Sympozjum Egejskie: Papers in Aegean Archaeology (Warsaw Studies in Archaeology, 3) 9782503599915, 2503599915

Table of contents :
Front Matter
Tomáš Alušík. EPIDEMIC, INFECTIOUS AND PARASITIC DISEASES IN PREHISTORIC GREECE
Vasiliki Eleni Dimitriou. PERFORATED FURNACE METALLURGY IN THE FINAL NEOLITHIC AEGEAN
Chiara De Gregorio. THE “EMBLEMS” ON THE JUGS IN THE LATE PREPALATIAL AYIA TRIADA NECROPOLIS AND THE ICONOGRAPHY OF SEALS
Valeria Taglieri. BIRDCAGE VASES (VASI A GABBIETTA) FROM PROTOPALATIAL PHAISTOS (CRETE) IN CONTEXT
Giulia Muti, Giulia Albertazzi. AT THE ROOTS OF PRODUCTION
Sarah Georgel-Debedde. BUILDING A MINOAN LARNAX—TECHNIQUES AND GESTURES
Jan Sienkiewicz. PROBLEMATISING PEAK SANCTUARIES
Stephanie Aulsebrook. FORGING AHEAD OR FOILED AGAIN?
Sofia Antonello. MYCENAEAN PICTORIAL STYLE POTTERY AND WALL PAINTINGS—TWO DISTINCT ART FORMS1
Christina Aamodt. PRACTICES FOR AVERTING EVIL AND THE NOTION OF RITUAL PROTECTION IN MYCENAEAN CULT PERFORMANCE
Christofilis Maggidis, Efi Karantzali, Adrianos Psychas. REASSESSING A PERIPHERAL GEOPOLITICAL VACUUM
Stephanie Aulsebrook. ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL
Maria Katsimicha, Ioanna Moutafi, Tina Jakob. INVESTIGATING THE ‘PERIPHERAL’ MYCENAEAN COMMUNITY
Maria Psallida. FUNERARY PLACES IN EAST CRETE
Ulrike Berndt. CHANGES IN RELIGIOUS RITUAL IN MYCENAEAN GREECE
Thérèse Claeys. BETWEEN HERITAGE PRESERVATION AND PUBLIC APPRECIATION

Citation preview

WARSAW STUDIES IN ARCHAEOLOGY VOLUME 3 EDITORIAL BOARD

Coordinating Editor Dorota Dzierzbicka, Faculty of Archaeology, University of Warsaw Editorial Board Faculty of Archaeology, University of Warsaw Bartosz Kontny Arkadiusz Sołtysiak Agata Ulanowska Miłosz Giersz Polish Centre of Mediterranean Archaeology, University of Warsaw Artur Obłuski Grzegorz Majcherek Francisco J. Núñez Henryk Paner External Board Members Julia Budka, Ludwig Maximilian University of Munich Jaś Elsner, University of Oxford Adam Izdebski, Max Planck Institute for the Science of Human History Jan Klápště, Charles University, Prague Gabriel Prieto, University of Florida Dieter Quast, Römisch-Germanisches Zentralmuseum Jason Ur, Harvard University Thorsten Uthmeier, Friedrich-Alexander-University of Erlangen-Nürnberg

language proof Stephanie Aulsebrook

front cover and layout Maria Jagodzińska

SYMPOZJUM EGEJSKIE

PAPERS IN AEGEAN ARCHAEOLOGY

VOL. 3 ( 2022 )

EDITED BY STEPHANIE AULSEBROOK, KATARZYNA ŻEBROWSKA, AGATA ULANOWSKA & KAZIMIERZ LEWARTOWSKI

FACULTY OF ARCHAEOLOGY UNIVERSITY OF WARSAW

SYMPOZJUM EGEJSKIE

PAPERS IN AEGEAN ARCHAEOLOGY VOL. 3 ( 2022 ) Editors of the Series University of Warsaw Stephanie Aulsebrook Katarzyna Żebrowska Agata Ulanowska Kazimierz Lewartowski Address Faculty of Archaeology, University of Warsaw Krakowskie Przedmieście 26/28 00-092 Warsaw, Poland Editorial Board Pietro Maria Militello, University of Catania Krzysztof Nowicki, Institute of Archaeology and Ethnology, Polish Academy of Sciences Kostas Paschalidis, National Archaeological Museum of Athens Peter Pavúk, Charles University Małgorzata Siennicka, University of Göttingen Reviewers Jaime Almansa-Sánchez, Incipit, CSIC, Institute of Heritage Sciences at the Spanish National Research Council Fritz Blakolmer, University of Vienna Christina Clarke, Australian National University Anna Lucia D’Agata, Italian National Research Council, CNR Institute for the Study on Ancient Mediterranean Giorgos Doudalis, University of North Carolina at Greensboro Kate Harrell, Virginia Museum of Natural History Marta Lorenzon, University of Helsinki Uroš Matić, Austrian Academy of Sciences, Austrian Archaeological Institute Veronica Maxwell, The Open University Jolanta Młynarczyk, University of Warsaw Krzysztof Nowicki, Polish Academy of Sciences John Papadopoulos, University of California, Los Angeles Daniel Pullen, Florida State University Maria Relaki, University of Sheffield Joanne Smith, University of Pennsylvania, Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology Maria Spathi, Society of Messenian Archaeological Studies Helene Whittaker, University of Gothenburg Wiesław Więckowski, University of Warsaw

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. This project was financed by the Faculty of Archaeology, University of Warsaw. This is an open access publication made available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International License: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0. © 2022, Brepols Publishers n.v., Turnhout, Belgium. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without the prior permission of the publisher. D/2022/0095/65 ISBN 978-2-503-59991-5 e-ISBN 978-2-503-59992-2 DOI: 10.1484/M.WSA-EB.5.128786 Printed in the EU on acid-free paper

TABLE OF CONTENTS Introduction STEPHANIE AULSEBROOK, KATARZYNA ŻEBROWSKA, AGATA ULANOWSKA & KAZIMIERZ LEWARTOWSKI

7

Epidemic, Infectious and Parasitic Diseases in Prehistoric Greece TOMÁŠ ALUŠÍK

13

Perforated Furnace Metallurgy in the Final Neolithic Aegean. New Archaeological Evidence from the Acropolis of Athens and Preliminary Observations from other Contemporary Sites VASILIKI ELENI DIMITRIOU

21

The ‘Emblems’ on the Jugs in the Late Prepalatial Ayia Triada Necropolis and the Iconography of Seals. A Comparative Analysis CHIARA DE GREGORIO

33

Birdcage Vases ( Vasi a Gabbietta ) from Protopalatial Phaistos ( Crete ) in Context. A Note on an Enigmatic Vase VALERIA TAGLIERI

43

At the Roots of Production. The Kouris Valley ( Cyprus ) as a Bronze Age “Textile Environment ” ( c. 2200–1400 BCE ) GIULIA MUTI, GIULIA ALBERTAZZI

53

Building a Minoan Larnax—Techniques and Gestures. Preliminary Analysis SARAH GEORGEL-DEBEDDE

69

Problematising Peak Sanctuaries. Should Differences Make a Difference? JAN SIENKIEWICZ

85

Forging Ahead or Foiled Again? A New Direction for Cross-Craft Analysis with Case Studies from Late Bronze Age Metalworking in the Aegean STEPHANIE AULSEBROOK

Mycenaean Pictorial Style Pottery and Wall Paintings—Two Distinct Art Forms SOFIA ANTONELLO

99 113

Practices for Averting Evil and the Notion of Ritual Protection in Mycenaean Cult Performance CHRISTINA AAMODT

127

Reassessing a Peripheral Geopolitical Vacuum. The Case for a Mycenaean Palace-State in the Spercheios Valley Region CHRISTOFILIS MAGGIDIS, EFI KARANTZALI, ADRIANOS PSYCHAS

141

All’s Well that Ends Well. An In-Depth Look at how Objects Entered Aegean Late Bronze Age Wells STEPHANIE AULSEBROOK

153

Investigating the ‘Peripheral’ Mycenaean Community. Preliminary Results of the Bioarchaeological Study of the LH III Kallithea-Rampantania Cemetery, Achaea MARIA KATSIMICHA, IOANNA MOUTAFI, TINA JAKOB

167

Funerary Places in East Crete. The Case of the LM III Cemetery of Myrsini-Aspropilia, Siteia MARIA PSALLIDA

185

Changes in Religious Ritual in Mycenaean Greece. Communicative Memory and the Postpalatial Period ULRIKE BERNDT

197

Between Heritage Preservation and Public Appreciation. Re-Evaluating Reburial Strategies THÉRÈSE CLAEYS

207

INTRODUCTION

Aegean Archaeology is one of the oldest branches of prehistoric research, brought to public attention most prominently through Schliemann’s excavations first at Troy, and then Mycenae and Tiryns. Although the approach of Schliemann and many other early excavators may now be considered to leave much to be desired, their legacy lives on in the vibrant discipline of modern Aegean Archaeology. Moving on swiftly from an initial narrow focus centred around the Homeric epics, Aegean Archaeology has grown to encompass every conceivable form of archaeological endeavour, embracing and often leading the way in the recording and conservation of material, the development of new analytical techniques and theories, the integration of ethnoarchaeology and the considered incorporation of ancient texts into archaeological studies. Its future expansion and direction of travel is dependent upon the welcoming of new scholars, who bring with them the fresh ideas and enthusiasm essential for the continued vitality of the discipline. Since 2013, Katarzyna Żebrowska, Agata Ulanowska and Kazimierz Lewartowski have organised a distinctive series of academic meetings, titled Sympozjum Egejskie. Conferences in Aegean Archaeology. These aim to provide a platform for researchers at the beginning of their careers, who are invited to present on all aspects of the Aegean region and its Bronze Age cultures. The fruits of these conferences are celebrated through the Sympozjum Egejskie. Papers in Aegean Archaeology series. The first volume in the Sympozjum Egejskie series, published in 2017,1 was a response to the significant interest generated by this conference series. Comprising eight articles, it already embodied the core principles for Sympozjum Egejskie publications, embracing the work of early career researchers with diverse archaeological backgrounds who were investigating a wide range of topics, methods and ideas, all supported by a strong peer-review process. The second volume, published in 2019 by the University of Warsaw Press,2 consisted of eleven papers.

These ranged over a wide variety of regions, periods and themes, from using pottery and metalwork to identify workspaces and cultural links, reconstructing object biographies and their legacies, and exploring the impact of societal change, to investigating the role and meaning of diverse forms of material culture such as bird representations, textile tools and gaming pieces, whilst touching upon Crete, the Cyclades, the Greek mainland, northern Greece and Cyprus, from the Early to the Late Bronze Age. We are proud and honoured to present this third volume, published by Brepols, with sixteen papers taken from the proceedings of two Sympozjum Egejskie conferences, which took place in 2018 ( June 14th–15th ) ( Fig. 1 ) and 2019 ( June 6th–7th ), both in the inspiring surroundings of the historical Column Hall at the University of Warsaw, Poland. This volume continues the Sympozjum Egejskie tradition of promoting diversity of research methods, theories and ideas, periods and regions, and academic backgrounds. The 2018 conference saw a change of name, dropping the appellation “Young Researchers” to reflect the growing reality that the length of time spent as an ‘early career researcher’ has increased substantially over the past few years. It is also a recognition of the fact that many scholars now contribute significant advances to Aegean Archaeology from outside the traditional university career structure. The increasing participation of such groups as independent scholars, professional field archaeologists, museum curators and conservators is a welcome development in Aegean Archaeology as these new perspectives help to enrich our understanding of the past. As such, the Sympozjum Egejskie conferences are well-positioned to provide a bridge between graduateonly events and those aimed at a more senior Aegean Archaeology audience, with an emphasis on fostering stimulating discussion within a friendly atmosphere. The importance of this niche is reflected by the growth of Sympozjum Egejskie over time, particularly its attraction of increasingly more international participation.

1 Żebrowska K., A. Ulanowska, K. Lewartowski ( eds. ) ( 2017 ) Sympozjum Egejskie. Papers in Aegean Archaeology 1, Warsaw ( https://archeologia.uw.edu.pl/zalaczniki/upload2127.pdf ).

2 Żebrowska K., A. Ulanowska, K. Lewartowski ( eds. ) ( 2019 ) Sympozjum Egejskie. Papers in Aegean Archaeology 2, Warsaw ( https://www.archeologia.uw.edu.pl/wp-content/uploads/2019/ 10/Sympozjum-Egejskie-2-2019.pdf ).

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INTRODUCTION

Fig. 1. The participants of the 6th Conference in Aegean Archaeology ( from left to right, top to bottom ): Cezary Bahyrycz, Thérèse Claeys, Katarzyna Żebrowska, Christina Aamodt, Angélique Labrude; Alicja Łaszcz, Anna Filipek, Stephanie Aulsebrook; Wojciech Jenerałek, Kazimierz Lewartowski, Agata Ulanowska, Pietro Maria Militello, Chiara De Gregorio, Konstanze Eckert; Debra Trusty, Barbara Morda, Agata Licciardello, Sofia Antonello, Valeria Taglieri.

The papers in this volume are contributed by scholars working across Europe ( Belgium, Czech Republic, France, Germany, Greece, Italy, Poland and the UK), and even the United States. This international approach means that voices deriving from widely differing academic traditions of theory, knowledge and methodological frameworks are represented, an aspect that is key to the success of Sympozjum Egejskie and Aegean Archaeology more widely. Of course, inter-generational exchange of knowledge, methods and ideas is also an important aspect of academic meetings, and this was achieved through the inclusion of our three keynote speakers, who were able to impart their unique long-term perspectives to our other delegates. We were honoured to be joined by Prof. Pietro Maria Militello (University of Catania) in 2018, and in 2019 by both Prof. Peter Pavúk ( Charles University of Prague) and Prof. Kazimierz Lewartowski ( University of Warsaw ). Their keynote lectures discussed, respectively, the future of Aegean Archaeology and how to sustain its popularity and interest in a changing world, the recent shift towards better incorporation of the west coast of Anatolia into

our understanding of Aegean Archaeology, and the significance of a new find from the ‘Griffin Warrior’ tomb and its imminent impact on the study of iconography in Aegean Archaeology. One of the main strengths of Sympozjum Egejskie is its open nature; scholars are invited to contribute regardless of the subject of their current research, so long as it pertains to Aegean Archaeology. In this sense, both the conferences and publications of Sympozjum Egejskie perform an important role by providing a record of the contemporary priorities of early career researchers, as well as shining a light on the likely future direction of the discipline. This is well-reflected in the current volume, which ranges from the earliest experiments with metallurgy during the Final Neolithic, to the aftermath of the collapse of the palatial-based cultural systems. Along the way, this volume takes into account issues surrounding craft, religion, demography, disease, political organisation and modern access to heritage, drawing upon a diverse range of archaeological evidence including iconography, material culture, bioarchaeology and surveys.

INTRODUCTION

Unfortunately, it has not been possible for all of our 2018 and 2019 conference speakers to contribute papers to this volume. They include, in alphabetical order: Cezary Bahyrycz ( Adam Mickiewicz University in Poznań), Eleni Barkouli (University of the Aegean), Kinga Bigoraj ( University of Warsaw ), Konstanze Eckert ( Martin Luther University Halle-Wittenberg ), Anna Filipek ( University of Warsaw ), Panagiotis Galanis ( Humboldt University of Berlin ), Kristina Jarošová ( Charles University of Prague ), Wojciech Jenerałek ( Adam Mickiewicz University in Poznań ), Nikos Katsaraios ( Greek Ministry of Culture and Sports; Ephorate of Antiquities of Argolida ), Dominika Kofel ( Institute of Archaeology and Ethnology, Polish Academy of Sciences ), Angélique Labrude ( Université de Strasbourg ), Agata Licciardello ( Ca’ Foscari University of Venice ), Barbara Morda ( Kent University), Debra Trusty (University of Iowa), Monika Wesołowska ( Institute of Mediterranean and Oriental Cultures PAS ) and Katarzyna Żebrowska ( University of Warsaw ). The contributions in this volume have been organised in a roughly geo-chronological order when possible, beginning with the Final Neolithic and ending with the repercussions of societal change at the end of the Bronze Age for the succeeding phases of the Early Iron Age. Our final paper looks beyond the Bronze Age itself to highlight the importance of heritage management, and our engagement as Aegean Archaeologists with the public. Geographically, this volume stretches from Crete and mainland Greece, to Cyprus and the Aegean islands, including the Cyclades and Kythera. Tomáš Alušík opens the volume with his paper ‘Epidemic, Infectious and Parasitic Diseases in Prehistoric Greece’, an overview of the evidence, both direct and indirect, for various forms of disease in prehistoric Greece and the implications that this had for the health status of the populations of this period and their demography. He identifies several Bronze Age sites that, due to the presence of hastily-deposited mass burials, may provide indirect evidence for an epidemic, as well as discussing the likelihood of endemic infectious and parasitic diseases in prehistory, their links to hygiene and population behaviours and their possible longterm impacts. Restudy of old excavation data provides the impetus for Vasiliki Eleni Dimitriou to push for a reinterpretation of a specific form of technical ceramic. Her paper, ‘Perforated Furnace Metallurgy in the Final Neolithic Aegean. New Archaeological Evidence from the Acropolis of Athens and Preliminary Observations from other Contemporary Sites’, collects together vital evidence that points towards the emergence of a particular

9

advanced metallurgical technology, based around the use of perforated furnaces, earlier than hitherto believed, during a period of intense social and technological change before the dawn of the Bronze Age. An intriguing class of Prepalatial Cretan ceramic jugs, known as brocchette a pelte, are the focus of the paper ‘The “Emblems” on the Jugs in the Late Prepalatial Ayia Triada Necropolis and the Iconography of Seals. A Comparative Analysis’ by Chiara De Gregorio. Analysis of numerous brocchette a pelte from a pottery dump ( Deposit of the Camerette ) in the ceremonial area of the cemetery of Late Prepalatial Ayia Triada, enables a comparison between the iconography of these jugs and contemporary seals from the region. She argues that this demonstrates a shared repertoire of motifs, possibly indicating the existence of multiple local groups that together constituted the settlement’s community, and was not necessarily tied to the social status of the ritual participants. Our fourth paper, contributed by Valeria Taglieri, also concerns Cretan ceramics; in this instance an especially unusual vessel type known as the “birdcage vase”. In ‘Birdcage Vases ( Vasi a Gabbietta ) from Protopalatial Phaistos ( Crete ) in Context. A Note on an Enigmatic Vase’, the current evidence with regard to the context and morphology of these distinctive vessels is skilfully assembled and analysed to throw light on their possible use and meaning, which seems, despite their name, to have been closely linked to consumption activities, perhaps even for the storage of rare and exotic foodstuffs. Pursuing an interdisciplinary approach by combining textile tool analysis with an environmental and landscape-based study, Giulia Muti and Giulia Albertazzi provide a unique perspective on the development of the Kouris Valley, on Cyprus, as a “textile environment”. ‘At the Roots of Production. The Kouris Valley ( Cyprus ) as a Bronze Age “Textile Environment” ( c. 2200–1400 BCE )’ showcases how taking a holistic approach, which focuses on situating an industry within its specific environment, can pay dividends by enabling a much better understanding of craft development and its wider role in society. The following paper, ‘Building a Minoan Larnax— Techniques and Gestures. Preliminary Analysis’ is a long overdue investigation of a key part of Minoan funerary ritual: the larnax. Sarah Georgel-Debedde places their production at the heart of her in-depth analysis, using information derived from both macro- and microscopic techniques, as well as drawing upon the knowledge of modern-day Cretan specialist potters, to identify variation in the production of this distinctive class of large ceramic vessel. She concludes that

10

INTRODUCTION

multiple workshops were involved, and pinpoints the future research required to further develop our understanding of these objects. Cretan peak sanctuaries have attracted much scholarly interest for many decades. Jan Sienkiewicz argues that it is now high time that this category is deconstructed and examined from a bottom-up approach. Using five distinctive case studies, his paper ‘Problematising Peak Sanctuaries. Should Differences make a Difference? ’ demonstrates the breadth of variation exhibited in the material culture, location and architectural remains of peak sanctuaries across Crete and Kythera, and therefore their probable differences in terms of ritual practices, role and meaning to the communities with which they were associated. In her paper, ‘Forging Ahead or Foiled Again? A New Direction for Cross-Craft Analysis with Case Studies from Late Bronze Age Metalworking in the Aegean’, Stephanie Aulsebrook seeks to widen the application of the methodological framework of crosscraft interaction to analyse the linkages within one particular industry: metallurgy. This intra-cross-craft approach is illustrated through case studies designed to demonstrate different ways in which this idea can be employed. The first follows the broader structuring of choices made during the manufacture of metal cups. The other considers the production and distribution of metal foil, a component employed across multiple crafts. A reassessment of the relationship between two important Mycenaean art forms is the subject of ‘Mycenaean Pictorial Style Pottery and Wall Paintings— Two Distinct Art Forms’. Through a careful study of the details of the similarities and differences between Pictorial Style pottery and contemporary wall paintings, as well as a comparison with glyptic art, Sofia Antonello argues that, whilst acknowledging their sharing of certain motifs and subjects, developing a proper understanding of their role in Mycenaean culture will only be possible if they are considered as two distinct traditions, which differed in their communicative purpose and style of representation. In her paper, ‘Practices for Averting Evil and the Notion of Ritual Protection in Mycenaean Cult Performance’, Christina Aamodt discusses the neglected subject of apotropaic practices in Mycenaean Greece. The lack of clear-cut evidence, in contrast to contemporary Egypt and the Near East, appears to have discouraged scholars from tackling such a thorny issue. Based upon historical and ethnographic analogies, she draws together examples from Mycenaean iconography and material culture to consider the employment

of apotropaic measures in the ritual and funerary spheres to avert evil and provide spiritual protection. A project centred on the understudied Spercheios region is the focus of ‘Reassessing a Peripheral Geopolitical Vacuum. The Case for a Mycenaean Palace-State in the Spercheios Valley Region’. Christofilis Maggidis, Efi Karantzali and Adrianos Psychas present their plans to study this valley by employing cutting-edge survey techniques and analysis to reveal elements of its social, economic and political organisation during the Mycenaean period. They also discuss how the project will provide vital data for understanding the relationship between the two important regions of Boeotia and Thessaly during the Late Bronze Age. For her second paper in this volume, Stephanie Aulsebrook was inspired by the reported discovery of a hoard of metal artefacts in a well at Orchomenos to consider how such depositional events occurred. ‘All’s Well that Ends Well. An In-Depth Look at how Objects Entered Aegean Late Bronze Age Wells’, summarises various well deposits from Crete and the Greek mainland, highlighting the role that stratigraphy and artefact condition has for reconstructing a well’s history of use. It identifies several important trends requiring further research and discusses the possible role of tectonic activity in shaping a community’s choice to abandon a well. Results from an ongoing bioarchaeological study are presented by Maria Katsimicha, Ioanna Moutafi and Tina Jakob in ‘Investigating the ‘Peripheral’ Mycenaean Community. Preliminary Results of the Bioarchaeological Study of the LH III KallitheaRampantania Cemetery, Achaea’. This significant contribution to our understanding of Mycenaean communities located beyond the traditional core study areas carefully assesses the place of this cemetery within the wider mortuary landscape of Achaea, demonstrating the possibility for idiosyncrasy was set within a broader framework for funerary rites. Maria Psallida provides a fascinating overview of the Late Minoan cemetery of Myrsini-Aspropilia, in her contribution ‘Funerary Places in East Crete. The Case of the LM III Cemetery of Myrsini-Aspropilia, Siteia’. After introducing the cemetery, burial architecture and associated material culture, the focus moves to an analysis of funerary ritual. She discusses how the evidence strongly points to an influx of settlers from the nearby settlement of Mochlos, who integrated customs from their previous community into the local burial traditions at Myrsini. Her analysis demonstrates the important insights that can be gained from working with archival material.

INTRODUCTION

‘Changes in Religious Ritual in Mycenaean Greece. Communicative Memory and the Postpalatial Period’ by Ulrike Berndt, introduces the concept of ‘collective memory’, the shared memories of a social group, to help untangle the complex problem of continuity in cult practice. With both clear similarities and differences apparent between the Palatial Mycenaean period and Classical and Archaic Greece, she identifies the Postpalatial period as a key moment; as the reality of the Palatial period faded from memory, a process of selective institutional forgetfulness reflected its diminishing importance to the assertion of local identities and aristocratic ambitions at the crucial transition into the Protogeometric period.

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Finally, Thérèse Claeys challenges us to reconsider our preconceptions about the perceived tension between preserving archaeological heritage and meeting the need of enabling public access to the past. In her paper ‘Between Heritage Preservation and Public Appreciation. Re-Evaluating Reburial Strategies’ she calls for the development of sustainable and creative solutions to this issue, with a focus on the reburial of archaeological remains. Drawing on case studies from Greece and beyond, this paper discusses how various stakeholders have worked together in diverse ways to resolve this apparent contradiction.

Acknowledgements

The editors would like to take this opportunity to warmly thank all the reviewers who generously donated their time and expertise to thus enhance the papers presented here in this volume. They are, in alphabetical order: Jaime Almansa-Sánchez ( Incipit, CSIC, Institute of Heritage Sciences at the Spanish National Research Council ), Fritz Blakolmer ( University of Vienna ), Christina Clarke ( Australian National University ), Anna Lucia D’Agata ( Italian National Research Council, CNR Institute for the Study on Ancient Mediterranean), Giorgos Doudalis (University of North Carolina at Greensboro ), Kate Harrell (Virginia Museum of Natural History), Marta Lorenzon ( University of Helsinki ), Uroš Matić ( Austrian Academy of Sciences, Austrian Archaeological Institute), Veronica Maxwell (The Open University), Jolanta Młynarczyk (University of Warsaw),

Krzysztof Nowicki ( Polish Academy of Sciences ), John Papadopoulos ( University of California, Los Angeles ), Daniel Pullen ( Florida State University ), Maria Relaki ( University of Sheffield ), Joanne Smith ( University of Pennsylvania, Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology ), Maria Spathi ( Society of Messenian Archaeological Studies ), Helene Whittaker ( University of Gothenburg ) and Wiesław Więckowski ( University of Warsaw ). Finally, we wish to express our gratitude to the Rektor of the University of Warsaw, Alojzy Nowak, and his predecessor, Marcin Pałys, as well as the Dean of the Faculty of Archaeology at the University of Warsaw, Bartosz Kontny, for their ongoing support and the financial assistance required to publish this third volume of the Sympozjum Egejskie series. The editors Stephanie Aulsebrook, Katarzyna Żebrowska, Agata Ulanowska & Kazimierz Lewartowski

Tomáš Alušík

Institute for History of Medicine and Foreign Languages, First Faculty of Medicine, Charles University, Czech Republic http://orcid.org/0000-0002-6748-0753

EPIDEMIC, INFECTIOUS AND PARASITIC DISEASES IN PREHISTORIC GREECE

Abstract: In archaeology, death caused by epidemic infectious disease( s ) may be deduced from

archaeologically unusual finds, in particular a higher number of individuals buried in a grave or graves within a short period of time, more individuals buried in unexpected places, or when the cause of death is otherwise impossible to determine, i.e. in the absence of life-endangering pathologies. Generally, the evidence for such deaths in palaeopathology is rather rare. For prehistoric Greece, no more than six cases of possible epidemics or infectious disease have been documented ( at Thebes, Corinth, Nichoria, Chania, Mycenae and Argos ); unfortunately, the evidence for all is only indirect. The paper also presents cases of bacterial infectious diseases ( tuberculosis ( TB ) or brucellosis—at Achaea Klauss, Pylona, Hagios Charalambos, Armenoi and possibly also Laganidia Kallithea ) and parasitic diseases ( at Kouphovouno, Kefala and Agia Irini ). The possible influence on the population’s health status and demography is discussed in the final part of the paper.

Keywords: epidemic disease, bacterial infectious disease, parasite, Greece, prehistory, palaeopathology.

This is an open access publication made available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International Licence. Sympozjum Egejskie: Papers in Aegean Archaeology 3, ed. by S. Aulsebrook, K. Żebrowska, A. Ulanowska, and K. Lewartowski, WSA 3 ( Turnhout: Brepols, 2022 ), pp. 13–20. 10.1484/M.WSA-EB.5.128948

Introduction

In archaeology, death caused by epidemic infectious disease( s ) may be deduced from archaeologically unusual finds, in particular a higher number of individuals buried in a grave or graves within a short period of time, more individuals buried in unexpected places ( such as ditches, abandoned houses, wells, trash pits, etc. ) and—of course—when the cause of death is otherwise impossible to determine, i.e. in the absence of life-endangering pathologies ( e.g., traumas, signs of physiological stress and inflammations ). In palaeopathology the evidence for epidemics, in particular infectious diseases, is actually quite rare. Viruses, bacteria and parasites affect mainly the soft tissues

1 Alušík 2018.

and internal organs, and rarely leave any signs on the bones. For that reason, death caused by epidemic disease may also be inferred from the archaeological context or written sources. The best way to confirm or disprove the presence of a viral or bacterial pathogen is, naturally, through biomolecular laboratory analysis, tracing the characteristic aDNA sequence of the agents. This short paper, focused on the evidence for infectious and parasitic diseases in prehistoric Greece, is one of the results of the author’s long-term research focused on the history of medicine and the health status of the population of Greece from earliest prehistory to 500 BCE.1

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TOMÁŠ ALUŠÍK

Possible Cases of Epidemics

Although individuals in Greece, particularly in the prehistoric period, were exposed to a high number of pathogens, including bacteria, viruses and parasites, and their spread could have been supported by a number of varying factors ( e.g., migration ), 2 the anthropological material under study contains no more than six possible cases of epidemic diseases. They are: 1 ) the mass burial under the tumulus at Thebes ( in Boeotia, central Greece; Early Helladic ( EH ) II late ); 2 ) the mass burial in the well at Corinth (in Corinthia, Peloponnese; EH III); 3) the mass burial in the so-called Little Circle at Nichoria ( in Messenia, Peloponnese; Middle Helladic ( MH )/Late Helladic ( LH ) transition–LH ); 4 ) grave no. 11 from the burial site at Odos Palaima in Chania ( West Crete; Late Minoan ( LM ) IIIA2–B1); and mass burials in wells at 5) Mycenae (in the Argolid, Peloponnese; LH IIIA–B ) and 6) Argos (in the Argolid, Peloponnese; LH IIIB/C). The earliest possible case of epidemic or infectious disease was found at Thebes and is dated to EH II late. The skeletal remains of 12 individuals of both sexes and all age groups were buried below the “tumulus” above the ruins of the apsidal building on the acropolis of Thebes.3 As they did not suffer from any long-term pathology or trauma,4 and at least one of them had spent their last years of life in an environment different to the rest before coming to Thebes, 5 it cannot be ruled out that the cause of death of these individuals was an acute, serious infectious disease. The building of the tumulus, which sealed off the entire site, could be interpreted as a symbolic act marking both the end and the commemoration of such an unhappy event. The mass burial at Corinth ( in the area of Cheliotomylos ), dated to EH III, has been published only as a preliminary report.6 In total, the skeletal remains of 30 individuals were found in a 17.35 m deep former well shaft, in several layers at a depth of 2.0–10.75 m. Of the deceased, nine were subadults and at least 16 individuals were adults ( nine women and at

See e.g. Arnott 2005; Arnott, Morgan-Forster 2010. See e.g. Aravantinos 1998; Vika 2007; 2009; 2015. Vika 2007. Vika 2009. Waage 1949. These numbers are copied from the original publication ( Waage 1949 ). The new information panel in the prehistoric room of the Ancient Corinth Museum states a slightly different demographic profile: nine subadults and 21 adult individuals, of which 12 are men and nine women. Unfortunately, the sex and age of all the individuals often cannot be precisely stated due to the bad preservation condition of the skeletal assemblage. 8 Bisel 1992.

2 3 4 5 6 7

least five men ).7 The cause of death for these individuals has not been definitely proved, as no pathologies were recorded ( or, at least, none were described ), but they could have been victims of an epidemic. Buried in the so-called Little Circle at Nichoria ( dated to MH/LH–LH ) are 33 individuals in total ( of which the sex can be identified in 22 cases: 10 men and 12 women ), mainly younger in age. 8 From skeletal pathologies, arthrotic changes and physiological stress were documented. Musculoskeletal markers of physical load were developed in both sexes in their upper and lower extremities. In contrast, traumas and non-specific inflammations were not recorded. Dental pathologies include dental caries, enamel hypoplasia, ante-mortem tooth loss, periapical abscesses, periodontitis and significant enamel abrasion. As the cause of death for these individuals may not be exactly determined from the palaeopathological evidence, it is possible that they died of a serious acute illness or in an epidemic, and they were buried within a short time period. In Tomb 11 at Chania ( in the burial site at Odos Palaima; dated to LM IIIA2–B1; Minimum Number of Individuals ( MNI )=29 ) were buried five children aged up to 11 years and a female individual aged 30–40 years, probably their mother. 9 The children’s skeletons show neither signs of fatal pathologies 10 nor traumas and, according to all the evidence provided from the archaeological context, they died at approximately the same time. Thus it is very likely they were victims of a disease or epidemic.11 The remains of adult female no. 11 only show signs of periostitis on the lateral surface of the left tibia and musculoskeletal markers of load ( spicules on the anterior surface of the patella, probably as a result of calcification of the attachment of the four-headed femoral muscle ). A mass burial in a well at Mycenae, dated to LH IIIA–B, 12 comprised the skeletal remains of 11 individuals ( 74–79, 82–86 Myc; five subadults and six adults, of which one was certainly male and up to five female ),13 buried at a depth of c. 2.8 m up to just above

9 Hallager, McGeorge 1992, 18–21, 33–34. 10 Only signs of physiological stress are noticeable on them, e.g. cribra orbitalia in individual 11-3, or the so-called orange peel osteoporosis on the surface of the cranial bones of individual 11-4, but none were life-threatening. 11 Hallager, McGeorge 1992, 47. 12 Wace 1954. 13 According to the field notes, two skeletons ( 80 and 81 Myc ) stated in the report to have been found in 1952 in the vicinity of the well ( Wace 1954, 288 ) were, in fact, recovered in 1950 from a context quite separate to the well, although they were possibly deposited as part of the same general filling process.

EPIDEMIC, INFECTIOUS AND PARASITIC DISEASES IN PREHISTORIC GREECE

15

Fig. 1. Possible case of tuberculosis—severe rarefaction of the body of the thoracic vertebra—from Hagios Charalambos ( East Crete ), EM/MM. Drawing by P. Alusikova Dostalikova.

the well shaft opening ( in the fill; the well being at least 6.25 m deep in total ). The only recorded pathologies are slight arthritic changes on the lumbar vertebrae of five adult individuals. 14 The varying demographic profile of these individuals ( children from c. 6 years of age to middle-aged individuals; majority female ) with no apparent skeletal pathology as well as a short time span for the filling of the well shaft 15 could indicate sudden death due to an acute epidemic disease. A similar mass burial in a well was found at Argos, dated to LH IIIB/C.16 Over 20 individuals ( MNI=20; three subadults and 16 adults ( 10 males and six females ) )17 were found at various depths, from 4 m to over 7 m, together with a huge amount of animal bone. Kritzas discussed various possible causes of this specific type of burial and preferred the interpretation that these deceased were the victims of a flood.18 However, he did not rule out a serious infectious disease as

a cause of their death—specifically rabies ( which can kill both humans and animals ), due to the numerous animal bones found within the fill of the well.19 Again, because no serious skeletal pathology is apparent and the well was filled within a short period of time, an acute infectious/epidemic disease might have been the cause of death for the buried individuals.

14 The skeletal remains were investigated by J.L. Angel and include the two found in a separate context ( Wace 1954, 288–289 ). 15 The excavator states that it seems that the well shaft was filled in at one time and not allowed to fill up gradually, over a longer period ( Wace 1954, 273 ). 16 Kritzas 1976. 17 Although the MNI ( fewest possible number of individuals in this skeletal assemblage ) can be stated with certainty to be 20, it is very probable that there were more individuals buried in this well. Due to the rather bad state of preservation of the remains, the sex could be confirmed for 19 individuals only. 18 Kritzas 1976, 175–178.

19 Kritzas 1976, 175–176. Rabies is a viral disease that causes inflammation of the brain in humans and other mammals. See e.g. Rupprecht et al. 2002. 20 It is a chronic bacterial disease affecting animals and livestock, and it can be transmitted to humans ( anthropozoonosis ). Its manifestations include high fever, often of undulating character, aching joints, headache, muscle pain, etc. See e.g. Aufderheide, Rodríguez-Martín 2011, 192–193. 21 The total number of possible cases of TB or brucellosis was not specified at Hagios Charalambos; only a few affected vertebrae were mentioned ( fused and single ).

Other Cases of Infectious Disease

At four sites ( Achaea Klauss, Pylona, Hagios Charalambos and Armenoi ), bacterial infectious diseases—TB or brucellosis 20—were recorded on the basis of specific lesions on vertebrae or vertebral fusions. Altogether there are ( at least )21 19 confirmed cases of such diseases in the skeletal material under study. Unfortunately, usually it is not possible to distinguish between the individual illnesses.

