes a small stele dated to 200–170 BC, found not far from the large deposit, which mentions the “Damatares” and “Damatrios” – believed to refer to Demeter and Kore and to Zeus Damatrios.67 However, the stele and the latest dated terracottas are ca. 130 years apart, as the terracottas are dated to 750–330 BC68 – and the terracotta protomai from the site are primarily from the Archaic

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period.69 It is more likely either that the stele refers to aspects of the residing deities, for Athena as well as Zeus and not to Demeter, as this is the only mention of this name compared to numerous mentions of Athena, or that it indicates a late addition of a minute cult on the acropolis.70 It has also been argued that the large deposit is not a deposit, but a bothros, as seen in Demeter Sanctuaries used for Thesmophoria rituals. However, the structure is a natural crevice in the rock and while it is not impossible that it could have functioned as an offering pit, the wide hollow does seem quite unsuitable for an offering pit as used in the Thesmophoria rituals.71 Athena, Emporio, Chios: In the Acropolis Sanctuary in Emporio, Chios, the deity is identified as Athena based on a plate depicting a standing armed female figure, found behind the altar inside the temple, as well as a cup with the inscription Αθηναη.72 Athena, Gela: The Acropolis Sanctuary in Gela is attributed to Athena due to the presence of a sherd inscribed ΑΘΑΝΑΙΑΣ and a clay owl head. It is also considered an example of the principal cult of a founding city – the cult of Athana Lindia in Lindos on Rhodes  – being instituted in a colony.73 In the publication by Rosalba Panvini and Lavinia Sole, the terracottas are divided into groups, which are distributed throughout the five find contexts. Artemis, Thasos: In Thasos, the Artemision is identified as such  – possibly with the epithet Polo – through inscriptions and ancient written sources.74 Artemis, Brauron: The deity in Brauron is identified as Artemis based on numerous inscriptions and ancient written sources. She does, however, share her sanctuary with Iphigenia and the two may have shared functions as well as votive offerings.75 Hera, Argos: The Heraion in Argos is well attested as such through ancient sources and inscriptions.76 Hera, Tiryns: The Heraion in Tiryns is attributed to Hera. This identification is based on various ancient sources who indicate that the original cult image in Tiryns was wooden and of Hera: Pausanias mentions how the cult image in the Argive Heraion, made from the wood of a pear tree, had come from Tiryns, when that place was destroyed. Clemens Alexandrinus backs this up by mentioning that the image of Hera in Tiryns was made of the wood of a pear tree. Plutarch mentions that the artist responsible for the wooden image was the founder of the first Hera Temple in Argos and his daughter became the first priestess.77 This identification is considered to be supported by with the fact that the votive offerings and terracottas indicate a female deity with aspects that could pertain to Hera.78 Demeter and Kore, Corinth: The deities of the Demeter and Kore Sanctuary in Corinth are well attested through ancient written sources and the finds from the sanctuary.79

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Demeter and Kore, Priene: The Demeter and Kore Sanctuary in Priene is identified as such based on numerous inscriptions.80 Demeter, Knossos: The Demeter Sanctuary in Knossos is identified based on the name ΔΑΜΑΤΡ inscribed on a finger ring found in the sanctuary and dated to the third century BC, in addition to a ring, two hundred years older, referring to the deity as Mother.81 Aphrodite, Santa Venera, Paestum: The deity of the Santa Venera Sanctuary in Paestum is identified as Aphrodite through a dedicatory inscription mentioning Venus and other later inscriptions suggesting Aphrodite as the deity of the earliest colonists at the site.82 Apollo, Aegina: The Apollo Sanctuary in Aegina is attributed to Apollo. This is based on ancient written sources, such as Pausanias and inscriptions from the site.83 Kabiroi, Thebes: The Kabiroi Sanctuary at Thebes was a mystery cult dedicated to Kabiros and Pais. The deities are identified based on ancient written sources and numerous dedicatory inscriptions from the site.84 As mentioned above, relevant information about these thirteen sanctuaries can be found in Table 1 under Tables. The choice of figurine types included and analysed is discussed below, but the purpose of the table is to make it clear in which of the sanctuaries the chosen types have been found. The references for the entries in the table can be found in under Tables, where short explanations for the primary numbers and deviations can also be found. The number of figurines entered into the table is based on the publications referenced and the intent has naturally been to keep them as precise as possible. It should be noted that some sites are published only in types and/or without precise indications of how many terracottas a type might cover, or with only selected specified types. The numbers in the table are specified in References for Table 1.85 However, for this study and discussion it is the actual presence of the various figurine types that is the most important element, while the numbers serve to indicate their popularity and the extent of their use and so adds to the understanding of the votive use of the types in various cults. The sanctuaries will be referenced either by the name of the site in which the sanctuary is situated or by the name of the deity, or both, but in either case this section deals only with the specific finds from these chosen sanctuary sites, not the entire polis or area.

Iconography The iconography and symbolism of the terracotta figurines are often briefly treated in site publications and museum catalogues that focus on typology and cataloguing of what is often a large quantity of material.

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This means that the figurines and their attributes are primarily interpreted through current, often dogmatic understandings that tend to be self-perpetuating.86 The more we repeat these general interpretations, the more they are understood as self-evident. While it may not be possible to challenge these dogmas with the evidence currently available to us, it is possible to diligently remain aware of the fact that our steadfast beliefs on ancient symbolism may not have been shared by the ancients. Every motif, attribute, garment, headdress, hairstyle, gender, posture, or gesture could each warrant their own extensive study on their particular cultic meaning, topics that are too substantial for site publications. Instead, they are occasionally treated in specific studies, the size of which often illuminates the complexity of how such symbols and elements may be understood. The purpose of the iconographical study is primarily to identify the degree of local or cult-specific use as opposed to global or universal use of the types and symbolism. In connection with this is the question of whether or not votive terracotta figurines may be used as identity markers for the deities in question. For this purpose, initially an overall examination is undertaken of the gender distribution of the figurines, then a division between children and adults and variations of body types, such as protomai and “dolls” and examples of non-human types, such as Bes-figurines and satyrs. Then, a range of types with typical attributes are selected, based on the broad collection of types from Lindos. Choices are based on the fact that attributes are typically used as evidence for identifications or discussions on the aspects and functions of the deities.87 The types are also chosen in order to answer the above-mentioned questions, while still keeping the extent of the study manageable. In order to make room for possible cult-specific types, a category of Varia is also included. They may not be unique for the individual sanctuaries, but they are included if they might add to the understanding of the function or meaning of the deity. Types of figurines depicting animals alone and not as attributes, are not included for this study in general, although a few examples with an attributive character (such as lions and fawns) are included under Varia. While animal figurines also reflect the cult to which they are dedicated, the focus here is primarily kept to anthropomorphic figurines and animals are only included when depicted as attributes, to limit the extent of the study and discussion. Hence, the discussions on whether or not animal figurines either substituted for live animals, or were dedicated along with live animals, or were neither of the two, is not included in this study. The meaning of the figurines as they are generally understood and the distribution of the types in the selected sanctuaries are presented and discussed.

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Fig. 25 Seated terracottas from Thasos. H. 12.4 cm (left) and 10.6 cm (right).

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Gender The initial focus is on the distribution of the portrayed genders of the figurines. The percentages of male and female figurines have been calculated based on the entire number of terracottas, as it has been presented in the publication, including animals and non-gendered/indeterminable figurines – the numbers for the calculations are explained in References for Table 1. The predominance of the female gender within the votive terracottas in the sanctuaries for female deities, as well as in the Apollo Sanctuary, is clear, as seen in the table. The only exception among these examples is the Dionysiac-related Sanctuary of the Kabiroi at Thebes. The Kabiroi Sanctuary illustrates an important difference in the gender of figurines dedicated to male deities. Furthermore, it is worth noting that in the Lindos Sanctuary, forty-one of the male figurines depict Zeus and are from the latest group of figurines (400–330 BC), which was the time leading up to Zeus joining the sanctuary in the late fourth century BC.88 The majority of the sanctuaries seem, then, to reflect the gender of the deity, with the interesting exception of the Apollo Sanctuary in Aegina. Here the female figurines still dominate, albeit the amounts of terracottas found altogether are relatively limited. In general, the division in the portrayed genders has been interpreted in various ways. Typically, the interpretations relate to the discussions on

Discussing Iconography, Symbolism and Cultic Use

109 Fig. 26 Seated terracotta from Thasos. H. 3 cm (top) and 10.6 cm (bottom).

whether or not the figurines could possibly be meant to portray either the deity or the offerants. When the former is argued, the figurines might be used to reconstruct a cult image or even the deity in cases where no other markers of identification can be found.89 When the latter is argued, the division of the genders in the sanctuaries might be supposed to indicate that the majority of the dedicators of the votive terracotta figurines in general were female.90 In reality, the answer may be somewhere in between these two primary suggestions, as illustrated by the exceptions such as the Apollo Sanctuary. The figurines seem to reflect the dedicators perceptions of the aspects and functions of the deities and their cult, which in turn may also typically have been perceived as gender-related – though not always. Posture In the publications the female figurines are generally divided into types of females that are either seated or standing. In most of the sanctuaries studied here, a substantial number of the female figurines are seated (see Figures 25–26). The percentage is calculated based on the number of female figurines altogether and can be found in Table 1, under “Seated females”. The seated position in sculpture has, in current literature, been

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regarded as a way to assert authority or superiority.91 The seated terracotta figurines are typically considered to symbolise an elevated status, in particular the ones seated on thrones and are consequently often interpreted as either goddesses or priestesses by default.92 Certain types of thrones, with armrests and palmettes, are also interpreted as bridal thrones.93 Depending on the attributes the figurines may otherwise be equipped with, it could be suggested that the seated figurines do not necessarily fit into either one of these two options of goddesses or priestesses. Rather, the position could instead be meant to lend the seriousness and authority that is imbedded in the seated posture to the ritual act of dedication. This suggests that they are not necessarily actual depictions of the deity or possible priestesses, but instead they may be a reflection of function and aspects of the deity and the cult. And the seated position might also have been expected in order to require the attention of the deity through this authoritative expression.94 Bodies The bodily appearance of the terracotta figurines is experimented with in two different groups of types, the protomai and the so-called “doll” figurines (see examples of “doll” figurines in Figures 27–28). Both are listed in Table 1, where the variations of popularity are clear. These so-called “dolls” are understood as the terracotta figurine types with moveable or detachable limbs. For some, all limbs are moveable, attached to the torsos, for others it is just the arms. Some are pierced at the top of the head, so they could hang from the owner’s hand. They may have had cords that would make the limbs move when pulled. Some of the dolls are dressed, others are nude, which is otherwise rare among the female terracotta figurines and it is likely that they were meant to be dressed in real textile garments. This means that the rare naked figurines, suitable for dressing, could also be understood as dolls. Some of the dolls from Corinth hold offerings.95 It is a matter of discussion whether the figurines described here actually are to be considered dolls and so toys, or simply are a flexible terracotta figurine type in which the moveable limbs contain their own symbolic meaning.96 When they are interpreted as toys, they are often considered a suitable offering for girls at their transition into adulthood or marriage.97 Previously, this interpretation was mostly based on a mistranslation of an epigram believed to have mentioned a girl, Timarete, offering her childhood dolls and their dresses to Artemis – which is now to be understood as her hair and her own dresses.98 Agnes Schwarzmaier, however, has recently discussed the use of terracotta figurines, including the “doll” types, in graves of what may be unmarried girls or young women and argues for them as offerings for these specific occasions.99. If the “dolls”

Discussing Iconography, Symbolism and Cultic Use

Fig. 27 Examples of “dolls” from Brauron. Example of height, cat. no. 8: 15 cm.

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Fig. 28 Examples of “dolls” from Corinth. Example of height, cat. no. C105: 10.1 cm.

Discussing Iconography, Symbolism and Cultic Use

113 Fig. 29 Examples of protomai from Lindos. Example of height, protome on the right, cat. no. 2457: 11.6 cm.

were suitable grave gifts for unmarried women, they votives might have had a similar relation. This interpretation could be the reason behind the twenty-five dolls dedicated in the Brauron sanctuary and might indicate a similar function for the deities in the Corinth Sanctuary, in particular Kore. However, the presence in some sanctuaries and the absence in others, indicate that the function as a possible transitional offering was not related to one particular deity. There may be more differences than similarities between the dolls and the female terracotta protomai. The protomai can vary between a rendition of just the face and the neck, or the shoulders, or the arms in front of the chest. They can also vary in size, roughly from 5 to 55 cm, with the more common average around 6–15 cm and be shaped either as almost a pinax with a head, as masks, or as the more common version that is spoonshaped or curved enough to allow for the head or bust to stand on its own.100 This group seems to be more common than the doll figurines, as it is present in more of the case-study sanctuaries (for examples, see Figures 29–32). The male protomai from the Kabiroi Sanctuary may portray Dionysos, or at the least show a connection with the deity, although Stéphanie Huysecom-Haxhi relates them to male initiation rites.101 The female protomai have been massively discussed and interpreted:102 As the protomai are generally without attributes, the attention has been focused on the attire of the females and their abbreviated bodies. There

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Fig. 30 Examples of protomai from Lindos. Example of height, cat. no. 3117: 9.5 cm.

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are generally two lines of interpretation for the protomai. The first interpretation considers the protomai as simply shortened versions of fullsized figurines and so they are considered to represent either dedicators or deities.103 The other interpretation is more complex, with several intermingling parts, but the most central elements understand the missing body of the protomai as symbolising the (upper) body emerging from the ground in a chthonic fashion (or as a sign of an anodos104). Often, they have been interpreted to be depictions of Persephone or Demeter, typically because the figurines generally wear a (marital) veil and are without attributes to provide other identifying signs (– though when the hands are depicted, they sometimes hold a flower, or the hands are shaped as if they held a flower). This argument also rests on the fact that the protome types are frequently found in votive deposits in Magna Graecia, often dedicated to these deities,105 or, in a circular argument, the deposits are often attributed to these goddesses due to the presence of the female protomai. Their possible chthonic attribution is disputed by the fact that, although they appear in graves, they are not frequent grave gifts, as could otherwise be expected.106 While the concept of visiting gods is common among votive terracottas in sanctuaries, if the protomai were considered to be specific “visiting” goddesses (of Demeter and Kore), then their appearances in

Fig. 31 Example of male protome from Thebes. H. 13.14 cm. Fig. 32 Example of male protome from Thebes. H. 16.25 cm.

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Fig. 33 Example of dancers and kourotrophoi from Lindos. Example of height, cat. no. 2969: 13 cm.

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numbers in various other sanctuaries would be quite extraordinary.107 Due to their marital veil, they are also often considered related to the transition into marriage or to coming-of-age rituals. Victoria Sabetai considers their shortened bodies as a possible symbolic transitioning process.108 It is worth noting that in Schwarzmaiers study of terracottas in unmarried womens graves, there is also a curious half-figure peplophoros figurine type, not unrelated to the protomai.109 Jaimee P. Uhlenbrock, on the other hand, suggests that the lack of a particular meaning for the protomai may essentially be the purpose of them.110 Due to the presence of the female protomai in a broad range of sanctuaries for female deities, I would argue that the protomai might in essence be considered embodiments of matriarchal power and protection, which would make them useful for an equally broad range of cultic and votive purposes. For both the dolls and the female protomai it can be noted that they are found in relation to various cults, that both types could be suspended and that they both play with the concept of the body, although in what appears to be opposite ways. The bodies of the dolls are available for interaction and manipulation, while the protomai present a shortened, perhaps more concentrated version of the female body, where focus is on the immovable face and shoulders (and for the rarer, larger busts, on the arms) only. Although the two types are opposite in their shapes, they are commonly considered to be suitable for similar purposes. Whether or not our understanding of meaning and use of these types of figurines are in concurrence with ancient perceptions, their presence in various sanctuaries indicates universal cultic needs, being catered to by a selection of universal offerings. Figurines of dancers – or what is generally assumed to be dancers due to their postures – are found in several sanctuaries but is only listed under “Varia” for some of the sites (for examples, see Figure 33). The dancers are typically tightly clad, mantled females, sometimes in positions which might be interpreted as movement in the rather limited mould-form versions; they are sometimes referred to as “Mantle Dancers”.111 Dancers – much like musical instruments – most likely fulfilled a ritual function in the cults and are difficult to relate to specific ceremonies. As argued by Frederick Naerebout, who has studied the ritual use of dance as well as the “mantle dancers”, dancing can be perceived as an instance of embodiment, an act in which the dancers are doing ritual with the body. It is ritual performed.112 Naerebout refers to Marcel Mauss’ term “bodily technique”, which might be understood as culture specific embodiments of the social world. As Naerebout argues, even if the figurine is captured in a moment of such movement, unfortunately it does not allow us to read the full kinetic language, which might otherwise supply the information needed to understand the situation.113 However, it has been suggested that dancing by “maidens” may be connected to coming-of-age rituals, while the veiled

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Fig. 34 Examples of “temple boys” from Thebes. Example of height, cat. no. 253: 10.1 cm.

Discussing Iconography, Symbolism and Cultic Use

Fig. 35 Examples of “temple boys” from Corinth. Example of height, cat. no. C236: 6.9 cm.

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Fig. 36a–b Examples of ­kourotrophoi from Gela. H. cat. nos. 8444: 10 cm (left) and 8477: 8 cm (right).

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women may be associated with marriage since the veil is typically considered to symbolise either a bride, marriage, or a married woman.114 It is possible that those figurines in which there is an effort to depict motion of the body refer to the ritual function of dancers, while the more stationary types, the tightly clad and veiled figurines, perhaps are to be associated with marriage or the respectability of the married woman. Children Child figurines are found in the majority of the sanctuaries. Some of the children hold objects, such as fruit, small animals, or toys, but these variations are not dealt with here. Particular types that portray boys are commonly referred to as “temple boys” (Figures 34–35), a concept currently defined for a broad group of child figurines or statues. They are typically crouching, with one leg bent up or both folded, mostly naked, but sometimes with a

Discussing Iconography, Symbolism and Cultic Use

121 Fig. 37 A kourotrophos from Santa Venera. H. 11.6 cm.

cape and/or with a pointed hat.115 The hat is a common infant clothing item and its use and symbolism are often subjects of discussion.116 These types are found in many of the sanctuaries. It is possible that figurines of children – or ephebes and korai – were dedicated as part of a coming-of-age ritual.117 Terracottas portraying children are frequently found in Asklepios Sanctuaries, which may indicate that the figurines could also be dedicated in case of sickness, although no disabilities are shown in the figurines.118 However, the most common interpretation of the child figurines is shared with the kourotrophos figurines, since both are considered to be related to fertility and to the protection of children and their upbringing.119 The kourotrophos types are figurines of females holding children (Figures 33, 36–38). They come in different variants: one type portrays a female with a child on her lap, another is of a female with a child standing in/on one of her arms by the shoulder and a third type portrays a female with one child on her shoulder and one child standing at her side.120 The kourotrophos can also be found in a daimon version, as well as in a monkey version, both are found at Lindos (Figure 39 and no. 2318 on

122 Fig. 38 A kourotrophos from Lindos. H. 12.6 cm.

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Discussing Iconography, Symbolism and Cultic Use

123 Fig. 39 An example of a monkey kourotrophos from Lindos. H. 6.8 cm.

Figure 40).121 The monkey is often squatting with the child in front of her. The kourotrophos is also called the nursing deity, to be understood both as a nursing and protecting deity and considered both as a fertility and protective cultic symbol. The kourotrophos could be a deity in its own right, or it could serve as a function or aspect of other deities.122 Miscellanea The category designated “Bes etc.” in the table contains three different groups, the Bes types, the so-called daimons and the so-called dwarfs (Figure 40). These three groups of types differ, so forcing them into a shared category may be controversial. However, they are often interpreted as relating to similar symbolism and functions and they will be treated as a single category here, although each separate group also have individual qualities and meanings. Bes is an Egyptian deity, but in the Greek mythology the dwarves and so-called daimons are linked with this deity.123 They sometimes share the squatting posture and they often have their arms around their stomach,

124

Fig. 40 Examples of daimons/ dwarfs and satyrs from Lindos. Example of height, cat. no. 2314: 7.7 cm.

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giving the figure a small, compact posture. They are all considered to be connected with fertility, children, childbirth and kourotrophos figurines, similar to the role of Bes. In Egypt, he was protector of  – and bringer of prosperity to – private houses, which may be the reason for his apotropaic qualities in Greece.124 The three different sanctuaries and cults which hold the largest numbers, Lindos, Thasos and Argos, may all relate to fertility, prosperity and the well-being of children; the apotropaic qualities are universal. In regards to their perceived symbolism and meaning, these types are related to the next category in the table, which is entitled “Satyrs etc.” and contains satyrs, Silenus and Pan figurines (Figure 40) – yet another artificially constructed category for the purpose of comparison. The satyrs or Silenus figurines can often be seen in the same squatting posture as the Bes, daimon, or dwarf figurines, or other positions that display their genitalia. As with the Pan figurines they are often ithyphallic.

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125 Fig. 41 Figurine with flower from Lindos. H. 12.4 cm.

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Fig. 42 Figurines from Tiryns with a hole in their hand. H. both: 14.5 cm.

The types of Satyrs/Silenus and Pan figurines are considered to be a part of the Dionysian sphere, though Pan may be seen independently as a nature deity and they all are generally regarded as fertility symbols as well as being apotropaic.125 The large number in the Kabiroi Sanctuary is probably due to the connection of the deities worshipped here to the Dionysian sphere, while their fertility and apotropaic qualities are universally useful. These types can be considered either related to or a part of the group often referred to as “grotesques”. This group can cover almost any type of figurine that might be excluded from the ancient Greek ideal of beauty and they can be caricatures or parodies of the standard types. A selection of the characteristics of the types typically considered grotesques may include pot-bellied or plump, short, old, masked, or distorted faces, enlarged ears, noses, or lips, bald heads, distorted bodies, pregnant, nude monkeys in a

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127 Fig. 43 Figurine from Lindos holding a fruit. H. 14.6 cm.

128

Fig. 44 Figurines from Santa Venera with fruit bowls. H. 17.3 cm (left) and 12.8 cm (right).

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vulgar or obscene posture, people of visibly different ethnicity than the standard Greek and so forth. Actor types are related, but often mentioned separately.126

Attributes In addition to the symbolism of the figurine itself, there is a large repertoire of attributes held by the votive terracotta figurines. These consist of what may be considered small offerings, possible sacrificial animals and ritual paraphernalia, such as containers and instruments. The smaller objects may be held in one hand, often in front of the body and typically held against the chest. Small offerings The most common examples of attributes are flowers, fruit and small birds. These quite different objects are not always discernible, as they are small and held in the same fashion. The flowers are usually a single flower or flower bud held between the breasts (Figure 41). Sometimes hands in front of the chest are shaped as if they might be holding a flower, in which

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case it is often assumed the flower was painted on the figurine. On occasion, as on an example from Tiryns, figurines are made with a hole in the hand, which might serve to hold a real flower (Figure 42). The flowers are most commonly understood to be lotus flowers or lotus buds, as these fit the general shape and allow for cultic interpretations, although the pomegranate flower may occasionally be an option. Flowers are found (or possibly found) in many of the case-study sanctuaries. Figurines holding their hands in front of the chest are not counted, although some may have held a painted flower. It is also possible that it is a gesture, which in itself had

Fig. 45 Figurines from Lindos with fruit baskets and torches. Example of height, ­terracotta on the left, cat. no. 3027: 13 cm.

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Fig. 46 Figurine with bird from Thasos. H. of a complete type: 15 cm.

a meaning.127 The flowers, both lotus and pomegranate, are often interpreted in current literature as fertility symbols. The lotus may derive its meaning from Egyptian iconography and mythology, where it plays a role similar to the role of the pomegranate in Greece, as a fertility symbol. It also has a strong erotic connotation, which does not seem to have transferred to the Greek world. Instead, it may have had a ritual function as a possible stimulant, a manner in which it is also used in the Odyssey.128 The fruit being held by the figurines is often interpreted as a pomegranate, as it is typically a round shape and is often painted red (when the paint is preserved) (Figure 43).

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It is possible that the fruit baskets or bowls (Figures 44–45) can be interpreted as sacrificial cakes. In either case, they may be interpreted as small offerings, most likely fertility symbols and for the fruit baskets or bowls it is possible that they represent the so-called “first fruits” (aparchai) offerings. The first fruits have been explained by Walter Burkert as the first produce of the year to be offered to the gods, whether it was from farming, hunting, fishing, or the like. The first fruits seem to be interchangeable with the “tithe” (dekatai), where a tenth of the crop, earnings, or property was dedicated.129 Both offerings are found mentioned in inscriptions from many different sites.130 The sacrificial cakes may refer to specific ritual offerings at the different sites, but they were also common bloodless sacrifices, in particular to “mother” deities.131 Animals The small birds are discussed here in connection with the other animals, even though they also belong in the group of small offerings and they can often be confused with the small fruit (for an example, see Figure 46). Although the small birds are quite difficult to identify, they are often assumed to be doves. This means that these figurines have sometimes been interpreted to be Aphrodite, although there is no other evidence to support this.132 Doves could be a pet for women and children and it has been suggested that they were only sacrificed to female deities.133 Five figurines that may hold either a bird or a fruit are found in the Apollo Sanc-

Fig. 47a–d Figurines with ­piglets from Gela. H. (from left to right) cat. nos. 11023: 14.4 cm, 8505: 21.4 cm, 8506: 19.8 cm and 11155: 13.6 cm.

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Fig. 48 Figurines with piglets and torches from Corinth. Example of height, cat. no. H395: 10.9 cm.

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tuary. However, the rooster is the primary bird among the figurines from the Kabiroi Sanctuary. The rooster is mentioned as a sacrifice to Asklepios by both Herodas in the fourth Mimiambus and by Socrates before his execution.134 It may have been the preferred choice for small bird sacrifices to male deities, although not exclusively since three figurines of roosters are also found in Lindos and the rooster is also commonly seen on panathenaic amphoras together with Athena.135 Whether the birds had any specific meaning is unknown, but fertility has been suggested for the doves, mostly due to their connection with Aphrodite, while the roosters continue to be fully open to interpretation.136 Small animals are common attributes among votive terracottas and one of the more common species is the piglet (Figures 47–48). The piglet is often considered to be a sign of Demeter worship, as piglet offerings were part of the Thesmophoria festival, a festival specific to Demeter and have also been connected to first fruit offerings. The Thesmophoria and the first fruit offerings and so the piglets, are then considered to be related to fertility.137 This meaning could easily apply to other cults. It is also often mentioned as a common offering to the Kourotrophos (as an independent deity).138 Another, more general, function for the piglets was probably their use in purification and possibly atonement rituals.139 There are no piglets in the Kabiroi Sanctuary, but six (small) rams and an animal larger and more expensive than a small piglet were found. When found among votive figurines, they are typically either represented as the animal itself or as an attribute of male figurines. The symbolism of the rams has roots in Egypt and might be associated with virility and creative powers.140 Animal attributes often seem more connected to a specific deity, although they are still found in the cults of other deities. The fawn as an attribute is found in Brauron and in Tiryns. To find such an animal in an Artemis Sanctuary is not surprising as it is one of her normal attributes; however, to also find them in a Hera Sanctuary may challenge our perception of this goddess. However, it might simply be due to the function of Potnia Theron as the protector of wild animals, which is closely related to Artemis, but is also a common aspect to be found in other (both male and female) cults. This aspect is probably the reason for the presence of the five figurines with lions in Brauron, as well as the hare from Argos – although the latter might simply also be a symbol of a small sacrificial animal.141

Ritual Paraphernalia Ritual paraphernalia are commonly depicted attributes and the torch is one of the more prominent (for examples, see Figure 48). The torch is often considered to be related to the Demeter cult, as it is common in the iconography

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Fig. 49 Hydrophoros from Corinth. H. 6.7 cm.

of her cult and is used in the rites of the Eleusinian Mysteries and in the Thesmophoria.142 Apart from the Athena Sanctuary at Lindos, this type has only been found in Demeter Sanctuaries in the thirteen sanctuaries studied here. However, as the evidence from Lindos shows, the torch is also connected to other cults and it is regularly used in rituals in general, in particular for processions, e.g. the Panathenaic procession and for torch-races.143 Different kinds of containers and vessels are common attributes, in particular the hydria (Figures 49–50). Carriers of the hydria are often named hydrophoroi and female figurines can be depicted carrying the hydria on their head or holding it in their hands or alongside the body. The hydria was used for carrying water and the hydrophoroi may indicate a particular ritual related to the transport of water, in what may have been cleansing rituals or connected to the deity as the provider of water.144 They are considered particularly appropriate for the Demeter cult – although water and cleansing is relevant for most cults.145 Hydriai may also have been prizes in the festival at the Argive Heraion and large amounts of hydriai, especially miniatures, have been found in the sanctuary.146 This demonstrates that

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Fig. 50 Hydrophoroi from Knossos. Examples of height, cat. nos. 62: 17 cm and 64b: 11 cm.

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Fig. 51 Figurines with phialai from Santa Venera. H. cat. nos. 216: 23.8 cm, 222: 24 cm, 226: 22.2 cm and 227: 23.4 cm.

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137 Fig. 52 Figurine with lyre from Thebes. H. 14.5 cm.

what was clearly important cultic paraphernalia for the cult (in this case the hydriai), are not always represented in the votive figurines, as none of these have hydriai as attributes in Argos. Another common cultic attribute or paraphernalia is the phiale or the phiale omphalos (Figure 51). The phiale was used in banquets and libation offerings and it is primarily in the last capacity that it is depicted among the terracottas. It is held by a wide variety of figures, female and male, seated, standing, or reclining and sometimes also together with other attributes.147 It seems to stress the ritual purpose of the figurines. The phiale is also often seen as an attribute in the hands of deities, e.g. Kybele for whom it is a common attribute.148 The deities themselves can in other

138 Fig. 53 Figurine with tympanon from Lindos. H. 13.6 cm.

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139 Fig. 54 Kanephoros from Lindos. H. 13 cm.

media also be portrayed performing libation offerings and also holding them at banquets.149 It is also worth mentioning that the phiale could be used as a means of divination in various ways, such as at hydromancy (observing water in a bowl), lecanomancy (observing oil floating on water in a bowl) and katoptromancy (staring into a mirror, which could be the shiny surface of a metal or glazed phiale).150 Therefore, the deities holding phialai may be depicted with possible instruments of communication. Several types of instruments are represented, such as tambourines, tympana, flutes, lyres, kithara and castanets. Only the largest group from each sanctuary is included here, which still does not account for large

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numbers. The largest group of instruments comes from the Kabiroi Sanctuary with twenty-three figurines with lyres and from Lindos, the second largest group, with twenty-two tympana (Figures 52–53). The instruments must have had a general ritual usage of varying importance, since singing and dancing were strong ritual agents.151 Some instruments are also attributed specific cultic meanings, which may explain why particular types have a more prominent presence in certain cults. Percussion instruments, such as the tympanon and the tambourine, were perhaps considered too exotic. They were not part of the proper Greek tradition, which may be why they were not widely used.152 However, the tympanon is often seen as an attribute of Kybele and the instrument is mentioned by Menander, along with flutes and cymbals, as part of her cult and rituals, where their sound would bring the worshippers into ecstasies as if possessed by the goddess.153 The presence of the many tympana in Lindos and the smaller amounts of tambourines in Corinth and Knossos, may allude to particular kinds of rituals in these cults, perhaps of the kind mentioned above. The lyre and the barbitos, which was closely related to the lyre, were associated with Dionysos and social gatherings, such as the symposium, which may explain the large group in the Kabiroi Sanctuary.154 Flutes and auloi were widely used and their music considered pleasurable and “beneficial to mankind”.155

Varia In addition to the main categories of attributes, there are frequently found examples of figurines with attributes that may not necessarily be unique to a specific deity, but still relate to their function and how they are perceived. The most numerous of such groups from each sanctuary are listed under Varia in the table, although not all sanctuaries had particularly interesting types. They are treated in the order in which they are mentioned in the table but grouped with others when this seems logical: The kanephoros, a type found in Lindos (Figure 54), is well attested in vase-paintings and reliefs – she is the maiden or young woman that carries the basket containing the sacred objects (kanoun) on her head. She usually wears a heavy cloak and walks at the head of the processions in cultic ceremonies. She seems to be without a specific cultic association, as she is mentioned in relation to several different cults and can be seen in many different representations of such processions, including on vases, votive reliefs and the Pitsa tablet (Figure 55).156 This role was an honour bestowed on young maidens.157 Perhaps the figurines were dedicated by those who had played the role in ceremonies.158 There are also three figurines from Knossos that hold a small chest, which may contain sacred objects or offerings, but the figurines are not seen as being in the particular cultic role of the kanephoros.159

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From Lindos come seven figurines holding spindles, which might relate to Athena as goddess of handicraft and inventor of spinning and weaving.160 A group of female figurines with large, elaborate, decorative necklaces/pectorals (referred to in Table 1 as “Deco. bands”) is found in several sanctuaries (Figures 56–57). The earlier, or more primitive, larger necklaces are mainly without pendants, but some have single pendants or decorations, such as flowers or fruit. They may imitate the early xoanon, the cult statue, from the sanctuaries where they are found, which may explain their large numbers.161 The large necklaces and their decoration seem to be related to the heavy pectorals and necklaces worn by the the Athana Lindia types (Figure 58)162 and seem to be related to some protomai types who wear similar adornments. The necklaces are typically decorated with different kinds of pendants, represented by ovoid and circular shapes, as well as crescents, acorns, rosettes, vases, bucrania, pomegranates, lotus flowers, gorgon heads, satyr heads and lion protomai.163 These pendants mostly relate to fertility. These kinds of necklaces are mentioned in connection with Artemis Ephesia, as one explanation for the decoration of her body.164 This attribute seems to be a reminder of the shared universal qualities possessed by most of the female deities. The “Baubo” figurines found in the Priene Sanctuary are – from the selected case studies – the best example of what may be a cult-specific group (Figures 59–60). The Baubos are distinguished by their large disproportionate heads that make up the upper torso of the naked female figurines. Some carry attributes such as fruit bowls, cistas, torches, or kitharas.165 Their name derives from the Homeric Hymn to Demeter and

Fig. 55 The Pitsa tablet. Ca. 540 BC. The ­Archaeological Museum of Athens, inv. no. 16464. H. 15 cm and L. 33 cm.

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Fig. 56 Figurines with large necklaces from Argos. Example of height, cat. no. 1 (12): 5 cm.

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Fig. 57 Figurines with large necklaces from Brauron. Example of height, cat. no. 184: 10 cm.

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Fig. 58a–c Examples of the Athana Lindia type from Gela. H. (from left to right) cat. nos. 11071: 20.7 cm, 8472: 20.7 cm and 11058: 22 cm.

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other sources, such as Clemens Alexandrinus, who writes about the myth of Iambe or Baubo: she is the girl or old woman who tries to make Demeter smile by making vulgar jokes or lifting her skirt, exposing her vulva. And so, it has been assumed that these figurines refer to this myth. “Baubo” is believed to have played an important role in the Eleusinian Mysteries and possibly also in the Thesmophoria, where obscene jokes may have been told as part of the rituals.166 The name often extends to other types of female figurines that expose their lower body in different ways. These Baubo figurines are not only found in Priene, but also in a Demeter Sanctuary on Samos. Furthermore, clay plaques, portraying only the female head with a vulva without arms or legs, are found at the Demeter Sanctuary in Mytilene and one has also been recovered from Erythrai.167 Frank Rumscheid has argued that these figurines should be understood only as a kind of fertility daimon, unrelated to the aforementioned myth.168 AynurMichèle-Sara Karatas has also done a study on the Baubo figurines, which are all found in western Asia Minor and relates them to Egyptian figurines with their legs spread wide.169 Her conclusion is also that the Baubo fig-

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urines are related to human fertility rather than to the specific Demeter myth. Their limited find-spots in Demeter Sanctuaries within a specific geographical area still make them an interesting example of what could be considered a cult-specific type, whether related to ritual or a specific (symbolic) understanding of human fertility in these sanctuaries. There are twenty-one naked female figurines from Paestum and three pinakes from Aegina depicting half-naked women holding their breasts (Figure 61). The naked female figurine is mostly seen in the eastern Aegean and in those western regions where contact with the East was prominent. The so-called “Naked Goddess” is considered to be related to the Phoenician Astarte, the Syrian Anat and/or the Cypriote Aphrodite, mostly goddesses of love, but also of war.170 The type seems to be a mix of the concept of “visiting gods” and a cult-specific type for Aphrodite, relating to love and war/strength.171 The last group to consider is found only in Paestum – five seated female figurines sit on thrones decorated with sphinxes. During the sixth and fifth centuries BC, the sphinx often decorated the throne of Aphrodite and the Punic Astarte and so this may be considered an indicator of the identity of the deity of this particular sanctuary.172 While working with the distribution and meaning of these types, the matter of geography and chronology for the sanctuaries must also be addressed. Although not discussed in relation to the individual types, the location of the sanctuaries and the date for the figurines have been entered into the table for consideration. There is no doubt that the iconography and the types of figurines change through time, from the Archaic to the Hellenistic period. Such developments have been thoroughly discussed elsewhere,173 and to add such distinctions to this study and to Table 1 in greater detail would have made both significantly larger and incomprehensible for the purpose here. The primary aim here has been to keep focus on whether or not certain types were present in the selected sanctuaries and secondly to what extent. This is based on the premise that it (within this study) is more relevant to identify the perceptions of the terracottas in relation to the cults at any time within their period of use, even if such are subject to change. In regards to location, the thirteen sanctuaries represent most of the ancient Greek world. For both the period of time and the locations, it has been the intent to determine whether any types stood out in regards to either their large numbers or lack thereof. Table 1 allows for the identification of such possible distinctions. Despite this being a relative limited study, such variations are difficult to identify among the sites investigated. There are apparently no types that are only present in a certain period or a certain region, apart from the group of “Baubo” discussed above. The primary differences are found in the numbers in which certain types are found, even though the numbers are

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Fig. 59 Examples of the Baubo types from Priene.

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also to be considered in relation to the general number of finds from the sites. For example, the 990 types of “dolls” from Corinth stand out, despite the otherwise large number of finds from the site. The table also makes it possible to easily compare the entire repertoire of types between the sites. In this comparison, what seems to be the most important point to conclude from the table is that despite the fact that most types are found in various sanctuaries, few, if any, of the figurines with specific attributes or of specific types can be found in all or most of the sanctuaries. The best example of this seems to be the figurines holding fruits, which are only missing from the Athena Sanctuary on Chios (and the number of figurines from there is low) and the Kabiroi Sanctuary, which is the designated odd one out on most accounts, in this particular study.

Summary In this study, it is rare to find a particular type of terracotta that is exclusive to a specific deity or cult. Some general tendencies, however, can be identified. The primary connection is the gender of the figurines, which tend to follow the gender of the deity, although with important exceptions that contribute valuable information as to how the figurines are to be understood.

Fig. 60 Examples of the Baubo types from Priene.

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Fig. 61 Examples of pinakes from Aegina. H. cat. nos. 135: 6.8 cm, 136: 9 cm and 137: 14.6 cm.

Regarding the distribution of the types selected for study here, not a single example can be solely associated with one single deity, one specific area, or one limited period of time, although some types are more common than other types, or even extensively present, within one of these categories. Examples of this could be the large amounts of “doll” types in Corinth, the many kourotrophoi in Lindos, the large amounts of mostly Archaic decorative-band figurines in Argos and Tiryns, though also present in Brauron, Gela and Paestum. Types and attributes appear quite generic and even those that might have been assumed to be of specialised use, can typically be found in various sites and cults. A few exceptions to the rule may be the “Baubo” types found in Priene and the spindles as attributes to Athena in Lindos, as spindles are associated with Athena as Athena Ergane, the goddess of crafts.174 However, since spindles are a common textile tool, their distribution deserves a broader analysis than possible in this study.

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The meanings of the different types, as they have been interpreted and are understood today, are characterised by certain generalisations. Predominant among these are different concepts of fertility (or prosperity), apotropaic functions and ritual functions, the last of which may be divided into two categories, the symbolic and the functional, although some types such as the hydrophoroi may represent both.175 In most, but not all, cults are found a few more specific types, which may indicate a particular trait, aspect, or function of the deity, though often these can be found in cults to other deities as well. Local production and specialization may have produced types stylistically discernible from area to area, with variations such as posture, hair, garments, adornments and combinations of attributes. But if our current-day understanding of the ancient meaning can be trusted, they were on the “global” scale largely homogeneous symbolically, as they covered what must be considered basic universal needs and wishes. Still, the local needs of worshippers led to ritual variations and perceptions of the deities of a shared pantheon.

