Interpreting the Seventh Century BC: Tradition and Innovation 1784915726, 9781784915728

Table of contents :
Cover
Copyright Page
Contents
Editors’ Preface
Notes on Contributors
1. Introduction: interpreting the seventh century BC
Xenia Charalambidou and Catherine Morgan
2. Introduction: can one speak of the seventh century BC?
Roland Étienne
3. Ceramics, analytical scales and cultural histories of seventh-century Crete
Antonis Kotsonas
4. The birthplace of Greek monumental sculpture revisited
Georgia Kokkorou-Alevras
5. On women and on lions
Eva Simantoni-Bournia
6. Greek art in the seventh century BC: the example of bronzes from Delphi
Hélène Aurigny
7. Al Mina and changing patterns of trade: the evidence from the eastern Mediterranean
Alexander Vacek
8. Cypriot evidence in seventh-century Rhodes: discontinuity or change?
Giorgos Bourogiannis
9. Faience in seventh-century Greece:
egyptianizing ‘bric a brac’ or a useful paradigm for relations with Egypt?
Virginia Webb
10. A sea of luxury: luxury items and dyes of marine origin
in the Aegean during the seventh century BC
Tatiana Theodoropoulou
11. Coarse, plain and cooking ware: seventh-century innovation for old-fashioned pots
Jean-Sébastien Gros
12. East Greek pottery workshops in the seventh century BC: tracing regional styles
Michael Kerschner
13. Old Smyrna: a window onto the seventh-century painted wares
from the Anglo-Turkish excavations (1948-1951)
Stavros A. Paspalas
14. Euboea and the Euboean Gulf region: pottery in context
Xenia Charalambidou
15. Parian ceramics of the seventh century BC in Cycladic cemeteries and sanctuaries
Photini Zaphiropoulou
16. Beyond Athens and Corinth.
Pottery distribution in the seventh-century Aegean: the case of Kythnos
Maria Koutsoumpou
17. Conservatism versus innovation: architectural forms in early Archaic Greece
Alexander Mazarakis Ainian
18. Fortifications in the seventh century.
Where and why?
Rune Frederiksen
19. Corinthian sanctuaries and the question of cult buildings
Catherine Morgan
20. Achaian interaction and mobility in the area of the Corinthian Gulf
during the seventh century BC
Anastasia Gadolou
21. The sanctuaries of Herakles and Apollo Ismenios at Thebes: new evidence
Vassilis Aravantinos
22. A group of small vases with Subgeometric – early Archaic decoration
from the sanctuary of Herakles at Thebes
Kyriaki Kalliga
23. Cult in Attica. The case of the sanctuary of Artemis Mounichia
Lydia Palaiokrassa-Kopitsa
24. Athenian burial practices and cultural change:
the Rundbau early plot in the Kerameikos cemetery revisited
Anna Maria D’Onofrio
25. Special burial treatment for the ‘heroized’ dead
in the Attic countryside. The case of the elite cemetery of Vari
Alexandra Alexandridou
26. Cumae in Campania during the seventh century BC
Matteo D’Acunto
27. Cultural dynamics in the seventh-century Sibaritide
(Southern Italy)
Jan Kindberg Jacobsen, Sine Grove Saxkjær and Gloria Paola Mittica
28. From innovation to tradition: seventh-century Sicily
Gillian Shepherd
29. An early orientalizing spouted krater from Naxos on Sicily
Maria Costanza Lentini
30. The city of Mende during the late eighth and seventh centuries BC
Sophia Moschonissioti
31. Panhellenes at Methone, Pieria (c. 700 BC):
new inscriptions, graffiti/dipinti, and (trade)marks
Yannis Tzifopoulos, Manthos Bessios and Antonis Kotsonas
32. Frontiers in seventh-century epigraphy: aspects of diffusion and consolidation
Alan Johnston
33. Skilled in the Muses’ lovely gifts:
lyric poetry and the rise of the community in the seventh-century Aegean
Jan Paul Crielaard
Bibliography
General Index
Topographic Index
Contents
Editors’ Preface
Notes on Contributors
1. Introduction: interpreting the seventh century BC
Xenia Charalambidou and Catherine Morgan
2. Introduction: can one speak of the seventh century BC?
Roland Étienne
3. Ceramics, analytical scales and cultural histories of seventh-century Crete
Antonis Kotsonas
4. The birthplace of Greek monumental sculpture revisited
Georgia Kokkorou-Alevras
5. On women and on lions
Eva Simantoni-Bournia
6. Greek art in the seventh century BC: the example of bronzes from Delphi
Hélène Aurigny
7. Al Mina and changing patterns of trade: the evidence from the eastern Mediterranean
Alexander Vacek
8. Cypriot evidence in seventh-century Rhodes: discontinuity or change?
Giorgos Bourogiannis
9. Faience in seventh-century Greece:
egyptianizing ‘bric a brac’ or a useful paradigm for relations with Egypt?
Virginia Webb
10. A sea of luxury: luxury items and dyes of marine origin
in the Aegean during the seventh century BC
Tatiana Theodoropoulou
11. Coarse, plain and cooking ware: seventh-century innovation for old-fashioned pots
Jean-Sébastien Gros
12. East Greek pottery workshops in the seventh century BC: tracing regional styles
Michael Kerschner
13. Old Smyrna: a window onto the seventh-century painted wares
from the Anglo-Turkish excavations (1948-1951)
Stavros A. Paspalas
14. Euboea and the Euboean Gulf region: pottery in context
Xenia Charalambidou
15. Parian ceramics of the seventh century BC in Cycladic cemeteries and sanctuaries
Photini Zaphiropoulou
16. Beyond Athens and Corinth.
Pottery distribution in the seventh-century Aegean: the case of Kythnos
Maria Koutsoumpou
17. Conservatism versus innovation: architectural forms in early Archaic Greece
Alexander Mazarakis Ainian
18. Fortifications in the seventh century.
Where and why?
Rune Frederiksen
19. Corinthian sanctuaries and the question of cult buildings
Catherine Morgan
20. Achaian interaction and mobility in the area of the Corinthian Gulf
during the seventh century BC
Anastasia Gadolou
21. The sanctuaries of Herakles and Apollo Ismenios at Thebes: new evidence
Vassilis Aravantinos
22. A group of small vases with Subgeometric – early Archaic decoration
from the sanctuary of Herakles at Thebes
Kyriaki Kalliga
23. Cult in Attica. The case of the sanctuary of Artemis Mounichia
Lydia Palaiokrassa-Kopitsa
24. Athenian burial practices and cultural change:
the Rundbau early plot in the Kerameikos cemetery revisited
Anna Maria D’Onofrio
25. Special burial treatment for the ‘heroized’ dead
in the Attic countryside. The case of the elite cemetery of Vari
Alexandra Alexandridou
26. Cumae in Campania during the seventh century BC
Matteo D’Acunto
27. Cultural dynamics in the seventh-century Sibaritide
(Southern Italy)
Jan Kindberg Jacobsen, Sine Grove Saxkjær and Gloria Paola Mittica
28. From innovation to tradition: seventh-century Sicily
Gillian Shepherd
29. An early orientalizing spouted krater from Naxos on Sicily
Maria Costanza Lentini
30. The city of Mende during the late eighth and seventh centuries BC
Sophia Moschonissioti
31. Panhellenes at Methone, Pieria (c. 700 BC):
new inscriptions, graffiti/dipinti, and (trade)marks
Yannis Tzifopoulos, Manthos Bessios and Antonis Kotsonas
32. Frontiers in seventh-century epigraphy: aspects of diffusion and consolidation
Alan Johnston
33. Skilled in the Muses’ lovely gifts:
lyric poetry and the rise of the community in the seventh-century Aegean
Jan Paul Crielaard
Bibliography
General Index
Topographic Index
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Citation preview

Interpreting the Seventh Century BC Tradition and Innovation Edited by

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Xenia Charalambidou and Catherine Morgan

Interpreting the Seventh Century BC Tradition and Innovation Edited by

Xenia Charalambidou and Catherine Morgan

Archaeopress Archaeology

Archaeopress Publishing Ltd Gordon House 276 Banbury Road Oxford OX2 7ED

www.archaeopress.com

ISBN 978 1 78491 572 8 ISBN 978 1 78491 573 5 (e-Pdf)

© Archaeopress and the authors 2017 Cover images: Sanctuary of Herakles by the Elektran Gates at Thebes. Foreground: dinos or louterion depicting Herakles killing the Centaur Nessos while abducting Deianeira (© Hellenic Ministry of Culture and Sports: Archaeological Receipts Fund; photograph: S. Mavromatis). Background: concentration of unpainted jugs massed together in the ash altar (photograph: V. Aravantinos).

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the copyright owners.

Printed in England by Oxuniprint, Oxford

This book is available direct from Archaeopress or from our website www.archaeopress.com

Contents Editors’ Preface������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������iii Notes on Contributors � ���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� iv 1. Introduction: interpreting the seventh century BC������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 1 Xenia Charalambidou and Catherine Morgan 2. Introduction: can one speak of the seventh century BC?����������������������������������������������������������������������������� 9 Roland Étienne 3. Ceramics, analytical scales and cultural histories of seventh-century Crete���������������������������������������������15 Antonis Kotsonas 4. The birthplace of Greek monumental sculpture revisited��������������������������������������������������������������������������24 Georgia Kokkorou-Alevras 5. On women and on lions��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������31 Eva Simantoni-Bournia 6. Greek art in the seventh century BC: the example of bronzes from Delphi�����������������������������������������������38 Hélène Aurigny 7. Al Mina and changing patterns of trade: the evidence from the eastern Mediterranean��������������������������47 Alexander Vacek 8. Cypriot evidence in seventh-century Rhodes: discontinuity or change? ���������������������������������������������������60 Giorgos Bourogiannis 9. Faience in seventh-century Greece: egyptianizing ‘bric a brac’ or a useful paradigm for relations with Egypt?���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������71 Virginia Webb 10. A sea of luxury: luxury items and dyes of marine origin in the Aegean during the seventh century BC ������� 80 Tatiana Theodoropoulou 11. Coarse, plain and cooking ware: seventh-century innovation for old-fashioned pots������������� 93 Jean-Sébastien Gros 12. East Greek pottery workshops in the seventh century BC: tracing regional styles�����������������100 Michael Kerschner 13. Old Smyrna: a window onto the seventh-century painted waresfrom the Anglo-Turkish excavations (1948-1951) � ������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������114 Stavros A. Paspalas 14. Euboea and the Euboean Gulf region: pottery in context � ������������������������������������������������������123 Xenia Charalambidou 15. Parian ceramics of the seventh century BC in Cycladic cemeteries and sanctuaries��������������150 Photini Zaphiropoulou 16. Beyond Athens and Corinth. Pottery distribution in the seventh-century Aegean: the case of Kythnos � �������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������160 Maria Koutsoumpou 17. Conservatism versus innovation: architectural forms in early Archaic Greece����������������������173 Alexander Mazarakis Ainian i

 18. Fortifications in the seventh century. Where and why?��������������������������������������������������������186 Rune Frederiksen 19. Corinthian sanctuaries and the question of cult buildings���������������������������������������������������193 Catherine Morgan 20. Achaian interaction and mobility in the area of the Corinthian Gulf during the seventh century BC�����212 Anastasia Gadolou 21. The sanctuaries of Herakles and Apollo Ismenios at Thebes: new evidence���������������������������221 Vassilis Aravantinos 22. A group of small vases with Subgeometric – early Archaic decoration from the sanctuary of Herakles at Thebes��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������231 Kyriaki Kalliga 23. Cult in Attica. The case of the sanctuary of Artemis Mounichia�������������������������������������������245 Lydia Palaiokrassa-Kopitsa 24. Athenian burial practices and cultural change: the Rundbau early plot in the Kerameikos cemetery revisited � ��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������260 Anna Maria D’Onofrio 25. Special burial treatment for the ‘heroized’ dead in the Attic countryside. The case of the elite cemetery of Vari � �����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������281 Alexandra Alexandridou 26. Cumae in Campania during the seventh century BC��������������������������������������������������������������293 Matteo D’Acunto 27. Cultural dynamics in the seventh-century Sibaritide (Southern Italy)����������������������������������������330 Jan Kindberg Jacobsen, Sine Grove Saxkjær and Gloria Paola Mittica 28. From innovation to tradition: seventh-century Sicily�����������������������������������������������������������339 Gillian Shepherd 29. An early orientalizing spouted krater from Naxos on Sicily � �������������������������������������������������349 Maria Costanza Lentini 30. The city of Mende during the late eighth and seventh centuries BC��������������������������������������355 Sophia Moschonissioti 31. Panhellenes at Methone, Pieria (c. 700 BC): new inscriptions, graffiti/dipinti, and (trade) marks����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������364 Yannis Tzifopoulos, Manthos Bessios and Antonis Kotsonas 32. Frontiers in seventh-century epigraphy: aspects of diffusion and consolidation�������������������375 Alan Johnston 33. Skilled in the Muses’ lovely gifts: lyric poetry and the rise of the community in the seventh-century Aegean��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������382 Jan Paul Crielaard Bibliography������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 393 General Index�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������443 Topographic Index�����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������447

ii

Editors’ Preface This book has its origin in a conference held at the British School at Athens in 2011 which aimed to explore the range of new archaeological information now available for the seventh century in Greek lands. We place on record our warmest thanks to the staff and students of the School for their support both at that event and during the preparation of the book. The majority of contributions have been developed from papers given at the conference, benefitting greatly from the rich discussion which took place: additional chapters were solicited from authors who in many cases had been present at the event. We are grateful to Estelle Strazdins for copy-editing the final manuscript: the chapters by Roland Étienne and Jean-Sébastien Gros were translated from the original French by Catherine Morgan. The Hellenic Ministry of Culture and Sports retains copyright in all images of Greek sites and artefacts supplied by ephorates and museums and reproduced in this book.

iii



Notes on Contributors ALEXANDER MAZARAKIS AINIAN is Professor of Classical Archaeology in the Department of Archaeology of the University of Thessaly. He conducts excavations in the Cyclades (ancient capital of Kythnos), Attica (Early Iron Age Oropos), Thessaly (sanctuary of Apollo at Soros) and the northern Sporades (pre-Classical settlement on Skiathos). His publications include From Rulers’ Dwellings to Temples (1997) and Όμηρος και Αρχαιολογία (2000), as well as a number of edited proceedings of symposia, including Oropos and Euboea in the Early Iron Age (2007) and The Dark Ages Revisited (2011). GEORGIA KOKKOROU-ALEVRAS is Professor Emerita of Classical Archaeology in the National and Capodistrian University of Athens. Her publications include Archaische Naxische Bildhauerei (Antike Plastik 24, 1995), Αλάσαρνα Ι. Οι επιγραφές (2004), Kardamaina (Ancient Halasarna) on the Island of Kos. A Guide (2006), Αρχαία Ελληνικά Λατομεία (2010), and Corpus Αρχαίων Λατομείων. Λατομεία του ελλαδικού χώρου από τους προϊστορικούς έως τους μεσαιωνικούς χρόνους (2014). Since 1985 she has been co-director of the University of Athens excavation in the sanctuary of Apollo and the Early Byzantine settlement at Kardamaina (ancient Halasarna) on Kos, and from 2011-15 she directed an Aristeia ‘Thales’ programme to publish a series of nine volumes on the finds from this excavation. ALEXANDRA ALEXANDRIDOU is research fellow/postdoctoral researcher (FRS-F.N.R.S.) at the Research Centre of the Faculty of Philosophy and Social Sciences (CReA-Patrimoine) of the Free University of Brussels (U.L.B.) and a member of the educational staff of the Open University of Cyprus. Her scholarly interests focus on the study of Early Iron Age and early Archaic society through the contextual study of pottery. As a field archaeologist, she participates in the excavation of the Archaic sanctuary of Despotiko on Antiparos and of the early settlement of Kephala on Skiathos. VASSILIS ARAVANTINOS is Ephor Emeritus of Antiquities. He served as Curator (1981-1993) and Director (19932011) of the former Ephorate of Prehistoric and Classical Antiquities of Boeotia and is currently director of the programme Excavations at Thebes (Kadmeia) under the auspices of the Archaeological Society at Athens and in collaboration with the Ephorate of Antiquities of Boeotia. His work focuses on Mycenaean art, society and epigraphy as well as on the history and archaeology of Boeotia. He is the author of The Archaeological Museum of Thebes (2010), co-editor of the series Thebes. Fouilles de la Cadmée, I-IV (2001-6), and has also published widely on his excavations in Thebes and in the rest of Boeotia, especially on the Linear B archives of the Mycenaean Palace and on the Sanctuary of Herakles at Thebes. HÉLÈNE AURIGNY is lecturer in Greek History at Aix-Marseille University. Formerly a member of the French School at Athens, her current research focuses on votive practice and religious representation in the sanctuary of Apollo at Delphi (where she has studied the Archaic bronzes since 2006), and on the Aphrodision in Argos, where she is preparing to publish the terracotta figurines in collaboration with Francis Croissant. MATTHAIOS (MANTHOS) BESSIOS is an archaeologist who works in northern Pieria, Macedonia. He has published Πιερίδων στέφανος. Πύδνα, Μεθώνη και οι αρχαιότητες της βόρειας Πιερίας (2010) and co-authored Μεθώνη Πιερίας I: Επιγραφές, χαράγματα και εμπορικά σύμβολα στη γεωμετρική και αρχαϊκή κεραμική από το ‘Υπόγειο’ της Μεθώνης Πιερίας στη Μακεδονία (2012). He is currently co-director of excavations at Methone. EVA SIMANTONI-BOURNIA is Professor Emerita of Classical Archaeology at the National and Capodistrian University of Athens. She has excavated extensively in Chios and Naxos, and directed programmes to restore and present the archaeological sites of Karthaia and the tower of Agia Marina on Kea. She is the author of monographs on relief pottery as well as on other subjects in early Greek archaeology, including Ανασκαφές Νάξου. Οι ανάγλυφοι πίθοι (1990), La céramique à reliefs au Musée de Chios (1992), and La céramique grecque à reliefs (2004). GIORGOS BOUROGIANNIS is an A. G. Leventis postdoctoral fellow at the Medelhavsmuseet, Stockholm. His current research focuses on the hitherto unpublished Late Bronze and Early Iron Age pottery from the sanctuary of Agia Irini in Cyprus. His research interests also include cultural interaction in the Early Iron Age Mediterranean and the Cypriot presence in the Nile Delta (as part of his curatorial position and ongoing collaboration with the British Museum’s Naukratis Project). He has collaborated as a research associate-postdoctoral researcher with the National Hellenic Research Foundation/Institute of Historical Research for the project Kyprios Character (History, Archaeology and Numismatics). He has edited the proceedings of an international conference on ancient Cyprus and has published widely in journals and conference proceedings.

iv

Notes on Contributors XENIA CHARALAMBIDOU is Research Associate/postdoctoral researcher at the Fitch Laboratory of the British School at Athens, and a member of the Swiss School of Archaeology in Greece. Her research interests focus on the macroscopic study of Early Iron Age and Archaic pottery, and on petrographic analysis of ceramics to explore aspects of their chaînes operatoires. With Evangelia Kiriatzi and Noémi Müller, she currently conducts the programme of archaeometric analysis within the interdisciplinary project The Ceramic Industry of Eretria. She has carried out research and fieldwork in the Aegean with emphasis on Euboea (Eretria, Chalkis, Karystos), the Euboean Gulf region (Oropos) and Naxos (Naxos town, Tsikalario). She has published extensively in journals and conference proceedings, and has co-edited (with A. Mazarakis Ainian and A. Alexandridou) Regional Stories towards a New Perception of the Early Greek World. Acts of an International Symposium in honour of Professor Jan Bouzek, Volos 18-21 July 2015, Volos (forthcoming). JAN PAUL CRIELAARD is Professor of Mediterranean Pre- and Protohistorical Archaeology at the Vrije Universiteit, Amsterdam. His research focuses on the Early Iron Age and Archaic period, especially on Mediterranean interconnectivity and mobility, elites and elite behaviour, and Homeric archaeology. He has directed excavations in southern Italy, and currently directs a fieldwork project in the area of Karystos in collaboration with the Ephorate of Antiquities of Euboea. Among his publications are Greci e indigeni a L’Amastuola (with G.-J. Burgers, 2011), and the edited collection Homeric Questions. Essays in Philology, Ancient History and Archaeology (1995). MATTEO D’ACUNTO is Associate Professor of Classical Archaeology at the University of Naples ‘L’Orientale’. His current fieldwork focuses on Cumae in Campania, where he directs the archaeological mission of ‘L’Orientale’ investigating the urban area. He is working on a new publication of the Italian excavations in the necropolis of Ialysos (Rhodes) in collaboration with the Ephorate of Antiquities of the Dodecanese and the Italian School of Archaeology in Athens: the first volume on the Protogeometric and Geometric phases is currently in press. His publications include Il mondo del vaso Chigi (2013) and as editor Lo Scudo di Achille nell’Iliade (2009) and I profumi nelle società antiche (2012). ANNA MARIA D’ONOFRIO is Associate Professor of Classical Archaeology at the University of Naples ‘L’Orientale’, where she teaches Archaeology and History of Greek Art and the Archaeology of Athens and Attica (her main area of fieldwork). She published many articles on this region from Protogeometric to Archaic times. Her current focus is on weapons burials in the Kerameikos cemetery in Athens and on the comparative aspects of this study. She promotes a cross-cultural as well as a contextual approach to the archaeological record, for example in her 2007 edited collection, Tallies, Tokens and Counters. From the Mediterranean to India: A Cross-Cultural Approach, and her forthcoming ‘Working tools, toilet implements and personal adornments: burials with weapons of the Early Iron Age at Athens and Lefkandi (c. 1050-800 B.C.)’, in SMEA 2017. ROLAND ÉTIENNE is Senior Professor in Classical Archaeology at the Paris I Pantheon-Sorbonne University, and former director of the École française d’Athènes (1992 – 2002). He has directed fieldwork in Greece, Turkey and Jordan. His research principally covers the architecture and history of the Hellenistic and Roman periods. His publications include his doctoral thesis on Tenos in the Cyclades, a study of the propylaia of the sanctuary of Apollo at Claros, and a guidebook to the palace at Iraq-el-Amir in Jordan. He is now working with a team to produce a synthesis about the sanctuary of Apollo on Delos. RUNE FREDERIKSEN is Head of Collections at the Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek, Copenhagen, and a former Director of the Danish Institute at Athens. His primary research concerns urbanization in the ancient Greek world of the Late Geometric and early Archaic periods, while his current fieldwork concentrates on the excavation of the ancient cities of Kalydon (in collaboration with the Ephorate of Antiquities of Aetolo-Akarnania and Lefkada) and Sikyon (in collaboration with the Ephorate of Antiquities of the Corinthia). His publications include Plaster Casts (with E. Marchand, 2010), Greek City Walls of the Archaic Period, 900-480 BC (2011), and The Cast Gallery of the Ashmolean Museum (with R. R. R. Smith, 2011). ANASTASIA GADOLOU is head of the Department of Prehistoric and Classical Archaeological Sites, Monuments and Archaeological Works of the Hellenic Ministry of Culture and Sport. Her current fieldwork focuses on the excavation of the Late Geometric sanctuary at ancient Helike in Achaia in collaboration with Erofili Kolia, Director of the Ephorate of Antiquities of Eleia. Among her publications are Achaea in Early Historical Times. Burial Customs and Pottery Production (2008) and Thapsos-Class Ware Reconsidered: the Case of Achaea in the Northern Peloponnese (2011). JEAN-SÉBASTIEN GROS is IT Officer of the British School at Athens, and a former Member of the École française d’Athènes and lecturer in Greek Archaeology at Strasbourg University. His research interests centre on ancient Greek pottery, with a specific interest in coarse and plain ware, as well as quantitative analysis.

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Notes on Contributors JAN KINDBERG JACOBSEN is Curator of Ancient Art at the Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek, Copenhagen. He directed the excavations of the Groningen Institute of Archaeology on Timpone della Motta, South Italy, in 2008-2010, and since 2002 has led the Danish-Italian publication studies of archaeological material from the Timpone della Motta excavations under the auspices of Groningen University. ALAN JOHNSTON is Emeritus Reader in Classical Archaeology at the Institute of Archaeology, University College London and Research Fellow of the Institute of Classical Studies, University of London. He works in particular on Greek epigraphy and ceramics. His publications include Trademarks on Greek Vases and Corpus Vasorum Antiquorum, Ireland 1. He is a Fellow of the Society of Antiquaries. KYRIAKI KALLIGA is on the permanent staff of the Hellenic Ministry of Culture and Sports, and is employed at the Ephorate of Antiquities of Boeotia. She has a special interest in the study of early Boeotian pottery with emphasis on the Late Geometric and early Archaic periods. Her publications also include articles on Hellenistic Thebes, and the Archaic and Classical pottery of Plataea as part of the Ephorate’s collaborative programme with the Austrian Archaeological Institute. MICHAEL KERSCHNER is senior researcher at the Austrian Archaeological Institute of the Austrian Academy of Sciences, Vienna, and lecturer in the University of Salzburg. He has excavated and studied material at Aegina (Greece), Miletos, Ephesos and Teos (Turkey). His work focuses on the study of Geometric and Archaic pottery as well as on early sanctuaries and settlements in Ionia. Publications on these topics include Töpferzentren der Ostägäis (2002, with M. Akurgal, H. Mommsen and W.-D. Niemeier), Archaeometric Analyses of Euboean and Euboean Related Pottery (2014, with I. S. Lemos), and Die Tempel und Altäre der Artemis in Ephesos und ihre Baumaterialien (ÖJh 2011, with W. Prochaska). ANTONIS KOTSONAS is Assistant Professor of Classical Archaeology at the University of Cincinnati. He specializes in Early Iron Age and Archaic Greece and the Mediterranean. His publications include The Archaeology of Tomb A1K1 of Orthi Petra in Eleutherna: The Early Iron Age Pottery (2008); Μεθώνη Πιερίας I: Επιγραφές, χαράγματα και εμπορικά σύμβολα στη Γεωμετρική και Αρχαϊκή κεραμική από το ‘Υπόγειο’ της Μεθώνης Πιερίας στη Μακεδονία (2012; co-authored with M. Bessios and Y. Tzifopoulos); and the edited volume Understanding Standardization and Variation in Mediterranean Ceramics: mid 2nd to late 1st Millennium BC (2014). MARIA KOUTSOUMPOU is a permanent employee of the Ephorate of Antiquities of the Cyclades. She currently studies the Archaic painted pottery from the Sanctuary of Vryokastro on Kythnos, the Archaic pottery from Melos, as well as the Geometric, Archaic and Classical pottery from Ancient Halasarna on Kos. MARIA COSTANZA LENTINI is Director of the Regional Service of Cultural Sites and Archeological Parks of Catania and the Aci Valley, and former Director of the Archaeological Park of Naxos and Taormina. Her fieldwork focuses on the colony of Sicilian Naxos, where she has directed excavations since 1983 and co-directed a topographical survey of the site in collaboration with the Finnish Institute at Athens. She has published extensively on the early archaeological record of the site, including specialist studies of eighth- and seventh-century pottery. GLORIA PAOLA MITTICA graduated in Classical Archaeology at the Scuola di Specializzazione of the University of Salento, and is now affiliated to the Groningen Institute of Archaeology. She has published on various areas of South Italian archaeology, and is currently editing field and material publications related to the excavations conducted by the Groningen Institute of Archaeology on the Timpone della Motta (1991-2010). CATHERINE MORGAN is Senior Research Fellow in Classics at All Souls College, Oxford, and Professor of Classics and Archaeology at the University of Oxford. Formerly Director of the British School at Athens, her current work focuses on the central Ionian Islands, where she co-directs a survey and publication project in northern Ithaca in collaboration with the Ephorate of Antiquities of Kephallonia and collaborates in the research of the University of Crete on Meganisi. In the Corinthia, she is a member of the Kenchreai Quarries Survey team. Her publications include Isthmia VIII (1999) and Early Greek States Beyond the Polis (2003). SOPHIA MOSCHONISSIOTI is employed in the Ephorate of Antiquities of Athens, where she is Head of the Division for Prehistoric and Classical Archaeological Sites, Monuments, Archaeological Research and Museums, and a member of the Scientific Committee for the South Slope of the Acropolis. She participated in the excavations of the late Ioulia Vokotopoulou at Mende and in the sanctuary at Poseidi, and now directs research excavations at Poseidi. Her doctoral thesis at the National and Capodistrian University of Athens is on ‘The painted pottery of Mende from the 8th to the 5th century BC. The finds from the cemetery’.

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Notes on Contributors LYDIA PALAIOKRASSA-KOPITSA is Professor Emerita of Classical Archaeology in the National and Capodistrian University of Athens. She has directed excavations at Palaiopolis on Andros since 1987. Her publications include To ιερό της Αρτέμιδος Μουνιχίας (1991), Παλαιόπολις Άνδρου. Ta Οικοδομικά, Από την προανασκαφική έρευνα (1996), and the edited volume Παλαιόπολη Άνδρου. Είκοσι χρόνια ανασκαφικής έρευνας (2007). She has also published widely on the Roman theatre at Dion, the Gymnasium in the Sanctuary of Asclepius at Epidaurus, the sanctuary of Artemis Mounichia in Piraeus, the Palaiopolis (Andros) excavation, the University of Athens excavation at the Makriyanni site, Athens, and on aspects of Greek vase-painting, sculpture, topography and religion. STAVROS A. PASPALAS is Acting Director of the Australian Archaeological Institute at Athens. His research interests include the Early Iron Age in the Aegean, Macedonian-Achaemenid interactions, and the eastern Aegean in the Archaic period. He is currently a co-director of the Zagora Archaeological Project. His publications include studies on Early Iron Age and Archaic ceramics from various areas of the Aegean, Macedonian-Achaemenid relations, and papers related to fieldwork conducted at Torone in the Chalkidiki, Zagora on Andros, and on Kythera. SINE GROVE SAXKJÆR is a postdoctoral researcher at the Danish Institute in Rome. Her current research focuses on cultural encounters, ethnicity and cultural identities among pre-Roman populations in Central and South Italy. Since 2008, she has participated in the excavations on Timpone della Motta, South Italy, where she is involved with the publication of the Greek-Style and Corinthian pottery. GILLIAN SHEPHERD is Director of the A. D. Trendall Research Centre for Ancient Mediterranean Studies and Lecturer in Ancient Mediterranean Studies at La Trobe University, Melbourne. She was previously Lecturer in Classical Archaeology at the University of Birmingham. Her research is based in Sicily and South Italy, and she has particular interests in ancient Greek settlement overseas, burial customs, and problems of identity and ethnicity in the material record. Her current work examines cemetery topography, and she is preparing a monograph on Greek burial customs in Sicily. Other interests include children and childhood in antiquity, and she is a co-editor of the Oxford Handbook of the Archaeology of Childhood (forthcoming). TATIANA THEODOROPOULOU is an archaeologist and zoo-archaeologist specializing in marine faunal remains. Her main research interests include the reconstruction of past environments, human strategies related to aquatic environments, ancient dietary practices and the uses of marine resources, as well as ethnoarchaeological and experimental issues involving fishing and fishermen. She is currently a Research Associate at ArScan-CNRS (Archeologies et Sciences de l’Antiquité), France, and Greece’s representative to the COST-Oceans Past Platform. She is a former Fellow-in-Residence of the Institut d’Etudes Avancées de Paris (France), Wiener Laboratory Postdoctoral Research Fellow (Faunal Studies) at the American School of Classical Studies at Athens, and Research Associate for the ESF Aristeia project at the University of Thessaly where she taught Environmental Archaeology. She has participated in a number of field projects and studied the aquatic remains (fishbones, shells) from numerous Aegean archaeological sites. In addition to numerous articles, her publications include the forthcoming monograph Apprivoiser la mer: le monde marin dans le quotidien et l’imaginaire des peuples égéens and collection (co-edited with Thomas Gallant) Harvesting the Gifts of the Sea: Aegean Societies and Marine Life. YANNIS Z. TZIFOPOULOS is Professor of Greek and Epigraphy at the Aristotle University, Thessaloniki. He is author of Paradise Earned: The Bacchic-Orphic Gold Lamellae of Crete (2010) and co-author of Μεθώνη Πιερίας I: Επιγραφές, χαράγματα και εμπορικά σύμβολα στη γεωμετρική και αρχαϊκή κεραμική από το ‘Υπόγειο’ της Μεθώνης Πιερίας στη Μακεδονία (2012). He is currently working on an electronic publication of the Archive of Inscriptions of the Rethymno Prefecture, and the Archive of Inscriptions of North Pieria. ALEXANDER VACEK is currently Assistant Professor at Uludag University, Bursa (Turkey) and was previously a Wiener-Anspach Foundation postdoctoral fellow at the University of Oxford. His 2012 Oxford doctoral thesis on Greek and Related Pottery from Al Mina is in process of publication. He is a contributor to the project Beyond the Polis, which studies the ritual transformation processes that occurred after the collapse of the Mycenaean palaces and during the Early Iron Age. His contribution focuses on the social function of space within cult places. He is a member of the Lefkandi excavation team, where he works on Early Iron Age pottery from the site, and of the team excavating the Artemis Kithone sanctuary at Miletos, where he studies the Classical settlement on the Kalabak tepe. VIRGINIA WEBB studied Classics at Bristol and Classical Archaeology at Oxford, where her doctorate was on the subject of the faience artefacts found in Archaic Greece. She subsequently held the Sir James Knott Fellowship at the University of Newcastle. Her publications include Archaic Greek Faience (1978); chapters on faience and glass in Knossos, the North Cemetery (1996); Samos 13: Faience Material from the Samos Heraion Excavations (2016); and contributions to the British Museum Digital Catalogue of Naukratis finds. She is now researching the recently excavated faience objects vii

Notes on Contributors from the Samos Heraion and the bothros in the Aphrodite sanctuary on Zeytintepe at Miletos, and is collaborating in a Greek, Austrian and Italian project to produce a corpus of Aegyptiaca found in Greek lands. She has contributed to recent conferences on faience as a material and a cultural product, and is involved in projects of scientific analysis at the British Museum and the Louvre. PHOTINI ZAPHIROPOULOU is Ephor Emerita of Antiquities for the Cyclades and Samos. During her career in the Greek Archaeological Service she worked in Thessaloniki, Delphi, Aetolo-Akarnania, and mainly in the Cyclades and Samos. She has excavated at ancient Akrae (modern Lithovouni) in Aetolia, in the ancient Agora and Palace of Diocletian in Thessaloniki, and in the Cyclades on Kouphonisi (three Early Bronze Age cemeteries), Paros (the ninth-century BC to third-century AD cemetery of Paroikia), and in the Early Iron Age settlement of Donousa. With the former Ephor of Antiquities, the late Nikolaos Zaphiropoulos, she has organized many sites and museums in the Cyclades and on Samos. She has participated in numerous international conferences; her publications include Delos. Μαρτυρίες από τα Μουσειακά Εκθέματα (1998), ‘Parische Skulpturen’ (Antike Plastik 27, 2000), La céramique mélienne, Exploration archéologique de Délos XLI (2003) and Masterworks of Ancient Greek Sculpture (2005), as well as many articles in conference proceedings and journals.

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1. Introduction: interpreting the seventh century BC Xenia Charalambidou and Catherine Morgan

It is surely no accident that a spate of recent publications on the seventh century has coincided with a sense of shifting scales and intellectual boundaries in many other areas of Mediterranean archaeology. To give but two examples, the desire for a large-scale pan-Mediterranean perspective, freed of the constraints of Hellenocentrism (let alone polis-centrism), is admirably reflected in the collection La Méditerranée au VIIe siècle av. J.-C. edited by Roland Étienne (2010a). With its focus on large processes and landscapes, and its neo-Braudelian approach, this offers both a much-needed breadth of vision and recognition that phenomena such as ‘orientalizing’ (on which more below) must be understood on sliding scales from the pan-Mediterranean to the diversity of local experience. At the same time, Thomas Brisart in his 2011 Un art citoyen, addresses directly the intellectual place of orientalizing art in socio-historical enquiry. Recent scholarship has sought to deconstruct essentialist views of Greek and eastern art, to critique the association between style and ethnicity, and to reposition Greek orientalizing within the complex network of connections in and around the eastern Aegean (e.g. Gunter 2009; Skinner 2012, 213-14). Brisart takes the further step of considering why and how ‘orientalizing art’ was created as it was, and seeking to integrate it within the mechanics of polis-formation and socio-cultural change in what he terms the ‘protoarchaic’ period (rightly separating the cultural phenomenon of orientalizing from overarching period nomenclature). Our book complements these developments. It presents material data, combining accounts of recent discoveries (which often enable reinterpretation of older finds), regional reviews, and archaeologically focused discussion of historical and art historical approaches and interpretations. The aim is to make readily accessible the material record as currently understood and to consider how it may contribute to broader critiques and new directions in research. The geographical focus is the old Greek world encompassing Macedonia and Ionia, and extending across to Sicily and southern Italy, considering also the wider trade circuits linking regional markets. The book does not aim for the pan-Mediterranean coverage of recent works: given that much of the latest innovative and critical scholarship has focused on the western Mediterranean in particular (see e.g. Dietler 2010; Dietler and Lopez-Ruiz 2009; Kistler et al. 2015; Riva and Vella 2006a), it is necessary to bring old Greece back under the spotlight and to expose to critical scrutiny the often Athenocentric interpretative frameworks which continue to inform discussion of other parts of the Mediterranean. A prominent view of the seventh century finds its clearest expression in Robin Osborne’s widely quoted observation (1989) that a ‘crisis in archaeological history’ affected a period which has attracted little intellectual interest, not least due to the lack of textual evidence and the relative poverty or poor visibility of the material record in comparison with the surrounding centuries. In important respects this observation no longer bears scrutiny. Much of the new information now available challenges current methodological and interpretative norms, as we will see. Indeed, the rich collection of papers in Étienne 2010a leaves the impression that even the published data, on which contributors largely drew, strain an interpretative framework grounded in the largely Anglo-Saxon and Athenocentric scholarship of the 1980s and early 1990s. The ‘crisis in archaeological history’ as expressed in 1989 was a comment on concerns about historiography current at that time. The eighth-century boom and the emergence of the polis as the chief goal of enquiry made it easy to pass quickly from the eighth to sixth centuries - longue durée history has its casualties, especially when ‘progress’ is perceived as unidirectional (Morgan 2009a; compare Morris 1998; 2009).1 While the concerns prominent in 1989 have not disappeared, they can now be better placed in context. Roland Étienne’s second introductory chapter below addresses the intellectual history of approaches to the seventh century, thus providing a bridge between our two volumes. Jan Paul Crielaard further observes (in the final chapter) that the perspective of literary history has slipped from view: as he reminds us, A. R. Burn, author of The Lyric Age of Greece (1960), would surely be perplexed by our perceived difficulties with the period. What kind of histories should we therefore be looking to write, and what are the challenges in thinking about archaeological material, shaping usable data and making them accessible? Some of the most trenchant criticism of Archaic and Classical Greek archaeology in recent years has come from social and especially economic historians (Osborne 2014). The prominence and forceful expression of this critique, at least in Anglophone scholarship, does 1  E.g. Morris 1998: 28 ‘in most parts of Greece, the seventh and early sixth century saw the unfolding of patterns initiated at the end of the eighth’.

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Xenia Charalambidou and Catherine Morgan not mean that it should be allowed to drive archaeological agendas. As Roland Étienne has emphasized, there are difficulties with both models currently prominent (Étienne 2016). The ‘Mediterranean’ perspective with its emphasis on connectivity and the distinctive potential of a sea of risk and opportunity runs the risk of ahistoricism which we wish to avoid: grounding it in specific period narratives remains a challenge (Broodbank 2013 is the most effective combination of period analysis and regional framework to date). By contrast the focus on growth as a socio-political driver under the influence of New Institutional Economics is in itself contentious and has led to a deeply problematic hunt for proxies in the archaeological record (Morris 2005b; cf. Étienne et al. 2011). Yet it is another matter to ignore the challenges of engaging in and helping to shape larger narratives of this kind. Recognizing when individual or multiple data sets constitute big data, how to interrogate them and to appreciate where complexity lies, are questions rarely addressed for this period, even though the sum total and complexity of available data across regions can be considerable, as a number of contributors show. Quantification is part of the problem, although questions of methodology and the robustness of resulting data are rightly raised (see mostly recently Verdan et al. 2011). But data do not have to be hard to be usable, as long as there is a balanced appreciation of the place of a particular data set in its wider context (Davies 2013). Naturally, historically embedded, materially driven narratives have the potential to be plural and complex, and the critiques of social and economic historians reflect one broad direction of thought. But whatever approach is taken, it is clear that ‘more stuff ’, while helpful, is not in itself enough. Questions of historiographical and interpretative methodology are central, and are to varying degrees explored in the chapters that follow. Research agendas which explicitly acknowledge the significance of the seventh century are now moving forward in various ways. For example, the University of Thessaly Aristeia project on The Social Archaeology of Early Iron Age and Early Archaic Greece, directed by Alexander Mazarakis Ainian, extends to c. 600 BC.2 This is not just a matter of shifting the chronological goalposts. A wide range of fundamental concepts need to be revisited, from the nature and significance of regions, to periodization and the effect of the fine slicing of sub-disciplines within Classical archaeology. Many chapters in this volume also show the impact of the large-scale application of sciencebased archaeology (in the form of petrographic and chemical analysis of pottery) which has previously played a transformatory role in prehistoric and Late Roman and Byzantine archaeology. Periodization by century is an entirely modern preoccupation and it is reasonable to question the significance of the block(s) of time so delimited (Golden and Toohey 1997; Kotsonas 2016). Recognition of the fact that the seventh century can neither be viewed in isolation nor squeezed between the ostensibly more visible and dynamic eighth and sixth centuries is but the first step. As Xenia Charalambidou emphasizes in her chapter below, in some regions ceramic typologies are insufficiently developed to recognise and/or provide close relative dating for seventh-century contexts. The radiocarbon-based absolute chronology of the Aegean Iron Age (as that of the wider Mediterranean) also continues to be debated. A low chronology places the transition to Submycenaean in the second half of the 11th century (Fantalkin 2011b; Fantalkin et al. 2015, with previous bibliography; Toffolo et al. 2013), while higher dates have variously been proposed (Wardle et al. 2014 ; Nijboer 2016 with previous bibliography). These differences are largely played out by the end of the eighth century, and no serious attempt has been made to extend revisions after 700 BC. But the fact remains that the absolute chronology of the preceding centuries has a direct impact upon our understanding of the pace and often the nature of events and processes especially at the start of our period. Hence the title of this book, with the added detail that the sub-title Tradition and Innovation is also a tribute to Robin Hägg’s pioneering The Greek Renaissance of the Eighth Century BC: Tradition and Innovation (1983a). The title is a clear statement that seventh century is not here viewed autonomously but in connection with the centuries that preceded and followed it. Alongside this, periodization has also been revisited. It is now generally recognised that the centuries from the end of the Bronze Age to the beginning of the Archaic period should be characterized not in terms of sharp discontinuities (as the long-assumed Bronze Age-Iron Age divide), but of cumulative occurrences which created complex sequences of overlapping continuity, discontinuity and change (see e.g. Kotsonas 2016; Lemos and Kotsonas forthcoming; Riva and Vella 2006b). This in turn raises the question of what makes a period, and how periods are best named. The use of the term ‘orientalizing’ in the Greek world, as in other Mediterranean regions, is particularly problematic in this respect, and has been subject to sustained recent critique (see e.g. Riva and Vella 2006a). Used to describe a period, it implies an act of interpretation not evident in names such as Early Iron Age or even Archaic, suggesting that the period is best characterised by artistic and/or cultural influence from the ‘east’ (Purcell 2006). Eastern luxury imports and influences upon local manufactures can be traced back into the tenth century at sites such as Lefkandi, even though a thickening of connections in the eighth century is widely acknowledged (Stampolidis 2 

http://aristeia.ha.uth.gr/index.php

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1. Introduction: interpreting the seventh century BC 2003). What, therefore, is the quality of ‘orientalizing’ distinctive to that part of the seventh century which has come to bear the name? This question has been much debated, to the extent of rejecting altogether the use of the term as a chronological marker. It is not our purpose here to re-open this discussion. Although we recognize the impossibility of discounting the accrued cultural connotations of the term ‘orientalizing’, for the purposes of this book we will avoid it unless in a strictly art historical sense (a point to which we will return). How, then, should we approach the seventh century? As we have seen, the tendency to pass quickly over it en route from the eighth to the sixth is largely a consequence of the supposition that an eighth-century Greek ‘renaissance’ led directly to the Archaic polis world (Morris 1998; contra Duplouy et al. 2010). Initial critique of an eighthcentury ‘big bang’ emphasized long-term continuities from the Late Bronze Age, decoupling the physical notion of the polis/acropolis from the political institutions of later times (a view summarized by Sarah Morris 2003: 1011). Yet both poles of the argument are unduly reductive. One can accept that poleis existed as self-identifying political communities throughout the Early Iron Age, regardless of their exact form, and still argue that the sociopolitical content of membership (or citizenship) could also change. This did not necessarily happen in a steady or unidirectional fashion: some developments were of longer term significance than others, but all in their different ways were of their time (Duplouy et al. 2010: esp. 303-5; Morgan 2009a). The polis itself was a variable phenomenon across the Greek world, often not the only form of political allegiance and with a finite life at least as the principle tier of political identity (Beck and Funke 2015; McInerney 1999: 1-7; Mackil 2013; Morgan 2003; 2009c). A closer look reveals a rather varied and jagged set of developments through the eighth, seventh and sixth centuries. The timespans of individual developments or sequences of development often reflect the agents and clients involved. Let us take two examples. First, apparently sudden innovations in the post-Bronze Age material record, such as the appearance of monumental fortifications or temples, are the consequence of the way in which identified needs were met though social and technological choices and adaptations which may in turn have led to the (re-)shaping of circles of craftsmen and patterns of mobility of longer term significance (for analogous discussion of prehistoric evidence, see Kiriatzi and Knappett 2016). Secondly, and in a similar vein, the interpretation of apparently sudden changes in settlement, and the abandonment of old sites and the creation of new, demands that we address issues of scale and context in order to understand decision making and underlying motivation in each case. While such changes are often described as acts of synoikism, it is important to recognize the extent to which this concept was developed by later geographers, notably Strabo, in order to characterize the changes that must evidently have taken place in order for their contemporary worlds to appear as they did (Clarke 1999: chapter 5; Morgan 2003: 171-6). This is not to deny that the idea of synoikism was of much greater antiquity, merely to note that of itself it has little explanatory value. Evidently sharp changes in the material record of the kinds identified by several contributors to this volume may reflect a variety of processes, agency and decisions on matters ranging from the form and role of individual cities (through single acts of planning as at Cumae, discussed by Matteo D’Acunto, or emerging consensus at as Athens, discussed by Anna Maria D’Onofrio) to movements of people around the Euboean Gulf (discussed by Xenia Charalambidou). It is important to understand the scale of these changes in terms of their relationship both to local trajectories and to wider patterns. In the case of the late eighth-century Cyclades, for example, what are often termed acts of synoikism (such as the establishment of a major settlement at Palaiopolis on Andros, coincident with the abandonment of Zagora) are points of major local decision making which both followed a period of substantive if incremental change within the older settlements and reflected large scale pan-regional processes (Morgan 2012: 39-42). Recognising synoikism in the material record immediately raises questions of causality, agency and timespan. A further area of enquiry concerns developments in the expression of a wide range of social values, from aretē to the nature and role of luxury, the location of different forms of expression, or the notion of what a deity might find pleasing as an agalma. For the makers and consumers of material culture, how did this translate into the selection of materials, artefact types, styles or forms, or new emphases on particular qualities such as monumentality? Can we, as often assumed, read back from the selections made to the underlying values? How did values expressed in visual and poetic cultures align? The seventh century saw innovation and experiment in a great variety of objects from personal possessions to public art (notably sculpture and painting), not all of which sit easily in an evolutionary sequence leading to the major developments of the sixth and especially the fifth century, despite varying scholarly approaches to this problem (D’Acunto 2013b; Donohue 2005: chapter 2; Rolley 1994: chapter 1 and part 3). Seventhcentury concerns included the quality of monumentality in the sense of the often massively over-life size (Rolley 1994: 145-147; Stewart 1990: figs 42 and 43), the creation of relatively large portable images with implications for the conduct of ritual activity (Kourou 2000; Morgan 2008; Moustaka 2002; 2009, Weill 1985: 207-14), and more generally, the role of sanctuaries and cemeteries (Prost 2010; Rolley 1994: 29-40). By contrast, the use of combinations of materials as gold and ivory for large scale divine images was, on the surviving textual and archaeological evidence, 3

Xenia Charalambidou and Catherine Morgan a development of the late seventh and primarily the sixth century (Donohue 1997; Lapatin 2001: 42-60). Certain seventh-century developments were plainly of longer-term significance in the material expression of social values, but not all experiments lived on. Here too, we return to the significance of material expressions that are specific to short time periods, people or places in relation to underlying ideas. This leads us to a final concern - the re-integration of scripts and texts into their wider material context as sources of information about events and practices, as parallel expressions of attitudes to objects, material display and luxury, and as artefacts deployed within social contexts. Since the creation and early use of the Greek alphabet are now seen to reach far back into the eighth century, with the earliest evidence potentially as early as the late ninth century depending on one’s preferred chronology (Janko 2015), the seventh-century can be re-problematized as a period when the technology of writing was well-established, further epichoric alphabets were formed, and a diversity of uses of writing are observed. These developments continued through the sixth century. By c. 500 BC at the latest there is substantial evidence for literacy reaching deep into the social fabric, to judge from the herders’ inscriptions found on the Attic hills around Vari and Voula (Langdon 2015), and for the widespread creation of epichoric writing systems, even though their political significance remains a matter of debate (Johnston 1999; 2012; contra Luraghi 2010). An important development in the study of early script use has been recognition of its place within a continuum of marking strategies used to convey information much of which cannot now be ‘read’ directly, but which is more or less comprehensible in context (Johnston 2004). Script as an artefact is rightly distinguished from the content of communication handed down to us in written form, itself of course merely a selection of the verse, song, and other oral communication likely current at the time. Reintegrating the written, the oral and the material record in their diverse forms can only deepen our understanding of the role of various channels of communication in increasingly complex states and of what we may generally term the ‘poetics’ of the seventh century. With these considerations in mind, we turn to the issues and materials discussed by each contributor. It is worth making clear from the outset what the book does not do in order to understand what we are trying to achieve. It does not provide a universal coverage of the seventh-century Mediterranean, nor even of Greek lands (though it comes close to the latter), nor does it present a new agenda for the study of the seventh century. Rather, in the spirit of assessing what we now know and can know about the wider Greek world, we seek to marry broad geographical coverage of the archaeological record with thematic discussion, analysis of methodological and conceptual problems, and presentation of new material data and syntheses, many of which also recontextualize old information. The book is thus designed to take stock, open discussion, and make accessible a wealth of new archaeological information. Following on from this introduction, Roland Étienne examines the history of approaches to defining the seventh century as a period, and assesses the factors which may be seen to distinguish it. His discussion of the idea of a ‘long’ seventh century brings to the fore questions of analytical scale and perspective, chronological and geographical, which in various ways reappear in other chapters (hence, for example, Rune Frederiksen’s view of a ‘short’ seventh century when describing the development of fortifications). These questions are immediately taken up in Antonis Kotsonas’ chapter on Crete, where he examines issues of regional definition and coherence to which we will return, as well as the problem of ‘orientalizing’. Kotsonas explores the assumed role of Crete in the development and modern scholarly characterization of ‘orientalizing’ art, and its historiographical implications for our understanding of the island. As already noted, there has been extensive scholarly critique of the term ‘orientalizing’, especially concerning wider assumptions about the nature of contacts with the east and the direction and force of cultural influence. Reviewing the archaeology of the island as now understood, Kotsonas calls into question the idea that the seventh century can be treated as a stand-alone ‘orientalizing’ phase. And yet, to paraphrase Thomas Brisart (2011: 55-6), the ancient Greeks developed an art that evoked in a global manner the prosperity and luxury that they attributed to the populations east of the Greek world (not least in their poetry). Conceived in this way, Brisart suggests that ‘orientalizing art’ is a perfectly justifiable term; however, the conception itself must be understood in the broader context of the role(s) of art in the seventh century. This helpfully brings into focus a number of lines of enquiry pursued in the chapters that follow. Georgia Kokkorou-Alevras looks at large-scale sculpture, noting monumentality as a distinctive phenomenon of the seventh century and considering from the perspective of the history of scholarship the importance of locating the place of innovation (here she emphasizes the roles of Naxos and of Crete). A new set of questions surrounds the nature and role of sculpture in the seventh century as opposed to the eighth, with genuine innovation that must be understood in context and not retrospectively from the perspective of a Classical ideal or literary tradition (a point made also in Catherine Morgan’s discussion of temple construction). Sculpture in stone may be the best preserved, but it is only part of the story as we have emphasized, it belongs within a context of rapid artistic and technological development in a range of 4

1. Introduction: interpreting the seventh century BC media. The following two chapters focus on distinctive aspects of this. Eva Simantoni-Bournia considers story telling with reference to a pair of monumental relief amphorae from Thebes and Xobourgo on Tenos. The depiction of Artemis on these vases is, she argues, an ‘optical transcript’ of a passage in the Iliad (21.479-84), an identification which takes us to the question of shifting relationships between the oral, the written and the visual as media for story telling through the seventh century. Eighth-century vase painting has rich symbolic and narrative content (and the corpus of pre-eighth-century scenes is also growing; see D’Agata 2012 with bibliography), but it was not dependent upon, or automatically even parallel to, epic poetry (Langdon 2008). As Anthony Snodgrass has observed, we tend to use the term ‘Homeric’ very loosely to convey a sense of the epic or heroic, even though the subjects of few eighth-century depictions can be linked even with the earlier composition, the Iliad (Snodgrass 1998). However, if we accept Martin West’s case for dating our Odyssey in the last third of the seventh century (West 2014), with an earlier proto-version in which individual episodes began to be recast into the narrative we know, both being the work of West’s Q poet (a different hand than that of the Iliad), then the seventh century becomes a critical phase in the formation and popularization of the epic cycle. We must also bring into this picture the developments in contemporary script use and in other poetic genres discussed later in the volume by Yannis Tzifopoulos, Manthos Bessios and Antonis Kotsonas, Alan Johnston, and Jan-Paul Crielaard. Eva Simantoni-Bournia’s chapter reminds us that coincident developments in visual and oral/textual narrative became entangled to the extent of referencing the same episodes in the same way. Her case study also draws attention to the materiality of storytelling, not just at the level of pictures on portable items such as the drinking vessels used at social events, but involving large, more durable and potentially costly household or sanctuary furniture (for story-telling on relief pithoi, see e.g. Ebbinghaus 2005, noting also McLoughlin 2011 on the nature of investment in such items). Hélène Aurigny then continues the focus on objects but from the perspective of manufacture, considering the technological as well as the social biography of the metalwork dedicated at the major Greek sanctuaries. She too calls into question the criteria for classifying objects as ‘Greek’ or ‘Oriental’, but her use of a series of case studies drawn from the fastgrowing international sanctuary at Delphi adds the extra elements of the nature of these places as an attractor for style development and craft mobility as well as for imports (see also Crielaard 2015; Skinner 2012: chapter 4.3). From the manufacture and design of objects, we turn to their movement and consumption. While considerable attention has been paid to the nature of port and market centres and the communities associated with them (Demetriou 2011; 2012; Luke 2003: 1-10), our emphasis is less on the centres themselves and more on the goods that passed through them and on larger regional trends in trade and consumption. Three chapters address these issues with particular reference to the eastern Aegean. Alexander Vacek considers seventh-century Al Mina in the context of shifting market relations between Euboea, Ionia, the Assyrian empire and the Aegean. Central to his case are quantified ceramic assemblages from the newly-restored stratigraphical sequence at Al Mina – part of a growing trend to create large and robust frameworks from quantified assemblages and to find ways to build old excavation data into them (Verdan et al. 2011). Giorgos Bourogiannis addresses similar questions with reference to the southeast Aegean, Rhodes and Cyprus, looking at Phoenician-Cypriot connections and the role of Rhodes in the Aegean. Rhodes, he suggests, ‘portrays an almost iconic Aegean paradigm of commercial interaction, functioning as a melting pot that was receptive of both Greek and oriental influence’. Virginia Webb then takes us back to the objects traded by considering a category of Egyptiaca, namely faience objects often assumed to be exotic (Gunter 2009: 141-2; Skinner 2012: 99-100), with a specific structure of production and marketing geared to different Greek clienteles. She investigates the role of east Greece and the phenomenon of co-marketing, while emphasizing that Egypt itself played a relatively minor role. So far, discussion has focused on luxury or high-cost goods, but it is important also to take into account the large intermediate category of delicacies or semi-luxuries which fall between the purely functional and the luxurious – things which make life work and feel better but need not belong with elite display, and for which demand may be elastic (Foxhall 1998). Tatiana Theodoropoulou explores the diverse nature of marine resources from subsistence to luxury goods. While there has been substantial interest in the sea as a resource (especially from Roman economists such as Marzano 2013), recent finds from a number of Early Iron Age and early Archaic sites take us beyond subsistence to matters as diverse as the weaving of sea silk and dyeing of luxury textiles or the creation of jewellery or amulets from marine creatures (Houby-Nielsen 2017 and forthcoming; www.chronique.efa.gr ID 4886 on Lefkandi). Consumption entails preparation and equipment. Jean-Sébastien Gros reminds us of the value of close study of coarse and cooking wares, often assumed to be conservative and unchanged during our period, in teasing out local or regional approaches to lifeways. The question of what constitutes a region is implicit if not explicit in many of the chapters so far discussed. As we noted above, the place of the polis within wider forms of organization is an issue of long term significance. A major contribution of the Copenhagen Polis Centre was the demonstration that poleis were not by definition autonomous 5

Xenia Charalambidou and Catherine Morgan (Hansen and Nielsen 2004: 87-94). This opened the way for consideration of their horizontal and vertical integration, of networks but also of scales of integration. By this we mean not merely the assumed relationship between poleis and ethne long implicit in Greek historical writing, but the fact that in various ways and at various times the life experience (and in some cases personal identity) of most individuals would be affected by factors outside their polis, whether trade circuits, personal mobility, or different forms of cultural or political affiliation. Recognizing these processes in the material record is a significant challenge (Morgan 2003). The question of analytical scale is addressed at the beginning of this volume by Antonis Kotsonas. As he emphasizes, the fragmented geographical, political and cultural landscapes of Crete raise questions of the scale of integration along a continuum from the micro-regional to the interregional and the ‘global’. Old assumptions of power centres versus peripheries, active dispersal and passive reception are no longer appropriate if they ever were. Following on from discussion of trading relationships in the eastern Aegean and Ionia, Michael Kerschner draws a distinction between historical and material/analytical regions. His presentation of the location and reach of East Greek ceramic production centres draws on the results of over 20 years of archaeometric analysis, highlighting the impact of large scale science-based archaeology on a range of questions from the connectivity of centres to the mobility of craftsmen. As Kerschner observes, pottery styles in Ionia do not coincide in terms of production or main distribution with individual political communities. This has a number of implications. For example, if ease of access to objects at local markets or the expression of identity via a preference for locally produced artefacts were not paramount concerns, we might look instead to the way in which particular pottery shapes or designs reflect access to semi-luxuries, in the sense of offering functional improvement or sensory pleasure. Looking more widely, the suggestion that the early ceramic record of the Black Sea colonies should reveal connections with Miletos as mother city, in the same way as long argued for Sicily and Magna Graecia, may be wrong in principle but definitely runs counter to the way in which ceramic styles are now seen to work across Ionia. The ceramic evidence presented by Kerschner is further enhanced by related data from old excavations considered by Stavros Paspalas. Paspalas demonstrates how such information can be built into current frameworks, in this case bringing into the picture decorative traditions which ran parallel to the better known East Greek mainstream, with distinctive Lydian connections. Ceramic analysis also underpins Xenia Charalambidou’s review of settlement, religious and burial landscapes in Euboea and the Euboean Gulf region (Oropos). Addressing the question of how to establish a picture of the seventh-century when archaeological contexts are hard to define largely because pottery of the period is poorly characterized, she has begun to build up a series of ceramic chronotypes, emphasizing the importance of understanding the life-cycles of wares in different contexts. Here too, the impact of large scale archaeometric analysis is becoming apparent as new research moves from prehistory to historical periods. Charalambidou’s work also highlights issues of scale. Pottery may be a chronological marker and indicative of lifeways, but as in Ionia it was not a political statement in the way long supposed. Independent cities around a key waterway forged often close material relationships, and their political ties must be seen as embedded in these wider networks. Close ties between Euboea, the Euboean Gulf and the Cyclades may be observed from prehistory to medieval times (see most recently Tankosić et al. forthcoming), and it is to the Cyclades that we therefore turn. On Paros, Photini Zaphiropoulou draws on many decades of personal research to characterize the output of one of the leading vase production centres, documenting its decorative style, wider regional distribution, and use in local context. Maria Koutsoumpou then discusses the pottery from the sealed adyton deposit in the sanctuary at Vryokastro on Kythnos recently excavated by Alexander Mazarakis Ainian. This illustrates inter-island exchange within the Cyclades, connections with north and south Ionia, and – a particular focus of this chapter – with Attica as embodied in the products of a newly identified workshop. From the region, we shift focus to the individual city. The built environment of emerging cities has long been understood as socially significant, with developments in particular categories of defined or built space (temples, elite residences, or assembly areas, for example) variously cited as indicators of change in the nature and/or organization of emergent poleis. Alexander Mazarakis Ainian summarizes the current state of knowledge of eighthand seventh-century architecture across Greece, assessing points of tradition and innovation and defining the changes visible during the seventh century. He suggests several possible explanations for what is characterized as a period of low archaeological visibility in different regions, including war, the abandonment of certain sites and the foundation of others, and acts of synoikism (a point also explored by Charalambidou). Mazarakis’ study provides a framework for the two chapters on architecture and the series of site and regional studies which follow. First, Rune Frederiksen reviews fortifications, a type of construction often neglected during our period. A leading participant in the Fokus Fortifikation research network (Frederiksen et al. 2016; Müth et al. 2016), Frederiksen 6

1. Introduction: interpreting the seventh century BC addresses fundamental questions of the location and preservation of fortifications during the seventh century, the motivation(s) for their construction, and their significance in characterizing the status and contemporary perception of individual settlements. As he emphasizes, new discoveries continue to challenge; for example, the location of a recently discovered stretch of the Archaic city wall of Corinth raises questions about the extent and nature of the urban settlement. Catherine Morgan’s chapter on temple construction also takes Corinth as its focus. Her discussion prioritizes two questions, namely the rationale for inserting built space into pre-existing cult sites and the nature of the innovation involved in the buildings themselves, locating the earliest Corinthian cult buildings within technological traditions and considering the ensuing implications for the organization of craft practice. In tune with a range of recent work (e.g. Marconi 2007: 2-10; Wilson Jones 2014: 33-60), she emphasizes the risks of separating and decontextualizing aspects of art historical study, especially when developments are then presented explicitly or implicitly in terms of ‘progress’. Understanding how and why choices were made and the needs identified then met requires a holistic approach to matters of resources, agency and affordance. Morgan’s study also compares developments in the Corinthia with those in the wider ambit of the Corinthian Gulf. In the following chapter, Anastasia Gadolou fleshes out this discussion with a systematic review of evidence of all kinds from Achaia, a region where both emerging urban centres and (sub)regional territorial organization(s) contributed to a complex overall political structure by Classical times. While the Early Iron Age record of the region is rich and increasingly well understood (not least thanks to Gadolou’s own research), this is the first close examination of the century that followed. City sanctuaries and the religious life of major centres form the subject of studies of new evidence from Thebes by Vassilis Aravantinos and Kyriaki Kalliga. Aravantinos reviews what we now know of the archaeology of religion in Thebes after decades of rescue and systematic excavation in the modern city (where for many years he directed the Ephorate of Antiquities). Kalliga focuses on a distinctive class of small vessels from the sanctuary of Herakles at Thebes, looking at its local significance and the eclectic range of influences displayed. Immediately to the south, Athens and Attica have long been the focus of research into the political and social transformations of the eighth to sixth centuries. Three chapters focus on the Piraeus (where rescue excavation has transformed our knowledge of the later port and its wider environs: Papadopoulou 2014-15),3 on the city of Athens, and on rural settlement at Vari. Lydia Palaiokrassa revisits the sanctuary of Artemis by the harbour of Mounichia (on the eastern side of the Piraeus peninsula) to reassess ceramic evidence for the wealth of the sanctuary and the range of participants in its rituals. Analysis of the great central Athenian cemeteries has been fundamental to the debate about the ascription and expression of social and political status in the polis since the 1980s (Morris 1987; Whitley 1991; noting the critique of Papadopoulos 1993; d’Agostino and D’Onofrio 1993; Alexandridou 2016, 354). Seventh-century evidence from the Kerameikos in particular has played an important part in this (D’Onofrio 1993; Houby Nielsen 1992; 1995; 1996). Anna Maria D’Onofrio returns to the Kerameikos and specifically to the Rundbau, where she reassembles the fragmented archaeological record for a burying group which, she argues, included individuals of high status and non-Athenian origin integrated within a local descent group. The burial ritual created cultural references and a network of correspondences within which a distinctive collection of rare foreign items were deployed. Alexandra Alexandridou has conducted pioneering research into the relationship between burials in Athens and across Attica in order to create a broad regional picture (Alexandridou 2016). In her chapter, she examines the North Cemetery of Vari, our main source of evidence for burial practices in the Attic countryside during the seventh century and the site of tomb cults where recently deceased locals were venerated as ancestors. She considers the cemetery and its cults in the context of changes in society and local settlement structure. Aside from Attica, the western colonies have traditionally provided the core of evidence for early city plans. Nonetheless, approaches to colonial settlement in Magna Graecia and Sicily in many ways exemplify the neglect of the seventh century. Attention continues to focus on the earliest years of Greek settlement, examining the nature and material footprint of activity and considering it within wider networks often of greater antiquity (see e.g. Donnellan et al. 2016). It is often acknowledged that the full impact was only really seen in the sixth century, when there is striking evidence for phenomena such as urban planning and temple building. But even this somewhat longer perspective skates over the seventh century as a period when settlement took root, relationships formed and were transformed, and major decisions were taken about community organization. Matteo D’Acunto presents an overview of the early city of Cumae based not only on the past 20 years of intensive excavation but also on the interpretation of old data in new frameworks. Within the city, the seventh-century record reveals a clear moment of town planning demanding major decisions about the shape of communal life. Cultural links with the Euboean motherland remained visible, but growth also involved the negotiation and expression of local relationships with 3 

See also http://www.snfcc.org/construction/archaeological-findings/ for preliminary notice of discoveries made during the construction of the Stavros Niarchos Foundation Cultural Centre at Phaleron.

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Xenia Charalambidou and Catherine Morgan indigenous and other Greek communities, notably Pithekoussai. Jan Kindberg Jacobsen, Sine Grove Saxjær and Gloria Paola Mittica address similar issues in the Sibaritide. From the starting point of the settlement at Timpone della Motta, they document the spread of Greek ritual practice to indigenous settlements throughout the plains of the Sibaritide at different paces and with different outcomes. Gillian Shepherd next reminds us that Greek migration to Sicily was no guaranteed success story. Far from being a utopian destination created by those seeking better lives, seventh-century Sicily was rife with competition, hostilities, stasis and failures. But for those who could succeed – whether as land grabbers, new elites or even tyrants – the rewards were great. Finally, Maria Costanza Lentini takes us back to vase painting with a study of a spouted krater from an eighth- to seventh-century context at Sicilian Naxos. The vessel bears a unique decorative scheme referencing Cycladic, Euboean and Attic connections. In recent years, Macedonia and Thrace have produced rich and challenging new evidence for interactions between a variety of populations. Sophia Moschonissioti examines the life of the community at Mende in the Chalkidiki before and after its colonization from Eretria, looking especially at the city’s shifting patterns of connections in the northern Aegean and with the southern Greek world. The variety of both imports and influences suggests that Mende and the regions around the Thermaic Gulf participated in multiple trade networks from Late Geometric times, and that these activities increased from the seventh century onwards (Tiverios et al. 2012). These observations about the role of geographical setting echo Xenia Charalambidou’s discussion of the Euboean Gulf, and further speak to the question of the nature of regionalism, and how and when local distinctions in material culture can be observed. One of the most exciting recent discoveries from central Macedonia is the ‘basement’ deposit from Methone in Pieria, a dump of refuse from nearby households and workshops which included 191 inscribed pots and potsherds mostly dating around 700 BC. Yannis Tzifopoulos, Manthos Bessios and Antonis Kotsonas review this material which has swiftly entered into scholarly discussion (Bessios et al. 2012; Strauss Clay et al. forthcoming). While the few longer texts have attracted attention for the insights which they offer into script use and literary beginnings, the assemblage as a whole largely consists of non-alphabetic symbols, marks, graffiti and dipinti which probably relate to trade or ownership, and which contribute to wider discussion of how information was conveyed and the nature of the groups involved. The Methone evidence certainly creates a bulge in the seventh-century Greek epigraphical record, as Alan Johnston emphasizes in the review chapter which follows. Nonetheless, the extensive, if more fragmentary, evidence from other parts of the Greek world provides ample scope for consideration of the ways in which the skill of writing was deployed in the seventh century with respect to such matters as alphabetic uniformity, orthography and communication on personal, social and divine levels. Both chapters in their different ways emphasize the material aspects of writing: quite apart from the essential question of dating, the objects inscribed are essential to our understanding of the nature of communication and the respective roles of the written, the visual and the oral (Morgan 2017). The book concludes with Jan Paul Crielaard’s reminder that for literary historians the seventh century has never ceased to fascinate. He focuses on lyric poetry, a genre often thought to represent the ‘rise of the individual’ but which, he suggests, has much to tell us about various forms of group identity. As he concludes, the ‘rise of the community’ was a significant theme for lyric poets and their audiences, pointing in turn to the seventh century as a key period of conceptualization of many shared identities.

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2. Introduction: can one speak of the seventh century BC? Roland Étienne It is surprising, not to say unprecedented, to find three recent books devoted to the seventh century, to the extent that we can now speak of an ‘emerging’ century. I refer to the 2010 collection which I myself edited, La Méditerranée au VIIe siècle av. J.-C., essais d’analyses archéologiques; to the present volume which has grown from the conference Interpreting the Seventh Century, Tradition and Innovation held in Athens in December 2011; and to Thomas Brisart’s Un art citoyen. Recherches sur l’orientalisation des artisanats en Grèce proto-archaïque, also published in 2010, which, despite its somewhat enigmatic title, covers this same period. Why did Brisart choose not to refer to the seventh century? As we will see, the issues are complex. The division by century presents our first problem. What is the significance of the years 700 and 600 BC and are historical divisions of this kind justified? The French refer to the century of Louis XIV even though the king’s reign lasted for less than 100 years and spanned the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries (1643-1715). The expression is used chiefly to underline the peak in literature and the arts in the time of the Sun King. Yet if one wants to study the functioning of the kingdom and the development of society then one must also include the reign of Louis XIV in what is conveniently termed the ‘ancien régime’ (i.e. the French monarchical system of the sixteenth to eighteenth centuries which was brought to an end by the Revolution of 1789). This century of Louis XIV, so dazzlingly illuminated by literature and the arts, was from an economic, social and political perspective one of the worst in the history of France. The prosperity of the arts and that of the economy followed different if not opposed tempos, and both cannot be framed by the two dates of 1600 and 1700. This example allows us to pose our first questions: was the seventh century a distinct entity and if so, what characterized it? Can it be distinguished within what we term the Archaic period, and if so, how can it be separated from the eighth and sixth centuries? We must then examine why some see it as an age of revolutions and whether the notion of an orientalizing revolution as is sometimes applied is really relevant and able to express all the essential phenomena at work in Greece during this century. Developments securely placed within the seventh century include the creation of monumental sculpture and architecture, narrative religious imagery, the rise of the Greek city with the first written laws, the emergence of a new mode of battle supported by the entry of new classes into the citizen body, and, at the end of the period (600-580 BC), the invention of coinage. A fresh view, sustained by new trends in anthropological archaeology and by a history of art which has revisited the notion of style, has transformed our approach to the history of Archaic Greece.1 It is beyond the scope of a single chapter (and one author) to address all of these issues. Instead, I have conceived this introduction as a test of the way in which the seventh century has been reported in the great historical syntheses. How has the century finally emerged and how is it addressed in recent works?2 This perspective will, it is hoped, serve better to position the contributions to this volume and demonstrate their significance. Did the seventh century exist? This is not just a provocative question, as the division of history is not self-evident. The seventh century has emerged only slowly onto our research agendas and is liable to disappear, subsumed within the ‘Archaic period’, even in the best of books (see e.g. Finley 1970; Snodgrass 1980; Gras 1995; Settis 1996-2001 is organised on a thematic rather than a historical basis). In his 2001 The Archaeology of Ancient Greece, James Whitley ends his chapter 5 on the Early Iron Age in 700 and follows it with a chapter on ‘The Aegean, the Levant and the West: The Orientalising phenomenon’ which is everything but a treatment of the seventh century per se (rather, it seeks to identify the mechanisms and various aspects of contact with the east). The editors of the most recent collected work on the Archaic period, Kurt Raaflaub and Hans van Wees (2009), do not dedicate a chapter in Part II, Histories to the seventh century even though they twice feature the eighth century in chapters on ‘The Early Iron Age’ (by Catherine Morgan) and ‘The 1 

See Davies 2009 on the historiography of the Archaic period and Morris 1994b on anthropological archaeology. The concept of style has been thoroughly reassessed by Francis Croissant: see most recently Croissant 2010 (with previous bibliography) and here below. On links between production and society, see Duplouy 2006. 2  See Étienne 2010a, where the seventh century is approached via current issues such as concepts of colonization, hybridity, growth, and the notion of the ‘great divide’.

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Roland Étienne eighth-century revolution’ (by Ian Morris). This omission is all the more surprising since Robin Osborne long ago demonstrated the unity and dynamism of the seventh century (Osborne 1989). Indeed, Osborne himself made much the same point about invisibility (Osborne 1989: 299) in commenting on John Camp’s economical treatment of the seventh century in his 1986 book on the Athenian Agora, where a chapter subheading on ‘The Dark Ages and the Geometric period (1100-700)’ was directly followed by another on ‘Athens in the sixth century’. In order to understand why the seventh century may or may not achieve its own individuality in the scholarly literature, it is necessary to step back and consider three currents which form our study of Greek antiquity. These currents are distinguished by the source material treated, the approaches taken and the aims pursued, although there are certain areas of overlap and (at least in recent times) common points of interest. The first current includes some of the towering figures and monuments in scholarship, from George Grote to Karl Julius Beloch, Gustave Glotz to the Cambridge Ancient History.3 The earliest historians of ancient Greece had only texts to rely upon, but the results were often highly felicitous. For want of sources, they presented in geographical sequence information gathered from authors all of whom, with the exception of Homer, Hesiod and the early lyric poets, belonged to later (and often substantially later) periods. In these great syntheses, Thucydides formed the basis for the study of colonization, tyranny was of interest as a first step towards democracy, and a ‘lyric age’ was recognized as the flourishing of a civilization where elites were influenced by the east. For sure, the work of archaeologists was cited by Karl Julius Beloch and contributed to his vision of Greece. For Beloch, the seventh century saw the disappearance of aristocracies, while Greece remained a land of peasants and the ‘griechischer Markt’ was dominated by products from the east (Beloch 1924-6 contains numerous interesting notes on the seventh century, e.g. in chapter X ‘Die Umwälzung im Wirtschaftsleben’, 264-73, followed by chapter XI ‘Die Umwälzung im Geistesleben’). Yet there is an enduring current of history which is deliberately cut off from archaeology: in his 1982 chapter in the Cambridge Ancient History, for example, Anthony Andrews treats seventh-century Athens with no reference to archaeological discoveries (a point of criticism noted by Osborne 1989: 297-8). L. H. Jeffery’s 1976 Archaic Greece is again essentially a text-based geographical study, enriched by the earliest Greek inscriptions on which this great scholar was such a specialist. Jeffery recognized that the start of the Archaic period was traditionally placed at 776 BC (the date of the foundation of the Olympic games taken as a reference point ever since Grote), but nonetheless she used 700 BC as the upper limit of the period which she studied as Archaic Greece. In short, we cannot yet speak of the history of the seventh century, since neither the limits nor the substance of the century are defined. In fact, the only people to justify this division are art historians and archaeologists. The former were quick to notice eastern influence on Greek art and the latter have worked to clarify the chronology of the well-characterized Geometric and Corinthian pottery sequences (pioneering works include Payne 1931, Desborough 1952, and Coldstream 2008, the first edition of which was published in 1968). While there are complications in detail because Geometric forms and techniques may linger to varying extents, ‘eastern influences’ are near ubiquitous as is a break around 700 BC (the exact date depending on region). This break, suggested by the pottery sequences, is respected for example by J. N. Coldstream in his Geometric Greece (first published in 1977, see now Coldstream 2003: part II), who characterises the period 770-700 as the ‘Greek Renaissance’. Yet these divisions are neither natural nor essential. Some 16 years earlier, Chester G. Starr, in his The Origins of Greek Civilisation, structured the data differently: he entitled the third part of the book ‘The Age of Revolution’ and claimed that ‘the age of revolution, 750-650, was the most dramatic development in all Greek history’ (Starr 1961: 190). Starr emphasized the twin problems of rupture and continuity. On one hand, he had no hesitation in passing over 700 as a reference date, demonstrating the difficulty of identifying a seventh century, and confirming that respect for century divisions is hardly a matter of life and death. On the other, his use of the term ‘revolution’ comes as no surprise - indeed, as we will see, against all the odds this term has achieved some success in the Anglo-Saxon literature (it is perhaps ironic that the French make real historical revolutions, but it is the English who use the concept to write history). It was Anthony Snodgrass who created the ‘Copernican revolution’ in archaeology. In what was first and foremost a methodological shift, he showed that archaeological material must be studied in context and that its meaning varies according to whether it comes from a settlement, a sanctuary or a tomb. This represented a break in the manner of interpretation: rejecting a diffusionist or evolutionary view of Greek antiquity, Snodgrass demonstrated that there were indeed breaks, and introduced the idea of a structural revolution which he traced to the late 8th century with a break around 700 BC (Snodgrass 1980: 15-84; the intellectual significance of Snodgrass’ work is illustrated by Morris 3  Grote 1849, following discussion of myth and epic, set the beginning of Greek history at 776 BC, the traditional date of the foundation of the Olympic games. His presentation is essentially geographical: in Part II, chapters V-VIII focus on Sparta; chapter IX on ‘Corinth, Sikyon and Megara, Age of the Grecian Despots’, and chapter X on the ‘Ionic Portion of Hellas, Athens before Solon’. This type of presentation, grosso modo, long served as a framework for Archaic Greek history: see e.g. Beloch 1924-6; Glotz and Cohen 1925.

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2. Introduction: can one speak of the seventh century BC? 1994b: 39-40). This early cut-off date was well justified and led to the development of a ‘long’ seventh century, akin to Fernand Braudel’s long 16th century,4 the unity of which must be sought in a series of revolutions. The seventh century: a century of revolutions? The concept of a ‘structural revolution’ has recently been reaffirmed by Ian Morris, a pupil of Anthony Snodgrass and one of the most innovative of contemporary researchers (Morris 2009). Morris speaks of an eighth-century revolution because he takes it as proven that this was the point when, under demographic pressure, Greek societies were transformed and the conditions for the creation of the polis met (Morris 1998: 68-79; 2009). For Morris, this transformation was as important as the industrial revolution of the 19th century and determined the course of Greek history for the next five centuries. Anthony Snodgrass described the structural revolution by distinguishing human factors (the need for political renewal, the agrarian revolution, and the role of hero cult) and material evidence (iron working, the dedication of bronzes and armour at sanctuaries, the birth of the temple and of figurative vase painting, and the spread of writing). This remains a valuable approach: data have certainly accumulated since the early 1980s, but with the exception of questions about identity and more precise research into particular regions or productions, the overall framework has not changed. Ian Morris has demonstrated developments from the original model to which he himself has contributed, raising several questions and suggesting new answers. He has fixed the break point definitively in the eighth century, defined a model of growth applicable across the Greek world, and sought to explain how Greeks avoided concentrating power at a time when the general model was monarchy. For Morris, the triumph of a ‘middling ideology’ over an ‘elitist ideology’, revealing great social tension inside cities, lay at the heart of the process which led to the formation of city-states.5 However, this viewpoint is not universally shared. Robin Osborne disagrees with Ian Morris on at least two points (Osborne 1989: 315): instead of advocating the eighth century, he maintains the originality of the seventh, and instead of a ‘materialistic’ view of change caused by population growth, he supports a change in attitudes. This he bases upon an artistic revolution (Osborne 2009: 166-7), thus: ‘the worldview of the seventh-century BC artist is distinct from that of the eighth-century artist ... Three concerns dominate seventh-century art: exploring the world through myths that are rendered clearly identifiable; facing up to the gods; and communal action. Two icons, both, admittedly, in many ways exceptional, will illustrate the seventh-century view’. Analysis of two well-known vases (the Chigi olpe and the Xobourgo pithos) followed and Osborne offered a further, similar illustration using seventhcentury Attic artefacts. What changed between the eighth and the seventh centuries was a world view: ‘the visual arts in the seventh century BC grapple with human relationships and relations between human, animal, and divine worlds in a way not familiar in geometric art’ (Osborne 2009: 161-7). Under what influence did this transformation occur? This brings us to the third and last of our revolutions - the ‘orientalizing revolution’. The seventh century: the orientalizing century? Pierre Demargne, one of the greatest scholars of his generation on the early period and especially daedalic Crete (to which he devoted his doctoral thesis, Demargne 1947), wrote in his 1964 Naissance de l’art grec: ‘le VIIe s., le siècle ‘orientalisant’, est le siècle entre tous séduisant des expériences naïves ou raffinées que peut faire un art las des abstractions et des simplifications’ (Demargne 1964: 402).6 This is the conclusion which follows from adoption of an art historical framework based on pottery styles.7 4 

Braudel 1985: 214: ‘Une montée séculaire de la vie économique s’amorce peut-être vers 1470 et s’interrompt, sans doute, ou pour le moins se ralentit, avec les chertés records des années 1590-1600, le mouvement se poursuivant vaille que vaille jusqu’en 1650 ... En tout cas, durant ce long XVIe siècle, une hausse lente, en profondeur, a favorisé l’essor de la vie matérielle...’. Mutatis mutandis, this is how Ian Morris envisages the trend from the eighth century onwards, leading to a continuous improvement in the per capita standard of living. 5  Morris 2009 gives a fine summary of his arguments and seeks to address the key issue, long raised but still outstanding, of how Greeks prevented an evolution towards monarchy and consolidated an egalitarian system. While content to follow his argument, I would place greater emphasis on religion. In my view, what differentiates Greek cities from those in the other great ancient Mediterranean countries is the lack of a priestly class or of any religion ‘of the book’. Places of worship were not socially exclusive and there were no rites which could not be followed by any free (or perhaps even unfree) man. Exchange with the gods was not the privilege of any class: it was an open exchange concluded with a sacrifice which anyone could perform. Everyone could communicate with the gods even if intermediaries were involved (the Pythia or a seer): oracles were not the preserve of a fraction of the population. How may this situation be explained and what forces allowed this type of society to be maintained? Must one admit a random anthropological model? 6  Hurwit 1985 is equally enthusiastic, contrasting ‘The idea of order 760-700’ (chapter 2) with ‘The edge of disorder: the seventh century’ (chapter 3), and remarking that ‘Greek culture thus continued to establish its difference and to define itself in the seventh century. It was an extraordinary age of ferment, experiment, exuberance, diversity, individuality (in a special sense) and invention’ which touched all areas from lyric poetry to vases and monuments. 7  For an overview, see Brisart 2011; Poulsen 1912 is fundamental; Akurgal (1969: 166-70, 188-91) emphasizes the eastern origins of mythology and the Hittite models behind such motifs as the griffin; and Boardman (1999a) entitles his chapter 3 ‘The eastern adventure’. The Italians refer to an ‘eta orientalizzante’: Bianchi Bandinelli and Moretti (1978: vol. 2, part IV L’eta orientalizzante) begins with ‘1. Le tirannidi e gli sviluppi

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Roland Étienne Data and especially approaches have changed significantly since the 1960s, and the concept of orientalizing has itself been an object of change, whether through new approaches or severe criticism. Yet no one can deny the role played by eastern productions. Orientalia circulated and recent work has been devoted to identifying them among ivories, jewellery, and small faience objects, as well as bronze tripods and statues.8 Equally, the mythological scenes, long files of people or animals, fantastic beasts and ornamental plants, which mark seventh-century creations, notably pottery, surely relate to the east. But while these facts are generally recognized, there are many differences of opinion on the nature, extent and interpretation of the phenomenon and no consensus on the degree of ‘orientalizing’ or the reception of these ‘influences’ in Greece (indeed the vague term ‘influence’ is open to criticism and should probably be dropped). Everything now points to a reappraisal of the orientalizing phenomenon. On one side are the ‘Pan-Orientalists’ - Martin Bernal with his 1987 Black Athena (which caused quite a stir in an Anglo-Saxon world in crisis over its ethnic minorities), Sarah Morris with Daidalos in 1992, and Walter Burkert, the English version of whose book The Orientalizing Revolution was also published in 1992.9 It is worth recalling as a point of historiographical interest that the title of the original German version of Burkert’s book, published in 1984, was Die orientalisierende Epoche in der griechischen Religion und Litteratur. The English title is catchier, but reflects the tendency among Anglo-Saxon colleagues to apply the term revolution to antiquity. Burkert’s book skilfully connects archaeology, literature, and the history of religious ideas, and the introduction is a good illustration of German resistance to assuming a semitic origin for Greek phenomena. The first chapter deals with migrant artists, the second magic and medicine, and the third connections between Akkadian literature and Archaic Greek epic. I cannot judge the accuracy of the philological arguments, but I do note that the material circuits capable of explaining these borrowings and adaptations remain poorly defined both in time and space. The same stories can appear in different periods and in different social contexts without the older influencing the younger:10 what do La Fontaine’s fables owe to Aesop, or Victor Hugo’s Légende des siècles to the Song of Roland? A recent focus on the concept of orientalia and the creation and development of seventh-century Greek styles has tended towards a general ‘de-orientalization’ of the seventh century. In various ways the work of Helène Aurigny, Catherine Saint-Pierre, and Thomas Brisart demonstrates the complexity of the productions classed as orientalia, where it is hard to distinguish originals from imitations and ‘bricolage’ is common. Consider, for example, the sphyrelata found at Olympia, where Greek bronze plates were added to those recovered from the east, or the manufacture of decorated tripods, where the origin of the bronze used may not be the same as that of the decoration (see Saint-Pierre 2007b on sphyrelata; Simantoni-Bournia 1997: 231-4, on tripods). Were these orientalia actually recognized as such by the Greeks who dedicated them at sanctuaries? Whether offered by Greeks or easterners, orientalia were deployed in rituals which were properly Greek, and no necessary distinction was made between them and other offerings. Whatever the case, we should not oppose Greece and the east as if two frozen entities (Gunter 2009): recent research demonstrates the variety of eastern regions which themselves followed templates similar to those identified as Greek borrowings or responses to models from the east. The most systematic critique of the concept of orientalizing, by Francis Croissant, reveals the complexity of the phenomenon evident in competition between centres to define their own style (Croissant 2003-4; 2007a; 2007b; 2010). Not only did pottery workshops choose between the models at their disposal, they also adapted them to satisfy their need to express their own identity. Croissant shows that while the creations of Greek workshops were stimulated by contacts with Egypt and Syria at the end of the eighth century, ‘le nouveau vocabulaire décoratif ... sans doute dès les premières années du VIIe s. fait l’objet dans chaque atelier d’une traduction grecque’ (Croissant 2010: 344). The search for exoticism had lost its appeal for designers and their clientele.

politici ed economico-sociali’, without defining the period concerned; in ‘3. La cultura orientalizzante e le sue espressioni figurative’, Fulvio Canciani reviews all areas from vase painting to architecture, and in part V. 2, Francesco Adorno’s section on ‘La ‘cultura’ ionica tra il VII e il VI secolo’, is essentially art historical in conception. 8  For a general view of seventh-century material, see Simantoni-Bournia 1997; for overall research on orientalia, Saint-Pierre 2006 and 2007a; on Delphi, Aurigny 2010. Croissant 2010: 314 refers to the ‘ambiguïté de la notion d’offrande orientalisante’. 9  See Whitley (2001: 102-6) for a critique of the orientalizing trend. Burkert (1992: 156 n.17) notes that the term ‘orientalizing revolution’ was first used by Boardman (1990: 179) about the eighth century, thus: ‘This is the first really busy period of traffic, to the farthest west and throughout the Aegean, and of colonisation. We may consider first the distribution of wares and their effect, then ‘colonies’, then carriers; but this is not the place for yet another rehearsal of archaeological evidence for the Orientalising Revolution and the Age of Colonisation’. This passage does not, however, reveal a truly theorized notion of an ‘orientalizing revolution’. 10  The works which I have read on eastern literary or religious influence on Greece are interesting from the perspective of comparative literature or civilization, but I note the difficulty experienced by West (1997: 586-624) in imagining how the transmission from eastern epic to the Iliad and Odyssey was actually effected. There should be as much or as little of a relationship between Greek and Vedic texts, which at least share a common Indo-European structure as the work of George Dumézil has shown. In the same direction, see Whitley (2001: 105). I therefore maintain, despite Zurbach’s critique (in Étienne et al. 2011: 28-33) of what I term ‘de-orientalization’, that it is necessary to reassess connections between Greece and the east in all aspects of literature and religious practice (an archaeological history we can do without).

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2. Introduction: can one speak of the seventh century BC? In short, the convenient association of the seventh century with orientalizing should probably be abandoned. As early as 1967, Karl Schefold found the habit of referring to an orientalizing seventh century infelicitous (Schefold 1967: 19). For her part, Eva Bournia suggested that the century would be better termed the Early Archaic period since the adjective ‘orientalizing’ as applied to it was reductive (Simantoni-Bournia 1997: 149). And Thomas Brisart followed suit in referring to ‘Proto-Archaic’ Greece (Brisart 2011). As we have seen, this is not purely a matter of vocabulary but of the entire conception of a period.11 To construct or reconstruct the seventh century As suggested, a division in Greek history around 700 is perfectly justified. It is not a mere reflection of a change in taste or a fashion explaining the transition between two figurative styles, but is securely established by the results of archaeological research. Let us consider the under-exploited results of Vassilios Lambrinoudakis’ work in Naxos town (at Grotta and in Metropolis square; see Lambrinoudakis 1988; 2001), which demonstrate perfectly the progression from family tombs to the large tumulus around the grave of an ‘ancestor’ which marks the transition to civic hero cult.12 At Xobourgo on Tenos, Nota Kourou has taken a step further in demonstrating the connection around 700 BC between the creation of city cults, the construction of cult buildings and the creation of a mythological iconography (Kourou 2002a; 2013a; 2013b). The extramural sanctuary was established at the end of the 10th century: from a funerary cult around a venerable tomb, it was progressively transformed into an ancestor shrine covering a large area and marked by pyres. In the mid-eighth century, these groups of pyres were enclosed within a low peribolos, a move which reflects a closer community organization and the rise of a few families. The major transformations took place at the end of the eighth century when an eschara replaced the offering pits used by individuals or families, confirming that it was the community that managed the cult. Thus the city was born around a chthonic cult. At the same time a cult room was built: within it were found two pithoi (probably to hold offerings) and a fragment of an early seventh-century terracotta relief frieze depicting a chariot drawn by winged horses - the earliest yet found in the Greek world. Another sanctuary, the Thesmophorion (previously excavated by Nikolaos Kontoleon) produced the famous pithoi now in Tenos Museum which have been published by Eva Bournia (Simantoni-Bournia 2004; 2013). This shrine too comprised an eschara, an altar, and a shelter for offerings. I emphasize Xobourgo not from some Teniot chauvinism, but because it best illustrates the nature and pace of development towards the city, and the coincidence between the formation of the city, common cults, sacred architecture and the creation of an original mythology. The very large pithoi (1.5 and 1.8m tall) are an important indicator of the formation of a community which had defined the allotments due to the gods and to man. The pithoi probably contained the sacred aparche (i.e. that part of the crop dedicated by the community to the deity for reasons of cult) and they bore images of the city’s gods and its myths. In this case, archaeology does enable us to write history. These new developments formed part of the process whereby identity was created and asserted. Teniot pottery was rarely exported, and was thus of essentially local interest (with the exception of a stylistically Boeotian workshop which could have been created by local island craftsmen: Simantoni-Bournia [2004, 89-113], noting at 112 the Teniot origin of these Boeotian vases). This connection between artistic creation and the process of defining and asserting identity has been highlighted in the Cyclades (Naxos and Paros) especially by Francis Croissant. Croissant identifies two particular features: a precise link between a ceramic or sculptural style and a city, and a connection between the definition and assertion of identity and the armed conflicts which shook the islands during the seventh century (see Croissant 2003-4, 2007a and b, and especially 2008; Coulié 2005 and 2007; Kourayos and Prost 2008; WalterKarydi 2008: 21-6, on the Parian ‘style’). The birth of the city, which must have occurred at different moments in different regions, did not happen without clashes between (and perhaps also within) communities. There is both literary and archaeological evidence of violent conflicts during the seventh century. In the Aegean, struggles between Chalkis and Eretria (the famous Lelantine War) evidently date to the seventh century, as does the Spartan conquest of Messenia. Archilochos referred not only to war against the Thracians, but also to the fierce struggles between Naxos and Paros in which he took part. For an earlier generation, the polyandria of the end of the eighth century discovered in the cemetery of Paros attest to these conflicts and at the same time to the birth of the city. The communal burial of more than 150 young warriors in comparable vessels with no differentiating marks (apart from two amphorae depicting battle scenes) corresponds perfectly with a community of equals which had progressed far beyond the framework of the family or lineage (Zaphiropoulou 2002 and 2006a; Croissant 2008). On the coast of 11  On the problem of vocabulary and the use of ‘orientalism’ and ‘orientalizing’, compare the approaches of contributors to Riva and Vella 2006a, where Purcell (2006: 28) prefers to ‘drop the term Orientalizing and the baggage which goes with it’, while Osborne (2006: 156) finds them still useful (‘understanding that baggage, which is the baggage of Orientalism, is the most pressing task for future work on Orientalization’). 12  The results from Naxos are effectively used by Mazarakis Ainian 1999a; 2000, 183-5; 2009, 212-19.

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Roland Étienne Asia Minor, the Ionian Dodecapolis was formed in conflict against Mylai, and later on, the Sacred War surrounding Delphi transformed the character of the sanctuary (Luce 2008: 95-115). Was there any connection between these conflicts and did they generally stem from the same cause? Were these conflicts the cause or the consequence of the movement towards identity definition and assertion, linked to the establishment of physical or mental boundaries? What was their relationship with the hoplite ‘revolution’? Whatever one’s view of this hoplite revolution, there was certainly a close relationship between the enlargement of the citizen class and the transformation of modes of combat (Whitley [2001: 179-85] offers a nuanced summary of the problem). This is not the place to write the history of the seventh-century Mediterranean. I merely suggest that this history is possible, and it is no more than a story which has shattered into pieces, leaving us only fragments of the puzzle. Thanks to archaeology, these pieces are beginning to form a coherent picture. However, it takes exact inventories of material evidence (objects, buildings or cemeteries) from cities selected as representative samples to understand how each community followed its own pace and responded differently to change (as Whitley 2010 has shown for Crete and Morgan 2003 for ethne). I do not know whether we are yet able to isolate specifically seventh-century data in many regions, but this is surely a goal for future archaeology. This objective has already been fulfilled for part of the Middle East, where Israeli colleagues have demonstrated the dynamism of Palestine and Cyprus at the centre of Mediterranean traffic (Faust and Weiss 2005). Yet recent syntheses on the Archaic economy are a little disappointing not least because they do not allow us to pinpoint seventh-century phenomena. The scarcity of shipwrecks suggests that one should not exaggerate trade, and the contraction of settlement in some regions (notably Attica) likely indicates local difficulties.13 The role of eastern Greece must surely be better appreciated since this was where formative developments for the new era occurred. Ionian Greeks were present everywhere from Methone (Bessios et al. 2012) to Egypt via Al Mina. The Ionian amphictyony around Mycale (the centre of the Dodecapolis) and the joint foundation of Naukratis at the end of the seventh century are interesting phenomena because they lie ‘beyond the city’. In this shifting of balances in the Mediterranean, Ionians were surely the winners. It is hard to accept Horden and Purcell’s suggestion that there was a constant process of rebalancing in which everyone achieved their due gains (Horden and Purcell 2000), and I prefer to follow Ian Morris’s view that there were definite winners and losers (Morris 2005a; Étienne 2010b: 3-5). One should also consider the neighbours of the Greeks: the destruction of Smyrna by Alyattes in 600 BC, the Cimmerian raids, and the Babylonian conquests and the siege of Tyre by Nebuchadnezzar II at the end of the seventh century would certainly have had an impact on the Greek Mediterranean. Yet I would not justify the break evident around 600 BC on the grounds of these ‘political’ dates. Three phenomena, more or less well dated, were to transform the living conditions of the Greeks for the centuries to come: the invention of coinage (600-580 BC), mass market slavery, and a philosophical ‘revolution’ embodied by Thales and the Milesian School. Aside from the discussion which has surrounded the exact date, mechanism of diffusion and function of the first coin issues, coinage would eventually affect the entire system of Mediterranean trade and Greek social life in all its aspects (Le Rider 2001). The emergence of coinage is perhaps related to the spread of the slave market which one tradition attributes to Chios: one would like to know more about the circumstances of this spread and the factors behind it (Andreau and Descat 2006: 42-5). The third turning point concerns attitudes. Thales’ cosmology is based on the natural elements (water) with no recourse to divine forces to explain the world and how it works. One sees here a kind of secularization of thought.14 For the purposes of our discussion, Thales can be characterized as a practitioner of geometry, and it was this line of thought which led to the birth of the architectural orders. Monumental architecture, as monumental sculpture, assumes a concept of rhythm and the calculation of proportion. In this sense, the Doric order, of which the first evidence entirely in stone dates to the beginning of the sixth century (the temple at Syracuse was the earliest certainly to have a stone entablature), was a genuine ‘revolution’ which happened as a consequence of an intellectual ‘revolution’. Greek architecture was born of the rationalization which led to the concept of rules applied to material creations, and the same is probably true of monumental sculpture which borrowed its models of rhythm from Egypt. These rules were subject to consensus in the same way as laws in the city. The year 600 BC marked a break which led to the flowering of the city, while the seventh century could be considered as a formative period, and perhaps one characterised by painful birth-pangs. The seventh century definitely exists: it remains to write its history.15 13  Morris (1998: 77) returns to the problem of the seventh-century depression attributed by Camp to a period of drought leading to population decline. Despite objections previously raised by Morris and Snodgrass, Morris seems now to agree on the fact of a depression although he does not comment on its causes. Osborne’s overview of the Archaic economy (2007: 277-301) is enlightening on the seventh century; see Zurbach (2011a: 30) for critique. 14  The penetrating analyses of Vernant (1962: 101-18, ‘Cosmogonie et mythes de souvaireneté’; 119-30, ‘La nouvelle image du monde’) reveal the significance of this revolution. 15  See Étienne 2010b for an approach to the problems; Zurbach 2011b gives a sense of what remains to be done.

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3. Ceramics, analytical scales and cultural histories of seventh-century Crete Antonis Kotsonas Abstract: Once considered a birthplace of the orientalizing arts of Greece, seventh-century BC Crete has more recently been seen as a passive periphery and a cultural backwater. In this chapter, I offer a corrective view based on a critical approach to the established periodization, an assessment of disciplinary history, and a review of much new ceramic and other evidence which supports an alternative interpretation. Based on this evidence, I call into question the treatment of the Cretan seventh century as a stand-alone and uniform orientalizing phase. The decades around 700 BC (720-670/660) are better seen as a single phase and one considerably different from the mid- to late seventh century. A review of the circulation of Cretan ceramics and other materials across different scales of analysis, from the micro-regional to the Mediterranean-wide, demonstrates that this earlier phase saw increased mobility within the island and the culmination of the island’s connectivity with other regions in the Aegean and the Mediterranean. However, it also shows that this pattern did not persist into the second half of the seventh century. These arguments contribute to a novel understanding of the cultural history of Crete in the seventh century BC.

The ancient Greeks had no concept of a seventh century BC.1 Yet, for the non-expert, this fact may be blurred by a proliferation of recent works on the seventh century in Greece and the Mediterranean. The list includes the present volume, collective works like La Méditerranée au VIIe siècle av. J.-C. (Étienne 2010a) or Debating Orientalization (Riva and Vella 2006a), and monographs like Ann Gunter’s Greek Art and the Orient (2009) or Thomas Brisart’s (2011) Un art citoyen. Notwithstanding their valuable contributions, these works reinforce in an oblique way the antiquated, art-historical concept of a stand-alone, orientalizing seventh century BC. This concept was formulated in the late 19th century AD (Gunter 2009: 62-4; Riva and Vella 2006b: 4-7) and has remained strong ever since in traditional narratives of ancient Greece (e.g. Boardman 1998: 83-140; Buschor 1925: 42-83; Pfuhl 1923: 96-160). Lately, however, it has been called into question due to growing awareness that orientalizing is a dimension rather than a phase of ancient Greek culture,2 and to increasing emphasis on a longue durée perspective on the manipulation of the east by the Greeks (Kotsonas 2013; Morris 1992; Morris 2000; Riva and Vella 2006b: 11; Whitley 2013). These recent developments encourage the rethinking of the seventh century BC of Greece as a whole, and of Crete in particular.3 In this chapter, I argue for a corrective interpretation of early seventh-century Crete which is at odds with current narratives of the island’s cultural history. I study the ways in which these narratives were woven, and suggest that they suffer from considering the seventh century BC as a uniform phase for the whole of the island and in presenting a picture of Cretan decline. Based on evidence for the circulation of Cretan ceramics and, to a lesser degree, of other artefacts, I argue that the early seventh century BC is characterized by increased mobility within the island, as well as intense connectivity between Crete, the Aegean and the Mediterranean. From pan-cretism to isolation: shifting views of the seventh century of Crete The reception and appreciation of seventh-century BC Cretan material culture has a very volatile history which began a century ago, at a time when the orientalizing of the island (and of other Aegean and Mediterranean regions) was high on the research agenda. Major early 20th-century studies (principally Poulsen 1912: 74-82, 14850) make extensive reference to the bronzes, pottery and terracottas of seventh-century Crete, which had been discovered during the first few decades of fieldwork on the island. Particular attention was paid to the daedalic style sculpture brought to light by the Italian excavations at the temples of Axos and Prinias (Kotsonas 2008b: 281-2, with references). Based on the wealth of these finds, and relying on ancient stories of the master craftsman Daedalus, Emanuel Löwy put forward the idea that Cretan art, and particularly seventh-century sculpture, had a considerable impact over much of Greece (Löwy 1909 and 1911; also Kotsonas 2008b: 282 n. 30; Levi 1945a: 8). This idea, which came to be known as pan-cretism, had clearly waned by the time that Romilly Jenkins published his Dedalica (1936),

1 

This chapter has benefited from my studies of pottery from Knossos (by kind invitation of Todd Whitelaw and the British School at Athens), Syme Viannou (by kind invitation of Angeliki Lebessi of the Archaeological Society at Athens), and other sites referred to below. Many thanks to James Whitley for sharing with me Whitley 2013 before publication. 2  Morris 1992: 130. For criticism, see: Gunter 2009: 2-4; Morris 2000: 102-05; Riva and Vella 2006b: 11. On the use of the term orientalizing in periodization see: Brisart 2011: 51-65; Osborne 2006: 154; Purcell 2006: 22-3; Riva and Vella 2006b: 11. On periodization in general see Kotsonas 2016. 3  On the scale and completeness of orientalizing in general, see: Osborne 2006: 154; Purcell 2006: 26. For Crete in particular, see: Kotsonas 2008a: 40; Wallace 2010: 26.

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Antonis Kotsonas

Figure 3.1 Decorative patterns on seventh-century Cretan pottery. (Reproduced from Payne 1927-8 by courtesy of the British School at Athens).

and in 1961 John Boardman (1961: 156, also 158-9) concluded that ‘The pan-cretism of Löwy and other scholars is now generally – and rightly – discounted’. Pan-cretism also had a ceramic aspect. Several authors of early 20th-century histories of Greek vase-painting (Buschor 1925: 43-6; Lunsingh Scheurleer 1936: 27-30; Pfuhl 1923: 101-02) chose to begin their sections on the seventh century BC with Cretan pottery (Figure 3.1).4 Furthermore, Johansen (1923: 64-6) proposed that some stylistic trends of what we know as Protocorinthian were modelled on Cretan ceramics. His argument was accepted by Humfry Payne (1931: 5-6) and persisted until World War II (Demargne 1947: 340-7; Levi 1945a: 16-18). Shortly afterwards, however, Saul Weinberg (1948: 463) attacked the idea of Cretan influence on Corinthian ceramics headon (compare Boardman 1961: 153, 156; Brock 1957: 218-19; Cook 1997: 137; Dunbabin 1948: 463; contra Levi 1950: 1338). The final nail in the coffin of ceramic pan-cretism came a few decades later, when many Greek vases which had been found in Italy and ascribed to Crete by a series of distinguished scholars, were correctly reattributed to other regional workshops, particularly that of Euboea (Lo Porto 1974. For earlier views see: Blakeway 1932-3: 174-5, 181-4, 191, 194-8, 201-4; Boardman 1961: 157; Dunbabin 1948: 8, 14, 230, 236, 264, 267-8; Payne 1931: 5 n. 1). The downfall of pan-cretism by the end of World War II is particularly clear in a statement made by Doro Levi (1945a: 1) which reviews Cretan Early Iron Age pottery with emphasis on the seventh century: ‘even the most recent handbooks of Greek art and histories of Greek pottery relegate the Cretan ceramic factories of the early Hellenic Age to a secondary position.’ A different and more positive view was introduced by Pierre Demargne (1947), who envisaged the seventh (as well as the eighth) century as a time of renaissance in the arts and crafts of Crete, inspired by the culture of the Late Bronze Age.5 Demargne’s work, published in French, received a cold reception in Anglophone scholarship which has dominated research on Early Iron Age Crete since the mid-20th century. In his review of Demargne’s monograph, Thomas Dunbabin (1952) presented a different and pejorative view of Crete. This then prevailed to the extent that in

4  Contrast more recent and current art histories, in which Cretan pottery is not among the first, but the last regional productions treated (Boardman 1998: 112-13; Cook 1997: 135-8; Paspalas 2012: 83-7). 5  It is worth noting that for much of Greece, the eighth (not the seventh) century BC came to be known as a renaissance (Coldstream 2003: part II; Hägg 1983a; Kotsonas 2016: 247-8).