16

TOMÁŠ ALUŠÍK

At Achaea Klauss ( in Achaea, Peloponnese; dated to LH IIIA1–IIIC final; MNI=129 ) an individual, Γ, from Tomb E ( woman, 17–23 years of age ) suffered from a congenital disorder of the spine ( spina bifida oculta), but also her 12th thoracic and lumbar vertebrae show specific lesions typical for TB or brucellosis.22 Individual 1 ( man, c. 41 years old ) from Tomb 1 at Pylona ( on the island of Rhodes, Dodecanese; dated to LH IIIA2–IIIC; MNI =30 ) has fused bodies and dorsal projections on his third and fourth cervical vertebrae. The cause might have been a trauma, followed by a non-specific infection, or TB/brucellosis.23 In the skeletal material from Hagios Charalambos (in East Crete; dated to Final Neolithic–Middle Minoan ( MM ) II ( mainly Early Minoan ( EM ) III–MM IIB ); MNI= 400 ) several vertebrae ( fused or single ) with specific lesions, interpreted as a result of TB or brucellosis, were recorded ( Fig. 1 ).24 Unfortunately, no further description of these pathologies was published. At Armenoi ( in west Crete; dated to LM IIIA–B; MNI=800 ) 15 possible cases of TB were described and two possible cases of brucellosis, based on the characteristic lesions on the vertebrae. 25 This is the highest number of cases of bacterial infectious disease at any prehistoric site in Greece. But, with regard to the fact that they comprise only 4.7% of the buried individuals studied ( 17 out of 364 already studied and published individuals ) and only 2.1% of the total number of individuals from Armenoi (17 out of 800 ), they are not interpreted as evidence of epidemic disease by the author ( or excavators and authors of the anthropological publications ). Specific endocranial lesions were described in the skeletal remains of nine individuals from Tombs XV and XVI at Laganidia Kallithea ( Achaea ).26 The endocranial surface of several bone fragments is very smooth and has a re-surfaced ivory appearance. As Graff states, brucellosis could be the cause of these lesions, but the most typical symptom of this disease—the specific lesions of the vertebrae, often in combination with a vertebral fusion—is missing ( perhaps also due to the very few surviving vertebral bodies ).27 Therefore, these individuals cannot be confirmed as suffering from brucellosis. As Graff pointed out, seven of these nine individuals with endocranial lesions show signs

22 23 24 25 26

Paschalidis, McGeorge 2009, 101–113. McGeorge 2001, 82, pl. 75. McGeorge 2008a, 124, fig. 6-7; 2008b, 578–579, fig. 18. McGeorge 1980; 2008a. Graff 2011, 44–45, 93–95, fig. 5.1–5.3.

of otitis media, and this correlation has to be taken into account when establishing the differential diagnosis and cause of these lesions.28 Cases of Parasitic Diseases

The presence of parasites in Greece in the period under discussion has been, as of yet, the subject of only two specialised studies, and therefore proven at only three sites. At Kouphovouno ( in Laconia, Peloponnese ) in the prehistoric period the occurrence of a protozoan, Entamoeba histolytica, has been documented, which causes a diarrhoeal disease—dysentery—as suggested by its name.29 A recent study of 25 individuals from the Neolithic to the Byzantine period from two sites ( Agia Irini and Kefala ) on the island of Keos, in the Cyclades, confirmed the occurrence of two species of parasitic worms in two individuals based on the presence of their eggs on the surface of the pelvic bones.30 There were eggs of the worm Trichuris trichiura in a Neolithic individual from Kefala and the eggs of the worm Ascaris lumbicoides ( human roundworm ) were recorded in an individual from Agia Irini from the Late Bronze Age. The authors of the cited study think that the occurrence of parasitic diseases from prehistory until the Middle Ages in Greece must have been higher than the discovered prevalence ( four individuals out of a total of 25 from prehistory until the Byzantine period; therefore giving a prevalence of only 16% ), but the impact of taphonomic processes and the natural environment probably caused, in their opinion, the destruction of the parasites’ eggs.31 Discussion and Conclusions

Arnott has rightly pointed to the fact that infectious diseases certainly spread and had an impact on populations already in the prehistoric period.32 Wars, transfers of larger groups of inhabitants ( e.g., the arrival of refugees from Thera, which was affected by an extensive volcanic eruption in the developed LM IA phase, or during various invasions and kidnapping of captives ) and also the rise in population density in larger urban centres, particularly during the 2nd millennium BCE, could have contributed to the spread of disease.

27 28 29 30 31 32

Graff 2011, 94. Graff 2011, 95–96. Le Bailly, Bouchet 2006. Anastasiou et al. 2018. Anastasiou et al. 2018, 863–864. See e.g. Arnott 2006.

EPIDEMIC, INFECTIOUS AND PARASITIC DISEASES IN PREHISTORIC GREECE

According to him, malaria could have significantly influenced the health status and energy of a population as well—it also could have slowed down, to some extent, the overall advancement of civilisation ( e.g., the foundation of the first palaces on Crete ).33 This disease may have affected the demographic structure of society ( perhaps by causing high subadult mortality ) and had a negative impact on reproduction. Malaria probably occurred more frequently on the Greek mainland rather than on the islands such as Crete. Until the modern period, there were many marshy regions with frequent malaria epidemics in Greece ( e.g., Kopais in Boeotia, Central Greece ). Arnott stresses that a number of significant Middle and Late Helladic sites on the Peloponnese were situated near potential malarial areas, including, for example, Lerna and Agios Stefanos. In relation to this, the rise of Mycenae could have been caused, in part, by the fact that it was located inland, further from malarial areas. According to him, the impact of malaria decreased during the Bronze Age, although local temporary increases could have occurred. Individual populations could have suffered from parasitic infections due to the low standards of hygiene of that period, and the relatively common habit of depositing waste within the settlement or near it.34 Alepotrypa Cave may serve as a good example of this. It is very likely that its Late Neolithic population suf-

17

fered from parasitic or infectious bacterial diseases, having their origin in the polluted water source (a pond located directly within the cave ) 35 and also the residential area.36 Unfortunately, the evidence for epidemic disease in prehistoric Greece is very questionable. It may be concluded only indirectly, from mass or other unusual burials, and only those with a considerable number of buried individuals, which were, moreover, buried within a short period of time ( often in one chronological horizon ).37 Only a maximum of six cases have been discovered, which could—with higher or lower probability—be interpreted as evidence of epidemic disease. Parasitic diseases were, for the prehistoric period, proven only at three sites and in a few individuals. Specific inflammations in the form of bacterial infections—TB and/or brucellosis—were documented in prehistoric Greece only at four sites, with 19 cases in total.38 At no site did such diseases have an epidemic character. However, some infectious and/or epidemic diseases, which are rather difficult to detect in the skeletal material—such as, e.g., malaria—could have had a serious impact on a prehistoric population’s health status and demography. The spread of infectious and parasitic diseases was also caused ( or made easier ) by the low hygiene standards of the prehistoric period, especially in certain chronological phases and regions.

Bibliography

Alušík T. ( 2018 ) Dějiny lékařství a zdravotní stav populace v Řecku před rokem 500 př. Kr. (History of Medicine and Population Health Status in Greece before 500 BC ). Unpublished Associate Professorship thesis, Charles University, Prague ( Czech Republic ), http://hdl.handle.net/20.500.11956/111673. Anastasiou E., Papathanasiou A., Schepartz L.A., Mitchell P.D. ( 2018 ) Infectious disease in the Ancient Aegean: intestinal parasitic worms in the Neolithic to Roman Period inhabitants of Kea, Greece, JAS Reports 17, 860–864.

Angel J.L. ( 1975 ) Human skeletons from Eleusis, in: G.E. Mylonas ed., To Dytikón Nekrotafeíon tis Elefsínos (Το Δυτικόν Νεκροταφείον της Ελευσίνος) II, Athens, 301–312. Aravantinos V. ( 1998 [2004] ) Thíva ( Θήβα ), ArchDelt 53 B1, 323–327. Arnott R. ( 2005 ) Disease and the Prehistory of the Aegean, in: H. King ed., Health in Antiquity, London and New York, 12–58. Arnott R. ( 2006 ) Disease and Minoan Crete, in: E. Tampakaki, A. Kaloutsakis eds., Pepragména

33 Arnott, Stuckey 2003; Arnott 2005; 2006, 351–353, 355– 358; Arnott, Morgan-Forster 2010. 34 See e.g. Arnott 2006. 35 During excavations extensive areas/layers of waste were found, which must have contaminated the water and environment sooner or later—see e.g. Papathanassopoulos 1971a; 1971b; 1971c. 36 See e.g. Papathanasiou 1999; 2001; 2005, 386. 37 There are other cases of unusual or ‘mass’ burials, whose interpretation as possible victims of infectious/epidemic disease is

problematic, because of the low number of buried individuals, obvious or probable cause of death on the basis of skeletal/dental pathologies and/or other specific circumstances or features of the burial. E.g. a well burial from MH III Eleusis contained the remains of only three individuals, with no apparent lethal pathology ( individuals 37–39 El; Angel 1975, 302–303, suggested that the individual 37 El, c. 19-year-old female, died in childbirth ). 38 As mentioned above, nine individuals from Laganidia Kallithea with specific endocranial lesions cannot be considered to have suffered from brucellosis.

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TOMÁŠ ALUŠÍK

TH’ Diethnoús Kritologikoú Synedríou, Eloúnta 1–6 Oktovríou 2001. Tómos A4, Proïstorikí períodos: Sýmmeikta ( Πεπραγμένα Θ’ Διεθνούς Κρητολογικού Συνεδρίου, Ελούντα 1–6 Οκτωβρίου 2001. Τόμος Α4, Προϊστορική περίοδος: Σύμμεικτα ), Heraklion, 349–361. Arnott R., Morgan-Forster A. ( 2010 ) Health and disease in Middle Helladic Greece, in: A. PhilippaTouchais, G. Touchais, S. Voutsaki, J. Wright eds., Mesohelladika. Μεσοελλαδικά: La Grèce continentale au Bronze Moyen. Η ηπειρωτική Ελλάδα στη Μέση εποχή του Χαλκού. The Greek Mainland in the Middle Bronze Age. Actes du colloque international organisé par l’École française d’Athènes, en collaboration avec l’American School of Classical Studies at Athens et le Netherlands Institute in Athens, Athènes, 8–12 mars 2006, Athens, 461–470. Arnott R., Stuckey E. ( 2003 ) Finding the Hydra: the search for malaria in the Prehistoric Aegean, in: K.P. Foster, R. Laffineur eds., METRON: Measuring the Aegean Bronze Age. Proceedings of the 9th International Aegean Conference/9e Rencontre égéenne Internationale New Haven, Yale University, Aegaeum 24, Liège and Austin, 209–215. Aufderheide A.C., Rodriguez-Martín C. ( 2011 ) Cambridge Encyclopedia of Human Paleopathology, Cambridge. Bisel S.C. ( 1992 ) The human skeletal remains, in: W.A. McDonald, N.C. Wilkie eds., Excavations at Nichoria in Southwest Greece II: the Bronze Age Occupation, Minneapolis, 345–358. Graff E. ( 2011 ) Mycenaean Occupants of Ancient Kallithea: Understanding a Population’s Health, Culture, and Lifestyle through Bioarchaeological Analysis. Unpublished MA thesis, University of Waterloo, Ontario. https://uwspace.uwaterloo.ca/ bitstream/handle/10012/6539/Graff_Emily.pdf, accessed: 15.02.2021. Hallager B.P., McGeorge P.J.P. ( 1992 ) Late Minoan III Burials at Khania: the Tombs, Finds and Deceased in Odos Palama, SIMA 113, Göteborg. Kritzas Ch.B. ( 1976 ) Mykinaïkó pigádi mé skeletoús stó Árgos ( Μυκηναϊκό πηγάδι μέ σκελετούς στό Άργος ), in: Praktiká tou A΄Diethnoús Synedríou Peloponnisiakón Spoudón, Spárti 7–14 Septemvríou 1975 tóm. V΄ ( Πρακτικά του Α΄Διεθνούς Συνεδρίου Πελοποννησιακών Σπουδών, Σπάρτη 7–14 Σεπτεμβρίου 1975 τόμ. Β΄ ), Athens, 173–180. Le Bailly M., Bouchet F. ( 2006 ) Paléoparasitology et imunologie: L’exemple d’entamoeba histolytica, ArchéoSciences 30, 129–135.

McGeorge P.J.P. ( 1980 ) Preliminary report: human skeletons from the Armenoi excavation 1976, AAA 13:2, 196–197. McGeorge P.J.P. ( 2001 ) Anthropological approach to the Pylona tombs: the skeletal remains, in: E. Karantzali ed., The Mycenaean Cemetery at Pylona on Rhodes, BAR IS 988, Oxford, 82–99. McGeorge P.J.P. ( 2008a ) Morbidity and medical practice in Minoan Crete, in: M. Andreadaki-Vlazaki, G. Rethemiotakis, N. Dimopoulou-Rethemiotaki eds., From the Land of the Labyrinth: Minoan Crete, 3000–1100 B.C. 2: Essays, New York, 118–127. McGeorge P.J.P. ( 2008b ) The human remains, in: P.P. Betancourt, C. Davaras, H.M.C. Dierckx, S.C. Ferrence, J. Hickman, P. Karkanas, P.J.P. McGeorge, J.D. Muhly, D.S. Reese, E. Stravopodi, L. Langford-Verstegen, Excavations in the Hagios Charalambos Cave: a Preliminary Report, Hesperia 77:4, 578–594. Papathanasiou A. ( 1999 ) A Bioarchaeological Analysis of Health, Subsistence, and Funerary Behavior in the Eastern Mediterranean Basin: a Case Study from Alepotrypa Cave, Diros, Greece. Unpublished PhD thesis, University of Iowa. Papathanasiou A. ( 2001 ) A Bioarchaeological Analysis of Neolithic Alepotrypa Cave, Greece, BAR IS 961, Oxford. Papathanasiou A. ( 2005 ) Health Status of the Neolithic Population of Alepotrypa Cave, Greece. American Journal of Physical Anthropology 126:4, 377–390. Papathanassopoulos G.A. ( 1971a ) Spílaia Diroú ( Σπήλαια Διρού ), 1971, AAA 4:3, 289–304. Papathanassopoulos G.A. (1971b) Spílaia Diroú (1971): Ek ton anaskafón tis Alepótrypas (Σπήλαια Διρού (1971): Εκ των aνασκαφών της Αλεπότρυπας), AAA 4:2, 149–154. Papathanassopoulos G.A. ( 1971c ) Spílaia Diroú: Ai Anaskafaí tou 1970–1971 (Σπήλαια Διρού: Αι Ανασκαφαί του 1970–1971), AAA 4:1, 12–26. Paschalidis C., McGeorge P.J.P. ( 2009 ) Life and death in the periphery of the Mycenaean World at the end of the Late Bronze Age: the case of the Achaea Klauss cemetery, in: E. Borgna, P. CassolaGuida eds., From the Aegean to the Adriatic, Social Organizations, Modes of Exchange and Interaction in the Post-Palatial Times ( 12th–11th BC ), Rome, 79–113. Rupprecht Ch.E., Hanlon C.A., Hemachudha T. ( 2002 ) Rabies re-examined, The Lancet Infectious Diseases 2:6, 327–343.

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Vika E. ( 2007 ) A Diachronic Bioarchaeological Approach to the Society of Thebes, Greece: Paleopathological and Paleodietary Investigations Using δ13C, δ15N and δ34S Stable Isotope Analysis. Unpublished PhD thesis, University of Bradford ( UK ). Vika E. ( 2009 ) Strangers in the grave? Investigating local provenance in a Greek Bronze Age mass burial using δ34S analysis, JAS 36:9, 2024–2028. Vika E. ( 2015 ) Variations in diet in Prehistoric Thebes: the case of the Bronze Age mass burial,

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in: A. Papathanasiou, M.P. Richards, S.C. Fox eds., Archaeodiet in the Greek World: Dietary Reconstruction from Stable Isotope Analysis, Hesperia Suppl. 49, Princeton, 77–88. Waage F.O. ( 1949 ) An Early Helladic well near Old Corinth, in: Commemorative Studies in Honor of Theodore Leslie Shear, Hesperia Suppl. 8, 415–422. Wace E.B. ( 1954 ) Mycenae 1939–1953: part VI. The Cyclopean Terrace Building and the deposit of pottery beneath it, BSA 49, 267–291.

Vasiliki Eleni Dimitriou

National and Kapodistrian University of Athens, Greece https://orcid.org/0000-0002-5594-512X

PERFORATED FURNACE METALLURGY IN THE FINAL NEOLITHIC AEGEAN

NEW ARCHAEOLOGICAL EVIDENCE FROM THE ACROPOLIS OF ATHENS AND PRELIMINARY OBSERVATIONS FROM OTHER CONTEMPORARY SITES 1

Abstract: During D. Levi’s excavations on the south slope of the Athenian Acropolis in 1922, sig-

nificant evidence for a Neolithic occupation of this area came to light. From the study of the finds and the stratigraphic evidence, D. Levi considered that the area he excavated, between the Herodes Atticus Odeon and the Asclepius Temple, was a “hut” belonging chronologically to the Middle and Late Neolithic periods. During a new study of the ceramic repertoire, the existence of Final Neolithic pottery has been confirmed. Among the pottery of the Final Neolithic, a specific group of fragments has now been recognised as part of a perforated chimney from a shaft furnace/furnaces in use for metallurgical activities. The presence of at least one perforated furnace for smelting purposes opens a new series of questions related to this metallurgical practice and creates the need for further research related to the existence of similar sherds at other Final Neolithic sites in the Aegean. In this paper a fuller assessment of the subject will be undertaken, which considers the metallurgical evidence in parallel with the settlement patterns ( types of site ) that appear in the area of the Athenian Acropolis and at other contemporary sites such as Ayios Dhimitrios, The Cave of the Lakes and Sarakenos Cave.

Keywords: Final Neolithic, perforated furnace, Athenian Acropolis, Ayios Dhimitrios, Sarakenos, Cave of the Lakes.

This is an open access publication made available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International Licence. Sympozjum Egejskie: Papers in Aegean Archaeology 3, ed. by S. Aulsebrook, K. Żebrowska, A. Ulanowska, and K. Lewartowski, WSA 3 ( Turnhout: Brepols, 2022 ), pp. 21–32. 10.1484/M.WSA-EB.5.128949

Introduction

Prehistoric people exited the Palaeolithic with something very important in their ‘luggage’: a strong knowledge of their surroundings including all the natural resources, in particular stone; they already knew how to make tools and which stone to choose for their manufacture. The need and search for stone suitable for

the manufacture of tools or ornaments, and also for the manufacture of symbolic objects such as small statues, brought prehistoric people into contact with various natural resources and thus, probably, with metalliferous ( silver, gold, lead, copper ) ores.

1 This research is co-financed by Greece and the European Union ( European Social Fund-ESF ) through the Operational Programme «Human Resources Development, Education and Lifelong Learning» in the context of the project “Reinforcement of Postdoctoral Researchers-2nd Cycle” ( MIS-5033021 ),

implemented by the State Scholarships Foundation ( IKY ). I would like to thank Dr Elena Kountouri, Head of DIPKA and Ephoreia tis Polis ton Athinon, Professor Yannis Papadatos, Prehistoric Archaeology at the University of Athens, Dr I. Bassiakos and Dr E. Fillipaki from Demokritos.

22

VASILIKI ELENI DIMITRIOU

The Neolithic “hut” came to light during a brief excavation conducted by the Italian Archaeological School and D. Levi in March and April 1922 at the Acropolis of Athens. The remains of the “hut” were identified in the SW part of the south slope of the Acropolis area, between the angle of the polygonal wall and the edge of the wall of the Stoa of Eumenes, between the Herodes Atticus Odeon and the Temple of Asclepius.6 Among the ceramic material that came to light there

is a group consisting of six ceramic fragments that all present some common characteristics ( Fig. 1 ).7 The first common feature is that they all bear perforations. Macroscopic observations indicate that the perforations were made before firing. The diameter of the perforations ranges between 1.5–2.0 cm while the thickness of the pieces varies from 1.0 to 1.5 cm. Three of them are slightly curved. Furthermore, they are all made of coarse clay with visible traces of organic remains and are highly tempered. All fragments present traces of burning due to contact with fire and, as a result, they have a red orange/slightly pink colour ( Fig. 1 ). This implies that the object the perforated fragments came from was used for pyrotechnological activities. On some of these fragments the inner surface is entirely covered by a kind of black patina, possibly slag traces8 ( Fig. 1.4 ). Even though these fragments generally preserve the same characteristics, it is not certain if all of them were part of the same object, mainly because of some observed differences in the temper and the consistency of the clay. As regards the context inside the “hut” where they were found, comparing what is known from D. Levi’s publication with the recent study of the material in the laboratory, it transpired that four were found in the upper part of the lower layer which corresponds to the pavement of the “hut” and one in the lower part of the upper layer ( in contact with the pavement of the “hut” ); the location of the sixth was not specified.9 All six fragments derive from a context in which FN pottery was found ( red and black slipped and burnished pottery, corresponding to the later phase of FN ). The majority were found in the south sector of the “hut” ( four ), while two came to light in the NW sector. These ceramic fragments, showing the characteristic features that are described above, have very close parallels with other similar perforated pieces with slag remains from other prehistoric sites in the Aegean that relate to copper production ( Kephala, Sideri and Chrysokamino ),10 except in one case from SE Siphnos where they relate to lead/silver production.11 The archaeometallurgical analysis of the Acropolis perforated fragments showed the presence of copper remains on the inner surface of one piece.12

2 Tsivilika 1998, 37–38, figs. 62–66; here we have to add the argentiferous lead ores also exploited during Final Neolithic ( FN )/Early Bronze ( EB ) I ( see conclusion ). 3 Tsivilika 1998, 37, figs. 3–61; Maxwell et al. 2018, 164–168. 4 Tsivilika 1998, 35–38, figs. 128–131. 5 Tsivilika 1998, 36–37. 6 Levi 1930–1931; Dimitriou 2017, figs. 1–2. 7 Dimitriou 2017, tab. 1.

8 The archaeometrical analysis results of these sherds will be published soon ( Dimitriou et al. ( forthcoming ) ). 9 Dimitriou 2017, tab.2. 10 Coleman 1977, pl. 66; Betancourt 2006; Bassiakos, Philaniotou 2007, fig. 2.4a–c. 11 The site of Kasela near the settlement of Akrotiraki on SE Siphnos ( Georgakopoulou 2016, 55, tab. 1 ). 12 Dimitriou et al. ( forthcoming ).

During the Neolithic period, people developed agriculture, sedentary lifeways, bread, pottery and metallurgy. This last technological achievement evolved very slowly, as evidence shows, yet during the last phases of the Neolithic this process became more intensive and metallurgy exhibited increased technological sophistication. It was a very long process that evolved due to two factors: the knowledge of natural resources ( stone and minerals ) and the knowledge of how to control fire. Cooking and pottery had to occur first in order that metallurgy and metalworking could develop. Specifically, these two practices gave the Neolithic metallurgist the knowledge and experience needed for the control of fire temperatures for metallurgical practices. Even though the metal artefacts present in the Neolithic period include silver2 and gold objects,3 more specifically ornaments, the main ores that began to be used systematically for metallurgical procedures were copper ores, which were used mainly to produce tools 4 and, in some cases, ornaments ( Tab. 1 ).5 The aim of this paper is to present new insights from the Acropolis of Athens ( D. Levi’s excavation on the south slope ) regarding metallurgy ( smelting ) in FN and to present some other FN sites with possible evidence for metallurgical ceramics, so as to give an overall idea of copper metallurgy during the later phase of the Neolithic with a focus on FN: the crucial moment of passage from the Neolithic period to the Early Bronze Age ( EBA ), the crucial shift from the predominant usage of stone to metal. New Insights from the Athenian Acropolis: the Area of the Neolithic “Hut”

23

PERFORATED FURNACE METALLURGY IN THE FINAL NEOLITHIC AEGEAN

Tab. 1. Late and Final Neolithic sites with evidence for copper metallurgy. LATE NEOLITHIC COPPER METALLURGICAL CERAMICS SITAGROI II

SLAGS/ORES SMELTING, METALWORKING RESIDUES

ORNAMENTS

×

×

SITAGROI III DIKILI TASH

FINAL NEOLITHIC COPPER TOOLS/ WEAPONS

METALLURGICAL CERAMICS

SLAGS/ORES SMELTING, METALWORKING RESIDUES

ORNAMENTS

TOOLS/ WEAPONS

×

×

×

×

×

× ×

PEFKAKIA SESKLO

×

× ×

DIMINI KEPHALA ( KEA )

×

×

KITSOS CAVE

×

MERENDA

×

KOROPI

×

SARAKENOS CAVE

× ×

×

×

× ×

THARROUNIA CAVE

× ×

ZAS CAVE STROFILAS ( ANDROS )

×

FTELIA ( MYKONOS )

×

ALEPOTRYPA CAVE

×

× ×

×

AG. DIMITRIOS

× × ×

YALI

×

KEPHALAPETRAS

×

×

Fig. 1. The Athenian Acropolis, south slope: FN perforated sherds from a metallurgical furnace ( outer and inner surfaces ) ( Dimitriou 2017 ).

24

VASILIKI ELENI DIMITRIOU

Copper Metallurgy in the Final Neolithic Aegean: Perforated Furnaces

In the Aegean, the oldest testimony found so far concerning the use of a perforated shaft furnace for the smelting of ores comes from the site of Kephala,13 a settlement and cemetery situated on the Cycladic island of Kea, close to Attica. Perforated ceramic fragments probably belonging to shaft furnace chimneys for copper smelting14 came to light there together with other evidence for metalworking such as crucibles dating to FN. In the same chronological period the use of crucibles is attested at Kephala-Petras ( Crete ),15 Yali at Nisyros ( Dodecanese ),16 in the FN levels at Sitagroi III ( Macedonia ),17 where the presence of slags also indicates metallurgical activities, and at FN Sesklo ( Thessaly ), together with copper weapons and tools.18 Many Cycladic FN sites present metalworking evidence; for instance Strofilas on Andros ( Cyclades )19 and Ftelia on Mykonos ( Cyclades ). 20 At these two settlements weapons and tools came to light as well as at Zas Cave on Naxos ( Cyclades ).21 The presence of copper weapons and ornaments is attested also at Pefkakia and Dimini in Thessaly,22 while at Tharrounia Cave ( Euboea )23 copper weapons came to light and at Alepotrypa Cave both weapons and melting residues 24 were present ( Tab. 1 ). All these sites date to FN.25 Despite the metal and metallurgical remains at these sites, the presence of perforated shaft furnaces is not frequent. The shaft furnace is a complex structure;26 its basic form includes a circular cavity on the ground ( or hearth ) with a diameter of c. 30–40 cm, which was often lined with earth or refractory stones, and a clay furnace. The latter was shaped and used as a chimney; it had a cylindrical or truncated cone shape often with perforations. The chimney usually had a diameter of between 30–50 cm with an open top and base. Of significant importance for the smelting procedure were the bellows or pot bellows. These

13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

Coleman 1977. Coleman 1977, 40–42, 66, 79, 88, 95, pl. 22. Papadatos 2007, 154–167. Davis 2001, 66; Maxwell et al. 2019, 1–30. Muhly 2002, 77–82. Tsountas 1908, 333–335, 349–355. Televantou 2018, 390. Maxwell et al. 2018, 159–160, 163–164. Tsivilika 1998, 37. McGeehan-Liritzis, Gale 1988, 199–207. Sampson 1993, fig. 229. Papathanasopoulos 2011, 46–47, 147–157.

were usually connected to the furnace by clay pipes, the so-called nozzles ( tuyères ) that would be ‘buried’ under the ground and ‘sealed’ with clay to prevent air escaping. The bellows were used to drive air into the furnaces. The perforations of the chimney were apparently made to facilitate the entrance of air into the furnace. 27 This was necessary for the fire to reach a high temperature ( 1200–1350 °C ) and create a reducing atmosphere in the furnace to begin the smelting process. The strong wind entered through the perforations into the furnace. This kind of chimney was usually located on the slopes or the tops of hills; ideal places for strong winds. The perforated chimneys present some common features: a ) a perforation diameter of about 1.5–2.0 cm; b ) wall thickness varying from 1.0 to 2.5/3.0 cm; and c ) slightly curved walls usually with intensive burn traces ( or vitrification layers ) on their inner surface and, in some cases, slag. Not all fragments preserve traces of metal and this depends on which part of the chimney they came from. If they are fragments from the upper part, not in direct contact with the smelting procedure, they do not usually preserve traces of slag on their internal surface. The fragments with adherent slag traces are most likely derived from the lower part of the chimney. The furnaces were frequently destroyed after the smelt to remove the final product. The exact nature of the smelting operation using shaft furnaces with perforated chimneys became clear in detail after the experimental reproduction of the whole smelting procedure at the Laboratory of Archaeometry in Demokritos, National Center for Scientific Research. A series of experimental smelts, using raw materials and equipment similar to those found at the site of Chrysokamino (Crete) allowed the study of the behaviour of the perforated furnaces during smelting and offered the first detailed reconstruction of an early Aegean copper-smelting technology.28

25 The FN chronology presents various problems at the moment as some authors prefer to use LNIIa and LNIIb ( this is the case for Sarekenos, Ftelia, Zas and the Cave of the Lakes ) yet in other cases the term FN is used by authors for the same time period. In order to avoid further confusion with the Late Neolithic ( LN ), in this paper the term FN is preferred for the periods LNIIa and LNIIb, when those are specified by the site excavators. Where only FN is employed by authors then this term can be used without further explanation. LNIa and LNIb are considered LN. See Table 2. 26 For the structure of the furnace see Dimitriou 2017, figs. 13–16. 27 Craddock 2000, 160–162. 28 Catapotis et al. 2008.

PERFORATED FURNACE METALLURGY IN THE FINAL NEOLITHIC AEGEAN

The use of the shaft furnace begins in FN ( Kephala ) 29 and continues almost up until EBA III in the Aegean at the sites of Kephala 30 ( Early Cycladic (EC) I/EC II ), Avessalos31 on Seriphos ( EC ), Sideri and Palaiopyrgos-Aspra Spitia on Kythnos32 ( EC ), at the site of Chrysokamino33 on Crete ( Early Minoan ( EM ) III–Middle Minoan ( MM ) IA ) and at the settlement of Raphina34 in Attica ( Early Helladic ( EH ) II ). Some fragments from Fournoi on Seriphos ( EC I/II ) and from Skali on Siphnos ( EC ) lack perforations. This type of early cylindrical/truncated cone perforated furnace is not known outside the Aegean.35

Observations on Perforated Sherds from Final Neolithic Aegean Sites

The discovery of the perforated sherds from the south slope of the Acropolis of Athens and their identification as pieces of a furnace for smelting copper ores led to further preliminary research related to the presence of perforated ceramic sherds at other contemporary ( FN ) sites. Some clarification should be made at this point. Perforated sherds are very common at FN sites, but not all of them belong to the same type of objects. In publications these sherds are usually grouped together in the category of “strainers” because of their perforations. This is the case in D. Levi’s publication; however, creating a single category that includes vessels with different diameters of perforation, different types of clay and other different characteristics ( except for the presence of perforations ) can be misleading. Perforated furnace fragments can be seen to have special characteristics ( diameter, clay, burn traces, etc. ). It is worth noting, however, that in some cases excavators, when observing traces of burning, classify these sherds as “braziers”. This interpretation is closer to their use but is also imprecise. Perforated

29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36

Coleman 1977, 109–110. Philaniotou et al. 2011, 159. Philaniotou et al. 2011, 160–161. Bassiakos, Philaniotou 2007, 19–56. Betancourt 2006, 109–123. Theocharis 1950, 77–92. Doonan et al. 2007, 115. Coleman 1977, pl. 84:AH, AJ; Karali 1981, fig. 244; Sampson 2008, 163, fig. 86:1034, 187, fig. 104:1101; Zachos 2008, 106, fig.

20:32/83, 175, fig. 15:17/82, 849/81. 37 A type of vessel with a widespread distribution, Coleman 1977, pl. 84:A–D; Sampson 2008, fig. 103:732, 726, 710, 651; Kakavogianni et al. 2009, 163, fig. 6.

25

sherds seem to generate much perplexity with regard to which functional pottery class they belong. The perforated vessels discovered at FN sites fall into the following categories: 1 ) vessels with small diameter perforations ( usually 1.0 cm or less ) very close to each other, which probably should be considered as real strainers;36 2 ) vessels with irregular small perforations beneath the lip and along it, the so-called “cheese-pots”, which are basically open shallow vessels/pans;37 3 ) perforated sherds from metallurgical furnaces ( with specific diameter, spacing, thickness and clay composition );38 4 ) vessels with repair holes, which were opened after firing and are located along the body of the vessel; 39 5 ) vessels with perforations at a ring base or in a pedestal foot; 40 6 ) vessels with perforations that do not belong to the categories mentioned above ( decorative motif?, etc. ).41 Similar perforated sherds to the ones found on the south slope of the Acropolis of Athens are present at three FN sites, two in the Peloponnese, Ayios Dhimitrios ( Messenia ) and the Cave of the Lakes ( Corinthia ), and the third in Boeotia, Sarakenos Cave. At all three sites, these sherds were published as “strainers” . 42 Ayios Dhimitrios

The prehistoric site of Ayios Dhimitrios in the SW Peloponnese ( Messenia ) is situated on a small hill ( in total 290 m high at its highest point ) that commands a view south across the Tholon valley. 43 The position of the site is strategically secure, with a view of the sea ( 7 km distant ). The settlement has produced stratified Neolithic, EH and Middle Helladic ( MH ) deposits. The Neolithic period here is represented by LN II ( i.e. FN ) pottery. 44 The perforated sherds are 47 in number; they all present holes pierced before firing. The diameter of the holes varies from 0.5 to 1.8 cm.45 The majority are body-sherds and they are divided into coarse and fine fabric. The coarse fabric

38 Coleman 1977, pl. 22:76, 107, 148, 174, 175; Betancourt 2006, 122, fig. 7.6; Dimitriou 2017, figs. 4–9. 39 Phelps 2004, fig. 92:5; Sampson, Mastrogiannopoulou 2018, 263, fig. 25.3. 40 Coleman 1977, pl. 39:p, r; Phelps 2004, fig. 101:22; Dimitriou 2020, fig.5 γ. 41 Sampson 1993, 186, fig. 172. 42 Sampson 1997, 174; Sampson 2008, 189; Zachos 2008, 24. 43 Zachos 2008, 49, fig. 1. 44 K. Zachos distinguishes Phase I ( LN II = FN ) and Phases IIa and IIb ( EH ) in the chronology of the settlement. MH and Late Helladic phases are also recognised at the settlement. 45 Zachos 2008, 24.

26

VASILIKI ELENI DIMITRIOU

Fig. 2. Ayios Dhimitrios: 29/82—654/81—67/82 perforated sherds/furnace? 17/82—849/81 strainers, ( Zachos 2008 ).

Fig. 3. The Cave of the Lakes: perforated sherds/furnace? ( Sampson 1997 ).

Fig. 4. Sarakenos Cave: perforated sherds/furnace? ( Sampson 2008 ).

PERFORATED FURNACE METALLURGY IN THE FINAL NEOLITHIC AEGEAN

is tempered with organic ( vegetal ) material.46 Most probably the perforated sherds with thinner walls, smaller diameter holes and finer fabric can be considered “strainers” ( Fig. 2: 17/82, 849/81 ).47 K. Zachos mentions that the sherds with coarse fabric and bigger perforations are some kind of “fire holders” 48 ( Fig. 2: 654/81, 29/82 ). There is no description provided regarding any burn traces on the interior surface of the coarse sherds. A metal object and copper dagger came to light from the same phase as these sherds ( Phase I ).49 The existence of baking pans, one tuyére, a bronze chisel and two lead spools also testify to metalworking at the settlement during the EH period.50 The Cave of the Lakes

The Cave of the Lakes at Kastria is located at an altitude of about 800 m, almost 18 km south of Kalavryta and 100 km SE of Patras, in the Corinthia region. Its total length reaches about 2 km. Its location on the slopes of the valley, spreading westward from the Chelmos massif, and the spacious configuration of its natural entrance must have created the conditions for its continued preference by prehistoric communities during the Neolithic and Bronze Age. Pottery of the Neolithic and EBA51 came to light from excavations inside the cave as well as in the outer area. Among the LN–FN ( LN Ib/IIa ) finds some perforated sherds were present ( Fig. 3 ). No distinction is made by the excavators ( A. Sampson and S. Katsarou ) between the pottery finds from inside and outside the cave because of the uniformity of the ceramic repertoire.52 In the 1980s K. Zachos, the excavator of Ayios Dhimitrios, collected some sherds outside the cave and noticed a great number of perforated sherds as well.53 The sherds from A. Sampson’s excavation are 44 in total and are listed in the “perforated sherds/ strainers” category in his publication. The diameter of the perforations varies between 0.8–2.0 cm. The clay is coarse and there are no traces of burning, as noted by S. Katsarou. 54 There is no evidence for metal objects from the cave dated to the FN phase.

46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55

Zachos 2008, 24, 33. Zachos 2008, 175, pl. 15 17/82, 849/81, 14/82. Zachos 2008, 24 Zachos 2008, 27. Zachos 2008, 78–79.

Phase I ( EN II ), Phase II ( LN Ia ), Phase III ( LN Ib–LN IIa ), Phase IV ( EH II ) see Sampson 1997, 86. Sampson 1997, 86. Sampson 1997, 174; Zachos 2008, 3. Sampson 1997, 173–176. Sampson, Mastrogiannopoulou 2018, 260.

27

Sarakenos Cave The third site taken into consideration in this paper is Sarakenos Cave. Sarakenos Cave is near the modern village of Akraiphion in the SE Kopais basin in Boeotia. Situated on a steep, rocky slope, it overlooks the plain of the now drained Kopais lake. The occupation of the cave began during the Upper Palaeolithic period 55 and ends around MH ( 2nd millennium BC ).56 Sherds with perforations have been found in the LN Ib ( late phase of LN/beginning FN ) strata in the cave ( Fig. 4 ). 57 The perforations’ diameters vary from 1.3 to 1.8 cm and they are also made of coarse clay. The original shape of the vessels is difficult to ascertain because of the fragmentary state of the sherds. A. Sampson agrees with K. Zachos that these sherds are possibly braziers even though no traces of burning can be seen.58 The only evidence so far for FN metallic objects from the cave is a “bead” made of copper59 that came to light during the 2011 excavations of the site. The study of the metallurgical and metallic remains from Sarakenos from FN to the MH period conducted by V. Maxwell will provide valuable information regarding the metallurgy practices in the cave.60 Summary

As far as other contemporary cave sites are concerned, such as Kitsos Cave ( Attica ) and Tharrounia Cave ( Euboea ), the perforated sherds that came to light in these contexts are not similar to those from either Sarakenos Cave or the Cave of the Lakes, as their perforations are smaller in diameter. Comparing the data from these sites and the evidence from the Acropolis presented above we can observe some common features with regard to the location and activities at the sites ( Tab. 2 ). All sites are situated on high ground, on the upper slopes of hills ( the Acropolis, the Cave of the Lakes, Sarakenos Cave ) and on hilltops ( Ayios Dhimitrios ). Hills are ideal places both for defence and metallurgical activities. 61 At all the sites, perforated sherds are found in the FN

56 Sampson et al. 2009, 202. 57 Sampson 2008, 189, fig. 101, 103 ( except the cheese-pots ). 58 At all sites where perforated sherds from metallurgical chimneys were found their diameter was always between 1.3–2.0 cm ( Sampson 2008, 189 ). 59 Maxwell 2015, 61–65. 60 Maxwell ( forthcoming ). 61 It is well-known that the smelting of copper ores requires high temperatures and the windy conditions on hills makes them ideal places for metallurgical activities and for the use of perforated furnaces.