Discussion Current understanding of the symbolism of the votive terracottas is based solely on interpretations of iconography and of context – and the quote from Socrates in Plato’s Phaedrus (quoted above in the chapter “Written Sources” in Chapter III.1: Placement), here he mentions a small spring flowing below a beautiful tree and judging by the figurines and statues there, he supposes it is dedicated to the nymphs and Acheloos.176 This is the rare text that refers to votive figurines and it is typically interpreted to confirm that votive figurines could reveal the function and affiliation of the cult. However, I would argue that the text can also be understood to mean that Socrates comes across a lovely spring, which he identifies as being a sacred spring based on the presence of dedications, in this case votive figurines, which set the setting of a sacred site. The deities may simply be assumed to be the nymphs and Acheloos, as these are typically worshipped in such natural sites. Written sources mentioning votive figurines and describing their possible specific meanings seem almost impossible to find. This may be why Socrates has carried the burden of proof that it is indeed possible to identify specific deities based on the votive figurines. However, this may be based on an overenthusiastic interpretation, not only of the statement of Socrates, who is clearly taking the setting into account, but also of the use and ancient understandings of the figurines. As the evidence presented here shows, the amounts of figurines found in the selected sanctuaries vary greatly. There can be several reasons for this, including the circumstances of their excavation and publication. For

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instance, it may be a consequence of incomplete or selective sampling, in the early excavations especially, where only what was considered interesting or relevant were collected. This is not necessarily explicitly mentioned in publications, although often an overall estimate of the total finds is given.177 Furthermore, due to the large amounts of finds, some publications include only a selection of types, without necessarily listing the number of figurines for each type, consequently making precise statistical studies difficult.178 This must be kept in mind when discussing the numbers. Aspects that would have influenced the amounts of terracottas present include the location and size of the sanctuary and the general use of the site. It is also relevant which types of worshippers that felt a need or urge to dedicate terracotta figurines in the sanctuary. This naturally mattered, as the free flow of worshippers through the shrine had an influence of the amounts of possible votives to be dedicated. When these factors are considered, there is still one more to be accounted for. This is perhaps the most interesting in this regard – the type of rituals performed in the sanctuary would also be relevant. For some sites, the terracottas must have played a part in a deep-rooted tradition or common practice, or they might even have been part of specific rituals including a terracotta dedication, while at other sites, their presence must result from the particular individual needs and prayers of worshippers. For instance, the fact that terracottas often are present in especially Demeter Sanctuaries and often in large numbers, indicates that in this cult in particular ceremonies and rituals were performed that would include offerings – for which votive terracottas were clearly well suited.179 There are two ways of understanding the iconography and the symbolism, of the votive terracottas: the universal macro-scale and the particular micro-scale. The micro-scale approach focuses on a particular deity or site, perhaps a group of sanctuaries of the same deity and chooses to interpret the iconography specifically in relation to this deity. This approach is found in most site publications and in studies of specific deities, such the study of Hera Sanctuaries by Jens David Baumbach.180 When viewed on a micro scale, most if not all symbols found in the votive terracottas can be directly related to the specific deity in question. When viewed from the universal macro-scale perspective, as this study attempts to do, it becomes clear that the same symbols are found in several sites and sanctuaries dedicated to different deities, which problematises current understandings of how the votives operate – an understanding for which Socrates may also be held accountable. The symbols and ritual markers, which we identify among the votive figurines, are often connected to basic universal meanings and uses and are also found in a wide selection of sanctuaries and cults (as well as in graves).181 This may be revealing in regards to the ancient understand-

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ing and use of both the cultic centres and the votive figurines. The most common example of cultic meaning or symbolism is fertility, both in the sense of nature’s fertility, such as crops and offspring and in the sense of prosperity – and these two are often connected. Fertility can sometimes be found in connection with an apotropaic quality, the latter being the most common characteristic meaning after fertility. Both are, understandably, universal qualities as most of us would appreciate some prosperity and to avert evil or bad luck. The most interesting part in all this is that this universal aspect seemingly goes against efforts to assign specific roles to the ancient deities and thus specific protective duties. The ritual paraphernalia attributes are in essence universal, but they do seem to adhere more to some cults and their specific rituals than others – or so it appears from the presence of the votive terracottas. The torch is a good example of this. Often ascribed to Demeter as an attribute and specific ritual marker, the torch may more importantly be connected to nightly rituals, which perhaps were more prominent in the Demeter cult, though not exclusive to her, as illustrated here by the finds at the Lindos Sanctuary.182 In fact, whether it is actually possible to identify more specific or possibly unique characteristics for a few sites or deities among the figurines is uncertain. Such specificity may be possible with the attributes that refer directly to a very clearly defined function, myth, or specific feature of the deity. The “Baubo” figurines from Priene are so far the best examples of this. They may relate to Demeter through their fertility aspects and they may possibly also be connected to specific rituals related to her cult. So, the universal qualities of figurines and their attributes are relatively easy to identify for the votive terracottas, whereas the unique cult-specific figurines are very few and the understanding of them still rather uncertain. When studying the figurines from one specific site, or for one specific deity, an artificial microcosm is created. This may highlight certain aspects and meanings of the figurine, which would otherwise be obscured, but it also increases the risk of ascribing specific meanings to universal aspects. Current interpretations of the symbols – the categories and the realities imposed on the ancient use of the votives – may be too rigid in their understanding of the figurines. The purpose in this endeavour is often an attempt to identify the cult and the deity – or to align the material remains with the written sources. The question is if it is reasonable to argue for the votive terracotta figurines as cult identifiers? This study makes clear that a specific deity can very rarely be identified based on votive terracotta figurines alone. The matter of micro- and macro-scale was also relevant to the dedicators. On a day-to-day basis, they viewed their local cults and rituals in a micro-scale perspective as it was their individual choices, experiences and expectations that led to their cultic interactions and to a specific terracotta

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being dedicated to a specific deity. However, they also experienced the macro-scale, as discussed in the previous chapter. On the macro-scale the dedicators participated in and identified with universal Greek traditions and practices and on both scales, they expressed and confirmed their identity and cultic network. Rather than asking how the cults shaped the figurines, perhaps it is better to ask how the figurines shaped the cult or performed within the different roles of the deities and cults. In this regard, it is important to discuss the concept of aspects. Aspects are the cult-elements to be understood both as the so-called functions the deity is responsible for and the symbolism imbedded in votive terracottas that address such functions.183 The concept of aspects is central to the understanding of the interaction between deity and worshipper, as the aspects ascribed to the deity are basically functions decided upon and specifically addressed by their worshippers through ritual and prayer. This concept addresses the flexibility of meaning and function in both figurine and deity. That most figurines reference the user-needed or desired divine aspects and functions rather than specifically portraying a dedicator or a deity, explains their universal and flexible use. Their universal abilities were addressed in the previous chapter in relation to export. The arguments of Chris Gosden and Lin Foxhall for some commodities to be linked to a larger, global set of values and ideologies are equally relevant here.184 The votive figurine and the act of dedication were both part of a set of Greek religious values and ideologies that contributed to their sense of unity and authority within the cultic community during the ritual. The figurines were still primarily portrayed without attributes and the vast majority of those depicted with attributes symbolised universal cult aspects or rituals. The differences in numbers between those with and those without attributes might relate to diverse conceptual understandings of the deities and variations within the cults or the cultic communities in regards to, for example, rituals or local aesthetic preferences. The votive figurines might address specific needs or simply be mediators for the worshippers who dedicated to their deity of choice – whomever they thought suitable, open for communication, or who might be thought to appreciate the gift and reward it. It is not unlikely that the act of dedicating terracotta figurines helped to bestow and enforce the universal aspects and understanding of the different cults and their deities. Finally, in regards to the discussions on whether the figurines portray deity or dedicator, it seems reasonable to argue, as suggested by Ellen H. Belcher and Karina Croucher: “that ideas beyond the physical anthropomorphic body are represented”.185 The figurines were created in the image of humankind and humankind’s perception of the gods and their acts. However, the figurines stand on their own, with their own agency and their own roles to play.

3.  The Dedicators and the Roles of the Votive Figurines

The Dedicators Written Sources There is limited evidence as to the identity of the dedicators of the votive terracotta figurines. This is unfortunately one of the types of votive offerings which generally are found without inscriptions and when inscriptions appear it is mostly the name of the workshop or craftsperson.186 There is, however, an example to be noted from Delos of a female terracotta protome (20 cm high), which is inscribed on the back with a dedication to Hera from Mnelaris – presumably a male name.187 It is possible that small epigrams or the names of the dedicators were attached to the votives by other means. For instance, ribbons were common votives and Apuleius mentions that ribbons with the name of the deity and a dedication could be seen in sanctuaries.188 Perhaps such ribbons would have been attached to those votives without their own inscriptions, such as the terracotta figurines. Another possibility is mentioned in the inventories from the Athenian Asklepieion, where a silver flask is listed to which a wooden tablet had been attached.189 Perhaps names and/or dedications were written on such tablets in a similar fashion as on the ribbons.190 Furthermore, inscribed bronze labels that were attached to perishable offerings have also occasionally survived.191 Although interesting, such possibilities unfortunately do not leave us with any information about the actual dedicators of the terracottas. Written sources about votive dedicators are likewise very sparse. Offerants are, to the best of my knowledge, not explicitly mentioned anywhere, but two sources may give us an indication of who they might have been. The first is the previously mentioned fourth Mimiambus by Herodas, where two women sacrifice a rooster and dedicate a pinax, on behalf of themselves and their family. The second source is a passage in Nomoi by Plato:

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It is no easy task to found temples and gods and to do this rightly needs much deliberation; yet it is customary for all women especially and for sick folk everywhere and those in peril or in distress (whatever the nature of the distress) and conversely for those who have had a slice of good fortune, to dedicate whatever happens to be at hand at the moment and to vow sacrifices and promise the founding of shrines to gods and demi-gods and children of gods; and through terrors caused by waking visions or by dreams and in like manner as they recall many visions and try to provide remedies for each of them, they are wont to found altars and shrines and to fill with them every house and every village and open places too and every spot which was the scene of such experiences. For all these reasons their action should be governed by the law now stated.192

Without much enthusiasm for the state of affairs in regards to private shrines, Plato points to women (and the sick) as primary worshippers and dedicators of “whatever happens to be at hand”, which must indicate minor offerings. However, as this mainly concerns private shrines, it cannot be directly transferred to larger public sanctuaries. In both cases, these sources point us to women as typical dedicators of smaller offerings, which might include the terracottas. Iconographical Evidence The iconographical evidence mostly consists of the examples previously mentioned in this chapter under Placement. Of the vase fragments, one depicts Athena washing her hands at a possible shrine, but not actually handling the figurines that are depicted, while on the other Heracles is sacrificing on an altar in front of the pinakes on the wall (Figures 20–21). Of the small handful of terracottas which show the settings of the votives, one depicts a female, not holding a figurine, but standing in front of a protome in a naiskos.193 Another illustrates a woman, again not holding a figurine, but on a rock with a protome placed in a small niche (Figure 22). Finally, a terracotta portrays a reclining Silenos surrounded by figurines (Figure 23). In fact, the only terracotta figurines that depict the active handling and so possible dedicatory acts, of the figurines are the terracottas depicting women with protomai hanging from their hands (Figure 24). There is, however, another group of objects to consider in regards to the iconographical evidence. These are the burial reliefs showing young women or girls holding a terracotta figurine. The grave stele of Polyxena is the most well known (Figure 62) and further examples have been described by Agnes Schwarzmaier.194 Schwarzmeier has also convincingly compared the figurines shown on the reliefs with actual and identical terracotta figurines and thus it seems highly probable that it is terracottas that are depicted. Polyxena is shown holding a standing female figurine, which is wearing a tall polos and holding a small indecipherable attrib-

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155 Fig. 62 The grave stele of Polyxena. Ca. 400 BC. Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, Antikensammlung, inv no. Sk 1504. H. 111.5 cm.

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ute. Two other reliefs portray seated female figurines being held (none of them wearing a polos and seemingly without attributes). Three more illustrate the holding of naked female figurines that are probably dolls and one example depicts the holding of what may be another standing female figurine.195 As has been noted, besides being used as votive offerings, the terracotta figurines are also frequent grave gifts. These depictions on the grave stelae may reveal special connections for the young female worshippers, perhaps, as previously mentioned, due to ritual offerings in connection with transition or coming-of-age rituals. Of interest in this regard is a tomb in Myrina, where a fifteen-year-old girl had what might be interpreted as a whole life cycle symbolised by fourteen female figurines of the Tanagra types as offerings in the grave.196 These examples indicate that the terracottas were used as markers for the different stages of life and they would have been able to serve the same function in the votive context, both marking the transitions and illustrating the conditions and issues of the different stages of life. For example, dolls could mark transitions, while the kourotrophoi marked pregnancies and motherhood. However, even based on the small group of grave stelae presented here, it is worth noting that the young girls and women, who are portrayed with the dolls, seated females and standing females (one with polos), reveal no patterns in the types of figurines they hold. The Terracottas and the Gender Issue As noted, the terracotta figurines have often been considered to portray the dedicators.197 Even though, as argued above, the figurines should be considered to work on a more abstract level, it is still possible that they may reflect aspects of the dedicator’s persona or identity. The primary indication is in the division of gender, as a majority of votive terracottas portray females. There are several possibilities as to why this is the case. It may be, as has often been assumed, because the dedicators were primarily female. It has also been suggested that it is due to the fact that the deities they were dedicated to were primarily female. Although the opposite is also seen, as the Kabiroi Sanctuary illustrates with primarily male figurines. In all instances, the figurines, both with or without attributes, are idealised and homogeneous portrayals of men and women; they are symbolic but not specific representations of cultic aspects and worship.198 The gender appears to be a reflection of the cults the figurines are acting in, but as illustrated by the exceptions in every sanctuary as well as the Apollo Sanctuary in Aegina, the function was more important than the gender. The concept of gender in this particular function as a votive offering may have been more fluent and figurative.199

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With little actual evidence for the dedicators of the terracottas, it is difficult to argue for or against the primary group of dedicators being female. However, there are other examples of groups of votives where the gender divisions are more easily identified. Folkert van Straten did a small study on the subject in 1992, where he (based on the studies of Sarah B. Aleshire) counted the names of the dedicators in the inventories of the Athenian Asklepieion (51.39 % female and 45.82 % male, with the remaining 2.79 % being couples) and in the inventories of the Artemis Brauronia Sanctuary (all female, apart from a couple of possible exceptions).200 Sickness and health seem to be an equally divided issue between the genders in the ­Asklepieion in Athens. Van Straten argues that the nature of the Artemis Brauronia cult, as protectress of pregnant women and women in childbirth, might explain the female dominance in these inventories. When studying the votive reliefs from Brauron, however, the picture changes. The reliefs, with a few exceptions, generally portray the dedication as a family affair (Figure 63),201 while the inscriptions accentuate the women.202 Of the published terracotta figurines from Brauron, 3.6 % are male which is a small but still larger number than mentioned in the inventories and rather on the average compared to the other sites in the study. The objects themselves do not give us any clear indication as to who the individual dedicator of the terracotta figurines might have been. The one name preserved from a figurine belongs to a male dedicator. However, the indirect written sources favour women. The iconographic evidence is scarce and the vases and terracotta settings yield mixed evidence. Still, the terracottas of females holding protomai are the clearest depictions of pos-

Fig. 63 Votive relief from the Artemis Sanctuary in Brauron. Fourth century BC. Archaeological Museum of Brauron, inv. no. 1152.

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sible dedicators. The grave reliefs show a connection between terracotta figurines and young women that may also reflect their votive use and the figurines themselves show a clear female-iconographic preference. The gender of the figurines may reflect the deities of the cults they mostly acted in – as well as being mostly produced and bought for – which were dedicated to the female goddesses. As the votive terracotta figurines are mostly found in relation to cults of female deities, “the female gender” is probably to be considered another general aspect that is embodied, nurtured and protected by the deities and that is portrayed in the figurines. It is possible that the terracotta figurines were considered more fitting for issues generally, but not exclusively, relating to female deities, such as the ever-important fertility and that the practice of dedicating them may have grown into a self-affirming tradition for these cults. Whether this also meant that the dedicators themselves were primarily females is uncertain. It is possible that the terracotta votive figurines were dedicated by a mixed group of dedicators, including families, like the votive reliefs in Brauron were. As the two groups of votives are quite different, this requires a study of how the terracottas may have acted as votives both for groups such as families and for individuals.

The Roles of the Votives This stage of the life cycle of the figurines is the one in which the terracottas are most active, in their role as votive actors. This plays out within a network of potential actants, including the votive object itself, the dedicator, the deity and the cultic community. The votive objects may be considered at the centre of this network, as the necessary facilitator and indispensable agent for the ritual act. For an understanding of how the votives participate within networks of dedication and why they would serve as suitable offerings for not only individuals but also groups, such as the family unit, the concept of the cultic community is relevant.203 The act of dedication is a ritual that implicates several different actors. François de Polignac has presented a model, which clearly illustrates that the implicated participants engaged in any dedication consist of four parties: the dedicator, the votive object, the deity and the cultic community (Figure 4).204 The worshipful actions of the first actor, the dedicator, in presenting the second actor, a votive offering, prompt the actual presence of the third actor, the deity. The fourth group of actors consists of the spectators or witnesses to the act, whether they are family members, fellow citizens, cultic personnel, or more generally the cultic community. In this ritual act, mutually beneficial relationships are created among these parties and favour (charis) flows between them,

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with favour to be understood as benefits, respect, or support. The dedicators present their offerings with the purpose of gaining favour, in accordance with the well-known do ut des formula: I give so that you shall give. Although simplified, the formula symbolises the intent of the worshippers to establish good reciprocal relations with the deities. When performing the ritual and dedicating their votive, devotees establish themselves within a common societal and cultic framework, confirming their status and strengthening their shared community, as previously discussed. Whether partaking in or witnessing the dedication ritual, the cultic community also participates in bringing the presence of the deity and its cult into being and in creating cultic space, position, function and meaning. Within the space thus created, goods, resources, position and favour may be regulated and redistributed within the community.205 The votive offerings were an actual physical presence that acted as mediators at the centre of these interactions even long after the actual ritual. Evidence for the system at work can be found in inscriptions on some of the more elaborate private dedications known from Greek sanctuaries. For instance, the Antenor kore was dedicated by the potter Nearchos, as first fruits of his work, on the Athenian Acropolis in the period between 525 and 510 BC.206 From the Acropolis also comes a pedestal that once held a basin, dedicated in the early fifth century BC by the washerwoman Smikythe as a tithe.207 Phrygia, the bread seller, dedicated a miniature shield decorated with a gorgon (Figure 64).208 On a votive column is written the inscription: “Lady Athena Poliouche, may this city have this as a monument of Smikros and his boys and their flourishing business”.209 And, a votive tablet testifies to the dedication by Diophanes of a tithe of his estate, in fulfilment of his son’s prayer.210 These dedications all illustrate the interactions and exchanges of favour between deity, dedicator and the cultic community (inhabitants of the city and family members) as they explicitly mention both the names of the deity and the dedicator, outlining the latter’s position, status, success and family members, all of whom play a part in the system. Furthermore, the inscribed dedications fulfilled two functions within the system of favour. The memorial function, the mnêma, was aimed at the community, with the inscription extending the name and memory of the dedicator in perpetuity. The function of the pleasing gift, the agalma, was the cultic function aimed at the deity.211 The combination of both the inscription and the pleasing gift established and/or confirmed the status of the dedicator in the community. How the actual acts of dedication took place must have varied according to the particular occasion and its grandeur. A ritual was certainly performed, even if it was only praying while placing the votive.212 Sacrifices, both large and small, could also be made in connection with the dedications.213 When the above-mentioned dedications were set up or unveiled, it is reasonable

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Fig. 64 The miniature votive shield of Phrygia from the Athenian Acropolis. Ca. 500 BC. The Acropolis Museum, inv. no. EAM X 6837. Diam. 10.6 cm.

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to assume that the dedicator was surrounded by family and friends, since the dedications were significant and often mentioned family members. along with other members of the cultic community – even if the cultic community was represented only by the priest or priestess. The votive terracotta figurines were smaller in size and lower in value than those dedications described above and a comparison may be problematic. However, the large dedications supply the needed evidence to allow for an understanding of the dedicatory network and system at work, which is not directly available for the smaller uninscribed dedications. Downsizing the offering did not necessarily remove any of the implicated parties and certainly the exchange of favour was still very present. What

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may have been lost in promotional status was gained in the more intimate ritual between deity and dedicator, since the act could be played out solely between these two parties, without spectators or cultic personnel present – as indicated by the need for strict regulations on the placement of dedications. If cultic personnel were always present, there would have been no need for such rules to be set up. The votive figurine could fit anywhere, but a spot close to the cult image itself was preferred. Indeed, devotees would aim for a prominent position for their offering and maybe they even snuck in to achieve this, as is also indicated by the restrictions. Still, when it came to smaller votives, offerants may have considered the ritual of placement a matter between only themselves and the deity, especially if this could lead to a better location. Expectations of charis also come across in smaller votives such as a 20.3 cm high bronze statuette of a nude male, dated to the early seventh century BC, with an epigram inscribed on the front of the thighs: “Mantiklos set me up for the far-shooting, silver-bowed (god), out of the tithe. As for you, Phoibos, grant a charis-filled return”.214 Although such inscriptions are not found on the terracotta figurines, they may have been written on the previously discussed wooden tablets, bronze tablets, or ribbons, or perhaps the prayers themselves would be considered sufficient in relation to smaller votives. Terracotta figurines are generally small in size, to a certain degree modest and (perhaps) without declarative inscriptions. Their purpose is thus not to impress or establish status but to communicate a ritual connection and interaction within a shared cultic community. These functions could be suitable not only for individuals, but also for their entire family. The function of the terracotta figurines as votives for groups such as the family may be confirmed through a study of examples of attributes and cultic aspects found among the figurines. Such aspects would often have been relevant not just for the individual dedicator, but to close family members as well. The most significant and common example is fertility. Fertility is represented among votive terracottas in multiple ways. Figurines portraying females with children, the kourotrophoi, are a common example. In their various forms, with one or two children, they all embody the same cultic aspects: fertility and protection of children. These iconographic elements illustrating cultic aspects such as fertility and protection of children are found on figurines in the sanctuaries of a broad spectrum of deities. This signifies the very wide appeal such aspects had (and still have), naturally not only for the individual woman wishing for a child or for the protection of the child, but also for the husband, the siblings, the grandparents – the family unit. Continuation of the family line was a matter of security and stability (and joy) for the entire family, not just the childbearer.215 To produce and care for children may have been primarily a mother’s concern; however, the safe upbringing and entrance

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into the community was just as much a father’s concern, which would have been reflected in the relevant rituals. As in ritual celebrations today, such as christenings and confirmations, the entire family shows up to take part, with food, drinks and gifts. While it may be less prominent in today’s traditions to leave offerings in the sacred space on such occasions – for the conception of a baby, a safe birth, a safe upbringing and for proper transition into adulthood – in ancient Greece it would have been relevant not only when the wishful prayer was made, but also to mark the fulfilment of the prayer with a later dedication. A terracotta figurine may have been a modest offering compared to metal figurines or larger dedications, but its presence before the deity and the cultic community was still clear and meaningful. As previously mentioned, there are other symbols of fertility to be found among the votive terracottas, such as fruit, flowers, birds and sacrificial cakes. They may all have referred to different cultic aspects of fertility, but whether they referred to offspring, crops, wealth, progress, or general prosperity, they were relevant not only for the individual worshipper, but also for the shared welfare and prosperous future of the entire family. Equally relevant are the many votive terracotta figurines that hold objects related to rituals. Examples are the vessels, such as the hydria and the phiale, as well as the sacrificial animals, such as the piglets. These figurines would be a fitting dedication after having either participated in such rituals as the Thesmophoria or after a sacrifice. The Thesmophoria was a festival for married women only and it is reasonable to assume that figurine dedications, such as the female holding a piglet, would be made by the wives and mothers of the family group, before and after having participated in the festival together.216 Such a dedication might strengthen ties with the deity, with the cultic community, for which the terracotta symbolises a strong affiliation and with the family, who have (hopefully) experienced a bonding moment during the festival. Another example of a ritual signifier is the torch, which is not only seen among terracotta figurines, but also often seen in votive reliefs (for an example, see Figure 63).217 The votive reliefs and tablets often depict groups, typically families, approaching the deity with their dedications and/or sacrificial animals (Figure 55).218 For those unable to dedicate a large marble relief, or for a simpler, more mundane religious act, the figurines that hold the same ritual objects, such as containers, torches, or sacrificial animals, could function as the individual dedicatory object. At the same time, they could also act as a proper symbolic dedication after (or instead of) a sacrifice to strengthen and prolong the memory of an act symbolising the unity of the family before the god. Ritual honours could be bestowed on an individual in whom the entire family would then take pride. An example of this can be found in the

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terracotta figurines portraying the kanephoros, the basket carrier. In ceremonies involving the entire cultic community, the performance of this task by “the ideal maiden” of the city brought great honour to the family, as is clear from certain ancient sources. Thucydides tells a story of how the tyrant-slayers Aristogeiton and Harmodios acted mainly out of pure anger, because the sister of Harmodios was cast aside as the chosen kanephoros and mocked as not being a worthy candidate.219 Whether this was the case or not, it is clear that the honour of such ritual roles was of great importance to the entire family. The dedication of the terracotta figurines portraying the kanephoroi would have been appropriate to make as a family, as the honour reflected on all members. Placing the figurine in the temple would also be a modest but long-lasting reminder of this honour for the family within the cultic community. Rituals could take place on both a large and small scale and for different purposes. Terracotta figurines were multifunctional; they could serve a function on their own, for the individual person involved in the ritual, or as part of larger rituals, where many actors would participate in the dedication. The connection between the sacrificial rituals followed by the placement of a dedicatory object before the deity and the relevance of rituals for both the offerant and the family, is made clear by the passage in Herodas’ fourth Mimiambus, where the two friends Kynno and Kokkale perform a sacrificial and dedicatory ritual in an Asklepios Temple. First Kynno performs a sacrifice to the god: May you rejoice, Paeon lord, who rule Tricca and inhabit sweet Cos and Epidaurus and may Coronis who gave you birth and Apollo rejoice and Hygeia whose right hand you touch and those whose honored altars these are and may Panake and Epio and Ieso rejoice and those who sacked Laomedon’s house and walls, Machaon and Podaleirius, healers of savage illnesses and all the gods and goddesses who share your hearth, Paeon father. Graciously accept this cock I sacrifice, a little dessert. He was the herald of my household walls. Our well is neither ready nor deep or else we’d have offered an ox or a sow of crackling skin and not a cock for the healing of illnesses that you wiped away, O Lord, with the stretching forth of your gentle hands. Kokkale, put the dish on Hygeia’s right.220

Significantly, in this instance after the sacrifice the dedicatory object is deposited, in this case a dish (pinax). Kokkale must take care to place the dedication close to the deity, so it can be properly viewed – by both the deity and the cultic community. The women then amuse themselves in the temple, while waiting for the priest to announce whether the sacrifice was well received. He does places the pinax, with the following words: Ladies, your sacrifice was correctly performed and propitious too. No one has pleased Paeon more than you. Ië, Ië, Paeëon. Be gracious for these lovely sacrifices to these women, their husbands and all their kin. Ië, Ië, Paeëon, may these things be.221

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Although the family may not have been present for this particular offering, it is still clearly made on their behalf and accepted as such, even though the offering is small and the dedication a simple pinax. This event makes clear that small, relatively insignificant objects could play powerful roles in such rituals for the family group as well as for individuals. Furthermore, it has been argued by Gina Salapata that the terracottas were not only dedicated singly, but could also be dedicated in groups or sets, which could be used to create a group narrative suitable for the group or family that dedicated them – and add to the status of the offering.222 However, the possible extent of such a practice is uncertain. It may have been limited to the Hellenistic period, since at this time terracotta sets have been found in tombs and so illustrate a possibility of considering and using them as groups.223 Votive offerings functioned as mediators between dedicator, deity and the cultic community. While larger dedications, such as reliefs and tablets, allowed for these connections to be iconographically depicted or vocally communicated through inscriptions, the range of communication possibilities available in the terracotta figurines was most likely limited to the symbolism represented in the attire, attributes and gestures. However, the evidence for the great number of figurines dedicated in sanctuaries indicates that these simple objects amply fulfilled the purpose of a votive offering. Their symbolic attributes acted to make them perfectly suitable as ritual references for the entire family. They could both address family issues, such as fertility in all its aspects and play a part in a larger ritual, serving as a small but continuous presence in the sanctuary. And they could even be dedicated in sets which would add both to their meaning and to their value as offerings. The terracottas were versatile and the same figurine could relate to many different deities at the same time. This ability could also be said to describe their capability to represent both the individual dedicator as well as larger social groupings, such as the family. While de Polignac and the actor-network theory provide a framework for understanding the interacting parties in dedicatory events, other approaches may be useful for comprehending the active role of the figurines themselves. To discern the motives of the individual dedicators, it is necessary to understand how the objects would work in their role as votives and what multiple purposes they served. Initially, the foremost purpose of the votive figurine was twofold: to embody the hopeful prayer and to represent a continuous physical presence before the god and the cultic community on behalf of the dedicator – such a presence could not be achieved by the quick sacrificial fix with its perishable goods.224 This is, however, an oversimplification, as the question still remains as to how the relationship between the dedicator and the votive offering was in terms of representation, presence and absence. There are many approaches to

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object agency that may be applicable to the role of the votive figurine as mediator. For instance, this object might be viewed as, if not the primary agent, then an equally valid “actant” in this interaction, in a network involving the human dedicator, the deity and the votive offering.225 As previously discussed, Lambros Malafouris has argued for the concept of the extended mind. This is not to be understood as an embodiment, but as “a self enacted through the act of embodying”.226 When the ritual takes place and the rite of dedication takes place, there is a moment in which the votive actively becomes part of the body and mind that holds it, as the embodied mind extends to the surface of the objects and senses the world through the actively mediating clay body. In other words, the object becomes part of the human cognitive architecture.227 So, when the votive is placed by the dedicator and on behalf of the dedicator, it could be perceived as an extension of the self. In that sense, it is especially in this life stage that the votive object experiences a cognitive life as well as a social life.228 Awareness in that moment may allow for the sought feeling of being as close to the deity as possible. Even more so if there is a clear view of the cult image when performing the ritual of dedication. The two agents, the dedicator and the votive object, are equally dependent on each other for the ritual to take place. Their interaction and the ritual act allow for the agency of both votive object and dedicator to emerge and be present in the dedication.229 Once the votive was placed in the sanctuary, a new network came into being. How the votive was to be perceived by the dedicator once it was placed is also of importance. In this case, there might have been a power in the setting: the supposedly crowded sanctuary, stuffed with votives, creating a sacred assemblage and another network for the votive to act within. Jane Bennet argues for the so-called thing power and non-human forces, where “stuff ” commands attention in its own right and the bodies are “not restricted to a passive ‘intractability’ but also included the ability to make things happen, to produce effects”.230 This might be what to a large extent happened once the votives became part of the vibrant congregation of votive objects, in which they were perceived to exude their own force. In that sense, the votive would not only represent the dedicator in the sanctuary, but “feed” of the power of the sacred group of votives and enhance both the individual and collective cultic force. At the same time, the continued presence and use, of the votives in the sanctuary became a part of the collective memory, a means of commemoration, taking part in the “life of the deities” and their cultic community.231 The agency of the votive terracottas should be considered also in the, perhaps most important, sense that their presence and interaction with dedicator and cult directly affected and so actively influenced, the cultic perceptions and rituals. They were to a large extent self-affirming. Once

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the mould-made terracottas entered the Greek votive system they almost exploded in use and dominated the cultic spaces for several hundred years with their insistent presence – if not in size, then in numbers. They simultaneously created and filled a demand with their suitability for an apparently very broad range of cults and rituals, as they addressed universal cultic aspects and needs, as well as facilitated and mediated an intimacy between deity and dedicator. Their large numbers testify to the terracotta figurines as popular choices for votives. Given that they were mould-made, possibly mass-produced objects, their easy availability could be emphasised as the reason for this: they were cheap and simple to make, it was easy to purchase them and consequently a new democratised access explains their sometimes massive presence. However, rather than their availability it might have been their ability to act as suitable votives for different groups of dedicators, for various reasons and at many different occasions, which led to their extensive use. It may be that the reason why the dedicators of the votive terracotta figurines are so difficult to define in precise terms, is due to the flexibility of the figurines themselves and their use by a broad range of worshippers.

4.  Discussion and Preliminary Conclusions

The dedicatory act is that phase in the life cycle of the terracotta when it gets to fulfil its calling as a votive. It is an act which in essence is supposed to be long lasting; the votive figurine continues to fulfil this calling long after the actual dedicatory act itself. Although only small indications of these acts are preserved, for instance, when votive terracottas are found still in place, the collected evidence still allows us to draw some conclusions. The material evidence of the in situ and close to in situ dedications, although scarce, illustrates some of the qualities of the votive terracottas. Their flexibility in placement may be rather unique, as they could both stand on whatever horizontal surface was available or hang from whichever surface allowed for a nail or a string – or even, as in Heloros, be stuck to the wall in the stucco. Their size was such that they seemingly could always just squeeze in in front of other votives or in already crowded or narrow places, such as the altars and offering tables. Considering both the material and epigraphic evidence from the sanctuaries, it is clear that the competition for the intimate space in the shrines and sanctuaries was fierce, often requiring every available surface to be put into use and concomitant regulations to try and control the eager crowd of worshippers and their offerings were enforced. The terracotta figurines were competent participants in the fight for the best possible position in the sacred spaces. The minimal amount of iconographical (and written) evidence relating directly to the use of the votive terracottas leaves open the question as to why they were so rarely depicted (or mentioned). Even as illustrative set pieces, the pinakes are favoured and the figurines are rarely seen. When they are seen and mentioned as by Socrates, it is typically in relation to a setting in nature. It seems, when we are left without the grander settings, such as the temples, altars and cult statues, what reveals the setting as being a sacred site are the votives, the figurines. Most likely the lack of depictions is due to their ubiquitous presence in most sacred settings, which would

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almost detract from the motifs that were aiming for a grander feel of the occasion. In other words, their presence was implicit and only necessary to depict – or mention – when there were no other (grander) signs of the cultic scene in attendance. The iconography of the figurines themselves shows another aspect of their flexibility. Naturally, the terracottas were easily shaped for their purpose, with only the mould (and the imagination of the craftspeople) limiting their design and imbedded symbolism. Although local production made specialisation possible, the study of votive figurines from a broad selection of sanctuaries shows that their cultic characteristics were to a large extent homogeneous and universal within the sanctuaries and cults of the goddesses, reflecting the realm and aspects of these deities. While this might be assumed to be a result of the intent of the craftspeople on catering to as large a consuming public as possible, it seems rather to be a consequence of the shared aspects and similar rituals among these goddesses. While the figurines are useful for defining the meaning and function of the cults and the aspects of the divinities, they cannot alone be used as identifiers of the specific deities but must be combined with other evidence. Their iconography and the great numbers they are found in indicate that they were a considerable part of a shared set of Greek religious values and ideologies which contributed to a sense of unity when they were dedicated. The use of the terracottas as dedications must have grown into a self-affirming tradition for specific rituals and for the intentions of the dedicators. The practice in itself influenced the aspects of the deities and enforced the universal understanding of the cults and their gods, thus illustrating the agency of the votive objects. The actual dedicators of the terracotta figurines are not easily identified, as they are rarely, if ever, depicted in art or mentioned in writing. While both genders are represented in the little (mostly indirect) evidence to be found, there is a clear inclination towards female representations, especially among the terracottas. However, comparative evidence suggests that this is not necessarily a reflection of who dedicated the figurines, as much as in which context they were dedicated and the offerings were often made on behalf of the family unit rather than just the individual worshipper. Although small and of a less valuable material than metal or marble, the figurines could still be exquisitely made, symbolise relevant matters, possibly be offered in groups to enhance their value and power and they could squeeze into the best of places. They could easily fulfil the duties of both individuals and family units, being pleasing gifts, acting as mediators between the dedicators and the deity, embodying the prayer and continuously commemorating the act in the shrine and within the cultic community.

Chapter IV: Depositing and Discarding

The time for the figurines to be on display in the temple or sanctuary would eventually come to an end. Then they were to be cleared away in order to continuously make space for new dedications and offerings. The purpose of this chapter is to study this next stage of the life cycle for the terracotta figurines: the disposal. Whether that meant careful depositing, less careful discarding, or something in-between and how the find contexts may testify further to the meaning and understanding of the terracotta figurines is the focus of this chapter.

1.  Defining and Identifying Votive Deposits and Contexts

The matter of archaeological context is complicated and the continuously evolving approach to archaeological material has been discussed in the section Approaches to Archaeological Contexts through Time in Chapter I. The purpose of this section is to investigate the depositional find contexts for votive terracottas, in order to identify how the figurines were treated at the stage of disposal – and consequently determine how they might have been perceived in their role as votive offerings. As this is a study based on published material, it is also indirectly a study of the extent of information available from excavations executed, interpreted and published throughout the last century. The primary question, however, is how to define the archaeological contexts for the votive offerings, in particular votive deposits. The deposits holding votives or small objects were early on recognised and documented through excavations, but the concepts of votive deposits and depositional transferences were until recently not a point of focus for studies. The primary focus was on refuse, defined by Michael B. Schiffer as “the post-discard condition of an element, the condition no longer participating in a behavioural system”.1 Refuse, however, is not a homogeneous category and all that is discarded is not necessarily rubbish. These concepts are culturally dependent, as argued by J. D. Hill.2 The same applies to votive deposition – although the objects are still to be considered within the behavioural system and are still in an active stage of their life cycle. Robin Osborne addressed votive deposition in 2004, when he argued for a larger focus on the archaeology of the dedicated object, an issue that had been largely undefined and as such not distinctly addressed.3 He discussed the intent of the votive depositions, which might be argued to be the primary defining characteristic of the votive deposits, although not necessarily easily identified.4 Osborne mentions three factors which explain the difficulties when dealing with votive deposits and dedicated objects in archaeology. The first is the fact that the object has traditionally held more interest than the assemblage; the second is the problems involved in recognising when the object(s) has been deposited rather than discarded; and the third is that

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a study of the assemblage rather than the dedicated object is a study of how people thought (i.e. intent). The term, concept, and identification of votive deposits have been topics within which several concerns can be found, such as the separation and definition of ritual depositions from profane depositions, along with identifying and defining fills, assemblages, accumulations, redepositing, refuse, waste deposition, votive recycling, as well as primary depositions and secondary depositions. Identifying votive deposits, perhaps particularly in classical archaeology (and its publications), has been further complicated by the tradition of dividing up material according to object classification rather than according to assemblage.5 The matter has been addressed within other areas of archaeology. Hill has discussed the differences between structured and ritual deposition and how to identify the two. A structured deposit is basically any result of human practice in the archaeological record, a result of the c-transforms (cultural transforms), as defined by Schiffer.6 Ritual deposition is much more complex to define, especially as the definition of ritual is endlessly discussed and to an extent undefinable, as it is essentially culturally dependent. The distinction between sacred and profane is very much a result of a “modern” Western mindset. However, as pointed out by Hill, studying or recognising ritual in practice (within specific societies), is easier than identifying and defining ritual in theory. Consequently, he reasonably argues that ritual should be seen as a polythetic concept “encompassing a multiplicity of phenomena” with overlapping resemblances, but with “no fixed criterion”.7 Examples of such possible resemblances do need to be addressed and Hill, as a starting point, proposes: Formal, rigidly prescribed action A finite province of meaning – exclusive from mundane/everyday Practices which focus and intensify attention Doing things – instrumental action guided by people’s interests in controlling and regulating the world, man-made and natural.8

How to actually implement these perceptions for our identification of ritual, requires what Hill’s refers to as a “web of associations”.9 This means that no single element can be used to define ritual remains, but several categories must be considered, such as the contents within possible deposits or pits, the state of the context and the setting of the archaeological site. For classical archaeology, Osborne and Ian Hayes have addressed the issues of terminology, as well as identification of context, in particular the ritual deposition, which Petra Pakkanen has also discussed.10 Terms often used for the various ritual or cultic contexts, are cult pit, offering pit, foundation deposit, votive deposit, or the ones borrowed from Latin and Greek, favisa and bothros, which tend to be (mis)used for all kinds of deposits.11 As previously mentioned, in this study the term bothros has been understood as an artificially created pit, which might have been used

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for offerings. Ioanna Patera suggests to use bothros for a pit or shaft, or for sacrificial deposits.12 What might be most relevant for this section, is how the almost dogmatic term votive deposit which has until recently been a favoured label and concept in classical studies, is now nearly dissipating under the growing study of cultic discard and ritual rubbish.13 However, its understanding continues to be a matter of proper definition and identification of the contexts. Osborne mentions some distinctive features which may identify a votive deposit. These are religious imagery, precious or exotic material, distinctive architectural context and concentration of non-functional items – but he also notes that such deposits can take various forms.14 Ian Haynes notes that these features are also problematic, as it is uncertain whether ancient religious imagery can be identified from modern perspectives, the precious/exotic factor is also relative and the non-functional element may be difficult to identify from a different cultural perspective.15 He further states that our ability to identify a deposit is greatly dependent on the method and the meticulousness with which the context was excavated – in general, the earlier in the process it is identified as a deposit, the better the data is.16 Pakkanen has argued that the intentional ritual act should be characterised by distinctive features so as to allow for the identification of the votive deposits. In order to identify possible archaeological features, she, too, lists the possible characteristics of ritual which may show up in the archaeological record. These are repetitiveness, formality, fixity, implicit symbolism and public attention. As argued above, such features might be ascribed to profane as well as cultic rituals, which means other factors must be taken into account before defining the features as either or. Pakkanen discusses how setting also influences the perception of the material record and in the sanctuary setting there may be a tendency to bestow a preconceived notion of cult and ritual on the finds.17 The concept of votive deposit itself can in many instances be considered a blend of both profane and cultic use and understanding. While some are the result of a specific deposit ritual, others are rather a ritual means of disposal, as ritual residue or even as waste management in the sanctuaries. Pakkanen addresses the difficulties of identifying and discerning the different kinds of deposits in the sanctuaries, as most are essentially ritual residue disposed of in various ways. She defines a primary deposit as a deposit located where a ritual took place and where the residue (such as bones or ash) or objects were left or placed after their cultic use. When they were cleared away and purposefully deposited, this may be defined as a secondary deposition. The third option of waste or refuse deposit is when the residue or objects have been cleared away in a less careful manner, either simply pushed aside, or thrown into pits or wells.18 Votive objects can both be found in intentionally dug pits, or thrown into wells

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and springs as filling.19 The different types of deposits are primarily defined by their purpose, i.e. the intent and the trouble is in separating the different intents archaeologically. Pakkanen further mentions that the concept of a structured deposit, in the sense of a meaningful/intended deposit, is associated with careful choosing and placing of specific artefacts, in a formal way – with the formality being the key word, generally associated with rituals.20 Thus, she disassociates herself from the definition set by Hill, in which structured simply means the result of human activity, as mentioned above. How to determine whether a deposit is primary or secondary, has been studied by Roberta Tomber and she focuses on sherd sizes.21 Her argument is based on the probability that the size of sherds – or rather their brokenness and completeness – may indicate primary or secondary deposits, when compared within a site, as the more the objects are moved, the more they become worn.22 The two parameters brokenness and wornness may also apply to other objects, such as the terracotta figurines that must also be assumed to gradually become more broken and worn, as they move through contexts. However, brokenness can in itself be a sign of ritual, as targeted destruction of cultic objects may in itself be a ritual action.23 The intended breaking of an object might serve different purposes: As has been argued, it eliminates the possibility of reusing a ritual object for profane purposes and it takes away the power of the cultic object. Furthermore, it is an option to break the object in order to use or deposit only part of it. For instance, it was possible to deposit a small portion of the object to represent the whole (a concept known as pars pro toto) – while the rest could then be recycled or disposed of in a less respectful manner.24 Identifying cultic or ritual deposits also relies on contexts, for which there should be no indications of purely secular activities. However, the division between cultic and profane can be quite fluid, as discussed above, thus complicating the matter of identification of cultic intent further. As Pakkanen points out, “the result of mere accumulation cannot be regarded as a deposit”.25 Furthermore, failing to recognise singular acts of ritual activity, due to the idea of structured repetitiveness, is also a possibility and as Haynes states: the “ancient world was littered with pits”.26 The question we are still left with then, is how to recognise and identify different types of deposits and assemblages, as most rely on the intent with which they were created. To sum up, the characteristics suggested by Osborne for votive deposits – religious imagery, precious or exotic material, distinctive architectural context and concentration of non-functional items – may all together be clear indications, but may also all or separately appear in several other contexts.27 The characteristics mentioned by Pakkanen of cultic or ritual features are repetitiveness, formality, fixity, implicit symbolism and public attention, while the structured/intended deposit may be recognised by carefully

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chosen and placed objects. Yet the first part may be difficult to identify in archaeological remains, while the last part may be a matter of interpretation.28 However, the characteristics mentioned for the various kinds of deposits and assemblages are useful for creating guidelines for identification of the different concepts, even when precise definitions might not be possible. The possible characteristics for intended cultic or ritual deposits, as suggested by Osborne and Pakkanen, might be (randomly) listed as such: 1. Situated within a sacred context 2. A distinctive (architectural) and/or structured context 3. Carefully placed objects 4. Carefully chosen objects 5. Religious or symbolic imagery 6. Valuable material 7. Non-functional objects 8. Signs of repetitiveness, fixity and/or formality As discussed above, no single characteristic will allow for a certain identification. Equally, no fixed selection of characteristics can secure certain identification. As argued by Hill, it is the “web of associations” that allow us to reasonably identify cultic, ritual, or votive deposits. As this is a study of the life cycle of the votive terracottas, the purpose, however, is not so much to identify and/or define votive deposits, as it is to study the votive terracottas within their context in the disposal stage – which may then be a depositing in a votive deposit. Whether placed in a deposit, redeposited, or disposed of in other ways, the object can, more or less intentionally, move through depositions and contexts. Lewis  R. Binford defined primary and secondary contexts as such: [Primary depositional contexts] have not been altered in their formal properties except through natural processes of the decay of organic material, or the physico/ chemical alteration of features and items since the period of occupancy. […Secondary depositional contexts] are those whose formal characteristics, defined in terms of soil, features and items, have been spatially altered through physical movement or deletion from the loci.29

Another set of definitions can be found in Archaeology: Theories, Methods and Practice, by Colin Renfrew and Paul Bahn, which includes the tertiary contexts and are as such: Primary cultural deposits are those which accumulate on the surface from human activity, for instance many ash layers or living floors. Secondary cultural deposits are primary deposits which have undergone modification, either by physical displacement or because of a change of use of the activity area. Tertiary cultural deposits are those which have been completely removed from their original context and may have been reused (for instance to build terracing).30

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For this particular study, the primary depositions would be contexts in which the objects were intentionally and purposely placed. This could be understood as the in situ contexts with objects acting within their primary purpose and function, where they are at their most vibrant. It would in this stage of the study, however, also apply to depositions such as foundation deposits or similar enclosed cultic deposits. All of the mentioned characteristics in the list above can apply to these kinds of deposits, although individual assessments of each context are needed to determine which apply and whether the individual combinations allow for identifications as primary context. The objects placed and found in primary contexts might also be expected to be in relatively good condition: minimal breakage (unless it happened prior to deposition) and minimal wornness – depending on the general state of the context and site. Secondary deposits would, in this stage of the study, apply to the context of objects which must be assumed to have been actively moved from their primary function and purposely placed or deposited into a secondary context. This would apply to the votive deposits or waste depositions, defined by the care and intent with which the objects were arranged. The above-mentioned characteristics may also all apply to the secondary deposits, though probably with large(r) amounts of objects and there may be a smaller occurrence of valuable or recyclable materials. The objects may be slightly more worn, perhaps intentionally broken, but as they are most likely “carefully placed objects”, there should still be fewer worn examples than in the third category. Tertiary deposits or contexts can be reused objects, possibly placed in fill or in terracing, but can also be more or less consciously or intendedly amassed objects, especially if they are redeposited objects. The same kind of objects, as those coming from primary and secondary deposits, might still be found in tertiary deposits. However, they would be included in more careless or less intended accumulations of objects, unstructured assemblages and fill layers as they are found in relation to various constructions. The objects might be expected to show significant breakage and wornness, as they have been moved around and handled more carelessly, as well as show a wider spatial distribution, as they are not necessarily placed together in an assemblage. With these theoretical definitions in mind, we move on to the case studies.