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3. Ceramics, analytical scales and cultural histories of seventh-century Crete 1961, John Boardman, a former student of Dunbabin at Oxford, commented on seventh-century Cretan art that ‘it is hard to see in it the Academy of Greek archaic art’ (Boardman 1961: 159). Not only was Crete ousted from the ‘Academy’, but she was increasingly seen as a peripheral region of the Aegean and the Mediterranean. The formulation of this novel impression of Crete is closely linked with the reinterpretation of the role of the other big Aegean island, Euboea, in cultural interactions in Early Iron Age Greece and the Mediterranean. In the same year that Dunbabin advanced his view of Crete, Boardman published his first article on pre-Classical Euboea (Boardman 1952). By c. 1960, Boardman was openly comparing the role of the two big islands in early Greek times and concluding that, unlike the Cretans, the Euboeans were dominant in the Early Iron Age Aegean and the Mediterranean.6 Indeed, the notion of the passive role of the Cretans was forged handin-hand with the argument for the Euboeans who ruled the seas. The ‘transfer of power’ was mostly grounded in the paucity of Cretan exports to the east (on which see below) and the abundance of Euboean exports to east and west. Corroborating evidence was soon to come from the British excavations of the 1960s at Lefkandi, and the reattribution of many ‘Cretan’ vases found in Italy to Euboean workshops (Lo Porto 1974). Thereafter, Crete was widely assumed to have been importing goods from abroad yet exporting hardly anything in return, with the island’s overseas connections lying in the hands of others (Coldstream 2008: 382-3; 2003: 288-9; Dickinson 2006: 218; Jones 2000: 148; Lebessi 1987: 165-6; 2000: 174; Whitley 2001: 121; a notable exception is Wallace 2010: 207, 223-5). The perception of Crete as a passive periphery was enhanced by the series of catalogue-based projects on imports in Early Iron Age Crete which appeared ten to fifteen years ago (Hoffman 1997; Jones 2000; Karetsou et al. 2001; Stampolidis and Karetsou 1998; Karageorghis et al. 2014), and was taken to an extreme in the most recent account of the island’s seventh century by James Whitley. It is worth citing a passage of Whitley’s account in full to bring out the contrast with earlier notions of pan-cretism and with the arguments put forward below: ‘Crete is something of an oddity in the Mediterranean in the seventh century BC. Elsewhere the Mediterranean world exhibits all the features of a restless mobility of people and ideas; … from all this Crete, despite its position midway between Egypt, the Levant and the Aegean, and despite having played the role of a stopping point for Levantine shipping (in Knossos and Kommos), stood aloof. Or at least so it seems, judging by Cretans’ minimal involvement in colonization (Gela only, and that half-heartedly) and in external trade (virtually no identifiable Cretan products finding homes abroad).’ (Whitley 2010: 170). I find myself in disagreement with two basic tenets of this approach: first, that the entire seventh century was a uniform period for Crete (a point implicitly also suggested in Brisart 2011: 205-314; Jones 2000: 135-6; Wallace 2010: 218-28); and second, that the picture of decline, which has for many decades widely been assumed for late seventh-century Crete7 also applies to the earlier part of that century. There can be little doubt that Crete in the seventh century was not as deeply engaged in Mediterranean networks as, for example, Corinth or Ionia. Nonetheless, the island is far from being an oddity, as will become clear in the following assessment. I contend that the early seventh century BC represents a peak in mobility within Crete and in the development of a complex pattern of connectivity overseas. Analytical scales and a fresh view of seventh-century Crete Discussions of material culture, mobility and landscape in Early Iron Age Greece are increasingly approached through the concept of regionalism. Regionalism is given considerable attention in current discussions of Crete because of the island’s fragmented geographical, political and cultural landscape (Whitley 2009a: 275-6; 2010: 1712). It is often overlooked, however, that the importance of regionalism has long been acknowledged in discussions of the island’s seventh-century history and of the Early Iron Age in general (see e.g.: Alexiou 1950: 316; Boardman 1961: 146; Levi 1950: 179-80, 183-4). The concept of analytical scale, which is increasingly emphasized in world archaeology, is both more innovative and flexible, and particularly fitting to studies of this scope (Knappett 2011: 61-145; Lock and Molyneaux 2006; Mathieu and Scott 2004; see also Kotsonas 2012c: 164, 265 n. 618). Emphasis on this concept represents a reaction to earlier, empirical and processual approaches which focused primarily on long-term, large-scale patterns and processes of culture change. Conversely, current, post-processual approaches 6  The comparison is explicit in Boardman (1957: 26): ‘Al Mina was founded towards the beginning of the eighth century by Euboeans who were, probably not from the start, joined in the venture by colleagues from the East Greek states. … It is, however, not yet possible to say to what extent Cretans may themselves have joined in ventures like that at Al Mina. There is hardly anything at Al Mina which need be Cretan, although this is no argument against their possible participation’. See also, Boardman 1961: 157-8. The last word on the fierce debate on the Euboeans (irrespective of the Cretans) is currently Papadopoulos 2011. My own view is set out in Kotsonas 2012c: 232-9. 7  On the notion of a decline in late seventh- to sixth-century Crete, see the recent overview in Erickson 2010: 1-22. Two early references to this phenomenon, not mentioned by Erickson, are very explicit: ‘in the second half of the seventh century B.C., we see the last flight of imagination of the old civilization of Crete before it settles into the darkness of its exhausted, lethargic sleep’ (Levi 1945a: 18). Likewise, ‘Crete had already declined into the apathy in which she remains through the sixth and fifth centuries’ (Dunbabin 1948: 310). For a corrective view of this decline, see principally Erickson 2010. My own view is offered in Kotsonas 2002.

17

Antonis Kotsonas

Figure 3.2 Selection of ceramic imports at Eleutherna of indeterminate Cretan provenance and predominately early seventhcentury BC date. (© A. Kotsonas; drawings by F. Skyvalida).

converge upon emphasis on the (very) small-scale processes which underlie the dynamics of large-scale systems, and argue for the need to bridge and articulate the different scales of inquiry. The multiple scales involved in this study range from the micro-regional to the interregional and the ‘global’. Obviously, they represent a continuum rather than separate entities. The macro-scale has dominated past scholarship on Mediterranean connectivity in the Early Iron Age, including that of Crete (e.g.: Hoffman 1997; Jones 2000; Karageorghis et al. 2014; Karetsou et al. 2001; Stampolidis and Karetsou 1998). This scholarship is less concerned with smaller scales of analysis. Paradoxically, we know much more about what travelled from one end of the Mediterranean to the other than what travelled from one Aegean region to another, or from one part of Crete to the next (Kotsonas 2008a: 236; 2009: 1051; 2012c: 124, 164). It is therefore particularly gratifying that smaller scales of analysis receive growing attention: the significance of the micro-scale is evident in, for example, Horden and Purcell’s monumental volume on the Corrupting Sea (2000). It is with these understudied, smaller scales of analysis that I begin my discussion of Crete and the distribution of seventh-century pottery, gradually then scaling up the inquiry. Work on analytical scales typically involves comments on the scalar extent of the study, i.e. the spatial, temporal and formal limits of the research. This chapter focuses on an island spatially defined by the sea; it treats material from several sites which have received a fair record of study and publication, but makes no claim to full coverage. In 18

3. Ceramics, analytical scales and cultural histories of seventh-century Crete

Figure 3.3 Selection of Knossian exports to Eleutherna, mostly dating from the very end of the eighth and the early seventh century BC. (© A. Kotsonas; drawings by F. Skyvalida).

discussing the generally overlooked subject of the intra-island circulation of Cretan ceramics, I mostly draw on my own work (particularly from Kotsonas 2008a: 236-56), as well as two recent analytical projects (Boileau and Whitley 2010; D’Agata and Boileau 2009). The temporal range of this chapter is basically the seventh century, but I systematically refer to the late eighth century too because of my understanding that often no sharp distinction can be made for Cretan and other material dating immediately before and after 700 BC. Based on ceramics and other classes of finds, I argue below that during the few decades surrounding this chronological point (720-670/660 BC), the island’s material culture shows consistent patterns which are not seen in, for example, the mid-eighth or late seventh century BC. More than 50 years ago, Nicolas Coldstream hinted at the possibility of an increase in circulation of Cretan pottery within the island at around 700 BC (republished as Coldstream 2008: 256-7). His impression has found further support in recent years. A case in point is the pottery from Eleutherna in central-west Crete. My work on nearly one thousand Early Iron Age pots from a major cemetery at the site suggests that imports from elsewhere on the island date back to the ninth century but clearly reach a peak in the early seventh (Kotsonas 2008a: 236-56; 2013: 245). This point was confirmed by petrographic analysis conducted by Eleni Nodarou (2008), the first of its kind to be published on Early Iron Age Cretan material. Some of these intra-island imports are of unknown provenance (Figure 3.2), but one group clearly originates from the Knossos area (Figure 3.3). The considerable number of Knossian imports found at Eleutherna is not an isolated phenomenon; Knossian exports dating to around 700 BC 19

Antonis Kotsonas are known from several Cretan sites, conforming to a pattern less well documented in previous centuries (Kotsonas 2008a: 237-42). Although unimpressive in style, Eleuthernian pottery was also exported in this period. Relying on the petrographic work on the pottery from Eleutherna, colleagues have now identified a number of eighth- or early seventh-century Eleuthernian cups at the nearby site of Sybrita (D’Agata and Boileau 2009: 175, 180, 195: fabric group 7). Full assessment of this material is hindered by a lack of precise dating and morphological descriptions and illustrations to complement the published petrographic characterizations. However, the vases in question raise the possibility of an intensified circulation of Cretan pottery within the micro-region of central-west Crete at around 700 BC.

Figure 3.4 Portable potter’s wheel used for pithos making: Afrati, seventh-century BC. (© Herakleion Archaeological Museum: Hellenic Ministry of Culture and Sports: Archaeological Receipts Fund).

Comparable evidence is available for central Crete in the same period. Past literature on Early Iron Age Knossos gives the impression of a dearth of imports from other parts of the island (e.g. Brock 1957; Coldstream 1996; Payne 1927-8). This picture has indirectly been called into question by the results of recent petrographic analysis on pottery of this period (Boileau and Whitley 2010) which suggest that Knossos imported vases from different sites on the island throughout the Early Iron Age. Likewise, through my engagement with the Knossos Urban Landscape Project (KULP) and the restudy of previously published excavation material from Knossos, I have found a growing number of probable Cretan imports to Knossos, several of which fall within the seventh century. These include pithos fragments in a purple-red, micaceous but otherwise rather fine fabric (KULP fabric E) which is matched on pithos fragments collected from Lyktos and Afrati in 1959-64 and kept in the Stratigraphic Museum at Knossos; it must therefore represent imports from the district of Pediadha (Kotsonas et al. 2012; forthcoming). This identification confirms the hypothesis put forward in Thomas Brisart’s recent study of pithoi from Afrati that these vessels were exported to Knossos and to several other sites in central and east-central Crete (Brisart 2007: 107-11, 117-20, map at 130; 2011: 239-53). The distribution pattern of these vases has been associated with itinerant potters (Brisart 2007: 118-19, with references). In support of this association, I draw attention to a seventh-century portable potter’s wheel found at Afrati (Figure 3.4), which has convincingly been associated with itinerant pithos makers (Hampe 1967-8). It would be interesting to confirm whether this pattern of increased ceramic mobility also manifests itself in the interregional sanctuaries of Crete. This is, however, impossible given that the pottery (unlike the bronzes) from these sites is almost entirely unpublished. I can only offer a preliminary note on the pottery from Syme Viannou, study of which was recently entrusted to me by Angeliki Lebessi. This assemblage clearly shows that the seventh century saw a notable rise in dedication of clay vessels, particularly domed lids or ‘shields’ (as noted in Kanta 1991: 498). The different fabrics suggest provenance from different sites, with Gortyn and Afrati perhaps being prominent (see Johannowsky 2002). Study of this material, along with that of the terracottas (both ongoing) demonstrates that the argument for a decline in dedicatory practices at the site in the seventh century BC (Whitley 2010: 176, 182 table 1) is questionable.8 Indeed, this argument relies on only one of the three classes of metal finds which are fully published. Seventh-century dedicatory practices at Syme suggest transformation rather than decline, with a few classes of votive dwindling in number and several others reaching a peak. In short, an overview of the microregional to regional scale of analysis suggests a notable rise in the circulation of Cretan ceramics within the island during the early seventh century. This pattern is a culmination of trends which commenced towards the end of the eighth century BC, but dwindled from the mid-seventh onwards. The impression of increased connectivity on early seventh-century Crete is further corroborated by research on larger scales of analysis. This short phase is the only time in the Early Iron Age when Cretan ceramic and other exports 8  The same table appears with confused headings in two earlier publications by the same author (Whitley 2005: 49, with table 4 on p. 53; 2009a: 281). Interestingly, the picture of a decline in dedications emphasized in Whitley 2010: 176 is quite different from the picture drawn in Whitley 2009a: 281, where reference is made to a peak in the dedication of some classes of finds ‘in the years just before 600’. Whitley’s argument for the decline of dedications at Syme Viannou in the seventh century relies exclusively on bronze zoomorphic, mostly bovine, figurines. However, decline in these offerings is not peculiar to Syme Viannou, but occurs at several other Greek sanctuaries during the seventh century. The case of Syme Viannou is perhaps also instructive for the Idaean Cave, for which a seventh-century decline is assumed on the basis of bronze vessels alone (Matthäus 2011: 125-7, 130).

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3. Ceramics, analytical scales and cultural histories of seventh-century Crete

Figure 3.5 Collection of Cretan (and, to a lesser extent, other) perfume vases of the early to mid-seventh century BC from the so-called ‘Schiff ’s tomb’ at Thera, recently identified with the sanctuary of Aphrodite. (Reproduced from Dragendorff 1903).

appear overseas, occasionally in considerable numbers.9 Cretan pottery of the end of the eighth and the early to midseventh century has been identified on several Cycladic islands, including Andros, Delos, Melos and Thera (Kotsonas 2008a: 271, with references; Simantoni-Bournia 2014: 199). Cretan exports to Thera mostly comprise perfume vases found in tombs (Boardman 1961: 139; Coldstream 2008: 382; Cook 1997: 32, 137; Payne 1931: 5, n. 1). Theran tombs have also produced gold and other jewellery of Cretan style, and Theran sanctuaries have yielded pottery (Figure 3.5) and small-scale stone sculptures of Cretan style or manufacture. Furthermore, some shapes belonging to the local ceramic repertoire show strong stylistic influence from Crete. This is the largest and most varied assemblage of Cretan artefacts 9  Coldstream (2008: 382) has 725 BC as a terminus after which Cretan exports, however limited, did travel overseas (cf. Cook 1997: 32, 137). Jones (2000: 122-36) presents a different view, but there is good reason to question several of the entries in his catalogue (see Kotsonas 2008a: 233 n. 1898 with references).

21

Antonis Kotsonas seen anywhere outside the island in the long time-span from the end of the Bronze Age to the developed Hellenistic period. It hints at the significant role of Cretans in late eighth- and seventh-century Thera, a role further suggested by the close connection of the burial customs and alphabets of the two islands.10 The range of evidence for Cretan impact on Thera in this period cannot be fully assessed here. Suffice it to say that I am not convinced by interpretations which rely exclusively on the geographical proximity of the two islands (Coldstream 2008: 368, 382; Cook 1997: 137). Had Crete not been credited with a passive role, its interaction with Thera would have been approached through a much more dynamic interpretative model. Just think of the interpretations offered for the connections between Crete and Thera in the Middle to Late Bronze Age (see most recently Knappett et al. 2011). Established ideas of Cretan isolation have further coloured interpretations of the island’s exports to other parts of Greece and the Mediterranean, far beyond Thera. The sizeable collection of Cretan bronzes found at Delphi, dating from the late eighth and mostly the seventh century, has often been associated with the Phoenicians or the Corinthians (contra Kotsonas 2009, with references). The possibility of direct contact between Crete and Delphi has been dismissed and the corroborating evidence from a hoard of graffiti at Kommos, which confirms that Central Greeks were trading in Crete, generally overlooked (Kotsonas 2009: 1054-8). In a similar vein, the discovery of elaborate Cretan dedications made of wood and ivory in the sanctuaries of Samos and Ephesos has been underestimated, despite hypotheses of migrant or itinerant Cretan artists at the two sites (Kotsonas 2008a: 279, with references; Lebessi 1999). In no other phase of the first half of the first millennium BC is there comparably rich archaeological evidence for Cretan export of both artefacts and people. This richness does not apply exclusively to the Aegean. The late eighth and principally the early seventh century BC is also exceptional for the export of Cretan pottery to both the eastern and the central Mediterranean. It is widely agreed that Bronze Age Cretan exports to the east were very common, but that they then disappeared before the transition to the Early Iron Age. The assumption of an absolute paucity of Cretan exports to the east in the early first millennium BC originates in the writings of Thomas Dunbabin (1952: 195) and his list of ‘Greek vases older than the sixth century found in the East’, which includes no securely identified Cretan pot.11 This assumption, which is the cornerstone of the view held by several scholars, that Crete played a passive role in Mediterranean networks (Boardman 1957: 26; 1961: 151, 155; Coldstream 2008: 382; Jones 2000: 148; Lebessi 1987: 165; Osborne 2009: 64; Whitley 2010: 170), has persisted for over six decades despite a growing awareness of the pitfalls of equating the presence or absence of pots of certain provenance with the presence or absence of people of the same provenance (Kotsonas 2008a: 233; 2012c: 232, both with references) and the identification – in the last two and a half decades – of isolated Cretan exports in the eastern Mediterranean. Sites like Amathus, Ras el Bassit, Al Mina and perhaps Tyre have produced Cretan vases which mostly date from the late eighth and the early seventh century BC.12 These finds, previously completely overlooked in scholarship on the connections of Early Iron Age Crete, are suggestive of the ways in which long-held assumptions obscure the appreciation of new evidence which undermines them. Although the Cretan exports in question are too few to seriously challenge the overall impression on this matter, they clearly render the argument for an absolute paucity of Cretan exports to the east outdated. It is interesting to contrast scholarly persistence in arguing for a lack of Cretan pots in the eastern Mediterranean with the profusion of suggestions for Cretan exports in the central Mediterranean. As noted above, many of these suggestions have over time proved unreliable (Lo Porto 1974), but some seventh-century material is accepted at Gela, a colony founded by Cretans and Rhodians in 688 BC.13 Likewise, Cretan pottery of the late seventh and sixth centuries has been found at different sites in Cyrenaica, and is usually associated with literary references to Cretan participation in the two waves of colonization at Cyrene in the late seventh and early sixth century.14 Admittedly, Cretans were not protagonists in colonization, but most ventures in which they joined took place in the course of the seventh century (Whitley 2010: 178). 10  See mostly Kotsonas 2008a: 270-1; Morris 1992: 136-8. Largely based on Boardman 1961: 156; Coldstream 2003: 91, 216-17, 288-9, 299. There are also some Theran exports to Crete and the two islands are further linked in the story in Herodotus 4.151-4, the beginning of which is situated in the early to mid seventh century (Kotsonas 2008a: 271-2). According to Boardman (1961: 156), there ‘must have been considerable traffic between the two islands in the seventh century, particularly in the first half’. 11  Dunbabin 1957: 72-6 (with reference to Cretan? pottery in Mersin). Conversely, Dunbabin (1948: 8, 14, 230, 236, 264, 267-8) refers to a considerable quantity of Cretan ceramics and other exports in late eighth- and seventh-century Italy. 12  Full references to these pieces are provided in: Kotsonas 2008a: 286, 288; 2012a (with illustrations). Jacques Perreault kindly supplied a colour picture of the Cretan aryballos from Ras el Bassit. The fabric and style could indeed be Cretan, though probably not Knossian. 13  On Cretans at Gela see Th. 6.4.3; for the archaeological evidence see: Boardman 1961: 157; Coldstream 2008: 375, 382; Dunbabin 1948: 20, 230, 236, 264; Ingoglia 2006: 27; Kotsonas 2008a: 279, 282; Lo Porto 1974: 179-83. I am grateful to Caterina Ingoglia for showing me pictures of unpublished Cretan pottery from Gela, on the particular provenance of which see Kotsonas 2008a: 282; 2011. For late eighth- to mid seventhcentury pottery of Cretan style at Megara Hyblaea, see Barbarin and Sourisseau 2016. 14  On Cretans and the colonization of Cyrene, see Hdt. 4.151-4. For Tocra, which has produced the most ceramic evidence, see Boardman and Hayes 1966: 78-80; 1973: 36-8. Boardman 1961: 152; Erickson 2010: 14, 233, 290; Malkin 2011: 55-6; Morris 1992: 138-9, 170). Less well known is the Cretan material from Cyrene (Schaus 1985: 10-14, 97-8) and Wadi el Chalig/Aziris (Boardman 1966: 151).

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3. Ceramics, analytical scales and cultural histories of seventh-century Crete The corrective view of Crete which I have put forward dispels the notion that the island was isolated for part of the seventh century. For some decades, Crete was actively involved in Aegean and Mediterranean networks. Indeed, this was the first time after the Late Bronze Age that the island’s material culture had some impact overseas. Yet this important phase has been overlooked, largely because it extends across two centuries. Rigid periodization by centuries, which is widely used in studies of the connectivity of Early Iron Age Crete, is insufficiently sensitive to differentiation over time and therefore potentially misleading. The phase in question can no longer be lumped together with the mid- and late seventh century, which is characterized by demise of the island’s overseas connections. At that time, the quantity and variety of commodities imported from the eastern Mediterranean (excluding Egypt) dwindled considerably. Imports henceforth came from different regions of the southern Aegean. It was especially Corinthian and East Greek ceramics that increased considerably at several Cretan sites and also inspired locally produced imitations.15 Likewise, the rich oriental and orientalizing bronzes of Early Iron Age Crete largely gave way to others of Peloponnesian style or provenance (Boardman 1961: 150-1, 154; Erickson 2010: 289; Matthäus 2011). Nonetheless, transport amphorae, whether imported or locally produced, which were so common elsewhere in the Greek world by the seventh century, are rarely seen on the island (Kommos apart).16 This suggests that the connectivity of Crete with the Mediterranean during the Early Iron Age, which mostly involved the circulation of luxury or semi-luxury goods, barely developed into trade in bulk subsistence goods during the Archaic period (compare Boardman 1961: 158). This is, I maintain, a major reason for the relative distancing – but certainly not the exclusion (Erickson 2010: 273-308) – of the island from developing trade networks, which culminated in the late seventh and sixth centuries BC. However, a full treatment of this issue is beyond the scope of this study. Summary and conclusions Previous understandings of seventh-century Crete were largely polarized. On the one hand, the pan-cretism of Löwy in the early 20th century treated the island as a birthplace of Greek orientalizing art. On the other hand, the post-war orthodoxy which emerged through the works of Dunbabin and Boardman at Oxford, and was thereafter adopted by a long list of scholars, considered the island a passive periphery and an oddity in the Mediterranean of the seventh century BC. Researching disciplinary history makes it easy to grasp how an appraisal of the evidence available in the 1950s constrained ideas about the connectivity of Crete. An additional constraining effect is, however, concealed within existing periodization and the treatment of the seventh century as a uniform phase on the island. I have here argued for a corrective view of seventh-century Crete based on a study of the circulation of Cretan artefacts across different scales of analysis: between different micro-regions of the island, within the southern Aegean, and from the eastern to the central Mediterranean. The circulation of Cretan ceramics and other materials at these different scales suggests that the first decades of the seventh century (together with the last decades of the eighth) represent a phase of increased mobility within Crete and the culmination of the island’s connectivity overseas. Far from arguing for a reversion to some kind of new pan-cretism, my analysis offers a corrective to established interpretations of Crete. We can no longer ignore that during the late eighth and particularly the early seventh century, the island was exporting considerably more pottery and other artefacts than it had done in the preceding four centuries, or would do in the ensuing four. At this time, Crete was actively engaged in processes seen over much of the Mediterranean, and was far from being an oddity. The multi-scalar approach which I have applied to the island’s material culture has been particularly instructive in elucidating modes of exchange and patterns of cultural history.

15 

Kotsonas 2008a: 256-88. Other patterns are also manifested; for example, at sites like Gortyn and Prinias imports of any sort remain rare both before and during the seventh century (see principally: Johannowsky 2002; Kotsonas 2012b; Rizza 2008). My assessment of Gortyn is informed by acquaintance with the rich material of an unpublished Protogeometric tomb, for which I am grateful to Matteo D’Acunto. On the link with Egypt see mostly: Lebessi 2000; Wallace 2010: 219-25 (with criticism in Kotsonas 2011). 16  For Kommos, see principally Johnston 1993. Collections of early transport amphorae have also been found at other Cretan sites, but they currently seem to be limited (I am grateful to Joseph Shaw and Alan Johnston for permission to examine amphorae from Kommos, and to Athena Tsingarida for showing me the assemblage from Itanos). By contrast, a profusion of transport amphorae is known from other parts of Greece (e.g. the north Aegean) in the same period (Kotsonas 2012c: 150-62, 184-219).

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4. The birthplace of Greek monumental sculpture revisited Georgia Kokkorou-Alevras Abstract: Archaeological research in the 20th century was greatly concerned with the place of creation of Greek monumental sculpture. By contrast, interest in this problem now seems rather limited, even though new finds of early Archaic sculpture – the new monumental kore from Thera (whose style is very closely connected with Naxos) and the new limestone sculptures from Eleutherna on Crete – show that Naxos and Crete remain the two main centres with which the emergence of monumental Greek sculpture should be associated. The number of preserved seventh-century monuments, the epigraphic testimonia, and the material used (local marble on Naxos, and local limestone on Crete and elsewhere) identify these two centres as the most probable candidates for the birthplace of Greek monumental sculpture. This can also be maintained on the basis of socio-historical criteria such as contact with the East and with Egypt (the source of inspiration for the creation of monumental sculpture in Greece), and the existence of a powerful community (political or religious) and a rich aristocracy seeking to stand out - the basis for the creation of Greek monumental sculpture in the seventh century BC.

Monumental stone sculpture emerged in Greece during the first half of the seventh century BC.1 The limestone statues of seated goddesses found on Crete (Figures 4.1-2) are the earliest surviving monumental sculptures in ancient Greek art (Boardman 1978a: figs 29, 30, 32-3; Floren 1987: 124-6 pl. 7.1, 127, 129-30 pls 7.2. 7.3, 131 pl. 6.4; Kaminski 2002: 89-90 fig. 162, 92-4 figs 166-8; Rolley 1994: 136-40 figs 115, 118). These statues probably comprised the architectural decoration of temples, on the analogy of eastern examples. Daedalic statues of the kore type were also found on Crete, including the 0.75m-tall Lady of Auxerre (Figure 4.3) (Kaminski 2002: 85-6 fig. 160; Karakasi 2001: 67 fig. 53; Μartinez 2000; Μeyer and Brüggemann 2007: 74 no. 141), the 0.52m-high lower torso of the kore from Eleutherna which was excavated by Nikolaos Stampolidis in 1987 (Stampolidis 2004a: 235 no. 252 with associated illustration; 2012: 5 fig. 10, 9-12; Μeyer and Brüggemann 2007: 74 no. 140) as well as the upper torso of a kore of the third quarter of the seventh century (Stampolidis 2012: 12 fig. 16). The kouros type was also known on Crete, although in smaller, statuette scale: see, for example, the upper torso of a middle daedalic clay figurine from Gortyn, which is very similar to the small bronze kouros from Delphi (Rizza and Scrinari 1968: 231 no. 161, inv. no. 11401, 235, figs 314a and 315a, pls 24, 161), and the bronze kouroi from the sanctuary of Aphrodite and Hermes at Syme Viannou published by Angeliki Lebessi (2002a: 2407 pls 17, 22-3, 26, 31, 34-5). The over life-size ‘kouros’ from Eleutherna presented by Stampolidis (2004a: 237 no. 255), of which only parts of the legs and the feet survive, is later (dating between the end of the seventh and the beginning of the sixth century), and it is not certain whether it belongs to a standing or a seated figure in the round or in relief (Stampolidis 2012: fig. 14α-γ). Monumental sculpture appears slightly later on Naxos in the form of the kore (as the dedication of Nikandre, Figures 4.4-5), followed by the kouros. At least four kouroi and the impressive triangular base of Euthykartides, on which the name of the sculptor and dedicator is inscribed (Figure 4.7), date to the second half of the seventh century, and testify to the sculptural activity of the island during this period (Kokkorou-Alevras 1995: K 1, K 5-8, 12, K 12a with plates; Μeyer and Brüggemann 2007: 69 no. 110, 174 nos 193-7). Despite the recent attempts of some researchers to re-date these pieces to the sixth century BC (Martini 1990: 116, 127; Prost 2008: 387-91), I believe that the traditional date in the second half of the seventh century (Kokkorou-Alevras 1995: 82 K 7), which is based on the relationship between the plastic heads on Protocorinthian aryballoi and the monumental stone sculpture of the seventh century (Jenkins 1936: 59-65.66; Rolley 1994: 130-2), holds true. 1 

Figure 4.1 Gortyn, seated goddess. Herakleion Museum 380. (© Herakleion Archaeological Museum: Hellenic Ministry of Culture and Sports: Archaeological Receipts Fund).

I thank Professor E. Walter-Karydi for discussing my manuscript with me and Dr A. Antonakos for the translation of my Greek text into English.

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4. The birthplace of Greek monumental sculpture revisited

Figure 4.2 Prinias, seated goddess. Herakleion Museum 231. (© Herakleion Archaeological Museum: Hellenic Ministry of Culture and Sports: Archaeological Receipts Fund).

Figure 4.3 Dame d’Auxerre, Musée du Louvre Ma 3098. (© left: L. Martinez; drawing: I. Bradfer. © right: Museum of Classical Archaeology, Cambridge).

The series of funerary kouroi and korai from Thera (Kokkorou-Alevras 1995: K 9-10, K 13, K 19), which were made around the same time, are also of Naxian marble and are considered Naxian creations because of their material and style. Fragments of daedalic statues found on Samos include the upper torso of a kore from the Heraion. This has been combined with a lower torso in a long garment from the hem of which the figure’s feet project. There are also fragments of another Samian daedalic kore (Freyer-Schauenburg 1974: 13-18 no. 1, 2a-c, 3a-b; Karakasi 2001: 18 pl. 1-2; Μeyer and Brüggemann 2007: 78 n. 322). These statues are carved in Naxian marble but in a different style from the Artemis of Nikandre (Freyer-Schauenburg 1974: 13-18 no. 1, 2a-c, 3a-b; Kokkorou-Alevras 1995: 79 contra Kyrieleis 1996: 61), and thus testify to the emergence of a sculptural workshop on Samos as early as the daedalic period. Sporadic surviving life-size statues from Boeotia are dated in the second half of the seventh century, although not as early as those from Crete and Naxos. Examples (all of local stone) include the kore, National Archaeological Museum, Athens, 2+3 (Vorster 2002: 130 fig. 200; Despinis and Kaltsas 2014: I.1 cat. 5 [G. Kokkorou-Alevra]; Meyer and Brüggemann 2007: 67 no. 100), another male cylindrical figure with a snake, which is difficult to interpret (Adams 1978: 113-16 pl. 27; Fuchs and Floren 1987: 313 n. 8; Kopanias 2008; Kreikenbom 2002: 136 text fig. 1), and the upper torso and head of a dressed figure from Liatane near Tanagra, now in the Archaeological Museum of Thebes (Adams 1978: 111 pls 24-6; Kreikenbom 2002: 136 fig. 201; Μeyer and Brüggemann 2007: 67 nos 100, 102). Finally, marble perirrhanteria of the second half of the seventh century from various sites are also monumental in character, but provide no further information about the birth of monumental sculpture (Kokkorou-Alevras 2012: 19-31). Clearly, even though monumental stone sculpture first appeared on Crete, Naxos quickly took the lead with its life-size and over life-size marble statues. The typological similarity of the Naxian Nikandre kore (Figures 4.4-5) 25

Georgia Kokkorou-Alevras and the new, unpublished kore from Thera with Cretan female figures both seated (Figures 4.1-2) and standing (Figure 4.3), in terms of pose, gestures, and garments (a chiton with an epiblema and a Cretan style belt at the waist) with their painted decoration2 (Despinis and Kaltsas 2014: I.1, cat. 1 [G. Kokkorou-Alevra]; Kokkorou-Alevras forthcoming), constitutes irrefutable evidence for cross-influences, despite D’Acunto’s assumption that Cretan and Naxian works were created independently (D’Acunto 2008b: 169-74). Samos and Boeotia followed, as noted. For these reasons, it has become widely accepted that the beginnings of monumental stone sculpture, and consequently the preconditions for its creation, should be sought on Crete and Naxos. The definition of monumental sculpture The basic characteristic of a monumental work of sculpture is its size. It must be life-size or close to it, that is around 1.50-1.80m high for standing male and female figures, or larger than life-size, i.e. up to 2.30-2.50m, or even colossal, i.e. greater than 2.50m (see Waywell 1978: 35-9; Kokkorou-Alevras 1995: 50 n. 84). Nonetheless, there are some smaller statues, such as the 0.75m-tall Lady of Auxerre (Figure 4.3), which are monumental in character, that is, standing freely in space without any support and with bodily volume and mass (Kaminski 2002: 85-6 fig. 160; Karakasi 2001: 67 fig. 53; Μartinez 2000; Μeyer and Brüggemann 2007: 74, no. 141). Further along these lines, Elena Walter-Karydi (2007: 26) considers the 0.25m-tall bronze kouros from Delphi as a ‘monumental’ work because ‘‘monumentality’ in Early Greek Art consists in the coordination of the body parts’ proportions as well as in the axial ties of the figure to the ground, that is the new gravity’. In other words, a monumental sculpture is one that, besides having great height, balances horizontal and vertical axes - that is, it shows a developed tectonic system and a volume and mass that allow it to exist independently, without external support (Herrmann 1975: 35; KokkorouAlevras 1975: 21). Research history The publication of one further limestone female statue, from Astritsi on Crete, by Kostas Davaras in 1972, strengthened the old view that Greek monumental sculpture was created on Crete in the seventh century BC (Davaras 1972: 26-7, 50-6, figs 1-7, 9-10, 11; Floren 1987: 124-8, pl. 7.2; Kaminski 2002: 89-90 fig.162; Rolley 1994: 137). Davaras emphasized first of all the early date of the piece, almost contemporary with the oldest surviving Greek marble statue, Nikandre’s dedication on Delos c. 660-650 BC (Figures 4.4-5) (Kokkorou-Alevras 1995: K 1; Despinis and Kaltsas 2014: cat. I.1.1, 3-10, for the date see p. 7 [G. Kokkorou-Alevra]). Other significant arguments were the existence of a great number of sculptures in the daedalic style, the unbroken production of sculpture on Crete during these early years, and Crete’s relations with the East and Egypt in particular. Egyptian influence on Cretan sculpture seemed to be confirmed by the application of the Second Egyptian Canon in the creation of the ‘goddess from Astritsi’, and it was also supposed for the other older monumental limestone statue from Crete, the seated goddess from Gortyn (Boardman 1978a: figs 29-30 and 32-3; Floren 1987: 124-6 pl. 7.1, 127, 129-30 pl. 7.3, 131 pl. 6.4; Kaminski 2002: 89-90 fig. 162, 92-3 fig. 167; Rolley 1994: 136-7 fig. 115). Finally, Davaras considered that the political system of Crete was very important for the emergence of monumental sculpture (an assumption with which Karl Schefold agreed: Schefold 1972: 3-5). Kings were banished early on, laws were codified, and the kosmoi (as Cretan officials were called) came to power (Arist. Pol. 1272a 5-12; Busolt and Swoboda 1926: 747-51; Link 1994: 97-118). A surviving fragment of an early law from Dreros3 testifies to the development of more democratic forms of political life. New impetus was thus given to the theory of Cretan predominance in the creation of early Greek sculpture. This theory had been widely supported due to the obvious presence of the daedalic style and testimonies concerning the creation of portable statues by the mythical artist Daedalos, whose Cretan origin then seemed uncontested. This view was originally expressed by Emanuel Löwy (1909: 243-304) and Andreas Rumpf (1929: 74-83, where at pp. 79-80 the Lady of Auxerre is considered to be the work of Daedalos himself). Pierre Demargne (1964: 346-63) and Giovanni Rizza (Rizza and Scrinari 1968: 268-73, esp. 272) later concurred with it, even though Gisela Richter (1942: 43, a view repeated in the second edition, 1960: 27) and Nikolaos Kontoleon (1948: 24-33) had already disputed it and Ernst Homann-Wedeking had rejected it in 1950 after thorough research. The doubters emphasized the Ionian-Cycladic contribution to the creation of monumental Greek sculpture based on the oldest surviving marble works in the Cyclades, such as the statue dedication of Nikandre and the early kouroi of Delos and Thera. The existence of Cycladic marble was very important Compare Figures 4.1-3 and 4.4-5. The reconstructions of the painted decoration of the Nikandre statue are the result of the recent study of this statue by the author for the catalogue of the Archaic sculpture in the National Archaeological Museum of Athens edited by G. Despinis and N. Kaltsas (Despinis and Katsas 2014: 3-10, cat. I.1 1 [G. Kokkorou-Alevra]). For detailed discussion of the painted decoration of the Nikandre statue, see also Kokkorou-Alevras forthcoming. 3  Πόλι έϝαδε διαλήσασι πυλάσι = ‘thus the city has decided, after consultation of the tribes’ (Huxley 1962: 27-8 with note 134). 2 

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4. The birthplace of Greek monumental sculpture revisited to their argument, as were the contacts of the islands, and especially of eastern Ionia, with Egypt. The extant inscriptions also seem to confirm these conclusions. Suffice it to say that the earliest dedicatory inscription on a monumental statue is that of Nikandre of Naxos, and the oldest sculptor’s signature on a kouros base that of the Naxian Euthykartides (Figure 4.7) (Kokkorou-Alevras 1995: 83-4 no. 12).4 A third proposal, by Friedrich Matz (1937: 408-14), held that all the necessary structuralstylistic conditions, i.e. the strong tectonic system and the bodily volume that ensured that statues could stand independently, existed in the northeast Peloponnese. Consequently, monumental Greek sculpture was created there during the orientalizing period. Romilly Jenkins also believed that the daedalic style was at home in the Peloponnese (Jenkins 1936). Nonetheless, no early monumental free-standing sculpture has survived from this region. Figure 4.4 Statue of Nikandre. National Figure 4.5 Statue of Nikandre. National In 1975, I therefore supported Archaeological Museum, Athens 1. Archaeological Museum, Athens 1. the view of José Dörig (© G. Kokkorou-Alevra; drawing: A. (© G. Kokkorou-Alevra; drawing: A. (concisely expressed in Dörig Drigopoulou). Drigopoulou). 1962: 80; Kokkorou-Alevras 1975: 20-1) that given their interrelations, all of these centres (Crete, the Peloponnese, and the Cyclades/Ionia) had in one way or another contributed to the creation of monumental sculpture in the known Greek world - via their development of the daedalic style, their international relations, and the existence of the right materials. For this reason, the question of where or when the oldest monumental sculpture was created was not so important. Furthermore, the chance of survival of the oldest sculpture cannot be ignored.

Thereafter, from the 1980s onwards, there was little or no interest in the topic. It is as if this position had become accepted even if tacitly. Handbooks of Archaic sculpture, such as those by Brunilde Ridgway (1993, first published in 1977), Andrew Stewart (1990), and Peter Bol (2002), pass over the question or discuss it briefly, perhaps because it really does not matter where the monumental three-dimensional statue first emerged. The works of Josef Floren (1987: 80) and Wolfram Martini (1990) are exceptions: according to Floren (followed by Hurwit 1985: 194-7), Archaic types of seated and standing female figures were Cretan creations, and the kouros was Naxian. External influences,

4  The question of whether the name Nesstiades on a kouros fragment from Delos refers to the dedicator or to the sculptor of the statue (as proposed by Gruben 1997: 284 with n. 49) cannot easily be answered.

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Georgia Kokkorou-Alevras particularly from the east and specifically Syria and Egypt, were seen as more significant and thus formed the main object of research (Boardman 1978a: 18-21; Ridgway 1993: 30-41; compare Cook 1967). Researchers therefore came to regard Anatolian and particularly Egyptian influence as decisive (Boardman 1978a: 18-21; Floren 1987: 76-9; Höckmann 2005: 77; Hurwit 1985: 194-5; Kokkorou-Alevras 1994: 331-43; Kyrieleis 1996: 68-86; Ridgway 1993: 33-8; Stewart 1990: 12). This was based on the indisputable likeness of the kouros type to Egyptian male figures, an influence accepted by all researchers (despite other differences of opinion). According to this view, the beginning of monumental sculpture should be attributed to Egyptian influence above all.5 It is in fact quite possible that Cretan and Cycladic visitors to Egypt were so impressed by the colossal statues of gods, Pharaohs and officers that they wished to imitate them. Perhaps after observing and gaining familiarity with the technique of carving hard stones such as granite, basalt, and diorite (Koenigs 2005: 60), and after learning the Second Egyptian Canon of proportions, these Greek travellers - merchants, sailors, craftsmen - began to carve similarly large statues out of locally available material (limestone on Crete and marble on Naxos). This is indicated by the fact that the oldest monumental statues of Crete are of limestone, while the oldest surviving life-size marble sculpture (the votive statue of Nikandre of Naxos on Delos) followed the Second Egyptian Canon (according to Guralnick 1985: 273, 280). Guralnick’s methods, and consequently her results, have been challenged by Jane Carter and Laura Steinberg (2010: 103-28; compare Bianchi 2005: 66; Boardman 2006a: 20-4). Carter and Steinberg concluded that the group of kouroi on which the second Egyptian Canon was supposedly used – the New York, Thera, Tenea, and Melos kouroi, and Ptoon 126 – were identical in proportion because they were all products of the same Naxian sculptural centre. Yet it is by no means certain that all these statues were the products of a single centre, even if their proportions are related and they show certain stylistic affinities. Indeed, despite the fact that the New York, Thera, and Melos kouroi and Ptoon 12 are more or less influenced by the Naxian style, the New York kouros is surely an Attic product, the others are products of local sculptural centres (Kokkorou-Alevras 1975: 25-8, 49-50, 51-2, 61-4, 66-7; 1995: 78-9; Floren 1987: 178, 252, 315), and the Tenea kouros is a Peloponnesian work influenced by Archaic Parian sculpture (Floren 1987: 188; Karanastassis 2002: 185; Kokkorou-Alevras 1975: 30-2). Carter and Steinberg did not discuss the probable use of the Second Egyptian Canon for the Nikandre kore and Cretan daedalic seated figures. Its use cannot be so easily denied, since ancient writers document it on early Samian statuary (D. S. I.98.5-9) and, with some modifications, it can be verified on some Archaic statues (Ahrens 1974; Iversen 1957: 134-47; Kyrieleis 1996: 31). At least until more convincing arguments are presented, I therefore adhere to the older assumption that the Egyptian Canon was used in the early stages of Greek statuary during the second half of the seventh century and the first quarter of the sixth, and sporadically after that (cf. Floren 1987: 88-91; Ridgway 1993: 33-5). More specifically, sixth-century Greek sculptors changed the Egyptian Canon or created their own canons, as is shown by the Tenea kouros (Berger 1990: 159-60; Caskey 1924), the Aristodikos kouros (Rhomaios 1961: 7-10) and the Isches kouros from Samos (Kyrieleis 1996: 30-44). Contrary to Guralnick’s view (1996: 519) that the Isches kouros ‘reflects knowledge of Egyptian sculpture of comparable stature’, Kyrieleis proposed a Samian system of proportions. Even in this case, it is most likely that the idea of using a system of proportions in the carving of a statue came to Greece from Egypt together with the inspiration for the creation of monumental stone sculpture. During the seventh century, Naxos quickly became one of the most important centres of monumental sculpture in marble, and of marble export. The daedalic Samian korai were made of Naxian marble (Freyer-Schauenburg 1974: 13-18, cats 1, 2a-c, 3a-b), and probably the Sounion kouroi were too (Kokkorou-Alevras 1992: 105; Rolley 1994: 169; Sturgeon 2006: 43-4 with n. 35).7 Furthermore, in the opinion of Christiane Vorster (2002: 100-1) the Naxian akone (smyris) played a significant role in the birth of Greek monumental sculpture. In 2005, Fahri Isik argued that Samos was the birthplace of Greek monumental sculpture (Isik 2005: 167-75). He based his case on old criteria, on his dating of the Samian daedalic korai earlier than Nikandre’s kore, the existence of a pre-daedalic wooden statuette of kore type (which supposedly reflects the wooden cult statue of the Heraion), and finally on the existence on Samos of a ‘monumental’ Heraion with a cult statue as early as the Geometric period, thus documenting a trend towards monumentality. It must be emphasized, however, that these daedalic Samian korai are probably made of Naxian marble (Freyer-Schauenburg 1974: 13-18, cats 1, 2a-c, 3a-b), a material criterion important exactly for the beginning of Greek monumental sculpture, as Isik himself recognized (Isik 2005: 174). Furthermore, even if Samos was a 5 

Contact between Egypt and Greece intensified after Psammetichus I gave Greek and Carian mercenaries the right to settle at the site of Stratopeda on the two sides of the Nile: Hdt. 2.154; Boardman 2006b: 16. 6  Richter 1970: cat. 1 figs 25-32, 60-2, cat. 49 figs 178-83, cat. 73 figs 245-50, cat. 86 figs 273-9, cat. 145 figs 425-9, 437; Meyer and Bruggemann 2007: cats 299, 339 (pl. 17.1), 335, 142. 7  The investigation of the marble of early Attic kouroi using non-invasive optical techniques undertaken by Palagia and Maniatis (2015) proved rather fruitless, while showing a certain confusion about the date and styles of the kouroi examined, and resting on the unacceptable premise that the origin of the marble and the centre of production were a priori identical in those times. However, the detailed description of grain size differences between the Parian and Naxian marbles is very useful and helpful.

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4. The birthplace of Greek monumental sculpture revisited pioneering centre of wooden statuary, this would not automatically imply that monumental stone sculpture was born there, as stone quarrying and sculpture require other techniques. In 2008 Matteo D’Acunto (2008b: 133-82; 2000: 318-19) reviewed the production of sculpture on Crete and Naxos during the seventh century BC, arguing that the two centres worked independently but in parallel. Iconographical cross-influences were few due to the huge differences in the nature of the two centres’ output: on Crete we find architectural sculpture in soft limestone (such as the seated goddesses and the frieze of riders in the temple at Prinias and the statues of hoplites from Eleutherna: Stampolides 2004: 234-5 nos 250-1 with figs; 2012: 12-14 figs 12α-δ),8 in contrast to the Naxian dedications of freestanding colossal statues with metallic additions which dominate in the sanctuary on Delos (Kokkorou-Alevras 1995: 82 K 7 pl. 14, 87-8 K 18 pl. 22.23, figs 35-6). These works attest to an organized aristocracy on Crete and the domination of the Naxian aristocracy over the panIonian sanctuary of Delos. In my opinion, in both cases aristocratic power is the common and decisive factor for the emergence of monumental sculpture. Let us then examine more systematically the internal factors leading to the birth of monumental sculpture. The internal conditions for the birth of monumental sculpture The identification of colossal figures The question of who is depicted in the large-scale statues is Figure 4.6 Kouros, Delos Museum A333. significant. All seventh-century centres used monumentality, and (© École française d’Athènes, reproduced by especially colossal size, to represent gods and heroes both in private courtesy of the Ephorate of Antiquities of the votive offerings and those made by a collectivity – a city or religious Cyclades). community (Walter-Karydi 2007: 31). The kore of Nikandre probably represents the goddess Artemis (Kokkorou-Alevras 1995: 54; Despinis and Kaltsas 2014: cat. 1 [G. Kokkorou-Alevra]), and many of the life-sized and over life-sized kouroi on Delos were probably depictions of the god Apollo, as indicated by the metal attachments on some Delian kouroi, such as the Naxian Colossus and Delos A 333 (Figure 4.6) (Kokkorou-Alevras 1995: 82 K 7, pl. 14, 87-8 K 18 pls 22-23, figs 35-6; Hermary 2008: 187-8; Prost 2008: 157-9). The attachments add a special element of care and luxury. The kouros which stood on the base of Euthykartides (Figure 4.7) probably represented Apollo himself, since only a god could be shown standing or stepping on animals in conventional eastern iconography (Kokkorou-Alevras 1995: 83-4 K 12, K 12a, figs 24-7). Furthermore, the monumental seventhcentury Theran kouroi which served as grave markers and probably depicted the deceased themselves, attest to the fact that mortals could be represented over lifesize and upwards (Kokkorou-Alevras 1995: K 9-10, K 13, K 19). This is also shown by the over life-size kore recently excavated in the Sellada cemetery on Thera, which was certainly a grave-marker (Karakasi 2001: Figure 4.7 The base of Euthykartides, Delos Museum A720. 68, 81 pl. 76; Meyer and Brüggeman 2007: 73 no. 135; (© École française d’Athènes, reproduced by courtesy of the Vorster 2002: 101). Based on the extant sixth-century Ephorate of Antiquities of the Cyclades). inscriptions, it is likely that funerary statues represent 8 

Kontoleon (1971: 11-15) had already noted the architectural character of Cretan sculpture, concluding unconvincingly that as such, the monumental sculptures of Crete should not be grouped among major sculpture.

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Georgia Kokkorou-Alevras the dead (Karakasi 2001: 134, 138; Kyrieleis 1996: 96; Walter-Karydi 2001: 217; 2007: 28-9). Finally, the colossal, c. 5m-tall Samos kouros of the second quarter of the sixth century, a votive offered by Isches, son of Rhesios, possibly represents him or one of his mythical ancestors (Kyrieleis 1996: 98-9; contra Walter-Karydi 2007: 31). Patrons-dedicators The creation of life-size and over life-size statues depended upon the coincidence of the right economic and ideological conditions in their production centres. First, monumental and colossal statues in particular were expensive and thus usually collective votive offerings of the city-state to its god. This certainly holds for the late seventh- or early sixth-century Naxian colossal statue of Apollo on Delos, as the inscription on its base, ‘Naxians to Apollo’, reveals. The inscription is fourth-century, but is either a restatement of an older text to recall the pious dedicators or it was written two centuries after the erection of the statue for the same reasons (ID 49; SEG 47 [1997]: 1221; Cesare 2004: 38-41=SEG 54 [2004]: 716; Sfyroera 2011: A´, 424 nο. 637). The Cretan statues of seated goddesses noted above were also collective offerings of the city-state or the city’s religious community. Powerful aristocrats are known to have ordered monumental and colossal statues as private, personal thankofferings to the gods, which would also impress their community. One such case is the statue of Artemis, offered by Nikandre of Naxos at the goddess’ sanctuary on Delos, which is at the upper limit of life size (Figures 4.4-5). Another is the new, 2.3m-high kore from the cemetery of Thera which represents a deceased female aristocrat, ordered by her relatives in her memory. The base inscribed by Euthykartides (Figure 4.7) indicates that sculptor and dedicator were one and the same, a craftsman, banausos according to the spirit of the times, and a private person. The 5m-high colossus of Samos noted above was a votive offered by Isches, son of Rhesios, a member of the Samian aristocracy (Kyrieleis 1996: 98). The trend toward the colossal in Archaic sculpture occurred from the end of the seventh to the middle of the sixth century BC. Thereafter statue dimensions decreased, perhaps due to new social-political circumstances such as a reduction in the power of the nobility. The tyrannies established in poleis such as Athens, Naxos, or Samos constrained the power of aristocrats. On Naxos, where the trend for colossal works was more pronounced than in other centres, the establishment of Lygdamis’ tyranny around 540 BC meant the end of colossal offerings at least among private individuals. The half-finished statue of Dionysos in the quarry of Apollo on Naxos and the series of lions on Delos (Kokkorou-Alevras 1995: 121-2 K 92 pls 51b-53, fig. 96) are the only colossal examples from the end of the Archaic period, their size attributable to their being probable dedications of the city of Naxos under exceptional historical circumstances. Naxos apart, there was a general decrease in over life-sized sculpture in all Archaic sculptural centres. This has been interpreted by von Steuben (1980: 19-46) as a new tyrannical focus on large building programmes instead of colossal statues. Hence, for example, the temple of Delian Apollo on Naxos (Gruben 2000: 376-80) or Eupalinus’ aqueduct (Kienast 1995) and the dipteros of Polykrates on Samos (Gruben 2000: 366-71). The same phenomenon has been observed in the reduction of kore dedications (Karakasi 2001: 146-7). In conclusion, there was fertile ground for the emergence of monumental sculpture in the coincidence of the rise of an aristocracy with the economic means and the desire for recognition and promotion, the rise of individual personalities and the development of the city-state (from the end of the eighth century at least on Crete and Naxos) which needed to strengthen its authority. The expansion of maritime trade also spread wealth and created stronger ties with the major eastern civilizations with their established skills in monumental stone sculpture and other crafts. Raw materials, such as limestone and marble, were easily accessible. And the existence of smaller-scale plastic art during the Geometric period, which also evolved from inorganic, free-form rendition to the organized composition of figures in an increasingly organic unity, and finally to the crystallization of the daedalic style, is a further rationale for the creation of monumental sculpture in Greek centres (Cook 1967: 28-9; Floren 1987: 91; Kokkorou-Alevras 1975: 12-22, esp. 20; Matz 1937: 412-14; contra Ridgway 1993: 21-30; Martini 1990: 99-100; WalterKarydi 2007: 26). The various factors which favoured the birth of monumental sculpture co-existed to varying extents on the islands of Crete and Naxos during the seventh century. Differences between these centres, as emphasized by D’Acunto, show that each created the sculptural types which corresponded to its social values but also that the existence of materials and the extent of oriental influence played their role. Nonetheless, iconographical interrelations cannot be denied. The literary tradition that placed Daedalus on Crete, and the quantity of large statues from Crete and from Naxos, cannot be a coincidence. They must reflect an image from the distant past.

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5. On women and on lions Eva Simantoni-Bournia Abstract: The neck panel of a relief amphora from Boeotia in the National Archaeological Museum and a fragment from Xobourgo in the Museum of Tenos are decorated with an impressive frontal figure with upraised arms escorted by two small attendants pressed closely against her. Two lions in profile rear on either side of this central group. In this chapter, the different approaches to the iconographic subject are considered and a new reading of the image proposed, interpreting it as an optical transcript of Iliad 21.479-84 according to which Artemis could behave as a lion towards women and was, by Zeus’ permission, free to kill whomever she wished. It is suggested that the frontal figures on the neck panels represent Artemis as Potnia, while the small female worshippers attempt to placate the all-powerful deity, asking her to avert the danger embodied in the lions, and to protect them in marriage, pregnancy and labour. The paper locates other iconographic subjects of the same period and on the same pottery type that apparently represent visual translations of Homeric verses.

One hundred and twenty years ago, Paul Wolters published an almost intact and very impressive early Archaic vase with relief decoration, the amphora from Thebes since exhibited in the Archaeological Museum of Athens (inv. 5898; Wolters 1892: 213-40, pls 8-9).1 An almost exact duplicate of the iconographic theme on the neck panel of the Boeotian vase came to light much later, in the excavations of Nikolaos Kontoleon at Xobourgo on Tenos (Archaeological Museum of Tenos B1; Kontoleon 1969: pl. 57). A heated discussion rapidly arose about the exact meaning of the two images (Figures 5.1-2); several, often controversial interpretations were advanced, but none has been unanimously accepted. The present paper recapitulates the different approaches to the subject of the two neck panels and ventures a new reading in an attempt to bring forth its symbolic value. It does not aim to present a definitive thesis but rather some thoughts triggered by a most remarkable composition. Immediately under the lip of the Boeotian vessel (Figure 5.1) runs a thin palmette frieze followed by three parallel lines framing the neck panel. In the centre of that panel stands a frontal figure, clad in a loose, unbelted and short-sleeved chiton decorated with incised lozenges with dots at their centres;2 both arms are raised in a gesture of epiphany.3 The head is crowned by a strange stephane made of six vertical leaves or ridges; two vine tendrils with dotted ‘grapes’ spring from either side of the headdress.4 The arched eyebrows meet above the nose (the end of which is chipped), while two relief circles with a protruding dot in the centre represent the figure’s huge, wideopen eyes. The volute shaped ears, set at eye level, stick out on either side of the face, impressed upon two conical masses of hair from which they project.

Figure 5.1 The central group decorating the neck panel of the Boeotian amphora National Archaeological Museum, Athens 5898. (© National Archaeological Museum, Athens: Hellenic Ministry of Culture and Sports: Archaeological Receipts Fund).

1  My warmest thanks are due to Dr Xenia Charalambidou for her unfailing good spirits throughout the conference in spite of her advanced pregnancy. I dedicate this paper to her and wish that Artemis keeps a benevolent hand over the new member of her family. 2  Blome (1985: 39-41) offers a detailed description of the two relief representations. 3  Compare the analogous pose of the central seated figure on the ‘Birth Amphora’ (Kontoleon 1969: pl. 53). 4  Ahlberg-Cornell (1992: 142) calls it ‘a high palmette-like cap’. Palmette-like crowns and a floral finial with two blossoming tendrils are worn by some of the winged deities on seventh-century ivory plaques from the sanctuary of Artemis Orthia at Sparta (Dawkins 1929: pls 91.1A, 92.2, 93.1). See also the palmette-like crown worn by seventh-century terracotta statuettes of Artemis from San Biagio (Dufeu-Muller et al. 2010: 4467, fig. 8c).

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Eva Simantoni-Bournia A thin horizontal incision marks the mouth, above a strong protruding chin. Small feet emerge beneath the chiton, pointing to the left. There has been no scholarly doubt about the gender or nature of this central figure: as soon as the relief amphora became known, it was agreed to represent a female divinity. Two more human figures, much smaller and closely pressed against the central deity, seem also to be female as they wear long, unbelted, short-sleeved chitons (although this view is not unanimously accepted). They stand in profile, their hands placed on the divinity’s abdomen, in sharp contrast to the goddess’s frontal stance and her size. They have pointed noses, curiously accentuated, and large volute-like ears low on their heads. They share the same style in the treatment of eyes, mouths and hair as the central figure, but the garments of the two attendants are plain except for the neck borders and hems. Their feet are visible ankle high. All three figures stand on top of the three lines framing the lower border of the neck panel.

Figure 5.2 Fragment from Xobourgo, Tenos Museum B1. (© Archaeological Society of Athens. Photograph: I. Iliadis).

Two lions in profile rear up on either side of the central group, their hind legs spread wide apart; their front legs presumably rest on a support which is not depicted, thus giving the lions a strange, unstable stance. Their muzzles are wide open, revealing pointed teeth and a lolling tongue; their eyes are rendered in the same manner as those of the humans. A generally accepted date for the Boeotian amphora is early in the second quarter of the seventh century BC (Ervin-Caskey 1976: 78; Simantoni-Bournia 2004: 92).5 Many years later, in 1938, a small excavation on Tenos led by Nikolaos Kontoleon, between the village of Tripotamos and the rocky hill of Xobourgo, revealed a large fragment of the neck of a relief amphora decorated in two registers. The lower and better preserved register bore the same iconographic theme (Figure 5.2) in an obviously newer version (dated 660-650 BC by Simantoni-Bournia [2004: 94] and to the second quarter of the seventh century by Ervin-Caskey [1976: 78]). The new fragment was first mentioned by Lemerle (1938: 480, fig. 34)6 and was published by the excavator (Kontoleon 1940). Although the Boeotian and Tenian neck registers bear the same iconographic theme, there are some minor differences between them. The central figure on the fragment from Tenos is slimmer than her Boeotian counterpart, and wears a more lavishly decorated chiton with a vertical paryphe and a band of impressed rosettes on the shoulder. There is no tower-like crown on her head,7 only tendrils loaded with grapes (rendered as small impressed circles) which hang on either side of her wig-like hair. The two small attendants bow their heads slightly, while their visible arms press on the central figure’s breasts. The rearing lions’ muzzles are shut and one of their front paws is raised in salute, almost in contact with the central figure’s raised hands. The oval-shaped eyes, the fuller cheeks and the straight noses give the faces a benevolent expression. The central figure’s ears are hidden in the mass of her hair while those of her assistants are very small and almost correctly placed. As noted, the impressive mass and imposing gesture of the frontal figures led to their interpretation as divine, a view which remains undisputed. There was, however, a difference of opinion about the deity represented. Peter Blome meticulously gathered all the views expressed by 1985 (Blome 1985: 41-3), which he divided into three groups. To the first he assigned considerations of the central deity as a universal, all-powerful divinity, a Potnia Theron, ‘Great Mother’ or ‘Great Nature Goddess’, whether Artemis, Rhea or Hera, Mistress of all living creatures, humans and animals, and of the underworld alike. In the second group he put interpretations of the scene as cultic, e.g. as a dance of worshippers around the xoanon of Artemis (Nilsson 1955: 309) or a ritual dressing of the statue of Hera by priestesses or mythical attendants such as Horae or Charites (Simon 1969: 57-61). A similar view is implied by 5 

For a different view, see Blome (1985: 41), who puts it in the ‘erste Viertel des 7. Jhs’. See also Jantzen (1938: 578) and Gebauer (1939: 262, fig. 16). 7  See Blome (1985: 44) for detailed discussion of the meaning of such a crown. 6 

32

5. On women and on lions Kontoleon’s interpretation of the central figure as Delian Artemis surrounded by the Hyperborean virgins Arge and Opis (Kontoleon 1940: 435-6). Blome’s third group comprised interpretations focused on a goddess in labour or in the process of giving birth to a child or children; the small attendants would therefore be the Eileithyiai, divinities of labour and delivery (Dörig 1993; LIMC III [1986], s.v. Eileithyia [R. Olmos]; Pigniatoglou 1981). This was also Blome’s personal interpretation: Leto as Potnia Theron is in labour and is helped by the two birth-related divinities (Blome 1985: 42-3).8 Many arguments have been voiced in support of one or other of these interpretations, and a significant number take into account only some elements of the iconography. However, as Jorg Schäfer (1957: 81) has argued in his exhaustive analysis of the two scenes, we cannot expect that the combination of elements in the representation would have appeared contradictory to the contemporary viewer. Therefore, in seeking to understand what the artist intended to convey to the contemporary observer, one should prefer an interpretation that assigns a role to each of the elements of the picture. The rearing lions have caused many scholars to interpret the divinity as a Potnia Theron. But this interpretation would be more convincing if the deity was in physical contact with the beasts, holding them by the front paw or the tail, or placing her hands on their mane, head or neck, as is customary in the iconography of Potnia in all media (Barclay 2001; LIMC VIII, 1021-7, s.v. Potnia [N. Icard-Gianolio]; Marinatos 2000: chapters 1, 3, 5-6).9 Apart from our two relief vases, there are no other certain depictions of Potnia Theron in Cycladic relief pottery with which to compare; the lower part of a richly clad woman on Tenos Museum B 35 is considered by some to represent such a deity, but this is far from secure (Simantoni-Bournia 2004: 81 pl. 34, fig. 89). The iconographic theme is, of course, often met in Cycladic and related painted pottery.10 Seventh-century Cretan relief pottery – as almost all other Cretan media – offers several good parallels for Potniae in frontal position, some naked11 and some winged, flanked by lions (Sakellarakis 1966: 414, pl. 448b), sphinxes (Hornbostel 1970: C30 pls 32-3), or horses (Levi 1945a: pl. 31.34, 32; Schäfer 1957: 15, Stufe III.15). Potnia’s male equivalent, the Despotes Theron (Barclay 2001: 380-1; LIMC VIII [1997] 559, s.v. Despotes [V. K. Lambrinoudakis]), is also present on Cycladic relief vases as well as in Cretan art. As with the Potniae, he is framed by and in physical contact with a variety of animals, such as goats12 (SimantoniBournia 2004: 80, pl. 33, fig. 87; Themelis 1976: 90 figs 8-9), lions (Fittschen 1969: 80-1, L27; Kontoleon 1971: 152 pl. 36), or horses (Schefold et al. 1993: 72-3 fig. 56).13 The excessive mass of the deity and the two small figures pressed against her are uncommon in the iconography of Potnia. The bulk of her body has been variously interpreted; one plausible explanation would be that she is pregnant and in labour, in which case she should be regarded as a maternal deity, as Rhea,14 Hera or Leto, with the small figures being conveniently explained as the Eileithyiai helping her to deliver. A similar opinion has been advanced by Ahlberg-Cornell (1992: 142), although she took the small figures to be Leto’s new-born twins, Artemis and Apollo, and not the Eileithyiai. Ahlberg-Cornell understood the gesture of touching the central figure’s breasts on the Tenos fragment as the act of suckling, with an iconographic parallel in an Assyrian ivory relief from Ras Shamra dated c. 1350-1340 BC (Ahlberg-Cornell 1992: 142 fig. 256). However, her proposition is shown to be flawed by the gesture of the attendants on the Boeotian amphora, who touch the central figure’s belly instead of her breasts, but most of all by the fact that both are probably female. In early Archaic iconography the long garment worn by both of the central figure’s attendants is almost exclusively a feminine characteristic: with the exception of charioteers, orientalizing male figures are either naked or wear a short tunic. Seventh-century Cycladic relief pottery offers several good examples of this fashion - the short tunics of the Achaians on the Mykonos relief amphora (Ervin 1963), for example, or the garment of the presumably male enthroned deity on the Tenian Birth Amphora and its counterpart Tenos Museum B 3, which reaches only to the knees of the seated figure (Simantoni-Bournia 2001: 70-1, figs 1-3). The deliberate depiction of a loose, beltless chiton, a garment often represented in early Archaic art, could also account for the broad, nearly square form of the central figure.15 The belt is an essential element of female accoutrement which has a potent symbolic meaning. Its presence or absence is not fortuitous as it offers visible proof of maidenhood or marriageability: a betrothed girl would remove the belt she had worn as a virgin and 8 

Schäfer (1957: 81) was the first to interpret the theme as Leto giving birth to her children assisted by the Eileithyiai, a suggestion later followed by Schefold (1964: 30 pl. 12). 9  On the role of the lions, see Blome (1985: 47). 10  Compare the amphora BC 19 (Dugas 1935: pl. XIIb); the neck of a fragmentary Parian amphora in Berlin (Zaphiropoulou 2008b: 240 fig. 10); the plate illustrated by Zaphiropoulou (2003: 42 and 202 no. 135); and the Thasian plate (Salviat 1983: 189 fig. 5). 11  On the frontal naked goddess, see Böhm 1990. 12  On the Despotes/Potnios aigon, see Hiller 2001. 13  See also Simantoni-Bournia (2004: 34, 36-7) with further bibliography. 14  Levi’s interpretation of the two neck panels as Rhea attended by the Kouretes (Levi 1945b: 323) is rightly rejected by Schäfer (1957: 80). 15  Especially in the coroplastic art of Boeotia, e.g. the bell-shaped figurines of the late eighth and seventh centuries BC (Grace 1939: fig. 1; Aravantinos 2010: 137; Avronidaki and Vivliodetis 2013: 6 [mid seventh-century, from Locris]). See also the seventh-century plaque from Mathia, Crete (Alexiou 1958: 284 pl. ΙΓ΄ .3; Marinatos 2000: 126 fig. 6.14). Also see the plank-like sixth-century Boeotian figurines (Aravantinos 2010: 207).

33

Eva Simantoni-Bournia

Figure 5.3 Shoulder of the ‘dance amphora’ from Xobourgo, Tenos Museum B63. (© Archaeological Society of Athens).

consecrate it to a specific deity - chiefly Artemis - just before her marriage (Dufeu-Muller et al. 2010: 465 [Y. Morizot]; Langdon 2008: 151-2). It would not be unusual for an artist to represent the deity ungirdled, wearing the dress which her worshippers donned for a very special occasion in their lives. As noted, several scholars have supported the identification of the central figure as the goddess Artemis (Kontoleon 1940), some interpreting the scene as a ritual dance around her xoanon (Nilsson 1955: 308-9; Wide 1901: 253). Ritual dances are widespread in late eighth- and early seventh-century iconography, a famous example in Cycladic relief pottery being the Tenian Dance Amphora (Figure 5.3; Kontoleon 1969: 227; Simantoni-Bournia 2004: 81-3). Nevertheless, a simple comparison between the dancers on the Dance Amphora and the small attendants on the Theban vase and our Tenian fragment precludes a dance in the latter cases. Paul Wolters, who first published the Boeotian vase, argued that the female goddess was Artemis-Eileithyia in labour (Wolters 1892: 225). It should, however, be noted that while Artemis was the main divinity who took care of procreation and of women in labour, she herself does not give birth;16 epithets such as Artemis-Eileithyia and Artemis-Locheia do not define her as a goddess-mother but as the protector of maternity and birth (Blome 1985: 43; Papachatzis 1978: 1-23). The central figures on the Boeotian and the Tenian vases strike a pose which would be strange for any woman in labour: the same posture is assumed on the Tenian Birth Amphora by the enthroned Zeus from whose head emerges a tiny Athena. Blome’s association (1985: 45) of the upraised arms and palms turned towards the spectator with labour and birth cannot be accepted; this gesture is in keeping with a divine apparition, an epiphany or appearance of the deity to worshippers (Gesell 1985: 49; Rethemiotakis 2001: 130-133)17 that can be traced back to Minoan/Mycenaean times and the Early Iron Age,18 but cannot be related to childbirth. Clay figurines of mortal women in labour are often found in Crete as early as the mid-ninth century BC.19 They are naked, gesticulating and semi-recumbent within the arms of a second seated female figurine who is obviously trying to help and soothe the pregnant woman (Kanta and Davaras 2011: 111-18, nos. 110-15).20 The few seventh-century representations of mortals in labour differ radically from the Boeotian and Cycladic relief goddesses: they mostly kneel naked, with swollen bellies. Pregnant goddesses in the act of childbirth stand impassibly, as befits their immortal status, with hands lowered on either side of their naked body.21 Nevertheless, some lesser divinities or heroines adopt the kneeling posture of mortal women: according to the Homeric Hymn to Apollo (115-18), Leto knelt by the palm tree 16  On the peculiar character of a ‘virgin’ goddess who protects pregnancy and birth, see Burkert (1977: III.2.6, 236) or the Greek translation of this book by N. P. Bezantakos and A. Avagianou, 1993. Αρχαία Ελληνική Θρησκειία. Αρχαϊκή και Κλασσική εποχή, Athens: 321. 17  On the religious significance of the gesture, see Burkert (1977: 53, 63, 90, 151; 1997, 26-30). 18  On the continuous presence of the goddess with upraised arms from prehistoric to historical times mainly in Crete, see Hiller (1983: 92-3); Barclay (2001: 380-1); Marinatos (2000: chapter 6); Prent 2009. 19  For their prehistoric antecedents, see Kanta and Davaras (2011: 31 fig. 17). 20  With few exceptions, the pregnant women are considered to be mortals helped in the act of giving birth by a midwife rather than by Eilytheia herself: Kanta and Davaras (2011: 32 no. 114). 21  On childbirth in antiquity: Barras 2004; Demand 1994. On divine birth: Rigoglioso 2009. On seventh-century representations of pregnant women and goddesses in the round or in relief, especially in Crete: Lebessi 2002b.

34

5. On women and on lions on Delos to give birth to her divine twins and Pausanias (8.48.7) informs us that Auge did the same in Tegea (Lebessi 2002b: 40). The frontal faces of the goddesses with their wide-open eyes accord with their extended arms. Setting aside gorgons and gorgoneia, and seventh-century Cretan art in which frontal faces abound, frontal rendering of the face is rare at this time on both relief and painted pottery (Kontoleon 1969: 231; Simantoni-Bournia 2001: 75-6). Frontality has little to do with giving birth. The frontal face befitted a being removed from common humanity because it precludes contact with events in its immediate vicinity. A frontal figure does not converse with other figures represented in the same picture through gesture or eye contact: whenever a seventh-century potter or painter depicted such a figure, he did so in an attempt to spellbind the spectator and instil awe of superhuman power.22 Having reviewed the iconographic particularities of the two neck panels, we will now concentrate on their interpretation. If we identify Artemis as the central divinity, then we must reject the idea of pregnancy and ascribe the shape of her body to the deliberate omission of her belt. Such an interpretation would be more reasonable if we assume that it is her xoanon which is represented instead of the goddess herself. The dressing of xoana in real clothing dedicated by worshippers was common practice in several sanctuaries of Artemis. It was not unusual to cover the wooden image of the goddess with multiple layers of dedicated garments: fourth-century inscriptions record that the (several) statues of Artemis Brauronia were dressed in as many as four or five garments at once (Romano 1988: 130-2). This practice could cause the xoanon to appear as bulky as the central figures on our relief vases. Artemis is not depicted in the standard iconography of her later representations. She is rendered in her capacity as Potnia,23 despite the fact that she is not in close physical contact with her escorting beasts as is almost compulsory for a Potnia Theron. Artemis is the deity most often associated with this iconographic type, and was among the first divinities to be explicitly designated as such, in Iliad 21.470 (τὸν δὲ κασιγνήτη μάλα νείκεσε, πότνια θηρῶν, Ἂρτεμις ἀγροτέρη).24 A Mistress of Animals is seldom associated with humans. Discussing the iconography of Artemis and the Potnia Theron, Nanno Marinatos observes that ‘the Potnia is almost never shown with women whereas Artemis can be’ (Marinatos 2000: 93).25 A new role has also to be devised for the small female attendants, since they are definitely not performing a sacred dance or helping the goddess to deliver since she is not pregnant. The way in which the two small women press themselves against the deity, or her xoanon, touching the crucial organs of human procreation, the abdomen in the first case and the breasts in the second, is better explained if they are conceived as suppliants, probably young women before marriage26 asking for divine protection in marriage, an important transition in a girl’s life, and begging for the goddesses’ help during the life-threatening pangs of labour that lay ahead.27Artemis/ Potnia’s upraised arms seem to shelter her suppliants from the lions which rear on either side of the group. Here one cannot but be reminded of Iliad 21.479-84: Hera quarrels with Artemis and in an attempt to insult Leto’s daughter shouts that, by permission of Zeus, Artemis can behave as a lion towards women and is free to kill whomever she wishes.28 I therefore conceive the iconographic theme on both the Theban and the Tenian vases as a visualization of the Homeric verses. It alludes to the double nature of Artemis/Potnia as simultaneously a benevolent goddess providing protection during a woman’s most critical life phase and a cruel divinity who tortures and kills pregnant women, just as lions claw at and tear down their prey. The subject of the two neck panels is better understood as an appeal by the small female worshippers to the all-powerful deity for protection in marriage, pregnancy and

22 

On the frontal position and its meaning, see Schäfer (1957: 80-1 [noting dependency on prehistoric models]); Frontisi-Ducroux 1995; Korshak 1987; Marinatos 2000 (see ch. 4 on the meaning of the gorgoneion). The difficulty of establishing the divine identity of the Potnia is systematically explained by Thomas and Wedde 2001. 24  Artemis is among the oldest deities in the Greek pantheon. Even if we consider the Homeric poems, in which she is explicitly mentioned, to be a creation of the late eighth or even the early seventh century BC, there are sound reasons to believe that she has a prehistoric pedigree: see Antoniou (1981: 291-6); Muskett (2007: 53-68). 25  Marinatos notes a sole exception in four fragmentary lead pieces from the sanctuary of Artemis Orthia at Sparta which represent a winged goddess standing en face and holding the tails of her two lions. On either side, facing towards her but without physical contact, stands a female votary holding a votive wreath (Dawkins et al. 1929: 259-60 fig. 120 [A. Wace]). 26  Note their unbelted chitons (Langdon 2008: 151-2). 27  On the many aspects of female life placed under the protection of Artemis, see Dufeu-Muller et al. (2010: 399-400). 28  Iliad 21.479-84: … χολωσαμένη Διὸς αἰδοίη παράκοιτις νείκεσεν ἰοχέαιραν ὀνειδείοις ἐπέεσσι˙ … … χαλεπή τοι ἐγὼ μένος ἀντιφέρεσθαι τοξοφόρῳ περ ἐούσῃ, ἐπεὶ σὲ λέοντα γυναιξὶ Ζεὺς θῆκεν, καὶ ἒδωκε κατακτάμεν ἣν κ’ ἐθέλῃσθα. 23 

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Eva Simantoni-Bournia labour, and as an attempt to placate her and avert the danger29 embodied in the lions which loom over them.30 If this assumption is correct, the two vases could have served either as dedications at a sanctuary of Artemis (worshipped in her capacity as a Potnia) or as funerary vases, grave markers or coffins for young women who passed away in pregnancy or in labour. Unfortunately in neither case are there sufficient excavation data to allow us to prefer one possibility over the other.31 The preference for epic subjects shown by the artists who produced Cycladic relief pottery places the islands of the Aegean among the leading areas of Greece in this respect. As is generally the case across Greece, they favoured themes from the Kyklia, the Thebais, the Kypria, Figure 5.4 Fragment of a Teniot relief amphora, National the Ethiopis or the Ilioupersis (Snodgrass 1998: 141-2; Archaeological Museum, Athens 2495. Simantoni-Bournia 2004: 125-31). Images of epic scenes (© National Archaeological Museum, Athens: Hellenic following closely the verses of Homer, as proposed, are Ministry of Culture and Sports: Archaeological Receipts Fund). rare but not altogether absent; even a scholar as sceptical as Anthony Snodgrass does not exclude the possibility that Homeric poems inspired the visual arts during the seventh century.32 Among the most striking instances of such visual transcriptions of poetry on relief pottery are the birds of prey devouring corpses on two Tenian sherds (National Archaeological Museum, Athens, 2495, Figure 5.4, being the older) and on the lower zone of a relief amphora from Eretria (Simantoni-Bournia 2009; Themelis 2006), which illustrate the first verses of the Iliad (1.4-5): αὐτοὺς δὲ ἑλώρια τεῦχε κύνεσσιν / οἰωνοῖσί τε πᾶσι. Battle scenes with a Homeric background on Cycladic relief pottery are both fragmentary and rare (Simantoni-Bournia 2004: 128-9).33 However, at least one example from Naxos shows the ill-fortune of an anonymous warrior fallen in battle, who still wears his helmet and carries his shield and spears while run over by a chariot drawn by two horses. The scene fits the description in Il. 11.531-5 and 20.498-500 (SimantoniBournia 1990: 78 pl. 9.K17 and drawing 6). Finally, the neck panel of a long-known amphora in Boston (MFA 99506) may also be among the few Homeric themes represented on relief pottery. It features the Trojan queen Hekabe and a procession of four Trojan women (the γεραιαί of the poem) carrying a heavily ornamented textile to be dedicated at the temple of Athena (Ahlberg-Cornell 1992: 58 no. 28; Simantoni-Bournia 2004: 102-3 pl. 60, figs 145-6). The picture follows closely the description in Il. 6.293-6. With the exception of the fallen warrior under the speeding chariot, these Homeric subjects do not appear on contemporary painted pottery.34 As noted, there has been pronounced scholarly scepticism about ‘Homer’ as a significant inspiration for vase painters before the end of the eighth century.35 Whatever reservations one may have about Late Geometric iconography, it cannot be denied that from the seventh century onwards poems which came to be assigned to the Homeric corpus moved gradually into the centre of cultural and political controversy. As Snodgrass notes, it is not difficult to believe that people everywhere in the Greek world, including artists and their clients, were beginning to pay closer and more frequent attention to what the poets of the ‘Homeric’ corpus’ actually said (Snodgrass 1998: 165). Since no inscriptions relating to the content of the picture are preserved on the neck panels of the Theban and Tenian vessels (Snodgrass 1998: chapter 5), and the composition is not the standard treatment of a specific episode adopted in later iconography, there is room for doubt as to the accuracy of the proposed interpretation. Nonetheless, it is a plausible suggestion which might provide the incentive for further discussion.

29 

Dufeu-Muller et al. 2010: chapter V, ‘Artémis, déesse de tous les dangers’, 463-70 (Y. Morizot). For a selection of recent works from a large bibliography on the double nature of Artemis, on the different forms of her worship, and on the types of her sanctuaries, see: Des Bouvrie 2009; Kalogeropoulos 2010; Mejer 2009; Mitsopoulou-Leon 2009; Nielsen 2009; Petrovic 2010; Solima 2011; Waugh 2009; Zink-Kaasgaard Falb 2009. 31  The Tenian fragment was found in a partially excavated Archaic long building which has not yet been fully published. The very important portable finds recovered imply an official, and probably sacral, function. 32  Snodgrass 1998: 78: ‘I am thereby assuming the possibility that the visual artists of the seventh century could, in principle, have had access to Homer as a source of inspiration; and that their Homer and ours were essentially the same’. 33  The long debate over the Homeric pedigree of Late Geometric and seventh-century battle scenes is far from over: see Snodgrass 1998: 18-32; Zaphiropoulou 2000: 292-3; 2006a: 276. 34  A depiction of women offering a textile on a hydria from the sanctuary of Artemis (?) at Eretria (Huber 2003: 129-33 [vol. I], 30-1 [vol. II], pl. 28, C37 and C41) does not fit Il. 6.293-6, and is better understood as worshippers dedicating a cloth to a goddess worshipped in the sanctuary; see also Langdon (2008: 44 fig. 1.7). 35  E.g. Snodgrass 1998; for an overview of the problem of Homeric depictions, see Morgan (2010: 65-74). 30 

36

5. On women and on lions True iconographic innovations are scarce in our period and are often introduced from the east. Such is the case with birds of prey devouring corpses of fallen warriors. In many instances, artists used current schemes and made minor adaptations to standard formulae to meet the requirements of special scenes.36 This is how the formulaic scheme of the fallen warrior trodden by the enemy’s chariot was treated, or the procession of women adapted to fit the dedication of the precious cloth by Hekabe. This is also how one artist manipulated the centuries-old theme of the Potnia Theron to illustrate the dual nature of Artemis, managing at the same time to convey awe at the menacing nature of the goddess, so well phrased by Homer at Iliad 21.483-4 (ἐπεὶ σὲ λέοντα γυναιξὶ / Ζεὺς θῆκεν) and to express her compassionate side as protectress of suppliant young women.37

36 

I agree with the notion of ‘bricolage éclectique au service d’une identité’ expressed by Croissant (2010: esp. 336), to illustrate the mechanisms by which seventh-century Greek culture assimilated eastern influence. 37  Despotides 2013 appeared one year after the present paper was submitted for publication. I am glad to see that we share many views concerning the Boeotian and Tenian ‘Potniae’ and their adjoining figures, if not the final interpretation.

37

6. Greek art in the seventh century BC: the example of bronzes from Delphi Hélène Aurigny Abstract: Bronze production of the seventh century BC is known mostly from the artefacts found in Greek sanctuaries. Many are considered ‘oriental’ or ‘orientalizing’ according to technical, iconographical or stylistic criteria and are often interpreted as answers or reactions to oriental influences. Examination of bronze objects from Delphi allows us to reassess and question the exact meaning of ‘orientalization’, a concept which is a poor fit for the material data. Indeed, an important part of the production has little in common with oriental models. Traditional categories of object continue to be offered, although their forms changed. The Delphi bronzes provide an interesting case study of the evolution of Greek art in the seventh century, and of the origin of the offerings and of the donor, which will give a more precise understanding of the role of an ‘international’ sanctuary in dedicatory practice.

In this chapter, I will examine a number of Delphic offerings and consider what we can learn from them about seventhcentury Greek art, at least from a Delphic point of view.1 In my study of the bronze material of this period, I have tried to identify the role of Greek and non-Greek objects, basing the distinction mainly on technical and iconographical criteria.2 Some 30% of the Delphic repertoire is non Greek (from the Orient, the western Mediterranean or Central Europe), while 70% is Greek. The latter includes a significant portion considered ‘orientalizing’, although the remainder has little to do with oriental models (Aurigny 2009). Yet this is too simple a division with which to classify all objects; technical criteria are insufficient to determine where and by whom the objects were made. The categories of Greek and oriental must also be discussed (Gunter 2009). The seventh century is considered a period of change or even revolution in Greek art and culture. Certain recent discussions (e.g. Brisart 2011) still emphasize the importance of Burkert’s view of the orientalization of crafts (Burkert 1984). But is this general explanation sufficient to understand all categories of object? The Orient, as indeed the Occident, did not hold the same importance across the seventh-century Aegean. Was there a rupture in production? How do changes appear? General notions like ‘orientalizing’ and the ‘daedalic style’ (Aurigny 2012) must be examined and discussed because their general value has been criticized (Riva and Vella 2006a). In this paper, I present three representative examples – two bronze cauldron attachments, a griffin protome and a siren, and a well-known bronze statuette of a kouros – in order to question their relation to oriental models, to Greek local traditions, and to the way in which craftspeople elaborated their work. Bronze griffin protomes Among the early dedications in the Delphic sanctuary, bronze cauldrons were important from the beginning of the eighth century BC. Griffin protomes are known mainly from the sanctuaries of Samos and Olympia, but 28 examples have been found at Delphi. One particularly interesting piece studied by Rolley (2005) is the best example of this kind of orientalizing object at Delphi. The whole object (0.4m tall and made of two pieces - a smooth socket and the head on the neck) is hammered: a semi-circular punch was used to create the scales all over the surface (Figure 6.1). Even if the oriental origin of the image of the griffin is not problematic, the invention of the griffin protome is difficult to understand. Iconography and technique The oriental origin of the bronze protome has been proposed on the basis of two forms of evidence. First, the iconography is oriental: the mouth combines a lion jaw and an eagle beak, an association derived from a few Neo-Hittite reliefs from North Syria, in Ankara and Sakçegözü (Figure 6.2), where griffin-men display those characteristics. They also wear the same long spiral curl with a knob on the top (Rolley 2005: 63).3 These stone images date back to the second half of the eighth century and were probably thus models for the griffin protomes. Secondly, analysis of the core of the protome may indicate oriental fabrication. Inside the hammered protome was a dark mass intended to preserve the form of the object since the hammered sheet is very fragile. Analysis of the 1  I am honoured to share some results of my research on material once examined by Claude Rolley and I dedicate this contribution to his memory. 2  The seventh century BC at Delphi was the subject of my thesis (Aurigny 2009), and I also contributed (Aurigny 2010) to the publication edited by Roland Étienne (Étienne 2010b) in which papers covered both theoretical models and case studies. 3  Akurgal 1961a identified all the elements used to create the bronze griffin; the griffin protome itself shows how stone reliefs inspired bronze workers.

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6. Greek art in the seventh century BC: the example of bronzes from Delphi

Figure 6.2 Griffin head from Sakçegözü. (Illustration author, after Akurgal 1961b: 304, fig. 15).

Figure 6.1 Griffin protome, Delphi Museum 30933 (height 0.4m). (© École française d’Athènes, reproduced by courtesy of the Ephorate of Antiquities of Phokis).

dark mass inside the Delphi griffin head and neck reveals bitumen beside the clay - strong evidence for oriental production. Rolley argued that bitumen was used by oriental craftspeople, the mix of clay and bitumen or wax being an oriental technique. This technique was quickly abandoned as the griffin became a Greek product. In Delphi, two hammered griffin protomes contain bitumen, as does an example from Olympia (Rolley 2005: 58). Distribution

Archaeological facts do not agree so readily with an oriental origin for the first griffins. The distribution map of griffins in the Mediterranean (Figure 6.3) shows that almost no griffin protome is known in the Orient,4 whatever the technique concerned. Finds come mainly from Greek sanctuaries in the central area of Ionia, the Aegean and the Peloponnese. There is thus a paradox: ‘orientalizing’ objects do not follow oriental models, and there is no hammered griffin in the Orient. Until a bronze protome of this type is discovered, the question of what exactly is borrowed from the Orient remains - an iconographical motif or a complete object? Did the objects or the craftsmen travel to Greece? Different answers have been proposed, but the griffin protome was developed within the Greek sphere, not the oriental. The majority of the griffin protomes found in Delphi are Greek, cast in Samos. The griffin protome was a composite creation, inspired by different oriental works and created for Greek or Etruscan customers. This kind of object helps us to understand the taste of Greek donors and the creation of a Greek repertoire. The suggestion that this production was intended for Greeks is reinforced by Herodotus’ testimony (4.152.4) about the Argive origin of the cauldron with griffin heads. The main difficulty is to localize workshops: we have insufficient evidence to decide whether the griffin heads were produced in the Orient, at a place where they could be easily exported to Greece (e.g. Al Mina: Treister 1995b: 159-85), or in Greece, maybe near the sanctuaries where they were offered. Unfortunately, there are no remains of a bronze workshop within the sanctuary at Delphi.5 Can we conclude that this creation was entirely due to the taste of Greek consumers? Naturally, objects had to meet consumer preference and taste, but griffin models are rather distant conceptions and it is more likely that the transposition from a stone or ivory image to a bronze cauldron ornament was due to bronze workers. They would have been able to recreate from the two-dimensional oriental 4  The little griffin from the treasure of Ziwiye (site no. 21) is stylistically different from the bronze protomes and is not as ancient as the first hammered protome (Teheran Museum). The protome from Susa (site no. 23) is later and cast. 5  Except for a few bronze fragments studied by Rolley 2002.

39

Hélène Aurigny

Figure 6.3 The distribution of griffin protomes. (© H. Aurigny).

image a three-dimensional bronze object, and they had the technical skill then to manufacture this eclectic creation (Croissant 2010: 314-16). Evolution in Greek religion and worship practices led to the creation of new forms and dedications, taking inspiration from the fashionable Orient (Polignac 1992). The cauldron with griffin attachment is indeed known mostly in religious contexts in Greece. This example offers the possibility to define more precisely the meaning of ‘orientalizing’ and how Greek art was renewed. Bronze sirens Another category of cauldron attachment, sirens, holds a special place among Greek ‘orientalizing’ creations. Sirens present a different problem from griffin protomes, since many have been found in the Orient and oriental sirens are

Figure 6.5 Siren, Delphi Museum 1248. (© École française d’Athènes, reproduced by courtesy of the Ephorate of Antiquities of Phokis).

Figure 6.4 Siren, Delphi Museum 1248. (© École française d’Athènes, reproduced by courtesy of the Ephorate of Antiquities of Phokis).

40

6. Greek art in the seventh century BC: the example of bronzes from Delphi rather easy to distinguish from Greek. As in other Greek sanctuaries, the majority of sirens from Delphi are oriental; Greek examples are few. Yet the Delphic sirens are interesting because they enable us to understand how the Orient was perceived and reinvented. Looking for workshops Delphi 1248 (Figures 6.4-5) is, according to Claude Rolley, one of the oldest Greek sirens, perhaps made at the very end of the eighth century BC. This siren (0.18m tall, missing its tail) presents the well-known scheme: above the central bow is the chest, two wings on which rest two arms, and two holes beside the ring (Figure 6.5). Engraved decoration is visible on the head and chest, and this fine work, added after casting, shows clearly that this is a Greek work. However, the most specifically Greek feature is the construction of the face - triangular, with almost brutal features, and prominent cheekbones which divide the face into two parts and contrast with the eyes and the mouth, which seem to be incised within the resulting depressions. The sharp profile also shows this particular construction (Figure 6.6). This siren is naturally very different from oriental examples (Figures 6.7-8), which have long hair falling on their shoulders, plump faces, and big eyes without incision. One may therefore conclude that the oriental model has not been reproduced exactly, but swiftly reinterpreted to create something new. It is not difficult to recognize objects as Greek; thereafter, however, scholars hold different opinions about their style and origin. Different workshops – Argive, Corinthian, and Athenian – have been proposed. Hans-Volker Herrmann supposed that Delphi 1248 was Argive (Herrmann 1966: 108, pl. 39), while Alan Brookes illustrates its similarity to Middle Protocorinthian I figures of the first quarter of the seventh century. In particular, the profile of the siren’s head is very similar to that of the head of Zeus on the aryballos Boston 95.12 (Boardman 1998: fig. 174). Brookes emphasizes the fact that here, for the first time, a Greek craftsman made a three dimensional head in a clearly Greek manner (Brookes 1982: 610-11).

Figure 6.7 Siren, Delphi Museum 23972. (© École française d’Athènes, reproduced by courtesy of the Ephorate of Antiquities of Phokis).

Figure 6.6 Siren, Delphi Museum 1248, profile. (© École française d’Athènes, reproduced by courtesy of the Ephorate of Antiquities of Phokis). Figure 6.8 Siren, Delphi Museum 23972. (© École française d’Athènes, reproduced by courtesy of the Ephorate of Antiquities of Phokis).

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Hélène Aurigny Delphi 1248 has also been attributed to an Athenian workshop via comparison with a siren from the Athenian Acropolis (NM 6519) (Weber 1974: 39). But the style of the Acropolis siren is much disputed; indeed, HansFigure 6.9 Head from Volker Herrmann assigned it to Corinth. Its closeness to Perachora. National Corinthian schemes is reinforced by comparison with a Archaeological head from Perachora (Figure 6.9), where the profile of Museum, Athens the prominent nose and chin is the same. This type of 16491. (© National face forms part of the Corinthian tradition studied by Archaeological Francis Croissant: as he demonstrated, this tradition took Museum, Athens: forms and models from the Orient to feed its creativity Hellenic Ministry of (Croissant 1988: 107-12). The attribution of Delphi 1248 Culture and Sports: (as well as the Acropolis siren) to a Corinthian craftsman Archaeological is very likely, but it is still hard to tell whether it was Receipts Fund). made in Corinth, where such objects are unknown, or in the sanctuary. While it remains particularly difficult to determine the organization of Greek workshops at this time, and many scholars suggest that local styles became less strong at the beginning of the seventh century than they had been during the eighth, this example shows how local styles continued even in new forms. In this case, we can see how the oriental model inspired the general form of the object, but the Greek craftsman made the siren according to very precise, traditional standards. The evolution of the Greek face via confrontation with oriental models In general, craftsmen tried not to copy oriental models, but rather to reinterpret them in order to create something new. These reinterpretations, however, led to a dead-end. Greek sirens are few and they were produced only for a very short period (until the second quarter of the seventh century). Only about 20 Greek sirens have been discovered in Greek sanctuaries,6 and the fact that their geographic distribution differs from that of griffins suggests that different workshops were involved.7 Nonetheless, sirens as a group provided the opportunity for Greek artists to focus on the human face: the strange association of a face with wings but no body may perhaps explain the speed of their creation. Even though we cannot identify the dedicator of the cauldron to which it was attached, our Greek siren must be rather ancient, exactly contemporary with oriental examples. The role of the sanctuary at Delphi should therefore be emphasized – the place was sufficiently important to give rise to such dedications and even to instigate the creation of the cauldron. The sanctuary played a role in the diffusion of these new images and as the place of elaboration of the novelties. Greek siren attachments were created mostly for dedication at Greek sanctuaries during a very short period of time. The bronze kouros Even though sirens existed only for one or two generations, the seventh century saw the creation of other types which lingered long in Greek art. One of them was the kouros, which remained in production until the end of the sixth century. At Delphi, however, this was not a common type in bronze or marble.8 Among bronze statuettes, one famous piece (Figures 6.10-11) shows how this type was created in the middle of the seventh century, although the exact context of its creation is still disputed. The statuette (0.2m high) is well known, but is exceptional in various ways. From the Geometric period onwards, bronze male statuettes had been dedicated at Greek sanctuaries, Delphi in particular. These included warriors in armour, sometimes holding weapons, which could be freestanding or used to decorate cauldrons (Rolley 1969: 17-50). The appearance of the kouros changed the way in which the male figure was represented, moving forward, without weapons, and mostly without attributes. New importance was given to the face and the treatment of the body. From this moment on, the meaning of such human figures was ambiguous. Our statuette alludes to the god, and at Delphi a link with Apollo seems natural. Yet it is not a freestanding divine image: it stands on a small plate with two attachment holes and the top of its head should have been attached to another element. This type of kouros is rather an ideal image of a hero. The belt is not a new feature (eighth-century warriors wore it), but its meaning has changed, and now it refers to the heroic dimension of the young man (Hermary 2008). This meaning of the kouros is something new - a fresh way of representing the human figure. 6 

Five come from Olympia, six from Delphi, three from the Athenian Acropolis, and two from Samos. This issue, while important, is beyond the scope of this chapter. Herrmann (1979: 142-3), suggests that Greek craftsmen imported oriental cauldrons with sirens from the Orient before adding griffin protomes. But there is a lack of evidence to support this hypothesis (Raubitschek 1998: 86). Alternatively, were those bronze cauldrons produced in the Orient, as previously suggested (Treister 1995a)? 8  Only six marble kouroi have been discovered in Delphi, although these include famous pieces such as the two Argive kouroi. 7 

42

6. Greek art in the seventh century BC: the example of bronzes from Delphi

Figure 6.12 Dame d’Auxerre, Musée du Louvre Ma 3098 (height 0.75m). (© RMN-Grand Palais [musée du Louvre]/Hervé Lewandowski).

Figure 6.10 Bronze kouros, Delphi Museum 2527. (© École française d’Athènes, reproduced by courtesy of the Ephorate of Antiquities of Phokis).

Figure 6.11 Bronze kouros, Delphi Museum 2527, profile. (© École française d’Athènes, reproduced by courtesy of the Ephorate of Antiquities of Phokis).

Figure 6.13 Eleutherna torso, Herakleion Analysis of our kouros leads inevitably to consideration of an Museum Ma 47 (height 0.57m). (© Herakleion important typological and chronological system for the seventh Archaeological Museum: Hellenic Ministry of century, the ‘daedalic style’, which was intended to provide a general Culture and Sports: Archaeological Receipts Fund). framework for analysis of seventh-century Greek representations of the human face (Jenkins 1936). In the evolutionary scheme established by Romilly Jenkins, our bronze kouros is considered to belong to the third phase of the ‘middle daedalic’, c. 640-635 BC (Jenkins 1936: 46-7). This system considers only the development of the face, which during this phase is ovoid but becoming more trapezoidal (located chronologically between the Auxerre statue Figure 6.12 and the Eleutherna statue Figure 6.13). However, the face of our kouros, which should be more square and squat, is still very triangular with a pointed chin lightly cut. Evolution towards the form of the Eleutherna torso is also not obvious. We may therefore doubt the value of the ‘daedalic’ system as a tool to enable better understanding of this kind of sculpture (Aurigny 2012). The statuette must be set first in the context of its creation and secondly within its Delphic context.

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Hélène Aurigny The Delphic kouros is contemporary with the first marble kouroi from the Cyclades (probably the work of Naxian sculptors), which also wear belts around their waists. Some scholars have therefore assumed that the Delphic kouros is a Cycladic and, perhaps, a Naxian creation.9 It clearly demonstrates the relations between Cretan and Cycladic sculpture. John Boardman suggested that the appearance of monumental sculpture in the Cyclades was due to itinerant Cretan artists. Although there are no Cretan stone kouroi, bronze statuettes from Delphi and from Kato Syme Viannou show how Cretan craftsmen created the shape. The belt was worn by eighth-century male figures, but the Cretan type provides direct evidence that the model is Cretan. The belt worn by the bronze kouros is very close to examples worn by Cretan female sculptures: a rectangular frame made of two relief bands with the two ends stuck together. The type is simplified because on the Cretan stone sculptures there are at least two small tongues between the two rectangular ends. This belt can be seen on the Prinias figures and the Auxerre statuette (Hermary 2008: 185, 195 fig. 4). It has also been observed that the belts of the Naxian kouroi from Delos (Figure 6.14) are very similar to those worn by female figures from Crete: the models were widely known and imitated.

Figure 6.14 Naxian kouros, Delos Museum A333 (height 0.85m). (© École française d’Athènes, reproduced by courtesy of the Ephorate of Antiquities of the Cyclades).

Other evidence too points to the identification of the Delphi kouros as a Cretan work. The triangular form of the face with its lightly squared chin is very similar to that of a terracotta statuette from Gortyn (Figure 6.15) (Rizza and Scrinari 1968: no. 161). The head is the same, with the hair cut rather high in order to free the neck. Even the profiles are very close, forming an obtuse angle with the little nose lightly raised.10 The Delphi statuette is a good illustration of Archaic craftsmen’s’ knowledge of the Cycladic body and the exotic type of wig, as well as the skill deployed in the creation of a new ‘Cretan’ work of art. Thus we can see how Greek artisans selected and associated different patterns to produce new forms and types. Figure 6.15 Terracotta figurine, Gortyn 11401 Our kouros is rather surprising both in the Cycladic (height 0.053m). (After Rizza and Santa Maria Scrinari 1968: and in the Cretan tradition, because of its very no. 161, pl. XXIV). developed anatomy. Even the gesture of the two arms, lightly bent, is original and lively (Figure 6.11). The craftsman invented something previously unknown; hence the statuette has often been considered ‘advanced’. The tradition of Cretan dedications at Delphi dates back to the eighth century. Cretan bronze tripods with decorated handles (Rolley 1977: nos 458-61) and feet (Rolley 1977: nos 338-43) date from the mid-eighth century (Figure 6.16), and around 700 BC, a group of 12 fragments of four-sided bronze stands shows links with Crete (Figure 6.17). This kind of stand originated in Bronze Age Cyprus, and was produced in Crete at the end of the eighth century but rarely exported. Besides the group at Delphi, single examples were found in Rhodes and Lefkandi (Papasavvas 2001: 256-7). Study of these fragments has led to the conclusion that the Delphi stands come from at least three Cretan workshops 9 

Cycladic (Homann-Wedeking 1950) or Naxian (Floren 1987). Rizza also stressed similarity with the vase from Arkhades: Rizza and Scrinari 1968.

10 

44

6. Greek art in the seventh century BC: the example of bronzes from Delphi Figure 6.16 Cretan Geometric tripod handle, Delphi Museum 2450 (height 0.2m). (© École française d’Athènes, reproduced by courtesy of the Ephorate of Antiquities of Phokis).

(Papasavvas 2001: 252-8), but it is hard to assess the significance of this fact in terms of Cretan presence at Delphi. Another group of Cretan objects at Delphi may also be associated, for different reasons. Two bronze shields with embossed figures and a central animal protome are typical of Cretan production (Figure 6.18); 15 other fragments belong to the same category. The type is well represented in the Idaean Cave (Kunze 1931: nos 6, 8-12), but outside Crete is found only at Delphi. Comparison with the examples published especially by Kunze show the relationship, but the Delphic items are never exactly the same.

Figure 6.17 Fragment of bronze foursided stand, Delphi Museum 3252 and 9471 (height 0.215m). (© École française d’Athènes, reproduced by courtesy of the Ephorate of Antiquities of Phokis).

In his study of the Cretan tripods, Claude Rolley wrote that he had discovered the cargo of the Cretan boat diverted by Apollo. He thus attributed historical significance to this reference in the Homeric Hymn to Apollo, and linked the Cretan origin of the first priests with a real Cretan presence at the sanctuary. We may wonder if Cretan items were dedicated by Cretans,11 but it should be observed that shields and four-sided stands are associated both on Crete and at Delphi.12 Jean-Marc Luce emphasized the fact that the two Cretan shields were found together and surely come from the same ensemble: they may have been even dedicated or presented together (Luce 2008: 417-18). Thus it may be assumed that there was a Cretan ‘space’ within the sanctuary. The Cretan tradition at Delphi did not cease with this Figure 6.18 Cretan bronze shield with animal protome, Delphi Museum 7227 (height 0.75m). (© École française d’Athènes, particular moment at the end of the eighth century or the beginning of the seventh, but later objects reproduced by courtesy of the Ephorate of Antiquities of Phokis). are different and not so numerous. Dedications of bronze arms and armour include an undecorated semi-circular ‘mitre’ (Perdrizet 1908: 102 no. 514, fig. 353), and a mid-seventh-century helmet decorated with a female figure on a bull which has a close parallel from Dreros (Hoffmann 1972: 22, 31, 39, pl. 18; Marcadé 1949: 421-36). Although the bronze kouros is a unique piece, it must be considered and interpreted within this particular context and this tradition. No late seventh- or sixth-century Cretan offerings are known at Delphi, making the kouros one of

11 

Catherine Morgan suggested that the Corinthian elite could have dedicated some Cretan bronzes (Morgan 1990: 143-4). In Olympia, for instance, there are very few shields and no four-sided stands; besides, metal objects seem to have been cast within the sanctuary. The situation is very different at Delphi.

12 

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Hélène Aurigny the last Cretan dedications. But this final example of the Cretan tradition is not the end of inspiration or creativity. The sanctuary of Apollo at Delphi often inspired the creation of new forms. One further point should be noted. All Cretan objects from Delphi differ slightly from their Cretan models: no absolutely exact parallel exists. We may therefore wonder whether Cretan artisans travelled to the sanctuary to manufacture the objects in situ, creating there a special style of their own. Or, if the items were not imports, perhaps Cretans installed themselves at major sanctuaries where they could work for donors. Conclusions Naturally, the aim of this paper is not to draw conclusions about the evolution of Greek art during the seventh century from analysis of three or four objects. Nonetheless, through these examples we can see some of the ways in which Greek art developed and mixed local styles with foreign elements. The originality which was sometimes eclecticism never opened out to become a single international style. Alongside obvious changes in production there was also continuity in the way artists chose and used the new oriental or other Mediterranean forms available in the repertoire. From this perspective, the examples selected provide the opportunity to question the categories of ‘oriental’, ‘orientalizing’, and ‘Greek’ (Brisart 2011; Gunter 2009). Craftsmen played a very important role in the creative process: elite social practices must be taken into account in order to understand the dedication of prestige goods, but craftsmen invented new solutions for the evolution of forms and models. This may explain the fact that many dedications at Delphi are exceptional and artistically rather isolated.

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7. Al Mina and changing patterns of trade: the evidence from the eastern Mediterranean Alexander Vacek Abstract: Despite many years of research on Al Mina, the seventh-century record has not received much attention in past scholarship. This article summarizes it and compares it to the preceding century, providing new statistical information about the quantitative development of Greek imports dating from the eighth to the seventh century. It is argued that Euboean pottery disappeared at Al Mina around 670 BC at the latest, and that this sudden disappearance can be explained through an increase in Ionian wares that ‘pushed’ Euboean imports from the market. It is further suggested that the emergence of Ionian pottery may point to the growing involvement of Ionian cities in overseas trade. Alternatively, this pottery can be seen as a passive indicator of a new trading system that connected the northern Aegean with the Levant via the Ionian cities. The cause of this newly established long-distance trading network could be the expansion of the Assyrian empire, which led to a reduction of Phoenician influence on Cyprus and northern Syria. In addition, it is suggested that the replacement of copper by silver as a main currency in the Assyrian empire during the seventh century led to a growing demand and further resulted in the exploration of new silver sources in the northern Aegean.

As a transitional phase between the Late Geometric and early Archaic periods, the seventh century BC has yet to receive the scholarly attention which its historical importance merits.1 The fact that it is considered a ‘siècle obscur’ (Étienne 2010c: 2) reflects the state of archaeological and historical research. A lack of archaeological evidence is certainly one major reason for the current situation. Previous contributions to the study of the political and cultural history of seventh-century Greece and the wider Mediterranean were mostly based on later written sources, and discourse on this important phase of Greece’s history has been dominated by ancient historians (Osborne 1989: 297-8). Only recently has the seventh century become the subject of intensive archaeological research (Étienne 2010a). A review volume on the seventh century such as this inevitably focuses on problems in the study and interpretation of the period, including those concerning chronological frameworks, different interpretative models of human behaviour, or insufficient published materials from old excavations. Al Mina, excavated by Leonard Woolley, embodies many of the problems frequently found among sites excavated early in the 20th century. Study of the finds from Al Mina therefore addresses several issues central to this book. The site record includes a rich corpus of seventh-century Greek imports, and therefore serves as an important source of information about long-distance connections between Greece, Asia Minor and the eastern Mediterranean at this time. So far, only the early history of Al Mina (mainly the eighth century BC) has attracted the attention of researchers. Despite the attention that Al Mina has received over the past decades (for an overview, see e.g. Boardman 2002a; Descœudres 2002), seventh-century Greek imports are poorly studied, and published material from this period is limited to a few pieces. Important earlier contributions were restricted to brief overviews (Boardman 1999a [first edition 1964]: 46-51; Robertson 1940) or to particular categories of material such as Wild Goat style pottery (Kardara 1963). On the other hand, Descœudres’ study was confined to the small sample of seventh-century imports (33 fragments) which had made their way to the Nicholson Museum in Sydney (Descœudres 1978). Only a few extant written sources can provide information about the importance of long-distance trading networks, but they do serve to show that various factors drove these activities (Helms 1988: 66-8, 148-71). The list in Ezekiel 27, a text which antedates 585 BC (Diakonoff 1992: 170), offers a colourful account of Tyre’s trading network (Liverani 1991: 65-79), demonstrating the extent and significance of such activity. The present contribution offers insight into current work on Greek imports from Al Mina, and highlights certain aspects related to the hitherto unpublished seventh-century pottery. Its focus is the relationship between Euboean and East Greek imports at the site and the question of when the former disappear. Several different interpretations have so far been put forward (Boardman 2006b: 521; Descœudres 1978: 15, 18). The export record of a production centre may provide useful insights into internal economic and social problems, as has been discussed in the case of Attica (Osborne 1989: 313-14). Similar questions arise about the archaeological record of Euboea, which has plentiful 1  I thank the Gerda-Henkel foundation which financed my DPhil study at the University of Oxford for two years and Koç University for providing a one-year research fellowship in Istanbul. I am also indebted to the Fondation Wiener-Anspach, which funded a two-year research fellowship in Oxford from 2012 to 2014. This work also benefitted greatly from the support of Irene Lemos, my supervisor, and Alexandra Villing, Curator in the British Museum Department of Greece and Rome.