28

VASILIKI ELENI DIMITRIOU

Tab. 2. Final Neolithic sites with perforated sherds.

SITES

LOCALE

PERFORATED SHERDS ( DIAM. 1.0–2.0/3.0 CM )

PATTERNBURNISHED WARE

ACROPOLIS ( NEOLITHIC HUT )

Slope

× ( furnace )

×

SARAKENOS CAVE

Slope

×

×

CAVE OF THE LAKES

Slope

×

AYIOS DHIMITRIOS

Hilltop

×

×

KEPHALA

Promontory with bay

× ( furnace )

×

strata.62 In addition to the perforated sherds, in two cases we also have FN copper artefacts ( Sarakenos, Ayios Dhimitrios). Regarding the typology of the perforated sherds 63 it is noted that the diameter of the perforations approximately varies from 1.0 to 2.0/3.0 cm and all are made before firing. Their clay consistency is coarse and in some cases vegetal material is mentioned as temper ( the Acropolis, Ayios Dhimitrios ). At this point, after these preliminary observations based on bibliographic research ( with the exception of the Acropolis ), a closer observation of these sherds 64 is required in order to confirm if they could be part of perforated furnaces for smelting copper ores. The metalworking findings from Kephala on Kea 65 also present affinities with these perforated sherds. Indeed all these sites present affinities in their ceramic repertoire.66 Three sites—the Acropolis, Ayios Dhimitrios and Sarakenos Cave—have pattern-burnished pottery, characteristic of the Attica-Kephala facies.67

CRUCIBLES/ SLAGS

COPPER ARTEFACTS

CHRONOLOGY

FN ×

FN ( LN Ib ) FN ( LN Ib/IIa )

×

×

FN ( LN II )

×

FN

The importance of metallurgy during the FN period is unquestionable. Indeed, the alternative name given by some archaeologists to this phase, the Chalcolithic period,68 marks precisely its particularity with regard to the more intensive use of metals, mainly copper. 69 As we saw in the discussion above, the use of copper

became more extensive, with the possible development of specific technological features, during FN. One of the technological achievements of that period is the perforated furnaces that continued into the Bronze Age. The perforated furnace for copper smelting was almost ‘unknown’ until the end of the 1990s even though the material from Kephala had already been published. The Chrysokamino discovery led archaeologists to understand the use of these sherds. 70 Their use become even more clear with experiments held at Demokritos, including the reconstruction of the furnace and experiments related to the copper-smelting procedure.71 The use of these furnaces for the EBA was also confirmed in the Cyclades and Attica.72 The new insights from Attica, more specifically from the south slope of the Athenian Acropolis in a FN context, testify to the possibility that the use of these furnaces was a technological achievement that began during FN. Further evidence for copper metallurgy in FN Attica is attested at Kitsos Cave ( SE Attica ) situated on the east slope of Mikro Ribari hill, where a small bronze bell and a copper pin were discovered together with copper ores as well as litharge and lead foil ( Tab. 1 ).73 At Koropi ( Health Center of Koropi ), East Attica, copper slag, two clay moulds and litharge, for lead production, were collected. All these finds are dated to the transitional phase between FN and

62 With the evidence from Sarakenos slightly earlier. See the section on Sarakenos. 63 As argued in this paper, from the wide category “perforated sherds/strainers” seen in the publications of the sites taken into consideration, only the perforated sherds with coarse clay and wide diameter of perforation macroscopically present affinities with the ones from the Acropolis south slope and Kephala, Kea. 64 The second part of this research involves the firsthand study of the sherds from these sites. 65 Coleman 1977, 113–114, pl. 66.

66 Phelps 2004, 103–123; Sampson 2008, 162. 67 Zachos 2008, 18; Sampson et al. 2009, 226; Dimitriou 2014, 18, fig. 5. 68 First confirmed for the Greek mainland in McGeehan-Liritzis 1996, 277. 69 Alram-Stern 2014, 305, fig. 8. 70 Betancourt 2006; 2008; Catapotis, Bassiakos 2007. 71 Catapotis et al. 2008. 72 At Raphina. 73 Bourhis et al. 1981, 421–427.

Conclusions

PERFORATED FURNACE METALLURGY IN THE FINAL NEOLITHIC AEGEAN

EH I ( Tab. 1 ). 74 In addition, on Merenda hill, SE Attica, some small copper slags came to light from cluster A ( Συστάδα Α ) dated to the same transitional phase.75 This presence of copper slags and metallurgical ceramics from FN and FN/EH I sites in Attica is not surprising considering the possibility of mining activity at Thorikos Mine 3 during FN. 76 The Laurion area is very rich in copper and argentiferous lead ores. That was one of the reasons for contact between Attica and the Cyclades from even as early as the FN period. 77 The evidence for perforated sherds from FN Ayios Dhimitrios, The Cave of the Lakes and Sarakenos Cave sharing common typological features, in addition to the hilly location of the sites and the presence of pottery of the Attica-Kephala facies,78 such as pattern-burnished ware, suggest that we might associate the use of the furnaces for copper smelting as a technological development that took place during and within the Kephala-Attica facies. A more detailed study of the sherds from the sites analysed above is crucial to confirm this possibility. Furthermore, recent research regarding metallurgical evidence from FN sites, such as Ftelia on Mykonos79 and Yali on Nisyros,80 adds valuable data for research concerning the early stages of copper metallurgy in the Aegean, bringing a better understanding. Of great importance to this study is the need to consider the metallurgical evidence in relation to other artefact assemblages, such as pottery and lithics, and also take the settlement patterns that characterise the areas into consideration. The better understanding of metallurgical remains ( artefacts and technological remains ) in the archaeological record, will also lead towards a better understanding of specific metallurgical activities taking place at each settlement, making it possible to distinguish between sites with evidence for smelting, sites with smelting and metalworking evidence, sites with only the presence of metallic artefacts and sites where evidence for all these activities is noted. Consequently, the settlement patterns where metallurgy is attested can also help us to understand the role of metals in local societies. This will answer questions such as: was metallurgy an activity that took place in settlement areas destined for everyday activities?

74 75 76 77

Kakavogianni et al. 2008, 50. Kakavogianni et al. 2009, 165. Spitaels 1984, 161, 170, 173. Dimitriou 2012, 370, 334–373; Alram-Stern 2014, 316–319,

fig. 8. 78 See Table 2.

29

Based on the archaeological record ( pottery ) but not metals, A. Sampson and V. Mastrogiannopoulou suggest that for Sarakenos Cave: “[t]he cave diachronically constituted a communal point frequently visited, with food and artefacts deposited” and continues “[t]his suggestion however, should not mistakenly designate a domestic use to the cave, given that numerous settlements of various sizes existed in the vicinity. Instead, it positions the cave as an in-between area, where activity entered the domain of the extra- or non-domestic... facilitating groups of people during hunting, collection of wild products, traveling, transhumance, social gatherings, refuge, to name only a few” . 81 V. Maxwell’s forthcoming article on early metallurgy at Sarakenos Cave will also give important insights into the use of the cave in relation to metallurgical practices. Ongoing research on the Acropolis of Athens will also clarify the use of the area where perforated furnace sherds came to light, to distinguish whether it had a domestic use ( so confirming D. Levi’s interpretation of the area as a “hut” ) or if it constituted an area ( an open-air area ) for social gatherings on a systematic basis for various activities probably including metallurgy. 82 To sum up, metals and metalworking already began to assume an important role in the Aegean towards the later phase of the Neolithic period, and the use of specific technologies to produce copper 83 began intensively during FN. The new insights from the Acropolis south slope, in conjunction with those from Kephala ( Kea ) and possible evidence from other contemporary sites as Sarakenos Cave, the Cave of the Lakes and the settlement of Ayios Dhimitrios, may confirm if the technological development of perforated furnaces for the smelting of copper ores began within the context of the Kephala-Attica facies and continued into the EBA period, as discussed above. The further specific study and understanding of this data will be useful and important in the future to clarify the possible relationship between these perforated sherds, from Ayios Dhimitios, Sarakenos Cave and the Cave of the Lakes, with copper metallurgy. If so, that will bring new insights into the technologies used during FN for the production of copper artefacts and

79 80 81 82 83

Maxwell et al. 2018. Maxwell et al. 2019. Sampson, Mastrogiannopoulou 2018, 267. Dimitriou 2017, 36; Dimitriou 2020, 274.

Also, silver metalworking in Attica at Merenda.

30

VASILIKI ELENI DIMITRIOU

will reveal the possible social and technological differences and similarities with the successive period of the EBA.84 An overall interdisciplinary study that also considers the artefact assemblages, exchange networks and settlement patterns in the FN Aegean

( islands and mainland interaction ) 85 will help us to further clarify the overall picture of metallurgy during this crucial period of transition from stone use to metal production in prehistory.

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Alram-Stern E. ( 2014 ) Times of change: Greece and the Aegean during the 4th millennium BC, in: B. Horejs, M. Mehofer eds., Western Anatolia before Troy. Proto-Urbanisation in the 4th Millennium BC? Proceedings of the International Symposium held at the Kunsthistorisches Museum Wien, Vienna, Austria, 21–24 November 2012, Vienna, 305–327. Bassiakos Y., Philaniotou O. ( 2007 ) Early copper production on Kythnos: archaeological evidence and analytical approaches to the reconstruction of metallurgical process, in: P.M. Day, R.C.P. Doonan eds., Metallurgy in the Early Bronze Age Aegean, Sheffield Studies in Aegean Archaeology 7, Sheffield, 19–56. Betancourt P.P. ( 2006 ) The furnace chimney fragments, in: P.P. Betancourt ed., The Chrysokamino Metallurgy Workshop and its Territory, Hesperia Suppl. 36, Princeton, 109–123. Betancourt P.P. ( 2008) The copper smelting workshop at Chrysokamino: reconstructing the smelting process, in: I. Tzachili ed., Aegean Metallurgy in the Bronze Age. Proceedings of an International Symposium held at the University of Crete, Rethymnon, Greece, November 19–21, 2004, Athens, 105–111. Bourhis J., Conophagos C., Lambert N. ( 1981 ) Les métaux trouvés à Kitsos, in: N. Lambert ed., La grotte préhistorique de Kitsos (Attique), missions 1968–1978: L’occupation néolithique, les vestiges des temps paléolithiques, de l’antiquité, et de histoire récente, Paris, 421–427. Catapotis M., Bassiakos Y. ( 2007 ) Copper smelting at the Early Minoan site of Chrysokamino on Crete, in: P.M. Day, R.C.P. Doonan eds., Metallurgy in the Early Bronze Age Aegean, Sheffield Studies in Aegean Archaeology 7, Sheffield, 58–68. Catapotis M., Pryce O., Bassiakos Y. ( 2008 ) Preliminary results from an experimental study of perforated copper-smelting shaft furnaces from

Chrysokamino ( Eastern Crete ), in: I. Tzachili ed., Aegean Metallurgy in the Bronze Age. Proceedings of an International Symposium held at the University of Crete, Rethymnon, Greece, November 19–21, 2004, Athens, 113–121. Coleman J.E. ( 1977 ) Keos: Results of Excavations Conducted by the University of Cincinnati under the Auspices of the American School of Classical Studies at Athens. I. Kephala: a Late Neolithic Settlement and Cemetery, Princeton. Craddock P.T. ( 2000 ) From hearth to furnace: evidences for the earliest metal smelting in the Eastern Mediterranean, Paléorient 26:2, 151–165. Davis J.L. ( 2001 ) Review of Aegean prehistory I: the islands of the Aegean, in: T. Cullen ed., Aegean Prehistory. A Review, AJA Suppl. 1, Boston, 19–76. Dimitriou V.E. ( 2012 ) Il Golfo Saronico e le sue Isole durante il IV e il II millennio a.C. Modelli di insediamento e rapporti con le Cicladi. Unpublished PhD thesis, Università di Roma, “La Sapienza”. Dimitriou V.E. (2014 [2016]) L’Acropoli di Atene durante il Neolitico Finale e il Bronzo Antico. Lo studio ex novo dei rinvenimenti dello scavo Levi sul pendio Sud: rapporto preliminare, ASAtene 92, 15–33. Dimitriou V.E. ( 2017 [2018] ) Evidence for metallurgical activities at the south slope of the Athenian Acropolis during the Final Neolithic. A preliminary report, ASAtene 95, 25–38. Dimitriou V.E. ( 2020 ) I Akrópoli tis Athínas katá tin Telikí Neolithikí kai Protóchalki período. Néa stoicheía apó ti anaskafí D. Levi (Η Ακρόπολη της Αθήνας κατά την Τελική Νεολιθική και Πρωτόχαλκη περίοδο. Νέα στοιχεία από τη ανασκαφή D. Levi ), in: N. Papadimitriou, J.C. Wright, S. Fachard, N. PolychronakouSgouritsa, E. Andrikou eds., Athens and Attica in Prehistory. Proceedings of the International Conference, Athens 27–31 May 2015, Oxford, 265–276.

84 Maxwell et al. 2018, 176.

85 See Maxwell et al. 2018 ( Ftelia on Mykonos ); Televantou 2008 ( Strofilas on Andros ).

PERFORATED FURNACE METALLURGY IN THE FINAL NEOLITHIC AEGEAN

Dimitriou V.E., Philippaki E., Bassiakos Y. ( forthcoming ) Early perforated Aegean furnaces: archaeological and archaeometrical evidence from Acropolis south slope, in: Proceedings of the 7th Symposium on Archaeometry of the Hellenic Society of Archaeometry, 9–12 October 2019, Athens. Doonan R.C.P., Day P.M., Dimopoulou-Rethemiotaki N. ( 2007 ) Lame excuses for emerging complexity in Early Bronze Age Crete: the metallurgical finds from Poros Katsambas and their context, in: P.M. Day, R.C.P. Doonan eds., Metallurgy in the Early Bronze Age Aegean, Sheffield Studies in Aegean Archaeology 7, Sheffield, 98–122. Georgakopoulou M. ( 2016 ) Mobility and Early Bronze Age Southern Aegean metal production, in: E. Kiriatzi, C. Knappett eds., Human Mobility and Technological Transfer in the Prehistoric Mediterranean, BSA Studies in Greek Antiquity, Cambridge, 46–67. Kakavogianni O., Dimitriou K., Koutsothanasis Ch., Petrou A. (2009) Οikismós tis Protoelladikís epochís kai dýo memonoména ktíria sti Merénta ( Οικισμός της Πρωτοελλαδικής εποχής και δύο μεμονωμένα κτίρια στη Μερέντα ), in: V. Vasilopoulou, S. Katsarou-Tzeveleki eds., Apo ta Mesógeia ston Argosaronikó, V’ Eforeía Proïstorikón kai Klasikón Archaiotíton. To érgo mias dekaetías, 1994–2003. Praktiká Synedríou, Athína, 18–20 Dekemvríou 2003 ( Από τα Μεσόγεια στον Αργοσαρωνικό. Β’ Εφορεία Προϊστορικών και Κλασικών Αρχαιοτήτων. Το έργο μιας δεκαετίας 1994–2003. Πρακτικά Συνεδρίου, Αθήνα, 18–20 Δεκεμβρίου 2003 ), Markopoulo, 159–175. Kakavogianni O., Douni K., Nezeri F. ( 2008 ) Silver metallurgical finds dating from the end of the Final Neolithic period until the Middle Bronze Age in the area of Mesogeia, in: I. Tzachili ed., Aegean Metallurgy in the Bronze Age. Proceedings of an International Symposium held at the University of Crete, Rethymnon, Greece, November 19–21, 2004, Athens, 45–57. Karali L. ( 1981 ) Céramique grossière, in: N. Lambert ed., La grotte préhistorique de Kitsos ( Attique ), missions 1968–1978: L’occupation néolithique, les vestiges des temps paléolithiques, de l’antiquité, et de histoire récente, Paris, 349–371. Levi D. (1930–1931 [1933]) Abitazioni preistoriche sulle pendici meridionali dell’Acropoli, ASAtene 13–14, 411–498. McGeehan-Liritzis V. ( 1996 ) The Role and Development of Metallurgy in the Late Neolithic and Early Bronze Age of Greece, SIMA-PB 122, Jonsered.

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McGeehan-Liritzis V., Gale N.H. ( 1988 ) Chemical and lead isotope analyses of Greek Late Neolithic and Early Bronze Age metals, Archaeometry 30:2, 199–225. Maxwell V.L. ( 2015 ) Sarakeno metals in the context of Aegean metallurgy, in: K. Rosińska-Balik, A. Ochał-Czarnowicz, M. Czarnowicz, J. DębowskaLudwin eds., Copper and Trade in the SouthEastern Mediterranean: Trade Routes of the Near East in Antiquity, BAR-IS 2753, Oxford, 61–65. Maxwell V.L. ( forthcoming ) The Earliest Metalworking from Sarakenos Cave, Boeotia. Maxwell V.L., Ellam R.M., Skarpelis N., Sampson A. ( 2019 ) The context and nature of the evidence for metalworking from mid 4th millennium Yali ( Nissyros ), Journal of Greek Archaeology 4, 1–30. Maxwell V.L., Sampson A., Skarpelis N., Ellam R.M. ( 2018 ) An archaeological and archaeometric analysis of early metals from Ftelia, Mykonos, in: A. Sampson, T. Tsourouni eds., Ftelia on Mykonos. Neolithic Networks in the Southern Aegean Basin II, Athens, 153–186. Muhly J.D. ( 2002 ) Early metallurgy in Greece and Cyprus, in: Ü Yalçin, ed., Anatolian Metal II. Veröffentlichungen aus dem Deutschen Bergbau-Museum 109 Anschnitt, Beiheft 15, Bochum, 77–82. Papadatos Y. ( 2007 ) The beginning of metallurgy in Crete: new evidence from the FN–EM I settlement at Kephala-Petras, Siteia, in: P.M. Day, R.C.P. Doonan eds., Metallurgy in the Early Bronze Age Aegean, Sheffield Studies in Aegean Archaeology 7, Sheffield, 154–167. Papathanasopoulos G.A. ( 2011 ) To Neolithikό Dirό: Spilaio Alepόtrypa I ( Το Νεολιθικό Διρό: Σπήλαιο Αλεπότρυπα Ι ), Athens. Phelps B. ( 2004 ) The Neolithic Pottery Sequence in Southern Greece, BAR-IS 1259, Oxford. Philaniotou O., Bassiakos Y., Georgakopoulou M. ( 2011 ) Early Bronze Age copper smelting on Seriphos ( Cyclades, Greece ), in: P.P. Betancourt, S. Ferrence eds., Metallurgy: Understanding How, Learning Why. Studies in Honor of James D. Muhly, Philadelphia, 157–164. Sampson A. ( 1993 ) To spílaio Skoteiní sta Tharroúnia tis Évvoias ( To σπήλαιο Σκοτεινή στα Θαρρούνια της Εύβοιας ), Athens. Sampson A. ( 1997 ) To Spílaio ton limnón sta Kastriá Kalavrýton. Mia proistorikí thési stin Oreiní Pelopónniso ( Το Σπήλαιο των Λιμνών στα Καστριά Καλαβρύτων. Μια προϊστορική θέση στην ορεινή Πελοπόννησο ), Athens.

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Sampson A. (2008) The Sarakenos Cave at Akraephnion, Boeotia, Greece. The Neolithic and the Bronze Age. Pottery Analysis, Cave Occupation Patterns and Populations Movements in Central and Southern Greece I, Athens. Sampson A., Kozłowski J.K., Kaczanowska M., Budek A., Nadachowski A., Tomek T., Miękina B. ( 2009 ) Sarakenos Cave in Boeotia, from Palaeolithic to the Early Bronze Age, Eurasian Prehistory 6:1–2, 199–231. Sampson A., Mastrogiannopoulou V. (2018) Late Neolithic traditions: evidence from Sarakenos Cave, in: S. Dietz, F. Mavridis, Z. Tankosić, T. Takaoğlu eds., Communities in Transition: the CircumAegean Area during the 5th and 4th Millennia BC, Oxford and Philadelphia, 260–268. Spitaels P. ( 1984 ) The Early Helladic period in Mine No. 3, in:  H.F. Mussche, J. Bingen, J. Servais, P.  Spitaels eds., Thorikos VIII  1972/1976 Rapport préliminaire sur les 9e, 10e, 11e et 12e campagnes de fouilles/Voorlopig verslag over de 9e, 10e, 11e en 12e opgravingscampagnes, Ghent, 151–174. Televantou C.A. ( 2008 ) Strofilas: a Neolithic settlement on Andros, in: N. Brodie, J. Doole,

G. Gavalas, C. Renfrew eds., Horizon, Órízon ( Όρίζων ), a Colloquium on the Prehistory of the Cyclades, Cambridge, 43–53. Televantou C.A. ( 2018 ) Strofilas, Andros: new perspectives on the Neolithic Aegean, in: S. Dietz, F. Mavridis, Z. Tankosić, T. Takaoğlu eds., Communities in Transition: the Circum-Aegean Area during the 5th and 4th Millennia BC, Oxford and Philadelphia, 389–396. Theocharis D.P. ( 1950 [1951] ) Anaskafí en Arafíni ( Ανασκαφή εν Αραφήνι ), Prakt 105, 77–92. Tsivilika S. (1998) Neolithikí Metallourgia (Νεολιθική Μεταλλουργία ), in: K. Demakopoulou ed., Kosmímata tis Ellinikís Proïstorías. O Neolithikós Thisavrós (Κοσμήματα της Ελληνικής Προϊστορίας. Ο Νεολιθικός Θησαυρός ), Athens, 35–38. Tsountas Ch. ( 1908 ) Ai Proïstorikai Akropóleis Diminíou kai Sésklou ( Αι Προϊστορικαί Ακροπόλεις Διμινίου και Σέσκλου ), Athens. Zachos K. ( 2008 ) Ayios Dhimitrios. A Prehistoric Settlement in the Southwestern Peloponnese: the Neolithic and Early Helladic Periods, BAR-IS 1770, Oxford.

Chiara De Gregorio

Heidelberg University https://orcid.org/0000-0003-1696-873X

THE “EMBLEMS” ON THE JUGS IN THE LATE PREPALATIAL AYIA TRIADA NECROPOLIS AND THE ICONOGRAPHY OF SEALS A COMPARATIVE ANALYSIS1

Abstract: This work has the aim of clarifying the origin and function of an unusual Dark-on-Light

decoration documented on some jugs uncovered in the Late Prepalatial necropolis of Ayia Triada, 3 km away from Phaistos: the so-called brocchette a pelte. They present two painted ellipses on the body (pelte) with figurative elements depicted inside the one underneath the beak. Until now, this decorative pattern has been mostly documented in the Ayia Triada region as a possible local development within Dark-on-Light production. The finding of several brocchette a pelte in a pottery dump in the ceremonial area of the Ayia Triada Late Prepalatial necropolis (the Deposit of the Camerette) led to a symbolic interpretation of the images inside the pelte. They have been suggested to be the emblems of local groups and have been linked to seals. This paper offers the results of the typological and contextual examination of the brocchette a pelte from the Deposit of the Camerette, which also takes into account ongoing research and compares their iconography with the images on contemporary seals found in the Late Prepalatial Ayia Triada necropolis. The evidence helps to clarify the origin and function of this local development of the Darkon-Light decorative tradition. Keywords: jugs, seals, decoration, comparison, Late Prepalatial, Crete.

This is an open access publication made available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International Licence. Sympozjum Egejskie: Papers in Aegean Archaeology 3, ed. by S. Aulsebrook, K. Żebrowska, A. Ulanowska, and K. Lewartowski, WSA 3 ( Turnhout: Brepols, 2022 ), pp. 33–42. 10.1484/M.WSA-EB.5.128950

Introduction

The Late Prepalatial necropolis of Ayia Triada lies c. 3 km away from Phaistos. It was first excavated in 1904 by the Italian Mission in Crete, directed by F. Halbherr. The archaeologists uncovered Tholos A, its annexes and the so-called Camerette 1–10, a building of small-sized quadrangular rooms south of the tomb.2 After a long interval, new excavations were

carried out between 1997 and 1999 by the Italian Archaeological School at Athens under the direction of V. La Rosa. They completed the digging of the Late Prepalatial necropolis by discovering another building similar to Camerette 1–10, which was named Rooms a–c, and other small structures in the area nearby. The area associated with these buildings was

1 I would like to thank the organisers of Sympozjum Egejskie for giving me the chance to participate in it. I thank Prof. F.M. Carinci for the opportunity to study the Deposit of the Camerette for my final dissertation at the Italian Archaeological School at Athens and Prof. S. Todaro for her helpful suggestions. I am

also grateful to the directors of the IASA, Prof. E. Greco and Prof. E. Papi, for the permits to study the finds and the documents concerning the excavations of the Deposit of the Camerette. 2 Stefani 1930–1931, 152–154; Cultraro 2000; La Rosa 2013, 171–287.

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Fig. 1. The Late Prepalatial necropolis of Ayia Triada (La Rosa 2013, 307, pl. XXIX).

also characterised by an open paved space and a wall with baetyls.3 During the same excavations, the complex of Tholos A and its annexes were also entirely revealed. During 1997–1999, several jugs with a similar Dark-on-Light decorative pattern were found. They had two ellipses painted on the belly: one around the lower junction of the handle and the other one below the beak; these were joined by one or more oblique lines crossing the upper part of the body. For this reason, this type of jug was named by the Italian archaeologists as brocchette a pelte,4 since the shape of the ellipses recalls that of the pelte, a kind of shield used in ancient times. The decorative motif of the jugs was completed by parallel lines on the body, around the base and the neck, and small dashes on the handle and in the space between the ellipses. The frontal pelta underneath the beak was usually filled with schematic geometric or naturalistic images.5 The brocchette a pelte are considered a local development of the late Early Minoan (EM) Dark-on-Light decorative tradition of south-central Crete 6 and evidence for regional Late Prepalatial pottery production.7

The largest single find of brocchette a pelte was discovered in a pottery dump in 1998 in the Ayia Triada necropolis close to Rooms a–c: the Deposit of the Camerette (Fig. 1).8 The pottery dump revealed 434 later mended and catalogued vases as well as thousands of pottery fragments that have mainly been dated to the Late Prepalatial period, including the most representative pottery shapes of that time.9 It uncovered 63 mended and catalogued jugs with pelte and several further fragments of them, out of a total of 92 mended and catalogued decorated jugs and c. 600 decorated fragments. The brocchette a pelte represent the second most attested shape after conical cups—and almost 70% of all jugs uncovered in the Deposit of the Camerette, which themselves constitute 17% of the Late Prepalatial pottery from this deposit (Fig. 2). The stratigraphy of the 1997–1999 excavations suggests the finds from the Deposit of the Camerette were the remains of equipment used in Camerette 1–10 that had been removed in Middle Minoan (MM) IB to make room for new equipment.10

La Rosa 2001. Di Vita 1998–2000, 390–397; La Rosa 2013, 171–287. Carinci 1999; 2004; La Rosa 2013, 213–215, 223–224. Todaro 2019, 112–135, 171–194. Betancourt 1985, 62–63. Carinci 2003; 2004; La Rosa 2013, 210–228; De Gregorio 2019; Todaro 2019, 134.

pithoi, amphorae, miniature wine presses, sauceboats, a horned vase and a clay engraved sheet (Di Vita 1998–2000, 390–397; La Rosa 2013, 210–228); besides pottery, the deposit included two obsidian blades, a sandstone grindstone, stone weights and a small burnt bone (La Rosa 2013, 210–228). 10 Banti 1930–1931; Cultraro 2000; Carinci 2003; 2004; La Rosa 2013, 171–287.

3 4 5 6 7 8

9 The deposit comprised conical cups, jugs, shallow bowls, teapots, jars, baking plates, buckets, cups, bowls, cooking pots, pitharakia,

THE “EMBLEMS” ON THE JUGS IN THE LATE PREPALATIAL AYIA TRIADA NECROPOLIS

Fig. 2. Breakdown by type of jugs documented in the Deposit of the Camerette.

Fig. 3. Brocchette a pelte from the Deposit of the Camerette at Ayia Triada (inv. nos.: HTR 98 3011, HTR 98 3026, HTR 98 3076, HTR 98 2973, HTR 98 2980, HTR 98 3029, HTR 98 3095, HTR 98 3113; La Rosa 2013, 210, 213–215, figs. 227, 242, 244–245, 249, 252–253, 255).

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Several brocchette a pelte have been found in other spots near to the Deposit of the Camerette: in the paved open area close to it,11 in Cameretta 8 12 and in the Late Prepalatial dwelling areas of Ayia Triada.13 At Phaistos, these jugs have been attested since phase IX, which corresponds to late EM III 14 and at Patrikies 15 they are present in a context mostly dated to MM IA.16 Outside the close environs of Ayia Triada, the findings of brocchette a pelte are very few so far. One has been discovered in Tholos IIα at Yerokampos, Lebena (MM IA),17 another one in the necropolis of Moni Odigitria (EM III),18 and two fragmentary brocchette a pelte have been attested in MM IA contexts at Kommos.19 Furthermore, when considering the preliminary excavation reports, at least one jug with pelte was also uncovered in the settlement of Trypiti (EM III–MM IA).20 As documented by the archaeological finds, this decorative pattern appears typical only of the area around Ayia Triada and of contexts related mainly to ceremonial and ritual activities. In order to clarify the reasons behind the development of pelte decoration and the possible meanings and functions of it, the jugs are compared with seals bearing similar decorative characteristics that appear as contemporary artefacts. By considering their common traits, they will be examined to elucidate the potential links between them and to the social environment. The Comparative Analysis

The brocchette a pelte can be examined by taking into consideration the images depicted in the frontal ellipses. Except for a few jugs with empty pelte, they are usually characterised by schematic geometric or naturalistic images (Fig. 3).21 The geometric repertoire is the most well-documented one and includes simple and articulated representations. Simple images consist of single straight or zigzag lines placed in the

11 From strata nos. 29, 29a, 33, 91, 98, Italian Archaeological School at Athens archives: 67280. J. XIX. 1999. b. 38; 65618. J. XIX. b. 1998. 43; 67238. J. XIX. 1999. b. 18; 67243. J. XIX. 1999. b. 41; 65676. J. XIX. b. 1998. 42; 67280. J. XIX. 1999. b. 38; J. XIX. 1999. b. 16; 67280. J. XIX. 1999. b. 38; J. XIX. b. 1997. 27; HTR 97 2883; HTR 2881; HTR 3020; HTR 99 3220; HTR 2881; La Rosa 2013, 204, 226–227, 243. 12 Banti 1930–1931, 220–221, nos. 285–287, figs. 125a, 126b, 127– 129, tab. XIXc; Borda 1947, 46–47. 13 La Rosa 1986, 66, fig. 17 e; Carinci 1999, 124, fig. 4; 2003; 2004, 30, 32–33. 14 Todaro 2005, 42, 45, fig. 8, A.8; 2010, 15–16; 2013, 194; 2019, 189–190. 15 Bonacasa 1967–1968, 38, nos. 2125, 3447, fig. 24d; Levi 1976, 750–752, 755–756, fig. 1201, tabs. 16a, VIf. 16 Zois 1968; Todaro 2019, 134. 17 Alexiou, Warren 2004, 149, fig. 40, tab. 131B.

middle of the ellipses, parallel oblique lines and single or double hanging arches on the sides of the pelta. The lines in the middle can also be completed by sequences of crossed lines, and the zigzag motifs are at times doubled or completed with adjunctive lines. An elaborated geometric pattern, called “spiderweb” by L. Banti, consists of a network of arches and crossed lines.22 The naturalistic images are typologically less varied. They are mostly schematic representations of branches, twigs and spikes constituted by one or more traits. Clovers and four-leaf clovers are also attested and represented through schematic sets of curving arches set along a central line.23 The so-called “star” motif is depicted with a round central circle and eleven radiating rays, and it can be considered either a naturalistic or a geometric pattern.24 Even though some of them are very unusual, the images inside the pelte appear to be connected to the broader decorative tradition of Late Prepalatial pottery and recall Ayios Onouphrios ware.25 Furthermore, they evoke the Late Prepalatial decoration attested on the polychrome teapots found at Patrikies 26 and on White-on-Dark products.27 The same decorative motifs spread in south-central Crete and were later incorporated into Protopalatial production.28 F. Carinci connected the local decoration of the Ayia Triada area to the broader Late Prepalatial pottery production of south-central Crete, characterised by a progressive reduction of the painted space on vases from EM I onwards.29 With the aim of identifying the reasons behind the development of this decorative motif and the possible meanings and functions of it, he proposed a comparison between the images painted in the frontal pelte and the representations on contemporary seals from the Ayia Triada area.30 Both jugs and seals (Fig. 4) have unusual decoration and have mostly been attested in contexts dedicated to ceremonial and ritual activities.

18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25

26 27 28 29 30

Branigan, Campbell-Green 2010, 111 n. P300, fig. 51, tab. 41. Van de Moortel 2006, 272, 281, nos. X/7, A/7, tabs. 3.1, 3.9. Vasilakis 1989, 56; 1995. La Rosa 2013, 213–215, 223–224. Banti 1930–1931, 220–221 n. 285, fig. 126b. La Rosa 2013, 213–215, 223–224. La Rosa 2013, 214–215.

Ayios Onouphrios ware is also called Dark-on-Light fine ware I and II, and Dark-on-Light fine ware I or Red on Buff ware and Fine Painted ware; Branigan, Campbell-Green 2010; Todaro 2019. Bonacasa 1967–1968; Levi 1976. Betancourt 1985, 29–31, 55–61. Betancourt 1985, 77–102. Carinci 1996; 2004. Carinci 1996, 37, figs. 20, 21; 2004.

THE “EMBLEMS” ON THE JUGS IN THE LATE PREPALATIAL AYIA TRIADA NECROPOLIS

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Fig. 4. Comparable seals from the necropolis of Ayia Triada and other sites of the neighbouring area (not to scale).

At Ayia Triada, 88 Prepalatial seals were found during the 1904 excavations in the complex of Tholos A31 and they show schematic representations that in several examples are organised in circular fields similar to the shape of the pelte. Regarding the images depicted inside these circular fields, the geometric patterns typical of brocchette a pelte do not find direct comparisons on seals, even though several seal motifs recall the ones found on other jugs. The so-called “spiderweb”, though, has a direct parallel with an image on a seal from the Late Prepalatial levels of Tholos A

that consists of a crossed line and hanging arches similar to the ones depicted on the jugs.32 The same decorative motif is recalled by another seal with embedded chevrons, dated to EM II–III.33 More comparisons can be identified by considering the naturalistic patterns on brocchette a pelte. Representations of twigs, spikes and branches are attested on several seals, as demonstrated by an example from Tholos A dated to EM II–III.34 Images of clovers and four-leaf clovers are also widespread on both jugs and seals. Among them can be listed two seals dated to EM III–MM IA,

31 Banti 1930–1931, 198–216; Cultraro 1994; 2003. 32 CMS II,1 008.

33 CMS II,1 074. 34 CMS II,1 061.

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one from Tholos A and the other from an uncertain location in the necropolis of Ayia Triada.35 Several seals also bear the so-called “star” motif. Two of them have been found in Tholos A at Ayia Triada, in a context dated to EM II–III, and they show a round central point with straight lines radiating from it, similar to rays.36 Images possibly linked to stars, asterisks and schematic flowers are, in fact, documented on several seals of the MM I period.37 Furthermore, parallels between brocchette a pelte and seals can also be identified by considering the whole decorative scheme realised on the jugs. The connection of the two ellipses through curved lines on the upper half of the body of the vase creates a sort of spiral that is completed by the decoration on the neck and underneath the beak. The decorative pattern of the spiral is widespread on contemporary seals from the Ayia Triada necropolis: two of them from Tholos A are dated to EM III–MM IA and show a spiral surrounded by dots and small twigs on its sides.38 Between the individual arms of the spiral of one of them, there are small crosses depicted that recall the schematic four-leaf clover pattern on the brochette a pelte.39 Moreover, a spiral surrounded by leaves is attested on two seals whose link to Late Prepalatial Ayia Triada is uncertain.40 Further indirect comparisons can be drawn by considering the other seals from Tholos A. Some seals have images that recall the ones on the jugs, with side hanging arches41 or leaves similar to four-leaf clovers.42 Furthermore, the quadripartite-divided scheme noted in some pelte is similar to several seals with a circular field divided into four parts.43 At Ayia Triada, the seals dated to MM II also have motifs that recall the ones on the brochette a pelte: flowers, simple straight lines, four-leaf clovers, branches, stars and spiderwebs.44 The comparisons revealed at Ayia Triada can be identified at other sites where the brochette a pelte have been uncovered. At Phaistos, a MM II seal with spiral decoration recalls the decorative scheme of the jugs 45 and several show representations similar to those in the

pelte: spiderwebs, stars, four-leaf clovers and spirals.46 At Lebena, two seals respectively from Tholos II and Tholos IIα at Yerokampos show images that recall the decorative patterns on the brocchette a pelte;47 a seal from Tholos IIα, dated to EM III–MM IA, is decorated with a four-leaf clover and spirals.48 The representations in the frontal ellipses of the jugs can also be compared with the seals uncovered at other similar Late Prepalatial necropolises of south-central Crete where the brocchette a pelte have not been found: Platanos, Koumasa, Porti, Ayios Onouphrios, Kalathiana and Moni Odigitria. Even though they have not revealed any brocchette a pelte thus far, they are more or less contemporary with the necropolis of Ayia Triada, and the pottery from them finds many comparisons with that of Ayia Triada. The seals from the aforementioned sites present both geometric and naturalistic motifs: branches, spikes, four-leaf clovers, flowers, stars, crossed and parallel lines and hanging arches. Spirals are also extensively documented, in pairs or with lateral spikes.49 These sites have also revealed seals comparable with the decoration of the brocchette a pelte that are dated to the Protopalatial.50 Even though the systematic comparison of decorative motifs has highlighted the presence of only a few direct parallels, several similar traits have been identified, especially with regard to the naturalistic motifs. As in the case of the jugs, the highest number of closely comparable seals has been documented at Ayia Triada. By considering the whole range of representations, the decorative patterns on jugs and seals seem, though, to refer to the same iconographical repertoire that appears widespread across south-central Crete. The finds of brocchette a pelte and the seals at several sites across the region, not always in connection with each other, underline the widespread diffusion of this decorative scheme. Furthermore, the presence of similar decorative schemes in later products of the Protopalatial period demonstrates the persistence of the decorative repertoire and its link with the area.