2.  Observing and Analysing Find Contexts

The purpose of this section is to study the find contexts of the votive terracotta figurines within the sanctuaries in order to analyse how they are treated at the stage of discard or deposition in the life cycle and which of these two options apply to the votives, as well as what this means for the understanding and use of the terracottas. The focus is both on the group of objects found together, as well as the contexts in which they are found, as both speak to the understanding of the terracottas. The focus on find contexts depends on the suggestions by Ian Hodder, who gives the meaning of the object three defining characteristics: the function, as part of a structure and the historical content, which makes its use non-arbitrary.31 We have previously looked at the function of the figurines, a function in which they can be found set within a certain structure. However, as they are also found in what may be considered a succession of structures, a study of these contexts may further enhance the understanding of their function and use. As we are dealing with votive terracottas and votive offerings are always related to sanctuaries or sacred places, finds from such areas are the focus of this study.32 A group of sites have been selected as case studies, with a general focus on a geographical spread across the ancient Greek world, a wide chronological spectrum, as well as a broad variety of find contexts, which will be further specified below. As this study follows the figurines through their life cycles and has them as its focus, this may be considered as a somewhat backwards starting point – as this is a specific votive-terracottas-in-context study and not an overall study of context. As such, it might start out as the opposite of what Haynes has argued: that rather than focusing on the objects, broader context studies should be considered.33 While the intent here is also to bring the broader context into focus along with the objects, there is a risk of preconceived notions and expectations as to how contexts within sacred areas containing votive terracottas are “supposed” to look. However, with this in mind, the intent has been to study sites that represent a diverse range of find contexts, even if that makes the depositional contexts more difficult to identify.

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The case studies rely solely on the publications from the different sites. Gavin Lucas has discussed the approach to the archaeological material and has argued for a need to consider the total record, the archive composed of both the archaeological material and the records created in excavation. This is due to the fact that understanding of and approach to the archaeological record has changed since the earliest excavations and the archaeological material may stem from a sample excavation rather than a complete excavation. He has compared archaeological records and publications with palimpsests, as excavations destroy the site, but the collections and documentations may recreate them.34 However, in this case, only the documentations and publications are available. As a consequence, in the study of the archaeological contexts, the aim is to specify – as detailed as the publications will allow – where in the sanctuary the terracotta figurines were found, what they were found in connection with and how they had been discarded/deposited. The last point is somewhat problematic, as the words used to describe the situation contain an interpretation and so the nomenclature used in the publications will be followed. Both the terminology and the interpretive descriptions will be considered when analysing and discussing the proper definition of the contexts. The period in which the excavations were made, as well as the possible archaeological theories applied (or ignored), will be taken into consideration when analysing and interpreting the individual sites and find contexts. For each site a short presentation is given of why it has been included in this study, when and by whom it was excavated, where it is situated and the layout of the sanctuary. The sites are presented with a simplified account of the finds made. In Table 2 is a survey of the primary finds, divided into categories for clarification and comparison purposes and listed according to site and find contexts, as described in the text. The purpose is to create a clear and manageable account of the composition of objects within their context. The aim of this section is also to consider the sites within the framework of the time period in which they were excavated and the methodologies current then, which have influenced the archaeological record and archive. Furthermore, as opposed to the previous chapter on dedication, it has been the intention here to study these find contexts as independently from their designated deities as possible, in order to consider Greek votive practices more generally, rather than as a result of specific rituals connected with particular deities. Because of this, I have attempted to keep the inclusion of Demeter sanctuaries (in particular specific Thesmophoria) to a minimum, to exemplify their offering practice, while not allowing them to dominate the study.35 Nine sites, with thirteen examples of shrines have been selected, to allow for a varied, yet manageable study. The sites are presented in geographical

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groups, with mainland Greece first (Tiryns, Argos, Corinth), then Magna Graecia (Gela, Agrigento), the islands (Chios, Rhodes) and Asia Minor (Priene, Pergamon). This geographical division also almost allows for a chronological grouping.

Tiryns: The Heraion The site is chosen as a case study due to the unusual location of the finds in relation to the shrine, which may be a rare example of votives deposited or discarded outside of what may be considered the sacred area. The site was first excavated in 1884–1885 by Heinrich Schliemann, who was followed by Wilhelm Dörpfeld. The German Archaeological Institute carried out excavations on and off until 1929. In 1967, the excavations were renewed under the archaeologist Nikolaos Verdelis.36 The finds from the Heraion in Tiryns were published summarily by Schliemann in 1886 and in greater detail by August Frickenhaus in 1912.37 Tiryns is situated on the Argolid plain and is well known as a Mycenaean citadel, a so-called palace with extensive fortifications. The point of interest here is the temple that was built on the citadel on top of the megaron in the seventh century BC (Figure 65). The temple faces south, as it follows the walls of the megaron and is a simple structure with a pronaos and a 15 m long and 6 m wide cella. The eastern wall of the temple was placed on the remains of the eastern megaron wall.38 A deposit was found immediately outside the citadel, in a corner of the southeastern citadel wall (Figure 66), just below the surface. Schliemann notes that the objects were found so close to the wall that they must have been thrown from the citadel wall, which he believes explains why they are broken. The objects were carefully excavated and extracted by G. Chrysaphis, who for several days worked all the pieces free from the earth with a

Fig. 65 Plan of the megaron and the temple in Tiryns.

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knife.39 Frickenhaus mentions how the finds were found close together in “dichten Massen und förmlichen Nestern”.40 Three thousand terracotta figurines were found at Tiryns, most were probably from the deposit, although the exact number is uncertain.41 Large amounts of miniatures were found; the primary examples are listed in the table. Only a few standard-sized shapes have been found, in the same shapes as the miniature cups and pitchers.42 A few bronze objects were found; the primary examples are listed in Table 2.43 Remains of animal bones were also found in the deposit. The finds are dated from the seventh to the fifth century BC.44 The finds are believed to originate from the small temple on top of the old megaron on the citadel, or more precisely the altar in front of it. The bones might indicate that the objects here had originally been placed on the altar and removed later.45 When working with the archaeological records from Tiryns, the name Schliemann must call for attention. Unfortunately, not necessarily as a renowned archaeologist, but as one suspected to have embellished details. The most conspicuous example of this is “Priam’s Treasure”, which, some argue, in reality was a composite of small finds made in the course of three years of excavation (1871–1873).46 This means that his words must be read with caution. Incidentally, not many words have actually been produced by Schliemann as interpretation in this particular case, perhaps because it was limited in its possible grandeur. So, while treading carefully, we can note that, although Schliemann favoured swift excavation with many men in many different places at once (causing great distress to the Greek ephorate trying to keep an eye on things)47, the fact that one man was assigned specifically to excavate this particular possible deposit may allow us to at least view it as a coherent concentration of finds. Whether or not the objects were actually thrown over the wall, as suggested by Schliemann, is more doubtful. Frickenhaus describes the finds as being closely packed in heaps, which supports the context of a deposit and corresponds poorly with the idea of the objects being thrown over the edge of the citadel. It seems probable that, unless the objects were carefully slid down the side of the walls, the effect of being thrown would have spread and shattered the objects more than seems to be indicated by their stated closeness to the wall and the compact state of the assemblage. Unfortunately, the actual state of the finds in terms of fragmentation, wornness and breakage is difficult to determine from the publication, as only few are depicted. Frickenhaus does, however, mention some fragmentation, which along with the illustrations indicate a mixture of complete figurines (mostly the smaller “primitives”) and miniatures, as well as broken figurines (but not smashed). Therefore, it is reasonable to suggest that this was a secondary votive or waste deposit, since several of the eight characteristics are present. If we trust that these finds do belong to the Hera Shrine,

Fig. 66 The citadel in Tiryns. The deposit was found in the upper right corner of the map, in the second indentation in the citadel wall from the right, marked by an almost invisible Ξ.

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which – based on the study of the identification and the finds in Chapter III: Discussing Iconography, Symbolism and Cultic Use – seems a reasonable assumption, this would be a rare case of a deposit placed outside of the sacred area, which might simply be due to the special circumstances of the sanctuary being placed on the Mycenaean fortification. The time span of the finds, from the seventh to the fifth centuries BC, may indicate a long duration for the votives in the sanctuary before their disposal became necessary, or the deposit represents more than one event. However, it is also possible that the votives had been stored elsewhere in the sanctuary, before being finally redeposited outside the walls.

Argos: The Heraion This site is chosen as a case study because it provides an interesting variety of examples of find contexts for votives within one sanctuary. The Argive Heraion was discovered in 1831 and a small excavation on the Second Temple Terrace was done in 1836 by General Gordon. In 1854, Conrad Bursian and Alexander Rizos Rangabé did some investigations of the site and Schliemann followed twenty years later with some brief excavations. More systematic excavations were carried out by the American School of Classical Studies at Athens, under Charles Waldstein in 1892–1895.48 C. W. Blegen excavated on the acropolis and in its vicinity in 1925–1928. In 1949, a small excavation of a votive deposit was carried out by John L. Caskey and Pierre Amandry.49 The Heraion is situated on three terraces, with a view over the Argive plain. The earliest part of the sanctuary is the upper Old Temple Terrace, dated to the late eighth century BC.50 It holds the earliest remains of a temple from the seventh century BC, a peripteral temple, but with an uncertain outline.51 The long North Stoa was added in the sixth century BC below the terrace and the NorthEast Building was added to the east of the long stoa. At the western end of the terrace, a Hestiatorion, which has also been called the West Building was built. In the fifth century BC, the sanctuary was expanded, with a large stairway leading to the Old Temple Terrace. The East Building was added along with the South Stoa and monumental stairs adjacent the south side of the terrace. On the Second Temple Terrace, the Classical temple, a Doric peripteral temple, was built in the fifth century BC and the North-West Building was added in the sixth or fifth century BC (Figure 67).52 In the sanctuary, 2,865 terracotta figurines were found, not including animals and small, unclassified terracottas.53 Fragments from approximately forty figurines were later found in the deposit excavated by Caskey and Amandry.54 Waldstein suggests that the scarcity of finds after the late Archaic/early Classical period is due to the position of the sanctuary on

Observing and Analysing Find Contexts

A: Archaic Temple B: Classical Temple C: East Building D: East Bastion E: Diagonal Structure F: Northeast Building G: North Stoa H: South Stoa

I: West Building J: Building B K: Northwest Building L: Building A M: Southwest Stoa

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1: Old Temple Terrace 2, 3: Archaic retaining walls 4: Monument bases 5: Altar foundation (?) 6: Large monument base 7: Retaining wall of uncertain date 8, 9: Classical retaining walls 10–12: Classical stepped retaining walls

the hill-slopes, which may have caused rain to wash smaller objects down the slopes, after which they spread over the plain.55 The accounts of the find circumstances for the terracottas are sparse, though some notes were made. In the fill for the Second Temple Terrace a large number of dedications, or small finds, were found. A list of specific items from this fill was made and sent to the National Museum and it gives an idea of the content of the fill.56 Although the objects seem to be primarily the finds of special interest, such as small metal objects and exotics, these are included in Table 2. Waldstein writes the following on the find context: All these objects coming from this black layer are distinctly archaic in character. […] How these objects came to be placed there is a question which I should not venture to answer definitely. But at present it seems to me most probable, that this site, below the supporting wall of the earliest temple, may at one time have contained an altar and that this black layer is the refuse from the sacrifices, or that this refuse was thrown down over the supporting wall in the earliest periods from the older temple; or, finally, that the accumulated debris was used as what architects call dry-rubbish, in order to fill up the ground before the building of the second temple.57

Fig. 67 Plan of the Argive Heraion, ca. 300 BC.

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In the publication from 1905, we find the following on the contexts: The bulk of the find in terra-cottas was made in the black layer about and below the foundation walls of the Second Temple, as well as in the deposits on the southeast and southwest slopes of the Second Temple Terrace. But this general statement must be qualified by the following facts: 1. We can assert as practically established the fact that no terra-cotta figurines were found beneath the surface of the upper or Old Temple platform. 2. Nearly all the specimens of the Archaic and subsequent periods were found on the southern slope and the southeast corner and slope of the Second Temple (not in the black layer about the foundations of the Second Temple). 3. No prehistoric specimens were found within the large West Stoa (one specimen of a draped female figure, belonging to the Archaic period, was found here) and none at all on the site of the Roman Building.58

The terracotta figurines are mentioned as having been found in fill layers, but also in what are called deposits. The context of the other small find groups is occasionally mentioned, which allows for a bit of cross-referencing. Pottery is only recorded to come from the fill layers and not deposits in the early publication. The bronzes, however, were found both in deposits and in the fill layers on the upper terrace, as well as beneath and in front of the Cyclopean wall. Most were found on the west and south slopes of the main terrace, as part of the fill layers for the Second Temple site.59 Among them are animal figurines, a large amount of pins and fibulae, as well as rings and pendants, mirrors, ornamental bands and platters, saucers, bowls, spits, miscellaneous handles and fragments, including from tripods. The engraved seals are found spread out in the sanctuary, both in the fill layers and the deposits. Three deposits are mentioned: one in the back of the West, the so-called Large Deposit, one deposit at the southeast corner and another one at the southwest corner of the Second Temple Terrace.60 The coins are also found spread out in the sanctuary, but none are recorded to be from the deposits.61 The last group of finds, the Egyptian objects, have no find-spots recorded. More information is retrieved from the excavation carried out in 1949 of a votive deposit situated at the foot of the retaining wall below the East Building. The deposit was excavated within five days and the finds included fragments of bronze and iron, a large number of miniature pots, a few terracotta figurines and other objects. Beneath the deposit were Mycenaean remains – a house wall and large amounts of broken pottery, with a few fragmented terracottas, most likely from earlier habitation on the site.62 The deposit layer was ca. 0.30 m thick and almost all metal objects lay just above the pots, which were tightly packed (“like eggs in a basket”), others more sporadically distributed (“as if they had been carried out by the basketful and poured onto the ground”).63 Underneath the miniature vessels were fragments of large pots, including some of geometric style.64 Caskey and Amandry describe the deposit as “closed”, if not actually a “sealed”

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deposit, dated to the second quarter of the sixth century BC, although it contains objects at least a hundred years older.65 Only representative pieces were included in the catalogue, but it contained about forty fragments of terracottas, large amounts of miniature ceramic vessels and some standard shapes, both mostly cups and pitchers, as well as minor metal finds. The primary examples are listed in Table 2. Caskey and Amandry note that the numerous offerings must have taken up a lot of space in the sanctuary and thus were victims of a periodical cleaning, in which they were treated with little respect; they were poured on the ground in basketfuls and though some soil was spread over them, they did not get the honour of a proper burial pit or favisa, as granted more venerable offerings.66 Excavations in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries were rapidly carried out. A quote from the excavation report by Waldstein in 1892 reveals the strategy of the time: I am strongly of the opinion that, wherever it is feasible, the employment of large gangs of men is more economical and more conducive to accurate archaeological observation, than the employment of smaller numbers of men spread over a longer period of time. The manner, for instance, in which the various archaeological stratifications, if I may so call them, present themselves in rapid and organic succession to the eye of the student, when work is carried on on a large scale, adds a quality to the mode of observation which cannot readily be supplied when work is less compressed in time.67

Sadly, this philosophy did not translate into much detail in the archaeological reports by Waldstein, in which most of the conclusions can be found. A distinction is made between fill layers and deposits. The fill layer for the Second Temple Terrace contained a large number of small finds or dedications and it is possible that they were intentionally redeposited, reused as fill and as such tertiary contexts, but it is also possible that it is the result of votive or waste deposits being disturbed during the restructuring of the sanctuary. The three deposits may have been intended as votive deposits, as pottery is not mentioned among the finds, which may indicate a different function than simply waste discard. There is no specific information of which finds were found where in the publication by Waldstein and so, the state of the finds is not possible to correlate with their contexts. Furthermore, their preservation is not specified, but selected illustrations are given. These generally show fragmented figurines  – only a few are complete, which indicates rough handling of the terracottas. This mostly correlates with the fill layers and tertiary contexts. The deposit excavated and documented by Caskey and Amandry is described in greater detail. They mention how the finds are either deposited like “eggs in a basket” or “as if they had been carried out by the basketful and poured onto the ground” and that the deposit was “closed” if not actually “sealed”. This certainly indicates intentionality, though whether

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the deposits were the result of a one-time clearance or of a more gradual deposition is not completely certain, but the former seems the more likely, as the “eggs in a basket” description seems to indicate they may have been packed all at once. The “closed” state of the concentration also indicates a one-time event. The state of the finds varies, according to the publication. The ceramics seem to be in a relatively good state, with both complete or almost complete vessels, including many complete miniatures, along with fragments of many others. Less is known about the state of the terracottas found with the pottery, but it appears they are more fragmented than the pottery. The surface of both, however, appears relatively well preserved – and not particularly worn (based on the illustrations and descriptions in the publication). This still seems to indicate that this context was a secondary votive deposition. The dating of the finds to a period of about a hundred years indicates that the votives were probably allowed a long period of presence in the sanctuary prior to the clearance.

Corinth: The Demeter and Kore Sanctuary This site is chosen as a case study, since it is characterised by an abundance of terracottas found in a large variety of find contexts. The site has been excavated by the American School of Classical Studies at Athens almost continuously since 1896 and the first publication appeared in 1929. The main sanctuary of votive terracotta dedications in Corinth is the Sanctuary of Demeter and Kore. The first investigations of the sanctuary began in 1960 by Ronald S. Stroud and Nancy Bookidis. The sanctuary is located south of the city, on the ascent to the Acrocorinth. It is situated on three terraces – the Lower Terrace, the Middle Terrace and the Upper Terrace (Figure 68). A functioning place of worship on the site seems to have been established around 650–630 BC, indicated by a deposit of small votive vases.68 The Middle Terrace was the first in use, with an open-air sacrificial site that later evolved into a cult building, the oikos, at the same time as the Lower Terrace was demarcated by a terrace wall. In the late sixth century BC, at least fifteen dining units, one room each with low couches for six or eight diners, were built on the Lower Terrace. Around 450 BC an oblong stone-lined pit (Pit A) was added to the Middle Terrace (Figure 69). In the late fifth century BC, a monumental stairway was built that linked the Lower and Middle Terraces, but also continued up to the Upper Terrace, where at about the same time, a small theatral area was cut out of the rock, with room for about 50–85 persons. An earthquake around the end of the fourth century BC seems to have destroyed several buildings, including the cultic oikos. This was then replaced on the Upper Terrace

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with a small, rectangular temple, while a trapezoidal building on the Middle Terrace took over the sacrificial purpose on this level. Another stone-lined pit (Pit E) for animal sacrifices, votive pottery and figurines was constructed to the east of it (Figure 69). In the period after the Roman invasion in 146 BC, ritual practices changed. Dining units were replaced with altars and rituals now involved curse tablets. A deep well was constructed on the Middle Terrace, as well as a stoa facing the Upper Terrace to the south. Three small temples were built on the Upper Terrace and the westernmost of these temples had a cult statue of Demeter. Activity on the site carried on until the end of the fourth century AD.69 Gloria S. Merker published the Classical, Hellenistic and Roman figurines in 2000, while the Archaic and the Archaic lingering types are still being processed for publication. As the finds are massive, a representative selection and description is given, not a full catalogue. 24,000 fragments of figurines were found in the sanctuary, ranging in size from miniatures to those more than ca. 50 cm in height.70 Bookidis and Stroud mention some find contexts for the votives and only two possible primary votive contexts are noted: the two stone-lined Pits A and E, mentioned above, both on the Middle Terrace. Pit A may have been situated by the entrance to Room E and the sacred area in the east (Figure 69). It contained many sherds and fragments of terracotta figurines and indicates a use for sacrificing of bloodless offerings. Three intact miniature vases and a small lamp may have come from the soil shovelled from nearby votive debris, when the pit was filled to be sealed.71 In the vicinity of Pit A, large numbers of votive deposits were found that seem to be the result of cleaning out the pit and burying the votives nearby.72 Pit E was placed by the west opening of the North Corridor not far from the sacred area. It contained eleven votive pots: six kalathoi, two miniature krateriskoi, a miniature bowl, a lekythos and an oinochoe, as well as a carnelian scaraboid amulet and a fragmented terracotta figurine. The miniatures and the amulet were buried in the pit as a small, uniform votive deposit. Since this deposit in the pit is rather small, it is likely that it was cleaned out regularly.73 Two more pits were discovered. Pit F was placed on the Lower Terrace in a small entrance court, but it was without votives, as the contents had been disturbed.74 Pit B was also on the Middle Terrace, in the trapezoidal building (P:24– 25 in Figures 68 and 69). It was full of soft, black ash and animal bones and the stone walls of the pit showed signs of fire. The pit contained, apart from a large amount of broken pottery, at least fifty-seven complete or nearly complete vases  – many of these kalathiskoi. In addition, twenty-seven fragments of terracotta figurines were found inside, as well as a mould, lamp fragments, a few iron nails, a bit of bronze and a piece of a terracotta

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Fig. 68 Plan of the entire Demeter and Kore Sanctuary in Corinth.

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sculpture. The fill indicates that the pit was used for burning sacrificial offerings. The objects listed above were filled in after the pit had gone out of use, though some may have been part of a final dedicatory act.75 On the Middle Terrace, in Room A, in the southeast corner of the room, there was a concentration of terracotta figurines, which were lying close together as if they had fallen from a shelf. This has previously been noted in Chapter III: Placement.76 There are many other accumulations, possible secondary or tertiary depositions of votives. Most finds, however, have been disturbed during the long periods of activity at the site; the sloping bedrock is also covered by only shallow layers of soil. Up until ca. 1960, wheat was grown on the site, meaning ploughing also took place.77 There are listed 192 so-called lots for the published figurines, which indicate at least the same amount of different find contexts. The majority include mixed contexts of finds from several different periods, such as surface finds, fills (thus probably tertiary contexts), or possible intended deposits. The finds from the Middle Terrace are more abundant and better preserved than elsewhere in the sanctuary. The largest single concentration of figurines was found in the construction fill of the trapezoidal build-

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191 Fig. 69 Plan of the area of Pits E and A in the Demeter and Kore Sanctuary in Corinth, ca. 400 BC. (N–R: 20–27).

ing on the Middle Terrace (lot 2249) and they are mostly from the fourth century BC.78 The accumulations are generally mixed with pottery, which was also a large votive group.79 Miniature vessels were especially popular. They were the dominant votive group in the sixth century BC, when the use of terracottas became ascendant. The miniature kalathos was the most frequent shape, with the hydria as the second-most common shape after 300 BC. Model clay likna (winnowing baskets) containing imitation cakes and bread were also dedicated in large numbers.80 The excavation of the site began in 1960 and the publications show that much attention has been paid to architecture and objects, as well as to their mutually related contexts. The large amounts of material make the full and detailed picture of the archaeological records difficult and the publication of the terracottas without specific accounts of find context, although understandable, separate the objects from their contextual meaning. However, close consideration of all of the information can in some cases give an exact account of the find contexts and in other cases an idea about where and how the terracottas were retrieved. It should also again be noted that all records have not yet been published. In regards to the state of the terracottas, Merker states that some terracottas had not been fired very hard, which left them very corroded or in too small fragments to handle. Only a few thick-walled and easily recognisable figurine fragments are represented and those best preserved were the solid rather than hollow miniatures.81 The illustrations generally show fragmented, though not necessarily worn figurines. Several different votive contexts are found in the sanctuary. The finds are exceptional in their numbers and reveal a sanctuary with a large intake of votives, which it seems were discarded or deposited in several different

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“lots”. The pits described above were meant for primary ritual activities, rather than secondary deposition (the finds from pits A, B, and E are listed in Table 2). They seem to have been consciously and perhaps ritually sealed once they were no longer in use, with the last votives in primary cultic depositions. In terms of secondary deposition, the votives were either intentionally deposited or basically stuffed into whatever possible crack in the ground that allowed for discarding. If we consider the state of preservation of the figurines, along with previous calculations made regarding the relatively modest amounts dedicated through the hundreds of years of use of the sanctuary,82 it is possible that – rather than constantly being deposited or discarded – the votives were cleared out at regular intervals allowing for secondary votive deposition. It does, however, also seem that constant reconstructions and rearrangements at the site probably led to tertiary deposits of votive objects in fill layers along with more coincidental contexts.

Gela: The Acropolis and the Predio Sola Sanctuaries83 Both of these sites are chosen as they provide a wide selection of find contexts. For the acropolis, both contexts and content are relatively well defined and varied within a small site. The Predio Sola Shrine is small, but gives a rather unusual example of a find context for the terracottas. The acropolis of Gela is located in the eastern end of the Archaic city. Several deposits of votive objects have been excavated from different sites within or in close proximity to the ancient city Gela. The first excavations on the site were carried out by Paolo Orsi at the beginning of the twentieth century. Five deposits were found on the acropolis during the excavations of the area Molino a Vento in 1951–1953 by Dinu Adamesteanu and Piero Orlandini (Figure 70).84 The earliest remains of a shrine are dated to the early seventh century BC and this structure is referred to as “Sacellum A”. This is simply a wall running ca. 12 m north–south, found within the cella of the later temple. The later Temple B was a Doric hexastyle peripteral temple, which replaced the earlier temple in the first half of the sixth century BC. Temple B may have gone out of use at the end of the sixth century BC and its functions taken over in the early fifth century by the later “Tempio dorico”, or Temple C, which was situated around 47 m further east. This creates two distinct and separated phases of use: the seventh–sixth century and the fifth century.85 The content of the five deposits has been published, after some detective work in order to coordinate the inventories with the excavation reports, by Rosalba Panvini and Lavinia Sole in 2005, as part of the series Corpus delle Stipi Votive in Italia.

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1. The first of the votive deposits was excavated on the south slope (A on Figure 70, the southern-most circle) – it is referred to as “Stipe dell’Athenaion”. It contained more than one hundred objects from phase A of the shrine and early phase B. The objects are dated to the period between the seventh and the second quarter of the fifth century BC.86 The primary objects are listed in Table 2. Although referred to as a deposit, Panvini and Sole describe it rather as a drain with accumulated votive material, gathered in connection with restructurings or cleansings of the site. The physical state of the objects suggests they had been waterlogged and they are also rather fragmented.87 It is probable that this represents a tertiary context or a post-depositional random accumulation of objects. 2. The second deposit is called “Stipe ‘Arcaica’”. It was found on the north slope, in the midst of the series of small buildings and naskoi along the boundary of the Athenaion88 (B on Figure 70, the third circle from

Fig. 70 Plan of the Acropolis Sanctuary in Gela. A is the southern-most circle. B is the third circle from the west. C is the first circle from the west. D is the fourth circle from the west. E is the second circle from the west.

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the west). During excavations, beneath a discrete accumulation of ca. 50 cm of soil, Orlandini came across an area of compact clay, in which a small deposit was identifiable, sitting on an ash layer on top of a sterile stratum. The 50 cm accumulation of soil was initially interpreted as an altar, but was then later considered to be part of the Archaic fortifications. The deposit contained forty objects (primary finds are listed in Table 2). Based on the content the deposit must have been created in the late sixth century BC.89 The terracottas are fragmentary, while the miniatures are preserved in full, though broken. Due to the two different interpretations of the context as altar or fortification, the deposit is difficult to define. The objects are all possible votives and seem to be purposely placed together, indicating that they may either be an example of a primary context, such as a foundation deposit, or a secondary context, such as a votive deposit. Since the terracottas are fragmented, it is possible that this is an example of intentional breakage, such as a pars pro toto. 3. The third deposit is called “Dentro il Pithos” (C on Figure 70, the first circle from the west). The deposit was found on the north slope, west of the second deposit, within a large, 1 m tall pithos without a neck and leaning against a wall. The pithos was filled with ash, soil, animal bones, stones and fragments of tiles. At the bottom of the pithos were also found eleven objects, listed in Table 2. The objects are in a generally well-preserved state, the thymiaterion is complete apart from a lower arm of the kore, while the terracottas are broken or fragmented. All of the objects in the bottom of the pithos can be dated to the end of the sixth century and all are contemporary. In addition, the character and the state of the objects may indicate a deposit in relation to a ritual, including animal offerings, libations, incense and cleansing, which Panvini and Sole interpret as a chthonic ritual.90 Whether chthonic or not, it seems reasonable to assume that this deposit is a primary ritual deposition, where the terracottas may have been intentionally broken. 4. The fourth deposit is named “Stipe sotto l’Edificio 12”. It was found underneath a destruction layer on the acropolis, dated to 405 BC – more precisely, under the floor of Building 12 in the northwest area of the acropolis (D on Figure 70, the fourth circle from the west). Building 12 is dated to the third quarter of the fourth century BC and 157 objects were found in the deposit in this building.91 The finds are listed in Table 2. The terracottas are in a good state of preservation, with many complete or slightly broken figurines. The miniatures and lamps are also complete. The content is dated from the second half of the sixth to the end of the fifth/early fourth century BC. This context was reconstructed by Panvini and Sole through the inventory records in the Museum of Gela, along with the publication by Michel Sguaitamatti

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on the terracotta figurine dedications with piglets.92 It is the homogeneity of the content of the deposit that supports its identification as a votive deposit. Though the information concerning the actual context is meager, the objects were found together and given their votive nature as well as their good state of preservation, it seems reasonable that this was a secondary votive deposition. 5. The fifth and final deposit so far from the acropolis is called “Stipe sotto l’edificio 2” (E on Figure 70, the second circle from the west). Unfortunately, the context of this deposit is not published. But the inventories of the Museum of Gela, on which the catalogue is based, as well as a survey carried out by Panvini and Sole reveal a few things. This deposit was found in a layer underneath Building 2, also dated to the third quarter of the fourth century BC. It was located 30 m to the east of the previously mentioned deposit and 102 objects are identified as belonging to this deposit. The finds (listed in Table 2) are reasonably well preserved, with both complete and fragmented figurines and complete ceramics. The content is similar to the fourth deposit, dated between the sixth and the late fifth century BC. And just as with the previous deposit, this one may also be a secondary votive deposition. Although the excavations were carried out in the 1950s, there was still little attention paid to the actual context of the objects found. Registration and documentation focused on architectural remains and objects, but not context. The recent attention by Panvini and Sole, including undertaking both archival research and new surveys of the site, has expanded the knowledge of the archaeological material and an attempt has been made to understand the context of the objects within the site. The five deposits are represented by several varieties of depositions, with a tertiary waste accumulation, two possible primary ritual depositions and two possibly secondary votive depositions. Together they represent several stages of a votive life cycle within the deposition or discarding group. The Sanctuary of Predio Sola was originally excavated by Orlandini in 1959 and partially published in 1963.93 Tommaso Ismaelli re-examined the votive deposit found on the site and published his studies in 2011. Orlandini originally described the sanctuary as extra-urban; however, Ismaelli convincingly argues that this sacred area is actually within the city (Figure 71). The sanctuary is located 150 m to the east of the acropolis, on the southern slopes of the Gela Hill, on a natural terrace. During the excavations, the remains of a naiskos were found, along with 752 objects (Figure 72).94 The architectural remains consist of a corner of a building, one wall running northwest–southeast, with a length of 4.6 m and a wall perpendicular to this with a length of 2.3 m and preserved to a height of ca. 0.30–0.40 m.95

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Fig. 71 Plan of the city of Gela, with Predio Sola as number 10.

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Altogether eighty-six votive terracotta figurines were found here.96 They were found in two separate contexts, or layers, called Stratum 1 and 2. Only little is recorded from the excavation concerning the contexts of the layers. Stratum 2 is the later of the two layers, an accumulation between 0.10 m and 0.25 m, located inside the angle created by the two walls. The stratum began approximately 0.30 m beneath the top of the remnants of the walls and did not extend beneath the structure. It contained a large amount of ceramics and terracotta figurines. Ismaelli believes that this stratum – and thus the accumulation – corresponds with the period of use of the building and that the stratum is a gradual and careful deposition, rather than disposal of waste, as it held both large storage jars and large protomai.97 The presence of tiles may indicate a collapse of the roof that covered the items. Orlandini noted that at least forty of the fifty-two protomai had been found along the walls and in particular in the corner, which indicates that the protomai were hanging on the walls of the building.98 If one follows Ismaelli’s description, this complex group may include objects from a secondary votive deposition, as well as objects (some of the protomai) whose find spots seems wholly due to the collapse of their primary votive context, which was the wall. Stratum 1 is the older layer and it was identified below the building. It also contained a large number of ceramics and terracotta figurines. The thickness of this stratum was between 0.25 m and 0.40 m, stretching over a larger area than the upper stratum and resting directly on virgin soil. Ismaelli prefers not to define this concentration of objects as a deposit, as it was originally described by Orlandini, since it is difficult to deter-

Observing and Analysing Find Contexts

197 Fig. 72 Plan of the sanctuary of Predio Sola, with stratum 1 and 2.

mine based on the remaining evidence. As it is underneath the building it may be part of a fill layer or levelling for the foundations, thus a tertiary context.99 Altogether 752 objects were excavated (or kept) from the site, the majority (85 %) of which was pottery. This included about 200 lamps, cups and pitchers, about 150 perfume containers and miniature vessels and some other small finds.100 The state of the terracottas is generally good, especially the protomai (which are those primarily illustrated in the publication), with many complete or only slightly broken examples. Based on the finds, two periods of use can be determined for the shrine. Mostly based on the pottery, but also on the terracottas, the first period is dated from 650/640 BC to the middle of the sixth century BC. The second phase began just after 550 BC and lasted until the end of the fifth century BC.101 Stratum 1: The finds are characterised by large amounts of pottery and sixteen terracottas figurines are found in this layer. See also Table 2. Stratum 2: The finds are characterised by a decrease in pottery and an increase in terracotta figurines to seventy. The protomai represent the largest group of figurines, all of which are from Stratum 2. See also Table 2.

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The excavations on the site were carried out in the 1950s; however, the archaeological contexts, in this case, seem to have been documented to a larger degree than just registering the architectural structures and objects. This may be a fortunate result of the intertwined strata and architecture. The find contexts in this small sanctuary seem to reveal both a primary and a secondary context for the terracottas. Stratum 1 may have been a tertiary context within a fill layer. Stratum 2 seems to reveal how the votive protomai fell from their original in situ placements on the wall, which reflects their primary votive contexts, only to fall to the ground, when the building collapsed, which is also reflected in the state of preservation. Ismaelli considers the other objects of Stratum 2 to be a gradual and careful deposition, which may indicate a secondary votive deposition.

Agrigento: The Urban Sanctuary This case study is chosen as it illustrates both a wide, but challenging, selection of find contexts within a single site – which is also further complicated by the information chosen to be documented and published by the archaeologists. The excavations were carried out by Pietro Griffo in 1953–1955 and then continued again in 1960–1970 and 1995–1996 by Ernesto de Miro, who has also authored the publication.102 The Urban Sanctuary is situated east of the sanctuary of the chthonic deities, east of Porta V and west of the Zeus Temple (Figure 73). Between the Zeus Temple and the Urban Sanctuary are two blocks of fifth-century BC insulae. The sanctuary area is enclosed by a temenos wall, inside of which are the remains of two small temples, a monumental altar, a tholos and a portico (Figure 74). They are dated between the mid-sixth century BC and the Hellenistic period. There are more than five hundred terracotta figurines listed from the Urban Sanctuary area. They are mostly dated to the Archaic and Classical periods, from the mid-sixth century BC till the end of the fifth century BC, with a few Hellenistic types.103 Fifteen different find contexts are listed in the publication, but only twelve are included here as the remaining three are from outside the sanctuary. Apart from the names given to the find spots, no further details are mentioned regarding the actual context of the finds. The finds are grouped and numbered chronologically by excavation period, and they are listed in Table 2. The first group belongs to the excavation period 1953–1955 with seven different contexts from within the sanctuary: 1.1. From the base of the wall in the southwest of the sanctuary (Dalla base del muro a sud-ovest del santuario):104 The finds were made at

Observing and Analysing Find Contexts

1.2.

1.3.

1.4. 1.5.

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the “base of the wall” and might be assumed to have been found relatively close together. The selection of finds can all be considered common ritual objects. This may have been a secondary votive deposit. Area A – The temple near Gate V (Area A – Tempietto a ridosso di Porta V):105 The area is loosely defined with finds, which may ­in­dicate tertiary waste accumulations rather than secondary deposits. Southern fortification wall (Muro di fortificazione Meridionale):106 If the mention of the wall indicates that the finds stem from the foot of the structure, then it may represent a deposit. The finds could indicate that it is a secondary votive deposition. However, the context is very uncertain. Gate V (Porta V):107 The extent of the context is uncertain, but the variety of cultic objects found may indicate either secondary votive depositions or tertiary contexts. Area B  – The Square and the area north of the residential area (Area B – Plateia e settore nord dell’abitato):108 The extent of the area is uncertain and the finds modest in numbers, but they may again represent either secondary votive depositions or tertiary contexts.

Fig. 73 Plan of the Urban ­Sanctuary, west of the Zeus Temple.

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Fig. 74 Plan of the Urban Sanctuary.

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1.6. Area B (Wells) (Area B (Pozzi)):109 The wells are clearly defined structures and along with the finds they may represent either s­ econdary votive depositions (presumably after the well had gone out of use) or tertiary redepositions. 1.7. The Sacred Area (Area Santuariale):110 The extent of this context is uncertain, but the finds may indicate either secondary votive depositions or tertiary contexts. The second group has four contexts listed from the excavations in 1960– 1970, but only three are from within the sanctuary: 2.1. Area A – Temple east of Gate V (Area A – Tempiette ad Est di Porta V):111 The area is of uncertain extent, but the few finds may indicate either secondary votive depositions or tertiary contexts. 2.2. Area D – The Paved Square (Area D – Piazzale Lastricato):112 The area is outside the central sacred area, but the finds may indicate either secondary votive depositions or tertiary contexts. 2.3. L-shaped portico – Lesche (Portico a L – Lesche):113 Again, there is no information about context. But the finds may represent a secondary votive deposition as well. The third group is from the excavation in 1995, where two contexts are named, but only one contains terracottas (hence 3.1 is not included): 3.2. Sector B/95: Area between the L-shaped portico, the Sanctuary for the Chthonic Gods and Gate V (Settore B/95: Area compresa tra il Portico a L del Santuario delle Divinità Ctonie e Porta V):114 The finds are scant, just two terracottas, two pieces of ceramics, four phialai and nine lamps, without signs of accumulations or depositions. The fourth group is from the excavation in 1996, with two contexts named, but only one contains terracottas (hence 4.1 is not included): 4.2. Sector B/95: Area between the entrance to the Sanctuary of the Chthonic Gods and Gate V to the west (Settore B/95 (Area compresa tra il Portico del Santuario delle Divinità Ctonie e Porta V a Ovest):115 The finds are diverse and rather scarce and the diversity in objects and in dating make it difficult to specify a particular kind of context. To summarise, the terracottas are distributed between twelve different spots within the sanctuary. The meagre information given regarding the find contexts amounts to simply the names of the locations and they are very open to interpretation in regards to both condition and extent. While the publication came out in 2000, it draws on notes from older excavations carried out in the 1950s, in 1960–1970 and in 1995–1996. The details documented in the later excavations are slightly greater than in the earlier

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ones; however, the documentation is characterised by a great deal of architectural detail, while finds are listed and catalogued almost without any context. This makes any real analysis of this material almost impossible. In general, however, the finds illustrated in the publication appear to be in a fragmentary condition, though some more complete figurines are exemplified by the more solid types. The ceramics and lamps appear to be in the same generally fragmentary state, though also with some complete examples. Unfortunately, the state of preservation does not seem to provide much evidence as to the definition of the find contexts. Most of the finds from the contexts may have had a function as possible votives, such as the terracottas and miniature vessels, or as either votives or ritual paraphernalia, such as the cups, pitchers, craters and phialai, as well as the many lamps found on the site. Several of the excavation contexts above seem to cover large areas, which make matters of context even more difficult. However, a few contexts appear to be within a limited area and with a constellation of finds that might fit an intended secondary votive deposition: 1.1 (the base of the wall in the southwest of the sanctuary), possibly 1.3, although very uncertain (the southern fortification wall), as well as 1.6 (the wells in Area B). Even though the details are limited, the distribution of the finds and their broad variety still give interesting and revealing information on the cult and the use of cultic paraphernalia at the site, as it seems that both intended secondary votive and waste depositions can be found, as well as tertiary contexts. The twelve contexts together give an effective snapshot of the accumulations of votives and cultic objects within a single sanctuary.

Chios, Emporio: The Athena Sanctuary and the Harbour Sanctuary These two sites are chosen because they represent two rather different examples of find contexts, which may or may not have been connected – but have been forcibly joined in the publication. And as such, they provide an excellent example of the impact of the choices of the archaeologists on the understanding of the find contexts and deposits. The site was excavated by the British School at Athens between 1952 and 1955. John Boardman supervised the excavation and published the results in 1967. The sanctuaries, the Athena Temple and the Harbour Sanctuary, were both in use from the eighth century BC till the Hellenistic period.116 The Athena Sanctuary was located on the acropolis, along with a megaron. The dedication to Athena is based on a Chian plate with a depiction of an armed female, along with a Chian cup with the inscrip-

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tion Αθηναη.117 The temple was small and went through several phases (Figure 75). Originally, in the seventh century BC, there was only one structure on the site, which has been interpreted as an altar. In the sixth century BC, the altar was incorporated within a small temple that had a small cella with four interior columns and a closed porch (Figure 76). At this point in time, the altar was probably transformed into a votive platform, as another base next to it may have supported the cult statue

Fig. 75 Plan of the Athena Temple area on Chios in different periods.

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Fig. 76 Drawing of the sixthcentury BC Athena Temple on Chios.

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(Figures 75–76). Instead, a rectangular altar was added north of the temple. In the fourth century BC, the temple received a renovation after a collapse of the roof and the original altar was enlarged, the altar to the north went out of use and another was added to the east in front of the temple door.118 During these phases several clusters of objects accumulated within and around the structures. During the renovation in the fourth century BC, many votives, which had been scattered all over the cella floor, were incorporated into the fill between the old floor and the new floor. Many had also been heaped behind the altar, some “had been almost tidily stacked before being buried in this way”.119 Votives were also found in the porch area, deep between the boulders forming the terrace east of the temple, as well as below the new altar. Finds were also made above the bedrock to the north and some sweepings were found outside the preserved stretch of the terrace to the southeast.120 The finds from the Athena Temple are separated into three periods and numbered accordingly, stretching from ca. 690 to 325 BC and following the construction and renovation periods in the sanctuary.121 The Harbour Sanctuary is indicated primarily by votive deposits found on the terraces by the harbour, which date from as early as the eighth century BC to about 600 BC (Figure 77). There are also some traces of a temple building, through foundations and mouldings, such as an antebase shaped like a lion’s paw, from both a sixth-century and a mid-fifth-century BC temple, both possibly apsidal. The finds here also indicate activity until the Hellenistic period.122 There is little evidence for the identification of the deity worshipped in this sanctuary. There is a graffito reading ηρη on a piece of pottery and Artemis is mentioned in an early seventh century inscription. Indeed, Artemis may be the most probable deity due to the votive offerings, especially a considerable amount of belts that were customary gifts to particularly Artemis,

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though also to Hera and Aphrodite.123 In the Harbour Sanctuary, the findspots are named after the trenches dug there (Figure 77). The votives are only specifically mentioned in a few places. In Area E, close to a later basilica church, votives were found “from a disturbed deposit nearby”.124 In Area J, the trench beneath the terrace included votive materials. In Area K, in the area between the southern acropolis and the sanctuary terrace, pottery and fragments of figurines were found.125 These general finds from the sanctuary are divided into six periods, stretching from ca. 690 to 325 BC. The deposits from periods I–IV (ca. 690 – ca. 600 BC) were clearings from the temple area prior to a new period of construction. However, the nature and extent of these temple buildings are unknown.126 Unfortunately, the publication does not delineate the finds, including the votives, according to context, but purely according to types, which makes identification of context difficult.127 Altogether, 119 Greek terracotta figurines were found in the two sanctuaries.128 The terracotta figurines are not dominant among the votives from the two sanctuaries, which both have large amounts of pottery and other small finds.129 The primary finds are listed in Table 2. Only a few selected finds have been depicted in the publication and it is a challenge to distinguish the finds according to context. The terracottas are fragmented and rather worn, though there are

Fig. 77 The Harbour Sanctuary on Chios.