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Alexander Vacek evidence of settlement and connections with the eastern Mediterranean during the early first millennium BC, but where the seventh-century record at formerly important settlements like Lefkandi or Eretria points to internal difficulties or a lack of archaeological visibility (Charalambidou 2011: 834-7). In addressing these questions, it is important to be aware of the archaeological problems surrounding current chronological frameworks and the difficulties arising from the limited archaeological visibility of the vast majority of traded artefacts (Snodgrass 1980: 127). In the case of Al Mina, it is also unclear whether the surviving material distributed in various museums reflects the total number of excavated artefacts (Descœudres 2002: 54; Waldbaum 1997: 6). Of no less importance is the fact that fine painted pottery comprises only part of the range of traded goods: the significance of fine painted pottery in overseas trade is another open question. The site and its excavation Al Mina is located in the Hatay province, on the River Orontes which crosses a wide plain before flowing into the sea (Pamir 2005: 67-97). Archaeological prospection has shown that Al Mina was not the only Iron Age site located in or on the fringes of the estuary (Pamir 2005: 72). Geological investigation suggests that the plain was formed by a combination of sedimentation caused by the Orontes and by tectonic movements (Pamir and Nishiyama 2002: 31112; Pamir 2013: 174). Two massive mountain barriers flank the Orontes estuary. To the north is the Musa Dagh and to the south the mighty Jebel Aqra, ancient Mt Kasios. As recognized by Woolley, Al Mina not only occupied a vital position for traffic between the Mediterranean, the Amuq plain and other centres in Mesopotamia, but its immediate surroundings also offered the raw materials, such as wood and metals, which made the estuary such an attractive destination for merchants (Pamir 2006: 536-8; Woolley 1938: 2-3). The Orontes estuary provides the easiest access through the two mountain barriers, because the river was navigable from antiquity until the 20th century (Pamir 2006: 536). Despite recent archaeological work in the estuary, in particular at the site of Sabuniye, the relationship between Al Mina and other settlements remains unclear, although sherds collected from the surface indicate that Sabuniye was occupied in the seventh-century (Pamir and Nishiyama 2002: 307 fig. 11.2; Pamir 2013: 178 fig. 12). Al Mina was excavated in two campaigns in 1936 and 1937, and excavation reports were soon published (Woolley 1937; 1938). Regrettably, no final and detailed report ever appeared, a circumstance that has resulted in a continuing controversy surrounding the site. Another important factor that has shaped the ongoing debate is the question of record keeping and discard strategies (Boardman 2002a: 320-21). It must, though, be kept in mind that the study of Woolley’s data, no matter how unsatisfactory the undertaking, remains the only possible way to shed light on the history of the port and the estuary in general. Today the site is surrounded by the modern village of Liman Mahallesi and threatened by agricultural activities on and around the mound. According to Woolley, the mound contained ten different levels, with level X being the lowest and earliest and level I the latest, going back to the medieval period (Vorderstrasse 2005; Woolley 1938: 6). The earliest history of the site is covered by levels X to V, which reach from the eighth to the seventh century BC. The way in which Woolley recorded the finds is important to the analysis of the pottery and other finds. As has been described by previous scholars, only a minority of the excavated material can be assigned to a particular level via marks on the sherds (Boardman 1999b: 136-8). Among the marked fragments one can also find double marks (e.g. 8-9 or 6-7) which further complicate the analysis. Double marks cannot be treated as indicating intermediary levels, but are rather the product of an excavation method, which did not always allow the excavator to distinguish between two different levels. From the sample analysed – 4880 pieces dating from the eighth to the seventh century – only around 34 % were marked.2 The remaining 66 % were either never marked, which is not impossible given the small team of archaeologists and the large number of workmen employed by Woolley (1937: 4), or the documentation is lost (Boardman 1999b: 137-8). This has consequences for the establishment of a relative and absolute chronology for the site, and it also limits the analysis of changing local consumption patterns. It should be kept in mind throughout the discussion. Al Mina and eighth-century Greek imports As stressed in previous studies, Euboean pottery clearly outnumbered all other Greek imports at Al Mina during the eighth century (Boardman 1999a: 40-2; Kearsley 1995: 79-80; 1999: 111, 115; Popham et al. 1979: 8; 1983: 289). Despite critical voices which have questioned these assumptions (Papadopoulos 1997: 197-8), re-examination of the fully accessible evidence, which is based on style and macroscopic study of fabrics, shows that this view must remain 2 

The sample of 4880 fragments entails all of the identified Greek sherds and imitations of Greek pottery from Al Mina now stored in the British Museum, the Ashmolean Museum, the Garstang Museum at Liverpool, and the Museum of Classical Archaeology in Cambridge. Also included are the published sherds from the Nicholson Museum at Sydney and four fragments published by Clairmont in 1955.

48

7. Al Mina and changing patterns of trade: the evidence from the eastern Mediterranean unchallenged as long as no further evidence comes to light. Recent chemical analysis (NAA) of selected Greek imports and ‘Greek style’ pottery (Al Mina or Euboeo-Levantine ware) from Al Mina further confirms Euboean dominance (Vacek 2014) among eighth-century imports. It also allows us to refute claims of a local production of ‘Greek style’ pottery at Al Mina, as once made by Boardman (1959; 2005: 282 no. 5) and Kearsley (1995: 77-8).

60%

54

60% 50%

52,6

54

50%

40%

52,6

39,2 39,2

40%

30%

30%

20%

12,5

20%

12,5

10%

10%

The relationship between Al Mina and certain Cycladic islands such as Naxos remains unclear. The earliest Greek imports so far identified are MGI/MGII in date and come from the Cyclades (CVA British Museum 11: pl. 71.165, fig. 14). The islands may have acted as intermediaries between the Near East and Greece during the early stages of occupation at Al Mina, and this might in turn explain the existence of just a few early Cycladic imports. Although not entirely impossible, it seems unlikely that Euboean traders would carry Cycladic pottery to Al Mina, and there remains a whole range of other potential carriers who may have been involved in the distribution of Cycladic pottery to the port on the Orontes. No matter what the precise role of the Cycladic islands, to judge from the amount of imports from the Cyclades (Cycladic imports in total constitute 0.74 % of the pottery in levels X to V) the export of fine painted pottery seems never to have been an important factor for the islands’ external contacts with North Syria (Kourou 1984: 111-12).

4,3

4,3

5,6

5,6

3

3

L

V

e L Le ve Le ev vel l IX e ve l IX l V VI III I L Le ev I-IX IX ve el lVV LeLe III III v v LeLe el el V veve VII II l l VI V -VILeL IIVII veev LeL l eVl V veev I I l eVl -VVIV Le I Lve evl eVl

0%

0%

10,5

10,5

Figure 1 1 Figure

Figure 7.1 Al Mina: distribution of Euboean imports according to levels. (© A. Vacek).

Indeterminate 33,5 %

Indeterminate 33,5 %

East Greek East 38,9 % Greek

Other 0,26 %

38,9 %

Other 0,26%% Attic 0,42

Attic Cycladic 0,42 % 0,74 % Cycladic 0,74 % 4,3 % Al Mina ware Al Mina ware 4,3 %Corinthian 8,2 % Corinthian 8,2 %

Euboean 13,8 %

Euboean 13,8 %

Around the middle of the eighth century, Euboean Figure 2 Figure 7.2 Al Mina: Greek imports from Al Mina (total pottery began to dominate the record, and the Figure 2 assemblage = 4880 fragments). (© A. Vacek). second half of that century saw the highest numbers of Greek imports in the Levant (rather than c. 750 as proposed elsewhere: Fletcher 2012: 215 fig. 1). Looking at the different levels, one can see that Euboean imports comprise at least 50 % of the assemblage (Figure 7.1). In level IX they make up 54 %, in ‘level’ VIII-IX Euboean imports reach c. 53 %, while in level VIII their percentage shrinks to about 39 %. The record from level VIII is best explained by the high percentage of indeterminate vessels, which at 29 % is exceptionally high when compared to the two previous levels. Other regions seem to have supplied imports too, but their share of trade in fine ware was only marginal. Corinthian and Attic pieces in particular can be identified, but they never reach more than 3% in levels IX to VIII. East Greek products were also exported to Al Mina during the early phase of the port’s history but the quantities were moderate (8 % in level IX and 6.7 % in level VIII). Two types are found in particular – the north-Ionian bird kotyle and the south-Ionian bird oinochoae (Descœudres 1978: pl. 1.6).3 The former appear for the first time in ‘level’ VIII-IX while the latter is represented by one piece in level IX. Even so-called Al Mina or Euboeo-Levantine ware outnumbers other Greek imports. One must bear in mind that the percentage of indeterminate fragments varies from level to level, and many pieces could not be assigned to a particular region due to their small size. Nevertheless, this general picture does not change when the unmarked fragments are also taken into consideration. Imports other than Euboean or East Greek constitute no more than a minor fraction of the total amount (Figure 7.2). Therefore, while Euboean pottery represents the main body of imports, the record also implies that north- and south-Ionian production centres already participated in long-distance trade with the Levant during the second half of the eighth century. Despite this, it is important to stress that the earliest north Ionian kotyle types with a continuous frieze in the decoration zone (Coldstream 2008: 278 pl. 61c; Kerschner et al. 2008: 27-8) are missing at Al Mina, and this may indicate that trade between Ionia and Al Mina started only after 750 BC, when contacts between the port on the Orontes and Greece had already existed 3 

For the provenance of the kotyle and the bird oinochoae see Kadioğlu et al. (2015: 349-353) and Kerschner (2002c: 66-9).

49

Alexander Vacek for some time.4 In this respect it is interesting that Corinthian and Euboean pottery appears at Kyme (Aeolia) and Samos at approximately the same time as at Al Mina (Frasca 1998: 277, fig. 9-15; Walter 1968: 282-8, pl. 49). Seventh-century Greek imports Starting with level VII (between 700 and 670 BC), the quantity of Euboean imports dropped dramatically to c. 12 % (Figure 7.1). While this sudden change might be explained by the small size of the sample of sherds marked with level VII, ‘level’ VI-VII confirms this general trend. In level VI, Euboean imports reached their lowest point (4.3 %) while in level V they rose to 5.6 %. Given the dramatic drop and the fact that the percentage of Euboean pottery remained basically similar throughout the seventh century, it seems more plausible to interpret the few fragments as residual – all the more so since the Euboean fragments are stylistically LG and it is hard to believe that LG types continued to be produced until 600/580 BC (the end of level V). The assumption that Euboea exported pottery to the east until the last third of the seventh century – as suggested by Descœudres (see above) – leaves us with the unexplained phenomenon of missing ‘orientalizing’ vessels among the Euboean exports of this period. The few pieces of Euboean ‘orientalizing’ pottery from Delos suggest that no general trading barriers existed to limit their export (Descœudres 2005: nos 4-9). While local eastern preferences for Subgeometric decoration might be one explanation for the absence of ‘orientalizing’ Euboean pottery, the amount of other ‘orientalizing’ imports, such as Wild Goat style pottery (see below), are a strong argument against such an interpretation. The sharp drop in Euboean imports coincides with a general decrease in imports of Greek fine painted wares. The Kernel density estimates,5 which illustrate the quantitative developments of Greek imports at Al Mina over the period from c. 800 to 600 BC, highlight this drastic change at around 700 BC (Figure 7.3). Despite a slight recovery, which came to an end at around 650/40 BC, Greek imports never reached the high quantities of the eighth century. This dramatic development in absolute numbers is bound to the current absolute chronological framework, which places the end of the LG style in Greece at 700 BC. However, the new ‘orientalizing’ styles were not adopted simultaneously in all regions, so perhaps some workshops continued to produce pottery with ‘old-fashioned’ Geometric motifs. This hypothesis is particularly valid for Euboean pottery production because, despite intensive excavation on the island, early seventh-century contexts are notably rare (compare Charalambidou 2007: 276-7). How long such a potential transformation period lasted on Euboea remains an open question. Unfortunately, the evidence from Al Mina does not provide answers because most Geometric pottery is unmarked and cannot be associated with any level. We do not know whether the bulk of unmarked Geometric pieces was found in levels X to VIII and therefore belongs to the LG period, or whether they go with levels VII-V and so might be considered Euboean

30,00

c. 700 BC, peak of Greek imports

25,00

696 BC, destruction of Tarsus

738 BC, Assyrian conquest of Unqi

c. 625 BC, peak of Greek imports during the 7th century BC

20,00

15,00

10,00

5,00 around 580 BC, end of Greek imports

c. 800 BC, first Greek imports

0,00 -800

-780

-750

-730

-700

-680

-650

-630

-600

-580

-550

-530

Date Figure 3

Figure 7.3 Kernel Density Estimates of dated sherds from Al Mina (Level X-V; sample size 2283 fragments). (© A. Vacek).

4  5 

For the kotyle types see Coldstream (2008: 277-9) and Ersoy (2004: 44-8 figs 3.f-g). For the method and further literature, see Mitchell and Lemos (2011: 79).

50

Sherd density (sherd per annum)

717 BC, destruction of Carchemish

7. Al Mina and changing patterns of trade: the evidence from the eastern Mediterranean Subgeometric products of seventh-century date. If we consider the 33% marked fragments as representative of the whole assemblage, then the majority of Geometric pottery certainly belongs to the eighth century.

80 70 60

50 A completely different trend is observable among the East Greek imports. These increase rapidly in number from level 40 VII (‘VI-VII’) and the amount of imports from Asia Minor 30 remains high until the end of the seventh century (Figure 20 7.4). As in the case of Euboean imports, the shift did not 10 happen gradually: the change from predominately Euboean 0 to predominately East Greek imports occurred suddenly, VIII-IX Level IX VI-VII VIII VI V-VI V probably around 670 BC.6 The East Greek imports to Al Mina are remarkable not only for their sheer quantity but also Cycladic Imports Imports from Greece for the variety of shapes and the wide range of products Indeterminate East Greek Imports of varying quality. Simple monochrome painted cups with Figure 4 everted rim, the ‘mass-produced’ bird, rosette, and banded Figure 7.4 Distribution of Greek imports from Al Mina bowls, monochrome painted juglets and one-handled cups according to levels (marked sherds only). (Figures 7.5-6), and Subgeometric dinoi and kraters (Figure (© A. Vacek). 7.7) stand next to Wild Goat style pottery (Figure 7.8) and rare pieces of ‘orientalizing’ bird bowls (Robertson 1940: 13 fig. 6, pl. I.1-r). Of particular importance are fragments of SiA Ia (EWG) jugs (Figure 7.9), a rare category in south Ionia itself and almost totally absent outside Asia Minor (Cook and Dupont 1998: 34; Kerschner and Schlotzhauer 2005: 9).7 Even at Tarsus, another site with a relatively high number of East Greek imports, these early jugs of southIonian manufacture are missing, despite the presence of other East Greek pottery datable to the early seventh century (e.g. Hanfmann 1963: pls 98.1448, 145.1386). This absence cannot therefore be explained by a lack of connections between Cilicia and Asia Minor during the first half of the seventh century. SiA Ia jugs are also absent from Cyprus, which has an otherwise rich record of seventh-century East Greek imports (Gjerstad and Calvet 1977). The fact that they have so far been found only at Al Mina may point to a more privileged relationship between the port on the Orontes and Ionia, since access to these fine and rare vases was apparently restricted, to judge from their distribution in the Mediterranean and the quantity of recovered objects from Ionia itself, a situation that may change with future discoveries. Further confirmation of Al Mina’s unique situation, at least during the first half of the seventh century, is provided by the distribution of East Greek pottery along the Levantine coast. Bearing

BM 1995.8.24.30 BM 1995.9.1.5/61

Ash 1954.323

Figure 5 6  7 

Figure 7.5 Al Mina: north-Ionian imports of the seventh century BC (scale 1:2). (© A. Vacek).

On the chronology of the site, see Vacek (2012: 285-291 pl. 167). On the chronology and stylistic development of the former Wild Goat style pottery, see Kerschner and Schlotzhauer 2005.

51

Figure 5

Alexander Vacek

BM 1996.4.20.1

BM 1996.4.12.19

BM 1995.10.12.24

Figure 6

Figure 7.6 Al Mina: south-Ionian imports of the seventh century BC (scale 1:2). (© A. Vacek).

BM 1996.6.25.13 Figure Figure7 7.7 Al Mina: East Greek Subgeometric krater, second half of the seventh century BC (scale 1:2). (© A. Vacek). 52

Figure 7

7. Al Mina and changing patterns of trade: the evidence from the eastern Mediterranean

Figure 7.8 Al Mina: Wild Goat style dinos, SiA Ib (scale 1:3). (© A. Vacek / Trustees of the British Museum).

Ash 1954.347 Figure 8

Ash 1954.331/3

Figure 7.9 Al Mina: early Wild Goat style pottery: above SiA Ia, below NiA Ia? (scale 1:3). (© A. Vacek / Trustees of the British Museum).

Ash 1954.329/1 Figure 9

53

Alexander Vacek

BM 1997.7.1.63

BM 1997.7.1.63

Figure 11 BM 1968.3.25.193 Figure 7.10 Al Mina: Middle Protocorinthian aryballos (scale 1:1). (Photograph: A. Vacek, © Trustees of the Figure 10 British Museum).

Figure 7.11 Al Mina: Corinthian pyxis fragment (scale 1:1). (© A. Vacek).

Figure 11

in mind the incomplete publication of some coastal sites, in particular Ras el Bassit which is situated very close to Al Mina, it seems that East Greek imports were almost absent from this area during the first half of the seventh century. While Euboean imports at Al Mina declined rapidly around 700 to 670 BC, Corinthian pottery continued to be imported throughout the century. The seventhcentury Corinthian record consists of MPC aryballoi (Figure 7.10), fragments of closed vessels stylistically close to the Chigi vase (Robertson 1940: pl. 4.n-o), pyxis fragments (Figure 7.11), and one kotyle of LPC/ Transitional date (Figure 7.12). The last derives from BM 1997.7.1.63 level VI and proves that the export of Corinthian vessels to Al Mina continued at least until the third quarter of the seventh century. Considering that the percentage of Corinthian Figure 11 fragments is a fairly consistent 10-11 % in levels VII to V – even level V contained some 10.3 % (Figure 7.13) – it is reasonable to argue that the flow of imports from Corinth to Al Mina was relatively steady and that Corinthian pottery reached Al Mina until the end of the seventh century. Finally, although Corinthian imports apparently arrived at Al Mina in considerable quantity during the early seventh century, the evidence does not indicate that they were dominant (Murray 1993: 146).

Ash 1954.455a Figure 7.12 Al Mina: Late Protocorinthian/ Figure 12 Transitional kotyle (scale 2:3). (Photograph: A. Ash 1954.455a Vacek, © Trustees of the British Museum).

12%

Figure 12

11,5

10,8

10,3

10% 8% 6% 4%

2,5

2%

1,7

1 0

0%

0

I

lV

ve

Le

Le

ve

lV -V

I

I

lV

-V I

Le

ve

II

lV

Le

ve

l

VI

III

lV

Le

ve

-IX

ve

Le

l

ve

Le

Le

ve

VI II

lI

X

There can be no doubt that the trade in fine painted pottery was now firmly in East Greek, or more precisely, Ionian hands, and that this situation did not change until the end of level V, which can be dated to Figure 13 Figure 7.13 Al Mina: distribution of Corinthian imports around 600 to 580 BC (Vacek 2012: 183, 290-291 pl. 167). according to levels. (© A. Vacek). Within the total analysed assemblage from Al Mina, East Greek vessels (c. 38 %) constitute the largest body of imports (Figure 7.2). In 1954.455a comparison, Euboean imports amount to only c. 14 %, although one must recall that they Ash arrived over some 50 to 70 years while the East Greek imports spanned c. 120 years.8 Preliminary analysis the seventh-century material also indicates that south-Ionian products were slightly more Figureof12 popular than north-Ionian, although closer examination of the details reveals variation within some categories. 8  The length of the period is related to the date of the pendent semicircle skyphoi, and in particular to the beginning of Kearsley’s type 6, which she considered an LG type. There are, however, pendent semicircle skyphoi at Al Mina which do not belong to Kearsley’s type 6, and it seems that type 6 started earlier, in MG II or SPG IIIb. See discussion in Rizzo 2005; Verdan et al. (2008: 81 with no. 417).

54

7. Al Mina and changing patterns of trade: the evidence from the eastern Mediterranean One example is the bird oinochoe, a type produced in north and south Ionia from the second half of the eighth century until roughly the end of the first quarter of the seventh (Kerschner et al. 2008: 49). At Al Mina, only a few fragments can be attributed to north Ionia (2% of jug imports belong to north-Ionian bird oinochoae) while the majority (16%) come perhaps from south Ionia or from Chios. Chios produced bird oinochoae covered with the same whitish or pale brown slip (Boardman 1967: 142 pl. 48.548) typical of south-Ionian bird oinochoae but not otherwise found on north-Ionian products. By contrast, the record of drinking cups does not show a similar south-Ionian preponderance. The difference between typical south-Ionian cups with everted rim and north-Ionian bird, rosette, and banded bowls is markedly less than that between south- and north-Ionian bird oinochoae. This picture suggests that while consumers9 in North Syria preferred south-Ionian jugs over north-Ionian, they were not so selective when it came to drinking cups. Such a consumer-orientated interpretation is attractive, but we should also entertain the possibility that production-related factors lay behind the unequal distribution of northIonian products. Both north- and south-Ionian oinochoae are decorated with similar motifs, although the southIonian show significantly greater variability in patterns while the north-Ionian are more standardized. Quality cannot be a factor since the oinochoae and drinking bowls share similar fabric and surface treatment. Lesser quality can therefore be excluded, but decoration might be one reason for the success of south-Ionian jugs at Al Mina. Another alternative might be different marketing strategies on the part of the traders. Perhaps north-Ionian merchants chose not to sell the large oinochoae, which are more difficult to transport and therefore more likely to be damaged, and focused more on cups, which are easier to stack on a ship. Such a marketing-oriented interpretation presumes the same origin for trader and traded object, an assumption that can neither be proven nor rejected. Furthermore, we cannot exclude the possibility that north-Ionian jugs were produced in smaller quantities than south-Ionian, hence their lower import rate at Al Mina. Similar conclusions have been drawn about Corinthian exports to Italy (Dehl-von Kaenel 1994: 64). Unfortunately, the current state of research in Ionia does not permit conclusions about the production and distribution of bird oinochoae, and we must therefore postpone this question until the publication of new material. Whatever it was that lay behind the success of south-Ionian bird oinochoae at Al Mina, it probably played a role in the development of Ionian pottery export during the second half of the seventh century. The popularity of south-Ionian jugs was not confined to Subgeometric bird oinochoae. The trend continued into the second half of the seventh century, when south Ionian products also dominated Wild Goat style pottery even late in the century, despite the appearance of larger quantities of north-Ionian products at other sites such as Sukas (Ploug 1973: pls 9.171; 10.175). Perhaps the successful placement of their products in foreign markets such as Al Mina during the early seventh century stimulated south-Ionian potters to test new shapes and decorative patterns in order to maintain, or even expand, their leading position. That south-Ionian potters were more willing to experiment with patterns has already been noted in the case of bird oinochoae. This might explain the absence of north-Ionian Wild Goat style pottery (a production which seems to have begun earlier than hitherto thought [Hürmüzlü 2004a: 84 figs 14-15]) in foreign markets in general (Kerschner 2000: 487) and Al Mina in particular, before the late seventh century. If this explanation holds true, we may also assume a stable relationship between local consumers and trading houses at Al Mina on one side and foreign traders and producers on the other. It was probably hard to place a new product on a distant market when other producers and traders had already occupied certain sectors for a considerable time and consumers were conservative in their choices (Dehl-von Kaenel 1994: 66-7). This is demonstrated by north-Ionian jugs, which only re-appeared in the Near East after the adoption of the south-Ionian Wild Goat style, and then only at places where south-Ionian products had not occupied a similarly dominant position (as at Al Mina in the first half of the seventh century). From the observations made so far, it follows that the considerable success of Euboean imports and later the dominant position of Ionian products at Al Mina may be related to factors associated with the so-called chaîne d’opératoire of pottery production and trade, although other factors only indirectly connected to the trade in fine painted pottery might have played a role too. If trade in fine painted pottery only followed exchange in other commodities (Osborne 1996: 39), we must also consider the involvement of new trading agents and shifting trading patterns in other commodities such as agricultural produce or metals. Another cause might be the location of the production centres, in this case Euboea and Ionia, along east-west or north-south trade routes. While we can certainly exclude any interruption of the sea lanes between the Levant and Greece, as the record of Corinthian imports shows, the emergence of new trade routes, e.g. from the Levant to northern Greece or the Black Sea, is a plausible hypothesis to explain the growing trade in Ionian pottery. As is clear from the ceramic record, contact between Al Mina and 9  Questions concerning the identification of the consumers of Greek pottery in North Syria and particularly at Al Mina, while important, cannot be addressed in this article.

55

Alexander Vacek Ionia already existed before the early seventh century. We must therefore seek to explain the quantitative increase in Ionian imports and not just their appearance. Increasing frequency of contacts between Ionia and the Levant should therefore be considered as well. A possible change in trade routes might of course be closely connected with a change in the commodities traded between Al Mina and various regions of the Mediterranean. The record also shows that by the beginning of the second quarter of the seventh century, if not earlier, Corinth may have played a more prominent role as a commercial centre for east–west trade. There are several possible explanations for the sudden decrease in Euboean pottery exports. It coincides with the appearance of Ionian imports, suggesting that the two phenomena may be related. Another reason frequently mentioned, not only in connection with exports to the east, is the Lelantine war between Eretria and Chalkis (Coldstream 2003: 201; Murray 1993: 79-80). While archaeological evidence at present suggests that occupation at Lefkandi came to an end around 700 BC (Popham et al. 1979: 369), the two major pottery producing centres in the Euboean Gulf, Eretria and Chalkis, continued to operate, although perhaps on a reduced scale (Charalambidou 2011: 836-7), and to play an important role in traffic from northern Greece to the Aegean due to Euboea’s geographical position (Gehrke 1992: 100). Furthermore, other Euboean cities which were important as relay-harbours, such as Karystos with its harbour Geraistos on the south tip of Euboea (Gehrke 1992: 105), were not directly affected by the Lelantine war. It is therefore hard to believe that the conflict between Chalkis and Eretria would have changed the island’s vital role in the Aegean trading networks. Seventh-century Assyrian expansion and its impact on Mediterranean trade The change in the pottery record coincided with dramatic political changes in northern Syria which may have affected the economic life of the port on the Orontes. In 738 BC, the Assyrians conquered the kingdom of Unqi with its capital Kunulua (Tadmor 2007: 102-5, 137-8), modern Tell Tayinat (Harrison 2009: 174). Al Mina belonged to the kingdom of Unqi (Luke 2003: 11-12); it may be identified as Ah-ta-a (Zadok 1996: 11-12) and was perhaps later known as Potamoi Karun (Lane Fox 2008: 107). The suggestion by Lipiński (2004: 267) that Al Mina once was called Thapsa after the river Thapsakos mentioned in the Periplous of Pseudoskylax, is less convincing. Two further incidents around 700 BC could have affected the port on the Orontes. In 717 BC, the Assyrians conquered Carchemish, a rich city that played a vital part in trade between Anatolia, Mesopotamia and the Aegean (Radner 2004: 158). According to Assyrian sources, the treasure of king Pisiris contained such vast amounts of silver (2100 talents) that this sudden increase may have led to a change from copper to silver as the main currency in the course of the seventh century (Gitin and Golani 2001: 35-6; Radner 2004: 159). This hypothesis cannot be proven: the large amounts of silver that flowed onto the Assyrian market might have triggered this change in the Assyrian economy, although such a process would usually be expected to lead to a devaluation of the currency. One should also see this development in relation to the expansion of the Assyrian empire, which by the second quarter of the seventh century had conquered the entire Levant, and thereafter controlled trade along its coast (see below) and had stronger links into the Mediterranean where silver was the main currency (Gitin and Golani 2001: 40-41). The Assyrians also left their mark in Cilicia. Possibly in 696 BC they destroyed the city of Tarsus, and it has been suggested by Boardman (1999a: 46) that a potential hiatus in the occupation of Al Mina after level VIII, resulting in a new architectural plan in level VII, may have been caused by Assyrian operations against Cilician rebels in the region. While the change in settlement plan is a fact (Saltz 1978: 47), no signs of violent destruction were reported by Woolley in his site publications, and analysis of the pottery from levels VIII and VII, respectively ‘VI-VII’, speaks against a break in occupation and indicates that level VIII might have lasted until c. 675 BC (Vacek 2012: 84-86 pl. 167.).10 The establishment of the Assyrian empire along the Levantine coast radically altered the economic situation of the Phoenician city-states (as discussed by Frankenstein 1979: 283-9). In the wake of the Assyrian expansion, the island of Cyprus too was confronted with a new political reality. After the annexation of Sidon by Esarhaddon in 677 BC, Tyre lost control over Cyprus (Radner 2010: 439). The suggestion that this loss was part of a carefully designed Assyrian trade policy that sought to avoid strong economic dependence on the Phoenician cities by supporting Greek and even Cypriot traders, is an interesting hypothesis but cannot be verified (Lanfranchi 2000: 20-21, 2931). Lehmann’s study of Syrian and Phoenician pottery from Al Mina indicates that Tyre cannot be excluded as a

10 

In his unpublished field notes Woolley mentioned an ash layer that he apparently detected in several rooms in the southeast part of the excavated settlement. It is doubtful whether these few pieces of information can really be considered solid evidence of a violent conflict, but even so, the question of whether we should associate it with the occupation of Unqi in 738 BC and not with the later Cilician rebellion remains. Consultation of Woolley’s field notes also indicates that the excavator mixed up the ‘destruction level’ and the succeeding level perhaps by mistake. Both ended up as one single level - level 8. If this is true, it also means that level 8 cannot be used as a firm absolute chronological marker for the finds within it.

56

7. Al Mina and changing patterns of trade: the evidence from the eastern Mediterranean player in the port’s exchange economy (Lehmann 2005: 84-6) but the actual scale of Tyrian activities remains vague because of the problems surrounding pottery discard and recording noted above. A treaty between Esarhaddon and Tyre (Borger 1956: 107-9) illustrates the new reality. Although Tyre was granted access to all harbours within Assyrian territory as long as merchants stayed on their ships, Assyrians had the right to confiscate the cargo of wrecked ships and to collect quay taxes (Yamada 2005: 70-2). From now on, trading activities were also controlled by Assyrian officials who took office in the Phoenician cities to oversee tax collection and police trading embargoes (Yamada 2005: 69). The destruction of Sidon in 677 BC, perhaps to punish the city for an alliance with the Cilician king Sanduarri from Kundu, would fit the picture of an Assyrian strategy to maintain an equilibrium between Phoenician and north Syrian trading ports (Radner 2004: 160). In this respect it is interesting that the destruction of Carchemish in 717 BC took place only after the conquest of Unqi, with its access to the Mediterranean, in 738 BC. Both the archaeological evidence and the few written sources speak against the imposition of any total trading embargo on Phoenician ships. However, if Radner’s interpretation is correct, we may assume that Phoenician activities were reduced in scale, either due to the loss of Cyprus or through active Assyrian intervention, leaving a gap that may have been filled by Greeks and Cypriots attracted by the vast Assyrian market and its need for metals and other goods from the Mediterranean. Cyprus in particular has been marginalized in discussion of long distance trade in the Mediterranean. In the case of Al Mina, the focus has always been on Greece and Phoenicia. Yet Cyprus, with its rich metal resources, must also have played a role as an agent transferring goods from the Levant to the Aegean and back. This is demonstrated by an Attic SOS amphora found at Mende, which bears an inscription in Cypriot syllabary (Vokotopoulou and Christidis 1995: 7-8).11 This amphora dates to the late eighth or early seventh century, and falls roughly in the period of Cypriot independence from Tyre. An increase in Cypriot pottery in Al Mina levels VIII and VII might be related to these changes in the political landscape (Boardman 2002a: 327).12 The record from Rhodes suggests that Cypriot imports decreased at around the same time, although they reappeared a century later when the Assyrian empire had collapsed (Bourogiannis, this volume). Thus the formal submission of the kings of Cyprus to Assyrian rule, together with the new freedom from Phoenician influence, might have initiated direct involvement of Cypriot traders in long distance trade and further caused a redirection of Cypriot trade towards Assyria and its markets. The amphora from Mende illustrates that Cypriot activity even reached the northern Aegean. In addition to Cypriot activity in the northern Aegean, one can also see the first signs of what could be interpreted as Ionian enterprise, although the evidence for this is less clear than the SOS inscribed amphora. The earliest East Greek imports in the northern Aegean date to the second quarter of the seventh century. One of the sites with early imports (a few fragments of north-Ionian bird kotylai) is Torone in the Chalkidiki (Paspalas 2001: 313, fig. 51, 5.7-5.8). An almost unique find from Sane, also in the Chalkidiki, is an early Wild Goat style dinos, a rare class of Ionian export as previously noted (Vokotopoulou 1993a: 223 fig. 28). The north-Ionian bird bowls date around 650 BC or later (Vokotopoulou 1993a: figs 34-5), and the core of Wild Goat style pottery belongs to SiA Ic (Vokotopoulou 1993a: figs 38-9) or to NiA Ic (Vokotopoulou 1993a: fig. 40) and thus also dates to the second half of the seventh century. The record from other sites on the Chalkidiki reveals a similar picture, with the majority of East Greek imports belonging to the second half of the seventh century (as in the case of Akanthos [Kaltsas 1998: pls 171-2; Trakosopoulou-Salakidou 1999: 1210 figs 1-2]). A similar picture pertains at Mt Itamos, where late seventh-century bird bowls have been found (Vokotopoulou et al. 1990: 435 fig. 435). Beyond the Chalkidiki, Macedonia has also produced LG and early seventh-century Ionian imports, notably at Methone where two bird oinochoae (one northand one south-Ionian) and six north-Ionian kotylai have been found (Kotsonas 2012c: 109 fig. 96, 430-1 fig. 92, 432 fig. 93, 433 fig. 94, 434 fig. 95, 436 fig. 96). This short list, while far from complete (Tiverios 2008), highlights the fact that the first Ionian imports appeared in northern Greece and Al Mina at the same time. It remains unclear whether these northern imports can be seen as evidence for Ionian trade, but as at Al Mina, the early Wild Goat style dinos from Sane might be interpreted as a sign of direct Ionian involvement for the reasons explained above. One might infer from this picture that the appearance of Ionian products at Al Mina and in the northern Aegean resulted from a new trading network connecting the northern Aegean via the Ionian cities with the Levant, or that Ionians now began to participate in a pre-existing north–south network (for a different view, see Tiverios 2008: 65). The Attic SOS amphora with the Cypriot inscription reminds us that the carriers of Greek pottery could belong to different ethnic groups. 11 

I thank Alan Johnston for kindly pointing out this amphora to me. The evidence for an increase in Cypriot pottery in levels VIII and VII is hard to verify. The pottery collection held in University College London contains several boxes of unregistered Cypriot pottery. In his unpublished field notes, kept in the UCL Special Collections, Woolley noted: ‘from the top of the foundations of level 7 to the bottom of the foundations of level 8 the Cypriot wares predominated’.

12 

57

Alexander Vacek Foreign interest in the northern Aegean might be explained by the metal sources in that region, in particular in the Chalkidiki (Tiverios 2008, 65 no. 295). As noted, silver became increasingly important for the Assyrian economy, and this circumstance, together with the political changes in the Levant, might have encouraged a new link between the Levant and northern Greece or drawn new players like the Ionians onto the stage. But silver might not have been the only incentive. A tablet from Uruk, dating to 550 BC, records the prices for copper and iron, and shows that iron from Yamana was of particular value, being about 10 times more expensive than iron from Lebanon (Oppenheim 1969: 237-9). It is, however, unclear whether we can really equate Yamana with Ionia (Muhly 2009). The tablet dates to a later period, and iron from Yamana may already have been in circulation, as perhaps reflected at Odyssey 1.184, where Athena disguises herself as a merchant trading iron for copper. The scenario proposed here contradicts previous suggestions (Tiverios 2008: 126), but the pottery record indicates that Ionians (or their products) had already reached the northern Aegean in the early seventh century. Analysis of a silver hoard discovered in the Philistine city of Ekron points to several sources, including Lavrion, Siphnos, the Chalkidiki/Troad, Thasos or even Chios (Stos-Gale 2001: 61-2). The hoard was found in a context that may date between the first quarter of the seventh century and 604 BC (Gitin and Golani 2001: 41-3). It shows how silver from Greek sources, perhaps even from northern Greece, made its way to the Levant, although on the available evidence we cannot exclude the possibility that trade in silver to the south predated the foundation of Greek colonies in the northern Aegean around the middle of the seventh century (Tiverios 2008: 125-6). Interestingly, Greek imports at Al Mina reached a peak around 650/40 BC before they started progressively to decrease (Figure 7.3). The above discussion shows that the hypothetical connections between the northern Aegean and the Levant via the Ionian cities may have begun in the second quarter of the seventh century, if not slightly earlier. But if this hypothesis holds true it was perhaps not before 650 BC that they were established more firmly. This relies on the premise that at least some earlier pottery exports to the north and to Al Mina were carried by Ionians, although this cannot of course be proven. It is, however, clear that Ionian pottery from Al Mina was not an isolated case but rather part of a phenomenon that encompassed large parts of the Mediterranean including also Italy (Jacobsen and Handberg 2010: 295 B1). Conclusion Greek pottery from Al Mina has been neglected for a long time. Previous theories about the nature of the site too often rested on a small fraction of the available evidence. The seventh century (levels VII to V) has been almost totally ignored. Current research suggests that by c. 670 BC at the latest (and within a short period) Ionian imports replaced Euboean as the dominant presence at Al Mina. South- and north-Ionian products are represented in roughly similar quantities, although there are differences in specific shapes such as the bird oinochoae. The appearance of Ionian pottery at Al Mina could indicate active and growing Ionian involvement in pre-existing international trading systems. In such a scenario the growing quantity of Ionian products in the Levant but also in the northern Aegean or in Italy might be a reflection of the increased economic power of certain Ionian cities such as Miletos, Samos, Klazomenai or Teos. Alternatively, the appearance of Ionian products might be explained via the creation of a new long-distance trading network connecting the Levant with the northern Aegean through the Ionian cities of Asia Minor. An additional incentive for Ionian participation might have been the expansion of the Assyrian empire to encompass the entire Levant around 670 BC. Assyrian domination reduced Phoenician influence in northern Syria and Cyprus: a further factor was perhaps the change from copper to silver as the main currency in the Assyrian empire at some point during the seventh century. The pax Assyriaca, which lasted until the end of the seventh century, created new markets and attracted trading partners previously excluded due to Phoenician dominance. This theory might explain the appearance of Ionian pottery at Al Mina, but it does not account for the sudden collapse of Euboean imports. The correlation between these two phenomena is best explained through changing fashions at Al Mina or the reduced importance of Euboea in east–west trade. The increase in imports of Corinthian pottery at Al Mina during the seventh century suggests that the route from Greece to the Levant retained its importance and that the island of Euboea remained a key stopping point for ships sailing to the east. It therefore seems more likely that Euboean fine painted pottery lost its eighth-century significance, perhaps being pushed out of the market by new products arriving from Ionia. This picture also fits other parts of the Mediterranean where fine painted Euboean pottery finally disappeared at this time. This scenario is not without problems. Our current chronological frameworks (which in some cases only achieve a resolution of 20 years at best) are not sufficiently precise to define the exact duration of certain processes, including the final replacement of Euboean pottery by Ionian imports. The available evidence does not allow us to characterise early Ionian imports in the northern Aegean: they could reflect sporadic Ionian adventures or trade 58

7. Al Mina and changing patterns of trade: the evidence from the eastern Mediterranean in Ionian products carried out by others, such as Phoenicians or Cypriots. Furthermore, the question of the precise point when silver replaced copper in the Assyrian empire remains open and may never be resolved. Other elements of uncertainty are the lack of archaeological evidence for seventh-century silver hoards, and problems in defining the exact silver sources. While this short article provides only a glimpse of the seventh-century material evidence available from Al Mina, it does make plain the site’s continuing potential to contribute to current debates in the field, notwithstanding problems surrounding the preservation of the finds. It further highlights the fact that some of the questions related to the site cannot be answered through micro-regional studies but require a wider Mediterranean perspective. Al Mina, the northern Aegean, Ionia and Euboea were connected with each other and thus affected by distant, local, and regional developments. This new phenomenon perhaps began to emerge during the seventh century, and may thus be considered as one hallmark of the era.

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8. Cypriot evidence in seventh-century Rhodes: discontinuity or change? Giorgos Bourogiannis Abstract: Rhodes is a focal point in discussion of contacts between the Aegean and the eastern Mediterranean. The island’s archaeological record reveals a consistent pattern of connections that were particularly strong in the case of Cyprus. Although Cypriot pottery is firmly attested on Rhodes between the late tenth and late eighth centuries BC, the transition to the seventh century is marked by a decrease in Cypriot imports, which in turn implies a change in the way contacts between the two areas were reflected in the material record.

This chapter investigates aspects of Cypriot influence on the pottery of Rhodes during the early seventh century. A special class of East Greek oinochoae, marked by a free mixing of Cypriot and Phoenician traits, is examined, and Cypriot imports which arrived in the course of the seventh century are also considered. In the concluding discussion, reasons for the shift in the flow of Cypriot imports are sought in the political and historical transformations that took place in the eastern Mediterranean between the late eighth and the early seventh centuries BC. Setting the seventh-century stage For many scholars concerned with Early Iron Age Greece, the transition to the seventh century was a period of transformation very particular in character. It followed from the peak of the eighth-century Greek ‘renaissance’ but had not yet achieved the artistic and intellectual accomplishment of the mature Archaic period. During this period, the population continued to rise, new overseas settlements were founded, political formations emerged and were consolidated, the spread of literacy produced its first monumental testimonies, and sanctuaries grew in importance, accommodating not only cult but also commercial and diplomatic activity (Hall 2007; Hurwit 1985: 125-202; Kyrieleis 2009; Osborne 2009: 131-201; Whitley 2001; see also Mazarakis Ainian 2011a; Muhly 2011). In this respect, the seventh century was a time of multiple changes that affected most of the Aegean, and are closely related to transformations across the rest of the Mediterranean (Étienne 2010a). It was this dynamic combination of innovation and fluidity that lay behind the two principal characteristics of the seventh century: the intensification and enhancement of the cultural renewal of the eighth century, and the gradual transformation of the Aegean into a more complex system of production and consumption patterns, political structures and aesthetic values, which was often linked to the adoption of a whole host of new ideas from the east. The multiplication of networks in the Archaic Mediterranean had a significant impact on the emergence of newly defined regional identities, which in turn affected Greek perceptions of the ‘other’ (Gruen 2011; Hall 2007: 255-61; Malkin 2011). This change in the Greek world was essentially completed by the end of the seventh century, setting the stage for sixth-century cultural developments. Archaeological terminology is eloquent testimony to the complexities of the current stylistic and chronological periodization of the seventh century. ‘Subgeometric’, ‘early Archaic’, ‘orientalizing’, ‘Protocorinthian’, and ‘Protoattic’ are just some of the stylistic terms that carry strong chronological connotations. In particular, the ‘orientalizing period’, which in essence refers to the flow, adoption and transformation of Levantine ideas in the Archaic Greek world, is still viewed as one of the chief distinguishing features of the seventh century and occasionally also of the eighth (Burkert 1992; Plantzos 2011: 60-73; Purcell 2006; Riva and Vella 2006b; Whitley 2001: 102-6). This somewhat idiosyncratic approach to the material culture of the seventh century is not an exclusively Greek phenomenon. Einar Gjerstad, who laid the foundations of Cypriot Archaeology in the 1930s and 1940s (Cadogan 2009), had raised similar conceptual issues. In his pioneering study of Cypriot monumental sculpture, Gjerstad (1948: 92-129, 207-11) designated a rather ‘crude and rustic’ Proto-Cypriot style, the beginning of which he placed around the middle of the seventh century. The term was used to describe the ‘spontaneous products of a fresh and young art’ that formed part of Near Eastern art but also had characteristics of its own (Gjerstad 1948: 95). This statement reflects the perceptions of the early 20th-century Nordic academic tradition, shaped by a desire to combine scientific research with stratigraphic sequence and a Nordic sense of moderation. Gjerstad’s Proto-Cypriot style reflects the initial stages of a transformation from an indigenous, less elaborate expression towards a more refined Neo-Cypriot style, shaped in the sixth century under Egyptian and Greek influence (Gjerstad 1948: 105-9). In this respect, the Proto-Cypriot phenomenon displays some similarities to the numerous equivalent terms attested in the Aegean, which are also marked by transformation of trends and styles, and the gradual consolidation of new ideas and artistic developments. 60

8. Cypriot evidence in seventh-century Rhodes: discontinuity or change? Changes which occurred during the seventh century, however, are mostly expressed through new patterns of mobility and interaction between the Aegean and the rest of the Mediterranean, which resulted in new material manifestations of identity (Knapp and van Dommelen 2010). This picture was already prominent in the eighth century but was further consolidated in the seventh. It was the result of considerable change in the Aegean itself: the commercial awakening of many parts of the Greek world, all of which pursued their own share in profitable activities, was a major step forward that enhanced commercial enterprise as well as rivalry between the numerous Aegean instigators (Demetriou 2012; Hall 2007: 235-49). During the same period, the eastern Mediterranean underwent a phase of increasing competition between old and new centres of military and political power (Aubet 2001: 54-60, 88-95; Kuhrt 1995; Van de Mieroop 2004: 197-252). These transformations generated political tension and led to constantly shifting allegiances between those involved. Yet they also had a positive effect on intra-Mediterranean commercial activity, which the great empires tried to access or manipulate in their own interest. The effects of this process reached the Aegean and may relate to shifts in the trade connections of seventh-century Rhodes. Rhodes and the east: a relationship in motion Rhodes fits into most discussions of trade and contacts during the Geometric and Archaic periods. The island is an almost iconic Aegean paradigm of commercial interaction, functioning as a melting pot receptive to both Greek and oriental influences. It is also one of the few places in the Aegean where the possibility of foreign settlers is widely (although not unproblematically) manifested in the archaeological record. The evidence consists mainly of Cypriot and Phoenician imports and influences, which held a prominent position in the material culture of the island in Geometric and early Archaic times (Coldstream 1998; Kourou 2003; 2014: 81-8). In consequence, discussion of Rhodes’ eastern connections has often been presented in bipolar terms of Cypriots versus Phoenicians (see Demand 2011: 220-55). This is also due to the fact that the earliest evidence for active Rhodian involvement, i.e. for a potential third agent, cannot be traced before an advanced stage of Late Geometric (Coldstream 2003: 247-9; 2008: 274-87, 298-301, 477-9). Who was primarily responsible for Rhodes’ resumed overseas contacts is a matter of debate and interpretation. Rhodes was responsive to both Cypriot and Phoenician influences, and there is rich archaeological evidence for Phoenician presence on the island, further enhanced by epigraphic and literary testimonia (Bourogiannis 2013). I will not here enter into the dispute about ‘Cypro-Phoenician’, since it has recently been discussed from an Aegean perspective (Bourogiannis 2012a; Kotsonas 2012c). During the ninth and most of the eighth century, ceramic imports from the eastern Mediterranean found in Rhodes are principally of Cypriot derivation, and the same influence is seen in local pottery production at this time. Phoenician imports and influences are even clearer in the local repertoire from the late eighth century, and continued uninterrupted into the seventh (Bourogiannis 2009; 2014a). A good example of this Phoenician connection is the mushroom-lipped jug in Bichrome and Red Slip wares. The first imported vessels (Jacopi 1929: 39 no. 4, 144 no. 1) are decorated with bichrome bands on the neck and have thick-walled baggy bodies. From the beginning of the seventh century they were succeeded by a more finely-proportioned class with ovoid or carinated bodies and red-slipped or simply burnished surfaces (Johansen 1957: figs 16, 21, 90). The new Phoenician shape became very popular and was systematically reproduced in local clay. It is noteworthy that the increase in Phoenician ceramic imports and influences on Rhodes from around 700 BC was accompanied by a rapid drop in Cypriot evidence. The reason behind this shift may relate to the specialized function of the Cypriot imports, which was identical to that of the new Phoenician types. These small containers circulated as part of a trade in unguents - the same trade that generated the massive production of Protocorinthian aryballoi from the late eighth century (Bourogiannis 2014b). The transition to the seventh century therefore saw a considerable modification in the ceramic visibility of Rhodian contacts with the east Mediterranean. This transformation was complete within a short period of time, raising questions that have not yet been fully answered. Given the close links between the Dodecanese and Cyprus from at least the late tenth century onwards (Bourogiannis 2012b), it is of some importance to investigate the quality as well as the quantity of Cypriot evidence on Rhodes from 700 BC onwards. Kos can only be partly included in the discussion due to our limited knowledge of the Late Geometric and early Archaic periods on the island. A wavy conclusion to Cypriot influence In the late eighth and early seventh centuries, White Painted IV ridge-necked juglets provided a new ceramic stimulus to Rhodian craftsmen. The Cypriot originals bear distinctive decoration of small concentric circles and vertical wavy lines. The two motifs are sometimes united in a single spaghetti-like ornament (Gjerstad 1948: fig. 28.18). This decorative syntax was quickly adopted on Rhodian Subgeometric pottery and applied to a wide range of shapes, mostly small containers in the form of juglets or aryballoi. Named after its decoration, the so-called spaghetti or Kreis-und-Wellenband ware is a distinct pottery class produced between c. 700 and 650 BC (Boardman 2004: 154-5; Coldstream 2003: 249; 2008: 276; Cook and Dupont 1998: 19-20; Johansen 1957: 155-61; Kotsonas 2008a: 61

Giorgos Bourogiannis

Figure 8.1 Neck ridge juglet, Rhodes 11775 (height 0.105m). (Photograph: G. Bourogiannis, reproduced by courtesy of the Ephorate of Antiquities of the Dodecanese).

Figure 8.2 Head of Cypriot terracotta statuette, Cyprus Museum, Kazaphani 26. (© Department of Antiquities, Republic of Cyprus).

278-9; Stampolidis and Karetsou 1998: 185-6). Its fabric is no less distinctive. The clay is fine, yellow or light brown, with a highly burnished surface and a friable matt paint. The shape of the small spaghetti-ware containers developed along two different paths: a globular, ridge-necked variety that stands close to the original Cypriot juglets, and a proper aryballos with the ridge eliminated, a shortened neck, handle running from the shoulder to the tip of the rim, and squat globular body. Although the two versions first co-existed (Johansen 1957: figs 96-8), the second type finally prevailed, yielding what may be viewed as the orthodox spaghetti-ware aryballos. Later examples have biconical bodies with carinated shoulder. Spaghetti-ware aryballoi had a wide westward distribution across the Aegean and as far as the western colonies. Pithekoussai produced one of the largest assemblages of aryballoi found in Late Geometric II–Middle Protocorinthian contexts (Buchner and Ridgway 1993: 733). Although the spaghetti-like decoration is also found on early sixth-century pottery from Lydia (Cahill 2010a: 110-18), Lydian examples differ in fabric and typology from Rhodian. Spaghetti-ware aryballoi were popular throughout Rhodes, but some of the best dated examples are found at Exochi. In this small cemetery, a few kilometres to the west of Lindos, a small cluster of undisturbed single burials date between c. 750 and 650 BC. Exochi thus provides a chronologically secure glimpse of Late Geometric, Subgeometric and early Archaic trends in Rhodian pottery. It was the absence of the spaghetti class from the earlier ‘atticizing’ stages of Late Geometric pottery found at Exochi that led Johansen (1957: 157) to date the beginning of the ware around 700 BC. Exochi tomb A contained a small spaghetti-ware aryballos of the plain neck type, together with a lekythion of the horn-shaped variety and two red-slipped mushroom-lipped juglets of Phoenician type (Johansen 1957: figs 16, 19, 21-3). The burial marks the end of the Geometric tradition in Rhodes. It is firmly dated around 690–680 BC by two imported advanced early Protocorinthian kotylai (Johansen 1957: fig. 14) and a graceful neck-handled amphora (Johansen 1957: figs 5-7). The shape of the latter imitates the slim Naxian Late Geometric Bb class (Coldstream 2008: 281; Dugas and Rhomaios 1934: 71-3, pls 34-36; see also Coulié 2005), yet the depiction of a large male figure on the neck provides a link to early Protoattic, hence its date in the first quarter of the seventh century (Coldstream 2008: 286; Cook 1934-5: 205, pls 38-9). Confirmation of this date (and that of the burial) is provided by the large coiling snake in the large panel at the top of the amphora shoulder (Johansen 1957: fig. 6), which has a separately drawn head and row of dots along its body almost identical with those on a snake on an early Protocorinthian kotyle from Kamiros (Jacopi 1932-3: 74, 78, no. 2, fig. 76). 62

8. Cypriot evidence in seventh-century Rhodes: discontinuity or change? The presence of two spaghetti-ware aryballoi in Exochi tomb C is equally significant for the dating of the class (Johansen 1957: 27, C9-C10, figs 55-6). Their biconical body shape fits an advanced typological stage. The aryballoi were found together with local imitations of early Protocorinthian kotylai (Johansen 1957: 27, C3-C5, figs 50-1), the production of which is usually dated around the beginning of the seventh century, after the Protocorinthian originals had reached the island and shortly before the end of Rhodian Late Geometric (Johansen 1957: 121; Coldstream 2008: 283). One of the first securely dated Rhodian kotylai was found in tomb 7 at Kamiros, together with a tall pyxis from the very end of early Protocorinthian (Jacopi 1932-3: tomb 7, no. 4; Johansen 1957: 121; Coldstream 2008: 286). Exochi tomb C produced one more local, imitation ‘early Protocorinthian’ kotyle, distinguished for extravagant decoration epitomising the collapse of geometric discipline in Rhodes (Johansen 1957: 26-7, C2, figs 49 and 57): birds and quadrupeds painted in silhouette are combined with a large lyre beneath the handle, with clumsily drawn asterisks used as ancillary ornaments. The early seventh-century date of tomb C is also confirmed by a large pedestal krater (Johansen 1957: 25-6, figs 46-8) with orientalizing tree decoration combined with a complex hooked lozenge. The tri-metopal decorative scheme appears late in Rhodian Late Geometric and, together with the orientalizing appearance of the tree ornament, dates the krater to the early seventh century (Johansen 1957: 113; Coldstream 2008: 284). Scientific analyses indicate that spaghetti ware aryballoi were manufactured in more than one place (Grasso et al. 2004). Rhodes, however, played a leading role in their production and possibly also their distribution (Coldstream 2008: 276; Johansen 1957: 155-6). The Cypriot White Painted IV originals of the spaghetti class are attested on Rhodes (Blinkenberg 1931: pl. 43 ; Johansen 1957: 44, K3, figs 98-9). Rhodes is the only place where the closest imitations of the Cypriot prototype, with the original neck-ridge, are found (Jacopi 1929: 100, no 2, fig. 94; Figure 8.1) and it has produced the most varied sequence of the class, embracing a wide range of shapes (Johansen 1957: 159, figs 221-2). Even though a Rhodian provenance remains to be proved analytically, macroscopic examination of spaghetti-ware products from Rhodes supports their local manufacture because their fabric closely resembles that of other locally produced pottery. Regardless of the questions surrounding the production centre(s) of spaghetti ware, a Cypriot fashion for decorating these vases with small concentric circles combined with sets of wavy lines is clearly evident on early seventhcentury Rhodes. The Cypriot provenance of this decoration is confirmed by Cypriot imports and their locally made close imitations. In Cyprus, the spaghetti-like ornament is not confined to pottery alone. Sets of wavy or straight lines with semicircular or curved ends appear frequently on seventh- and sixth-century Cypriot terracotta figures and figurines to denote curly hair (Figure 8.2). This may in turn suggest that the contents of the spaghetti-ware aryballoi were initially focused on hair treatment products. Although the majority of spaghetti-ware containers from Rhodes seem to have been locally produced rather than imported from Cyprus, they are perhaps the last clearly traceable attestation of Cypriot influence in the pottery of Rhodes, occurring slightly before the end of the Geometric style. A special class of East Greek oinochoae: a case of Cypriot and Phoenician amalgamation The impact of Cyprus on Rhodian pottery of the late eighth and early seventh centuries is sometimes manifested indirectly. Rhodian receptiveness to pottery foreign trends occasionally resulted in an idiosyncratic ceramic style. During the Late Geometric/Subgeometric period freer improvisations, often based on an eclectic mixture of eastern and local elements, became more frequent. Even though Cypriot influence had lost its vigour by the end of the eighth century, Cypriot notions survived in the local ceramic repertoire. Their use by local potters, however, deviated from the Cypriot norm and was often blurred into hybrid ceramic creations, the exact prototypes for which are hard to identify. The elegant oinochoae in the catalogue below form a more or less homogeneous group. They present an interesting, if puzzling, case in the context of Late-/Subgeometric Aegean ceramics. Their shape and decoration reflect the free mixture of Cypriot and Phoenician elements in a manner attested neither on Cyprus nor in Phoenicia. Their fabric also differs from that of Cypriot and Phoenician products, and suggests East Greek manufacture. Johansen (1957: 152-4) was the first to distinguish this pottery group, in which he also included two pyxides from Rhodes. He considered these pyxides to be Rhodian products inspired by ivory prototypes (see also Coldstream 2008: 275), and dated them around 700 BC based on the almost orientalizing arrangement of the decoration. The class has often been approached from a Cretan angle. Coldstream (1984: 126) related two oinochoae from Knossos (nos 10-11) to the Phoenician Red Slip repertoire and associated them with a late eighth-century East Greek, possibly Dodecanesian, production centre. An oinochoe from Eleutherna (no. 13) has also been discussed in relation to Late Geometric/Subgeometric examples from Knossos and the Dodecanese that were inspired by Phoenician Red Slip. An East Greek provenance has been suggested for the Eleuthernian example on the basis of its micaceous fabric (Kotsonas 2008a: 276). Recent re-evaluation of the presence of morphologically related jugs in seventh- and sixth-century contexts in the Aegean and Cyprus suggests that such ceramic creations had a stronger impact than initially thought (Fletcher 2008; 2011: 34). 63

Giorgos Bourogiannis Catalogue

4. 1.

Rhodes 11651, from Ialysos (Jacopi 1929: 87, no. 5, fig. 75) (Figure 8.3). Height 0.26m. Fabric pink (5YR 7/2) with silver mica; dark orange–reddish brown slip, fired black at parts; dilute dark-brown paint. Ovoid body, narrow neck tapering upwards, ring base. Decorated with vertically and horizontally arranged concentric circles. Late Geometric.

Figure 8.6 Oinochoe, Berlin 2949 (height 0.22m). (Photograph: G. Bourogiannis, reproduced by courtesy of the Staatliche Museen, Berlin).

Figure 8.3 Oinochoe, Rhodes 11651 (height 0.26m). (Photograph: G. Bourogiannis, reproduced by courtesy of the Ephorate of Antiquities of the Dodecanese). 2.

5.

Rhodes 11710, from Ialysos (Jacopi 1929; 90, no. 1, fig. 84) (Figure 8.4). Height 0.27m. Fabric light brown (10YR 8/3); lightto dark-brown slip, dilute dark paint. Ovoid body, tall neck tapering towards a pinched rim, ring base. Decorated with encircling bands, vertically arranged concentric circles, wavy lines, triangles and a hatched bird. Late Geometric.

Rhodes, possibly from Ialysos; unpublished (Kourou 2003: 252, fig. 2). Biconical body, low conical foot; tall cylindrical neck tapering into a high pinched rim; coated in red slip with possible traces of painted decoration. Late Geometric. 6. Kos 1748, from Kardamaina (Skerlou 2001: 272, fig. 30) (Figure 8.7). Height 0.193m. Fabric orange (5YR 7/6), fine, with silver mica, orange slip fired grey in places. Globular body with narrow disc base, tapering neck, high pinched rim. No traces of decoration preserved. Late Geometric.

Figure 8.4 Oinochoe, Rhodes 11710 (height 0.27m). (Photograph: G. Bourogiannis, reproduced by courtesy of the Ephorate of Antiquities of the Dodecanese). 3.

Berlin 2949. Rhodes, unknown provenance, probably from Kamiros (Furtwängler 1886: 137; Johansen 1957: 152, fig. 220) (Figure 8.6). Height 0.22m. Fabric pale brown (10YR 6/4 - 10YR 7/4) with white inclusions; light-brown slip, dark-brown paint. Ovoid body with broad shoulder, cylindrical neck, tall pinched rim. Decorated with sets of horizontal stripes and concentric circles. c. 700 BC.

Figure 8.7 Oinochoe, Kos 1748 (height 0.193m). (Photograph: G. Bourogiannis, reproduced by courtesy of the Ephorate of Antiquities of the Dodecanese).

Rhodes, from Exochi; lost? (Johansen 1957: 29, D2, fig. 62) (Figure 8.5). Height 0.26m. Fabric light brown, micaceous; red to brownish-red slip, fugitive white and brown paint. Ovoid body, low conical base, narrow neck tapering towards a pinched rim. Decorated with white horizontal bands combined with dark concentric circles and small pendent semicircles; imitation of Cypriot Bichrome Red. c. 700 BC.

7. Kos 1752, from Kardamaina (Skerlou 2001: 272, fig. 29) (Figure 8.8). Height 0.157m. Fabric fired grey, silver mica; reddish-brown to grey slip, fugitive dark paint. Biconical body resting on a low conical base; narrow cylindrical neck, pinched rim (now missing). Decorated with horizontal bands and small concentric circles. Late Geometric. Figure 8.8 Oinochoe, Kos 1752 (height 15.7cm). (Photograph: G. Bourogiannis, reproduced by courtesy of the Ephorate of Antiquities of the Dodecanese).

Figure 8.5 Oinochoe, now lost? Height 0.26m. (Johansen 1957: fig. 62: © Wiley).

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8. Cypriot evidence in seventh-century Rhodes: discontinuity or change? 8.

Astypalaea 8582 (Michalaki-Kollia 1988: 239, no. 7, fig. 15) (Figure 8.9). Height 0.145m. Fabric light brown, surface fired grey. Biconical body resting on a low conical foot; slightly tapering neck, pinched rim. No traces of decoration preserved. Probably local. First half seventh century.

Figure 8.11 Oinochoe, Knossos 6573. (Photograph: G. Bourogiannis, reproduced by courtesy of the British School at Athens).

Figure 8.9 Oinochoe, Astypalaia 8582 (height 0.145m). (© M. Michalaki-Kollia). 9.

11. Knossos Stratigraphic Museum 6573, from Knossos (Coldstream 1984: 123 and 125, no. 6, pl. XXIII [Figure 8.11]; Coldstream and Catling 1996: 218, no. 97). Preserved height of neck 0.10m. Parts of ovoid body, ring base and sloping neck with shoulder; pinched rim. Fabric orange (7.5YR 7/4 - 7.5 YR 7/6) with grey core, fine, very micaceous; lustrous red slip, fugitive paint. Decorated with horizontal bands and small concentric circles. Possible Aegean imitation of Cypriot Black-on-Red or Bichrome Red. Late eighth to early seventh century.

Nisyros 684 (Stampolidis et al. 2011: 364, no. 42). Height 0.328m. Fabric pale ash coloured, with mica. Ovoid body resting on a ring base; high narrow neck tapering towards the top, pinched rim; glossy reddish-brown to black slip. No traces of decoration preserved. Probably produced in Kos or Rhodes. c. 720-680 BC.

12. Herakleion 29849, from Knossos; unpublished (Stampolidis and Karetsou 1998: 155-6, no. 16). Height 0.28m. Fabric light brown, fine, lustrous dark-orange slip; fugitive paint. Ovoid body with broad shoulder, sloping neck, high pinched rim. Decorated with horizontal bands and sets of concentric circles in a T-shaped arrangement. Late eighth to early seventh century.

Figure 8.12 Oinochoe, Rethymnon 16581 (height 0.26m). (© A. Kotsonas: drawing F. Skyvalida).

Figure 8.10 Oinochoe, Herakleion 24169 (height 0.25m). (© British School at Athens). 10. Herakleion 24169, from Knossos (Coldstream 1984: 123, no. 5, pl. XXIII; Coldstream and Catling 1996: 216, no. 43) (Figure 8.10). Height 0.25m. Fabric fine orange, very micaceous; lustrous red slip. Slim ovoid body with tall ring foot; tall sloping neck, pinched rim. Decorated with horizontal bands, concentric circles, pendent semicircles; on the neck, a panel containing a single large X. Possibly an Aegean imitation of Cypriot Black-on-Red or Bichrome Red. Late eighth to early seventh century.

13. Rethymnon 16581, from Eleutherna (Kotsonas 2008a: 276, A170, fig. 69; Stampolidis 2004a: 257-8, no. 296) (Figure 8.12). Height 0.26m. Fabric orange (7.5 YR 6/6 to 7/6), fine, with lustrous red slip, fugitive paint. Ovoid body resting on wa ring base; tall sloping neck, high pinched rim. Decorated with horizontal bands and sets of concentric circles. Late Geometric–Subgeometric.

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Giorgos Bourogiannis 14. Thera Museum 4506, from the sanctuary of Aphrodite (Dragendorff 1903; 314, no. 46) (Figure 8.13). Preserved height of neck 0.07m. Fabric orange with silver mica, lustrous red slip, fugitive paint. Sloping neck of an oinochoe. Decorated with horizontal bands alternating with small concentric circles. East Greek, probably Dodecanesian import. Late eighth to early seventh century BC. Figure 8.13 Neck of oinochoe, Thera Museum 4506 (height 0.07m). (Photograph: G. Bourogiannis, reproduced by courtesy of the Ephorate of Antiquities of the Cyclades).

East Greek oinochoae of Phoenician and Cypriot inspiration: production, chronology and distribution The oinochoae presented in the catalogue above Figure 8.14 Oinochoe, Kos 1010 (height 0.194m). share some common features. In most cases the body (Photograph: G. Bourogiannis, reproduced by courtesy of the is ovoid and rests on a ring or low conical foot. The Ephorate of Antiquities of the Dodecanese). neck is tall and slender, gently tapering into a high pinched rim. Occasionally, a broader shoulder results in a biconical or inverted pear-shaped body. The vessels are similar in size, usually 0.22–0.27m tall. Most are coated in a lustrous red slip, over which decoration is applied in fugitive dark paint (thus relating them to Black-on-Red ware). Additional use of white paint is exceptional (3, 10) and contributes to a refinement of decoration similar to Cypriot Bichrome Red. Undecorated versions occur less frequently (6, 8). Possibly due to low firing, the paint usually flakes off together with the underlying slip, creating a false effect of incision. This technical shortcoming is very common among Koan and Rhodian imitations of Black-on-Red (Bourogiannis 2000; 2009: 118-19), and may help to identify production centres of the class. The surface of oinochoae 2, 4 and 8 is treated differently, without the characteristic glossy red slip. However, their shape and date support their inclusion in the group. Apart from the surface treatment, the fine, reddish-yellow micaceous fabric also points to an East Greek, possibly Dodecanesian, manufacture. Koan fabrics in particular are usually light orange in colour, with a high mica content. Mica is also common in Rhodian fabrics, although Ialysos may deviate from this norm. The possibility of a Dodecanesian origin for the class is further implied by two oinochoae from Late Geometric grave 64 at Serraglio on Kos. These two vessels belong to an earlier typological stage of the class discussed here, noting their globular body form. Grave 64 dates fairly early in the Late Geometric sequence (Coldstream 2008: 288). The two vases are probably locally made, to judge from the highly micaceous light-orange fabric (7.5 YR 7/4), and were coated in lustrous red slip (Morricone 1978: 271, figs 566-7; Kos 1010, 1011). Oinochoe no. 1010 in particular (Figure 8.14) is decorated with encircling lines and small concentric circles in paint now substantially worn away, leaving only faint traces on the surface. Its globular body has not yet reached the graceful proportions of the late eighth- to early seventh-century ovoid class, yet the neck tapers slightly towards the rim. The possibility of East Greek or Dodecanesian involvement in the production and circulation of this class receives further support from the discovery of East Greek (chiefly Koan) Middle and Late Geometric imports together with oinochoe no. 13 at Eleutherna (Kotsonas 2008a: 274-5 and fig. 68, A136, A143, A215). The best alternative would be one of the major Ionian centres that also feature highly micaceous fabrics, yet this peculiar type of oinochoe has not so far been securely identified there.1 A Late Geometric oinochoe from Iasus in the Izmir Archaeological Museum 1 

Michael Kerschner pers. comm. The class is not hitherto attested at either Miletos or Ephesos.

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8. Cypriot evidence in seventh-century Rhodes: discontinuity or change? displays some similarities in the treatment of the surface, yet not in the shape (Özcan 1999: 33, no. 57). Although an East Greek or even Dodecanesian production remains the most likely hypothesis on the basis of macroscopic examination, the lack of scientific analyses precludes a more precise identification. With regard to the shape of the oinochoae, although some general similarities with ivory jugs are indeed likely (Barnett 1935: pl. XXIV.1), it is usually metal jugs that inspired ceramic imitations (Matthäus 2010: 447). The main source of inspiration for the oinochoae can be sought in the Phoenician ceramic repertoire. The sloping neck, high pinched rim and narrow ring base are prominent features of Phoenician Red Slip jugs (Bikai 1987: 49-50; Lehmann 1996: pl. 49, Form 301, 306). Identical parallels that would link the Aegean class to the corresponding Phoenician types are, however, difficult to locate (compare Bikai 1987: pls. XIV and XXVII, nos 370 and 382), not only because the Aegean oinochoae are by no means faithful copies of their Phoenician counterparts, but also because the characteristics and dating of the various Phoenician forms often overlap (Fletcher 2008: 224). Phoenician red slip jugs of the globular variety with slender sloping neck occur in Levantine contexts during the second half of the eighth century and may continue into the early seventh. The biconical variant survives perhaps to c. 650 BC and even longer in the western Mediterranean where it develops into a more elongated form (Fletcher 2008: 226-7). The decoration of the East Greek oinochoae is relatively homogeneous. Sets of small concentric circles are combined with broader flanking circles, horizontal bands and, occasionally, sets of wavy lines. All of these motifs are of clear Cypriot derivation and they were extensively used on the Late Geometric pottery of the Dodecanese. They also feature prominently in Dodecanesian imitations of Black-on-Red ware. Their arrangement, however, deviates from the Cypriot norm, owing more to local improvisation. It is exactly this combination of a predominantly Phoenicianinspired body shape with Cypriot-inspired decoration, both merged into a new East Greek creation, that best characterizes the group. The chronological setting of the oinochoae points to an advanced Late Geometric/Subgeometric phase, although the shape may have continued until the middle of the seventh century (8). The Koan examples (6-7) were found together with a cylindrical pyxis (Skerlou 2001: 272, fig. 28) of almost orientalizing style, suggesting a date at the very end of the eighth century or the beginning of the seventh.2 Similarly, the use of vertical wavy lines on oinochoe 2 from Ialysos links the vase to the spaghetti-ware products, hence indicating a similar date. The parallel occurrence of the two classes is confirmed by the very elegant example from Nisyros (9), found in a funeral pyre that also contained a spaghetti-ware aryballos decorated with small circles, horizontal stripes and hook-shaped lines (Stampolidis et al. 2011: 364, no. 43). The example from Exochi (3) was found in grave D, although since this grave held more than one burial from Middle Geometric onwards, it cannot provide a secure contextual date (Johansen 1957: 143-4, 153; Coldstream 2008: 274). While the ceramic horizons cannot be reconstructed with certainty, oinochoe 3 probably belongs to the same horizon as a local imitation of an early Protocorinthian kotyle (Johansen 1957: 38, D16). As noted, the imitation of Protocorinthian kotylai in Rhodes is set shortly before the end of the Late Geometric style. Similar kotylai are also known from Exochi tomb C, dated around the beginning of the seventh century (as discussed above). Knossian examples 10 and 11 both come from North Cemetery tomb 219 which was in continuous use between the tenth and seventh centuries. The two East Greek oinochoae were dated late in the eighth century on stylistic grounds (Coldstream 1984: 126). The distribution of the class is mainly confined to the Dodecanese and north-central Crete – Knossos and Eleutherna – although new evidence may alter this picture (Figure 8.15). This circulation pattern provides additional archaeological evidence of the close links between Crete and the southeast Aegean early in the seventh century. Interconnections between the two areas were sufficiently strong to allow the establishment by Cretans and Rhodians together of a colony at Gela in 689/688 BC (Th. 6.4.3). The joint foundation of a new colony in Sicily must have relied upon a sound network of contacts, possibly developed via joint trading enterprises (Kotsonas 2008a: 279-82; Malkin 2011: 73-6; Wallace 2010: 219-25). Thera, the only other area where the class is securely attested, was also on the sea-routes between east Greece and Crete. The export of Late Geometric Koan pottery to Thera further corroborates the existence of contacts between the two areas (Coldstream 2008: 269). The development of these contacts during the seventh century is clearly illustrated by the foundation of Cyrene as the outcome of a Theran, Cretan and East Greek partnership (Hdt. 4.150-8). Lastly, a fragmentary Phoenician-type oinochoe from Karabournaki (Tiverios et al. 2001: 259, 262, fig. 8; Tiverios 2004: 297, fig. 4), dated to the early seventh century, raises the question of the possible presence of the class in the northern Aegean (Kasseri 2012: 304; Kotsonas 2012c: 238). However, despite its Phoenician type, the shape of the Karabournaki fragment deviates from the rest of the East Greek class, and thus its provenance remains a matter of debate. The question must therefore remain open. 2 

The final stage of Late Geometric and the transition to Subgeometric/orientalizing, marked by the impact of early Protocorinthian types, is not yet securely documented on Kos.

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Giorgos Bourogiannis

Figure 8.15 The distribution of East Greek oinochoae. (© G. Bourogiannis).

Cypriot pottery imports in seventh-century Rhodes Few Cypriot imports are known from seventh-century Rhodian contexts. Admittedly, such objects can be hard to date, and we are not in general helped by the fact that most are found in the kind of contexts that are not themselves closely datable (chiefly the votive deposits of the three major Rhodian sanctuaries at Lindos, Kamiros and Ialysos). In his publication of the Lindian votive deposit, Blinkenberg (1931: 270-2, pl. 43) listed 36 small fragments of Cypriot vessels, mostly jugs and juglets. They preserve typically Cypriot decoration comprising concentric circles, encircling lines and horizontal bands. These fragments are of White Painted and Bichrome IV wares, and thus belong to the Cypro-Archaic I period traditionally dated between 750–600 BC. At the southernmost tip of Rhodes, Vroulia has also produced modest amounts of Cypriot pottery (Kinch 1914: 156). Most imports were found in the area of the sanctuary and the nearby burials, while some were associated with the settlement. Fragmentary globular jugs in Bichrome and White Painted IV wares have been reported from the area of the main sanctuary as well as from a small cylindrical cavity close to the so-called tower of the fortification wall (Kinch 1914: 96, no. 10, pl. 20.3; 104, no. 6, pl. 20.7). The remaining Cypriot pottery imports from Vroulia fall entirely in the early sixth century. A Bichrome V jug was found in the settlement area of Vroulia (Kinch 1914: 156, pl. 26.3), and its White Painted V counterpart in tomb 12 (Kinch 1914: pl. 40.2). Both jugs have globular bodies, pinched rims, and short sloping necks. They are decorated with large side circles below the handle and large palm leaves on the front part of the shoulder. Palm leaves were a popular Cypriot motif during Cypro-Archaic II (600–480 BC, according to traditional Cypriot chronology). The dating of the two imports from Vroulia to the early sixth century is further corroborated by the burial context of the second Cypriot jug (tomb 12) which also contained Middle Corinthian aryballoi and alabastra, and an East Greek cup with everted rim. Concluding remarks Evidence from Rhodes shows a discontinuous flow of Cypriot ceramic imports throughout the seventh century. Given the archaeological attestation of contacts between Cyprus and the Dodecanese in the Geometric period, 68

8. Cypriot evidence in seventh-century Rhodes: discontinuity or change? this change from c. 700 BC may reflect transformations on Cyprus itself. Associating historical facts with changes in trading activity is of course an intricate task that presupposes full access to the archaeological record as well as a comprehensive overview of historic developments. The replacement of Cypriot ceramics with Phoenician products occurred on Rhodes during a period of increased Assyrian activity in the eastern Mediterranean, which also affected Cyprus. In 707 BC the seven kings of Cyprus offered their submission to the Neo-Assyrian King Sargon II. This noteworthy event was commemorated in a cuneiform inscription cut on a large stele, discovered in 1845 possibly at Kition (Ioannou 2011: 273-4; Lipiński 2004: 51-4; Yon 2004; Yon and Malbran-Labat 1995). Although the stele provides an eloquent attestation of the relationship between Assyria and Cyprus in the late eighth century, the character of Assyrian rule over the island is not clear from the epigraphic narrative. The Assyrians seem to have exercised power in the peripheries of their territories by indirect means. Since the stele of Sargon records that the Cypriot kings heard of Sargon’s deeds from afar and sent gifts, there is no obvious reason to suggest military intervention on Cyprus intended to establish Assyrian sovereignty over the island. The presence of the stele alone does not even imply the presence of an Assyrian governor, especially as stelai of this kind normally marked strategic points around the Assyrian Empire or functioned as propagandistic statements of power rather than as testimonies of military aggression (Reyes 1994: 52-3). Assyrian domination over Cyprus was most probably lax, a fact also hinted at in another late eighth-century incident. When in 701 BC Sanherib, the successor of Sargon II, marched with his army against Syria, Luli, the king of Sidon fled to Cyprus (Bunnens 1979: 53-4). Had Cyprus accommodated units of Assyrian troops, this escape would not have been possible. Therefore, Assyrian rule over Cyprus did not develop into a severe military imposition and there is no sound evidence to advocate the real integration of the Cypriot kingdoms into the Assyrian state (Fourrier 2002; Iacovou 2008: 642-3). On the contrary, the material record of late eighth-century Cyprus depicts a period of prosperity and artistic development manifested in the so-called royal tombs of Salamis (Karageorghis 2002: 157-73; Satraki 2012: 276). These monumental burials demonstrate not only the power of the island’s affluent elite, but also their desire to embrace and imitate the magnificent lifestyle of oriental rulers. Hence the Cypriots may have been willing to pay tribute to the Assyrian king, acknowledging the commercial and political advantages of their participation in a broader economic sphere protected by the Assyrians. This may have urged Cyprus to prioritize commercial interaction with the east (Karageorghis 2008: 331-5), shifting the focus away from the Aegean. Within this broader geographic context, Cyprus must have assumed an active role as a major agent of trade for the Assyrian empire. Assyrian sources offer valuable evidence of this new commercial role undertaken by Cyprus. The prism of Esarhaddon lists the names of ten Cypriot kings and their respective seats. The Cypriot kings became actively involved in the reconstruction and embellishment of the royal palace at Nineveh by transporting wood and stone (Campbell Thompson 1931: 25-6). The clay prism is a fundamental tool for the identification of the ten Cypriot polities (Baurain 1981: 366-7; Lipiński 2004: 62-3; Masson 1992; Satraki 2012: 266; Zournatzi 1996: 161-2). Its date, 673 BC, coincides with the reduction in Cypriot evidence on Rhodes. It is hard to be sure of the extent to which Assyrian interaction with Cyprus may provide an adequate explanation for the scarcity of Cypriot ceramics in the Dodecanese from the late eighth century onwards. However, it is true that the two phenomena are contemporary, and they also coincide with the enhanced Phoenician presence in the archaeological record of Rhodes from around 700 BC onwards, a phenomenon which has also been placed in the same historical context (Frankenstein 1979). Unless the presence of Phoenician pottery in late eighth- and early seventh-century Rhodian contexts was due to Phoenician enterprise originating in Cyprus, rather than in Phoenicia proper, it is not until the second half of the seventh century that Cypriot imports again reached Rhodes in substantial numbers. These resumed contacts may be seen in statuettes made of terracotta and limestone (Karageorghis et al. 2009; Kourou et al. 2002). Rhodian sanctuaries have produced some of the largest assemblages of Cypriot-type limestone statuettes yet known, most of which date between the last quarter of the seventh century and the mid-sixth. Rhodes aside, their distribution in the Aegean focuses primarily on the major East Greek centres such as Samos, Knidos and Miletos, as well as Naukratis which maintained close cultural and commercial links with east Greece (Kourou et al. 2002: 5-7). This distribution pattern may indicate that the circulation of Cypriot-type statuettes in the Aegean was primarily an East Greek rather than a Cypriot initiative. Their popularity in East Greek sanctuaries is further evidence of strong religious and cultural links between east Greece and Cyprus, built on the sound foundations of an old and wellestablished network of commercial activities (Karageorghis et al. 2009: 19). With regard to the manufacture of the limestone examples excavated in Rhodes, scientific analyses have shown that Rhodian limestone does not match that from which the statuettes were made. Indeed, Rhodian limestone was found to be unsuitable for the carving of small artefacts (Kourou et al. 2002: 71, 75). Whether Rhodian figurines were carved in Cyprus by Cypriot artists who produced a distinctive class of small figurines for a particular East Greek 69

Giorgos Bourogiannis clientele (Jenkins 2001: 177), or in Rhodes using imported limestone is an open question with more than one possible answer. The idea of itinerant Cypriot craftsmen (Fourrier 1999: 16; Senff 1994: 19) working at places where demand for Cypriot style statuettes was high, is a valid though not entirely unproblematic hypothesis. The signature of a Cypriot sculptor named Sikon on a fragmentary fourth-century limestone statuette from Naukratis (Höckmann and Möller 2006: 13, fig. 4) supports this theory, although the considerably later date of the inscription must be noted. Equally significant is the question of who dedicated the Cypriot type limestone statuettes at the Rhodian sanctuaries. Although infrequent, inscriptions provide secure evidence of the dedicator’s rather than the carver’s identity. The overwhelming majority of the inscriptions on limestone figurines from the Aegean and Naukratis are written in the Greek alphabet (Kourou et al. 2002: 24-30), testifying to the popularity of the class among Greek dedicators. That Cypriots also visited east-Aegean sanctuaries, offering limestone statuettes carried from home, is confirmed by an early sixth-century lion statuette most probably from Rhodes, inscribed with two Cypriot syllabic signs (Riis et al. 1989: no. 29). Discussion of Cypriot-type terracotta figurines from East Greek contexts is closely related to that of the corresponding limestone class (Fourrier 2007: 103-7; Henke 2011; Karageorghis et al. 2009: 11-22; Vandenabeele and Laffineur 1991). Although the terracotta figurines were first introduced in the late eighth century, slightly earlier than those in stone, the majority date between the second half of the seventh century and the middle of the sixth. This time span coincides precisely with that of the limestone class. Distribution patterns of the terracotta and limestone groups are also more or less identical, indicating common circulation mechanisms. Neutron activation analysis shows that the majority of Cypriot type terracotta statuettes from East Greek sites were produced in Cyprus, although local manufacture, in which Cypriot craftsmen may have been involved, has also been confirmed at places like Samos and Rhodes (Karageorghis et al. 2009: 159-89). Both islands must have functioned as major centres through which Cypriot-type statuettes were then conveyed along the Ionian coast. The possibility that moulds travelled alongside finished products poses additional questions about the production pattern of the terracotta statuettes. Importation of Cypriot type statuettes made in stone and terracotta was not necessarily organized on a large scale but could have been carried out by individual seafarers too. The story of Herostratus from Naukratis, who purchased a statuette of Aphrodite in Paphos and carried it away to protect him during his long and hazardous journey back to Naukratis (Ath. Deip. 15, 675f-676c), offers an eloquent attestation of this. The story takes place during the 23rd Olympiad hence in the early seventh century, contemporary with the Aegean examples. The recent publication of Cypriot terracotta figurines from Naukratis adds further strength to this hypothesis (Thomas 2015). Gaps in the archaeological record of Rhodes between the last Cypriot ceramic imports in the final stages of Late Geometric, and the systematic attestation of Cypriot and Cypriot type figures and figurines from the last quarter of the seventh century, have not yet been adequately explained. Influence from Cyprus during the seventh century BC found Rhodes in a very different condition from that of the preceding Geometric period. The whole East Greek world had by then assumed an active role in intra-Mediterranean enterprise, further reinforced by interaction of a political and/or military nature (Niemeier 2001). This was a far more complex reality and one that can only partly be reflected in the seventh-century material record.

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9. Faience in seventh-century Greece: egyptianizing ‘bric a brac’ or a useful paradigm for relations with Egypt? Virginia Webb Abstract: Egyptianizing objects found in seventh- and sixth-century contexts in east Greece and elsewhere are most often made of faience. There are many problems, both of dating and attribution. I would like to discuss one particular group of faience objects from seventh-century contexts, the small perfume vessels in double vase form (so-called Leopard Spot Group), and will make some comments on the parallel group of small lekythoi, pyxides and alabastra. These are not stray imports brought in on the whim of individuals for dedication or personal use, but the products of an intentionally established industry which was certain of its market, and whose products could be traded widely. These were highly valued objects acceptable both as dedications to the gods and as gifts for the grave. By examining the techniques and decorative motifs, strong links can be made with Egyptian craft traditions and in particular with the iconography of good luck signifiers. A complementary strand is the role of east Greece, in particular Rhodes, as an intermediary in the packaging and onward dispersal of oils. Around 650 BC, the appearance of these specific faience vessel types in east Greece and the west suggests that faience factories had been set up on the same model as for the terracotta aryballoi. It cannot be fortuitous that Egyptian models and techniques found such ready acceptance in the Greek world at this time.

A very important phenomenon in Aegean contexts of both the Bronze and Early Iron Ages is the appearance of imported objects in exotic styles and materials. During the eighth and seventh centuries, such objects (particularly those coming from the Near East) were an important catalyst for change in Greek art and culture. Central to this chapter is a particular phase of foreign influence which appears in the middle of the seventh century, when Egyptianizing objects appear in great numbers in Greek votive deposits and burials. Much of this material is made of what is defined as faience, and the forms it takes – scarabs, amulets of Egyptian deities, and small containers for precious liquid – are dependent on its origins in both the Levant and Egypt. These objects vary in the degree of closeness to their prototypes, and it is clear that in many cases we are dealing with crudely derived schemes whose sources of typology and iconography may never be satisfactorily explained. However, there are distinctions to be made in the faience material. A second group of objects comprises clearly Egyptian imports, for instance those from the votive deposit found at Ialysos on Rhodes: the shrine decorated with cartouches of the Saite Pharaoh Necho, and gaming pieces for the Egyptian game of Senet (Skon-Jedele 1994). A third category of objects, many of them closed vessel shapes, includes small containers of distinctive type. But while the shrine of Necho has a clear link with the period of historical contact between Greeks and Egypt, evidenced by the foundation of Naukratis c. 630 BC, the groups of small vessels are almost 50 years earlier. They are now firmly dated, from find groups containing Greek ceramics of the second half of the seventh century. This is before we have any incontrovertible evidence of Greek settlement in Egypt, or established contacts with that area. In this chapter, I want to look at two of these groups - the double vases in the form of a kneeling figure presenting a jar (Webb 1978: 11-35), and an equally popular group of small lekythoi, pyxides and alabastra in the ‘Low-relief Figured’ style (Webb 1978: 36-60, 61-5). These are high value, attractive containers designed to market their contents. They are fashioned in a strongly Egyptianising style far in advance of the local (i.e. Greek) traditions of plastic vases, in terms both of technical ability and of understanding of proportion and detail in the depiction of the human form. These can now be dated much more accurately between Late Protocorinthian and Early Corinthian (middle-late), and they have a precise distribution in Greece and the west. As discussed by Annette Rathje (Rathje 1976) and the present author (Webb 1980), there is profound disagreement about the nationality of their makers, where they were made, and the source of their iconography and techniques. However, I still believe that the techniques used can most closely be analysed in the light of Egyptian working practices (Kaczmarczyk and Hedges 1983; Nicholson 1998; Nicholson and Peltenburg 2000; Vandiver 1998), while the iconography employed indicates the intent to invoke the power of Egyptian symbolic thought. Both groups were designed either with small mouths for dispensing a liquid (double vases and lekythoi), or with wider mouths (pyxides and alabastra) which would have been used for more solid unguent. By examining the techniques and decorative motifs, I believe that links can be made with Egyptian craft traditions and with the iconography of good-luck signifiers current in the Egyptian cultural milieu. It is clear that these objects are not stray imports brought in on the whim of individuals for dedication or personal use, but are the products of intentionally established industries which were certain of their market, and whose products could be traded widely. They were highly valued and acceptable as dedications to the gods (and thus are 71

Virginia Webb found in votive deposits) or as gifts for the grave. They were most popular in the East Greek littoral, starting with the important cities on Rhodes, but also in the west, Etruria, southern Italy and Sicily and Phoenician sites in north Africa. No secure finds have been made in Egypt or the Levant coast, though a small number have been found in Cyprus. The focus of their distribution is still east Greece, with the greatest variety found on the island of Rhodes. I discuss below the significance of this fact. Double vases: Leopard Spot Group I will first consider the large and widely distributed group of double vases (Rathje 1976; Webb 1978; 1980). These take the form of a kneeling figure presenting a large two-handled jar with two openings. The larger opening is in the form of a palmette in the head of the figure, such as was popular in Egyptian minor arts in the New Kingdom as the opening for kohl containers (see for example Louvre 5787: Webb 1978: pl. 2). The second, much smaller, opening is in the mouth of a frog which squats on top of the jar. The interior spaces interconnect, so that liquid inserted through the larger opening could be shaken out through the smaller one. Moreover, in the most carefully made pieces, the internal space is carefully moulded over a ‘form’ so that the walls are of a constant thickness, between 0.005 and 0.007m. The overall technical ability made clear by the accuracy of the moulded shape is also shown in the modelling of the figures. It seems likely that moulds were also used for the external features, as evidenced by a recently excavated example from the Heraion on Samos which demonstrates the failure of the material to fill out the moulded profile of the leg. On closer inspection of the group as a whole, it becomes clear that there are two distinct types which, although reproducing the same scheme, do it with different levels of care. In the Fine Group, production values are closely controlled, and the conception and modelling of the figures is of a high standard. By contrast, many of the pieces routinely accepted as being typical of the production group are in fact of much poorer quality, with restricted space inside, crudely modelled features, and much less use of the internal ‘form’ and moulds. Fine Group 1. Kneeling figure with short hair (Figure 9.1). The best examples show the ability to model faces and other features in a clear and distinct style. A mould must have been used, as is visible in the profile of the faces (Webb 1978: no. 1, pl.1, no. 82, fig. 6). Here the human figure has short hair and a face with distinctive features (rounded forehead, short broad nose, broad lips and an undercut chin), which taken together suggest an attempt to convey a specific racial type. Other details include large, carefully modelled ears with a central vertical division, and additional detail added in the form of round rosettes (?) on the hair, earrings, bracelets, and a finger ring. 2. Kneeling figure with short hair/wig and a beard (Figure 9.2). A comparable group adds a beard, and retains the short hair, though sometimes with a longer twist at the back (Webb 1978: nos 89-96, 19, pl.2.) The beard varies in type but normally follows the line of the jaw and ends in a point. Some of this second group also have very finely modelled features, with a thinner, longer nose and smaller eyes; these examples come from Perachora (James 1962: D777, pl.193; Webb 1978: no. 90) and

Figure 9.1 Vase in the form of a kneeling figure presenting a jar. Kamiros, BM 1860,0404.75. (© The British Museum; photograph: V. Webb).

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9. Faience in seventh-century Greece Kamiros (Jacopi 1932-3: fig. 51, no. 18; Rathje 1976: no. 34; Webb 1978: no. 91). 3.

Kneeling figure replaced with seated ape (Figure 9.3).

A third type which shows similar fine modelling takes the form of an ape or cercopithecus monkey presenting an identical jar with frog. The animal sits upright and grasps the jar with his feet, while he holds an oval fruit up to his mouth in his right hand. The ‘ape’ has a projecting dog-like snout, bared teeth, a ruff round his face, and small high-set eyes under a projecting brow, while his body is covered in silky fur – a detailed depiction which copies its features from Egyptian observation of the animal. One ape vase suggests further links with Egyptian or Egyptianising art: the jar has coalesced into its stomach (the animal no longer presents a jar), and is decorated with a scene of marsh life, with lotus plants in an exergue below, and a duck flying up out of the marsh (Webb 1978: no. 112, pl.2), such as occurs on New Kingdom tomb paintings. This is a commonplace motif in scenes of hunting in papyrus marshes, where the pleasures of the life hereafter are depicted (Parkinson 2008: 122-32, for example); it appears on related vessels of the Third Intermediate Period (Tait 1963: no. 163, pl. 17) and carries on into the repertoire of New Year flasks of early Saite date. The most carefully modelled Ape vases include the same unusually elaborately formed ears with vertical channels as those in other members of the Fine Group (above), with which they must clearly belong. This type of presenting ape/monkey is familiar from New Kingdom Kohl vases (see the wooden example, Louvre 5787; Webb 1978: pl. 2). Of further interest here is that the palmette opening in the form of a bound palm-leaves capital, which is used in the Louvre piece, is exactly replicated in the best of our groups (Webb 1978: 24, b). 4.

Figure 9.2 Vase in form of kneeling figure with beard presenting jar. BayraklıOld Smyrna. (Reproduced by courtesy of E. Akurgal).

A final group – mother kneeling with baby on her back and an ibex (Figure 9.4).

The same workshop (to judge by the technique, style and type of faience) adopted another motif in the form of

Figure 9.3 Vase in the form of a seated ape presenting a jar, Thebes, Boeotia, Berlin V.I. 4877. (© Antikensammlung, Staatliche Museen zu BerlinPreussischer Kulturbesitz).

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Virginia Webb

Figure 9.4 Vase in the form of a woman presenting an ibex, with baby at back. (Missing head). Didyma. (© K. Tuchelt).

a kneeling woman presenting a horned quadruped, and with a baby suspended centrally on her back in a basket. This it adapted to the original double vase format (Webb 1978: 22-3, no. 114). The kneeling male figure is replaced by the woman, and the separate jar disappears, to leave only the frog opening positioned on her lap (a nonsensical touch) so that the liquid contents can, as in the main group above, be shaken out. In the case of this final pose we can identify the type from which it is derived, both from parallel finds made in the same East Greek contexts, which vary from high quality products to rather poor ones (Webb 1978: 27-35, nos 121-45, pls 3-5) (Figure 9.5), and in disparate pieces of Egyptian cultural background (Lagarce and Leclant 1976: pl. 28; Webb 1978: C3, fig. 8, C4-6, pl. 6) (Figure 9.6) which represent the original type and appear to stand much closer to Egyptian art.

We therefore have three schemes which present a jar - a short-haired figure with distinctive facial features and earrings, a male figure with a beard, an ape/monkey, and a final scheme of mother with baby at her back, presenting a horned cervid, probably an ibex. It is likely that both the jar and the ibex are intended as containers for the liquid. The jar is identical to Late Period libation vessels such as those found in the Ptolemaic foundation deposits (Petrie 1886: pl. 25), and the other nexus of meanings is discussed in connection with New Kingdom vases with a horn (Webb 1978: 33). Thus we appear to have three distinct forms of the basic type, with finely modelled features and identical pose (the exception is the ape, who is physically not able to kneel), with the kneeling woman as a fourth. Identification of these figures appears to be related to Egyptian minor arts, the ape/monkey is a clear candidate, often shown in New Kingdom and later as offering/presenting a kohl container. But what of the other depictions? The human figures, if we relate them to the figures of women with a suspended child or baby, start to look like racial depictions. The motif of a centrally suspended container with a baby/or young child in it can be clearly identified in New Kingdom depictions of both Nubian and Syrian women. A number of these are conveniently illustrated by Egyptian originals of mostly New Kingdom date (Webb 1978: fig. 8, 32; to these add the depictions on the walls of the inner court of the Temple of Ramses II at Beit el Wali). In the Nubian version, the baby stands up in a basket and its feet do not protrude (Webb 1978: fig. 8 bi-ii) while the Syrian mother carries the baby suspended centrally in a cloth, with the feet protruding at the bottom (Webb 1978: fig. 8, c i, ii). The third type of depiction is of Egyptian servants carrying

Figure 9.5 Vase (fragmentary) in the form of a kneeling woman with baby and ibex. (Note packing of the material into the mould). Kamiros, British Museum GR 1864,1007.1335. (© The British Museum; photograph: V. Webb).

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Figure 9.6 Vase in the form of a woman presenting an ibex, with baby at back. Unknown provenance. Cambridge E.269A.1939. (Photograph: V. Webb, reproduced by permission of the Syndics of the Fitzwilliam Museum).

the baby in a side-slung sling, so we can discount the representation as being of a normal Egyptian type (Webb 1978: fig. 8, d i, ii). I have already argued that the figure of the woman is intended to represent a Nubian (Webb 1978: 334). Other depictions featured in parallel groups confirm this, for they show women with distinctive features such as broad lips, short hair in tight curls or a rectangular grid, and earrings, who cannot be mistaken for any nationality other than Nubian (Jacopi 1932-3: fig. 51, group iv, no. 19; Lagarce and Leclant: 1976: pls 23, 7-9, 202-3; Webb 1978: no. 130). Returning to the first two Fine Groups, I suggest that the group-one figure, with short hair, distinctive snub nose and rounded forehead, is also intended to depict a Nubian/black. I propose this identification in the context of one of the Nine Bows, the traditional enemies of Egypt, two of whom (Nubians and Syrians) became the focus of depiction in the New Kingdom and later, due to their contrasting appearance and geographical position at the north and south of the Egyptian sphere. In Tutankamun’s tomb assemblage, this scheme is very clear. The two figures appear entwined or counterbalanced on Tutankamun’s walking stick and sandals as decorative and powerful symbols of the Pharaoh’s power. If this is so, then the group-two figure, with his pointed beard, may well be intended as a Syrian. A similar contrast, though this time between Nubian and Libyan (?) offering bearers, appears in ivory panels, intended for royal couches or beds, found at Fort Shalmaneser, Nimrud (Hermann et al. 2004: 30, nos SO309-3015). The most common type: a representation of Hapy? Having considered the finely modelled groups, we now turn to the most commonly found version, which also has the widest distribution. Here the figure has hair or a wig styled in two long locks ending in curls, conventionally called ‘Hathor Locks’. Is this likely to represent the heavy wig worn by representations of Hapy, the god of the Nile Inundation? It is from this feature that the whole class has gained its identification (Lagarce and Leclant 1976: 23841). But as we have already shown, the Fine Group stands close to another set of quite different Egyptian schemata and must predate this more common group. The distinctive features –swelling stomach, and well-marked breasts with nipples, and the accompanying frog – are all associated with water and fertility in Egyptian art. John Baines has established the importance of these so-called ‘Nile Gods’ as personifications of non-sexual fertility (Baines 2001). Indeed, although the identification seems obvious, a further caveat should be entered. The (Hapy?) figures with the wig with long lappets should have a divine beard according to Egyptian representations, but with one exception, they do not. Another feature which widens the field yet again consists of three vertical rows of darks spots on the back. The more careful examples show that this is intended to be a spotted feline skin, hung centrally behind, and tied by its two front paws round the figure’s neck; the skin is filled in with yellow glaze (Webb 1978: no. 1, pl. 1). Such a centrally hung skin is not commonly linked with Hapy: the most likely identification is with the god Bes, a popular figure for ointment and kohl containers in Egyptian minor arts. Bes is clearly shown in many representations with a leopard skin worn centrally at his back, although the skin could also be associated with a Nubian figure. Most striking for close comparison is a small double vase now in the British Museum (BM AES 65642) in the form of a figure of Bes presenting an identical jar, and wearing a spotted leopard skin hanging centrally down his back, 75

Virginia Webb

Figure 9.7 Vase in the form of Bes presenting a jar. Unknown provenance. British Museum EA 65242. (© The British Museum; photograph: V. Webb).

although, since Bes has short legs and arms, he does not present his jar by kneeling up, but merely stands up with it (Webb 1978: C1, 144, pl. 2) (Figure 9.7). The spotted feline skin is a constant feature of the iconography of Bes, and is probably intended to represent the cheetah, symbol of the god Seth, the enemy of Horus, whom Bes has killed. Faience vessels in the form of Bes from Third Intermediate and Late period Egypt invariably show him wearing this skin (Friedman 1998: nos 73, 74; and see the Egyptian Blue example from Persepolis: Abdi 2002: figs 15, 142). This is one feature of his iconography which intensifies his power to defeat evil forces: the convention appears again in sixth-century faience aryballoi of the Greco-Egyptian style (Böhlau 1898: 45, grave 44, no. 8, 160-161; 1900: pl. 6, 210; Webb 1978: no. 824, pl.19). The significance of the multiplicity of motifs What are we to make of this multiplicity of motifs? Does their presence indicate confusion and misunderstanding, or is there another explanation? It would seem that models were derived from a range of sources not by a direct or creative process of development, but by borrowing and combining different schemata which did not originally belong together. In the present state of our knowledge of such prototypes, this would explain the difficulties of defining the meaning of the depiction, if indeed any coherent meaning was intended. Similar ambiguities attend certain groups of figured vases from the New Kingdom, in particular the Red Ware vessels in the form of a kneeling mother with child (Brunner Traut 1970; 1972: 192; Rand 1970; Riefstahl 1968: nos 37 and 38), although other forms appear as a seated scribe (BM AES 24653) or a musician (BM AES 5114) (Barnett 1975: 94 n. 8), and it may be that some of the confusing features of these vases were present in the Egyptian prototype. Further discussion has surrounded a faience figurine of a foreigner which also shows confusion (Reifstahl 1972). If we accept that the strongest source of motifs is likely to be Egypt, one other group of material of a similar date may provide a parallel use of related concepts. This group comes from the eastern Delta and can be dated in its latest phase to the second half of the seventh century. It consists of two main talismanic figurines and a number of other related figures, and is widespread and popular both in Delta Egypt and outside it. The most distinctive are a figure of Bes nursing a miniature Bes or Horus child and standing on a papyrus colonnette (Bulté 1991: nos 1-70), cercopithecus monkeys in protective poses (Bulté 1991: nos 71-92), and a group of standing women figurines, some nursing a baby or babies, some with cats and aegides (Bulté 1991: nos 93-a 48), all of which have been studied in the light of finds from Tanis and Bubastis (Bulté 1991). A similar nexus of beneficent and powerful ideas can be identified in these two groups. These representations, Bulté argues, are powerful fertility signifiers, enhanced by an agglomeration of other symbols and motifs. Thus we find Bes with nursling (compare the link with Bes already established for our group of vases), and Nubian women with babies (at least one of whom carries a baby at her back in a central sling or basket identical 76

9. Faience in seventh-century Greece to that seen in vases of our final group [Bulté 1991: doc. 121 bis, pl. 24 c-d]) (Figure 9.8), both motifs intensified by generous use of dark spots, jewellery, monkeys, cats etc. These popular objects have a specific distribution in the eastern Delta, focused particularly on Bubastis and Tanis (Bulté 1991: fig. on p.113). They date to the 22nd Dynasty and later. But in fact, examples are found in East Greek contexts which can be dated to the seventh century. There are three pieces of the same type from the votive deposit at Ialysos (Skon-Jedele 1994: nos 4415-17, 2396-7) and another, fragmentary piece, from the Samian Heraion (Webb 2016: V 1090) as well as a very fine bronze statuette showing Bes riding on the shoulders of a Nubian (?) double-flute player (Jantzen 1972: 353 pl.18), a pose which has close links with the Tanis pieces (Bulté 1991: pls 14-15). The faience parallels from east Greece confirm that they were still in circulation in the second half of the seventh century, during the same period when the perfume vases under discussion were current. A note of warning should be sounded, however as while there may be some overlap in the use of Bes, in the figurines from the eastern Delta he does not wear a spotted cheetah/panther skin at his back, although he has a lion’s tail, and dark spots are distributed in a random fashion. Another apparent similarity, the couchant ibex, which our groups present as an apparently calm and unbound presence, here has its legs bound up underneath it as for sacrifice, together with other cervids like oryx (Bulté 1991: pl. 6 c-d, pl. 7 c-d). However, there is some overlap: the ibex presented by a Bes from Toukh el Quramus (Bulté 1991: 12b, pl. 12) is shown in exactly the same pose as the routine ibex presented by the women with baby at back (Webb 1978: nos 117, 120). At this point it would seem that the ibex, which I have hitherto argued has a beneficent significance (Webb 1978: 34-5, fig. 9), may actually be closely linked with the animals offered for sacrifice in Bulté’s group. If so, then there is another strong link between the two groups of material.

Figure 9.8 Walking Nubian female figure with baby on back. Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, William Stevenson Smith Fund 1984.168. (Photograph © 2017 Museum of Fine Arts, Boston).