35 36 37 38 39 40

44 45 46 47 48 49

CMS II,1 058, 102; CMS II,6 224. CMS II,1 009, 021. CMS II,1 088, 097. CMS II,1 042, 101. CMS II,1 101; Carinci 1996, 36–37, figs. 20–21. One seal has an uncertain provenience (CMS II,1 449); the other one is probably later than Late Prepalatial (CMS II,1 092c). 41 CMS II,1 036, 047. 42 CMS II,1 044. 43 For example, the EM II–III seal CMS II,1 054.

CMS II,2 201a; CMS II,6 206, 208, 201, 213, 221, 253. CMS XI 081. CMS II,5 063, 064, 071, 074, 070. CMS II,1 194b, 206. CMS II,1 205a–b. CMS II,2 131, 252, 257, 258, 254b, 266, 271, 135, 149, 159, 161, 168b, 194b, 286a–b, 292c, 293b, 298, 302b, 305b, 316, 317, 318, 324, 326a, 327, 333a–b, 328, 339, 341, 361, 368a, 374b, 400, 404; CMS VS3 128, 129, 130, 137, 143. 50 CMS II,2 145c, 275, 276, 284a, 349, 373.

THE “EMBLEMS” ON THE JUGS IN THE LATE PREPALATIAL AYIA TRIADA NECROPOLIS

Concluding Remarks

A comparison of decorative motifs on seals and Minoan pottery has already been proposed by G. Walberg. She compared the decoration of Kamares ware with similar seals and identified the closest parallels between them, which date to the MM II period. In her analysis, Walberg pointed out that Minoan pottery and seals were two parallel and similar products that had developed separately. Even though G. Walberg dated the appearance of the figurative motifs to the Late Prepalatial period, during a time that she identified as ‘Pre-Kamares’, she did not consider the products of this phase as homogeneous enough to be part of her study.51 Further research has confirmed this variation in Late Prepalatial pottery, by including in this framework the brocchette a pelte as a local development of the Dark-on-Light ware.52 Later, M. Relaki highlighted that similarities between pottery and seals can also be identified among Prepalatial artefacts.53 Different products have generally been considered as a means of expression of identity by communities. In particular, the development of decorative motifs on seals has been connected to the need of specific social groups to express their own identity; new emerging elites could have found it necessary to legitimate themselves and their authority through objects, such as seals.54 The Late Prepalatial seals were mostly uncovered in contexts linked to ceremonial activities, like the necropolises, where local groups could have had the chance to employ social symbols of their status.55 By proposing the comparison with the representations on seals, F. Carinci has considered the images in the pelte as emblemata of different local groups that expressed their identity, and possibly their authority, by depicting their symbols on artefacts used during communal activities in the area of the Camerette in the necropolis of Ayia Triada.56 The repetition of some representations on several brocchette a pelte has been interpreted as a sign to identify the members of the same social group. The representations on the

51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58

Walberg 1986, 6–56. Todaro 2013, 195. Relaki 2018. Sbonias 2008; Relaki 2011; Anderson 2016. Krzyszkowska 2005. Carinci 2004. Carinci 2004.

In the Deposit of the Camerette, the ratios between conical cups, jugs and shallow bowls indicate a possible use of drinking sets

39

jugs would have also defined the entire group of vases to which they were related,57 since they were probably part of drinking sets.58 The comparable decorative motifs observed on seals possibly confirm the hypothesis of their use as emblems of local groups that aimed to express their identity in the necropolis by using different types of artefacts. Furthermore, the tholos complex and the area of the Camerette were a point of reference and a gathering place for the community at Ayia Triada during the Late Prepalatial period 59 and the finding of brocchette a pelte in contemporary dwelling areas of Ayia Triada can confirm the connection of the local community with the ceremonial spaces of the necropolis.60 F. Carinci also interpreted the decoration on the brocchette a pelte as an expression of the authority of local elites who tried to legitimate themselves by incorporating their emblems into artefacts 61 and could also have purchased and employed the “luxury goods” uncovered in Tholos A.62 The hypothesis of pelte as distinctive signs and emblems of local groups or elites has not yet been confirmed through this comparison with seals. The largest amount of brocchette a pelte has been found in the Deposit of the Camerette, an area closely connected to communal ceremonial activities. The size of the dump indicates the involvement of a large community in the ceremonies for which the vases were used, and the significant presence of tableware and vessels common in drinking sets suggests the possible function of the whole area was connected to communal consumption of food and drink, likewise libations and feasting activities.63 Most of the pottery uncovered in the deposit appears to be of simple manufacture with few signs of distinctiveness, mainly produced through a form of standardised production. The brocchette a pelte are similar to the bulk of the pottery uncovered in the dump, being distinguished only through their decorative patterns. On the other hand, the seals have generally been considered as a product mainly related to elites, even though such groups have not been clearly defined.64 Recent studies have focused on the definition of communities and social groups

59 60 61 62 63 64

formed by four conical cups, one jug and one shallow bowl (268 entire or mendable conical cups, 38% of the total pottery; 27 entire shallow bowls and 104 fragments of them, 17% of the total pottery); Carinci 2004; De Gregorio 2019. Carinci 2004; Todaro 2011. Todaro 2003; Todaro 2011. Carinci 2004. Paribeni 1904; Banti 1930–1931; Cultraro 1994; 2003. La Rosa 2013, 273–277. Anderson 2016, 141–169.

40

CHIARA DE GREGORIO

that could have possessed and used the seals during the Late Prepalatial period. Even though no certain data are available about the production areas for brocchette a pelte and seals at Ayia Triada, the comparable decorative motifs could indicate the activity of craftsmen that shared the same figurative repertoire 65 and they possibly influenced one another by working in the same space. The debate concerning craftsmen’s specialisation during the Prepalatial period is still ongoing. The mobility of craftsmen across the island may have played a role, but the activity of specialised workshops could also represent one of the reasons behind the decorative similarities.66 Excavations all over Crete have also uncovered workshops linked to the production of different artefacts but located in the same area. As, for example, Quartier Mu at Malia, where pottery and seal workshops were placed nearby 67 and the craftsmen worked in the same area during the Late Prepalatial period. Furthermore, both brocchette a pelte and seals were uncovered in the dwelling areas at Ayia Triada.68 Even though several Late Prepalatial deposits have been found in different locations underneath the preserved remains from later periods at Ayia

Triada, the only structures dated to that period identified so far are those in the necropolis and no proper Late Prepalatial settlement has been uncovered.69 For this reason, the community or communities linked to the necropolis have not been clearly defined. The images in the pelte could thus be considered as symbols of different local groups that constituted the community taking part in the ceremonies conducted in the necropolis and possibly lived in several dwelling areas on the Ayia Triada hill.70 The brocchette a pelte appear as a very limited local production of Late Prepalatial Dark-on-Light ware. Future research will possibly reveal other jugs with the same decorative pattern in the broader area or in another location at Ayia Triada, and possibly new data which will allow a more precise definition of the communities related to Ayia Triada in the Late Prepalatial period. The proposed comparison of decorative patterns on seals and brocchette a pelte has highlighted some possible elements that can provide a starting point for specifying the exact development the development and function of this decoration in Late Prepalatial south-central Crete.

Bibliography

Alexiou S., Warren P. (2004) The Early Minoan Tombs of Lebena, Southern Crete, Sävedalen. Anderson E.S.K. (2016) Seals, Craft, and Community in Bronze Age Crete, New York. Banti L. (1930–1931 [1933]) La grande tomba a tholos di Haghia Triada, ASAtene 13–14, 155–251. Betancourt P. (1984) East Cretan White-on-Dark Ware: Studies on a Handmade Pottery of the Early to Middle Minoan Periods, Philadelphia. Betancourt P. (1985) The History of Minoan Pottery, Princeton. Bonacasa N. (1967–1968 [1969]) Patrikiès. Una stazione medio-minoica fra Haghia Triada e Festòs, ASAtene 45–46, 7–54. Borda M. (1946) Arte cretese-micenea nel Museo Pigorini di Roma, Rome. Branigan K. (2010) The Late Prepalatial resurrected, in: O. Krzyszkowska ed., Cretan Offerings: Studies in Honour of Peter Warren, BSA Studies 18, London, 25–31.

Branigan K., Campbell-Green T. (2010) The pottery assemblage: data and analysis, in: K. Branigan, A. Vasilakis ed., Moni Odigitria: a Prepalatial Cemetery and its Environs in the Asterousia, Southern Crete, Prehistory Monographs 30, Philadelphia, 69–126. Carinci F.M. (1996) Sistemi decorativi nella ceramica protopalaziale di Festòs, in: F.M. Carinci, F.M.G. Picozzi eds., Studi in onore di Lucia Guerrini, Studi Miscellanei 30, Rome, 23–37. Carinci F.M. (1999) Haghia Triada nel periodo protopalaziale, in: V. La Rosa, D. Palermo, L. Vagnetti eds., Epí pónton plazómenoi (Επί πόντον πλαζόμενοι). Simposio italiano di Studi Egei dedicato a Luigi Bernabò Brea e Giovanni Pugliese Carratelli, Roma, 18–20 febbraio 1998, Rome, 115–132. Carinci F.M. (2003) Haghia Triada nel periodo MM, CretAnt 4, 97–143. Carinci F.M. (2004) Priests in action, CretAnt 5, 25–41.

65 Branigan 2010; Anderson 2016. 66 Anderson 2016. 67 Poursat 1996.

68 Carinci 1999; Todaro 2019. 69 Todaro 2011. 70 La Rosa 2013, 173–177; Carinci 2003; 2004; Todaro 2003; 2011.

THE “EMBLEMS” ON THE JUGS IN THE LATE PREPALATIAL AYIA TRIADA NECROPOLIS

Cultraro M. (1994) La grande tomba a tholos di Haghia Triada: una revisione. Unpublished thesis, Italian Archaeological School at Athens. Cultraro M. (2000) La brocchetta dei vivi per la sete dei morti, in: Pepragména tou I' Diethnoús Kritologikoú Synedríou (Πεπραγμένα του Η' Διεθνούς Κρητολογικού Συνεδρίου), Herakleion, 309–326. Cultraro M. (2003) La grande tholos di Haghia Triada, CretAnt 4, 301–328. De Gregorio C. (2019) The Deposito delle Camerette in Ayia Triada, in: E. Borgna, I. Caloi, F.M. Carinci, R. Laffineur eds., MNHMH/MNEME. Past and Memory in the Aegean Bronze Age. Proceedings of the 17th International Aegean Conference, University of Udine, Department of Humanities and Cultural Heritage, Ca’ Foscari University of Venice, Department of Humanities, 17–21 April 2018, Aegaeum 43, Leuven, 697–702. Di Vita A. (1998–2000 [2001]) Atti della Scuola. 1998–2000, ASAtene 76–78, 375–466. Krzyszkowska O. (2005) Aegean Seals: an Introduction, London. La Rosa V. (2001) Minoan baetyls: between funerary rituals and epiphanies, in: R. Laffineur, R. Hägg eds., POTNIA: Deities and Religion in the Aegean Bronze Age. Proceedings of the 8th International Aegean Conference, Göteborg, Göteborg University, 12–15 April 2000, Aegaeum 22, Liège and Austin, 221–226. La Rosa V. (2013) Haghia Triada, CretAnt 14, 133–308. Levi D. (1976) La borgata di Patrikies, in: D. Levi ed., Festòs e la civiltà minoica I, Incunabula Graeca 60, Rome, 747–756. Paribeni R. (1904) Ricerche nel sepolcreto di Haghia Triada presso Phaestos, MonAnt 14, 677–756. Pernier L. (1935) Il Palazzo Minoico di Festos, Rome. Poursat J.C. (1996) Fouilles exécutées à Malia. Le quartier Mu III. Artisans minoens: les maisons-ateliers du Quartier Mu, ÉtCrét 32, Athens. Relaki M. (2011) The social arenas of tradition. Investigating collective and individual social strategies in the Prepalatial and Protopalatial Mesara, in: I. Driessen, I. Schoep, P. Tomkins eds., Back to the Beginning: Reassessing Social and Political Complexity on Crete during the Early and Middle Bronze Age, Oxford, 290–324. Relaki M. (2018) Routes and roots: technologies of life, death, community and identity, in: M. Relaki, Y. Papadatos eds., From the Foundations to the Legacy of Minoan Archaeology. Studies in Honour of Professor Keith Branigan, Sheffield Studies in Aegean Archaeology 12, Oxford, 10–35.

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Sbonias K. (2008) Regional elite-groups and production and consumption of seals in the Prepalatial period. A case-study of the Asterousia Region, in: I. Driessen, I. Schoep, P. Tomkins eds., Back to the Beginning: Reassessing Social and Political Complexity on Crete during the Early and Middle Bronze Age, Oxford, 273–289. Stefani E. (1930–1931 [1933]) La grande tomba a tholos di Haghia Triada, ASAtene 13–14, 147–154. Todaro S. (2003) Haghia Triada nel periodo Antico Minoico, CretAnt 4, 69–96. Todaro S. (2005) EM I–MM IA ceramic groups at Phaistos: Towards the definition of a Prepalatial ceramic sequence in south central Crete, CretAnt 6, 11–46. Todaro S. (2010) The EM III phase in south central Crete: new data from Phaistos, AEA 10, 1–21. Todaro S. (2011) The western Mesara before the rise of Phaistian Palace, in: Pepragména I' Diethnoús Kritologikoú Synedríou (Πεπραγμένα Ι' Διεθνούς Κρητολογικού Συνεδρίου), Chania, 151–166. Todaro S. (2013) The Phaistos Hills before the Palace: Contextual Reappraisal, Praehistorica Mediterranea 5, Monza. Todaro S. (2019) “Riscavare lo scavato”. Building up the Stratigraphy of Prepalatial Phaistos with Legacy Data, Cronache-Monografie, Rome. Van de Moortel A. (2006) Minoan pottery from the Southern Area. Middle Minoan IA and Protopalatial Pottery, in: J.W. Shaw, M.C. Shaw eds., Kommos V: the Monumental Minoan Buildings, Princeton, 264–377. Vasilakis A. (1989) O Protominoikós oikismós Trypitís (Ο Πρωτομινωικός οικισμός Τρυπητής), Archaeologia 30, 52–56. Vasilakis A. (1995) Trypití 1986–1991: zitímata tou proanaktorikoú minoikoú politismoú sti nótia kentrikí Kríti kai i anaskafí tou oikismoú Trypitís (Τρυπητή 1986–1991: ζητήματα του προανακτορικού μινωικού πολιτισμού στη νότια κεντρική Κρήτη και η ανασκαφή του οικισμού Τρυπητής), in: Diethnés Kritologikó Synédrio. Pepragména tou Z’ diethnoús Kritologikoú synedríou, Réthymno 25–31 Avgoústou 1991 (Διεθνές Κρητολογικό Συνέδριο. Πεπραγμένα του Ζ’ διεθνούς Κρητολογικού συνεδρίου, Ρέθυμνο 25–31 Αυγούστου 1991), Rethymno, 69–74. Walberg G. (1986) Tradition and Innovation: Essays in Minoan Art, Mainz am Rhein. Zois A. (1968) Ypárchei PM III epochí (Yπάρχει ΠΜ ΙΙΙ εποχή), in: Pepragména tou V’ Diethnoús Kritologikoú Synedríou A’ (Πεπραγμένα του Β’ Διεθνοῦς Κρητολογικοῦ Συνεδρίου A’), Athens, 141–156.

Valeria Taglieri

Ca’ Foscari University of Venice https://orcid.org/0000-0002-9189-5473

BIRDCAGE VASES ( VASI A GABBIETTA ) FROM PROTOPALATIAL PHAISTOS ( CRETE ) IN CONTEXT A NOTE ON AN ENIGMATIC VASE1

Abstract: This paper presents some preliminary considerations concerning a group of seven

Protopalatial (Middle Minoan IB-IIB, 19th–18th centuries BC ) vessels brought to light at the Minoan site of Phaistos, Southern Crete, during D. Levi’s excavations ( 1950–1966 ): the so-called “birdcage vases” or “nesting boxes” ( vasi a gabbietta, vasi delle rondini ). These vases are characterised by a closed globular shape with a large opening on one side and a handle-ring on the top, by which to hang and carry the objects. Similar vases have also been found in the Western Mesara plain ( at the nearby sites of Haghia Triada and Kamilari ), in Northern Crete ( Knossos and Malia ) and also outside the island ( Haghia Irini, Keos ). In this paper, the vessels will be considered contextually to gain information about their chronology and possible use( s ).

Keywords: Phaistos, Southern Crete, Protopalatial period, birdcage vases, vasi a gabbietta.

This is an open access publication made available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International Licence. Sympozjum Egejskie: Papers in Aegean Archaeology 3, ed. by S. Aulsebrook, K. Żebrowska, A. Ulanowska, and K. Lewartowski, WSA 3 ( Turnhout: Brepols, 2022 ), pp. 43–52. 10.1484/M.WSA-EB.5.128951

Introduction

Birdcage vases 2 are a class of medium-sized clay objects which is attested on Crete and outside it, in contexts dating from Middle Minoan ( MM ) II, both MM IIA and IIB, to MM III–Late Minoan ( LM ) I.3 The Minoan birdcage vases are to be found in different contexts: inside palatial buildings ( Phaistos, Knossos, Malia ), in settlements ( Phaistos habitation quarter, Haghia Triada ) and in a funerary context ( Kamilari ). To date, there is a lack of evidence for them from the peak sanctuaries and in other manifest cult settings. Seven vases of this type ( Fig. 1 ) were found at Phaistos, both in primary deposits and in mixed

secondary levels, located inside the First Palace and in the settlement area. Five examples ( F 2242, F 592, F 1399, F 1476, F 2037 ) were found in the Palace, more precisely in the South-West Building, and two outside it, one in the habitation quarter to the west of the Middle West Court ( F 4819 ), and the other ( F 3600 ) in the soundings south of the Palace ( Fiandra’s trenches ). The vases were all published by D. Levi in his volume dedicated to the study of the pottery, co-authored with F. Carinci.4 This paper reconsiders the contexts where these unusual vases have been found at Protopalatial Phaistos

1 I would like to thank Prof. F. Carinci for permission to study this pottery and for his continuous support during my work. Warm thanks are due to G. Baldacci, I. Caloi and L. Girella for their useful remarks and some preliminary information about unpublished pottery. 2 Not to be confused with the stone vases of the “bird’s nest” type.

3 The time-span of MM IB to MM II is called the First Palace period or Protopalatial ( 19th–18th centuries BC ); the Second Palace period or Neopalatial covers the MM III and LM I phases ( 17th–15th centuries BC ). 4 Levi, Carinci 1988, 258–259.

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VALERIA TAGLIERI

Fig. 1. Phaistos birdcage vases (not to scale): a. F 2242 from Bastione II fill; b. F 592 from Corridor L; c. F 1399 from Room LVIIIa; d. F 1476 from Room LX; e. F 2037 from Room LXIV; f. F 4819 from Room XCIV, House LXXXI–LXXXV, XCIV–XCV; g. F 3600 from Fiandra’s trenches ( from Levi 1976 ).

to shed new light on their chronology and possible function( s ). It is part of a wider ongoing project directed by F. Carinci, which aims to revise our understanding of Protopalatial specialised vessels from Phaistos and Haghia Triada.5

The body of the vase, approximately globular, has a wide round opening on one side with a flaring rim. The pot is characterised by an atypical diagnostic feature: it possesses a loop-handle for suspension, marked off from the body by a cylindrical neck. The latter is, on some examples, grooved and well-profiled, while on others it tapers upwards and is separated from the loop by a disc. This morphological attribute is related to the functional use of the vessel, that is for transport and/or suspension.

The vases are generally made in semi-coarse fabric and are composed of different joined parts, which are both handmade and wheelmade. Three vases are coated with a very damaged black or dark brown slip ( F 1399; F 1476; F 4819 ). Two ( F 592; F 2242 ) bear Light-on-Dark decoration ( Kamares ware ); F 3600 has linear decorative motifs in Dark-on-Light. F 2037 is covered with a bright red slip, well polished. The height of the pot is generally about 20–25 cm ( F 2037 is, though, some 35 cm ); the maximum diameter is approximately 16 cm, and the base diameter is around 10 cm. The term “birdcage vase” or “nesting box” was coined by A. Evans, who drew on morphologically similar objects still in use in Crete at the beginning of the 1900s. He thus conjectured their use as bird boxes to be hung up on the outer walls of houses to avoid the formation of nests on beams or under roof tiles.6 A. Evans ruled out their function as lanterns due to

5 Antonello 2017 on Minoan “double vases”.

6 Evans 1928, 305–307, figs. 176–177.

Morphology, Supposed Functions and Diffusion of the Birdcage Vase

BIRDCAGE VASES (VASI A GABBIETTA) FROM PROTOPALATIAL PHAISTOS

45

the fact that the openings of these vessels were too narrow to take the clay hand-lamps ( with their projecting handles and incurved rims ) and, moreover, for the absence of any trace of smoke stains within them. This hypothesis of A. Evans was rejected by D. Levi and F. Carinci,7 mainly on the grounds that some examples had been found in the interior rooms of the Palace of Phaistos. D. Levi, indeed, supported their interpretation as lamp-holders, and to explain the lack of traces of burning he concluded that they were used for carrying unlit lamps.8 Birdcage vases have also been considered more recently as weaving pots by D. Evely, who also noticed a very close similarity with the “salt pig-pot” containers used in contemporary contexts around the Mediterranean.9 These vases, generally uncommon in Crete, are known from elsewhere in the Mesara plain, at the nearby sites of Haghia Triada and Kamilari. From the northeast part of the Villa at Haghia Triada comes a fragment found in a ceramic deposit, dated by L. Girella to the early Neopalatial period ( MM IIIA ).10 Three more fragments have been identified in the area of the settlement of Haghia Triada, one of which comes from a homogeneous context datable to MM IIB.11 A fragment dated to MM II came to light from the courtyard north of the tholos of Kamilari:12 this example was located in a secondary deposit, together with vessels likely to have been used during funeral ceremonies as post-mortem offerings, such as miniature stone and clay vessels. In Northern Crete, two examples come from Knossos and from Malia. The vase from the destruction deposit of the House of the Sacrificed Oxen can be attributed to MM IIB,13 while the fragmentary

example from Malia, from the Cave au Pilier of Quartier Lambda on the eastern side of the Agora, was dated to the early Neopalatial period ( MM IIIB ).14 Outside Crete, a fragment was also found at Haghia Irini on Keos in a destruction deposit of Period VI, which corresponds to LM IA.15 Finally, it should be noted that objects similar to the Minoan birdcage vases have been found in different geographical areas and chronological periods:16 these include some early Iron Age vessels ( brace-holder/flame protector ) from the village of Genna Maria near Cagliari,17 and the Iron Age Sicilian examples from the settlement of Polizzello,18 for which a parallel use to that of the hut-models has been supposed, while other objects halfway between birdcage vases and the hut-models have been found at Ras-Shamra/Ugarit ( 15th–14th centuries BC ).19

7 Levi, Carinci 1988, 258–259. 8 D. Levi also identified morphological similarities with early Christian lamps found in the Middle East and in some Mediterranean regions; another parallel was made by D. Levi with traditional modern examples produced in the Upper Po valley, Northern Italy, and used as containers of water for birds ( Levi, Carinci 1988, 258 ). 9 Evely 2000, 498. Salt pig-pots are traditional ceramic containers used to keep salt dry and loose. The classic design of a salt-pig is either cylindrical or egg-shaped. The pot has a round flat base, a knob on the top and a wide opening on the side. Their interiors are usually unglazed to help absorb any moisture in the air to keep the salt dry. These containers were very popular in the early 19th century AD and they were used for a wide variety of kitchen ingredients, and not just salt. 10 Girella 2010, 180–181, fig. 83. I identified another reported example, which has been dated to the Neopalatial period ( LM I ). Vase no. 2981 ( Heraklion Museum ) was found inside the Villa ( cubicle 4, north-west sector of the Villa ). Actually this vase, named in IASA’s inventory as a vaso delle rondini, has a shape

quite different from the Protopalatial examples from Phaistos. D. Puglisi has emphasised its closer typological affinities with the so-called Minoan hut-models of LM III than with the birdcage shape ( Puglisi 2013, 106–107, 153, figs. 20c nos. 48, 37 ). Baldacci 2013, 55, tab. 16, 127, tab. 47, 168, tab. 72. Caloi 2019, no. 755, fig. II.3.9, tab. XIV. At the moment it is the only evidence of this type known from a funeral context. Evans 1928, 304, 306–307, fig. 177; MacGillivray 1998, 46–49. Van Effenterre 1980, 511, fig. 702. Georgiou 1986, 45, 49, no. 179, tabs. 13, 21. I found a very curious similarity to a pot shape from the Athenian Agora named ἀμίς, a chamber pot, more properly a male urinal. These pots, dated to the 5th century BC, are provided with a handle and a hooded opening high up on the side ( Lynch, Papadopoulos 2006, 24 no. 65; another exemplar in Sparkes, Talcott 1977, 14, fig. 22 ). They are reminiscent of birdcage vases. Manunza 2007, 38, 45, fig. 62. Palermo 2002, 35–45. Hägg 1990, 100, fig. 16; Puglisi 2013, 106.

The Contexts of the Phaistos Birdcage Vases

The contexts in which the birdcage vases were found are briefly described, together with a presentation of the material ( Tab. 1 ). The contexts of the South-West Building are listed from north to south. A. The South-West Building of the First Palace

The South-West Building is the main building of the First Palace of Phaistos ( Fig. 2 ). This area, brought to light between 1950 and 1966 by D. Levi, has revealed most of the evidence for the Protopalatial period at the site and especially the destruction layers at the period’s end, i.e. MM IIB.

11 12 13 14 15 16

17 18 19

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VALERIA TAGLIERI

Tab. 1. Birdcage vases and find contexts. NO. INV.

PHAISTOS SOUTH–WEST BUILDING

OUTSIDE SOUTH– WEST BUILDING

CONTEXT INTERPRETATION

DISCOVERY CONTEXT

CHRONOLOGY

REFERENCES

F 2242

Bastione II fill

Dump between Bastione I and Bastione II

Found in the fill (secondary context)

MM IIA

levi 1976, 168, tab. 150a; levi, carinci 1988, 259; caloi 2016.

F 592

Corridor L

Passage area between Piazzale LXX and Room IL

Found incorporated into the astraki (secondary context)

MM IIB

levi 1976, 40, tab. 150b; levi, carinci 1988, 259.

F 1399

Room LVIIIa

Passage room to the storerooms

In situ between two skoutelia on the bench in the southeast corner (primary context)

MM IIB

levi 1976, 111–112, tab. 150d; levi, carinci 1988, 258, tab. 110c.

F 1476

Room LX

Room used for the preparation and conservation of goods

Found at the foot of the south bench (primary context)

MM IIB

levi 1976, 133, tab. 150f; levi, carinci 1988, 258, tab. 110a.

F 2037

Room LXIV

Temporary storeroom (?)

Found in fragments on the floor (primary context)

MM IIB

levi 1976, 227, tab. 171c; levi, carinci 1988, 258, tab. 110d.

Small room devoted to storage of tableware

Found in the room with the other vessels (primary context)

MM IIB

levi 1976, 530, tab. 150c; levi, carinci 1988, 258, tab. 110b; speziale 2001.

Found in one of Fiandra’s trenches (secondary context)

MM II (A?)

levi 1976, 445, tab. 150e; levi, carinci 1988, 258–259; fiandra 2000.

F 4819

House LXXX–LXXXV, XCIV–XCV Room XCIV

F 3600

Soundings south of the Palace

The South-West Building can be divided into three blocks: the north one, including Rooms L, IL, XXVII and XXVIII; the central, composed of Rooms LI, LIII, LIV–LV and LXII; and the south one, with Rooms LVIIIa–e, LIX, LX, LXI, LXIII, LXIV and LXV. 20 A.1. North Block of the South-West Building

Bastione II fill Bastione I and Bastione II are two retaining walls constructed as the northern limits of Piazzale LXX, the Lower West Court facing the south-west.21 Recent studies have shown that Bastione II is structurally connected to the new access system to the South-West Building, built at the beginning of MM II, likely in MM IIA. The wall was constructed to replace the older Bastione I. The gap between the two Bastione I and Bastione II walls was filled with a large deposit of waste material ( Bastione II dump ), which can be dated to the MM IIA period.22 The most frequent ceramic forms found in the dump are skoutelia, decorated cups ( hemispherical, carinated and cylindrical ), and pouring vessels, espe-

20 Carinci 2011, 21, fig. 1. 21 Levi 1976, 160–170; Levi, Carinci 1988, 302. 22 The material from Bastione II is under study by I. Caloi.

cially jugs and spouted jars.23 In addition to the ceramics associated with consumption activities, the dump has yielded some vases whose use seems to be connected to construction work.24 Among the pottery and non-ceramic materials ( plaster fragments ), there is a fragment of a birdcage vase F 2242 ( Fig. 1a ) which can be assigned to MM IIA on the basis of the chronology of the fill. In a recent paper, I. Caloi hypothesised that the pottery from the fill could come from cleaning and reconstruction operations on the Palace, after a possible destruction at the end of MM IB, and ceremonial activities that took place in the palatial centre of Phaistos at the beginning of MM II.25 Corridor L Corridor L is a passageway, with stucco walls and paved with gypsum slabs, located between the Lower West Court LXX and Room IL, in the northern area of the south-western wing.26 Along the south wall of the corridor there is a low long bench; along the north wall, facing the east entrance to Room IL,

23 24 25 26

Levi 1976, 166–170. Caloi 2016, 431–434. Caloi 2016, 425–436. Levi 1976, 38–43.

BIRDCAGE VASES (VASI A GABBIETTA) FROM PROTOPALATIAL PHAISTOS

47

Fig. 2. Find contexts of the South-West Building of the First Palace and adjacent area ( detail of the general plan of Phaistos; courtesy of Centro di Archeologia Cretese—University of Catania ).

is a cupboard ( a so-called doulapa ), set into the wall and covered with plaster: it preserved a considerable amount of intact pottery.27 This north cupboard contained a lamp, eight vases and two stone vessels; most of them are small vases for pouring.28 Another cupboard, set into the south side of the passage from Corridor L to Room IL, held three straight-sided cups, two jars, two cooking pots, two basins, two graters and four small cups, and could likely have been related to the preparation of food and drink that took place in the corridor.29 The set of vases found

27 28 29 30

Levi 1976, 41–42. Carinci 2011, 82–83, figs. 58–59. Carinci 2011, 78–80.

Four straight-sided cups were found 30 cm above the floor level, mixed with astraki, and could belong to the assemblage of the upper storey. Levi 1976, 42.

at the north-west corner of the corridor included two jugs, a fragment of a “rough amphora” and a lamp. A destruction level dated to MM IIB was uncovered: vase F 592 ( Fig. 1b ) was incorporated, together with other MM IIB vessels,30 into the astraki ( calcestruzzo or concrete );31 it is likely that it was part of the deposit of this room or from the upper floor. The architectural features and the assemblages recovered in this room show that it was used as a waiting or control area, before one could proceed to other rooms which had restricted access. The presence of

31 Astraki is a type of concrete made mainly of lime, stones and clay. Its use seems limited to the coverage of destroyed structures ( as in the case of the first Palace of Phaistos ), in order to obtain a solid base on which to set a new building.

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Fig. 3. South-West Building, Room LX. Birdcage vase F 1476 in the left corner ( from Levi 1976, fig. 183 ).

vessels used to contain, pour and drink liquids suggests small-scale consumption activities related to the management of palace circulation.32 A.2. South Block of the South-West Building

finishing touches ( slabs, alabaster, benches ) suggest that this room, just as Corridor L, was used as a waiting room or checkpoint before entering an area of limited access ( a storage area containing pithoi ) and small consumption activities took place in it.34

Room LVIIIa Storerooms LVIII are a group of five units ( LVIII a–e )33 located north of the south block of the SouthWest Building, where about ten pithoi stood. In the last phase of MM IIB, this set of spaces were transformed into a single corridor ( LVIII ). Room LVIIIa is a rectangular room characterised by the presence of two benches on the east and south sides, an alabaster slab floor and a cupboard ( doulapa ). From Room LVIIIa comes F 1399 ( Fig. 1c ), found in situ between two skoutelia on the bench in the south-east corner. The MM IIB assemblage recovered in the room includes another skouteli found at the foot of the bench, a brazier on a stand, a brazier-holder and a loom-weight. The assemblage and the special

Room LX This room, together with Rooms LIX and LXIV, forms a well-defined architectural and structural unit ( Rooms LIX, LX, LXIV ) created in the South-West Building at an advanced stage of MM IIB, when Room LXIV was built and the others assigned new purposes ( Rooms LVIII, LIX, LX, LIV, LXI, LXIII and LXV ).35 Room LX is a small room between Rooms LIX and LXIV characterised by a four-sided bench. The assemblage found in the room was concentrated on the south bench and at its foot: it included two lamps, pouring vessels ( jugs, jars ), cooking and preparation pots, a grater, a slate spatula and a pyxis;36 the birdcage vase F 1476 ( Figs. 1d, 3 ) was recovered from the foot of the south bench, along with a loom-weight and

32 Baldacci 2015, 98. 33 Levi 1976, 110–120, tab. 134. LVIIIb is a smaller room and LVIIIc–e is a corridor divided by partitions into three sections. 34 Baldacci 2015, 97. According to D. Levi, Room LVIIIa should be considered not as a real storeroom, but as the seat of a guardian or accountant of the Palace’s supplies ( transl. orig. cit. sede

di un guardiano o contabile delle provvigioni del Palazzo, Levi 1976, 111 ). 35 This portion of the Palace was first excavated by D. Levi ( 1956– 1957 ) and then re-investigated in 2000 and 2004 under the direction of V. La Rosa ( Carinci, La Rosa 2001, 477–524 ). 36 Levi 1976, 130–133; Carinci, La Rosa 2001, 506, n. 94, 516–524.

BIRDCAGE VASES (VASI A GABBIETTA) FROM PROTOPALATIAL PHAISTOS

a spindle-whorl. In general, these are standard-quality objects, perhaps related to the preparation and storage of food and drink ( vases used to actually drink or consume foods are lacking ).37 This deposit can be dated to MM IIB. Room LX, according to F. Carinci,38 was likely used for the manipulation and safeguarding of goods linked to the ceremonies that took place in the Lower West Court LXX. Room LXIV A MM IIB destruction level has been found in Room LXIV, which included a high number of vases used as containers: amphorae, four pithoi, eight pitharakia, jugs, together with lamps, a small number of conical cups, straight-sided cups, two cooking dishes, a bowl, a small cylindrical pyxis and stone objects such as a cote ( sharpening stone ), lead weights and a high number of spherical weights made of kouskouras.39 Vase F 2037 ( Fig. 1e ) is a unicum, both for its large dimensions ( height 35 cm, base diameter 18 cm, max. diameter without handles 32.6 cm, rim diameter 25.8 x 24.4 cm ) and for its atypical shape ( no neck, a wide opening with slightly prominent edge, two horizontal handles at the point of maximum width, a small handle on the top and another handle on the back ). We do not know its exact location; probably it was found in fragments on the floor with the other material. The meaning of this assemblage, however, is unclear because this area, according to F. Carinci,40 was reoccupied at the end of MM IIB, after the first destruction of the South-West Building, when the room was transformed into a temporary storeroom of ceramic vessels and other items recovered from the debris. B. Buildings/ Areas outside the Palace

B.1. Habitation Quarter to the west of the Middle West Court ( Piazzale I )

Room XCIV, House LXXXI–LXXXV, XCIV–XCV In the Protopalatial period, the area west of the Middle West Court ( Piazzale I ) includes the ramp, termed by D. Levi the Strada da Nord, and a series of houses,

37 Carinci, La Rosa 2001, 506. 38 Carinci, La Rosa 2001, 506. 39 Levi 1976, 132–133; Carinci, La Rosa 2001, 506, 516–524. Kouskouras is clay encrusted with astraki. 40 Carinci, La Rosa 2001, 494–506. 41 For the publications of the quarter, see Speziale 2001 ( House LXXXI–LXXXV, XCIV–XCV ) and Caloi 2013 ( for the buildings of the upper and middle terraces ); other articles: La Rosa 1998–2000; La Rosa 2002b, 719.

49

which were arranged on three terraces sloping from north to south.41 The example F 4819 was found in Room XCIV of House LXXXI–LXXXV, XCIV–XCV 42 (Figs. 1f, 4). In this room a large quantity of pottery, originally stored on shelves along the north and west walls, was retrieved ( more than 500 whole vessels dated to MM IIB: among this material was a large number of spouted jars, cups, conical cups, cooking dishes, stamnoi and jugs ).43 The room was interpreted as a space for storing vessels used in communal banqueting ceremonies; 44 the hypothesis that it comprised a potter’s storeroom was rejected on the basis that the ceramics had been used.45 B.2. Soundings south of the South-West Building ( Fiandra’s Trenches )

The soundings south of the Palace ( Trenches I–IV ) were carried out by E. Fiandra in 1959 ( Fig. 5 ) to comprehend the stratigraphy of the area on which the earth from D. Levi’s excavations would have been placed.46 The structures which gradually came to light revealed densely superimposed and intersecting layers and walls from the Neolithic to the Classical period. The example F 3600 ( Fig. 1g ), from one of the four trenches, can be dated to MM II ( A? ). Final Remarks

Although the picture constructed here is only partial and the exemplars analysed are but a small sample, the contextual analysis and the pottery assemblages from Phaistos have led to some preliminary considerations about these vases. In summary: 1) the birdcage vases from Phaistos seem to have been in production since MM II ( A and B ) and are apparently absent in contexts dated to MM IB. 2) Two examples have been found outside the palatial area. This may be judged as significant because it shows that this kind of ceramic form was not exclusively linked to the palatial centre, but was spread across different social levels.

42 Speziale 2001, 157–167. 43 Speziale 2001, 162–164. 44 Militello 2012, 256. Recent work on Minoan palaces has suggested that they were “communal, ceremonial centres that were used both by non-elite ( outside ) and by elite groups ( inside ) as meeting places for ritual, integrative actions” (Driessen 2002, 8). 45 Speziale 2001, 162; Militello 2012, 256. 46 Fiandra 2000, 471–486.