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some almost complete figurines – which are primarily from the porch and the cella of the Athena Sanctuary.130 The publication of Emporio on Chios and the two sanctuaries is a good example of the classical archaeological interest in cataloguing finds and objects according to type before, if ever, considering their context  – at least before the processual and post-processual schools appeared. In this example, it becomes even more disruptive, as the catalogue does not just mix different finds from different contexts from one site, but in fact from two different locations. This naturally complicates the understanding of the areas; however, the archaeological contexts and the chronological periods of the objects are (mostly) listed. The general find contexts are mentioned in the descriptions of the different areas, including the architectural developments, or lack thereof, in the two possible sanctuaries. Then it is only left for the reader to put the puzzle (back) together. The architecture that may be associated with the Harbour Sanctuary consists of a terrace wall and perhaps the foundations of an early Classical apse building, which means the sanctuary is primarily defined by its deposits or pits. This is where the majority of finds come from, although artefacts were also found in other places. Some small pits were found by the walls, which mostly contained small stones, blackened earth and pottery.131 Although the pit deposits are mentioned, they are never described, so it is not possible to say anthing about their layout or to define them properly. They may have been part of tertiary fills in the terraces or secondary votive deposits. The find contexts of the Athena Sanctuary are testaments to the close interactions of an (evolving) cult structure and the votives to be kept or cleared away. It seems, in this case, that the votives were, as far as possible, allowed to remain very close to their original votive placement, in particular those heaped behind the altar “tidily stacked before being buried”, but also those left scattered on the floor when the level was raised and some seem to have been buried or deposited within the porch area of the temple. Others were found just outside the temple, below the new altar and some had been swept off the terrace. That the deposited votive terracottas continued to have a close connection with the cult area even after their primary use was only possible due to the relatively modest amount of figurines dedicated – or at least deposited. The complex depositional situations in the Athena Temple include secondary votive deposition, which is supported by the mostly complete figurines, as well as what appear to be waste deposition or tertiary contexts – especially those terracottas in the floor fill seem to represent tertiary contexts.

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Rhodes, Lindos: The Athana Lindia Sanctuary The site is chosen as a case study, as it provides very specific and relatively well-defined find contexts, which might allow for a greater understanding of the concept of votive deposition. The site was excavated between 1902 and 1905 by the Danish archaeologists Karl Frederik Kinch and Christian Sørensen Blinkenberg. The small finds were published by Blinkenberg in 1931 and the architecture was published by Ejnar Dyggve in 1960.132 The Athana Lindia Sanctuary is placed prominently on an acropolis at whose foot the city of Lindos lies (Figure 78). In the period of 550–300 BC, the sanctuary consisted of a small tetrastyle, Doric temple, a terrace wall which created a temenos and a stairway leading up to the temple – the so-called Archaic stairs. From around 300 BC, the sanctuary became even more monumentalised, with propyleia, a grand central staircase and stoas, which created an enclosure in front of the temple.133 The votive offerings found in the sanctuary come mainly from three contexts. Plenty of votives were also found elsewhere on the acropolis, but those find contexts are not recorded in detail.134 The publication of small objects from the sanctuary lists the finds chronologically and according to type. The three following find contexts are mentioned next to the catalogue numbers of the finds. As a catalogue number may pertain to several pieces and the exact amounts found within these contexts are only occasionally specified, precise numbering and calculation within each context is not always possible. 1. The first context is the so-called Archaic Layers, which seem to be fill layers created in connection with the construction of the Archaic stairs running from the edge of the acropolis towards the temple. The content from these layers date from the late Geometric until the Archaic period. The primary finds are listed in Table 2.135 The objects from this context appear fragmented and worn, though not to a greater extent than those from this period found in unspecified contexts on the acropolis.136 Considering the number of objects, the context might be a secondary votive deposition. However, it seems more reasonable to assume that this context represents a tertiary fill, a reuse of the votive object, subsequent to a primary use and possible secondary deposition. 2. The second context is the Large Deposit. It was uncovered within a natural crevice in the bedrock, east of the temple and the later stoa. The deposit may contain the objects cleaned away after a temple fire in 392/1 BC. The content is considered to have been dedicated within the time frame of 525–400 BC, as the burned temple is believed to have been built between 550–525 BC. However, older objects are also found in the deposit, which either indicates that they were dedicated

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Fig. 78 Plan of the Lindian Acropolis.

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at an earlier date or that they had been in use for some time before being dedicated.137 There were delineated 207 types of Greek terracotta figurines in the deposit. The total number of figurines is not known, but it may be as many as 1,400, which is the total number found from this period.138 A variety of finds were made and these are listed in ­Table 2.139 The Large Deposit contains a wide variety of objects, many of votive use or possibly as cultic paraphernalia and since it was placed in a crevice suitable for the purpose, rather than centrally on the acropolis, it was probably a secondary votive deposition. It has been argued that this context might be an offering pit or a bothros. Although it cannot be securely determined, there are no indications of such a use of this natural rock formation.140 The state of preservation for these objects, by a careful estimate, seems to be slightly better than those found elsewhere on the acropolis. They appear less fragmented, though the wornness is not easily distinguishable – those from the Large Deposit appear slightly less worn with more paint preserved.141 3. The third context, the Small Deposit, was placed in a trench dug for the purpose. The content is dated to 400–330 BC.142 The new temple (after the previous one burned) is believed to have been built at the end of the fourth century BC, which might have been the occasion for another clean-up and deposition of the votives that were dedicated in the period between the destruction of the previous temple and the construction of the new temple. Blinkenberg notes that the majority of the terracotta figurines found in the Small Deposit have their heads broken off (see for example Figure 6).143 There were 149 types of Greek terracotta figurines delineated in the deposit. The total number is not known, but it may be as many as 1,240, which is the total number of finds from this period. Only a handful of other small objects were found (Table 2).144 The Small Deposit was almost exclusively filled with terracottas, which were broken in what seems to be a deliberate possibly ritual breakage. Otherwise, the figurines are well preserved. They have painted details, though mostly the red colours have survived.145 Therefore, it must undoubtedly be defined as a secondary votive deposit. The excavation methods of the early twentieth century, which included plenty of manpower to swiftly free the remains from the soil they were hiding in, while searching for architectural structures and objects, are still reflected in the meagre documentation, although the amounts of details increase. The publications were divided into small finds, inscriptions and architecture, in the common categorical fashion, distancing the objects from their contexts. It is unfortunate that the find contexts are not noted for the considerable amounts of votive finds from the acropolis that are not connected to the three main contexts. Still, the

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main contexts are useful for understanding the types and occasions of depositions and disposals, as well as the development in the use of terracottas in the sanctuary.

Priene: The Demeter and Kore Sanctuary, the Kybele Sanctuary and the “Heiliges Haus” The sites in Priene are chosen as case studies to allow for a variety of find contexts from different shrines within one polis to be studied together. The first excavations in the city were carried out in 1868–1869 in the Athena Sanctuary by Richard Popplewell Pullan. In 1895, the Berlin Museum initiated excavations supervised by Carl Humann and later Theodor Wiegand. Unfortunately, documents, especially the diaries from the Berlin excavations were lost during World War  II.146 In 1977–1982 and 1990–1997, the German Institute of Archaeology in Istanbul carried out work on the site, supervised by Wolfgang Müller-Wiener and Wolf Koenigs and in 1998–2013 by Wolf Raeck with the Goethe University of Frankfurt/Main.147 Frank Rumscheid has published the terracottas found in Priene until 1998, with a catalogue that lists the current location of the terracotta, the campaign during which it was found and the find context when known.148 Those found in later excavations are referenced by Rumscheid, as well as by C. Schneider.149 The best-known cultic find context for terracottas in Priene is the Demeter and Kore Sanctuary. It is placed higher on the slope towards the acropolis, north of and outside the city grid on its own east–west terrace (Figure 79). It is surrounded by a rectangular temenos wall, functioning also as a retaining wall. Small houses flank the entrance. On the north side of the entrance is also a cistern, to the west of which is a possible altar. The temple is placed in the west end of the terrace. It is distyle in antis and of unusual shape with an asymmetrical pronaos, which opens into both a side room and the cella. In the cella a cult platform about 1.23 m high runs along the south, west, part of the north and perhaps also east walls. To the south of the pronaos a bothros or offering pit is placed, probably related to the rites of Thesmophoria. It is square and measures about 1.80 m on a side and is about 2 m deep, with small pediments to hold cover slabs. No finds were made within the bothros.150 However, between the bothros and the pronaos a deposit of terracotta figurines and miniature vessels was found. Although ca. 218 terracottas and five miniatures were found in the sanctuary, not all of the figurines are recorded with absolute certainty to be from this deposit and they may be from elsewhere in the sanctuary.151 The find context in the sanctuary, right next to a rather elaborate bothros, but not in it, indicates that the votives were not directly connected to the bothros.

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They may instead have been placed within the temple, on the benches and tables and then deposited outside as a secondary votive deposit, when a clearance perhaps was needed. The figurines are fragmented, though several complete figurines are found, which support the argument for a votive deposit. Recently, new finds of figurines have emerged from the sanctuary, especially from a levelling layer.152 While they are not yet published in detail, it is interesting to also find terracotta figurines as part of a tertiary context in the sanctuary. There is also a Kybele Sanctuary in Priene, close to the West Gate of the city. It is an irregular five-sided enclosure with a small door opening towards the east. It is empty, except for a marble statue of Kybele seated on a throne and a central square-shaped offering pit, a bothros, carved into the rock and fenced off by marble slabs on the north and west sides. The finds are described by Wiegand and Schrader as this: [The pit was] … mit Asche gefüllt, die mit Knochensplittern durchsetzt war und eine grosse Masse von kleinen irdenen Gefässen enthielt, Schälchen, kleine Gefässe von der Form der Spitzamphora, überwiegend aber die unter dem Namen Thränenkrüge bekannten Fläschchen. Aber auch in der ganzen Umgebung der Grube war die Erde mit knochensplittern durchsetzt. Auch Fragmente von Terrakottafigürchen, Thränenkrüge, ein Stück Goldblech kamen in der Nähe zu Tage.153

Unfortunately, this is all that is known of these finds, but the description may suggest that the terracottas were found close to or at their primary placement when dedicated in the small sanctuary  – or in a secondary deposition. As with the Demeter Sanctuary, the terracottas were found outside the bothros. The so-called “Heiliges Haus” is also called House no. 22 and an inscription above the entrance door identifies it as a ιερόν (Figure 80).154 The door opened into a yard. To the south of the yard were two large rooms, to the east three small rooms, one of them an open exedra with triclinium. To the north was the large cult room, 9.20 m × 19 m, which is

Fig. 79 Plan of the Demeter and Kore Sanctuary in Priene.

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Fig. 80 Plan of the “Heiliges Haus” in Priene.

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4 m longer than the cella of the Athena Temple. In the northeast corner of the cult room a large podium was placed. Three small stairways led up to the top of the podium. In front of the east side, between two of the stairways, a marble offering table was placed.155 Fragments of a “Grosse masse”156 of terracottas were found in front of the cultic podium and table in a destruction layer caused by an earthquake  – supposedly they had fallen from the podium or table during the catastrophe.157 Thus they had fallen from their primary deposition. The preserved documentation from Priene is minimal in regards to context, due to the tradition in the early twentieth century of focusing on the documentation of architecture and the collection of objects and even more so as a result of material being lost during World War  II. Although the publication by Rumscheid in 2006 focuses on the terracottas as an object type, it is also an example of a modern contextualisation approach, since emphasis is placed on reconstructing what is known from the find contexts, as well as listing the specific figurines found in the different locations. The detective work carried out in the archaeological archives is a great improvement on the documentation from the site. For both the Demeter and Kybele Sanctuaries it is interesting that the terracottas are found outside, but close to, the offering pits. It seems that the primary purpose for these kinds of votive offerings, at least in Priene or in these particular cults, had no relation to the bothroi – which was most likely then reserved for rites related to the Thesmoporia rituals. In the Demeter Sanctuary, the composition of finds and their concentration in a central spot of the cult area indicate a secondary votive deposition, supported by the state of preservation of the figurines. To this is now also added the tertiary context from recent excavations. The Kybele Sanctuary might either be a primary or secondary placement, as the finds seem to be a mixture of ritual residue. In the “Heiliges Haus” were votive objects that had fallen from their primary context. The terracottas, primarily from the Demeter Sanctuary, date from around 300 BC to the first century BC (at least).158 The broad time span gives an indication as to how long they could potentially have been standing in the sanctuary before deposition.

Pergamon: The Demeter Sanctuary This site is chosen as a case study, as it is a large sanctuary that has gone through a series of restructurings, while having to store votive terracottas, which potentially allows for an interesting variety of find contexts.

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Fig. 81 Plan of the Demeter ­Sanctuary in Pergamon.

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The excavations in Pergamon began in 1878 under the direction of Carl Humann. A more systematic excavation of the city was carried out by Wilhelm Dörpfeld from 1900 until 1911 and by Theodor Wiegand from 1927 until work came to a halt due to the war. Then again from 1957 until 1968 by Erich Boehriner, from 1971 until 2005 by Wolfgang Radt and from 2006 until 2016 by Felix Pirson.159 The terracottas from the city were published by Eva Töpperwein in 1976 and newer finds have been referenced by Carl Helmut Bohtz and Wolf-Dieter Albert, as well as by Rumscheid.160 The records of terracotta find-spots are sparse until work on the Asklepieion began around 1966–1968. Still, there are some records of the finds from the Demeter Sanctuary, initially excavated by Dörpfeld between 1900 and 1911. The sanctuary is placed in the southern part of the city, originally outside the city walls, but incorporated within the walls as the city expanded during the reign of Eumenes II (197–159 BC) (Figure 81). The cult probably originated earlier than the fourth century BC, but the design of the earliest sanctuary is unknown. In the fourth century BC, a temple presumably stood in the southwestern part of a long terrace. In front of the temple several altars were placed along the central terrace axis. In the beginning of the third century BC, the terrace was enlarged when a Doric stoa and a large, wide seating area was added to the north side of the terrace. An ante temple of a local order was also built. In the second century BC, large support walls and stoas were added to the north and south. The stoa to the south had two storeys. The sanctuary continued to be in use until the fourth century AD.161 Terracottas were found in several places in the sanctuary. From excavations before 1938, the following are noted, in chronological find order:

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1. Some terracotta figurines, dated from late third until late first century BC, were found in a small space (Raum D) south of the stairs and north of the propylon.162 Four are catalogued, but it has also been recorded that there were “Viele Fragmente, besonders Köpfchen […] Gewandpartien […] in einem Blechkästchen zusammen mit ein paar Knochenproben aus dem daneben gelegenen Raum aufgehoben”.163 2. Ten fragments and figurines were found south of the large altars. 3. At least ten figurines were found in the basement – that is, the lower floor – of the South Stoa. Between the basement of the stoa and the terrace wall, three more figurines were found.164 4. Five figurines were found below the stairs (the seating area), by the old terrace wall. 5. Five figurines were found close to the temple. 6. Thirteen figurines were found on the terrace without further specifications.165 7. West of the easternmost altar “viele Scherben und Terrakotten” were found.166 From excavations after 1938, the following terracottas were found: 1. In the northern rooms, there were found 189 figurines, along with clay vessels. 2. Four figurines were found in the eastern temenos wall.167 In the end of the 1960s more figurines were excavated in the sanctuary. These are referenced by Bohtz and Albert, as well as by Rumscheid, but the exact numbers are not (yet) published.168 It is difficult to set a definite number on the amount of terracottas found in the sanctuary, as not all are catalogued and many finds are mentioned only briefly; however, the figurines catalogued by Töpperwein make up 144 pieces.169 Adding the numbers listed with the find context together allows us to assume that more than 250 figurines have been found in the sanctuary. They are dated to the period between the third century BC and the middle of the first century AD.170 Very few other finds are mentioned in relation to the terracotta find-spots. This seems to be due to a lack of documentation from the excavations, mostly carried out in the early twentieth century, with some follow-up work in later years. The publication by Töpperwein from 1976 focused on the typology of terracottas of the whole site, but the find-spots were briefly included. The primary characteristic for the finds in the sanctuary are the relatively small amounts, which were found in many different spots. The “viele scherben und Terrakotten” by the easternmost altar are interesting, as well as the large amount of 189 figurines in the northern rooms, which may indicate a particular cultic use for these areas. Whether the many smaller

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finds were intentionally deposited or more casually left or discarded is difficult to say without more documentation on the finds. Considering the long-term use of the sanctuary, however, beyond the period of use of votive terracottas, they may have been deposited either as votive or waste deposits and so preserved in the sanctuary despite no longer being relevant cultic paraphernalia. The relatively modest amount of finds could be due to the long use of the sanctuary: cult practices might have changed over the centuries and votives may have been deposited and discarded elsewhere.

Summary The documentation and registration of the many sites is to a large degree a product not only of their time, but also the strong classical archaeological tradition of typological cataloguing – typically dividing the material into the architecture followed by the different find categories. The early excavations were swiftly executed with a lot of manpower to move soil and fewer to document, which leaves us only with few useful conclusions for analysis, along with the typological lists of the objects. The earliest excavations, at Argos and Tiryns, are good examples of these tendencies. As we move closer to the mid-twentieth-century excavations and publications, slightly more information finds its way into the archaeological record, though very much shaped by the typological tradition. Examples are the publications from Lindos and Chios. Several of the later publications, from the end of the twentieth and early twenty-first centuries draw on the records from earlier excavations. These include the publications from Agrigento, Gela and Priene, some of which actively attempt to fill out the blanks left by the earlier documentation regarding the context of the material. Corinth and Pergamon are partly published by excavators as well as by later archaeologists working on the material, which allows for more information, but the publications are still shaped by the classical typological tradition and also influenced by the amount of material left to handle, particularly in Corinth. While this latest work is contemporary with processual and contextual theoretical ideas, it remains strongly influenced by the traditional classical archaeological tendency to separate the objects from their find contexts. The nine sites representing thirteen different cults give us a varied selection of find contexts for the many votive terracottas. They allow us to identify both differences and similarities in the use of the terracottas and the ways in which they were disposed, whether deposited or discarded. The characteristics of votive deposits, listed in the introduction to this chapter, can be characterised in the following manner:

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1. Situated within a sacred context: It could be argued that each deposit in this case is situated within a sacred context, because sanctuaries were selected as case studies. However, there are a few exceptions: The deposition from Tiryns was buried directly outside the walls of the citadel, rather than in or around the temple. This is probably due to the fact that there was no proper space for such a deposition within the citadel. Instead, the deposit was placed as close as possible to the sacred area, which incidentally was right outside the walls. In the case of the Harbour Sanctuary on Chios, the deposits themselves identify the site as sacred and it is not possible to define whether they were indeed within a sacred area – but it is quite probable and as it is close to the harbour, it might in any case be considered a public area. 2. A distinctive (architectural) and/or structured context: The condition of the contexts is not necessarily easily identified, mostly due to poor documentation. However, it could be argued that the concentration of the objects in itself should be considered as a “feature” in its own right. Furthermore, most deposits were found close to walls or within enclosed spaces, including wells, a drain, a pithos, pits, or underneath floors, which may all count as “distinctive”. Other well-defined structured deposits seem to have been described in Argos (the “closed” deposit) and Lindos (with the use of both a crevice and a trench dug for the purpose). The votives that were “tidily stacked” behind the altar of the Athena Sanctuary on Chios may also count as a distinctive feature and the Pits, A, B, and F, from Corinth must be considered structured. In fact, many of these contexts could be described as both distinctive and structured. 3. Carefully placed objects: While most of the depositions must be considered to have been “placed”, perhaps apart from the fill layers and also the drain in Gela, the “carefully” placed objects are specifically mentioned in the documentation from Tiryns, Argos, the Athena Sanctuary in Chios and Lindos. 4. Carefully chosen objects: As with the previous category, this characteristic could be argued for almost every intended deposition, as the objects generally possess a cultic relevance, not just as votives but as ritual paraphernalia. For some of the contexts the selection is more “careful” than for others. This is the case for the third deposit on the acropolis of Gela, in the pithos, which seems to be a particular primary ritual deposit and it may also be the case for two of the Pits, A and especially E, in Corinth. 5. Religious and symbolic imagery: Every single context contains religious and symbolic imagery, as all (as a prerequisite) contain terracotta figurines. 6. Valuable material: Valuable materials, mostly metal, but also ivory and perhaps glass is present in many of the deposits, although in limited

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amounts. These include a broad range of objects and small fragmentary pieces, although the objects associated with textiles seem most frequent. Some groups of objects indicate a general votive use on the sites, such as the large amounts of rings from Argos, the fibulae from Lindos, the fibulae and bronze belts from the Harbour Sanctuary in Chios and the phialai from the Urban Sanctuary in Agrigento, especially deposit 2.3. 7. Non-functional objects: Non-functional objects are found in the majority of the deposits, as there are terracotta figurines in all of them, but also miniature pottery is regularly found in the contexts. 8. Signs of repetitiveness, fixity and/or formality: These signs can be identified in different ways. The repetitiveness or fixity could be supported by the recurrence of large amounts found of certain objects, such as the figurines, lamps, loom weights, or particular ceramic shapes. The formality could be argued for the whole enclosed situation of particular objects being positioned in specific ways, within certain structures, which overall can be identified in most of the contexts presented. Overall, the majority of the contexts fulfil most of the characteristics identified for a votive deposit, apart from fills, which is not as such surprising despite efforts to enlarge the study of contexts. While there are differences between the sites, there are also many similarities. There seems to be an undeniable need for “clearing” sacred spaces occasionally or even regularly, which led to what was a kind of cultic discarding or secondary votive deposition. Such conclusions, however, are very much dependent on the amount of information recorded and communicated by the excavators. Details of structuring or layering are the characteristics least described by excavators, as the depositions are generally treated as either a single undifferentiated mass, in which objects are counted and their placement perhaps briefly described, or not recognised as a unity and objects just counted within a certain not necessarily clearly defined area. Fortunately, casual remarks, names of contexts, the content and the dating of the objects allow for a cautious understanding of these concentrations.

3.  The Practice of Deposition

Categorising the Concentrations The sites presented provide a basis for the understanding of what appears to be different depositional practices. The only deposits that may have had an active ritual use – so representing primary contexts – are the third deposit on the acropolis of Gela in a pithos and the pits in Corinth. The pits in Corinth may actually have functioned similar to the bothroi from Heloros mentioned in the previous chapter and as the bothroi in Priene, in both the Demeter and the Kybele Sanctuaries. The Heloros bothroi were found with votives, such as the terracottas lined against the bothros walls in a circular fashion, leaving room for sacrifices in the centre, where traces of ash and small animal bones were found.171 The Heloros contexts represent a dedicatory practice involving a primary deposition placed directly into the ground. The bothroi and pits found in Corinth and Priene, however, must have had another kind of function, because they seem to have been emptied regularly – as both of the Priene bothroi are empty, with finds next to them. However, for the Demeter bothros this is not a surprising find, as this is probably related to the Thesmophoria rites, which required pigs to be thrown into pits and later they would then be retrieved again.172 The Corinthian pits are also not filled with votives. Instead, they appear to have been sealed using nearby soil. Pits E and B have indications of final ritual deposition, perhaps a sealing ritual. The pithos in Gela, however, seems to have been a single deposit for a specific, though unknown, ritual purpose. There are several other smaller deposits on the sites, such as at Priene, Pergamon and Agrigento and in the many lots from Corinth, but as the arrangement of these deposits is unknown, it is difficult to identify them as active primary ritual deposits. Many of the find concentrations from Agrigento include small terracotta altars and it is possible that these were actively used and then left where they were, or that they were deposited as part of the ritual – but they may also be examples of secondary or tertiary depositions, intentionally deposited

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or casually swept away when the areas were cleaned or cleared. With the limited information on their actual find context, it is impossible to define anything with certainty. One of the contexts, identified earlier as a secondary votive deposit, may in fact represent a so far unique form of deposition. This is the concentration behind the altar of the Athena Sanctuary on Chios, where it seems that sixth-century BC votives had been imbedded in the enlargement of the votive platform in the fourth century BC, indicating the reuse of figurines in a primary votive context. It is the only known example of this type of context, although there are other examples of depositions close to the altar. An example is found in the Artemis Orthia Sanctuary at Sparta, where sacrificial debris labelled “Burned Deposit” was found on the east side of the so-called Greek Altar; it had been swept periodically off the altar to clean it for further use and the burning of sacrifices. The debris contained charred remains of a large number of lead figurines, almost 3,000 pieces and fragmentary pottery.173 The example in Sparta provides valuable evidence as to how the votives may have been perceived and treated after their dedication – although a functioning altar provides less room and so less tolerance for permanent votives than other spaces in the sanctuary would. It shows a practical approach to the deposition or discarding of votives, which may be found in the majority of the remaining find contexts from the studied sites. While few display the same rather casual disposal right next to the altar, as on Chios, most of the other presented contexts appear as clean outs, although of varying size – and possibly also in the varying care with which they were disposed of. Smaller concentrations are found in Priene, in Pergamon, on the acropolis in Gela, in the Athena Sanctuary on Chios, in the Urban Sanctuary of Agrigento and in Corinth. These contexts are of a size that indicates that there may have been a small or limited space for the votive placements and/or a need for the space they were placed in – altars, votive tables, or pits – to be cleared regularly in order to make room for continued (ritual) use. Larger concentrations of objects, such as those found in Tiryns, in Argos, in the Demeter Sanctuary of Priene, in the northern room of the Demeter Sanctuary of Pergamon, the two deposits in Lindos, the fourth context on the acropolis of Gela, the contexts from the Harbour Sanctuary on Chios and the contexts nos. 1.3 and 1.7 from the Urban Sanctuary in Agrigento, are all of a size which could indicate either one large cleanout or several clean-outs repeatedly in the same space. To distinguish between the two, a detailed account of the positions of the objects in the deposits would be needed, which unfortunately rarely is recorded or communicated. However, a few examples give us a large amount of material dated within a relatively narrow time frame, such as the Small

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Deposit in Lindos (ca. seventy years) and the deposit from Argos (ca. one hundred years) and seem to be the result of a single large clean-out and so consequently fulfil what may be considered the basic understanding of a “votive deposit”. The majority of the contexts mentioned so far seem to be secondary deposits, concentrations of objects and other material intentionally placed in the ground, possibly at one particular moment in time. It could be argued that the sacrificial pits and bothroi should also be considered primary deposits. Furthermore, if we insist on intent as a defining factor of primary and secondary deposits, it leaves mostly the fill layers in the category of tertiary contexts. Fill layers are identified in some of the presented sites, such as at Argos, the Archaic Layers of Lindos and Stratum 1 in Predio Sola at Gela. Astrid Lindenlauf considers the fill layers containing the cultic objects to be a kind of reuse of the objects, as especially pottery can be seen broken and laid down as part of the fill. As such, they are to be considered tertiary contexts.174 However, there is also the rare case of redeposition of objects. This act is not easy to identify and, in the contexts treated here, the most probable case are the fill layers in Argos, in which some finds were placed in more concentrated assemblages than in the rest of the fill. Examples of such redeposition have been found in the Aphrodite Sanctuary in Miletos, where deposits that were moved from their original location had been rearranged and redeposited within a fill layer during restructuring of the site.175 Other examples could be the deposit in Tiryns, which may have been moved outside of the walls only after having been deposited inside. The well in Agrigento, context no. 1.6, is also a possible example of redeposition of objects. Not all contexts necessarily fall into any of these categories – primary ritual deposition, secondary votive or waste deposition, or tertiary redeposition or fill layers. An example of another category is Stratum 2 in Predio Sola, where the objects/protomai probably fell from the walls in the building and became a “coincidental” deposition. The same might be said for the finds in the “Heiliges Haus” in Priene, where the votive objects had fallen from a primary position to the ground. Other examples of alternate categories are more obscure, but may include concentrations that are inadequately described: for instance, some of the contexts from Pergamon, some of the find contexts of the Athena Sanctuary on Chios, many of the contexts from Agrigento and probably also some of the lots from Corinth. My attempts at using the state of preservation of the finds as indicators has not been fully successful, based on the limited access to the objects. However, some differences in the condition of the objects could be noted, in particular for the Small Deposit finds in Lindos (where I had access to a small selection of the objects), as discussed above. The survey does show indications of the suitability of breakage and wornness as context

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indicators, as long as these conditions are considered in relation to the other finds from the same location, as well as to the general conditions for preservation of the context.

The Content of the Concentrations The content of most of the find concentrations is very similar to each other. This makes it possible to divide the objects from the find concentrations into categories, while at the same time allowing for the local variations to be recorded too (Table 2). A significant group of finds are the miniature ceramics, which, like the figurines, contain a clear cultic function within a sacred context. Other finds can generally be interpreted as cultic paraphernalia due to the context, but most also have a practical function. Examples include ceramics, which are understood as cultic objects in sacred contexts, but they were used in profane contexts as well. However, the majority of the ceramic vessels have shapes that suggest they should be interpreted as ritual objects used for cultic rituals, such as libations and feasting. They are primarily cups and pitchers, in particular also among the miniatures, but perfume and oil containers are also frequent and they may have been dedicated due to their content. The phialai are generally considered cultic objects, for libation rituals and they are regularly found both in ceramic and bronze, both standard sized and in miniature, although in small numbers and not at all sites. For some sites, lamps are found in numbers that indicate they were either regularly dedicated or regularly used in rituals in the cult, or possibly both, while they are completely missing from other sites. There are more than a hundred from the Large Deposit in Lindos, almost two hundred are found in Predio Sola and more than 450 altogether are found in the many contexts from Agrigento. A cautious guess might be that evening or nightly rituals occurred at these sites. The textile-related objects include both adornments and objects for textile production  – fibulae, pins and needles, spools, spindle whorls and loom weights, as well as the unusual seventy-three bronze belts from Chios. All may have functioned as votives, the adornments possibly in connection with garments, although textiles may also have been produced within the sanctuaries. The metal objects found are quite diverse and few are found in large numbers. Fibulae are found in the largest amounts – with about 120 from the deposits in Lindos and 250 from Chios. Argos is unique with 230 bronze rings. The different find groups may indicate particular votive traditions at specific cult sites.

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There are various other finds, which are mostly small or in a fragmented state.

The Matter of What and Why? The question of which objects were chosen to be deposited and why may be answered by considering the collective body of material from the deposits. The matter of recycling in the sanctuaries is relevant for this discussion as this process could decide which items from the votives and the cultic paraphernalia were to be reused and which were not. Recycling in sanctuaries has been studied by Lindenlauf and the phenomenon can be identified both in the archaeological and the epigraphical material.176 The epigraphical material, such as the inventories from Brauron, mentions only the recycling of metal – that is the melting down and the creation of new cultic objects.177 The votive objects that were eligible to be melted down were those considered to have lost their purpose or those that were in need of repair – and a permission from the polis authorities was necessary.178 The remelted objects are naturally difficult to identify, while reutilisation is more easily determined. Lindenlauf mentions some examples, which are all of the practical kind, such as greaves reused as a drain in Delphi, an altar built of former stelai or bases for dedications and sphyrelata statues made partly of cut-down bronze vessels and of bronze sheets – which were made of melted-down parts of the same vessels.179 This practice may explain the relatively small amounts of metal objects in find depositions and the fragmented state of many of them. The fragmented state may also be a result of the pars pro toto ritual. The conditions for reuse might also, at least partly, explain the selection of objects found in the concentrations, including the terracotta figurines. As noted above, the dedications could be reused if they had lost their purpose or were in need of repair. Although this may have been the case in one sanctuary, it does not necessarily make it a universal consideration – but it does give a good indication as to what was generally understood to be the proper handling of votive offerings placed in the sanctuaries. The first condition  – the loss of purpose  – brings up the question of when votives really lose their purpose. And strictly speaking, they would not lose their purpose until the person or the people who dedicated them were no longer alive – and even then, a thank offering would in essence be forever. If they were to stay (at least) through the lifetime of the dedicators, this explains the build-up of votives in sanctuaries. The condition for loss of purpose may also indicate when, in those rare instances when it was necessary, such as in Tiryns, votive objects might find storage outside of the sacred area – after a lifetime perhaps?

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The other condition could allow the votives to be reused, if they were in need of repair. The cultic paraphernalia – which were often dedications  – could be worn and broken through regular handling and use, while votives such as the terracotta figurines were both quite robust and not meant for any practical use. The majority of the finds are terracottas and ceramics, both miniatures and standard sizes and other objects such as lamps and loom weights, all of which are not easily reused, if at all. While the garment adornments such as the fibulae, needles and pins are of a reusable material, they were probably simply displayed whether on garments or not. There are different possible reasons as to why they may have been spared from being melted down. Perhaps it was because they were complete, or because they were not the kind of objects that could be practically reused. It might also be that the melting down of garment adornments was just not acceptable at the sanctuaries in which they appear in large numbers. The content of the concentrations seems primarily to be small objects of the kind that were not easily reused. As previously mentioned, Lindenlauf considers the deposition of the objects and especially the fill layers as another kind of reuse, as they took active part in the restructuring of the sanctuaries. However, the end result seems to be the same. That is, that these particular objects could be present in the sanctuary for a long time and then be deposited rather than reworked and reused. This might be a factor in the choice of such objects for votive offerings. In the case of the votive terracotta figurines, it is worth considering that the ability of their material to resist a recycling worked to their advantage as a chosen votive. Not only were they probably available in different ranges of value with flexible symbolic messages and able to fit in almost everywhere, they were also quite robust and “persistent” objects. Their lack of ability to be melted down, reworked, or reused meant that there was less fear of them being either stolen or recycled in the sanctuary. Even when they had to be cleared out, they were still deposited within sacred grounds. The terracotta figurines were basically the ideal fulfilment of a continuous presence in the sacred space.

But What about When and Why? There is plenty of evidence as to the length of time in which the votives might have been displayed in the sanctuaries. The regulations on where votives and dedications were allowed – and especially not allowed – to be placed in the sanctuaries indicate that they were expected to stay for some time  – otherwise a heavy-handed use of a trash can might have easily solved these problems and made regulations unnecessary. If a dedication

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was thrown out, had it been incorrectly placed, there would be no need for regulations on placement. So, this could not have been an option. The conditions for reuse of votives carry similar indications. They were not to be reused unless they had lost their purpose or were broken. A dedication or thank offering did not easily lose its purpose and perhaps the end of the lifetime of the dedicator(s) might determine the end of use. Rather than expect the cult personnel to keep track of which of the votives and their dedicators were still active, it was probably preferred to keep them in the sanctuaries until a clean-out of space was absolutely necessary and in that sense also respect what was officially the property of the deities. A broken object was more easily defined and if necessary for available space or other reasons, it could be either recycled or deposited. The dating of the objects in the depositions also provides an indication of how often a clean-up may have taken place. The objects of the deposit in Tiryns are dated between the seventh and the fifth century BC, giving approximately two hundred years of accumulated objects to be cleaned out. The description by Frickenhaus of the objects found closely packed in heaps and “nests” can indicate both many regular depositions of objects, as well as a few or even one large deposition.180 The only certainty is that some objects were gathered in order to be deposited in a heap or nest. At Argos, it is more difficult to date the contexts, but the deposit excavated by Caskey and Amandry is dated to the second quarter of the sixth century BC and contains objects at least a hundred years older than that. As the objects are described as being tightly packed, “like eggs in a basket” and as a “closed” if not actually “sealed” deposit, it may be assumed that the group of objects was deposited all at once.181 It may have been the result of a clean-up of a specific area of the sanctuary, as also noted by the excavators. The deposit was found by the retaining wall of the East Building. The East Building itself is dated to after the fifth century BC; Waldstein mentions as late as the latter half of the fourth century BC.182 While the retaining wall may be earlier than the actual building, this suggests that the objects placed in the deposit could actually be up to two hundred years old when deposited. By that time, it might be safe to assume that they had lost their votive purpose. In Priene, the objects from the large deposition in the Demeter Sanctuary are dated from ca. 300 BC to the first century BC (at least), a span of more than two hundred years.183 Unfortunately, based on the publication alone, it is not possible to determine whether they were deposited all at once or gradually through the years. A context from Pergamon might help. The many deposits contain figurines dated between the third century BC and the middle of the first century AD. The small context no. 1 contained four figurines dated from the late third to the late first century BC.184 The actual context is uncer-

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tain, but if the figurines were placed rather close together, it could have been a small one-time deposition with a very wide age span of figurines. This example may allow for the possibility that a one-time deposition of figurines of a large age range was not unusual. The deposits from Lindos might be linked to particular occasions for a clean-up. A fire in 392/1 BC seems to have been the occasion for the creation of the first Large Deposit, which contained objects primarily from 525–400 BC, but also older Archaic objects. Once the temple was rebuilt, its initiation, or coming-into-use, seems to have been the occasion for the second Small Deposit, as the content is dated to 400–330 BC and the temple dated to the end of the fourth century BC.185 However, as objects from these periods are also found elsewhere on the acropolis, it might be that only the particular space affected by the fire and rebuilding underwent these two specific clean-ups within a relatively narrow time span. The contexts from the acropolis of Gela illustrate examples of long age differences between objects. The first context, “Stipe dell’Athenaion”, is dated to a period between the seventh and the second quarter of the fifth century BC.186 The second, “Stipe ‘Arcaica’”, is dated to the late sixth century BC.187 The third, “Dentro il Pithos”, the supposed primary ritual deposit, is dated to the end of the sixth century BC.188 The fourth, “Stipe sotto l’Edificio 12”, is dated from the second half of the sixth to the end of the fifth/early fourth century BC.189 The fifth and last context, “Stipe sotto l’Edificio 2”, is dated between the sixth and the late fifth century BC. The time spans seem to go from roughly a quarter of a century for the primary ritual deposit up to a century and a half (at least) for the deposits with the longest time span. Unfortunately, it is not possible to define the time span for the objects of the deposits on Chios, but the many contexts from Agrigento contain finds mostly dated from the mid-sixth century BC until the end of the fifth century BC, which gives us a general time span of about 150 years. The dates of the many lots found in Corinth are listed by Merker. While some only span about fifty years, most lots span several hundred years.190 While several of the lots may contain disturbed or contaminated material, there is a general tendency that the lots span at least one hundred years, indicating that the votives and cultic paraphernalia were deposited only when necessary. However, among these considerations should also be included the possibility of redepositing. Depending on how such redeposits were allowed to take place, it is possible that objects were gathered from several smaller deposits into one larger and so possibly expanding the time frame for the objects. Furthermore, it is also possible that the votives themselves were already old when dedicated – some may have been heirlooms. As Gina Salapata argues in regards to votive deposits: “The votives in such deposits usually

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represent the production of a long period of time, since they consist of objects dedicated over many years”.191 Deposition does, however, not appear to have been done hastily, but only when absolutely necessary and preferably long after the votive had “lost its purpose”. There seems no doubt that the collective force of votives in groups in any given sanctuary had its own significance and meaning – as previously discussed, the thing power was heightened by the massed group of sacred objects.192 In the displayed votive assemblage, a cleared space might even seem like an open wound in the vibrating mass which worked to enforce and enhance the cult. Clearance would also disturb the preferred understanding of the votive as a continuous presence before the deity. And so naturally, clean-ups should be avoided for as long as possible.

Afterwards The terracotta figurine acquired its status as a votive and a sacred object the moment it was dedicated and there are indications that such a status was not lost again, even if the object “lost its purpose”.193 In some deposits, such as the Small Deposit in Lindos, the heads of the figurines were deliberately broken off. This is not an unusual, though by no means universal, practice and is often considered a precaution to avoid reuse.194 Since the votives in deposits would have been well out of reach in the ground, it seems reasonable to assume that this was rather a proper ritual or a cultic measure to handle the magic of the votives – examples of this are well known from other cultures, such as the Egyptian.195 Such ritual actions indicate an understanding of the votive figurines as continuously working forces, which were to be diminished or tamed before being placed in the ground – supposedly not something that would necessarily please them. Here again, like in the special deposit in the altar at Chios, a deposit almost purely made up of figurines received special treatment. It is likely that the act of depositing the objects was considered ritual, in the same sense as was the act of dedicating them. Presumably care was taken in depositing the objects, most clearly identified in larger deposits, which can be seen in the careful arrangement rather than casual disposal. Furthermore, the role of the votives as sacred objects (still belonging to the deity), is reflected in the fact that these concentrations are placed within the sacred area or the temenos – and only in the rarest of cases placed outside, when necessary, such as in Tiryns. The deliberate breakage of figurines found at Lindos and known from other sites, indicates an understanding of the votives as still active and so presumably still sacred. Pakkanen has discussed which terms were used for the different acts, such as dedicating, consecrating and setting down. The term for setting a

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dedication up, was typically ΑΝΑΤΙΘΗΜΙ, which did not mean “sacralising” or “consecrating” despite describing an act in which an object did become sacred – as a dedication. A term for “I consecrate” could be ΚΑΘΙΕΡΟΩ, but also ΚΑΤΑΤΙΘΗΜΙ was used, which meant “I deposit”. This implies that the act of putting down or depositing also was understood to be a sacred act and as such a deposition of dedications within the sanctuary, was a consecration, a further rendering of the objects as sacred.196 The deposition of the objects and the cultic paraphernalia was a way of clearing the sacred space, while showing respect for both the sanctuary and the sacred objects. Rather than considering the deposition of the objects as discarding, it is possible that the burial of sacred objects should instead be considered as a way of preserving. To bury what there was no longer room or need for, but which still carried deep cultic meaning for both the living and deceased dedicators, for the deity and for the cultic community that had witnessed them in action for both short- and longterm periods of use, gave them a continued presence. That the burying of the cultic objects was a way of preserving them can be verified by the numerous excavators, who have had the pleasure of encountering these deposited gifts from the past.

4.  Discussion and Preliminary Conclusions

The understanding of and approach to archaeological contexts has changed and evolved over several hundred years. This is reflected in archaeological records over time. The earliest excavations primarily focused on the retrieval of objects as works of art and the clearing of architectural structures, but gradually an understanding of the interrelationship between the objects and the structures they were found in as sources for their dating and use has grown. Currently, the contextual approach seems most useful in this regard, although rarely applied at the sites that form the basis for this study. Even so, a judicious review of the archaeological reports offers a possibility for understanding how the contexts may be identified, in particular the so-called votive deposits. The find contexts – placement, structures, content, dating – all vary greatly at the sites that comprise this study. However, common tendencies can still be identified and so can lead to an understanding of use of the deposits. Rituals are connected with depositions, most commonly with secondary votive or waste depositions. However, they are also connected with primary ritual deposits (the bothroi in Heloros and Corinth, or the pithos in Gela). There were common denominators both in the objects deposited and their periods of use before depositions. It is clear that the vibrant mass of the cultic objects described in Chapter III: The Roles of the Votives continues in depositions. The transference of the objects from one stage to the next was done perhaps rather reluctantly and only when necessary, but with respect and understanding of the objects’ importance and continued effect.