The ‘low-relief’ figured style - the Workshop of the Pyxides and Alabastra

The other class of objects for more brief discussion is a group of aryballoi, pyxides and alabastra which occur in similar contexts and in a similar time-frame to the double vases discussed above. These have a distinctive incised style of figure drawing which imitates the effect of low relief. The decoration features animals, herbivores and lions threatening them, backed by specific vegetation. Other scenes contain fish, water birds and marsh plants. It is possible to categorize the animals (Webb 1978: figs 18 and 19) as closely related to New Kingdom depictions. Gazelle, ibex, and hunting dogs, for instance, bear an uncanny resemblance to those shown in the tombs, while the form taken by trees and plants (Webb 1978: fig. 20) is very close to similar depictions on low relief wares current in Egypt during the Third Intermediate period - so-called Tuna Ware chalices, and related vessels. These contain scenes of animals grazing and being herded, lions lying in wait, and marsh scenes with cows against a background of papyrus stalks, executed in low relief (Webb 1978: 51-8). The vessel shapes also show strong links with Egyptian forms. The pyxides in particular have a firmly modelled, heavy shape with wide flat lip, smaller circular foot and a flattened globular body. The interior of the vase closely follows the exterior profile with a wall of consistent thickness, thus showing skill in the handling of the material. Matching lids are flat on the underside, with a circular projection to seal or locate them: on the upper surface a rosette or lotus flower radiates from a raised knob in the centre. Small 77

Virginia Webb

Figure 9.9 Poor quality products: two differently sized vases. Louvre S568, and S 686 (Rhodes?) (Photograph: V. Webb; reproduced by permission of the RMN-Grand Palais [musée du Louvre]).

perforations (either two or four) near the edge of the lid correspond with a similar number on the lip itself. Parallels for the different features of the shape can easily be found in earlier Egyptian work in hard stone or calcite (Carter n.d.: nos. 480, 485) and in faience as well. But the final feature – the combination of a crouching animal or human as knob on the lid with a rosette or lotus flower decoration – is not usually seen in Egyptian forms. This combination of Egyptian features in an atypical whole echoes the peculiarities of our industry. Conclusions In short, it seems that our vessels demonstrate related phenomena. The apparent inconsistencies and confusions inherent in the combination of different ideas are, in fact, a valid attempt to ensure powerful good magic for the owner. Secondly, the extremely sophisticated technical handling which the vases display can be explained by an Egyptian origin. Moreover, the actual use of faience in itself is of prime importance, as it has now been established that faience is a powerful signifier in Egyptian material culture, used as a magical substitute (Patch 1998). I therefore suggest that the Leopard Spot Group, with its mixture of different symbolic figures, finds a parallel in the Bes flags and the Nubian women with babies. Although it is obvious that we are dealing with symbolism which originates in an Egyptian cultural milieu, and that the technical skills displayed in the Fine Group are most closely paralleled in Egyptian work, may we take the further step of arguing (with von Bissing 1941) that there were Egyptian workers established in Rhodes? The major problem is that we have no exactly parallel finds with a secure provenance in Egypt, although a number of pieces are found in collections of Egyptian antiquities, and a subordinate piece has a firm Egyptian provenance (Webb 1978: C8, fig. 29). Annette Rathje (1976) argued for a Phoenician manufacture of the double vases, basing her argument on the fact that the greater number known at that time occurred at Phoenician sites in the west. There are now more known from east Greece than from the west, but the conclusion is no clearer, although it still appears that the island of Rhodes holds a central place in the distribution pattern not only of these vases, but also of other objects of faience (Figure 9.10). What hypothesis can we advance to explain this complex situation? In the case of the Double Vases it could now be argued that the Fine Group (a smaller number of very fine pieces) acted as a catalyst for the main group. Were they brought in to market their contents and quickly copied locally in an inferior style? Or were all the groups produced in the same place, but some to a much higher standard than others? A similar pattern can be seen in the development of the faience lekythoi (Webb 1978: 61-8). Here we may note the valuable work of Giorgos Bourogiannis (Bourogiannis 2009; this volume) on the related phenomenon in which Cypriot and Near Eastern perfume vessels in clay are imported into Rhodes, and then copied locally and exported westwards. This was a process which started in the ninth century, and continued through to the seventh. Earlier scholars had already pointed to aspects of this. Can this template be applied to faience perfume containers as well? Indeed, was Rhodes capable of making 78

9. Faience in seventh-century Greece

Figure 9.10 Distribution map of the Double Vases, compared with other material from the seventh-century phase of the industry. (© V. Webb).

faience? It appears from a series of Egyptian style deities, like the small figurines of Nefertum (British Museum GR 1864.10-7.764, 765, 770, 875 et al.), and from small figurines in the form of offering bearers (Webb 1978: pl. 12, nos 354-6), that closely similar groups made in the same firing and with the same material and colouring, survive in the archaeological record (see material from the Kamiros Well). The homogeneity of these groups strongly suggests local manufacture. Similarly, we could adduce the evidence of poorly made ‘wasters’ - miniature versions of the double vases, which it can be argued would not have been traded out of their centre of production (Webb 1978: no. 8, 14). (Figure 9.9). Gladys Weinberg used a similar argument to assert that glass amphoriskoi and other forms of small perfume container in core-wound glass were made in Rhodes from the middle of the sixth century onwards (Weinberg 1966), a view which is well supported by the evidence she adduces. Recent scientific analysis of glazed ware flasks from a seventh-century Rhodian tomb at Kamiros proves that local clay was used to produce what appear to be alien, Near Eastern type flasks intended to market some expensive unguent (Coulié 2015). All of these elements fit together to build a picture of Rhodes as a vibrant and energetic centre for the onward trading of precious oils, and the manufacture of their containers. If Cypriot or Phoenician traders did bring in their ceramic containers, then we may be confident that a similar process could have sprung up associated with highvalue faience vessels. Is there any indication of links with Phoenician or Cypriot faience technology? The technique of faience manufacture in the Levant, as seen for example in the Early Iron Age material from Megiddo and imports into Iron Age Crete (Peltenburg 2002; Webb 1996: T219.f62, fig. 180, pls 298-300, 606-7), though very skilful, is quite different from that to be seen in the material discussed here. There must initially have been a strong link with Egyptian working practices and iconography, which were first adopted at a high level and later began to deteriorate. Whether the intermediaries were Cypriot or Phoenician merchants, or enterprising Greeks, we may never know; but we must admit that there was contact with Egypt, or Egyptian craft knowledge, as early as the beginning of the localized industry at the end of Late Protocorinthian (around 650 BC). Indeed, the evidence of the very first prototype-group lekythoi from Cumae (Webb 1978: pl.9, nos 209-11, 62-3) suggests that there was contact of some sort with the Egyptian cultural milieu, through the medium of long-distance trade routes from the Levant and in the same field of endeavour around 700 BC, although it took another 50 years before that industry really became established. 79

10. A sea of luxury: luxury items and dyes of marine origin in the Aegean during the seventh century BC Tatiana Theodoropoulou Abstract: Although the marine world was a valuable source of food resources, raw materials and art inspiration for Aegean populations in prehistory, the exploitation of marine raw materials and products decreased from the Early Iron Age onwards. Trade in more luxurious and prestigious materials from distant regions, such as metals and ivory, replaced the humble shell in the crafts and aesthetics of the time. However, there is evidence to suggest that the use of raw materials of marine origin, namely shell and coral, as well as substances such as purple-dye, discretely continued through the seventh century. This paper brings together available evidence from Aegean sites and offers an assessment of the exploitation of these resources in the everyday life, craftsmanship and funerary customs of the period. The social and symbolic context of the use and diversity of marine products is examined, and evidence is put into the broader frame of attitudes to the sea in the early Greek world.

Marine animal remains offer a valuable record of ancient marine environments, fishing activities and marine foodstuffs used in ancient diet, and of the use of hard and soft marine tissues in ancient crafts and industry.1 There is a growing body of data on the exploitation of marine animals in the Aegean in earlier periods and in classical antiquity. On the other hand, the role of the sea in the emergent Greek polis and its contribution to the livelihood of early Archaic economies is not well established. In addition to everyday maritime activities and the exploitation of the sea as a means of subsistence during this period, the potentially ‘luxurious’ character of marine raw materials or finished items and products of marine origin has not so far been holistically addressed. The circulation of exotic or prestige items is hardly a foreign concept for archaeologists dealing with seventh-century material culture. This period is characterised by frequent contacts of goods and ideas on a Mediterranean scale, with prestige items often bearing specific social and religious symbolic value. Zooarchaeological finds do not usually enter this sphere. Marine animal products, however, represent a unique group of animal resources, encompassing both dietary and non-dietary products, finished objects and various products. The seventh century affords us a unique record of marine raw materials transformed into items often described as luxurious or exotic. At the same time, a growing body of unworked marine shells and other marine organisms is recorded from special contexts across the Aegean, such as sanctuaries or graves. Such items are usually considered as naturalia or curiosa, together with various other items of natural origin (amber, precious stones, minerals, rocks, stalagmites, fossil bones, dried pine cones etc.) often associated with religious or cult contexts and essentially found between the eighth and sixth centuries (Tassignon 2005). Such finds force us to assess the potential role of marine resources as ‘luxury’ items as opposed to simple naturalia. Yet before attempting any such evaluation, it is necessary to consider what is currently defined as a ‘luxury’ item or foodstuff in the archaeological and anthropological literature. The word luxury is taken to mean ‘an item or activity that is expensive, pleasurable and unnecessary’ (Waines 2003). In terms of foods, luxury usually denotes foodstuffs that are desirable or hard to obtain but not essential to human nutrition (van der Veen 2003). Both luxury items and foods may be unusual or desirable because of their foreign origin. Luxuries are ‘objects of desire’, which give physical or bodily satisfaction, and are usually associated with physical or sensory enjoyment (van der Veen 2003). The social dimension of luxury is paramount: over the broad sweep of cultural history, the concept of luxury has been associated with the rise of differential status and hierarchy. According to Berry (1994: 10-12), for a good to be a luxury it needs to be desired by many but attained by few. The consumption of luxury items is thus often associated with elites and takes place on special occasions, from small-scale family celebrations to large-scale feasts. With these basic definitions in mind, it is intriguing to try to explore the possible ‘luxurious’ character of marine animal remains found in seventh-century contexts. This paper does not claim to offer an exhaustive list of these finds. It rather aims to provide a panorama of the transformations of marine raw materials in this period and to raise questions about the role of the sea in the narrative processes of the early Archaic world.

1  I thank Professors Nota Kourou, Alexander Mazarakis-Ainian, Catherine Morgan and Sandrine Huber for valuable suggestions. I am solely responsible for omissions in citation of published material. This paper was written during my post-doctoral fellowship at the Wiener Laboratory, ASCSA.

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10. A sea of luxury: luxury items and dyes of marine origin

? ?

? ?

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Attested modern red coral communities Possible modern red coral communities Presence of red coral finds in 7th c. BC Central and Eastern Mediterranean

Figure 10.1 The modern distribution of corals in the Mediterranean basin (based on Harmelin 2000: fig. 4; Salomidi et al. 2009) and the distribution of archaeological coral finds from the Archaic Greek world (after Hermary 2000: fig. 1). (© T. Theodoropoulou).

Objects made of coral Corals are among the most valuable treasures of the Mediterranean Sea, building up ‘complex habitats of high ecological and aesthetic value’ (Salomidi et al. 2009: 624, with bibliography). Among corals, red corals (Corallium rubrum, Linnaeus 1758; on other forms of ‘corals’, as well as on the ‘false-coral’, see Harmelin 2000: 11-12; Pax 1945) are sessile invertebrate organisms characterised by a dense calcareous axial skeleton in the form of a bush, coloured in shades of red and covered by a soft bright-red integument from which numerous white polyps protrude. They form typical coralligenous aggregations on shadowed rocky substrates and underwater caves of the Mediterranean over a wide depth range (10 to >250 m), but in the eastern basin they have a considerably deeper distribution (30– 120 m, Chintiroglou et al. 1989; e.g. in eastern Euboea they are found at 60–65m, Salomidi et al. 2009). Research in the eastern Mediterranean also suggests a much rarer presence of red-coral communities than in the western basin (Figure 10.1). However, overfishing of red coral since antiquity may be in part responsible for the marked decrease in colony sizes and the retreat of the species to deeper waters. The presence, exploitation and value of this raw material in antiquity have been addressed by several authors (Morel et al. 2000). A view commonly repeated since antiquity places coral in the category of materials less used by ancient Greeks and Romans (Plin. HN 32.21-4; Daremberg and Saglio 1877-1919: 1503-4; Reinach 1898). This view contrasts with the increasing presence of coral finds of the seventh and sixth centuries at Aegean sites and Greek colonies in the western Mediterranean (Figure 10.1). A number were recorded by Antoine Hermary (2000) in his overview of coral finds in the ancient Greek world. The following list brings together finds of the Archaic period from the Aegean area, supplementing those already mentioned in Hermary’s account with some recent finds (Figure 10.2). Corals from the first Delian Heraion are mostly unmodified items (18 pieces), dated between the seventh and sixth centuries and, according to the excavator, definitely before the destruction of the sanctuary in the midsixth century (Deonna 1938: 309-10). Two unworked fragments are reported from the Artemision in Ephesos (Hogarth and Smith 1908: 213). Seventh-century debris in the Samian Heraion produced sizeable coral trees among other votives (Kyrieleis 1988: 219, fig. 6). One unworked branch 0.05m long is reported from the Argive Heraion (Waldstein 1905: 354, pl. 140, no. 92). A coral bit bound with two successive silver rings was found at Kato Phana on Chios (Lamb 1934-5: 151, pl. 32, no. 64). Although no date is provided, most of the metal finds are dated to the seventh and sixth centuries. An unspecified number of light red, unpierced branches were reported from the sanctuary of Athena at Kamiros by Hoffmann (1904: 48), who interpreted them as children’s amulets, possibly tied with a thread. 81

Tatiana Theodoropoulou

Figure 10. 2 Selection of coral finds from the sanctuary of Kythnos (from top to bottom row, scaled): unworked coral branches, incised coral branches, coral beads or perforated branches, jewellery made of corals and gold, orientalizing head/sealing made of coral, jewellery made of coral and silver. (© T. Theodoropoulou).

0

1cm

The early Archaic deposits of the sanctuary of Athena at Lindos produced one fragment of light rose coral, found among other shells (Blinkenberg 1931: 177). One natural piece of white coral was collected in Deposit A in the pronaos of the Archaic temple of Poseidon at Isthmia (which Gebhard associates with the Archaic temple treasury), while two more pieces were found in mixed deposits nearby (Gebhard 1998: 108 n. 75, fig. 12; Gebhard and Reese 2005: 140-1). 82

10. A sea of luxury: luxury items and dyes of marine origin At present, however, two assemblages stand out for the rich quantity and diversity of coral finds. At Perachora, the sanctuary of Hera (Akraia and Limenia) has produced one of the richest coral collections in early Archaic Greece. One unworked fragment was found in the Geometric deposit of Hera Akraia (Payne 1940: 77). The date of the other pieces, found in the upper parts of the sanctuary, is not established, but according to Dunbabin (1962: 526) they could be assigned to the seventh century like most of the objects found on the site (Dunbabin 1962: 526-7, pls 191, 195). The collection includes: five small unworked bits of coral branches, interpreted by Dunbabin as amulets to ward off the evil eye based on ancient and ethnographic examples (Götze 1926; Pax 1945; Plin. HN 32.23; Zoroaster in Gp. 15.1.31; for complete ancient references see Thompson 1947: 125-7); two segments with grooves, perhaps to receive a silver binding, one of them preserving a hole for suspension; seven floral-shaped beads destined for pendants (one unpierced) which could be assigned to the seventh century as the similar ones found at Corinth shaped in ivory and gold. The partly worked piece (J16), according to Dunbabin, would suggest that these items were cut on the spot; one partly worked piece with ridges for a similar bud bead; one scarab seal pierced longitudinally with sides engraved with three parallel lines. Yet another impressive collection of corals has been recently found in one of the sanctuaries of the ancient polis of Kythnos (Mazarakis Ainian 2005a and 2009; Koukoulidou et al. 2016). It comes from the adyton of one of the temples situated at the north end of the Middle Plateau of the ancient town. The adyton, a later addition probably constructed in the first quarter of the seventh century and repaired late in the third, produced an extraordinary number of votives and other items which, according to the excavator, would have accumulated during the earlier phases of the original temple, and then have been collected from the debris and carefully placed inside the adyton. More than 1000 objects have been recovered, mostly dated to the seventh and sixth centuries, while some (mostly terracotta figurines) are datable to the Classical and early Hellenistic periods (Mazarakis Ainian 2005a; 2009). Precious finds from the adyton include fragmentary imported vases, terracotta figurines, iron and bronze objects, silver and gold jewels, scaraboids, seals, ivory and bone finds, small objects made from amber, carnelian, rock crystal, other semi-precious stones, glass paste, faience, as well as unburnt animal bones from young mammals, a few bird bones, and numerous seashells (Koukoulidou et al. 2016; Trantalidou and Theodoropoulou 2016), and a rich collection of unworked and worked coral objects, several worked together with precious metals (Koukoulidou et al. 2016: 235-7; Theodoropoulou 2013b). This collection comprises: one elaborately decorated barrel-shaped gold pendant pocketing a piece of coral, with an additional barrelshaped hoop on its top for suspension, decorated at one side with a relief of continuous circles that form a flower motif; one ovoid ring head consisting of a broadened flat band decorated with a braided pattern, and a vertical gold broadened band used to hold in place a coral bezel; one slightly worked piece of coral branch bound with silver wire looped in the upper part; one slightly modified triangular piece of coral threaded with silver wire through a hole; one slightly worked double coral branch coiled in silver at the convergence; one long coral branch bound with silver wire at one edge; ovoid gold ring-head with piece of coral; two round coral pieces encircled by silver binding and bearing a silver loop to be suspended; one discoid worked piece of coral with groove on the side, presumably to be used as a ring bezel; one orientalizing fully sculpted head decorated with a sphinx sealing on its flattened back, bearing a transversal hole for threading; eight pendants in the form of globular vases, holed between the neck and body of the vase. Three of them bear vertical grooves. One of them bears a silver loop for suspension; 20 coral branches decorated with double or multiple incisions on their edges, occasionally pierced on one extremity; 91 pierced beads of various shapes (roundish, rectangular, cylindrical, elliptical, phallic, zoomorphic); 15 unmodified or partly modified pieces of coral. Coral finds in context Corals, while not frequent finds in the seventh-century Greek world, are usually associated with sanctuary sites, thus raising interesting questions about their function and potential symbolism. Although it has been assumed by biologists that red coral was not generally present in Aegean waters, and ancient authors do not mention the Aegean as a place of coral fishing (although Plin. HN 32.21 mentions coral in a number 83

Tatiana Theodoropoulou of western Mediterranean locations), recent research in various locations in the Aegean, Ionian and Cretan seas has detected several gorgonian assemblages (Salomidi et al. 2009). Overfishing of this resource since antiquity may be in part responsible for its rare presence in Greek waters today (for a similar case in the formerly rich coral-producing region of Marseille, see Pomey 2000: 39). The date of the occurrence of coral-fishing is another debated issue. Although fishing of corals is mentioned by authors in Late Antiquity (for example, Hesychios mentions a κοραλλεύς, or coral-fisher, Thompson 1947: 125), the earliest direct evidence so far in the wider Greek world comes from Marseille, where a Greek fishing boat of the second half of the sixth century BC has been associated with the fishing of red coral (Pomey 2000). Coral was widely used in Celtic craftsmanship from the fifth to the third centuries BC as inlay on weapons, brooches and other objects, but these uses find no parallels in the Greek world, Magna Graecia included (Jacobstahl 1944: 132). Nonetheless, the exploitation of coral must have been much earlier, as the Aegean finds listed above suggest. As coral communities are present in the Aegean Sea, at least some of our pieces may have a local provenance. Extraordinary, unmodified, and sizeable coral trees might have been part of what Kyrieleis defines as naturalia (θαυμάσια according to Jacobstahl [1944: 132 n. 2]; offerings deposited to the deity as natural curiosities for Tassignon 2005), while the smaller pieces of unworked coral found at several Aegean sites reinforce the idea of local availability and relatively easy supply of this raw material. The presence of partly worked pieces (e.g. from Perachora or Kythnos) may suggest that these items were cut on the spot. In the light of this observation, it is possible that the unworked pieces found in cult contexts could have been acquired or purchased and deposited by fishermen or other local worshippers, as well as travellers. Occasionally, the finished shape of the object points to a more distant origin - the scarab from Perachora and the orientalizing head bead from Kythnos are such cases. While the local availability of corals would facilitate access to the raw material, we should not record it as humble or of low value. Coral fishing implies serious investment and effort. According to modern standards of coral craftsmanship, a number of qualities are sought in the right coral specimens (Filocamo 2000): suitable dimensions (more than 60% of the raw material is lost during working), uniform colour, and a sleek and frictionless surface, without holes or crevices (Plin. HN 32.11.21-5). Coral is a relatively opaque and soft material (with a relative density of 3.86 and hardness of 3.5 on the Mohs scale), which favours working by simple smoothing and rounding (Ward 2008: 145). Future study of coral finds from Archaic Greece may offer some insight into the physical characteristics and technical choices associated with this material. On the other hand, the value attributed to every material may go far beyond its physical properties and availability. Pliny (HN 32.11.2) commented that ‘it is the prevailing taste in each nation respectively that constitutes the value of things’. In the Graeco-Roman world, Coral was imbued with diverse magical, prophylactic and medicinal properties, as is commonly mentioned in later ancient texts. Corals were considered to bring good luck and ward off danger and the evil eye (Plin. HN 32.21.4; Zoroaster in Gp. 15.1.31), while in the Roman world they worked as fertility symbols (Plin. HN 32.24; Ward 2008: 145). Mentions of coral in several medical and magical treatises are also interesting (Dsc. De mat. med. 5.121; for further references, see Leurini 2000; Thompson 1947: 125). Among its medicinal properties, it was said to staunch bleeding and to be good for the spleen and bladder, while its ashes were compounded with other medicines for the eyes. It was also believed to sweeten water and to calm the waves of the sea (Gp. 2.5.14). The magical properties attributed to this material may be linked to its fabulous origin: it is said to be derived from twigs petrified by the touch of the Gorgon’s head (Plin. HN 37.16.4), or to be the blood that flowed from Medusa’s head after it had been cut off by Perseus, which then turned into stone (Ov. Met. 4.741-51; Ward 2008: 145). Confusion concerning the very nature of coral, sometimes identified as rock (Thphr. Lap. 38) and sometimes as plant (Dsc. De mat. med. 5.121) (Lagercrantz et al. 1922), further underlines the blurred perception of this raw material in antiquity. Given these qualities, many authors have suggested the use of unmodified coral branches as amulets. Amulets in antiquity were mostly identified as objects attached from a string and worn in order to comfort a physical pain or protect against a physical or supernatural threat (Daremberg and Saglio 1877-1919: 252-3, 1503-4). Corals were used as amulets in Roman times and worn by children around the neck as talismans (Plin. HN 32.23). This may also be suggested for a number of the unmodified coral branches mentioned in our catalogue above. However, the frequency of worked pieces at several seventh-century sites suggests that they were more than simple amulets dedicated to the gods. Some specimens are elaborately transformed into valuable objects, threaded with gold, silver or bronze wire, or given another form (beads, scarabs). In this case, it is not easy to determine the precise factors that led to their dedication: did the properties of the raw material play a role in the decision or was another value associated with the finished product (shape, use, representation, or binding with precious metals)? Whatever the case, the occurrence of corals at most of the major Aegean sanctuaries of the seventh century is interesting. Their presence cannot be directly associated with specific deities, although Hera (at Argos, Delos, 84

10. A sea of luxury: luxury items and dyes of marine origin Perachora, and Samos), Athena (at Kamiros and Lindos), Apollo (at Soros and perhaps Kythnos) and Artemis (at Ephesos and perhaps Kythnos) as well as Poseidon (at Isthmia) are prominently concerned (for western Mediterranean parallels and references, see Tassignon 2005). All of these deities are connected to the marine environment (Theodoropoulou 2013b), while a connection to the world of femininity and fecundity is also suggested (Tassignon 2005). However, no textual sources relate corals to specific cults, and those from Late Antiquity mention only the offering of korallion to Asklepios.

a.

Despite ambiguities in interpreting the meaning and symbolism attributed to coral finds in the seventhcentury Greek world, coral features among the most emblematic finds of this period. Some of the issues touched upon with respect to the presence of corals in the Aegean can also be addressed in discussing the next category of finds.

b.

Tridacna shells Seventh-century trade is usually discussed with reference to other types of materials. However, deposits of this period offer evidence of the trade of Indo-Pacific shells into the Aegean, namely the Tridacna shell. Tridacna is a genus of large marine clam native to warm seas, such as the Red Sea or the Indian and c. South Pacific Oceans. Despite their wide distribution, they are not found in the Mediterranean. The species most frequently identified in the archaeological Figure 10.3 Selection of Tridacna shells from Aegean sites record are the scaly clam (Tridacna squamosa, Lamarck (from top to bottom, not scaled): unworked valves from 1819) and the small giant clam (Tridacna maxima, Samos (Boessneck and von den Driesch 1983: pl. 4), incised Röding 1798). Giant clams consist of two heavy fragments from Perachora (Dunbabin 1962: 527, pl. 194, valves, fluted with four to six folds. When open, their reproduced by courtesy of the British School at Athens), drawings of incised sub-whole valves and fragments brightly coloured mantle is exposed. The scaly clam (Blinkenberg 1931: 176, fig. 22 and pl. 19). and small giant clam can reach 0.40 and 0.20m in length respectively. Both inhabit the shallow waters of coral reefs, adhering to the rock by their byssus. Due to the impressive shell as well as relatively easy fishing, giant clams have been sought after from very early on, and have been overharvested throughout their areas of distribution. More than 120 Indo-Pacific giant clams have been found at a number of archaeological sites, most of which date to the Iron Age (for a complete list, see Reese and Sease 1993; 2004; Stucky 1974). The wider distribution of these items includes Mesopotamia, the Levant, Egypt, Ionia, and Etruria. Unmodified and carved Tridanca shells have also been found in a number of sites across Greece, most dated to the mid-seventh century (Figure 10.3). Unmodified items from Greece include: one worn valve of Tridacna squamosa and eight fragments from two more individuals found in the large votive deposit at Lindos (Blinkenberg 1931: 179, pl. 17; Stucky 1974: 14, 57). Two Tridacna maxima from the Samian Heraion (Boessneck and von der Driesch 1983: 22-4, pl. 4; Stucky 1974: 14, 57). One fragment of possibly Tridacna squamosa from the Harbour Sanctuary at Emporio (Period II) (Boardman 1967: 243, pl. 97, also reported in Reese 2000). Fragments of Tridacna sp. from the sanctuary and mortuary chamber at Vroulia (Kinch 1914: 160). 85

Tatiana Theodoropoulou Usually Tridacna valves bear engraved motifs or scenes. The sanctuary of Athena at Lindos produced ten engraved Tridacna squamosa fragments, three of which come from the votive deposit (Blinkenberg 1931: 176-82, pls 19-21). They are decorated with incised winged and crowned male figures (representations of Assur according to Blinkenberg), lotuses, birds, sacred trees, triangles, and other motifs. In addition, four fragments were polished but had no incised decoration. An important assemblage of 16 engraved Tridacna squamosa from at least three individuals was found at the Samian Heraion (Diehl 1965: 823; Reese 1991; Stucky 1974: 42-7, 93, pls 33-40). They bear similar decoration to the examples from Lindos. Two engraved fragments of Tridacna shell were found in the sanctuary of Hera at Perachora (Dunbabin 1962, 527, pl. 194). One depicts a wing and a lotus flower, the other a wing and the paw of a sphinx. They probably belong to the same object. One engraved fragment was found in the Artemision at Ephesos (Bammer 1991-2; Bammer 2001). A grave from Rhodes contained a complete engraved Tridacna squamosa (Stucky 1974: 47, pls 43-6). One further engraved fragment of Tridacna squamosa is reported from Kos (Stucky 1974: 37, pl. 25). Finally, Tridacna that may date back to the seventh century have been found in later contexts: in the east terrace of the sanctuaries of Aphaia and Apollo on Aegina (Stucky 1974: 48-9, 55-6, 93-4, pls 42, 59); below the Stoa of the Athenians at Delphi (Stucky 1974: 49-50, 94, pls 48-9); and in the area of the stadium at Olympia (Stucky 1974: 50, 94, pl. 44). Tridacna shells in context The presence of Tridacna shells in the Greek world was the direct outcome of contacts and trade in the eastern Mediterranean which appear to have remained strong and active during our period (Bourogiannis 2012c). However, the exact origin and means of circulation of these items have long been matters of scholarly debate. Blinkenberg was among the first to suggest that the engraved pieces found in the Heraion at Perachora were the work of Cypriots settled at Naukratis in the seventh century. Unworked Tridacna shells have been found at Naukratis, as they have at Lindos and other Aegean sites, however the style and distribution of the Perachora pieces would favour a Phoenician origin (for an overview of opinions, see Dunbabin 1962: 527). As the corpus of engraved Tridacna grows, it becomes increasingly likely that more than one workshop was involved in the production of these prestigious items, despite a certain repetition in the choice of motifs and representations, which usually include: a stylized human head, a palmette in the centre of the siren’s back, sphinx wings, lotus flowers, and geometric motifs. The engraved shell objects would not necessarily have arrived in the Aegean as a cargo of shells and similar exotica traded from east to west. As Coldstream (1983b: 201) rightly points out, ‘pots and artefacts may travel from place to place for a variety or reasons’. With the rise of Panhellenic sanctuaries, worshippers from many different parts of Greece and beyond brought with them votive offerings. Tridacna shells are mostly found in sanctuaries during this period. It could be argued that the unmodified Tridacna represent exotic offerings from worshippers’ travels in the eastern Mediterranean, while more elaborate incised items were offerings of a higher value, either brought by worshippers or sold at the sanctuaries by eastern traders. Decorated or undecorated Tridacna shells could have been used as containers for cosmetics or other products (Blinkenberg 1931: 175-7). Stucky (1974) has suggested that the shells were dedicated along with their contents, and that the Greeks associated the contents of the Tridacna shells with women and thus offered Tridacna at sanctuaries of goddesses. However, beyond the aesthetics and symbolism born by the engravings on these objects and/or their contents, the very form and shape of the shell may have also triggered specific symbolic emulation. Alabaster imitations of carved Tridacna shells are known from Nimrud and Delphi, while the form of the carved shell was even imitated in Near Eastern stone palettes of this period (Blinkenberg 1926: 5-31). In the light of these comparanda, the exotic origin would only partly explain the decision to dedicate carved shells. The shape of the shell could hold either functional or symbolic meaning. The Tridacna items could thus have played a more active role in the cult, used as cultic vessels rather than as simple dedications made by worshippers to the deity (Reese 1988). Tridacna shells embody all the qualities of a luxury product of marine origin, including a distant origin, an impressive shape and size, elaborate symbolic decoration, as well as uses imbued with symbolism probably known and decipherable among Mediterranean peoples in the seventh century. Humble marine resources as luxury products Corals and Tridacna shells feature among the most impressive marine materials found in seventh-century contexts, both for their origin and unique natural characteristics and for their elaborate transformation into finished objects. 86

10. A sea of luxury: luxury items and dyes of marine origin However, the marine world also enters into seventh-century material culture in various other forms and ways. A growing body of faunal evidence includes a variety of marine materials of local, i.e. Aegean, origin. Both settlements and sanctuaries often yield shell and fish remains, either in unmodified form or transformed into a variety of objects. Among finds of this period of particular interest to an account of marine raw materials wrapped up in ‘luxury’ or bearing particular symbolism, it is interesting to focus on finds from sanctuary sites. There follows a selection of seventh-century cult deposits that have yielded marine animals, either edible or modified into objects and products. Sanctuaries and tombs of this period across the Aegean have produced marine animal remains (Figure 10.4). Pierced cowries feature among the most interesting shells found in sanctuary sites, graves or other special contexts, usually as unique finds or in small concentrations: Perachora has produced one example of a cowry shell pierced lengthwise (Dunbabin 1962: 527, pl. 195). Shells found at Vroulia include three Luria lurida, two from a child’s burial (Kinch 1914: 160, pls 24, 33). Old excavations of the Archaic Artemision at Ephesos produced a small assemblage of four pierced cowries (Hogarth and Smith 1908: 217, fig. 44). Two more Cypraea pyrum are reported by Wolff (1978: 109).

Figure 10.4 Selection of the shell species often found in seventh-century contexts in the Aegean (from top to bottom, scaled): Hexaplex trunculus, Cerastoderma glaucum, Patella caerulea, Cerithium vulgatum, Arca noae, Luria lurida, Glycymeris bimaculata, Spondylus gaederopus, Pinna nobilis. Specimens from Eretria and Oropos. (© T. Theodoropoulou).

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Tatiana Theodoropoulou One Cypraea pyrum is reported from the early Archaic ash deposit at Kalapodi (Stanzel 1991: 149). One Cypraea sp. was found in the sanctuary of Aphrodite at Zeytin Tepe (Miletos) (Peters 1993: 94; Peters and von den Driesch 1992: 123-4). One holed cowry from the Red Sea (Cypraea annulus) is reported from the temple of Poseidon at Isthmia, from the same deposit where the coral and few shell fragments were found (Gebhard 1998: 106-8, fig. 12; Gebhard and Reese 2005: 140-1). Two cowries were found in the votive deposit of the temple on Siphnos, dated to 700–550 BC (Brock and Mackworth Young 1949: 27, pl. 10.4). Other than cowry shells, common shells found in the Aegean sea occur in more or less significant quantities in most seventh-century sanctuaries. One of the more significant fish and shell assemblages came from the hearth and altars of the Geometric/late Archaic temples at Kommos (Temple B, phases 2-3 and Altar U) (Reese 2000; Rose 2000). They included 10,300 limpets (Patella sp.), accompanied by other species in smaller quantities, including a few water-worn/fossil specimens, as well as a variety of fish (3,414 fish remains), such as groupers (Serranidae), various sea breams (Sparidae), wrasses (Labridae), basses (Dicentrarchus sp.), eels (Anguilla anguilla), red mullets (Mullus sp.), other bony fish (brown moray, conger eel, garfish, catfish, shore rockling, meagre and corb, picarel, parrotfish, mullet, sole), as well as a shark or ray vertebra. In the central sanctuary of the ancient town of Kythnos, the spectacular finds from the adyton of the temple (see above) include an impressive quantity of marine remains (Theodoropoulou 2013b: 1735 remains). Although the deposition of finds inside the adyton took place during repairs to the temple in the third century BC, most items date to the seventh and sixth centuries (with the exception of the terracotta figurines). Rough cockles (1561 Acanthocardia tuberculata, 86 Cerastoderma glaucum, 21 Acanthocardia sp.) make up more than 96% of the material. Species from another twelve families, both bivalves and gastropods, contribute only one to six individuals (six Mytilus galloprovincialis, four Patella caerulea, one Patella ulyssiponensis, one Patella rustica, three Venericardia sp., three Glycymeris sp., three Columbella rustica, two Venus verrucosa, one Dosinia lupinus, one Chamelea gallina, one Phorcus mutabilis, one Mactra glauca, one Luria lurida, one Donacilla cornea, one Conus mediterraneus, one Aequipecten opercularis), with the exception of nassa mud snails or dog whelks (Nassarius gibbosulus), represented by 32 individuals. Most of the Nassariid gastropods bear holes. Among bivalves there is also a number of holed valves: three of the holed rough cockles preserved the gold, silver or bronze wire from which they were suspended, while others, non-holed, were found filled with small beads. Additionally, two pharyngeal teeth of brown wrasse (Labrus merula) were found in the adyton. The sanctuary of Athena at Lindos offers an interesting corpus of shells: three big individuals of Cassis sulcosa (accepted as Semicassis granulata),2 one of which is pierced; two Spondylus gaederopus valves, one of which was found in the votive deposit; two valves of Pectunculus bimaculatus (accepted as Glycymeris bimaculata), one of which is pierced in the umbo possibly to attach a handle (Blinkenberg 1931: 178-9, pl. 17). Finally, fish are also attested at Lindos: the bone material included a few dorsal vertebrae of shark as well as one vertebra from a large bony fish (Blinkenberg 1931: 184). Of note is the presence of bone pendants carved in the shape of fish (Blinkenberg 1931: pl. 10). At Eretria, shells are present in the Geometric/Archaic layers of the sanctuary of Apollo Daphnephoros and in the Northern Sacrificial Area. In the two contexts respectively, over 900 and 420 shell remains from 23 taxa have been identified (combining earlier and later contexts). These are mainly purple-shells (Hexaplex trunculus, Murex brandaris) and pen shells (Pinna nobilis); several holed nassariids were concentrated in the Northern Sacrificial Area (Theodoropoulou 2013a, and study in progress by the present author). A small shell assemblage relates to the Geometric/Archaic levels at Kalapodi, including: seven Cerithium vulgatum, six Cerastoderma glaucum, six Acanthocardia tuberculata, four Cardium sp., two Hexaplex trunculus, one Monodonta turbinata, one Patella vulgata, one Cypraea pyrum, one Spondylus gaederopus (Stanzel 1991: 144-52). Some had been modified. Stanzel suggested that these had been dedicated by worshippers. The Artemision of Ephesos yielded small quantities of shells (58 remains from nine taxa): 19 Ostrea edulis, 16 Spondylus gaederopus, 11 Arca noae, five Cerastoderma edule, two Venus sp., one Turitella communis, one Murex trunculus (accepted as Hexaplex trunculus), as well as the cowries mentioned above (Hogarth and Smith 1908: 217; Picard 1922: 60, n. 2; Wolff 1978: 109). Little is known about shell remains from Delos, despite its status as one of the more prestigious sanctuaries of Apollo and Artemis in the Cyclades. Old reports on the excavations of the Delian Artemision mention the 2  The scientific names follow the nomenclature used in site publications. Whenever possible, the revised name according to revised nomenclature is provided in parentheses to facilitate comparison between sites.

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10. A sea of luxury: luxury items and dyes of marine origin presence of shells (without further identification) beneath the east wall of the Archaic Artemision, found together with pieces of gold, ivory, bronze, and animal bones, and interpreted as votive offerings (Gallet de Santerre and Tréheux 1947-8: 149, citing the excavation reports of Vallois [1944: 13]). Bevan (1986: 134) suggests that these seashells could be interpreted as votives like the rest of the finds. The Harbour Sanctuary at Emporio on Chios produced 270 limpets found together (HS:H, Period IV), and one scallop (Petunculus bimaculatus) (HS:H, Period II, cf. Tridacna fragment) while 16 Murex sp. shells were found in phases I-II of the Athena temple (Boardman 1967: 243, pl. 97). Eight burnt marine shell fragments were found together with the aforementioned cowry and coral in Deposit A (perhaps from the temple treasury) in the Archaic temple of Poseidon at Isthmia (Gebhard 1998: 108, fig. 12; Gebhard and Reese 2005: 140-1). The presence of shells is attested in seventh- to fifth-century deposits at the sanctuary of Aphrodite at Zeytin Tepe (Miletos). These included: 121 Cerastoderma glaucum, 71 Murex brandaris, 59 Venus verrucosa, 27 Hexaplex trunculus, 12 Ostrea edulis, six Euthria cornea, six Spondylus gaederopus, five Cerithium vulgatum, four Acanthocardia sp., four Arca noae, three Monodonta sp., three Pecten jacobeus, two Arcularia gibbosulus, two Conus mediterraneus, two Mytilus galloprovincialis, and single specimens from Patella sp., Gibbula sp., Cypraea sp., Phalium granulatum, Tonna galea, Glycymeris sp., Venerupis aurea, Chamelea gallina, and Chlamys varia, one unidentified shark and two sea bream (Peters 1993: 94; Peters and von den Driesch 1992: 123-4; Zimmermann 1993: 56). According to Peters and von den Driesch, the shells may represent fertility symbols offered to Aphrodite. In the sanctuary of Demeter at Eleusis, sacrificial pyres (associated with hero cult) located between the grave tumulus and the building within the Sacred House precinct, contained shells along with broken vases, ash, charcoal and calcined bones (Mazarakis Ainian 1997: 151 n. 1053; 1999b presenting John Travlos’ unpublished 1938 work on the Hiera Oikia). A few shells are associated with funerary contexts at Vroulia, including four pierced shells of Glycymeris sp., Cerithium vulgatum, Hexaplex trunculus, one whole Cassidaria sp. from another child burial, as well as the cowries mentioned above (Kinch 1914: 160, pls 24, 31, 33).3 Finally, a few shark/ray teeth and vertebrae are reported from a number of cult sites from the seventh to the fifth centuries BC. Seventh-century finds include examples from the sanctuaries of the Artemision at Ephesos, Artemis Orthia at Sparta, or the votive deposit at Kamiros and the sanctuary of Lindos (for a detailed assessment, see Reese 1984). Common shells in context Most of the shells found at seventh-century Greek sites cannot be considered luxury items per se, in the sense that they cannot claim an exotic origin nor were they objects of distant trade. Rather, they are common finds at archaeological sites of all periods in the Aegean. However, their context or state of discovery may accord them a special role. Marine animal remains associated with special contexts of this period fall into two groups: unmodified shells or fish remains, and modified shells. All of the unmodified shells presented in the previous section are edible (i.e. non-toxic to humans), yet most are not found in quantities worth exploiting for consumption, or their flesh is often not considered tasty. Exceptions are the significant concentrations of limpets and fish at Kommos, cockles at Kythnos, and purple shells at Eretria. Concentrations of edible shells and fish may represent individual burnt offerings or remains of ritual dining (LefèvreNovaro 2010: 49). Offerings may have been made to the god by people connected with the sea (Theodoropoulou 2013b). Bodson (1978: 48) points out that it was normal for maritime Greeks, many of them fishermen, to pray and vow offerings to the gods for a more abundant catch. Burkert (1985: 66-7; 1987: 44-6) mentions an elementary form of gift offering to the gods (later called aparchai), the ‘surrender of firstlings of food which the season brings, whether achieved by hunting, fishing, gathering, or agriculture’. As Rouse (1902: 58) notes, ‘on the Acropolis of Athens we find the fisherman, the breeder, and the farmer, before the Persian invasion’. These dedications were likely private and improvised in character, especially in earlier times, although larger concentrations of remains may suggest organized communal events, such as ritual dinners.

3 

Shells are more frequent in cult places and tombs in Cyprus (see the extended listing in Reese 2000): the late eighth-/early seventh- to firstcentury BC tombs and funerary pyres at Salamis produced numerous shells (Demetropoulos 1970 and 1973-4; Karageorghis 1978). The CyproGeometric levels of the sacred area (temple and temenos in Area II and associated bothroi) at Kition yielded cone shells (Conus mediterraneus) and other shells, most of them holed or collected dead, as well as urchins (Reese 1985a). The bothroi filled with debris of ritual or other activities associated with the Iron Age temples from the same site also produced 23 unburnt fish bones, including a shark or ray vertebra and possible Epinephelus sp. and Thunnus sp. vertebrae. A number of mollusc remains have been recovered from the early levels of the sanctuary of Aphrodite in Amathus, while 41 tombs from this city produced about 900 shells (Reese 1985b; 1992).

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Tatiana Theodoropoulou Other marine remains include shells found in smaller quantities, either left in their natural shape despite their common appearance, or slightly modified (usually pierced). All of these shells are commonly found in the Aegean and, from both an aesthetic and a technological point of view there is seemingly nothing to betray a luxurious use. Such an interpretation rests on the context of their discovery. According to Blinkenberg (1931: 23-4), worshippers would offer to the deity the same objects that they consumed in everyday life. Humble shells may indeed have been part of daily life, either in unmodified or modified state. The uses of shells in the past range from simple naturalia collected on the beach to utilitarian objects (spoons, spatulas, boxes, or other types of receptacle) and personal ornament. Nevertheless, on specific occasions or in specific contexts, their use may have been wrapped in further meaning. Shells of all types, holed or not, may have served as amulets, good-luck charms or special gifts. The case of the cowry shell is indicative. Cowries have been used through time and in various cultures as amulets, symbols of fertility and against sterility, and as marriage gifts, due to their resemblance to a vulva (Claassen 1998: 204; Fischer 1949: 149-57; Germain 1924: 362-3). Other prophylactic or decorative uses of this beautiful shell should also be considered. For example, with respect to finds from the Artemision at Ephesos, Hogarth (Hogarth and Smith 1908: 217) suggested that pierced cowries were suspended on fibula-bows. It is not straightforward to decipher the uses and special meaning of other shells. Shape, colour or texture might have been behind the attribution of specific symbolic meaning, however their very origin, in a remote environment such the sea, may have also carried archetypical significance, linking two worlds of the remote sea and the ‘familiar’ land (Theodoropoulou 2014), the divine and the human, the private and the public (Tassignon 2005). In this respect, the presence in sanctuaries, tombs or any other particular contexts of shells among both luxurious artefacts and natural items (‘converted’ and ‘raw’ offerings, sensu Snodgrass 1991) could also be invested with meaning. Luxurious dye from a humble mollusc Other than their shells, molluscs offer yet another precious raw material, produced from their soft tissue. Purple dye, one of the most luxurious dyes produced in antiquity, comes from the non-luxurious murex.4 The production of purple colour dates back to the Bronze Age and, although the Phoenicians are usually credited with the invention of the extraction technique, increasing evidence from all over the Aegean suggests that the production of purple dye in this area can be dated as early as the Middle Bronze Age (for a short overview of Aegean finds with discussion of Phoenician origins, see Veropoulidou 2012). The production of purple dye is also attested in a number of Early Iron Age deposits (Figure 10.5). The Euboean Gulf offers a number of examples. Building IA at Skala Oropou, which possibly combines habitation and ritual activities, produced a significant number of crushed murex shells, associated with some 80 loom weights (Theodoropoulou 2007; 2008; on Building IA and the subsequent Heroon, see also Charalambidou in this volume). At Eretria, murex shells are the most numerous species found in the pits of Apollo Daphnephoros and the Northern Sacrificial Area (Theodoropoulou 2013a). In Northern Greece, Methone and Toumba Thessalonikis also attest to such activity (Veropoulidou 2012). Purple shells are occasionally found in Geometric-Archaic deposits. The most impressive example from this period comes from Kommos, where purple shells are the most common species among shell remains from Temple B in the Geometric-Archaic phases and the late seventh century (Reese et al. 2000: 643-5). Building Q, Room 38 at Kommos produced an assemblage of 4.4 kg of crushed Hexaplex trunculus (and a few Stramonita haemastoma fragments) from at least 1,030 individuals. According to David Reese, although crushed shells served as floor packing in a secondary use, they were initially remains of purple dye production. A handful of purple shells have also been retrieved from the sacrificial area at Xobourgo on Tenos (Theodoropoulou, unpublished report). A further interesting case study comes from Lindos where, according to Blinkenberg (1931: 175-7), great amounts of purple shells were associated with pellets of some sort of colouring substance. In his view, these shells were neither food deposits nor the actual remains of purple dye production, but rather votive offerings associated with the activity of producing the purple dye. This raises the question of colour production versus food use when interpreting purple shells. It is not possible in this chapter to enter into the details of purple-dye production. It must, however, be stressed that although significant quantities of murex are required to produce dye on a large scale, smaller quantities may be sufficient for a limited production at household level (for example, Becker 2001). In order to substantiate the large-scale production of purple dye in a given context, finds other than significant quantities of murex shells would include grinders and grinding surfaces for crushing the shells, and vats and vases for the fermentation of the colour and dipping of cloth. The deposition of limited quantities of crushed murex inside settlements may or may not be associated with such an activity. At the same time, Muridicae molluscs are edible, were consumed in the Mediterranean (Thompson 1947: 218), and were also used as bait, a source of lime, and as 4 

The word murex is used hereafter generically for all the species of the Muricidae family.

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10. A sea of luxury: luxury items and dyes of marine origin

Figure 10.5 Purple-producing species, Hexaplex trunculus and Bolinus brandaris, and crushed murex heap. Specimens from Oropos. (© T. Theodoropoulou).

ornament. It is therefore not always possible to directly associate purple-shell remains with purple-dye production, especially when it comes to sanctuaries. On the other hand, beyond the production of purple dye in the Aegean during this period, the end products of this activity, the purple clothes themselves, are transient and extremely rare in the archaeological record, despite the fact that they would certainly have formed part of the thriving Phoenician trade with the Aegean, and as luxury items would be expected to feature among votive offerings in cult or funerary contexts, as recent finds from earlier such contexts suggest (see e.g. the Protogeometric cemetery at Stamna, Kolonas et al. forthcoming, and compare the earliest finds from Italy, Gleba and Van den Berghe 2014). In short, although purple dye production cannot be securely attested in the seventh-century Aegean on a large and repeated scale, the presence of murex-shell remains in important contexts from this period, such as sanctuaries, invests this mollusc with more than casual meaning. Whether used as food offerings or associated with purpledye production, as real remains of activity or as votive offerings alluding to a luxurious substance, their presence deserves greater attention than it has hitherto received. Future finds should be carefully studied, bearing in mind all possible uses. ‘Luxuries’ from the sea: towards an evaluation An increasing marine faunal record from the Aegean confirms that Aegean populations of all periods had access to marine animal resources and exploited them for both dietary and non-dietary purposes. However, with increasing social complexity and progressive moves towards the formation of Archaic city-states, there was a gradual shift towards more reliable, staple foods as well as higher value raw materials (Theodoropoulou 2012). The finds presented in this chapter include both easily acquirable marine shells and fish, and exotic species or transformed marine raw materials. Following the definitions of ‘luxury’ given at the beginning of the chapter, Tridacna shells offer an excellent example of an exotic and presumably expensive commodity which probably also 91

Tatiana Theodoropoulou held ritual meaning. As is often the case with imported goods, even when abundant in their place of origin, they are rare at the place of consumption and thus upgraded to ‘luxuries’. Tridacna shells have a wide geographical distribution away from their place of procurement and transformation during this period, but always found in limited numbers at each site. Their exclusive occurrence at sanctuaries in the Aegean further underlines their precious and rare character, used to mark special occasions. The case of corals is slightly different. Although this raw material is found in Aegean waters, the difficulty in harvesting it and its almost exclusive occurrence at cult sites during our period upgrade it to a prestige, ‘luxury’ item. Corals can be found both in unmodified state and transformed into ornaments. Despite this technical dichotomy, both types of items seem to point to the fact that coral was highly appreciated. Unmodified corals deposited in sanctuaries suggest that people recognized the special physical and symbolic or magical properties of this material that made it a worthy offering to a deity. The use of coral in jewellery production, often associated with other expensive materials such as gold or silver, or given elaborate forms, further suggests the value attributed to this material. In this case, a local species is invested with a ‘luxury’ character built on an aesthetic and belief system that would be recognised and appreciated by many. The same holds true for another precious material from the sea: purple dye. Purple colour, as well as cloth dyed in purple, was widely appreciated and it is believed that they formed an important part of Phoenician trade during the Early Iron Age and early Archaic period. On the other hand, the production of purple dye in the Aegean is known to have begun very early, thus suggesting that Aegean populations would be familiar with the product. Focusing on the seventh century, although the current record includes no clear examples of industrial purple-dye production in the Aegean, the considerable quantities of crushed purple shells in cult contexts raise the question of whether they represent the actual remains of purple-dye extraction, deposited in a cult context after use in thanks to the deity for an activity well done, or if the high value of the substance and the purple-dyed cloths led to the attribution of a ‘luxury’ character to the shell that produced the precious colour. At the same time, ritual consumption of a highly appreciated mollusc as food within the boundaries of a cult area cannot be ruled out. Whatever the case, the contexts of discovery upgrade this common shell to an item worthy of deposition in a sanctuary. All three cases presented above seem to be invested with some degree of luxury, as well as a presumably recognizable social identity, which allowed these items to circulate and be consumed in communal contexts. Yet other materials of marine origin in the archaeological record of this period should also be considered, as despite their humble nature they are found in cult contexts and are thus liable to bear special meaning. The association of these materials with wealthy or elite groups is far from straightforward. Tridacna shells or precious coral ornaments were probably the offerings of high-status worshippers. And it is easy to suggest that common people would have had access to marine materials, which were more widely found or of lower value and quality. However, such a binary distinction is rather static. Non-exotic or non-expensive marine materials and objects are not necessarily to be linked with the social status of their owners. Such items may be differentially available to different social classes or in different forms. Coral pieces worked together with precious metals would definitely not be within the reach of the poorest, but the simply modified or natural coral branches found in seventh-century Aegean sanctuaries could be the offerings of simple fishermen or other local worshippers. Commonly found cowries or other shells and fish would not be expensive or hard to acquire, but their remote nature or symbolic meaning could upgrade them to ‘luxury’ items in specific communal contexts. Edible shells and fish could be selected for consumption as part of a communal diet or deposition as food offerings, as they represent foodstuffs that were not strictly optimal in terms of the ratio of costs versus nutritional value, or were simply different from everyday practice. Comparison with evidence from contemporary settlements may hold the key to understanding differential consumption foodstuffs, based both on the qualitative range of taxa present and on quantitative differences between the presence of terrestrial and marine animals. Conclusions The seventh-century archaeological record from the Aegean includes an interesting corpus of objects made from marine materials as well as unmodified marine animal remains associated with cult or funerary contexts. Due to the wide variability and types of these finds, it is difficult to categorize them, much less to identify in them a commonly shared ‘luxury’ identity. Some finds are more easily deemed ‘luxuries’ as habitually defined, as several characteristics point to their limited circulation and high value. Other finds are more obscure both in terms of the value attributed to them and of their potential uses, as only their context of discovery points to a charged meaning. It is not clear whether the latter were selected for deposition in cult contexts as ‘luxury’ or ‘symbolic’ items, or if they were related to the habitual consumption of common resources. At the same time, the seventh century was marked by a great variability in religious customs and funerary rites (Duplouy et al. 2010). Regardless of their interpretation, these data emphasize the complexity of the patterns of use of marine materials and items. What stems from this brief account is the challenge to place these finds within the broader sphere of beliefs related to the marine world, and to try to reconstruct social interaction with the sea during this period. 92

11. Coarse, plain and cooking ware: seventh-century innovation for old-fashioned pots Jean-Sébastien Gros Abstract: This chapter presents evidence for a major transformation in the production, distribution and consumption of plain, and particularly cooking, ware during the seventh century BC. From the last decade of the eighth century, it is possible to trace a reorganization of production. Evolving gradually but rapidly through the seventh century, this gave rise to new standards of plainware that continued until the end of the Classical period. The seventh century also saw specialization in every aspect of production (most significantly in shape and fabric), which indicates the creation of new products to meet specific needs.

This chapter cannot be a comprehensive study, but rather presents synthetic notes which emphasize the importance of a class of material which cannot be ignored in any review of seventh-century patterns of behaviour. The observations and reflections gathered here are grounded in my doctoral research on Early Iron Age coarseware. The reference corpus consists of published material from sites in central Greece, Oropos OTE OM103/210 augmented by my own detailed study of pottery from the excavations of the Archaeological Society of Athens at Oropos on the Euboean Gulf and Xobourgo on Tenos. On a broad scale, comparison of the coarseware repertoire between the eighth and seventh centuries reveals some major morphological changes. The same observations can be made at the micro level, where the shape evolution of Figure 11.1 Baking trays from Oropos. (© J-S. Gros). individual vessel types is equally significant. Moreover, a review of different manufacturing techniques provides further evidence of innovation in certain aspects of pottery production during the seventh century. Until the end of the eighth century there were, with minor exceptions,1 only three main coarseware shapes: the chytra (cooking pot or Aegean cooking jug), the lekane (bowl or basin, for which naming conventions depend on size), and the griddle or baking tray. This last is the simplest shape ever made, and showed no marked change during the seventh century (nor indeed well into late antiquity). The only noteworthy observation to be made is the disappearance of the tripod type at the end of the Early Iron Age (Figure 11.1). From the end of the eighth century, the repertoire of coarsewares gradually grew. The most significant new shapes are the mortar, the kados, the trefoil-lipped jug and the hydria. Some eighth-century examples are known, but they are rare. However, during the seventh century these shapes developed into well-established production series. This phenomenon points towards a growing preference for functionally specific vessel types, presumably to meet the food preparation needs of a sophisticated society. This specialization may also be observed within the evolution of each shape, especially the well-known chytra and lekane. Observing the evolution of these two abundant shape types allows us to recognize new fashions, and techniques which were also employed for other shapes. Comparison of two cooking pots (chytrai), one dating to the eighth century and the other to the seventh, demonstrates the most striking evidence of development (Figure 11.2). The profile of the Geometric pot is clearly elongated while the Archaic is globular. The form of the latter can be seen as the first step towards the canonical Classical cooking pot described by Plato: εἴπερ ἡ χύτρα κεκεραμευμένη εἴη ὑπὸ ἀγαθοῦ κεραμέως λεία καὶ στρογγύλη καὶ καλῶς ὠπτημένη, οἷαι τῶν καλῶν χυτρῶν εἰσί τινες δίωτοι, τῶν ἓξ χοᾶς χωρουσῶν, πάγκαλαι, εἰ τοιαύτην ἐρωτῴη χύτραν, καλὴν ὁμολογητέον εἶναι. Πῶς γὰρ ἂν φαῖμεν καλὸν ὂν μὴ καλὸν εἶναι; (Pl. Hp. Ma. 288d-e) In this text, Socrates describes the characteristics of the perfect chytra. Among other qualities (polished, globular, well fired, with two handles) we may notice the volume - six choes (nearly 20 litres in the Attic system). Socrates is 1 

One of the more interesting is the cooking stand: Gros 2011.

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Jean-Sébastien Gros therefore describing a very large cooking pot, and while no doubt exaggerated, it is true that the average volume of the chytra increased from three to five litres in the course of the Archaic period. It is difficult to establish a picture of regional and temporal changes in forming techniques without systematic petrographic and X-ray analyses, although these are now beginning to be conducted on Early Iron Age and Archaic assemblages in the Aegean (Berg 2008; Charalambidou et al. forthcoming; Gauß et al. 2015; Klebinder-Gauß and Strack 2015; Whitbread 2001). It is, however, possible to draw some interim conclusions based on a few, well-documented cases. Prior to the seventh century, forming techniques were very varied and in some instances at least, it appears that local potters favoured particular forming methods over others. Thereafter, during the seventh century, a combination of two different techniques came to dominate. In the first stage, the general shape of the pot was made by hand, and then in the second, the thickness of the wall was reduced to less than 0.0055m by the technique known as paddle and anvil (Sparkes and Talcott 1970: 34-6, pl. 99). Since this second stage often obscured the marks of the first, some other combinations are possible, e.g. coil forming or the use of the turntable. Finishing technique is a more reliable indicator of innovation, as more technological characteristics can be Figure 11.2 Late eighth-century vessel from Oropos in comparison systematically observed. There were two with a late seventh-century vessel from the Athenian Agora. main surface finishes for coarse wares, (© J-S. Gros; Agora illustration after Sparkes and Talcott 1970). burnished and rough. Burnishing is the oldest known finishing technique for creating a sintered, impermeable surface. It was used in the Aegean, and to great decorative effect, from the Neolithic onwards, but it ceased to be employed on fine wares from the Late Bronze Age in the central Aegean, having been replaced by sintered clay slips and painted decoration. However, it continued to be used on a range of coarseware shapes partly for its aesthetic value, but more importantly to prevent seepage of the contents. This treatment became the standard finish for globular chytrai by the end of seventh century, no doubt favoured because this was a specialist shape used for boiling liquids (Figure 11.3). On the other hand, one sub-type of Early Iron Age jug was neither slipped nor burnished, but presents a rough surface. The form is a continuation of the ovoid jug with an elongated profile, a round mouth and a ring foot. The fabric is quite different to that of canonical chytra, being porous with very well sorted inclusions (Figure 11.4), and was evidently used specifically for a new variant. The shape, a water jug or pitcher, is one of the new specialized seventh-century types, used not for cooking but to keep water cool while storing it. Another variant in the same fabric is the trefoil mouth jug for pouring water, conventionally named the oinochoe. A similar case can be made for the coarse amphora. During the Early Iron Age, the few known local experiments show wide variation in shape from place to place. During the seventh century the shape becomes very common and much more standardized.

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11. Coarse, plain and cooking ware: seventh-century innovation for old-fashioned pots The most distinctive seventhcentury shape is the kados, which appears to be restricted to Attica,2 and is particularly common in Athens. The twohandled cooking pot is its forerunner, but many changes can be observed during the seventh century. Kados P21433 (Figure 11.5) from the Athenian Agora is an intermediate type between the Early Iron Age jug and the seventh-century kados. The ring base is restrained, but gives stability and toughness. The two vertical handles are now attached from neck to shoulder rather than from neck to rim, and their form has changed from a strap to a circular section. P12177 (Figure 11.5) represents the standard seventh-century kados, exhibiting a roundsection handle and a ring base. It is made of a porous fabric similar to the water jug (pitcher) described above. This is a very Figure 11.3 Kerameikos Museum 355 from the Kerameikos cemetery. common seventh-century shape (© J-S. Gros). in Athens, and we can observe a normalization of the fabric. Its function is in no doubt, as a high percentage of known kadoi were found in the bottom of wells in the Athenian Agora.3 It is even possible to observe on the handle of P23659 the marks made by the ropes used to lower kadoi into a well to draw water. The hydria is similar in function and fabrication technique, and its form may have been specifically adapted for carrying water from fountains rather than wells. Together, these three shapes – the oinochoe, the kados and the Figure 11.4 Detail of jug Thorikos TC 66.218. (© J-S. Gros). hydria – should be considered as developments of the Early Iron Age coarse-ware jug, adapted in the seventh century for specific functions (Figure 11.6). Turning to open shapes, the lekane (basin or bowl) is a common eighth-century form made in the same fabric used for chytrai. The shape is simple, with a flat base and, in the majority of cases, two horizontal round handles (Figure 11.7). In the seventh century we observe first a tendency to create a more angular profile for the rim. But most significant is the increasing variation of form clearly demonstrated by a rich experimentation with the handles (upright handle, horizontal lug etc.) (Figure 11.8). Again, this surely indicates a response to new specific demands. A prime example is

2  3 

See, for instance, the examples from the Sacred House at Eleusis, or Oropos. At least five copies were found in well P in the Athenian Agora (Brann 1961b: 140).

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Jean-Sébastien Gros

Figure 11.5 Two kadoi from the Athenian Agora. (© J-S. Gros).

the variant with an opening for pouring liquids, the precursor of the shape conventionally called a louterion, which became very common in the seventh century (Figure 11.9). As with the closed vessels, the most obvious evidence for the seventhcentury ceramic revolution is the invention of a brand new shape, the mortar. There is slight evidence that this utensil may have existed at the end of the eighth century, but its seventh-century production is markedly distinct. The site of Oropos provides a useful corpus with which to understand this invention. To consider only ceramic versions, the large pounding trough first occurs in Middle Geometric II (Figure 11.10). This first vessel is unique: very similar in shape to standard lekane, yet with a surface which points to a specialized function. The exterior and upper part of the interior are smooth but the lower interior is gritty with many hard and sharp inclusions. Two other large mortars dating to the very end of the century were found, one in the west and the other in the central quarter (Gros 2007: 265, fig. 7). These two specimens are identical to an extent that I have never before observed in Early Iron Age coarseware, and there can be no doubt that they were made by the same craftsman. This could be seen as reflecting the very beginning of a normalization of the shape. Their distribution at the site is also significant: if we accept that the sectors from which they came represent two different oikoi, then this gives important information about the scale of the distribution of this production, and an indication that the craftsman was a specialist potter who did not make such items just for his own family.

Figure 11.6 Schematic illustration of the multiplication of shapes and functions during the seventh century. (© J-S. Gros).

During the seventh century, some workshops, for example on Cyprus and at Corinth, specialized in a shallow export version, what we now regard as the proper mortar.4 This shape became very common throughout the Aegean (Villing and Spataro 2009) and examples are found in Oropos and Xobourgo (Figure 11.11), quickly followed by local imitations. Only a few places appear regularly to have imported coarseware in the eighth century (e.g. Delos and Delphi: Luce 2008), 4 

For the two shapes, holmos and thyeia, see Villing (2009: 319).

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11. Coarse, plain and cooking ware: seventh-century innovation for old-fashioned pots

Figure 11.7 Late eighth-century lekanai from Oropos. (© J-S. Gros).

Figure 11.8 Seventh-century lekanai from Oropos. (© J-S. Gros).

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Figure 11.9 Various examples of ‘louteria’ from Oropos and Tenos. (© J-S. Gros).

and the majority of cooking and plain wares were locally produced for small scale distribution. In the next century, however, the recurrent import of mortars points to the emergence of both specialization and normalization of coarseware production in large workshops. This conclusion is supported by the variation in fabrics. Until the end of the eighth century, ceramic production can be divided strictly between specialized externally oriented production mechanisms for finewares and local limited productions of coarsewares. This is no longer true in the seventh century, as the quantity of semi-fine plain ware gradually increased. The generic coarseware of the eighth century spread into more specialized fabrics, mainly cooking ware and semi-fine plainware, but also the gritty ware of the mortar. The phenomenon of specialization in coarseware production reflects the increasingly sophisticated society emerging in the seventh century: people with more complex daily habits created demand for ceramic types to meet more specific needs. The same conclusion can be reached, a fortiori, by exploration of the production system. I proposed in my doctoral thesis that Early Iron Age coarseware production was seasonal. However, the specialized shapes and adaptation of 98

11. Coarse, plain and cooking ware: seventh-century innovation for old-fashioned pots

Figure 11.10 An early example from Oropos of a basin used as a mortar. (© J-S. Gros).

manufacturing techniques to match form and function to meet consumer demand suggests that this was no longer true in the seventh century. Only permanent production mechanisms could create such a wide range of technological innovation. Moreover, the phenomenon of normalization points toward a new organization of production centres for seventh-century plain and cooking wares. Following Peacock’s model for the pottery industry, we may say that the eighth century saw a change from ‘household production’ to ‘household industry’ or ‘individual workshop’, and that in the seventh century the further step was taken from ‘individual workshop’ to ‘nucleated workshop’ (Peacock 1982).

Oropos ΟΣΚ ΩΔ/Πχ198

Xobourgo OM2000

Xobourgo OM1994

Xobourgo 18K2

Figure 11.11 Mortars from Oropos and Tenos. (© J-S. Gros).

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Investigation of other dimensions of this humble ware, such as consumption patterns, should enable other such observations that elucidate social change. The brief mention above of the increased capacity of the cooking pot obviously reflects change in food consumption. But here the most striking transformation occurred in the sixth century (Rotroff 2015), with the invention of lidded variants of the chytra and the lopas, indicating new preparation methods and recipes that have at their culmination the ostentatious feasts of the fourth century - both beyond the scope of this chapter.

12. East Greek pottery workshops in the seventh century BC: tracing regional styles Michael Kerschner Abstract: Regional styles of early Greek pottery have played a major role in discussion of the construction of identities in Early Iron Age communities. Methodologically, it is necessary to differentiate historical from ‘analytical’ regions, the latter being defined by the distribution of certain kinds of artefacts. The major production centres of East Greek pottery have mostly now been located, thanks to archaeometric analyses and the excavation of kiln sites. Eastern Aegean potters were involved in a discourse at an intraregional level as well as with other regions of the Aegean and of Western Anatolia. Archaeometric analyses help us to understand these interactions and to trace the mobility of individual craftsmen or the foundation of branch workshops.

This chapter discusses the question of regional styles of East Greek pottery and their places of production in the seventh century BC by investigating certain underlying patterns. The eastern Aegean comprises the western coast of Asia Minor, from the Hellespont in the north to the Knidian peninsula in the south, and the off-shore islands from Lesbos to Rhodes (Figure 12.1). Several dozen Greek poleis and many smaller settlements were situated in this vast region (Hansen and Nielsen 2004: 732-93, 1000-137). Many produced pottery for their own needs, as potters counted among the basic professions in an Early Iron Age community. Not all produced decorated finewares, however, and only a few aimed to produce a surplus for export. Given the size of the area, it is these producers of export finewares which form the focus of this chapter. Changing patterns of perception: the history and current state of research In order to evaluate current interpretations and hypotheses, it is useful to start with a short overview of previous research. The initial stimulus for the study of East Greek pottery arose from excavations in the necropolis of Kamiros on Rhodes between 1858 and 1865. In these graves, the British Vice-Consul, Sir Alfred Biliotti, and the French photographer Auguste Salzmann (1875; Barchard 2006: 13-14; Coulié 2014) discovered a considerable number of completely preserved vases decorated in a hitherto unknown style and dating to the Archaic period. Since they were found on Rhodes, it seemed natural to regard the majority of these pots as local Rhodian (on the history of research, see Cook 1997: 295-300; Kerschner 2002a). Thus many of the decorated wares which (as it would later turn out) had in fact been imported from different pottery centres in the eastern Aegean, were originally considered to be products of Rhodian workshops (e.g. Kardara 1963; Schiering 1957). From a present-day perspective, it seems astonishing that this monocentric concept prevailed for nearly a century, since it is inherently unlikely that there would have been only one production place for decorated pottery in an area as vast as the eastern Aegean. Furthermore, the variety of dialects, scripts, and sculptural as well as architectural styles in this very region was already well known (e.g. Langlotz 1927: 103-39, esp. 109). Why then did this ‘PanRhodian’ concept persist? Two factors, above all, seem to have been crucial. First, certain features common to the work of many seventh-century East Greek vase-painters (as the arrangement of decoration in friezes or the predilection for grazing wild goats) were interpreted as indications of a common source. Secondly, there was a longlasting lack of published material from many of the production sites in question. Scholars studying decorated finewares from Klazomenai, some 250 km north of Rhodes, were the first to propose a ‘regional concept’ as an alternative to the prevailing ‘central’ hypothesis. Lennart Kjellberg (1905: 201) postulated that the so-called Rhodian style was cultivated in various local shades and nuances throughout the Greek cities of Asia Minor and on the off-shore islands during the eighth and seventh centuries (a point anticipated by Zahn [1898: 67, 70 n. 6], who remarked that the style seems to be widespread in Asia Minor). The ‘Pan-Rhodian concept’ eroded further when the excavations of Konstantinos Kourouniotis (1915) at Phanai on Chios and those of the German Archaeological Institute at the Samian Heraion uncovered rich finds of painted pottery (Technau 1929; Eilmann 1933). But it was only much later, around 1970, that the next step of classifying the Archaic pottery of the eastern Aegean according to its different production centres was taken by Hans Walter (1968) and Elena WalterKarydi (1970; 1973), just as Nicolas Coldstream (2008 [first ed. 1968]: 262-301, 477–9) had done for Geometric period material. This change of paradigm was an important step forward, but it had its limitations, since the method rested on a combination of analyses of style and distribution. The introduction of archaeometric fabric analyses by Pierre Dupont (1983) and Richard Jones together with John Boardman (Jones 1986: 659-73; Boardman 1978c) from the mid100

12. East Greek pottery workshops in the seventh century BC: tracing regional styles

Figure 12.1 Pottery production centres in the eastern Aegean during the seventh century. (© Austrian Archaeological Institute, Vienna; figure: M. Kerschner and I. Benda-Weber).

1970s onwards paved the way for further advances. Scientific analyses provided a fruitful way to locate the exact production places of the various classes of East Greek pottery which had already been defined stylistically by Robert Cook (1933-4; 1952), John Cook (1965), Chrysoula Kardara (1963) and others. From the 1990s onwards, many new and resumed excavations in the eastern Aegean, especially at sites on the west coast of Asia Minor, have multiplied the amount of Archaic pottery and sometimes revealed hitherto unknown styles and classes. Nonetheless, some Archaic sites in the eastern Aegean remain elusive, including potential producers of painted pottery (Cook and Dupont 1998: 5-7; Greaves 2010: 9-10). 101

Michael Kerschner In short, consideration of changing perceptions of East Greek pottery over the last 150 years reveals a growing conceptual complexity as our knowledge has increased. Since our knowledge is still expanding, it seems likely that we will continue in this way in the future. The following remarks may provide some points of definition. Defining a region: historical versus ‘analytical’ regions A region in the sense used in archaeology is not a given geographic unit with immutably fixed boundaries, but a coherent space created by human activity and behaviour (Reger 2007; 2013). It is essentially a cultural phenomenon. Geographic facts are influential in its formation, but they are neither exclusive nor ineluctably decisive. Shared cultural habits and traditions play a major role, as do political, ethnic and economic determinants. Hence the definition of any given region is dynamic and continuously re-negotiated over time. Gary Reger (2013: 128) divides those human activities that form a region ‘into two broad categories: the actions undertaken by people in the past and the actions we take as investigators of the past. The latter group produces heuristic regions, regions that allow us to interrogate the past.’ In archaeology, we define such ‘heuristic’ or ‘analytical regions’ by the extent of particular traits of material culture. In our case this is the distribution of certain traditions of forming and painting pots (Morgan 1999b: 214-15; 2003: 16-18, 165-7; Snodgrass 1999: 26-7).1 ‘Analytical regions’ are mapped by archaeologists on the basis of the available archaeological evidence. Whenever the stock of material increases, as it has substantially in the eastern Aegean over the last two decades, maps must be updated and the definition of the region in question revisited. New finds as well as developments in methodology and theory call for adaptations of the classifications used to define archaeological regions. Such a new classification for East Greek pottery has recently been proposed (Kerschner and Schlotzhauer 2005). It encompasses all classes of pottery, figural and ornamental, banded as well as unpainted wares, within a homogeneous framework, whereas previous classifications were limited to certain styles of decoration (see e.g. Cook 1933-4; 1952; Cook and Dupont 1998; Kardara 1963). The new system is structured according to production places or areas combined with chronological periods and phases. Definitions are flexible in terms of precision, and the classification can therefore be adapted if and when further progress in research should make this necessary. Historical regions are based mainly on political, religious and linguistic categories (for the eastern Aegean, see Hdt. 1.142, 144, 149) which are invisible or only indirectly traceable in the material record (apart from inscriptions, which are rare in the seventh-century eastern Aegean: Greaves 2010: 14-20 with bibliography). By contrast, analytical regions are defined by the distribution of objects which often had no particular importance in the self-definition of their owner as belonging to a certain region. In the case of fine pottery, economic criteria such as price, quality and availability were decisive variables for the consumer. Among cultural factors, desire for the latest fashion may have been as important to the purchaser as his/her habituation to a local style. For the elite, competition within their peer group beyond local and regional borders was a crucial factor in their choice of vessels for the symposium (note, for example, the distribution pattern of Aeolian dinoi of the ‘London Dinos group’ [İren 2002: 194-6, 199-205, fig. 22; Kerschner 2006a: 114-15, 117-19, fig. 31; Scatozza Höricht 2012: 23-5, 36-8 figs. 3-6]). All these factors weaken the hypothesis that a certain polis territory may be identically mirrored in the distribution pattern of a certain style. As Anthony Snodgrass (1999: 31) pointed out: ‘stylistic autonomy did not, as a rule, follow political autonomy … The individual polis, which understandably dominates our approach to the political history of the era, is in many ways the least visible unit in the archaeology of ceramics.’ Thus we should not expect to reconstruct historical regions simply by exploring analytical ones (Hall 1997: 128-31; Morgan 2009b: 21; Snodgrass 1999: 26). The ‘analytical regions’ defined by the extent of a certain artefact style provide rather a different layer of social interaction than the political organisation of an area. Exploring overlaps and divergences between political borders and the extent of artefact styles is highly informative for understanding the interaction of the political, cultural and economic levels of Archaic societies. A further kind of differentiation must be taken into account. ‘Analytical regions’ may illustrate two different kinds of economic activity: ‘regionalism in consumption (attested through distribution of goods) and regionalism in production’ (Reger 2007: 67). Areas of consumption can be directly visualized by mapping finds of a certain category, but it is more difficult to investigate the actual place(s) of production. In general, the density of finds of a particular category is greatest near the site of its production. Yet there are exceptions. Some classes of object were made mainly or exclusively for export and are thus more often found in the region of consumption than 1 

On the problems of interpreting distribution patterns, see in general Crielaard 1999: 60-1; Morgan 2009b: 21; Stissi 1999. For a critical analysis of the German concepts of ‘Kunstlandschaft’ and ‘Landschaftsstil’, which have been influential especially in East Greek pottery studies, see Raeder 1993.

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12. East Greek pottery workshops in the seventh century BC: tracing regional styles that of manufacture (for examples of the interdependence of workshops and markets, see: Osborne 1996; Scheffer 1988; Williams 2013: 41-50). Furthermore, the problem of unequal archaeological evidence blurs the picture; as noted above, the Archaic phases of several potential eastern Aegean production sites have not yet been sufficiently investigated (Cook and Dupont 1998: 5-7; Greaves 2010: 9-10). We therefore have only two unmistakable indicators of a production site: excavations of pottery workshops with their kilns and dumps, and archaeometric analysis (Snodgrass 1999: 27, and see also below). Regional ceramic styles: a matter of the community or of individuals? It is generally assumed that Archaic Greeks were aware of the distinctiveness of the ceramic styles of their native regions, although we have no explicit testimony about this (Arafat and Morgan 1989: 330; Crielaard 1999: 65; Morgan and Whitelaw 1991: 79, 93, 108; previously, scholars placed greater emphasis on this awareness and even believed in a direct relationship between regional ceramic styles and political developments, e.g. Snodgrass 1980: 25-8; Coldstream 1983a; contra Morgan 2003: 166; Snodgrass 1999: 26, 31). How did this awareness come into being? Painted pottery was part of everyday life, and this ubiquity led to familiarity with local traditions of shaping and decorating pots. Ceramic styles became, naturally and unconsciously, part of the local identity of the inhabitants of a particular area, in the same way that houses were built, textiles were woven or furniture was crafted. These elements of cultural identity were acquired automatically through socialization, while political identity as a citizen of a certain polis was demonstrated and constantly renewed through rituals. These are the two different ways of creating personal identities - unconscious versus formalized. Pottery belonged to the individual sphere of Archaic Greek culture. Production and trade were in private hands. Even at war, poleis did not stop the export of pots to an enemy city-state (Cook 1997: 265; MacDonald 1982: 120-3; see also Pipili 2001: 96-7 for possible explanations of the continuing import of Laconian fineware during Polykrates’ reign). Pottery and its styles of decoration were not a matter of public involvement unlike, for example, monumental architecture and, sometimes, sculpture. There is no evidence that communities tried to interfere in the way that pots were shaped or decorated (Cook 1997: 265; Morgan 2009b: 12) except when the polis itself acted as a consumer, as in Athens, where the boule ordered amphorae of a standard shape and decoration as prizes for the winners of the Panathenaic games (Bentz 1998: 23-31). One field where political ideas could from time to time infiltrate into ceramic painting concerned narrative images illustrating local myths. The most copious and varied body of mythological scenes is found on Athenian black- and redfigure vases, with which no other regional style could compete. In East Greek pottery, figural scenes were significantly less frequent and mostly sixth-century in date (e.g. Ketterer 1999; Lemos 1991: 94-118, 271-85, pls 92-115; Tempesta 1998). In the seventh century, no ceramic style in the eastern Aegean was significantly involved in the discourse of constructing communal myths, as far as we know at present. The realm of the animal frieze: common ground throughout eastern Aegean regions The human figure was not on the whole a major concern of seventh-century eastern Aegean vasepainters, although narrative images did occur. The bearded man shooting with a bow and accompanied by horses and cart on a fragment from Miletos was interpreted by Volkmar von Graeve (1971: 118-19) as Herakles, perhaps fighting against the centaur Nessos. It dates to the Milesian Archaic Ia phase of the second quarter of the seventh century, and demonstrates that East Greek vase painters participated in the formation of mythological scenes, albeit sporadically. Another fragment from Miletos, dating to the third quarter of the seventh century, preserves the left side of a scene with an ithyphallic, hirsute satyr holding a tendril in his left hand (Figure 12.2; Simon 1997: 1114, 1132 no. 29c, pl. 751). The satyr moves to the right, perhaps dancing, perhaps chasing a nymph. According to Erika Simon (1997: 1114), this is the earliest known depiction of a ‘proto-Silenos’ in Greek art. Plainly, the eastern

Figure 12.2 Fragment of a closed vessel with a running satyr, Milesian Archaic I, from the Archaic habitation quarter at Kalabaktepe, Miletos (inv. K 92.696.2), third quarter of the seventh century. (© Milet Archiv, Bochum; after Simon 1997: pl. 751).

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Michael Kerschner Aegean was no backwater; there was innovation in iconography even if vase-painters engaged in it only occasionally (see e.g. Kerschner and Schlotzhauer 2005: 10 no. 10, fig. 6 [Miletos]; Kerschner 2008: 41-2, pl. 42, 8 [Ephesos]; Hürmüzlü 2010: 122-39, figs 31, 46, 48, 50 [Klazomenai]). Presumably the East Greek narrative tradition was developed in painting on other media.2 Eastern Aegean vase-painters clearly preferred animals, and especially wild goats and deer. Early in its development, animal decoration was arranged in metopes, a scheme which lasted from the Late Geometric until the second quarter of the seventh century (Käufler 2004: 39-45, pl. 5; Kerschner and Schlotzhauer 2005: 15, figs 1-2, 9) (Figure 12.3). At this early stage, heraldic groups, animal combats, and hunting scenes in the shoulder frieze were common. Later in the second half of the seventh century, painters increasingly favoured continuous friezes of uniformly grazing wild goats and deer (Figure 12.8). These animals were treated more like ornaments than individual creatures. Painters aimed to achieve a balanced overall impression: the decoration shrouded the vessel in a harmonious rhythm, an effect which reached its peak in such famous vases as the Lévy oinochoe (Coulié 2013: 1635, figs 152a–b, pl. X). Animal friezes were popular in the seventh century. They occur in several Aegean and mainland Greek regional styles, such those of Corinth, Athens, the Cyclades and Thasos. They were, however, treated in a peculiar way in the eastern Aegean. Here animal friezes play a more prominent role in the general arrangement of decoration than in most other regions. On their masterpieces, Ionian vase-painters achieved a delicacy of rhythm in the arrangement of animal friezes in accordance with the vessel shape that was rarely achieved elsewhere. There was also a specific set of ornaments shared in different parts of the eastern Aegean, including chains of lotus flowers and buds which appear as the lowest frieze on oinochoae and half roundels suspended from the upper line of a frieze. East Greek artisans adhered to the outline technique throughout the seventh century, whereas in Corinth and Athens black-figure became the rule. These features were shared by most eastern Aegean pottery centres and created a common identity as opposed to the rest of Greek vase painting. This constituted a third level of cultural identity, namely the larger, overarching region, set above the narrower region and, as a nucleus, the production centre (in most cases a polis). Figure 12.3 Wild Goat style oinochoe, Milesian Archaic Ia, from the sanctuary of Artemis Kithone at Miletos (inv. K 08.206.1), second quarter of the seventh century. (© Milet Archiv, Bochum; drawing: H. Grönwald).

The formation of ceramic styles at local, regional and supra-regional level How did such regional styles come into being? To answer this question, it is necessary to look at the way in which ceramic styles evolved in general and to reflect upon the factors by which they were determined with regard to their spatial extent. At local level, workshop traditions were constitutive. A style evolved from such traditions in an individual workshop or, more often, in a pottery centre with several interacting workshops. It was shaped by the inventions of individual potters and painters, and influenced by direct or indirect exchange of ideas among artisans as well as by customers’ demands. A workshop tradition developed by passing on technical know-how and aesthetic habits from masters to apprentices. Each generation of artisans continued to reproduce some of the typical features, but also changed and added others via their own inventions or responses to trends in other pottery centres.

2 

On the relationship between East Greek polychrome vase painting and painting on other media, see Lemos 2000: 385-9 and, in general, Schaus 1988; for an overview of wall painting in sixth-century western- and central-Anatolian tombs, see contributions in Summerer and Kienlin 2010.

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12. East Greek pottery workshops in the seventh century BC: tracing regional styles At regional level, the mobility of individual craftsmen probably played a crucial role in the transfer of techniques and points of style, as recently emphasized by several scholars and further discussed below.3 It is conceivable that individual artisans went on working trips after finishing their apprenticeship in order to improve their skills at different workshops (roughly comparable to the medieval and early modern journeyman years, albeit not as a general rule or in an organized way). The prospect of better living or working opportunities and of expanded sales markets were other potential incentives for craftsmen to move to a different town in the region or beyond (further possible reasons including refuge were specified by Williams 2013: 51). The demand for skilled artisans led some production centres to invite potters and vase-painters from abroad to work there permanently or for a limited period of time. Such a case is recorded in an inscription of the late fourth century BC from Ephesos, where citizenship was granted to two Athenian potters for producing a hydria for the sanctuary of Artemis and ‘mélas kéramos’ – presumably black-glazed ware – for the polis (Keil 1913: 238-9; Trinkl 2003: 75; Kratzmüller and Trinkl 2005: 163-6 figs. 5-6). Another means by which motifs and stylistic traits spread was the imitation or adaptation of imported pots. In addition, vase-painters adopted modes of decoration from other craft products such as textiles, carved furniture or adorned metal objects. The existence of a generally coherent regional style of vase-painting in large areas of the eastern Aegean during the seventh century implies high intra-regional connectivity in general and the frequent exchange of pots and artisans in particular. The same factors operated at supra-regional level as at regional level, though with less frequency and intensity. The mobility of individual artisans and the emulation of imported pots seem to have been determinant factors which may explain how a period style (Zeitstil) could develop and be recognizable throughout large areas of mainland Greece, the Aegean and the western coast of Asia Minor, despite regional differences. In the seventh century, this period style has often been called ‘orientalizing’, however vague this term might be (e.g. Boardman 1998: 83–176; Cook 1997: 41–160; for discussion of the term and its use, see Coulié [2013: 105–8], with bibliography). Forms of inspiration were many and varied, ranging from true imitation to selective adoption of a particular motif or technique or, at the other extreme, conscious rejection.4 Sometimes innovation in a foreign regional style stimulated idiosyncratic local responses, as, for example, the so-called Fikellura style at Miletos (Milesian Archaic II) (Cook 1933-4; Cook and Dupont 1998: 77–89; Coulié 2013: 155-8). Early in the sixth century, Milesian vase-painters started to apply the black-figure style then prevalent in most areas of the Aegean, but rejected the widespread technique of incision (Schlotzhauer 2007; 2012: 44). Instead, they refined their traditional way of reserving interior details of figures and ornaments and achieved an extraordinary delicacy in their master-pieces (see e.g. Graeve 2013: 12, fig. 8; Ketterer 1999; Schlotzhauer 1999: 231-2, fig. 15; 2006: 135-8). Discourse between different regional styles: imitation, adaptation and rejection The inter-regional level The inspirations drawn by individual ceramic styles from other Greek regions were numerous and varied considerably in strength. They reflect complex cultural and economic interactions which we only partly understand for lack of written sources. In fact, pottery trade and influences in ceramic styles are important evidence for discerning intra-Aegean relations. The exchange of ideas in ceramic styles can be mutual, but the archaeological evidence shows clearly that some local schools were more influential than others. The most influential were those who led in export. Throughout the seventh century, Corinth was the most prolific producer and the most efficient exporter of decorated fineware in the whole Greek world. Unsurprisingly, the commercial success of its products stimulated local imitations at a number of sites in the Aegean and beyond (e.g. Papadopoulos 2009 with bibliography). In the eastern Aegean, potters at Miletos, Ephesos, Samos, Klazomenai, Smyrna, and presumably Figure 12.4 Rim fragment of an East Greek imitation of a other sites too, drew on Corinthian models.5 Most Corinthian kotyle found in the Artemision of Ephesos (inv. frequently they imitated or adapted drinking vessels, as in ART 892948.1), first half of the seventh century. (© Austrian Archaeological Institute, Vienna; drawing: S. Karl and I. Benda-Weber).

3  E.g. Coulié 2000; Crielaard 1999: 56-7; Dupont and Thomas 2006: 81; Ersoy 2003: 256; Hürmüzlü 2008: 563; Kratzmüller and Trinkl 2005: 164; Kreuzer 2009: 90; Lemos 2000: 379, 383, 387, 390; MacDonald 1981; Manakidou 2013: 186; Papadopoulos 2009: 233-5; Pipili 2001: 99; Schlotzhauer and Villing 2006: 62-5; Paspalas 2009: 353; Schlotzhauer 2012: 62-5; Williams 2013: 51-2. 4  Coulié (2000: 258) distinguishes ‘l’imitation ponctuelle’ from ‘l’imitation en profondeur’. 5  E.g. Anderson 1958-9: 142, nos 54-7, pl. 22 (Smyrna); Furtwängler 1980: 161, 200 no. I/10, fig. 12 (Samos); Graeve 1973-4: 110-11 nos 136-8, pl. 32 (Miletos); Hürmüzlü 2008: 562-3 (Klazomenai); Kerschner 2003: 51-2, pl. 6, 1; Miller forthcoming (Ephesos); Walter and Vierneisel 1959: 19, pl. 33, 2. J. S. Schaeffer (in Schaeffer et al. 1997, 58-60, pl. 23) believes that the Corinthianizing pieces found at Sardis were not made at the site, but imported. East Greek pottery centres are a potential source.

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Michael Kerschner the case of a kotyle with fine white lines on the dark glazed body from Ephesos (Figure 12.4) (compare e.g. Weinberg 1943: 40, nos 126-7, pl. 19). Klazomenian potters imitated Corinthian perfume containers from the mid-seventh century onwards (Hürmüzlü 2008: 562-3). Due to their proximity, the eastern Aegeans, notably the south Ionians, maintained regular economic, cultural, political and cultic contacts with the adjacent islands to the west, the Cyclades. There was also exchange between vase painters, be it directly or indirectly through imported vessels. This interrelation has yet to be studied in detail. By this time, examples of a ‘Cycladic current’ are known from Miletos (Graeve 1971: 115). In the second quarter of the seventh century, certain Figure 12.5 Shoulder fragment of an oinochoe with a horse peculiarities in the depiction of animals and in the protome, Milesian Archaic Id, from the Archaic habitation quarter at Kalabaktepe, Miletos (inv. K 89.506.1), c. 610-580 composition on some vessels of the Milesian Archaic BC. (© Milet Archiv, Bochum). Ia phase show close connections with the presumably Naxian ‘Heraldic group’ and with the (possibly also Naxian) ‘Linear Island style’.6 At the very end of the seventh century or slightly later, a squat oinochoe of the Milesian Archaic Id phase bears a protome of a bridled horse (Figure 12.5).7 Animal protomes are common in the latest phase of the Milesian Wild Goat style, but the horse is at present unique. Similar horse protomes, however, were depicted on Cycladic vases of Dugas’ ‘Group C’ (Coulié 2013: 244-5, figs 245-6; on ‘Group C’, see Dugas 1935: 21-32, pls 34-7). The style of figure is, however, typically Milesian, as are the decorative scheme, the filling ornaments and the fabric of the pot. Hence in this case it is likely that a Milesian painter simply borrowed a Cycladic motif: by contrast, the ‘Cycladic current’ at Miletos earlier in the century points to a more intensive interaction. Cultural contact and exchange also took place with Anatolian neighbours in the east. Not only did Lydian and Carian potters emulate eastern-Aegean styles (Cook 1999; Fazlıoğlu 2007; Greenewalt 2010, all with bibliography) but there was also Lydian influence on East Greek pottery production, especially in those poleis (Ephesos, Smyrna and presumably also Kolophon and Kyme) situated closest to the Lydian capital, Sardis (Figure 12.9).8 Yet Lydian influence also became noticeable a little further away. Klazomenai was not itself an immediate neighbour of Lydia, but its territory bordered on Smyrna, which in turn shows strong Lydian influence in its material culture. In a potter’s workshop of the first half of the sixth century on the Acropolis hill at Klazomenai, streaky ware of Lydian type was made along with the typical local north-Ionian classes (Ersoy 2000: 403-6; 2003; 2007: 172). From the mid-seventh century onwards, the Lydian kingdom expanded rapidly under the Mermnad dynasty, and the Lydian economy grew appreciably at the same time. The booming royal capital developed into a prosperous trading and production centre, and consequently the transport routes leading to Sardis gained in importance. A major route connecting Sardis with the Aegean coast followed the river Hermos to its mouth, and an alternative branch ran via the easily traversable saddle of Belkahve to Smyrna (Figure 12.9). Along these two main communication routes, intercultural contacts between Lydians, Ionians and Aeolians became more intense during the second half of the seventh century and through the sixth. This is reflected in an increase in imports on each side, and in the emergence of several classes of pottery which blend elements of Aeolian, north-Ionian and Lydian tradition (Cook 1985: 27-8; Kerschner 2005: 134-9, figs 3-5; Paspalas 2009: 348-53; Kerschner forthcoming). This hybrid tendency flourished in the sixth century, but its roots probably reach back into the late seventh. Typical examples are big shoulder-handled amphorae of the ‘Myrina type’ and dinoi, both decorated in a fluently painted style with simple vegetal and orientalizing ornaments, which were labelled the ‘Hermus valley class’ by John Cook (1985: 27-8, pl. 5b-c). Based on Cook’s coinage, I propose the term ‘Hermos valley style’ for this hybrid East Greek Lydian style, thus emphasizing the importance of the area where it emerged – the lower Hermos valley – and its specific historic situation as highly frequented contact zone of Ionians, Aeolians and Lydians in the Archaic period (Kerschner forthcoming). This intercultural and interethnic ceramic style is a manifestation of ‘material 6 

Graeve 1971: 110-15, fig. 1, pl. 33, 36; Käufler 2004: 45-7, figs 14-15; Kerschner 1999: 31, fig. 23. For comparisons from the Cyclades, see Coulié (2013: 236-45, figs 230, 235, 241-3). 7  Cook and Dupont 1998: 45, fig. 8.12; Käufler 2004: 165, no. 832; Kerschner and Schlotzhauer 2005: 35, no. 85, fig. 38. 8  Kerschner 2005: 134-41, figs 3-5; 2010: 254-5, fig. 3. Finds of Lydian Marbled ware are mentioned from the excavations of Hetty Goldman at Kolophon: MacSweeney 2013: 126.

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Figure 12.6 North-Ionian bird bowl of the ‘standard fabric’ produced at Teos, found in the Artemision of Ephesos (Inv. ART 890754.1), second to third quarter of the seventh century. (© Austrian Archaeological Institute, Vienna; photograph: N. Gail).

entanglement, which signifies the creation of something new that is more than just the sum of its parts and combines the familiar with the previously foreign’ (Stockhammer 2012: 43, 49–51). It ‘testifies to the interaction of Lydian and East Greek traditions in which motifs and shapes migrated over modern scholarship’s boundaries’ (Paspalas 2009: 353). Therefore, the conventional concepts of ‘Kunstlandschaft’ (cultural landscape) and ‘Landschaftsstil’ (regional style) which have been defined mainly on the basis of ethnic, linguistic and political parameters (Raeder 1993) are inappropriate to describe this phenomenon. The intra-regional level Imitations and eclectic adoptions can also be seen on an intra-regional level. Here too, widely exported classes of fineware were preferred as models. One example is the ‘cup with everted rim’ (‘Knickrandschale’, the so-called Ionian cup), which was the dominant form of drinking vessel in South Ionia during the Archaic period (on the name and typology, see Schlotzhauer 2000; 2001). Archaeometric analyses have demonstrated that production took place at Miletos, Samos, Ephesos9 and in the ‘Hellespontine Workshops’ which developed in the Milesian tradition (Figure 12.1).10 In north Ionia, by contrast, bowls with straight lip were typical (Figure 12.6), whereas ‘cups with everted rim’ occurred only sporadically and in most cases were probably imported from south-Ionian production centres (e.g. Ersoy 1993: 380-4 [Klazomenai]). There are, however, some exceptions, such as a fragment found at Smyrna, which combines the characteristic south-Ionian shape of a cup with everted rim with decoration in the canonical north-Ionian Wild Goat style of the early sixth century.11 The same phenomenon of blending features of different regional styles can be seen in two chalices from Klazomenai, dating to the same period: the form is Chian, but the vessels were painted in the regional variety of Wild Goat style typical for the north Ionian mainland (Hürmüzlü 2008). Another example is a distinct group of drinking vessels made at Miletos during the seventh century, the ‘orientalizing bird bowls’ (Figure 12.7) (Kerschner et al. 1993: 201, 208; Kerschner 2002b: 41, 46, figs 24-6). Their models were northIonian bird bowls in ‘standard fabric’ (Figure 12.6), the most successful products of the seventh-century bird bowl workshops (Coldstream 2008: 298-301; Kerschner et al. 1993: 199-201, 208-9; Kerschner 2002c: figs 18-23, 63-72, pl. 2). They were widespread in the eastern Aegean and exported far beyond (Kerschner 2000: 487; 2006b). The north-Ionian origin of the bird bowls in ‘standard fabric’ is indicated by archaeometric analyses in combination with arguments 9  Akurgal et al. 2002: 51-3; Dupont 1983: 33-4, 40; 2015: 106, figs 10-11; Dupont and Thomas 2006: 79-80 (‘groupe B1’); Kerschner 2002e: 108-9, no. 68, 114, no. 97, 175, fig. 63, pl. 5; Kerschner and Mommsen 2009a: 85; Posamentir et al. 2009: 36-46, figs 1-2, 5; Schlotzhauer 2001: 422-66; 2012: 94-5. 10  Kerschner 2006c: 148-51, figs 20-1; Mommsen, Kerschner and Posamentir 2006: 162, 165-7, fig. 3; Posamentir and Solovyov 2006: 113-17, figs 12-13, 15; 2007: 182-3, 195-201, fig. 5; Dupont 2008: 6, 9-10, figs 6-7 (re-locating his former group ‘Ionie du Sud 3’ to the Hellespont as already proposed by Kerschner 2006c: 150-1 as well as Posamentir and Solvyov 2007: 195, 198); Aytaçlar and Kozanlı 2012 (adding further examples from Parion by stylistic attribution); Dupont 2015: 106, fig. 12. 11  Dupont 2000: 452, fig. 317; 2014: 3, 16, fig. 1; 2015: 106-7, 111, fig. 18; Dupont and Lungu 2012: 262, 264, 278, fig. 14. Two body fragments decorated in north-Ionian or Aeolian Wild Goat style found at Istros and interpreted as parts of an ‘Ionian cup’ of type ‘Villard B1’ (see Villard and Vallet 1955) by Dupont (2015: 106, 111, fig. 19) seem rather to have belonged to a hemispherical bowl (a shape much more common in north Ionia and Aeolis), just as they had been classified by Alexandrescu (2005: 332-3, cat. C15, pl. 55).

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Figure 12.7 South-Ionian orientalizing bird bowl from Miletos (Inv. 59 W 118), early south-Ionian Archaic Ic, c. 630/20 BC. (© Milet Archiv, Bochum; drawing: J. Ulrich).

of style and distribution which followed from Pierre Dupont’s (1983: 40-1) pioneering study.12 However the precise location of the bird-bowl workshops remained elusive for lack of reference material from the potential production sites. In 2013, it was finally possible to solve this problem when Hans Mommsen carried out neutron activation analyses of Archaic and Classical pottery excavated at Teos, including kiln wasters dating from the sixth and fifth centuries BC.13 The kiln wasters from Teos belong to the well-defined provenance group B, which is the chemical fingerprint of the bird bowl workshops.14 Thus it is proved that bird bowls in the ‘standard fabric’ were produced at Teos. Unlike the examples discussed above, the Milesian ‘orientalizing bird bowls’ (Figure 12.7) borrowed both their shape and decorative scheme from Teian bird bowls in the ‘standard fabric’, but blended them with peculiar features of the Milesian variety of Wild Goat style. The antiquated stylized water birds were transmuted into lively geese with detailed wings and feathers. Vegetal stray ornaments were added to the old-fashioned cross-hatched triangle and lozenge. The decoration was painted on a yellowish slip customary in the contemporary south-Ionian Wild Goat style. Thus the Milesian craftsmen created a synthesis of two stylistic currents contemporaneously used by East Greek vase painters in the middle and second half of the seventh century: the conservative Subgeometric and the leading Wild Goat style. All these adaptations were produced only in small quantities and never became part of the local pottery tradition. Only in one case – the Milesian variety of bird bowl – were a few specimens exported, finding their way to Al Mina in the Levant (Robertson 1940: 12-13, fig. 6, pl. 1, m–n, p, r). Nevertheless, the adoption of selected elements of a foreign regional style shows that potters and painters were aware of the work of their colleagues in other parts of the eastern Aegean. They tested novelties from neighbouring regions and combined them with their own local style. Only those adaptations that found sufficient buyers survived in the end. Obviously, when craftsmen imitated or adapted a foreign style they saw no conflict with their own local identity. There were no problems from the side of purchasers either, since they bought the imitations and adaptations as well as imported fineware, the latter sometimes in great quantity. Milesians, for example, purchased several thousand bird kotylae and bird bowls in ‘standard fabric’ from Teos during the first half and middle of the seventh century (Graeve 1973-4: 86-7),15 even though Miletos had her own prolific production of high-quality drinking vessels in the characteristic south-Ionian ‘cup with everted rim’ (the so-called ‘Ionian cup’) (e.g. Kalaitzoglou 2008: 67-92, pls 5-16; Schlotzhauer 2000; 2012: 45-8, pls 9-13). These observations should caution against simplistic equation of a regional ceramic style with a particular political entity. The contribution of archaeometry to the exploration of regional styles Locating production centres through archaeometry For the first hundred years of East Greek pottery studies, the localization of the different ceramic styles was a major problem. Since the end of the 1970s, however, great progress has been made in this field thanks to archaeometric 12  Kerschner 2002c; 2002d: 72-5 (‘provenance group B’); Kerschner et al. 1993. Previously, the bird bowls were considered Rhodian, e.g. Coldstream 1968: 277-9, 298, revised in Coldstream 2008: 479. 13  Kadıoğlu et al. 2015: 349-53, figs 2-8. I thank Musa Kadıoğlu (Ankara) for the invitation to join his excavation team at Teos. 14  On the provenance group B: Kerschner 2002b; Kerschner et al. 1993: 203-9; Kerschner and Mommsen 2009a: 86-7, 92, fig. 1; Kerschner and Mommsen 2009b: 136-9; Mommsen et al. 2012: 440, 442, fig. 13; Schlotzhauer 2012: 40-3; Schlotzhauer and Villing 2006: 56-8, figs 1-5. 15  Since then, the amount of north-Ionian bird kotylae and bird bowls has considerably increased thanks to extensive excavations in the Archaic habitation quarter at Kalabaktepe and in the extramural sanctuary of Aphrodite at Zeytintepe.

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Figure 12.8 Wild Goat style bowl produced at Miletos, found in the Artemision of Ephesos (ART 892644.1), Milesian Archaic Id, c. 610580 BC. (© Austrian Archaeological Institute, Vienna; photograph: N. Gail).

analyses and the excavation of kiln sites.16 A particular class of pottery can be localised by means of scientific analysis, if its fabric(s) match(es) securely associated reference material from the production site(s), such as finds from a potters’ workshop (kiln wasters, firing supports, discarded pottery) and/or local clay beds. If such primary reference material is not available, a combination of scientific and archaeological arguments can be applied in order to localize the probable site or area of production. If, for example, a specific sort of clay was used for a range of ceramic wares at the same site over a long period of time, this strongly indicates that the raw material was local (e.g. Kerschner 2006a: 113-14; Mommsen et al. 2012: 439-42; Dupont 2015: 103). The pottery centres in the eastern Aegean known through the neutron activation analyses carried out by Hans Mommsen are mapped in Figure 12.1 (localizations which rest on a combination of scientific and archaeological reasoning are noted with a question mark).17 In interpreting this distribution map, we must be aware that it visualizes the current state of research rather than the totality of Archaic fineware production sites. Some areas which probably also produced decorated pottery remain still to be studied (e.g. the islands of Lesbos and Nisyros or, on the opposite mainland, Kolophon, Lebedos, Erythrai and much of Aeolis). Nevertheless, a general pattern has already taken shape. The main workshop centres which developed large-scale standardized, export-oriented production seem mostly to have been located. This conclusion follows the fact that the pottery classes manufactured at the known workshop centres (Figure 12.1) cover most of the range of East Greek fineware found at major markets abroad, such as Naukratis or Berezan, as well as at minor outlets in the central Mediterranean.18 In south Ionia, Miletos was such a major production centre. During the last third of the seventh century, Milesian potters developed a standardized version of the south-Ionian Wild Goat style (Milesian Archaic Ic/d), which was exported to many sites in the Mediterranean and the Black Sea.19 Oinochoae were most prominent on the export markets, but stemmed dishes, kraters, dinoi, bowls (Figure 12.8) and other shapes were also decorated in this style. During the Milesian Archaic Id phase, at the end of the century, vase painting displayed features of simplification and perfunctoriness characteristic of mass production.20 The bodies of the deer and wild goats were enlarged and elongated in order to reduce the number of individual animals necessary to fill a frieze. There was less variety in ornament, and complicated motives degenerate into simpler versions (as suspended tongues into a ladder band). Fragments of such pots have been found at Ashkelon in the debris of Nebuchadnezzar’s destruction in 604 BC,

16  For recent archaeometric studies, see e.g. Akurgal et al. 2002; Dupont 2008; Dupont and Lungu 2009; 2012; Dupont and Thomas 2006; Dupont 2014; 2015; Kerschner 2006a; 2006c; Kerschner et al. 2002; Kerschner and Mommsen 2009a; 2009b; Mommsen, Kerschner and Posamentir 2006; Mommsen, Schwedt and Attula 2006; Mommsen et al. 2012; Posamentir et al. 2009; Posamentir and Solovyov 2006; 2007; Schlotzhauer 2001: 42266; 2012; Schlotzhauer et al. 2012; Villing and Schlotzhauer 2006; Coulié and Villing 2014 (all with further bibliography). 17  The extensive database of neutron activation analyses at the Helmholtz-Institut für Strahlen- und Kernphysik at Bonn compiled by Hans Mommsen in collaboration with a number of archaeologists since the 1980s currently comprises some 9900 data sets of element patterns of Greek and related pottery. 18  See e.g. Kerschner 2006c; Kerschner and Mommsen 2009b; Mommsen, Kerschner and Posamentir 2006; Mommsen et al. 2012; Pautasso 2009; Posamentir and Solovoy 2006; 2007; Schlotzhauer 2012: 37-59; Schlotzhauer and Villing 2006. 19  See e.g. Coulié 2013: 152-3, figs 137-40, 149b, 150-60; Kalaitzoglou 2008: 117-214, pls 37-69, 78-83, 104-12; Kerschner and Schlotzhauer 2005: 25-45; Schlotzhauer 2012: 43, pl. 8c-i, 18d-e, 19a-b. 20  Compare the observations on standardization by Kotsonas 2014b: 12-13; Smith 2014: 143–5; Stissi 2014: 119–20.