50

VALERIA TAGLIERI

Fig. 4. Habitation quarter to the west of the Middle West Court. House LXXXI–LXXXV, XCIV–XCV, Room XCIV. Birdcage vase F 4819 ( from Militello 2012, 245, fig. 8.6).

Fig. 5. Soundings south of the South-West Building ( Fiandra’s trenches ). Birdcage vase F 3600 ( from La Rosa 2002 a).

BIRDCAGE VASES (VASI A GABBIETTA) FROM PROTOPALATIAL PHAISTOS

3) Some of the contexts, both from the South-West Building ( Rooms LX ) and its surroundings ( Room XCIV of House LXXXI–LXXXV, XCIV–XCV ), have in common the fact that they were spaces connected with operations for the preparation and/or preservation of goods during communal or more restricted ceremonial activities. It should also be remembered that the Bastione II fill is a dump of ceramics and other material likely used in ceremonial events related to the reconstruction of the northern block of the south-west quarter. Two examples were found at the access points Room LVIIIa and Corridor L, where small-scale consumption activities were performed, in relation to controlling and managing the entry of people into the building. 4) Birdcage vases were found together with storage, cooking, drinking and pouring vessels. 5) Some of them are decorated and others are undecorated. This may have a symbolic function according to the contexts in which they were found. This is a topic that needs more exploration. Unfortunately, two of the decorated vases ( F 2242, F 3600 ) were found in secondary levels ( Bastione

51

II fill; Fiandra’s trenches ), while vessel F 592 may not have been in situ. 6) Regarding vase F 2037, some doubts exist as to its classification as a birdcage vase, given its closer affinity to hut-models. In conclusion, the above data from Phaistos probably suggests that the birdcage vase was used as a specialised vessel that accompanied feasting activities. The archaeological contexts and the morphology itself could suggest a ‘practical’ use; the containment of something used on special occasions, both secular and ritual, inside the Palace and in the town outside it. At present, the specific content( s ) of these vases remain( s ) unknown, as they do not have any particular traces of use that could provide some indications ( e.g. traces of burning ). Hypothetically, I can suggest that the vase contained a particular substance, i.e. spice/mixed spices or sauce, that accompanied the meals that were consumed during these special occasions. Future archaeometric analyses and archaeological and ethnographic comparisons will hopefully shed light on the function( s ) and content( s ) of the vasi a gabbietta.

Bibliography

Antonello S. (2017 [2018]) I vasi duplici minoici, ASAtene 95, 105–126. Baldacci G. ( 2013 ) Haghia Triada ( Creta ) nel periodo protopalaziale: la ceramica dagli scavi 1977–2011 dall’area dell’insediamento. Unpublished PhD Thesis, University of Venice, http://dspace.unive. it/handle/10579/3023/, accessed: 15.4.2019. Baldacci G. (2015) The places and the role of consumption in MM II Phaistos, in: S. Cappel, U. GünkelMaschek, D. Panagiotopoulos eds., Minoan Archaeology: Perspectives for the 21st Century, Aegis 8, Louvain-la-Neuve, 95–108. Caloi I. ( 2013 ) Festòs protopalaziale. Il quartiere ad Ovest del Piazzale I. Strutture e ritrovamenti delle terrazze mediana e superiore, Antichistica 3, Archeologia 1, Venice. Caloi I. ( 2016 ) Ristrutturando il Primo Palazzo di Festòs. Materiali di scarto dallo scarico del Bastione II, in: F. Longo, R. Di Cesare, S. Privitera eds., DROMOI. Studi sul mondo antico offerti a Emanuele Greco dagli allievi della Scuola Archeologica Italiana di Atene, Athens-Paestum, 425–436. Caloi I. ( 2019 ) Le ceramiche protopalaziali. MM I–IIB, in: L. Girella, I. Caloi eds., Kamilari. Una necropoli

di tombe a tholos nella Messarà ( Creta ), Monografie della Scuola Italiana di Atene 27, Florence. Carinci F. ( 2011 ) Per una rilettura ‘funzionale’ dell’ala sud occidentale del Palazzo di Festòs: il caso dei vani IL-XXVII/XXVIII, CretAnt 12, 17–125. Carinci F., La Rosa V. ( 2001 ) Le ceramiche e i nuovi dati di scavo, in: L. Beschi, A. Di Vita, V. La Rosa, G. Pugliese Carratelli, G. Rizza eds., I cento anni dello scavo di Festòs, Atti del convegno, Rome, 477–524. Diriessen J. ( 2002 ) The king must die. Some observations on the use of Minoan court compounds, in: J. Driessen, I. Schoep, R. Laffineur eds., Monuments of Minos. Rethinking the Minoan Palaces. Proceedings of the International Workshop “Crete of the Hundred Palaces?” held at the Université Catholique de Louvain, Louvain-la-Neuve, 14–15 December 2001, Aegaeum 23, Liège, 1–13. Evans A. ( 1928 ) The Palace of Minos. A Comparative Account of the Successive Stages of the Early Cretan Civilization as Illustrated by the Discoveries at Knossos IIa, London. Evely R.D.G. ( 2000 ) Minoan Crafts: Tools and Techniques. An Introduction II, SIMA 92.2, Jonsered.

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Fiandra E. ( 2000 ) Saggi a Sud del Palazzo di Festòs, KretChron 15–16, Heraklion, 471–486. Georgiou H. ( 1986 ) Keos VI. Ayia Irini: Specialized Domestic and Industrial Pottery, Mainz. Girella L. ( 2010 ) Depositi ceramici del Medio Minoico III di Festòs e Haghia Triada, Studi di Archeologia Cretese VIII, Padova, 180–181. Hägg R. ( 1990 ) The Cretan hut-models, OpAth 18, 95–107. La Rosa V. (1998–2000 [2001]) Festòs 1994: saggi di scavo e nuove acquisizioni, ASAtene 76–78, 27–134. La Rosa V. ( 2002 a) Pour une revision preliminaire du second palais de Phaistos, in: J. Driessen, I. Schoep, R. Laffineur eds., Monuments of Minos. Rethinking the Minoan Palaces. Proceedings of the International Workshop “Crete of the Hundred Palaces?” held at the Université Catholique de Louvain, Louvain-la-Neuve, 14–15 December 2001, Aegaeum 23, Liège, 71–98. La Rosa V. (2002b [2004]) Le campagne di scavo 2000– 2002 a Festòs, ASAtene 80, 635–869. Levi D. ( 1976 ) Festòs e la civiltà minoica I, Incunabula Graeca 60, Rome. Levi D., Carinci F. ( 1988 ) Festòs e la civiltà minoica, 2.2, L’arte festia nell’età protopalaziale: ceramica ed altri materiali, Incunabula Graeca 77, Rome. Lynch K.M., Papadopoulos J.K. (2006) Sella Cacatoria. A study of the potty in Archaic and Classical Athens, Hesperia 75, 1–32.

MacGillivray J.A. ( 1998 ) Knossos: Pottery Groups of the Old Palace Period, BSA Studies 5, London. Manunza M.R. ( 2007 ) La ceramica prenuragica e nuragica, in: A. Pau ed., CERAMICHE. Storia, linguaggio e prospettive in Sardegna, Nuoro, 13–48. Militello P. ( 2012 ) Emerging authority: a functional analysis of the MM II settlement of Phaistos, in: I. Schoep, P. Tomkins, J. Driessen eds., Back to the Beginning. Reassessing Social and Political Complexity during the Early and Middle Bronze Age, Oxford, 236–272. Palermo D. ( 2002 ) I modellini di edifici a pianta circolare da Polizzello e la tradizione cretese nei santuari dell’area sicana, Cronache di Archeologia 36, 35–45. Puglisi D. ( 2013 ) Ceramiche Tardo Minoico I da Haghia Triada ( Creta ): contesti, produzioni, funzioni. I. I materiali dai primi scavi ( 1902–1914 ), Thiasos Monografie 4, Rome. Sparkes B.A., Talcott L. ( 1977 ) Pots and Pans of Classical Athens, Agora Picture Book 1, Princeton. Speziale A. ( 2001 ) Il MM II: la casa LXXXI–LXXXV, XCIV–XCV, in: L. Beschi, A. Di Vita, V. La Rosa, G. Pugliese Carratelli, G. Rizza eds., I cento anni dello scavo di Festòs, Atti dei Convegni Lincei 173, Rome, 157–167. van Effenterre H. ( 1980 ) Le palais de Mallia et la citè minoenne. Étude de Synthèse, Incunabula Graeca 76, Rome.

Giulia Muti,1 Giulia Albertazzi 2 1

Independent Researcher https://orcid.org/0000-0002-9555-0018 2 SISBA, Scuola Interateneo di Specializzazione in Beni Archeologici, Università degli Studi di Venezia, Udine, e Trieste, Italy https://orcid.org/0000-0003-0113-7837

AT THE ROOTS OF PRODUCTION

THE KOURIS VALLEY ( CYPRUS ) AS A BRONZE AGE “TEXTILE ENVIRONMENT” ( c. 2200–1400 BCE ) 1

Abstract: This paper aims to investigate the environment of textile production in the Kouris valley

( Limassol district, Cyprus ) between the Early Bronze Age and Late Bronze Age IA ( EBA–LBA IA, c. 2200–1400 BCE ). Specifically, it intends to explore the relationship between the textile assemblages of three selected sites ( Sotira Kaminoudhia, Erimi Laonin tou Porakou, Episkopi Phaneromeni ) and their landscape, to shed more light on the procurement and management of natural resources employed in the valley’s textile production, and to understand the socio-economic importance of this manufacture. After having reflected on the diachronic development of textile manufacture in a topographically distinct area, this article attempts to move beyond the craft–landscape relationship and towards a conceptualisation of textile work as the co-interaction of humans, landscape, tools, structures, diverse raw materials and resources; thus, constituting a ‘textile environment’.

Keywords: textile production, landscape, environment, resources, Bronze Age, Cyprus, Limassol district, Kouris valley.

This is an open access publication made available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International Licence. Sympozjum Egejskie: Papers in Aegean Archaeology 3, ed. by S. Aulsebrook, K. Żebrowska, A. Ulanowska, and K. Lewartowski, WSA 3 ( Turnhout: Brepols, 2022 ), pp. 53–68. 10.1484/M.WSA-EB.5.128952

Introduction

As with any other type of production, textile work combines a multiplicity of factors, such as skills, techniques, means, resources, time and space. In this contribution, we explore the relationship between the topography and resources of a specific area, the Kouris valley ( Limassol district, Cyprus ). The development of

textile manufacturing between the Early Cypriot and Late Cypriot IA periods ( c. 2200–1400 BCE ). The aim is to reflect on the benefits of a multi-proxy approach, conceptualised within the framework of its environment, which offers a more refined understanding of the nature of production. This paper is structured

1 We would like to express our gratitude to Prof. Luca Bombadieri for his constant support for our research and fruitful discussion on the questions examined in the present work. We are extremely thankful to the organisers of the conference ‘Sympozjum Egejskie. 7th Conference in Aegean Archaeology’ for the opportunity to present and publish this paper. Special thanks are due to Dr Agata Ulanowska for editing our contribution and Dr Stephanie Aulsebrook for revising our English. We would

also like to thank the anonymous reviewer and Rafael Laoutari for their thoughtful comments and efforts towards improving our manuscript. This research is the result of a positive exchange of ideas between two authors approaching the same archaeological area by combining two different perspectives. In particular, Giulia Albertazzi dealt with the landscape and natural resources, while Giulia Muti analysed textile production and explored theoretical concepts.

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upon four pillars. First, it clarifies the standpoint of both authors that the co-transformation of interacting factors can be used to better illustrate the complexity of ancient making. Secondly, the theoretical understanding of the concepts used in this study, namely the environment and the landscape, and their importance in investigating crafting are elucidated. Then, the topography of the Kouris valley, both ancient and modern, is introduced, followed by a thorough analysis of the textile evidence from three selected Bronze Age settlements ( Sotira Kaminoudhia, Erimi Laonin tou Porakou and Episkopi Phaneromeni ). Finally, the relationship between the landscape and textile evidence is scrutinised in order to preliminarily reconstruct the interactions among the above-mentioned factors. Theoretical Framework: Environment, Landscape and Textiles

Craft production, landscape and environment are undeniably bound together. The study of the crafting objects allows us to observe human activities within and their actions upon the environment. For instance, it is acknowledged that the collection of ‘natural resources’ is often recognised as the initial step of any manufacturing process. But, taking a step back, what is the environment in the first place? And how is it different from the landscape? Nowadays, the term ‘environment’ is commonly intended as a synonym for nature. Pollution, climate change, land degradation and the waste of resources are central issues in modern society and key-terms linked to the environment, constantly reiterated by the media. In archaeology, however, this concept is defined and used in different ways, making it necessary to explain the viewpoint that the authors have adopted in this work. Reitz and Shackley describe environmental archaeology as the study of the relationships between the archaeological record and the “people, cultural institutions and ecosystems”.2 Similarly, different scholars highlight that the goal of this discipline is to reconstruct past environments from archaeological evidence. This, nonetheless, is typically seen as an investigation of ‘non-anthropogenic’ factors, such as flora, fauna,

2 Reitz, Shackley 2012, 1. 3 Albarella 2001; Evans 2003, 1–44; Branch et al. 2005, 1–23; Reitz, Shackley 2012, 1–39. 4 Evans 2003. For a definition of ecosystems, see, for example, Reitz, Shackley 2012, 8–11. 5 Branch et al. 2005, 14, fig. 1.4; Reitz, Shackley 2012, 18–21. 6 Reitz, Shackley 2012, 24, 30.

climate, geology and geomorphology.3 In this kind of approach, the reconstruction of ‘natural’ ecosystems always precedes an examination of the possible relations intercurrent between humans and environment( s ), as if the natural world existed in this specific form before and independently from humans.4 Current practice integrates different hard-science methodologies ( namely biology, pedology, climatology and geology ). Based on these, archaeological data are categorised as biotic and abiotic components ( e.g., plants, animals, humans, soils, climate ), as factors ( e.g., temperature, predation, precipitation ), or in terms of time and scale.5 Even though theoretical reflections are acknowledged as crucial for the investigation of the relations between humans and the environment, publications do not always dedicate enough space to connect data and theory. This is probably because archaeometry-based approaches often lead to an understanding of the environment as constituted by ‘anthropogenic’ and ‘non-anthropogenic’ components.6 Categories such as ‘nature’ and ‘culture’ define each other, as affirmed by cultural ecology, and, therefore, they exist as separate entities and are studied as such. Although stressing the importance of exploring the relations between humans and non-humans, environmental archaeologists do not generally conceptualise reality as relational theorists; namely by looking at the interactions before defining the interacting entities.7 In the framework of ecological anthropology, for example, Ingold’s revolutionary theory, that depicts the environment as the totality of interconnected elements in a constant flux of changing relations, can help to recalibrate environmental studies on interactions. 8 Not only does this allow us to overcome an anthropogenic versus non-anthropogenic understanding of the archaeological evidence, but also to explore multiple elements of manufacture in their relational aspects, namely as co-producers instead of transforming/transformed entities.9 With regard to the landscape, a strictly ecological approach describes this concept as a “heterogeneous land area composed of a cluster of interacting ecosystems that are repeated in a similar form throughout”. 10 Adding to this, phenomenology has highlighted the

7 See, for example, Knappett 2005 ( Actor–Network Theory ); Hodder 2016 ( Entanglement Theory ). 8 Ingold 1993; 2000. 9 This concept is at the very foundation of new materialism and meshwork theories ( see, for example, Ingold 2008; Harris, Cipolla 2017, 131–132, 144 ). 10 Forman, Gordon 1986, 594. Also reported in Reitz, Shackley 2012, 16.

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importance of human subjectivity in the construction of this concept. For archaeological phenomenologists, the landscape is the way in which an environment is perceived and constructed. It implies the presence of subjectivities and a ‘partial’ state. In fact, it corresponds only to those relations perceived by the experiencing subjects.11 For Ingold, the difference between the environment and the landscape can be compared to the relationship that exists between the organism and the body; the landscape is thus the perceived form of the environment.12 In light of the concepts briefly illustrated so far, we dedicate the next section to describing the geography of the Kouris valley as the landscape that we perceive as researchers, trying to gain possible insights into the ancient relations that occurred between people and their territory. Then, we examine the ‘traditional’ indicators of textile production and related resources and re-analyse them through the interpretative lens of ecology and the environment. Ancient and Modern Landscapes of the Kouris Valley

The Kouris valley is a topographically distinct area located in the territory of the modern district of Limassol ( south Cyprus ). It is one of the largest river valleys on the island, comprising an area of c. 300 km2, which extends from the southern slopes of the Troodos to the coast. The landscape is mountainous and dominated by steep gorges alternating with the gentle slopes of isolated limestone plateaux. From north to south, it is characterised by a marked altitude gradient with variation in height ranging up to 2000 m a.s.l over a distance of 30 km.13 The combination of this particular feature with the sudden and violent downpours in the winter season results in intense river activity characterised by strong erosion and subsequent deposition of heavy materials along the course and in the mouth of the river.14 Most probably, the prehistoric landscape had a different environmental profile, altered over time by human action ( e.g., animal breeding, terracing, etc. ) and the river activity, with its cycles of erosion and

11 Olsen 2013, 26–32. 12 Ingold 1993, 153–157. 13 Boronina et al. 2003, 130; Scirè Calabrisotto et al. 2017, 277–278. 14 Stanley Price 1979, 7–9; Rapp 2003, 461–464; Scirè Calabrisotto et al. 2017, 277. 15 Griggs et al. 2014; Lucas 2014; see also Scirè Calabrisotto et al. 2017.

55

deposition. In addition, the Cypriot paleo-climatic framework can only be partially reconstructed. Lacking systematic studies on the topic,15 more information is actually available for the neighbouring regions. Many studies regarding Cyprus assume that the climatic events documented in the Levant and Mesopotamia had a significant impact on the island.16 It is also believed that the climatic conditions were not dramatically dissimilar to those experienced nowadays.17 In this paper, we consider the different environmental aspects following the picture of dry climatic conditions. Concerning the modern configuration of the Kouris valley, the landscape appears to be characterised by a geographical dichotomy which can be considered important in relation to the ancient population of the valley ( Fig. 1 ). To the south, the alluvial plain that occupies the lower valley towards the coast is a particularly fertile land with deep, heavy soils mainly exploited as farmland. In contrast, the middle and upper parts of the valley, extending towards the north-west, are characterised by grazing land covered by highly erodible soils.18 The water catchment area of the valley is the largest on the island, and it is dominated by the perennial course of the Kouris River, its tributaries and numerous springs. The Kouris’ course seems to be constant during the Holocene, while its dimensions and drainage have likely undergone alterations throughout time.19 Although the river was probably not the exclusive nor primary source of water and raw materials, it is recognised as the main route for contacts and interaction in antiquity. The area exhibits the largest number of underground aquifers and constitutes one of the richest hydrogeological areas on Cyprus.20 The anthracological analyses conducted at Kandou Koufouvounous ( Ceramic Neolithic )21 and Erimi Laonin tou Porakou ( Middle Bronze Age ) 22 indicate that this region was once much more wooded than in modern times. On these premises, and considering all the activities related to the river, the presence of specific soils and the availability of different resources, it is not surprising that this area played and continues to play a strategic role for the island.

16 17 18 19 20 21 22

Wasse 2007. Scirè Calabrisotto et al. 2017, 281. Andreou 2015, 209–213. Stanley Price 1979, 8. Scirè Calabrisotto et al. 2017, 278. Burnet 2004. Scirè Calabrisotto et al. 2017, 285–292.

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GIULIA MUTI, GIULIA ALBERTAZZI

Fig. 1. Map of the Kouris catchment showing the geomorphological dichotomy between upland and lowland, with the location of the sites presented in the paper ( elaborated by G. Albertazzi on QGIS; data retrieved from Andreou 2015 ).

The Kouris Valley in the Early to Middle/

Late IA Cypriot Periods: Three Case Studies

As for the occupation of the valley between EBA–LBA IA, three main settlement sites have been excavated and are analysed here. These are: Sotira Kaminoudhia ( Early Cypriot: EC, c. 2200–2050 BCE ),23 Erimi Laonin

23 Swiny et al. 2003. 24 Bombardieri 2017.

tou Porakou ( Middle Cypriot: MC, c. 2050–1690/1650 BCE ),24 and Episkopi Phaneromeni ( Middle Cypriot III/Late Cypriot IA: MC III/LC IA, c. 1690/1650– 1400 BCE ).25 The topography of these sites is diverse. Sotira was developed upon a series of sloping terraces 5 km north of the coast, in a commanding position overlooking the surrounding territory. The site

25 Swiny 1979.

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57

Fig. 2. Spindle whorls from: A ) Sotira Kaminoudhia ( TC14 ); B ) Erimi Laonin tou Porakou ( T.248.4.59 ) and C ) Episkopi Phaneromeni ( TC11 ), ( redrawn by G. Albertazzi after Crewe 1998, Appendix 2, figs. A2.31 A2.33; Bombardieri 2017, 109, fig. 3.136 ).

is in the vicinity of a tributary and in proximity to three perennial springs in the region of the limestone plateaux. The surface soil there is capable of supporting modest agriculture.26 Erimi and Episkopi are situated in the mid- and lower valley respectively. Erimi is located 250 m a.s.l on the windy, highest limestone plateau of the eastern bank of the Kouris River, dominating the mid-valley. The site benefits from excellent visibility, estimated to cover a radius of 5 km, 27 and proximity to water resources ( i.e., the river itself, two possible accumulation basins of fresh water and a small spring, now dried up ).28 The light and shallow soils that surround the site, which is characterised by outcrops of secondary limestone formations ( havara and kafkalla ), provided a rather limited potential for cereal agriculture. In contrast, Episkopi lies on a shallow limestone plateau near the alluvial plain of the Kouris’ right bank, in an advantageous position regarding accessibility to water resources. The presence of a high ridge would have guaranteed both protection from river flooding and the possibility of a combined exploitation of the most fertile soils of the alluvium and the shallow soils of the low limestone hills.29 Despite its proximity to the sea, the visibility of the coast is obstructed by the presence of a hill. Although favourable, the location

26 27 28 29 30 31

Hansen 2003; Rapp 2003; Rapp, Swiny 2003. Bombardieri, Chelazzi 2015. Bombardieri 2017, 347–348. Andreou 2015, 217. Swiny 1979, 11–16.

In this paper, we refer only to published materials. More recent excavations at Sotira and Erimi produced spindle whorls and loom weights that are currently unpublished and not included in the sample considered in this paper. With regard to Sotira,

of this site does not guarantee good control of the hinterland.30

Textile Production in the Kouris Valley: an Analysis of the Archaeological Evidence

Having outlined the topography of the Kouris valley, this section moves on to discuss the evidence for textile production at Sotira, Erimi and Episkopi. Archaeological indicators mainly consist of tools ( spindle whorls, loom weights and needles ).31 In addition, a series of structures ( basins, heating installations ) and ceramic vessels ( cooking pots, containers for liquid processing ) employed in textile dyeing were found in the ‘workshop complex’ at Erimi.32 The following sections analyse the type and function of these indicators and help to characterise the correlated textile activities. A brief examination of the productive contexts is also provided to assess the level of specialisation in textile work at these sites.33 Spindle Whorls

Spindle whorls are the most recurrent textile finds in EC–MC settlements and cemeteries across the island,

Figure 3 may show slightly different values when compared to those reported in the site’s report ( Swiny et al. 2003 ). This is because the materials were personally reviewed by G. Muti and included in her PhD thesis ( Muti 2020 ). For the identification and discussion of archaeological indicators of textile work, see Alberti 2008. 32 Bombardieri, Muti 2018. 33 Following Costin 1991. See below.

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and the Kouris valley is no exception ( Fig. 2 ). Overall, decorated biconical whorls are the most frequently occurring in the valley throughout the periods under examination.34 Conical spindle whorls are also pervasive at Sotira, while truncated biconical/spherical types are recurrent in the Erimi assemblage.35 Weight and diameter are two parameters that can be evaluated to understand the operation of spindle whorls as they act as flywheels during spinning.36 Being a rotating object, the Moment of Inertia ( MI ) plays an important role in assessing their operation. Normally, high MI values are correlated with slow-rotating spindles, which are more suitable for producing yarn from thick, less flexible fibres. In contrast, fast spindles optimally spin thin, short and more flexible fibres.37 Figures 3 A–C show the correlation between the weights and diameters of single whorls ( scatterplots ) and between weight classes and average MI values ( tables ).38 Figure 3A shows the maximum diameter ( Max D [mm] ) and weight ( Wt [g] ) of whorls at Sotira. Most tools with Max D values between 20 mm and 40 mm weigh less than 50 g and only rarely weigh more than 50 g ( ‘medium-heavy/heavy’ whorls ). Even though the composition of the assemblage suggests that threads of different thicknesses were spun, a peak in light/medium-light whorls ( 10–30 g; mean weight: 25.2 g ) can be noted and associated with the production of thin and medium-thin thread. 39 In contrast, the Erimi whorls are generally heavier ( mean weight: 42.4 g ) and more widely distributed along the weight axis in Figure 3B. Spindle whorls weighing less than 50 g and having a Max D of 25–40 mm correspond to 51% of the assemblage at Erimi.40 Whorls display a variety of weight values at Episkopi, and Max D values tend to enlarge as the weight increases ( Fig. 3C ). A preference for light and medium light ( ≤45 g [78%] ) tools is attested, again possibly suggesting that spinning was oriented towards the production of thin/ medium-thin yarn.41 Overall, the MI values of light

34 Swiny 1986, 100–102; Walz, Swiny 2003, 409–411; Muti 2017a, 219–226, 221, fig. 6.1. 35 Walz, Swiny 2003, 409–411; Muti 2017a, 219–226, 221, fig. 6.1. 36 Firth 2015, 154–157. It must be noted, however, that the preferences or abilities of individual spinners can be as crucial as the whorls’ operation in determining the variety of threads in terms of their range of characteristics, thicknesses and raw materials. 37 Firth 2015, 154; Sauvage, Smith 2016, 196. 38 Formulae used to calculate the Moment of Inertia of spindle whorls are from Firth 2015, 154 and Sauvage, Smith 2016, 196. 39 On the relationship between the weight of spindle whorls and the thickness of spun yarn, see, for example, Grömer 2005, 110, 111, fig. 6; Andersson Strand 2015, 48. 40 Muti 2017a, 226, 277, fig. 6.6. 41 Swiny 1986, 132–136.

A Weight class ( g )

MI ( g/cm2 )

Very light to medium-light ( 0–30 )

5.9–45.9

Medium and medium-heavy ( 31–60 )

51.8–142.7

Heavy and very heavy ( >60 )

n/a

Weight class ( g )

MI ( g/cm2 )

Very light to medium-light ( 0–30 )

15.1–50.2

Medium and medium-heavy ( 31–60 )

41.1–142.5

Heavy and very heavy ( >60 )

94.2–203.1

Weight class ( g )

MI ( g/cm2 )

Very light to medium-light ( 0–30 )

9.9–111.3

Medium and medium-heavy ( 31–60 )

134.3–356.7

Heavy and very heavy ( >60 )

391.6–729.2

B

C

Fig. 3. Spindle whorls by maximum diameter and weight ( scatterplots ) and correlation between whorls’ weight classes and MI values ( tables ): A ) Sotira Kaminoudhia ( object sample: 24 ); B ) Erimi Laonin tou Porakou ( object sample: 33 ); C ) Episkopi Phaneromeni ( object sample: 72 ); ( elaborated by G. Muti ).

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59

Fig. 4. Loom weights from Episkopi Phaneromeni ( TC190; TC189; redrawn by G. Albertazzi after Swiny 1986, fig. 71.a ).

and medium spindle whorls indicate medium to fast rotating tools, particularly suitable to spin thin short fibres. Loom Weights

Only one type of loom weight is known in the EC and MC archaeological record ( Fig. 4 ).42 Made of sundried or low-fired clay, these large, conical artefacts are very fragile and often poorly preserved.43 Preservation issues are particularly evident at Sotira, where only a few fragments belonging to two loom weights ( TC1 and TC2 ) were identified.44 The role of loom weights in a warp-weighted loom is to apply tension to the warp threads.45 For this reason, it is essential to measure the loom weights’ masses to calculate this force. Experimental tests have proven that the maximum thickness of these artefacts also affects the loom setup and woven products.46 Different thicknesses influence many aspects of the operation, but an even distribution should always be maintained for a loom to work optimally.47 At Erimi, a concentration of loom weights was found between room SA V ( workshop complex ) and an adjacent area excavated to the north of this room. 48 Complete or reconstructed weights of these weaving tools vary between 600 g and 1100 g.49 Except for the heaviest example ( P210 ), the remainder ( P215–P218 )

42 First categorised in Åström 1972, 157. See Webb, Frankel 2013, 174–175 for a list of EC/MC sites yielding loom weights ( with references ). 43 See, for example, Frankel, Webb 2006, 175–177. 44 Walz, Swiny 2003, 397–398. 45 Andersson Strand 2015, 52–54. 46 Mårtensson et al. 2009; Firth 2015, 168. 47 Mårtensson et al. 2009, 388–389. 48 Muti 2017a, 228, tab. 6.3. 49 Muti 2020, 195, fig. 7.69. 50 Muti 2020, 194, 195, fig. 7.70.

can be grouped together in one weight class and have similar thicknesses.50 Thus, it is highly probable that they were used together, in the same loom setup.51 It has been calculated that the optimal tension per thread for the Erimi loom weights is between 50 g and 60 g. The set can thus be connected to the production of ‘heavy’ fabrics using threads that could support this tension.52 Nine loom weights were recovered at Episkopi.53 The majority have dimensions and weight values that can be compared with loom weight assemblages recovered from across the island. 54 The site also yielded the lightest example ever recovered ( TC51 ), possibly documenting that a greater variety of fabrics was woven with these weights. 55 Unfortunately, no set of loom weights can be identified at this site. To have a more precise idea of how the Episkopi loom weights could have operated when set in a loom, calculations based on single weights from different classes were conducted.56 A loom weight weighing c. 200 g would work with a warp thread tension of 10/20 g and may also work with a tension of 30/40 g, while the remaining loom weights would have operated with higher tensions ( optimally 50 g or 60 g ), like the Erimi weights. In a recent paper on textile production in the LBA Kouris valley, J. Smith has proposed that loom weights of Swiny’s Type 1a ( to which TC51 belongs )57 could

51 Calculated following the methodology illustrated in Mårtensson et al. 2009. 52 Bombardieri et al. ( forthcoming ); Muti 2020, 194–195. 53 Swiny 1986, 107, fig. 32a. 54 Frankel, Webb 2006, 175–177; Webb, Frankel 2013, 174– 175 with references. 55 Swiny 1986, 107–108. See discussion below. 56 Based on data from Swiny 1986, 107–108 and following the methodology elaborated by Mårtensson et al. 2009. 57 Swiny 1986, 107.

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have been used with the same fibre types utilised with certain weights from later deposits at the neighbouring site of Erimi Bamboula.58 Needles

The eyelet diameter of needles recovered from Sotira confirms the use of very thin yarn in local textile manufacture. This range of thread thicknesses suggested by the eyelets ( diameter: ≤ 0.5 mm ) is compatible with yarn produced by spinning with 10 g to 40 g whorls.59 The metal examples from Episkopi can be classified as long needles.60 They were probably utilised differently to the ones from Sotira, which are considerably shorter, and imply a different sewing movement. Their eyelet diameters measure c. 0.7/0.8 mm,61 and their cross-sections are thin ( max. 20 mm ), 62 indicating that they were used with medium-thick thread, possibly for light and balanced to relatively dense fabrics. Structures and Implements for Textile Dyeing, Washing and Drying

Although based upon indirect evidence, textile dyeing has been identified as one of the main productive activities carried out at Erimi. Implements for this activity were recognised in the so-called ‘workshop complex’, an area designed as a series of indoor and outdoor workspaces with both movable and fixed installations.63 In this complex, unit SA I seems to have played a central role regarding this textile activity. In both the occupational phases recognised in this room ( Phase A, the more recent, and Phase B, the earliest one ), indicators for dyeing, such as heating and water processing installations, large vessels with high capacity, cooking pots and vessels for liquid processing, were retrieved in abundance.64 Archaeobotanical analyses have provided additional evidence for exploring textile dyeing in more detail. Two installations excavated in SA I ( Features 43 and 46 ) were found filled with soil rich in organic

58 Smith ( forthcoming ). 59 Measurements retrieved from Swiny 2003, 375–376. See also Muti 2020, 184–185. 60 Swiny 1986, 82–83. 61 Measurements retrieved from Swiny 1986, fig. 63. 62 Swiny 1986, 82–83. 63 Bombardieri, Muti 2018. 64 Bombardieri, Muti 2018, 27–30. See also Muti 2017b, 24–27; 2020, 197–202. 65 Scirè Calabrisotto et al. 2017, 282–283. 66 Scirè Calabrisotto et al. 2017, 282–283. Also reported in Bombardieri, Muti 2018, 28. 67 Vassio, Bombarieri 2014; Muti, Bombardieri 2018, 28.

residues, yielding a concentration of mineralised nutlets belonging to the family Boraginaceae.65 The species have not yet been identified, but the remains show similarities with the nutlets produced by wild plants such as Echium plantagineum, Echium italicum, Echium angustifolium, Echium glomeratum ( all in the viper’s bugloss genus ), Lithospermum/Buglossoides arvensis and Lithospermum/Buglossoides tenuiflora.66 Some of these species are known to have been used for textile dyeing as a red/purple colouring substance can be extracted from their roots. 67 It is also noteworthy that these are wild plants ( weeds, short shrubs ) growing spontaneously in the Kouris valley. As suggested by the high concentration of nutlets retrieved from the two basins, large quantities were needed for the activities performed in SA I, implying a systematic and targeted collection strategy.68 Roofed units adjacent to SA I exhibit a high occurrence of grinding implements, and their ceramic assemblages are characterised by cooking pots, jugs of different sizes and large spouted bowls. 69 Basins of different types and drainage channels are scattered within the adjacent open spaces.70 These artefacts and installations allowed the people who worked in this area to process and use an enormous quantity of liquids, facilitating activities such as soaking, cleansing and washing.71 In addition, the post holes excavated in these spaces are aligned in rows and can be interpreted as the remains of perishable ‘informal’ structures, possibly racks for hanging threads, fabrics or clothes to dry.72 Levels of Specialisation in Textile Work

Before moving onto the landscape ‘perspective’, it should be noted that different levels of specialisation in textile work can be identified at Sotira, Erimi and Episkopi.73 At Sotira, textile tools were mainly retrieved from domestic contexts, and their distribution can be compared to coeval sites, where it is interpreted as an indicator of domestic production

68 More than 100 nutlets were detected in the soil samples retrieved from Feature 43, and more than 3000 nutlets from the smaller basin Feature 46. See Bombardieri 2017, 30–31; Scirè Calabrisotto et al. 2017, 282–283. 69 Bombardieri, Muti 2018, 30. 70 Muti 2017b, 26–27; Bombardieri, Muti 2018, 30. 71 The total capacity of 8000 l was calculated for the overall number of large basins. See Bombardieri et al. 2015. 72 Bombardieri 2017, 348. 73 It is not the purpose of this paper to discuss the complex question of assessing the levels of specialisation in textile production at these sites. See, for example, Bombardieri 2013; Bombardieri, Muti 2018; Muti 2020 for a more in-depth analysis. 74 Frankel, Webb 2006, 311–313; Muti 2020, 241–244.

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( e.g., Marki Alonia ).74 Similarly, textile tools are often associated with domestic units at Episkopi, but their distribution appears more widespread compared to Sotira. 75 In this regard, an interesting point was raised by Smith, 76 who observed that patterns of evidence interpreted as domestic production in EC–MC contexts may shift between household production 77 and household industry. 78 In contrast, the majority of the textile tools at Erimi have been retrieved from the ‘workshop complex’.79 The association of textile tools with water processing and dyeing facilities strengthens the hypothesis that a large part of the Erimi complex was allocated to specialised textile activities.80 Needless to say, household production as well as workshop specialisation should not be considered unique to this area of the island during the Bronze Age ( and beyond ).81 However, it should be noted that the ‘workshop complex’ is one of two areas where organised work spaces for textile activities have been possibly identified so far.82 The Landscape’s Perspective: a Reflection on the Resources Needed for Textile Production

Tools and implements can illuminate key steps in textile crafting, but they do not provide much information on the activities that preceded spinning. When reflecting upon the entanglement between humans and the resources for textile production, one should always bear in mind the spectrum of opportunities that a landscape can offer to try and understand how people were stimulated to interact with it. To begin with, it is important to establish which types of textile fibres were used and the ecological conditions in which they could be produced. In Bronze Age Cyprus, both wool and flax are attested as textile fibres.83 Thus, an attempt to analyse which characteristics can support their production seems to be appropriate. Assuming that in prehistory the workability of the land can be considered a more attractive factor than its fertility, it has been recently proposed that Cypriot pre-urban communities would voluntarily

75 Swiny 1986, 132–137, fig. 3. 76 Smith 2002, 298–299. 77 Namely, production and consumption within the same household. 78 Namely, domestic production but with exchange and consumption outside the household. 79 Bombardieri 2017, 21–58. 80 Muti, Bombardieri 2018, 27–30. 81 See, for example, Smith 2002; Smith, Tzachili 2012, 148–149.

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favour the ‘easy to work’ light and erodible soils suitable for agricultural production. These would have been sufficient to satisfy the needs of a household-based population.84 Under these conditions, some plant species ( i.e., olive and vine ) thrive where others ( i.e., cereals ) are less adaptable. Therefore, the exploitation of different types of soil would have facilitated the integration of various types of crops in local agricultural production.85 Although terracotta “scenic compositions” hint at a plough-based agriculture, 86 the scarcity of paleo-botanical data and the lack of systematic studies on land use and agricultural technology do not allow us an in-depth analysis of the vegetative resources. The following observations are based on the available topographical features that we have presented above. Flax tolerates a range of soils and climates, but its best growing conditions require deep, fertile and welldrained soil prepared as farmland and worked with techniques generally also employed in wheat cultivation.87 The deep, heavy soils of the southern alluvium, rich in clay, are fertile, although they are hard to work, especially in the absence of a deep plough. 88 In contrast, the plateau area is more suitable for manual agriculture as it is characterised by shallow soils and emergent limestone bedrock. It is likely that these were also distinctive elements of the Bronze Age mid- and upper valley’s landscape. In fact, at Erimi and Sotira building foundations lay directly on the limestone bedrock, which was also frequently used as a floor/ pavement. As already mentioned, during the Bronze Age the mid-valley was wooded and had less farmland than at present. Therefore, it does not offer the ideal conditions for flax production. Instead, the lower valley ( where Episkopi is located ) has deeper soils and may have been the most suitable place for growing flax in the area. Concerning animal exploitation, faunal remains are generally scarce and fragmentary. At Episkopi, cattle ( mainly killed when young or halfway through their development into adults) and ovicaprids are the most represented species, followed by pigs, fallow deer and an exceedingly small number of canids and

82 We refer to the EC–MC III/LC IA periods. See below for Pyrgos Mavroraki. 83 See, for example, Smith, Tzachili 2012, 143. 84 Andreou 2015, 102. 85 Andreou 2015, 102. 86 See, for example, the clay model representing a ploughing scene with cattle from Bellapais Vounous, Karageorghis 1976, 107 n. 72. 87 Carta Maniglia 2006, 84. 88 Andreou 2015, 102.