Chapter V: Transformation and Termination

This fourth link in the lifecycle of the terracottas encapsulates the evolution, loss of relevance and eventual extinction of the terracotta figurines as votive offerings in Greek sanctuaries. As such it can be considered an expansion of the third link, the discard, as this the conceptual demise and “discard” of the terracottas as votives. The purpose of this section is to analyse the circumstances surrounding the possible transformation and eventual end of the practice of using terracottas as votive offerings – and their possible replacements. It is a complicated issue and the Hellenistic period, in which these changes primarily happen, is equally complex. Consequently, the intention of this section is to keep the focus on the archaeological material, with the primary object being the terracotta figurines, but other possible dominating groups of votive objects within the case studies are also considered.

1  Considering Change and Continuity

In essence, everything archaeological to be found in the soil represents either a change or continuity. In this case we are trying to identify such things within a certain period, pertaining to not just certain objects but also a certain dedicatory practice. If we are to identify the concepts of change and continuity in this particular archaeological material, it is necessary to address what might be considered relevant characteristics for these concepts and how they might be understood. Petra Pakkanen has discussed these particular concepts in relation to the so-called Dark Age religion.1 While the situations are different, some useful general considerations are made. Pakkanen argues that religion should be regarded as a “family resembling concept”.2 As such, different religions (and cults) might be considered similar in important respects to other “family members”, but without sharing all aspects with any other member. She further adds that neither must any aspect or characteristic be shared with everyone. There is, however, a network of overlapping similarities and the boundaries of the family categories are extendable.3 Rather than searching for universal, strictly defined cults, only shared characteristics are to be identified. Furthermore, the objects themselves can also play several roles. They may have been cultic paraphernalia used in a religious ritual, or were votive objects dedicated to the deity. This approach allows for the recognition of how cults, cult practices and the cultic objects and their symbolic meanings function in a world of analogies, substitutions and associations in which their meanings depend on their similarities (the family resemblances) to – and differences from – others. The study of continuity is to a large extent based on analogies, which are often chronological. In diachronic, historical studies, there is often a focus on direct continuation and causal order, which might be problematic, as there can be multiple interacting causes and developments.4 This means that within continuity of a cult practice, there may also be change – the two concepts may co-exist. In practice, change may emerge as a structurally analogous or similar element, a synchronic (family-resembling) differ-

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Fig. 82 Theoretical scheme ­illustrating a hypothetical chronological sequence and synchronic differentiation with basic line of analogies evolving within, by Petra Pakkanen.

Transformation and Termination

entiation and may evolve diachronically or emerge as diachronic change (Figure 82). In an archaeological study these two patterns might only be delineated through a contextual study.5 If we are to identify changes or continuity within a given cultic practice, there must be a clear understanding of the necessary minimal criteria for, in this case, the practice of dedicating terracottas as votives.6 As previously discussed, in chapter I, the following defining characteristics might be proposed: 1. The presence in a sacred setting. 2. The votive object, i. e. the terracotta figurine. 3. An amount of the (votive) object that may indicate a repeated act, i.e. a dedicatory practice. The sacred setting is prerequisite for this particular study of a cultic practice. In regards to the votive object and in particular the votive figurine, the questions of how to identify change in the votive practice within a specified period – in this case the transition from the Classical to the Hellenistic period, have previously been studied by Brita Alroth.7 In connection with the study, she discusses what characteristics may define change in such a votive group. The first is stylistic change. While the stylistic development of the figurine does not necessarily reveal anything specific about the cultic use, it might indicate social and political changes, which may in turn influence perceptions of the contemporary cults and their use. The second is changes in motifs. Changes in the motifs of the figurines can be a more direct indication of cultic change, both in the specific cult and in general cult practices, although general artistic and stylistic development may be the cause of change as well.8 The third characteristic is number. The numbers in which the votive objects, the figurines, may be found, or rather changes in the numbers throughout their time of use is also indicative of change in practice. As the fourth characteristic Alroth adds material. The material of the figurines as a possible change is in this specific study of the use of the terracottas a very relevant possible change to determine. Furthermore, the fifth characteristic, the positioning of the votive figurines within the sacred areas, might indicate change in the cult practice as well – although as previously pointed out in this study, there are not many in situ finds of the votive terracottas to study. As the sixth and

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last characteristic, possible changes in the pantheon can also be considered relevant as different deities may require different rituals and votive offerings. These changes may all be present and be useful for the identification of cultic changes, but changes in actual beliefs does not necessarily materialise itself (clearly) in the archaeological remains.9 The change of the material of the objects, as suggested by Alroth, may also be an indicator of continuity. To identify continuity in this regard is a matter of defining what may constitute a continuity of the practice of dedicating votive terracotta figurines. In theory, any kind of dedicatory practice that continues after a change, a decline, or the end of the use of terracottas may be included. This basically means a change of the votive object itself, a replacement and would include any kind of group of finds in the sacred context, which can be found in a number that may indicate a practice. As previously mentioned, such a practice may have emerged as a change while the terracottas were still in use, as an extension of the terracotta practice, or may even come into use after a break in their use. Absence of material may represent a presence in itself.10 It has been argued that absence can be divided into two categories; primary absence, which is absence-in-itself existing outside of any relation to presence; and secondary absence, which is derived from and defined by its relational connection to presence.11 The presence or absence of a phenomenon may reside in the way it differs from our expectations and preconceptions – the meaning of the phenomenon lies in the way it is different or similar to other phenomena. Similar to continuity and change being defined by similarities and differences, absence might be defined by its engagement with presence, though not as a binary opposition, but within a continuous and ambiguous spectrum.12 In the archaeological record, however, absence is still connected with the conditions of preservation and as always should be remembered: absence of evidence is not evidence of absence.13 In this study, absence could be represented by a decline in numbers and can as such be an indication of change. The context of the finds or the absence of finds in specific sites have to be considered to identify whether or not the site was in continued use, despite a possible absence of (specific) finds. Decline/absence might also be due to the state of preservation of the site and the presence of other categories of objects should be considered along with the find groups of interest. An example of change in votive practise has previously been discussed in Chapter II: The Economy of Votive Figurines in regards to the economic perspectives. However, it seems relevant to consider, in this stage as well, the apparent change in votive practice, which in a sense marked the beginning of the dominating use of terracotta figurines. The gradual shift from bronze and lead figurines to terracottas as discussed by Snodgrass and

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Whitley.14 This shift included several of the six characteristics suggested by Alroth,15 the changes in: style, motif, number and materials (in particular), which are the most “practical” of the criteria. As discussed, however, this shift seems to also have included a conceptual change, or replacement, to a greater use of the converted kind of votives – although the raw stayed in use. As the introduction of mould made terracottas as votives marked a significant change in the votive practice, it is relevant to consider, under what circumstances their demise took place.

Developments within the Sanctuaries The aim of the survey is primarily to identify whether a change in the numbers of the terracotta figurines may indicate a decline or an end of use. If significant changes can otherwise be identified within the same period of the terracotta changes, or following, they will be noted – to the extent that the selected material allows. The time periods of use for the selection of sanctuaries and shrines previously included in this study vary, as does the period of use of terracottas as votive offerings in these sites. They can be roughly divided into three groups: The first group of sanctuaries show a continued use of terracottas through their entire period of use. Examples of this are: Aegina: The terracottas from the Apollo Sanctuary are dated from the eighth century BC to the Hellenistic period, which is in accordance with the period of use of the temple – although there is a decline in the number of figurines in the fourth century BC.16 Brauron: In the Artemis Brauronia Sanctuary, the terracottas are dated to the period between the seventh and third century BC. The end of the use of the terracottas coincides with the general end of use of the sanctuary, as it was flooded in the third century BC and the site was abandoned.17 Tiryns: The terracottas from the Heraion are dated from the seventh to the fifth century BC.18 This is in agreement with the period of the use of the temple, which was abandoned in the middle of the fifth century (ca. 465 BC) when the Argives are believed to have closed the sanctuary and transferred the cult to the Heraion in Argos.19 Gela: The Predio Sola Sanctuary was founded in the mid-seventh century BC, around 650/640 BC and was active until the end of the fifth century BC, when the sanctuary was destroyed. The votive terracottas also belong to this period of use.20 The terracottas from the Acropolis Sanctuary are dated from the seventh to the fifth century BC. The temple and the chapels of the sanctuary were

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destroyed at the end of the sixth or early fifth century BC.21 As some of the terracottas are dated to the fifth century BC, it is possible that some cultic activity continued for a while on the site, after the destruction. The second group contains a few sanctuaries that show a limited period of votive terracotta use, within the longer period of use of the sites. Examples of this are: Thebes: The terracottas from the Kabiroi Sanctuary at Thebes are dated from the fifth to the fourth century BC.22 The sanctuary was in use for a much longer period, as it possibly goes back as a private cult to the eight or seventh century BC, even if the earliest buildings are dated to the late sixth or early fifth century BC. The cult was taken over by the polis after the fourth century BC and continued into Roman times, possibly until the third century AD.23 Terracotta use at Thebes was limited to a specific time period, which might be due to specific interests or ritual practice in that period. Another votive type is found at the site, also limited to a specific period. This group consists of 562 lead and bronze statuettes from the late Archaic and Classical periods, which then seem to be followed by the terracottas. Rather than incomplete preservation, this might indicate a specific shift in votive practice.24 Pergamon: The terracottas from the Demeter Sanctuary are dated to the period between the second half of the third till the middle of the first century AD.25 The sanctuary, however, continued in use till the fourth century AD.26 Compared to the long duration of the use of the sanctuary, the short period of use of the terracottas might indicate a specific phase of ritual use, although the state of preservation may also have played a part here. It may also be a consequence of a changed cult practice.27 The third and last group of sanctuaries is characterised by the apparent use of terracottas from the inception of the cult, with a possible decline or end of terracotta use despite the continuation of the cult. Examples of this are: Argos: The terracottas from the Heraion are dated from ca. 725 to the early Classical period. The sanctuary itself, however, remained in use until Roman times.28 There is a general scarcity of small finds, such as pottery, terracottas, small bronzes and engraved stones from the Classical and the later periods. Waldstein suggests that this might be due to the position of the sanctuary on the hill-slopes, which may have caused rain to wash smaller objects down the slopes and then spread afar over the plain.29 Corinth: The Demeter and Kore Sanctuary was in active use as a place of worship from around 650–630 BC.30 The repertoire of the figurines was diverse and even more so in the Hellenistic period.31 The Roman invasion in 146 BC seems to create a change in the ritual practice. Where there was previously a strong practice of terracotta dedication, reflected in the

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24,000 fragments found in the sanctuary – only 29 of these are dated to the Roman period and so the practice by that time seems to have been much diminished at this site.32 For instance, in the sanctuary the characteristic dining units were transformed into a large building with several altars and the rituals connected with this site clearly involved lead tablets, since many are found deposited in the area.33 Lamps are found in larger numbers from this late period, with at least 820 from the period between AD 50 and ca. AD 370/380.34 Activity on the site carried on until the end of the fourth century AD.35 Chios: The terracottas from the Athena Sanctuary are dated from the sixth to the mid-fourth century BC.36 This almost coincides with the period of use of the temple. However, the final period of the temple, the Reconstruction Period, is dated to the third quarter of the fourth century BC and the only votives preserved from this last recorded period are kernoi – which might indicate a change of practice at this time.37 Knossos: The terracotta figurines from the Demeter Sanctuary in Knossos date from the eighth century BC, from the foundation of the sanctuary and until the second century BC, which was not the demise of the cult, but perhaps of the votive terracotta practice.38 It is noted by J. Nicolas Coldstream and Reynold. A. Higgins that the terracotta figurines came to an abrupt end early in the second century BC. However, it may also be a matter of whether they were preserved or not, as no deposits from this later period were found in the sanctuary – unlike from the previous periods.39 Another find group, the lamps, seem to take over from the terracottas. This may coincide with a rearrangement of the sanctuary in the first century BC, which also involves possible open-air activities on a new terrace and the addition of a group of clay ovens, around which large accumulations of cooking pots and lamps are found. The ovens went out of use in the second century AD, but the sanctuary continued to function till the fourth century AD when the sculptures of the sanctuary were thrown into a pit and covered up.40 Lindos: The Athana Lindia Sanctuary flourished in the Hellenistic period and was functional into Roman times – though struggling in the first century AD – as attested by the architecture and inscriptions from the site.41 However, the majority of the small finds from the site, including the terracottas, stop with the content of the Small Deposit, which is dated to ca. 400–330 BC. Although three terracotta fragments found elsewhere on the acropolis may be dated to the (early) Hellenistic period, according to Higgins, the transition from the Classical to the Hellenistic period marks the end of the terracotta votive figurines.42 The dedication of statuary continued into Hellenistic times and the “break” in the finds prior to the Hellenistic period includes not just ter-

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racottas, because finds from this period are in general scarse, though not completely lacking as is the case with terracottas. About 25 lamps of Hellenistic date are found and about ten from the later periods.43 However, due to the very sparse amount of finds, it might be more reasonable to suggest that the seeming end of the use of terracottas around 300 BC could be due to lack of preserved finds, rather than an actual break in use at this particular time. This implies that the final dedications, placed in the Hellenistic period and the last cultic paraphernalia had never been properly and safely buried as secondary votive or waste deposits. Rather they may have been destroyed in Late Antiquity, or served as souvenirs and extra income for the hundreds of generations of Rhodians, of besiegers and tourists that visited the acropolis until its proper excavation in the beginning of the twentieth century. The terracotta production on Rhodes continued in Hellenistic times, though in smaller quantities and they may still have served cultic needs in Lindos during this period.44 Terracotta figurines from the Demeter Sanctuary in the city of Rhodes, many of which are similar types to those from Lindos, date from the fifth century BC (following the foundation of the city and the sanctuary) until the end of the third century BC, with examples of Tanagra figurines.45 This shows a votive use of terracottas on the island for at least a hundred years past the finds from Lindos. Priene: The Demeter and Kore Sanctuary seems to have been in use from the foundation of the city in the fourth century BC the middle of the third century AD (as revealed by recent excavations).46 With the exception of one example from the period after 420 BC, the terracottas found in the sanctuary date from the Hellenistic period up until the Roman imperial period.47 The terracottas might have been an important part of the specific rituals performed in the cult, however, they also eventually seem to have gone out of use, along with general practice of using votive terracottas. Agrigento: The terracottas from the Urban Sanctuary are dated primarily from the mid-sixth to the end of the fifth century BC, with a few Hellenistic types.48 The use of the sanctuary is dated from the mid-sixth century BC to the Hellenistic period, with the primary period of cultic use possibly being in the sixth–fifth centuries BC and with a possible revival of the cult in the Hellenistic and Roman periods.49 This indicates a break in the votive terracotta practice at the end of the fifth century BC, with some Hellenistic types from the later possible revival of the cult, but with the terracottas less dominating. Paestum: The Aphrodite Sanctuary at Santa Venera was in use from the sixth century BC until the second and third century AD; however, the votive use of the terracotta figurines came to an end in the first century AD. The number of votive figurines reached their maximum in the fourth

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and third centuries BC, while already in the second and first centuries BC the numbers were dwindling. Rebecca Ammerman notices that over time, from the early use towards the later period, the types of votive figurines became more generic. Despite a revival of the cult at the end of the Republic and during the Augustinian Age, this particular dedicatory practice still came to an end in the first century AD.50 Brita Alroth has also made a small study of the possible changes in votive practice from the Classical to the Hellenistic period, with a focus on the votive figurines, primarily the terracottas.51 In her survey Alroth has (almost) limited herself to a small selection of motifs and the amounts of the votive terracottas. She studied the changes in the numbers of the selected types in ten sanctuaries, including the Argive Heraion, the Apollo Sanctuary on Aegina and the Demeter sanctuaries in Pergamon and Knossos. This revealed more differences than similarities. While the practice for some ended prior to the Hellenistic period, for others it continued in this period and for others still it even increased, or was revived.52 The sanctuaries studied here also show such differences. The sanctuaries are geographically removed and show both differences and similarities in their cultic evolution and cult practices. In the sanctuaries the use of terracottas as votives end at different times, in different ways and perhaps also for different reasons.

Summary and Discussion of the Cultic Changes For the first group of sanctuaries – Aegina, Brauron, Tiryns and Gela – it seems the terracottas were an integral part of the cult of the sanctuary, whether it was for specific ritual use or individual dedications. They differ both in their locations, their cults and in their periods of cultic use. Nevertheless, it seems the terracottas were present from their beginning to their end. This may simply be a consequence of the fact that these particular sanctuaries went out of use relatively early – prior to the general end of practice for the use of terracotta figurines as votives. The second small group of sanctuaries, Thebes and Pergamon, also differ from each other in all of the above mentioned aspects: location, cult and period of use. Still, for both, the terracottas appeared, were in use for some time and then went out of use, although the cult continued. Although the state of preservation has to be considered, the Theban sanctuary, in particular, seems to have favoured the use of terracottas for only a distinct period of time – incidentally going out of use around the time the cult changed from a private to a polis cult. Without reading too much into this political change, it may be concluded that it coincided with a

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cultic dedicatory change. For Pergamon, the possible discontinued use of terracottas may be due to generally changed cult practises. The third group  – Argos, Corinth, Chios, Knossos, Lindos, Priene, Agrigento and Paestum – share the same differences as the above mentioned groups: location, cults and period of use. For all of them, there is a break in the use of the terracottas or a complete end of use, although the cult continues. In Agrigento, however, there is an apparent break in the entire cult, with a later possible small revival of the cult on the site. In the Aphrodite Sanctuary at Paestum, the practice continues beyond that of most cults in the rest of the Greek world. The types, however, become more generic, which could be a result of the stylistic changes of the time, but also at the same time may indicate a change in the perception of how the votive worked, prior to their end of use. In Argos, the lack of material from the later periods makes any theories on when and why the terracottas went out of use difficult. In Chios, the kernoi from the latest phase indicate a change of dedicatory practice, which is also seen in other sanctuaries – although with different material. However, there may also be a general lack of preserved material. In Lindos, there is a sharp break in the preserved votive terracottas, which is unlikely to reflect the actual stop in their use. It might, however, indicate cultic changes, where small votives gradually went out of use – and so the need to deposit the last dedicatory objects vanished. In Knossos, a similar development may have happened, as the votive terracottas came to an abrupt end – which again may show the lack of a need for a (final) deposition of votives. New cult practices were instituted, as shown by the architectural change into an open-air cult, the ovens and the lamps. The change in Corinth took place in the period after the Roman intervention, which may have acted as an incentive for a changed perception of the cult. While the Demeter and Kore Sanctuary may have experienced a break in the use, there seems to have been activity elsewhere in Corinth. Milena Melfi argues that the Asklepios cult in the city of Corinth was among the first, if not the first, to be brought back into (official) use, perhaps as a consequence of the Roman familiarity with the cult.53 In particular, the anatomical votives in terracotta that were found specifically in the Corinthian sanctuary were very similar to those found in nearly all Italian cults dedicated to the most important deities (especially in Etruria, Latium and some areas of Campania and Apulia). However, this practice ended when the cult of Asklepios was revived.54 With the Romans administering the new cults in Corinth and with a possible new population, the cult practices seem to change, both in the Asklepios and the Demeter sanctuaries.55 Whether or not the changes in the Demeter cult was a result

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of the surrounding political circumstances, they seem to be the most striking example of changed cult practices – not just votive practice changed, but also the architecture reflects significant changes (from dining units to temple with altars) and lead tablets became prominent, which rather than being a votive practice is related to oracles, curses and spells.56 The gradual changes of the terracottas, cults, cult practices and how they were all possibly perceived, eventually led to an end of use of the terracottas as votive offerings, that is, their “extinction”. According to Higgins, the production of Greek terracottas figurines decreased around the time of AD 100 – although with local exceptions, where it lasted up until the end of the fourth century AD.57 With the great local variations, as to the length of the period of use, the time at which the terracotta practice ended and what practices may or may not have followed after the terracottas, it seems clear that there is not one single answer as to why the practice ended. However, different changes and motives may have worked both separately and together in their influence on the various cults, in various ways, eventually leading to decline/end of the terracotta votive practice.

Changing Trends It may not be possible to clearly identify the motives behind the end of the votive practice; however, some of the prominent changing trends in the Hellenistic period might have influenced the process. If we consider the remaining characteristics of change as previously discussed, there are still the general changes to consider, such as shifts in style and motifs, as well as changes of the pantheon, which might have affected the understanding and use of the terracotta figurines. Style and Motif In the Hellenistic period, the Greek local terracotta styles to a large degree became uniform and more realistic. This was due to the popularity of the Tanagra styles, which were probably inspired by the bronze sculptures of the time. The stylistic changes led to more homogeneous motifs across the entire Greek region, particularly dominating from about 330 to 200 BC, despite the larger quantities of material retrieved from the Hellenistic period than from the previous periods.58 The repertoire became more limited, with the vast majority depicting standing women and girls (the essence of the Tanagra style) (Figure 83), seated women and girls, women at play, Aphrodite, Eros, youths and boys, grotesques, as well as dramatic scenes. In the earlier periods, the terracotta

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figurines had been typically static in their posture and were depicted in what might be considered a “noble” style – a characteristic that, as previously discussed, has led to much debate as to whether they portrayed deities, priestesses, or dedicators. However, in the new Tanagra style, the “noble” characteristic was to a large extent replaced by a more “downto-earth” style with more fluid and relaxed postures – even when tightly mantled.59 The developments brought a greater realism to the figurines, which may have been a very relevant modification to an otherwise highly stylised and greatly symbolic figurine and dedicatory practice. The dramatic pieces, with scenes from everyday life, were generally depicted with a sympathetic, social realism, while grotesques were of a nature that may have been intended to elicit (harsh) laughter.60 It is possible that the more generic terracotta types influenced the perception of how they worked as individual votive offerings for the dedicators – making the act of the dedication important mostly for the ritual act itself and less for the connection to the offering as a personal or individual representation. In regards to possible material changes, Higgins has suggested that the decline and subsequent cessation of the use of the terracotta figurines, was due to an increasingly low cost of bronze.61 Although the absence of bronzes may not be proper evidence, none of the studied sites show any indications of its use.

Fig. 83 Examples of Hellenistic Tanagra-figurines and a Classical hydrophoros, from the National Museum of Denmark, inv. nos. 866, 3253, 3689, 3690, 6348. Example of height, hydrophoros on the left: 20 cm.

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Coroplasts’ signatures begin to appear on the figurines by the second half of the second century BC (examples from Priene date to 135 BC), with an increase in the first century BC, continuing into the first century AD.62 This may also testify to a change in the perception of the terracotta figurines – as works of art or decoration, rather than cultic objects. Votive, Funerary and Domestic Use To what extent the changes in style and motifs led to changes in votive use is uncertain. If this was the case, they might have been increasingly used in contexts other than public votive use: in burials and in the private domain. It is difficult to make proper comparisons between possible growth and decline in use within the three most common spheres – the votive use, the funerary use and the private use – for several reasons: It is not only a matter of attempting to count the number of graves with figurines, the amount of figurines in sanctuaries and the amount from private houses – relative to each other and through time – but also of considering whether the registered material present us with a representative group of finds. This is not a survey possible within this context. Unfortunately, for this particular topic, broad-scale studies often focus on stylistic and typological developments and interactions and less on the actual context of the figurines. However, some tendencies might be identified at various sites in the Hellenistic period. The Tanagra figurines, which dominated the Hellenistic period, are generally associated with burials, due to the extensive finds from funerary contexts and with the possible exception of Athens, these figurines do seem to have had a funerary rather than votive use.63 This is, however, not fully representative of their use, as Violaine Jeammet and Néguine Mathieux have noted that the various Tanagra types were “indifferently distributed between tombs and temples”.64 Still, this does not leave us with evidence as to the extent of votive use. In Corinth, the Tanagra style had less of an influence than otherwise seen on Hellenistic production. Gloria S. Merker ascribes this to the fact that the terracottas in Corinth were primarily for use in sanctuaries and shrines and so the secular style of the Tanagra types had less appeal.65 In Magna Graecia, in the funerary context, the terracotta gifts increase from the average single figurine in the Archaic and Classical periods, to whole groups or sets of figurines in the late fourth century BC, while the votive use declined in the second century BC.66 The terracotta sets in burials in the Hellenistic period have also been noted at other sites, such as Athens, Boeotia, Samothrace and Myrina.67 In Tarentum a case study revealed that the terracottas were only very rarely used as funerary gifts before the middle of the fourth century BC, but increased after that and

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peaked at the end of the century.68 While the terracottas were used both in funerary and cultic contexts, there are indications for an increase of funerary use in the Hellenistic period, while the survey of votive terracotta use presented earlier indicates a decline and cessation of use in a selection of the sanctuaries in this period. How the private or domestic use of the terracottas evolved in the Hellenistic period is also not easily defined. The three most comprehensive sources for terracottas in private houses are Olynthus, Priene and Delos.69 In Olynthus, terracottas have been found both in sanctuaries and private houses, but not in funerary contexts. The destruction of the city by Philip of Macedon, in 348 BC, left some artefacts in their original contexts. This includes terracottas that can be dated prior to the destruction, although the picture is complicated slightly by the fact that parts of the city may have been reoccupied.70 Several houses contain a few terracotta figurines, which Nicholas Cahill argues may be related to domestic cults.71 The figurines are found in various rooms and in various amounts – from single figurines up to 25 figurines from the andron of the House of the comedian. Here protomai and figurines had been hanging on the wall, which might indicate various kinds of functions for the figurines.72 There is little evidence for burials in Priene and only a brief mention of terracottas found as funerary gifts in the Hellenistic period.73 Otherwise, the terracottas are normally found in both sacred and domestic contexts. The western part of the city was destroyed in 135 BC, which has provided some well-preserved contexts and provides a Terminus ante quem for the finds from there.74 The terracottas from the private houses in Priene are dated to the Hellenistic period, with those from the destroyed houses to be dated before the time of destruction. Sixteen specific houses are listed, with various find spots within the houses and various amounts, with up to thirty-five figurines from a single house.75 The figurines from Delos are primarily dated to the later Hellenistic period, from the late second century BC to the early first century AD. Unfortunately, the specific contexts are uncertain, as the majority of the figurines were excavated in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries and the find spots are only vaguely recorded.76 Of the figurines from Delos, the Archaic terracottas are primarily from sanctuaries, such as the Dioskourion, Artemision, the Apollo Sanctuary and a votive deposit from the Hera Sanctuary, etc.77 From the fifth century BC, there are also funerary finds. Domestic finds seem to appear from the fourth century BC.78 Then there is a lack of preserved figurines until the second century BC, when the number of figurines drastically increases, as do the domestic contexts.79 Caitlin E. Barrett has carried out archival work and, through the field notes of the excavators, identified more specific contexts for the topic of her study of Egyptianising figurines, the majority of which come

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from houses and residential areas.80 Of eighty-two Egyptianising figurines, forty-six contexts were identified: Twenty-four came from residential quarters, nine came from shops and eleven came from sanctuaries of non-Egyptian gods.81 These finds testify to the introduction of new cults in this period and possibly of new cultic practices, which may also have found their way into the private sphere. For other domestic contexts, it is often even more difficult to make an estimate of the amounts of – and possible changes to – terracottas in private houses. However, in relation to his study of the terracottas from Priene, Rumscheid has carried out a large survey of terracottas in private houses, which may allow us to add further evidence to the comprehension of domestic use:82 Rumscheid has registered terracottas in private houses in other sites (besides Priene) – including Olynthus and Delos. He concludes, that their use can be identified from the Archaic to the Hellenistic period in the entire Greek region.83 However, a very simplified chronological table based on the sites studied by Rumscheid allows us to further identify some trends in their use (see Table 3).84 While a group of sites are selected specifically for comparison with Priene, it seems it is still possible to cautiously identify a certain increase in the domestic use from the Archaic to the Hellenistic period. Domestic cults are rarely mentioned in the ancient texts, but are noted by Plato in Nomoi, as mentioned previously in Chapter  III: The Dedicators – Written Sources. According to Plato, domestic cults filled every house and this tendency should be governed by law. Perhaps this may further be an indication of a rise in private cults at the end of the Classical period, which might then include a rise in the private use of terracottas. The terracottas in private contexts are found in various types and amounts, in different rooms and with varying objects. This indicates that the figurines may have been used not only for private cults, but also as apotropaic “amulets”, as toys and for decoration.85 Changes in the Pantheon The changes to the pantheon in the Hellenistic period may further have influenced a change in dedicatory practice. The elements that to a large extent defined Greek cult practices were well established by the time of Hellenistic period, such as the (wide selection of) Olympian gods, the festivals, the sacrifices and the dedications. The practices were part of this universal understanding of the Greek cults – as were also, as previously argued, the terracotta figurines. The travels and usage of the figurines across the entire Greek world showed connections and unity over large distances and reinforced the notion of a common cultic community. With the Hellenistic period came societal and cultic changes, which for some

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sites may have brought a change in the perception of the cults and possibly the cult practices.86 New and foreign cults were introduced and allowed for a greater personal choice for the Greek worshippers. The cults that experienced an increased interest were to a large extent those that could provide personal benefits and take special care of the needs of the individuals, such as the Mysteries and healing cults, in particular the cults of Asklepios, Dionysos and Isis.87 The interest in the Asklepios cult is evident in Corinth and the lead tablets found in the Demeter and Kore Sanctuary after the reinstatement in the cult, which may reflect the increased interest in the individual needs that arose in the Hellenistic period, since curse tablets are quite specific expressions of individual desires. The Roman connections may have caused some religious changes, which possibly only made religious life more complex, as both old and new cults interacted and influenced each other – as also indicated by the Egyptianising figurines in Delos.88 The changes in the pantheon brought changes of people’s perceptions of the cultic functions and of the actual cult practices. The greater focus on the individual in the Hellenistic period in various cults might have made the motive for adding one’s (now more generic) figurine to a large congregation of other votives, as well as affording the universal feeling of kinship such an act might provide, less appealing. Exceptions would perhaps be the cases of specific reasons, such as healing cults, or specific rituals requiring the offering. Collecting Dedications There is no doubt, as previously discussed, that the mass of gathered votives and dedications in sanctuaries carried a shared meaning and a vibrancy that strengthened their function. The votive body seemed to gain a new function in the sanctuaries in the late Hellenistic period, in what might be a result of a greater focus on the individual, local cults and their need to promote themselves. The throng of votives typically represented a collection of both valuable and humble gifts dedicated over hundreds of years. A collection of sacred possessions that came to be a property of the cultic community cultivated and valued in its own right.89 In the Hellenistic period, the culture of active collecting grew – and influenced the understanding and perception of the temple collections. The most prominent source for this development is the Lindian Chronicle, an inscription dated to 99 BC, from the Athana Lindia Sanctuary in Lindos. The inscription included an account of the possessions of the deity as well as four of her epiphanies.90 It was a monumental inscription documenting the (partly lost) collection of dedications dating back to mythological times, mentioning offerings from Minos and Helen of Troy as well as historical figures.

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Although the inscription appears as an inventory list, it is rather an attempt to insure the history and importance of the cult through the documentation of the value and prestige of objects dedicated in the sanctuary.91 In this way the inscription illustrates the value placed on the actual collections of the sanctuaries and the history of the objects themselves. Josephine Shaya has suggested that this very inscription marked the invention of collecting in the Hellenistic world.92 While this may be an optimistic statement, the inscription certainly indicates a change in perception of the votive collections in the sanctuaries, possibly beginning in the first century BC. This tendency may have further affected the attraction of the terracotta figurines as votives. In essence, rather than being a matter of selecting a votive offering as part of the shared religious perceptions, for the cultic space, for the deity and for the individual needs, it was now also a matter of what one added to the collection. The dedications acquired two meanings; as the cultic, vibrating mass of pious votive objects; and as the representative historical collection that aimed for prominence. While those terracotta figurines that had already played their part in the sanctuaries for many years probably possessed a sentimental and historical value, newer figurines were maybe just not interesting enough for the late Hellenistic age – they simply went out of fashion for this particular purpose.

Continuities The use of terracotta figurines as votives eventually faded out, but was in some instances replaced by other cult practices. The kernoi found in the last recorded phase from Chios are unique for this small survey, but interesting as indications of a change of practice. The curse tablets are likewise only found in Corinth (in this survey), as an example of a cult practice which apparently begins after the end of use of the terracottas. As previously discussed, they seem to indicate a changed perception of the cult and its function. Corinth is especially noteworthy, due also to the large amount of both miniatures and regular sized lamps found on the site. Lamps are also found in Knossos and to some extent in Lindos (Figure 84). While lamps were not unusual as votive offerings, or as cultic paraphernalia, the rise in amounts following the decline of terracotta figurines indicates a shift in cultic practices, not just in one site, but several. The amounts in Corinth are the most evident indications of a cult practice at the site, which “runs counter” to the terracottas.93 Nancy Bookidis and Elizabeth G. Pemberton has studied the use of lamps in sanctuaries in connection to the finds from Corinth and concludes that they “are especially characteristic of sanctuaries dedicated to Demeter and Kore”.94 They are

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also considered to be more frequent in sanctuaries with fertility-aspects, or healing and transition-rites functions – which do allow for a wide spectrum of deities.95 The lamps are often ascribed a chthonic quality (as are the curse tablets), partly due to the fact that they might reflect nocturnal rituals.96 Such rituals could be a consequence of a relation to the Mysteries and so secret rites.97 There was a general increase in numbers of lamps in sanctuaries in the late Hellenistic and Roman periods. This might have been a result of the heightened interest in mystic cults in these periods.98 The lamps did of course have the practical function of providing light, but this could also be considered a ritual function. Pausanias mentions how incense and oil lamps could be lit on the altar, presumably to draw the attention of the deity.99 In this case it was for divination, a use which was seen in a selection of cults, in particular for Isis.100

Fig. 84 A selection of lamps from Lindos. The National Museum of Denmark, inv. nos. 10674, 10678, 10679, 10681, 10860, 10861, 10862, 10863. Example of measurements, metal lamp in top right corner: L. 9.5 cm, W. 6 cm.

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The lamps generally continued as votive offerings in Greek sanctuaries into Late Antiquity and found their way into Christian practices as well – despite the fact, that they were strongly identified with pagan rituals.101 In that sense, the lamps managed to do what the terracotta figurines failed to do, which, according to Higgins, was due to the fact that the terracotta practice was “too deeply rooted in paganism to survive the triumph of Christianity”.102 The lamps might reflect a difference and potential change in the perception of votives and the role they played between the deity and the dedicator – where the focus was on the intent of the dedicator, the need of the individual, rather than the pleasurable gifts. And where the possibility of interacting with the dedication and so the deity, through an actual functionality, was to be desired. The terracotta figurines and the clay lamps shared both similarities and differences as cultic objects. The many benefits of the clay were shared – a cheap, accessible material and easily produced, as both were mould made and they were unavailable for reuse or recycling. Their sizes allowed both groups to fit in small spaces and be placed close to the most sacred space – whether on an altar or near the cult image. The terracottas were capable of conveying specific ritual or cultic attributes and characteristics, for both specific and universal aspects within Greek cults. For the lamps, their ability to convey cultic or religious symbolism was less obvious, although there was space on the upper surface of the lamps for figural representations. Still, seen from a distance, their appearances could be very homogeneous. The primary difference between the two votive groups was possibly the ability of the lamps for a physical interaction with the worshippers. For the terracottas their greatest ability to actively interact with the dedicator was limited to the moment of placement in the act of dedication. For the lamps there was actual ritual functions to carry out, which could last for as long as there was oil to burn. The most obvious function seems for the lamps to be able to provide light, possibly for nocturnal rituals and for the attention of the deity, sometimes for divination. However, as seen still today, the flame in itself may have held a symbolic meaning for the worshipper, as an actively communicating mediator between the deity and the dedicator. Despite the symbolism on upper surfaces of the lamps, they were still able to function on a more generic and thus more abstract level than the terracottas. In comparison, the figurines may have represented a more basic symbolic presence and the realism of the Hellenistic figurines may further have obstructed a possible desired feel of a venerable interaction with the divine.

2  Discussion and Preliminary Conclusions

The period in which the use of the votive terracottas comes to an end is complicated by the many different changes within many different areas and so not necessarily easily understood. The various times and ways in which the terracotta practice comes to an end seem to be a consequence of both local and (a selection of) “global” changes and trends, working together. The sites share similarities, which are the reason for the similar end results, but also differences that provide the differing manner of “ending” identified in the survey. Change can be clearly identified within most of the categories discussed: number, style, motif, material, positioning and changes in the pantheon. The change in numbers is clearly identified – and is the reason for the study of further changes. There is a general decline, with exceptions and end of use in the Hellenistic period – with a few exceptions. The change in style leads to a change in motifs, which creates a new realistic, but more limited repertoire of figurines. Although a change in material cannot be identified, it can also not be ruled out as factor in the end of use. The change in location of use may be interpreted as a change in the sphere of use, from a public votive use to an increase in funerary and domestic use of the figurines. The changes in the pantheon lead to both a larger selection of deities, new practices, as well as new perceptions and use of the existing cults – though eventually being replaced by a new religion (Christianity). In conclusion, there is change within every category that might influence a cultic practice. The votive terracotta practice had a strong presence in many Greek sanctuaries for several hundred years. The practice, which must have worked as a self-affirming tradition, going through little change over hundreds of years, came under pressure in the Hellenistic period from many different sides at once. The style, motifs and symbolism changed which may consequently have changed the perception of the figurines as suitable – or interesting – votives, as the new realism and repertoire made them more appealing for other uses in other spheres, thus possibly rendering

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them less “noble” – and less “sacred”. Therefore, this may be interpreted as a very clear example of object agency. By evolving iconographically and taking new shapes, the objects actively affected a cultic practice and changed the fashions of the network in which they operated. The introduction of other cultic options with new objects and new practices – which also to a greater degree catered to the individual – may have further detracted from the “old” practice. The quote from Plato also indicates that the perception of the incessant practice of giving gifts to the gods – especially if one was sick or a woman(!) – was questioned and may for some have seemed suitable only for the weak-minded or superstitious. The terracotta figurines may not have had the grandeur that seem to be increasingly in demand in the collections of the Hellenistic sanctuaries, to which they may even have seemed old-fashioned and superfluous. Furthermore, their visually obvious physical embodiment of cultic characteristics and perceptions, as well as with their growing realism, the figurines might even have appeared less sophisticated in comparison to the more abstract lamps – which also allowed for a stronger interaction with the ritual practice. While only one or two of these changes might not have caused great ripples in the sea of the votive terracotta figurines, altogether they created many and increasingly stronger waves, which eventually caused the practice to wash away.

Chapter VI: Discussion and Conclusions

This work has been framed around the methodology of chaîne opératoire, which has provided the key links in the chain of this life-cycle study. With the purpose of understanding the use of terracotta figurines as votive offerings, four primary links have been analysed: How the figurines were made and moved about; how they acted as mediators for the dedicators; how they were deposited and discarded; and how the votive practise transformed, ending in the conceptual demise and termination of the votive terracottas. Following these stages of the terracottas also serves to illustrate the flow model presented by Michael B. Schiffer (Figure 2), which highlights the procurement of the material and the manufacturing (production), use and the discard. The Greek votive terracottas have not previously been studied in such a broad-scale perspective. The aim of this project has been to apply such a view to the small votives that appeared in abundance in multiple sanctuaries through hundreds of years and to challenge the view of these offerings as inexpensive, inconspicuous votives for everyday use for the common worshipper. Working through the different aspects of the terracottas in this fashion has revealed much about their use and roles as votives in ancient Greece. In each stage of the life cycle, the terracottas interacted within different networks and their roles changed accordingly.

First Stage When studying the process of manufacturer and trade with the specific purpose of a greater understanding of why the terracottas were chosen and how they functioned as votives, the affiliations between these practical issues and the votive use becomes clearer – and so highlights otherwise overlooked connections within this particular sphere. The creation of the figurines provides many reasons for their wide distribution and use, as well as indications of their worth. The clay material of which they were made was attainable at the majority of sites – albeit in varying qualities and colours. To achieve the proper colours of the product, or the desired consistency to work with, different clays were mixed. Still, it was not always possible to attain a suitable quality from the local resources. For such places, clay could become a commodity in its own right and was imported for local production, instead of the finished pottery and figurines  – as Delos provides examples for. This indicates an interest and value in creating high quality products – rather than just having something inexpensive available for the masses.

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Fig. 85 A terracotta mould of a female head. The National Museum of Denmark, inv. no. 3340. H. 4.6 cm.

Moulds made the manufacturing faster and allowed for a generally higher artistic quality of the product – but also a greater range of worth (Figure 5 and 85). The figurines could encompass both quick and roughly made objects, as well as those more meticulously created – elaborate artistic pieces with much detail in both shape and colours. The technique also made proper mass production possible, as testified by the (occasional) large amounts of the same type of figurine – even in the hundreds. However, the option of mass production does not appear to have been commonly used within the sanctuaries and the votive use; rather, here the selection of figurines was quite varied, as demonstrated by the number of types and their frequency in the sanctuaries. This shows an interest in providing an often broad selection of types, in order to supply the consumers with figurines suitable for every cultic occasion. Close interactions between the sanctuaries and the production sites can be testified in many areas, which indicate that the figurines could be produced specifically for votive use – both in large and small numbers, which implies a variety of cultic roles for the figurines. Furthermore, their numbers and consequent use, may not have been quite as overwhelming as the accumulated votive finds suggest. Once the votive terracottas are

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considered within their period of use, the actual flow of figurines appears to be more modest than generally assumed. This indicates that they were not as much cheap and easy offerings, as they were worthy and suitable offerings and perhaps acquired for specific rituals. As the clay could be transported across long distances, so could the figurines, both individually and in bulk. This is a very revealing fact about the figurines in regards to their value, both in terms of cost and meaning. Basically, they had a financial value, which made it worthwhile for the traders to transport them. Furthermore, they carried a cultic function and significance, which not only served the crew on board the ships, but would work actively to connect Greek cultic values and function as identity markers. Their votive use served to solidify a sense of shared community and identity throughout the Greek world. This last fact is absolutely crucial for understanding the widespread use of the figurines in the Greek sanctuaries and is among those questions raised by this study, which should be explored further. The distribution of figurines has been studied to a large extent, but primarily for their stylistic characteristics and to identify trade connections. The value of the figurines, which made them worthwhile to move across large distances, challenges the notion of them as cheap votives for the masses. Their cultic meaning added to their worth. The fact that they were moved and used, in large and small numbers, across the entire Mediterranean should be further investigated, as this is a great testament to their universal cultic connections and use. These conclusions on meaning and use have naturally led us to the next step for this figurine study:

Second Stage The next step defined and studied in the lifecycle was the role of the figurines as votives – where they were dedicated to the deities and actively mediated between the parties involved in the cultic actions. The questions addressed in this stage included what benefits the small votives possessed, which made them (so) attractive as votive offerings, whether they can be used to identify a particular cult and who might have been compelled to use a particular figurine and why? While in situ finds of terracottas within the sacred areas are few, there are many indications as to where and how dedications could be placed in the sanctuaries. These indications provide good evidence for one of the considerable benefits of the terracotta figurines as votive offerings – their flexibility and capability to be placed on most surfaces within the sacred area and as close to the deities as possible. It is interesting that there is a

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very limited amount of iconographic evidence for their use – only rarely are the figurines themselves depicted in other media. One reason may relate to the ubiquity of the terracottas – there was no need to depict the inescapable objects. Written sources testify to the crowded spaces in the sanctuaries, where regulations had to be enacted to (try to) restrict the urges of the worshippers to put their dedications wherever they thought best. Such regulations are found from several sanctuaries, indicating a general need for control and most likely a frustration with the lack of respect for free movement and uncluttered space, in an attempt to get the best possible location in the sanctuary for the votive – every time. On the other hand, these regulations show a respect for the masses of dedicatory objects congesting the sacred spaces as entities that were not simply to be cleared out on a whim, but left as long as possible. In such throngs, the figurines benefitted from their limited size. One of the primary issues in the study of the votive terracottas has been the extent to which iconographic details identify the deity to whom they were dedicated. An extensive survey of figurine types from a wide selection of votive terracotta groups demonstrates that this should be done with great caution and only in connection with other indicators – such as other finds in the same context – preferably the particular setting of the sanctuary, inscriptions on site and other written sources. The terracottas alone show many iconographic characteristics, which testify to particular cultic aspects, as well as functions and perceptions of the deities and the rituals that took place in the cult. However, individual motifs are primarily of a universal kind and typically refer to flexible aspects, which can be identified as part of many different deities and their cults. While the terracottas may not be useful for specific identifications, the universal qualities of the figurines are highly revealing as to how the Greek cults and their deities actively operated for the worshippers in the different societies and poleis. When a ritual function was needed, or a wish to be addressed, the specific identity of the deities was less important than their (universal) divine powers and their perceived (or bestowed) cultic aspects. In other words, the Greek worshippers did not necessarily consider their almighty gods strictly bound by their repertoire of duties or assigned responsibilities, but able to assist with whatever problem the worshippers required their help for – while not denying that some deities may have been better skilled in some areas than others. Furthermore, the affections and preference for the local, well-known gods, probably also had an influence in everyday cult-life. A few tendencies and differences are identifiable within the material studied. There is no doubt that the female gender dominates the terracotta material, also due to the selected material, although exceptions can be

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identified in the Dionysian-related cults. There are also deities that were more frequent receivers of votive terracottas, such as Demeter and Kore, which implies that there were specific rituals involving votive terracottas related to their cults. Although the evidence is very limited and somewhat mixed, there are indications that women may have dominated as dedicators and in the active placement of the votive terracottas in the sanctuaries and perhaps also in participating in specific rituals relating to the terracottas, but their role was often on behalf of the family unit. Many dedications in the Greek sanctuaries suggest the involvement of the entire family, in person or in spirit. It is highly likely, that several members of the family would take part in the dedicatory rituals. The figurines served various parties, in different ways, in their roles as votives. Their central role was as mediator for mutually beneficial exchanges between the deity, the dedicator and the cultic community. For the dedicators in particular, the votive figurine played several roles. The votive interacted directly with the dedicator, in that brief moment when the act of dedication took place, becoming an extension of the mind and body of the worshipper. This provided the much desired feeling of closeness with the deity. Once placed, the votive would also have played several important roles on behalf of the dedicator. The figurine was the pleasurable gift, the agalma, which was meant to satisfy the deity. The memorial function, the mnêma, served (even without inscriptions) to remind both the deity and the cultic community of the dedicatory act. The votive served as a continuous presence in front of the cult image, acting on behalf of the dedicator. At the same time, the votive figurine joined the mass of votives that formed a vibrant congregation within the sanctuary, exuding its own authority and enhancing both the individual and collective cultic force. The numbers of accumulated figurines from sanctuaries show their popularity and suitability as votive offerings. This is a testament to their flexibility, both in placement and cultic symbolism, as well as their ability to serve all aspects necessary for the interaction between the deity, the dedicator and the cultic community, making them a suitable dedication for most occasions. The interactions of the votives and other actors in the sanctuaries, as well as the universal symbolism used in the sacred spaces – which could function as central meeting places for the entire polis – are areas which could benefit from further investigations, in order to understand which media were used and how in order to best communicate the cultic (as well as secular) messages within the cultic community.