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Figure 12.9 Local production of pottery of Lydian type in Ionia and Aeolis. (© Austrian Archaeological Institute, Vienna: M. Kerschner and I. Benda-Weber).

providing a chronological anchor at the end of the seventh century (Waldbaum 2011; Waldbaum and Magness 1997). This final stage of the Milesian Wild Goat style may have lasted until the beginning of the sixth century. More widespread than the Wild Goat style, and abundant among pottery of East Greek type at Mediterranean and Pontic sites, are the ‘cups with everted rim’ (so-called ‘Ionian cups’), a predominantly south-Ionian class in which Miletos had a large share (Schlotzhauer 2000; 2001: 422-66; 2012: 45-55, pls 9-15). It is, however, very difficult to estimate Miletos’ actual part in this export, not least because these cups were produced at other sites in south Ionia and its wider sphere (see below), and copied at a number of workshops abroad, especially in Magna Graecia (Compernolle 1996; Schlotzhauer 2012: 94-5, with bibliography). To assess the different local productions and their scale of export, it will be necessary to carry out detailed combined typo-chronological and archaeometric studies at the presumed sites of manufacture, as Udo Schlotzhauer (2001) did for Miletos. Pierre Dupont (2014; 2015; Dupont and Lungu 2012; cf. Dupont and Thomas 2006: 80–1) tentatively advanced the hypothesis of an allegedly large-scale production of cups with everted rim in Aeolis and perhaps north Ionia, against which Udo Schlotzhauer (2012: 94-5) brought forward weighty arguments - this class of cups is rare in the northern parts of the eastern Aegean (see e.g. Ersoy 1993: 380–3) and the early types of the shape are missing, at least in our current state of knowledge. While the main results of Dupont’s X-ray fluorescence (XRF) analyses of eastern Aegean wares are broadly consistent with the neutron activation analyses (NAA) carried out by Hans Mommsen at Bonn, there is a discrepancy with regard to Dupont’s assumption of a production of cups with everted rim in Aeolis. The reasons for this apparent inconsistency may only become clear when the full chemical data from Dupont’s XRF analyses are made available for comparison. NAA conducted by Mommsen on over 90 cups with everted rim from eastern Aegean and Pontic sites, as well as from Naukratis and Sicily, produced a differentiated result. Local production has been proven at Miletos, on Samos, at Ephesos, and in the Hellespontine workshops (Kerschner 110

12. East Greek pottery workshops in the seventh century BC: tracing regional styles 2002e: 108-9, no. 68, 114, no. 97, 175, fig. 63, pl. 5; Mommsen et al. 2012: 442, 453-5; Schlotzhauer 2001: 422-66; 2012: 47, 94-5), whereas there is no indication of a substantial manufacture of this shape in the large pottery centres in northern Ionia (provenance groups B, E, F) or in Aeolis (provenance group G/g).21 In addition to identifying members of provenance groups already located, NAA of cups with everted rim resulted in several still-unlocated element patterns with only one, two, or very few member(s). These chemical pairs and small groups are not found in any other class of pottery. Hence it is likely that this phenomenon is due to the fine fabric of these cups achieved by levigating processes which may differ between particular workshops and affect the chemical composition of the clay paste (Schlotzhauer 2012: 95). Samian workshops were active in the formative stage of the Wild Goat style during the first half and the middle of the seventh century, to judge from the pottery found in the Heraion, although systematic studies of the fabrics (and scientific analyses) remain a desideratum.22 However Samian potters did not move towards standardized production of elaborately decorated fineware during the second half of the century, and thus fell behind their Milesian neighbours economically. In north Ionia, three workshop centres – Chios, Teos and Klazomenai – produced fineware for export on a large scale (Figure 12.1). Two, Chios and Klazomenai, had their heyday in the sixth century.23 During the seventh century, the bird-bowl workshops were the only ones in north Ionia able to compete with Miletos in the export of fine pottery to the eastern Aegean and beyond. These were the first East Greek potters to develop export-oriented production by standardizing a certain class of vessels (bird kotylae) in the first half of the seventh century, followed from the second quarter of the century onwards by the even more successful bird bowls in ‘standard fabric’ (Figure 12.6).24 As noted above, this prolific and efficient workshop centre can now be located at Teos. In the last quarter of the seventh century, the Teian Bird bowl workshops modernized their brand leader by replacing the Subgeometric bird on the bowls with new motifs: rosettes and meander.25 These rosette and meander bowls, however, were also produced at another prolific north-Ionian workshop centre (presumably Klazomenai), as well as in Aeolis, probably at Kyme (see below).26 At the end of the seventh century, Teian artisans created a standardized version of the north-Ionian Wild Goat style (Teian Archaic Id, covering much of Robert Cook’s ‘Late Wild Goat style’). This was widely exported in the first third of the sixth century, together with other staple products such as small plates with meander rim.27 Klazomenai participated in this development.28 Teos and Klazomenai were close neighbours, and there are indications that they shared certain stylistic features and classes of ceramics (for example, terracotta sarcophagi).29 Other north-Ionian pottery centres, such as Smyrna and Kolophon, probably developed their own versions of north-Ionian Wild Goat style which have yet to be investigated. These, however, never loomed large on the export markets in the Aegean and overseas. Aeolis has been less intensively investigated than Ionia, and at present, has produced only scattered evidence of Late Geometric pottery (İren 2008, albeit without systematic study of fabrics). It seems that a consistent tradition of vase-painting was established here only in the course of the seventh century (İren 2003). An earlier hypothesis assumed that Phokaia, the northernmost of the Ionian poleis, was the production site of the Aeolian Wild Goat style, especially of its most elaborate and widely exported class, the ‘London Dinos group’,30 the earliest examples of which date to the end of the seventh century. Doubt was cast on this hypothesis by Robert Cook (Cook and Dupont 1998: 57) ‘... claims for Phocaea are based mainly on its having been Ionian and therefore progressive’. Archaeometric analyses, both by Pierre Dupont (1983: 22-3; 2007: 178-82; Dupont 2015: 104, figs 2, 5-9) and Hans Mommsen (Mommsen and Kerschner 2006), have now demonstrated that Phokaia was not the home of the main groups of Aeolian orientalizing pottery. The most likely candidate is Kyme, with a possible share taken by neighbouring Larisa.31 21 

For an overview of the located provenance groups in the eastern Aegean see: Kerschner and Mommsen 2009a; Mommsen et al. 2012. See e.g. Eilmann 1933: 73-87, 106-14, 133-8, pls 26-7, 32; Walter 1968: 63-73, pls 56-78. On finds from the town: Tsakos and Viglaki-Sofianou 2012: 262-9. 23  Chios: Lemos 1991 (with bibliography). On archaeometric analyses of Chian fineware: Dupont and Thomas 2006: 78-80; Kerschner and Mommsen 2009b: 129-36. Klazomenai: Ersoy 1993; 2000; 2003; Hürmüzlü 2008: 557-9; Özer 2004. 24  Coldstream 2008: 298-301; Kerschner et al. 1993: 199-201, 208-9; Kerschner 2002c: 63-72, figs 18-23, pl. 2. 25  See e.g. Kerschner 2002c: 71, pls 3, 50; 2006c: 145-6, fig. 16; Posamentir and Solovyov 2007: 185, figs 1, 4; Kadıoǧlu et al. 2016: 457-8, 474, fig. 4. 26  See e.g. Kerschner 2002c: 71, pls 3, 51-2; 2006c: 145-6, fig. 15; Posamentir and Solovyov 2007: 191-2, fig. 3.1. 27  See e.g. Kerschner 2002c; 2002d: 72-6; Kerschner and Mommsen 2009a: 86-7; 2009b: 136-9; Mommsen et al. 2012: 440; Posamentir and Solovyov 2007: 184-9, figs 1a-b; Schlotzhauer 2012: 38-43; Schlotzhauer and Villing 2006: 56-7, figs 1-5. 28  See e.g. Kerschner 2006c: 140-1, fig. 10; Posamentir and Solovyov 2007: 188-9, fig. 2.8. 29  Posamentir and Solovyov 2007: 190. For recently excavated terracotta sarcophagi of so-called Klazomenian type from Teos, Kadıoǧlu et al. 2016: 466, 478, fig. 11. 30  On the provenance: Walter-Karydi 1970: 10; İren (2002: 165, 194, 197 [with bibliography]) resumed this hypothesis. On the date: Cook and Dupont 1998: 61; İren 2002: 197-8; Walter-Karydi 1970: 4. 31  Kerschner 2006a; 2014; Kerschner and Mommsen 2009a: 89-90; 2009b: 139-42; Mommsen et al. 2012: 440; cf. Dupont 2015: 104. 22 

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Michael Kerschner The range of pottery produced at Kyme is wide and diverse, comprising not only Aeolian Wild Goat style pottery (including the elaborate London Dinos group) but also an unpretentious variety of orientalizing pottery (termed the ‘dot style’ by Kaan İren, 2003: 9-56), as well as meander dishes, rosette bowls, banded and grey wares.32 İren underlined the ‘provincial character’ of the dot style, and, for this reason, assumed that it was ‘produced in the small Aeolian towns of the hinterland’ (İren 2003: 131, 155, 157). However, neutron activation analyses have demonstrated that at least some dot-style vases were made from the same clay as the London Dinos group (Mommsen and Kerschner 2006). Therefore they were made at the same site, or in the immediate area if neighbouring towns shared clay deposits that were geologically the same, as was presumably the case at Kyme and Larisa in Aeolis.33 The results of archaeometric analyses imply that we should look for alternative explanations, echoing the question posed by Anthony Snodgrass (1999: 30) - ‘can differential styles be associated with individual cities, or is it possible that the divisions between styles correspond with something else, such as the status of intended users?’ There are cases which demonstrate that pots of different styles and qualities could be made contemporaneously in the same large production centres. The polychrome Chigi Group was made at the same time as Subgeometric aryballoi and kotylae in mid seventh-century Corinth.34 Early red-figured masterpieces and mediocre lekythoi in the lingering black-figure style were both made in late-Archaic Athens.35 These differences in style and quality can be explained more convincingly by combining arguments of economy (cheap standardized staple versus elaborate masterpieces for rich connoisseurs), of ability (differences in the skill and training of individual artists), and of sociological context (different workshops producing for specific client bases with diverging tastes), rather than by recourse to the potters’ and painters’ ethnic origin or, as in the case of southern Aeolis, their citizenship. The distribution of the London Dinos group reveals widely disseminated export along the coasts of the Mediterranean and the Black Sea, but always involving low numbers of vessels (İren 2002: 194-6, 199-205, fig. 22; Kerschner 2006a: 114, 117-19, fig. 31; Scatozza Höricht 2012: 23-5, 36-8 figs 3-6). These pots seem to have been gifts for a xenos or votives at a sanctuary rather than products in mass circulation, swamping the markets like Teian bird bowls (Figure 12.6) or Milesian Archaic Id vessels (Figure 12.8). The central and western Mediterranean distribution partially coincides with Phokaian trade routes as recorded by Herodotus (1.163).36 Kyme and Phokaia may thus have formed an economic symbiosis of neighbouring poleis comparable to that between Corinth and Aegina: the first-named partner specializes in the manufacture of a product and the second in its trade (Boardman 1999a: 125; Kerschner 2006a: 115). This hypothesis may also explain the comparatively frequent occurrence of the London Dinos group in Phokaia (İren 2002: 201-3; Kerschner 2006a: 118). These creative and economically powerful fineware production centres inspired workshops in other places where pottery manufacture played a less important role. The profile of these minor producers (Figure 12.1 shows those securely identified via archaeometric analysis) is more difficult to trace since most never evolved a characteristic tradition of their own, but were open to emulation and adopted ideas in an eclectic fashion. A typical example of such a minor production centre is Ephesos. Although the polis was large and wealthy, pottery was not an important branch of its economy in the Archaic period. There was a local production of decorated fineware which yielded some remarkable results, but we can hardly trace a consistent tradition (Kerschner 2007). Ephesian potters did not achieve any significant level of standardization or export. They often imitated or adapted models from both north and south Ionia. Inspiration from a third source, Lydia, is noticeable from the second half of the seventh century onwards (Kerschner 2005: 137, fig. 5; 2007: 233-5, pl. 33.1-2; 2010: 254-5, fig. 3). Tracing the mobility of individual artisans through archaeometry As we have seen, in certain cases archaeometric investigation has shown that different ceramic styles were executed by craftsmen working in the same place. Conversely, there are also cases where scientific analyses show 32  Dupont 2007; Kerschner 2006a; Kerschner and Mommsen 2009b: 139-42; Mommsen et al. 2012: 440; Posamentir and Solovyov 2006: 107-10, figs 2-6; 2007: 181-2, 190-1, fig. 3; Schlotzhauer 2012: 37-8, pls 2a-d. 33  Kerschner 2006a: 113-15; 2014; Mommsen and Kerschner 2006: 107; Posamentir and Solovyov 2007: 205-6; Schlotzhauer 2012: 38. The extent of chemically homogeneous clay layers still needs more detailed research; see Whitbread 2014. The assumption of İren 2009: 81, that the clay deposit(s) used by the potters and painters of the Aeolian Wild Goat style and the dot style was/were ‘covering geographically a big area in the North of Smyrna’ is contradicted by empirical observations at other sites in the Mediterranean and the Black Sea, where chemically homogeneous clay layers are generally confined to small areas. In some cases, e.g. at Miletos and Ephesos, potters in the same polis used chemically different clay beds: Kerschner and Mommsen 2009a. 34  On the Chigi Group: Amyx 1988: 31-40 pls 11-12. On Subgeometric and related pottery of the same period: Neeft 1987: 127-272; Pemberton 1989: 79-81 pl. 4 (Group 1, deposit of the mid seventh century BC); Stillwell and Benson 1984: 54-69, pls 12-15. 35  On early Athenian red-figure: Boardman 1975: 29-36, 91-5, figs 33-53, 129-61. On late Athenian black-figure: Boardman 1974: 125-7, 146-50, figs 233-61; Haspels 1936: 41-191, pls 14-50. Compare also the observations of Smith 2014: 143-5 on small pelikai by the Pan Painter. 36  İren 2002: 194, fig. 22; Kerschner 2006a: 113, fig. 31; Kerschner and Mommsen 2009b: 139-41, fig. 44 (with bibliography on Phokaian overseas trade).

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12. East Greek pottery workshops in the seventh century BC: tracing regional styles that stylistically coherent pieces were made at different sites, as, for example, a group of late seventh-/early sixthcentury vessels painted in north-Ionian style but made from Aeolian clay, presumably at Kyme.37 Such scientific results cannot be explained via a rigid interpretation of regional styles which assumes that a certain ceramic style will be identical with the political entity of a polis territory and its inhabitants. These results rather call for a modification of conventional views, since ‘the individual actions of humans cannot be predicted by reductionist scientific models’ (Greaves 2010: 30).38 One way to explain the occurrence of a non-canonical pot at a defined production centre is intra-regional mobility of individual artisans, for private, economic or political reasons. Such cases are well attested in both the literary and archaeological records.39 As Dyfri Williams (2013: 52) noted: the ‘actual movement of the craftsmen, rather than their products, must have played an enormous part in the transfer of both technical skills and stylistic trends.’ In the case mentioned above, it seems likely that a craftsman who had been trained in north Ionia, migrated to Aeolis, presumably to Kyme, and founded a pottery workshop there. Another example of such an offshoot in the eastern Aegean was detected by Yaşar Ersoy (2000: 403-6; 2003; 2007: 172) on the basis of finds from an early sixth-century potter’s workshop on the south slope of the Acropolis hill at Klazomenai. Streaky ware of Lydian type, which was not canonical for Klazomenai, was manufactured there along with the characteristic local north-Ionian classes.. Hence Ersoy (2003: 256) convincingly concluded that ‘the artisan(s) involved with the manufacture of dark-glazed pottery at Klazomenai highly likely had a direct connection with Lydia, perhaps he was even an immigrant craftsman.’ Scientific analyses do not annul stylistic and typological classifications. On the contrary, archaeometry combined with archaeological methods enables us to understand varieties and even oddities within regional styles. It allows us, for example, to trace the migration of potters and the foundation of branch workshops. In this way we can adjust our modern classifications to the complex reality of ancient life, even in such a distant period as the seventh century BC.

37  See e.g. Dupont 2007: 179, 182, fig. 6; Dupont and Thomas 2006: 80, figs 1-4; Kerschner 2002c: 71, pls 3, 51-2; 2006a: 112, 125, figs 26-8; 2006c: 145-6, fig. 15; Posamentir and Solovyov 2007: 191-4, figs 3.1-3.3, 3.9, 3.17, 3.18. For a comparable phenomenon: Schlotzhauer 2012: 37, 48, 188-9, pls 14 h-i, 37 d-e. 38  The selective use of archaeometry advocated by Aytaçlar 2007: 11: ‘Natural and applied sciences may light the way for archaeologists. However, we are not obliged to always progress in the direction shown by this light and it should be we that direct that light’, i.e. accepting only those results of archaeometric analyses that fit the conventional concept of regional styles, seems methodologically dubious. In the present case, the validity of the scientific result – the occasional production of vessels in north-Ionian style in Aeolis, presumably at Kyme – is confirmed by different scientific methods in different laboratories with samples from different sites. 39  On this phenomenon, with a number of examples, see Coulié 2000; Kreuzer 2009: 90; Papadopoulos 2009; Williams 2013: 51-2 (each with earlier bibliography).

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13. Old Smyrna: a window onto the seventh-century painted wares from the Anglo-Turkish excavations (1948-1951) Stavros A. Paspalas Abstract: This chapter closely examines four seventh-century painted vessels excavated during the Anglo-Turkish excavations at Old Smyrna (1948-1951). Little is known of the ceramic profile of Old Smyrna during that century, and these four rather exceptional (to date) vessels – two amphorae, a probable third amphora, and a ‘closed ovoid jar’– contribute greatly to our understanding of developments in East Greek pottery production during the seventh century. Close examination, particularly of their decorative schemes, reveals links with iconographical practices characteristic of the Late Geometric period as well as with others that were to be widely adopted in subsequent decades and later. Equally, the study of these vessels from Old Smyrna draws attention to ceramic painting traditions which ran parallel to the better known mainstream, and interacted with it, but which also retained a distinct entity of their own. Furthermore, at least one of these vessels provides precocious evidence of the links between various classes of pottery from East Greek centres and Lydia, a link more extensively evinced by later material.

This paper is concerned with membra disiecta, hence the ‘window,’ rather than ‘panorama,’ in its title. It does not aim to present an overview or a representative sample of the seventh-century wares of Old Smyrna (Bayraklı), a settlement that was located in the border zone between Aeolis and Ionia. Rather, it focuses on a small number of the more exceptional pieces – all likely locally or regionally manufactured – found during the Anglo-Turkish campaigns of the late 1940s and early 1950s. It is important to note that my knowledge of these pieces is restricted to the brief notes (reproduced as an appendix at the end of this chapter), photographs and drawings that pertain to them included in the papers of the late John M. Cook. I have not studied the pieces themselves, and in some cases their find contexts are not adequately known. To date, a good number of finds very much in a north-Ionian Late Geometric tradition have been published from Old Smyrna by Ekrem Akurgal (1950: 64, pls 9a-11; 1983: 32, pls 25a-b, 105, pl. 108), Meral Akurgal (1998: 756 figs 3-6) and Coşkun Özgünel (1978 and 2003), mainly bird kotylai and bowls, many of which date into the first decades of the seventh century. Indeed, the local Late Geometric style is seen to terminate well into the first quarter of our century. In addition to these pieces, a number of figured fragments illustrated by Ekrem Akurgal, Robert M. Cook and Meral Akurgal should belong to the seventh century (Akurgal 1983: 41 pls 36b-c, 105 pl. 108a, 48 and 109 pl.109a; 1999b: 34-6 figs 5-7; Cook and Dupont 1998: 31 fig. 7.3 bottom right). One category, particularly exiguous, is characterized by outlined figures in added white, among which a rider and possibly a shield-bearing warrior (all probably set in an extended metope) may be identified (Cook and Dupont 1998: 29 fig. 7.3). The large lozenge which appears in a metope on a fragment of the same piece, despite its elaborate terminals, is to be identified as a descendant of the Late Geometric outlined lozenge.1 Recently, dinos sherds decorated in a similar or related manner have been excavated by Meral Akurgal: on these are painted a procession of animals, two at least of which are bovines, and (above a cable) a human figure in front of another beast (Akurgal 1998: 756 fig. 2). These fragments remain unique and their precise date within the seventh century is still a subject of debate; Akurgal dates her dinos fragments to the last quarter of the century while Robert Cook placed his fragments in the third quarter.2 The dinos fragment excavated at the site that bears a warrior in added white along with the famous Istrokles dipinto is dated to the middle or third quarter of the century (Guarducci 1967: 270-2 fig. 123; Jeffery 1964: 45 no. 1, pl. 5a). What can be said with certainty is that these fragments evince a ceramic output characterized by a notably precise execution and a greater investment of time than that required for other seventh-century vessels excavated at Old Smyrna. Such more hastily executed pieces include a fragmentary skyphos krater with warriors rendered in outline published by Ekrem Akurgal and dated by him to c. 640-630 (Akurgal 1983: 48 and 109 pl.109a) as well as another fragmentary krater that bears birds and an animal (leonine?) drawn in outline and dated by John Cook no earlier than c. 675 (Cook and Nicholls 1998: 8, pl.7a). Further seventh-century developments, beyond the mainstream traditions, are evidenced at Old Smyrna by a fragmentary large bichrome vessel excavated by Meral Akurgal who identified it as a krater (Akurgal 1999a: 54-5 figs 2 and 4, pl. 12; 1999b: 34-6 figs 5-7, pl. 4; Mariaud 2006: 186-7 fig. 9).3 This vessel is of a particularly coarse fabric covered by a thick slip. It is a truly monumental piece (which depicts an equally heroic lion hunt); it has a restored rim diameter of 0.44m and a wall thickness of 0.03m. While incorporating some features met in Wild Goat (most evidently filling ornaments), it must be distanced from that finer category. A date range from slightly after the mid-century to its end is probably appropriate. 1  For a parallel for the elaborate volute terminals of the lozenge see Walter (1968: 56, 114 no. 393 fig. 34, pl. 72) from the Samian Heraion, though added white is not a feature of this piece, which is dated to the turn of the seventh century. 2  Kerschner 2008: 42 thinks this date is possibly too low. 3  Michael Kerschner has kindly informed me that after examining the vessel he would describe its form as closer to a pithos than a krater.

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13. Old Smyrna: a window onto the seventh-century painted wares We return to John Cook’s notes, the focus of this paper, and to the earlier part of the seventh century, to the very last stages of the local Late Geometric and the Subgeometric styles. A photograph of a large doublehandled shoulder amphora (Vessel 1, Figure 13.1) with a rather bulbous body was published many decades ago (Cook 1950: 12 fig. 8; İren 2003: 7). According to Cook’s notes, this piece is unslipped, and its paint has fired predominantly red. The amphora was ultimately used as an inhumation jar for a child burial set into the debris of the Fortification Wall 2,4 the initial collapse of which was dated by its excavators to c. 700; our burial, and its companions in the area (termed ‘Area D’ by the excavators) was then covered with further debris from Wall 2 and finally overbuilt in the late seventh century by Wall 3 (Cook 1958-9: 14; Nicholls 1958-9: 55; see also Mariaud 2006: 184). These burials were subsequently dated no later than the mid-seventh century. The shoulder-handled amphora, Vessel 1, may well be the earliest known example of the shape from Old Smyrna. The series of alternating thin and thicker horizontal lines which cover, approximately, the lower three-quarters of its body surface, is a feature which is approximately paralleled in seventh-century East Greek vessels, particularly Chian plainer wares (Boardman 1967: 137 with n. 2). What has drawn (admittedly slight, e.g. Mariaud 2012b: 28) comment after Cook’s publication of Figure 13.1 Old Smyrna, vessel 1 obverse. this photograph is the school of fish which occupy the (© British School at Athens, J. M. Cook Archive). shoulder panel that has in effect replaced the metopes one would have expected earlier. While not a common theme, fish, as major motifs in their own right rather than as filling ornaments, have been noted on a number of late eighth- and early seventh-century vessels ranging geographically from Pithekoussai (Buchner and Ridgway 1993: 498 no. 3, pl. 147) and Sicilian Naxos (Lentini 1998: 382 fig. 20) to Athens (Young 1939: 151-2 no. C39, fig. 107), Boeotia (Aravantinos 2010: 146), the Cyclades (Knauß 1997: 128 and 189 no. Frg.20, pl. 20k), and east Greece (CVA Amsterdam 6: 3-4 pls 289-91; Eilmann 1933: 97-8 figs 40-1, Beilagen 28 and 29; Walter 1968: 57 fig. 35, 116 no. 428, pl. 78). The closest parallel for the outlined fish on the Old Smyrna amphora appears on a seventh-century krater fragment from Sardis where the fish are represented in a school (N. H. Ramage 1994: 174, pl. 15.6.2). What may be noted is that despite the fact that the Geometric syntax has dissolved on this vessel, the inset series of outlined cross-hatched triangles link the decorative scheme to local Late Geometric predecessors, such as that on a dinos where the same motif appears, superimposed, in an extended metope (Akurgal 1983: 32, pl. 25a). Vessel 1 preserves its other side, to which John Cook, Bernard Schweitzer and Robert Cook made brief reference in print (Cook 1950: 12; Cook and Dupont 1998: 29; Schweitzer 1971: 101), but which has not been illustrated to date. It too bears a figured shoulder zone, but here it is divided into metopes (Figures 13.2-5). The secondary ornaments, outlined cross-hatched triangles and stars, are the same as on the obverse, though they appear in different configurations. The bird to the left (Figures 13.2-3), while somewhat monumental given its prominent beak and powerful talons, is not unexpected.5 A large avian in a metope is known from a Late Geometric dinos from the site (Akurgal 1983: 32, pl. 25a), and birds with outlined bodies with a central – often solidly painted or hatched – section are known on bird kotylai from the first quarter of the seventh century (Akurgal 1950: pl. 9a top right; Graeve 1973-4: 96-7 nos 54-5, pl. 23, 101 no. 79, pl. 26). The two owls, though, are arresting given their en face stance (Figures 13.2, 4 and 5). Essentially rendered in an outline technique, as is their companion and the fish of the ‘obverse,’ they are given volume by the solidly rendered feature that should be interpreted as their wing. Owls (like fish) as major motifs are not particularly common on pottery of the period, but they do appear (at a smaller scale) with some regularity on slightly later Corinthian aryballoi and alabastra; and two are known on an alabastron 4 

For the Geometric and seventh-century use of large amphorae as receptacles for infant and child burials at other sites in Ionia see, for example: Aytaçlar 2004: 27 fig. 13; Hürmüzlü 2004b: 193; Mariaud 2006: 190-3; Philipp 1981; Viglaki-Sophianou 2004: 192. 5  Surprisingly identified as a goose by Cook 1950: 12.

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Figure 13.2 Old Smyrna, vessel 1 reverse, detail. (© British School at Athens, J. M. Cook Archive).

Figure 13.3. Old Smyrna, vessel 1 reverse, detail. (© British School at Athens, J. M. Cook Archive).

Figure 13.4 Old Smyrna, vessel 1 reverse, detail. (© British School at Athens, J. M. Cook Archive).

from Old Smyrna itself (Akurgal 1983: 142, pl. 104c; Anderson 1958-9: 144 no. 81, 24; Kreuzer 2010: 171).6 The style in which the owls on the amphora were drawn may be compared to that of the birds on a krater from the Samian Heraion, though there, admittedly, most of the body is solid (Walter 1968: 112 no. 365, pl. 63). The Old Smyrna amphora, with its metopal

Figure 13.5 Old Smyrna, vessel 1 reverse, detail. (© British School at Athens, J. M. Cook Archive).

6 

Owls are also known on Greek seventh-century metalwork; see, for example, a matrix identified as Corinthian used to manufacture relief bronze sheets: Treister 1995b. They also appear on later East Greek wares, e.g.: CVA British Museum 8, II.D.m, pl. 4.3 (R.M. Cook, ‘Rhodian?’ = Weber 2006: 149-50, fig. 18); Cook and Dupont 1998: 53-4 fig. 8.19 (north-Ionian late Wild Goat). For other early examples see Kyrieleis (2003: especially 139-42).

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Figure 13.6 Old Smyrna, vessel 2 obverse. (© British School at Athens, J. M. Cook Archive).

Figure 13.7 Old Smyrna, vessel 2 reverse, detail. (© British School at Athens, J. M. Cook Archive).

scheme on the reverse and the use of Late Geometric secondary motifs, illustrates nicely its links to past practices, while its fauna, particularly its owls, testify to decorative modes in flux. As regards the form of Vessel 1, we may note that similar double-handles and tall necks characterize later Aeolian Wild Goat amphorae, though they have more piriform bodies (İren 2003: 169-70 nos 73-4, fig. 9, pls 14-15). A second painted, double-handled amphora (Vessel 2, Figures 13.6-7) was excavated by the Anglo-Turkish team, once again from a burial cut into the collapsed remains of Wall 2 and then sealed by Wall 3 (Nicholls 1958-9: 46 l, ‘Burial pot 22’). On stratigraphical grounds Richard Nicholls dated the group of child burials in the area (his ‘Area A’), whence this amphora, approximately to the second quarter of the seventh century (Nicholls 1958-9: 44 and 46). While related to Vessel 1, it stands slightly apart from it as its handles are placed lower on the body thus rendering it a belly-handled amphora, a variant with a long history in the Geometric tradition in a number of areas of the Aegean, including its eastern regions.7 In compliance with the tenets of its form, our amphora’s major decorative zone is positioned in the area defined by the handles - the belly. Indeed, this field is particularly tall. Unlike Vessel 1, Vessel 2 is slipped, a feature which is more generally paralleled on vessels in the so-called orientalizing styles of east Greece rather than on those of the Geometric tradition (Kerschner 1999: 17, but see İren and Ünlü 2012: 311), though Subgeometric examples of its use are known. Vessel 2 has not been illustrated to date though Schweitzer did make reference to it in print (Schweitzer 1971: 100-1). It retains evident links with the Late Geometric and Subgeometric past but it points, as we can see from our vantage point, forward. Its neck is essentially divided into two zones, the lower of which is occupied by a cable. The shoulder zone is decorated with a continuous frieze of alternating concentric circles and concentric pendant hooks, while the cable appears once again on the lower body between horizontal bands. The area below the handle visible in the photograph is populated by two rudimentary and strictly linear birds. The main panel is divided by ‘triglyphs’ into a large central field flanked on either side by a narrow one. Each of the latter (the right narrow panel is just visible in Figure 13.6) bears a vertical cable. This is not a common motif, but equally, is not totally unknown (usually appearing as a delineating element): it was to be repeated in later Aeolian Wild Goat (İren 2003: 173-4 no. 110, pl. 55) and north-Ionian Wild Goat (e.g. Lentini [ed.] 2008a: 95-6 no. 33 [A. Coulié]), and is found in the South Ionian Wild Goat corpus (e.g. Kalaitzoglou 2008: 7  E.g. Kinch 1914: 172, fig. 54 (= Coldstream 2008: 281; Vroulia, Rhodes); Berti 2007: 443, pls 54, 5 and 6 (Iasos); Kourou and Stampolidis 1996: 715 (Rhodes and Samos).

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Stavros A. Paspalas 385-6 no. 334, pl. 53, 389 no. 357, pl. 66; Kotsonas 2008a: 277-8 no. A93 fig. 69; Walter 1968: 114 no. 400, pl. 73).8 It is to be noted that the central field of the vessel is not divided into horizontal registers that carry small-scale motifs. Such subdivision of the central field is evident on comparably large Late Geometric kraters found at Old Smyrna (Akurgal 1983: 32, pl. 25b) and some contemporary and later pieces from elsewhere in east Greece (e.g. Boardman 1967: 107-08). Rather, the central field of Vessel 2 is defined by a horizontal series of cross-hatched lozenges across its top and a simple meander along its bottom, and the extensive area so enclosed is occupied by a large spiral net motif. The birds and the cross-hatched lozenge chain recall the Geometric and Subgeometric tradition (for a parallel to the latter from Old Smyrna: Kerschner 2002a: 80-2; 2002b: 109 no. 69 fig. 36). The neck cable points towards later developments best seen on as-yet-unpublished sixth-century examples of Cook’s ‘Hermus Valley’ class amphorae from Old Smyrna (for the class, see Cook 1985: 27-8, pl. 5b-c) and on Lydian correlates from Sardis (e.g. Greenewalt 1996: 411, fig. 9), on Aeolian shoulder-handled amphorae (İren 2003: 170 nos 79-80, pl. 18), as well as, more distantly, the much better known, and finer, mainstream Wild Goat vessels, particularly on the necks of oinochoae (Kerschner and Schlotzhauer 2005: 32; note too CVA Amsterdam 6: 3-4, pls 289-91). The Old Smyrna amphora sits on a cusp. It is significant to note that while on later pieces all elements of the cables are normally drawn freehand, here their central elements are compass-drawn concentric circles. Concentric circles incorporated into a simple chain by means of multiple tangential links were not new in the second half of the seventh century as they are known in a number of Late Geometric fabrics (e.g. Walter 1968: 96 no. 95, pl. 16, 100 no. 151, pl. 29).9 Their use on this amphora – in a cable – is different though. Equally, freehand cables are also known in Late Geometric in a number of fabrics (e.g. Koan: Coldstream 2008: 288; Morricone 1978: 356 T.I no. 1, fig. 775; and even earlier in Cretan: Brock 1957: 50 no. 493 [42], pl. 29, 179 no. 11z, Protogeometric B). On this Smyrnaean piece the painter innovated on the familiar scheme of a horizontal set of concentric circles in order to create what may well have been a novel scheme for him.10 Remaining within the Ionian sphere, the mid seventh-century rendering of a rider with a compass drawn shield from Ephesos illustrates, in a similar manner, the application of the concentric circle to a novel scheme (Kerschner 2008: 41-2, pl. 42, 8). Interestingly, our painter did not use a compass for the central spiral composition but drew its elements free hand. Such complicated spiral motifs – as opposed to simple spiral chains – are not common, but a whole field of related spirals are known on a krater from Exochi on Rhodes (Johansen 1958: 21 Grab B no. B1, figs 34-6), dated by Nicolas Coldstream c. 700-680 BC (Coldstream 2008: 275, 282 and 350), and here the concentric circles of the spirals do indeed appear to have been executed with a compass. Equally within the Rhodian sphere, similar complicated spiral nets are known on seventh- and sixth-century relief pithoi (Simantoni-Bournia 2004: 51-2, pl. 11 fig. 25, 54-5, pl. 17 fig. 36),11 while earlier still, series of spiral nets, though without a central element as seen on Vessel 2, appear on eighth-century Attic gold bands (Ohly 1953: 10, 22-30 nos. A7-A10, 83, 93, figs 7-10, 16 and 41, pls 3 and 5, 1-2; Schweitzer 1971: 186-7).12 Earlier and contemporary Cretan compositions on pottery too are well-known (Brock 1957: 95 no. 1047 [24], pl. 64ii, 98-9 no. 1126 [2a], pl. 76, 180 nos 11an and 11ao). Indeed, Brigitte Borrell (1998: 70-2, 151-2 Blech I 1 and Blech I 4, fig. 1, pls 25 and 29) has posited a Cretan inspiration for the series of spiral nets on a figured Greek bronze sheet excavated at Olympia and dated to the second half of the seventh century. As regards the Anatolian sphere, it may be noted that spiral nets comprised of spirals, as on Vessel 2, and of concentric circles, as on the Exochi krater, are known in Urartian metalwork, as is the cable pattern also seen on Vessel 2 (Kellner 1991a: 78-79 nos 393-394 and 396-398, pl. 81; Kellner 1991b: 145, 147, 150 and 158). It remains an open question whether the nets on the two ceramic vessels reflect, directly or indirectly, Urartian prototypes. The multiple pendant hooks on its shoulder reinforce the amphora’s eastern Aegean,13 and probably even more specifically regional, associations. Such hooks, of course, are known on Late Geometric (primarily) unguent vessels from Rhodes (e.g. Cook and Dupont 1998: 19-20 fig. 5.7; Stampolidis and Karetsou 1998: 185 no.195 [A. Yiannikouri]). However, they are also characteristic of sixth-century Lydian wares, best exemplified from finds made at Sardis and elsewhere in Lydia (e.g. Cahill 2010a: 479 no.94; Greenewalt 1978: 74 cd 25.2, pl. 26 fig. 2; 2010: 112 figs 3, 4 [top right] and 10; Roosevelt 2009: 238-9, 12.7 Tilki Höyük fig. C18), and it is with these that our examples are best viewed. Indeed, Özgünel has published a shoulder fragment, either of an amphora or a jug, which bears such a hook from Old Smyrna and dates it to c. 725-670 BC (Özgünel 2003: 80 n. 95, pl. 16 Abb. 2); unfortunately, though, it lacks a known context. A 8 

And possibly in Naxian polychrome of the advanced first half of the seventh century (Lambrinoudakis 1983b: 118 with n. 38 fig. 21). For single tangential links: Viglaki-Sophianou 2004: 192 fig. 9; Walter 1968: 95 no. 72, pl. 13 (Samos). For dotted links, see Graeve 1973-4: 94-5 nos 41 and 46, fig. 9 and pl. 22 (Miletos). 10  For a similar phenomenon on an earlier Knossian Protogeometric B necked pithos from Fortetsa, see Brock (1957: 64 no. 690 [27], pl. 40). For a frieze of concentric circles on the neck of a ‘Hermus Valley’ class amphora from Old Smyrna, see Cook (1985: 27-8, pl. 5b-c). 11  Note that a Rhodian relief pithos has been excavated at Elaia (Zeytindağ), north of Old Smyrna, though it belongs to an earlier type than that to which pithoi bearing spiral nets have been attributed (Pasinli 1976; Simantoni-Bournia 2004: 51). 12  See too the fragmentary gold diadem from Eretria, dated to Middle Geometric II, that bears what are probably the remains of spiral motifs (Blandin 2007a: vol. II, 19 no.17, pl. 26, 3-4). The spiral motifs on gold appliqués from the Ephesian Artemision (Pülz 2009: 112 Variante c.c.a.3.17.7, 152-3, 287 nos 317 and 318, pl. 29 and colour pls 17-18) can also be compared to the spiral, and are not uncommon on later East Greek vessels. 13  For single pendant hooks, see Walter (1957: 39 fig. 2). For inverted single hooks, see İren (2003: 120 fig. 63h and i, 172 nos 96, 98-9 fig. 42, pls 37-9, 173-4 nos 103-4 and 110, pl. 55 [lower body of Aeolian Wild Goat amphorae], 175-6 no. 129, pl. 47 [dinos]); Walter and Vierneisel (1959, 21-2, pl. 51, 3 [jug]). 9 

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13. Old Smyrna: a window onto the seventh-century painted wares closed vessel shoulder fragment with a series of pendant hooks from Old Smyrna was published by Akurgal as sixthcentury in date (Akurgal 1950: 84, fig. 2). Possible and certainly seventh-century examples of the motif, in different wares, on amphorae are known from Ephesos (Brein 1978: 726, pl. 224, 17; Kerschner 1997b: 123 no. 28, pl. 5, 172 no. 132, pl. 17), while seventh- and possibly even eighth-century examples, on dishes and closed vessels, have been reported from the Lydian sphere at Nif Dağı/Karamattepe (Tül Tulunay 2008: 81 fig. 7 bottom right) and Sardis (Cahill 2010a: 82 fig. 19; Greenewalt 1991: 2 fig. 3 bottom left; N.H. Ramage 1994: 174, pl. 15.4.5). At the latter site they occasionally alternate with concentric semi-circles and so produce a scheme not at all distant to what is seen on the shoulder of Vessel 2, while a krater from Sardis dated c. 725 decorated with a similar scheme has been ascribed to Rhodes (A. Ramage 1994: 164, fig. 14.1.2, pl. 14.6.2). Finds of seventh- to sixth-century date from Daskyleion belong to the same sphere (Gürtekin-Demir 2002: 119-22), as does a piece from Manisa (Meriç 1985: 200 fig. 6, a stamnoid pyxis rim and shoulder fragment positioned upside-down), while the seventh-century appearance of the spiral hook in the Aeolian repertoire has been interpreted as having been introduced from Lydia (İren 2009: 84). The motif is also attested at Troy (Schmidt 1902: 166 no. 3482; see further Gürtekin-Demir [2011: 371] for Anatolian examples). Schweitzer’s brief reference to our amphora notes only the spiral composition on the one side of the vessel and makes no mention of the decorative scheme on the other. No further information is to be gleaned from Nicholls’ listing of the piece in his discussion of the contexts associated with Old Smyrna’s fortification walls. However, among John Cook’s papers there is a drawing (Figure 13.7) accompanied by a note which simply reads ‘Big VIIc vase in the Fuar museum,’ (where Schweitzer records that he saw the spiral amphora). I strongly suspect that this drawing represents the motif in the central field of the panel on the spiral amphora’s ‘reverse.’ The first point that supports this suggestion is the nature of the birds, which corresponds exactly to that of the two examples below the handle visible in the known photograph. The second is that beyond the vertical lines at the right of the drawing, Cook rendered two curves which could readily be interpreted as parts of a vertical cable that would correspond to those on the ‘obverse’. The third is that the lower bands correspond with those that run below the meander as seen in the photograph. The central element of this composition is in effect a development on Late Geometric. Specifically, its model was the ‘eight-hooked lozenge’ or ‘lozenge cross with rectilinear hooks’ well-known in the Dodecanese (e.g. Morricone 1978: 115-16 Tomba 14 no. 50, 129-30 Tomba 14 no. 97 fig. 208) but also attested in Ionia (Eilmann 1933: 97-8 fig. 40, pl. 29; Technau 1929: 1012, pl. I, 7). This motif is itself a composite of meander trees, a motif particularly well-represented among late eighthand early seventh-century finds made at Old Smyrna (e.g. Akurgal 1950: 61, pl. 9b; 1983: 32, pl. 25a; cf. İren and Ünlü 2012: 311 and 319 no. 1, figs 3 and 29-30 from Teos; Graeve 1973-4: 46 no. 48, pl. 23 from Miletos). Here the individual elements of the lozenge have been incorporated into an organically unified whole, while the terminal hooks have been simplified and appear as bars. Moreover, the single lozenge has become the major motif in the field, and in so doing has moved beyond the scheme on a Late Geometric kantharos from Samos where three such lozenges share the field (Eilmann 1933: 97-8 fig. 40, pl. 29). Indeed, if this drawing does depict the ‘reverse’ of Vessel 2, then the decorative format as a whole is closely comparable to a fragmentary Late Geometric krater from Exochi which bears a lozenge hook scheme in a large central metope flanked by a schematized tree on either side rather than a cable (Johansen 1957: 25-6 Grab C no. C1 figs 46 and 48). The spiral amphora (Vessel 2) well encapsulates the tradition and innovation in the title of this book. Building on elements from the local Late Geometric tradition, its painter highlighted at least one element – the horizontal (and vertical) cable – that subsequently developed into an important feature of the Wild Goat style and other East Greek-cum-Lydian ceramic categories. It may also be noted that his use of single monumental motifs that practically monopolize the central field is repeated on a number of later Aeolian and Lydian shoulder-handled amphorae, though often with the addition of filling ornaments (e.g. Greenewalt 2010: 114 fig. 3; İren 2003: 164-5 no. 14, pl. 2, 170 no. 83, pl. 20, 171 no. 90, pl. 30). Vessel 3, probably a large amphora (though certainty cannot be had as it lacks its handles), is not totally unknown, as a photograph of its major shoulder fragment with the shield-bearing, spear-carrying warriors was published by Ekrem Akurgal (Akurgal 1950: 64, pl. 11a, here Figure 13.8). John Cook’s

Figure 13.8 Old Smyrna, vessel 3, shoulder fragment. (© British School at Athens, J. M. Cook Archive).

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Figure 13.9 Old Smyrna, vessel. (© British School at Athens, J. M. Cook Archive).

papers, specifically the drawing reproduced here as Figure 13.9, allow a better appreciation of it, despite the fact that it is comprised of floaters. Cook’s notes document its thick, coarse-ware-like fabric covered by a buff to brown coat of ‘better’ prepared clay, over which there is a cream slip; the paint has fired red. On the basis of the drawing, the rim has a diameter of 0.326m and the height as shown in the drawing is 0.50m. We are therefore dealing with a large piece. Cook assigns it to his category of ‘Painted Pithoid Jars’. He noted that it was found in a late seventhcentury level, and Akurgal illustrated the warrior sherd with material that derived from a context of this date. In general terms, this vessel parallels our finer amphorae in that it too had a neck that was divided into horizontal registers. As was the case with Vessel 1, it appears that the major decorative elements were confined to the shoulder zone. The figures are basically executed in an outline technique which accommodates many embellishments. In addition to the figures, it is apparent that floral-cum-spiral elements were significant in the vessel’s decorative scheme. Unlike on the previous amphorae, filling ornaments here come into their own. Although those preserved are simple, it may be noted that the cross with dots is readily paralleled in late seventh-century Aeolian and north-Ionian Wild Goat, though it is also known on earlier pieces, and the nature of the partly preserved filling ornament (comprised of circular elements and a projecting triangle) is very reminiscent of a range of Wild Goat filling ornaments that are characterized by added apices. The dotted volute, too, is by no means alien to Wild Goat (Kerschner and Schlotzhauer 2005: 16), though it is also known on pieces from Samos dated to the first half of the seventh century (Walter 1968: 110 no. 335, pl. 57, 111 nos 347-8 fig. 29, pl. 58).14 Despite the tentative links this re-constituted vessel may have with the Wild Goat tradition, other elements such as the pendant half-rosette comprised of separate leaves, and indeed the warriors themselves, set it somewhat apart. In fact, in the past George Hanfmann, Chrysoula Kardara and Nicolas Coldstream were moved to compare the warrior fragment, all they knew of the vessel, to Middle Protoattic pieces (Coldstream 2008: 297; Hanfmann 1953: 20; Kardara 1963: 48), though Kardara ultimately opted for a Phrygian source. If the Wild Goat associations hold, and taking into account the piece’s coarse fabric and the date of its reported context, one may wonder if it evinces, as does the bichrome hunt vessel published by Meral Akugral noted at the beginning of this paper, the activities of notso-accomplished painters of the second half of the century who were, though, aware of the work of their Wild Goat counterparts and – on occasion – borrowed from them. Our piece may show some of these conservative tendencies. We may also note that dotted rosettes occur in a number of varieties on Aeolian Dot Style (İren 2003: 167 no. 34 pl. 7, 168 no. 63, pl. 9) and Wild Goat vessels (Böhlau and Schefold 1942: 62, pl. 16, 5, 71, pl. 23, 8), and that triangular motifs 14 

Also compare the dotted floral ornament of the krater Walter 1968, 113 no.377, pls 67-8.

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13. Old Smyrna: a window onto the seventh-century painted wares (such as that on the left-most fragment) are known in these categories especially under the horizontal handles of shoulder-handled amphorae (İren 2003: 1712 no. 92 fig. 33). Nonetheless, the unique nature of this piece hinders its definitive categorization. Finally, the fragments of a ‘closed ovoid jar,’ to use John Cook’s term, were also placed by him in his ‘Painted Pithoid Jar’ category. On the basis of the drawing, the rim diameter of this truly monumental vessel (Vessel 4, Figures 13.10-11) is 0.416m, and its height as preserved 0.47m. So, as regards both fabric and size, it recalls once again the large hunt vessel published by Meral Akurgal. John Cook records it as having been found in a ‘late seventh-century level.’ The vessel is characterized by a simple horizontal rim that projects inwards so as to receive a lid; Cook described a fragment Figure 13.10 Old Smyrna, vessel 4, fragment. from a similar vessel that carried ‘the trace of an almost (© British School at Athens, J. M. Cook Archive). upright arched handle on the shoulder.’ Consequently, it is likely that Vessel 4 is a representative – albeit a particularly globular one – of a shape known (by a wide range of variants) in a number of different wares of the eighth, seventh and sixth centuries, ranging from Cretan to Boeotian. This form is sometimes termed an ovoid krater; Georg Kalaitzoglou termed a mid-seventh-century example from the sanctuary identified as that of Athena Assesia a neckless stamnos (Kalaitzoglou 2008: 236-8, 425 no. 618, pl. 140). The Geometric traits of Vessel 4 are far more evident than those of Vessel 3. The painter seems to have retained the metopal decorative scheme in which a side metope (adjacent to a possible handle root indicated by the solid oval in Cook’s drawing) is occupied by what may be a variant tree meander. A larger metope carried at least one bird (Figure 13.10) that is also best paralleled by its diminutive companions on bird bowls, while the lower body carried at least one zone with a wavy line. This feature is readily paralleled on Aeolian Dot Style shoulder-handled amphorae of the later stages of the seventh century and into the sixth (İren 2003: 164 no. 12, pl. 1, 165 no. 20 fig. 4) and on a ‘Hermus Valley’ class amphora from Old Smyrna (Cook 1985: 28 d, pl. 5b). A close parallel for the decorative scheme of this piece is found on a straight-sided basin from Old Smyrna, now in the Izmir Archaeological Museum (Özkan 1999: 36 no. 65). It, like the examples of Cook’s ‘Painted Pithoid Jars’, bears red decoration on a white or whitish slip. The birds on both the basin and the ovoid jar are very similar, as is the metopal scheme, while the dotted crosshatched triangles on the basin are identical to the base of the meander tree on the ovoid jar. Admittedly we are

Figure 13.11 Old Smyrna, vessel 4. (© British School at Athens, J. M. Cook Archive).

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Stavros A. Paspalas dealing with simple motifs, but the correspondences are nonetheless noteworthy. The filling ornament in the bird metope consists of two dotted circles and two dotted apices, and it – or something very close to it – also appears on the warrior vase (Vessel 3). Özkan dated the basin to the last three decades of the eighth century, but this may be too early as I know of no good parallels from secure deposits. The late seventh-century contextual dates for the Old Smyrna ovoid jar and the warrior vessel are notable, especially when they are compared with the more canonical streams of East Greek vase-painting. However, one should remember the long survival of Subgeometric bird bowls; these two vessels may also represent conservative traditions. Given the lack of detail concerning their recovery, as well as the fact that there is no published information on the find context of the basin in Izmir Archaeological Museum, the question of where exactly in the seventh century these three pieces belong must remain open. For the moment, their links to various traditions should be noted as a testament to what we still do not know regarding the range of pottery production and use at Old Smyrna and in its region. Nevertheless, the material included in John Cook’s notes, when examined in the light of more recent finds, allows us a better appreciation of the ceramic history of Old Smyrna (albeit still a limited one given the small number of pieces). Vessel 1 testifies to the experimentation possible in the Subgeometric style. The spiral amphora, Vessel 2, clearly establishes links between a Subgeometric tradition and later sixth-century styles current both in East Greek centres and Lydia, while more general light is thrown on categories of painted pottery which fall beyond the confines of the canonical fine ware traditions, but with which they interacted. And as regards the ‘Painted Pithoid Jar’ category, at least, their painters and/or commissioners were receptive to hunting and martial themes which are not particularly well represented in the works of more canonical seventh-century East Greek workshops once they developed.15 Some of the features characteristic of the pieces presented developed further in the later ceramic corpus; others did not, thus testifying to the local ceramic fermentation in seventh-century Smyrna and its environs. Appendix: John M. Cook’s Notes Vessel 1 (Cook’s Striped Wares no. 0) ‘No. 0 is an unusual amphoroid in Geometric tradition, found in a Late Geometric context in the City Wall and probably of the first half of the 7th century (in handle-zone panels A. flotilla of fish, B. bird, owl, owl).’ Vessel 2 (Cook’s Slipped Wares no. 0) ‘The form of the ovoid jar with a high neck was of course not unknown in LG times. No. 0 from a City Wall context probably no later than the mid 7th century: BSA 53-4, 46 no. 22, provides an unusual example. It was apparently current in the late 7th century in coarser ware with painted decoration (‘Painted Pithoid’ jars), but that class is very different from the ‘Hermus Valley’ jars in fabric and slip.’ ‘Big VIIc vase in the Fuar museum.’ ‘Burial pot. Context probably not later than middle of 7th century.’ Vessel 3 (Cook’s Painted Pithoid Jars no. 3) ‘Large vase of thick, coarse ware like pithoi in biscuit, which has a buff or brown coat of better prepared clay on the surface but is generally gray in the core; the thick rather waxy slip, which covers the exterior and open parts of the interior, shows cream or yellow; the glaze is usually red and glossy.’ ‘Ovoid jar with high neck and everted rim.’ ‘Late 7th-century level.’ ‘Fragments of a necked jar. Yellow slip, glaze red to black; slip on interior of neck, but not body. Cross strokes painted on top of rim.’ Vessel 4 (Cook’s Painted Pithoid Jars no. 1) ‘Fragments giving incomplete section of the upper part of an ovoid jar with a rib at the lip (presumably to hold a lid); a fragment from an apparently similar jar showed the trace of an almost upright arched handle on the shoulder. Thick cream slip on exterior only; red glaze. The position of the floaters is conjectural.’ ‘Late 7th-century level.’

15 

Though now note the warrior on the oinochoe, see Waldbaum (2011: 284-5 no. 419).

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14. Euboea and the Euboean Gulf region: pottery in context Xenia Charalambidou Abstract: This chapter focuses on seventh-century BC pottery from various contexts on Euboea and at Oropos (a closely related site in the central Euboean Gulf region), seeking to gain information about the life history (life cycle) of pottery and its social reflections in settlements, burials and cult areas. Some products display continuity, especially from the late eighth to the seventh century, in terms of raw material selection, style, or the use of certain vessel shapes. By contrast, changes can be discerned in drinking/feasting habits as well as the intensification of use of special ceramic products for cult and funerary rites. Particularly at Eretria, we see changes in consumption in the male social sphere and a rise in the visibility of women at cult sites. At the same time, adult burials show low visibility, yet there is a higher representation of child burials in enchytrismoi. Some of these changes seem to go hand-in-hand with wider changes in society during the seventh century.

The aim of this chapter1 is to open discussion of the life history of material remains found at settlements, cult and burial sites in seventh-century Euboea and at the closely related site of Oropos on the opposite coast of the Euboean Gulf (Figure 14.1). Pottery remains the most abundant archaeological evidence for the seventh century in this area, and for this reason is our focus. However, seventh-century pottery has received little attention, especially in comparison with the extensive bibliography for the eighth century in the same region (see Charalambidou forthcoming a). There are several reasons for this dearth of research. First, the seventh-century material record at certain sites, such as Eretria or Oropos, seems more limited than that of the eighth or sixth centuries. Other sites, such as Lefkandi and Oxylithos/ Viglatouri, do not appear in the seventh-century archaeological record; Lefkandi is thought to have been abandoned c. 700 BC (see below). Secondly, difficulties in tracing and recognizing seventh-century material follow from the scarcity of stratified closed contexts. Finally, there are relatively few systematic studies of this century to further the visibility of the material remains of the area (Boardman 1952 and 1957; Charalambidou 2008, 2011 and in preparation; Descœudres 1968, 1976 and 1978; Huber 2003, 2012 and 2013; Verdan 2015). The current state of scholarship may also reflect limited interest in a century in which the Euboeans seem to have lost much of their attributed role in Mediterranean trade, in marked contrast to their key role in the Protogeometric and Geometric periods (see most recently Descœudres 2006-7; Charalambidou 2008: 315-40; 2011; forthcoming a). Nonetheless, these factors are an unhelpful constraint on our knowledge of the region and its role in local and regional networks, especially now that we are in a position to assess change in many areas of social and political life, and to reach a better understanding of the socio-economic transformations that followed the eighth-century ‘renaissance’. New evidence that has come to light since John Boardman’s landmark publications demands that we revisit old data and take a fresh approach to the study of seventh-century archaeological evidence. Research can be advanced via approaches that emphasize the life history of material objects and examine aspects of their production, consumption, deposition and re-use (e.g. Crielaard et al. 1999; Lawall and Lund 2011; Peña 2007; Scarcella 2011). Examination of ancient pottery production through interdisciplinary projects involving archaeometric analyses also forms part of this agenda (for Euboea and Oropos: Charalambidou et al. 2016 and forthcoming; Charalambidou in preparation; Kerschner and Lemos 2014). Furthermore, the variety of material evidence from settlements, sanctuaries and cemeteries reflects choices made by consumers. These choices may be discerned via questioning, for example, the purposes for which certain vessel categories were used, which social groups were involved, and which social strategies shaped the context of use. The circumstances of re-use as well as deposition of ceramic material are further parameters that have been underestimated until now, and should also be included in studies of Euboean and Euboean Gulf communities. For seventh-century Euboea, there remain many ambiguities in terminology, chronology and periodization. Euboea is among those regions of the Greek world where ‘orientalizing’ as a period label, especially for the seventh century, cannot easily describe the plurality of people, ideas, styles and technologies that form a multifaceted web of interconnections (Riva and Vella 2006a, noting Purcell 2006; Whitley 2014a; see also Charalambidou forthcoming c). Euboeans used imported oriental and orientalizing-style pottery and other objects as early as the tenth century at Lefkandi, but they did not make extensive use of an orientalizing style in the seventh century (cf. Whitley 2013: 417-18). They preferred a Subgeometric pottery style with strong connections with the preceding LG (II) style and they produced ‘orientalizing’ vessels used for special functions (such as the long-necked jugs in cult sites and the enchytrismos vases discussed below). For the seventh century on Euboea and in other Aegean regions, the terms 1 

I thank Cathy Morgan, Irene Lemos, Evangelia Kiriatzi, Jan Paul Crielaard, Alexander Mazarakis Ainian, Karl Reber, Samuel Verdan and Sandrine Huber for their valuable comments on the manuscript.

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Figure 14.1 Euboea and the Euboean Gulf region with the sites mentioned in the text. (© Swiss School of Archaeology in Greece).

‘early Archaic’ or ‘Protoarchaic’ (the latter rightly gaining ground in a number of studies, e.g. Kotsonas 2008a; Brisart 2011) are definitely more neutral, avoid interpretation, and can embrace the different styles seen in this area. I am personally inclined to use the term Protoarchaic2 in agreement with Kotsonas’ view concerning Crete: ‘I therefore prefer to use the term Protoarchaic (PAR) for the style and phase in question, which also recalls the terms Protoattic and Protocorinthian established for 7th century BC pottery from Attica and Corinth’ (2008a: 40). Relative chronology within this century remains difficult to establish because of the scarcity of closed contexts on Euboea. For example, most seventh-century burials known in the region come from the Hygeionomeion cemetery at Eretria: these are mainly enchytrismoi but we know little about the associated finds, making it difficult to reconstruct typological and chronological connections. Most assemblages that include seventh-century material were found in unstratified or poorly stratified deposits, pits or wells. Even at the systematically excavated settlement on the OSK property at Oropos, a site that offers many insights into seventh-century Euboean Gulf culture and society, we are faced with difficulties in dating contexts. A significant factor at Oropos is that seventh-century material evidence was not found in dense, successive occupation layers as in the LG period. The decade 700-690 BC is conventionally seen as a chronological boundary between Euboean LG IIb and early Archaic/Protoarchaic. At the same time, it seems to represent what we may term transitional years. In many instances it is difficult to tell whether vessels of this decade are stylistically final LG IIb or already Subgeometric (as defined by Boardman 1952). Comparable situations of chronological overlap between two styles are reported from Attica: in several instances, Attic LG IIb vessels were found in graves with Early Protoattic (EPA) vessels and it has therefore been assumed that the Attic LG IIb-EPA transition took place sometime during EPC (Trachsel 2008: 63-4). Similar evidence is also found in earlier times in Attica. For example, Irini Lemos has observed (2002: 9-10) that in Athens, a mixture of Submycenaean and Protogeometric styles can occur in pottery assemblages within the same tomb. As she reports (2002: 10), Vincent Desborough suggested that the EPG period covered two overlapping 2 

For present purposes, however, I still use the conventional term ‘Archaic’ for the time span c. 700/690-480 BC.

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Figure 14.2 Large versions of kotylai: a. Eretria Archaeological Museum 19036 from Zarakes (reproduced by permission of A. Chatzidimitriou); b. Oropos Archaeological Museum ΩΔ/Πγ126, OSK property (photograph: X. Charalambidou).

Figure 14.3 ‘Polychrome’ style: a. Eretria Archaeological Museum V3358, from the Heroon at Eretria (© Swiss School of Archaeology in Greece; photograph: S. Verdan); b. Oropos Archaeological Musem ΩΚ/Πγ1263, OSK property (photograph: X. Charalambidou).

generations of potters: the ‘old generation’ which continued to produce a Submycenaean style of pottery and the ‘younger’ which began to create the new Protogeometric style. Given the scarcity of closed and/or stratified contexts on Euboea, we need to find chronological markers and to create tools such as chrono-typologies in order to distinguish seventh- from eighth- and sixth-century pottery, and to periodize the seventh century. Criteria for chronological markers could be selected on the basis of changes in different aspects of shape, style or technology, even if many Euboean Subgeometric wares, especially of the first half of the seventh century, rarely depart significantly from their LG IIb predecessors. A good example is the attempt made by Euboean potters to follow certain Corinthian prototypes throughout the seventh century, meaning that the evolution of some Euboean shapes and types (mainly kotylai, often decorated in the Subgeometric style) can be understood and dated in relation to Corinthian workshops (Charalambidou 2008; in preparation). In seventhcentury Euboea and Oropos, the kotyle is among the most favoured drinking vessels. Apart from the ‘normal’ size kotyle (with a rim diameter approximately 0.08-0.17m), in the seventh century we also find a large version (Figure 14.2a-b) with a rim diameter often over 0.17m and with thicker and straighter walls. Another criterion for setting a chronological marker is the introduction of a ‘polychrome’ style (usually polychrome bands combined with white dotted rosettes and/or other kinds of decoration). This was frequently used in the second half of the seventh century, and the early decades of the sixth, on a range of vessels: kotylai (Figure 14.3a-b), one-handled cups (Figure 14.4), bowls, kraters/louteria, jugs, (pithoid) amphorae etc. Steps in this direction are first seen on LG II Euboean wares with white lines/bands on a black glazed surface (first observed by Andreiomenou 1975: 2269 and Coldstream 2008: 194), and a drinking vessel from Oropos dated c. 700 BC (Figure 14.5) with a thick red 125

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Figure 14.4 One-handled cup from the Heroon at Eretria, Eretria Archaeological Museum V3052. (© Swiss School of Archaeology in Greece; photograph: S. Verdan).

band applied to the reserved external surface of the rim. However, this early decoration was bichrome: seventhcentury ‘polychrome’ involves the application of red and white lines to the black-glazed surface. In addition to the more standard vessel shapes (the one-handled cup, skyphos, kotyle, krater, jug, amphora etc.), some hybrid forms also appear, usually combining elements from different shapes. Figure 14.4, for example, combines features of the kotyle and the one-handled cup. Finally, certain vessels used for cult and funerary ceremonies make frequent appearances during the seventh century: the most common categories are fine miniature hydriae (found in cult contexts), long-necked jugs (in cult contexts and rarely in burials) and the pithoid amphorae (known Figure 14.5 Kalyx vessel (skyphos or krateriskos), Oropos Archaeological Museum ΩΚ/Πγ2315, OSK property so far mainly in burial contexts), all of which are further (Central Quarter, area of the ‘Heroon’). (Photograph: X. discussed below. Especially on the long-necked jugs and Charalambidou). the pithoid amphorae we can observe new iconographies; when decorated with figural scenes and/or curvilinear motifs, especially from the second half of the seventh century, such vases can be considered as products in the orientalizing style. Aspects of production, consumption and deposition in settlements, cult areas and burial sites Settlements, workshops, public areas We begin with central Euboean sites because seventh-century evidence is so far rare in northern Euboean settlements. At Chalkis, the majority of Protogeometric, Geometric and Archaic finds come from the areas of the Hill of the Cemetery, the Yiftika Hill, the Hill of the Quarry (Kamares Hill), the Hill of Kallimanis, as far as Mt Vathrovounia, and Arethusa (Figure 14.6).3 According to Bakhuizen (1985: 76, 83-84, 94), the Iron Age settlement was located at the head of the Bay of Agios Stephanos.4 Few locations have yielded seventh-century material,5 although pottery of this period has been found in deposits at Yiftika in the ‘Εργατικός Συνοικισμός’ area (Andreiomenou 1972: 170-81; 1986: 3  Examples in Andreiomenou 1966; 1972; 1984; 1985; 1986; 1992; 1998; Bakhuizen 1985: 75-84, 94-96; Boardman 1952: 12, n. 73; 1957: 1-14; Descœudres 2006-7: 4; Kalligas 1988-9; Sackett et al. 1966: 59-60, 67; Sampson 1975b: 206; 1976a: 12-15. See also ArchDelt 16 (1960) B: 150-1, pl. 132βγ; ArchDelt 26 (1971) B: 252, pl. 227α-β and ArchDelt 27 (1972) B: 340 (Machaira plot); ArchDelt 48 (1993) B: 190-1 (Korovesi plot); ArchDelt 50 (1995) B: 315 (Aliveriou Street 1-3 and Asklipiadon and Kyzikou Street). For synthesis: Charalambidou 2008: 294-7. For a short overview of Protogeometric and Geometric Chalkis, see Charalambidou forthcoming a. 4  Bakhuizen 1985: 76 states that ‘the settlement floor of Chalkis comprises the flat ground to the north of the Bay of Áyios Stéfanos and the surroundings heights of Batariás, the Hill of the Cemetery, Yiftika Hill, the Hill of Kallimánis, the Hill of the Quarry and Kalogrítsa Hill’. He also notes that Chalkis lay to the north of the Bay of Agios Stephanos and that the positions of the cemeteries (i.e. the Agia Marina Cemetery, the North-East Cemetery, the Arethusa Cemetery, the extension of the Arethusa Cemetery, the Town Hill Cemetery) mark the extent of the ancient city (Bakhuizen 1985: 70, 75-84). 5  The Hill of the Quarry (Kamares Hill) area, a site explored by Boardman (1957: 1-14) and Sackett et al. (1966: 59), produced evidence (mainly pottery) of Protogeometric, Geometric, Archaic, Classical, and Hellenistic occupation. This material (mostly published) is now in the sherd collection of the British School at Athens, but includes very few seventh-century sherds.

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Figure 14.6 Chalkis: sites mentioned in the text. (After Bakhuizen 1985: 77, fig. 49).

116-18).6 So far, the largest context with seventh-century pottery to be discovered at Chalkis is a pottery deposit7 in a 6m-deep shaft at the southern foot of the rocky Agios Ioannis Hill (the Hill of the Cemetery area).8 This includes debris from one or more potter’s workshops (many sherds fired black or partially blackened) which mostly dates to the late eighth and seventh century (see also Charalambidou forthcoming a) (Figure 14.7a-b). The assemblage consists of a variety of vessels, ranging from transport amphorae (Figure 14.8) (see also Johnston and Jones 1978: 111-12; Pratt 2015: 214) to pouring vessels including jugs with cut-away neck, different types of drinking vessel, kraters/louteria, and lekanes. Chalkis, along with Eretria, was a major pottery production centre, but this deposit is as yet the only direct evidence for production dating to the eighth and seventh centuries.9 Excavations at Lefkandi have revealed an extensive BA and EIA settlement and rich PG-SPG burial grounds. The settlement continued to be inhabited over the LBA/EIA transition, ie. from LH IIIC to SM, probably until c. 700/690 BC (Popham et al. 1979 and 1993; Popham and Lemos 1996; more recently, see e.g. Lemos 2006: 518-23, 525-7; 2007; 2012). According to Lemos (2012: 159), the site did not survive after the end of the LG, and this may be why its ancient toponym does not survive. The latest evidence from the Xeropolis settlement comes from Building I in Region I, and dates to the late eighth or early seventh century (Lemos 2007: 125-6). However, a small amount of sixth-century pottery from re-occupation deposits at Lefkandi has closed the gap in evidence for occupation after the early seventh century (Popham et al. 1979: 78, pl. 59, nos 343-50, pl. 63, nos 344, 350). Popham et al. 1979 maintained that this signals the re-occupation of the site in the sixth century, nevertheless the full extent of the settlement remains unknown (Hall 2007: 7; Charalambidou 2011: 837). Seventh-century evidence from the settlement at Eretria is quite fragmentary, especially when compared to that of the eighth (Charalambidou 2006: 994-6, 1010-11) (Figure 14.9). Several buildings recognized as domestic dwellings seem to have been abandoned c. 700-690/680 BC (Charalambidou 2006: 994; Mazarakis Ainian 1987), a phenomenon See also ArchDelt 16 (1960): 150-1, pl. 132β-γ. Property of A. Machairas: ArchDelt 26 (1971) B: 252, pl. 227α-β; ArchDelt 27 (1972) B: 340. This material is currently being studied by Samuel Verdan and the author. 8  The Hill of the Cemetery Area (Area II), according to Bakhuizen (1985: 79). 9  Other later ceramic workshops functioned in the wider area. On the Hill of the Cemetery area (D. Vasileiadou plot) a potter’s workshop (?) dates to the end of the fourth century BC (ArchDelt 25 [1970] B: 247; Bakhuizen 1985: 79); a Hellenistic potter’s kiln and architectural remains have also been found there (Bakhuizen 1985: 79; Sampson 1976: 31-2, 54, site no. 108). Another potter’s kiln (undated) has been located in the Yiftika Hill area (Pneumatikou plot): ArchDelt 24 (1969) B: 203; Bakhuizen 1985: 80. 6  7 

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b

Figure 14.7 Chalkis, Machairas plot: a. misfired vessels; b. misfired and distorted lekanis. (Photographs: I. Iliadis).

a

Figure 14.8 Chalkis, Machairas plot: a. transport amphorae, Chalkis Archaeological Museum 7826 and 7827 (photograph: I. Iliadis); b. photomicrograph of fabric of transport amphora 7826 (XPL, field of view = 7.35mm) (photograph: X. Charalambidou).

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14. Euboea and the Euboean Gulf region: pottery in context which finds parallels at Oropos (discussed below). Two ceramic kilns at Eretria were associated with seventhand sixth-century pottery,10 and another has been dated c. 600 BC (Schmid 2000-1: in E/600). However, further study is required to verify these dates. In earlier times, only one potter’s kiln has so far been attributed to the Geometric period in Eretria (Ducrey, Metzger and Reber 1993: 21-2, figs 13-14), which may seem surprising in a period when Eretria produced quantities of high quality ceramics.11 The Ceramic Industry of Eretria12 is a project established to examine Eretria’s role in local and regional networks via diachronic investigation of local pottery production from the Bronze and Iron Ages until the Hellenistic period (Charalambidou et al. 2016; forthcoming). It combines petrographic and chemical analyses of pottery with analyses of geological materials and samples of ancient building materials.13 Among the fabrics identified as local is a coarse fabric (Fabric Group A: coarse metamorphic - quartz+mica phyllite/schist) (Figure 14.10) (Charalambidou et al. forthcoming)14 which was used in the eighth century (when the samples analysed include closed vessels, mainly pithoi and cooking pots, and basins) and continued into the seventh (with Figure 14.9 Seventh-century material remains at Eretria. (© X. Charalambidou). samples from pithoi, hydriae and basins). Furthermore, close similarities between this fabric and the (EH II and EH III) Bronze Age Fabric Group 1 (Charalambidou et al. 2016: 532) may indicate that Eretrian potters in certain periods of the Bronze Age and the eighth and seventh centuries used the same or very similar raw materials for the manufacture of at least some coarse-ware shapes. Fabric Group K (fine 10 

OT 671: ArchDelt 23 (1968) B: 230-1. This situation may in part be remedied by revisiting the date of a well-preserved potter’s kiln in the Bouratzas plot, on the coastal plain in the centre of modern Eretria. This was originally assigned a stratigraphic date in EH III (Tuor 1981; 1982) but has more recently been dated to the ninth century using archaeomagnetism and OSL. This result is still being discussed and will be published in a forthcoming paper by S. Müller Celka, G. Polymeris and D. Kontopoulou. 12  The project is undertaken by the Fitch Laboratory of the British School at Athens in collaboration with the Swiss School of Archaeology in Greece. Archaeometric analysis in this project is conducted by Evangelia Kiriatzi, Noémi Müller and the author. 13  The sampling of ancient building materials includes samples from the vault and eschara of the kiln on the Bouratzas plot. 14  Fabric Group A (FG A) is a very low calcareous fabric characterized by metamorphic rocks, ranging from phyllite to quartz+white mica±biotite±feldspar schist and polycrystalline quartz, and rare volcanic rock fragments. 11 

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Xenia Charalambidou to semi-fine silicate–white mica15 [Charalambidou et al. forthcoming]) seems to have been the main local fabric used for finewares in the Geometric (eighth century) and Classical periods.16 Samples of seventh-century fineware are currently being analysed to uncover any connections with this fabric. Other settlements on Euboea have produced much less seventh-century evidence. This is due not only to the decrease in evidence that seems to characterize many Euboean sites, but also to the state of research as many sites have not been fully explored. One example is ancient Kerinthos at Kastri, near Mantoudi, on the Aegean coast of northern Euboea. This was described in antiquity as a coastal settlement (Hom. Il. 2.604, ἕφαλος), and it is a natural opening to the sea, on the crossroads of important Aegean trade routes. Protogeometric, Geometric and Archaic pottery was found here during trial excavations (Karapaschalidou 2003: 139-42; Sackett et al. 1966: 43-4; Sampson 1975a). A building of uncertain function on the north side of the hill of Kastri (in Sector III) produced quantities of seventh-, sixth- and fifthcentury pottery, and the remains of an older, Geometric wall were found beneath its floor (Sampson 1975a; ArchDelt 29 [1973-4] B: 484-5). On the Attic-Boeotian coast, Oropos, opposite Eretria, is so far the only extensive Geometric and Archaic settlement to demonstrate strong Euboean connections, Figure 14.10 a. Seventh-century pithos from the Heroon although it is not the only mainland coastal settlement at Eretria, Eretria Archaeological Museum, context/inv. no. 1615, 1000 (© Swiss School of Archaeology in Greece; strongly linked with the island. Mitrou in the Bay of photograph: S. Verdan); b. photomicrograph of fabric (XPL, Atalante (in the northern Euboean Gulf) has produced field of view = 7.35mm) (© X. Charalambidou). evidence of significant connections with Euboea, or more precisely Lefkandi, but so far mostly from LH LPG settlement phases17 (see generally van de Moortel 2007; van de Moortel and Zahou 2011; 2012). Aulis in Boeotia must also have been important, although it has not been fully explored. From the coast here one can see Chalkis and the tell of Xeropolis at Lefkandi. A site such as this, in close proximity to major Euboean settlements, would inevitably have had connections with Euboea. Ancient sources indicate that the site of Aulis was close to the coast of the Euboean Gulf, between the bays of Vathi, built on a rocky hill as indicated by Homer (Il. 2.538) and Strabo (7.298, 9.403). The only site identified in this region, however, is the sanctuary of Artemis described by Pausanias (9.19.6-7), which has so far yielded Protogeometric, Geometric and Classical pottery (the Protogeometric showing similarities with Lefkandi).18 The Euboean Gulf region19 covers a huge geographical area, on the mainland side from southern Thessaly to Boeotia and Attica. Such an array of different landscapes presupposes different cultural backgrounds and influences. For example, at Rhamnous in Attica (still in the Euboean Gulf) Attic predominance in Archaic pottery is readily discernible.20 In the same way on Euboea itself, Attic imports at Plakari-Karystos in the southern part of the island (see below) indicate strong connections with Attic sites. 15  Fabric Group K (FG K) is a fine to semi-fine intermediate calcareous silicate fabric characterized by the presence of monocrystalline quartz and mica (dominantly white mica laths, more sporadically biotite laths); in smaller amounts it contains feldspars, schist/phyllite and polycrystalline quartz rock fragments. 16  It is the fabric of the majority of Geometric finewares selected for analysis. The samples include vases of categories exported to Euboean colonies and other regions of the Mediterranean: the Geometric pendent semicircle, chevrons, and concentric circles groups. At the same time, the fine Fabric Group K has compositional values that fall within the range of the local Bronze Age fine fabric (FG 8) and seem very closely related (Charalambidou et al. 2016: 532). 17  Survey of this area has produced only a small number of Geometric and Archaic sherds. I thank Stepan Rückl and Bartek Lis for this information. 18  Prakt 1956: 94-104; 1958: 45-54; 1959: 26-33; 1960: 39-48; 1961: 41-4; Nancy Psalti pers. comm. 19  By ‘Euboean Gulf region’ I mean the coastline not only of Euboea but also of the mainland opposite. The Euboean Gulf as a channel of human interplay and a connector between island and mainland is significant throughout antiquity. 20  I thank the General Secretary of the Athens Archaeological Society, Dr Vassileios Petrakos, as well as Dr Konstantinos Kalogeropoulos, for allowing me to see the unpublished Archaic material from Rhamnous.

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Figure 14.11 Oropos. General map of the OSK property. (© A. Mazarakis Ainian; drawing: A. Gounaris).

At Oropos, a significant portion of the Protogeometric, Geometric and Archaic pottery found in the settlement nuclei at Nea Palatia (Protogeometric and Geometric phases) and at Skala Oropou (Geometric and Archaic phases) was related to Euboea; Attic connections are also clearly evident (Charalambidou 2008; Mazarakis Ainian 1998b; 2002b; 2004a; 2006-7 and 2007a; Vlachou 2010). The location of Oropos imposes these connections: on the border between Attica and Boeotia and just opposite Eretria, it lies on the closest passage to Eretria from the mainland, and in antiquity was considered an Eretrian colony.21 Oropos is a fine illustration of the importance of systematic excavation in providing evidence of periods not often represented in survey projects. While survey here produced no seventh-century material (Cosmopoulos 2001), systematic excavation at Skala Oropou (OSK property) uncovered important architecture and portable finds. The area of the OSK property (Figure 14.11), where an extensive Geometric settlement has been uncovered, evidently underwent changes in its function around 700 BC. During the late eighth or early seventh century, several buildings in the Central and West Quarters which had been in use in LG IIb were abandoned and some new ones built (Mazarakis Ainian 2002a: 158-64, fig. 3, 174-8, phases 5-6; 2007b: 159-60, figs 17.3 [phases 5-6], 17.4; see also Prakt 2009: 38-9, ‘green’ phase). While Building ΛΔ in the far west of the West Quarter, built in c. 700 BC, preserves the LG apsidal form (see below), new building forms also appear from the end of the eighth century or the beginning of the seventh (see also Mazarakis Ainian, this volume). An illustrative example is a monumental building or peribolos in the West Quarter with a tower-like structure along its southern wall and a room with a pebble floor in its northern section (Figure 14.12) (Charalambidou 2008: 179-92, 226-8; in preparation; Mazarakis Ainian 2002a: 174-8; 2004a: 380-2; 2006-7: 1013).22 This structure, erected at the end of the eighth or the beginning of the seventh century, replaced a number of LG II buildings (Phase 6: Mazarakis Ainian 2002a, 174-8). These Geometric buildings under its southern part, and pottery from the strata into which the foundations were laid, provide a terminus post quem of c. 710-700/690 BC for its construction. Pottery related to the building indicates a use life spanning the seventh century and into the sixth (mainly the first half), although some of the later material in particular may be intrusive.23 In addition to the central Euboean Gulf repertoire, pottery of the first half of the seventh century includes a small number of imports from other parts of the Aegean, such as an Ionian bird bowl (Figure 14.13a). Ceramics from the tower-like structure mainly date from the second half of the seventh century until at least the first decades of the sixth, and include good quality table ware such as a jug with floral decoration, kotylai, and a lamp of Cycladic type (Figure 14.13b). This monumental building was probably used by the community. It resembles a military camp—in particular because of the tower-like structure with strong walls in its southern part—or an enclosure for animals (Mazarakis Ainian 2012b: 82). It may have served multiple functions, from managing crop and livestock commodities and housing daily activities to providing shelter (perhaps in turbulent times), and likely underwent more than one rearrangement. A further suggestion is that it housed the agora of Oropos (Greco 2006: 331-2). A rectangular building of the pastas type (Mazarakis Ainian 1998d: 191-2; 2002a: 169; 2004a: 383; 2006-07: 102)24 was later built in the vicinity of the monumental building (Figure 14.11 and 14.12). The earliest pottery material indicates a date in the late seventh or early sixth century, with the main period of use falling in the sixth (Charalambidou 2008: 199-205; 228As recognized by Nikokratis who mentions that Oropos was Ἐρε]τριέων κτίσ[μα: FGrHist IIIB, 376, 1. See also Prakt 2000: 45-53; 2001: 42-4; 2002: 11. 23  The monumental building cannot be considered a closed context and the area of the West Quarter was used throughout the Archaic period. 24  See also Prakt 1996: 28-33. 21  22 

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Xenia Charalambidou 35; in preparation). Although this building closely resembles a house and its finds seem appropriate for a domestic context, the possibility that it served a public function (related to feasting?) cannot be excluded. Among the drinking vessels from the monumental building/peribolos and the pastastype building are large kotylai from central Euboean Gulf workshops which, in terms of shape and decoration, have close parallels at Eretria, Zarakes, and possibly even Chalkis.25 They mainly occur in settlement (Oropos) and cult contexts (Eretria, Zarakes) of the second half of the seventh century and the first half of the sixth. The appearance of this large version alongside the normal shape may indicate changes in feasting practices during the seventh century. On the OSK property, a grid of streets crossing roughly at right angles, visible especially in the vicinity of the pastas building and in the South Quarter (north–south street and east–west street), has produced evidence dating largely to the late seventh and mostly the sixth century (Figure 14.11) (Charalambidou 2008: 206-12, 235-6; in preparation; Mazarakis Ainian 2012b: 81-2). According to Figure 14.12 Oropos. Monumental building/peribolos in the West Quarter. Mazarakis Ainian (2012b: 81-2) (© A. Mazarakis Ainian; drawing: A. Gounaris). such advances in ‘urban’ planning may be related to the birth of the polis of Oropos. In the South Quarter, a significant part of the Archaic (east–west) street has been uncovered (Figure 14.11) (Charalambidou 2008: 208-17, 233; in preparation; Mazarakis Ainian 2002a: 169; 2004a: 382-3; 2006-7: 97).26 Its fill contained thousands of small, mostly late eighth-, seventh- and sixth-century sherds belonging mainly to central Euboean Gulf products - a good illustration of the deposition and re-use of discarded material (the fill is thick and homogeneous with few joins between sherds). Within the fill, a small mud-brick structure yielded a group of long-necked jugs and a kalathosshaped vessel27 (Figure 14.14) ranging in date from the late eighth to the late seventh or early sixth century. These long-necked jugs are also in the central Euboean Gulf style: their original source is unknown, but this specialized class of vases has been found on the opposite coast, at Eretria, in cult and very occasionally funerary contexts (see below).28 Oropos was a site of metalworking and pottery manufacture. Most of the metal workshops on the OSK property are eighth-century (Doonan and Mazarakis Ainian 2007); the excavated pottery kilns relate to eighth- and seventh25  Eretria: Descœudres 1976: 32, 47, FK 667.1, fig. 9, pl. 6; also at the Heroon and the Athenaion. Zarakes, Apollo sanctuary: Chatzidimitriou 20034a: fig. 13 (see Figure 14.2a). There is one fragment from Chalkis in the BSA sherd collection. 26  See also Prakt 1999: 54-6; Prakt 2002: 12-14; Prakt 2003: 10-11. 27  More kalathoi/kalathoid vases have been found in the fill of the street in the South Quarter. 28  Compare the Athenian Agora, where Burr discovered a road or path over the ruins of the Areopagos Oval Building. It is possible that votives within its fill came from a nearby, but as yet unidentified, sanctuary (van den Eijnde and Laughy forthcoming).

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a

b Figure 14.13 a. Oropos Archaeological Museum ΩΔ/Πγ746, bird bowl c. 690-675 BC from the area of the monumental building/peribolos (drawing: A. Mazarakis Ainian and X. Charalambidou); b. representative ceramic finds from the tower-like structure of the same building (drawings: X. Charalambidou).

century levels (Charalambidou 2008: 164-8; Mazarakis Ainian 2007b: 166; 2012d; Vlachou 2010: 103-4, 330). Here too, on-going analysis of ceramic fabrics from Oropos confirms the existence of local production, and also shows the presence of imports from Euboea. This research, conducted at the Fitch Laboratory of the British School at Athens (by the author, Evangelia Kiriatzi and Noémi Müller), includes petrographic and chemical analyses of seventhand sixth-century ceramics from Oropos, comparing pottery from Oropos, Eretria and Chalkis (Charalambidou in preparation). Moreover, chemical analysis of Protogeometric pottery from the settlement nucleus of Nea Palatia Oropou by Hans Mommsen (Mommsen 2014; Mazarakis and Vlachou 2014) reveals a close correlation with central Euboean sites (Lefkandi and Eretria) and clay deposits close to Phylla, as represented in Mommsen’s EuA fabric group (Mommsen 2014: esp. 17-18). 133

Xenia Charalambidou Cult sites

a

b

c

d

e Figure 14.14 Pottery finds connected to the mud-brick structure in the fill of the E-W street in the South Quarter: a-d. long-necked jugs; e. kalathoid vessel (Drawings: X. Charalambidou).

The number of cult places discovered at different Euboean sites again reflects the current state of research. Wellexcavated Eretria has produced a good number of sites that continued to be used, or were founded in, the seventh century. In fact, we know more about seventh-century cult places at Eretria than we do about the contemporary domestic contexts. The EIA-Archaic cult places of Chalkis, on the other hand, are completely unknown apart from one possible votive deposit from a rural shrine at Pei Dokou, probably associated with a fertility cult (Kalamara et al. 2015: 30, 33). This deposit contained late eighthcentury bronze animals and human figurines, and is thought to have included Archaic offerings too, although more research is required to establish its period of use and general character.29 Elsewhere, the site of Staphida at Neos Pyrgos-Oreoi in northern Euboea has produced a ‘circular-horseshoe-shaped’ structure associated with finds dating from the Protogeometric period to the seventh and sixth centuries. The function of this structure has recently been a matter of debate. SapounaSakellaraki (2009: 17-61) has suggested that it is related to a sanctuary where an over life-sized sixth-century statue group of Herakles and the lion was also found, while Mazarakis Ainian (2012a: 56) argues in favour of a secular character. At Eretria (Figure 14.15), the Apollo Daphnephoros sanctuary and the nearby Northern Sacrificial Area (probably dedicated to Artemis according to Sandrine Huber) are complementary and so far the only urban cult sites dated from the Geometric period onwards (Huber 2013: 77; Verdan 2013: 223-4). The Geometric hetakompedon of Apollo is thought to have been destroyed c. 700 BC and its successor to have been built in the seventh century (Auberson 1968: 15; Auberson and Schefold 1972: 116; Mazarakis Ainian 1997: 59; Verdan 2000; see also Charalambidou 2006: 999-1000 with bibliography). Nevertheless, there is no material evidence associated directly with the interior of the seventh-century temple (Verdan 2000: 130). A possible explanation may be that the seventh-century remains were cleared away before the construction of the sixth-century temple. A small number of pits and a well in the area of the Apollo Daphnephoros sanctuary include seventh- and sixthcentury material, mainly pottery (Riva 2007). Among these was a pit immediately below the foundation of the northeast stylobate of the sixth-century temple, which thus provides a terminus post quem for the temple construction (Verdan 2004: 86). The finds in the pit included long-necked jugs and miniature hydriae which are ceremonial vases found at almost all Archaic cult sites at Eretria (see below). So far, 42m² of the Northern Sacrificial Area (Huber 1998a; 1998b; 2003) has been explored. The sanctuary continues 29 

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Prakt 1903: 168. See also Sackett et al. 1966: 57.

14. Euboea and the Euboean Gulf region: pottery in context

Figure 14.15 Eretria and its cult sites in the seventh century, with examples of long-necked jugs found among the vases in the cult areas. (© S. Huber).

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Xenia Charalambidou further north, but that area has yet to be examined (Huber 2013: 77). The excavated area has largely produced ceremonial ceramics and faunal remains associated with sacrifices and the ‘god’s portion’30 in the Geometric period. The Archaic, Classical and Hellenistic assemblages include representative local/regional drinking vessels and cooking pots as well as faunal remains from butchery and animal consumption (mostly of sheep and pigs), but no longer the ‘god’s portion’. Therefore, sacrificial practices inside the Northern Sacrificial Area probably changed in the Archaic period, although meat was still consumed in the feasts held here (Huber 2003: especially 140; 2012: 848-9; Huber and Méniel 2013; 2015). The Northern Sacrificial Area produced a variety of eighth-, seventh- and sixth-century vessels appropriate for feasts, ceremonies and dedications (medium-large hydriae, skyphoi, kantharoi, kotylai, small kraters, kraters/dinoi, pyxides, oinochoae and some coarsewares), as well as a large assemblage of the two categories of specialized cult pottery - miniature hydriae and long-necked jugs.31 These last two specialist forms are found in almost all Archaic cult contexts at Eretria, regardless of the deity or recipient of veneration. In addition to the Northern Sacrificial Area, they have been discovered in the pit below the foundation of the stylobate of the sixth-century Apollo temple mentioned above, in the Athena sanctuary on top of the acropolis, and (less commonly) in the Heroon near the West Gate (Huber 2012: 849-52; 2013: 83, see also below).32 Their appearance in contexts related to Apollo, Artemis and Athena suggests, according to Huber (2012: 851), that there was no distinction between such offerings made to male or female deities. Miniature hydriae indicate cult activities involving water or another liquid (Huber 2003: 118-21), although in the absence of organic residue analysis it is difficult to determine a more precise function for them or for the long-necked jugs. Were they used for libations or other ritual activities? Did they contain a commodity or were they dedicated to the divinity empty? The Ceramic Industry of Eretria project has made petrographic and chemical analyses of 20 miniature hydriae from the Northern Sacrificial Area, revealing a variety of fabric groups which reflect the use of different clay pastes and probably the existence of different workshops (Charalambidou et al. forthcoming). The miniature hydriae with figural scenes from the Northern Sacrificial Area were decorated with men, birds, horses, serpents, and tripods in the eighth century and maidens in the seventh (miniature hydriae with Subgeometric linear decoration were also frequent), while in the seventh and early sixth centuries the longnecked jugs depicted maidens often in procession or in pairs, and probable cult scenes, including the presentation of a cloth on the loom to a figure who may be a goddess (Huber 2003: vol. II, e.g. pls 19-20, 24-8). The participation of maidens in these rituals is related to the female life cycle and a focus on fertility (probably in the territory of the kourotrophic goddess Artemis). Other offerings include terracotta figurines as well as jewelry, amulets, seals, and a miniature tripod cauldron: some of these, such as the small tripod cauldron, may be connected to the participation of young men in rites in the same area (Huber 2003: vol. II, pls 42-53, 113-37; see also Langdon 2008: 44-5, 178). On the plateau of the ancient acropolis of Eretria (Figure 14.15) lies a temenos recently interpreted by Huber as an Athenaion. She argues that it was established towards the end of the seventh century and was in use until the beginning of the third (Huber 2007; 2008; 2010; 2012: 847; 2013: 86; 2015: 132-6; Huber and Maillard 2015: 159-62). Evidence for animal sacrifice has been found in the temenos area: an initial examination of the skeletal remains has identified various species, mostly large and medium-sized ruminants (cattle, sheep and goats: Huber 2012: 849). Different categories of tableware can be associated with feasting. Ceremonial vessels (miniature hydriae and longnecked jugs) relate to female cult activities. Early sixth-century terracotta fragments, probably from the sima of a cult building, depict young riders and foot soldiers armed with spears, and warriors on two-horse chariots. Such scenes likely relate to male rituals in the temenos, perhaps associated with the role of the hippeis in the Eretrian community and the celebration of the goddess as a guardian of the city (Huber 2012: 853; Huber and Maillard 2015: 164-6). Ancestor or hero cults have been identified in many regions of the Greek world,33 and seem to have had a long history in the Euboean region. At Lefkandi (Xeropolis), the earliest structures or platforms in Region II associated with ancestor or hero cults and ritual dining and feasting date from LH III–EPG (Lemos 2010: 135; 2014: 175). At Oxylithos/Viglatouri, the MG II Building A with a stone platform inside it (plus other stone structures in the vicinity) has been interpreted as a heroon-sanctuary (Sapouna-Sakellaraki 1998: 61-3; see also Kourou 2012: 169-70; 2015: 96). The early seventh century saw the first known hero cult at Eretria (and probably at Oropos too, see below), at the Heroon near the later West Gate (Figure 14.16) in the northwestern part of the city. This triangular structure 30 

On the ‘god’s portion’, see e.g. Ekroth 2008; 2011. The largest assemblage of miniature hydriae at Eretria (150,000 sherds) comes from this context (Huber 2003; 2012: 850; 2013: 83). Miniature hydriae were used from the late eighth century until the Hellenistic period (Huber 2013: 86), while long-necked jugs were used from the late eighth until the first decades of the sixth century BC (Huber pers. comm.). 32  Miniature hydriae at Eretria were also found in an obscure fourth-century context in the area of the Thesmophorion on the acropolis (Huber 2012, 850; 2013, 83). 33  For structures/platforms in other parts of the Aegean associated with ancestor or hero cults, see: Antonaccio 1995; Hägg 1983b; Kourou 2015: 93-101. 31 

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ERETRIA HEROON

8th-cent. BC burials and early 7th-cent. BC monument 7th-cent. BC remains

Figure 14.16 The Heroon and its associated remains at Eretria. (© Swiss School of Archaeology in Greece).

was likely built after the Geometric cemetery in the same area (named the Heroon necropolis or cemetery) went out of use, and over the elite tombs that comprised it (see Bérard 1970: 56-71; 1978: 89-95; Blandin 2007a: vol. II, 35-58). Whether this was the site of an ancestor cult or the cult of an authentic hero, and what was the nature of the association between the Heroon and the deceased in (LG IIb) Tomb 6 of the earlier cemetery, remain questions to be answered (Verdan 2012: 186; on the Heroon and its associated buildings and pits, see also bibliography in Charalambidou 2006: 1000-1). The triangular Heroon was constructed in the first decades of the seventh century, probably along with the rectangular building G or B to the northwest, and the rectangular building P or C. Building P or C was reported to have been destroyed late in the seventh century and then rebuilt on the same foundations; at the same time, Oikos E, a small shrine, andron or hestiatorion, was built. According to Mazarakis Ainian (2007b: 166), the cult at the Heroon (alongside the cults of deities such as Apollo Daphnephoros and Artemis) was probably appropriated by the polis of Eretria. Finds related to the Heroon and its associated buildings (such as pottery, terracotta figurines and lamps) were found in pits and a well. The discovery of such remains in nearby deposits is quite common at Euboean cult sites (see also Plakari-Karystos below). Specialized vessels such as miniature hydriae and long-necked jugs are much rarer in the Heroon than in the Northern Sacrificial Area. Instead, these deposits contained a wide range of vessels of different types and sizes – drinking vessels (one-handled cups, kotylai, skyphoi, bowls) as Figures 14.3a, 14.4, kraters, jugs, hydriae, transport amphorae, etc. – both central Euboean products and imports from other regions of the Aegean. Such a range is indicative of the nature and status of the ceremonial dining/feasting associated with the Heroon. 137

Xenia Charalambidou At neighbouring Amarynthos, a cult deposit (16×23m) near the Agia Kiriaki chapel yielded mainly pottery, terracotta figurines, and metal finds. The earliest pottery dates to the late eighth century or the beginning of the seventh, and the earliest figurines to the end of the seventh century (Sapouna-Sakellaraki 1992). Ongoing excavations at the foot of the hill of Palaioekklisies at Amarynthos-Kato Vathia yielded evidence of Protogeometric, Geometric, Archaic and Classical occupation in the form of walls, buildings, burials, and a paved road, plus ceramics and other artefacts from all of Figure 14.17 Relief pithos from Zarakes with a these contexts (Blandin 2008; 2011; Reber et al. 2013: 100dedicatory inscription. (Reproduced by permission of A. 7; 2014: 127-33; 2015: 144-6). The sanctuary of Artemis Chatzidimitriou). Amarysia (interpreted as a pan-Euboean sanctuary) has now been located in this area. Excavations to date have yielded a Hellenistic stoa with earlier architectural remains nearby (the Archaic Building 3 of as yet unknown function). Among a few items found in a pit near Building 3 was a fragment of a seventh-century bronze rondel bearing a dedication and the dedicant’s name, Θεογ− (Reber et al. 2015: 145, fig. 17). At Zarakes in south-central Euboea, excavation in the area of the temple of Apollo Delios (Chatzidimitriou 2003-4a; 2003-4b; 2006; 2015; forthcoming)34 revealed continuous architectural phases from the LG to Roman periods, including an LG apsidal peristyle cult building (probably an early hekatompedon). Seventh-century ceramics include both fine drinking vessels (including the large kotyle in Figure 14.2a) and coarse vessels such as relief pithoi, a relief plaque and large relief vessels for mixing and pouring. A huge relief pithos with a scene depicting Centaurs was uncovered near the postholes of the peristyle of the apsidal building. The choice of this iconographic theme likely relates to mythological tradition in the region of Zarakes, where Centaurs were venerated (Chatzidimitriou 2015: 269).35 The pithos dates to the second half of the seventh century and bears the dedicatory inscription [ - - ? ιερος Ζε│[-²ˉ³-] │ ας Παφυλάτες ἐσπάλασε (Chatzidimitriou 2003-4b; 2015: 267-9; Matthaiou 2004-9) (Figure 14.17). Matthaiou (20049: 543) points out that the potter-dedicant of this pithos was a foreigner and that the verb ἐσπάλασε refers to the technique used to apply the relief band to the pithos. This may therefore be the first dedication we have from a potter at a sanctuary on Euboea. The fact that it comes from the maker of a relief pithos demonstrates that such specialized craftsmanship was highly valued in the seventh century, and consequently could justify its presence and dedication in the sanctuary. Apart from this pithos, the frequent appearance at the sanctuary of coarse relief pottery which is presumed to be local, and the frequent use of the same technique to decorate it indicate, according to Chatzidimitriou (forthcoming), the existence of a flourishing pottery tradition in the region of Zarakes catering to the demands of the sanctuary. Figure 14.18 The Plakari cult site. (© J. P. Crielaard; drawing: J. Fokkema). 34 

Recent excavations on the western part of the Plakari

The cult was identified as that of Apollo Delios (and perhaps also Artemis) based on an inscription on a fourth-century BC bronze weight (Chatzidimitriou 2006). 35  Centaurs were popular in many regions in Greece during the EIA and Archaic period (Langdon 2008: 95-110) including Zarakes. The earliest depiction of a centaur on Euboea, found at PG Lefkandi, is the well-known terracotta centaur discovered in the Toumba cemetery tombs 1 and 3 (Popham et al. 1979: 169-70, no. 3, pls 169, 251-2).

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14. Euboea and the Euboean Gulf region: pottery in context hill near Karystos, further south on Euboea, have revealed new evidence of cult activity from the EIA to the Archaic and Classical periods (Figure 14.18) (Crielaard 2012b; forthcoming; Crielaard et al. 2013; 2014; 2015; Crielaard and Songu forthcoming; Charalambidou forthcoming a; forthcoming b). This is the first time that an Iron Age cult area has been systematically investigated in the region of Karystia. The vast majority of the EIA material, and part of the Archaic, comes from a sacrificial refuse area (Trench 1) on the south slope of the summit. So far, EIA architectural features are confined to an eighthcentury temenos wall (TW1), and a trapezoidal stone feature. There is a possibility that EIA cult activities were already established on the flat part of the hilltop where in a subsequent phase Terrace 2 was built. Crielaard (forthcoming) argues that the first construction phase pre-dates the middle of the seventh century on the basis of a piriform Protocorinthian aryballos (see below: Figure 14.19b) found lying against the side of the trapezoidal stone feature. Pottery from the refuse area (Trench 1) dates to the Protogeometric, Geometric and Archaic periods, with a peak of deposition in the eighth century. It includes a high percentage of fine drinking vessels (mainly onehandled cups, skyphoi and kantharoi) as well as vases such as bowls, mixing vessels, pouring vessels, large closed vessels, and some pyxides (Charalambidou forthcoming b). Such vessels could have been used for feasting and at least some perhaps also for libations and dedication in this cult context. Coarseware of the same periods includes cooking pots which provide valuable information about food preparation, sacrificial meals and ritual dining, all facets of the cult activities performed at the site (Charalambidou forthcoming b). A range of fabrics is represented in the refuse area, both Euboean (from central Euboean and Karystian workshops) and imports from other Aegean regions, mainly Attica but also Corinth and east Greece. As noted, most of the fine and coarsewares are eighth-century in date: following conventional stylistic dating, there are lesser quantities of material from seventh century, and Figure 14.19a-b Finds north of the (trapezoidal) stone sixth-century material is also present. As this deposit structure on Terrace 2 at Plakari. (© J. P. Crielaard; photograph: B. Brouwenstijn). lacked stratification, it is difficult to trace the development of certain shapes during the seventh century. This is the case, for example, with the one-handled monochrome cups used in cult activity at Plakari during the EIA and at least until the seventh century BC (the shape is very common in the dump but often preserved only in small fragments).36 The refuse area also produced animal bones, botanical remains, and metal, stone and terracotta finds, all of which point to a range of activities related to sacrifices, feasting, and the dedication of votive offerings. The rather small percentage of the animal bones that were burned came mostly from the femur and tail, i.e. from the particular parts of the animal considered to be the ‘god’s portion’. The majority of the bones were found unburnt, indicating that most of the meat for the sacrificial meals was prepared by stewing (Groot 2014).37 The assortment of vessel shapes, as well as the presence of faunal remains and iron knives indicates that animal sacrifice and feasting, probably in the form of communal meals, were among the focal points of cult activity on the Plakari hill. Votive practices can be seen via items 36 

First observations indicate that the majority of the pottery from Trench 1 displays a high degree of fragmentation and was probably broken intentionally (it is compatible with intentional breakage practices in other cult contexts). Intentional breakage has also been observed at Eretria, in the Northern Sacrificial Area and at the sanctuary of Athena (Sandrine Huber pers. comm.). 37  Adult sheep and goats were the preferred animals for sacrifice among the debris in Trench 1, with cattle and pigs being sacrificed in smaller numbers (Groot 2014).

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Xenia Charalambidou

Figure 14.20 The ‘Heroon’ at the Central Quarter, OSK property, Oropos (© A. Mazarakis Ainian; drawing: A. Gounaris).

such as jewellery, figurines, and plastic vases (the latest of which are a few sixth-century vases in the shape of animals, a siren and a kore: Crielaard et al. 2014: 4, fig. 3), plus small/miniature fine and coarse vessels. Cult activities may also be connected to maturation rites (Crielaard et al. 2014: 16-17; Crielaard forthcoming). It has been suggested that this sanctuary might have been dedicated jointly to Apollo and Artemis (Crielaard forthcoming).38 Evidence for the location of cult activity on the Plakari hill dates mainly to the Archaic and Classical periods and comes from the flat area termed Terrace 2, immediately north of Trench 1 (Figure 14.18), where various cult installations have been excavated (Crielaard et al. 2014: 13-15; Crielaard forthcoming; Crielaard and Songu forthcoming). An LG IIb oinochoe from the Workshop of Athens 897 (Charalambidou forthcoming b) found on Terrace 2 might have been deposited as an antique since no other Geometric sherds have been found here. Building A, a probable pantry and storage space for cult equipment and valuable goods, was built in this area in the late fifth century and remained in use until the third quarter of the fourth (Crielaard et al. 2013: 43-7; 2014: 8-11; see also Chidiroglou 2014; Crielaard 2012b: 194-5; forthcoming; Crielaard and Songu forthcoming). Finds from this building comprise mainly fourthcentury plain and black-glazed pottery, and a variety of metal objects. But two objects from the interior of the building seem to be antiques or at least from earlier periods: an LPC conical oinochoe probably of the mid seventh century BC, and a terracotta kore figurine from the second half of the sixth (Crielaard et al. 2014: 10). A cult area with stone structures has also been discovered on Terrace 2: among the earliest finds here are a Protocorinthian piriform aryballos dating c. 650-625 BC (Figure 14.19b) and an aryballos probably from an East Greek production centre (Figure 14.19a) (Crielaard et al. 2014: 13, fig. 9a-b; Crielaard forthcoming). These two items were found immediately north of the trapezoidal stone structure mentioned above, which was probably used as an altar since burnt bones and other burnt material were found inside and next to it. To the west of it lay an assemblage of metal objects, including fragments of an iron thrusting spear, a bronze phiale mesomphalos and a horse figurine, plus a terracotta rattle in the shape of a bird. The assemblage suggests that this was the focal point of a variety of rituals (Crielaard et al. 2014: 13-15, figs. 10-11; Crielaard forthcoming). The Archaic material from Terrace 2 relates closely to the later, seventh- and sixth-century finds from Trench 1. Outside Euboea, at Oropos, the settlement at Skala (OSK property) included some cult areas in addition to buildings of domestic and communal/public character. Around 700/690 BC, changes took place in the use of space on the OSK property, with the abandonment of dwellings and (metal) workshops and the intensification of cult activity in the Central Quarter. A small number of stone structures or platforms built c. 700 BC (or early in the seventh century) form an open-air cult area (named the ‘Heroon’) which may be associated with the cult of the dead (Figure 14.20). Two pots with graffiti ΑΠ found inside the Classical Building A, as well as a sherd found at Plakari with the graffito ΑΡ, may identify the deity or deities venerated on the Plakari hill as Apollo and possibly Artemis (Chidiroglou 2014; see also Crielaard et al. 2013: 47; 2014: 17; Crielaard forthcoming; Crielaard and Songu forthcoming).

38 

140

14. Euboea and the Euboean Gulf region: pottery in context According to Mazarakis Ainian (2002a: 161-4; 2007b: 164), this ensemble was probably for the commemoration of an important member of the settlement, perhaps a seafarer who had perished at sea and was later given exceptional honours. Among the stone structures here was a rectangular stone platform, found covered with ashes, which was built over the ruins of the hearth of the LG Building IA (Charalambidou 2008: 156-63, 220-3; in preparation; Mazarakis Ainian 1998d: 206-7; 2002a: 161-4; 2004a: 378; 2006-7: 91-2; 2007b: 159, 164).39 The ‘Heroon’ appears contemporary with the last phase of use of the largest building in the Central Quarter, Building Θ (originally constructed in the late eighth century: Mazarakis Ainian 2002a: 158-61). In their vicinity lies also the round Building ΣΤ (also built in the last quarter of the eighth century) which has been interpreted as a small domestic shrine devoted to the cult of the nymph Halia and the Telchines, and associated with the metalworking quarter of Oropos (Mazarakis Ainian 2007b: 159, 164-5). This was possibly still standing, or at least its stone bench remained in use, in the early seventh century. All of these structures noted lay within the pre-existing LG monumental peribolos of the Central Quarter; originally associated with the Geometric settlement, the symbolic significance of this peribolos may now have been strengthened.40 In addition to a small number of vases, fragments of a few horse figurines and a terracotta lamp with a stand were found near the rectangular stone platform of the ‘Heroon’. A group of vases were found smashed very close to the stone structure XXXIV (again part of the ‘Heroon’), along with a few metal items, charcoal, calcined animal bones (possible evidence of burnt sacrifices), sea shells and a fragmentary terracotta boat model.41 The vases – drinking vessels, a slender jug with horizontal rim, a long-necked jug and an amphora fragment – were probably used for ritual dining/feasting and libations (Charalambidou 2008: 156-61, 220-3, pls 108-12; in preparation) (Figure 14.21). Fragmentary horse figurines were also found inside the earlier monumental peribolos within which the structures/ platforms and Building Θ were located; others had been dumped outside (Mazarakis Ainian 2002a: 161). Excavation in the outer west wall of the monumental peribolos revealed part of a deposit of material probably related to the cult activities inside the peribolos, including pottery of the late eighth century and the first half of the seventh. Seventh- and early sixth-century pottery was also found in the area of this monumental enclosure (Charalambidou 2008: 162-3, 170, 173; in preparation). This includes a Protoattic-style krater dated c. 700-690 BC (Figure 14.22) and a Euboean louterion of the first decades of the sixth century (Boardman’s Class D: Boardman 1952) (Figure 39 

See also Prakt 1996: 105-6; 1997: 67-9; 1998: 78. On the uses of this peribolos and periboloi at other Aegean sites: Mazarakis Ainian 2002b: 185-97; 2007b. 41  Mazarakis Ainian (2002a: 161) observes that terracotta boat models alongside horse and mule figurines were also found in Italy, at contemporary Pastola, Pithekoussai, in a context identified by D’Agostino 1994-5 as a sanctuary of Hera associated with a hero cult. 40 

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Figure 14.21 Representative vases from the ‘Heroon’ (stone structure XXXIV): a. Closed shapes, b. Open shapes. (Drawings: A. Mazarakis Ainian and X. Charalambidou).

Xenia Charalambidou

Figure 14.22 Oropos Archaeological Museum ΩΚ/Πγ1919, krater from the Central Quarter, OSK property. (Photograph: X. Charalambidou).

14.23). It remains possible that wares such as the longnecked jugs found in the fill of the road in the South Quarter (see above) were originally associated with cult activities in the Central Quarter. While the last phase of Building Θ is closely related to the ‘Heroon’, Węcowski (2014: 177-81) has identified the building in its earlier (LG IIb) phase as a communal house designed for elite feasting. It is unclear whether Building Θ was still in use in the early decades of the seventh century (maybe now for cult activities), or whether its abandoned ruins, together with the nearby stone structures, formed an ideal setting for ancestral rituals. A small number of seventh-century vases relate to this last phase of Building Θ, including a krater of the first half of the seventh century in Protoattic style, depicting two lions attacking a deer (Figure 14.24).

Figure 14.23 Oropos Archaeological Museum ΩΚ/Πμμ11, louterion from the Central Quarter, OSK property. (Photograph: X. Charalambidou).

Another stone structure or platform was found in the western extremity of the West Quarter of the OSK property, near to the apsidal Building ΛΔ (Mazarakis Ainian, this volume; Charalambidou in preparation).42 The presence of ash, burned soil and calcified stones upon it may again indicate cult activity involving burnt offerings and/or sacrifices. This platform seems to be roughly contemporary with the ‘Heroon’ in the Central Quarter. A vessel on a stand with a hole cut through its bottom was found nearby and is likely to be connected to these rituals.43 Building ΛΔ (Figure 14.11) was constructed on the transition from the eighth to the seventh century,44 and remained in use into the sixth. Finds date mainly to its sixth-century phase, and include miniature vessels, drinking vessels, loom weights,45 and a late seventh- or sixth-century lekythos with a hole drilled through the bottom associated with a foundation ritual in the immediate vicinity of the building’s 42 

See also Prakt 2008: 12-16; 2009: 35-6, 39; 2010: 11-13, 17. A few vases with holes through their base (for libations?) have also been found at the Heroon at Eretria. 44  A terminus post quem is provided by LG IIb Building ΛΕ, upon which ΛΔ partly rests. 45  Loom weights are not only found in settlement contexts. See, for instance, examples from the Northern Sacrificial Area at Eretria (Huber 2003: especially pl. 134). 43 

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Figure 14.24 Oropos Archaeological Museum ΩΚ/Πγ1625, krater from the Central Quarter, OSK property. (Photograph: X. Charalambidou).

walls.46 These finds may indicate that Building ΛΔ served domestic and cult functions (see also Mazarakis Ainian, this volume). To the south of it lay a stratum containing pottery mainly of the second half of the seventh and the first decades of the sixth century, including transport/storage vessels such as an SOS amphora (Figure 14.25a) and one or two central Euboean Gulf amphorae (Figure 14.25b-c). The platforms of the ‘Heroon’ in the Central Quarter were built around 700 BC, during a period of significant change in the use of the area of the OSK property when communal/ public and cult facilities replaced part of the residential and workshop area. As noted, while stone platforms have usually been connected with cults of ancestors or of the dead, it is becoming increasingly clear that they were also used for cult purposes in open-air sanctuaries (as, for example, in the case of Plakari-Karystos discussed above). In addition, the OSK property provides us with valuable information about the presence of cult contexts within the environs of settlements. This phenomenon merits further investigation in other parts of the Greek world. In the northern Aegean, for example, where there is at present a dearth of EIA-Archaic cult contexts, some cult practices might have been performed within domestic settings, but they are not very visible in the archaeological record (Charalambidou forthcoming a).

a

b

Burial sites c Figure 14.25a-c Pottery finds discovered south of Building ΛΔ΄, Oropos. (Drawings: B. Konnemann).

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Few eighth- and seventh-century cemeteries have so far been found on Euboea. Before turning to Eretria, which has yielded significant information on EIA 46 

On foundation rituals see Hunt 2006.