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birds.89 In terms of meat requirement, it is worth noting that the amount of meat produced by butchering a bovid is considerably higher when compared to the quantity of meat produced by a pig, goat or sheep. Pig and fallow deer are also good meat producers, since pigs are generally not bred for secondary products and fallow deer are, at most, only exploited secondarily for antler.90 Interestingly, even if ovicaprids represent the second-largest group by quantity of retrieved remains, their contribution as meat producers could not have been so crucial. Given the high occurrence of cattle and pigs, and the relatively large percentage of deer, it can be hypothesised that these animals were used for meat supply, while ovicaprids could have been reserved ( albeit not exclusively ) for secondary products, including wool. Goats and sheep dominate the faunal record at Sotira, followed by cattle. Despite being the second most recurrent species in the archaeological record, the latter could have been the primary meat resource of the village, followed by fallow deer and pig.91 In addition, among ovicaprids sheep remains are better represented than goats’, and it may be possible that wool production constituted one of the goals of sheep breeding.92 Unfortunately, no kill-off patterns indicating intensive wool production are in evidence. Moreover, exploitation for secondary products ( e.g., traction and milk ) should not be excluded in the case of cattle. A negligible quantity of animal remains has been retrieved from Erimi, but the identification of textile dyeing offers strong, albeit indirect, evidence for the exploitation of animal fibres. Based on literature, dyeing and wool are often associated as this animal fibre absorbs natural colours much more easily and retains the dye for a much longer time when compared to flax.93 Dyeing and its related activities, such as the preparation of the dye bath and the rinsing of coloured products, necessitate a large amount of water. It is, therefore, no surprise that the only dyeing workshop so far identified for the MC period is located within the largest water basin on the island. Although situated on a high plateau, Erimi is not far from the main river and had two minor basins of fresh water and a now dried-up water spring nearby.94 Notably, the toponym of the area immediately

89 90 91 92 93 94

Swiny 1979, 64–65. Croft 2006, 263–281. Croft 2003, 446–447. Croft 2003, 446–447. Militello 2014, 266. Bombardieri et al. 2015.

south of Erimi is ‘Vrysi’, the Greek word for ‘spring’. The overall location of the workshop therefore appears favourable for this activity. The Textile Environment of the Kouris Valley

Having reflected upon the opportunities provided by the Kouris valley for the procurement of plant and animal fibres, we will now integrate and discuss the evidence of the landscape and tools. As seen above, the selected sites have yielded different types of tools ( i.e., spindle whorls, loom weights and needles ). The low occurrence of loom weights and needles may only be partially representative of the actual prevalence of weaving and sewing, while the high number of spindle whorls ensures a more secure picture for the existence of yarn production. The fact that light loom weights are generally absent from the EC–MC assemblage across the island may be exclusively due to preservation issues. Alternatively, though, it can be hypothesised that other types of looms or weaving techniques—archaeologically invisible—were in use.95 If so, the weaving environment would be much more complex and articulated than so far reconstructed by archaeologists.96 Spindle whorls with different functional features are represented at all three sites considered, but a tendency towards light and medium whorls ( 70 g correspond to 16% of the total. 109 Bombardieri 2017, 353; Bombardieri, Muti 2018. 110 Steel 2018.

111 Steel 2018, 7 of 16. 112 Crewe 2017, 147–148. 113 Belgiorno 2009; Webb, Frankel 2013; Falconer, Fall 2014; Crewe 2017. 114 Carpenter 1981; Crewe 2017, 147.

Conclusions

To conclude, the evidence presented here suggests a well-defined textile industry in the Kouris valley. The favourable conditions co-created by the interactions between people, things and the landscape suggest that textiles were indicative of the local economy. Approaching the environment as the relations formed by the craftspeople, their resources and productive

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strategies offers a conceptualisation of textile crafting that moves beyond the mere interpretation of tools and installations, and incorporates the evidence from the wider landscape. Consequently, textile production is viewed as a socio-economic phenomenon not exclusively driven by the ‘homo faber’ who act as an intermediary between resources and production. Instead, it is depicted as an environment of productive relations in which the agency of humans, ‘things’ 115 and the landscape can be extrapolated. Locating the production in the valley’s territory has not only allowed us to shed more light on aspects that tools/ installations cannot illuminate but, more importantly,

65

to demonstrate that the landscape is not a mere background or a ‘box’ of resources for the communities living there. In contrast, it is an essential component and co-actor in textile production, the development of work strategies, production goals and community networks, as well as the use and transmission of specific techniques and expertise. All these factors are not just connected but co-occurrent, and such interwoven realities produce a unique macro-object that we can define as the ‘textile environment’. Therefore, the Kouris valley is both the context for and an essential component of local textile production, which is in turn enmeshed in a wider ‘textile environment’.

Bibliography

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Forman R.T.T., Godron M. ( 1986 ) Landscape Ecology, New York. Frankel D., Webb J.M. ( 2006 ) Marki Alonia. An Early and Middle Bronze Age Settlement in Cyprus. Excavations 1995–2000, SIMA 123:2, Sävedalen. Griggs C., Pearson C., Manning S.W., Lorentzen B. ( 2014 ) A 250-year annual precipitation reconstruction and drought assessment for Cyprus from Pinus brutia Ten. tree-rings, International Journal of Climatology 34:8, 2702–2714. Grömer K. ( 2005 ) Efficiency and technique. Experiments with original spindle whorls, in: P. Bichler, K. Grömer, R. Hofmann-de Keijzer, A. Kern, H. Reschreiter eds., Hallstatt Textiles. Technical Analysis, Scientific Investigation and Experiment on Iron Age Textiles, BAR-IS 1351, Oxford, 107–116. Hadjisavvas S. ( 1986 ) Alassa Archaeological Project 1991–1993, RDAC, 62–67. Hansen J. ( 2003 ) The botanical remains, in: S. Swiny, G. Rapp, E. Herscher, Sotira Kaminoudhia. An Early Bronze Age Site in Cyprus, Boston, 449–454. Harris O.J.T., Cipolla C. ( 2017 ) Archaeological Theory in the New Millennium: Introducing Current Perspectives, London. Hodder I. ( 2012 ) Entangled. An Archaeology of the Relationships between Humans and Things, Chichester. Ingold T. ( 1993 ) The temporality of the landscape, WorldArch 25:2, 152–174. Ingold T. ( 2000 ) The Perception of the Environment: Essays on Livelihood, Dwelling and Skill, London and New York. Ingold T. ( 2008 ) When ANT meets SPIDER: social theory for arthropods, in: C. Knappett, L. Malafours eds., Material Agency. Towards a Non-Anthropocentric Approach, New York, 209–216. Karageorghis V. ( 1976 ) The Civilization of Prehistoric Cyprus, Athens. Knappett C. ( 2005 ) Thinking through Material Culture, Philadelphia. Lucas L. ( 2014 ) Crops, Culture, and Contact in Prehistoric Cyprus, Oxford. Mårtensson L., Nosch M.-L., Andersson Strand E. ( 2009 ) Shape of things: understanding a loom weight, OJA 28:4, 373–398. Militello P. ( 2014 ) Wool Economy in Minoan Crete before Linear B. A minimalist position, in: C Breniquet, C. Michel eds., Wool Economy in the Ancient Near East. From the Beginning of Sheep Husbandry to Institutional Textile Industry, Ancient Textile Series 17, Oxford and Philadelphia, 264–282.

AT THE ROOTS OF PRODUCTION

Mogelonsky M.K., Bregstein L.B. (1996) Spindle whorls, in: J.E. Coleman, J.A. Barlow, M.K. Mogelonsky, K.W. Schaar, Alambra. A Middle Bronze Age Settlement in Cyprus. Archaeological Investigations by Cornell University 1974–1985, SIMA 118, Jonsered, 205–217. Muti G. ( 2017a ) Spindle whorls, in: L. Bombardieri ed., Erimi Laonin tou Porakou. A Middle Bronze Age Community in Cyprus. Excavations 2008– 2014, SIMA 145, Uppsala, 219–235. Muti G. ( 2017b ) Following the fil rouge. Productive, economic, and social aspects of textile dyeing in Middle and Late Cypriot communities, in: L. Bombardieri, M. Amadio, F. Dolcetti eds., Ancient Cyprus. An Unexpected Journey. Communities in Continuity and Transition, Rome, 19–44. Muti G. ( 2020 ) Tracing Ancient Textiles: Production, Consumption and Social Uses in Chalcolithic and Bronze Age Cyprus ( 2800–1450 BC ). Unpublished PhD thesis, University of Manchester. Olsen B. ( 2010 ) In Defense of Things: Archaeology and the Ontology of Objects, Lanham. Rapp G. ( 2003 ) Geologic and geomorphic setting resources, in: S. Swiny, G. Rapp, E. Herscher, Sotira Kaminoudhia. An Early Bronze Age Site in Cyprus, Boston, 461–466. Rapp G., Swiny S. ( 2003 ) Introduction, in: S. Swiny, G. Rapp, E. Herscher, Sotira Kaminoudhia. An Early Bronze Age Site in Cyprus, Boston, 1–8. Reitz E.J., Shackley M. ( 2012 ) Environmental Archaeology, Boston. Sauvage C., Smith J.S. ( 2016 ) Local and regional patterns of textile production in Late Bronze Age Cyprus, in: G. Bourogiannis, C. Mühlenbock eds., Ancient Cyprus Today. Museum Collections and New Research Approaches to the Archaeology of Cyprus, SIMA PB 184, Uppsala, 195–205. Scirè Calabrisotto C., Vassio E., Fioravanti M., Gasson P. ( 2017 ) Environmental setting: archaeobotanical and anthracological evidence, in: L. Bombardieri ed., Erimi Laonin tou Porakou. A Middle Bronze Age Community in Cyprus, SIMA 145, Uppsala, 277–292. Smith J.S. ( 2002 ) Changes in workplace: women and textile production on Late Bronze Age Cyprus, in: D. Bolger, N. Serwint eds., Engendering Aphrodite: Women and Society in Ancient Cyprus, Boston, 281–312. Smith J.S. ( forthcoming ) Spinning and weaving at Kourion in the Late Bronze Age, in: Z. Chovanec,

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W. Crist eds., All Things Cypriot: Studies on Ancient Environment, Technology and Society in Honor of Stuart Swiny, Boston, 121–135. Smith J.S., Tzachili I. ( 2012 ) Cloth in Crete and Cyprus, in: G. Cadogan, M. Iacovou, K. Kopaka, J. Whitley eds., Parallel Lives. Ancient Island and Societies in Crete and Cyprus. Papers Arising from the Conference in Nicosia Organized by the British School at Athens, the University of Crete and the University of Cyprus, in November–December 2006, London, 141–155. Spiegelman M. ( 2008 ) Investigating the faunal record from Bronze Age Cyprus: diversification and intensification, in A.P. McCarthy ed., Island Dialogues. Cyprus in the Mediterranean Network, Edinburgh, 119–129. Stanley Price N.P. ( 1979 ) Early Prehistoric Settlement in Cyprus: a Review and Gazetteer of Sites, c. 6500– 3000 B.C., Oxford. Steel L. ( 2018 ) Watery entanglements in the Cypriot Hinterland, Land 7:3, 104. https://doi.org/10.3390/ land7030104, accessed: 19.12.2020. Stewart J.R. ( 1962 ) The Early Cypriote Bronze Age, in: P. Dikaios, J.R. Stewart, The Swedish Cyprus Expedition, Volume IV.A. The Stone Age and the Early Bronze Age in Cyprus, Lund, 205–401. Swiny S. ( 1979 ) Southern Cyprus, c. 2000–1500 B.C. Unpublished PhD thesis, University of London. Swiny S. ( 1986 ) The Kent State University Expedition to Episkopi Phaneromeni. Part 2, Nicosia. Swiny S., Rapp G., Herscher E. ( 2003 ) Sotira Kaminoudhia. An Early Bronze Age Site in Cyprus, Boston. Vassio E., Bombardieri L. ( 2014 ) Archeological evidence in the Bronze Age workshop complex at Erimi Laonin tou Porakou, Cyprus ( poster ), in: Proceedings of the 9th European Palaeobotany Palynology Conference, Padova – Italy, 26–31 August 2014, Padova, 294. Walz C.A., Swiny S. (2003) The terracottas, in: S. Swiny, G. Rapp, E. Herscher, Sotira Kaminoudhia. An Early Bronze Age Site in Cyprus, Boston, 397–412. Wasse A. ( 2007 ) Climate, economy and change: Cyprus and the Levant during the Late Pleistocene to Mid Holocene, in: J. Clarke ed., On the Margins of Southwest Asia, Oxford, 43–63. Webb J.M., Frankel D. ( 2013 ) Ambelikou-Aletri. Metallurgy and Pottery Production in Middle Bronze Age Cyprus, Uppsala.

Sarah Georgel-Debedde

ED112 Université Paris 1 Panthéon-Sorbonne UMR 7041 Archéologie et Sciences de l’Antiquité Protohistoire égéenne https://orcid.org/0000-0002-4298-4998

BUILDING A MINOAN LARNAX— TECHNIQUES AND GESTURES PRELIMINARY ANALYSIS

Abstract: This paper investigates the fashioning stage of the Cretan larnakes’ chaîne opératoire.

Larnakes were clay sarcophagi, used on Crete from the Early to the Late Bronze Age to inhume the dead. This funerary custom spread over time on Crete, reaching a peak at the end of the period, when larnakes were used across almost the whole island. Due to their significant duration of use and distribution, larnakes are considered fully part of the Minoan funerary landscape and have been, for this reason, abundantly investigated. However, questions regarding their production have always been put to one side and a specific study of their context of production is missing. To fill this lacuna, this paper examines the larnakes’ manufacturing process by reconstructing the techniques and gestures employed by Minoan potters during the fashioning stage. It especially focuses on Late Bronze Age chest and bathtub larnakes, which are better documented.

Keywords: larnax, larnakes, manufacturing process, techniques, chaîne opératoire.

This is an open access publication made available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International Licence. Sympozjum Egejskie: Papers in Aegean Archaeology 3, ed. by S. Aulsebrook, K. Żebrowska, A. Ulanowska, and K. Lewartowski, WSA 3 ( Turnhout: Brepols, 2022 ), pp. 69–84. 10.1484/M.WSA-EB.5.128953

Introduction

Larnakes ( plural of the Greek word “larnax” ) are among the most significant objects used in Minoan funerary practices. These clay sarcophagi were used on Crete, from the beginning of the Early Bronze Age ( EBA, 3rd millennium BC ) to the end of the Late Bronze Age ( LBA, end of the 2nd millennium BC ), to bury the dead, and were found all over Crete in several types of funerary contexts throughout the period, such as caves and collective built tombs ( circular tombs, house-tombs and chamber tombs ).1

Larnakes have characteristic morphological features, the most striking being their significant size and their complex, uncommon, shape. Usually composed of a body and a lid, they can be square-shaped or ellipsoidal. Used throughout the Bronze Age period, their morphological features evolved over time; during the EBA elongated ellipsoidal larnakes were used at Pyrgos Cave,2 while some square-shaped and oval short ones were used in the Archanes Phourni cemetery until the MBA. 3 Oval, almost circular, larnakes were used

1 Funerary caves were used mainly during the EBA, circular tombs ( Messara ) and house-tombs from the EBA to the Middle Bronze Age ( MBA ). Chamber tombs appeared in the LBA and were used until the end of the period.

2 Xanthoudides 1918. 3 Sakellaraki, Sakellaraki 1997.

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This article summarises the preliminary results of a study of 28 larnakes dated to the LBA ( second half of the 2nd millennium BC ).10 These 28 larnakes ( 16 chest larnakes and 12 bathtub larnakes ) come from several Bronze Age cemeteries in western ( Chania, Dramia ), central ( e.g., Ligortynos, Knossos, Tylissos,

Archanes Phourni ), and eastern Crete ( e.g., Mochlos, Pachyammos, Palaikastro, Sitia ).11 A direct macroscopic study was carried out on these larnakes in order to identify the primary and secondary forming techniques used during their manufacture. A microscopic analysis 12 of their surface, using a microscope camera, was undertaken to observe the surface finishing techniques. This technological study aimed to reconstruct their chaîne opératoire specifically related to the fashioning stage, that is the sequence of “operations which transform the clay paste into a hollow form, being described in terms of technique, methods, gestures, and tools”.13 Specific physical attributes, such as marks, patterns of fractures or variations in wall thickness, for instance, were observed, recorded and compared with reference sources, such as pottery technology studies14 and ethnographic works.15 The surface texture and finishing were also observed and analysed with the naked eye and a microscope camera, in order to reconstruct the secondary forming and finishing operations. However, several difficulties regarding the conditions in which the study took place must be highlighted. In particular, access constraints within museum exhibitions prevented the direct observation of the internal surfaces of the chest, lid or base on some examples. Moreover, the macroscopic analysis was performed on complete and restored objects, so that the internal structure of the clay fabric could not be studied. The following observations and results must therefore be considered as preliminary. Finally, the direct analysis was reinforced by the expertise of professional potters,16 as well as personal experiments. The latter consisted of building four chest larnakes’ bodies using different forming techniques ( especially slab-building and coiling ). This was aimed at developing a better understanding of the manufacturing processes of each forming technique.

4 Forsdyke 1926–1927; Cook, Boardman 1954; Alberti 2013. 5 Chest and bathtub larnakes were mainly used in central and eastern Crete. Very few examples are reported from western Crete: see the bathtub specimen from Chania ( Niniou-Kindeli 1983, 360 ) and the chest specimen from Dramia ( Kanta 1980, 237 ). 6 Two bathtub larnakes from Gra Lygia ( Arapi Skala ) were found in connection with a flat rectangular lid ( Apostolakou 1998 ). 7 N. Merousis ( 2014–2018 ), in a recent article, investigates the larnakes’ manufacture and provides hypotheses for reconstructing their chaîne opératoire. 8 Bathtub and chest larnakes, due to their wide distribution and painted decoration, are more well-known than the examples from previous periods, and are often more accessible in museums. 9 Late Minoan ( LM ) III period ( 1420/1410–1075/1050 BC ) comprises LM IIIA1 ( 1420/1410–1390/1370 BC ), LM IIIA2 (1390/1370–1330/1315 BC), LM IIIB (1330/1315–1200/1190 BC)

and LM IIIC ( 1200/1190–1075/1050 BC ). See Manning 2010, 23, tab. 2.2. This work is the result of several campaigns of study carried out at the Louvre Museum ( 2017 ), the Archaeological Museum of Heraklion ( 2018 ), the Archaeological Museum of Chania and the Archaeological Museum of Sitia ( 2019 ). I would like to thank the archaeologists and curators who allowed this study. See the catalogue included at the end of this paper. Using a low magnification ( x50 ). Roux 2016b, 3. Rye 1981; Rice 1987; Roux 2016a. Gosselain 2002; Livingstone Smith 2007. I would like to thank Mr G. Dalamvelas, Mrs M. Dalamvelas and Mr D. Didier, from the Cretan village of Margaritès, for having welcomed me into their workshops and having shared their knowledge with me.

in Knossian cemeteries during the beginning of the LBA.4 During the end of the LBA, this funerary practice reached its climax and two specific and standardised forms of larnakes, known as the chest-shaped larnax and the bathtub-shaped larnax, were used all over Crete.5 The first one comprises a chest-shaped body and a gabled or flat lid, while the second one has an ellipsoidal flared body, and is rarely found with a lid.6 The longevity of larnakes shows that they were very characteristic objects of Minoan culture and fully part of the Minoan funerary landscape. Moreover, it underlies the existence of a long-term craft tradition. Indeed, larnakes were produced over more than 2000 years in Crete, and although scholars have been examining issues related to their origin and the iconographical symbolism of their decoration, questions regarding their production have often been neglected.7 How were larnakes built? Which techniques, tools and gestures were employed for their manufacture? What were the different stages of the manufacturing process, from the manipulation of the paste to the final shape? This paper focuses on LBA chest and bathtub larnakes, which provide more data with regard to technology.8 It will focus on the technological study of 28 Late Minoan III9 chest and bathtub larnakes. First I will describe and analyse the physical attributes observed within the scope of the macroscopic study; I will then discuss preliminary hypotheses related to the fashioning stage of the chaîne opératoire. Methodology

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11 12 13 14 15 16

BUILDING A MINOAN LARNAX—TECHNIQUES AND GESTURES

The Macroscopic Analysis: the ChestShaped Larnakes The Bases

Only six chest larnakes’ bases could be observed in the course of the macroscopic analysis ( Cat. nos. 3, 4, 6, 16, 26 and 27 ). These bases have irregular and randomly patterned fractures or seams, running along their centres. A long linear fracture, following the orientation of the long sides, is also often visible along the edge. The same type of fracture, or crack, also occurs along the area where the base meets the walls. When visible, the lower side of the base shows an irregular topography and micro-topography, characterised by a ‘hollow and bumps’ structure and a rough surface. This suggests the base was formed in two distinct stages; the first step consisted of the formation of the central section, formed using big lumps of clay ( non-preformed elements ) joined by pressing them together. The irregular fractures or seams indicate the boundaries between these lumps.17 The central section of the base was probably formed directly on the ground, its lower surface thus adopting the irregularities of the soil. The second step would have been the addition of a border, probably formed using a large coil, which ran around the circumference of the central section. This border gave the final shape to the base and was also the support for the bottom level of the walls. The latter was joined directly onto the base, causing, on some examples, a long linear fracture at the intersection between the base and walls. On several of the analysed larnakes ( Cat. nos. 1, 4, 7, 8, 9, 17, 26 and 27 ), a raised strip or band runs around the external face of the lower walls. Fractures along its upper and lower surfaces, as well as on its core, frequently occur. This suggests that such raised bands were an added element, formed with a coil or little pieces of soft clay, stuck onto the walls. It gained its final shape after smoothing operations with a wet tool ( probably wet fingers ). The Feet

Ten chest larnakes were provided with feet.18 The feet have either a cubic shape (Cat. nos. 2, 4, 5, 6, 8, 9 and 20) or a ‘gamma’ shape composed of two perpendicular slabs ( Cat. nos. 3, 7 and 26 ).

17 The seams are especially visible on the lower surface of the bases, which were not regularised. 18 One larnax from Ligortynos, one larnax from Sfaka and three larnakes from Mochlos are footless ( Cat. nos. 1, 14, 15, 16 and 17 ); the bottom of the base rests directly on the floor.

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Cubic feet often display a rough surface on their internal sides. Some evidence of vertical scraping can sometimes be observed in these areas. In contrast, the external surfaces are usually smooth. On several examples, a vertical crack, or a discontinuous join void, occurs along the line of the external sides of the feet ( about one centimetre away from the external sides ). The ‘gamma’ feet of the larnax from Ligortynos ( Cat. no. 3 ),19 show vertical voids and cracks on their internal sides, which seem to indicate the boundaries of the different elements used to build this specific shape. As with cubic feet, a vertical crack, or join void, also occurs along the line of their external sides. In every instance, a horizontal crack or fracture is observed in the area where the feet meet the base. Moreover, several examples are characterised by a specific technological feature: on the lower side of the base, the area surrounding the feet forms some kind of ‘protuberance’, as if another layer of clay was added in this location. In the case of the larnax from Ligortynos, these ‘protuberance’ areas sometimes have small circular depressions that could be fingermarks. Cubic and ‘gamma’ feet seem to have been formed with different techniques. Cubic feet were likely made by modelling a lump or a big coil. The feet were then roughly shaped by scraping, in order to provide them with angles. In the case of the larnax from Ligortynos, it seems that ‘gamma’ feet were made of several joined elements: an initial coil formed the central part, and two other flattened coils, or slabs, were joined to it, in order to form the perpendicular sides. This configuration is likely to have caused the vertical cracks and join voids visible on the internal sides. The feet were joined to the lower surface of the base, following the axes of the corners. They were likely placed when the clay was still soft, in order to adhere to the base’s surface. The ‘protuberance’ areas, visible around the feet on several examples, could be interpreted as an added layer of soft clay, allowing the feet to stick better to the base. Finally, a subsequent layer of clay was added on the external surfaces of the feet, when the raised frames ( see below ) were formed. The shaping of the raised frames thus began at the feet, and was then continued from the bottom to the top of the chest.

19 ‘Gamma’ feet could only be observed well on one example from Ligortynos ( Cat. no. 3 ).

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The Walls

On several examples, the observation of the internal surfaces of the walls was impossible because the lids of these larnakes were in place ( Cat. nos. 2, 5, 7, 8, 9, 14, 15, 17 and 20 ). Nonetheless, the macroscopic analysis revealed that all the chest larnakes studied show physical attributes that are linked to the use of joined elements to build the walls. These attributes are long horizontal and superimposed fractures, rhythmic ( repeated and regular ) corrugations, and/or horizontal and superimposed join voids. This suggests that the walls were built using successive levels of joined elements, from the bottom to the top. The four walls of the chest were raised together, as is suggested by the repetition in the location of the horizontal joins on all four sides. For some of the analysed examples, it was possible to pursue further investigations into the nature of the joined elements: some chest larnakes indeed show a very specific pattern of fractures, characterised by long linear ones combined with vertical or diagonal ones ( Cat. nos. 6, 8 and 26 ; Fig. 1). On some examples, only superimposed linear fractures occur, but these are characterised by a strong regularity in their spacing ( Cat. nos. 7 and 9; Fig. 2 ). In every instance, these larnakes show a great evenness in their walls as well as a specific surface finish: smooth, with non-plastic material usually embedded in the wall. Moreover, very little evidence regarding the use of secondary forming techniques, such as scraping, have been observed. Another significant technological feature relates to the corners of these larnakes; when the internal surface is visible, it often shows vertical and linear fractures, occurring along the corners. The general external morphology of the corners is also very even, forming almost 90° angles. These physical attributes can be connected to the use of slab-building. The walls of these larnakes are composed of several levels of slabs, each level formed by rectangular or square-shaped slabs, joined one next to the other. These levels of slabs were superimposed in order to increase the height of the walls. The junctions between the joined slabs are either vertical or diagonal. This specific configuration is likely to have caused the horizontal and vertical/oblique fractures visible on some examples. It is also likely that the slabs were applied in a plastic condition in order to enhance the junctions’ adhesion. Certain other examples, even though they do not show the same pattern of fractures, were also probably shaped by slab-building. The strong regularity between the horizontal fractures, observed on the walls of these larnakes, suggests the use of preformed

and standardised elements, such as slabs, to build the chest. However, the absence of vertical or diagonal fractures must be considered. It is possible that the vertical junctions between the joined slabs on these larnakes were stronger and more resilient. Another hypothesis is that these larnakes were not built using levels of appended slabs, but using big strips of clay the same length as the walls. The marked evenness and smooth surface could be the result of the pre-forming of slabs, by pressing or flattening. When joined together to build the walls, the slabs would already have had an even surface, so that scraping or regularising operations were unnecessary. Another explanation is the hypothetical use of an external support during the course of manufacture ( see below ).

Fig. 1. External wall of an LBA chest larnax from Archanes Phourni (Cat. no. 8), showing the pattern of fractures characteristic of slab-built walls (photograph by author).

Slab-built chest larnakes’ corners were directly shaped in the course of the manufacture of the body: slabs were stuck together perpendicularly. Such a forming technique leads to fragility along the vertical joint between the walls, causing vertical fractures along the corners. It allows, however, the corners to be provided with a generally sharp and angular morphology, without subsequent secondary forming techniques ( scraping or trimming ). The hypothetical use of an external support ( see below ) could also explain their very angular profile. In contrast, some larnakes show a very different type of physical attribute ( Cat. nos. 1, 4, 14, 15 and 16 ). The general topography of these chests is

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Fig. 2. An LBA chest larnax from Palaikastro (Cat. no. 9), with a detail of the external wall showing the patterning of fractures characteristic of walls built of preformed slabs (photographs by author).

Fig. 3. An LBA chest larnax from Gazi (Cat. no. 4), with a detail of the rhythmic corrugations on the internal wall characteristic of coil-built walls (photographs by author).

characterised by rhythmic corrugations ( Fig. 3 ). In general, long horizontal linear fractures do not appear on these examples, and horizontal junctions are indicated by discontinuous join voids. On some larnakes, step-like fractures can occur. Technological features for the use of secondary forming techniques, such as scraping, are also frequently visible. Abundant elongated fingermarks, revealing that the potter tried to even the inner face of the walls by combing the clay with his hand, have been observed, for instance, on the example shown in Figure 3. Furthermore, these larnakes often show an irregular surface, where smooth areas alternate with rough ones. The corners are usually characterised by an irregular profile and width. On some examples, the lower section of the corners sticks out further than the bottom of the walls, forming a circular protruding area ( Cat. nos. 15 and 16 ).

Finally, evidence for regularising operations, such as scraping or trimming, are frequently noticeable along the corners. I suggest that these physical attributes can be linked to the use of coil-building. The walls of these examples were raised using large coils, several appended coils likely forming one horizontal level. The rhythmic corrugations indicate the joining operations between the successive levels of coils. Scraping operations were systematically needed in order to draw out the coils and regularise the joins. Evidence of scraping operations on larnakes’ walls could be a very important and valuable criterion to distinguish between slab-building and coil-building, the latter technique requiring a greater amount of secondary forming work. It is also noticeable that the long linear and horizontal fractures, often observed on the previously discussed examples,

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rarely occur on these. Coil-building seems to allow the formation of better junctions between the superimposed elements; in contrast to slabs, coils can be easily deformed ( e.g., by pinching, drawing, scraping, etc. ) in order to be more strongly joined together. The corners of these larnakes were shaped during the building of the body; scraping and trimming operations were performed along the external and internal corners in order to give them a sharp profile. On a few examples ( Cat. nos. 15 and 16 ), it is likely that large coils or lumps of clay were stuck, in a vertical axis, along the joins between the four walls, then re-shaped by scraping and trimming in order to form the corners. Eleven larnakes 20 ( Cat. nos. 3, 4, 7, 8, 9, 14, 15, 16, 17, 26 and 27 ) were provided with raised frames. These raised frames are added elements, shaped with little pieces of soft clay stuck on the corners of the larnakes, and defined by scraping and smoothing operations with a wet tool ( hand or cloth ). The shaping of raised frames began from the external surfaces of the feet, if any, and continued to the top of the chests. The Rims

Chest larnakes have either a protruding circular ( Cat. nos. 4, 5, 14, 15, 16 and 26) or rectangular rim (Cat. nos. 1, 7 and 20 ), a raised external band ( Cat. nos. 2, 3, 7, 8 and 27 ), like the one found on the lower part of the walls just above the base, or a projecting flat rim ( Cat. no. 9 ). The large circular or rectangular protruding rims are often characterised by variations in profile and thickness. When the internal wall faces are visible, a discontinuous join void can be seen on the upper surface, indicating the junction between the walls and rim. Bulges of paste can also be observed on some examples, in the area where the lower surface of the rim joins the external surface of the walls. Evidence of regularising or finishing operations, such as scraping or smoothing, are also visible. These rims are likely to have been formed with the addition of a large coil on the upper surface of the walls. The coil was placed and joined in order to extend outward beyond the walls of the chest. The lower surface of the coil was joined to the external surface of the walls, creating some bulges of paste on certain examples. An additional layer of moist clay could also have

20 One larnax from Ligortynos ( Cat. no. 2 ) has incised frames, while the other from the same site ( Cat. no. 1 ), as well as one larnax from Kavrochori ( Cat. no. 5 ), one larnax from Knossos

been added, in some instances, in order to hide this external junction ( Cat. nos. 1 and 4 ). The rims were then shaped by scraping and wet smoothing, the final profile ( circular or rectangular ), depending on the extent of the regularising and finishing operations. The raised external bands were likely shaped using the same methods as the ones used to form the lower raised bands: coils or little pieces of soft clay stuck on the walls, and subsequent smoothing operations. The extremities of the band were joined to the raised frames using smoothing operations. Few technological attributes have been recognised with regard to the manufacture of flat rims, since they are only associated with one larnax of the corpus under study. This flat rim is also characterised by variations in its profile and thickness. Horizontal fractures can occur along the junction between the lower surface of the rim and the external surface of the walls. The forming process of the flat protruding rims is difficult to reconstruct at this stage. They could have been built using leather-hard slabs, perpendicularly joined to the upper surface of the walls. Such a process could have caused the horizontal fractures visible between the rim and walls. The Use of a Support?

To conclude the macroscopic analysis of chest larnakes’ bodies, a specific question must still be considered: was a support needed during the shaping of chest larnakes’ bodies? This question was raised within the scope of an interview with potters 21 from the Cretan village of Margaritès, and is especially applicable to the slab-built technique. Indeed, if we consider that some larnakes were built with slabs, it must also be assumed that the slabs were in a very plastic condition, to allow for joining them together. However several technological constraints must be taken into account. Slabs of soft clay cannot be used to build such a large vessel, without collapsing on their own or under the weight of the clay added afterwards. To reconcile the use of plastic slabs with the significant size of chest larnakes’ bodies, the use of a support during manufacture can be hypothesised. Regarding the type and nature of such a support, it may have been external, holding up the larnax’s walls from the outside, in order to allow its removal after the clay had retracted through drying. Regarding

( Cat. no. 6 ) and one larnax from Petras Papoura ( Cat. no. 20 ), do not have any frames. 21 Mr G. Dalamvelas and Mrs M. Dalamvelas.

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Fig. 4. An LBA chest larnax from Skafa (Cat. no. 14), with a detail of the external wall of its gabled lid showing technological features associated with a coil-built construction technique (photographs by author).

the material, it can be assumed that wood or clay might have been used. The support could have been complete, composed of four individual walls in order to be easily withdrawn after the manufacturing process, or composed of several parts assembled during the forming process, then dismantled. However physical traces of this support are lacking on the larnakes examined. Indeed, none of the technological indications usually connected to moulding, such as imprints on the external wall faces or traces of a parting agent ( sand or dry powdered clay ), have been observed so far. It is nevertheless possible that such traces might have been obscured by subsequent treatments, such as smoothing and painting.

Two different kinds of lids are associated with the chest larnakes examined: flat ( Cat. no. 1 ) and gabled ( Cat. nos. 2, 5, 7, 8, 9, 14, 15, 17 and 20 ). The first is usually composed of two clay slabs and provided with handles on the upper side. The second is provided with four sides, two large and two small, that join together at the top, and is usually capped by a clay beam. The inner surface of the only flat lid that has been observed during this macroscopic analysis has rounded seams that seem to indicate the junctions between some curved elements, as well as fingermarks and even a palm handprint. The lid is separated, along the middle, into two parts. This lid demonstrates physical attributes linked to a technique based on joined elements: it was shaped using large lumps of clay pressed together. The

fingermarks and the palm handprint indicate pressing operations on the paste, likely in a mould or a simple former. The lid was then cut along the middle, when the clay was in a leather-hard condition, in order to divide it into two parts. The gabled lids’ manufacturing process is more difficult to reconstruct.22 Several lids have either superimposed horizontal fractures ( Cat. nos. 8, 15 and 17 ), or rhythmic corrugations ( Cat. no. 5 ), or both ( Cat. nos. 9 and 14 ) on their walls. The lid of the larnax from Sfaka ( Cat. no. 14; Fig. 4 ) shows three linear horizontal fractures associated with four rhythmic corrugations, sometimes combined with horizontal discontinuous join voids, outlining quite regular layers, each five to six centimetres in height. The internal lid surface of one larnax from Mochlos ( Cat. no. 15 ) could be observed. It is marked by elongated fingermarks, vertically orientated; the upper internal surface is characterised by a very rough surface, showing irregular seams and bulges. These physical attributes suggest that gabled lids were formed with a technique based on joined elements. The technological features observed on the lid from Sfaka suggest that the walls were built in successive levels of coils, likely drawn out in order to increase their height ( to five to six centimetres ). The long linear fractures could be the results of multiple partial drying phases, allowing the walls to strengthen before the addition of the subsequent levels. Furthermore, it can be inferred, from examining the internal surface of the example from Mochlos, that the lids were progressively raised, from the bottom to the top: the internal surface

22 This is mainly due to difficult study conditions. The internal surface of most of the lids from the larnakes in the study corpus

have not been examined due to access constraints at museum exhibitions.

The Lids

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was scraped during building, likely with the fingers; the lid was then closed at the top by using lumps of clay, joined one next to the other. At that point, the potter could not access the internal part of the lid any longer, explaining why the outlines of these lumps are still very visible. Finally, it is probable that gabled lids were directly erected on the top of the larnakes’ bodies. The lower surface of the lid often displays a convex print matching the shape of the rim of the body. In that case, the potter must have waited for the body to dry or become leather-hard, before shaping the lid directly upon it. In that respect, the lid was perfectly matched with the body, in terms of both length and width. It is thus likely that each lid fitted a single body. The Surface Finishing Operations

The external surfaces of chests and lids usually show evidence of wet smoothing, with a characteristic surface of little ridges and partially covered non-plastic material. Given the profile and orientation of the ridges, it seems that smoothing operations were performed with a soft and wet tool, such as the hand or a cloth. All chest larnakes, with the exception of one larnax from Mochlos ( Cat. no. 17 ) were slipped and painted on the external faces of their walls. The slip and paintings were applied also on the raised frames, if applicable, and on the rims and the external surfaces of the feet. The same surface finishing operations were performed on the lids.23 A white slip was used for larnakes from Palaikastro, Mochlos, Sfaka, Petras Papoura and Dramia ( Cat. nos. 9, 14, 15, 16, 20 and 27 ). A beige to yellow slip was used for larnakes from Ligortynos, Archanes Phourni, Kavrochori and Knossos ( Cat. nos. 1, 2, 3, 5, 6 and 8 ). The painted decoration varies from brown to red. This colour variation seems to be related to the firing process. The Macroscopic Analysis: the Bathtub Larnakes The Bases

Few technological features have been observed on the bases of bathtub larnakes.24 Bases are usually characterised by a generally flat profile, although the surface can adopt a light ‘hollows and bumps’ morphology.