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Third Stage The third step in the life cycle of the terracotta figurines is where they were removed from their active role in front of the deity, mediating between the different parties within the cult and placed in the ground, in a deposit or discard – in what may possibly be considered a continuation of their work. The crowded sanctuaries at a certain point had to clear out some space, which has left us with votive or waste deposits. These deposits are invaluable sources for the understanding of the cultic and depositional practice in the Greek sanctuaries. The criteria as to how to define and identify ritual or votive deposits are difficult to determine and rather than a fixed set, a variety of characteristics assessed together, allow for such recognition of contexts. The archaeological remains must often be studied through the records of previous scholars, which further challenge these identifications and the theories and archaeological practices of the time can be reflected in the archaeological archive – though not necessarily. A survey of find contexts has been carried out of the published material from a selected group of sanctuaries, while taking into account the circumstances of the time in which they were excavated and recorded. The contexts in which the terracottas can be found, as well as the objects they were accompanied by, reveal much about the way in which the votive terracottas were perceived and what role they played within these interactions in the third stage of their life cycle. Their contexts could be divided into three categories: the primary ritual deposition, the secondary votive deposition and the tertiary contexts, such as fill layers. Only a few, but interesting, examples are identified of the first context, but they imply that this way of ritually interacting with terracottas was not unusual. The majority of the finds were of the secondary category, with votive deposits, which in itself is greatly revealing of a consistent practice of deposits in the Greek sanctuaries. The third category of the contexts was also frequent, showing how the cultic objects might have been put into practical use, after they had fulfilled their primary or secondary purpose. Some contexts cannot be included in these categories, but illustrate the complexity of use and deposition in the sanctuaries. The content of the depositions show what kind of objects were eligible for deposition, which seems to primarily be those that were unsuitable for reuse or recycling – which may have been to the benefit of the terracottas as a votive choice, as this might allow them a long and undisturbed presence in the sanctuaries. The dating of the objects attests to the fact that votive offerings supposedly could be left for long periods of time in the sanctuaries – until they had “ended their purpose” – as the deposits contain objects that may span over several hundred years. However, cases of redepositing have also been identified and so there is the possibility that

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several deposits could be gathered into one. In both cases, this indicates the respect for the votive objects in regard to their purpose as votives, the fact that they belonged to the deity and the force of the vibrant assemblage of votives, which was at work in the sanctuaries. The power of the mass of objects could continue in the votive depositions, where they were typically placed with care and even occasionally exposed to a breakage ritual, which testifies to the belief that the votives continued to be powerful objects, working still when in the ground. The vibrant mass continued to work, even when out of sight. It is within the cultic deposits that we most often encounter the votives and much is still to be learned from this third stage in the life cycle of the terracotta figurines. The use of votive deposits, the objects chosen to be deposited and the understanding of the continued votive force at work, even in the ground, are greatly revealing for Greek cultic practices and the perception of objects at work – and would benefit from continued studies.

Fourth Stage In the fourth and final, stage in the ancient life-cycle of the terracotta figurines, they proliferate and gradually, in various ways, go out of use as votive offerings. The concept of votive terracotta figurines was brought to an end. The definitions of change and continuity within the religious sphere and the cult practices were treated, in order to understand how different cults and cult practices may interact and influence each other – and how they can be understood and defined in relation to each other. For a specific cult practice, it was also necessary to identify the characteristics for change, as well as continuity. A survey of a group of sanctuaries and the period of use for the votive terracottas in these sites, has been carried out in order to identify possible tendencies in the end of use. Three groups could be discerned: in the first group, the terracotta figurines seem to have been an integral part of the cult from the time it originated till the end of use of the cult site. In the rather small second group, the terracottas were in use only within a limited time period, with the practice originating after the cult site was founded and ending again before it went out of use. The third group was the most varied, but characterised by the fact that in all of them the use of votive terracotta figurines originated when the cult began and then either experienced a discontinuity, or came to an end, despite the continuation of the cult – in the Hellenistic period or later. The Hellenistic period is the primary frame for the changes in the votive terracotta practice. This seems to be the consequence of several changes within various categories regarding the figurines. Specifically, for

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the figurines, there is a change in the style and iconography. The impact of this development may be the primary reason for the change of use. The motifs may have changed the perception of the figurines, which simultaneously made them less fitting for cultic use and more interesting for domestic and funerary uses. Although no larger studies of these changes have been made, there are indications for the increase of domestic and funerary uses at the same time as the general decline of votive use starts to appear. Hence, the change of the objects themselves also changed the way they were used and worked within their associated networks, which reflects the object agency at work. The Hellenistic period is a time of change within the pantheon, as new cults appear and bring with them new cult practices. New understandings for cultic participation also seem to influence the already well-established practices, such as the votive use. These changes can even be identified directly in the terracotta material and it is probable that they were part of what led to the end of the terracotta use. The perceptions of the large groupings of votives, within which each votive terracotta was an active participant, seem likewise to have undergone a change in this period. The concept of collections appeared and created a focus on the dedications as a prestige item rather than a collective force and small dedications, like figurines, may have lost part of their appeal in the process. A transformed continuance of the practice may be identified in the use of votive lamps. While they were in use in several sanctuaries simultaneously with the terracottas, in others they appear during the decline of or end of terracotta use and increase in numbers, which indicates a new practice. They share similarities with the terracottas, but offer a more abstract symbolism and a more participatory role within the ritual since the lamps have a practical function as well, which may in the end have made them more attractive. The lamps were the most resistant to change as they continued into Late Antiquity and became adopted into Christianity, though they eventually were replaced by candles. The last period of use for the terracottas was complex and it is impossible to point to one thing that caused the end of the votive terracottas. Rather, it was many changes, which together affected the practice in various ways and inevitably led to an end of use. While it might be impossible to find direct connections, the possible changes in votive, funerary and domestic use would benefit greatly from a larger and in-depth survey – although the amount of excavated and published material may not yet be sufficient to answer such question. The votive terracotta figurines have taken us through several stages of their life-cycle, while interacting with multiple actors and within various contexts along the way. All of this has revealed the diverse roles of the

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votive terracottas as central to the Greek cultic world. They were equally well suited for production on a large or small scale and capable of catering to consumers and worshippers from all layers of society. They could connect directly with the dedicators and the deities, help shape identity and mediate for the both of them. They could also enhance their votive role through the power of numbers. They stayed sacred from the moment of dedication, through their long presence in the sanctuary, to their “absence” as out of sight but powerful deposits. Only after hundreds of years of intense use, did the world change enough to gradually and reluctantly let them go. Today they are telling their stories through the archaeological record, reminding us of their once overwhelming sacred presence.

Abstract

Between Deity and Dedicator. The Life and Agency of Greek Votive Terracotta Figurines. This is a study of the Greek terracotta figurines in their role as votive offerings. The figurines have been found in large amounts in a broad range of sanctuaries throughout the entire Greek world. The motivation for this project is to understand how the figurines functioned in their role as offerings, why they were so widespread and why the practice of dedicating them came to an end around the Hellenistic period. In order to handle the large amounts of terracotta material found in the sanctuaries, the study has been framed within the chaîne opératoire method. The intent is to follow the key links in the chain of the life-cycle of the terracottas. With the purpose of understanding the role of terracotta figurines as votive offerings, four focal points have been analysed: The first, Making and Moving, deals with the production and distribution of the figurines in regards to their use as votive offerings. The mould-made objects could be produced on both a small and large scale, for both specific cults and general sales and they were traded across the entire Greek world. It was worthwhile to transport them over long distances, which testifies both to their economic worth and their value as a universal cultic object that worked to unify Greek worshippers and cults in the Mediterranean. The second, Dedicating and Mediating, studies the primary active role of the figurines as a dedicatory object. They had an advantage as small and flexible dedications in the crowded sanctuaries, with both specific and universal cultic symbolism, which could cover several different dedicatory purposes. Their use across several sanctuaries reveals that cultic aspects were flexible, as the same aspects could be found in various deities. The third, Depositing and Discarding, analyses the practice of votive depositions and how the figurines were perceived in the stage where they were removed from their active purpose in the sanctuary. The contexts

268Abstract

and content of the deposits indicate that the depositions would take place only when necessary, due to the essential sacred work of the terracotta figurines both on behalf of the dedicators and in acknowledgement of their potent force as a group – a work that continued even in the ground. The fourth, Transformation and Termination, studies how and when the votive practice came to an end and which circumstances may have caused it. The greatest changes occurred in the Hellenistic period, when a variety of developments within the figurines themselves, in the pantheon and in the perception of both the cult practices and the votive groupings in the sanctuaries, may altogether in the end have caused the use of votive terracottas to cease.

Tables

References for Table 1 Type Female/Male Ratio and Children – The Athena Sanctuary in Lindos. Out of the ca. 2,740 votive terracottas found, the majority of about 2,300 figurines portray women (83.9 %). Male figurines are present with about 120 figurines, including 41 figurines of Zeus (4.4 %). 46 figurines portray children (1.7 %). – The Acropolis Sanctuary in Emporio, Chios. 49 figurines have been found. 27 of these may be female (55.1 %) and 7 may be male (14.3 %). There are no identifiable children.1 – The Acropolis Sanctuary in Gela. There are 257 figurines. This includes 230 females (89.5 %), 4 males (1.6 %) and no children.2 – The Artemision on Thasos. The total amount of anthropomorphic terracotta figurines is 2,337. Female motives make up 2165 pieces (92.6 %), male motives make up 147 pieces (5.4 %) and children are portrayed by just 14 pieces (0.6 %).3 – The Artemision in Brauron. This sanctuary has yielded 3,700 discernible terracotta pieces. Altogether 870 pieces have been chosen for publication. From the early period, the first ca. 112 catalogue numbers cover so-called primitive figurines, which cannot be safely identified. For the remaining part, the counts are for the females 589 pieces (67.7 %), for the males 31 pieces (3.6 %) and for the children only 8 pieces (0.9 %).4 – The Heraion in Argos. From here come ca. 3,580 terracottas, including animals (2,865 terracottas, not counting animals). Apart from the unidentifiable or mythological creatures, there are about 2,415 female pieces (67.5 %) and 66 male pieces (1.8 %) and 1 figurine portrays a child (0.03 %).5 – The Heraion in Tiryns. Around 3,000 figurines have been found here. 171 catalogue numbers have been published. A large amount of about 500 figurines is of the so-called primitive type, but female and 429 other figurines are defined as female, so altogether 929 female pieces are mentioned (31 %). There are 15 male riders (0.5 %) and no identifiable children.6 – The Demeter and Kore Sanctuary in Corinth. Around 24,000 terracottas have been found. While specific numbers of figurines are not otherwise given, the type categories give an indication as to the division. Out of altogether 2,210 listed types, 865 cover female categories (39.1 %), 110 are male types (5 %) and 135 are children types (6.1 %), while 110 types may cover both males and females and so cannot be included.7 – The Demeter Sanctuary in Knossos. This sanctuary has yielded around 5,000–6,000 fragments, considered to represent 2,000–3,000 figurines. 273 types are published. The females cover 206 catalogue numbers (75.5 %), the males cover 12 numbers (4.4 %) and the children cover 15 numbers (5.5 %).8 – The Demeter and Kore Sanctuary in Priene. 218 terracotta figurines were found in the old excavations. New excavations have yielded more terracottas, which are unfortunately not yet published in detail, but they are mentioned by C. Schneider and Frank Rumscheid. Rumscheid lists altogether ca. 48–56 new figurines, of which ca. 21–26 were found east of the sanctuary.9 That is altogether ca. 266–274 terracottas mentioned in publications. They are included as best as possible in the table.

272Tables The percentages are calculated based on 274 terracottas. There are ca. 177 females (64.6 %)  – including 22 of the so-called “Baubo” figurines  – and 3 men (1.1 %). There are 11 Erotes, 12 boys, 12 girls and 24 heads of Erotes or children, altogether 59 children (21.5 %).10 – The Santa Venera Sanctuary in Paestum. 5,355 fragments of terracottas have been found and 2,909 have been catalogued and published. 2,521 of these portray females (86.7 %), 23 portray males (0.8 %) and 38 portray children (1.3 %).11 – In the Apollo Sanctuary in Aegina. Around 99 terracottas were found, with ca. 40 females (40 %), ca. 3 males (3 %) and 1 identifiable child (1 %). The distribution here is similar to finds from the sanctuaries of female deities.12 – The Kabiroi Sanctuary at Thebes. This is an example of a site with a predominance of male terracotta figurines. 426 pieces are published from the site. 13 The males make up the majority. Young males cover 171 catalogue numbers and adult males cover 20 catalogue numbers, altogether 191 (45 %) and 33 figurines portray boys (7.7 %). Only 28 of the votive terracotta figurines portray females (6.6 %).14 Seated females (As this is a subcategory of females, the seated females are inserted in the table in italics.) – Lindos (476): Blinkenberg 1931, cat. nos. 2119–2246b, 2296–2310, 2944–2967. – Chios (5): Boardman 1967, cat. nos. 127–129, 143, 145. – Gela (55): Panvini and Sole 2005, 38–40, 81, 122–126, 131–134, 172–175, 178–182, 192. – Thasos (1,397): Huysecom-Haxhi 2009, 571. – Brauron (221): Mitsopoulos-Leon 2009, cat. nos. 12–32a, 165–197, 379–486, 487–533; 2015, cat. nos. 71–79. – Argos (1,216): Waldstein et al. 1905 cat. nos. 12–14, 33–35, 49–51, 57–63, 77–81, 85–92, 129, 184–200, 229. – Tiryns (500 primitives + 104): Frickenhaus 1912, 59, 61–65. – Corinth (ca. 90 types): Merker 2000, 3. – Knossos (27): Higgins 1973, 77–80, cat. nos. 142–168. – Priene (9): Rumscheid 2006, 65, 132, nos. 15–16, cat. nos. 80–81. – Paestum (1,786): Ammerman 2002, 29, 101. – Aegina (ca. 9): Margreiter 1988, cat. nos. 147, 149, 175–178, 184, 204, 207. – Thebes (2): Schmaltz 1974, cat. nos. 301, 305. Dolls – Lindos (9): Blinkenberg 1931, cat. nos. 2386–2390b, 2941–2943. – Chios (1?): Boardman 1967, cat. no. 153. – Brauron (25): Mitsopoulos-Leon 2009, cat. nos. 643–647; 2015, cat. nos. 7, 8–11, 12–25. – Corinth (990 types): Merker 2000, 3. – Knossos (2): Higgins 1973, 91, cat. nos. 267–268. – Paestum (1?): Ammerman 2002, 267. – Aegina (1): Margreiter 1988, cat. no. 187. – Thebes (2?): Schmaltz 1974, cat. nos. 376–377. Protomai – Lindos (704): Blinkenberg 1931, cat. nos. 2441–2535, 3091–3144. – Chios (3): Boardman 1967, cat. nos. 117, 135–136. – Gela (44): Panvini and Sole 2005, 64, 82, 135–143, 183–186, 192. – Thasos (450): Huysecom-Haxhi 2009, 571.

Tables

273

– Brauron (47): Mitsopoulos-Leon 2009, cat. nos. 198–244 (245–291 are possible, but undefinable). – Argos (56): Waldstein et al. 1905, cat. nos. 216–226, 230–233, 239–240. – Tiryns (3): Frickenhaus 1912, 84, cat. nos. 147–147a. – Corinth (ca. 50 types): Merker 2000, 3. Please note that at the time of this study Klinger (2021) had unfortunately not been published yet, but should be considered for future research. – Knossos (12 types): Higgins 1973, 83–84, cat. nos. 196–207. – Priene (1): Rumscheid 2016, 328. – Paestum (105 busts and protomai): Ammerman 2002, 292. – Aegina (6): Margreiter 1988, cat. nos. 154–157, 181–182. – Thebes (6 male protomai): Schmaltz 1974, cat. nos. 346–351. Temple boys (As this is a subcategory of children, the temple boys are inserted in the table in italics.) – Lindos (39): Blinkenberg 1931, cat. nos. 2364–2376, 2925–2934. – Thasos (14): Huysecom-Haxhi 2009, 571–572. – Brauron (4): Mitsopoulos-Leon 2009, cat. no. 535; 2015, cat. nos. 3–4b. – Corinth (at least 23 types): Merker 2000, 68. – Knossos (3 types): Higgins 1973, 86, cat. nos. 226–228. – Paestum (1): Ammerman 2002, 167. – Aegina (1): Margreiter 1988, cat. no. 186. – Thebes (20): Schmaltz 1974, 173–174, cat. nos. 264–283. Kourotrophoi – Lindos (ca. 76): Blinkenberg 1931, cat. nos. 2125, 2145, 2256–2259, 2252, 2226–2230, 2242–2244, 2944–2950, 2986–2997. – Gela (4): Panvini and Sole 2005, 135 inv. 8443, 181–182 inv. 8444, 8477, 11157. – Brauron (7): Mitsopoulos-Leon 2009, cat. nos. 487–492. – Argos (19 + 1 pregnant figurine): Waldstein et al. 1905, cat. nos. 37, 38, 39, 57, 58, 85, 86, 87, pregnant figurine cat. no. 124. – Corinth (2 + 4 Hellenistic actor types): Merker 2000, 70–71. – Knossos (3): Higgins 1973, 66–67, 72, cat. nos. 60, 60bis, 96. – Priene (2): Higgins 1954, cat. no. 344; Rumscheid 2006, 65, 132, cat. no. 82. – Paestum (18): Ammerman 2002, 101. – Thebes (1 pregnant figurine, possibly an actor): Schmaltz 1974, cat. no. 338. Bes, daimons and dwarfs – Lindos (9 daimons [1 has a child on the shoulder] and ca. 10 Bes faience figurines): Blinkenberg 1931, cat. nos. 2314–2318, 1228–1236. – Gela (1 Bes): Panvini and Sole 2005, 37. – Thasos (17 daimons): Huysecom-Haxhi 2009, 266–277, cat. nos. 1559–1575. – Argos (8 Bes figurines or daimons): Waldstein et al. 1905, 13, cat. nos. 111–113. – Corinth (1 dwarf type): Merker 2000, 199, cat. no. H382. – Aegina (2 daimons): Margreiter 1988, cat. nos. 151–152. – Satyr, Silenus and Pan: – Lindos (21 satyrs/Silenus and 10 Pan): Blinkenberg 1931, cat. nos. 2319–2331, 2342, 2888–2895. – Thasos (4 Silenus): Huysecom-Haxhi 2009, 281–282, cat. nos. 1577–1579. – Argos (2 satyrs/Silenus): Waldstein et al. 1905, cat. nos. 204–205. – Corinth (ca. 7 satyrs/Silenus and Pan types): Merker 2000, 78, 199, cat. nos. C274– C282, H385–H387.

274Tables – Knossos (1 satyr and 2 Pan types): Higgins 1973, 87, cat. nos. 235–237. – Aegina (1 Pan): Margreiter 1988, cat. no. 213. – Thebes (48 Silenus and 11 Pan): Schmaltz 1974, cat. nos. 1–59.

Tables

275

Attributes The objects listed in the table are only counted when they are attributes, not when they appear as independent terracottas. Flowers – Lindos (52 females): Blinkenberg 1931, cat. nos. 2151i, 2154–2157, 2166–2167, 2174, 2177–2178, 2212–2213, 3044. – Gela (1 female): Panvini and Sole 2005, 37. – Thasos (59 females): Huysecom-Haxhi 2009, 574. – Brauron (a group of 50 females are holding a flower, a fruit, or a bird): Mitsopoulos-Leon 2009, 131, 138. – Argos (2 females): Waldstein et al. 1905, 15 no. 4, cat. nos. 166, 174. – Tiryns (3 females and 18 figurines have a hole in their hand, possibly for a real flower): Frickenhaus 1912, 67–68. – Corinth (5 types of females with one or several flowers): Merker 2000, 43, cat. nos. C13, C71, H26, H28, H29. – Knossos (2 figurines with a flower or fruit): Higgins 1973, 59, cat. nos. 14, 17. – Paestum (11 females): Ammerman 2002, 29, 101. – Aegina (1 female possibly with a flower): Margreiter 1988, cat. no. 183. – Thebes (3 females possibly with a flower): Schmaltz 1974, cat. nos. 289–291. Fruit – Lindos (36 with fruit and 15 with a fruit basket, which may also be sacrificial cakes): Blinkenberg 1931, cat. nos. 2146–2151h, 2169–2172, 2300, 2441–2443, 2994, 3023–3029. – Gela (2 with a bird or fruit, 5 with fruit and 1 holding a basket of fruit): Panvini and Sole 2005, 37, 81, 129–130, 177–178. – Thasos (3 females): Huysecom-Haxhi 2009, 574. – Brauron (a group of 50 females are holding fruit, a flower, or a bird): Mitsopoulos-Leon 2009, 131, 138. – Argos (4): Waldstein et al. 1905, 15 no. 4, cat. nos. 165, 172, 173, 197. – Tiryns (4 types): Frickenhaus 1912, 68. – Corinth (3 types possibly with fruit [or a ball]): Merker 2000, cat. nos. C82, C83, I10. – Knossos (2 possibly with a flower or fruit and 2 with grapes): Higgins 1973, 59, 75, cat. nos. 14, 17, 124–125. – Priene (8 “Baubo” figurines with a fruit bowl): Rumscheid 2006, 65, 67, 132, cat. nos. 65–66, 71, 303. – Paestum (6 with fruit and 1,570 fragments of females [234 estimated figurines] with a fruit basket or a bowl of fruit): Ammerman 2002, 29, 101. – Aegina (5 with fruit or a bird): Margreiter 1988, 27, cat. nos. 167–171. Birds – Lindos (33): Blinkenberg 1931, cat. nos. 2106–2107, 2109, 2126, 2155, 2159–2160, 2163– 2165, 2179–2183, 2251, 2280. – Chios (2): Boardman 1967, cat. nos. 120, 139. – Gela (2 with either a bird or fruit and 8 with a bird): Panvini and Sole 2005, 37, 42–43, 81, 134, 180. – Thasos (173): Huysecom-Haxhi 2009, 574, 587. – Brauron (a group of 50 females are holding a fruit, a flower, or a bird): Mitsopoulos-Leon 2009, 131, 138. – Argos (8 with a dove): Waldstein et al. 1905, 15 no. 4, cat. nos. 166–171, 199, 200. – Tiryns (4 types with a dove): Frickenhaus 1912, 67. – Corinth (4 types): Merker 2000, 43, cat. nos. C1, C77, H34, H35.

276Tables – – – –

Knossos (1 with a goose): Higgins 1973, 75, cat. no. 130. Paestum (21 with a possible bird): Ammerman 2002, 29, 101. Aegina (5 with either fruit or a bird): Margreiter 1988, 27, cat. nos. 167–171. Thebes (1 with a possible dove and 90 youths holding a rooster): Schmaltz 1974, cat. nos. 89–178.

Piglets – Lindos (28): Blinkenberg 1931, cat. nos. 1882, 3030–3036. – Chios (1): Boardman 1967, cat. nos. 114. – Gela (92): Panvini and Sole 2005, 35, 107–122, 163–171. – Tiryns (at least 120): Frickenhaus 1912, 67, cat. nos. 61, 84, 85, 99–113. – Corinth (at least 25 types): Merker 2000, 24, 117–124, cat. nos. C1, H1–H18, H395, H397–H402. – Paestum (4 female and 3 male figurines): Ammerman 2002, 101. – Thebes (6 youths are holding a [very small] ram): Schmaltz 1974, cat. nos. 60–65. Torches – Lindos (23): Blinkenberg 1931, cat. nos. 3018–3029. – Corinth (13): Merker 2000, 124–125, cat. nos. H23–H27. – Knossos (1): Higgins 1973, 75, cat. no. 126. – Priene (24): Rumscheid 2006, 65–67, 132, cat. nos. 73, 95, 139. Hydrophoroi – Lindos (38): Blinkenberg 1931, cat. nos. 3003a–3012. – Chios (1 possible hydrophoros): Boardman 1967, cat. no. 140. – Tiryns (3): Frickenhaus 1912, 81, cat. no. 136. – Corinth (29 types): Merker 2000, 38, 129, cat. nos. C45–C69, H48–H51, H395–402, I22. – Knossos (10): Higgins 1973, 68–70, cat. nos. 61–70. – Priene (22): Rumscheid 2006, 66, 132, cat. nos. 140–145. – Thebes (2): Schmaltz 1974, cat. nos. 293–294. Phialai – Lindos (1 seated female, 3 females with children, 12 females holding a tympanon and 3 male youths): Blinkenberg 1931, cat. nos. 2910, 2912, 2956, 2987–2988, 3037–3042. – Brauron (2 possible phialai): Mitsopoulos-Leon 2015, cat. nos. 153–154. – Tiryns (1 possible phiale): Frickenhaus 1912, 68, cat. no. 98. – Corinth (1 youth): Merker 2000, 65, cat. no. C210. – Knossos (7): Higgins 1973, 60, 61, 65, 78, cat. nos. 23, 27–30, 49, 153. – Paestum (221): Ammerman 2002, 29, 101. – Thebes (23 youths with a bowl or a phiale): Schmaltz 1974, cat. nos. 66–88. Instruments The largest group of instruments from each sanctuary is included: – Lindos (22 with tympana): Blinkenberg 1931, cat. nos. 2220–2224, 2247–2248, 3037– 3042. – Chios (1 with flute): Boardman 1967, cat. no. 118. – Thasos (7 with lyres): Huysecom-Haxhi 2009, 574. – Brauron (3 with kithara): Mitsopoulos-Leon 2009, cat. nos. 649–651. – Argos (3 with flute): Waldstein et al. 1905, cat. nos. 21, 23, 26. – Corinth (3 “dolls” holding possible tambourines or cymbals): Merker 2000, 49, cat. nos. C121–C122, V21. – Knossos (1 with lyre and 1 with tambourine): Higgins 1973, 65–66, cat. nos. 55, 59.

Tables

277

– Priene (2 “Baubo” figurines with kithara): Rumscheid 2006, 65, cat. no. 74. – Aegina (1 Pan with panpipes): Margreiter 1988, cat. no. 213. – Thebes (23 youths with lyre): Schmaltz 1974, cat. nos. 66–88. Varia If the sites contain figurines with any other examples of attributes of interest, they will be mentioned here. – Lindos: Blinkenberg 1931, cat. nos. 2217–2218, 3014–3016. – 5 kanephoroi (figurines of females carrying a basket on the head and typically wearing a large garment). – 7 females with a spindle as an attribute held to the chest and also with a reel resting on their leg. – Chios: Boardman 1967, cat. nos. 103, 106, 148–151. – 4 dancers. – Gela: Panvini and Sole 2005, 38, 122–126, 172–176. – 2 figurines with a large necklace. – 32 figurines of the “Athana Lindia” types with a large necklace. – Brauron: Mitsopoloulos-Leon 2009, cat. nos. 169–197, 493–497, 500–507, 552. – 1 kanephoros. – 5 figurines with a lion in the lap. – 8 figurines with a fawn. – 29 figurines with a large necklace. – Argos: Waldstein et al. 1905, cat. nos. 36–64, 81–86, 88–94, 176. – 1,521 female figurines with a large necklace. – 1 figurine with what may be a hare. – Tiryns: Frickenhaus 1912, 74, 79, cat. nos. 55, 62, 67, 72, 79, 114–121. – More than 500 female figurines with a large necklace. – 1 kanephoros. – More than 50 figurines with sacrificial cakes. – 7 figurines with a fawn. – Corinth: Merker 2000, 151–156, 272. – Around 22 types of dancers. – 5 different types of cakes are seen as attributes. – Knossos: Higgins 1973, 62, 64, 75, cat. nos. 36–37. – 3 figurines with a chest. – Priene: Rumscheid 2006, 65–67, 132, cat. nos. 5, 65–77, 137–138, 148–168, 174–178. – 23 dancers. – 2 kanephoroi including 1 “Baubo” figurine. – 22 “Baubo” figurines. – Paestum: Ammerman 2002, 29, 36, 52, 84–87. – 21 naked, standing female (goddess) figurines. – 5 sphinxes in the thrones of seated females. – 11 figurines of the type with a large necklace. – Aegina: Margreiter 1988, cat. nos. 135–137, 201, 203. – 3 pinakes of half-naked females holding their breasts. – 2 possible dancers.

278Tables Tab. 1: Characteristics of votive terracotta figurines in selected sanctuaries.   

Lindos

Chios

Gela

Thasos

Brauron

Argos

Deity

Athena

Period of ­Terracottas

c. 750–330 BC

Athena

Athena

Artemis

Artemis

Hera

C. 690–325 BC

7th – 5th cent. BC

Archaic period

7th – 3rd cent. BC

725 BC – Early Classical period

Total amount

c. 2740

49

257

2337

3700/870

3580

Type

  

  

  

  

  

  

Females

2300 (83.9 %)

27 (55.1 %)

230 (89.5 %)

2165 (92.6 %)

  589 (67.7 %)

2415 (67.5 %)

Seated females

  476 (20.7 %)

  5 (18.5 %)

  55 (24 %)

1397 (64.5 %)

  221 (37.5 %)

1216 (50.4 %)

Males

  120 (4.4 %)

  7 (14.3 %)

  4 (1.6 %)

  147 (5.4 %)

  31 (3.6 %)

  66 (1.8 %)

Dolls

   9 

  1 

  – 

   – 

  25

   – 

Protomai

  704

  3 

  44

  450

  47≤

  56

Children

  46 (1.7 %)

  – 

  – 

  14 (0.6 %)

   8 (0.9 %)

   1 (0.03 %)

Temple boys

  39

 – 

  – 

  14

   4 

   – 

Kourotrophoi

  76

  – 

  4 

   – 

   7 

  19 (+1)

Bes etc.

   9 

  – 

  1 

  17

   – 

   8 

Satyrs etc.

  31

  – 

  – 

   4 

   – 

   2 

Attributes

  

  

  

  

  

  

Flowers

  52

  – 

  1 

  59

(≤50)

   2 

Fruits

  36 (+15)

  – 

  5 (1+2)

   3 

(≤50)

   4 

Birds/Doves

  33

  2 

  8 (+2)

  173

(≤50)

   8 

Piglets

  28

  1 

  92

   – 

   – 

   – 

Torches

  23

  – 

  – 

   – 

   – 

   – 

Hydrophoroi

  38

(1)

  – 

   – 

   – 

   – 

Phialai

  19

  – 

  – 

   – 

   (2)

   – 

Instruments

22 Tympana

1 Flute

– 

7 Lyres

3 Kithara

3 Flutes

Varia

7 Spindles 5 Kanephoroi

4 Dancers

2 Deco. Bands 32 Athana ­Lindias

– 

29 Deco. Bands 1 Kanephoros 8 Fawns 5 Lions

1521 Deco. Bands 1 Hare

279

Tables

Tiryns

Corinth

Knossos

Hera

Demeter

Demeter

Priene

Paestum

Aegina

Thebes

Demeter

Aphrodite

Apollon

Kabiroi

7th – 5th cent. BC Classical period – 8th–2nd cent. 146 BC BC

Hellenistic period

6th cent. BC – 1th cent. AD

8th cent. – ­Hellenistic period

5th–4th cent. BC

3000

24,000/2210

2-3000/273

266–274≤

5355/2909

99

426

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  929 (31 %)

  865 (39.1 %)

  206 (75.5 %)

177 (64.6 %)

2521 (86.7 %)

40 (40 %)

  28 (6.6 %)

  604 (65 %)

   90 (10.4 %)

   27 (13.1 %)

  9 (5.1 %)

1786 (70.8 %)

  9 (22.5 %)

  2 (7.1 %)

  15 (0.5 %)

  110 (5 %)

   12 (4.4 %)

  3 (1.1 %)

  23 (0.8 %)

  3 (3 %)

191 (45 %)

   – 

  990

    2 

  – 

  1 

  1 

  2 

   3 

   50

   12

  1≤

  105

  6 

  6 

   – 

  135 (6.1 %)

   15 (5.5 %)

  59 (21.5 %)

  38 (1.3 %)

  1 (1 %)

  33 (7.7 %)

   – 

   23≤

    3 

  – 

   1 

 1 

 20

   – 

    2 (+4)

    3 

  2 

  18

  – 

  (1)

   – 

    1 

    – 

  – 

   – 

  2 

  – 

   – 

    7 

    3 

  – 

   – 

  1 

  59

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

   3 (+18)

    5 

    (2)

  – 

  11

(1)

  (3)

   4 

    3 

   (2+2)

  (8)

   6 (+1570/234) (5)

  – 

   4 

    4 

    1 

  – 

  (21)

(5)

  1(+90)

  120≤

   25≤

    – 

  – 

   7 

  – 

(6 Rams)

   – 

   13

    1 

  22

   – 

  – 

  – 

   3 

   29

   10

  22

   – 

  – 

  2 

   (1)

    1 

    7 

  – 

  221

  – 

  23

– 

3 Tambourines(?) 1 Lyre & 1 Tambourine

2 Kithara

– 

1 Panpipes

23 Lyres

23 Dancers 2 Kanephoroi 22 “Baubo”

11 Deco. Bands 21 Naked ­females 5 Sphinxes on thrones

3 Pinakes

– 

500≤ Deco. Bands 22 Dancers 1 Kanephoros 5 Sacrificial 7 Fawns cakes 50≤ Sacrificial cakes

3 Chests

280Tables Tab. 2: Contents of Selected Sites Contexts. Sites

Terracotta ­figurines

Other figurines

Ceramics, miniature

Ceramics, cups

Tiryns, Heraion

3000 ≤

  

350 Kalathiskoi 120 Kettles/ pots 10 Bowls 3 Lamps Cups, pitchers, mixing vessels

Skyphoi Cups

Argos, Heraion, general

2865 ≤

Bronze statuettes of 1 cow, 1 small horse, 1 large horse, 1 sheep, 1 goat, 1 swan’s head, 1 male, 1 statuette, 1 bronze cup with sphinx 60 Fragments of earliest idols 28 Stone heads of hard stone. 1 Of bone, 1 crystal, 1 ivory 1 Small porphyry lion with hieroglyphics 1 Porcelain monkey 1 Porcelain cat 1 Egyptian image

  

  

Argos, Heraion, deposit

c. 40

1 Bronze figurine fragment of nude male

Kalathoi Kantharoi Kotyliskoi Skyphoi Cups More than 475 hydriai Oinochoai Amphorae Kraters Deinoi Dishes Saucers Bowls

Kantharoi Kotylai Skyphoi

Corinth, the Demeter and Kore Sanctuary, pit A

Fragments

  

3 Miniature vases

  

Corinth, the Demeter and Corinth Sanctuary, pit B

27≤ 1 Mould

Corinth, the Demeter and Kore Sanctuary, pit E

1 

  

2 Miniature krateriskoi 1 Miniature bowl

  

Gela, the Acropolis, 1

26≤

  

Kotyliskoi

Kantharoi Kotyles Kylikes

Gela, the Acropolis, 2

6 

  

13 Kotyliskoi

  

Gela, the Acropolis, 3

4 

  

  

1 Kotyle

Kalathiskoi

281

Tables

Ceramics, other

Lamps

Textile objects

Phialai

Metals

Other finds

Pitchers

1 

9 Bronze pins 4 Iron pins

2 Phialai with omphalos 1 Phiale

13 Bronze rings 3 Iron finger rings

Animal bones

3 Large baskets of fragments of early vases

  

4 Bronze fibulae 1 Bronze phiale 16 Bronze pins with 4 Fragments of ornamented heads larger phiale 1 Gilded bronze pin 2 Bone needles

230 Bronze rings 1 ear-ring 26 Lead and silver rings 1 Bronze foot and 1 rim of vase 3 Bronze seals 1 Small bronze cockatrice 1 Bronze peacock 2 Pieces of bronze with zigzag pattern 4 Bronze handles 2 Mirror handles 2 Bronze chisels 2 Gold and silver ornaments Fragments of gold leaf 2 Gold rosettes 2 Gold and silver rings 1 Plain gold ring 22 Cpper and silver coins

7 Ivory incuse ornamented seals 2 Large seals 1 Ivory cow resting on plaque with archaic relief 10 Scaraboids 1 Stone hammer, split 4 Stone seals 1 Scaraboid bead 12 Glass and porcelain beads 32 Amber beads from old ­temple and small beads 7 Amber or glass beads and 13 triangular beads 3 Boxes of small beads

Aryballoi Oinochoai More than 150 one-handled pitchers Krater Pyxides Bowls

  

1 Fibula 1 Whorl 4 Spools 25+ pins

Miniature phialai with omphalos 5+ Phialai with omphalos 10 Miniature bronze phialai with omphalos

3 Mirrors 6 Rings Other fragments

Engraved sealstones

Many sherds

1 

  

  

  

  

57≤ Vases Kitchen pottery Cooking pots

Fragment

Iron nails Bits of bronze

Animal Bones

6 Kalathoi 1 Lekythos 1 Oinochoe

  

  

  

  

1 Carnelian scaraboid amulet

Pyxides

1 

3 Loom weight 1 Spindle whorl

  

3 Pendants 1 Ring 1 Iron hammer

1 Clay owl head

Aryballoi Alabastra

3 

  

  

3 Rings 7 Iron spearheads

2 Shells

1 Louterion-base 1 Clay support (possibly for basin)

2 

1 Loom weight

  

  

1 Thymiaterion shaped as a kore

282Tables Sites

Terracotta ­figurines

Other figurines

Ceramics, miniature

Ceramics, cups

Gela, the Acropolis, 4

133

  

7 Kotyliskoi 1 Miniature Lekythos

1 Skyphos

Gela, the Acropolis, 5

93 1 Mould

  

1 Kotyliskos

1 Skyphos 1 Cup

Gela, Predio Sola, str. 1

16

  

Amphoriskoi

Drinking vessels

Gela, Predio Sola, str. 2

70

  

53 Kotyliskoi 1 Miniature hydria

Kotylai Skyphoi Cups

Agrigento, Urban Sanctuary, 1.1

60 1 Mould

  

2 Kotyliskoi 4 Skyphoi 1 Pitcher

c. 30 Cups

Agrigento, Urban Sanctuary, 1.2

17

  

  

Kotylai Kylikes Skyphoi Cups

Agrigento, Urban Sanctuary, 1.3

121 3 Pinakes 4 Moulds

  

Kotyliskoi

Kylikes Cups

Agrigento, Urban Sanctuary, 1.4

25

  

Amphoriskoi Kotyliskoi

Kotylai (several) Kylikes Skyphoi

Agrigento, Urban Sanctuary, 1.5

27

  

1 Kotyliskos

Kotylai Kylikes

Agrigento, Urban Sanctuary, 1.6

15 1 Mould

  

Kotyliskos

Kotylai Kylikes Skyphoi Cups

283

Tables

Ceramics, other

Lamps

Textile objects

Phialai

Metals

Other finds

1 Dish with omphalos 4 Bowls on a foot 1 Kothon 1 Pitcher

6 

1 Loom weight

  

  

1 Decorated bead

1 Oinochoe 1 Olpe 2 Bowls

  

1 Loom weight

  

  

  

136 Perfume Containers Aryballoi Alabastra Lekythoi Balsamari

178

5 Loom weights

  

  

  

Oinochoai Hydriai Amforae Craters

7 

3 Loom weights

  

  

  

5 Lekythoi 8 pitchers

c. 20

1 Loom weight

  

  

  

Amphorae Craters Bowls Pitchers

77

8 Loom weights

1 Bronze phiale 13 Phialai with omphalos

3 Coins from Akragas 3 Coins from Syracuse 2 Roman coins

  

Craters Pitchers Pithoi Pans Louteria

24

197 Loom weights

Phialai 6 Bronze Phialai

2 Coins from Akragas 1 Roman coin 2 Coins of Constantine

9 Small terracotta altars

Aryballoi Lekythoi Pyxides Amphorae Craters Pitchers 1 Louterion 1 Kothon

67

7 Loom weights

1 Bronze Phiale

1 Coin from Akragas 1 Coin inscribed ­(TAUROMENITAN) 1 Roman coin

  

Hydriai 6  Mortai 1 Amphora 4 Transport Amphorae 1 Pyxis 1 Ladle

46 Loom weights

1 Bronze phiale omphalos

1 Roman coin

4 Small terracotta altars

Craters Lekythoi Pyxides Amphorae Pitchers Mortai Pithoi Louteria

19 Loom weights

Phialai

  

3 Small terracotta altars

47

284Tables Sites

Terracotta ­figurines

Other figurines

Ceramics, miniature

Ceramics, cups

Agrigento, Urban Sanctuary, 1.7

118 27 Moulds

  

  

  

Agrigento, Urban Sanctuary, 2.1

5 

  

  

1 Kantharos 4 Kotylai 1 Skyphos

Agrigento, Urban Sanctuary, 2.2

40

  

  

Kotylai Kylikes Skyphoi

Agrigento, Urban Sanctuary, 2.3

40

  

2 Miniature skyphoi

Kotylai Skyphoi Cups

Agrigento, Urban Sanctuary, 3.2

2 

  

1 Kotyliskos(?)

1 Kylix

Agrigento, Urban Sanctuary, 4.2

4 

  

  