Xenia Charalambidou and Archaic funerary practices, let us briefly summarize what is known from other sites. The cemeteries of Lefkandi (Toumba, Skoubris, Chaliotis, Palia Perivolia and the east cemetery), some of which were already in use in Submycenaean (i.e. the Skoubris and Chaliotis burial plots), ceased to receive burials by the end of SubProtogeometric (Lemos 2012: 170). This is despite the fact that settlement continued at Xeropolis until at least the end of the LG period. Two LG burials (a child inhumation and the enchytrismos of a newborn baby) have recently been found outside the limits of the Xeropolis settlement (Lemos 2012), close to the sea near the harbour (a comparable location to the Hygeionomeion cemetery at Eretria). Further research will determine whether these burials were part of a coastal cemetery (Lemos 2012: 167, 170). At Chalkis evidence also consists largely of EIA burial plots (summarized in Charalambidou forthcoming a). Seventh-century graves have been reported on the Kallimanis Hill (Sampson [1976a: 15, 52, site no. 72], citing a report by Papadimitriou), but they are not published and the site requires further investigation. Further south, at Figure 14.26 Oropos Archaeological Museum ΩΚ/Πγ869, Karystos, rescue excavation on the Plakari hill revealed long-necked jug from Oropos, OSK property. LG architectural remains, perhaps of a settlement:47 an LG (Photograph: X. Charalambidou). pyre on the south slope of the hill, if funerary, may indicate the presence of burials south of the sanctuary (Chidiroglou 2003-4: 73-7). An ancient cemetery in the southwest part of the ancient city of Karystos (Chidiroglou 2015: 698) has not yet yielded seventh-century burials, but it has produced a small sixth-century funerary pithoid amphora with a depiction of a siren (MK 1550). This vessel is thought to be a local Karystian product, and held a child enchytrismos:48 it dates to the second quarter of the sixth century and is similar in shape to the Archaic Eretrian series of pithoid amphorae (see below) (Chidiroglou 2015). The earliest burial from this cemetery (T25) is Geometric.49 These two graves indicate that there may have been a long-lived cemetery in this part of Karystos, in use from the eighth century into the Archaic period. In the Euboean Gulf region, at Oropos, some 30 burials of the period c. 760-690 BC were found within the settlement on the OSK property (phases 3-5). Most were child burials found in or near houses, with close parallels in Eretrian funerary practice. They include burials in shaft or pit graves and enchytrismoi placed in shallow pits (Mazarakis Ainian 2007-8; 2010b; Vlachou 2007; see also Lemos 2012: 167). Among the very few seventh-century vases associated with these burials is a long-necked jug, a central Euboean Gulf product of the first half of the century (Figure 14.26), which was found in a gravel layer above the LG IIb funerary pit IX50 (Charalambidou 2008: 174; in preparation).51 At EIA Eretria, Blandin (2007) posited that the dead were buried according to their age and status. Fetuses and neonates were buried in enchytrismoi, usually without grave goods, while older children and sub-adults were often inhumed in pits with or without offerings.52 Adults were buried in pits or cremated on funerary pyres with their bones then placed in urns. Adult tombs are found in various burial plots, their location depending principally on the age and social status of the deceased. The most notable case of high-status burial at Eretria is the tomb group in the Heroon cemetery (often described as a family burial plot) dated c. 720-690/680 BC, where the cremated remains of both men and women were buried in bronze cauldrons. The Hygeionomeion or West cemetery, which extends for some 150 x 30m along the coast, functioned from the Geometric period onwards (Figure 14.27). Kourouniotis, who first excavated here (Kourouniotis 1903; 1913),53 47 

Crielaard et al. (2013: 91-5) refer to this settlement, which developed to the northeast of the hill from the eighth to the fifth century and likely used the hilltop of Plakari as its acropolis and cult area. 48  Grave goods inside the amphora comprise a lekanis and a small olpe. 49  This grave contained a skyphos with a single pair of meander hooks in the main zone: Chidiroglou 2003-4: 698. 50  Prakt 1996: 92; Vlachou 2007: 215. 51  At Eretria, a very limited number of long-necked jugs have also been found in funerary contexts: an LG IIb example was placed in the mouth of a handmade amphora containing an enchytrismos (Blandin 2007: vol. ΙΙ, 100, Τ8.ΙΙ, ΜΕ 2579, pl. 171.3). A long-necked jug (Louvre CA 2365) was reported by Boardman (1952: 27, pl. 7, C12) to have been a grave offering, but there is no secure record of provenance. Otherwise, the vast majority of long-necked jugs are found in places of worship (see above). 52  The two child burials at Lefkandi follow the same pattern (Lemos 2012: 166). 53  See also Prakt 1897: 21-2; 1898: 95-9; 1900: 55.

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Figure 14.27 Geometric Eretria showing the location of the Hygeionomeion cemetery. (© S. Verdan).

unearthed eight in situ cremations and approximately 40 vase burials (see Crielaard 2007: 170). The in situ cremations (mainly open pits scorched by fire, and probably primary cremations) date to the MG II and LG periods and represent the first phase of the cemetery. These were adult burials, and were gathered near the edge of the cemetery, although some additional cremations were found amongst (and usually cut by) later burials in other areas (Crielaard 2007: 1701). In contrast to Kourouniotis’ conclusion that the Hygeionomeion cemetery was destined for infants and children from the beginning, Crielaard (2007) concluded that it began as a burial plot containing a small number of adult graves, probably of members of the elite, with evidence of various commemorative ceremonies (such as a heap of sizable stones preserving signs of heavy burning). At the end of LG, c. 700 BC, the Hygeionomeion cemetery (or a significant part of it) ceased to be used for adults and was given over to the burial of infants and small children (Crielaard 2007: 145

Xenia Charalambidou

Figure 14.28 The Hygeionomeion cemetery on the Spanou plot. (Reproduced by permission of A. Liangouras).

178; Lemos 2012: 168). As noted, for most of the eighth century child enchytrismoi at Eretria and Oropos were usually placed in the environs of houses, but at Eretria this practice changed towards the end of the eighth century. Such a shift in custom, which involved the separation of children from their household environment, demonstrates changes in their status and in the social order within the Eretrian community (Blandin 2007: vol. I, 65; Crielaard 2007: 178-9; Lemos 2012: 166). This change is also signalled by the extensive use of pithoid amphorae for child enchytrismoi (in some cases identified by the discovery of bones [Verdan 2015: 129]). Boardman’s (1952) classification of the various series of Eretrian pithoid amphorae included coarse examples with incised decoration dated mainly to the late eighth century or the first decades of the seventh, and decorated fine/semi-fine wheel-made pithoid amphorae predominantly of the seventh century (see also Crielaard 2007: 171, 178). The fine wheel-made Subgeometric pithoid amphorae (Boardman’s Groups A and B) are dated c. 710/700-650/640 BC, and the fine wheel-made orientalizing Group C from the second half of the seventh century (especially the last quarter) until the beginning of the sixth. Two further types of fine pithoid amphorae are those of Group D, of the first decades of the sixth century, and the mid sixth-century black-figure amphorae of Group E.54 Judging from their size and elaborate form and decoration, it seems that these vessels were specialized products with symbolic connotations. Verdan (2015) has proposed that the Eretrian pithoid amphorae used for burials, and especially those decorated with female iconographic subjects, relate to the female life cycle and the sphere of marriage. Whether these pithoid amphorae were specialized products manufactured for the burial of young females, who were seen as idealized brides-to-be, or whether they had a prior role in the oikos before being used for burial, is an open question. Long after Kourouniotis’ discovery of the Hygeionomeion cemetery, excavations conducted by Angelos Liangouras55 (Figure 14.28) and Angeliki Andreiomenou56 unearthed a further part of it on the Spanou plot. Liangouras’ excavations revealed part of the eighth- and seventh-century phase of the cemetery. Some EIA sherds bore clear 54 

The scenes and motifs of many fine pithoid amphorae are paralleled on other fine ceramics from Eretrian, other Euboean, and Euboean Gulf workshops. For example, the figure scenes and subsidiary motifs on the pithoid amphorae of Group C find parallels in the stylistic repertoire of the long-necked jugs from Eretria (Huber 2013: 88; Verdan 2015: 129-30). The subsidiary motifs of this class of fine pithoid amphorae also appear on other Eretrian and Euboean/Euboean Gulf vessels, both open and closed shapes, such as the large kotylai (e.g. Figure 14.2a-b from Zarakes and Oropos) or amphorae smaller than the pithoid amphorae. The same applies for the other classes of pithoid amphorae: for example, the confronted birds on Eretrian pithoid amphorae of Group D also occur in the main zone of Eretrian kraters/louteria (e.g. Figure 14.23 from Oropos). 55  ArchDelt 23 (1968) B: 230-1; ArchDelt 27 (1972) B: 340. 56  ArchDelt 29 (1973-4) B: 468; see also Andreiomenou 1976.

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14. Euboea and the Euboean Gulf region: pottery in context traces of burning which suggest that they came from cremations, a discovery which fits Crielaard’s (2007) argument that the cemetery began as a site of adult cremation burials. The fragmented nature of the finds indicates that these burials were disturbed probably in antiquity, perhaps during the construction of later graves. Seventh-century pottery is also present, with a few complete vases and several fragments mainly of fine wheel-made pithoid amphorae. These include a pithoid amphora with, on its principal face, a mythological scene in the neck panel and a sphinx in the handle zone (Figure 14.29).57 This is the only known Eretrian/Euboean fine pithoid amphora in the orientalizing tradition with a mythological scene. The only other seventh-century mythological scene known from Euboea is the depiction of centaurs on a relief pithos from the Apollo sanctuary at Zarakes (Figure 14.17), but this vessel is assigned to a foreign craftsman (see above). The scene on the Eretrian pithoid amphora probably depicts an encounter or an abduction, possibly Boreas and Oreithyia (compare with LIMC III 1, 135-8).58 Given the absence of securely associated grave goods, its date has been determined via stylistic analysis. The figure scenes and supplementary motifs (such as floral motifs) belong to Boardman’s orientalizing Type C, thus indicating a date in the final quarter of the seventh century or the early sixth. Traits such as the use of added white and red, and of incision, also serve as chronological markers. The mythological scene substantiates Verdan’s (2015) argument about the symbolism of these vessels. According to Langdon (2008: 201), abduction is the defining image of the bride: it captures, with a single metaphor, the fact and feeling of the bride’s transition to married adult status by employing clear gestures to establish the act of a man taking possession of a maiden. Liangouras’ excavations confirm that from c. 700 BC onwards the Hygeionomeion cemetery was used largely for the burial of children. Whether it was used exclusively for this purpose remains an open question, however. While children become more visible in Eretrian burials during the seventh century, adults are significantly less so. Where were adults buried Figure 14.29 Eretria Archaeological Museum 19798, in seventh-century Eretria? So far, there is almost pithoid amphora with a mythological scene, Spanou plot. no evidence. Adult burials continued in the Heroon (Photograph: I. Iliadis). cemetery until the end of the eighth or beginning of the seventh century (the latest interment recorded, Tomb 16, is a pit burial of a small child dated c. 680 BC, which contained an aryballos [Blandin 2007: vol. II, 55, pl. 103.2]).59 In the Hygeionomeion cemetery, close examination of Liangouras’ 1968 published plan of the Spanou plot (Figure 14.28) reveals at least three skeletons which may be adult inhumations to judge by their size. These are near impossible to date as there are no associated grave goods and the cemetery remained in use for a long time. 57 

I thank Angelos Liangouras for permission to study the finds from the Spanou plot and the Mediterranean Archaeological Trust Foundation for funding the drawing of many representative vases from this material, including the drawing and conservation of this pithoid amphora. Detailed discussion of this vessel will be presented in a new paper. 59  Again in the northeast of the settlement, on the OT 740 plot, a small number of burials (a possible pit grave and few child enchytrismoi) were identified and dated by Petros Themelis to the first decades of the seventh century (Prakt 1979: 53; 1980: 97; 1981: 150-1). These are now mostly attributed by Blandin (2007: vol. II, 113-20) to the LG period, and especially towards the end of LG. 58 

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Xenia Charalambidou If, however, a lack or a scarcity of grave goods was a seventh-century phenomenon, it could well explain the low visibility of adult burials in the archaeological record at Eretria. Society in crisis? Concluding remarks Towards the end of the eighth century, Euboea was still an important node in Mediterranean trade networks. Substantial growth seems to have taken place during the eighth century, as evidence from the settlements, sanctuaries and cemeteries of Euboea, Oropos and the Euboean colonies in the Mediterranean shows (Charalambidou forthcoming a). Social developments at this time are reflected in the existence of a literate Euboean elite which adopted a sympotic lifestyle (Weçowski 2014). In the last quarter of the eighth century, a burial ritual with heroic connotations was adopted for adults at the Heroon cemetery at Eretria, while towards the end of the century changes are evident in the status of children. After the beginning of the seventh century there seem to have been rapid developments on Euboea and at Oropos. The most obvious are the reported abandonment of Lefkandi (and Oxylithos/Viglatouri?), as well as of several buildings and domestic compounds at Eretria and Oropos. At the same time, some new buildings and architectural forms, such as the monumental rectangular building/peribolos in the West Quarter of the OSK property (Oropos), make their first appearance around 700 BC. Early in the seventh century, a heroon (triangular in shape - a new architectural form on Euboea) was established at Eretria, with a further one possibly at Oropos (comprising stone structures/platforms). Cult buildings and structures at Eretria and Oropos and the possible ‘urban’ layout at Oropos may be associated with the (successful or unsuccessful) formation of poleis in the central Euboean Gulf region. In terms of its role in the Mediterranean, Euboea seems at least in part to have lost control of its trade networks after the early seventh century (see e.g. Vacek, this volume). A significant decrease in the number of Euboean exports is attested across the Mediterranean, with Euboean wares basically now confined to neighbouring regions (Charalambidou 2008: 288-340). I have emphasized elsewhere (Charalambidou 2011) that discussion of Euboea’s changing role during the seventh century only in the context of the Lelantine War may hide other (related or unrelated) phenomena that could enhance our understanding of the development of seventh-century Euboean and neighbouring communities. This is evident in other parts of the Greek world too. In the Cyclades, for instance, a number of sites shrank or were abandoned towards the end of the eighth century (Zagora and Ypsili on Andros, and Koukounaries on Paros), while at the same time new centres were established (such as Palaiopolis on Andros and Paroikia on Paros) (Morgan 2012; Vlachopoulos and Charalambidou forthcoming; see also Mazarakis Ainian, this volume). In the past, the abandonment of Zagora has also been associated with the effects of the Lelantine war (Parker 1997: 91-3). But the evidence suggests that the abandonment of certain sites and the creation of new ones in the Cyclades can better be understood as the result of synoikism. Of course not all changes at settlements can be interpreted in this way. Inhabitants may have moved to other areas within the limits of the same site or beyond for a variety of different motives and on different timescales. Some examples from Euboea and Oropos may indicate such movements of people: the abandonment of the Xeropolis tell at Lefkandi (whether or not as a result of the Lelantine War) may reflect movement to another part of Lefkandi or even to another site altogether. The abandonment of several domestic complexes at Eretria and Oropos may also signal movements probably of minor scale and impact within the same site, and sometimes they may reveal changes in the use of inhabited areas. Looked at from another angle, pottery cannot be perceived as a political statement. As John Papadopoulos (2005: 577) rightly observes, ‘ceramics do not equal history’. And although it is unsafe to draw wide-ranging conclusions about seventh-century society on the basis of ceramic evidence alone, different factors – such as persistent Geometricizing pottery traditions, the lack of clear contexts, and the lack of seventh-century chrono-typologies – go some way to explaining why the seventh century seems relatively obscure in the archaeological record. We often have to address the question of whether seventh-century evidence is genuinely absent or whether we fail to see it because of our preconceptions about its appearance. At several sites on Euboea, pottery studies need to advance in order to provide evidence for the relative dating of seventh-century contexts and to offer better reflections on society. The best documented site, Eretria, and other sites such as Chalkis, Amarynthos, Zarakes, Plakari-Karystos, as well as Oropos on the opposite coast, can now provide us with a wealth of new information which will be enhanced as studies of the seventh-century material progress. At Eretria, we can discern changes in society and in the role of pottery in the seventh century. Men become less visible in cult and funerary contexts. Vases such as kantharoi or the large, often lavishly decorated, kraters (frequently in the Geometric period with depictions of horses) considered hallmarks of eighth-century Eretrian feasts/banquets and usually associated with the Eretrian male aristocracy (see e.g. Huber 2013: 79-83; Verdan 2013; Simon and Verdan 2014; see also Węcowski 2014), are much less evident in seventh-century contexts. Certain shifts in some of the preferred 148

14. Euboea and the Euboean Gulf region: pottery in context tablewares and especially in the iconography of finewares may relate to changes in consumption in the male sphere. But evidence for feasting using a wide range of tableware continues to be found at cult places such as the seventhcentury Heroon. Furthermore, kotylai are among the most favoured drinking vessels in the seventh century, with large kotylai (not only at Eretria but also at Zarakes and Oropos) used alongside conventionally sized ones, again signalling shifts in drinking/feasting habits or rituals. And while changes in preferred vessel shapes and iconography can reflect contemporary fashion and new symbolism, changes in vessel capacity and in serving equipment have practical implications (see also Morgan, this volume). Moreover, there seems to have been a rise in the visibility of women at Eretrian sanctuaries in the seventh century, since we find numerous vases related to female dedicators and participants, the most common being certain types of ceremonial vessel, especially miniature hydriae and longnecked jugs. In addition, the number of adult burials (of both men and women) is extremely low, while child burials in funerary pithoid amphorae are commonly found in the Hygeionomeion cemetery at Eretria (when this necropolis was [largely] given over to children). Funerary feasts as signals of human interaction, displays of power, and commensality at the tomb are not so far readily visible in the known burials, but feasts still appear prominently at cult sites. The formation of ‘citizen states’ (for the term, which emphasizes citizen participation in Greek poleis, see Whitley 2014b) seems to have been advanced with community bonds achieved by the communal drinking and feasting in temples, heroa and other public buildings so far attested at Eretria, Plakari-Karystos, and Oropos. A possible explanation for the decreased visibility of men at seventh-century Eretria is that with changes in Euboea’s role in the Aegean and the Mediterranean, the Eretrian male aristocracy lost part of its lifestyle (though this lifestyle may have lingered longer in the colonial world; see D’Acunto, this volume). These phenomena may indicate social consequences linked to the changing role of men and women in the seventh-century Eretrian community. At the same time, emphasis on ceremonial vases, such as those used for enchytrismoi at Eretria, seems to be part of a wider phenomenon: it is also seen in the Cyclades, for example, where we may note the ‘Melian’/Parian style discussed by Photini Zaphiropoulou in this volume, or the Linear style (Knauss 1997). These specialized productions at Eretria were evident from the late eighth century, and seem to have intensified during the seventh (continuing into the sixth). They catered for the social personae of babies (vases for enchytrismoi) and women (miniature hydriae and long-necked jugs used for special female rituals); and here we may compare Protoattic wares in Attica, which were also related to funerary and cult rituals (see e.g. Whitley 1994a). A first hint of the existence of local (Karystian) specialized products has recently been observed in sixth-century Karystos. Further indications of specialization can also be discerned in the local seventh-century relief coarse pottery found at another Euboean cult area, the Apollo sanctuary at Zarakes. Alongside specialized productions of certain vessel types and iconographies which can be related to specific age and gender groups, Subgeometric pottery following Geometric paths was used in abundance for daily, funerary and cult needs in almost all known sites on Euboea with seventh-century contexts, and at Oropos. Their use for a wide range of activities reveals that they pervaded pottery production and consumption in this region. Evidently, despite the sharp reduction in the consumption of Euboean pottery outside Euboea, which is interpreted as evidence of diminishing trade, communities on Euboea and at Oropos managed to adjust to the new circumstances of the seventh century.

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15. Parian ceramics of the seventh century BC in Cycladic cemeteries and sanctuaries Photini Zaphiropoulou Abstract: The excavation of a large cemetery at Paroikia, the modern capital of Paros, brought to light a quantity of pottery of a type that is in fact Parian, even though it was widely considered Melian for over a century. From the second quarter of the seventh century until the second quarter of the sixth, this pottery circulated mainly in the Ionian area of the Cyclades and in the Parian colony of Thasos, and was used for burial and ritual purposes. Hydriae, amphorae and dishes were brought to Delos for use in burials and as sanctuary dedications. By contrast, only large krateroid amphorae are found in burial contexts on Paros: this is the principal shape of the group, characterized by its tall neck, high conical foot, and rich decoration of bold spirals plus a wide variety of animals, human figures (mostly female heads), and many mythological and divine scenes. Figured sherds of this Parian group have also been discovered on the islet of Despotiko near Antiparos, where recent excavation has revealed a sanctuary of Apollo. This Parian pottery constitutes an unusual case of considerable interest in the context of the seventh-century central Aegean.

Τhe seventh century, also known to historians of ancient art as the orientalizing period (Coulié 2005: 263), was the era of the pioneers who established the formal types and major directions of Greek art. Ceramics played a dominant role in all events of this period, with individual episodes represented in painting as separate units (Hanfmann 1957: 73). Different styles created at the end of the eighth century co-existed during the seventh. Among these was the orientalizing style, which was born around 720 BC in Corinth, probably under the influence of immigrant craftsmen (jewellers and other metalworkers: Boardman 1998: 83) whose techniques and finished imports in metal, ivory and textile, introduced new styles of figurative and floral decoration in a departure from the Geometric past. In several local pottery workshops, potters were inspired by imported oriental motifs, but imported motifs could also be Hellenized, as in the case of the monster figures that were rapidly identified with creatures of Greek myth. While orientalizing figures were fuller and more naturalistic than Geometric, they were still represented as silhouettes until the first decade of the seventh century, when Greek artists turned to outline drawing. Another well-known invention of Greek painters, polychromy, is also a feature of the second quarter of the seventh century. Nikolaos Kontoleon (Kontoleon 1965: 78, 83; Zaphiropoulou 2008a: 344-6) explained this change as reflecting a new conception of the human being, whereby representation was not confined to external form but also displayed carefully consideration of substance and depth. Reserved figures are thus depicted in outline on the red clay ground, with added white, red and dark brown used for the details. At the same time, the creation of a monumental figure style in the first half of the seventh century widened the possibilities for storytelling. Even in the Late Geometric period, narrative scenes could depict vigorous action and gestures, although it is difficult to determine their mythological character. However, the new ‘monumental’ style enabled artists to elaborate the physical character of the actors, to differentiate their appearance and role, and to begin to explore their emotional and mental reactions to each another. The creation of recognizable mythological narrative is an achievement of seventh-century art. Two of these seventh-century local workshops – the Attic and the Parian – adopted and developed the achievements of the new era almost in their entirety. The study of seventh-century Parian pottery has a long history, beginning at the end of the 19th century (Zaphiropoulou 2003: 7-10). For over a century, these Cycladic vases were considered by many to be products of Melian workshops. Others, however, including Kontoleon (Zaphiropoulou 2003: 7 n. 5) and the French excavators of Thasos in the northern Aegean, Paros’ colonial alter ego (Zaphiropoulou 2003: 7 n. 6), argued for a Parian origin, a view now shown to be correct following the relatively recent excavation of the large main cemetery of the ancient city of Paros (modern Paroikia). The principal vessel forms so far identified are a very large krateroid amphora with tall neck and a high conical foot, sometimes fenestrated (e.g. Figure 15.1), and many smaller shapes, such as amphorae (0.3-0.5m tall), hydriae and dishes (e.g. Figures 15.2-4). Their floral decoration is characterised by bold groups of spirals with angular crosshatched links (lotus chains are frequent), minor bands contain tongues, meanders, or chevrons with flowers, and large eyes were set under the horizontal handles (Zaphiropoulou 2003: 51-143). Figurative decoration sometimes featured male heads (e.g. Figures 15.5-6), but female heads are the most common surviving image (Coulié 2005: 279), appearing from the earliest phase of this workshop, in the first half of the seventh century (e.g. Figure 15.7), until the latest, in the second quarter of the sixth (e.g. Figure 15.8). The earlier heads (and figures in general) are still close to the so-called Ad Group (Figure 15.7), considered by many to be the immediate precursor of Parian 150

15. Parian ceramics of the seventh century BC in Cycladic cemeteries and sanctuaries

Figure 15.1 Parian krateroid vessel depicting Apollo, National Archaeological Museum, Athens 911. (Photograph I. Iliadis).

Figure 15.2. Parian amphora from Rheneia, Mykonos Museum 554. (Photograph I. Iliadis).

Figure 15.3 Parian hydria from Rheneia, Mykonos Museum 585. (Photograph I. Iliadis).

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Figure 15.4 Parian dish from Rheneia, Mykonos Museum 1331. (Photograph I. Iliadis).

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Figure 15.5. Male head on vase from Rheneia, Mykonos Museum 1342. (Photograph I. Iliadis).

Figure 15.7 Parian hydria from Rheneia, Mykonos Museum 560. (Photograph I. Iliadis).

Figure 15.6. Male head on vase from Rheneia, Mykonos Museum 619. (Photograph I. Iliadis).

Figure 15.8. Parian hydria from Rheneia, Mykonos Museum 586. (Photograph l. Iliadis).

orientalizing (Coulié 2005: 270, 275; 2008: 434-43). Examples of this early style, apart from the painted heads on vases (e.g. Figure 15.7), are the incised figures preserved on a small marble votive pillar from the sanctuary of Apollo Pythios at Paroikia (Figure 15.9) and a terracotta figurine (Figure 15.10) from the sanctuary of Apollo and Artemis on the islet of Despotiko near Antiparos (Kourayos 2009: 116-18). Subjects also include a variety of animals and imaginary creatures (e.g. Figures 15.1, 2-3, 7-8) as well as mythological and divine scenes (e.g. Figures 15.13-17, 19). Figures were at first reserved, with heads and certain other parts in outline: in time, a little unsystematic incision was attempted, and at a later stage white lines were substituted for 152

15. Parian ceramics of the seventh century BC in Cycladic cemeteries and sanctuaries

Figure 15.9 Seventh-century marble pillar with incised head from the sanctuary of Pythian Apollo at Paroikia, Paros Museum. (Photograph I. Iliadis).

Figure 15.10 Parian terracotta figurine from sanctuary of Apollo, Despotiko, Paros Museum. (Reproduced by permission of Y. Kourayos).

Figure 15.11 Late Geometric amphora from the Paroikia cemetery, Paros Museum B3524. (Photograph I. Iliadis).

incision in a form of black-figure technique. Purple was used freely throughout, with a light brown denoting male flesh. The vessel fabric was rather coarse, ranging in colour from greyish brown to pink, or in some cases to orangepink, and containing a little mica. The slip was a yellowish to greenish colour, and the paint varied from dull brown to blackish. The general effect is loud. From the Late Geometric period onwards, the Parian style was characterized by a predilection for round vase forms (Zaphiropoulou 2007: 115 figs. 7-8; 2008a: figs 18-19) and an interest in representing human figures within innovative iconographical schemes using an original technique featuring white paint (Zaphiropoulou 2008a: 360, fig. 22). The use 153

Photini Zaphiropoulou of white paint in the Late Geometric period is illustrated by two recently discovered amphorae, on one of which the artist sought to emphasize the narrative character of the scenes depicted (Figure 15.11; Zaphiropoulou 2008a: 356-62). The influence of the Geometric tradition upon Parian orientalizing pottery is also evident in the adoption and development of many elements derived from the Ad Group (e.g. Figure 15.7): vessels characteristic of this group are also present in the Parian necropolis (Figure 15.12), as noted above. The available data suggest that orientalizing Parian pottery circulated mainly in the Cyclades and on Thasos, but was never commercialized like Corinthian or in later times Attic. It was in vogue on Paros, to judge by the innumerable fragments mostly of large Parian vases found in the Paroikia cemetery excavation and in earlier German excavations in the sanctuary of Apollo and Artemis on the hill of Delion to the north of Paroikia. It was also exported to the neighbouring sanctuary of Apollo on Delos both for votive and funerary use, as well as to Thasos and its colonies on the opposite coast of the Chalkidiki, in the area of modern Kavalla (e.g. Coulié 2013: 258-9). In turn, Thasian artists were influenced by the colourful Parian pottery and developed their own figurative and richly decorated wares. That at least is the image derived from macroscopic observation of the excavated material. Laboratory analyses, however, paint a quite different picture. In 1976, the NCSR Demokritos undertook one of the earliest programmes of analysis of Cycladic (or even Aegean) pottery using the then customary method of Instrumental Neutron Activation Analysis (INAA). Two groups of vessels were sampled: Group A comprised vases found on Thasos and at its colonies, Neapolis and Oisyme, in Chalkidiki, while Group B comprised vessels found in the Purification Deposit at Rheneia, the official necropolis of Delos after the purification of the island imposed by the Athenians in 426/5 BC. The results suggested that (to quote the published report) the resemblance ‘between the stylistically related pottery of Group A (Thasos) and B (Delos) provides strong support for the archaeologist’s hypothesis that the two groups belong to the same major group of Melian pottery’ (Zaphiropoulou 2003: 8, citing Grimanis et al. 1977: 30). Ten years later, petrographic analysis conducted at the Fitch Laboratory of the British School at Athens supported a tentative association between the then newly discovered vases from Paros and those considered to be of ‘Melian’ origin in Athens and Tocra in coastal North Africa, suggesting that all these vases could be Parian (Coulié 2005: 269-70). Some years later, a Franco-Greek project on fabrics and clays from several Cycladic islands and from Thasos, conducted in three successive periods (1983-5), produced very interesting results which demonstrated the existence of many distinctive island workshops. Petrographic analyses in

Figure 15.12. Parian amphora from the Paroikia cemetery, Paros Museum B4198. (Photograph: Ph. Zaphiropoulou).

Figure 15.13. Fragment of a seventh-century Parian vase from the Paroikia cemetery, Paros Museum B3925a. (Photograph I. Iliadis).

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15. Parian ceramics of the seventh century BC in Cycladic cemeteries and sanctuaries the laboratory of the Musée du Louvre suggested that the Parian vases found on Paros were made with Parian clay, while Naxian clay was used for those from Rheneia (both Ad Group and orientalizing). Relevant to this last suggestion, that the clay of the Parian orientalizing pottery found on Delos is Naxian, is my own hypothesis (regarded by some as very daring) that during the seventh century, a powerful Naxos dominated the Cyclades. As a result, Delos came under its strong political and artistic influence, and experience suggests that those in authority would have had the power to control every activity and impose their own rules upon their subjects. Why then should Naxian clay, as Naxian marble, not be present at the big neighbouring sanctuary, worked by Parian artists who specialized in a distinctive kind of pottery which was valued for votive offerings to the Delian deities or for grave goods for the ancestors? Results obtained from the Franco-Greek analyses also suggest that Naxian clay was used on Thera for the manufacture of stylistically Theran pottery after the major volcanic eruption in the middle of the second millennium. By contrast, supplementary petrographic and chemical analyses conducted subsequent to the main FrancoGreek programme (Villard 1993: 144-58; Coulié 2005: 270), but unfortunately not published, confirm the Parian origin of the so–called ‘Melian’ pottery found on Paros. They indicate a certain relationship between this pottery and that from the Rheneia deposit, and admit the possibility that the same source of clay was used for both. This hypothesis is now strengthened by the discovery in the Paros cemetery of a large fragment depicting deities in a chariot (including Athena holding a spear and an enormous shield decorated with an unusual Gorgoneion) (Figure 15.13), which is the work of the same artist who painted a scene of Herakles on a krateroid vase now in the National Archaeological Museum, Athens (Figure 15.14a-c). These two scenes have many elements in common - notably the design on the chiton worn by the female figures (and by a further female on a sherd from Despotiko: Kourayos 2009: 126, inv. 391), the design of the himation border (which is refolded and represented in the same oblique way), and the chariot and wheels. Fabric analyses aside, the fact remains that their painting is uniform and their narrative scenes rich and unique (if hard to explain). Characteristic examples of the Parian iconographic repertoire have recently been unearthed in the Paros cemetery. Most decorate very large vases which are unfortunately preserved only in fragments. There are, however, three

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Figure 15.14 a-c. Parian krateroid vessel depicting Herakles, National Archaeological Museum, Athens 354. (© National Archaeological Museum, Athens: Hellenic Ministry of Culture and Sports: Archaeological Receipts Fund).

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Figure 15.15 Krateroid vessel from the Paroikia cemetery, Paros Museum B2652. (Photograph I. Iliadis).

Figure 15.16 Krateroid vessel from the Paroikia cemetery, Paros Museum B3925. (Photograph: Ph. Zaphiropoulou).

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15. Parian ceramics of the seventh century BC in Cycladic cemeteries and sanctuaries exceptions which will now be presented briefly. These vessels were found lying on the ground, each containing the enchytrismos of a child but missing their high conical feet: originally they may have stood as markers on the grave, on the model of the Geometric markers in the Kerameikos cemetery in Athens. The first has an unrecognizable mythological scene: a winged young god (perhaps Hermes) conducts three female deities to an equally young prince (?) who welcomes them (Zaphiropoulou 2008a: 347 fig. 7, 399; 2008b) (Figure 15.15). The winged god holds by a chain a monster, probably the Chimaera, who walks beside him. This monster is depicted as a lion with a snake’s head at the end of its tail, and perhaps the end (?) of a goat’s horn above its back. The scene has elements of the Judgement of Paris in the mountains of Troy, but there is no monster in that tale.

Figure 15.17 Fragment (Paros Museum 3124) belonging to the krateroid vessel B3925 from the Paroikia cemetery. (Photograph: Ph. Zaphiropoulou).

The second vessel also bears an unrecognizable mythological scene: a kneeling young boy sets a fire

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Figure 15.18 Parian kore formerly in the J. Paul Getty Museum, now National Archaeological Museum, Athens 15464. (© National Archaeological Museum, Athens: Hellenic Ministry of Culture and Sports: Archaeological Receipts Fund).

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Figure 15.19 Fragment of a large krateroid vessel from the Paroikia cemetery, Paros Museum. (Photograph: Ph. Zaphiropoulou).

Figure 15.21 Fragment of a large krateroid vessel from the Paroikia cemetery, Paros Museum B3926. (Photograph: Ph. Zaphiropoulou).

Figure 15.20 Fragment of a large krateroid vessel from the Paroikia cemetery, Paros Museum B3123. (Photograph: Ph. Zaphiropoulou).

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15. Parian ceramics of the seventh century BC in Cycladic cemeteries and sanctuaries under a large tripod vessel, before which stands a female figure welcoming four women (Figures 15.16 and 15.17 from the same vessel) (Zaphiropoulou 2004: 418 and fig. 12; 2007: 114 and fig. 6; 2008a: 346 fig. 5, 349-50 fig. 10, 352 fig. 13). All of the women wear richly decorated trailing skirts (chitons) and a kind of short himation which covers the upper body and hangs down to the thighs. The himatia of the woman who stands before the fire and of the last women in the file of four moving towards her are decorated with a vertical row of rosettes. This motif is unique on female dress in vase-painting of this period, but it is used elsewhere by Archaic Parian artists (perhaps as part of a local tradition). For example, it appears in identical form on the same part of the himation worn by a Parian marble kore (Figure 15.18), which was illegally removed from Greece, returned by the J. Paul Getty Museum, and is now in the National Archaeological Museum, Athens (Kaltsas 2011). On the neck of the third, very large vase is a depiction of Apollo between the two Hyperborean maidens (Figure 15.19) (LIMC VIII s. v. Hyperboreoi [Ph. Zaphiropoulou]; Zaphiropoulou 2008a: 349 and fig. 9). This is a variation on the scene on the neck of a well-known vase in the National Archaeological Museum, Athens (Figure 15.1: Papastamos 1970: pl. 2), where the two maidens stand behind Apollo, who holds a phorminx, in a chariot, and are welcomed by Artemis. On the Paros vase, Apollo stands between them holding his lyre while the maidens hold what seem to be stylized pomegranates or a wreath. Turning to other vases, the popular island motif of the epiphany of deities in chariots is represented on the fragment from the Paroikia cemetery (Figure 15.13) and the Athens vase featuring Apollo (Figure 15.1). Other fragmentary paintings preserve only the leg of a male figure ascending the chariot (Figures 15.20-21), such as Herakles on the large vase in the National Archaeological Museum, Athens (Figure 15.14a-c), but there is nothing to connect them to the category of deities in a chariot (Figure 15.14b) or simply to a warrior, a frequent subject in Parian vase painting, as are horsemen. Warriors are depicted on a dinos from the sanctuary at Despotiko (Kourayos 2009: 127): while this vase shape is rare in the seventh-century Cyclades, the subject, warriors in a row, is common, albeit with a unique element which appears here for the first time in early Cycladic vase painting - the addition of inscribed names to identify the Homeric heroes (Menelas and – partially preserved – Sthenelos) and to give historical character to a simple narrative scene. Finally, representations of everyday life include the ploughing scene on a small krateroid vase (Zaphiropoulou 2001; 2008a: 348 fig. 8, 352, 354) (Figure 15.22), as described by the eighth-century Boeotian poet Hesiod. With this small panorama, the originality and freshness of orientalizing Parian painted pottery, used in the veneration of ancestors and deities alike, is proved, due to the pioneering talent of the Parian artists.

Figure 15.22 Ploughing scene on a krateroid vase from the Paroikia cemetery, Paros Museum B2653. (Photograph: Ph. Zaphiropoulou).

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16. Beyond Athens and Corinth. Pottery distribution in the seventh-century Aegean: the case of Kythnos Maria Koutsoumpou Abstract: Recent excavations at Vryokastro on Kythnos have revealed a sanctuary with a sealed adyton containing a deposit with a rich diversity of finds. Of special interest is the seventh-century pottery which includes vases from a number of wellknown Archaic workshops. Parian workshops are represented by vases bearing Subgeometric as well as ‘Melian’ decoration, sometimes on rare shapes. Vases from north and from south Ionia have also been found. Of particular interest is a group of vases manufactured either in Attica or under strong Attic influence. This paper focuses on a new workshop, clearly of Cycladic origin but with Attic characteristics. The pottery shows that the sanctuary was founded probably in the seventh century, while the variety of shapes, decoration and workshops illustrates a dynamic and extrovert society.

Kythnos, at just 99.3km2, is one of the smallest islands in the western Cyclades: ‘Keos first, followed by Kythnos, island and city, then Seriphos and harbour, Siphnos and Kimolos following’ (Dion. Calliph. 136).1 As a small and poor island, it is barely mentioned in the written sources. Herodotus (8.46.17-18), describing how a Kythnian pentekontor fought on the Greek side during the Battle of Salamis, mentions that the Kythnian people were of Dryopic origin, a point echoed by the discovery of an Archaic tombstone inscribed in Doric dialect (Mazarakis Ainian 1998b: 368; 1998c: 450). Aristotle wrote a Constitution of the Kythnians, but Demosthenes’ comment (13.34) on the political insignificance of the Siphnians and Kythnians was more characteristic of the popular view in antiquity. Current research reverses this poor impression. The field survey and systematic excavation conducted since 1991 at Vryokastro, under the directorship of Professor Alexander Mazarakis Ainian, have recovered an entire town (Figure 16.1) with an impressive fortification wall, a harbour, streets, cisterns, aqueduct, public buildings and temples (Mazarakis Ainian 1998a; 1998b; 2005a; 2005b and 2010a; Mazarakis Ainian and Mitsopoulou 2007; Mitsopoulou 2010). The overall picture now better fits the city that paid a tribute of three talents to the Athenian League and had a sanctuary of Demeter directly linked to the Eleusinian sanctuary, rather than a city-state that produced just cheese (Brun 1998: 664-5; Mitsopoulou 2010: 56-7). Building Γ and the sanctuary Of great importance to our understanding of Archaic Kythnos is the excavation of Building Г conducted in 2002-6 and 2009 on the so-called Middle Plateau of Vryokastro (Figure 16.2) (Mazarakis Ainian 2005a, 2005b and 2010; Mazarakis Ainian and Mitsopoulou 2007). This building can be securely identified as a temple on the basis of the finds inside it and in the immediate vicinity, and because of its arrangement. Building Γ consists of two rectangular Houses next to each other (2.9m wide and 8.5m long, facing westwards), set on a 26 x 15m terrace and then on a larger terrace, 64m long. It is plausible that the temple was in the Doric order, noting an eroded fragment of an architectural member in shelly stone, which is probably a Doric triglyph (Mazarakis Ainian 2005a: pl. 16B; 2010a: 25). The North House was destroyed in the collapse of a monumental terrace, and only parts of its foundation survive. The better preserved South House consists of an adyton (2 x 2m) and a cella (5 x 2.9m). Current evidence does not permit conclusions about the layout of the temple entrance. Finds were limited because of the minimal fill preserved in the cella area. The adyton, however, was sealed by its own roof tiles: within this small area lay an oval base made of unfired clay, perhaps for a cult statue, together with thousands of offerings. The two houses seem to have been built during the Archaic period, more likely during the seventh century, while Areas Γ and Δ belong to a later, perhaps Hellenistic building phase in the sanctuary (Mazarakis Ainian 2010a: 24-6). South of the temple, two long altars are possibly to be associated with the twin houses. The fill between them, especially to the north and east, consisted of black soil mixed with ash and burnt animal bone. The smaller altar was probably built first with the larger one later. However, the resemblance between the two sets of finds shows that the altars were used simultaneously for a long period of time.

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I am grateful to Professor Alexander Mazarakis Ainian for permission to study and publish the Archaic painted pottery from the sanctuary on Kythnos, and for providing me with much help. I would also like to thank Professor Eva Simantoni-Bournia and Dr Photini Zaphiropoulou, Ephor Emerita, for discussing with me many aspects of this paper. Last, but not least, I am grateful to Dr Michael Kerschner for all his help and advice, and to Dr Angelos Papadopoulos for the translation of this paper.

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Figure 16.1 Kythnos: Vryokastro. (Map: A. Mazarakis Ainian).

The sanctuary area was defined by the city wall to the east, at the edge of the cliff. Between the wall, the altar area and the temple lay an extensive deposit with numerous offerings similar to those discovered in the adyton (Figure 16.2) (Mazarakis Ainian 2010a: pl. 15.1). The offerings Thousands of offerings of every kind and material have been recovered from the sealed adyton, the deposit noted above, the area of the altars, and the destruction layer of the monumental terrace. These include pottery, terracotta figurines, coral, jewellery, pendants and beads, sealstones and semi-precious stones, glass, amber, faience, and thousands of seashells some of which were pierced (one with a piece of silver wire for suspension as a pendant) (Mazarakis Ainian and Mitsopoulou 2007: 317-25; Mazarakis Ainian 2010a: 30-42). Finds from the adyton date mainly from the seventh to the fourth century BC and were likely placed there at the beginning of the Hellenistic period, after the destruction of the temple probably by earthquake. This view is strengthened by the fact that certain sherds from the adyton, the cella and the deposit have been shown to belong to the same vessel (see 1). This paper will focus on the seventh-century ceramics from the adyton and the deposit. Study of the material is still in progress, so the results presented here are preliminary. Products of Corinthian workshops are excluded as they have been examined in a separate study (Panagou 2008). Parian workshops Parian Subgeometric workshop One of the most characteristic groups of pottery in the Cyclades and on Thasos consists of skyphoi with concentric circles. This group is represented at the Kythnos sanctuary by several fragmentary vases, the best preserved being 161

Maria Koutsoumpou

Figure 16.2 Kythnos sanctuary: Building Γ. (Photograph: K. Mazarakis Ainian).

1, the upper part of which was found in the adyton and the lower in the deposit next to the city wall (Figure 16.3). The fabric is brown with many inclusions and silver mica, and the vessel is decorated inside with monochrome brown-black glaze and outside with light brown slip. The rim has three lines of different thickness, while the main decorative zone between the handles is decorated with concentric circles surrounded by dots: thus the geometric motif of concentric circles is transformed into a rosette, adapted to contemporary tastes. Only one ‘rosette’ survives, but a further parallel suggests that there must have been two (2). 2 (Figure 16.4) was found in the deposit south of the temple. Here the black slip is of better quality, thick and glossy, but the decoration is cruder: the slip has rolled leaving the dots sometimes looking like leaves. Sherds from at least eight such skyphoi have now been identified (3-4, Figures 16.5-6), two of which have incisions under the handles. Similar vessels have been found at several Archaic sites, including Delos and Rheneia, Siphnos, Despotiko, Paros and Thasos (where local imitations were also produced), as well as at Ialysos, Megara Hyblaea, Tocra and elsewhere (Boardman and Hayes 1966: 74-5, nos 918-20; Buschor 1929: 142-52; Dugas 1928: 191, 193-4, nos 665-8; 1935: pl. 37 nos 12-18, pl. 68 A20; Kahil 1960: 55-6, nos 10-21; Kourayos 2002-5: 62, fig. 31). This group is clearly associated with Parian workshops (by contrast, a second, similar group is ascribed to Naxos, cf. Walter-Karydi 1972: fig. 42.2). It is interesting that a variation of 1 and 2 with dots around concentric circles is also found in Paros, Delos and Thasos (Buschor 1929: pl. 51; Dugas 1928: pl. 55 no. 668; Kahil 1960: pl. 20 nos 14, 16). The Subgeometric Parian workshops seem to continue through the greater part of the seventh and sixth century, making it difficult to date the Kythnian sherds precisely, although the shape of 1-2 recalls the seventh century. Parian (‘Melian’) pottery In addition to Subgeometric skyphoi, pottery from the most characteristic Archaic Parian workshop, the wellknown ‘Melian’ workshop as it used to be called (Conze 1862; Kontoleon 1965: 75-9; Zaphiropoulou 1985; 2003; in this volume), has been found at the Kythnos sanctuary. Hydriae Most sherds of this category recovered from the sanctuary are attributed to hydriae while two pairs of horizontal handles confirm the presence of pithoid- or krateroid-amphorae. Twelve to fifteen different vessels have so far been identified, but their surface is so damaged that in most cases the presence of decoration can only be assumed. The identified sherds belong to vases of small–medium size. It is clear, even without the related analyses, that all fabrics of this group have different shades varying from brown to reddish yellow. Nevertheless, in all cases the fabric is especially hard and contains plenty of mica. 162

16. Beyond Athens and Corinth 5 (Figure 16.7), the best preserved, is part of the rim and neck of a small hydria. The band of the neck is decorated with the characteristic spiral pattern with cross hatched angular link. This motif appears on two amphorae from Rheneia, dating 670-660 BC, a hydria of 650-640 BC (Zaphiropoulou 2003: nos 7, 8, 34), and a sherd from the Archaic cemetery of Paros (Zaphiropoulou 2008a: fig. 3). 5 may therefore date to the mid/third quarter of the seventh century, while bearing in mind that ‘Melian vases cannot be dated based on their shape or decoration, because multiple forms develop at the same time, and the decoration patterns repeat themselves stereotypically’ (Zaphiropoulou 2003: 147. See also Coulié 2003: 272; Salviat 1983: 185-90). ‘Fruit-stand’ A very interesting vessel with ‘Melian’ decoration was found in the adyton of the temple (6, Figure 16.8). Its shape is identical to that of fruit-stands from other Archaic pottery workshops, although it is extremely rare in Parian production. The decorative motif is the same as that on the hydria (5), suggesting a similar date. The Kythnian vessel has some peculiarities: the body is more conical than egg-shaped, the foot cylindrical with a light reduction downwards, and the lip is horizontal and protrudes slightly on both sides. More importantly, although fruit-stands usually have their main decoration on the interior and just bands or secondary motifs on the exterior, in this case the decoration is limited to the exterior, while the interior is plain and not even slipped. It should therefore be considered as a lid rather than a fruit-stand (Böhlau 1887: 212, pl. XII; Collignon and Couve 1902: 122-3 n. 476; cf. Karouzou 1963: pl. 1). Judging by the fact that the lid was found in the interior of the adyton, next to two amphorae, it probably belonged to either 7 or 18. Amphora 7 (Figures 16.9-10) is very fragmentary, surviving in 19 sherds and several small fragments. Its substantially preserved conical base shows that it must have been a pithoid- or krateroid-amphora, with a large conical foot and cylindrical neck. Its preserved height from base to handle level is 0.43m, meaning that the overall height of the vessel would reach 0.55-0.60m. It is thus the largest vessel found inside the adyton, but not close to the size of corresponding vessels found in the cemetery of Paros (e.g. Zaphiropoulou 2008a: figs 7-8). Its decoration does not survive: only a decorative panel can be seen under the handle, a rosette, volutes and lines, as well as a series of rays at the foot. The most interesting feature of this vessel is a hole in the base made before the firing. This is the largest vessel found in the adyton, and we may therefore assume that it played a significant role in the rituals that took place in the temple and perhaps even inside the adyton, where there was a clay base possibly for a statue. North-Ionian workshops Bird-bowl Part of a bird-bowl (8, Figure 16.11) was discovered inside the adyton. Bird bowls are one of the most characteristic products of north-Ionian workshops, found at all major Archaic sites in the Aegean and the Mediterranean. Fabric analyses have demonstrated that these vessels were made in north Ionia. The example from Kythnos, with rays around the base and egg-shaped body, dates to the last quarter of the seventh century (Akurgal et al. 2002: 62-72; Cook and Dupont 1998: 26; Kerschner 1997b: 128 no. 43, 163 no. 109; 2000: 487; 2001: 79; Lemos 2000: 377). Wild Goat style The Wild Goat style oinochoe (9, Figures 16.12-13) has a globular body and decoration in three zones. The shoulder is decorated with a large floral motif between two busts of wild goats, there are bands around the mid-body, and around the base are large hollow rays. The brown, hard fabric with yellow slip and the style of decoration, indicate that this vase comes from one of the recently identified north-Ionian workshops (Kerschner 2001). The Subgeometric characteristics of the lower vessel, in comparison with other stratified finds, and the style of the goats suggest a date in the last quarter of the seventh century (Ersoy 1993: 73 no. 601; 2000: 401-2; 2004: 50-72; Hürmüzlü 2004a: 84). Two oinochoae (9 and 10, Figures 16.13-14) were both found in fragmentary condition with parts evidently lost permanently. Their clay and slip match, and there is no doubt about their common origin. The less elaborate drawing, the simpler floral motif, and the style of the goat combine to suggest that 10 could be slightly earlier than 9. Several fragments of vessels from north-Ionian workshops, found in the sanctuary deposit, date to the end of the seventh century or beginning of the sixth. A plate/lekanis (11, Figure 16.15) is reconstructed from numerous fragments: the interior decoration of wild goats is directly connected to north-Ionian workshops, although neither 163

Maria Koutsoumpou the arrangement of these goats, with heads turned back, in a fully decorated space, nor the spiral decoration on the exterior are particularly common. It therefore seems that 11 was made either in some currently unknown northIonian workshop or by craftsmen working in a Greek town but under the influence of north-Ionian workshops. In the latter case, Thasos (which had close relations as much with the Cyclades as with north Ionia) or any other northern Greek town might be a candidate. The use of incision and the style and the quantity of the filling ornaments suggest a date at the beginning of the sixth century (compare Alexandrescu 1978: 41 no. 56). An unidentified eastern workshop A limited number of sherds from the sanctuary belong to vessels decorated in a polychrome style. Only eight sherds of a seventh-century, possible dinos-stand (12, Figures 16.16-18) have been found, four in the adyton and four in the deposit. All have thick black glaze on the interior and, on the exterior, decoration arranged in friezes over a thick white slip. The zone under the rim is decorated with black lines and, beneath them, palmettes joined by double volutes (with black and red dots respectively). One of the lower friezes is preserved: this contains a floral chain with palmettes of various types, as well as a small part of a pictorial scene depicting, as preserved, a combat between two griffins (an impressive wing next to a palmette may perhaps belong to the same scene). The decoration in friezes, as well as the dotted volutes, associate 12 with the products of Ionian workshops (Kerschner 1997a: 16; Walter 1968: pl. 107 nos 5613, pl. 131). However, peculiarities such as the intensive use of applied red, and the unusual scenes and decorative traits, point in other directions. The vessel was probably made in a non-Greek area, like Lydia, by craftsmen who knew, but were not entirely familiar with, the language of Greek potters - with somewhat odd results. Attic or Attic-style workshops Plate 13 (Figure 16.19) is preserved in sherds. Since the bottom is totally flat and the walls straight, it is associated with plates found both in Attica and the Cyclades (Kübler 1970: 181-2; Dugas and Rhomaios 1934: nos. 1216-22, pl. XXXIII). Decoration is limited to the exterior, with grazing deer among multiple filling ornaments on the walls, and on the floor a horse (judging from its hoofs) with a rich, long, highly decorative tail. Stylistically, 13 looks Attic, based on the depiction of the animals and the filling ornament: it can be associated to the Wild Style workshop or its circle (Rocco 2008: 95-104; see also Brann 1961a; 1962: 4-5, 10-11; Cook 1934-5: 176-86; Morris 1984: 65). It can therefore be dated to the late first or early second quarter of the seventh century. This workshop is characterized by its relations with Cycladic workshops and, to a lesser extent, also with Protocorinthian tradition (Rocco 2008: 95). However, certain details suggest that this attribution to an Attic workshop is not as simple as it seems. First, the plate is only half decorated, the remainder being covered by a dark reddish-brown glaze, following the island tradition (compare Dugas 1928: nos. 26, 28, pl. IV). More importantly, the fabric of 13 contains plenty of inclusions and silver mica. Group of winged-horse pyxides A very interesting group of vessels was found in the sanctuary deposit. Their shape is directly derived from the Protoattic ‘kotyle-krater’ or ‘Burgon krater’ (Cook 1934-5: 186; Kübler 1970: 156-9; Morris 1984: 88-9), but their decoration over a thick, yellowish-white slip, and their rough, reddish brown to reddish yellow fabric, place them in the Cycladic milieu. These vessels share the same tripartite decorative scheme. On 14 (Figures 16.20-21), silhouetted winged horses in the upper zone move to the right in between cables and other linear motifs. The middle zone contains floral motifs – three-leafed palmettes linked by volutes with small cable motifs inside – while the lower zone has rays around the perimeter of the base. The other two vessels show slight differences. The somewhat smaller 15 (Figure 16.22) has round handles, and the animals in the upper zone are goats. Only one goat is shown on each side (instead of the three winged horses of 14) and the space is filled with other floral motifs. The middle zone is similar, although the cables inside the volutes are shorter for lack of space. The preservation of 16 (Figure 16.23) is so poor that it is impossible to tell whether the animal is a horse or a goat, although the shape of the hoofs recalls the horses of 14. The floral pattern in the middle zone is more complex, with large composite palmettes alternating with smaller ones. Further sherds indicate that five to seven similar vessels at least must have been present in the deposit. Until now, only one vessel of this kind has been found elsewhere, at the Artemision on Delos (Dugas and Poulsen 1911: 382-4; Dugas 1935: pl. 65, nos 12-13). The reconstruction of this vessel shows volutes in the middle zone which are related to the typical ‘Melian’ pottery pattern of the hatched lozenge. The vessel from Delos was discovered together with a lid bearing identical decoration. Dugas and Poulsen (1911: 383) noted that the lid did not match perfectly with the vessel, although Dugas (1935: 125 nos 12-13) subsequently 164

16. Beyond Athens and Corinth suggested that it might match. No lid for 14-16 has yet been recovered from Kythnos, although we can easily imagine that these vases might have held small offerings as, for example, the earrings found in the hundreds inside the adyton and the deposit, the ends of which appear identical to those of the volutes (Mazarakis Ainian and Mitsopoulou 2007: fig. 117). Therefore, we will term these vases pyxides, following Dugas (1935: 125 no. 13), rather than kraters or skyphoi. The style of the horses and the goats in the silhouette technique, as well as the floral patterns, support a date in the late first or more probably the early second quarter of the seventh century. Protoattic amphora The amphora, 17 (Figures 16.24-25), was located inside the temple adyton. On its obverse, a tripod is depicted in the neck panel and, on the belly, two water birds standing heraldically next to a cable. On the reverse, the neck panel contains a complex floral motif, while an impressive lion is portrayed on the belly. The appearance of the birds, as well as the limited use of incised detail (on the mane and shoulder of the lion, and the wings and beak of the bird), the shape of the amphora, the monumentality of the decoration, and the type of filling ornament, are all characteristic of Protoattic workshops of the third quarter of the seventh century (Cook 1934-5; Morris 1984; Rocco 2008; compare Geroulanos 1973: pl. 24). However, the fabric of the amphora is micaceous: not as much as the ‘Melian’ pottery from Kythnos or the plate 13, but notably so. In short, the sanctuary at Kythnos has produced one plate (of the end of the first and beginning of the second quarter of the seventh century) and one amphora (of the third quarter) that are either creations of a Protoattic workshop or very successful imitations of the Early and Middle Protoattic style. The group of pyxides with winged horses dates to the same period and was inspired by an Attic shape: these vessels were produced by a potter who was well aware of Attic ceramics, although both decoration and fabric are obviously Cycladic. The earlier association of Cycladic pottery with Athens in the Geometric period is well known (Simantoni-Bournia 2008: 366). It therefore seems that the three pyxides with winged horses, the associated fragments from Kythnos, and the vessel from the Artemision on Delos can all be attributed to a new Cycladic workshop active in the second quarter of the seventh century. This workshop operated under immediate Parian (as well as Attic) influence, but where it was located (on which island) is not at present possible to determine (at least before the complete publication of the temple finds and the results of fabric analyses). In this context, the two Attic or strongly Atticizing vessels, 13 and 17, are noteworthy. If they are Attic, we must add one more site to the distribution map of Protoattic ceramics, although this is quite conceivable to judge from other new finds of Protoattic pottery (Aravantinos 2010: 145-53, 156; Rocco 2008). If they are not Attic, but local Cycladic products, then they must be the work of a potter with a deep and up-to-date knowledge of Attic workshops (perhaps having worked there) - a colleague of the potters in Attic-Cycladic workshops (Rocco 2008: 83-94). Whatever the case – and fabric analyses will once again play a significant part in providing an answer – Kythnos seems to have had a privileged relationship with Attica during the first half of the seventh century, closer and qualitatively different than the rest of the islands. It could therefore have been the location of the new workshop, although we cannot preclude the suggestion that this pottery should be associated with a more important centre like Paros. Conclusions Activity at the Kythnos sanctuary began during the seventh century; the few offerings dating to earlier times are usually made of precious materials and may have been family heirlooms, tokens of hospitality or accidental finds subsequently offered at the temple (Mazarakis Ainian and Mitsopoulou 2007: 325). During the first half of the century, and especially from the end of the first quarter onwards, the pottery from the sanctuary was mainly Cycladic, from Paros and one other workshop as yet unlocated, while direct or indirect relations with Attica are also evident. It is notable that no vessels or sherds have as yet been assigned to Naxian workshops or to workshops associated with Naxos, as the Wheel Group of Thera (Coulié 2006: 261; Knauss 1997: 176; 2003: 189-91). Kythnos may therefore be assigned to the Parian zone of influence, and added to Knauss’ distribution map of primary Cycladic workshops of the seventh century (Knauss 2003: 192). The mutually beneficial relationship between Parians and Kythnians does not end here: around 150 years later, when Greeks forces were preparing to fight the Persian fleet at Salamis, Kythnians fought on the side of the Greeks, as did all the islands of the western Cyclades (Hdt. 8.46.17-18). Parians, on the other hand, were allied with the Persians, and instead of sailing towards Athens to meet the rest of the fleet, they waited at the harbour of Kythnos to see how events would turn (Hdt. 8.67.4). Plainly, the harbour of Kythnos was a safe anchorage for them. Parian pottery has been identified not only on Paros (Rubensohn 1962; Zaphiropoulou 2008a) and Delos (Zaphiropoulou 1985; 2003), but also on Siphnos (Brock and Mackworth Young 1949: 34-49), Kimolos (Lambrinoudakis 1972: 4; Moustakas 1954-5), and Melos, where the assumed findspot led it to be termed ‘Melian’, although the famous vessels are products of 165

Maria Koutsoumpou looting and there is no secure contextual information (Papastamos 1970: 2; Zaphiropoulou 1985: 1; 2003: 7-10). Moreover, written sources emphasize the relationship between Parians and Siphians in a variety of ways (Hdt. 3.57.16; Papadopoulou 2002: 12-17). It therefore seems that the western Cyclades were entirely under Parian influence during the Archaic period. This may also mean that the western Cyclades were included in Parian sailing routes to the north (Thasos) and south (Tocra) (Coulié 2003: 261). Nevertheless, the fact that Parian ships stopped at Kythnos en route to Athens, shows that their established route was probably via the western Cyclades and Kythnos (Zaphiropoulou 2006b: 65-8). In the second half of the century, the picture becomes clearer. Most ceramic offerings come from Corinth (Mazarakis Ainian and Mitsopoulou 2007: 318), while the notable presence of vessels from Ionia (and especially north Ionia) coincides with a strong presence of Cycladeans in the north Aegean: Thasos was colonized by Parians after 680 BC, then Akanthos from Andros, while routes to and from the northern Aegean multiplied. It is also worth noting that most north-Ionian finds, apart from the bird bowl, were not popular products circulated en masse, but rather special items possibly from other local workshops (12). After the start of the sixth century, north-Ionian pottery remained a notable presence at the sanctuary, but the overall picture is normalized as more-common vessel types appear. Study of the corpus of material from the sanctuary is ongoing, and at present it is uncertain whether this peculiarity at the end of the seventh century was a matter of chance – due perhaps to the arrival of a single cargo of objects from the north, some of which ended up as offerings – or whether it reflected a close relationship between Kythnos and north Ionia, and perhaps also Lydia as several offerings of amber have been identified (Mazarakis Ainian and Mitsopoulou 2007: 319). Further research may shed light on this question. Kythnos was not a major centre in antiquity. Nonetheless, its geographical location along the sea routes and the straits of the western Cyclades, leading from Asia and the Bosporus to Athens, Aegina and Corinth, the major Archaic trade centres, and thence towards the west, may explain why so many offerings of different provenance ended up at its sanctuary.

Catalogue 1. B’ 05/Πγ137. Figure 16.3. Skyphos, partly preserved. Fabric brown, with white inclusions and silver mica: light-brown slip, dark-brown/reddish-brown glaze. Decorated with concentric circles surrounded by dots in the handle zone; lines on the rim; band. Ht. 0.14m, rim diam. 0.21m Upper part found in the adyton, lower part in the deposit Second-third quarter, seventh century. Figure 16.3 Kythnos, Vryokastro: 1, skyphos B’ 05/Πγ137. (Photograph: M. Koutsoumpou).

2. B’ 05/Πγ47. Figure 16.4. Skyphos; part of the rim and the body preserved. Fabric brown orange/brown, with inclusions and some mica; black glaze. Decorated with concentric circles surrounded by dots in the handle zone; lines on the rim. Ht. 0.082m, rim diam. 0.20m From the deposit. Second-third quarter, seventh century. Figure 16.4 Kythnos, Vryokastro: 2, skyphos B’ 05/Πγ47. (Photograph: M. Koutsoumpou).

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16. Beyond Athens and Corinth 3. B’ 05/Πγ 42. Figure 16.5. Skyphos; only the handle preserved. Fabric orange/brown, with some inclusions and some mica; light-brown slip, reddishbrown glaze. Vertical lines next to the handles, incisions under it. Ht. 0.024m From the deposit. Seventh century. Figure 16.5 Kythnos, Vryokastro: 3, skyphos B’ 05/Πγ 42. (Photograph: M. Koutsoumpou).

4. B’ 05/Πγ 156. Figure 16.6. Skyphos; part of the rim and handle preserved. Fabric orange/brown, with some small inclusions and some mica; orange/ brown slip, reddish-brown glaze. Vertical lines and incisions next to the handle. Ht. 0.035m, rim diam. 0.14m From the deposit. Seventh century. Figure 16.6 Kythnos, Vryokastro: 4, skyphos B’ 05/Πγ 156. (Photograph: M. Koutsoumpou).

5. B’02/Πγ 35. Figure 16.7. Hydria; only two sherds of rim and neck preserved. Fabric orange/brown, with many inclusions and much silver mica; thick yellowish slip, black glaze. Decorated with a spiral pattern with cross hatched angular link. Ht. 0.074m, rim diam. 0.18m From the adyton. Mid-third quarter, seventh century. Figure 16.7 Kythnos, Vryokastro: 5, hydria B’ 02/Πγ 35. (Photograph: M. Koutsoumpou).

6. Β’02/Πγ 39. Figure 16.8. Lid, in the shape of a fruitstand; one small sherd is missing. Fabric orange, with many inclusions and much mica; thick yellowish slip, red glaze. Decorated with a spiral pattern with cross-hatched angular link on the body, rays around the foot, bands on the foot. Ht. 0.151m, rim diam. 0.274m From the adyton. Mid-third quarter, seventh century. Figure 16.8 Kythnos, Vryokastro: 6, lid Β’ 02/Πγ 39. (Photograph: M. Koutsoumpou).

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Maria Koutsoumpou 7. B’ 02/Πα 13. Figures 16.9-10. Pithoid-amphora/ krateroid-amphora; preserved in 19 pieces with many smaller sherds. Fabric reddish-brown/orange, with many inclusions and much mica. Only traces of decoration preserved: rosette, some volutes, lines under the handle, rays on the base. Ht. 0.43m, est. total ht. 0.50-0.60m, base diam. 0.22m From the adyton. Seventh-century. Figure 16.9 Kythnos, Vryokastro: 7, pithoid or krateroid amphora B’ 02/Πα 13. (Photograph: M. Koutsoumpou).

Figure 16.10 Kythnos, Vryokastro: 7, pithoid or krateroid amphora B’ 02/Πα 13. (Photograph: M. Koutsoumpou).

8. B’ 02/Πγ 51. Figure 16.11. Bird-bowl, partly preserved. Fabric pinkish brown. Lozenge decoration on the body, rays around the foot. Ht. 0.074m, rim diam. 0.175m From the deposit. Fourth quarter, seventh century. Figure 16.11 Kythnos, Vryokastro: 8, bird bowl B’ 02/Πγ 51. (Photograph: M. Koutsoumpou).

9. B’ 05/Πγ 94. Figure 16.12. Oinochoe, fragmentary. Fabric grayish brown with some inclusions; yellowish slip, black/brown glaze. Shoulder frieze: wild goats flank a rich floral motif. Lower body: bands. Over the foot: hollow rays. Ht. 0.223m From the deposit. Fourth quarter, seventh century. Figure 16.12 Kythnos, Vryokastro: 9, oinochoe B’ 05/Πγ 94. (Photograph: M. Koutsoumpou).

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Figure 16.13 Kythnos, Vryokastro: 10, oinochoe B’ 05/Π γ46. (Photograph: M. Koutsoumpou).

10. B’ 05/Π γ46. Figure 16.13-14. Oinochoe; part of the neck and the shoulder preserved. Dark grayish brown with some inclusions. Decoration: Yellowish slip, black/brown glaze. Two wild goats march to the right, among ornamental motifs. Ht. 0.10m From the adyton. Fourth quarter, seventh century.

Figure 16.14 Kythnos, Vryokastro: 10, oinochoe B’ 05/Π γ46. (Photograph: M. Koutsoumpou).

11. B’ 02/Πγ 89. Figure 16.15. Plate/ lekanis, fragmentary. Fabric reddish brown with some inclusions; reddish-brown slip. Decorated on the interior with four goats in a highly ornamental environment; on the exterior with a spiral motif. Ht. 0.06m, rim diam. 0.235m Upper part found in the adyton, lower part in the deposit. Beginning of the sixth century. Figure 16.15 Kythnos, Vryokastro: 11, lekanis B’ 02/Πγ 89. (Photograph: M. Koutsoumpou).

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Maria Koutsoumpou 12. B’ 05/Πγ137. Figures 16.16-18. Dinos-stand; eighth sherds preserved. Fabric orange with many inclusions and mica; white slip, black/brown glaze, red colour. Decoration in friezes: palmettes connected with dotted volumes, floral chain, two griffins fighting and wing of a figure. Ht. 0.13m, rim diam. 0.24m Four sherds found in the adyton, plus four in the deposit Fourth quarter, seventh century.

Figure 16.16 Kythnos, Vryokastro: 12, dinos-stand B’ 05/ Πγ137. (Photograph: M. Koutsoumpou).

Figure 16.17 Kythnos, Vryokastro: 12, dinos-stand B’ 05/ Πγ137. (Photograph: M. Koutsoumpou).

Figure 16.18 Kythnos, Vryokastro: 12, dinos-stand B’ 05/ Πγ137. (Photograph: M. Koutsoumpou).

13. B’ 05/Πγ 152. Figure 16.19. Plate, fragmentary. Fabric orange, with many inclusions and much mica; red to reddish-brown glaze. Figure decoration on the half of the exterior with grazing deer. On the floor, a horse. Width 0.17m, rim diam. 0.36m Found in the deposit. End first/early second quarter seventh century. Figure 16.19 Kythnos, Vryokastro: 13, disc B’ 05/Πγ 152. (Photograph: M. Koutsoumpou).

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16. Beyond Athens and Corinth 14. B’ 04/Πγ 12. Figures 16.20-21. Pyxis, reconstructed, missing parts. Fabric brown with many inclusions and much mica; thick white slip, black glaze. Decoration in three friezes. Winged horses, floral ornaments, rays. Ht. 0.164m, rim diam. 0.178m Found in the deposit. Second quarter, seventh century. Figure 16.20 Kythnos, Vryokastro: 14, pyxis B’ 04/Πγ 12. (Photograph: M. Koutsoumpou).

Figure 16.21 Kythnos, Vryokastro: 14, pyxis B’ 04/Πγ 12. (Photograph: M. Koutsoumpou).

15. B’ 02/Πγ 109. Figure 16.22. Pyxis, reconstructed, missing parts. Fabric light orange, with many inclusions and mica; thick white slip, black glaze. Decoration in three friezes. Goats, floral ornaments, rays. Ht. 0.128m, rim diam. 0.15m Some sherds from the adyton, the majority from the deposit Second quarter, seventh century. Figure 16.22 Kythnos, Vryokastro: 15, pyxis B’ 02/Πγ 109. (Photograph: M. Koutsoumpou).

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Maria Koutsoumpou 16. B’ 02/Πγ 60. Figure 16.23. Pyxis, reconstructed, missing parts. Fabric light brown with many inclusions; thick white slip, black glaze. Decoration in three friezes. Winged horses (?), floral ornaments, rays. Ht. 0.165m, rim diam. 0.172m Found in the adyton and in the deposit. Second quarter, seventh century. Figure 16.23 Kythnos, Vryokastro: 16, pyxis B’ 02/Πγ 60. (Photograph: M. Koutsoumpou).

17. B’ 04/Πγ 12. Figures 16.24-25. Amphora, reconstructed, missing parts. Fabric light brown with many inclusions and much mica; light-brown slip, black/brown glaze. Front side: tripod on the neck, aquatic birds on the belly. Back side: floral ornament on the neck, lion on the belly. Ht. 0.52m, rim diam. 0.22m Found in the adyton Third quarter, seventh century.

Figures 16.24 and 25 Kythnos, Vryokastro: 17, amphora B’ 04/Πγ 12. (Photograph: M. Koutsoumpou).

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17. Conservatism versus innovation: architectural forms in early Archaic Greece Alexander Mazarakis Ainian Abstract: This chapter highlights the mixed dynamics of seventh-century architecture. The century brought great advances in architectural forms as well as in methods and techniques. At the same time, as far as most aspects of everyday life were concerned, the material world of the seventh century would not have differed greatly from the preceding century, since monumental edifices (mostly temples) appear already in the last quarter of the eighth century. Most of these still stood and were used throughout the seventh. Yet several of these earlier buildings would have already appeared old fashioned by the middle of the century. The seventh century was thus an era of high contrasts, where a humble oval hut with a mud brick superstructure and a straw roof could have stood next to a monumental temple built with ashlar masonry, its walls decorated with frescoes, and covered with roof tiles. Thus I discuss the possible reasons behind different attitudes to the built environment between the eighth and seventh centuries BC.

The seventh century marked the appearance of a number of innovations in architectural forms, building materials and techniques, especially in the public domain. Yet alongside these changes, we observe the persistence of architectural forms which had characterized the Geometric period and reach back even to Protogeometric, mostly (though not exclusively) in the domestic sphere. These older survivals denote a conservatism which makes the seventh century appear not so very different from the eighth. In this chapter I will discuss the possible reasons behind different attitudes to the built environment between the eighth and seventh centuries BC. Archaeological visibility? The seventh century has a lower archaeological visibility in settlement patterns and architectural remains than the preceding Geometric (see e.g. Osborne 1989 on Attica; Kotsonas 2002 on Crete). There are several possible reasons for this. This was a period of unrest and clashes which may have involved several communities and may have resulted in casualties and the abandonment of sites. The long-lasting Lelantine War naturally comes to mind, and polyandria of the kind discovered at Paroikia on Paros attest to the potentially disastrous effects of such wars on the small communities of those days (Zaphiropoulou 1999; 2006a). The act of synoikism (the nucleation within larger settlements of populations previously dispersed in smaller hamlets) was doubtless behind the abandonment of a number of sites (Snodgrass 1977). It is interesting to note that several settlements were abandoned around 700 BC in areas which were active in colonization, such as in Euboea (Xeropolis/Lefkandi) and Andros (Zagora and the ‘shrinking’ of Ypsili). Indeed, another reason for the diminution in data, especially in the earlier part of the seventh century, could be the foundation of colonies which led to a drop in population within the mother cities. Other factors which doubtless contributed to the uneven picture of the seventh century which we have today include changes in burial customs and a reduction in grave offerings, problems in drawing a clear dividing line between Late Geometric and Subgeometric pottery styles in certain areas, difficulties in dating with absolute precision the construction and abandonment of a structure due to the circumstances of numerous excavations, and other archaeological uncertainties. As a case study combining these points we may consider the situation in the central Euboean Gulf. The decline and final abandonment of the promontory of Xeropolis/Lefkandi may be explained in part by the Lelantine war (Th. 1.15.3; Str. 10.1.12), the topographical limitations of the site which did not allow its expansion into a polis, and the colonization movement both towards the northwest Aegean and the west. At the same time, Eretria and Oropos reached their peak, perhaps due to an influx of people from Xeropolis in a probable process of synoikism (Mazarakis Ainian 2012a; 2012b). At both sites, however, a short-lived decline followed a generation or two later, perhaps as a result of the effects of the Lelantine war and a demographic decline conditioned by the foundation of distant colonies (Mazarakis Ainian 2012a; 2012b). I have indeed argued that Oropos (probably to be identified with Homeric Graia, Il. 2.498) seems to have participated in the colonization movement in the west, especially in the foundation of Pithekoussai (Ridgway 1992) under the ‘flag’ of the Eretrians, to use the words of Michael Sakellariou (1978: 26). The same likely applies for the foundation of colonies in the Thermaic Gulf and the Chalkidiki. A number of the last inhabitants of Xeropolis/Lefkandi probably participated in these ventures as well. If Xeropolis/Lefkandi appears to have been abandoned for these reasons, what was the fate of Eretria and Oropos? A temporary recession in the early part of the seventh century is observed at Eretria (Charalambidou 2006) as well 173

Figure 17.1 Oropos (Attica). The settlement during the Archaic period. (© A. Mazarakis Ainian; plan: A. Gounaris [2011]).

Alexander Mazarakis Ainian as Oropos (Figure 17.1). This is probably due in part to the persistence of the Geometric style of pottery decoration which often renders Late Geometricearly Archaic strata difficult to separate and may lead to confusion (in general on Archaic Oropos, see Charalambidou 2008; 2011). But unless there was a major shift in the location of the settlement at Oropos, the data at present suggest a population decrease after 700 BC which may be partly due to the same kind of reasons, i.e. the foundation of colonies and the Lelantine war. At the same time, the urban character of the site changed drastically. A grid of streets approximately at right angles seems to have been planned and partly constructed. Many of the spaces bordered by these streets were left vacant, perhaps for a future building project which was never realized, for the site was abandoned at the end of the Archaic period following disastrous floods. Other quarters, like the area around a large oval Building ΛΔ, continued practically unchanged, incorporated within the new grid plan.1 In the Cyclades, several cases illustrate the same phenomena. At Paros, the site of Koukounaries is a good example of an Early Iron Age settlement which continued into the first half of the seventh century but was then peacefully abandoned mid-century, presumably during the synoikism of the polis of Paros (Figure 17.2) (Schilardi 2002; 2016). Likewise, Zagora on Andros was peacefully abandoned around 700 BC (Cambitoglou 1991). Here too, the reason was probably an act of synoikism (the later capital of the island, at modern Palaiopolis, lies a few kilometres to the north), though we cannot exclude the possibility that part of the population left in search of promising new lands in the Chalkidiki (see Balkas 1998, with various articles on the Andrian colonies). On the other hand, Ypsili, to the north of Palaiopolis, is a rare case of a Geometric settlement which continued into the Archaic period. Here too, however, it seems that the eighth-century 1  The area was excavated between 2008 and 2010, with annual reports published in the Praktika of the Archaeological Society of Athens.

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Figure 17.2 Koukounaries (Paros). The Early Archaic settlement. (Mazarakis Ainian 1997: fig. 320, based on plans by D. Schilardi and I. Morris).

settlement was more extensive and prosperous than that of the following centuries, when the town diminished in size and was contained within the fortified upper plateau (Televantou 1999; 2008). With these points in mind, let us turn to architecture. The corpus of early Archaic buildings (Lang 1996) is far less impressive than that of the preceding Geometric period (Drerup 1969; Fagerström 1988; Mazarakis Ainian 1997). In general, when one tries to isolate seventh-century buildings one is faced with the problem of recognizing new structures. A turning point lies approximately at the turn of the eighth–seventh century, c. 700 BC, when it is possible to enumerate several buildings. We often tend to classify these as Late Geometric, although in fact several were built in the transitional period between the two centuries and continued to be used or occupied partly or throughout the seventh century: the hekatompedon at Ano Mazaraki, or the Sacred House at Mt Tourkovouni are such cases at sanctuaries, and Buildings Θ and ΛΔ at Oropos (Figures 17.3-4) are good examples from a settlement. The same holds true for entire settlements, such as Emporio on Chios (Boardman 1967), or Lathouriza in Attica (Lauter 1985b), which fall basically in the seventh century yet are usually incorporated in studies of the Geometric period. This 175

Alexander Mazarakis Ainian is not to mention the common problem of a lack of up-to-date publications and the fact that we often have to rely on brief preliminary reports with very vague chronology. Architecture The seventh century marked the appearance of a number of innovations in architectural form, building materials and techniques, in both secular and sacred contexts, and in the public domain. The changes did not occur suddenly, nor were they universally introduced and applied. The extant material evidence, and the example of architecture in particular, shows that during the seventh century Greece apparently ran at different speeds, from place to place and within the same place. Houses and town planning It is highly likely that seventhcentury domestic architectural forms did not differ greatly from those of the previous era. From the elongated house of the Protogeometric period, which consisted of a series of rooms one behind the other, affording practically no privacy, domestic architecture developed during Figure 17.3 Oropos (Attica). Oval Building ΛΔ in the West Quarter. (© A. Mazarakis the Geometric period, and Ainian; plan: A. Gounaris [2011]). especially during the eighth century, into what I have conventionally called the autonomous oikos, formed of several free-standing structures organized within an enclosed space, thus allowing a greater degree of privacy. Finally, from the early seventh century onwards, the multi-roomed house articulated around a central courtyard (the pastas type) became more common and would eventually characterize housing across the Greek world (Mazarakis Ainian 2002a; 2002b; 2004a). These changes in domestic architecture and the organization of private or family space seem to relate to changing social conditions and gender distinctions (Fusaro 1982: 13-15; Morris 1998: 29; 2000: 149; Nevett 1999: esp. chapters 1-2; Whitley 1996). Yet even if gender distinctions did become stronger during the eighth century and women were gradually excluded as a result of the formation of what Ian Morris has called a middling ideology (Morris 2000: 113-19), the long previous tradition impeded rapid adaptation of the architectural forms in order to keep up with and facilitate these changes. Morris rightly emphasizes that houses are not only expensive to construct but also represent an emotional repository. It would not, therefore, have been so easy to build new ones just to follow a new trend (Morris 1998: 29). I have argued (Mazarakis Ainian 2007b) that in the places where it was customary to construct curvilinear houses it was not easy to switch immediately to follow the social changes which affected the form of Greek houses from the Late Geometric period into the seventh century. An intermediate solution in these areas was to group independent structures together and surround them with a peribolos, thus providing privacy on two levels, within the household and towards the outside world. Gradually, when conditions allowed, these oikoi were replaced by rectangular courtyard or pastas houses. This may have taken several generations to accomplish. The case of Building ΛΔ at Oropos is typical (Figures 17.3-4): the building was erected at the very end of the Geometric period, and 176

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Figure 17.4 Oropos (Attica). Oval Building ΛΔ in the West Quarter. (© A. Mazarakis Ainian [2010]).

despite the fact that its function (civic or religious) remains uncertain, it was used and piously preserved for some two centuries. The dedication at the Samian Heraion of house models of all forms, apsidal, oval and rectangular, spanning the Late Geometric to the Archaic period (Seiler 1986), is indicative of the mixed situation which apparently characterized domestic architecture throughout the Archaic period and especially in the seventh century. Alongside the preservation of earlier housing, which inevitably had an impact on town planning, a few new well-planned settlements made their appearance, such as Vroulia on the southern tip of Rhodes (Figures 17.5-6). Yet the kind of orderly planning observed at Vroulia did not have an immediate follow up. Despite the fact that Rhodes was one of the places where Hippodameian town planning was applied during the fifth century, no specific link can be detected between the early planning of Vroulia and that of the later city of Rhodes. Indeed, during the seventh century, cases such as Vroulia stand out as exceptional and have not yet been adequately explained (Morris [1987: chapter 7] suggests a rural settlement instead of the mercenary camp proposed by the excavator, Kinch [1914: 5]; criticized by Sørensen 2002). An important factor in such architectural innovation was doubtless the foundation of a settlement on virgin ground, as is often the case in the western colonies. Indeed, despite a general development at the beginning of the early Archaic period towards the gradual replacement of curvilinear architectural forms with rectangular, this process was slow and variable in pace (Old Smyrna: Akurgal 1983; Miletos: Morris 1998: 22 and n. 31, with references; Eretria: Mazarakis Ainian 1987; Oropos [Figures 17.1, 3-4]: see below). In a number of settlements, however, we can detect features which betray the existence of overall urban planning, even if this is not obvious. This is the case, for instance, at Geometric Zagora (Coucouzeli 2007) and Archaic Azoria on Crete (Figure 17.7) (Haggis 2012), where planning features a common spinal wall (much more evident in the case of Vroulia). The colonial milieu, on the other side of the expanding Greek world, would have also been an exception to the ‘emotional’ attitude to house construction described above; it was likely easier for the first generations of colonists to have selected rectilinear forms in their new homeland, even if they had lived in apsidal or oval cottages in the old world (see for example Megara Hyblaea, Ortygia, and Sicilian Naxos [Gras et al. 2004; Procelli 1983; Leighton 2000: esp. 34-6; Lentini 2001: 6-7; 2011]). This does not, however, hold true at the earliest Greek settlement in the west, Pithekoussai. There the earliest edifices were oval, apsidal and rectangular (Buchner 1970-1; Klein 1972; Ridgway 1992), and in the Ischian countryside ‘primitive’ architectural forms were maintained throughout the Archaic period, as at Punta Chiarito (Gialanella 1994; De Caro and Gialanella 1998). The case of Pithekoussai is straightforward to explain, since its early foundation date precedes the period when rectangular architectural forms started to replace curvilinear ones in the Euboean homeland (Mazarakis Ainian 1987). Temples Despite the fact that the seventh century saw the floruit of several sacred places, the visibility of religious architecture was, as noted, low (see for instance the statistical charts in Nevett [2010: 29 fig. 2.3, 40 fig. 2.9]), though that of dedications less so (note, for example, the Attic peak sanctuaries). Nevertheless, there was a boom in architecture with the construction of elaborate temples and auxiliary buildings at a number of sanctuaries. 177

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Figure 17.5 Vroulia (Rhodes). The urban plan and houses. (Hoepfner 1999: 96).

The first monumental temples appear towards the end of the eighth century, several being roughly 100 feet long (hekatompeda). At Olympia, it was believed until recently that the temples were latecomers, but more recent research has led to the suggestion that there may have been an early monumental apsidal temple (Bau 7), although its precise date and function remain uncertain (Rambach 2002). In the suburban sanctuary of Hera on Samos, the earliest of a series of altars has been dated to the end of the ninth century, while the first hekatompedon was constructed 100 years later. An impressive stone bench probably ran along the long sides of the building, suggesting the presence of numerous worshippers probably for ritual meals inside the temple. During the seventh century the temple was rebuilt along the same lines, with a stoa, among the earliest in the Greek world, next to it (for references, see Mazarakis Ainian 1997: 199-202).

Figure 17.6 Vroulia (Rhodes). Graphic reconstruction of the urban plan and houses. (Hoepfner 1999: 198).

At the suburban sanctuary of Apollo at Kalapodi (Figure 17.8), a new apsidal ‘South Temple’ was built at the turn of the eighth–seventh 178

17. Conservatism versus innovation: architectural forms in early Archaic Greece century, this time monumental in size. Another even more monumental temple was built immediately to the north. Both temples remained in use until the first quarter of the sixth century. Excavation of the South Temple has brought to light fragments of frescoes depicting hoplites in battle, with which the interior was decorated in the mid-seventh century (Figure 17.9) (Niemeier 2009; Niemeier et al. 2012). Thus, in addition to the well-known examples of early temples with painted decoration such as the temple of Poseidon at Isthmia (Broneer 1971, likely on the exterior though), the temple of Apollo at Corinth (Robinson 1976b; Mazarakis Ainian 1997: 156, with further references) and the second hekatompedon of Hera at Samos, this is the fourth early Archaic temple known to have been decorated with wall paintings (Moorman 2011: 43-4). The case of Eretria is highly instructive, as it is the only instance of a monumental urban temple built during the last quarter of the eighth century BC (Figure 17.10). This apsidal hekatompedon (Ed2) occupied a previously residential area where sacrifices and ensuing large scale banquets around the altar (St12) would have taken place throughout the eighth century. The apsidal and oval buildings in this area appear to have been elite dwellings. One apsidal structure (Ed150), however, may have had a communal function from the beginning, perhaps for ritual banquets. This hypothesis rests on two main arguments: the orientation of Ed150 towards the altar and the presence of a clay base at the back of the building upon which rested the foot of a large Attic Middle Geometric II krater. Ed150, which dates from the beginning of the Late Geometric period, was still in use when the hekatompedon (Ed2) was built, towards the end of the same period. It is now unclear whether

Figure 17.7 Azoria (Crete). The Archaic settlement. (© D. Haggis).

Figure 17.8 Kalapodi (Phocis). The superimposed South temples. (© W.-D. Niemeier).

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Figure 17.9 Kalapodi (Phocis). Wall painting fragments from the early Archaic South Temple, reconstruction, c. mid-seventh century. (© W.-D. Niemeier; reconstruction: B. Niemeier and W.-D. Niemeier).

Figure 17.10 Eretria (Euboea). The sanctuary of Apollo towards the end of the Geometric period. (© Swiss School of Archaeology in Greece; plan S. Verdan).

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Ed1 (the so-called Daphnephoreion) was still in use at the same time, though the excavators argue that it was not. If, however, Ed150 continued to serve as a banqueting hall after the construction of the hekatompedon, it would not be easy to accept that the new edifice also served for such ritual banquets. However, the abandonment of Ed150 soon after the construction of the hekatompedon suggests that its function was no longer required, as the ritual banquets, presumably now attended by larger groups of worshippers, probably shifted inside the hekatompedon. The latter doubtless also served to hold and keep safe valuable votive offerings, a few of which were found fallen on the floor (in general see Mazarakis Ainian 1997: 57-61, 102-3; Verdan 2013). The case of Eretria and the archaeological record in general shows that Early Iron Age temples were closely associated with the ritual activities which followed animal sacrifices at the altar, functioning as ritual dining halls or hestiatoria. Ritual meals are of course attested in the open air too, as at Samos or Isthmia (Kron 1998; Morgan 1999a: 319-20). Early evidence of dining within the temple is found at Temple B at Kommos on Crete (Shaw and Shaw 2000) and the Late Geometric monumental Temple II in the extra urban sanctuary of Hyria on Naxos (Lambrinoudakis 1991). The interior of the latter is divided into four naves by three rows of wooden columns. Banquets took place around the hearth with banqueters seated on benches along the side walls. Early in the seventh century this temple was rebuilt on the same lines but with three naves: the new building (Temple III) served the same functions as its predecessor. It is possible that one reason why temple size began to be increased during the second half of the eighth century BC was to ensure adequate space for the growing number of participants in these sacred communal banquets, as at Eretria. It is also interesting to note that the layout of the interior colonnades of the temple in two parallel rows

17. Conservatism versus innovation: architectural forms in early Archaic Greece

Figure 17.11 Rakita (Ano Mazaraki). Apsidal peripteral temple. (© M. Petropoulos).

was already in place in the Cyclades by the first quarter of the seventh century. In this context, the hypothesis of the existence of a ‘Pre-Oikos’ of the Naxians on Delos acquires additional credibility (Courbin 1980; Lambrinoudakis 2005; contra Kalpaxis 1990 and Gruben 1997). Late eighth- and seventh-century monumental temples, like those at Samos, Hyria, Delos (?), Eretria or Kalapodi, were doubtless impressive, both in their general exterior appearance but also in their interior furnishings and decoration. They illustrate what could be built and dedicated to the gods at this time. One major innovation of this transitional era was the peristasis. One of the earliest examples of a monumental peripteral temple is that dedicated to Apollo at Zarakes in southern Euboea (Chatzidimitriou 2003-4a). Both the estimated monumental dimensions of the Late Geometric temple and the stoa of wooden posts provide a possible indirect link with the much earlier ‘heroon’ at Toumba, Lefkandi (Coulton 1993; Lemos 2002: 140-6). Indeed, the existence of posts surrounding edifices is characteristic of Geometric architecture both in Euboea and at Oropos across the gulf (Mazarakis Ainian 2001); the origins of the peristyle of the Greek temple could lie in this feature. Even in remote places, like the mountainous rural sanctuary of Artemis at Rakita (Ano Mazaraki) in Achaia, monumental but ‘idiosyncratic’ temples began to be built (Figure 17.11). The Rakita temple was a Late Geometric apsidal hekatompedon with a rear ‘adyton’ and an unusual peristyle of wooden columns on independent stone bases (instead of a continuous stylobate). The five columns of the porch surround the facade in a semi-circle (Petropoulos 2002). This unusual arrangement is repeated in the horizontally curved front of the originally apsidal Late Geometric temple at Nikoleika (ancient Helike), probably to be identified with the temple of Helikonian Poseidon mentioned in the epics (Il. 8.203; 20.403-5). The curve is a continuous stylobate of ashlar blocks which supported wooden columns. This unusual feature may represent a local Achaian architectural style (Kolia and Gadolou 2011; Kolia 2011: 203). Such temples, while monumental and innovative in several respects, seem to cling to the outdated oval shape, and are thus indicative of the mixed dynamics surrounding the architectural development in a changing era. Undeniably, the seventh century saw major innovations in architectural forms, building materials and techniques, in both secular and sacred contexts. Temple architecture is characterized by monumentality, the use of worked stone, the invention and use of roof tiles, the adoption of the peristyle, the elaborate decoration both of the interior and the exterior. The temple of Apollo at Corinth, and the peristyle temples at Isthmia, Argos, Thermon (see recently Papapostolou 2012), Samos (Mazarakis Ainian 1997: 199-202), and Ephesos (Bammer 1990; 1991; 2008a and 2008b; Kerschner and Prochaska 2011) are typical of this architectural blossoming. In the northeast Peloponnese, around 700 BC and into the first half of the seventh century, we observe innovations and experimentation in temple 181

Alexander Mazarakis Ainian architecture and a great advance in the choice of materials and building techniques, together with an increasing communal investment of wealth, leading to as-yet-unparalleled achievements. The temple of Apollo at Corinth was built of dressed stone blocks and had what were probably some of the earliest post-Bronze Age terracotta roof tiles (Morgan, this volume). The first securely identified peripteral temple in the Corinthia was constructed one generation later at the sanctuary of Poseidon at Isthmia (Broneer 1971). As noted above, this building was decorated with coloured panels, creating an awe-inspiring overall appearance. The evolution of Isthmia from a Protogeometric open-air sanctuary to this early Archaic shrine is highly instructive for our understanding of the rise of Greek sanctuaries (Morgan 1999a and in this volume). The roughly contemporary peripteral temple at the Argive Heraion, Prosymna, is based on a terrace founded on a massive wall in pseudocyclopean masonry, dated to c. 700 BC (Mazarakis Ainian 1997: 156-8, with references). It has been suggested that the chosen masonry style might reflect a desire on the part of the Argives to emphasize their heroic ancestry (Wright 1982). Gradually the peristyle became one of the main characteristics of the Greek temple. The question is whether it first appeared in the northeast Peloponnese or in Ionia or Sicily, or whether its origin can be related to a common source. The data seem to indicate that its appearance was not a homogeneous phenomenon. The origin of the Ionian peristyle should be sought in the east and that of the northern Peloponnese in Egypt, which likely also provided the inspiration for the Doric temple (see however Wilson Jones 2014: chapters 2, 3 and 5). The case of the temple of Artemis at Ephesos is instructive. Beneath the temple dated to the reign of Croesus lay remains of an older peripteral temple dated in the middle of the seventh century (Bammer 1990; 1991; Kerschner and Prochaska 2011). The interior columns, as well as those of the peristyle, were made prior to the temple walls, suggesting that they might have been intended to protect the structure from the weather. This recalls the peristyle of the so-called heroon at Lefkandi some three centuries earlier, which might have also had a purely functional role (Coulton 1993). Similar ‘stoas’ formed by wooden posts surrounded apsidal and oval buildings in the eighth century at Eretria and Oropos (Mazarakis Ainian 2001). The examples noted above suggest that the peristyle had its roots in domestic architecture. How and why this functional element of Greek monumental architecture acquired a symbolic character which generally limited its use to temples remains an open question. Yet at the same time that we witness such remarkable advances in building materials, techniques, and architectural forms, in other areas of Greece we observe a conservatism which makes the early Archaic period not much different from the preceding Geometric. Indeed, temples of apsidal or even oval form were still being constructed during the seventh century. Examples include the horse-shoe temple of Athena at Gonnoi in northern Thessaly (Mazarakis Ainian 1997: 86, with references), and Building Γ at the sanctuary of Poseidi in Chalkidiki (Moschonissioti 1998), both built during the second half of the century. In numerous sanctuaries, temples built in the Geometric period doubtless remained in use during the following centuries and likely already appeared very old fashioned by the end of the seventh century. Typical examples include the apsidal temple at Ano Mazaraki mentioned above, surrounded by its peristyle and awkward front porch (Petropoulos 2002), the first temple of Athena at Old Smyrna with its curved back corners (Cook and Nicholls 1998), various curvilinear civic or religious edifices on the island of Lesbos (Mytilene, Antissa, Pyrra; see Mazarakis Ainian [1997, 84-5] with references), the oval so-called ‘Sacred House’ at Tourkovouni (Figure 17.12) (Lauter 1985a) and the round cult building (or Tholos) at Lathouriza in Attica (Lauter 1985b; Seiler 1986; Mazarakis Ainian 1995).

Figure 17.12 Tourkovouni (Athens). Reconstruction of the oval cult building. (Drawing author after Lauter 1985a: 124, fig. 20).

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17. Conservatism versus innovation: architectural forms in early Archaic Greece

Figure 17.13 Soros in Magnesia (Thessaly). The Archaic temple of Apollo. View from the west. (© A. Mazarakis Ainian [2008]).

Conservatism applies not only to the architectural form of seventh-century temples, but to their function as well. Indeed, as already mentioned, temple-hestiatoria, which were the norm during the Early Iron Age, apparently remained popular during the early Archaic period. A good demonstration of this are Cycladic temples during both the Geometric and early Archaic periods. The impressive marble Archaic ‘Oikos of the Naxians’ on Delos and its possible Early Iron Age predecessor (the so-called ‘Pre-Oikos’, the presence of which is much debated) most probably served such a composite function (Courbin 1980; Mazarakis Ainian 1997: 180-1; Lambrinoudakis 2005). Similar in type are the Late Geometric and early Archaic Naxian temples at Melanes (Lambrinoudakis 2005) and Hyria on Naxos (phases II and III, respectively), which served also as hestiatoria to judge from the presence of spacious benches and a large eschara within them. At Hyria, the dissociation between temple and hestiatorion was achieved in the later Archaic period, c. 570 BC, when the marble Ionic Temple IV was constructed and separate structures were built next to the propylon of the temenos (Lambrinoudakis 1991; 2001). Roughly during the same period, dining facilities (Rooms A3-5) were erected next to the cult buildings (A1-2 and Δ) in the sanctuary of Apollo at Despotiko (Kourayos 2012). Interestingly, these functions were not everywhere dissociated during the sixth century. For example, the Archaic temple of Demeter at Ypsili on Andros can be regarded as an unusual temple-hestiatorion. It is a rather small anta temple, furnished inside with stone-built benches along the three sides, two built tables and a base presumably for the cult statue set against the bench of the back wall (Televantou 1999; 2008). What is noteworthy in the case of the Cyclades is that despite the fact that the function of temples such as those at Hyria or perhaps Delos (‘Oikos of the Naxians’) was based on earlier practices no longer in fashion in various sanctuaries of the Greek world, their architectural form, as well as the materials used in their construction, were highly innovative, and eventually led to the birth of the Ionic Island order (see in this context also the temple at Gyroulas near Sangri on Naxos [Gruben and Lambrinoudakis 2002]). Likewise, the temple of Apollo at Soros in Magnesia (Thessaly) (Figure 17.13) is a further example that illustrates not only the great variety in the architectural form of Greek temples during the Archaic period and their survival in later periods, but also the diversity in the function of pre-Classical temples all over the Greek world (Milojčić 1974; Mazarakis Ainian 2006; 2011b and 2012c). The plan and general characteristics of the temple at Soros are very close to those observed in the late eighth–early seventh century, but the construction dates more than one century later. Temples-hestiatoria are most characteristic of the Early Iron Age (Drerup 1969 considered early temples as halls for gatherings around the hearth), but the evidence from Soros proves that in the late Archaic period, in Thessaly at least, such hybrid temples could still be fashionable. Indeed, the sixth-century temple of Apollo at Mitropolis near Karditsa, remarkable in several respects, though conservative on several others, further illustrates this point (Intzesiloglou 2002; in general see also Morgan 2003: ch. 3). The erection of public buildings and the shaping of public spaces It is generally acknowledged that the formation of the polis was well on its way by the seventh century. Urbanization, however, is the result of communal effort and requires the presence of civic institutions. The former doubtless 183

Alexander Mazarakis Ainian

Figure 17.14 Oropos (Attica). The monumental rectangular peribolos of the seventh century. View from the south. (© A. Mazarakis Ainian [2002]).

underlies the major architectural projects undertaken in sanctuaries, and also in the construction of massive fortification walls (Frederiksen 2011 and in the volume). Nevertheless, the physical architectural remains of the civic institutions are generally difficult to discern. At Emporio, a free open space between the Megaron Hall and the sanctuary of Athena may have served as a gathering place, similar to that of the previous century at Zagora (Boardman 1967). At Koukounaries a rectangular building (with four rooms) which yielded a series of clay seals may have functioned as a gathering hall or Prytaneion. The open space between this building and the temple of Athena may have served as the agora of the small community (Schilardi 2002; 2016: 81-2). By the end of the century both settlements Figure 17.15 Oropos (Attica). The northern part of the had been peacefully abandoned and their inhabitants monumental rectangular peribolos of the seventh century. settled elsewhere. In the case of Koukounaries, it is (© A. Mazarakis Ainian; plan: A. Gounaris [2001]). tempting to imagine that part of the population moved to Paroikia, while others may have participated in the colonization of Thasos. Their descendants, however, continued to visit the sanctuaries next to these civic buildings, which in turn may have been still standing. At Oropos, a monumental rectangular peribolos (57 x 16.70m), the initial construction of which dates in the first half of the seventh century, was doubtless a ‘communal’ structure (Figures 17.14-15). Its exact function, however, remains enigmatic. It was divided into two unequal parts, for the most part probably open to the sky. There were entrances at the two ends: that at the north bordered by a paved rectangular room, and that at the south controlled by a kind of square ‘tower’. I have suggested that the complex may have served as an enclosure for animals, or, alternatively, as a military camp, in which case one could link its presence with the Lelantine war (Mazarakis Ainian 2002a: 174-8; 2004a: 380-2; 2012b: 82). Alternatively, Emmanuele Greco (2006: 331-2) has suggested that the monumental enclosure may have been an early agora similar to the agora of the Phaeacians described in the Odyssey (Od. 6.266-7; 8.5-23; 8.109-259). Greco bases his opinion on the discovery of a bronze shield and a horse skull in the area, which could indicate athletic-military games similar to those performed by the Phaeacians in the honour of Odysseus (Od. 8.109-259). The same data, however, fit well the alternative interpretation (Longo 2009: 210-11). One objection against the view of Emmanuele Greco is that if the area was indeed the Agora of pre-Classical Oropos one cannot easily understand why it was rather short lived and not intensively used during the sixth century BC, as the pottery seems to attest (Charalambidou 2008: 179-92, 225-8). An Archaic building constructed over the southeast corner of the peribolos consists of three adjacent rooms opening onto 184

17. Conservatism versus innovation: architectural forms in early Archaic Greece

Figure 17.16 Athenian Agora. Early Archaic habitation and artisans’ complexes near the future Tholos. (© F. van den Eijnde; plan: P. van den Eijnde).

a common courtyard. This arrangement suggests a pastas house, built probably in the first decades of the sixth century (Charalambidou 2008), which may be compared with the earlier houses on the summit of the Velatouri hill at Thorikos (Servais 1967; Mazarakis Ainian 1997: 254, with references) and at Eleusis (the so-called ‘Sacred House’: Mazarakis Ainian 1999b). The possibility remains, however, that this free-standing building, set next to a major street which presumably led from the harbour to the centre of the settlement, was not a common house but a public building, perhaps a Prytaneion (see also Charalambidou, this volume). The material recognition of an agora or a building hosting civic functions is easier in Crete. The case of Prinias, with the spacious open area in front of Building B and Temple A, appears to be one of the earlier examples, though there are several uncertainties about the exact function of the two buildings (Mazarakis Ainian 1997: 224-6, with references). The identification of an early ‘stepped’ agora of Dreros is now regarded as highly improbable (Gaignerot-Driessen 2013), though the building behind the temple of Apollo Delphinos may have indeed been a Prytaneion. Azoria is of course the best example of a Cretan polis of the seventh to early fifth century BC. Its impressive ‘Monumental Civic Complex’ (22.5 x 10m), with theatral stone seats along three sides, has been identified as a hall for communal gatherings, perhaps a kind of Prytaneion or even a roofed agora (Haggis et al. 2007: esp. 295-301; 2011: esp. 16-26, 37-41; Haggis 2011) (Figure 17.7). The appearance of the agora in the western colonies is a separate issue, since public spaces were presumably allotted from the foundation of the settlements. For instance, at Megara Hyblaea the eighth-century colonists left a vast free space which was to become the agora of the city a few generations later. Yet, at the same time, in Athens, habitation and artisans’ complexes (as the one near the future Tholos) lay on the fringes of the future agora (Papadopoulos 2003; Sanidas 2013: 41-110), an area still very different in appearance from that achieved by the Athenians in the sixth century (Eijnde 2010: fig. 109, fig. 26) (Figure 17.16). Conclusions Discussion in this chapter has revealed the mixed dynamics of the seventh century. The advent of the new century brought great advances in architecture and established the foundations for later Greek achievement during the ‘mature’ Archaic and Classical periods. At the same time, as far as most aspects of everyday life were concerned, the material world of the seventh century would not have differed greatly from the preceding centuries and certainly not from the end of the Geometric period. Indeed, the first major advance after the end of the Late Bronze Age and the ‘interlude’ of the Lefkandi ‘heroon’, was that in architectural methods and techniques achieved during the last quarter of the eighth century. During this period, several monumental temples were constructed with communal resources and effort. These still stood and were used, and doubtless occasionally admired, throughout the seventh century (indeed often for much longer). Yet several of these earlier buildings would have already have appeared old fashioned by the middle of the seventh century at the latest. The seventh century was thus an era of high contrasts, where a humble oval hut with a mud brick superstructure and a straw roof could have stood next to a monumental temple built with ashlar masonry, its walls decorated with frescoes, and covered with roof tiles. 185

18. Fortifications in the seventh century. Where and why? Rune Frederiksen Abstract: This contribution presents some general observations about fortifications in the seventh century BC, discusses examples and finally addresses the question of how common the walled town or city was at this time.

City walls, or fortifications to use a term that allows for a broader relation to settlement, date far back in the wider area of the Hellenic world. Walls are known both from the Stone and Bronze Ages, in, for example, Crete, Thessaly and the Peloponnese (Alusik 2007; Aslanis 2008; Runnels et al. 2009; Hope Simpson and Dickinson 1979: 46-7, 174). In the Early Iron Age and Archaic period, the polis emerged everywhere and fortification walls formed a prominent part of its material culture. A good example is Old Smyrna which was a walled town from the ninth century onwards (Figure 18.1). It is, however, generally assumed that, as a rule, not until the Classical period were towns and cities enclosed by fortification walls. Many of these walls are directly visible in the landscapes of the Hellenic world, as for example in Athens, Eretria, Kalydon, Phigaleia in Arkadia (Figure 18.2), Syracuse, or Taranto. The focus of this chapter is early Archaic fortification, after the period of the ‘Greek Revolution’ of the late eighth century BC and before the sixth century where the material record begins to resemble (in quality and quantity) that of Classical times. But before moving to discuss walls and their implications, let us examine the sources for seventh-century city fortifications. First there are the remains of walls dated by external evidence, that is, excavated walls which are dated by seventh-century pottery or other objects (on which

Figure 18.1 Old Smyrna. General plan of the site showing the fortifications and the suggested completion of the circuit (stippled). (© A. Mazarakis Ainian).

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Figure 18.2 Phigaleia, Arkadia. The Classical walls; the city lies on the right of the wall. (© R. Frederiksen).

more below). Secondly, direct or indirect references in the contemporary or near-contemporary ancient literature attest to the existence of city walls at certain named poleis. Such references are very rare; in fact there are only two (both retrospective) in near-contemporary sources, both in Thucydides’ History.1 Discussing Gela in Sicily, Thucydides says (6.4.3) that the Lindians (the principal colonizers of Gela) fortified their new settlement shortly after its foundation (i.e. c. 689 BC), and the Athenian Acropolis appears as a fortified place around 632 BC, when the aspiring tyrant Kylon was besieged there by the Athenians (Th. 1.126.7). Thucydides wrote some two hundred years later, and one may therefore question whether he was able to draw on full and correct details of events, even in his hometown, Athens. If Thucydides’ account is basically true, the story of Kylon can still be imagined without a properly built fortification, although I am inclined to believe that there was one, perhaps largely a reused Mycenaean citadel rather than a newly built Early Iron Age or early Archaic construction. In addition to the sources which describe individual named sites, a further category of written source, poetry, provides a general picture of the seventh century (on which more below). The fourth category comprises walls found at poleis, which are considered Archaic mostly because of their masonry. Most of these walls are likely to be sixth-century, but some are undoubtedly earlier. Certainty is impossible in individual cases (see discussion in Frederiksen 2011: 111). Apart from the identification of a monument, its dating is the most important matter; if this is not answered satisfactorily, we cannot interpret the monument in question in its true historical context (in this case that of the seventh century). Fortification walls dated by masonry style form a body of uncertain evidence and will not, therefore, be further discussed in this chapter. Sources for specific named poleis allow us to identify fortification walls at 14 cities (Figure 18.3). These are fairly evenly distributed across the Greek world (see also Frederiksen [2011: 74-7], for claimed identifications of seventhcentury walls that have not been universally accepted). Published information about these fortifications may be used to answer fundamental questions. What was the architecture of seventh-century city walls like? What information do walls provide about the topography of seventh-century towns? What can the spread and prevalence of walled towns in the seventh century tell us about the early Archaic polis in broader terms? I begin with a few general remarks on the construction and architecture of city walls which are valid also for the seventh-century (Figure 18.4). As a general rule, walls were founded as far below the ancient land surface as possible, preferably on bedrock, both to secure the construction itself and to prevent undermining from enemies trying to get into the city. It was also general practice to construct first a socle in stone as a free-standing double-faced structure, the outer face normally stronger than the inner and, if not on bedrock, also set deeper into the ground. The hollow between the faces was then filled with earth and rubble: the entire width of a wall was always over 1.5m, although the exact width of individual fortifications varied considerably (Frederiksen 2011: 94). 1  Among later sources, Pausanias (2.36.4-5) reports that Argos attacked and destroyed Asine in the Argolid around 700 BC, and he mentions the wall of Asine. Pausanias was, however, too far away from these events, in time and space, for us to rely upon the details in his account. A number of references to seventh-century town walls in Hellenistic and Roman literature are disregarded for this same reason, although some were probably correct.