23 With the exception of one example from Mochlos ( Cat. no. 15 ); in this instance, the lid was left unslipped and unpainted. 24 Only the internal surface of the bases could be observed, due to access constraints at museum exhibitions.

On some examples, a seemingly random pattern of fractures occurs, some of them with a rounded profile ( Cat. nos. 21, 23, 24 and 28 ). Moreover, a linear fracture is often visible along the junction between the base and the lower part of the wall. On some examples, evidence for secondary forming techniques, such as scraping, occur on the internal surface, specifically near the edges and, sometimes, close to the centre. The bases do not seem to have been formed with joined elements, such as coils or slabs. The presence of curved fractures and ‘hollows and bumps’ surfaces could rather suggest the use of rounded lumps of clay pressed and joined together. The wall was built directly onto the bases, as is indicated by recurrent horizontal fractures occurring in the area where the base meets the wall. Some scraping operations were performed on the internal surface of the edges, to regularise them and perhaps to hide the junction between the base and the wall. On all examples, with the exception of one larnax from Chania and one larnax from Episkopi ( Cat. nos. 13 and 28 ), a raised strip or band runs around the external surface of the lower wall. Fractures along its upper or lower surface, as well as on its core, occur frequently. This band also usually shows evidence of smoothing operations. As was the case for chest larnakes, this external band was an added element. It was likely formed with a coil stuck on the wall, and gained its final shape through smoothing operations using a wet tool ( probably wet fingers ). The Walls

All the bathtub larnakes examined are characterised by rhythmic corrugations, often associated with horizontal discontinuous join voids ( Figs. 5 and 6 ).25 Sometimes the junctions are marked by over-thicknesses, which include visible traces of the paste and the spreading actions through which the paste was used to effect the join ( Fig. 6 ). In several cases the corrugations, especially those unusually protrusive, have been scraped with a tool in a vertical or diagonal direction. These physical attributes are linked to coil-building. Rhythmic corrugations and join voids mark the junctions between the joined coils. The over-thicknesses, visible on one example from Mochlos ( Cat. no. 19 ), indicate that the clay paste was spread and pressed in

25 One larnax from Sitia also displays numerous superimposed horizontal fractures that could demonstrate the presence of horizontal junctions ( Cat. no. 21 ).

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Fig. 5. An LBA bathtub larnax from Katsambas (Cat. no. 23), with a detail of its internal wall showing the rhythmic corrugations and join voids characteristic of coil-building (photographs by author).

Fig. 6. An LBA bathtub larnax from Mochlos (Cat. no. 19), with a detail of its internal wall showing the rhythmic corrugations and over-thicknesses characteristic of coil-building (photographs by author).

order to join the coils. Scraping operations were performed on the outer and inner faces of the bathtub, in order to increase the height of the coils and regularise the surfaces. The four walls were gradually raised together, from the bottom to the top, as is indicated by the repetition in the location of the horizontal joins, on all four sides. Often, eight to nine levels of large coils can be distinguished, each probably composed of several adjoined coils. The Rims

Most of the bathtub larnakes have morphologically similar rims, with a protruding rectangular to circular profile. One larnax from Sitia ( Cat. no. 21 ) has a projecting flat rim. The protruding circular to rectangular rims are characterised by variations in their width and profile. On the upper surface of the rim, roughly along the middle, longitudinal cracks or discontinuous join voids are visible on several larnakes. Bulges of paste, or cracks, can also be observed on some examples, in the area where the lower surface of the rim meets the external wall faces. Finally, evidence of scraping and

smoothing operations are noticeable on the upper, external and lower surfaces of the rims. This suggests that the protruding rims were formed using added elements, such as coils. It is likely that the rims were made in two steps: first, a large coil was joined to the upper surface of the wall ( using several appended coils in order to cover the whole circumference ) to form the main section of the rim; one or two other coils were then adjoined to its outer edge, and pressed against it, to form the external protrusion. This configuration is likely to have caused the longitudinal cracks or join voids on the upper surface of several bathtub larnakes’ rims. In the area where the lower surface of the rim meets the wall, a subsequent layer of clay or a coil seems to have been added in order to hide, and maybe also reinforce, the junction, causing bulges of paste on several examples. The rims were then shaped by scraping with a tool and smoothing with a wet cloth or hand. As was the case for the chest larnakes, the manufacturing process for the projecting flat rims is more difficult to reconstruct, and few technological features occur. These rims also show variations in their width

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and profile. On the example from Sitia, longitudinal fractures can be observed on the upper surface of the rim, close to its inner edge. Step-like fractures also occur on the top surface. Could flat projecting rims have been built using slabs, joined to the upper portion of the wall perpendicularly? Another manufacturing process similar to the one used for projecting rims can also be considered, but with more coils adjoined to form the external protrusion ( two to three coils? ), and substantial pressing operations in order to flatten the coils out. The Surface Finishing Operations

The external and internal faces of bathtub larnakes usually show evidence of wet smoothing, with a characteristic surface showing little ridges and partially covered non-plastic material. Given the profile and orientation of the ridges, it seems that smoothing operations were performed with a soft wet tool, such as the hand or a cloth. Both the external and internal faces of bathtub larnakes were slipped and painted, with the exception of one larnax from Palaikastro ( Cat. no. 10 ), which was only slipped on its outer wall face. Slip and painted decoration were also applied on the upper and external surfaces of the rim, and, sometimes, on the internal surface of the base ( Cat. nos. 10, 11, 18 and 19 ). A white to beige slip was used for larnakes from Palaikastro, Mochlos, Katsambas, Sitia, Piskokefalo and Pachyammos, as well as two larnakes of unknown provenance ( Cat. nos. 10, 12, 18, 19, 21, 22 and 23 ), and a yellow to beige slip for the larnax from Chania ( Cat. no. 28 ). It can be observed that more attention was paid to the inner face of bathtub larnakes than that of chest larnakes: it was usually smoothed, slipped and painted. This difference in surface finishing treatment could be related to the fact that the interiors of bathtub larnakes were supposed to be seen. This could perhaps explain why these examples are almost never found in connection with a lid. The Results of the Technological Study

In this section, I will describe the main results from the macroscopic analysis ( see above ), regarding the fashioning stage in the chaîne opératoire of LM III chest and bathtub larnakes. The sequence of steps related to the manufacturing process is followed, each

step being briefly described in terms of techniques, gestures and tools. Optional stages in the chaîne opératoire are marked as such. Due to study constraints and the small number of examples analysed, these results are preliminary and require further investigation. The Chaîne Opératoire for the Fashioning Stage of Chest-Shaped Larnakes Forming of the Base

The central section of the base is formed with lumps of clay joined by pressing them together using the hands. It is likely that the base is shaped directly on the ground. A large coil is added and joined around the central section to create the border and give the final shape to the base. Forming of the Feet (Optional)

• Cubic feet: the feet are modelled out of a lump of clay or a large coil. Scraping operations with a ribtype tool are performed. • ‘Gamma’ feet: the feet are formed with one central coil to which are joined two coils or slabs, perpendicularly.

Junction between the Feet and Base (Optional) The feet are stuck under the base, along the axes of the corners. An additional layer of soft clay can be added, under the base, to make the process of joining the feet and the base easier. This layer is stuck and pressed under the base with hands and fingers. Comment: several questions must be considered regarding the ways and means through which the feet were joined to the base: was the base soft or leatherhard at this stage? Did the base rest directly on the ground, or was it lifted at this point? Several hypotheses can be proposed: • the base was first formed on the ground, dried until it reached a leather-hard condition and was then lifted in order to add the feet; • the base was directly formed upon a raised platform26 and the feet added immediately after, while the base was still in a plastic condition; • the base was formed on the ground and cavities, directly dug into the soil, allowed the feet to be joined to the base.

26 This raised platform could simply have been created by excavating the ground around the larnax base, or built with clay or wood.

BUILDING A MINOAN LARNAX—TECHNIQUES AND GESTURES

Junction between Base and Walls

The first level of the walls is joined directly onto the base, by sticking it onto the upper surface of its border. Addition of a Raised External Band (Optional)

A raised strip is added, around the lower part of the chest, in the area where the base meets the external face of the walls. It is formed with a thin coil, or little pieces of soft clay, stuck on the walls, and shaped by smoothing with a wet tool, likely the hand or a cloth. Forming of the Walls

• Slab-building: the walls are formed with successive levels of rectangular-shaped joined slabs. The slabs are preformed, likely by pressing them on a flat surface or by flattening them with a rolling pin-type tool, and maybe cut out with a blade. They are stuck and joined, one next to the other, by pressing their edges together with the hands. A variation of this technique could consist of using large strips of clay, as long as the walls. The corners are formed during the manufacture of the body, by sticking the slabs together perpendicularly. Comment: it is possible that an external support was used during the forming of the walls in order to support the slabs or strips, and to prevent the walls from collapsing. The support was removed for the formation of the raised frames, if any, and the rims. • Coil-building: the walls are formed with successive levels of joined coils. Coils are joined, one next to the other, by pressing and scraping them with the hands or a scraping tool. They are drawn out with the fingers and scraped with the fingers, or with a rib-type tool, in a vertical or oblique direction. The corners are formed in the course of manufacture, using scraping operations with the hands or a rib-type tool. Another variation consists of adding a coil or superimposed lumps of clay along the vertical junctions between the four walls, in a vertical axis, and shaping them by scraping.

Smoothing Operations on the External Wall Faces

Smoothing operations are likely performed during the walls’ manufacture, with wet hands or a wet cloth. They are performed on the chest’s external wall faces.27

27 However, few chest larnakes’ internal wall faces could be studied, so that there is, at this stage, very little information regarding the surface finishing.

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Addition of Raised Frames (Optional) Raised frames are formed by sticking pieces of soft clay on the external surface of the corners, and shaping them by scraping with the fingers or a rib-type tool, and smoothing with wet hands or a cloth. This additional layer of clay is first stuck on the external surface of the feet, and then progressively added from the bottom to the top of the corners. Forming of the Rim

• Circular or rectangular protruding rim: a coil is added and joined to the upper surface of the walls. It is shaped by scraping, with a rib-type tool, and smoothing with wet hands or a wet cloth. The junction between the rim and the external wall faces is often hidden with an additional layer of moist clay. • Raised band: a thin coil or little pieces of moist clay are stuck on the upper external face of the chest, and shaped by smoothing with a wet tool, likely the hands or a cloth. • Flat projecting rim: leather-hard slabs are joined to the upper portion of the walls, perpendicularly?

Forming of the Lid

• Flat lid: the lid is formed with large lumps of clay stuck together, likely in a mould or in a simple former. It is cut along the middle, in order to be separated into two parts. • Gabled lid: the lid is formed with successive levels of joined elements, likely coils. The walls are raised from the bottom to the top. The internal surface is scraped with the fingers, or with a tool, in order to draw out the joined elements. Regular partial drying phases are probably performed in order to allow the walls to strengthen. The lid is then closed at the top with lumps of clay joined next to each other. Comment: the gabled lids are likely formed and erected directly upon the chests. This configuration allows the lids to match perfectly with the chests.

Smoothing Operations on the External Faces of the Lid Smoothing operations were likely performed during the manufacture of the lid, with wet hands or a wet cloth. They were performed on the lid’s external wall faces.

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Drying of the Chest and Lid

The larnax is then left to dry, the lid likely still resting upon the chest. Comment: It is likely that larnakes required a long time to dry, given the thickness of the walls ( two to three centimetres ).28 Application of the Slip on the External Wall and Lid Faces (Optional) The external wall faces of the chest and lid are slipped using a soft tool such as a cloth. Application of Painted Decoration on the External Wall and Lid Faces (Optional)

Painted decoration is applied to the external wall faces of the chest and lid. The paint used is usually monochrome.29 Comment: little information is known regarding the type of tool used to paint the walls.30 The Chaîne Opératoire for the Fashioning Stage of Bathtub Larnakes Forming of the Base

The base is formed with large lumps of clay joined and pressed together. The internal surface can be scraped with a rib-type tool. Junction between Base and Wall

The first level of the wall is joined directly onto the base, by sticking it onto the upper surface of the base’s circumference. The base’s internal surface in the vicinity of this seam is scraped with a rib-type tool, in order to hide the junction. Addition of a Raised Band (Optional)

preceding layer, in order to give the bathtub a flared profile. Coils are drawn out with the hands, and scraping operations are performed on the outer and inner faces of the wall to increase its height and regularise the surface. Smoothing Operations on the External and Internal Wall Faces

Smoothing operations are likely performed during the manufacture of the wall, with wet hands or a wet cloth. They are performed on both the larnax’s external and internal wall faces. Forming of the Rim

• Protruding circular to rectangular rim: a large coil is joined to the upper surface of the wall to form the main section of the rim. One or two other coils are laterally adjoined to the first one and pressed against it in order to form the externally protruding area. A subsequent layer of moist clay is added to hide the external junction between the rim and the wall. • Flat projecting rim: leather-hard slabs are joined to the upper portion of the wall perpendicularly. Alternatively, it can also be hypothesised that a similar process as the one used for the protruding rims is performed, but with more coils laterally adjoined to the main section and substantial pressing and stretching operations.

Drying of the Bathtub Larnax

The bathtub is left to dry. Comment: It is likely that larnakes required a long time to dry, given the thickness of the wall ( two to three centimetres ).31

A raised strip is added around the lower part of the bathtub, in the area where the base meets the walls. It is likely formed with a coil, stuck on the wall, and shaped by smoothing with a wet tool, such as a hand or cloth.

Application of the Slip on the External Wall Face

Forming of the Wall

Application of the Slip on the Internal Wall Face (Optional)

The wall is formed by coil-building. It is gradually raised with successive levels of joined coils, each of which is positioned progressively further outwards than the

28 Mr G. Dalamvelas, a potter from the Cretan village of Margaritès, considers that the drying process of a larnax could have lasted one to two weeks. 29 Only one chest larnax, in the study corpus, displays polychromatic painted decoration with red and blue to green paints (Cat. no. 27).

The external face of the wall of the bathtub larnax is slipped using a soft tool such as a cloth.

The internal face of the wall of the bathtub larnax is slipped using a soft tool such as a cloth.

30 It is likely some kind of paintbrush made of vegetal fibres or animal hair was used. 31 See n. 28.

BUILDING A MINOAN LARNAX—TECHNIQUES AND GESTURES

Application of the Slip on the Internal Surface of the Base (Optional)

The internal surface of the bathtub larnax’s base is slipped using a soft tool such as a cloth. Application of Painted Decoration on the External and Internal Wall Faces

Painted decoration is applied on the external and internal wall faces of bathtub larnakes. The paint used is usually monochrome. Comment: little information is known regarding the type of tool that could have been used to paint the walls.32 Synthesis and Discussion

The preliminary results of this analysis allow us to consider the different stages of the chest and bathtub larnakes’ chaînes opératoires that constitute their fashioning phase, from the forming of the base to the surface finishing operations, ending with the drying process. Both chest and bathtub larnakes were built with a technique based on joined elements: their walls were raised in successive, superimposed levels of joined elements ( coils or slabs ), from the bottom to the top. Several factors, however distinguish the two chaînes opératoires; in the case of the chest larnakes, the addition of feet or raised elements such as frames led to substantial additional stages in the manufacturing process, as well as the requirement for specific techniques and methods ( making the join between the base and feet, the potential lifting of the base, the preparation and addition of moist clay on the walls, etc. ). The possible use of slab-building, likely in conjunction with the use of an external support, to build some chest larnakes ( see below ), also constitutes a very diagnostic criterion to distinguish between the two shapes and their related techniques. Moreover, the forming of the lid also follows its own manufacturing process ( flat lid formed with lumps of clay joined and pressed, likely in a mould; gabled lid formed with successive levels of joined elements, until the lid is closed at the top with adjoined lumps of clay ), that requires distinctive techniques and methods. It may be hypothesised that these differences within the fashioning stage of the chaînes operatoires for chest and bathtub larnakes imply the existence of two specific groups of craftsmen, in charge of the production of either one shape or the other.

32 See n. 30.

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However, several differences also occur in the chaînes opératoires of the chest larnakes examined. The most striking is the possible use of slab-building to raise the walls of some examples ( Cat. nos. 6, 8, 9 and 26 ), instead of coil-building ( Cat. nos. 1, 4, 14, 15 and 16 ). The use of slab-building indeed leads to a very distinctive chaîne opératoire characterised by its own techniques ( preforming of slabs, seams between adjoined slabs ), gestures ( pressing the edges of the slabs together without deforming them ), tools ( potential use of an external support ) and, thus, craftsmanship. Other forms of variation also occur, such as the optional addition of feet, within the forming processes for the feet ( cubic feet formed from a lump or a coil and shaped by scraping, ‘gamma’ feet formed using joined elements ) or in the forming process of the rim ( a protruding rim formed with joined coils shaped by scraping and smoothing, a flat rim formed with joined slabs... ). Important variations in the fashioning stage of the chaîne opératoire for chest larnakes thus occur, and distinct forming techniques were probably used to build the same shape. These differences could be associated with the existence of several workshops in LBA Crete with separate crafting traditions. It is, however, difficult at this stage to determine the number, location and geographic boundaries of these workshops. The study of more items and a comparison of technological data with morphological, stylistic and petrographical data are needed. The fashioning stage of the bathtub larnakes’ chaîne opératoire is, in contrast, more homogeneous, and the primary and secondary forming techniques used are very similar: coil-building, scraping and smoothing operations on the inner and outer wall faces, with the rim usually formed using a main coil to which are laterally adjoined one or two additional coils. This implies the existence of a technical tradition, shared by larnax makers during the LBA in eastern and central Crete. Conclusions

The preliminary results from the LBA larnakes’ technological study presented here reveal that there were recognisably different ways to make a larnax. These differences within the fashioning stage of the chaîne opératoire are likely connected to the existence of distinct groups of craftsmen and workshops in LBA Crete. It is, however, premature to speculate on the

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number, nature and locations of these workshops, and further studies, taking into account complementary data ( technological, morphological, stylistic and petrographical ), must be undertaken. Substantial technological and petrographical studies are currently being conducted to complete this analysis. A technological analysis of a wider study corpus is in progress, taking into account several further chest and bathtub larnakes from western, central and eastern Crete. Moreover, this analysis also includes fragments of larnakes, allowing us to propose

a more detailed description of the techniques used and a better reconstruction of the different stages of the manufacturing process. An experimental project, in collaboration with traditional potters from Margaritès—Mr G. Dalamvelas, Mrs M. Dalamvelas and Mr D. Didier—is currently ongoing; it aims to reproduce a LBA chest larnax, and considers the whole chaîne opératoire, from the clay supply to the firing. Such a project will help to reconstruct the chest larnakes’ manufacturing process, and deepen our comprehension of the technical abilities required.

Catalogue

Abbreviations H. height; L. length; W. width 1) Ligortynos ( Louvre Museum CA 922 ): L. 125 cm, W. 46 cm, H. 50 cm. Chest larnax without feet, flat lid. Chronology: LM IIIA1/2. Bibliography: D’Agata 2015, figs. 8 I.8–9. 2) Ligortynos ( Louvre Museum CA 921 ): L. 105 cm, W. 42 cm, H. without lid 88 cm. Chest larnax with four feet, gabled lid. Chronology: LM IIIA2/B. Bibliography: Rutkowski 1966, tabs. XI 1–2, XII 1–3; D’Agata 2015, fig. 7. 3) Ligortynos ( Louvre Museum CA 923 ): L. 105 cm, W. 53 cm, H. 69 cm. Chest larnax with four feet, no lid. Chronology: LM IIIA2/B. Bibliography: D’Agata 2015, fig. 8 I.10. 4) Gazi (Heraklion Museum Π18985) (Fig. 3): L. 90 cm, W. 37 cm, H. 68 cm. Chest larnax with four feet, no lid. Chronology: LM IIIB. Bibliography: Alexiou 1972, figs. 24 α–β. 5) Kavrochori ( Heraklion Museum ): L. 102 cm, W. 47 cm, H. without lid 66 cm, H. with lid 104 cm. Chest larnax with four feet, gabled lid. Chronology: LM IIIA2/B. Bibliography: Merousis 2013, fig. 10b. 6) Knossos ( Heraklion Museum Π8195 ): L. 104 cm, W. 44 cm, H. without lid 66 cm. Chest larnax with four feet, no lid. Chronology: LM IIIA2. Bibliography: Morgan 1987, figs. 1–10. 7) Giofyrakia (Heraklion Museum Π12027): L. 94 cm, W. 42 cm, H. without lid 79 cm, H. with lid 115 cm. Chest larnax with four feet, gabled lid.

Chronology: LM IIIA. Bibliography: Merousis 2013, fig. 12b. 8) Archanes Phourni ( Heraklion Museum Π33412 ) ( Fig. 1 ): L. 128 cm, W. 54 cm, H. without lid 80 cm, H. with lid 100 cm. Chest larnax with four feet, gabled lid. Chronology: LM IIIB. Bibliography: Sakellaraki, Sakellaraki 1997, fig. 120. 9) Palaikastro ( Heraklion Museum Π1619 ) ( Fig. 2 ): L. 120 cm, W. 44 cm, H. without lid 67 cm, H. with lid 100 cm. Chest larnax with four feet, gabled lid. Chronology: LM IIIA2. Bibliography: Bosanquet 1901–1902, pls. XVIII–XIX. 10) Palaikastro ( Heraklion Museum Π7396 ): L. 68 cm, W. 38 cm, H. 43 cm. Bathtub larnax without lid. Chronology: LM IIIA2. Bibliography: Bosanquet, Dawkins 1923, pl. XXXIV. 11) Pachyammos (Heraklion Museum Π3689): L. 74 cm, W. 45 cm, H. 46 cm. Bathtub larnax without lid. Chronology: LM IIIΒ. Bibliography: Boyd Hawes et al. 1908, pls. 10, 44. 12) Pachyammos (Heraklion Museum Π9499): L. 82 cm, W. 34 cm, H. 49 cm. Bathtub larnax without lid. Chronology: LM IIIA2/B. Bibliography: Kanta 1980, pls. 56, 3–4, 52, 4. 13) Episkopi Ierapetra ( Heraklion Museum Π7624 ): L. 63 cm, W. 39 cm, H. 38 cm. Bathtub larnax without lid. Chronology: LM IIIA2/B. Bibliography: Rutkowski 1966, pls. XXV, 1–3.

BUILDING A MINOAN LARNAX—TECHNIQUES AND GESTURES

14) Sfaka ( Sitia Museum ΜΣ9987 ) ( Fig. 4 ): L. 102 cm, W. 38 cm, H. without lid 35 cm, H. with lid 60 cm. Chest larnax without feet, gabled lid. Chronology: LM IIIA1. Bibliography: Kanta 1980, pl. 66, 6. 15) Mochlos ( Sitia Museum ΜΣ11340 ): L. 120 cm, W. 43 cm, H. without lid 46 cm, H. with lid 74 cm. Chest larnax without feet, gabled lid. Chronology: LM IIIA1/2. Bibliography: Soles, Davaras 2008, pl. 20b. 16) Mochlos ( Sitia Museum ΜΣ9947 ): L. 135 cm, W. 48 cm, H. without lid 53 cm. Chest larnax without feet, no lid. Chronology: LM IIIA1/2. Bibliography: Soles, Davaras 2008, pls. 18 a–b. 17) Mochlos ( Sitia Museum ): L. 119 cm, W. 46 cm, H. without lid 55 cm, H. with lid 85 cm. Chest larnax without feet, gabled lid. Chronology: LM IIIA2. Bibliography: Soles, Davaras 2008, pl. 28 a–b. 18) Mochlos ( Sitia Museum ΜΣ12033 ): L. 75 cm, W. 35 cm, H. 54 cm. Bathtub larnax without lid. Chronology: LM IIIA1/2. Bibliography: Soles, Davaras 2008, pl. 22 c. 19) Mochlos ( Sitia Museum ΜΣ11370 ) ( Fig. 6 ): L. 78 cm, W. 44 cm, H. 52 cm. Bathtub larnax without lid. Chronology: LM IIIA2/B. Bibliography: Soles, Davaras 2008, pls. 17 b–c. 20) Petras Papoura (Sitia Museum ΜΣ3530): L. 106 cm, W. 48 cm, H. without lid 75 cm, H. with lid 104 cm. Chest larnax with four feet, gabled lid. Chronology: LM IIIA2/B. Bibliography: Tsipopoulou, Vagnetti 1995, figs. 99–101. 21) Sitia (Sitia Museum ΜΣ10005): L. 82 cm, W. 38 cm, H. 48 cm. Bathtub larnax without lid.

83

Chronology: LM IIIA2/B. Bibliography: Tsipopoulou, Vagnetti 1997, pl. CLXXX b. 22) Piskokefalo ( Sitia Museum ): L. 91 cm, W. 37 cm, H. 41 cm. Bathtub larnax without lid. Chronology: LM IIIC. Bibliography: Tsipopoulou, Vagnetti 1997, pl. CLXXXII. 23) Katsambas ( Sitia Museum ΜΣ7874 ) ( Fig. 5 ): L. 85 cm, W. 45 cm, H. 48 cm. Bathtub larnax without lid. Chronology: LM IIIA/B. Bibliography: Kanta 1980, pl. 71, 10. 24) Unknown ( Sitia Museum ΜΣ9883 ): L. 96 cm, W. 48 cm, H. 46 cm. Bathtub larnax without lid. Chronology: LM IIIC. Bibliography: Tsipopoulou, Vagnetti 1997, pls. CLXXXVII c–d 25) Unknown ( Sitia Museum ): L. 85 cm, W. 40 cm, H. 47 cm. Bathtub larnax without lid. Chronology: LM IIIA/C. Bibliography: Tsipopoulou, Vagnetti 1997, pl. CLXXXVIII. 26) Unknown ( Sitia Museum ΜΣ9986 ): unknown measurements. Chest larnax with four feet, no lid. Chronology: LM IIIA/C. Unpublished. 27) Dramia ( Chania Museum Π1187 ): L. 109 cm, W. 40 cm, H. without lid 65 cm. Chest larnax with six feet, no lid. Chronology: LM IIIA2. Unpublished. 28) Chania ( Chania Museum Π6068 ): L. 61 cm, W. 37 cm, H. 46 cm. Bathtub larnax without lid. Chronology: LM IIIB. Bibliography: Niniou-Kindeli 1983, fig. 157 γ; Andreadaki-Vlasaki 1997, pl. IIIb.

Bibliography

Alberti L. ( 2013 ) Middle Minoan III burial customs at Knossos: a pianissimo intermezzo?, in C.F. Macdonald, C. Knappett eds., INTERMEZZO: Intermediacy and Regeneration in Middle Minoan III Palatial Crete, BSA Studies 21, London, 47–55. Alexiou S. ( 1972 ) Lárnakes kai angeía ek táfou para to Gázi Iraklióu ( Λάρνακες και αγγεία εκ τάφου παρα το Γάζι Ηρακλιόυ ), ArchEph 111, 86–98. Andreadaki-Vlasaki M. ( 1997 ) La nécropole du Minoen récent III de la ville de La Canée, in: J. Driessen, A. Farnoux eds., La Crete mycenienne.

Actes de la table ronde internationale organisee par l’Ecole francaise d’Athenes, Ecole francaise d’Athenes, 26–28 mars 1991, BCH Suppl. 30, Athens, 487–509. Apostolakou S. ( 1998 [2002] ) Ysterominoikoì III Táphoi sti Gra Lygìa Ierapetrás (Υστερομινοικοί ΙΙΙ Τάφοι στη Γρά Λυγία Ιεράπετρας), ArchDelt 53 A, 25–88. Bosanquet R.C. ( 1901–1902 ) Excavations at Palaikastro I, BSA 8, 286–316.

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Bosanquet R.C., Dawkins R.M. ( 1923 ) The Unpublished Objects from the Palaikastro Excavations: 1902–1906, BSA Suppl. Papers 1, 1–160. Boyd Hawes H., Williams B.E., Seager R.B., Hall E.H. ( 1908 ) Gournia, Vasiliki and other Prehistoric Sites of the Isthmus of Hierapetra, Crete. Excavations of the Wells-Houston-Cramp Expeditions, 1901, 1903, 1904, Philadelphia. Cook J.M., Boardman J. ( 1954 ) Archaeology in Greece in 1953, JHS 74, 142–169. D’Agata A.L. ( 2015 ) Funerary behaviour and social identities in LM III Crete: the evidence from the chamber tombs at Ligortyno, SMEA N.S. 1, 57–103. Forsdyke E.J. ( 1926–1927 ) The Mavro Spelio Cemetery at Knossos, BSA 28, 243–296. Gosselain O.P. ( 2002 ) Poteries du Cameroun méridional. Styles, techniques et rapport à l’identité, Paris. Kanta A. ( 1980 ) The Late Minoan III Period in Crete: a Survey of Sites, Pottery and their Distribution, SIMA 58, Göteborg. Livingstone Smith A. ( 2007 ) Chaîne opératoire de la poterie. Références ethnographiques, analyse et reconstitution, Tervuren. Manning S.W. ( 2010 ) Chronology and terminology, in: E.H. Cline ed., The Oxford Handbook of the Bronze Age Aegean ( ca. 3000–1000 BC ), Oxford, 11–28. Merousis N. ( 2014–2018 [2018] ) I diadikasía paragogís Ysterominoikón III larnákon kai éna «ergastírio» tis Mesáras ( Η διαδικασία παραγωγής Υστερομινοικών III λαρνάκων και ένα «εργαστήριο» της Μεσάρας ), Kretika Estia 15, 23–49. Merousis N. ( 2018 ) Larnax-painters and vasepainters: vitae parallelae in Late Minoan III Crete, in: A.G. Vlachopoulos ed., ΧΡΩΣΤΗΡΕΣ. PAINTBRUSHES Wall-Painting and Vase-Painting of the Second Millennium BC in Dialogue, Proceedings of the International Conference on Aegean Iconography held at Akrotiri, Thera, 24–26 May 2013, Athens, 339–358.

Morgan L. ( 1987 ) A Minoan larnax from Knossos, BSA 82, 171–200. Niniou-Kindeli V. ( 1983 [1989] ) Chaniá: Oikópedo A. Saganáki ( Χανιά: Οικόπεδο Α. Σαγανάκη ), ArchDelt 38 Β2, 360. Rice P.M. ( 1987 ) Pottery Analysis. A Source Book, Chicago and London. Roux V. ( 2016a ) Ceramic manufacture: the chaîne opératoire approach, in: A. Hunt ed., Oxford Handbook of Archaeological Ceramic Analysis, Oxford, 101–113. Roux V. ( 2016b ) Des céramiques et des hommes. Décoder les assemblages archéologiques, Nanterre. Rutkowski B. ( 1966 ) Larnaksy egejskie, Bibliotheca Antica VII, Wrocław. Rye O.S. ( 1981 ) Pottery Technology: Principles and Reconstruction, Manuals on Archaeology 4, Washington, D.C. Sakellaraki G., Sakellaraki E. ( 1997 ) Archánes: mia néa matiá sti minoikí Kríti ( Αρχάνες: μια νέα ματιά στη μινωική Κρήτη ), Athens. Soles J.S., Davaras K. eds. (2008) Mochlos II A. Period 4. The Mycenaean Settlement and Cemetery. The Sites, Philadelphia. Tsipopoulou M., Vagnetti L. ( 1995 ) Ipotesi su un’officina per la produzione de larnakes nella regione di Sitia, in: M. Tsipopoulou, L. Vagnetti eds., ACHLADIA. Scavi e ricerche della Missione GrecoItaliana in Creta Orientale ( 1991–1993 ), Incunabula Graeca 97, Rome, 131–145. Tsipopoulou M., Vagnetti L. ( 1997 ) Workshop attributions for some Late Minoan III east Cretan larnakes, in: R. Laffineur, P.P. Betancourt eds., TEXHN: Craftsmen, Craftswomen and Craftsmanship in the Aegean Bronze Age, Proceedings of the 6th International Aegean Conference, Philadelphia, Temple University, 18–21 April 1996, Aegaeum 16, Liège and Austin, 473–488. Xanthoudides S. ( 1918 [1921] ) Mégas protominoikós Táphos Púrgou ( Μέγας Προτομινωικός Τάφος Πύργου ), ArchDelt 4, 136–170.

Jan Sienkiewicz

University of Cambridge, UK https://orcid.org/0000-0003-0496-8919

PROBLEMATISING PEAK SANCTUARIES SHOULD DIFFERENCES MAKE A DIFFERENCE? 1

Abstract: The criteria for the identification of the sites known as peak sanctuaries have been debated within the scholarship concerned with Bronze Age Crete for decades. Although this issue continues to re-emerge in the case of individual sites, a relative consensus has been reached regarding the defining characteristics of this type of cult place. Throughout this time the information available about confirmed and excavated peak sanctuaries has been scarce, limiting access to the evidence for the wider scholarly community. Thanks to recent publications, however, it is now possible to get past the issues of definition and to focus on getting a better understanding of the variability hidden behind definitions and characteristics. This paper, whilst accepting peak sanctuaries as representing a distinct type of ritual place and space, seeks to problematise this category through showing the interpretative challenges posed by the complex interplay of similarity and difference exhibited in the discussed case studies. It argues that peak sanctuaries, being simply an ‘idea’ of a religious ritual, may have had different functions and meanings for the different communities involved. Thus, a more site- and region-specific approach is advocated in preference to discussing peak sanctuaries as a uniform category. Keywords: Bronze Age, Crete, peak sanctuaries, site- and region-specific approach. This is an open access publication made available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International Licence. Sympozjum Egejskie: Papers in Aegean Archaeology 3, ed. by S. Aulsebrook, K. Żebrowska, A. Ulanowska, and K. Lewartowski, WSA 3 ( Turnhout: Brepols, 2022 ), pp. 85–98. 10.1484/M.WSA-EB.5.128954

Introduction

Peak sanctuary, as a distinct type of ritual site, has been recognised since the very beginning of archaeological investigations into the prehistory of Crete. Initially, after the coining of the term by J. Myres to describe the site of Petsophas,2 new sites of a similar character were identified,3 although the ritual itself did not receive much direct study.

From the second half of the 20th century onwards, peak sanctuaries started to be investigated more systematically, either through field survey 4 or excavations,5 often conducted as rescue fieldwork. These investigations were rarely published,6 and reports were either preliminary or focused on particular find classes and objects.7 Still, this thrust of research allowed for

1 This paper is a summary of my thesis submitted for the degree of MA in Mediterranean Archaeology at University College London, in 2016. I am deeply thankful to Prof. Todd Whitelaw, my supervisor at the time, for his guidance, as well as to Prof. Krzysztof Nowicki, Dr Borja Legarra Herrero and Dr Corina Riva for their help. I also want to thank my current supervisor, Dr Yannis Galanakis, for reviewing the manuscript of this paper. 2 Myres 1902/1903.

3 Evans 1921, 151–159; Pendlebury 1939, 102–103; Nilsson 1950, 68–76. 4 Faure 1963. 5 Davaras 1972; 1975; Karetsou 1981. 6 There are several preliminary publications in Greek which, although rarely properly referenced by the ‘international’ scholarship, do not seem to alter the picture available through reports written in English or French. 7 See footnote n. 5.

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the publication of the first synthesis of peak sanctuary material within a more general study of Aegean cult places,8 and peak sanctuaries began to feature in general works concerning the Bronze Age societies of Crete.9 By the 1980s there were around 50 sites considered to be peak sanctuaries,10 but a later revision of the identifying criteria filtered out many non-ritual sites from the category, bringing down the total number to some 25.11 This revised categorisation was generally accepted, and subsequent fieldwork has brought to light many new sites that had all the defining characteristics of a peak sanctuary.12 The re-examination of previously identified sanctuaries and of the material from their excavations provided much needed information on a number of key sites 13 and helped to further refine our list,14 which now totals 45.15 The issue of definition continues to attract scholarship’s attention.16 Yet, although it has been noted that the question of what peak sanctuaries ‘are’ is certainly worthwhile, it is equally significant to ask what they ‘do’.17 Whilst our artefact checklists and topographic criteria have led to the identification of a seemingly coherent group of sites that represent a specific set of ritual activities, in order to examine the meaning and function of these sites for the ritual participants a much more detailed examination of the evidence is required. This paper aims to problematise the use of peak sanctuaries ‘as an etic category’ and to question the unitary interpretations of the peak sanctuary ritual and its meaning for the Bronze Age societies on Crete ( and beyond ). In order to do so, it will first explore five different case studies from among the better-published sites, highlighting the variability inherent in the category, and discussing the interpretative implications of the identified site-specific patterning in ritual material. Secondly, it will refer back to earlier interpretations to show how the presented evidence complicates our ability to offer any unitary explanation for the peak sanctuary phenomenon. Ultimately, it will argue that the key to making sense of the complex interplay of

The first site explored here can be considered emblematic of the ‘rural’ peak sanctuaries, situated away from any known prominent settlement and likely serving rather small communities.18 It yielded the canonical set of material, namely figurines, pottery and pebbles. The vast majority of diagnostic pottery dates to the Middle Minoan ( MM ) II period, but some material appears to suggest that the sanctuary was founded in MM I.19 At Atsipades, figurine fragments outnumber sherds ( 5000 as opposed to 2500 ),20 suggesting their deposition was a key aspect of the rites performed in its temenos. The majority of the figurines depict bovines 21 and, since the reinterpretation of the ‘phalli’ as broken-off arms of human figurines, the local peculiarity appears to be the almost complete lack of the so-called ‘votive limbs’.22 Pottery is largely undecorated.23 Perhaps the most significant aspect of ritual at Atsipades, however, is the patterning in the deposition of human figurines. On the site’s upper terrace, around a scatter of river pebbles that appear to have marked the ritual focus, there was a concentration of figurines with ‘armsto-chest’ gestures ( Fig. 1 ). Female figurines occupied the centre of the area, while male figurines were scattered more on the periphery. The ‘open-arms’ group constituted an almost separate scatter on the lower terrace, where genders were more mixed and male figurines were slightly more numerous.24 This division of ritual space is corroborated by differences in vessel shapes used between the two terraces, with cups and shallow dishes predominant on the lower terrace, and larger vessels, jars and ‘libation’ vessels on the upper terrace.25

Rutkowski 1972. E.g. Bintliff 1977, 153; Cherry 1978, 429–431. Peatfield 1983; Rutkowski 1988, 78–98. Peatfield 1987; 1990. Peatfield 1992a; 1992b; Nowicki 1994; 2007a; 2018; Sakellarakis 1996; Kyriakidis 2005; Rethemiotakis 2009, 189; Haysom 2015, 97. 13 Rutkowski 1991; Chryssoulaki 2001; Tzachili 2003; 2012; Faro 2008; Karetsou 2014. 14 Davaras 2010. 15 Nowicki 2018.