1 Skyphos 1 Roman sigillata cup

Chios, Emporio, the Athena Sanctuary

49

3 Egyptian faience figurines

2 Cups 1 Miniature amphora 5 Miniature hydriai

c. 35 Chalices c. 6 Goblets c. 3 Kantharoi 1 Skyphos

Chios, Emporia, the Harbour Sanctuary

70

12 Cypriote figurines 8 Egyptian faience figurines

5 Cups

c. 75 Chalices c. 30 Kantharoi c. 40 Kotylai & Skyphoi 100+ Cups

285

Tables

Ceramics, other

Lamps

Textile objects

Phialai

Metals

Other finds

1 Lekythos 3 Pitchers 1 Fragmented vase

24

6 Loom weights

  

  

  

1 Aryballos 1 Pyxis 1 Pitcher 1 Louterion

1 

  

1 Bronze phiale

1 Coin from Akragas

  

Pyxides Amphorae Craters Lekythoi Pitchers

85

24 Loom weights

Phialai 1 Decorated bronze phiale

4 Tympana 1 Coin from Akragas

58 Prehistoric ceramic fragments 13 Obsidian & Flint pieces

Hydriai Pitchers Craters Lekythos

87

14 Loom weights

4 Decorated phialai 21 Bronze phialai with omphalos 6 Bronze phialai

7 Tympana 2 Saucers 5 Coins from Akragas

  

  

9 

  

4 Bronze phialai

  

  

1 Loom weight

1 Phiale 4 Bronze phialai

1 Coin from Syracuse 1 Coin from Argento 7 Roman coins

1 Clay owl head

1 Lekane 14 1 Plate 3 Transport amphorae Roman sigillata: 1 Plate 1 Pitcher 7 Kalathoi 3 Craters 7 Bowls c. 15 Plates 12 Onochoai c. 20 Amphorae 6 Pitchers 1 Alabastron 9 Thymiatheria

9 

6 Fibulae 1 Clay whorl 1 Loom weight

7 Phialai 1 Miniature bronze phiale

1 Bronze ring Fragments of bowl 2 Bronze arrowheads 1 Iron spear head 2 Iron knife blades 10 Possible spit fragments 3 Nails

10 Clay votive shields 1 Seal 1 Lump of pigment Murex shells Fragments from an ostrich egg

110 Craters c. 60 Bowls c. 30 Plates 8 Lekanai c. 70 Oinochoai c. 35 Amphorae c. 15 Aryballoi 5 Alabastra 2 Strainers 1 Thymiateria 3 Lagynoi

3 

c. 250 Fibulae Bronze pins 73 Bronze belts 16 Clay whorls 4 Loom weights

3 Phialai 1 Phiale with omphalos

c. 30 Bronze rings c. 10 Bronze bracelets 25 Bronze earrings A few silver rings Bronze tweezers Bronze arrowheads Fragmented bronze handles and rims 8 Iron spear heads 17 Iron knife blades 1 Iron axe 14 Possible spit fragments 8 Nails

4 Clay votive shields 5 Seals 1 Lump of pigment 270 Limpet shells 1 Probable tridacna 300 Glass beads

286Tables Sites

Terracotta ­figurines

Other figurines

Ceramics, miniature

Ceramics, cups

Lindos, Athana Lindia Sanctuary, the Archaic Layers

4 

c. 110 Cypriote limestone figurines c. 20 Cypriote terracottas c. 20 Egyptian faience figurines

  

Cups

Lindos, Athana Lindia Sanctuary, the Large Deposit

207 ≤ 1400

c. 15 Cypriote limestone figurines 2 Cypriote terracottas c. 30 Egyptian faience figurines

c. 200 Miniature skyphoi Kylikes Miniature amphorae

Kylikes Skyphoi

Lindos, Athana Lindia Sanctuary, the Small Deposit

149 ≤ 1240

  

  

  

Priene, Demeter & Kore Sanctuary, deposit

c. 218

  

4 Hydriai 1 Bowl

  

Priene, Kybele Sanctuary

Fragments

  

  

  

Priene, “Heiliges Haus”

“Grosse Masse”

Marble-fragments

  

  

Pergamon, Demeter Sanctuary

250 ≤

  

  

  

287

Tables

Ceramics, other

Lamps

Textile objects

Phialai

Metals

Other finds

Craters c. 5 Perfume bottles c. 20 Aryballoi 1 Plate

  

87 Fibulae

  

Pendants in bronze and silver

Scarab seals 1 Stone chisel 46 Glass pearls 1 Amethyst pearl Pendants in bone 2 Bone tubes 2 Seals

Oinochoai Hydriai Pitchers Craters Pots c. 60 Lekythoi Alabastra Aryballoi Pyxides 2 Epinetra

115

c. 30 Fibulae 1 Amber needle 1 Sewing needle 1 Spindle whorl 2 Whorl weights

1 Phiale

23 Fragments of bronze vessels 2 Mirrors 6 Helmets 1 Spearhead 2 Arrow heads Fragments of harnesses, thymiateria and applications 1 Bronze pendant 1 Weight

10 Clay pearls 1 Clay pendant 2 Pieces of amber jewellery, earrings, a button, a few ivory or bone appliques c. 70 fragments of sea shells and tridacna Fragments of flutes

  

  

  

  

A small bronze tube

Fragments of a marble pyxis 2 Astragals Fragments of flutes

  

  

  

  

  

  

Fragments of pitchers

  

  

  

A fragment of gold

Bone fragments

  

  

  

  

  

  

Sherds Clay vessels

  

  

  

  

  

288Tables Tab. 3: Distribution of Terracottas in Private Houses. Site

Archaic Period

Classical Period

Early ­Hellenistic ≤ 200 BC

Late ­Hellenistic ≥ 200 BC

Priene

  

  

X 

X 

Tyritake

X 

  

  

  

Himera

X 

X 

  

  

Olynthos

  

X 

  

  

Eretria, House of Mosaics & House II

  

X 

X 

  

Leontinoi

  

  

X 

  

Morgantina

  

  

X 

X 

Civita di Tricarico & Roccagloriosa

  

  

X 

  

Gordion

  

  

X 

X 

Chersonesos

  

  

X 

X 

Kallipolis, East-Aitolia

  

  

X 

X 

Abdera

  

  

X 

X 

Pella, Macedonia

  

  

  

X 

Sarkine

  

  

  

X 

Delos

  

  

X 

X 

Petres, Upper Macedonia

  

  

  

X 

Iaitas

  

  

X 

X 

Pompeii

  

  

  

X 

Olbia

  

  

  

X 

Monte Saraceno di Ravanusa

X 

X 

X 

  

Lokroi Epizephyrioi

  

X 

X 

  

Korkyra

X 

X 

  

  

Aigai, Macedonia

  

  

X 

  

Kallithera, Southwest Thessalia

  

  

X 

  

Pherai, East Thessalia

  

X 

  

  

Demetrias, East Thessalia

  

  

X 

X 

Krommyon, Corinth

  

X 

X 

  

Thasos

  

X 

X 

X 

Thera

  

  

X 

X 

Colophon

  

X 

X 

  

Ephesos

  

  

  

X 

Pergamon

  

  

  

X 

Myrmekion & Tyritake

  

  

  

X 

Elizavetovka, Don-Delta

  

  

X 

  

Jebel Khalid, Euphrate

  

  

X 

  

Seleukeia, Tigris

  

  

X 

X 

Ikaros, Persian Gulf

  

  

X 

  

In Total

4 

10

24

20

Notes

Chapter I: Introduction 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16

17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26

Connelly 1989, 211. Thompson, D. B. 1963, 71; Ammerman 1990, 42. Rouse 1902, 1. van Straten 1981, 66. van Straten 1981, 66. Parker et al. 2004, 270. Parker et al. 2004, 279–280. See, for example, Bell, C. 1992, esp. 19–29, 69–74; Fogelin 2007; Renfrew 2007, 112– 123; Pakkanen 2009, 153–156. For the need for, or the possibility of, a definition of ritual, see Bell, C. 2007, esp. 284–286. Renfrew 2007, 110; Pakkanen 2015, 28–30 – this is further discussed below in regards to votive deposits. Pakkanen 2000–2001, 75. Pakkanen 2000–2001, 75. See, for example, Forsén 1996; Riethmüller 2005; Draycott and Graham 2017; Hughes 2017. Uhlenbrock 1993, 7. Uhlenbrock 1993, 8–10. See also Uhlenbrock 2016b. The wide distribution of the Demeter sanctuaries over the entire Greek region and the use of votive terracottas in the cult of Demeter, is attested through regional studies such as Ivonne Ohlerich’s dissertation on sanctuaries (in general) in the Bosporus region (Ohlerich 1975), Valentina Hinz’ study on the Demeter and Kore cults in Sicily and Magna Graecia (Hinz 1998) and Sven Th. Schipporeit’s study on Demeter and Kore cults and sanctuaries in the Ionian region (Schipporeit 2013). Kekulé 1878. Martha 1880. Pottier 1890, 278–279, which is a summary of his thesis from 1883. Blinkenberg 1931. Breitenstein 1941. Nicholls 1952. Burr 1934, 3–26; Uhlenbrock 1993, 16. Thompson, D. B. 1963, 20. Higgins 1954. Higgins 1967.

290

Notes to chapter I

27 Mollard-Besques 1954; Mollard-Besques 1963; Besques 1971–1972; Besques 1986; Besques 1992. 28 Kleiner 1942; Thompson, D. B. 1966. 29 Hornung-Bertemes et al. 1998; Tezgör 2007, 256–265. 30 van Straten 1981, 69 n. 19. 31 Theophrastus, Peri eusebeias fr. 12, 42–44. 32 van Straten 1981, 66. 33 Examples of studies on sacrifice, where votives are only used as iconographical sources, are van Straten’s Hierà Kalá from 1995 and Fred Naiden’s Smoke Signals for the Gods from 2013. 34 Simon, C. G. 1986. 35 Linders and Nordquist 1987. 36 Merker 2000, 321–344. 37 Merker 2000, 323. 38 Baumbach 2004. 39 Parker et al. 2004, 269–318. 40 Prêtre 2009. 41 Patera 2012. 42 See for example Huysecom-Haxhi 2009. 43 Muller et al. 2016; Muller and Lafli 2015. 44 Giannikourē et al. 2014; Papantoniou et al. 2019. 45 Coroplastic Studies Interest Group: http://www.coroplastic-studies.org/bibliography. html [accessed 7 March 2022]; ACoST: https://coroplasticstudies.univ-lille.fr/ bibliography_year.html [accessed 7 March 2022]. 46 Trigger 2006, 62, 80. 47 Dyson 1993, 195; Trigger 2006, 57–58. 48 Rowe 1962, 129; Trigger 2006, 123. 49 Rowe 1962, 160; Trigger 2006, 123–124. 50 Joyce and Pollard 2010, 4; Trigger 2006, 127; Lucas 2012, 76–77. 51 Rowe 1962, 130–131; Joyce and Pollard 2010, 4. 52 Trigger 2006, 293–295; Lucas 2012, 79–81. 53 Trigger 2006, 242. 54 Childe 1950, 2; Joyce and Pollard 2010, 6. 55 Trigger 2006, 289; Willey and Phillips 1958, 22. 56 Willey and Phillips 1958, 2. 57 Trigger 2006, 392–393; Joyce and Pollard 2010, 7. 58 Binford 1962, 217; Trigger 2006, 392. 59 Binford 1962, 219. 60 Binford 1964, 425; Trigger 2006, 400. 61 Binford 1964, 431. 62 Binford 1964, 431. 63 Binford 1964, 431–432. 64 Schiffer 1972; Dyson 1993, 202; Joyce and Pollard 2010, 7. 65 Schiffer 1972, 158–159. 66 Schiffer 1975, 22; Joyce and Pollard 2010, 7. 67 Schiffer [1976] 2002, 42–53. 68 Schiffer [1976] 2002, 12. 69 Schiffer 1983, 697. 70 Shanks and Hodder 1995, 3–5; LaMotta 2012, 64–65; Lucas 2012, 61. 71 Binford 1968, 807; Lucas 2012, 62 72 Renfrew 1980; Dyson 1981; Snodgrass 1985; Dyson 1993. 73 Renfrew 1972; Dyson 1993, 196; Trigger 2006, 433. 74 Dyson 1993, 198; Trigger 2006, 446, 450, 463.

Notes to chapter I

291

75 Dyson 1993, 199–200; Joyce and Pollard 2010, 8. 76 Schiffer [1976] 2002, 42–53. 77 Hodder 1982. 78 Joyce and Pollard 2010, 9. 79 Bradley 1990, xv; Osborne 2004, 1. 80 Lucas 2012, 75. 81 Lucas 2012, 113. 82 Lucas 2012, 88. 83 Warburton 2003, 57–65, 93–110; Lucas 2012, 88. 84 Lucas 2012, 115. 85 Bailey 2007, 203–208; Lucas 2012, 118–119. 86 Lucas 2012, 120–122. 87 Lucas 2012, 123. 88 Joyce and Pollard 2010; Lucas 2012, 194. 89 Lucas 2012, 195–196. 90 Lucas 2012, 114. 91 Osborne 2004, 2–3. 92 Malone et al. 2007, 2–3. 93 Appadurai 1986, 34. 94 Schiffer 1972; Kopytoff 1986, 66–68; Sellet 1993, 107; Gosden and Marshall 1999; Lucas 2012, 95. 95 Lucas 2012, 96. 96 Peña 2007. 97 Peña 2007, 2, see also flow diagrams on page 7 and 9. 98 Lawall and Lund 2011, 7–9. 99 Kristensen and Stirling 2016. 100 Trimble 2011. 101 Dobres and Hoffman 1994; Dobres and Robb 2005, 163–164; Dobres 2010. See also Skibo and Schiffer 2008, 23–24; Lucas 2012, 166. 102 Kiernan 2020. 103 Leroi-Gourhan 1964, which in 1993 was translated into Gesture and Speech. 104 White 1993, xvii; Audouze 2002, 279. 105 Kopytoff 1986; Sellet 1993; Shott 2003; Hurcombe 2007, 38–43; Johnson 2007; ­Soressi and Geneste 2011; Brysbaert 2012, 257. 106 Sellet 1993; Shott 2003; Johnson 2007; Soressi and Geneste 2011; Brysbaert 2012. 107 Vetters 2011, esp. 31–33. 108 Muller 2014. 109 Gaydarska et al. 2007, 171. 110 Vetters 2011; Muller 2014. See also below. 111 Schlanger 2005. 112 Brysbaert 2012. 113 Dobres and Robb 2005, 163. 114 Sellet 1993, 109–110. 115 Appadurai 1986; Kopytoff 1986; Gaydarska et al. 2007, 171; Lucas 2012, 119. 116 Latour 1996; Gell 1998; Gosden 2005. 117 Dobres and Hoffman 1994; Gell 1998; Layton 2003; Dobres and Robb 2005; Hoskins 2006; Sørensen 2007; Tanner and Osborne 2007; Malafouris 2008a; Jones and Boivin 2010. 118 Jones and Boivin 2010, 5. 119 Marx 1964, 51; Jones and Boivin 2010, 6; Miyazaki 2010, 9–10. 120 Mauss 1954; Jones and Boivin 2010, 8; Miyazaki 2010, 1–2. 121 Mauss 1954, 11–14; Miyazaki 2010, 3. 122 Hodder 1992; Tilley 1989; Jones and Boivin 2010, 4.

292

Notes to chapter I

123 Appadurai 1986; Thomas, N. 1991; Miyazaki 2010, 8. 124 Hoskins 2006, 74–75; Miyazaki 2010, 8. 125 Jones and Boivin 2010, 5. 126 Giddens 1984, 2, 5; Layton 2003, 451; Jones and Boivin 2010, 9. 127 Jones and Boivin 2010, 10. 128 Gell 1998, 17–19; Jones and Boivin 2010, 8–9. 129 Gell 1998; Hoskins 2006, 75. 130 Gell 1998, 95; Hoskins 2006, 76. 131 Gell 1998; Robb 2017, 591–592. 132 Gell 1998, 20; Tanner and Osborne 2007, 2; Jones and Boivin 2010, 9. 133 Gosden 2005; Gosden 2006. 134 Gosden 2006, 427, 433. 135 Malafouris 2008a, 23–24, 33–35. 136 Malafouris 2008a, 35 137 Knappett and Malafouris 2008; Knappett 2010, 81; Malafouris and Renfrew 2010. 138 Malafouris 2008b, 1999. 139 Malafouris 2010, 264–265. 140 Malafouris 2004, 59. 141 Malafouris and Renfrew 2010. 142 Malafouris and Renfrew 2010, 8. 143 Schlanger 1994, 143. 144 Knappett 2010, 82. 145 Bennett 2010 146 Bennett 2010, 20. 147 Bennett 2010, ix. 148 Weingarten 2011, 329. 149 Cressman 2009, 3; Lucas 2012, 192–193. 150 Gell 1998, 23; Layton 2003, 448. 151 Latour 1996, 369, 373. 152 de Polignac 2009, 32, fig. 1. 153 Mauss 1954; Gill et al. 1998. 154 Renfrew 1994, 48–49. 155 Renfrew 2007, 113. 156 Sørensen 2005, 468–469.

Chapter II: Making and Moving 1 Hornblower and Spawfort 2003, s.v. ‘Prometheus’, 1253–1254. 2 Whitbread 2003, 5. 3 Pliny the Elder, Naturalis historia 35.43.151–152; Geoponica 6.3.(1), transl. Richter 1923, 88. 4 Whitbread 2003. 5 See, for example, Fillieres 1983; Mau and Farrell 1993; Whitbread 2003. 6 Francois Croissant (1983, 26) proposes such a possibility in regards to establishing the origins of the so-called East Greek figurines; Laumonier 1956, 18–19; Thompson, H. A. et al. 1987, 196–197; Uhlenbrock 1990a, 16 esp. note 19. 7 Higgins 1970, 272; Blume 2015, 88–89. 8 A detailed description of this process has been provided by others, so this will be a short description. See, for example, Higgins 1954, 3–7; Higgins 1967, 1–5; Muller 2010, 100–103. 9 Higgins 1954, 1; Muller 2010, 100. 10 Prototype will be the preferred term here.

Notes to chapter II

293

11 But see Hornung-Betermes et al. 1998 for a possible example of a hollow prototype created from a mould. 12 See, for example, Higgins 1967, 2; Hornung-Bertemes et al. 1998. 13 Higgins 1967, 2. 14 Jeammet 2014, 209. 15 Muller 2010, 101; Blume 2015, 88. 16 Higgins 1967, 4; Schreiber 1999, 55–56. 17 Blume 2015, 87. 18 Muller 2014, 69. 19 Higgins 1970, 272; Blume 2015, 88–89. 20 Jeammet 2014, 209–211; Blume 2015, 89. 21 Jeammet 2010a, 134–135; Blume 2015, 93. 22 Muller 2011. 23 Muller 2011. 24 Uhlenbrock 1990a, 15; Schwarzmaier 2011, 373–374. 25 Thompson, D. B. 1966, 54–55. 26 Barr-Sharrar 1990; Merker 2003. 27 Jeammet 2010b, 66. 28 Uhlenbrock 2016b, 8. 29 Higgins 1967, 5; Stillwell 1952, 3–4. 30 Rostoker and Gebhard 1980, 348–349; Morgan 1990, 39; Sanidas 2013, 141, 188. 31 See, for example, Higgins 1967, 5; Uhlenbrock 1990a; Sanidas 2013. 32 Sanidas 2013, 102. 33 Graybehl 2015, 186–217. See also Sanidas 2013, 141–143. 34 De Miro 2000, 133, 173, 222, 250–252, 301. 35 Panvini and Sole 2005, 161, 189. 36 Edlund 1983, 284–290; Ammerman 2015, 368. 37 Cahill 2002, 32–33. 38 Robinson 1930, 108–109. 39 Sapouna-Sakellaraki 1992; Chidiroglou 2016, 214. 40 Thompson, D. B. 1952, 120–121; Sanidas 2013, 92. 41 Sanidas 2013, 92–93. 42 Handler 2016, 48–49. 43 Miles 1998, 17–18. 44 Papadopoulos 2003, 144–145. 45 Davidson and Thompson 1943, 112, 140. 46 Stroszeck 2016. 47 Merker 2003, 233–236. 48 Merker 2000, 344–346. 49 Broneer 1942, 145, 148; Merker 2000, 326; Merker 2003, 238. 50 Bookidis and Stroud 1997, 18–19. 51 Bookidis and Stroud 1997, 243. 52 Bookidis and Stroud 1997, 201. 53 Sanidas 2013, 156–157. 54 Töpperwein 1976, 164; Schwarzmaier 2011, 371–372. 55 Rumscheid 2006, 48. 56 Rumscheid 2006, 399–400. 57 Rumscheid 2003, 150. 58 Uhlenbrock 2016a, 10. 59 Von Graeve 2007, 662. 60 Schwarzmaier 2011, 372–373; Muller 2017, 61. 61 Muller 2017, 61. 62 Chidiroglou 2015, 95–100.

294

Notes to chapter II

63 Nicholls 1952, 218–220. Nicholls continued the work of Jastrow (1941), who had earlier described the process. 64 Rumscheid 2015, 208–210. 65 Ammerman 2002, 14. 66 An example of this has been identified in Tarentum, see Graepler 1997, 131, fig. 121. 67 See, for example, Thompson, H. A. et al. 1987, 195. 68 Tezgör 2007, 253–266; Uhlenbrock 2009, 5–6. 69 See, for example, Higgins 1967, 2; Hornung-Bertemes et al. 1998. 70 Bookidis 2013. 71 Cook 1959, 119–120. 72 Bentz 1998, 17–18; Kratzmüller (2003) has argued against the possibility of proper estimates of the production of the Panathenaic amphorae. 73 Lund 2005, 239–240. 74 Merker 2000, 2. 75 Merker 2000, 3–4. 76 Merker 2000, 1–2. The total number of pottery lots were 1,158, of which 480 contained figurines. 77 Merker 2000, 353–368 78 The find contexts are further discussed in Chapter IV.2: Observing and Analysing Find Contexts. 79 Bookidis and Stroud 1997, xxi; Merker 2000, 353–368. 80 Merker 2000, 2. 81 Bookidis and Stroud 1997, 433. 82 Blinkenberg 1931, cat. nos. 1860–1940, 2101–2535, 2866–3144. The subdivisions are not counted for this purely illustrative exercise. 83 Blinkenberg 1931, cat. nos. 2447–2535: 530 pieces; 3091–3144: 174 pieces. 2447 may have up to 317 pieces, though divided into three subtypes and 2448 is listed with 94 pieces. 84 Thomas, R. I. 2015c, 3–4, 8. 85 The find contexts are further discussed in Chapter IV.2: Observing and Analysing Find Contexts. 86 Blinkenberg 1931, 44. 87 Huysecom-Haxhi 2009, 93: T 1276 VI AB dub. 88 Huysecom-Haxhi 2009, 17–19; Baumer 2013, 75–77. 89 Hinz 1998; Uhlenbrock 1985, 301. 90 Uhlenbrock 1985, 301. 91 Higgins 1967, 28–36; Jones 1986, 673; Uhlenbrock 1985, 302; Uhlenbrock 1988, 147; Pisani 2006, 276–277; Thomas, R. I. 2015c, 6; Gasparri 2016. 92 Uhlenbrock 1988, 148. 93 Merker 2003, 242. 94 Blinkenberg 1931, cat. nos. 1860–1918, 2101–2535, 2866–3144. 95 Higgins 1954, 28–32, 61–62. See Nicholls 1957, 303–304 for a clay description, which seems to hold true for those figurines inspected by this author. 96 Blinkenberg 1931, cat. nos. 1207–1299, 1364–1569, 1584–1857, 1941–2100. 97 Masson-Berghoff and Villing 2016, 43, 54, 61. 98 Uhlenbrock 1985, 303. 99 Uhlenbrock 1992, 18; Thomas, R. I. 2015c, 3–4. 100 Thomas, R. I. 2015d, 3. 101 Thomas, R. I. 2015d, 5. 102 There are currently neutron activation analyses being made on the material from Naukratis and these analyses have confirmed the Rhodian origin of some of the types, see Thomas, R. I. 2015c, 3–4, 8. 103 Thomas, R. I. 2015b, 79–80; Thomas, R. I. 2015c, 14–17.

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104 Uhlenbrock 1992, 19–20. 105 Uhlenbrock 1985, 297; Uhlenbrock 1992, 19–20; http://cyrenaica-terracottas.org/ intro.htm [accessed September 2018]. 106 Töpperwein 1976, 22–23; Schwarzmaier 2011, 373. 107 Uhlenbrock 1990b, 73–74; Tezgör 2010, 187. 108 Töpperwein 1976, 172; Uhlenbrock 1990b, 76–77. 109 Uhlenbrock 1990b, 73. 110 Uhlenbrock 1990b, 78. 111 Thompson, D. B. 1966; Jeammet 2010b, 62. 112 Jeammet 2010b, 68. 113 Jeammet 2010b, 68. 114 Plato, Phaedo 109b. 115 Osborne 1996, 119; Gosden 2004, 32, 69; Van Dommelen 2012, 396–397. 116 Herodotus 8.144; Walsh 2014, 66. 117 Foxhall 1998, 306. 118 Jeammet 2010b, 68. 119 Jeammet 2010b, 68. 120 Gosden 2004, 60–61. 121 Gosden 2004, 35–37. 122 Gosden 2004, 36–37. 123 Gosden 2004, 39–40. 124 Gosden 2004, 60–61. 125 Walsh 2014, 82. 126 Cook et al. 1996, 54; Dietler 2010, 7; Walsh 2014, esp. 66–68, 81. 127 Dietler 2010, 1; Uhlenbrock 2016a, 6. 128 Dietler 2010, 2. 129 Dietler 2010, 7–8. 130 Uhlenbrock 1985, 301; Uhlenbrock 2016a, 2–5. 131 Uhlenbrock 2016a, 2–3. 132 Uhlenbrock 1985, 301. 133 Uhlenbrock 1985, 301; Uhlenbrock 2016a, 4. 134 Uhlenbrock 1985; Uhlenbrock 2016a, 4–5. 135 Out of 1,259 wrecks found in the Mediterranean and off the coast of the Roman provinces, Parker, A. J. 1992. 136 Parker, A. J. 1992, 189, no. 441; Panvini 2001, 33–35, 61. 137 Parker, A. J. 1992, 84, no. 133. 138 Linder 1973; Parker, A. J. 1992, 401, no. 1078. 139 Parker, A. J. 1992, 438, no. 1190. 140 Edrey et al. 2020. 141 Uhlenbrock 1985; Uhlenbrock 2016a. 142 Athenaeus 15.675f–676c (quoting Polycharmos); Villing 2015, part 3. 143 Euripides, Ion 184–232; Herodas, Mimiambus 4. 144 Burkert 1985, 282, 285; Rutherford 2013, 54–57. 145 Rutherford 2013, 61–62. 146 Uhlenbrock 2015, 148–149. 147 Villing 2013. 148 Thomas, R. I. 2015a, 27. 149 Uhlenbrock 2015, 144–147. 150 Becq 2010, 204. 151 Higgins 1967, 107. 152 Uhlenbrock 2016a, 6–7. 153 Snodgrass 2006, 263–265. 154 Snodgrass 2006, 263–264.

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155 Whitley 2001, 312; Snodgrass 2006, 264. 156 See, for example, Blinkenberg 1931, cat. nos. 2119–2145, 2152–2158.

Chapter III: Dedicating and Mediating 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15

16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39

Van Buren 1966, 358; Alroth 1988, 199; Ammerman 1990, 42. Van Buren 1966, 357. Van Buren 1966, 359; Ammerman 1990, 42. Felsch et al. 1980, 89–99; Alroth 1988, 199; Felsch 2013. Marinatos 1936, 220–221, 241–244; Alroth 1988, 200. Shaw et al. 1978, 142–145; Alroth 1988, 202; Brulotte 1994, 304. As referenced by Alroth 1988, 202; Brulotte 1994, 305. Gjerstad et al. 1935, 797–810. Boardman 1967, 17, 20. Boardman 1967, 181. This example will be further treated in Chapter IV: Depositing and Discarding. Kinch 1914, 101; Kaninia and Schierup 2017, 106. Kopestonsky 2015, 410–411, fig. 4; See also Kopestonsky 2016, 722–723. Daux 1963, 787–791; Heiden 2012, 145. A bothros is to be understood only as an artificially created depression in the ground. It could serve a variety of purposes, including a location for sacrifices or as storage pits. Bothroi in Demeter Sanctuaries are often assumed to be related to the Thesmophoria rituals and their deposition of piglets in such artificially created pits. See Clinton 2005, 168; Rumscheid 2006, 64. Wiegand and Schrader 1904, 153, fig. 121; Bayhan 1989, 34; Rumscheid 1998, 151–158; Rumscheid 2006, 63–67. Wiegand and Schrader 1904, 178; Rumscheid 2006, 69. Bentz et al. 2013, 80. Brulotte 1994, votive tables: 290–301, altars: 301–307. Alroth 1988, 196, 203. Stroud 1965, 8; Bookidis and Stroud 1997, 248–250. Orlandini 1963, 9–24, 74–78. Orlandini 1963, 76–77; Ismaelli 2011, 209–211; Ismaelli 2013, 121. Dyggve 1960, 88, 93, 136 pl. IV, C and G. Roux 1952, 183. Meritt 1970, 249–250. Eckstein 1969, 89, fig. 24; Brulotte 1994, 279–280. Pausanias mentions the practice of victorious maidens at the games of Hera at Olympia dedicating είκόνας. Pausanias 5.16.4; Brulotte 1994, 280. Dörpfeld 1935, 170–171, figs. 40–41; Mallwitz 1981, 27, fig. 17. See also Alroth 1988, 196, fig. 1. See also van Straten 1987, 162. Mattusch 1980, 436, fig. 2; see also Hasaki et al. 2021 (esp. 279–280) for more on shrines in workshops. Sabetai 2015, 156 no. 45; Rumscheid 2016, 329, fig. 4. National Museum of Antiquities, Leiden, inv. no. I 1894/6.5; see also Leyenaar-Plaisier 1979, 282 no. 733, pl. 107; Ammerman 1990, 42, fig. 32. Ammerman 1990, 43, figs. 33–34. Ismaelli 2013, 130, fig. 4, a and b. Uhlenbrock 1988, 150. Sokolowski 1962, no. 123; van Straten 1992, 271. Lupu 2005, 31.

Notes to chapter III 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82

297

Sokolowski 1962, no. 107; van Straten 1992, 271. Sokolowski 1969, no. 43; Brulotte 1994, 260. Sokolowski 1969, no. 43; van Straten 1992, 272. Sokolowski 1955, no. 74; Brulotte 1994, 260–261, note 819. Carbon and Pirenne-Delforge 2012. Inscriptiones Graecae (IG) II2 1517, 43–44, 211. IG II2 1532, 8; IG II2 1534A, 60, a woman’s face is listed in line 64, also 72, 133, 137, 139; Aleshire 1989, 218–220; Brulotte 1994, 263, 270. Pausanias 1.21.4; Aleshire 1989, 219; Brulotte 1994, 271. IG II2 1534A, 139; Brulotte 1994, 271, 274. IG XI 165, 168; Brulotte 1994, 264. IG VII 303; Brulotte 1994, 265. Pausanias 2.14.4, 3.16.1, 5.12.4, 8.37.7. Pausanias 2.10.3. Pliny the Elder, Naturalis historia 38.43.5–6; Brulotte 1994, 264. Plato, Phaedrus 230b–c, transl. Fowler, H. N. 1925. Aristophanes, Plutus 938–943. Herodas, Mimiambus 4, transl. Fowler, B. H. 1990, 242; van Straten 1992, 269. Ath. Deipnosophistae 351c; Brulotte 1994, 282. van Straten 1992, 248; Brulotte 1994, 6; Patera 2012, 19. van Straten 1992, 268; Brulotte 1994, 7; Patera 2012, 21–22, 28–29. Patera 2012, 47–49. For the terracotta finds for Apollon and Artemis at Claros, see Dewailley 2001 and for Paros, see Rubensohn 1962. The case study of the Athana Lindia Sanctuary draws on work I did in my MA thesis, in which I identified and interpreted cultic characteristics among the terracotta figurines from Lindos. Hoffmann 2011. Blinkenberg 1941, no. 57, 106a; Morelli 1959, 80; Shaya 2002, 74. Smith 1949, 357–359; Rumscheid 2006, 153. Işik 1980; Dyggve 1960, 109–126; Rumscheid 2006, 153. Dyggve 1960, 184, 247–253. Blinkenberg 1941, no. 183; Morelli 1959, 121. Blinkenberg 1931, 673; Higgins 1967, 61; Thompson, H. A. et al. 1987, 201 note 13c. On the use of protomai as proof for chthonic worship, see also Uhlenbrock 1988, 140–141. Blinkenberg 1941. The deposit is illustrated in Blinkenberg 1931, 47–50, figs. 5–6. On the use of offering pits in Thesmophoria, see, for example, Clinton 1994, 90–95 and Ruscillo 2013, 189–193. Boardman 1967, 23. Orlandini 1968, 2; Fischer-Hansen 1996, 322; Panvini and Sole 2005, 19. Huysecom-Haxhi 2009, 13–14. Mitsopoulos-Leon 2009, 18–23; Mitsopoulos-Leon 2015, esp. 19–29. Waldstein et al. 1902, 3–10, 197–215. Pausanias 2.17.5; Clemens Alexandrinus, Protrepticus 4.41.5; Plutarch, De Daedalis Plataeensibus (Mor. frag. 158 Sandbach 1987), quoted by Eusebius, Praeparatio evangelica 3.8.99b. Frickenhaus 1912, 19–30; Robert 1920, 373–374. Bookidis and Stroud 1997, 1–11. Bayhan 1989, 34; Rumscheid 1998, 151; Blüme and Merkelbach 2014, 389–392, cat. nos. 191–194. Coldstream 1973, 180 Ammerman 2002, 4–5, 23–25.

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83 Wurster 1974, 6. 84 Wolters and Bruns 1940, 1, 7, 20–95. 85 The numbers are based on my identification of the types in their respective publications and my subsequent count of them. References are to be found in Appendix. 86 On this subject, see also Uhlenbrock 2016b. 87 Alroth 1989; Baumbach 2004; Uhlenbrock 2016b. 88 Blinkenberg 1931, 679–681; Alroth 1989, 85. 89 Merker 2000, 330. See, for example, Barakari-Gleni 2015, 422. 90 Examples of these discussions and interpretations can be found in Blinkenberg 1931, 28, 34–35; Huysecom-Haxhi 2009, 573. 91 Davies 2005, 228; Mitsopoulos-Leon 2015, 36. 92 Jung 1982, 28–29; Baumbach 2004, 47; Ammerman 2007, 136; Mitsopoulos-Leon 2009, 18–19 esp. note 90 for other references to this discussion; Schipporeit 2014, 322–323. 93 Schwarzmaier 2006, 206–207; Mitsopoulos-Leon 2015, 35–36. 94 Davies 2005; Mitsopoulos-Leon 2015, 36. 95 Zuntz 1971, 169; Nicholls 1995, 436; Merker 2000, 48–49. 96 Merker 2000, 339. 97 Elderkin 1930, 455–456; Schwarzmaier 2015, 305, 310–312; Spathi 2015, 442. 98 Daux 1973; Merker 2000, 49 no. 186; Anthologia Palatina 6.280. 99 Schwarzmaier 2015. See also Jeammet and Mathieux 2010, 161. 100 Croissant 1983; Uhlenbrock 1988. 101 Huysecom-Haxhi 2015; Sabetai 2015, 155–156. 102 For thorough presentations and reviews of previous interpretations (until 1988), see Uhlenbrock 1988, 139–156. 103 Rouse 1902, 302–309; Brooke 1921, 332, 334; Blinkenberg 1931, 590; Croissant 1983, 1–4; Muller 2009. 104 Webster 1979, 183; Sabetai 2015, 157. 105 Sabetai 2015, 154. 106 Bell, M. 1981, 85; Croissant 1983, 4–5; Uhlenbrock 1988, 139–140, 150–151, 156. Ammerman (2002, 290) points out, that what seems to be the most chthonic quality of the protomai “is the depth to which this notion has become embedded in the literature”. 107 The concept of “visiting gods” is understood as figurines or other examples of iconography, found in sanctuaries, but depicting gods other than the one(s) the sanctuary is dedicated to – and so they are “visiting” the residing deity. For the definition on visiting gods, see Alroth 1987; Alroth 1989. See also Uhlenbrock 1988, 141–142. 108 Sabetai 2015, 154–156. 109 Schwarzmaier 2015. 110 Uhlenbrock 1988, 141, 149–150. 111 Merker 2000, 80; Mitsopoulos-Leon 2015, 60–61; Martin 2015; Naerebout 2015, 114–117. 112 Naerebout 2015, 106–107. 113 Naerebout 2015, 117. 114 Lonsdale 1993, 138–139, 170; Merker 2000, 340; Rumscheid 2006, 254–256; Mitsopoulos-Leon 2015, 62–63. 115 See Hadzisteliou-Price 1969. 116 Ammerman 2007, 147. 117 Spathi 2015, 439. 118 Beer 1987, 24. 119 Price 1969, 105–107; Ammerman 2007. 120 For clarification of the type, as well as examples of contexts, see Price 1978 (on type, esp. 1–9).

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121 Blinkenberg 1931, cat. nos. 1904, 2318. 122 Price 1978, 215–219; Spathi 2015, 439–440. 123 Sinn 1983, 88; Kozma 2006, 308–309. 124 Price 1978, 154–156; Alroth 1988, 66; Baumbach 2004, 23; Kozma 2006, 309; Dasen 2015. 125 Pollard 1981, 183; Simon, E. 1985, 285–288. 126 Merker 2000, 194–200. 127 See, for example, Zuntz 1971, 143; Böhm 1990, 129. 128 Koch-Harnack 1989, 18; Manniche 1987, 42; Homer, Odyssey 9.94–102. 129 Rouse 1902, 49, 57–60; Burkert 1985, 66–68; Kowalzig 2007, 237; Jim 2014, 2. 130 Burkert 1985, 67; Jim 2014, 100–101. For a discussion on first offerings in general (by whom, when and where), see Jim 2014. 131 Kearns 2010, 221–222; Spathi 2015, 442. 132 Higgins 1967, 35; Alroth 1988, 78, 84–85. 133 Bevan 1986, 51–52. 134 Plato, Phaedo 118a. 135 Blinkenberg 1931, cat. nos. 2184, 2236; Bevan 1986, 49. 136 Baumbach 2004, 18. Other birds, such as swans or ducks, may also occasionally be found among votive terracottas, but they are not included in this study. 137 Kron 1992, 619; van Straten 1995, 57; Rumscheid 2003, 150–154. 138 Clinton 1992, 36; Kearns 2010, 225–226, 228; Spathi 2015, 443–444. 139 Sguaitamatti 1984, 57; van Straten 1995, 4; Kearns 2010, 108, 160; Sokolowski 1962, nr. 20 ll. 12–23; Clinton 2005, 168–179. 140 Bevan 1986, 246; Lurker 1994, 35–36; Kearns 2010, 220. 141 Bevan 1986, 100–114, 187–193, 235–238; Mitsopoulos-Leon 2009, 21. 142 Diehl 1964, 187–188; Kron 1992, 624; Kron 1996, 148; Clinton 1992, 73: Kearns 2010, 240, 315–316; IG II2 1184. 143 Kearns 2010, 17, 100, 135, 339; Euripides, Cretans (fr. 472). 144 Cole 1988, 161–162; see also Schipporeit 2014, 330–331. 145 Diehl 1964, 171–173; Rumscheid 2006, 252; Kozlowski 2015, 41, 45–46; Spathi 2015, 444. 146 Caskey and Amandry 1952, 197, 211–212; Diehl 1964, 176–179; Kron 1992, 630. 147 Luschey 1940, 1030; Richter and Milne 1935, 29–30; Gaifman 2013, 48. 148 Vermaseren 1982, 240. 149 Simon, E. 1953, 76, 89–93; Himmelmann 1960. 150 Maurizio 2019, 114. 151 Bloch 1974, 56–57; Kowalzig 2007, 49–51. 152 Comotti 1989, 74–75. 153 Menander, Theophoroumene 25–29; Mathiesen 1999, 175. 154 Mathiesen 1999, 249–253. 155 Aristides Quintilianus 2.19; Mathiesen 1999, 180. 156 Examples of processions with different types of kanephoroi may also be seen in van Straten 1995, figs. 2–3, 8, 11–17, 19, 24, 28–29, 35, 37, 41, 56–59, 69, 71–73, 75–77, 82, 84, 86, 87, 150. 157 Schelp 1975, 21; Brulé 1987, 301–303; Rocco 1995, 642; Dillon 2001, 38. 158 Mitsopoulos-Leon 2009, 22. 159 Rumscheid 2006, 254. 160 Burkert 1985, 140–141; Simon, E. 1985, 187–188. 161 Barakari-Gleni 2015, 422. 162 Despite their name, the “Athana Lindia” types are completely unrelated to this specific deity or the sanctuary in Lindos. The name comes only from the attempts by Blinkenberg (1917) to reconstruct a cult-image in Lindos, based on these figurines – due to the fact that they were found in the Athena Sanctuary in Gela, which is

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considered to be a “daughter” city of Lindos, founded by Rhodians (among others). There is, however, no relation. See also Albertocchi 2004, 159–161. 163 Albertocchi 2004, 109–124. 164 Burkert 1985, 52, 120; LiDonnici 1992, 391; Brenk 1998, 165–166. 165 Rumscheid 2006, 65, 220–223. 166 Clemens Alexandrinus, Protrepticus 2.12.2; Burkert 1983, 259; Clinton 1992, 13, 30; Rumscheid 2003, 157–158; Karatas 2019, 180–189. 167 Tsakos and Giannakopoulos 2014, 236–237, 243; Karatas 2019, 194–197. 168 Rumscheid 2003, 157–158; Rumscheid 2006, 220–223. 169 Karatas 2019, 199. 170 Böhm 1990, 125–128; Ammerman 1991, 215, 220–226. 171 “Visiting gods” are explained above, but see Alroth 1987 and 1989. 172 Ammerman 2002, 52. 173 Higgins 1954; Higgins 1967; Besques 1971–1972; Besques 1986; Besques 1992; Hinz 1998, 33–48. 174 Burkert 1985, 140–141; Simon, E. 1985, 187–188. 175 Merker 2000, 323–324. 176 Plato, Phaedrus 230b–c, transl. Fowler, H. N. 1925 177 For example, Argos (Waldstein et al. 1902) and Knossos (Boardman 1967). 178 For example, Corinth (Merker 2000). 179 For documentation on Demeter Sanctuaries, see Hinz 1998, esp. 33–48; Schipporeit 2013, esp. 455. 180 Baumbach 2004. 181 Schipporeit 2013, 455; Chidiroglou 2015, 95–100. 182 See under “Torches” in Table 1. 183 The concept is mentioned by Rumscheid (2003, 157). 184 Foxhall 1998, 301. 185 Belcher and Croucher 2016, 52. 186 Uhlenbrock 1990a, 15; Schwarzmaier 2011, 373–374; Klinger 2017, 91–92. 187 Laumonier 1956, 74. no. 109. 188 Apuleius, Metamorphoses 6.3. 189 IG II2 1534A; Aleshire 1989, 205; Inventory IV, 139. 190 Brulotte 1994, 271 no. 858. 191 van Straten 1981, 79 note 70. 192 Plato, Nomoi, 909e–910a, transl. Bury 1926. 193 Rumscheid 2016, fig. 4. 194 Schwarzmaier 2006. 195 Schwarzmaier 2006, fig. 1–3, 14–15, 17–19a/b, 21. 196 Mathieux 2010. 197 Huysecom-Haxhi and Muller 2015a. 198 See, for example, Schipporeit 2013, 455. 199 Belcher and Croucher 2016, 52. 200 van Straten 1992, 275. 201 Votive relief from the Archaeological Museum of Brauron, inv. no. 1152. 202 van Straten 1992, 276–277. 203 Parts of the following study on families as dedicators has been published in Hoffmann 2019. 204 de Polignac 2009, 32. 205 de Polignac 2009, 29–37; Patera 2012, 59–60, 68–71. 206 IG I2 485; Raubitschek 1950, no. 197. 207 IG I2 473; Raubitschek 1950, no. 380. 208 Votive miniature shield from the Acropolis Museum, inv. no. EAM X 6837; IG I2 444; Rice and Stambaugh 1979, 113.