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Figure 18.3 The distribution of seventh-century walls in the ancient Greek world. (© R. Frederiksen; map: P. Simmons).

Rune Frederiksen

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Figure 18.4 Section of a city wall. (© R. Frederiksen).

Figure 18.5 Eleusis. (© R. Frederiksen).

On top of the socle sat the superstructure or wall proper. This part (the central component of the city wall) is only rarely found and then normally in a highly ruinous state. From fragmentary finds we may conclude that the superstructure was as a rule built of mud brick with a plaster coating. Known examples are mostly Classical in date (e.g. from Athens, Eleusis [Figure 18.5], and Gela), but extant examples of mud brick also exist from the seventh century, for example at Halieis, Smyrna and Siris (Frederiksen 2011: 146, 187-90, 222). On top of the wall proper was the walkway with parapets and crenels of merlons. We do not know what this part of the wall looked like; the closest we get is indirect information from rare depictions in contemporary or near-contemporary art, such as the Francois Vase in Florence (Frederiksen 2011: fig. 2; Florence Arch. Mus. 4209). Such images are mostly early sixth-century, but I venture to suggest that they reflect elements that were not then new but rather rested upon old traditions. Ironically, what appear to be sixth-century merlons found at Thasos (if correctly identified as the only extant merlons from the Archaic period) are pointed (Garlan 1966: 607; Kozelj and Wurch-Kozelj 2007: 417-26; compare Grandjean 2011) and not square like the ones depicted in (near) contemporary iconography (Frederiksen 2011: 95).2 Seventh-century walls show great variety in their construction (Frederiksen 2011: 78-80). It seems, for instance, that the phase 1-2 wall at Halieis was built entirely of mud brick and was supported by a stone socle only in the sixth century. Smyrna phase 3 is again special, with a stone socle some 5m high, on top of which came the superstructure. At Melie the wall was constructed as a solid entity without distinct inner and outer shells. The stones inserted towards the outer face of the wall are however larger than the average stone size used in the wall. Let us take a closer look at one example from the old Greek mainland, namely Corinth (Figure 18.6).3 For a long time the only safely identified and dated remains of a seventh-century fortification wall at Corinth were those discovered in 1930 by Agnes Stillwell on the west edge of the Potter’s Quarter plateau. Only the socle of this wall survives, better preserved in the north parts than the central and south. The wall was a free-standing structure, with the edge of the plateau on its west and a street immediately to its east. It is double-faced and set on bedrock. Most of the blocks used were probably quarried on the spot, although some were quarried further away. At 2.4m, the width of the wall is similar to that of other early Archaic fortifications and probably too great for any other type of structure (a peribolos or temenos wall for example). The wall is also in the right location for a fortification: it extends along the edge of the plateau at a point where the ground drops down steeply for some 20m. Potential attackers would have had to ascend the side of the plateau before actually reaching the wall itself. 2 

I was unaware of the potential significance of the Thasian merlons at the time of writing this chapter. If correctly identified, I consider their shape to be a unique phenomenon. 3  See Frederiksen 2013 for a more detailed case in support of the excavator’s identification and dating.

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Rune Frederiksen

Figure 18.6 Corinth: the seventh-century wall in the Potters’ Quarter. (Stillwell 1948: pl. 51: © American School of Classical Studies at Athens, Corinth Excavations).

The very existence of this wall has far reaching topographical implications. It is located 1.5km west of the later centre of the ancient city, suggesting certain conclusions about the character of Corinth as a settlement at that time. It has become easier to accept the dating and identification of the Potters’ Quarter wall since the impressive finds from rescue excavation by the Ephorate of Antiquities of Corinth for the expansion of the Corinth-Patras motorway (Kissas and Tasinos 2016). The sixth-century remains of this new Corinthian fortification, as well as those of an earlier (seventh-century?) phase, are truly extraordinary finds. They remind us of a basic point about archaeology and history which bears constant repetition: the amount of archaeological and textual material that has survived to our time is only a tiny fraction of the entire material output from the ancient Greek world. Naturally we base our studies and interpretations on what we have, but sometimes new finds turn everything upside down, and in some cases, completely reset the focus of an area of research. In this particular case, however, I am not surprised by this great find of city wall at Corinth.4 When the new finds from Corinth are properly published, we will be able to discuss the character of the early Archaic settlement with greater confidence. The traditional interpretation of early Archaic Corinth as a community with a number of individually fortified, separate habitation units urgently needs revision (Boardman 1982: 444; Hall 2007: 73; Lang 1996: 25). It is clear from the surviving evidence that the architecture of seventh-century city walls varied greatly from case to case. However, a common feature of seventh-century walled towns was a clear distinction between interior and exterior, i.e. definition of the habitation (or urban) space. Of course this phenomenon also pertains to walled settlements in earlier times, and was in that sense not new. However, seventh-century town walls shared certain architectural characteristics. While their width varies considerably, there is an interesting general trend towards narrower constructions (compared to some of the earlier walls) and, towers do not seem to have been standard features at this time. This leads to the conclusion that seventh-century walls were constructed to avert what may be termed small-scale warfare. When a wall is not wide at its socle, for reasons of construction and stability it must 4 

For the view that the location of this wall was predictable, see Frederiksen 2011: 75-6; 2013.

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18. Fortifications in the seventh century be even narrower further up at the level of the wall walk, meaning that only a restricted number of defenders could gather at the critical point under attack. Towers served to bring greater concentrations of defenders to various points along the wall, and to provide a wider range of firing angles against attackers in front of the wall.5 Such concentrated defence was obviously unnecessary at least in most parts of the seventh-century Greek world. The simpler warfare suggested by most extant seventh-century walls may reflect the fact that the city-states’ potential enemies at this time were not primarily neighbouring barbarians like the Lydians, but other Greeks, as competition between them grew in both the colonial areas and the old homeland. Here we may reflect a little upon the variety of cultures encountered by the seventh-century Greeks along the peripheries of Greek territory. By and large, the military forces mustered by these cultures were inferior in manpower and tactics to those of the Greeks. Had they not been, colonization would have been extremely difficult or impossible. This we believe to have been true of the indigenous populations of southern France, Sicily and southern Italy, North Africa, Thrace and the Black Sea coast. The situation was of course different in Ionia and Cyprus, where the old kingdoms of the east were close by and could be expected to appear at the gates with little notice and with huge armies capable of sieges and the technology to seriously challenge fortifications. It is exactly here that the difference lies: Greek town and city walls in almost all areas apart from the Levant were not built to withstand more than an occasional assault by an army of infantry. That walls in most parts of the Greek world at this time were not built to withstand long-lasting sieges or assaults with siege engines fits this interpretation well, since such sieges were rare among the Greeks until well down in the fifth century (e.g. Winter 1971: 155; Frederiksen 2011: 91). Accordingly, broad walls or walls with towers are only found in regions where siege undertakings were a potential threat, for example in the east, where the gigantic phase 3 wall at Smyrna is a good example (Nicholls 1958-9: 35-137; Frederiksen 2011: 189-90, with bibliography). A major development circumscribing everything at this time is the emergence of the polis as the dominant social framework in the Greek world. By polis, I understand a largely self-governing political community which had an urbanized area, a town or city, as its primary centre of habitation (Hansen and Nielsen 2004: 39-46 [M. H. Hansen]). Corinth is a typical example: we know enough about the city in the seventh century to conclude that it was an important polis, and therefore we should not be surprised to find the urban centre of Corinth fortified with a great wall (Hansen and Nielsen 2004: 265-8 [R. Legon]). All the walls listed (Figure 18.3) are found at sites where a Greek polis can be identified either during the seventh century or later. There is much indirect evidence to support the view that settlements such as Megara Hyblaea, Miletos, Naxos on Sicily, and Siris were poleis in the seventh century.6 Direct evidence of the kind that exists in the cases of Dreros, Sparta and Thasos is, however, hard to obtain.7 Let us for present purposes simply accept that those 14 fortified localities represent 14 fortified seventh-century poleis. Were these the only fortified poleis in the entire Greek world at that time? How are we to interpret these walled communities in relation to their neighbours? Let us first consider some general points of methodology. Scholars of the early Archaic period are used to having only a fraction of the original total of a given type of monument, and there is no reason why this should be different for city walls. How many more walled towns and cities were there in the early Archaic Greek world? Most probably we will never be able to answer this question with certainty, but a general impression may be had from the world of contemporary poetry, where we often find references to fortified cities. Only rarely, however, are specific cities named; reference is generally to the fortified city per se, in a general and plain way, as if the walled city was a common phenomenon and not something special or exotic. Fortifications and city walls play a significant role in the Homeric poems, both at individual named sites known from historical sources8 and at purely mythic ones. ‘Homer’ is, of course, a controversial source, and caution is always needed in using such evidence for any particular purpose.9 Here I assume that the basic elements of society 5  Firing in this early context means first of all arrows shot by archers, but one should add javelins, stones and anything which could be thrown or dropped. 6  Communities with seventh-century walls and which are attested as poleis (Hansen and Nielsen 2004): Abdera, Apollonia, Corinth, Eretria, Halieis, Hephaistiai, Megara Hyblaea, Miletos, Naxos (Sicilian), Pergamon and Smyrna. Melie in Caria may have been a polis in the early Archaic period, but was certainly not in later Greek history (Hansen and Nielsen 2004: 1060 s. v. Karion [L. Rubinstein]). Similarly uncertain is the identity of Oikonomos at Paros (Hansen and Nielsen 2004: 764 [G. Reger]). 7  Dreros: Meiggs and Lewis 1988: no. 2.1-2. Sparta: Tyrt. fr. 4.4. Thasos: Archil. fr. 228. 8  Gortyn, Kalydon, Thebe, Thebes and Tiryns: see Frederiksen 2011: 27 for bibliography. 9  In this context, chronology is not critical since if the poems reflect an eighth-century universe this would still to some extent be valid for the seventh, and if they reflect a seventh-century universe we are safe. A sixth-century date is preferred by some for the writing down of the poems, but it is generally held that the world described, the ‘Homeric universe’, predates this. For discussion of the dating of Homeric society, see e.g. Morris and Laffineur 2007; Raaflaub 1997. For the view that the Homeric poems were composed in the seventh century, see Burkert 1976; Osborne 2009; van Wees 1994; West 1995.

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Rune Frederiksen described in Homer reflect the Greek world of the seventh century BC. Walls were features of the second (and unfortunate) of the two poleis on the Shield of Achilles (Il. 18.490-540) and of the city of the Phaeacians on Scheria (Od. 6.9). Of course these examples are mythological, but they must reflect what Homer and his audience believed of a real town or city. The five individually named walled (early) poleis in the Homeric poems (see note 8) may or may not have been walled in reality; what is important is that in the minds of seventh-century Greeks they could have been (Frederiksen 2011: 34-5). As a straightforward feature of seventh-century society, city walls also appear in the works of Hesiod (e.g. Op. 245-7). Here we hear about the punishments which Zeus may inflict on violent or cruel men: he will ‘destroy those men’s broad army or city wall, or punish their ships at sea’ (tr. West). Here army, wall and fleet appear as a military triad, the ‘defence-cocktail’ well known from the Classical period on. It seems, however, that for Hesiod, a typical polis already had these elements. Fortifications and their associated terminology appear elsewhere in Hesiod’s poems, as in the works of other seventh- and sixth-century poets, and it is difficult to escape the conclusion that the town or city wall was a common phenomenon in the seventh-century Greek world (Frederiksen 2011: 34-8). Evaluation of all the sources together also leads me to the same conclusion: it really was the case that from the early Archaic period onwards, towns and cities had a fortification wall, a teichos, around them. Yet, one might object, why do we only have explicit sources for 14 of them? The answer is simple: the great majority have disappeared due to human activity and natural destruction from antiquity onwards, or they have not yet been found. The situation at Corinth is a fine illustration of this. Not only have most fortification walls been lost, but also what was inside them, the houses and all the other structures that made up ancient towns and cities. A quick count of temples gives a figure of just 23 dating to the seventh century (Frederiksen 2011: 110). It can hardly be doubted that this low figure is far from the actual number of seventh-century temples in the Greek world. The later Geometric and early Archaic periods saw dramatic cultural development: we find pottery and other products of high craftsmanship, the (re-)appearance of monumental architecture, large cemeteries, the foundation of new settlements, and large numbers of sanctuaries. The rebirth and spread of the art of writing (with a dramatic rise in the later eighth century), as well as material evidence for very active trade between Greeks and so-called barbarians, both point to the development by the seventh century of networks of urbanized entities in all regions under Greek domination. When we survey the Greek world in this truly fascinating period, we can define a number of characteristics shared if not by all then by at least the great majority of settlements/early poleis. We could not imagine such communities without neighbourhoods of private houses separated by lanes and streets, without at least one (urban) sanctuary, designated cemeteries, a harbour or landing place, a political and commercial meeting place/agora, and so on. The Greek citystate culture consisted of hundreds of communities which were established and grew because they exchanged goods and ideas, eventually developing all these identical social elements which thus became prerequisites for the polis. Can we imagine, for example, that some communities had a cult-building or early temple and others not? That some had a market place and others not? While this is unlikely to have been the case, it is admittedly impossible to disprove. Considering the extremely poor archaeological evidence in at least some parts of the early Greek world, it is difficult to claim with certainty that a particular phenomenon did not exist somewhere. It is much easier to work from a list of attested examples. I suggest that we should add fortifications to the list of cultural features that every community in the early Greek world should have had, but this is just a hypothesis. It is hard to imagine that one community was fortified, yet a handful of otherwise similar communities in the same region or landscape were not. If this were so, we would need to explain why some settlements were fortified and others not. One possible explanation could be that the greater powers fortified themselves and did not allow other smaller communities in their realm to do the same. Such patterns of dominance were certainly practiced here and there, but they are unlikely to have been widespread because, in the later Archaic and Classical periods, poleis were as a rule sufficiently independent to have city walls. There is no reason to believe that the stronger communities of the sixth and fifth centuries would have been less able to control their neighbours than the leading communities of the eighth and seventh. This brief review of seventh-century city walls helps us to realize what we are supposed to be looking for in our general attempt to understand a packed and thus ‘short’ seventh century. This century forms an important part of a crucial era in the history of the western world – the period when we acquired cities.

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19. Corinthian sanctuaries and the question of cult buildings Catherine Morgan In memory of Frederick P. Hemans (1952-2013) Abstract: The ‘innocent’ question of why early Greeks built temples opens discussion of factors ranging from the definition and interpretation of human and material agency to matters of tradition, innovation and memorialization. This chapter focuses on the case study of early Corinthian buildings in their local context. Three interconnected sets of questions are considered. Where did the innovation lie in seventh-century Corinthian monumental construction and what questions arise from it? What purposes did early cult buildings serve, how did they relate to trends in Corinthian sanctuary behaviour and ritual practice, and what did they then enable? How did developments in the Corinthia relate to those in the wider world in which Corinthians were engaged?

The leading role of Corinth in the development of monumental Doric architecture during the seventh century has become a tenet of modern scholarship.1 Two temples erected in quick succession – that of Apollo in the city centre built c. 680 BC (Robinson 1976a: 211-12, 224-35; 1976b: 244-6) and that of Poseidon at Isthmia with a terminus post quem of c. 690-650 (Gebhard and Hemans 1992: 39) – made extensive use of the local oolitic limestone. This has sustained an implicit equation between innovation in early monumental architecture (including the use of rooftiles), the use of dressed stone, and temple construction. As a result, these buildings have become landmarks in modern architectural histories2 (Figure 19.1). From the broad perspective of architectural history, evolutionary sequences are part and parcel of the big narratives of many kinds of artistic production. Yet they are not without difficulty (Howe 1985: chapter IV; Wilson Jones 2014: 2-9, chapter 2). From the perspective of the seventh century, problems are plain. First, the rich and diverse architectural record reviewed by Alexander Mazarakis Ainian (this volume) confirms that local choices lay behind the erection of buildings which, while often very different in appearance, would have appeared monumental and/ or distinctive to contemporary viewers. This chapter focuses on the choices made by Corinthians in the first half of the seventh century as a case study to explore more fully the underlying processes and choices to which Mazarakis Ainian alludes. Secondly, the modern disaggregation of different art forms (sculpture, painting, architecture etc.), the fine slicing of specialist studies, and the importance attached to materials, features and forms prominent in the later Archaic and Classical record, obscures the richness of experimentation and innovation during our period (cf. Marconi [2007: 2-10] on Archaic temple decoration; Donohue [2005] on Archaic sculpture; Wilson Jones 2014: passim, noting at p.13 subdivisions even within architecture). This has direct implications for our assessment of architecture, since an anachronistic importance and assumption of influence may be assigned, implicitly or explicitly, to what with hindsight appear to be ‘advanced’ traits in a particular building (as e.g. Prost 2010: 228, 233). More generally, it runs the risk of obscuring the ways in which buildings may have been conceived and used in sanctuaries where other aspects of performance and materiality were already well established. In a period before the development of consensus about the appearance of temple buildings (i.e. the widespread adoption of the architectural orders), the question of why buildings were erected at particular sanctuaries is at least as important as why they looked as they did.3 Indeed, the two aspects are closely connected. The ‘innocent’ question of why early Greeks built temples opens discussion of factors ranging from the definition and interpretation of human and material agency to matters of tradition, innovation and memorialization. Because the use of material objects in Early Iron Age religious practice is so bound up with the expression of social structures, strategies and priorities as well as matters of religious belief, it is ideal territory on which to explore change and agency at work over long periods of time. Yet implicitly, if not explicitly, these issues have tended to be approached in simple terms of continuity or change, usually in terms of progress towards a visible Archaic or Classical goal (Morgan 1999a: 369-72; 2014; Sourvinou-Inwood 1993; for analogous discussion around Crete, see Haysom 2011; Whitley 2009b). We need to move beyond this in order to assess the materiality, meaning and adaptation of religious practice over time. 1  I thank Guy Sanders (Director, ASCSA Corinth excavations) for permission to examine unpublished pottery from Temple Hill and Ioulia Tzonnou-Herbst (Assistant Director) for practical assistance, also Karim Arafat, Chris Hayward, and Amalia Kakissis (Archivist of the British School at Athens) for information and discussion of work in progress. 2  E.g. Barletta 2001: 25-9; Coulton 1977: ch.2; Howe 1985: 272-9; more specifically, Østby 2000: 239-46; Rhodes 1984: 1-2; 2003: 85-97. Howe (1985: 241-4) and Wilson Jones (2014: 45-54) both advocate caution. 3  Wilson Jones 2014 is one of the few authors to begin from this perspective, entitling his first chapter ‘purpose and setting of the Greek temple’.

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Figure 19.1 The eastern Corinthia. (© University of Chicago Exavations at Isthmia).

This chapter is a small part of such a discussion, focused on one particular type of visible material change (see also Morgan forthcoming). It addresses temples as problematic objects to which specific but questionable historical significance is often assigned, and focuses on a case study of early Corinthian buildings in their local context. Three interconnected sets of questions are considered. First, where did the innovation lie in seventh-century Corinthian monumental construction and what questions then follow? Second, what purposes did these early cult buildings serve, how did they relate to trends in Corinthian sanctuary behaviour and ritual practice, and what did they then enable? Third, how did developments in the Corinthia relate to those in the wider world in which Corinthians were engaged? Each could fill a chapter in its own right, but it is worth considering them together given their intimate connection. Seventh-century temples in the Corinthia Innovation is in some ways the most straightforward matter, following work on the Old Temple at Corinth by Robin Rhodes (1984: noting chapter 2.2; 2003, with earlier bibliography) and Philip Sapirstein (2008), and on the Isthmia temple by Fritz Hemans (Gebhard and Hemans 1992: 25-40; Hemans 1989; 2015). In neither case was the choice or treatment of materials the most innovative feature. The idea that soft limestone was (re)discovered as a building material perhaps as late as the late eighth century, and that this discovery, underpinned by established skills in woodworking, then unlocked technological advance, has gained hold in the scholarly literature (see e.g. Brookes 1981; Rhodes 1984: 29-32 on tooling; 2003: 85-6). Yet this was implausible even when first proposed because the existence of a Late Protogeometric stone sarcophagus (grave 1933-204, east of the Asklepieion) had long been known (Weinberg 1943: 9; Dickey [1992: 25 table 4], nonetheless supporting ‘rediscovery’ at p. 33; Pfaff [2007: 526 n. 96] with revised dating; Sanders et al. 2014: 35).4 Thereafter, a 4 

For wider objections to ‘rediscovery’, see Hayward 2013; Sanders et al. 2014: 36-7.

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19. Corinthian sanctuaries and the question of cult buildings small number of sarcophagi were used especially for wealthy burials at Corinth throughout the Early Iron Age, becoming common in the second half of the eighth century, and with some hints of improvement in technique over this period (Dickey 1992: 24-36; Pfaff 2007: 526-31; Sanders et al. 2014: 34-6). A similar pattern is evident elsewhere in the region. At Kromna and Klenia large, mostly monolithic sarcophagi date back to the Early and Middle Geometric period respectively (Charitonides 1955; Tasinos 2013: 254), and were in widespread use by the seventh century (Giannopoulou et al. 2013).

Rf R Nf

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Interlocking of regular left-handed tiles

Eh

Type regular eaves ridge

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h hip

The limited surviving evidence of stone in Early Iron Age Corinthian architecture dates to the eighth century. It suggests selective use of cut stone for key members and – with great caution, since little is known of the wider town which likely extended over the lower slopes of Acrocorinth – a development towards what we see in the temple (Brookes 1981; Rhodes 1984: 2-14; Gebhard 2001: 50-3). At Isthmia, where the evidence is better preserved, the wall blocks of the Archaic Temple were plastered; innovation in cutting was directed towards their setting, with minimal trimming to ensure fit and no real dressing of surfaces which were not intended to be visible (Hemans 2015: 42-9). If this applied more widely, there would be no reason to suppose that the architectural use of stone required any greater skill than the fashioning of sarcophagi. Technological tradition aside, a stone cornice was a practical choice to support the timbering for a roof of composite tiles weighing 30-35kg Figure 19.2 Old Temple of Apollo, Corinth. Top: reconstruction of typical roof each (Sapirstein 2009: 197; Skoog conditions at the ridge, hip and edge; bottom: wall construction and junction 1998: 22-4). Masons were used to with the roof. (© top: P. Sapirstein; bottom: R. Rhodes, Corinth Excavations). cutting and manipulating larger blocks than those found in the temple (Sanders et al. 2014: 37-40). And the very elite who probably decided upon these temples and invested in them were already accustomed to dressed stone as the material of choice for their sarcophagi and for key elements of their homes (Figures 19.2-3). The temple’s tiled roof likewise presents no major problems of material or manufacture. A similar (if more refined) fabric, also with mudstone temper, was used for amphorae and before that storage jars and other coarsewares (Sapirstein 2009: 204, 225; Hemans 2015: 59; Whitbread 1995: 270-1, 293-4; noting also Pfaff [1988: 65 cat.73] 195

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Figure 19.3 Old Temple of Apollo, Corinth: top plan of the roof with one possible arrangement of the black tiles. (© P. Sapirstein).

for a Middle Geometric II hydria with mudstone temper). In their experimental studies of tile manufacture, Philip Sapirstein and Fritz Hemans have both reconstructed moulding processes with antecedents in mud-brick manufacture (Hemans 2015: 50-3; Sapirstein 2009, both with critique of Rostoker and Gebhard 1981) (Figure 19.4). Sapirsteins’s conclusion that ‘both the Corinth and Isthmia roofs could have been produced in a single potting season by a small team of fewer than 7 workers, one donkey and an ox cart’ is salutary (Sapirstein 2008: ch. 8, quotation at p. 329). He further suggests that all the composite roofs so far known – at least six, adding one more roof at Corinth, at least two at Delphi, and at least one at Perachora – required less than a decade of summertime work, with the makers probably relocating rather than keeping permanent workshops to avoid the cost of moving heavy weights overland (Sapirstein 2009: 196, with bibliography; Winter 1993: 12-18). The implications of technology transfer and mobility of craftsmen are potentially more significant in the longer term than the existence of any single building. Indeed, as Christopher Pfaff has observed, although ‘Corinth seems to have been a pioneer in the creation of terracotta roof tiles in the first half of the 7th century BC, its role in developing and spreading new designs in the latter half of the 7th century and in the 6th century appears far more limited than was once believed’ (Pfaff 2003: 111). Yet considering Corinth’s location and longstanding engagement in and around the Corinthian Gulf, one point should be emphasized. The consensus of opinion holds that Corinthian combination tiles presuppose the earlier existence of separate pan and cover tiles (see Sapirstein [2009: 198, 226 n. 95] for a summary of key references). Such tiles are found at a number of sites, from Ephesos (with a terminus ante quem of the end of the seventh century, but on ceramic evidence probably in the second quarter: Schädler and Schneider 2004: esp. 35-9) to Sparta where the first temple of Artemis Orthia is imprecisely dated to 700-650 although surely re-roofed (hence Winter’s date of 650-620 BC for the extant tiles [Winter 1993: 98-100; Skoog 1998: 45-8]), and central Italy (Wikander 1922: 158-61, with bibliography; Winter [2002: nn.1-3] rejects claims of very early tiles from Veii). They were likely developed independently. The chronology of most of these cases is less precisely established than it is in the Corinthia, but none are securely earlier than the first two Corinthian temples. Sapirstein (2008: 343-4) is surely right to identify, largely on the basis of forming techniques, the most convincing prototype for the Corinth roofs in Heiden’s Olympia roof 1 (Heiden 1995: 12-18). While most fragments of roof 1 come from much later or imprecisely datable contexts, two pan tiles were found in well SO118 (Heiden 1995: 15-16, 171-2). The latest item in the fill of this well, a helmet of the third quarter of the seventh century, forms the basis for their conventional date. However, the only secure fact is that the tiles were present before the well was closed. The helmet is a chronological outlier in the fill and there is no stronger reason to date the tiles with reference to it than to the majority of finds which date around the mid-seventh century. Heiden (1995: 15-16) in fact proposed the earlier date and associated these tiles with Corinth and Isthmia. It is therefore possible to establish a stylistic but not a chronological relationship, although on this evidence alone only a preconception of Corinthian pre-eminence dictates an east-west flow of ideas. The putative identity of the buildings may seem more persuasive, although again it is inconclusive. Heiden ascribed roof 2 to Sikyon on the grounds that two pieces were found in the foundation of the later Sikyonian treasury, and that Pausanias (6.19.2) records the construction of a treasury by Myron, tyrant of Sikyon, in the year of the 33rd Olympiad (648 BC). If correct, this indicates a date later than the Corinth temple and closer to Isthmia - and here it is worth noting the possibility of an early Archaic predecessor of the sixth-century 196

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b

a

c

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Figure 19.4 Sequence of experimental tile making at Isthmia: a) pressing the clay into a continuous mould on open ground; b) cutting the tiles after moulding; c) removing clay from the underside after the tile has been lifted; d) diagrams showing the sequence of stages. (© University of Chicago Exavations at Isthmia; illustration: F. Hemans; photographs: G. Waller).

temple at Sikyon, even though this cannot be dated precisely (Krystalli-Votsi and Østby 2014: 198-9). Heiden more cautiously linked roof 1 to Corinth, noting the record of rich Corinthian dedications at Olympia (and a treasury at Delphi), and proposed that the building occupied part of a plot cleared for the construction of the Nymphaeum, thus explaining why Pausanias did not mention it. This is plausible if unprovable, but it does not indicate a date nor does it favour any one of a range of permutations for the origins of craftsmen, materials and design even if one accepts Corinthian sponsorship. The ‘Sikyonian treasury’ implies that the tile type was in use at Olympia around the mid-seventh century, but the date of its introduction, and thus its exact relationship to the tiles of the Corinthia, remains unresolved. Nonetheless, the existence of two relatively early seventh-century structures at Olympia is interesting because as at Isthmia, it implies the addition of built space to an open air sanctuary of several centuries’ standing and widens the potential range of functions for such buildings. 197

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Figure 19.5 The Archaic and Classical temples of Poseidon, Isthmia. (© University of Chicago Exavations at Isthmia; reconstruction: F. Hemans).

Figure 19.6 Actual state plan of the Archaic temple, Isthmia, 1989. (© University of Chicago Exavations at Isthmia).

The Old Temple at Corinth and the Archaic Temple at Isthmia thus tell an interesting story about technology transfer and adaptation. But notwithstanding the evident ingenuity in solving problems of design, the key questions which follow are less concerned with technical skills than with the rationale for, and management of, the project. The unprecedented relationship between the different elements of the building must have required similarly holistic planning, mathematical understanding, co-ordination and managerial control. For example, the use of composite tiles on a hipped roof demanded precise measurement, the creation of exact moulds, wall dimensions to suit (hence the practicality of regular blocks), and rafters and cuttings adjustable to ease fit5 (Figures 19.5-6). At Isthmia, there is also the matter of the peristyle. Robin Rhodes has argued against its existence (Rhodes 1984: chapter 2.1, esp. 43-60; 2003: 92; 2007), while Gebhard and Hemans (1992: 23-40; Hemans 2015: 41-2) advance data from renewed 5 

Numerous discussions of this point include: Gebhard 2001; Hemans 1989; 2015; Howe 1985: 255-64; Rhodes 2003: 87-92; 2007; Sapirstein 2008: 321-8; 2009: 222-3; Wilson Jones 2014: 45-7.

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19. Corinthian sanctuaries and the question of cult buildings excavation in 1989 in support of Broneer’s reconstruction of the stylobate (Broneer 1971: 9-12), a case which I find persuasive. How many people were behind these projects, and what was their investment? The materials themselves may aid enquiry. For example, the oolitic limestone used at both Corinth and Isthmia can be provenanced not just to individual quarries, but to a vertical and horizontal resolution of a few tens of centimetres within them (Hayward 2003: 36-40). This allows the possibility of matching samples from individual buildings to determine how many stone sources were used and from which parts of the region, thus establishing parameters for the organization of supply. The visual impact of these buildings has been variously assessed. Rhodes (2003: 88) claimed that ‘it seems to have been at Corinth that the roof was first recognized as being an appropriate vehicle for ... further monumentalisation’. This may be true in the sense of translation to a real building, but it is less clear that it marked a conceptual change given the focus in the preceding decades on roofs as symbols. In addition to the decorated roofs of architectural models such as those from Perachora or Argos (Payne 1940: 34-51; Schattner 1990: cats 1 Argos, 6, 8 and 9 Perachora B, D and E), there are at least two instances within the ambit of Corinthian connections of what seem to be finished model roofs with no evidence of attachment to building models. The iconography of a richly decorated late eighth-century roof from the sanctuary of Poseidon at ancient Helike (Figure 20.1) has been linked by Anastasia Gadolou to ritual at the sanctuary (Gadolou 2011b; 2015: 270-4), and at Aetos on Ithaca, a perhaps slightly later roof with chequerboard decoration has been thought to represent tiles (Schattner 1990: 28-31, with bibliography; fragments reconstructed as the lower part of the building do not belong, see Morgan [2001: 196]). Importance must also be attached to the visual qualities of the building as an agalma - a monumental, valuable and permanent gift for the god. In a comment that could as well describe monumental stonework, Simonides (PMG 542, 1-3) claimed that a noble man must be ‘hand and foot alike foursquare / fashioned without flaw’. The link between beauty and aretē was universal (see e.g. Stewart 1986). The temple at Isthmia was a richly decorated hecatompedon with a hundred-foot altar, and there is every reason to assume that the Corinth temple was equally striking in context. Throughout the seventh century, the quality of monumentality was valued across a range of artistic productions, including freestanding sculpture, painting, metalwork and architecture, and was exhibited in different ways in different regions. In the case of sculpture, the result could be statues which were too big to fit into any building and were sometimes designed for a different kind of space. Cases in point are the Naxian dedications to Apollo and Artemis and the sculptures of the lion terrace at Delos, noting that the dedicatory inscription of the colossal male kouros refers to the cutting of statues and base from the same block, thus adding a feat of workmanship to the offering (D’Acunto 2008b). In other cases (as the terracotta sculptures noted below), portability was essential to an object’s capacity to set scenes for activities within sanctuaries. The direct association between temples and cult statues was for the most part a creation of the sixth century onwards, coinciding with statue commissions in precious materials such as gold and ivory likely destined for a variety of interior spaces (Lapatin 2001: 55-60). We should not automatically assume an early role for temples as housing the physical embodiment of the deity.6 Nonetheless, earlier forms of interaction between media did embody cross-cutting qualities and capacities, including monumentality and the ability to set scenes. The wallpaintings of the Archaic temple at Isthmia (Broneer 1971: 334) not only represent a new monumentality,7 but their likely position on the exterior of the building also afforded it additional capacity to set a stage for outside activity (Figure 19.5).8 This setting, if correctly interpreted, would be a key point of difference with the probably near-contemporary painted warrior frieze added to the interior of South Temple 7 at Kalapodi some 50 years after the building’s construction (Niemeier et al. 2012; Niemeier 2016) (Figures 17.9, 19.7).

6  A potential non-Ionian exception is a large piece of burnt wood found in front of a limestone base inside the west end of the cella of the Middle Geometric II South Temple 6 at Kalapodi. The excavator, Wolf-Dietrich Niemeier, interprets it as a xoanon, an early cult image in the Pausanian sense, noting also the term ‘sanis’ or plank applied by Callimachus to an early image from the Samian Heraion: Niemeier 2016 (citing Romano 1980: 250-1, see also 258 on the Geometric Heraion). In the case of the Samian Heraion, one should note that the supposed early xoanon base was found in pieces and in secondary context; its date was assumed from its findspot at the lowest foundation of the southern ante of the first Hekatompedon, and its function is a matter of supposition (Buschor and Schlief 1933: 154, 161). (I thank Georg Herdt for drawing this reference to my attention and for discussion of the problem). Whether or not the Kalapodi wood forms part of a cult feature, its interpretation as a xoanon runs counter to the current consensus of opinion on the development of the concept in ancient and modern thought (Donohue 1988; see also 47 n. 110 on the term sanis and the Samian Heraion). After the destruction and ritual burial of South Temple 6 in the late eighth century, the feature was not replicated in South Temple 7. 7  There is, however, no basis in the fragmentary preserved evidence for Broneer’s reconstruction of tall panels. The scale of the horse manes in particular imply figures c. 0.3m tall, making a frieze more plausible. The placing of the engraved warrior depictions on the cella wall of Heraion II at Samos, here accepted as a further frieze of the second quarter of the seventh century, is unclear (Freyer-Schauenburg 1974: 184-5, cat. 103). 8  Broneer (1971: 33-8) placed the paintings outside the building, albeit (as noted) not in an arrangement which can now be accepted. The findspots of the surviving fragments where known does not assist, as burnt debris of the Archaic building was cleared away and dumped. The case for an interior position rests largely on the degree of heat to which many of the surviving fragments had clearly been exposed. Further study is required: for the present, I suggest that while there is insufficient evidence to disprove Broneer’s case, there are grounds for doubt.

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Figure 19.7 Hypothetical reconstruction of the interior of the south temple at Kalapodi in the mid seventh century. (© W-D. Niemeier; reconstruction: N. Hellner).

Corinthian temples in their local context – questions of function How similar in function were the Corinth and Isthmia temples, given that their physical and likely cult settings were so different? After an eighth-century expansion of cult places across the Corinthia, accompanied by an increase in the range and wealth of offerings (Bookidis 2003: 247-53), there was a selective addition of buildings at Isthmia and in central Corinth. Here I set aside the significantly smaller and poorly preserved so-called temple of Hera Akraia at Perachora (Mazarakis Ainian 1997: 63-4), the Early Iron Age date of which has been challenged,9 and a structure at Solygeia which should be reconstructed (at least as pertains to our period) as a peribolos rather than the archaizing, megaron-like building proposed by the excavator Nicholas Verdelis (Lorandou-Papantoniou [1999: 23-36] summarizes Verdelis with revised chronology; Morgan 1999a: 414-15 with bibliography; Mazarakis Ainian 1997: 65-7). It was not automatically the case that a rich or otherwise prominent cult site would be an early target for monumental development, or that monumentalization guaranteed that a site would remain a focus of investment. Perachora, for example, received substantially richer offerings during the eighth century than Isthmia or Corinth (Tomlinson 1990). Equally, very different spatial configurations continued to be adopted for shrines in and near the Corinthia long after the first temples were built. At Solygeia, a small roofed structure was added to the peribolos probably in the sixth century, and may have been linked to cult activity (Mazarakis Ainian 1997: 66-7). At Bouri, Alepochori, near ancient Pagai on the coast of the Halcyonic Gulf, the seventh- and sixth-century shrine featured a small rectangular building surrounded by a Π-shaped peribolos open to the sea, with in front of it four altars on a pebble pavement. The volume of portable finds (figurines, handmade pottery and jewellery) is notable, and the excavator rightly compares it with Perachora along the coast.10 9 

Menadier (1995: 77-8, 116-17) identifies a discrepancy between Payne’s report (1940: 29) that the single surviving (north) wall of the temple cut through an Early Helladic deposit (leading him to state explicitly that the wall is not Early Helladic), and de Jong’s section drawing (Payne 1940: pl.139) where the prehistoric stratum is shown above the level of the wall foundation. The excavation notebook, BSA Excavation Records Perachora 1, contains only Payne’s draft narrative (at pp. 33-43) in which he states that the Geometric builders levelled the site of an abandoned EH settlement and dug the foundations for the temple into an EH level: he argues the wall cannot be EH because the existence of EH pottery to its full surviving height would mean that it lacked a foundation. This last point is not entirely convincing, but equally, in the absence of a contemporary trench record, de Jong’s drawing could be interpreted as showing occasional redeposition over the foundation of a levelled building. The surviving archive does not permit any firm conclusion. 10  ArchDelt 55 (2000) B1: 92-4, noting a later sixth- and fifth-century shrine 800m to the west; ArchDelt 60 (2005) B1: 124-6.

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19. Corinthian sanctuaries and the question of cult buildings The decision to build monumental temples in central Corinth and at Isthmia should be set into a context of differences within the Corinthia, of local communities of cult variously bound into regional structures - a situation which became ever more complex as new cults and cult places appeared from the latter part of the seventh century onwards (see e.g. Anderson-Stojanović 2002; Bookidis 2003: 252-4; Kopestonsky 2009: 25; Tofi 2004; Williams 1978). Hence, for example, the Penteskouphia plaque reporting, according to Rudolf Wachter’s reading (Wachter 2001: 151-2), Περαεοθεννιϙομεσ[...?] (‘we have won [a prize] from Peraia’); also, the localization of some artefact styles but not others. Terracotta figurines, for example, while generally rare in the Corinthia before the late seventh century and the beginning of mould-made production, were intended mostly for cult use. They show marked local differences in types and production closely linked to local cult preferences (Merker 2003; Thomsen 2015). In the city of Corinth, monumental buildings marked two major poles of the settlement. In the south, a composite tile from the Middle Terrace of the sanctuary of Demeter and Kore indicates a major building of which we know nothing further (Bookidis and Stroud 1997: 53, 256, 465-6 cat. 68). It was found in a mixed deposit and there are no further architectural remains with which it can be associated. Temple Hill to the north is a landmark prominent from all major approach roads into the city, its lines sharpened by quarrying which likely began long before the construction of the Temple of Apollo (Hayward 2004; Sanders et al. [2014: 37-8] suggest that the Panayia field sarcophagi may have been cut from the north edge of the terrace on which the temple stands). Following substantial Neolithic to Early Helladic settlement and terracing on and around the hill, residual evidence of Late Geometric/ Early Protocorinthian cult activity is preserved in two deposits – a pocket of material north of the sixth-century temple foundations which includes working chips from the Old Temple, and a large dump of debris from the first temple fire (including architectural members, pottery and damaged votives) on the north side of Temple Hill, over another working chip layer (Robinson 1976a: 209-12, 216-17; 1976b: 242, 244-5). The early material clearly indicates cult activity predating the temple by some 50 years. The pottery sequence begins c. 750 and largely consists of drinking vessels (see Appendix below), while a series of tripods, bronze vessels and ornaments starts with a mid eighth-century tripod leg, contemporary with the earliest tripods at Isthmia, and an eighth- or seventh-century spear-point (Robinson 1976a: 216-17, pl. 56; Bookidis 2003: 248-50). Such dedications were a departure for Corinthians, but once they subscribed to a form of elite display popular around the Gulf, it is not surprising that they chose to display tripods prominently in the city as well as at Isthmia and major foreign sanctuaries - tripods were implicated in elite networking on many levels (Morgan 1999a: 405-6; Papalexandrou 2005: chapter 1). The choice of Temple Hill rather than the sanctuary of Demeter and Kore, where surviving early offerings comprise small items of bronze jewellery (Pfaff 1999: 112-15; Bookidis and Stroud 1997: 16-17), may reflect the visibility of a location which was a nexus of traffic (setting aside ongoing debate about the location of the agora). Some 75 years after the construction of the temple, a main east-west road was laid across the north slope of the hill, and throughout the seventh century houses were built on the south side, at the south end of the later Forum, near the Sacred Spring, and then the large house in the Traders’ Complex on the Lechaion road (Robinson 1976a: 212-15, fig. 5; Pfaff 2003: 138). Cult activity in the area of what was to become the Heroon of the Crossroads also began during the seventh century (Williams 1978: 80, 85-7). There was thus a growing pull north in the urban plan, culminating in the construction late in the sixth century of the Great Temple, the largest in the city, near the Gymnasium (Pfaff 2003: 115-19). Much more could be said about the process of urban development, for example with the construction of the first fortification (Frederiksen 2013 and in this volume), but this is beyond the immediate scope of this chapter. Other than being a divine landmark what was the Corinth temple for? Certain of the functions which it fulfilled by the time of its destruction in 580/70 are securely attested only relatively late in its life. One such is its association with religious documents, notably an inscribed sacred calendar of c. 600 BC preserved on the exterior faces of a corner block from the temple wall (perhaps adjacent to a door or window),11 and a lead tablet which may have formed part of the temple archive (Robinson 1976a: 230-1; 1976b: 248, 250; SEG XXXII: 358, 359; Bookidis and Stroud 2004: 40910). Another suggestion, arising especially from Periander’s proclamation that a fine consecrated to Apollo would be imposed on anyone who received his son (Hdt. 3.52), is that the temple held the depository for such monies (Bookidis and Stroud 2004: 405 with previous bibliography). We cannot know when these associations came into being. Nonetheless, the fact that the interior walls were stuccoed and painted in blocks of colour (Robinson 1976a: 228; 1976b: 248-9, fig.10) implies that the building (as that at Kalapodi noted above) was designed to be seen from the inside, and thus to house something. The dispersal of the debris following the destruction of the temple makes it impossible to determine the spatial distribution of categories of artefact in and around the building. Nonetheless, 11  Rhodes (2003: 88) allows the possibility of entirely stone walls, but notes the likelihood of a mudbrick superstructure on a substantial stone socle. The position (and visibility) of an inscription on stone wall blocks is thus of some interest, especially as the full extent of the text is unknown.

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Catherine Morgan it is tempting to link it to the costly dedications (relatively new to Corinthians) previously set in the open air at this prominent city-centre shrine. In this respect one might compare the somewhat later circumstances of Delphi, a town of some three hectares and with over two centuries’ experience of open-air dedications (including large metal items such as tripods) by the time that a peribolos was built to define and enlarge the sanctuary area in c. 580-70 BC (Morgan 2003: 122-3). Immediately prior to this, there is evidence of a high level of domestic wealth at least in some parts of the town: the well-preserved floor deposits of the Maison Rouge, with their significant metalwork, are among the richest and best preserved discoveries to date (Luce 2008: 65-75). The construction of Peribolos I marked a major reorganization of the town centre, and its relationship to a significant number of early sixth-century cult buildings is therefore of interest (Luce 2008: 95-104). Earlier public buildings are represented by at least two roofs of Protocorinthian composite tiles as noted above, both slightly later than those from the Corinthia (Le Roy [1967: 22-8] lists the early tiles in series 1-4, dated according to typology in the absence of useful context). One roof is associated with the so-called treasury of Kypselos (Hdt. 1.14), implying a seventh-century Corinthian dedication. But tiles are the only closely datable physical evidence which can be cited in support of a pre-sixth-century temple (Le Roy 1967: 27-8; Luce [2008: 100] summarises previous discussion). The association remains controversial, but there is a case for a seventh-century temple of some kind, noting the growing flow of lavish international offerings including precious metal vessels from the likes of Midas and Gyges (Luce 2008: 111-14; Aurigny 2010 and in this volume). This would in itself be a shift from the open-air dedications left within the eighth-century settlement, but the extent of replanning early in the sixth century is a major qualitative change, underlining the extent to which the urban context had become restrictive. At Isthmia, by contrast, the temple was inserted into a context of ritual performance almost four centuries old, but one where the preserved evidence indicates conspicuous display of valuables only from the mid-eighth century onwards (Morgan 1998; 1999a: chapters III.2, III.3). No floor surfaces remain intact within the temple cella and pronaos, and there is no contextual evidence for the contents of the building in its early years (Gebhard and Hemans 1992: 38-9). Evidence of the temple’s function by the time of its destruction by fire (at some point between 470 and 450 BC) comes from deposits left inside when it was cleared. These include a few objects dating back as early as the late eighth or early seventh century (Gebhard 1998). The building held inter alia large metal offerings such as armour and chariot fittings, at least some of which had previously been displayed outside; old offerings for recycling and materials to repair precious objects; very valuable items; oil and probably wine in amphorae; and pottery shapes which relate inter alia to the consumption of food and drink, including the small plain handmade jugs stored in the cella during the seventh century (Arafat 2003). Certain functions likely developed during the intervening two centuries, when monumental metal offerings reached a peak and the Isthmian games drew crowds (Gebhard 2002: 228-30; Risser 2015). A coin hoard, for example, may represent the remnants of monies paid to the sanctuary and stored in the temple (Houghtalin 2015). The building added capacity to supply and manage resources, and to plan ahead between festivals. But was this the initial motive for the construction or were opportunities seized thereafter? Trends in the votive record in the decades immediately preceding the temple may shed light on this problem. Consumption of food and drink was a basic activity throughout the life of the sanctuary. Provision for it in the ceramic record is particularly clear in successive series of Protogeometric high-footed cups, Geometric flat-based cups, and from the mid-eighth century, protokotylai and kotylai (Morgan 1999a: 261-6; Appendix below). In the sense that these vessel types show a high degree of formal similarity and no significant variation in size or proportion (assessed via the proxy of rim diameter, given the similarity in preserved profiles), we may regard them as standardized (see Kotsonas [2014a: esp. 15-16] on the difficulties surrounding this term).12 Quantification of the ceramic assemblage shows that the number of drinking vessels deposited decade by decade in the period until the late eighth century may have remained constant (see Appendix below; Morgan 2011a: 14-17). However, after the early developmental stages (when there are chronologically diagnostic differences in rim treatment), it is impossible reliably to disaggregate kotyle rims, handles and bases of the Early and Middle Protocorinthian I periods from the general mass of Archaic pottery in mixed and multiply redeposited contexts (Morgan 1999a: 21-4; on the Archaic deposits, K. Arafat pers. comm.). Thus trends cannot be documented with the same precision during the probable period of temple planning and construction. In this respect, the stratified deposits from Temple Hill offer particularly important insights into a transition obscured by the nature of deposits at Isthmia. The material record suggests that while advantage was quickly taken to store equipment in the temple between festivals, there was no obvious initial pressure for this. Coarse, cookware and amphora body sherds are difficult to date in mixed deposits (Morgan 1999a: 289-91), and while one might speculate that the appearance in the mid-eighth century of the first Risser (2015: 90-94) addresses similar questions of standardization and serving size with reference to later Archaic and Classical pottery from the Archaic Reservoir at Isthmia, arguing that the sanctuary authorities commissioned standard-sized vessels in sets.

12 

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19. Corinthian sanctuaries and the question of cult buildings independently datable, SOS and Corinthian amphorae would have made longer term storage in a building advantageous, this cannot be tested (Morgan 2013: 249). In the fineware assemblage, however, there are hints of changing attitudes to the organization of provision. As noted, the capacity of drinking vessels may be assessed in a sherd assemblage via the proxy of rim diameter. There is a consistently small variation in the median rim size within each open vessel series from the eleventh to the eighth century, although a wider spread among non-standard forms, especially around the time of the switch from one handled cups to kotylai as the favoured form at the sanctuary (see Appendix). On this measure there was no fundamental change in portion size after 750, ‘portion’ here being defined as the capacity of a vessel to hold a particular quantity of a consumable. Thus there is no evidence of conspicuous access to more consumables via larger containers. However, a larger proportion of kraters in the assemblage from the mid-eighth century may imply fragmentation into more serving groups, more varied vessel decoration may be an expression of social differentiation, and a rapid diminution in the size of pouring vessels may suggest a more general function to dispense smaller quantities and/or precious liquids. As Arafat (2003: 28) suggests, the plain juglets later concentrated in the temple may have been dippers, perhaps holding a single portion, used to serve from a krater. One coincident factor which may help to explain these changes is a growth in settlement in the immediate vicinity of the temenos and in the wider area especially of Kromna (after 700), for which Isthmia would be the closest major sanctuary (Morgan 1999a: 409; Tartaron et al. 2006: 494-513; Tasinos 2013: 254-6; noting also the existence of small local shrines). But the main change at Isthmia itself, as at Corinth, is the appearance of monumental bronze dedications in the mid-eighth century. By contrast with a sanctuary like Olympia, which by this time had managed large quantities of bronze for over 200 years, this was a new phenomenon which presaged greater differentiation in the value and size of offerings. It coincided with a phase of wealth display in Corinth’s cemeteries, noting that individual outstandingly wealthy graves continued to appear throughout the Archaic and Classical periods (Morgan 1998; further evidence from c. 750 BC onwards has been discovered in more recent rescue excavation: see Morgan 2013: 250; ArchDelt 56-59 [2001-2004] B4: 156-8; http://chronique.efa.gr ID 2492, 3803). At Isthmia, the temple also came to serve as a richly decorated backdrop for outside display, with arms and armour (among other large dedications) set up around it (Jackson 1992), and a monumental tripod and perirrhanterion by its entrance (Broneer 1971: 11-12; Sturgeon 1987: 14-61; Raubitschek 1998: pl. 49, see cat. 304).13 Ideas and choices – the case of the Corinthian Gulf As is clear from Alexander Mazarakis Ainian’s review in this volume, the two temples in the Corinthia were probably the first of a number of seventh-century buildings in the Peloponnese. Yet they were far from the earliest temples in regions with which Corinthians were in close contact. The range of models and ideas about the form and role of built structures in cult sites accessible to Corinthians is thus of some interest. Indeed, consideration of more local developments in the years immediately preceding the construction of the early Corinthian temples serves to balance previous emphasis on Egyptian and other eastern influences (reviewed in relation to the Corinthia by Gebhard 2001). Corinth’s networks extended widely into the Aegean, central Greece, the Peloponnese, and southern and central Italy. In the context of this chapter, it is possible to make only indicative reference to selected examples. Connections along the Corinthian Gulf (extending out to the Ionian Islands) are chosen for the diversity of the evidence with which the Corinthian elite would likely have been familiar (see also Gadolou, this volume). The Corinthian Gulf was a zone of complex cultural and economic interactions. It was at once an essential east–west sea route, the point at which the few main north–south land routes through central Greece disgorge (drawing even ostensibly distant sites such as Kalapodi into this milieu), and the maritime outlet essential to sustain the mountain economies of the north-central Peloponnese and south-central Greece (Bonnier 2014; Freitag 1999). The networks of exchange and dependency thus created underpinned notable developments in temple design and decoration in late Archaic and early Classical times. Note, for example, the wide connections to east and west evident in the terracotta sculpture of the Archaic temple of Poseidon at Nikoleika (ancient Helike) built c. 560/50 (Kolia 2014), or the close similarity between the heads of warriors from the gigantomachy pediments of the temple of Aphaia on Aegina and that on the acropolis of ancient Rhypes (Trapeza hill) (Ohly 1976: pl. 116, west VII from west pediment II; http://chronique.efa.gr ID 897 [A. Vordos]). Consider too the connections which facilitated the transport of materials for temple construction in the Arkadian mountains, and the way in which similarities in techniques and proportions point to the movement of craftsmen, ideas and technical knowledge in circuits variously linking Olympia and Delphi with Arkadia, the Corinthia and the Argolid (e.g. Morgan 2003: 155-62; Østby 1990-1; 2005). This is later evidence,14 but Gulf networks went far back 13  Gebhard (2001: 42 n. 8) and Gebhard and Hemans (1992: 36) note that the perirrhanterion substantially predates the base on which it rested at the time of the temple fire, and must therefore have been moved at some point in the second half of the sixth century. 14  The similarity between architectural models from Perachora and Tegea is one earlier example particularly relevant to this chapter (Nordquist 2005).

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Catherine Morgan and Corinthians were fully engaged in them (Morgan 2003: 213-22; see also Gadolou, this volume). The builders of the first temple of Apollo could have observed a wide variety of buildings intended as offerings and to contain or help to articulate religious performance at sanctuaries. Local circumstances varied greatly, but many ideas and visual traits crossed political boundaries. To illustrate this, let us briefly consider three contrasting cult places in regions variously connected to the Gulf zone which have buildings predating the first temple at Corinth. Aetos, Ithaca We begin on Ithaca, in the northwestern approaches to the Gulf. At Aetos, construction of the rectangular cult Building E at some point in the seventh century followed several centuries of Early Iron Age ritual activity within and around the elite central houses in the settlement (Symeonoglou 2002: 24-52; Morgan 2011b: 114-15) (Figure 19.8). The identification of this area as the location of ritual Figure 19.8 Aetos: principal activity throughout the EIA is Protogeometric to seventh-century clear. From the late eighth century buildings in the cairns area. onwards, a growing wealth and (© N. Symeonoglou). range of votives was deposited outside these buildings, although activity likely continued inside too, not least because Aetos has produced an exceptional range of lighting equipment (some with ritual imagery) presumably for interior and/or nocturnal activity (Morgan 2011b: 117). Whether or not any EIA structure should be termed a cult building is a debatable point, but by the time of the construction of Building E, the case for formal religious architecture is clear. Smaller dedications also included the (probably early) seventh-century model roof noted above and a later model column capital (Morgan 2001: 195-6; 2011b: 115, fig. 3). At the same time, a growing volume and diversity of offerings was deposited in a rock shelter in Polis bay, the most northerly point on the island regularly visible from the Aetos acropolis. The eighth-century tripods are perhaps the best known dedications at Polis, but they were followed from the seventh century onwards by arms and armour and bronze vessels, and in general a range of votives which complemented rather than simply duplicating the record at Aetos.15 These remained exposed at a semi-open site, but under the protection of a large terracotta sphinx of the second quarter of the seventh century (Benton 1934-5; 1942; Kourou 2002b: 29-31; Morgan 2008). This sphinx is a reminder that large, more or less portable terracottas were widely used in religious contexts: they interacted with buildings erected for cult purposes but were not confined to them (see Kourou 2002b; Moustaka 2002). The relationship between the imagery used in the visual construction of a sacred space and the decoration of religious buildings was complex and variable. Building E was thus erected at Aetos for religious purposes during the seventh century against a background of increasing and probably competitive investment in long-standing patterns of dedication. Although only part of Morgan 2011b. A programme to complete publication of all previous British School fieldwork in northern Ithaca (in collaboration with the Ephorate of Antiquities of Kephallonia) includes a restudy of the Polis Cave combining analysis of the artefacts (C. Morgan) and the physical setting (C. Hayward).

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19. Corinthian sanctuaries and the question of cult buildings its simple rectangular cella foundation survives, Building E was the largest dedication yet offered within an area which was a well-established context for household-based worship. While it is tempting to equate this sequence of events with the idea of the temple as the successor to the ruler’s dwelling (Mazarakis Ainian 1997: 340-9), there is no evidence to establish how many households were involved, or the degree of consensus behind the erection of the building and thus the power structures implicated. The complementary pattern of dedication at Polis indicates substantial investment from Aetos as the main settlement. Elsewhere there is evidence of Archaic activity at Vathy in the south (its nature is as yet unclear: Livitsanis 2013: 103), but only slight traces of mostly later seventh-century settlement in the Polis area (the first post-Bronze Age activity in the north). There is no evidence for monumental building elsewhere on the island during our period. That the elite of Aetos played a decisive role in shaping the material form of religious expression across the island into the seventh century seems clear, but the mechanisms by which this was effected are not. Thermon Thermon in central Aetolia offers a contrasting case of short–medium term changes in perceptions of ritual space. The site lies to the northeast of Lake Trichonis on a plain enclosed by mountains, but with access to the main passes and river routes (via the Acheloos and Evinos) down to the Gulf and inland to the mountainous centres of Aetolia and Evrytania (Papapostolou 2008: 3-4). The significance of this general area as a crossroads is reflected in the wealth of Protogeometric and Geometric activity. At Thermon, the elite residence Megaron B is exceptional in its regional context, and there is at present no trace of settlement around it (Papapostolou 2008: 160-3, 253-64). Elsewhere, large cemeteries (perhaps serving a scattered population) indicate the presence of a prosperous society with a very wealthy elite. At Stamna to the southwest of the lake, the most recent study includes some 500 tombs in 30 groups extending for almost 8km along a ridge which runs towards the Gulf coast by Aitoliko (Christakopoulou 2001; Christakopoulou-Somakou 2009; see also Stavropoulou-Gatsi 1980; 2011). At the head of the Gulf of Aitoliko, the 109 Late Protogeometric burials so far excavated in the Kephalovrysi-Stamna tumulus include three cremations in bronze lebetes with rich textile remains (Kolonas n.d.). Clearly, therefore, during the centuries preceding our period wealthy local elites made lavish displays of their wealth, chiefly in funerary rites, but in the case of Thermon in the form of a residence. The subsequent fate of the site of Megaron B is our point of interest. During the c. 170-year interval between the destruction of Megaron B in the late ninth or early eighth century and the construction of the first temple of Apollo c. 630 BC, the area within the walls of the ruined building was adapted exclusively for cult purposes

Figure 19.9 Thermon: the sacred area and the ash altar in relation to the remains of Megaron B. (© Archaeological Society of Athens; Plan: A. Gounaris).

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Catherine Morgan (see Papapostolou [2008: 190-223] for a full account of the sequence). The rear room of Megaron B was re-roofed to create a support building, perhaps a store or treasury, which functioned until the construction of the Archaic sekos. In the front area of the former building, which remained open, a large terracotta-floored ash altar was established for holocaust sacrifices. Bothroi (some stone-lined) were later opened to the north and south of the altar to receive offerings - metal items, but also animal sacrifices given the fatty earth and bones contained within them. Interventions for maintenance aside, cult-related constructions underwent significant change notably in the early seventh century (Figure 19.9). At this time the rear room was completely rebuilt and a new floor laid between it and the altar. A row of slabs around the remaining sides of the altar defined a sacred area. Remains of a different form of sacrificial practice are represented in a ‘black’ layer partially preserved between these slabs on the west side. This contained votives and debris of the more usual, non-holocaustic, form of animal sacrifice for which a rock outcrop south of the complex evidently served as the altar. A third early seventh-century focus of offerings was an unworked (and non-local) stone set up in front of the ash altar, in immediate contact with the older bothros. The construction of the Archaic temple of Apollo erased these various structures. Plainly, there was no simple transition between the elite residence Megaron B and the Archaic temple, nor did built space play a continuous or consistent role in cult practice. Whether memory of the previous residents of Megaron B affected the decision to use not only its location but its exact footprint is unclear, although there is no evidence to indicate ancestor or hero cult (Papapostolou 2008: 213-16). But the variety of sacrificial practices raises the question of how many deities and social groups were involved, in what combination and over what geographical extent (Papapostolou 2008: 24776). If the sanctuary was of wide regional significance, how and why was the decision taken to end the use of the various focuses of cult and erase the remnants of Megaron B by the construction of a new temple? To answer these questions would require a complete new study and more evidence than is currently available. Here I simply note the changes in thinking about space, sacrifice and building within a small area, an important phase of which coincided with the construction of the Old Temple at Corinth. Ancient Helike (Nikoleika) As Anastasia Gadolou remarks in her chapter on Achaia in this volume, the first peripteral temple on the Greek mainland was that of Artemis Aontia at Ano Mazaraki, built during the second half of the eighth century (Figure 17.11). The second monumental Achaian temple, an apsidal building with a prostoon, in mud brick on a stone socle and with a thatched roof and wooden columns, was erected at ancient Helike (modern Nikoleika) at the very end of the eighth century or the beginning of the seventh (Kolia 2011: 228-31). This second temple is the focus of our discussion. Cult activity at the Helike sanctuary dates back to the Protogeometric period. No building of this period survives, but the excavator raises the possibility that there may have been a construction at the east end of the temple, where a large quantity of Protogeometric pottery was found, which was destroyed when the site was levelled for the temple (Kolia 2011: 221). The earliest surviving feature, s t a monumental altar built of alternating layers of redr o brown mudbrick and buff soil, dates to the late ninth or Sp d early eighth century (Kolia 2011: 213 fig. 15, 231-4). This n a was in use from the first half of the eighth century, to re u judge from the contents of the related ash layer which lt u include, in addition to votives, animal bones and sherds C f mainly of drinking and cooking vessels which help to yo r characterize the activities performed (Kolia 2011: 217st i 20, 225, 234-6) (Figure 19.10). in

y op

ri

C

t gh

l el

H

cM

i en

By contrast with the treatment that must have been accorded to any putative Protogeometric structure, when the temple was built the altar was sealed over with two thin layers of clay and buried in its entirety beneath the centre of the building. Major landscaping was required to bury the altar to its full depth, raise the surrounding ground level and stabilize the fill with a retaining wall (Kolia 2011: 207-10). It is likely that a replacement altar would have been built (not least since the votive record continued unbroken, including the roof models noted above), but this has not yet been

Figure 19.10 Ancient Helike: Geometric temple, axonometric reconstruction. (©: E. Kolia: Hellenic Ministry of Culture and Sports).

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19. Corinthian sanctuaries and the question of cult buildings located. It is clear that the temple was not an isolated structure: the wall of a further Geometric building of unknown function was exposed on a further plot to the east (Kolia 2011: 228). However, under the circumstances of rescue excavation on limited plots of land, the extent or nature of surrounding structures cannot be determined. The Geometric temple incorporated the sanctity of the established altar and enhanced it, emphasizing continuity with a pre-existing focus of cult. By contrast, the Archaic temple that replaced the Geometric structure when it fell into disuse was on a different site (as must have been any seventh-century altar). Architectural spolia, tiles and terracottas from a temple and perhaps two further structures dating c. 560-50 were found on a plot immediately to the north of the Geometric temple. While the location and plan of these structures have yet to be revealed, the destruction debris indicates that they stood until the fourth century and likely until the earthquake of 373 BC (Kolia 2011: 227-8; 2014). Attitudes which prioritized the sanctity of place were therefore susceptible to change in the medium term. As both Anastasia Gadolou (this volume) and the site excavator, Erophile Kolia note (Kolia 2011: 203-4), the Geometric and Archaic temples lay within the territory, and likely the urban centre, of Helike. Homer lists Helike among the cities of the kingdom of Agamemnon that sent ships to Troy (Il. 2.575; along with Pellene, Gonoussa, Hyperesia/ Aegeira and Aigion), and twice mentions its sanctuary of Poseidon Helikonios (Il. 8.203, 20.404). Helike, as a Gulf city, thus bears comparison with Corinth. The architecture of the temple drew on that of its immediate predecessor, the temple of Artemis Aontia at Ano Mazaraki, forming part of an emerging Achaian architectural circle parallel to, and somewhat earlier than, that in the Corinthia. Conclusions In comparison with their neighbours around the Gulf, Corinthians may have used their local stone supplies to build differently, but their actions formed part of a complex spectrum of thought about buildings, ritual and space. Key questions in all cases centre on who commissioned the buildings – how many people were engaged in decision making and of what social standing – how were designs decided and materials organized? Were these interests the same in all three Corinthian cases or was there a different balance involved in each? Perhaps because of their place in arguments about the rise of the polis, the assumption that ‘temple’ buildings were by definition state structures seems to have lingered longer in our period than in later times. Hence, for example, Isthmia has been seen as the Kypselid answer to the Bacchiad temples in Corinth, and tyranny as a characteristic type of early patronage (Howe [1985: 273-9] is hardly alone in this respect). Yet this is a superficial or at least partial answer when we can see a longer term process of thought about what buildings could do and mean, even though their local significance within the early Corinthia remains open to discussion. The development of the Doric order by 600 BC reflects a consensus view of the proper appearance of a temple in this part of Greece and was built upon local circuits of craft mobility. As noted at the start of this chapter, technology per se has sometimes been seen as a driver, yet we are rather looking at technological choices - decisions to innovate within an established tradition or to adopt and adapt new ideas to meet a particular need. Corinthians looked to soft limestone because it was an adaptable and readily available local material. The skills to work it were well established, and it was already used for the purposes of the local elite. But it would be a mistake to transpose to local limestone working assumptions about the scale of work and the status of craftsmen derived from marble quarrying: most masons who worked this stone likely had multiple other occupations (Hayward 2013: 75-7). It is understandable that the appearance of the complete Doric order c. 600 BC should be seen as a major event in architectural history, given its subsequent influence on the development of Roman and wider western architecture. For some architectural historians, the origins of the Doric order are akin to the beginnings of architecture and the meaning and laws of architectural form. Yet as this chapter has shown, it is wrong to work back from the visual ‘clothing’ in which monumental structures came to be dressed – the appearance of the Doric order reflects a set of decisions rooted in time and place, and is best understood in its late seventh-century context. Likewise, Marconi (2007: 8) draws attention to the revolution in decoration of the entablature and roof which took place c. 630-600 BC. In the same way, the buildings and technologies considered in this chapter must be understood first and foremost in their contemporary contexts. It is not unusual to find major building projects linked to political circumstances: thus, for example, Prost (2010: 233) accepts the Corinth temple as Bacchiad rather than tyrannical but argues that it must have involved the whole city because of its size and monumentality. Yet this confuses qualities which add an important dimension to the meaning of the offering with the practicality of construction. Untangling these threads and laying out the implications of each project in terms of practice, innovation and craft connectivity is the challenge addressed here.

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Catherine Morgan Appendix: A comparison of late eighth- to early seventh-century ceramic assemblages from Temple Hill, Corinth, and the Sanctuary of Poseidon at Isthmia 1. Temple Hill, Corinth: deposit north of the sixth-century temple foundation Robinson (1976a: 211-12) reports that the oldest Iron Age stratum (a sloping deposit c. 0.03m deep) was exposed between 8 and 11m north of the sixth-century temple foundations. It contained mixed Neolithic, Early Helladic, and Late Geometric–Early ProtocorinthianAPPENDIX FIGS  pottery, including the almost complete oinochoe C70-81 (Robinson 1976a: pl. 54c) along with limestone working chips from the temple construction.   The deposit is represented primarily in three pottery lots (thePre‐temple deposit: total percentage of material discarded after initial processing is recorded in the Corinth Excavation Lot books); 6420 (90% discarded), 6421 (50% discarded), and 6426 (75%). The earliest Iron Age material comprises some five flat-based cups (Lot 6426), a vessel form which continued unchanged from Early Geometric to Middle Geometric II and perhaps slightly later. These cups might thus coincide with the earliest tripod from Temple Hill (Morgan 1999a: 263-4, as cat. 231). The latest closely datable sherds are ray-based kotylai (Lot 6421) which could belong in Middle Protocorinthian but no later than 675Storage/transport BC. The three lots are combined in the following profile (giving a total of 654 sherds), noting that sherds from the oinochoe C70-81 Cookware were found from top to bottom in the deposit. Table

storage/serving The high proportion of drinking vessels, accompanied by pouring and serving, compares closely with Isthmia, Small closed while the presence of storage/transport vessels and a little cookware reflects our capacity to date such wares in a Cups stratified context. For comparison with domestic ceramics, see the MGII-LG well 1981-6 (Pfaff 1988). The assemblage is broadly consistent over the 50-75 years in question, although with a clear increase in sherd Kraters numbers from the Unknown late eighth century affecting larger, more robust vessels as well as easily broken kotylai. However, disaggregation of the figures into broad chronological phases (eighth-century sherds, late eighth- or early seventh-century, and seventh-century) reveals a marked decline in larger table vessels (for pouring and storage) and the appearance APPENDIX FIGS  of small vessels (conical oinochoae and small plain jugs) on the transition from the eighth to seventh centuries.   The transitional peak in cups is probably misleading since it likely reflects the difficulty of close dating across the late eighth/early seventh centuries. Amphorae, plain closed vessels and cookwares cannot be placed precisely. The   Pre‐temple deposit: total majority of sherds classified as ‘unknown’ 19.11 are handles which could belong to open or closed shapes.

GS 

Pre‐temple deposit: total

PENDIX FIGS 

e deposit: total

   

Pre‐temple deposit: total

Pre‐Temple deposit: by phase

300 250 200 150 100 50 0

Storage/transport

e/transport 11 

e/serving

CookwareStorage/transport Table storage/serving

Cookware  

Small closed Cookware

Table storage/serving

8th

Cups Kraters Unknown Table storage/serving

Small closed

Cups

Kraters

19.12       

Small closed   Unknown

Cups

8th

Kraters

Unknown

Late 8th/e7th

7th

undated 7th Late 8th/e7th

undated

 

 

19.11  Cups Kraters Unknown       Pre‐Temple deposit: by phase 2. Temple Hill, Corinth: temple fire debris deposited north of the sixth-century temple foundation

Small closed

Pre‐Temple deposit: by phase

Robinson (1976a: 216-17) reports that an artificial fill laid over the road across the north side of Temple Hill consisted Pre‐Temple deposit: by phase largely of debris from the fire which destroyed the Old Temple (i.e. architectural remains, fragments of bronze deposit: by phase votives including the earliest tripods, and undated pottery). This debris was quickly used to extend the temenos and create 7th a 300 working area for the construction ofLate 8th/e7th the new temple: a stratum related to construction activity (i.e. containing 8th 250 working chips) lay over it and contained pottery readily distinguishable for not being burned.

0 0 0 0 0 0 0

12 

200 150 100 50 0

8th

Late 8th/e7th

undated 7th

7th Late 8th/e7th

undated

 

8th

undated 7th 208 Late 8th/e7th

 

8th

undated 7th Late 8th/e7th

 

Temple fire debris: total 19. Corinthian sanctuaries and the question of cult buildings The following lots contain pottery from the debris layer: 6893, 6896, 7139, 72-157, 72-165, 72-166, 72-169, 72-177. This pottery spans the life of the temple (with some later intrusion) and mostly dates to its later phases (with large numbers of aryballoi and conical oinochoae present). A total of 37 early sherds (pre-675 BC, as above) were scattered through the majority of lots: none securely predates the last quarter of the eighth century. The overall picture is APPENDIX FIGS    closely similar to that of the pre-temple deposit above: the main difference (of doubtful significance given the much smaller sample size) is the higher proportion of EPC+ conical oinochoae (best interpreted as offerings). On the Pre‐temple deposit: total disappearance of kraters after c. 700, see the discussion of Isthmia below.

S 

Storage/transport

Cookware

Table storage/serving

Small closed

Cups

Kraters

Unknown

Pre‐temple deposit: total Both deposits date to the period immediately after the plain cup sequences which dominate the record at Isthmia, 19.13  and in both there is a notable range of decoration which would merit a full study. deposit: total  

Temple fire debris: total

Temple fire debris: by phase

14 12 10 8 6 4 2 0

ransport

Cookware

transport

Cookware  

serving

7th 8th

Storage/transport Cookware Table storage/serving Small closed Table storage/serving Small closed Cups Kraters Unknown Table storage/serving

Small closed

Cups

Kraters

Unknown

19.11  Cups Kraters Unknown       Temple fire debris: by phase

Small closed

Cups

Kraters

Unknown

 

    8th

Late 8th/e7th

7th

undated

 

19.14  Pre‐Temple deposit: by phase   3. The Sanctuary of Poseidon at Isthmia

Pre‐Temple deposit: by phase

The Early Iron Age sanctuary at Isthmia has produced 18,388 sherds weighing 85,889g (a low weight total which reflects the small average sherd size). Of these, 5459 sherds (over half of the open forms) belong to two standard eposit: by phase shapes, LPG high-footed cups (as Morgan 1999a: cat. 216) and EG-MG flat-based cups (as Morgan 1999a: cat. 231). The 300 total assemblage is characterized as follows: 250

7th

 

200 150 100 50 0

PG

Standard cup forms

8th

7th

Standard cup7th sherds, type unidentified undated undated

7th (as cat. 216, LPG) 1035 Late 8th/e7th

Other open

1197

Other closed

97

undated 8th 7th Late 8th/e7th

EG/MG 8th

7th 8th Late 8th/e7th

Ct Coarse, cookware or amphorae

8th (as cat. 216 or 231) 2628 (as cat. 231) 1796

8th Late 8th/e7th undated undated

7th

undated

Imprecisely datable

830

2411

4985

1180

320

850

740

8th Late 8th/e7th   Other, form 20 7th 14 29 254 8th Late 8th/e7th 7th unknown 19.12        undated   Very little Early Iron Age pottery   comes from closed deposits directly related to cult activity (see Morgan [1999a:   chapter I.7] for the earliest stratified contexts and pp. 450-66 for all contexts with early pottery). Overall sherd

distribution suggests that activity was focused in the area of the east temenos, but subsequent depositional history has obscured any spatial variation in the treatment of individual vessel types or groups of types (Morgan 1999a: 152-5). The entire assemblage is therefore treated by chronological phase and/or vessel type where possible, with statistics based on sherd counts (Morgan 2011a). The material was excavated in two phases: some 42% comes from campaigns through the 1950s and 1960s, when an unknown proportion was discarded, and the remainder from a campaign in 1989, when all soils were sieved, no material discarded, and the complete record was used to assess potential biases in the record of previous campaigns. 209

15

Catherine Morgan

10 20

5 The bar chart below shows the chronological distribution of the standard open drinking forms, including eighthSeries1 century protokotylai, averaged by decade to account for the variable length of phases and with indistinguishable 15 high-footed and flat-based cups assigned in proportion to the quantity of identified types. This indicates the 0 possibility of a very consistent level of core provision for consumption: the occurrence of peaks and troughs can 10 neither be demonstrated nor discounted (the subsequent chart showing detailed chronological subdivisions, based on the much smaller number of closely characterised and dated sherds, may be more indicative in this respect). The main difficulty falls in the Early Protocorinthian5period, when shapes such as kotylai are  not precisely datable 19.15  Series1 while others, as kraters, may have long use lives (Morgan 1999a: 21-4). A terminus post quem of 690-650 BC for the   construction of the temple is established by the earliest floor surface (floor 1) over the construction layer (Gebhard 0   and Hemans 1992: 34-5, 39, pl. 13b). Unlike the Temple Hill deposits, these layers contain little pottery. 35

20

25

15

 

19.15     

30 20 15

10

10

35

5

30

5

SM‐MPG MGII Isthmia: assemblage 750‐700 BC

Series1

0

25

20

0

EG

SM‐MPG

15

MGI

10 5

19.15     

LPG

SM‐MPG

MGII

 

MGII

0

SM‐MPG

LPG

LG

EG

EPC

 

19.16   

35

MGI MGII

APPENDIX FIGS  LG The following graph, which presents a breakdown by period of shapes other than drinking vessels, reveals a shift in the   30 S  25 scale and perhaps the nature of provision for consumption during the second half of the eight century. This is clarified EPC Pre‐temple deposit: total in 20 the pi-chart and bar chart below. As on Temple Hill, the transition from the eighth to the seventh century saw the 19.16  introduction of small closed/pouring forms and a decreaseCookware in the number of kraters. At Isthmia, however, more of the Other 15 Pre‐temple deposit: total Storage/transport Table storage/serving Small closed Cups Kraters   into the Late Geometric period (these include conical oinochoae - oil small closed vessels could in theory extend back   10 SM‐MPG into the early years of EPC. deposit: totalcontainers with no practical role19.17  in feasting), and many LG cups surely continued 5

0

 

MGII

LPG

Isthmia: assemblage 750‐700 by function EG

Isthmia: assemblage 750‐700 BC

SM‐MPG

MGI MGII 160 140 120 100 80 60 40 20 0

19.16    Storage/transport

transport

serving

Cookware

Cookware  

Storage/transport Table storage/serving Table storage/serving

Cookware Small closed

LG EPC

EPC 8th

Table storage/serving Cups Kraters Other

Small closed

Cups

Kraters

Small closed   Unknown

19.11 

Small closed

Cups Kraters Unknown Isthmia: assemblage 750‐700 by function  

 

Cups

Kraters

Unknown

 

 

 

Pre‐Temple deposit: by phase Pre‐Temple deposit: by phase19.18 

eposit: by phase 300 250

 

EPC 8th

210

8th

EPC

 

19. Corinthian sanctuaries and the question of cult buildings

Period

Standard series

Other small open ‘cups’

SM-MPG

-

0.088 (plus one each at 0.14 and 0.172)

LPG

0.095

0.09

EG

0.085-0.09

0.115

MGI

0.085-0.09

0.11

MGII

0.085-0.09

0.12

LG

MGII/LG Protokotyle: average 0.135, range 0.119-0.163 Range 0.085-0.17, majority 0.14-0.15

EPC

Range 0.08-0.16, majority 0.10-0.12

The table above sets out the range and/or average of rim diameters of small open (drinking) vessels. Taken as proxy for vessel size/capacity, the figures indicate little change in the capacity for liquid supply in the main cup series favoured until the mid-eighth century. There is a more or less consistent (and relatively small) variation between standard and other drinking-vessel forms. The main departure comes c. 750 BC, when the closest approximation to a standard series (the protokotylai) is significantly larger: other forms are for the most part closer to previous standards, although the overall range is notably larger. Kraters present a particular problem since they tend to shatter into small pieces which may pass unrecognized in sherd deposits. For this reason, particular attention was paid to the recognition of krater body sherds when processing the EIA and Archaic pottery from the 1989 campaign. Following the five EPC kraters included in this graph, the next likely example (IP 3220) dates to LPC: the evidence from Isthmia therefore confirms Dunbabin’s view (1962: 124) that at Perachora and other sites ‘the krater was out of favour at Corinth in the seventh century’ (Arafat 1999: 55-6; K. Arafat pers comm.).

211

20. Achaian interaction and mobility in the area of the Corinthian Gulf during the seventh century BC Anastasia Gadolou Abstract: Archaeological data can make a major contribution to writing the history of specific periods and regions, and often constitute the only direct evidence available. The aim of this chapter is to present the current state of knowledge of the seventhcentury archaeological record from Achaia in the northern Peloponnese, and to demonstrate the extent to which this evidence is confirmed in the ancient textual record. Over the last decades, the ninth- and eighth-century record of Achaia has been studied systematically and has supported a range of interesting conclusions, for example concerning the development of the sacred and mortuary landscapes, and the evolution of pottery workshops and styles. The seventh century, however, has hardly been examined, even though a considerable amount of data is available. This chapter will assess evidence for settlement development through the study of various sites and historical sources, and for the region’s external connections chiefly with the two major Panhellenic sanctuaries at Delphi and Olympia, but also with its prosperous neighbour, Corinth. The overall aim is to trace Achaia’s political organization, role and importance in this new historical and cultural era, and to show how Achaians responded in their own ways to the shared problems and opportunities of the enigmatic seventh century.

This chapter aims first to present an up-to-date picture of seventh-century Achaia as derived from archaeological evidence and, second, to show the extent to which this picture is confirmed by ancient literary testimonia. The archaeological record of Achaia during the Early Iron Age, mainly the ninth and eighth centuries BC, has been studied systematically (Gadolou 2002; 2003; 2007; 2008; 2011a and 2011b; Petropoulos 2002; Vordos 2002; Kolia 2011; Kolia and Gadolou 2011). The seventh century, by contrast, has hardly been explored, even though a substantial body of data is now available. Investigation will focus on the pattern of settlement development, approached through the study of both archaeological sites and historical sources, as well as Achaia’s regional connections, principally with the major Panhellenic sanctuaries at Delphi and Olympia, but also with the neighbouring Corinthia. The goal is to trace Achaia’s political organization, role and importance in the new historical and cultural era of the seventh century. Connections with the eighth century: the recent past The region of Achaia flourished during the second half of the eighth century, as the material record shows. It had two major sanctuaries – the urban sanctuary of Poseidon Helikonios in ancient Helike (Kolia 2011), and the extraurban sanctuary of Artemis Aontia at Ano Mazaraki, some 20km south of Aigion, which was one of the first on the Greek mainland to boast a peripteral temple (Petropoulos 2002). Study of their architecture and votive deposits indicates the organization of sacred landscapes according to the commonly practised rituals of the period. A clay roof model from the sanctuary of Poseidon Helikonios is a unique and especially valuable offering (Figure 20.1). It reflects via the images on it (a chariot race and a tripod) Homeric gift exchange between heroes. The tripod may be interpreted both as a prize in the games and as a votive offering to the god. Through such gifts and prizes, dedicators attempted to consolidate and enhance their social and political status (Gadolou 2011b). The sanctuary at ancient Helike indicates the existence of a complex political and social hierarchy, and a wellstratified society, members of which had the power, knowledge and will to engage in the colonization of southern Italy (in parallel with their neighbours, the forceful Corinthians). The region of Achaia Major developments took place in the Peloponnese during the seventh century. Corinth, Sikyon, Argos and Sparta, the dominant city-states in the central northeast, consolidated their power and became pioneers in political, economic and cultural life. In the area of Elis, a wealthy rural state organized into small communities emerged under aristocratic rule. In Arkadia, by contrast, the physical environment favoured the development of separate states which nonetheless retained a deep sense of common identity: this is reflected in temple architecture and the early organization of urban space, most strikingly in the case of Tegea. But what of Achaia? How was the region organized during the seventh century? Was there a ‘confederacy’ of poleis, and did the well-known Achaian confederacy of the Classical and Hellenistic era exist in some form as early as the eighth and seventh centuries? Opinions vary. Jonathan Hall (2007: 90) has concluded that ‘the predecessor of the third-century 212

20. Achaian interaction and mobility in the area of the Corinthian Gulf

Figure 20.1a-b Terracotta roof model from the sanctuary of Poseidon Helikonios. (Photographs: A. Gadolou and N. Petropoulos).

Achaian League is unlikely to predate the end of the fifth century’. Frank Walbank (2000: 20) wondered whether ‘Achaia … the federal body, … made up of some dozen poleis and which we know as the Achaian League, [was] a late construct or did it develop out of an earlier, perhaps at one stage a village organization?’ In contrast, Jacob Larsen (1968: 83-5) and Nicholas Hammond (1982: 725-6) both proposed that Achaia might have been characterized by some kind of unity back in the late eighth century, probably in the form of a primitive confederacy. The main reason given for their argument is the fact that Sybaris and Kroton are referred to as Achaian colonies and not as colonies of a specific city-state. The present author’s studies of the archaeological evidence for the cultural landscape of Early Iron Age Achaia have led to the conclusion that some kind of a political entity was in existence as early as the Middle Geometric period, in the form of a loose religious association centred on the sanctuary of Artemis Aontia at Ano Mazaraki (Gadolou 2008: 328-9). As noted, the votive offerings from the other sanctuary, that of Poseidon Helikonios, demonstrate the existence of a well stratified society by the last quarter of the eighth century (Gadolou 2011b). Were these features also evident in the first decades of the seventh century? We will try to show that they were. Ancient sources Ancient authors tell us little about seventh-century Achaia. Somewhat earlier, while accepting that, to quote Jonathan Hall, ‘it is notoriously difficult to make chronological arguments on the basis of the Homeric poems’ (Hall 2007: 24-5, 68), scattered evidence for the existence of the political organization of the polis can be detected in, for example, the Catalogue of Ships at Iliad 2.573-5. Later authors such as Strabo (6.1.12-13; 7.7.5), Skymnus (323), Zenobius (3.42-3), and Diodoros Siculus (8.17.1) record Achaian participation in colonial expansion to the west. This movement started in the last quarter of the eighth century with the foundation of Sybaris (Str. 6.1.13) and Kroton (Str. 6.1.12), but continued well into the seventh, when Achaians were credited with the foundation of Metapontum and Caulonia (Str. 6.1.10; Paus. 6.3.12). Hall, who is the principal ancient historian to have discussed the matter of Achaian colonization (2002: 58-65; 2007: 99, 103), notes as a problem the fact that no ancient source is contemporary with the period under discussion (2007: 18-19). Nevertheless, archaeological discoveries old and new, and their historical interpretation, have enabled us to establish a firm picture of eighth-century Achaia as a region as powerful as other parts of the Peloponnese and fully able to participate in the enterprise of western colonization (Gadolou 2008; 2011b; Greco 2002; Kolia 2011; Petropoulos 2011). Indeed, references made by Pausanias (4.15.1), Africanus (23.31) and Eusebius (I. 23) to one Ikaros of Aegeira as a victor at the 23rd Olympiad (688 BC) enable us to argue for the existence at that time of a city sufficiently powerful to be represented at such Panhellenic games. It has been suggested by Athanasios Rizakis (1991: 52) that the paucity of ancient literary evidence for Classical Achaian history might be interpreted as showing that Achaian poleis had little or no impact on Greek political 213

Anastasia Gadolou history until Hellenistic times. This observation could equally apply to seventh- and sixth-century Achaian history. Rizakis (1991: 52-3) proposes a number of possible reasons why ancient authors did not deal widely with Achaia and the federal organization which probably existed in the region as early as the eighth century. One is that ancient politicians and authors, Polybius in particular, had in general no interest in the institutions of this community; they were more interested in the idea of the city-state, and this was the kind of constitution that they therefore wanted to understand and interpret. Achaia is counted among the ethne, regions where the polis is generally believed to have emerged relatively late. The attention of ancient authors was thus distracted, even though Achaian state organization was no less complex or functionally efficient. Modern historians have paid more attention to ancient sources than to the constantly increasing evidence of the material record. It is, however, interesting to note occasions when Achaian poleis were implicated in important historical events, such as Pellene’s alliance with Sparta during the Peloponnesian war or Patras’ response to Alcibiades’ request to extend its walls to the sea in order to impede communications between Athens’ enemy, Corinth, and southern Italy and Sicily. Hence Thucydides’ account (5.52.2) of Alcibiades’ attempt to persuade the citizens of Patras, including the proposal that their extended walls be augmented by his own construction of a fort at Rhion (a move forcibly opposed by Corinth, Sikyon ‘and all those to whom the fortification of Rhion would have been a menace’). Pellene, though, appears to have acted independently in joining the Peloponnesian League in 431 BC (Th. 2.9.2). Relations between Achaians and their neighbours are also alluded to in short stories by ancient authors. Thus Pausanias (5.4.3) recounts how Agorios of Helike aided Oxylus in the foundation of Elis. In the Odyssey (15.252-4), Polypheidis, son of Mantius, left the Argolid to settle in Hyperesia, where he practised his oracular art. And Corinth also had ties to Achaia via the small polis of Gonoessa, which is said to have been home to the ancestors of Kypselos, tyrant of Corinth (Pausanias 5.18.7). Any attempt to write a history of Greek civilization, especially in early historical times, must rely on the obscure mingling of legend and history proper. It is difficult if not impossible to find out which parts of such ancient testimonia are actually ‘true’ (Hall 2007: 17-19). It is equally unclear whether we can rely on colonization myths or Delphic oracular responses for historical fact. As Oliver Dickinson (1986: 20-37) has pointed out, ‘the undoubted fact that immense quantities of information can be memorized and passed on orally is no guarantee that the material is historically true and untampered-with, even if this was claimed for it’. What is needed is a basis of fact against which to determine the time-scale and comparative reality of events related in legend and heroic myth. This can only be provided by archaeology (Murray 1993: 5). Let us therefore turn to the limited, yet valuable, material remains from the region, in order to establish the historical core of seventh-century Achaia. The material record Epigraphical data Unfortunately, no written records have come down to us, with the sole exception of a probably seventh-century funerary monument (which some scholars would date more generally to the Archaic period). The stele, now lost, is said to have come from an important archaeological site at Ano Soudeneika near Palaiomylos, and has been erroneously attributed to Dyme (Jeffery 1990: 222, 224, no. 1). Its provenance and early date both suggest that it had closer links with the district of Olenus, if not with the city of Olenus itself. The dead man’s name, Δαμοκάδεος τ [όδε---] has been read on the left. Archaeological data Discussion will now focus on the three basic areas of material expression which unite to make cultural expression – namely ritual, domestic, and funerary. The desire here is to establish whether any coherent artistic expression existed and, if so, whether it was used by the inhabitants of Achaia to construct identity and values. Ritual/cult activity Anthony Snodgrass (1980: 54) sought to explain the appearance of rich, often orientalizing, metal goods in Archaic sanctuaries and what he then saw as an equally sudden impoverishment of grave goods, in terms of ‘a big social change with the redirection of attention towards the communal sanctuary and away from the individual grave’. This does not hold true in early seventh-century Achaia. The two major temples erected at the principal sanctuary sites of Ano Mazaraki and Nikoleika/Helike in the last quarter of the eighth century continued in use, with a similar level of cult activity overall. At Nikoleika, scattered sherds dating to the first quarter of the seventh century come from a yellowish clay layer above the floor of the apsidal 214

20. Achaian interaction and mobility in the area of the Corinthian Gulf

Figure 20.2 Conical oinochoe from Nikoleika, Aigion Museum 2164. (Photographs: A. Gadolou; drawings: N. Petropoulos).

Figure 20.4 Part of a pyxis lid from Nikoleika, Aigion Museum 2167. (Photograph: A. Gadolou).

temple. These include a conical oinochoe (Figure 20.2), two fragments of plates with floral decoration (Figure 20.3), part of a pyxis lid (Figure 20.4), and two fragments of Corinthian aryballoi (Figure 20.5). It is possible that the building fell into disuse later in the second half of the century, since very few Protocorinthian sherds of the first half of the seventh century can be distinguished among the ceramics from the fill which then covered it. The abandonment of the apsidal building and its replacement with a new temple is indicated by the presence of architectural members in a layer of roof tiles found to the north of the Geometric building (Kolia 2011: 224, 227). At Ano Mazaraki, the most significant evidence of early seventh-century activity comprises a number of figurines in daedalic style rendered in the impressed technique (Gadolou 2003: 313, 329, pl. 34a-b, 35a-b), and a Middle Protocorinthian trefoil mouthed oinochoe (Figure 20.6). Elsewhere in the region, at Marmara, an impressedware pyxis with a curious scene between a man and an animal (a lion?) (Figure 20.7) has been interpreted by the excavator as evidence of another cult site belonging to a small community identified within the ruined walls excavated in the adjacent

Figure 20.3 Two fragments of plates with floral decoration from Nikoleika, Aigion Museum 2019/2042 (left) and 2176 (right). (Photographs: A. Gadolou; drawings: N. Petropoulos).

215

Anastasia Gadolou

Figure 20.5 Two fragments of Corinthian aryballoi from Nikoleika, Aigion Museum 1893 (left) and 1894 (right). (Photographs: A. Gadolou; drawings: N. Petropoulos).

Figure 20.6 a-d Middle Protocorinthian trefoil mouthed oinochoe from Ano Mazaraki, Patras Museum 7440. (Photograph: A. Gadolou; drawing: N. Petropoulos).

216

20. Achaian interaction and mobility in the area of the Corinthian Gulf

Figure 20.7 Fragment of a straight-sided pyxis from Marmara. (Photograph: A. Gadolou; drawing: N. Petropoulos).

area. And at ancient Antheia (modern Thea in the Patras region), Michalis Petropoulos (2010: 155-78, esp. 165) has excavated a sanctuary dedicated to Demeter Poteriophoros, which is well attested in ancient sources. Pottery dating from the Late Geometric to late Hellenistic periods consists mainly of thousands of miniature drinking vessels. Domestic activity Although no seventh-century structures of any kind have yet come to light from the Austrian excavations at Aegeira (Morgan and Hall 1996: 173, no. 9), ancient testimonia indicate the site’s existence during our period. Pausanias (4.15.1) attached the city ethnic Υπερησιεύς to the name of Ikaros, victor in the Olympic footrace in 688 BC. It is difficult to appeal to such a late source of evidence to conclude that Hyperesia was a fully-fledged polis in the early seventh century. It is surely preferable to argue that this particular city ethnic was employed because the polis of Aegeira had yet to be established. Sherds dating to the late seventh century have been recorded from the Austrian excavations (Gadolou 2008: 35, no. 12). Further inland, in the mountains south of Aegeira, lay the polisma of Phelloe (modern Seliana), one of the demes which participated in the synoikism that formed Aegeira. Traces of Archaic and Classical activity have been found here, with local pithoi, Archaic Corinthian imports and red-figure sherds among surface material. Stone footings for Late Geometric or Archaic pithoi, and Archaic pottery dating from the seventh century onwards, were recovered from fill around a late Classical structure of indeterminate function in the north part of the site (Alzinger et al. 1986: 319-26). Finally, a recent rescue excavation for the construction of a hotel, conducted by the Ephorate of Antiquities of Patras, has revealed Archaic pottery (A. Vordos, pers. comm.). At Aigion, the only architecture of appropriate date consists of traces of a late eighth- or seventh-century apsidal building on the edge of the main area of the Bronze Age settlement. The only other securely datable evidence consists of a large potters’ kiln, dated c. 600 BC, and a collection of sherds in mixed fill (Mazarakis Ainian 1997: 107, fig. 264; Morgan and Hall 1996: 176; ArchDelt 40 [1985] B: 120-3 [L. Papakosta]). Funerary evidence Jeffrey Hurwit (1985: 140-2) is among those who have characterized the seventh century as a period of turmoil, fundamental social change, and even revolution. The rise of individuality is expressed mainly in changes in warfare. Hoplite tactics were a phenomenon of political significance. The fact that more and more men were able to equip themselves with iron-tipped spears, an iron sword and bronze armour, and so to form groups of elite warriors, is reflected in the Achaian archaeological record by at least two burial pithoi from the village of Αno Mavriki and the region of Kalavryta. Ano Mavriki has been identified as one of the demes that later formed part of the city of Aigion. A burial furnished with an early seventh-century Thapsos-class skyphos-krater decorated with sphinxes and eagles, two bronze cauldrons, and a pair of Naue II iron swords has been revealed here (Gadolou 2008: 35, no. 13γ, 89, 195, 203, nos 55-60, 317). The 217

Anastasia Gadolou

Figure 20.8 Thapsos class skyphos-krater from Ano Mavriki. (© Hellenic Ministry of Culture and Sports: Archaeological Receipts Fund).

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Co

ht

rig

n

le

l He

i

M ic

ry

st ni

t

ul

C of

nd

ea ur

s

rt

o Sp

Thapsos-class skyphos-krater is of particular interest (Figure 20.8), and has been fully analysed and published by Nota Kourou (1978: 303-20). It is regarded as the latest example of Thapsos ware, a Corinthian import of the first quarter of the seventh century. Even though its attribution to Corinth rests on the results of archaeometric analysis (Grimanis et al. 1980), for reasons beyond the scope of this article it is best regarded as an Achaian product (Gadolou 2011a: 15-16, 29). The sphinx motif is attested in the early seventh-century Achaian ceramic repertoire and representational sphinx scenes in early Archaic art were created under the stimulus of oriental images: Achaian craftsmen and their customers thus remained aware of new cultural developments. This particular vase was created one or two decades after the roof model from Nikoleika (Gadolou 2011b). The iconography of this model, with its strongly heroic and religious imagery, reflects the existence of an aristocracy who sought, via this dedication, both to honour the deity worshipped in the sanctuary and to declare their own position and authority. The images chosen define the identity of the object and thence that of the sanctuary. The roof model from Nikoleika thus had a strong sociopolitical meaning, one which was carried forward by the Thapsos-class skyphos-krater from Ano Mavriki. Who was the deceased furnished with such a splendid vase, as well as with two Naue II swords and two bronze cauldrons? How does the style of the vase reflect the society to which it belongs? The existence of such a grave group – plus a second from the Kalavryta region furnished with a helmet, two bronze greaves, an iron sword, and parts of two iron javelins and a bronze sword (Gadolou 2008: 36, no. 15, 211, nos 1438) – reflects a strongly hierarchical society, members of which were well aware of the new hoplite technique. Early seventh-century Achaian hoplites were powerful men who were able to provide their own weaponry, and to participate in ruling contemporary society. The material culture created for them helped to construct and define their identity and values. Other burial sites have been found across the region. At Drepanon (ancient Boline), a skyphos-kylix and a Corinthian kotyle, both dated well into the seventh century, have recently been found in a pithos burial

Figure 20.9 Pyxis from Chalandritsa. (Photograph: A. Gadolou).

218

20. Achaian interaction and mobility in the area of the Corinthian Gulf at a cemetery established in the eighth century (Maniaki 2014: 155, nos 21, 22). From the Dyme area, finds of Protocorinthian pottery have been reported from surface survey and rescue excavations, but have not yet been fully published (Lakaki 1991: 244). Near Kato Achaia, a limestone grave stele which bears the retrograde inscription Δαμοκάδεος τ(όδε σαμα) is probably seventh-century in date (as noted above), making it the earliest inscription yet known from Achaia (Jeffery 1990: 224, no.1; Papapostolou 1993: 34, 111). In the village of Kattaraktis near Chalandritsa, a pithos burial (ArchDelt 55 [2000] B1: 307-7, fig. 18 [G. Alexopoulou]) contained a pyxis of the first quarter of the seventh century (Figure 20.9). Its low conical foot is reminiscent of contemporary tall black-glazed Achaian kantharoi; the outlined tongues or petals in the metopal panels on the shoulder find parallels on the shoulder of a conical oinochoe from an early seventh-century stratified level at the Nikoleika sanctuary (Figure 20.2). The Kalavryta region has also produced significant data. Seventh-century pottery has been found at two burial sites, Trechlo and Flaboura (Gadolou 2008: 37, no.19, 187-8): at both, the chosen rite is inhumation in pithoi, a custom attested in Achaia as far back as the ninth century. The most popular vase form in these graves is the tall version of the kantharos, clearly influenced by contemporary metal prototypes and popular in the Achaian repertoire from the Protogeometric period onwards (Gadolou 2008: 254-9), but now decorated in added white. External relations Achaia and Corinth Corinth was indisputably the major trading community of the Peloponnese, and the leader in fine pottery export until the sixth century. At the same time, the city of Corinth is associated with the beginning of monumental architecture (Morgan, this volume). Relations between Achaia and Corinth have been discussed in detail by Morgan and Hall (1996: 201-2). Protocorinthian and early Corinthian pottery has been reported from various Achaian sites from east to west, and inland as far as Kalavryta and ancient Azania (which by the Classical period lay in Arkadian territory). The circulation of Corinthian pottery in the Gulf communities has been seen as reflecting a correspondingly broad and early Corinthian expansion towards the west (Morgan 1988). Scattered Corinthian vases at many Achaian sites along the north coast, as well as inland, document expanding traffic along the Gulf (Gadolou 2008: 289). Until recently, Corinthian presence was thought to have been indicated by the well-known but much debated Thapsos class pottery, which has been excavated in vast quantities in Achaia. A full study of the Thapsos class vases from Achaian sites, detailing their similarities and differences from Thapsos in other parts of mainland Greece (Corinth, Naupaktos, Arta, Delphi, Phokis, and Attica) and a number of islands (Ithaca, Kephallonia, and Thera) has been made by the present author (Gadolou 2011a). An important conclusion of this work is that Thapsos class pottery should not be considered as a ‘workshop’ or exclusively Corinthian, but rather as a pottery style manufactured in several locations. The Achaian Thapsos material fits closely with the local repertoire of shapes and decoration (both fine painted and impressed), reflecting the importance of the style for a region which surely hosted a well-established and creative Thapsos production centre. The presence of orthodox Protocorinthian and Corinthian pottery at various Achaian sites, mainly cemeteries (Gadolou 2008: 312-13), could be interpreted as indicating a specific artistic interest in this particular workshop (the popularity of which is evident all over Greece, especially en route to the west). Achaia and Delphi A further source of information can be found at Delphi, where the first signs of contact (the presence of impressed ware pottery) date to the second half of the eighth century (Gadolou 2003: 308). Achaian Thapsos-class pottery arrived towards the end of the eighth century (Gadolou 2011a: 38-9), and contacts continued into the beginning of the seventh. Shared decorative motifs confirm this: for example, a meander in added purple on a skyphos from Delphi recalls the use of the same added colour on the Thapsos-class krater from Mavriki (Luce 2008: 165, no. 134). Achaia was amongst those regions that patronized the Delphic oracle. Delphi too owed some of its success to Achaia as a colonizing power. Delphi’s role in the big push westwards is well attested in the historical record (Parker 2000: 85-7). Recent scholarship has treated colonial foundation stories with a degree of scepticism. Many nowadays argue that Archaic colonies were not planned poleis from the start, created by official metropoleis, but rather communities of mixed origins resulting from widespread mobility; they were originally more hybrid in form, before becoming organized political communities or poleis. Hall (2007: 93-118) follows this trend, accepting both agricultural and commercial considerations as motives for mobility.

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Anastasia Gadolou Unfortunately, the oracular responses themselves provide no information about Achaian life during the seventh century. One concerns the inhabitants of Aigion. The question – ‘who are the better Hellenes?’ – received the following reply: ‘Best is Pelasgic Argos of all soils, best are the horses of Thrace, the women of Sparta, the men who drink the water of fair Arethusa, but better still than these are those who dwell between Tiryns and Arcadia rich in flocks, the Argives of the linen corslet, pricks of war. But you men of Aegium, are neither third, nor fourth, not twelfth, nor in account not reckoning’. As Nicholas Hammond remarks (1982: 326-7), ‘question and answer epitomize the competitive spirit of the citystates. They were as whole-hearted in the race for power as their athletes were in pursuit of the olive-wreath prize at the Olympic games’. Nevertheless, if Achaia had been a leading actor in Peloponnesian history, there should be indications of the sort that surround Pheidon, Kypselos, or Kylon in Athens. Delphi sided with the new. As George Forrest remarked, ‘a patently time-serving Delphi could no more have won admiration than a patently bogus Delphi’ (Forrest 1982: 310). The sanctuary strove to establish its identity in the changing circumstances of the Archaic period, and manipulated the socio-political life of early Greek city-states to a degree, although its significance during this period of state formation should not be overemphasized (Hall 2007: 84, 184-5; Morgan 1990: 148-86). Achaia and Olympia Olympia was not only a meeting place for athletes; it was also an important centre of interaction and display for the city-states of Archaic Greece (Morgan 1990; Nielsen and Roy 2009: 266). As noted above, one valuable hint of affiliations between Achaia and Elis is Pausanias’s testimony (5.4.3) that Agorios of Helike helped Oxylus in the foundation of Elis, following a Delphic oracle. Assessing the validity of this information is beyond the aim of the present study, although the authenticity of many Delphic responses has been questioned (Morgan 1990: 148-58, 184-6). Nevertheless, the reference to a mythical figure connected with a powerful eighth-century Achaian site, and the apparent connection with the mythical oikist of Elis, likely reflect if not direct intervention, then some kind of relationship between the two regions. Similarities between the Late Geometric and early Archaic pottery of western Achaia and Elean Pylos may also be noted, especially in the main forms of kantharos (Coleman 1986: 18-33, 53-7; Gadolou 2008: 182, 301-02). As noted above, later authors report that Ikaros of Aegeira won the stadion at the 23rd Olympiad (688 BC). By participating in events such as Panhellenic games, communities displayed their statue and affirmed their place in the Greek world. Conclusions At the start of this chapter, I posed a number of questions about material evidence for social ranking (or any kind of social structure), indications of a growing tendency to mark local identity by cult, or evidence of any kind of ethnic identity. Ancient literary testimonia, epigraphical and archaeological data in combination paint a picture of a society which inhabited scattered settlements and was loosely focused on a sanctuary established in the eighth century. Achaians continued to use their favourite drinking vessel, the kantharos (the vase type that reflects Achaian identity not only in mainland Greece but also in the wider area of the Western Mediterranean - Italy, Sicily and Malta), but also produced pottery and figurines decorated according to new trends (the daedalic style or orientally influenced creatures, such as sphinxes and lions). They were aware of new forms of warfare, participated in the Olympic games, visited the sanctuary at Delphi (benefiting from its oracles), established some kind of relationship with their powerful neighbour, Corinth (as reflected in imported Corinthian pottery), and were active in colonizing expeditions to southern Italy. There is as yet no clear indication of urbanization, although the role of the late eighth- to early seventh-century sanctuary at Ancient Helike would repay further exploration (Kolia 2011). Rather, the erection of monumental temples at Ancient Helike (Kolia 2014), Keryneia (Kolia 2002-5), and Rhypes (modern Trapeza) (Vordos 1999-2001; 2001; 2002) and the fashioning of architectural sculpture in the sixth century together mark a watershed, compelling reconsideration of the timing of polis formation in Achaia.

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21. The sanctuaries of Herakles and Apollo Ismenios at Thebes: new evidence Vassilis Aravantinos Abstract: The seventh century in Boeotia was marked by many crucial sociopolitical developments, continuing processes begun in the eighth century and reaching fruition in the sixth. Political entities, important sanctuaries, legislation, script and literature, arts and crafts, communication and military arts are certainly among these. In Thebes, such changes make their appearance through the creation of a strong polis, the establishment of at least two great sanctuaries (and control of other peripheral ones), the development of laws, literary creations (Hesiodic and Cyclic epics), imports and relationships with other powerful centres, and developing hostility with Orchomenos. The city’s sanctuaries and cemeteries provide evidence with which to explore the character of life in Thebes and Boeotia.

Knowledge of Archaic Thebes was, until a few years ago, quite limited.1 This picture is now changing quickly due mainly to recent archaeological discoveries of great significance. These have increased the quantity of available data, almost all derived from small-scale rescue excavations (Aravantinos 2010; Archibald 2009: 296-8; Jeffery 1976: 77-9). Recently discovered seventh-century finds, ranging from pottery to seals, come not only from cemeteries but also from cult areas either in the city itself or in its immediate surrounds (Aravantinos 2010). Moreover, there are also some brief inscriptions – graffiti and dipinti – on pot sherds (Aravantinos 2014). The archaeological and epigraphic evidence is corroborated by information (albeit vague or inconsistent) from contemporary poetry and much later written sources. Epic poetry was at home and flourishing in the area. The great poet Hesiod, a native of Boeotia, lived in the village of Ascra at some point in the eighth–seventh century. Hesiod’s poetry contributes to our better understanding of seventh-century Boeotian society, institutions, cults and religious beliefs, in the same way that Pindar was to do for the fifth century, although the information he provides is relatively slight and must be considered together with the new archaeological data (Aravantinos 2010: 145-56; Kurke 2007; Ready 2007; Ulf 2009). The Archaic period was an age of sanctuaries. In no other phase of Greek history did so many new sacred spaces appear in most parts of the Greek world, many remaining in use throughout antiquity (Polignac 2009: 427). In what follows, I will assess the evidence so far known from what were probably the two most prominent Archaic sanctuaries in Thebes, setting it in context and briefly evaluating it. These sanctuaries must have been fully developed and integrated into the social and political life of the city by the seventh century. Because of their exceptional character, their fabulous votive offerings, and the immense role they were to play in the city’s history and life, the two neighbouring sanctuaries (dedicated to Apollo Ismenios and Herakles respectively) were considered from early on in antiquity to be the most ancient and prominent cult places of Thebes. It is highly likely that both played a role in the urbanization of early historical Thebes on the hills of Kadmeia (Hansen 2004: 130). Early Iron Age Thebes, known in contemporary literary tradition as Hypothebai (Hom. Il. 2.505), consisted originally (plausibly after the fall of the Mycenaean palace) of various villages and hamlets scattered around the citadel (Aravantinos 2010: 125-44). For all of these reasons, these two sanctuaries merit additional exploration, fresh and intense scholarly attention, and ultimately revision of many past beliefs and interpretations (Aravantinos 2014; Bonanno Aravantinos 2012; Faraklas 1996: 33-57; Keramopoullos 1917: 33-79; Schachter 1981: 77-85; 1986: 14-30). Contemporary with (or slightly later than) the foundation of the Ismenion and Herakleion, some other sanctuaries of equal or lesser importance were established in the area of Thebes and the rest of Boeotia as well. These include three cult places dedicated to Demeter – one on the citadel of Kadmeia, another in Potniae (Tachi), and a third close to the Kabeirion – which remain largely unknown to modern archaeological scholarship. With the exception of the first, they have produced no substantial evidence to enable them to be safely located (Schachter 1981: 159-60, 165-8; 1986: 66-110). Notwithstanding our limited archaeological knowledge of Early Iron Age Boeotia, it has long been suggested that Thebes must have been a significant centre and possibly a first-order political power at least from the mid-eighth century, continuing throughout the seventh (Aravantinos 2010: 145-51; Buck 1979). During this period, Thebes 1  While preparing this article, I profited from discussions, suggestions and papers shared with me by the following colleagues, to whom I am deeply grateful: Margherita Bonanno Aravantinou, Anastasia Gadolou, Ioannis Fappas, Kyriaki Kalliga, Antonia Livieratou, Angelos Matthaiou, Sarah Morris, John Papadopoulos, Nikolaos Papazarkadas, Giulia Rocco and Albert Schachter. Antonia Livieratou translated and improved the initial draft of the text. Any inconsistencies or mistakes that remain (and there may be more that a few) are entirely my own responsibility.

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Vassilis Aravantinos became the most prominent centre of the Boeotian ethnos (Aravantinos 2010: 129-33; Morgan 1997; Schachter 1996a: 8-29). Given its geographical position and Bronze Age past, it is highly likely that Archaic Thebes took every opportunity to gain influence over the other Boeotian towns, especially those closest to it. This process continued for years before Thebes succeeded in forming a lasting federation, perhaps towards the end of the sixth century (Buck 1979: passim; Jeffery 1976: 77-9). Thebes had experienced a glorious and rich Bronze Age past and possibly still preserved an important part of its old population. Many more refugees may have been dispersed in its periphery, especially around important sanctuaries such as those of Poseidon at Onchestos (Palaima 2009: 527-36; Schachter 1986: 207-21) or Hera at Plataea (Aravantinos 2013: 49-57; Schachter 1981: 242-50). The movement of a cult from one place to another may reflect either displacement of population or a shift in political power. Like other Boeotian settlements – Thespies, Tanagra, Orchomenos and Plataea, all of which would later develop into independent city-states – Thebes may have absorbed a number of smaller settlements in the surrounding plain, the memory of which survived while they themselves were eclipsed. Thus in the Catalogue of Ships seventh-century Thebes was already a spacious and well-built city (ἐϋκτίμενον πτολίεθρον; Hom. Il 2.505) yet the earlier toponym Hypothebai still survived. According to some scholars, the Catalogue was created or possibly revised in the seventh century or even later, but it nonetheless reflects the political conditions of an earlier time (Anderson 1995: 18191; Aravantinos 2013: 49-50; Eder 2003; 2004; Mazarakis Ainian 1997: passim; Morgan and Coulton 1999: 129). Moreover, the composite name Hypo-Thebai, in the plural, might imply that more than one settlement was located in the immediate vicinity of the citadel, while others spread out across the fertile plain of the already extensive chora.2 The territory of Thebes included almost the entirety of the Aonian and Teneric plains (Buck 1979: 1-31). At the western end of the Teneric plain, at Onchestos, some of the former inhabitants of Thebes might have found refuge around the old cult of Poseidon (Hom. Il 2.506; Pi. I. 4.32-3), a god who occupied a prominent place in the Mycenaean pantheon (Aravantinos 2013: 49-57; Palaima 2009: 527-36). In this same area, the sanctuary of Herakles Hippodetes, a cult place with many symbolic connotations, marked the natural and political boundaries between Thebes and Orchomenos. In later times (if not these early years), Theban political influence would certainly have reached Mt Ptoion with its twin old sanctuaries, the coast of the Euboean Gulf and the harbour-town of Anthedon, crossing through the towns of Eleon, Arma and Mykalessos. The last three towns were later included in the Tanagraean tetrakomia (Aravantinos 2010; Buck 1979). To the south, Thebes must have occupied a large part of the fertile valleys and low rolling hills descending from Kitheron to Helikon and to the boundaries of Thespies and Plataea, the sites of rather better known Archaic settlements. Thespies and Plataea must also have increased in size by the seventh century, having absorbed other secondary settlements and small villages (Konecny et al. 2013: passim; Schachter 1996b: 99-126). The ascending power of Thebes in the Late Geometric and early Archaic period may also be reflected in its rivalry with Orchomenos, a prominent political and military power in northwestern Boeotia by this time. The Homeric poems praise Orchomenos’ fabulous wealth, and while it is an overstatement to compare the Boeotian city with legendary Thebes in Egypt, poetry still reflects its rising power during the Early Iron Age (Hom. Il. 1.381, 5.709). Boeotian religion and politics during the late eighth and seventh century are characterized by antagonism between the two main cities, although their legendary conflict is placed in an ambiguous chronological context. The battle at Keressos (a fortress in the chora of Thespies), in which Thebes was supposedly victorious, must have taken place rather later, sometime in the sixth century. Conflicts of this kind were highly likely during this period, surely aimed at control of the Panboeotian sanctuaries, especially the Itonion and Alalkomenion which were linked symbolically with the origins of the Boeotian ethnos. Moreover, the sanctuaries of Poseidon at Onchestos and the twin shrines dedicated to the hero Ptoios and Apollo on Kastraki and Mt Ptoion respectively, with all their lands and profits, were always within Theban reach and later under Theban control (Buck 1979: passim; Schachter 1981: 52-73; 1994: 11-20). Despite its geographical extent, land-power, and participation in communication and exchange networks, Thebes faced acute demographic and economic problems at least from the middle of the seventh century. The lawgiver Philolaos, a member of the Corinthian aristocratic Bacchiad family, is said to have been appointed to solve such problems (Aravantinos 2010: 150-1; Link 1991: 61-8). The effectiveness of Philolaos’ measures, which were based mainly on limiting births and encouraging childless landowners to adopt the children of their landless relatives, is impossible to evaluate on the basis of Aristotle’s brief comment (Arist. Pol. 1274b, 1). At least some crucial social problems must have been solved, however, since for many years there is no record of civil conflict, social disturbance or colonization, all attested in other, less privileged cities. The political and social problems of seventh-century Thebes should somehow be reflected in the sixth-century historical and epigraphic record of Theban involvement at Mykalessos and in Euboea, as well as beyond the Asopos Valley and on the borders of Attica and Boeotia, in early conflicts with the Plataeans and Athenians. 2 

Mycenaean te-qa standing for Greek Theba(i) is found in the Linear B texts, especially those from Thebes (Kadmeia).

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21. The sanctuaries of Herakles and Apollo Ismenios at Thebes: new evidence Various aspects of the social, economic, political and cultural life of Late Geometric and early Archaic Thebes are now better traceable thanks to excavations in both cemeteries and shrines. For perhaps the first time, extensive excavations have been carried out, preceding rather than following outbreaks of looting. Parts of cemeteries have been investigated in the plain, at the foot of the citadel of Thebes (on the railway bridge and Tsallas plot), and at Potniai (modern Tachi). Potniai is supposed to be the area where the cult of the deity Potnia (the Mycenaean po-ti-ni-ja) was established in Mycenaean times. Potnia was succeeded by a sanctuary of the Potniai (Paus. 9.8.1), Demeter and Kore, in the early historical period (Schachter 1981: 159-60). Excavation at the southeast foot of the acropolis revealed the most ancient shrine of Herakles, right outside and to the left of the Elektran Gates (Figure 21.1). Together with renewed interest in the sanctuary of Apollo Ismenios, this has resulted in a fruitful harvest of information about these important cults and Theban society in and around the seventh century (Aravantinos 2010: 130-7, 145-56; Coulié 2013: 225; Link 1991: 61-8; Schachter 1981: 77-85; 1986: 14-30). It is generally believed that the temenos which included the temple of Apollo Ismenios excavated at the start of the 20th century (Keramopoullos 1917: 33-79) was located upon a hill close to and opposite the southeast corner of the citadel (Figure 21.1). However, the exact location of this famous temple and the phases of its construction are still debated (Faraklas 1996: 33-57; Schachter 1981: 77-85, 87).3 According to Pausanias’ description (9.10.2-3), the hill should lie to the right of the Elektran Gates, beside the Ismenos River. Several distinct types of cults to different divine recipients were established within the temenos, something which was not unusual in antiquity. The two earliest and most important cults were those of Apollo Ismenios and Athena Pronaia. Both Pindar and Herodotus confirm the existence of the temple of Apollo with its rich collection of votive tripods, in their time the most notable feature of the sanctuary, around the end of the sixth–mid-fifth century (Schachter 1981: 80, 82-3). Vases with inscriptions identifying the divinities worshipped in the area of the hill were delivered to the National Archaeological Museum, Athens, before excavations began (Keramopoullos 1917: 35-6). It seems that they came from a deposit located to the west of, and close to, the temple foundations (Faraklas 1996: 35-6, 52-4).4 The first excavations at the Ismenion were carried out by Antonios Keramopoullos, who dedicated to them a long report in Thebaika (Keramopoullos 1917: 34-79) but no detailed publication. Close examination of the excavator’s early arguments and conclusions, to which he did not himself return, reveal the existence of many gaps in approach and interpretation. Keramopoullos recognized the problems but, despite his attempts to resolve them, many questions have remained unanswered until now (Faraklas 1996: 33-57; Schachter 1981: 77-85). His hypothetical reconstruction of three successive temples literally lying upon the cave-like structures of Mycenaean chamber tombs seems tenuous. The burnt traces of a Geometric building (oikos) or ash altar destroyed around 700 BC, the foundations of its Archaic successor built in the same location, and the Classical (fifth- or fourth-century) Doric temple which in turn replaced it (Figure 21.2), fit a well-known interpretative scheme often applied in analogous circumstances where substantial evidence is lacking (Keramopoullos 1917: 66-79). The few Late Geometric sherds illustrated belong to small drinking vessels, oinochoae, and an amphora. Some pottery datable to the seventh century is reported from the old excavations as well as from some more recent work (Keramopoullos 1917: 66-72; Faraklas 1996: 43, 52-4). Given the lack of basic data on the early Archaic (presumably seventh-century) temple, it would be wiser to assume that rituals (entailing functional objects and votives) continued to be performed in the open air, on a sacrificial hearth, or in a structure (oikos) made of wood, mudbrick or other perishable materials. There are no portable finds apart from Geometric and Archaic pottery.5 Any finds made before the excavation campaigns remain unknown at present, so it is not possible to accept the absence of a seventh-century BC building as it appears from the excavator’s report. No finds of pottery are reported in connection with the sixth-century temple either, just some insecurely associated architectural members and the inscriptions mentioned above (Keramopoullos 1917: 59-65). The temple’s building history thus remains obscure, and must be the subject of future excavation and studies.6 (Figures 21.2-3). A gap in the temple’s building history and cult activities spanning the seventh century is indeed inexplicable. As part of his interpretation, Keramopoullos invoked the tradition that the temple was burnt by Kaanthos during 3  The most complete ancient description of Ismenion and the cults on the hill is that of Pausanias (9.10.2-3), who is rather vague about the topography of the area. 4  Reported by Keramopoullos 1917: 35-6. It is almost certain that in the final years of the 19th century the owner of the hill, Spyridon Inglesis, had almost completed his own illicit excavations in the hope of finding antiquities which would enable him to request that his field be expropriated. He offered some of his finds to the authorities on his own initiative and without facing trial. It remains possible that other items, perhaps including the statuette of Apollo dedicated by Mantiklos, also found their way to great museums outside Greece. 5  With the exception of a terracotta horse figurine (Keramopoullos 1917: 67, fig. 55). See also n. 4 above. 6  A five-year Greek-American collaborative programme is currently in progress (2012-2016). Sponsored by the Stavros Niarchos Foundation, it is co-directed by Alexandra Charami (Ephorate of Antiquities of Boeotia), Stephanie Larson and Kevin Dally (Bucknell). It is hoped that the new excavations will contribute to the solution of these old and continuing problems.

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Figure 21.1 Aerial view of Thebes showing the sanctuaries of Apollo Ismenios and Herakles. (Municipality of Thebes, adapted by V. Aravantinos).

the abduction of his sister Melia by Apollo, and attempted to date the myth and consequently the building phases of the sanctuary. It is therefore necessary to investigate whether cult rituals during this period left any detectable traces, if they had by then declined, or if they had been transported to a neighbouring location for some unknown reason. Although the excavator suggested that the myth may refer to a real destruction at the sanctuary at the end of the Geometric period, this is neither plausible nor historically provable. Hero and ancestor cults seem to have been of primary importance in the Early Iron Age, and especially in Late Geometric times (Mazarakis Ainian 1997: 395). Reasons for the rise in such cults include the spread of the Homeric and Hesiodic poems (Snodgrass 1998). The earliest urban temples do not as yet predate the mid-eighth century, but small chapels (oikoi) which could have contained votive offerings and other religious paraphernalia continued to exist. In the Late Geometric period and the very beginning of 224

21. The sanctuaries of Herakles and Apollo Ismenios at Thebes: new evidence

Figure 21.3 Remains of the foundations of the temple of Apollo Ismenios, from the north. (Photograph: V. Aravantinos).

Figure 21.2 Reconstructed plan of the temple of Apollo Ismenios. (After Keramopoullos 1917: 33).

the Archaic, buildings for the worship of heroes or ancestors became more numerous. Their cult enabled local chiefs to affirm or maintain their leading position (Mazarakis Ainian 1997: 391). On the other hand, many religious myths were created or imported from the east at that time. The gap in information about the sanctuary in the seventh century seems to be filled by an inscribed statuette of Apollo offered to the god by one Mantiklos. This is said to come from Thebes, allegedly from the area of the Ismenion, but since its provenance is unknown this cannot be confirmed (Aravantinos 2014; Lazzarini 1976: 290). The votive inscriptions so far known, either on vases or on limestone column drums, date exclusively to the sixth century. It is thus highly speculative to suggest a very early Archaic date for the epigrams which, according to Herodotus, were inscribed on certain tripods deposited in the sanctuary. Some texts could be forgeries created by members of the local priesthood. In accordance with the archaeological context we may accept that these inscriptions were alphabetic, perhaps retrograde, and presumably not very different from the Archaic examples found in the same area. We may deduce that they were in Greek and were recognizable as such even by Herodotus, a non-Boeotian, without translation (Schachter 1981: 82, n. 4-5). The small group of votive inscriptions on stone column drums or bronze vases probably comes from the Archaic deposit on the west end of the hill. Others were collected over the years in the area surrounding the sanctuary (Aravantinos 2014; Keramopoullos 1917: 35-6, 61-5; Lazzarini 1976: 194-5, 290). In addition to the known inscriptions, some very brief or damaged new examples include one on a bronze kantharos found close to the precinct of an ashaltar in the recently excavated sanctuary of Herakles just outside the Elektran Gates. Its find-spot, close to a fine polygonal wall, is not easy to explain. The inscription on the outer side of the rim is now only partially legible, while that on the other side, probably with the name of the dedicator, is now missing (ArchDelt 56-59 [2001-4] B: 132-6 [V. Aravantinos]; Aravantinos 2014). 225

Vassilis Aravantinos

Figure 21.4 View of the excavated part of the cult place (temenos) of Herakles from the south. (Photograph: K. Xenikakis).

The surviving text reads as follows: ] ανέθεκε τοπόλ(λ)ονι τοι hισ[μενίοι This is very similar to an inscription on a bronze oinochoe from the Ismenion now in the National Museum in Athens (Aravantinos 2014; Keramopoullos 1917: 35, fig. 32; Lazzarini 1976: 194). Also related to the Ismenion is IG VII, 2455, inscribed boustrophedon on a statuette in Berlin. This is said to have been found in the fort of Chalkis, but there are many reasons for it to have come from Thebes if it is authentic (Keramopoullos 1917: 37, n. 2; Lazzarini 1976: 195): Πτoΐoν, Μάστος τoι hισμενίoι ανέθεαν Much more instructive is the evidence pertaining to the seventh century found in the temenos of Herakles at Thebes (Figures 21.1, 21.4) (ArchDelt 56-59 [2001-4] B: 132-6 [V. Aravantinos]; Aravantinos 2010; 2014; Bonanno Aravantinos 2012; Faraklas 1996: 58-81; Keramopoullos 1917: 324-30; Schachter 1986: 14-30). According to Pindar (Pi. I. 4.61-6), the temenos hosted the old worship of Herakles as heros-theos and of eight more heroes, the alleged sons of Herakles and his wife Megara, a Theban princess, daughter of the mythical king Kreon. This version of the tradition was certainly known in Archaic Thebes, and was faithfully followed and reported by Pindar (Aravantinos 2010; Drachmann 1927: 236-9). The cult of Herakles was one of the most important in Thebes and the cult statue was accordingly seen as old, a xoanon later attributed to Daedalus himself.7 The beginnings of the cult in this place and its connection to Herakles are attested at least from the mid-eighth century, documented by a host of finds (ArchDelt 56-59 [2001-4] B: 132-6 [V. Aravantinos]; Aravantinos 2014). On the same site, dense Mycenaean house remains and possible parts of the cyclopean fortification were found in deeper layers extending over most of the excavated area. The question therefore arises of whether the early herocult at this location might be related to some visible older ruins which were later perceived as the dead heroes’ cult temenos. Homeric and Hesiodic poetic tradition, as well as lost epics which narrated the mythical past of Thebes, certainly contributed to the early establishment of heroic cults of major importance in the area of the Elektran Gates (Mazarakis Ainian 1997: 395). Late- and Subgeometric pottery came to light in considerable quantity, and there must surely have been at least an ash altar or eschara for burnt (holocaust) sacrifices at the place where most of it was found (Figures 21.5-6).8 Apart from securely identified Thapsos ware, this pottery is exclusively local and includes a range of shapes, although under strong Attic influence (Coldstream 2003). Vessels include kantharoi, oinochoae and other shapes decorated with the usual geometric motifs and with scenes of warriors, horses (Figure 21.7), dances or wild animal hunts (Aravantinos 2010; Kalliga 2010). The hero cult close to the Elektran Gates, as such cults in many other parts of the Greek world, reached its peak during the seventh century to judge from the quantity of Subgeometric pottery and the variety of shapes (oinochoae, cups, kantharoi and small kraters) dating to the first decades of this century. These vases carry on the Geometric tradition 7  8 

Paus. 9.11.6. Schachter 1986: 24. On the Archaic sculpture from the sanctuary, see Bonanno Aravantinos 2012: 33-50. See recently on this topic, Patera 2012, especially chapter 4.

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21. The sanctuaries of Herakles and Apollo Ismenios at Thebes: new evidence

Figure 21.5 The ash altar (eschara) of the Herakles temenos, from the south. (Photograph: V. Aravantinos).

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Figure 21.6 The ash altar after its excavation. (Photograph: K. Xenikakis).

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Cop Figure 21.7 Fragment of a Subgeometric krater depicting a horse. (© Hellenic Ministry of Culture and Sports: Archaeological Receipts Fund; photograph: S. Mavrommatis).

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Figure 21.8 A hero (?) struggling with a lion). (© Hellenic Ministry of Culture and Sports: Archaeological Receipts Fund; photograph: S. Mavrommatis).

with a stylized and relatively simplified decoration (Aravantinos 2010; Coulié 2013; Ruckert 1976). Several monumental seventh-century vases and a few special cult vessels are true works of art, reflecting the power of cult, and the quality of Archaic Theban workshops and their close relationship to Athens. These pieces, which lie on the transition from Late Geometric to early Archaic (Aravantinos 2010: 130-7, 146-53; Coulié 2013: 55, 57, 225; Kalliga 2010; Ruckert 1976: 19), comprise cups, kantharoi or kantharoid cups, oinochoae, spouted kraters, cauldrons with attached tripods, stands, dinoi or louteria, and kraters. The Geometric rendering of figures continues, but secondary plant motifs are early orientalizing, and myth, in our case from the Herakles cycle, is clearly present (Figure 21.8). Herakles is depicted on a fragment of a large vase (a dinos or louterion) aiming his bow at the centaur Nessos, who is abducting Deianeira (Figure 21.9). All that remains of the hero is his bow and arrow. One arrow has already found its target and is lodged in

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Figure 21.9 Herakles killing the Centaur Nessos while abducting Deianeira. (© Hellenic Ministry of Culture and Sports: Archaeological Receipts Fund; photograph: S. Mavrommatis).

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the side of the centaur who flees to the right, lifting the hero’s illfated wife. The ritual character of this special vase is apparent from its spout in the form of an animal’s head (Aravantinos 2009: 238-43; 2010: 132-42, 146-62; Coulié 2013: 225-6; Kalliga 2010; Morris 2014: 99-100). Moreover, the scene is remarkably free of ornament (just one dotted rosette survives on the preserved fragment), giving extra prominence to the narrative scene. This myth was later popular, but in the case of our vase we may suppose that the artist chose a particularly dramatic scene from the hero’s life because the vessel was destined to be a votive offering or ritual equipment at the sanctuary of Herakles and his offspring at Thebes. The vessel form seems to have been designed especially for heroes and their cults, and made its auspicious appearance in shrines; it was a privileged form among the early Archaic vases made in honour of Herakles at Thebes. According to Sarah Morris (2014), the workshop of the Analatos Painter and his successors (Rocco 2008: 117-19) played a special role for the sanctuary of the hero-god in Thebes, his mythical birthplace.

A large fragment of another slightly later dinos comes from the same ash Figure 21.11 A Subgeometric dinos/louterion with heraldic birds. altar. It depicts what is probably a (© Hellenic Ministry of Culture and Sports: Archaeological Receipts Fund; mythological scene - a ship (which photograph: S. Mavrommatis). probably had thirty oars and a rudder) and people disembarking onto the shore where there are warriors (Figure 21.10). Two large fish swim below the hull of the ship, each rendered in a different way; one in silhouette with a reserved head, the other in outline with a dotted body. The bodies of the crew members, the rowers and the boatswain at the helm, are executed in more or less the same manner. They are rendered in outline, with the body decorated with imbricate scales (perhaps suggesting a cuirass); the passenger who has already disembarked is rendered in silhouette with only his eye reserved. The representation and the decorative motifs date this vase to the seventh century (Aravantinos 2010: 146-7; Coulié 2013: 226; Kalliga 2010; Morris 2014: 99-101). Old decorative subjects (horses eating from the manger, rabbits, grazing deer, fish, and birds) are now rendered in new ways (with polychromy, intense use of outline, details etc.) (e.g. Figures 21.10-11). Black-figured painting makes a tentative appearance towards the end of the century in combination with an abundant use of outline and filling. Examples of this include a kantharos with a mythological scene possibly derived from the cycle of Herakles’ deeds; a cauldron with an idiosyncratic gorgon head and a horse; and a fragment with a female figure, possibly a deity, a tripod, a flute player, and shield-bearing warriors which may be heroic figures (Aravantinos 2010: 150-1, 152-3; Hang 2012: 179). Close examination of the seventh-century pottery from the sanctuary demonstrates the continuing strong influence of the Attic workshop (Kalliga 2010; Morris 2014: 95-102; Rocco 2008).9 9 

Kyriaki Kalliga pers. comm. The late eighth- and seventh-century fine pottery from the ash altar forms the subject of Kyriaki Kalliga’s doctoral

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21. The sanctuaries of Herakles and Apollo Ismenios at Thebes: new evidence

Figure 21.12 Concentration of unpainted jugs massed together in the ash altar from the northwest. (Photograph: V. Aravantinos).

The great quantity of unpainted handmade vase offerings found in the fill of the altar precinct, especially the southern part (Figure 21.12), mainly belong to deposits of this period to judge from their stratigraphic relationship and the decoration of vases found with them in the lower levels of the ash altar. Miniature vases as well as a small seal of this period were found in the fill. A second seal with a representation of a stylized animal and its baby on the upper face, found in the same area, also dates to the early seventh century (Aravantinos 2010: 142). At least two very large open vases (kraters) bear retrograde votive dipinti which may once have included the name of the dedicant. The inscribed formula is: [name] ανέθεκε το hερακλέει[ (Aravantinos 2010: 149 [top and bottom]; 2014; Lazzarini 1976: 111-12, 181-207). The name of the dedicant was incised on another vase (Figure 21.13): [αν]έθεκε Βία (τ)όρακλέFε The letter type and vase shape may date these inscriptions to the seventh century (Aravantinos 2014). An older cult of local heroes, which continued in force into the sixth century, might have existed in earlier times in what was to become the temenos of Herakles, and in particular at the shrine where the eight hero-warriors, considered in old Theban tradition to be Herakles’ sons, were worshipped. Thus Herakles’ predecessor, possibly Iolaos, would have been the original leader of the warrior group worshipped outside the Elektran Gates (Schachter 1986: 17). The sculptural and architectural temple decoration found in the sanctuary seems to date to the sixth century (Bonanno Aravantinos 2012: 3350). A considerable number of sherds bearing graffiti and dipinti also date to this century (Aravantinos 2010; 2014), along with vessels including aryballoi as well the typically Boeotian class of vases decorated with birds and polychrome motifs. These last continued for most of the century, from the second quarter onwards, destined mainly for votive use (Kalliga 2013: 264-73). The data so far available from the Ismenion, and especially from the Herakleion, which will likely increase

Figure 21.13 An incised votive inscription (graffiti) on a vase fragment. (Photograph: V. Aravantinos).

thesis Το ιερό του Ηρακλή στη Θήβα. Η εξέλιξη της κεραμικής και της λατρείας κατά την Ύστερη Γεωμετρική - πρώιμη Αρχαϊκή Εποχή, in preparation at the Aristotle University, Thessaloniki, under the supervision of Professor Michalis Tiverios.

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Vassilis Aravantinos with interesting new finds from both sanctuaries, reveal the parallel history of worship, the close cultic relationship between these sanctuaries, and their early and decisive role in Theban religion. According to Mogens Hansen (2004: 130), the rise of temple buildings and the emergence of the polis took place simultaneously and were probably related. Religious continuity from the Mycenaean period may be postulated in the case of certain sanctuaries on the Greek mainland, but others, including the shrines of Herakles and other heroes at Thebes, while important, do not appear to present a direct continuation from the Late Bronze Age (Mazarakis Ainian 1997; Polignac 1995a; Strøm 2009). An early cult of Demeter and Kore, although not detectable before the seventh century, may have been established in the area of Potniai from the Mycenaean period, surviving there until Late Antiquity.

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22. A group of small vases with Subgeometric – early Archaic decoration from the sanctuary of Herakles at Thebes Kyriaki Kalliga Abstract: ‘Chitridia’ - small oinochoae or cups? What was the status and possible use of a group of small vases from the temenos of Herakles at Thebes in Boeotia? This group shares specific features, such as a squat, biconical, pinched or (rarely) oval body, broad out-turned rim, vertical ribbon handle, and wide flat base. The painted decoration, while very carefully executed, was confined to geometric and floral motifs, or sketchily rendered birds, on an off-white ground. These vases appear to be hybrids, with the shape of functional vessels and the decoration of fine luxury ware. They date from the transition between the Geometric and the early Archaic periods, since some display typical geometric patterns while others adopt new floral motifs. Many had been cast onto a pyre in the temenos and burned with other offerings, while others were found scattered throughout the precinct. The group is distinctive for its unusual shape and careful decoration, and has no known parallels. It may be a particular type of vessel made especially for ritual practices at the temenos of Herakles at Thebes.

1  ArchDelt 56-59 (2001-4) B: 132-6 (V. Aravantinos); ArchDelt 60 (2005) B: 397-9 (V. Aravantinos). 2  I am deeply grateful to the former head of the Ephorate of Antiquities of Boeotia (previously the 9th EPCA), Dr Vassilis Aravantinos, for allowing me to publish the pottery from the sanctuary of Herakles at Thebes.

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One special element among the architectural remains of the Herakleion (Figure 22.1) is an impressive pyre (perhaps an ash altar) (Ohnesorg 2005: 6-7, n. 48 for terminology), which was in use from Late Geometric ΙΙb to the early Archaic period. The sixth century is poorly represented, perhaps because at some point the accumulated height of the offerings made it necessary to seal the mound and relocate the cult site. The pyre was found to be full of pottery, ash, bones of small animals, metal objects, plastic vases, and even faience (ArchDelt 56-59 [2001-4] B: 134-5 [V. Aravantinos]; Bonanno Aravantinos 2012: 3350) (Figure 22.2).

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Work at Thebes has recently brought to light the sanctuary of Herakles just outside the Kadmeia and the Elektran Gate,1 thus putting to an end uncertainty about its exact location (Faraklas 1996: 60, 62, 76-81; Keramopoullos 1917: 325-30; Symeonoglou 1985: 129).2 The identity of the divinity worshipped there was confirmed by graffiti and dipinti with the hero’s name (Aravantinos 2010: 148-9; 2014). The Herakleion is remarkably close to the famous sanctuary of Ismenian Apollo (on the other bank of the river Chrysorrhoas), which in antiquity would have been in clear view.

Figure 22.1 Manisalis property, Thebes. Ground plan of the excavation. (© Hellenic Ministry of Culture and Sports: Ephorate of Antiquities of Boeotia).

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Figure 22.3 Aerial photograph of the ash altar. (© Hellenic Ministry of Culture and Sports: Ephorate of Antiquities of Boeotia).

Aravantinos]). The subsequent period through to Late Geometric ΙΙb yielded no finds, save for a single fragment of a skyphos tentatively assigned to the Middle Geometric period. In the Late Geometric ΙΙb–early Archaic period the site acquired purely cultic significance: this was when the ash altar was established and cult activities organized. It is unclear when the sanctuary fell into disuse since the upper strata were disturbed by later interventions. Abandonment of a site (whether cult or domestic) for a long period after the Mycenaean age is common but not universal: a hiatus in use occurred at the sanctuary of Apollo at Delphi (Μazarakis Ainian 1997: 311), for example, but not at the nearby sanctuary at Kalapodi (Felsch 2007a: 1-26; Morgan 1997: 175-84). The heart of the site – that is, the simple, non-delimited layer of ash – pre-dated the stone enclosure surrounding the altar. At some point in the second half of the seventh century, a time when the sanctuary at Kalapodi was already re-organized (Morgan 1997: 183), the Theban sanctuary of Herakles acquired monumentality with the construction of stone enclosures over the increasingly high deposit of burnt offerings. The best preserved of these is the largest, built of angular stones carefully worked on the outer face but with the inner surface left rough (Figure 22.3). The many small field stones and layers of mud brick in the interior of the structure do not constitute evidence of attempts to create pyramidal boundaries around the strata of ash, as those in the tombs enclosing the funeral pyres at Eleutherna (Stampolidis 2004b: 127, fig. 16). Rather, they were a simple form of support for the temporary wooden pyres built for each festival. Two encased walls probably from the oldest enclosure are preserved, and can still be seen to the south of the large structure (walls 17, 19 and 21). The overwhelming majority of votive offerings are pots, both wheel-thrown and handmade. The latter are all of the same kind, full-sized cooking-pots (see Reber 1991: 33-56 for the type). These chytrai are too numerous to have been 232

22. A group of small vases with Subgeometric – early Archaic decoration used simply to feed devotees at the sanctuary, and must have served a votive or ritual purpose (Simon 1986: 314-16). Similar vessels are found in later tomb clusters in Boeotia (Ure 1927: 82, no. 80.11 [13], pl. 12). The wheel-thrown pottery is remarkable for its variety of shape and decoration: particularly noteworthy are the drinking vessels (cups, skyphoi, kantharoi), wine mixing vessels (kraters, lebetes), serving vessels (oinochoae), hydriae, pyxides, and aryballoi. The predominant category is that of banqueting vessels, full-size or smaller. Their decoration ranges from extremely simple (black-glaze or linear) to highly ambitious, with narrative scenes (Αravantinos 2010: 132-5, 146-53, 381-4, and in this volume). The focus of this chapter is a small group of curiously-shaped small vessels which we believe to have been made exclusively for the cult of Herakles. Typology The basic characteristics of the shape are a biconical body, sharply out-turned rim, and a vertical strap handle that springs from the rim and meets the lower part of the body at about a third of its height. The base is flat, plain or disk-shaped. The variety observed is modest, with little differentiation from the basic type. The fabric is also relatively consistent: friable, uniform in colour, and with white inclusions and frequently a small quantity of fine mica. In some cases (2, 12, 14 and 16) there is considerable mica. The fabric colour ranges from various shades of reddish yellow (7.5YR 6/6 reddish yellow: 1, 4, 9; 5ΥR 6/6 reddish yellow: 5, 8, 16, 14; 5ΥR 7/6 reddish yellow: 12; 7.5YR 7/6 reddish yellow: 6) to pink (7.5YR 7/4 pink: 7, 10, 15), red (2.5YR 6/8 light red: 2), light brown (7.5YR 6/4 light brown: 3) and light reddish brown (5YR 6/4 reddish brown: 11, 2.5YR 5/4 reddish brown: 13). The height of these vessels ranges from 0.041 to 0.05m, with the exception of 7 and 5 (0.039 and 0.037m respectively) and 9, 14 and 15 (0.056, 0.052 and over 0.05m respectively). Although this is relatively small for a normal-sized oinochoe, it is too large for them to be classed as miniatures. From time to time, emphasis has been placed on different features of the type, such as their possible use (Benson 1984: 309), the existence of a larger version of the diminutive vessel (Pemberton 1970: 293, n. 49), or the free remodelling of the shape (Cook 1953: 48-9). The oinochoiskai from the sanctuary of Herakles meet many of the above criteria, since they were found in a cult setting, could have had a practical use, and were probably modelled on a full-size jug. As regards the shape, we may distinguish two basic types and one variant: Type 1 (with angular body) (Figures 22.5-13 and 22.15-17). Of the total of 15 oinochoiskai, 13 have similar proportions: that is, a sharply out-turned horizontal rim, almost no neck, an angular body with the widest diameter below the mid-point, a disk-shaped solid base (simple or with a depression around the edge), and a vertical strap handle. Type 2 (with round body). There are only two examples of this type (14 and 15, Figures 22.18-19), which has a round, smoothly curved body with the widest diameter still fairly low, and the same type of handle as Type 1. The rim of 15 is less horizontal than usual. Type 1a: 10 (Figure 22.14) is essentially an intermediate variant, since it has the chief characteristics of Type 1 but a more elongated body, closer to Type 2. Lid 16, with its bridge handle, appears to fit the rim of 12 with which it was found. If they do indeed belong together, then the holes in the edge of the rim of 13 and 3 may have served to secure the lid by means of a cord. To date, very few parallels for these curious Boeotian vases have been found outside the sanctuary of Herakles. The Boeotian oinochoe with tall neck in Tomb 97 at Rhitsona has a similarly angular body, but lacks the other characteristic features (Ure 1934: 21, 85, no. 87.1, pl. iv). Ure considered the Rhitsona vase to be an imitation of Late Protocorinthian oinochoae, but it is quite likely that it was not copied directly from the Corinthian shape but rather from a Euboean variation that occurs frequently in the colonies in Italy (lekythos-oinochoe, Coldstream 2008: 191). Typologically, the oinochoiskai from the Herakleion can be classed with the open Attic cups (Kübler 1970: 450-2, nos 39-41, inv. no. 93-5, pl. 31) and the lekythos-oinochoe which originated in Corinth (Corinth: Coldstream 2008: 95; Payne 1931: pl. 24.3; Attica: Langdon 1976: 59, no. 232, pl. 22). The angular body, broad out-turned rim, and decoration on a white ground are features shared by the brochette of the local Early Geometric style of Messapia (De Juliis et al. 2006: 69-81, especially p. 70, fig. 13.1-4). But the chronological gap between the Boeotian and the Messapian group is sufficient to preclude a deeper connection, despite the fact that Corinthians had been crossing the Strait of Otranto since the ninth century (D’Andria 1995: 468-78). A variety of small early Archaic pots with flattened or biconical bodies are not unknown in sanctuaries. Examples include those in the sanctuary of the Alaimo at Leontini in Sicily 233

Kyriaki Kalliga (Grasso 2008: 66-7, n. 141-9, nos 268-74), although these differ materially from the Theban oinochoiskai, being undecorated, very squat, handleless, and with a narrow mouth that is always less than the maximum diameter of the body. It can now be considered certain that the oinochoiske in the Bernoulli collection, which was formerly associated with a set of vases by the Eretrian ‘Crab Painter’ and attributed to a Samian workshop (Descœudres 1972: 281), is a Boeotian product. The absolute typological match, the similarities in decoration with 7, and its characteristic Boeotian fabric (Kalliga 2013: 250, n. 96970) can lead to that conclusion. In short, we observe that the only likely parallel for the small oinochoae of Type 1 from the Herakleion pyre is made in Thebes itself (the Bernoulli vase). What, though, can the shape have been modelled on? A normal-sized black-glaze vessel (Figure 22.4), roughly twice the height of the corresponding small version (0.102m extant height), was found in the same ash altar (inv. no. 43766). Although the rim is missing, the similarity is sufficient for it to be considered the likely model for Type 1. A normal-sized oinochoe (0.10m high) from the sanctuary of Apollo Daphnephoros at Eretria (Ηuber 2003: 37, no. V 61, pls 34, 107) is reminiscent of Type 2, but while 15 closely resembles the Euboean V 61 in the shape of the rim, the former has a squatter body and the latter a more rounded base. The stratum in which V 61 was found belongs in part to the early Archaic period (Ηuber 2003: 67), which may match the date of the Boeotian oinochoiskai. However, the fact that the Eretrian V 61 is as yet the sole example of its type makes us hesitate to consider it the full-size model for the Boeotian Type 2 – in fact the reverse may be true. Figure 22.4 Oinochoe, Thebes Archaeological Museum 43766 (Photograph: N. Mastorakos).

The relatively uniform modelling of the Theban oinochoiskai indicates that they were probably made in a specific workshop. If so, the shape must have been produced only for a fairly limited period and the workshop may not have been very far from the sanctuary it supplied. Decoration The exterior surface of all the oinochoiskai was carefully polished and covered with a whitish or yellowish slip before decoration. The fact that none is glazed on the inside confirms that this was a closed shape. The body is decorated with geometric or floral motifs, solid birds or combinations of all of these, a variety that may indicate a number of different painters. The oinochoiskai may be divided into groups based on the motif in the main band of decoration: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5.

with meander (1, 2, 3) with curvilinear motifs (running scroll 4 and 5, whorls 6). with floral subjects and Protoattic influence (7, 8) with solid birds (9, 10) with sundry geometric or linear motifs (13, 12, 11, 14, 15, 16).

The broken meander of 1, 2, 3 (Figures 22.5-7) is often found on Late Geometric vases from east Greece (Kunisch 1998: 75, diag. 30d), while isolated hooks were already used by those workshops in the Middle Geometric period (Kunisch 1998: 47, diag. 20b) and in Attic vase-painting are found well into the seventh century (Brann 1962: 89, no. 512, pl. 31; Rocco 2008: 182-3, no. Op ζ 2, pl. 29.19). On all three of the oinochoiskai from the Theban Herakleion (1, 2 and 3), the broken meander was rendered in the same way - separate elements hang from a band, creating the impression of continuous ornament. It is therefore likely that the three vessels were decorated by a single hand. Coldstream (2008: 209) thought that the Boeotian meander derives from Thapsos-class ware, but in its fragmented form usually occurs in the Subgeometric-Orientalizing styles. The lid of a Boeotian pyxis (National Archaeological Museum, Athens, 11795) has a meander similar to those on the Theban vessels (Ruckert 1976: 33, 46-7, 100, no. P 1, pl. 25.3-4), but its dating is disputed (Boardman 1978b: 91). 234

22. A group of small vases with Subgeometric – early Archaic decoration The case for decoration by a single hand is safer in the case of the vases with curvilinear motifs. On 6 (Figure 22.10) the areas on either side of the handle are filled with beautifully drawn whorls, strongly reminiscent of those on a krater from Arma of Boeotia, Thebes Museum 343 (Ruckert 1976: 27, 51 and 95, Kr 19, pl. 20.1-3). Single whorls adorn a later skyphos from Rhitsona Tomb 126 (Ure 1927: 25, no. 126.95 (15), pl. viii). The running scroll on 4 and 5 (Figures 22.8-9) is formed from separate freehand whorls, like those on vase 6 but reversed, which were then joined. The motif of whorls forming a running scroll survives on Boeotian pottery until the sixth century on ‘bird cup style’ vessels (Αndreiomenou 1980: 21, fig. 3.1). The decorative and typological similarity between 4 and 5 may indicate that they moved from the hands of the same potter to those of the same painter. The old swastika motif which decorates 6 (Figure 22.10) and the lid 16 (Figure 22.20) re-appears in Boeotia in the Subgeometric period (Coldstream 2008: 210), and is found on other vessels from the pyre (Aravantinos 2010: 132, 157). The two vases with floral decoration (7 and 8, Figures 22.11-12) were painted by different hands. The heavy, dotted floral ornaments on 7 (Figure 22.11) recall the Protoattic work of the Analatos Painter (Rocco 2008: fig. 2). Similarly conceived decoration occurs on the Bernoulli vase, whose typological similarity to 7 was discussed above. On 8 (Figure 22.12) the decorated area is divided into three panels in the fashion popular in Boeotia (Coldstream 2008: 204), with a lotus blossom filling the central panel and hooked floral motifs flanking the panels. On 7, by contrast, the decoration extends in a single sweep: opposite the handle is a lozenge (from which tendrils spring) between a pair of quatrefoil rosettes. This lozenge could be a stylised version of the Attic imitation of the Cycladic lyre-shaped motif with intertwining tendrils, as seen on the Attic amphora Berlin 31007 (Rocco 2008: 104-6, n. 684, fig. 13. 26 and 27, no. Α 3), or it may have been inspired by the Cycladic ‘tree of life’ pattern, as on a krater from the Attic Ortiz Krater group (Rocco 2008: 83-8, fig. 10.22, pl. 11.6.), or it may be a variant of the Attic volute triangle (Kübler 1970: 121, diag. 9). The dot-filled quatrefoil rosette on 7 is fairly close to those known from southern Ionia and Aeolis in the second half of the seventh century (İren 2003: 123, n. 827 and 828; Schiering 1957: 88-9, figs 1-3, series 4), although these have a single dot on each petal rather than being filled with dots. However, identical rosettes appear on an unpublished stand from the Herakleion pyre (Αravantinos 2010: 157). On that stand, the lavish dotting extends to the intricate floral ornament in bands and on panels, and makes us wonder whether this was a feature of the work of the specific painter who decorated the stand, 7, and the Bernoulli vase, with which 7 is associated as we will see. The band of decoration on 7 ends with a thick, volute-like, dotted shoot, identical to those on the Bernoulli jug. The similar decorative concept, the lavish use of dotting and the same thick tendrils leave no doubt that the same artist painted the two vases. The Boeotian vase-painter had assimilated the new motifs in vogue in Attica in the first half of the seventh century and was able to execute them with a sprightliness every bit the equal of his Athenian colleagues. The craftsman who decorated 8, by contrast, also adopted a Protoattic motif (the lotus blossom) but rendered it in a dry, linear manner and repeated it on panels in the customary Boeotian way (Coldstream 2008: 204). He, too, may have been familiar with the work of the Analatos Painter, since the curious floral motif with vertically joined hooks that separates the panels on 8 is found (albeit in a decorative panel combined with other linear motifs) on the kylix Eleusis 1078, decorated by the Athenian vase-painter (Denoyelle 1996: 74). This motif is not usually used alone, but it does appear so on the kotyle Kerameikos 1152 (Kübler 1970: 419-21, no. 5, pl. 6), on a fragment from the Acropolis in Athens (Kübler 1970: 605, no. 218, pl. 107) and on Boeotian ‘bird cup style’ vessels (CVA Thessaloniki University: 45, pl. 23 [second quarter of the sixth century]; Schmaltz 1977-8: 49, pl. 7, 1-2, [second half of the seventh century]). It is more difficult to identify the hand of the artist(s) who drew the birds on 9 and 10 (Figures 22.13-14). On the former the bird is the primary decorative subject, while on the latter this sole living creature is exiled to the end panel, next to the handle. Equally, these birds are drawn in different ways: on 9 (Figure 22.13) a double curved line creates the body plus the upper half of the feet, while a line like a horizontal trumpet renders the tail, and a simple straight or sloping line the rest of the feet. By contrast, on 10 (Figure 22.14) an S-curve creates the head, body and tail, while the feet are suggested by two intersecting lines, and the claws by a pair of short strokes. Examples of similarly drawn birds are found on a Boeotian pyxis (Aravantinos 2010: 130), a Late Geometric Argive krater (Coldstream 2008: pl. 27a), and a non-Attic lid from the Kerameikos (Kübler 1970: 368, n. 153 and p. 425, no. 1272, pl. 9). There is also an obvious similarity with the bronze birds from the sanctuary at Kalapodi in Phthiotis (Felsch 2007b: 67-75, 263-7, pls 20-1). On the other side of the handle there is the beginning of a second bird (Figure 22.14): the artist traced the S for the head and body and the beginning of the tail, but then abandoned the attempt, leaving a simple S-curve. Unlike the painter of 9, the craftsman who decorated 10 had evidently not yet mastered the skill of rapidly sketching standard images. Given that 10 has a more elongated body than Type 1 vessels, as we have seen, could it perhaps be a typological and decorative experiment on the part of the same craftsman? The awkward positioning of the hook on the central panel suggests that while the artist was familiar with this Athenian motif 235

Kyriaki Kalliga (used, for example, by the Analatos Painter: Denoyelle 1996: 74-8, no. 313, pl. 14, 2-3 and 15, 2-3, and the Boston Amphora Painter: Rocco 2008: 62, no. Βο 1, pl. 7.10), he was not in a position to integrate it harmoniously into the decorative system of 10. This illustrates the degree of influence exerted by the Athenian vase-painters over even their minor Boeotian colleagues, and places the Boeotian vessel chronologically somewhere between the period of influence of the Analatos Painter (710-690/680 BC) and the Attic skyphos Agora P7023 (mid-seventh century) where the hooks are placed irregularly on the background (Coulié 2013: pl. 190). The birds on 10 and 9 do not stand freely in the field as was usual in Boeotia (Coldstream 2008: 208), but are arranged in panels. The wavy vertical strips separating the panels on 10 are a characteristically Boeotian feature (Coldstream 2008: 209). Rows of stylized waterfowl are a common subject for many Late Geometric workshops (Coldstream 2008: passim; Kunisch 1998: fig. 96c). In the case of the geometric and linear motifs, the identification of the artists is even more difficult. The motifs are numerous and varied (vertical broken lines, swastika, triangles, net pattern, stepped motif, tendrils). 12 and 11 (Figures 22.15-16) may form a group, with their front field divided into two levels and a number of decorative motifs reflecting strong influence from east Greece. While the row of outlined triangles on 11 is found in many Protogeometric styles, including Boeotian (Kunisch 1998: fig. 53b), it often occurs in a double panel on Late Geometric East Greek vases (Kunisch 1998: fig. 54c). The stippled mesh framing the central panel on 11 (Figure 22.15) is an ancient Anatolian motif (İren 2003: 114-15, n. 741, fig. 58a) which was very popular in Boeotia (Ruckert 1976: 24, 53, 86-7, no. ΒΑ 26 and p. 95, no. Kr 19, pl. 20.2-3). The semicircles in the flanking panels of 12 (Figure 22.16) recall those which decorate the series of animals from East Greek workshops (İren 2003: 118, fig. 60a-f; Schiering 1957: 86, fig. 1), and on the high-footed kylikes Kerameikos 89-90 from Tomb 10 (an infant burial) (Κübler 1970: 448-50, nos 36-7, pl. 30). A stippled variant occurs on a number of different Boeotian vases (e.g. Ruckert 1976: 85, no. ΒΑ 19, pl. 10.1-2, p. 96, no. Kr 20, pl. 20.5 and p. 111, no. Varia 21, pl. 28.8) and survives even on later examples of ‘bird cup style’ vessels (Αndreiomenou 1980: 19, figs 6, 8-10). The stepped motif on the Subgeometric 12 is familiar from other Theban pots, from the Herakleion pyre (Aravantinos 2010: 134, 136), from Thebes itself (Aravantinos 2010: 134, 136), and from Boeotia in general (Ruckert 1976: 95, no. Kr 18, pl. 20.4). Another subject particularly popular in Boeotia, the clusters of broken verticals ornamenting 10, was in use from the Late Geometric (Coldstream 2008: 209; Ruckert 1976: 43, 52) through the Archaic period on ‘bird cup style’ vases (Kalliga 2013: 26-7). The continuous floating zig-zag on the body of 13 (Figure 22.17) is derived from the Attic Late Geometric I repertoire (Coldstream 2008: 36). In Boeotia it lasted until the end of the Late Geometric period (Kunisch 1998: fig. 66e) or later. Discussion to date has been entirely concerned with Type 1. Type 2 is represented by just two examples, both decorated exclusively with simple linear motifs: 14 has clusters of wavy vertical lines (Figure 22.18) and 15 (Figure 22.19) short oblique slashes. Their decoration is highly reminiscent of the ‘bird cup style’ vases, an exclusively Boeotian group of (to our present knowledge) sixth-century vessels, with the exception of Thebes where isolated seventh-century examples occur (Kalliga 2013: 264). 14 was found together with 3, which cannot be later than the beginning of the seventh century. In conclusion, we observe the variety of decoration on these vessels in comparison with their relatively uniform shape. Use The narrow neck ending in a broad rim indicates that these vases were intended to hold liquids without risk of spillage. They were, in other words, a kind of oinochoiske, as is confirmed by the lack of decoration on the interior surface. In order to understand the place of this shape in the service of the cult, however, we must consider the findspot of each item. Vase 7 was found in a Byzantine refuse pit west of the excavation site, and 6 in a baulk west of the pyre. 2 came from the outer southwest corner of the pyre enclosure, and 8, 16, 12, 15 were found just beyond it. The other nine vessels came from a small area within the pyre, and specifically from the point delimited by walls 19, 17 and 21. We therefore suggest that these walls mark a different cult phase with its own enclosure and specific votive offerings. What role might such a small vessel have played once it arrived at the sanctuary? Various opinions have been expressed (Hammond 1998: 118-19, n. 82, 83-4), but in the case of the Theban Herakleion one must exclude the theory (Caskey and Amandry 1952: 211) that very small or miniature vases were cheap articles produced for 236

22. A group of small vases with Subgeometric – early Archaic decoration poorer devotees (e.g. women), since the sanctuary of Herakles was one of the city’s most important urban shrines (Hammond [1998: 20, n. 90] also expresses reservations about this theory). We note that 9 was found inside another vessel, and that some examples suffered subsequent burning and charring. Despite their small size, the oinochoiskai of the Herakleion were functional vessels, that is, they could have held offerings of modest quantity. The quality of these vessels, moreover, ranges from fine to very fine, every bit the equivalent of the full-sized versions upon which they were probably modelled (Hammond 1998: 132-133). Their uniformity suggests that they were probably made in a workshop fairly close to the Herakleion, either as votives offered already filled with some liquid (e.g. wine) or as jugs of wine for consumption at a ritual banquet. Afterwards, the containers were thrown on the pyre. The contexts in which the vessels (small and regular-sized) from Euboea were found are not particularly helpful in testing the hypothesis that the shape was intended exclusively for ritual use. The full-size find from the sanctuary of Apollo Daphnephoros at Eretria probably served some ritual purpose, but the Bernoulli jug is of no assistance at all. We must not forget, however, that very small or miniature vessels were also used for ritual purposes elsewhere; for example, Attic krateriskoi of the first half of the fifth century are associated with sanctuaries of Artemis (Zampiti 2013: 308). Very small or even miniature vessels were common votive offerings in Greek sanctuaries (Simon 1986: 309-314). In Boeotia, such offerings are found at the sanctuary of the goddesses of Orchomenos (Aravantinos et al. 2014; Kalliga 2010), at the West Gate of Plataea (Κοnecny 2013: 231-2; Konecny and Koutsodimos 2013: 169, n. 631-2), in the sanctuary on the acropolis of Plataea (Aravantinos 2013: 52-6; Κalliga 2013: 248-9, n. 943, figs 213-21 and p. 275), and at Eutresis (Goldman 1931: 245, 262-3, figs 319-20; 1927: 85-7). They are also found in neighbouring areas, including Athens (Thompson 1937: 207-8), Hymettos (Langdon 1976: 70, nos 317-19), the Schistos cave at Keratsini (Zampiti 2013: 308-10), the sanctuary of Apollo Daphnephoros at Eretria (Huber 2003: 63-4 and p. 121, nos C 42-52, pl. 100; Verdan 2013: 118), the Thesmophorion at Eretria (Metzger 1985: 15, 19) and at more distant sites (Simon 1986: 30813, with a summary list). The evidence from the Theban sanctuary of Herakles is thus wholly in line with the custom of offering small or miniature vessels to a god. Conclusions From the wealth of pottery in the Herakleion pyre, we have selected for consideration a group of very small vases which, while ostensibly insignificant, in fact embody all of the problems present in dealing with Late Geometric IIearly Archaic Boeotian pottery. These are: a) the total absence of solid chronological data; b) the frequently unique typology; and c) the eclectic influence of other workshops (e.g. Attic) on shape and decoration (Kalliga 2013: 241 for the sixth century). At first glance, the group of oinochoiskai from the pyre is one of the less attractive sets of vessels. However, its uniformity (and concomitant contemporaneity) provides the first valuable indications of an overlapping of Late Geometric/Subgeometric decorative tradition with early Archaic motifs, information of great importance for a chronological phase in Boeotia of which very little is known. The fact that these vases were found all together in specific strata in and just beyond the southwest corner of the largest enclosure, and especially in the core of the pyre, tells us not only that they were used for religious purposes but also that they must have been made at the same or very nearly the same time. The use of these vessels must have been short-lived and limited, perhaps because their place in the ritual was taken by other shapes. Their use was apparently significant only during the lifetime of the older altar, and when a new one was built other shapes came into favour. The potter(s) who made most of these vases at some point in the first half of the seventh century may also have made the full-sized oinochoe no. 43766; whether this was the model for the Type 1 miniatures or vice versa is not clear. It may be that a particular religious requirement at that time led the potter to create a variation of the popular lekythos-oinochoe familiar from other workshops, replacing the high, narrow neck with a broad horizontal rim. The vases may then have been distributed to the potter’s associates, who decorated them according to their taste and ability. As a result, precisely the same shape may be decorated with standard geometric ornaments, the legacy of Late Geometric Boeotian tradition, or with new seventh-century floral motifs copied from Protoattic ware. There are also combinations and variants, such as the solid Protocorinthian birds here not arranged in series but placed individually within framed panels. While it is hard to identify the vase-painters, the Bernoulli oinochoiske must be attributed to the same craftsman who decorated 7 and the stand from the Herakleion pyre, who was strongly influenced by the Protoattic style. Given the presence of the Bernoulli jug in a set including Eretrian vases, it is not impossible that it was found in this area. To date there has been no confirmation that the shape was influential beyond Thebes. 237

Kyriaki Kalliga Finally, the Type 2 vases were probably made by a different potter and decorated with standardised Boeotian Subgeometric motifs. Typological parallels have not yet been found outside the Theban sanctuary, with the exception of a single full-size vessel in the sanctuary of Apollo Daphnephoros at Eretria. Their simple linear motifs are identical to those on ‘bird cup style’ vessels, confirming the view that the latter were made in Thebes during the seventh century, even though they do not appear in the rest of Boeotia before the sixth century. Catalogue 1. Figure 22.5. Missing part of the rim. Height 0.05m, max. body diam. 0.068m, rim thickness 0.03m. Fabric totally charred over most of the vessel. Glaze thin, reddish-brown to light brown, adheres well, with striations. Walls very carefully smoothed, almost polished. Row of dots on the vertical edge of the rim. Neck banded by a zigzag ornament formed of a series of Λ shapes contiguous at the base. Continuous decorative zone around the body, with triplets of vertical lines at the sides, a painted broken meander, and at one end a vertical line of dots. Short horizontal lines on the back of the handle.

Figure 22.5 Oinochoe 1, Thebes Archaeological Museum 43147. (Photograph: N. Mastorakos; drawing: S. Kazakidis).

2. Figure 22.6. Missing small pieces of the body. Height 0.041m, max. diam. 0.057m, body thickness 0.004m. Glaze thin, dull red, adheres fairly well. Walls very carefully smoothed. Two panels on the body, the upper low and filled with painted oblique S, the lower broader, with a painted broken meander formed of individual elements touching the border of the panel. Same broken meander on the back of the handle, touching its edges. On the rim a ring and a row of short vertical lines.

Figure 22.6 Oinochoe 2, Thebes Archaeological Museum 43088. (Photograph: N. Mastorakos; drawing: S. Kazakidis).

238

22. A group of small vases with Subgeometric – early Archaic decoration 3. Figure 22.7. Almost intact; missing a large part of the rim. Height 0.043m, max. body diam. 0.062m, rim thickness 0.004m. Vessel almost entirely charred. Glaze dull brown, worn. Walls carefully smoothed. On the body a meander as that on 2. On the rim, two concentric rings.

Figure 22.7 Oinochoe 3, Thebes Archaeological Museum 43032. (Photograph: N. Mastorakos; drawing: S. Kazakidis).

4. Figure 22.8. Intact. Height 0.041m, max. body diam. 0.064m, rim thickness 0.003m. Glaze thin, brown, adheres well. Walls very carefully smoothed. On the body, a running scroll with a background of dots arranged in regular rows in the intervening spaces. Broken vertical line on back of handle. On the rim, short thick vertical lines.

Figure 22.8 Oinochoe 4, Thebes Archaeological Museum 43037. (Photograph: N. Mastorakos; drawing: S. Kazakidis).

5. Figure 22.9. Intact. Height 0.037m, max. body diam. 0.052m, rim thickness 0.002m. Glaze red, worn. Walls very carefully smoothed, almost polished. On the vertical edge of the rim a row of dots, on the neck a zigzag ornament formed of a series of Λ shapes contiguous at the base. Body ornament as 4. Down the centre of the back of the handle, a painted vertical ribbon flanked by a row of dots. On the rim, a row of dots and two painted rings.

Figure 22.9 Oinochoe 5, Thebes Archaeological Museum 43143. (Photograph: N. Mastorakos; drawing: S. Kazakidis).

239

Kyriaki Kalliga 6. Figure 22.10. Missing the handle and parts of the rim and body. Height 0.047m, max. body diam. 0.061m, body thickness 0.004m. Glaze thin, reddish brown, adheres well, with striations. Walls very carefully smoothed, almost polished. Traces of secondary burning on the base. On the vertical edge of the rim, a row of short vertical lines. On the body, panels with simple vertical wavy lines and alternating painted swastikas and tendrils.

Figure 22.10 Oinochoe 6, Thebes Archaeological Museum 45016. (Photograph: N. Mastorakos; drawing: S. Kazakidis).

7. Figure 22.11. Almost intact; missing the handle and parts of the rim. Height 0.039m, max. body diam. 0.059m, rim thickness 0.002m. Glaze thin, brown, very worn. Walls very carefully smoothed, detailed shaping. Very marked traces of secondary burning over almost the whole vessel. Continuous decorative zone on the body. From the centre out: a lozenge sprouting tendrils with a central Greek cross, quatrefoil flower with perimeter outline, central painted Χ and dotted petals. Thick reversed hook with stippling.

Figure 22.11 Oinochoe 7, Thebes Archaeological Museum 43197. (Photograph: N. Mastorakos; drawing: S. Kazakidis).

8. Figure 22.12. Missing almost half of the rim. Height 0.049m, max. diam. 0.064m, body thickness 0.003m. Glaze thin, dull brown, very worn. Whitish slip, very worn. Walls very carefully smoothed. Hole in the edge of the rim. On the body, panels with a vertical motif of small hooks holding a papyrus flower with two long narrow silhouetted leaves and a central closed flower in outline. Vertical ribbon on the outside of the handle.

240

22. A group of small vases with Subgeometric – early Archaic decoration

Figure 22.12 Oinochoe 8, Thebes Archaeological Museum 42962. (Photograph: N. Mastorakos; drawing: S. Kazakidis).

9. Figure 22.13. Missing the handle and part of the rim. Height 0.056m, max. body diam. 0.076m, rim thickness 0.004m. Glaze thin, reddish-brown to light brown, very worn on half the pot. Walls carefully smoothed, detailed modelling. Lower half of the vessel totally charred. Hole through the rim. Row of short vertical lines on the vertical edge of the rim, on the neck a row of obliquely placed Ss. On the body, panels with simple vertical lines and on the right carefully rendered solid water birds.

Figure 22.13 Oinochoe 9, Thebes Archaeological Museum 40670. (Photograph: N. Mastorakos; drawing: S. Kazakidis).

10. Figure 22.14. Almost intact. Height 0.047m, max. body diam. 0.059m, rim thickness 0.004m. Glaze thin, reddish brown, slightly worn. Walls carefully smoothed, detailed modelling. Traces of secondary burning in places. On the body, painted hooks separated by pairs of vertical broken lines. In one compartment near the handle a solid water bird replaces the hook. Vertical broken line on the back of the handle. On the rim, three concentric painted rings and dots.

Figure 22.14 Oinochoe 10, Thebes Archaeological Museum 43050. (Photograph: N. Mastorakos; drawing: S. Kazakidis).

241

Kyriaki Kalliga 11. Figure 22.15. Restored from part of the rim, part of the body and one handle. Part of base survives but is not contiguous. Max. ext. height 0.04m, max. diam. 0.055m, body thickness 0.002m. Two pits from burnt out organic inclusions in the thin walls, beneath the rim and beside the handle. Glaze thin, dull black, almost totally destroyed by secondary burning. Walls carefully smoothed. Almost the whole vase charred: decoration very worn. A pair of holes almost directly opposite the handle and on the rim. On the body, panels with clusters of vertical lines. Central panel with two bands of dogtooth ornament, on the right a rectangle of fishnet and on the left a painted leafy rosette. On the back of the handle, a vertical row of dots between two vertical lines and short oblique slashes. Two concentric circles on the rim.

Figure 22.15 Oinochoe 11, Thebes Archaeological Museum 43385. (Photograph: N. Mastorakos; drawing: S. Kazakidis).

12. Figure 22.16. Missing a small part of the rim. Height 0.044m, max. diam. 0.061m, body thickness 0.003m. Glaze thin, very dull brown to dull red. Walls very carefully smoothed. On the body, panels with pairs of vertical lines and geometric motifs. The larger compartment, directly opposite the handle, is divided into two zones, the upper filled with a row of horizontal angular S-shapes, the lower with a stepped motif. Flanking it are two smaller panels with a vertical row of dots in the centre between double concentric semicircles touching the side borders. Next comes a panel with a stepped motif, flattened to a triangle on one side due to lack of space. On the rim, two concentric painted rings with a row of dots around the edge.

Figure 22.16 Oinochoe 12, Thebes Archaeological Museum 42963. (Photograph: N. Mastorakos; drawing: S. Kazakidis).

13. Figure 22.17. Almost intact; missing small pieces of the rim. Height 0.045m, max. body diam. 0.062m, rim thickness 0.003m. Glaze thin, dark brown to reddish brown, adheres well. Walls very carefully smoothed, almost polished. On the rim, a hole almost opposite the handle. On the body, two zones, the upper with a horizontal row of teardrop dots, the lower with inverted Σ. Single vertical line on the handle. On the rim, a row of dots.

242

22. A group of small vases with Subgeometric – early Archaic decoration

Figure 22.17 Oinochoe 13, Thebes Archaeological Museum 40880. (Photograph: N. Mastorakos; drawing: S. Kazakidis).

14. Figure 22.18. Almost intact; edge of the rim slightly chipped. Height 0.052m, max. body diam. 0.059m, rim thickness 0.004m. Glaze thin, dull red to orange red, slightly worn. Walls very carefully smoothed. On the body, a band of decoration with triplets of vertical wavy lines. Short horizontal lines on the handle. On the rim, two concentric painted rings with tiny dots around the edge.

Figure 22.18 Oinochoe 14, Thebes Archaeological Museum 43031. (Photograph: N. Mastorakos; drawing: S. Kazakidis).

15. Figure 22.19. Almost half the body and rim survive, plus the handle. Max. ext. height 0.04m, max. ext. diam. 0.053m, body thickness 0.004m. Exterior surface very worn. Glaze thin, dark red, worn. On the body, a band of short oblique lines.

Figure 22.19 Oinochoe 15, Thebes Archaeological Museum 44801. (Photograph: N. Mastorakos; drawing: S. Kazakidis).

243

Kyriaki Kalliga 16. Figure 22.20. Missing part of the edge of the rim. Height 0.018m (with the handle), diam. 0.047m, body thickness 0.003m. Glaze thin, dull red, slightly worn. Walls very carefully smoothed, almost polished. The lid is shaped like a miniature dish, with a horizontal disk base and shallow rimmed body. Two delicate concentric circles ornament the edge of the lid, and a vertical wavy line the surface of the handle. A swastika motif on either side of the handle.

Figure 22.20 Lid 16, Thebes Archaeological Museum 42958. (Photograph: N. Mastorakos; drawing: S. Kazakidis).

Concordances Catalogue Museum number inventory numbers

Unit

Trench

Excavation vessel numbers

Figure

1

43147

154

Fill

A 136

5

2

43088

333

VII

A 500

6

3

43032

145

A 81 Eastern extension of wall 15

7

4

43037

178

IX

A 299

8

5

43143

170

ΙΧ

A 224

9

6

45016

332

Baulk 10

7

43197

297

IV

A 464

11

8

42962

419

XIV

A 561

12

9

40670

145

Eastern slope

Α 123

13

10

43050

171

IX

A 234

14

11

43385

without unit

without trench

12

42963

419

ΧΙV

A 559

16

13

40880

168

IX

A 158

17

14

43031

145

SE corner of wall 15

A 87

18

15

44801

419

ΧΙV

16

42958

419

ΧΙV

10

15

19 Α 555

20

244

23. Cult in Attica. The case of the sanctuary of Artemis Mounichia Lydia Palaiokrassa-Kopitsa Abstract: Seventh-century material from the sanctuary of Artemis Mounichia is especially rich. It consists mostly of pottery – about 1500 sherds, very few of which belong to the same vases ‒ and a limited number of smaller objects, basically terracotta figurines and women’s jewellery. Despite its fragmentary state of preservation, the pottery provides us with a range of evidence for the prosperity of the sanctuary during this period and for issues related to the cult, the dedicators, and the potters. The plethora of sherds, some bearing traces of fire, come from pedestal kraters and confirm the continuous use of this particular shape from the Geometric period through to the end of the seventh century. A large quantity of sherds belong to small Subgeometric vases, mainly krateriskoi, various of which are attributed to prominent seventh-century Attic artists. The study of the pottery from the sanctuary, in conjunction with evidence from other cult sites in Attica, indicates an intensive cult activity and a differentiation in the quality of the vessels, suggesting dedicators coming from different social groups, devoted to collective ritual practices, who participated in a common religious life.

The seventh-century BC material Most finds from the sanctuary of Artemis Mounichia (Figure 23.1) come from the rescue excavation conducted by Ioannis Threpsiadis in 1935 (Threpsiadis 1935: 159-95), with a small number from rescue excavation in 1984 on the occasion of repair works to the building of the Nautical Club of Greece which now covers the sanctuary site (Palaiokrassa 1989: 10, 14-15, 17).1 The 1935 trenches were narrow and dug under pressure from the Club’s administration to allow construction of the Club building, resulting in an incomplete investigation of the site, extensive loss of material, and extremely fragmentary preservation of the finds (Threpsiadis 1935; Palaiokrassa 1991: 16 fig. 1, 17). The part of the material that dates back to the seventh century includes terracotta figurines, a few minor artefacts, and a large amount of pottery, preserved mainly in small sherds. The figurines were discovered on the lower terrace and at the eastern end of the upper terrace, at the present site of the Club mast (Threpsiadis 1935: 185-7; Palaiokrassa 1991: 54). They belong to two main types: handmade standing female figures with a columnar stem and a pinched bird-like face (Palaiokrassa 1989: 10 pl. 3.3; 1991: 54 pl. 12); and plank-shaped seated female figures (Palaiokrassa 1989: 10, pl. 2.4; 1991: 54, pl. 13). Some heads are also preserved (Palaiokrassa 1991: 54 nos 17-18, pl. 13), including one from the decoration of a vase (Palaiokrassa 1991: 54 no.16, pl. 13). The artefacts found include bronze globular pendants (Palaiokrassa 1991: 171 fig. 14); a bone head of pin (Palaiokrassa 1991: 176 fig. 17); two faience amulets of a seated cat (Palaiokrassa 1991: 87, pl. 48) probably of Egyptian origin, and a hawk (Palaiokrassa 1989: 18, pl. 2.4) which is probably Rhodian; triangular, ribbed or spherical glass paste beads (Palaiokrassa 1991: 87, 179 fig. 19); and a scarab with a depiction of a chimaera (Palaiokrassa 1991: 88, 179 fig. 19). The pottery The pottery includes approximately 1500 decorated sherds mainly from the eastern side of the lower terrace (Figure 23.1). These deposits probably accumulated here during a renovation of the sanctuary (Threpsiadis 1935: 185), noting that the excavation data indicate two such episodes, after the Persian wars and towards the end of the fourth century BC (Palaiokrassa 1989: 3-5; 1991: 90-1). Mention must also be made of the fact that several sherds and terracotta figurines bear evidence of burning. Sherds come from mostly small mass-produced vessels with Subgeometric decoration or decoration by recognized seventh-century Attic painters. Fragments of Corinthian vases are very few in number. Macroscopic examination of the vessel fabric indicates that it is typical of the period. It is not very pure, often containing mica or other inclusions (mostly white), and it varies in colour from the usual pinkish orange or pink to a reddish or light brown (7.5YR 7/4 pink, 2.5YR 6/8 or 6/6 light red, 5YR 7/4 pink, 5YR 6/4 light reddish brown, 5YR 7/6 reddish yellow, 7.5YR 6/4 light brown, 10YR 7/4 very pale brown). The glaze is usually black and less frequently ranges from brown to reddish yellow, while in some cases use was made of added white or violet paint. Often the glaze is abraded or has flaked off. The work of the leading painter in the Athenian Kerameikos around 700 BC and one of the principal exponents of the new Protoattic style, the Analatos Painter (Denoyelle 1996; Morris 2014: especially 101-2; Rocco 2008: 13-30), is represented by quite a number of pieces (Figure 23.2). All come from kraters which are mainly small in size. 1 

I am grateful to J. Palaiokrassas for his help with the English text.

245

Lydia Palaiokrassa-Kopitsa

Figure 23.1 The area of the sanctuary of Artemis Mounichia. Plan of the excavation (1935 and 1984) showing ancient remains in relation to the Nautical Club building. (© L. Palaiokrassa).

Various animals are depicted, such as horses (1), deer (2) and birds (3), a probable lion or sphinx (4), a charioteer (5) from a chariot procession, and the legs of a male figure (6). Another fragment (7) preserves part of a charioteer’s body, the end of the reins, and part of the chariot’s front rail. The Mesogheia Painter (Rocco 2008: 31-40, with bibliography) is equally richly represented (Figure 23.3). In his case too, all fragments belong either to kraters or to their high pedestals. Two sherds from the rims of vases, with remnants of a chariot procession and sets of zigzags (8-9), are possibly classified among this painter’s early works. Four more sherds depict a deer (10) and horses (11-13) - in the latter case, the three horses trotting to the right presumably drew a chariot. Six more sherds, five from kraters (14-18) and one from a fenestrated pedestal (19), preserve parts of sphinxes. On 14, a female head belonging to a sphinx finds counterparts on other vases by the Mesogheia Painter (Rocco 2008: 38 Me 6, 39 Me 11 and Me 12). Part of a sphinx on 16 is closely similar to the sphinxes on a fragmentary krater (Figure 23.4) once in the Vlastos Collection (Rocco 2008: 39 Me 22). The krater sherd 20 preserves, among sets of zigzags, a leg probably of a lion, while on three more sherds only sets of zigzags can be seen. 21 (Figure 23.4), with the hindquarters probably of a sphinx plus a lozenge star, must be ascribed to a painter related to the Mesogheia painter. The Passas painter (CVA Metropolitan 5; Moore 2003; Palaiokrassa 2014; Palaiokrassa-Kopitsa forthcoming; Rocco 2008: 67-78) is also represented by a substantial number of fragments, all of kraters or their pedestals. 22 (Figure 246

23. Cult in Attica. The case of the sanctuary of Artemis Mounichia 23.5) illustrates the imagination and innovative spirit of this painter. A horse’s hoof and bird’s claws are preserved at the top, with a panel beneath framed by a double band of diagonal bars and containing a lion with a gaping mouth and another figure which is probably a griffin. The lion looks like the emblem on the shield of the left warrior on the neck (side A) of the painter’s name vase (Athens, Passas Collection; Hampe 1960: 41-5, 80, Pa 3; Moore 2003: 33; Rocco 2008: 77 Pa 4; see also Tölle-Kastenbein 1974), while the ‘griffin’ finds counterparts on vases of the painter (see Palaiokrassa 2014: 108 n. 24 and Tölle-Kastenbein 1974: 27, fig. 9.12). The filling ornaments are characteristic of the painter (Moore 2003: 23-24; Palaiokrassa 2014: 107; Rocco 2008: 75 fig. 9). On the right upper part of a pedestal (23; Figure 23.6), the surviving part of a goat resembles the reclining goats on the shoulder of side A of the name vase (Moore 2003: 26 fig. 20, 31), with long S-shaped horns overlapping the top border. The remaining fragments (Figure 23.7) depict a probable sphinx (24), a vulture (25), and the painter’s favourite creatures, birds or cocks (2628). Others preserve some of the filling ornament characteristic of the painter, a swastika surrounded by a circle of dots (29). Another group of sherds from kraters and pedestals follow the so-called Wild Style (30-32; Figure 23.8). Some aspects of the surviving representations find parallels in the works of painters or workshops of the same period. A krater sherd depicting water birds (33a), from the same vase as part of a pedestal (33b; Figure 23.8), may perhaps be associated with the workshop of the Checkerboard Painter. Two fragments of another pedestal (34a-b; Figure 23.8) follow the same tradition, date to the second quarter of the seventh century, and may be related to the louterion from Thebes (now in Athens) and the krater National Archaeological Museum, Athens, 17762, formerly in the Schliemann collection (see below under 34). Part of an animal head, including the eye, is preserved on another krater fragment (35; Figure 23.9). It finds a parallel in the running dog on the stand from the Acropolis, Νational Archaeological Μuseum, Athens, Acr 370 (Morris 1984: 54-5, 122 no 1, pl. 11; Rocco 2008: 150 Ar 8) or the hanging prey on the amphora Berlin A9 (CVA Berlin 1: pl. 5.2; Rocco 2008: 149 Ar 1). It may be the work of the Ram Jug Painter or of a painter near to him (for the Ram Jug Painter see Rocco [2008: 143-51] with bibliography). Sarah Morris has attributed the krater fragment 36 (Figure 23.10), with the figure of a sphinx, to the Pernice Painter, while another fragment of a similar vessel with the same theme (37; Figure 23.11) must be associated with the Kerameikos Mug Group (on which see Rocco [2008: 161-5] with previous bibliography). Two more fragments, one with an animal to the left and a swastika (38; Figure 23.12) and another with the remnants of a figure and a rosette (39; Figure 23.12), probably belong to the same Group. A small panel from a fenestrated pedestal (40) decorated with a water bird with half-spread wings in black and violet paint, similar to the birds on the oinochoe Kerameikos 54 (Kübler 1970: cat. no. 70, pl. 62; Rocco 2008: 183 Op ζ 1), is attributed to the Painter of Opferrinne ζ/ΧΙV (for the painter see Rocco 2008: 182-3). It dates to the third quarter of the seventh century. The century concludes with fragments of kraters and pedestals attributed to the Nessos Painter (for whom see ABV: 4-6; Add²: 1; Para: 1-6; Alexandridou 2011: 39-41, 215; Moore and Philippides 1986: 74-5). In addition to one published pedestal (Palaiokrassa 1994; also Alexandridou 2011: 85, 164), there are also fragments with female figures holding branches or flowers from procession scenes (41; Figure 23.13), and sherds from pedestal kraters with bird figures. As the above discussion has shown, the most common vessel form in the sanctuary during our period is the pedestal krater, mostly small in size (for the shape see Brann 1962: 41-2; Cook 1934-5: 170; Moore 2003: 39 n. 25; Moore and Philippides 1986: 29-32; Palaiokrassa 2014: 105; Palaiokrassa-Kopitsa and Vivliodetis 2015: 157). In a few cases the pedestals are fenestrated. The body profiles fall into two types: skyphoid-kraters with deep, slightly convex bowls, and chalice-like kraters with a convex lower body and flaring high rim (Palaiokrassa 2014: 105 n. 4; compare WalterKarydi 1997: 387 fig. 6). Handles are horizontal, single or double. The pedestals are conical. The interior of the krater is usually glazed, often with a reserved band at the rim. The decoration follows the general evolution of Protoattic pottery: the subjects are the usual ones, with no differentiation that could be related to the cult. For example, there are no women’s processions, such as exist in the Late Geometric period (Palaiokrassa-Kopitsa and Vivliodetis 2015: 157) or the early Black Figure style like the above mentioned by the Nessos Painter. Similar evidence can be adduced from fragments that do not bear (or preserve) iconographical themes, but merely ornamental patterns. There are two types of decoration (see also Whitley 1994a: 53): The first consists of Subgeometric patterns (42; Figure 23.14). In the second, decoration closely follows the precepts of Protoattic pottery (43-44; Figure 23.15); it spreads freely over the vessel surface, combining old and new ornament in a spirit of invention. 247

Lydia Palaiokrassa-Kopitsa An unimaginative repetition of Geometric patterns, particularly zigzag or wavy lines, may be observed on the pedestals of a group of small kraters (45; Figures 23.16-23.17) which resemble the Phaleron group (Young 1942; Stampolides and Parlama 2000: 276 -7). In some cases, these patterns decorate the rim or the lower body. Lines are straight, zigzag or wavy, horizontal or vertical (46; Figure 23.16). Sometimes we find combinations of straight and wavy lines (single or double) or of lines and chevron columns or solid tongues; on other occasions we come across a combination of many linear themes (cross-hatched bars, lozenge chains, and zigzags). There are also examples of multiple zigzags, strokes or bars and steps in horizontal bands encircling the vase (47; Figure 23.16). In two further cases, notwithstanding the careless Subgeometric decoration of the pedestals, the use of white and violet paint combines tradition with an innovative technique. N-shapes, three- or four-limbed sigmas, zeds and steps decorate the rims, bodies and pedestals of various vessels, occasionally enclosed in metopes. Less often, pedestals are decorated with parallel horizontal lines apparently influenced by Corinthian pottery (48-49; Figures 23.16, 23.17). The lower part of the pedestal or the vessel body may bear rays, usually solid and often in a double row (Palaiokrassa 1989: 29 no. 78). Zones of alternating solid and reserved squares define the upper part of pedestals or the lower part of bodies (50; Figure 23.16). Small kraters apart, rare forms include a few, mostly small, skyphoi (Palaiokrassa 1989: 29 no. 78, pl. 6. 3) and amphora necks decorated with vertical, parallel, slightly convex bars.2 New Protoattic ornament is dominated by free curving lines. Vases are freely decorated (in zones or free-form) with volutes, solid circles, spiral hooks, double spirals, tendril ornaments (53; Figure 23.18), palmettes circumscribed by tendrils ending in spirals and joined by lines (51-52; Figure 23.18), connected vertical wavy lines, connected double spirals (55; Figure 23.19), elongated tangential blobs, cable, guilloche, rosettes, hooked vertical lozenge chains, solid tongues (54; Figure 23.16), and upright loops. In certain cases, motifs or drawing style betray influence from the island tradition (55) or find counterparts on vases attributed to well-known painters or groups. For example, metopes with circles (47; compare Rocco 2008: 97 fig. 12. 12) and parallel four limbed sigmas recall the Wild style (Rocco 2008: 102 W 24 and 30). Spiral floral ornament, connected double volutes, and black and white palmettes (43-44) find parallels in the Kerameikos Mug Group (see Rocco [2008: 161-165] with previous bibliography). Added white ornament on a violet ground is typical of the group of vases from the Kerameikos Opferrinne ζ (Freytag 1975; Kübler 1970: cats 65-73, pls 62-71, especially cat. 65, pl. 71; Rocco 2008: 171, 172 AG 14, 182-3). The dense painted patterns on 56 are reminiscent of the Checkerboard Painter (Figure 23.19). Finally, miniature vases, mostly cups, skyphoi and krateriskoi, are exceptionally few. This chapter has presented a limited part of the material from the sanctuary. It is clear that there was intensive cult activity throughout the seventh century, especially when one takes into account the limits of research (Palaiokrassa 1989: 14-15; 1991: 65, 90; Scholl 2006: 117). Within the ceramic repertoire (i.e. the majority of finds), the pedestal krater is the predominant shape (Figure 23.20). As finds from the sanctuary of Artemis at Brauron confirm, it had ritual significance and was used for libations or for burning incense, maintaining this function at least to the fifth century.3 Vessel decoration follows the two main seventh-century Attic trends, namely conservative insistence on Geometric tradition, and original creation, building on the rich tradition of the Kerameikos from Geometric times. Potters experimented and made highly imaginative creations, dominated by figures in outline and curvilinear orientalizing ornaments, producing inspired vases, sometimes monumental, sometimes small and medium-sized. However, large works, which were expensive and difficult to move, were destined for tombs, while smaller vessels, painted by able artists as noted, were preferred as votive offerings. In the material under consideration, one can distinguish two categories of vases, corresponding to two levels of dedicators, of higher and lower social rank: more noteworthy vessels painted by leading artists, and small, modest vessels, decorated with new but also old Geometric patterns. Similar conditions are found at the Brauron sanctuary (Ekroth 2003: 79-80; Mersch 1996: 69), in terms of the cult and as far as one can tell from the seventh-century material, although (with the exception of the terracotta figurines and the wooden objects) this has not been published.4 In these two sanctuaries Artemis was worshipped as a fertility goddess, protector of the continuing life of both genders and of safe childbirth, of infants, children (especially female) and of women. Artemis protected females, especially at the most critical periods of their lives when passing from childhood to adolescence and on to motherhood, thus preserving the continuity of the oikos and consequently Athenian society. The flourishing of these cults in the seventh century should be closely associated with social There are also fragments from SOS amphorae and undecorated ware, mostly lekanae. For krateriskoi, see Ekroth 2003: 65-6; Kahil 1963; 1965; 1983; ThesCRA V: 256-7 nos 665-8 and 250 no. 673 (I. Krauskopf); Palaiokrassa 1989: 16-17, 31 no. 88; 1991: 74-82, 185-6; Zampiti 2013: 307-8. The Mounichia material shows that the kraterikos has a long history from the Geometric period onwards, with Protogeometric prototypes (Palaiokrassa 1989: 17-18; Palaiokrassa-Kopitsa and Vivliodetis 2015: 156-7, 159-60). 4  On the Brauron sanctuary, see Ekroth 2003: 102-4; Kondis 1967; Mylonopoulos and Bubenheimer 1996; Papadimitriou 1963; Themelis 2002; Travlos 1988: 55-7, s. v. Brauron. 2  3 

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23. Cult in Attica. The case of the sanctuary of Artemis Mounichia organization (Polignac 1995b: 78-81; see also n. 7), reflecting the emergence of the polis, as noted in the case of the sanctuary of Nymphe, protector of marriage, established in the third quarter of the century (Kyrkou 1997; Greco 2010: 200-1). By this time, these sanctuaries must have been incorporated into public cult. From the end of the eighth century, and especially during the seventh, cult activity in Attica was generally intense. This is evident from the great concentration of objects in sanctuaries, which denotes a certain difference in attitudes towards the divine when compared to previous periods. In the material record of almost all places of worship one may observe a differentiation in the type or quality of objects. The difference in type generally relates to the nature of each cult and its particular ritual, and is not confined to this period. As far as the quality of material is concerned, in the more important sanctuaries it consists of Protoattic,5 Subgeometric and Corinthian pottery (D’Onofrio 1995: 75), whereas the pottery from the more remote or minor sanctuaries is mostly Subgeometric.6 Vases in this last category, of modest artistic value, could be manufactured in any workshop including local ones (see also D’Onofrio 1995: 74), and were thus accessible to the majority of the people, sold at popular prices. Even in the Mounichia sanctuary, which is not lacking in other high quality vessels, a large quantity of Subgeometric vases is observed. It is difficult to determine the place of production of the Protoattic pottery found at Mounichia, i.e. whether vases were manufactured by itinerant artists or in Athenian workshops and transported to Piraeus.7 In conclusion, sanctuary finds bear witness to the flourishing religious life of Attica, to the organization of sanctuaries and collective ritual practices, and to the attachment to particular cults of individuals of different income and social status (Whitley 1994a: 60-2). This last point is indicated by the dedication at the same sanctuary of the same vessel type in versions of different quality and value. The development of the sanctuary of Athena Polias in the city centre is further evidence of an organized religious community (Scholl 2006: 89, 127-31, especially 129). This process also presupposes the social and political organization of the city at this time under the auspices of the nobles, the eupatrides.8

For the pottery from the Acropolis, see Graef and Langlotz 1925: 34-41 nos 344-94, pls 12-15; Scholl 2006: 112. From Sounion, see TheodoropoulouPolychroniadis 2015: 258-60. From Brauron, see n. 4 above; from the sanctuary of Nymphe see Kyrkou 1997; Greco 2010: 200-1. The pottery from Eleusis and Porto Rafti (Mersch 1996: 148) is mostly unpublished. Finds from earlier tombs, such as the Mycenaean tholoi at Menidi and Thorikos, are different in character (Antonaccio 1995: 104-12; Baumer 2004: 85 Att 1, 102-3 Att 36-37; D’Onofrio 1995: 71; Whitley 1994a: 54-55) as is the material from the Agora (see Antonaccio 1995: 122-6; Whitley 1994a: 55). There is very little Protoattic pottery from the Zeus sanctuaries on Hymettos (see Baumer 2004: 89-90 Att 11; Langdon 1976) and Parnes (Palaiokrassa-Kopitsa and Vivliodetis 2015: 158), especially from the sanctuaries on Tourkovouni (see Baumer 2004: 103-4 AAtt 38; Lauter 1985a) and Kiapha Thiti (Christiansen 2000: 28-9). Protoattic pottery is reported from the peak sanctuary at Merenda (Baumer 2004: 136, Att 12; Langdon 1976: 103; Mersch 1996: 155). For the Agora deposits, see Whitley 1994a: 55; D’Onofrio 1995: 76. 6  See for example Agrieliki (Baumer 2004: 115 Att 45), Varkiza (Baumer 2004: 107-8 Att 41; the pottery is Subgeometric, see Lauter and Lauter Bufe 2010: 78 pl. 15), Keratovouni (Baumer 2004: 136 AAtt 9). See also D’Onofrio 1995. The sanctuary of Zeus on Mt Parnes attracted people from neighbouring Boeotia (Palaiokrassa-Kopitsa and Vivliodetis 2015: 161). 7  On this issue see Brann 1962: 24; Morris 2014; Papadopoulos and Smithson 2002: 185-6, 190-1; Sheedy 1985: 170, 173, 189-90. For a local production of late Archaic–early Classical krateriskoi, see Monaco 2000: 125, 144; Palaiokrassa 1991: 81. 8  See also D’Onofrio 1995: 82; Parker 1996: 21-4, 27-8; Polignac 1995a: 151-4; 1995b. This organization is also attested in topographical changes in the area of the future polis of Athens, mostly in the modification of the function of the central area of the Agora, which was also used for religious activities. 5 

249

Lydia Palaiokrassa-Kopitsa Catalogue All of the sherds in this catalogue belong to kraters. All are kept in the Piraeus Archaeological Museum, except for 22 and 36. For brevity, the catalogue records only the Piraeus Museum inventory number, the vessel part and its dimensions, the fabric (with reference to the Munsell colour chart), bibliography and references to parallels for decoration.

1. 12993a. (Figure 23.2). Body. Height 0.038m. Fabric 5YR 7/4, with inclusions. Palaiokrassa 1991: 132 Κα 16α. Compare the lids London British Museum 1977.12-11.9 (Rocco 2008: 29 An 38) and Athens Agora Museum P 13264 (Rocco 2008: 29 An 37). 2. 12993b. (Figure 23.2). Body. Height 0.065m. Fabric 7.5YR 7/4. Compare the hydriae Bochum, Kunstsammlungen Ruhr-Universität S 1067 (CVA Bochum 1: pls 10, 11. 1-2, 12. 1-4, figs 1, 2; Rocco 2008: 28 An 9), Melbourne, National Gallery of Victoria D 23/1982 (Denoyelle 1996: pl. 13. 1, 3; Rocco 2008: 28 An 10) and National Archaeological Museum, Athens, 313 (Denoyelle 1996: 86, no. 11, pl. 14. 2-3; Rocco 2008: 28 An 11), and the krateriskos Eleusis 1078 (Cook 1934-5: pl. 40a; Denoyelle 1996: 73, 81, 86, no. 15; Rocco 2008: 29 An 33). For the ornament, compare the Athens lid under 1. 3. 12993c. (Figure 23.2). Body. Height 0.038m. Fabric 5YR 7/4, with inclusions. Evidence of burning. Compare the bird under the handle of the krater Munich, Staatliche Antikensammlungen 6077 (CVA Munich 3: pls 130-1, 133. 1-2; Denoyelle 1996: 73, 81, 86, no. 27; Rocco 2008: 28 An 18). 4. 12993d. (Figure 23.2). Body. Height 0.076m. Fabric 7.5YR 7/4, with inclusions. Compare the Melbourne and Athens hydriae (under 2) and the Munich krater (under 3). For the ornaments, see Rocco 2008: 23 fig. 1. 25, 25 fig. 2. 47. 5. 5404. (Figure 23.2). Rim. Palaiokrassa 1991: 131 Κα 16; Rocco 2008: 28 An 25; Walter-Karydi 1997: 387. 6. 12993e. Body. Height 0.044m. Fabric 7.5YR 7/4, with inclusions. Compare the hydria National Archaeological Museum, Athens, 313 (under 2). For the ornament, see Rocco 2008: 23 fig. 1. 21. 7. 12993f. (Figure 23.2). Body. Width 0.036m. Fabric 7.5YR 7/4, with inclusions. Compare the fragment from the Olympieion (Brann 1959: pl. 44. 1; Rocco 2008: 27 An 6, with previous bibliography) and the Munich krater (under 3).

Figure 23.2 Sanctuary of Artemis Mounichia. First row: 5; second row: 2, 3; third row: 4, 1; fourth row: 7. (Photograph: K.-V. von Eickstedt).

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23. Cult in Attica. The case of the sanctuary of Artemis Mounichia

Figure 23.3 Sanctuary of Artemis Mounichia. First row: 18, 8; second row: 14, 19, 15, 9; third row: 12, 10, 11; fourth row: 17, 20, 13. (Photograph: K.-V. von Eickstedt).

8.

9. 10.

11.

12.

12994a. (Figure 23.3). Rim. Width 0.052m. Fabric 7.5YR 7/4, with inclusions. Compare the amphorae Oxford, Ashmolean Museum 1935.19 (King 1976: pl. 13 figs 1-2; Rocco 2008: 38 Me 4) and Houston Museum of Fine Arts 37.92 (King 1976: pl. 13 fig. 3; Rocco 2008: 38 Me 3). 12994b. (Figure 23.3). Rim. Height 0.04m. Fabric 7.5YR 7/4, with inclusions. Compare 8 above. 12994c. (Figure 23.3). Pedestal. Height 0.072m. Fabric 5YR 7/4, with inclusions. For the ornament, see Rocco 2008: 35 fig. 3. 16, 32, 33 and for the zigzag see the hydria National Archaeological Museum, Athens, VS 179 (Rocco 2008: 39 Me 11). 12994d. (Figure 23.3). Body. Width 0.048m. Fabric 7.5YR 7/4, with inclusions. Compare the amphora Oxford, Ashmolean Museum 1935. 19, the Houston amphora (under 8) and the amphora San Antonio Museum of Art 86.133.23 (Rocco 2008: 38 Me 5). 12994e. (Figure 23.3). Pedestal. Width 0.06m. Fabric 5YR 7/4, with inclusions.

13. 14.

15.

16.

251

Probably the hind legs of a horse are preserved. Compare the amphorae in Oxford and Houston (under 11). 12994f. (Figure 23.3). Body. Width 0.055m. Fabric 7.5YR 7/4, quite pure. Compare the Houston amphora (under 8). 12994g. (Figure 23.3). Rim. Height 0.063m. Fabric 5YR 7/4, with inclusions. Compare the hydriae National Archaeological Museum, Athens, VS 63 (Rocco 2008: 39 Me 12) and 179 (Rocco 2008: 39 Me 11), and the amphora fragments Athens, Agora Museum Inv. P 3617 (Rocco 2008: 38 Me 6). 5403. (Figure 23.3). Rim. Palaiokrassa 1991: 131 Kα 15; Rocco 2008: 39 Me 23. For the head, compare the amphora Athens, Kerameikos Museum 1370 (Rocco 2008: 38 Me 1); for the sphinx’s wings and the zigzag sets see the fragmentary krater (Figure 23.4) once in the Vlastos Collection (Rocco 2008: 39 Me 22). 12994h. (Figure 23.4). Body. Height 0.053m. Fabric 5YR 6/6, with few inclusions.

Lydia Palaiokrassa-Kopitsa Compare the fragmentary krater once in the Vlastos Collection (under 15). 17. 12994i. (Figure 23.3). Body. Width 0.049. Fabric 5YR 7/4, with inclusions. Compare the fragmentary krater once in the Vlastos Collection (under 15). 18. 12994j. (Figure 23.3). Body. Height 0.034m. Fabric 5YR 7/6. Compare the hydria National Archaeological Museum, Athens, VS 63 (under 14). 19. 12994k. (Figure 23.3). Pedestal. Width 0.061m. Fabric 5YR 7/4, with few inclusions. Compare the hydriae National Archaeological Museum, Athens, VS 63 and 179, as well as the fragmentary krater once in the Vlastos Collection (under 15). 20. 12994l. (Figure 23.3). Body. Width 0.063m. Fabric 5YR 7/4. Compare the hydria National Archaeological Museum, Athens, VS 63 (under 14).

Figure 23.4 First row: Sanctuary of Artemis Mounichia, 16, krater fragment formerly in the Vlastos Collection, Athens (Cook 1934-5: 176, fig. 2, reproduced by courtesy of the British School at Athens); second row: Sanctuary of Artemis Mounichia, 21. (Photograph: L. Palaiokrassa).

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21. 12994m. (Figure 23.4). Body. Width 0.0625m. Fabric 5YR 7/4, with mica and inclusions. Evidence of burning on the upper part. The form of the tail end is similar to that of the sphinxes on the lekanis lid Athens, Kerameikos Museum 1151 (Rocco 2008: 44 Op α 8). in

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22. National Archaeological Museum, Athens, 20586. (Figure 23.5). Body. Height 0.0765m. Fabric 7.5YR 7/4, with inclusions. Palaiokrassa 2014: 106-9 figs 1-2. The figure must be a griffin because it has the body of a bird, but also a mane similar to the horse’s mane on the crest of the warrior’s helmet on the name vase of the Passas Painter (see Palaiokrassa 2014: 108; compare the winged horse on the oinochoe National Archaeological Museum, Athens, 306 [Petrocheilos 1996: 63-4 Nr 7, pl. 6. 2-3; Rocco 2008: 78 BPa 8]).

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Figure 23.5 Sanctuary of Artemis Mounichia, 22. (© National Archaeological Museum, Athens: Hellenic Ministry of Culture and Sports: Archaeological Receipts Fund).

252

23. Cult in Attica. The case of the sanctuary of Artemis Mounichia

Figure 23.6 Sanctuary of Artemis Mounichia, 23. (Photograph: K.-V. von Eickstedt; drawing: S. Piskardellis).

23. 12995a. (Figure 23.6). Pedestal. Width 0.084m. Fabric 7.5YR 7/4, with inclusions. Palaiokrassa 2014: 109 fig. 3. For the hanging spiral left of the goat, see Moore 2003: 23. For the zigzag frieze on the upper part of the pedestal, see the oinochoe British Museum 1865.7-20.1 (CVA Metropolitan 5: 68; Moore 2003: 29 fig. 32; Rocco 2008: 77 BPa 3). 24. 12995b. (Figure 23.7). Body. Height 0.036m. Fabric 5YR 7/4, quite pure. Palaiokrassa 2014: 112-13 fig. 4. Compare the sphinxes on stand B Mainz, Sammlung der Universität 153 (Hampe 1960: pls 18.1, 20.3; Rocco 2008: 77 Pa 7), also the dogs on the tankard Manchester, University Museum 1984.105 (Moore 2003: 19, 29 fig. 33, 31; Rocco 2008: 78 BPa 26). For the two Ns see Moore 2003: 24. 25. 12995c. (Figure 23.7). Body. Height 0.041m. Fabric 5YR 7/4, with inclusions. Palaiokrassa 2014: 112 fig. 4. The long talons of the feet are characteristic of the Passas Painter. Compare the vultures on the amphora in Athens, Passas Collection (Hampe 1960: 41-5, 80, Pa 3; Moore 2003: 31; Rocco 2008: 77 Pa 4) and on the pedestal National Archaeological Museum, Athens, 3823 (Rocco 2008: 78 BPa 19, pl.10.5 attributes it to the workshop of the Passas Painter). 26. 12995d. (Figure 23.7). Body. Height 0.032m. Fabric 7.5YR 7/4, with inclusions. Palaiokrassa 2014: 110 fig. 4. Compare the bird on the neck of the amphora, New York, Metropolitan Museum of Art 21.88.18 (CVA Metropolitan 5: pl. 41.2;

Figure 23.7 Sanctuary of Artemis Mounichia. First row: 26, 27; second row: 24, 25, 28b; third row: 29a, 29c, 29b, 28a. (Photograph: K.-V. von Eickstedt).

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Lydia Palaiokrassa-Kopitsa 30. 12996a. (Figure 23.8). Pedestal (?) Height 0.064m. Fabric 5YR 7/4, with inclusions. For the floral spiral pattern, see Rocco 2008: 113 fig. 15.19. Compare the pedestal kraters of the Checkerboard Painter, Berlin, Staatliche Museen, Antikensammlung A 22 (CVA Berlin 1: pls 12-13; Rocco 2008: 115-116 S 2) and A 24 (CVA Berlin 1: pl. 15.2; Rocco 2008: 116 S 3). See also the krater Kerameikos Museum 152 (Kübler 1970: pl. 74, cat. 78). 31. 12996b. (Figure 23.8). Body. Height 0.038m. Fabric 7.5YR 7/4, with few inclusions. For the floral ornament compare the neck of the New York Nessos amphora, Metropolitan Museum of Art 11.210.1 (CVA Metropolitan 5: pls 42.1, 43.2; Rocco 2008: 128 NY 1) and the krater fragments Berlin, Staatliche Museen, Antikensammlung A 26 (CVA Berlin 1: pl. 16.1; Rocco 2008: 116 NY 10). 32. Nr 12996c. (Figure 23.8). Body. Width 0.064m. Fabric10YR 6/4, with mica. Compare the water birds on vases attributed to the Checkerboard Painter or his workshop: the skyphos-krater Berlin, Staatliche Museen, Antikensammlung A 39 (CVA Berlin 1: pl. 24.23; Rocco 2008: 116 S 6, pl. 17.3); the oinochoe British Museum 1865.7-20.2 (Rocco 2008: 116 BS 2, pl. 17.5). Also Kübler 1970: pl. 30, cat. no. 36.

Rocco 2008: 77 Pa 1). For cocks and birds by the Passas Painter, see Hampe 1960: 44-45; Moore 2003: 31; Palaiokrassa 2014: 110 n. 39. 27. Nr 12995e. (Figure 23.7). Body. Height 0.029m. Fabric 5YR 7/4, quite pure. Palaiokrassa 2014: 110 fig. 4. Compare the cock on the krater Athens, Agora Museum P 10656 (Moore 2003: 30 fig. 34; Rocco 2008: 78 BPa 21), and those on the oinochoe British Museum 1865.7-20.1 (Moore 2003: 29 fig. 32; Rocco 2008: 77 BPa 3: Passas Painter workshop). 28. a. 12995f; b. 12995g. (Figure 23.7). Body sherds from two different vessels. a. Height 0.0255m. Fabric 5YR 7/4, quite pure. b. Width 0.0385m. Fabric 7.5YR 7/4, with inclusions. Palaiokrassa 2014: 110 fig. 4. Compare the cocks on the oinochoe British Museum 1865.7-20.1 (under 27) and the claws on 22. 29. a. 12995h; b. 12995i; c. 12995j. (Figure 23.7). Body sherds from three different vessels. a. Height 0.047m. Fabric 7.5YR 7/4, with inclusions. b. Height 0.027m. Fabric 5YR 7/4, with inclusions. c. Width 0.035m. Fabric 5YR 7/4, quite pure. Palaiokrassa 2014: 112 fig. 4. For the ornament see Moore 2003: 24; Rocco 2008: 75 fig. 9.22.

Figure 23.8 Sanctuary of Artemis Mounichia. First row: 30, 33a; second row: 33b, 31; third row: 34a, 34b, 32. (Photograph: K.-V. von Eickstedt).

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23. Cult in Attica. The case of the sanctuary of Artemis Mounichia 33. a. 12996d. Body; b. 12996e. Pedestal (Figure 23.8). Height a. 0.0855m. b. 0.06m. Fabric 5YR 7/6. For the water birds see 32 above and the krater Berlin, Staatliche Museen, Antikensammlung A 24 (CVA Berlin 1: pl. 15.1-2; Rocco 2008: 116 S 3, pl. 16.6). For the ornaments, see Rocco 2008: 113 fig. 15.26, 28, 34, 38 and compare 27. For the floral pattern on fragment b, see the Berlin krater above. 34. a. 12996f; b. 12996g. (Figure 23.8). Pedestal. Height a. 0.069m. b. 0.045m. Fabric 5YR 7/4, with inclusions. For the grazing deer, compare the louterion Νational Archaeological Μuseum, Athens, 238 (Rocco 2008: 119 LT 9). The filling ornaments come closer to the krater National Archaeological Museum, Athens, 17762, formerly Schliemann Collection (Rocco 2008: 123 SV 3, with previous bibliography).

35. 12996h. (Figure 23.9). Body. Width 0.034m. Fabric 7.5YR 7/4, with inclusions. Compare the lion on the dinos Berlin, Staatliche Museen, Antikensammlung A 43 (CVA Berlin 1: pls 34.1, 35; Rocco 2008: 149-50 Ar 4, pl. 22.4).

Figure 23.9 Sanctuary of Artemis Mounichia, 35. (Photograph: L. Palaiokrassa).

Figure 23.10 Sanctuary of Artemis Mounichia, 36. (© National Archaeological Museum, Athens: Hellenic Ministry of Culture and Sports: Archaeological Receipts Fund).

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36. National Archaeological Museum, Athens, 20585. (Figure 23.10). Rim. Height 0.082m. Fabric 7.5YR 7/4. Morris 1984: 87 n. 197; Rocco 2008: 157 Per 5. For the filling ornament, see Rocco 2008: 157 fig. 23. The dotted rosette appears for the first time in this painter’s work. For the sphinx’s wing see the krater National Archaeological Museum, Athens, 801 (Rocco 2008: 156 Per 3) and the amphora fragment Athens, Agora Museum P 26415 (Brann 1962: 92, no. 540, pl. 33; Rocco 2008: 156 Per 2).

37. 12997a. (Figure 23.11). Body. Height 0.085m. Fabric 7.5YR 7/4, with inclusions. Compare the lekanis lids Kerameikos Museum 76 (Kübler 1970: pls 16-18, no. 27; Rocco 2008: 164 KMG 10) and Kerameikos Museum 75 (Kübler 1970: pls 18-19, no. 28; Rocco 2008: 164 KMG 11). For the ornament, see Rocco 2008: 162 fig. 25.28. For the dots decorating the upper part of the sphinx’s wing, compare the horse’s tail on the lekanis lid Kerameikos Museum 76 (Kübler 1970: pl. 17). Dots as a decorative pattern are used abundantly on the vases of the Kerameikos Mugs Group (see Kerameikos Museum 1280, 80 and 1281: Kübler 1970: pls 13, 15, 28; Rocco 2008: 164 KMG 16, 14, and 3).

Figure 23.11 Sanctuary of Artemis Mounichia, 37. (Photograph: L. Palaiokrassa).

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Lydia Palaiokrassa-Kopitsa

Figure 23.12 Sanctuary of Artemis Mounichia, 38, 39. (Photograph: K.-V. von Eickstedt).

38. 12997b. (Figure 23.12). Body. Height 0.04m. Fabric 7.5YR 7/4, with inclusions. Compare Kerameikos Museum 75, 76 (under 37). For the ornament, see Rocco 2008: 162 fig. 25.42-3. 39. 12997c. (Figure 23.12). Pedestal (?). Height 0.065m. Fabric 7.5YR 7/4, with inclusions. For the ornament, see Rocco 2008: 162, fig. 25. 39. It is difficult to attribute this vase to any individual painter because the surviving details of the representation are not sufficiently distinctive. The rosette ornament, as well as the style of drawing in outline with filling dots is common in the work of, for example, the Ram Jug Painter (Rocco 2008: 147 fig. 21.3, 8 and pl. 22.2) or on vases of the Kerameikos Mugs Group (Rocco 2008: 162 fig. 25. 39 and pl. 25.4, 5). However, the hand of our painter is not so careful and steady as that of the Ram Jug Painter and seems to be closer to the Kerameikos Mugs Group.

Figure 23.13 Sanctuary of Artemis Mounichia, 41. First row: 41g, 41e, 41b; second row: 41d, 41f, 41c; third row: 41h, 41a. (Photograph: K.-V. von Eickstedt).

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23. Cult in Attica. The case of the sanctuary of Artemis Mounichia 40. 12997d. Pedestal. Height 0.07m. Fabric 7.5YR 7/4, with inclusions. 41. 12998a-h. (Figure 23.13). Pedestals. Height: d. 0.0625m. Fabric 5YR 7/4, with inclusions. e. 0.05m. Fabric 5YR 7/4, with inclusions. f. 0.061m. Fabric 7.5YR 7/4, with inclusions. h. 0.072m. Fabric 5YR 7/6, with inclusions. Width: a. 0.06m. Fabric 5YR 7/6, with inclusions. b. 0.082m. Fabric 5YR 7/4, with inclusions. c. 0.063m. From the same vase as b. g. 0.06m. Fabric 5YR 7/4, with inclusions. Compare the pedestal skyphos-krater National Archaeological Museum, Athens, 16384 (ABV 6; Para 3.13; Add² 1; Karouzou 1963: 11-14 pls 21-28) by the Nessos Painter.

42. 12999a, b. (Figure 23.14). Body sherds from two different vessels. Width a. 0.138m. Fabric 2.5YR 6/6. Width b. 0.126m. Fabric 10R 6/8. 42a has counterparts in the work of the Analatos Painter (Denoyelle 1996: pl. 13. 1; Rocco 2008: 23 fig. 1. 2), but also later, around the middle of the seventh century (Kübler 1970: pl. 30; Rocco 2008: 170-1). Figure 23.14 Sanctuary of Artemis Mounichia, 42. (Photograph: K.-V. von Eickstedt).

43. 12999c. (Figure 23.15). Body. Width 0.077m. Fabric 7.5YR 7/4, with inclusions. Compare the lekanis Kerameikos Museum 76 (under 37 and Rocco 2008: 162 fig. 25.17) and the oinochoe Kerameikos Museum 1281 (Kübler 1970: pl. 28; Rocco 2008: 164 KMG 3). 44. 12999d. (Figure 23.15). Rim. Width 0.073m. Fabric 5YR 7/4, with inclusions