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209 IG I2 643; Raubitschek 1950, no. 53; Rice and Stambaugh 1979, 114. 210 IG I2 684; Raubitschek 1950, no. 283; Rice and Stambaugh 1979, 114. 211 Day 2010, 7; Patera 2012, 28–29, 50–51. 212 On prayers in connection with dedication, see van Straten 1981, 82–83. 213 van Straten 1995, 53. See also Herodas, Mimiambus 4 and below. 214 Day 2010, 35–36. 215 Pomeroy 1997, 68–70. 216 Kron 1992, 617–618 esp. note 38, 624–625. 217 Merker 2000, 339–340. 218 See also van Straten 1995, figures. 219 Thucydides 6.56–57. 220 Herodas, Mimiambus 4, transl. Fowler, B. H. 1990, 242. This citation follows Fowler’s translation, although the word “dish” should be replaced with “pinax” or “votive plaque/tablet”. 221 Herodas, Mimiambus 4, transl. Fowler, B. H. 1990, 244. 222 Salapata 2015. 223 Jeammet 2010b, 62–63, fig. 21; Mathieux 2010, 194–197. 224 For the figurines as embodiments of prayer, see Connelly 1989, 211. For votives as visualisations of prayer, see Depew 1997, 247–252; van Straten 1981, 83. 225 Latour 1996; Bennett 2010, 9; Hodder 2011; Malafouris 2013. 226 Malafouris 2008b, 1997. 227 Malafouris 2008b, 1997–1999; Malafouris 2013. 228 Knappett and Malafouris 2008; Malafouris 2008b, 1999; Knappett 2010, 81; Malafouris and Renfrew 2010. 229 Malafouris 2008a, 35. 230 Bennett 2010, 4–5. 231 Rossberger 2016, 420.

Chapter IV: Depositing and Discarding 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19

Schiffer 1972, 159. Hill 1995, 4. Osborne 2004. Joyce and Pollard 2010, 9. Osborne 2004, 3. Hill 1995, 96. See also Chapter I.2. Approaches to Archaeological Contexts through Time for more on Schiffer. Hill 1995, 97–98. Hill 1995, 98. Hill 1995, 100. Osborne 2004; Haynes 2013; Pakkanen 2015. Osborne 2004, 5; Haynes 2013, 7. On both bothroi and favisa, see also Scheid 2013. Patera 2012, 212–215, esp. 215. Haynes 2013, 7 Osborne 2004, 4. Haynes 2013, 8. Haynes 2013, 9. Pakkanen 2015, 28–30. Pakkanen 2015, 32–33. The subject of waste management in sanctuaries has also been treated by Lindenlauf (2000) in her doctoral thesis. However, it is currently unavailable as it is in the process of publication. Kyriakidis 2007, 20; Pakkanen 2015, 32–34.

302 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35

36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66

Notes to chapter IV Pakkanen 2015, 31, 34. Tomber 1991. Tomber 1991, 60. Haynes 2013, 10. Haynes 2013, 12. Pakkanen 2015, 31. Haynes 2013, 9. Osborne 2004, 4. Pakkanen 2015, 28. Binford 1964, 431. Renfrew and Bahn 2008, 242. Hodder 1987, 1. Frevel 2008, 30. Haynes 2013, 9, 12. Lucas 2012, 66–73. Thorough studies of Demeter sanctuaries and Thesmophoria practices are available elsewhere, such as Kron 1992; Hinz 1998; Baumer 2013; Schipporeit 2013. The find contexts from Eleusis have also been thoroughly published, but as Eleusis represents a unique site, in regards to worship and rituals, it is best considered on its own terms, rather than within a general context study. See Kokkou-Byride 1999. Jantzen 1975, 8–9. Schliemann 1886a; 1886b; Frickenhaus 1912. Frickenhaus 1912, 2–3. Schliemann 1886a, 357; Schliemann 1886b, 413. Frickenhaus 1912, 14. Schliemann 1886b, 357–365; Frickenhaus 1912, 51–93. In the publication by Frickenhaus, however, it is difficult to distinguish which finds are from the deposit and which are from the general area, so the objects listed must be read with this in mind. Frickenhaus 1912, 95–106. Frickenhaus 1912, 16–17. Frickenhaus 1912, 14, 51. Frickenhaus 1912, 47–48. Calder 1986, 33. Traill 1986, 128. Baumbach 2004, 74; Waldstein et al. 1902, viiii. Caskey and Amandry 1952, 165. Wright 1982, 192. Baumbach 2004, 78; Strøm 1988, 180–186; Billot 1997, 67. Billott 1997, 34–44; Pfaff 2003, 83, 191. Waldstein et al. 1905, 3. Caskey and Amandry 1952, 184–187. Waldstein et al. 1902, 39. Waldstein 1892, 4–5. Waldstein 1892, 5. Waldstein et al. 1905, 3. Waldstein et al. 1905, 191. Waldstein et al. 1905, 347–354. Waldstein et al. 1905, 357–363. Waldstein et al. 1905, 169. Caskey and Amandry 1952, 168, 175. Caskey and Amandry 1952, 169. Caskey and Amandry 1952, 176. Caskey and Amandry 1952, 211.

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67 Waldstein 1892, 3. 68 Pemberton 1989, 79–81. 69 Bookidis and Stroud 1997, 153, 424–437. 70 Merker 2000, 2. 71 Bookidis and Stroud 1997, 162. 72 Bookidis and Stroud 1997, 161–162, 219. 73 Bookidis and Stroud 1997, 163–165. 74 Bookidis and Stroud 1997, 165. 75 Bookidis and Stroud 1997, 243–244. 76 Stroud 1965, 8. 77 Bookidis and Stroud 1997, xxi, 8. 78 Bookidis and Stroud 1997, xxi; Merker 2000, 2–3, 360–361. 79 Merker 2000, 353–368. 80 Bookidis and Stroud 1997, 427–428, 433; Brumfield 1997. 81 Merker 2000, 2. 82 See the chapter “Mass Production” in Chapter II: Making and Moving. 83 The extra-urban Bitalemi Sanctuary (a Thesmophorion) of Gela would have been an interesting addition. Unfortunately, at the time of this study the content of the deposits had not yet been published in detail. However, just before deadline for this volume Albertocchi 2022 was published and should be noted for future studies. See also Kron 1992; Hinz 1998, 55–64. 84 Orlandini 1968; Panvini and Sole 2005, 19. 85 Fischer-Hansen 1996, 323–324. 86 Fischer-Hansen 1996, 324; Panvini and Sole 2005, 19, 27–56. 87 Panvini and Sole 2005, 27. 88 Fischer-Hansen 1996, 325; Panvini and Sole 2005, 59. 89 Panvini and Sole 2005, 59, 63–73. 90 Panvini and Sole 2005, 77–78, 81–85. 91 Panvini and Sole 2005, 89–105. 92 Panvini and Sole 2005, 89; Sguaitamatti 1984. 93 Orlandini 1963. 94 Ismaelli 2013, 120. 95 Ismaelli 2011, 21. 96 Ismaelli 2011, 167. 97 Ismaelli 2011, 23–24. 98 Orlandini 1963, 1–78. 99 Ismaelli 2011, 24. 100 Ismaelli 2011, 29–166, 202–203; Ismaelli 2013, 120–121. 101 Ismaelli 2011, 209–211; Ismaelli 2013, 121. 102 Griffo 1956; De Miro 2000, 39–41. 103 De Miro 2000, 101–102. 104 De Miro 2000, 127–133 (terracottas), 133–139 (other finds). 105 De Miro 2000, 140–161. 106 De Miro 2000, 161–173 (terracottas), 173–181 (ceramics), 181–193 (other finds). 107 De Miro 2000, 193–195 (terracottas), 196–211 (other finds). 108 De Miro 2000, 212–214 (terracottas), 214–220 (other finds). 109 De Miro 2000, 221–222 (terracottas), 222–239 (other finds). 110 De Miro 2000, 240–252 (terracottas), 252–256 (other finds). 111 De Miro 2000, 257–259. 112 De Miro 2000, 264–268 (terracottas), 259–264 (prehistoric remains), 259–280 (other finds). 113 De Miro 2000, 280–285 (terracottas), 285–297 (other finds). 114 De Miro 2000, 315–316.

304

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115 De Miro 2000, 318–324. 116 Boardman 1967, v, xi. 117 Boardman 1967, 23. 118 Boardman 1967, 6–22. 119 Boardman 1967, 17, 20. 120 Boardman 1967, 9–10, 17. 121 Boardman 1967, 101. 122 Boardman 1967, xi, 83. 123 Boardman 1967, 62–63. 124 Boardman 1967, 60. 125 Boardman 1967, 60–61. 126 Boardman 1967, 101. 127 For specific contexts, see the catalogue in Boardman 1967. 128 Boardman 1967, 186–202, 241–242 (Cypriote and Egyptian figurines). 129 Boardman 1967, 102–180 (pottery), 202–232 (metal finds), 232–240, 243 (other small finds). 130 Boardman 1967, 199–202. 131 Boardman 1967, 58. 132 Blinkenberg 1931; Dyggve 1960. 133 Blinkenberg 1931, 12–22; Dyggve 1960, 42–44, 109. 134 The National Museum of Denmark holds the excavation diaries in the Lindos archive. These were studied, but it was without retrieving any further information on context. Occasionally the plot number was mentioned in the excavation diaries. 135 Blinkenberg 1931, 44–46. 136 The National Museum of Denmark holds a selection of the finds from Lindos, but only a small group of figurines from these specific contexts. For those available to study, it is difficult to distinguish between the objects from this context and those from other unspecified contexts, based on the state of preservation. 137 Blinkenberg 1931, 46–53. 138 Blinkenberg 1931, 52–55. 139 Blinkenberg 1931, 612–672. 140 Rumscheid 2006, 153. 141 Based on the objects kept at the National Museum of Denmark, as well as those published. 142 Higgins 1967, 6; Thompson, H. A. et al. 1987, 201 note 13c. 143 Blinkenberg 1931, 17–22, 55–56, 673; from the Lindos archive in the National Museum of Denmark, notebook no. 17, Blinkenberg’s diary (22 April 1903 – 21 June 1903), 11–14 May 1903. 144 Blinkenberg 1931, cat. nos. 2866–3144, 676–750. 145 The majority of the figurines in the National Museum (from this period) stem from the Small Deposit and a possible difference between those found outside the deposit, is difficult to determine. However, those from the Small Deposit are clearly better preserved than those from the Large Deposit. 146 Rumscheid 2006, 33 147 Bayhan 1989, 18; Rumscheid 2006, 19–23; https://www.dainst.org/projekt/-/projectdisplay/48590 [accessed 02 June 2022]. 148 Rumscheid 2006. 149 Rumscheid 2006, 132; Schneider 2003, esp. 393–395. See also Schipporeit 2013, 167–174. 150 Bayhan 1989, 34; Rumscheid 1998, 151–158; Rumscheid 2006, 63–64. 151 Wiegand and Schrader 1904, 157; Rumscheid 2006, 65–68; Schipporeit 2013, 167. 152 Schneider 2003, 393; Schipporeit 2013, 167. 153 Wiegand and Schrader 1904, 171–172; Rumsheid 2006, 69.

Notes to chapter IV

305

154 Wiegand and Schrader 1904, 174–175. 155 Wiegand and Schrader 1904, 172–177; Rumscheid 2006, 68–69. 156 Wiegand and Schrader 1904, 178; Rumscheid 2006, 69. 157 Wiegand and Schrader 1904, 178; Rumscheid 2006, 69. 158 Rumscheid 2006, 355–356; Schneider 2003, 393–395. 159 Radt 1999, 11–15; https://www.dainst.org/projekt/-/project-display/14186#_LFR_ FN__projectdisplay_WAR_daiportlet_view_history [accessed 02 June 2022]. 160 Bohtz and Albert 1970, 400–403; Töpperwein 1976; Rumscheid 2006, 133. 161 Radt 1999, 180–186; Piok Zanon 2009, esp. 145–152. 162 Dörpfeld 1910, 519–520; Töpperwein 1976, 157. 163 Dörpfeld 1910, 519–520; Töpperwein 1976, 157. 164 Töpperwein 1976, 157. 165 Töpperwein 1976, 158. 166 Töpperwein 1976, 158–159. 167 Töpperwein 1976, 161–162. 168 Bohtz and Albert 1970, 400–403; Rumscheid 2006, 133. 169 Töpperwein 1976, 157–160; Rumscheid 2006, 133. 170 Töpperwein 1976, 160; Rumscheid 2006, 132–133. 171 Van Buren 1966, 359; Ammerman 1990, 42. 172 Kron 1992, 619; van Straten 1995, 57; Rumscheid 2003, 150–154; Rumscheid 2006, 64; Clinton 2005, 168. 173 Dawkins 1929, 24, 252; Brulotte 1994, 303. 174 Lindenlauf 2006, 31. 175 Panteleon and Senff 2008, 41–46; Von Graeve 2013, 10–11. 176 Lindenlauf 2006. 177 Lindenlauf 2006, 30–31. 178 Linders 1972, 55–56; Lindenlauf 2006, 31. 179 Lindenlauf 2006, 31. 180 Frickenhaus 1912, 14. 181 Caskey and Amandry 1952, 168, 175. 182 Waldstein et al. 1902, 116. 183 Wiegand and Schrader 1904, 157; Rumscheid 2006, 65–68, 355–356. 184 Dörpfeld 1910, 519–520; Töpperwein 1976, 157. 185 Blinkenberg 1931, 46–53; Higgins 1967, 61; Thompson, H. A. et al. 1987, 201 note 13c. 186 Panvini and Sole 2005, 27–56. 187 Panvini and Sole 2005, 63–73. 188 Panvini and Sole 2005, 77–78, 81–85. 189 Panvini and Sole 2005, 89–105. 190 Merker 2000, 353–368. 191 Salapata 2002, 31. 192 See the chapter “The Roles of the Votives” in Chapter III: Dedicating and Mediating. 193 Uhlenbrock 1988, 150; Pakkanen 2015, 38. 194 Higgins 1954, 8; Salapata 2002, 31. 195 Waraksa 2009, 108–109 and see also notes 485–486 for numerous examples on ritual execration in ancient Egypt and the Near East. 196 Pakkanen 2015, 38.

306

Notes to chapter V

Chapter V: Transformation and Termination 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50

Pakkanen 2000–2001. Pakkanen 2000–2001, 76. Pakkanen 2000–2001, 76–77. Pakkanen 2000–2001, 77–78. Sourvinou-Inwood 1989, 53; Pakkanen 2000–2001, 79. Pakkanen 2000–2001, 75. Alroth 1998. Alroth 1998, 218–219. Alroth 1998, 219–220. Bille et al. 2010, 4–5. Fuery 1995, 2–3; Bille et al. 2010, 5. Bille et al. 2010, 10. Bille et al. 2010, 11. Whitley 2001, 311–313; Snodgrass 2006. Alroth 1998, 218–220. Margreiter 1988, 6, 29; Alroth 1998, 226. Mitsopoulos-Leon 2015, 17. Frickenhaus 1912, 51. Frickenhaus 1912, 46. Ismaelli 2013, 121–122. Orlandini 1968, 21; Uhlenbrock 1988, 119. Schmaltz 1974, 1–4. Cosmopoulos 2003, 236; Schachter 2003, 115–120. Schachter 2003, 121. Töpperwein 1976, 160; Bohtz and Albert 1970, 400–403. Radt 1999, 180–186. Piok Zanon 2009, 3. DeMaris 1995, 112; Bookidis 2003, 256. Jenkins 1931–1932, 36; Higgins 1967, 50. Waldstein et al. 1902, 39. Pemberton 1989, 79–81; Bookidis and Stroud 1997, 425. Merker 2000, 3. Merker 2000, 311. Bookidis and Stroud 1997, 434–435; Bookidis 1998, 229. Slane 1990, 8; Slane 2008, 491. Bookidis and Stroud 1997, 434–437. Boardman 1967, 193. Boardman 1967, 22, 30–31. Higgins 1973, 56. Coldstream and Higgins 1973, 188. Coldstream 1973, 10–11; Coldstream and Higgins 1973, 188–189. Shaya 2002, 44–45, 49–51; Higbie 2003, 13–15. Blinkenberg 1931, cat. nos 2923, 2984, 3090b; Higgins 1967, 61, 155; Thompson, H. A. et al. 1987, 119 no. 13c. Blinkenberg 1931, 743–746. Higgins 1967, 109. Zervoudaki 1988, 134–135. Schneider 2003, 389–397. Schneider 2003, 389–397; Rumscheid 2006, 64–67. De Miro 2000, 101–102. De Miro 2000, 81–96. Ammerman 2002, 23.

Notes to chapter V 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71

72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96

307

Alroth 1998. Alroth 1998, 228. Melfi 2014, 769–770. Bookidis 2003, 256; Melfi 2014, 771. DeMaris 1995; Bookidis 2003, 256. Kearns 2010, 138–140. Higgins 1967, 134. Higgins 1967, 95–97; Jeammet 2010b, 62–63; Jeammet and Mathieux 2010, 161. Thompson, D. B. 1966, 58; Higgins 1967, 97; Higgins 1986, 119; Uhlenbrock 1990c, 48. Bell, M. 1990, 67; Uhlenbrock 1990b, 77. Higgins 1967, 134. Uhlenbrock 1990b, 75; Rumscheid 2006, 384–386; Tezgör 2010, 186. Jeammet 2010b, 65. Jeammet and Mathieux 2010, 160–161. Merker 1990, 54. Bell, M. 1990, 65; Lippolis 2010, 217. Higgins 1967, 106; Rumscheid 2006, 161–173; Jeammet 2010b, 63; Jeammet and Mathieux 2010, 161; Mathieux 2010, 194–195. Graepler 2010, 218. Higgins 1967, 107, 118. Cahill 2002, 33, 45, 52, 59–60. Cahill 2002, 33, 85 (House of Many Colors), 106 (House A vii 4), 111 (House A iv 9), 115 (House A v 10), 120 (House A v 9), 123–124 (House A v 1), 126 (House A 8), 132 (House A 11 (a cache of figurines)), 139 (House of the Comedian), 146 (House of the Tiled Prothyron). Cahill 2002, 139, 187. Rumscheid 2006, 74. Rumscheid 2002, 77; Rumscheid 2006, 74. Rumscheid 2006, 43–52; esp. “Haus 33 und 33 Ost”. Barrett 2011, 321. Laumonier 1956, 9–93. Laumonier 1956, 95, 98. Laumonier 1956, 111–288. Barrett 2011, 322–323. Barrett 2011, 323. Rumscheid 2006, 76–131. Rumscheid 2006, 123. The table (Table 3) follows the sites studied in Rumscheid 2006, 76–123, but two examples from the same site are represented together. Cahill 2002, 33; Rumscheid 2006, 126–131. Ammerman 1990, 37; Potter 2003, 410; Mikalson 2006, 211. Ammerman 1990, 39; Mikalson 2006, 211. Grijalvo 2005, 256. Potter 2003, 416; Shaya 2015, 27. Blinkenberg 1941, 148–199; Shaya 2005, 425 no. 14; Shaya 2015, 28. Shaya 2005, 109; Shaya 2015, 29. Shaya 2015, 31. Bookidis and Pemberton 2015, 6–7. Bookidis and Pemberton 2015, 14, see also Dimakis 2015, 167. Simon 1986, 337–339; Dimakis 2015, 167; Diosono 2020, 139. Scullion 1994, 98; DeMaris 1995, 108; Bookidis and Pemberton 2015, 18–19; Dimakis 2015, 167.

308

Notes to chapter VI

97 On the use of light in the Eleusinian Mysteries, see for instance Patera 2010. 98 Dimakis 2015, 167. 99 Pausanias 7.22.3; Simon, C. G. 1986, 339; Bookidis and Pemberton 2015, 16. 100 Diosono 2020. 101 Rothaus 2000, 5. 102 Higgins 1967, 134.

Chapter VI: Discussion and Conclusions 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

Boardman 1967, 195–202. Panvini and Sole 2005, 35–43, 63–64, 81–83, 107–143, 163–186, 189–192. Huysecom-Haxhi 2009, 570–571. Mitsopoulos-Leon 2009; Mitsopoulos-Leon 2015. Waldstein et al. 1902, 13. Frickenhaus 1912, 59–66, 83 (cat. no. 141), 87–88. Merker 2000, 3–4. Higgins 1973, 56–92. Schneider 2003, 393; Rumscheid 2006, 132; Schipporeit 2013, 167. Rumscheid 2006, 65–67, 132; Rumscheid 2016, 328, 330–331. Ammerman 2002, 7, 29, 101, 149, 292, 316. Margreiter 1988, 21–30, pl. 7–16. Schmaltz 1974. Schmaltz 1974, 147–187.

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List of Illustrations

Cover Image Photographer: Line Cecilie Eskerod. Courtesy of the National Museum of Denmark, inv. no. 10749. Blinkenberg 1931, cat. no. 2953b. H. 11.6 cm. Fig. 1 Created by Niels Bargfeldt. Fig. 2 From Schiffer 1972, fig. 1. Fig. 3 From Grace 1997, https://doi.org/10.11141/ia.2.3 [accessed 23 March 2022]. Fig. 4 From de Polignac 2009, 32 fig.1. Photographer: Sophus Bengtsson. Courtesy of the National Museum of Fig. 5 Denmark. Breitenstein 1941, cat. no. 413, pl. 51. Fig. 6 Photographer: Line Cecilie Eskerod. Courtesy of the National Museum of Denmark, inv. no. 10749. Blinkenberg 1931, cat. no. 2953b. From Muller 2017, 61, fig. 1. © The Ephorate of Antiquities of Kavala Fig. 7 and the Hellenic Ministry of Culture and Sports. Fig. 8 From Ammerman 2002, 13, fig. 4. Fig. 9 From Ammerman 2002, 14, fig. 5. Fig. 10 From Van Buren 1966, fig. 15. Photographer:  M.T.  Currò. Courtesy Archaeological Institute of America and the American Journal of Archaeology. Fig. 11 From Van Buren 1966, fig. 16. Photographer:  M.T.  Currò. Courtesy Archaeological Institute of America and the American Journal of Archaeology. From Hinz 1998, 114, fig. 20. Fig. 12 From Felsch et al. 1980, 90, fig. 71. Fig. 13 From Marinatos 1936, pl. XXXI. Fig. 14 Fig. 15 Photographer: Theodora B. Kopestonsky. From Kopestonsky 2015, 416, fig. 4. Photographer: Stine Schierup. Fig. 16 Photographer: Stine Schierup. Fig. 17 From Roux 1952, 183, fig. 25. Fig. 18 Fig. 19 From Eckstein 1969, 89, fig. 24. Fig. 20 Médailles et Antiques de la Bibliothèque nationale de France, inv. no. De Ridder.422. © Bibliothèque Nationale de France. https://images.bnf. fr/#/detail/864495/2 [accessed 27 July 2022]. British Museum, inv. no.  1847,0806.54. © The Trustees of the British Fig. 21 Museum. https://www.britishmuseum.org/collection/object/G_18470806-54 [accessed 27 July 2022].

342 Fig. 22 Fig. 23 Fig. 24 Fig. 25 Fig. 26 Fig. 27 Fig. 28 Fig. 29 Fig. 30 Fig. 31 Fig. 32 Fig. 33 Fig. 34 Fig. 35 Fig. 36 Fig. 37 Fig. 38 Fig. 39 Fig. 40 Fig. 41 Fig. 42 Fig. 43 Fig. 44 Fig. 45 Fig. 46 Fig. 47 Fig. 48 Fig. 49 Fig. 50 Fig. 51 Fig. 52 Fig. 53 Fig. 54 Fig. 55

List of Illustrations The National Museum of Antiquities, Leiden, inv. no. I 1894/6.5. https://www.rmo.nl/collectie/collectiezoeker/collectiestuk/?object= 51371 [accessed 27 July 2022]. Photographer: Dan Diffendale. © Su concessione del Ministero della cultura n.23 del 8/06/2022 – Museo Archeologico Nazionale Di Reggio Calabria. See Arias 1946, 148–151 for height. From Işik 1980, pl. 25 no. 182 (left) and Levi 1969, fig. 42 d (right). From Huysecom-Haxhi 2009, pl. 9, cat. nos. 1274 and 1275. From Huysecom-Haxhi 2009, pl. 47, cat. nos. 1625 and 1628. From Mitsopoulos-Leon 2015, pl. 2. From Merker 2000, pl.  12. Courtesy of the Trustees of the American School of Classical Studies at Athens. Photographer: John Lee. Courtesy of the National Museum of Denmark, inv. nos. 10633, 10639, 10646, 10654. Blinkenberg 1931, cat. nos. 2447, 2457, 2476, 2495. From Blinkenberg 1931, pl. 147. From Schmaltz 1974, pl. 11, cat. no. 148. From Schmaltz 1974, pl. 28, cat. no. 349. From Blinkenberg 1931, pl. 138. From Schmaltz 1974, pl. 21. From Merker 2000, pl.  20. Courtesy of the Trustees of the American School of Classical Studies at Athens. From Panvini and Sole 2005, pl. LXXXIII, cat. nos. 8444 and 8477. From Ammerman 2002, pl. XXXIV, cat. no. 1816. Photographer: John Lee. Courtesy of the National Museum of Denmark, inv. no. 10758. Blinkenberg 1931, cat. no. 2985. From Blinkenberg 1931, pl. 85, cat. no. 1904. From Blinkenberg 1931, pl. 108. Photographer: John Lee. Courtesy of the National Museum of Denmark, inv. no. 10549. Blinkenberg 1931, cat. no. 2157. From Frickenhaus 1912, pl. VIII, 1 and 2. Photographer: John Lee. Courtesy of The National Museum of Denmark, inv. no. 10543. Blinkenberg 1931, cat. no. 2147. From Ammerman 2002, pl. XXX. Photographer: Line Cecilie Eskerod. Courtesy of the National Museum of Denmark, inv. nos.  10784, 10787, 10788. Blinkenberg 1931, cat. nos. 3024, 3027, 3028. From Huysecom-Haxhi 2009, pl. 8, cat. no 1262. From Panvini and Sole 2005, pl. LXIX. From Merker 2000, pl.  56. Courtesy of the Trustees of the American School of Classical Studies at Athens. From Merker 2000, pl. 66, cat. no. I23. Courtesy of the Trustees of the American School of Classical Studies at Athens. From Coldstream 1973, pl. 40. Reproduced with permission of the British School at Athens. From Ammerman 2002, pl. XXVI. From Schmaltz 1974, pl. 5, cat. no. 66a. Photographer: John Lee. Courtesy of The National Museum of Denmark, inv. no. 10592. Blinkenberg 1931, cat. no. 2248. Photographer: John Lee. Courtesy of The National Museum of Denmark, inv. no. 10780. Blinkenberg 1931, cat. no. 3016. Photographer: the author. © The Archaeological Museum of Athens.

List of Illustrations Fig. 56 Fig. 57 Fig. 58 Fig. 59 Fig. 60 Fig. 61 Fig. 62

Fig. 63 Fig. 64 Fig. 65 Fig. 66 Fig. 67 Fig. 68 Fig. 69 Fig. 70 Fig. 71 Fig. 72 Fig. 73 Fig. 74 Fig. 75 Fig. 76 Fig. 77 Fig. 78 Fig. 79 Fig. 80 Fig. 81 Fig. 82 Fig. 83 Fig. 84 Fig. 85

343

From Waldstein et al. 1905, pl. XLIII. Courtesy of the Trustees of the American School of Classical Studies at Athens. From Mitsopoulos-Leon 2009, pl. 21. From Panvini and Sole 2005, pl. XLVI. From Rumscheid 2006, pl. 29. From Rumscheid 2006, pl. 30. From Margreiter 1988, pl. 8. © Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, Antikensammlung, inv. no. Sk 1504, Photograph: Universität zu Köln, Archäologisches Institut, CoDArchLab, 104020,01_FA-SPerg-001888_Gisela Geng. https://arachne.dainst.org/ entity/1120875?fl=20 [accessed 27 July 2022]. Photographer: Ophelia2, Wikimedia Commons. https://upload.wikime dia.org/wikipedia/commons/c/c3/Brauron_-_Votive_Relief2.jpg [accessed 10 November 2022]. Archaeological Museum of Brauron, inv. no. 1152. © Hellenic Ministry of Culture and Sports / Ephorate of Antiquities of East Attica. Photographer: Socratis Mavrommatis. The Acropolis Museum, inv. no. EAM X 6837 © Acropolis Museum, 2015. https://www.theacropolis museum.gr/en/miniature-inscribed-shield [accessed 27 July 2022]. From Frickenhaus 1912, fig. 1. From Schliemann 1886b, fig. 125. From Pfaff 2003, part of pl. 1. Courtesy of the Trustees of the American School of Classical Studies at Athens. From Bookidis and Stroud 1997, plan 11. Courtesy of the Trustees of the American School of Classical Studies at Athens. From Bookidis and Stroud 1997, part of plan 4: N–R: 20–27. Courtesy of the Trustees of the American School of Classical Studies at Athens. Moderated by the author. From Panvini and Sole 2005, part of pl. XCIII. Ismaelli 2011, fig. 1, from Orlandini 1963, 6, fig. 1. Ismaelli 2011, fig. 6, from Orlandini 1963, 15, fig. 15. De Miro 2000, fig. 2. Moderated by Niels Bargfeldt after De Miro 2000, part of fig. 3. From Boardman 1967, fig. 6. Reproduced with permission of the British School at Athens. From Boardman 1967, fig. 12. Reproduced with permission of the British School at Athens. From Boardman 1967, fig. 28. Reproduced with permission of the British School at Athens. From Blinkenberg 1931, pl. 1. From Rumscheid 2006, insert 19. From Rumscheid 2006, insert 21. From Piok Zanon 2009, fig. 2. From Pakkanen 2000–2001, fig. 1. Photographer: Kitt Weiss. Courtesy of the National Museum of Denmark. Breitenstein 1941, cat. nos. 355, 543, 544, 546, 548. Photographer: Line Cecilie Eskerod. Courtesy of the National Museum of Denmark. Blinkenberg 1931, cat. nos. 2544, 2550, 2561, 3199, 3201, 3212. Photographer: Line Cecilie Eskerod. Courtesy of the National Museum of Denmark. Breitenstein 1941, cat. no. 411.

Index

absence  113, 164, 237, 245, 265 accumulation  5, 176, 193–196 Acheloos  100, 149 Acrocorinth  49, 188 Aegina  8, 106, 108, 145, 148, 156, 238, 242 agalma  159, 261 agency  21, 25, 27–30, 33, 67, 152, 165, 168 Agrigento  9, 47, 181, 198, 216, 218–222, 226, 241, 243 Amarynthos 48 animals  48, 107  f., 120, 128, 131, 133, 162, 184 aparchai 131 Aphrodite  50, 62, 64, 106, 131, 145, 205, 221, 241, 243  f. Apollo  8, 64, 83, 86, 97, 103, 106, 108  f., 131, 156, 163, 238, 242, 247 Apuleius  153, 300 archaeological record  6, 18  f., 21  f., 26, 41, 56, 174  f., 180, 216, 237, 265 Archaic  3  f., 6, 14, 25, 28, 57–60, 63  f., 66, 69, 73, 82, 84  f., 104, 145, 148, 184, 186, 189, 192, 194, 198, 207, 221, 226, 239, 246–248 archetype  41, 52 Argive  50, 105, 134, 184  f., 242 Argos  8, 50, 105, 124, 133, 137, 142, 148, 181, 184, 216–218, 220–222, 225, 238  f., 243, 300 Aristophanes  100, 297 Artemis  8, 15, 48, 56, 89, 100, 103, 105, 110, 133, 141, 157, 204, 220, 238, 297 Artemision  8, 60, 105, 247 Asia Minor  4, 6, 9, 12, 46, 63, 65  f., 93, 144, 181 Asklepieion  97, 99, 153, 157, 214 Asklepios  6, 99  f., 121, 133, 163, 243, 249

aspects  3, 12, 15, 18, 25, 33, 37, 51, 67, 79, 105, 107, 109  f., 151  f., 156, 161  f., 164, 166, 168, 235, 242, 251  f., 257, 260  f., 267 assemblage  18, 21  f., 30, 70, 165, 173, 178, 182, 227, 263 assemblages  3, 11, 18, 22  f., 27, 30, 64, 174, 176–178, 221 Astarte 145 Athana Lindia  8, 58, 82  f., 90  f., 104  f., 141, 144, 207, 240, 249, 297, 299 Athena  8, 39, 47, 50, 56, 85, 93  f., 104  f., 133  f., 141, 147  f., 154, 159, 202–204, 206, 210, 213, 217, 220  f., 240, 299 Athens  12, 45, 47  f., 51, 64–66, 90, 97, 99, 157, 184, 188, 202, 246 Baubo  141, 145–148, 151 behavioural  19  f., 24, 173 belts  204, 218, 222 Bes  107, 123 birds  128, 131, 162, 299 Black Sea  4, 66 Brauron  8, 99, 105, 111, 113, 133, 143, 148, 157  f., 223, 238, 242, 300 breakage  178, 182, 194, 209, 221, 227, 263 burial  52, 154, 187, 228 cakes  131, 162, 191 chaîne opératoire  24–28, 30, 32  f., 257, 267 Chios  8, 85, 105, 147, 181, 202  f., 206, 216–218, 220–222, 226  f., 240, 243, 250 Christianity  252  f., 264 chthonic  11, 104, 115, 194, 198, 251, 297  f. Classical  3, 5  f., 45, 48, 64, 66, 73, 89, 184, 188  f., 198, 206, 236, 239  f., 242, 246, 248

345

Index classification  12, 174 Clemens Alexandrinus  105, 144, 297, 300 cognitive  29  f., 32, 165 collection  4, 12  f., 17, 22, 107, 213, 249  f. coming-of-age  117, 121, 156 consumers  33, 37, 43, 50–52, 61, 68, 73, 75  f., 258, 265 consumption  5, 25, 37, 39, 52, 68, 74 continuity  235–237, 263 converted  73, 238 Corinth  8, 14, 39, 49, 51, 56  f., 61  f., 64, 66, 75, 85, 89, 105, 110, 112, 119, 134, 140, 147  f., 181, 188, 190  f., 216  f., 219–221, 226, 229, 239, 243, 246, 249  f., 300 coroplasts  43, 45, 62, 72, 74 craftspeople  33, 37, 43, 45, 51  f., 64, 72, 74, 168 craftsperson  25, 43, 153 c-transforms  19, 174 cultic paraphernalia  5, 14  f., 137, 202, 209, 216, 222–224, 226, 228, 235, 241, 250 cultural processes  19 Cypriote  12, 63  f., 145, 304 Cyprus  4, 63, 84 Cyrene  63  f., 66, 69, 71  f. daimon  124, 144 dancers  116  f. decline  237–239, 244–247, 250, 253, 264 dekatai 131 Delos  40, 72, 99, 153, 247–249, 257 Delphi  46, 71, 90, 92, 97, 223 Demeter  8  f., 11, 14, 49  f., 56  f., 61, 64, 69, 71, 89, 104–106, 115, 133  f., 141, 150  f., 180, 188–190, 210  f., 213  f., 219  f., 225, 239–243, 249  f., 261, 289, 296, 300, 302 demise  24, 34, 233, 238, 240, 257 derivative production  13  f., 52  f., 74 Dionysos  113, 140, 249 discard  23  f., 26, 34, 49, 173, 175, 179, 187, 233, 257, 262 disposal  19, 21, 25, 171, 173, 175, 177, 184, 196, 220, 227 distributive agency  30, 32 divination  139, 251  f. doll  110, 113, 148 dolls  107, 110–113, 117, 147, 156

domestic  5, 52, 247  f., 253, 264 dwarf 124 Egypt  63, 66, 71, 124, 133, 305 Eleusis  5, 71, 302 Ephesus 50 Eretria  48, 65 Etruria  47, 66, 243 Euripides  70, 295, 299 family  71, 153, 157–159, 161–164, 168, 235, 261 favour 157–160 fertility  121, 123  f., 126, 130  f., 133, 141, 144, 149, 151, 158, 161  f., 164, 251 fibulae  186, 218, 222, 224 first fruits  131, 159 flower  115, 128 flowers  125, 128, 141, 162 flow model  19  f., 257 flow models  19, 24 flutes 139 formation  19, 21, 24, 68, 209 fruit  120, 127–131, 133, 141, 162 funerary  11  f., 83, 246  f., 253, 264 Gaia 11 garments  110, 149, 222, 224 Gela  9, 47, 60, 62, 69, 71, 89, 101, 105, 120, 131, 144, 148, 181, 192–196, 216  f., 219–221, 226, 229, 238, 242, 299, 303 Greece  4, 6, 12, 15, 24, 39, 63, 69, 124, 130, 162, 181, 257 Greek mainland  8, 46, 62, 83 grotesques  126, 244 Harbour Sanctuary  202, 204–206, 217  f., 220 Healing 6 Hellenistic  3  f., 6, 13–15, 42  f., 45, 50, 58, 64–66, 82, 89, 104, 145, 164, 189, 198, 202, 204, 233, 236, 238–242, 244, 246–254, 263  f., 267  f. Heloros  81–84, 92, 167, 219, 229 Heracles  93, 154 Hera  15, 91  f., 100, 105, 133, 150, 153, 182, 205, 247, 296 Heraion  8, 46, 50, 105, 134, 181, 184  f., 238  f., 242 Herodas  70, 100  f., 133, 153, 163, 295, 297, 301 Herodotos 67 Homer 299

346Index hydria  134, 162, 191 hydrophoroi  134  f., 149 identity  6, 29  f., 67  f., 71, 75, 103, 107, 145, 152  f., 156, 259  f., 265 instruments  117, 128, 139 Ionia 14 Isthmia  46, 71 Kabiroi  8, 106, 108, 113, 126, 133, 140, 147, 156, 239 kanephoros  140, 163 Knossos  8, 66, 106, 135, 140, 240, 242  f., 250, 300 Kore  8  f., 11, 14, 49  f., 56  f., 61, 89, 104–106, 113, 115, 188, 190, 210  f., 239, 241, 243, 249  f., 261, 289 Kos 62 kourotrophoi  120, 148, 156, 161 kourotrophos 121–124 Kybele  137, 140, 210  f., 213, 219 lamps  194, 197, 201  f., 218, 222, 224, 240  f., 243, 250, 252, 254, 264 Late Antiquity  3, 49, 241, 252, 264 life cycle  3  f., 22, 24, 26  f., 30, 33  f., 37, 74, 79, 156, 158, 167, 171, 173, 177, 179, 195, 257, 262  f. Lindos  8, 12, 56, 58–61, 63  f., 90  f., 104  f., 107  f., 113  f., 116, 121, 123  f., 127, 129, 133  f., 138–141, 148, 151, 207, 216–218, 220–222, 226  f., 240  f., 243, 249  f., 297, 299, 304 lingering  13, 57, 189 loom weights  47, 218, 222, 224 Lucania  47, 52 lyres 139 Magna Graecia  4, 6, 9, 46, 60, 62, 115, 181, 246, 289 mass-produced  12, 55, 61, 68, 75, 166 mass production  40, 52, 55, 59–61, 72, 74  f., 258 mediator  165, 252, 261 memory  29, 71, 159, 162, 165 Menander  140, 299 Metaponto 47 Miletos  50  f., 62, 221 miniature  89, 159  f., 182, 186, 189, 191, 197, 202, 210, 218, 222, 300 miniatures  134, 182, 188  f., 191, 194, 210, 222, 224, 250 museum  4, 12  f., 17, 26, 106

Mycenaean  25, 181, 184, 186 Myrina  13, 65  f., 72, 93, 96, 156, 246 Mysteries  71, 134, 144, 249, 251, 308 Mytilene 144 natural processes  19, 177 Naukratis  59, 63, 66, 69–71, 294 necklaces 141–143 Nemea  46  f., 71 network  27  f., 30, 32, 65, 75, 152, 158, 160, 164  f., 235, 254 networks  27, 30  f., 66–68, 158, 257, 264 n-transforms 19 object agency  24, 27  f., 30, 32, 165, 254, 264 Olympia  46, 71, 89, 91  f., 99, 296 Olynthus  48, 247  f. Paestum  9, 66, 106, 145, 148, 241, 243 palimpsest 21 Pan  124, 126 Panhellenic  46, 51  f., 71 Pausanias  99, 105  f., 251, 296  f., 308 Peloponnese  8, 15, 46 Pergamon  9, 50, 65  f., 181, 213  f., 216, 219–221, 225, 239, 242 Persephone  11, 64, 69, 71, 115 phiale  137, 162 piglet  133, 162 pigments  40, 43, 46, 48 pinakes  4, 93, 95, 145, 148, 154, 167 plaques  4, 47, 51, 91, 98, 144 Plato  67, 100, 149, 153  f., 248, 254, 295, 297, 299  f. pleasurable gift 261 pleasurable gifts 252 Pliny the Elder  39, 99, 292, 297 Plutarch  105, 297 post-processual  20, 206 Potnia Theron  133 Predio Sola  9, 89, 101, 192, 195, 197, 221  f., 238 Priene  9, 50  f., 65  f., 75, 89, 92  f., 106, 141, 146–148, 151, 181, 210–213, 216, 219–221, 225, 241, 243, 246–248 primary context  178, 194, 213 Primary depositional contexts  19 processions  134, 140, 299 processual  19  f., 206, 216 prosperity  124, 149, 151, 162

347

Index protomai  59, 64, 89, 93, 95, 98, 101, 104, 107, 110, 113–115, 117, 141, 154, 157, 196–198, 221, 247, 297  f. protome  83, 93, 96, 115, 153  f. prototype  13  f., 41, 45, 50, 52  f., 55, 293 prototypes  14, 29, 41  f., 45, 53, 65 raw  3, 39, 73, 238 recycling  174, 223  f., 252, 262 refuse  21, 48, 173, 175, 185 regulations  99, 161, 167, 224, 260 reuse  207, 220  f., 223–225, 227, 252, 262 Rhodes  12, 62–64, 66, 85, 97, 104  f., 181, 207, 241 ritual paraphernalia  6, 128, 151, 202, 217 Roman  11, 13, 15, 24, 41, 48, 57, 186, 189, 239–241, 243, 249, 251, 295 rubbish  173, 175, 185 Samos  46, 50, 62, 144 Santa Venera  9, 106, 121  f., 128, 241 Satyrs  124, 126 secondary context  178, 194, 198 Secondary depositional contexts  19 Selinunt  62, 89 Sicyon 39 Silenus  124, 126 Socrates  100, 133, 149  f., 167 Sparta  99, 220 spindle  48, 222 spindles  141, 148 stratigraphy  18, 21 systemic  19, 21, 23 tambourines 139 Tanagra  12, 14, 45, 64–66, 72, 156, 241, 244–246

Temple boys 120 tertiary contexts  177, 187, 190, 199, 201  f., 206, 221, 262 Tertiary  177  f. Thasos  8, 15, 56, 60  f., 69, 105, 108  f., 124, 130 Thebes  8, 106, 108, 115, 118, 137, 239, 242 Theophrastus  14, 290 Thesmophoria  105, 133  f., 144, 162, 180, 210, 219, 296  f., 302 thing power  30, 165, 227 Thucydides  163, 301 Tiryns  8, 105, 126, 129, 133, 148, 181  f., 216  f., 220  f., 223, 225, 227, 238, 242 tithe  131, 159, 161 torch  133, 151, 162 torches  50, 82, 132, 141, 162 trade  3, 33, 39, 62–66, 68  f., 72, 75, 257, 259 transference 229 transferences  19, 21, 23  f., 173 transition  5, 110, 117, 156, 162, 236, 240, 251 Troy  65  f., 249 tympana  138  f. typology  12, 106, 215 Urban Sanctuary  9, 47, 198–200, 218, 220, 241 visiting gods  115, 145, 298 votive reliefs  140, 157  f., 162 web of associations  174, 177 wornness  176, 178, 182, 209, 221 Zeus  39, 47, 50, 104, 108, 198  f.