16 Briault 2007; Nowicki 2007b, 577; 2012, 154; Karetsou 2014, 136. 17 Sienkiewicz 2016. 18 Nowicki 1994, 41–42. 19 Peatfield 1992a, 71. 20 Peatfield 1992a, 64. 21 Peatfield 1992a, 72. 22 Morris, Peatfield 2002, 109. 23 Morris, Peatfield 1995, 645. 24 Peatfield et al. 1998, 122. 25 Peatfield 1992a, 68–69.

8 9 10 11 12

similarity and difference witnessed across sites is to approach them through a multi-scalar ‘landscape perspective’, seeking out patterns that can be related to social, cultural, economic and political processes manifested on the local, regional and supra-regional levels. Atsipades

PROBLEMATISING PEAK SANCTUARIES

The ritually enacted division of space at Atsipades seems to pertain not only to the performance of different activities, but also to the structuring of the ritual along gender lines. This is significant, since the sanctuary yielded no high( er ) value objects26 and no architectural remains, suggesting low material investment, which in turn is likely reflective of the small, egalitarian nature of the communities it served, where gender, together with age, must have been the main structuring principles of social relations. It is unclear whether the patterning seen at Atsipades is unique, since no other published site to date has been investigated in the same systematic way. However, what we can begin to appreciate already are the potential variations in the assemblage composition ( e.g., the scarcity of votive limbs ), as well as the relationship between the material expression of a ritual ( if not the ritual in itself ) and the structure and organisation of the population involved. These two points will become more apparent with the discussion of the other case studies.

Petsophas

Petsophas lies in close proximity to the sizeable town of Palaikastro, the population of which it undoubtedly served. It was used from MM I to the end of the Neopalatial period and it is one of the few sanctuaries that received architectural elaboration, making it perhaps “east Crete’s most important... peak sanctuary”. 27 It yielded “thousands” of animal figurines,28 a number of human figurines 29 and votive limbs, but the pottery, though certainly present in some quantity, is barely mentioned in excavation reports.30 With regard to the architecture, terracing walls constructed on the peak were likely erected already in MM II.31 Subsequent MM III–Late Minoan ( LM ) I construction is unfortunately badly preserved, hindering our ability to speculate on its original shape or size.32 The remains of schist and plaster flooring 33 suggest it may have been an actual building; however its direct ritual function cannot be proven, and it could have been just as well used for storage.34

Fig. 1. The distribution of human figurines from the ‘closed’ and ‘open’ gesture groups. Adapted from: Peatfield, Morris 2012, 240.

26 Here the high( er )-value objects are those generally considered as such in the context of peak sanctuaries ( see Haysom 2018, 22 ), although the Linear A inscribed objects are considered separately ( see below ). 27 MacGillivray, Sackett 2010, 571. 28 Bosanquet 1902/1903, 276.

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29 30 31 32 33 34

One-hundred and eighty catalogued by B. Rutkowski ( 1991 ). See Myres 1902/1903, 378–380. Rutkowski 1991, x. Peatfield 1994, 220. Myres 1902/1903, 358. Kyriakidis 2005, 105–106.

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Tab. 1. High( er )-value objects from peak sanctuaries. Grey indicates presence, with the frequency given when reported. BRONZE FIGURINES

VOTIVE DOUBLE AXES ( METAL )

>84

2

Jouktas

6

28

Kophinas

2

1

Ag. Georgios

JEWELLERY ( GOLD )

JEWELLERY ( STONE )

WEAPONS, METAL CUT-OUTS

4

Atsipades Gournos

2

3

>20

Petsophas

1?

Traostalos

5

Vrysinas

2

>1

>2

Tab. 2. The number of objects with Linear A inscriptions from peak sanctuaries. Grey indicates presence, with the frequency given when reported. INSCRIBED OBJECT ( BY OBJECT TYPE ) SANCTUARY

STONE LIBATION VESSELS

Ag. Georgios

1

Jouktas

15

METAL OBJECTS ( RING/PIN/ OTHER )

CLAY VESSELS ( COMPLETE/SHERDS )

1 1

11

Traostalos Vrysinas

OTHER

1 1

Kophinas Petsophas

WALL PLASTER

3

1

1

In terms of figurines, although it was the anthropomorphic ones that received most attention,35 like at Atsipades, the vast majority seems to have represented bovines. It has been remarked that the figurines appear to have been made of local clays.36 A peculiar feature of Petsophas are the ‘clay balls’ found in “very large number[s]”.37 Another characteristic is the presence of schist discs of unknown function, which have been recorded at sanctuaries in east Crete, but not elsewhere on the island.38 Despite its potential prominence, there is little at Petsophas that might be considered of high( er ) value ( Tab. 1 ) or be linked to some material expression of social differentiation. The only items that could be interpreted as such are the eleven Linear A inscribed ‘offering tables’, which are also attested at other Neopalatial peak sanctuaries, many of which bear a similar ‘libation formula’ 39 ( Tab. 2 ). Literacy has been argued to be a prerequisite for the development

of a more uniform, ‘doctrinal’ mode of religiosity and religious ( ritual ) practice;40 but it may also be used as a tool in exclusionary practices, especially among largely illiterate societies.41 Thus, the evidence provided by the inscribed offering tables can be suggestive both of the existence of some overarching and increasingly standardised religious system encompassing most of Crete and of a differentiation within the ritual practice dictated by the participants’ knowledge, in this case that of writing. Both cases, however, only apply to the Neopalatial period. Although one could make a case for some differentiation within the ritual practice based on the evidence of the inscribed offering tables, the overall picture presented by Petsophas indicates a surprisingly low investment, both individual and institutional, for a cult centre serving a site like Palaikastro. Furthermore, this peak sanctuary also leaves us with a problem of interpreting the degrees of variability in ritual practice.

35 Myres 1902/1903; Rutkowski 1991. 36 MacGillivray, Sackett 2010, 576. 37 Myres 1902/1903, 379. Single examples are also reported from Jouktas and Agios Georgios ( Sakellarakis 1996, 54 ), however they are reported in large numbers only at Petsophas.

38 39 40 41

Nowicki 2012, 145. Younger, Rehak 2008, 176–177. Whitehouse 2000, 179–180. Goody 1968.

PROBLEMATISING PEAK SANCTUARIES

Here we witness a site-specific peculiarity in the form of the numerous clay balls, a regional feature represented by the schist discs and, lastly, the general range of material, as well as the inscribed objects, that indicate that this sanctuary was part of a wider network of religious practices. Should we ignore the differences and focus on the similarities with other sites? If we are to take the differences into account, how much interpretative weight should we place on them? Jouktas

Jouktas is the most long-lived peak sanctuary ( MM I– LM III ), if not the first site of this type. It is arguably the most prominent due to its association with Knossos,42 with which it is visually connected.43 The site yielded monumental architecture, “thousands” of figurines, as well as an array of other objects, including seals, a sealing, fine items of stone and metal ( including gold jewellery and an exceptional cache of 28 bronze double-axes ) and the highest number of inscribed offering tables, which altogether make it the ‘richest’ peak sanctuary ( see Tables 1 and 2 ). Although Jouktas may have started as a cult site for nearby Archanes, by MM IB it appears to have been incorporated into the expanding Knossian polity.44 The earliest architectural features, an ‘altar’ and terraces, as well as the double-axe hoard, can be dated to the Protopalatial period.45 It is the early Neopalatial phase, however, that seems to have marked the most important moment in the sanctuary’s existence. MM III constructions included a multiroom building erected next to the terraces and the altar, and another “auxiliary” building at Alonaki, north of the site.46 Both buildings exhibit considerable labour expenditure, and the latter in particular showcases impressive material investment, with masonry of ‘palatial’ character and colourful schist flooring of non-local stone.47 In fact, the MM III peak sanctuary at Jouktas appears to have been a ( central? ) part of a large ritual complex that also included the shrine at Anemospilia,48 the Chosto Nero cave sanctuary

42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52

Nowicki 2019. Day, Wilson 2002, 157–158. See Whitelaw 2004, 245. Karetsou 1981, 145–146. Karetsou 2013. Rutkowski 1986, 78; Karetsou 2013, 89–90. Sakellarakis, Sapouna-Sakellaraki 1997, 269–311. Tyree 1974, 33–35. Evans 1928, 66–69. Karetsou 1981, 147; Watrous 1996, 71. Zeimbeki 1999, 66.

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and the cave of Stravomyti, although the latter seems to have been used for storage.49 It is possible that Anemospilia, Stravomyti, Alonaki and the peak sanctuary were also connected by a road ascending from the north.50 The Jouktas ‘complex’, though short-lived, as both Anemospilia and Alonaki were destroyed and abandoned before LM IA, not only exhibits outstanding investment of resources and labour, but also makes a case for the extraordinary nature of Jouktas as a ‘sacred mountain’. In terms of ritual activities that took place at Jouktas, our best evidence comes from the Neopalatial phase. Many fine objects came from the sanctuary building, including the aforementioned evidence for administration, along with hundreds of cups, pouring, cooking and storage vessels, ashes, animal bones and burned seeds.51 Interestingly, terracotta figurines were not found in the building in significant numbers, whereas they dominate the assemblage from the terraces.52 This distribution suggests a degree of difference in terms of activities that took place in the two spaces. Ash and bones were also found on the terraces. This material, usually associated with feasting in the context of Neopalatial peak sanctuaries,53 is already attested at Jouktas in Protopalatial layers,54 suggesting that in this case this ritual element may have had a longer history than elsewhere.55 Therefore, both in the case of spatial patterning of ritual activities and ‘feasting’ Jouktas appears unique. Yet it is difficult to tell to what extent this is merely a contingency of siteformation processes, retrieval and availability of information, or an actual feature that sets this site apart from others. What is certainly unique about Jouktas is the role this sanctuary seems to have played in the political developments in central Crete. It became monumentalised exactly in the period which appears to have witnessed the economic, cultural and, most likely, territorial expansion of Knossos,56 following a series of destructions and social turmoil that marked the end of the Protopalatial period.57 This was also a time when a number of peak sanctuaries in central Crete

53 Nowicki 1994, 35. 54 Evans 1921, 158. 55 Evidence for burning and fires are reported from a number of sanctuaries. Yet excavations at sites such as Gournos and Traostalos indicate that the ash comes from later, post-Bronze Age activities ( Chryssoulaki 2001, 63; Rethemiotakis 2009, 190 ). 56 For pottery evidence see Van de Moortel 2002; Rethemiotakis 2002; Rethemiotakis, Christakis 2013. For territorial expansion see Whitelaw 2019. 57 See Driessen, Schoep 1995; Nowicki 2008, 77–80.

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fell into disuse, whilst some others were founded ex novo only to be abandoned soon after.58 The unparalleled monumentalisation of Jouktas clearly shows the ideological and symbolic importance of this sanctuary to the expanding Knossian polity. Its strategic location overlooking dependent and ( in MM III presumably still substantial ) independent territories explains its role as an extra-urban testimony to the power of the centre to the north. The uniqueness and prominence of Jouktas suggests that this sanctuary, if not from the very beginning then at least in certain periods, may have served as a ritual archetype for other communities in the region. Its association with a powerful political, economic and cultural centre makes it essential to link its history to that of Knossos. This linkage forces us, in turn, to consider Jouktas in a wider context of region- and island-wide processes. As the next two cases studies will illustrate, such an approach makes sense not only for Jouktas, but also for other sanctuaries. Kophinas

Kophinas is one of the short-lived peak sanctuaries that functioned mostly in MM III. The site revealed a “peribolos” wall and a built stone “platform”, with the excavators refraining from any comments on their likely original appearance or function.59 The excavation yielded the canonical range of objects. Yet the relative share of objects within the overall assemblage differs from other sanctuaries discussed here, once again bringing to the fore unique features not attested elsewhere. First, Kophinas is noteworthy for the reversed proportions between animal and human figurines, with the latter being more numerous,60 whereas the opposite tends to be the rule. Secondly, of the recovered human figurines and figurine fragments, 95% are male.61 Despite the general observation that male figurines predominate at Neopalatial peak sanctuaries,62 this percentage from Kophinas seems like an extreme ratio, at least in comparison to other sites.63 Lastly, the atypical feature of Kophinas is the number of larger, more labour-intensive figurines, which are not reported from other sanctuaries except for Jouktas.64

58 59 60 61 62 63

Peatfield 1994; Nowicki 2019. Karetsou 2014, 126–127. Rethemiotakis 2014, 147–148. Karetsou 2014, 129. Younger, Rehak 2001, 420.

E.g., of 180 catalogued human figurines and figurine fragments from Petsophas, 67 are female ( Rutkowski 1991 ). 64 Zeimbeki 1999, 285; Rethemiotakis 2014, 148.

The figurine assemblage at Kophinas appears to confirm that gender was the structuring principle of some peak sanctuary rites. Notably, many of the figurines had a naturalistic rendition of pronounced musculature, some were depicted in “fighting poses” and there are also tens of broken-off arms with hands in, what appear to be, boxing gloves.65 This hints at the very male-centred character of worship at Kophinas, and also lends support to the suggested relationship between combat and religious ritual.66 The strong agonistic overtones in the figurative art at Kophinas is once again a feature with no clear parallel among other peak sanctuaries. The site also yielded some high-value objects, suggesting elite participation in the ritual ( Tab. 1 ). This view seems to be corroborated by the pottery. The most common cup fabric is medium-coarse, with fewer medium-fine, and yet fewer decorated vessels of fine clay.67 Notably, similar proportions in the use of fabrics have been observed for the figurines. Adding to this equation the presence of two bronze figurines,68 one may suggest a ‘pyramid of value’ of ritual objects reflective of the social composition of groups associated with this site.69 The sanctuary at Kophinas complicates our picture of peak sanctuaries further still. If figurines were to be interpreted as reflective of the worshippers’ preoccupations, here we see less a ‘pastoral element’ and more emphasis on male identity and agonistic activities. Whereas the ritual participants might have differed in terms of their economic status, it may be that at Kophinas we see differential participation with regard to gender. This sanctuary also constitutes an interesting case study because of the disagreement surrounding the location of its ritual focus, which some scholars infer to be on the very summit of the Kophinas mountain,70 whereas excavations have shown the temenos to be located well below it.71 Since most peak sanctuaries are placed on summits with a 360° view, often in sight of other sanctuaries, the founding of Kophinas appears to represent a purposeful avoidance of such inter-visibility. Although this issue of location may be a pretext for the re-opening of the debate concerning the defining topographic characteristics of peak

65 66 67 68 69 70 71

Rethemiotakis 2014, 149–151. Marinatos 1993, 212–216; Molloy 2012, 115–119. Spiliotopoulou 2014, 165. Karetsou 2014, 129. See Macdonald, Knappett 2007, 161–165. Nowicki 2007a, 667; Soetens 2009, 264. Karetsou 2014.

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Tab. 3a. P. Warren's and V. Hankey’s ( 1989 ) chronology is preferred here to S. Manning’s ( 2010 ) as it distinguishes between MM IIIA and B, a distinction needed to make a viable calculation for Ag. Georgios. Arithmetic mean has been used to simplify calculations; b. Agios Georgios CPY ( cups per year ) count; c. CPY for Vrysinas, with both actual and estimated total number of vessels ( see Tzachili 2003, 329 ). MM IIIA

MM IIIB

LM I

SOURCE

Timespan in years

Arithmetic mean

Timespan in years

Arithmetic mean

Timespan in years

Arithmetic mean

Warren and Hankey 1989, 169

10–80

45

30–40

35

155–175

165

A

Excavated cups

TOTAL

MM IIIB–LM I CUPS ( 97% OF THE TOTAL )

MM IIIB–LM I ( TIMESPAN )

CPY

10000

9700

200

45

MM III ( TIMESPAN )

CPY

B

NUMBER OF MM III CUPS ( 80% OF 7000 )

Quantified excavated cups

5600

Estimated original total ( x10 )

56000

80

70 700

C

sanctuaries,72 it should also prompt us to seek explanations for the founding of peak sanctuaries in particular locations other than inter-visibility, especially if they appear ‘out of the ordinary’. Accepting the view that most ritual activities focused around the excavated architectural feature( s ), we may interpret the founding of this sanctuary to be an ideological statement whereby the community it served actively removed itself from the pan-island network of cult places connected through intervisibility. It is noteworthy that MM III saw important political changes in the Mesara, connected by some scholars to Knossian interference,73 which once again forces us to consider individual sites in their regional context and to link their histories with the wider processes. Could some peak sanctuaries serve the active expression of political agendas and communal identities? The next example will show that these elements might have indeed played a prominent role.

72 Haysom 2015, 96. 73 E.g. La Rosa 1997; Van de Moortel 2002; Privitera 2014. 74 Recently the existence of another peak sanctuary on the same island, Leska, was suggested ( Georgiadis 2012 ); however it did not yield any figurines, which seriously undermines this identification.

Agios Georgios

Agios Georgios constitutes, to date, the only definitive peak sanctuary identified outside of Crete, on the island of Kythera.74 It is quite significant that this site is found in association with Kastri, perhaps the only settlement in the Aegean that is unanimously considered a ‘Minoan colony’.75 Most ritual activity at Agios Georgios dates to MM IIIB–LM I.76 Although the excavations recovered the canonical range of objects, these appear in proportions and media that render the whole assemblage very much extraordinary. The most striking peculiarity of Agios Georgios is the number of bronze figurines and the scarcity of clay examples. By and large the figurines are anthropomorphic, with only a handful of zoomorphic ones.77 Overall, the figurine numbers are dwarfed by ceramics, with thousands of excavated cups, almost half of which are fineware.78 This ceramic quality, unusual

75 Broodbank 2004, 73–77 with references. 76 97% of the excavated cups were dated to MM IIIB–LM I ( Tournavitou 2011 ). 77 Sakellarakis 1996, 84–85. 78 Sakellarakis 1996, 87; Tournavitou 2011.

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for peak sanctuaries, and the deposition of many bronze figurines strongly suggest a dominant elite component at Agios Georgios.79 Indeed, the site also yielded numerous high-value items ( Tab. 1 ) which, taken altogether, and in the absence of architectural remains, suggests individual, but not collective or institutional, investment in the ritual. The number of excavated cups prima facie appears large. Yet once we consider the ‘per year’ count, it becomes apparent that the scale of ritual at Agios Georgios might not have been so great, with some 45 cups-per-year ( Tab. 3 ). By comparison, another Neopalatial sanctuary for which the pottery numbers are available, Vrysinas, may have seen the deposition of hundreds of cups every year. This comparison corroborates the view of the small-scale nature of ritual at Agios Georgios. Whereas with other peak sanctuaries it would be hard to make a claim about ritual primarily marking social differences, the Agios Georgios material can hardly reflect the number of worshippers spanning all sections of the Kastri community. In addition, it seems that for this site the deposition of figurines, a key component of rites attested at many other peak sanctuaries, was sporadic and involved by and large higher value objects. It appears that a wealthier social segment engaged in a quintessentially Cretan ritual, which hints at the exclusive nature of the access to knowledge and practices from the power centres on the great island to the south. As such, Agios Georgios was likely an arena for the creation and maintenance of identities that set this specific social group apart from the other members of the local community and simultaneously tied it to the elite supra-regional network, which was emerging in the Aegean at the time.80 Discussion

Before we proceed to discuss the presented evidence, some cautionary remarks need to be made. The above case studies cover only five of more than 40 sanctuaries, and include some sites that can be deemed, even without a detailed analysis, exceptional, such as Jouktas or Agios Georgios. Perhaps once more ‘rural’ peak sanctuaries, like Atsipades, are systematically investigated and published, the overall picture will be that of a largely similar ritual practice across most sites, with

79 Broodbank 2004, 80. 80 See Broodbank 2004; Maran 2011. 81 E.g. Watrous 1994, 734; Haysom 2018, 22.

variations mostly relating to the share of particular object classes within the overall assemblages. Indeed, the combination of site-formation processes, methods of recovery and details of publication are likely to be key factors behind the differences in patterns observed in the aforementioned case studies. That being said, until our datasets and samples increase, we ought to engage with the variabilities seen at the known sites, and not merely mention them in passing.81 A good example is served by Kophinas, which ‘does’ appear to represent a meaningful difference, when the gender of figurines and representational choices are considered. Moreover, the ‘elephant in the room’ is the aforementioned variation in the share of different object classes in the ritual assemblages. To prioritise our artefact checklist over, often, significant variation in the relative quantities of items that represent different rites or different aspects of the same ritual ( e.g., figurines and cups ) one should be able to demonstrate first that these variations were less important than the general ‘idea’ of the ritual performed. Until then, the focus on the ‘lowest common denominators’ of peak sanctuary ritual remains an exercise in etic categorisation, whereas the actual evidence should be pointing us towards exploring the potentially diverse meanings and functions of these sites for the associated populations. Indeed, the need to make certain distinctions among the known peak sanctuaries has long been recognised. A. Peatfield’s differentiation between ‘rural’ and ‘palatial’ sites 82 can serve as one such example. K. Nowicki’s recognition of the regional groupings of peak sanctuaries and the potential difference in the processes underlying the emergence of these groupings is the most recent and noteworthy development.83 If we are to benefit from these observations, we need to better understand the internal dynamics of the identified groupings, which could then help to explain the persistence of some sanctuaries and the shortlived nature of others. In fact, we have already seen this idea with the examples of Jouktas and Kophinas. In MM III, when the former was monumentalised, essentially becoming part of a ‘sacred mountain’ ritual complex, the latter witnessed its short apex before falling out of use. The ritual focus at Kophinas that prevented visual connection with Jouktas, together with the assemblage

82 Peatfield 1987; 1990. 83 Nowicki 2019, but see also 1994; 2012; 2018.

PROBLEMATISING PEAK SANCTUARIES

of figurines emphasising martial masculinity, suggests a conscious act of resistance and a statement of autonomy, instead of the inclusion into the “islandwide consciousness”. 84 Consequently, could the abandonment of Kophinas indicate the subjugation of its communities by the Knossian polity? Do other shortlived sanctuaries in central Crete, like Gournos, represent a similar process? Or, conversely, should they be understood as the employment of this ritual to express political allegiance? If the latter were to be true, should their subsequent abandonment be explained by their role as markers of changing territorial borders,85 by shifting settlement patterns or by ‘ritual nucleation’ at Jouktas? The non-local fabrics of some of the figurines at Jouktas 86 seem to partially confirm the last scenario. We still lack, however, chronological segregation of the material that would confirm ( or refute ) this idea more definitely. Although some scholars have tried to connect the peak sanctuary phenomenon with the rise of state societies in Crete,87 the example of Atsipades shows clearly that no connection can be made between some of the rural peak sanctuaries and ‘state ideology’.88 Atsipades is more likely to reflect some ‘idea’ of a peak sanctuary ritual, which served as an arena for social cohesion, whilst reinforcing, as ritual does, governing structures of social relationships 89—in this particular case the division along gender lines. In fact, it is not possible to demonstrate any form of ‘materialisation’ 90 of state ideologies even in the case of Petsophas, despite its association with a prominent and presumably powerful settlement. Except for the ‘offering tables’, this site lacks higher value objects, and even the boulder walls of its terracing hardly exceed the labour and resource expenditure beyond the capacity of small egalitarian communities.91 This suggests low institutional investment, and A. Peatfield’s designation ‘palatial’ in the case of Petsophas becomes rather misleading. Lastly, there is the case of Agios Georgios. It would be tempting to employ the concept of ‘hybridity’, used in a number of studies concerning ‘Minoanisation’,92 to describe the Kytheran variant of the Cretan ritual,

84 85 86 87 88

Contra Cunningham, Driessen 2004, 109–110. Nowicki 2019. Zeimbeki 2004, 323–324. Haggis 1999; Manning 2008, 119. See also Peatfield 1990, 126–127.

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especially given its ‘colonial’ context, and to explain its suggested function. However, as we have seen with the other case studies, each site appears to be ‘doing’ a similar thing—taking a general idea of a peak sanctuary ritual and employing it in ways that often indicate differences in performed rites, their social significance and roles. Thus, just like in the case of ‘Minoanisation’, we may be seeing a spread of ideas and practices that become appropriated in new contexts, serving recipient communities in different ways.93 Conclusions

In this paper I have tried to engage with the differences between the better-known peak sanctuaries to question whether the assumption of certain uniformity implicit in their categorisation should carry through into our interpretations of these sites. The presented case studies have shown how the ritual at each peak sanctuary may be both structured by, and reflective of, the nature of the community it served, and how the site’s setting in relation to other peak sanctuaries may hold the key to understanding the differences witnessed in the material expression of its ritual. In fact, each site exhibited a degree of difference, the explanation of which could be sought within local, regional and supra-regional processes. Our etic categorisations may need to become fine-tuned to reflect this emic heterogeneity ( e.g., “central Cretan Protopalatial ‘rural’ sanctuaries” ), at which point the question regarding the usefulness of talking about ‘peak sanctuaries as a category’ will be very much in place. If the sites belonging to a single archaeological category may serve different, contextually-determined functions, perhaps we should turn to contextual approaches in order to gain a better understanding of these sites. By reversing the direction of inquiry from top-down to bottom-up and starting with individual sites rather than with a category, we might avoid the pitfalls of constructing reductionist, generalising narratives that flatten out the fascinating heterogeneity and dynamism of Cretan Bronze Age societies.

89 90 91 92 93

Rappaport 1999. See DeMarrais et al. 1996. Cf. Legarra Herrero 2012, 327. Gorogianni et al. 2016. Broodbank 2004, 51.

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Sienkiewicz J. ( 2016 ) Minoan Variations: On the Role of Peak Sanctuary Ritual in the Societies of Palatial Crete. Unpublished MA thesis, University College London. Soetens S. ( 2009 ) Juktas and Kophinas: two ritual landscapes out of the ordinary, in: A. D’Agata, A. Van de Moortel eds., Archaeologies of Cult. Essays on Ritual and Cult in Crete in Honour of Geraldine C. Gesell, Hesperia Suppl. 42, Princeton, 261–268. Siliotopoulou A. ( 2014 ) Kophinas peak sanctuary: preliminary results of the pottery study, CretChron 34, 163–182. Tournavitou I. (2011) LM IB pottery from the colonies. Hagios Georgios sto Vouno, Kythera, in: T. Brogan, E. Hallager eds., LM IB Pottery: Relative Chronology and Regional Differences, Monographs of the Danish Institute at Athens 11, Athens, 117–140. Tyree L. ( 1974 ) Cretan Sacred Caves: Archaeological Evidence. Unpublished PhD thesis, University of Missouri. Tzachili I. ( 2003 ) Quantitative analysis of the pottery from the peak sanctuary at Vrysinas, Rethymnon, in: K. Foster, R. Laffineur eds., METRON: Measuring the Aegean Bronze Age. Proceedings of the 9th International Aegean Conference, New Haven, Yale University, 18–21 April 2002, Aegaeum 24, Austin, 327–331. Tzachili I. ( 2012 ) Headless, armless, but sexuated bodies: on some particular figurines from the peak sanctuary of Vrysinas, near Rethymnon, Crete, in: E. Mantzourani, P. Betancourt eds., PHILISTOR: Studies in Honor of Costis Davaras, Prehistory Monographs 46, Philadelphia, 233–238. Van de Moortel A. ( 2002 ) Pottery as a barometer of economic change: from the Protopalatial to the Neopalatial society in Central Crete, in: Y. Hamilakis ed., Labyrinth Revisited: Rethinking ‘Minoan’ Archaeology, Oxford, 189–211. Warren P., Hankey V. ( 1989 ) Aegean Bronze Age Chronology, Bristol. Watrous L. ( 1994 ) Review of Aegean prehistory III: Crete from earliest prehistory through the Protopalatial Period, AJA 98:4, 695–753. Watrous L. ( 1996 ) The Cave Sanctuary of Zeus at Psychro: a Study of Extraurban Sanctuaries in Minoan and Early Iron Age Crete, Aegaeum 15, Liège and Austin. Whitehouse H. ( 2000 ) Arguments and Icons: Divergent Modes of Religiosity, Oxford. Whitelaw T. ( 2004 ) Alternative pathways to complexity in the Southern Aegean, in: J. Barrett, P. Halstead eds., The Emergence of Civilisation

PROBLEMATISING PEAK SANCTUARIES

Revisited, Sheffield Studies in Aegean Archaeology 6, Oxford, 232–256. Whitelaw T. ( 2019 ) Feeding Knossos: exploring economic and logistical implications of urbanism on Prehistoric Crete, in: D. Garcia, R. Orgeolet, M. Pomadère, J. Zurbach eds., Country in the City: Agricultural Functions of Protohistoric Urban Settlements ( Aegean and Western Mediterranean ), Oxford, 88–121. Younger J., Rehak P. ( 2008 ) Minoan culture: religion, burial customs, and administration, in: C. Shelmerdine ed., The Cambridge Companion to the Aegean Bronze Age, Cambridge, 165–185.

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Zeimbeki M. ( 1999 ) The Typology, Forms and Functions of Animal Figurines from Minoan Peak Sanctuaries with Special Reference to Juktas and Kophinas. Unpublished PhD thesis, University of Bristol. Zeimbeki M. ( 2004 ) The organisation of votive production and distribution in the peak sanctuaries of state society Crete: a perspective offered by the Juktas clay animal figurines, in: G. Cadogan, E. Hatzaki, A. Vasilakis eds., Knossos: Palace, City, State, BSA Studies 12, London, 351–361.

Stephanie Aulsebrook

Faculty of Archaeology, University of Warsaw, Poland https://orcid.org/0000-0002-0534-270X

FORGING AHEAD OR FOILED AGAIN?

A NEW DIRECTION FOR CROSS-CRAFT ANALYSIS WITH CASE STUDIES FROM LATE BRONZE AGE METALWORKING IN THE AEGEAN1

Abstract: The cross-craft interaction analytical framework has proved itself to be a useful and stim-

ulating tool for researching production in past societies. By investigating connections between crafting industries, it has been possible to identify sources of innovation and inspiration generated by exchanging ideas and knowledge. Until now, the main focus for cross-craft analysis has been on the symbiosis between different output-defined industries and the linkages between distinct material industries. In this paper I argue that it would be beneficial to extend this powerful technique by applying its tenets to intra-craft variability. By approaching a specific industry as a collection of crafts, rather than a monolithic entity, it becomes possible to recognise points of connection and dissimilarities that would have impacted upon its organisation. This should help to clarify its wider social and economic context. Metallurgy in particular would benefit from such an approach, because of its immense diversity. Therefore this paper presents two metal-centric case studies to demonstrate some of the possibilities of an ‘intra-cross-craft’ approach.

Keywords: cross-craft, intra-craft variability, Late Bronze Age Aegean, metallurgy, production.

This is an open access publication made available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International Licence. Sympozjum Egejskie: Papers in Aegean Archaeology 3, ed. by S. Aulsebrook, K. Żebrowska, A. Ulanowska, and K. Lewartowski, WSA 3 ( Turnhout: Brepols, 2022 ), pp. 99–112. 10.1484/M.WSA-EB.5.128955

Introduction: the Advantages of CrossCraft Analysis

The term ‘cross-craft interaction’ first appeared in archaeological scholarship in 1989.2 Its purpose is to acknowledge the links between different production industries and explore their implications. The defi-

nition of cross-craft interaction and its application within Aegean Bronze Age archaeology, driven mainly through the efforts of A. Brysbaert,3 have both been ably summarised recently by A. Ulanowska.4 To avoid

1 I would like to thank the conference organisers for inviting me to speak at the 5th Sympozjum Egejskie and to contribute to this volume. Dr Elizabeth French, Dr Nicholas Soderberg, Dawn Hoffmann and an anonymous reviewer all kindly looked over this paper and made several helpful corrections and suggestions, for which I thank them. Blame for any remaining mistakes and omissions lies with the author. The initial research for this project was conducted whilst I was an independent researcher and was self-funded. Subsequent revisions have been made as part of the project ‘Forging Society at Mycenae: the Relationships between

People and Metals’ funded by the National Science Centre in Poland ( NCN ) through the SONATA 14 scheme, grant number 2018/31/D/HS3/02231. I would also like to thank Dr Yannis Galanakis, Monika Łapińska and Paulina Jurkowska for contributing images to this paper and allowing me to reproduce them here. 2 McGovern 1989. 3 Especially Brysbaert 2007; 2014; 2015. 4 Ulanowska 2018, 244–245.

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repetition, I will only briefly outline the details of crosscraft interaction salient to this paper.5 Potential relationships between different industries come in many forms. Shared motifs, styles and techniques, which may be adopted from another craft and, in many cases, adapted to fit the needs of the receiving crafters, generate an important source of innovation.6 The materials and tools needed within many industries are intertwined with other crafts, providing an opportunity to explicitly and implicitly exchange discursive and non-discursive knowledge. For example, the practice of combining clays and tempers to achieve a desired fabric could create the conceptual framework for experimentation with metal alloys and, similarly, familiarity with metallurgical slags and fluxes may have contributed towards the later development of pottery glazes.7 The introduction of test pieces into ceramic firing has been linked to the need to monitor colour changes during iron-working.8 These connections can extend beyond ideas, styles, facilities, equipment, techniques, skills and knowledge to include procurement times and places, materials and marketing strategies.9 Analysis of cross-craft interaction has been successfully applied to a variety of Aegean crafts. Industries, such as metallurgy, basketry, textiles, carpentry or jewellery manufacture, are defined according to their target material or artefact output. Each is a complex amalgamation of personnel, materials, facilities, semi-products, knowledge, techniques, skill, logistics and other elements. Applying cross-craft analysis has made it possible to examine these details for linkages between different industries and use them to shed light on wider issues. Therefore cross-craft analysis is a powerful tool that enables us to explore new research avenues. This paper will argue that it is both possible and fruitful to extend its application further. Viewing the wide variety of processes within each material industry as a collection of multiple separate crafts permits the application of cross-craft analysis; to identify points of similarity and variance that can be used

Behind the term ‘metallurgy’ lies an extraordinarily wide range of techniques broadly split into two categories: hot-working and cold-working ( Fig. 1 ). Hotworking techniques require the metal to be heated, which has a variety of effects depending upon the temperature and the type of metal. Archaeological studies have unsurprisingly focused upon metal extraction and hot-working techniques, as they leave more readily identifiable debris such as slags and the remnants of furnaces. The use of cold-working techniques has been relatively obscured by a lack of direct evidence. Metal extraction is viewed as a significant technological development,10 therefore inevitably attracting greater scholarly attention. Smelting and hot-working are also more visually dramatic,11 thus encouraging greater public interest, and have provided experimental archaeologists with intriguing practical conundrums to solve.12 This concentration on smelting and hot-working may explain why the variability within metallurgy has received comparatively little attention. Scholars have not always adequately appreciated the differences between obtaining metal and working it.13 Categorising smiths by which metal( s ) they work 14 misleadingly implies that each individual is conversant with the entire body of relevant knowledge. Yet this variability can be so extreme that the distinction between certain techniques is analogous to working with different substances, even when the outcome is virtually indistinguishable, and extends well beyond the physical process by requiring different ways of conceptualising objects and different modes of engagement with the material ( Fig. 1 ). Each technique has its risks and opportunities, advantages and disadvantages.

5 For further information and Aegean-centric case studies see Foster 1989; Thomas 2012; Nosch 2015; 2016. Similar approaches developed outside the cross-craft framework, for example Vickers 1985; Laffineur 1990–1991; 1995, especially to study phenomena such as the connection between frescoes and textiles ( see Ulanowska 2018 ). 6 Rebay-Salisbury et al. 2014, 2. 7 Matson 1989, 23. 8 Vaessen 2014, 137–138.

9 Brysbaert 2007, 331. 10 Doonan, Dungworth 2013, 4. 11 The pyrotechnical side has become a focal point for research into connections between social status and restricted knowledge, for example Ehrenreich 1991; Budd, Taylor 1995. 12 Doonan, Dungworth 2013, 3; the journal Historical Metallurgy contains many examples. 13 Ehrenreich 1991, 69, 78. 14 Terms like blacksmith or goldsmith.

to examine past production from new angles. This ‘intra-cross-craft’ approach would be especially beneficial for metallurgical studies in particular, because of its astonishing diversity. Diversity in Metallurgy

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101

Fig. 1. A summary of the diversity in metallurgy. Top: a selection of hot-working and cold-working techniques, showing the complexity of the relationships between them. Bottom left and right: a side-by-side comparison of the essential differences between casting and hammering a metal vessel. Bottom: an overview of the working properties of metals used in the Bronze Age Aegean; the melting point is important for casting whereas malleability, ductility and work hardening affect hammering. Information from Clarke 2013; Hodges 1989; Untracht 1968. Diagram by author.

Case Study One: Structuring Craft

Factors such as scale further affect which methods can be employed, as can the type of metal. Variation in the working properties possessed by different alloys limits their use and which techniques can be applied. For example, the high malleability and ductility of gold means it is well-suited for decorative techniques such as filigree, but these same properties render it unsuitable for practical weapon blades. These properties can affect the process for a technique too, as is apparent when hammering metal because the alloy’s malleability regulates the extent to which it can be deformed without requiring a heat treatment to prevent cracking.15 Below, I discuss two case studies that take advantage of the diversity within metallurgy to apply the principles of intra-cross-craft analysis.

The first case study uses the cross-craft analytical framework to examine the different types of metal crafts that were combined to manufacture a specific form of complex multi-component cup, in order to investigate how its production was organised. Frequently within discussions regarding precious metal vessels there is a strong presumption that each example was the work of a single individual.16 A class of seven almost identical cups, from multiple sites, forms an ideal study group to test this assumption. They belong to a particular variant of shallow cup ( Fig. 2 ), one of the most long-lived and frequently found shapes in the Mycenaean metal vessel assemblage that had

15 Known as annealing, Evely 2000, 325. 16 E.N. Davis ( 1977 ) repeatedly refers to “the artist” when discussing the manufacture of gold and silver vessels and when, in one

case, she postulates the involvement of two individuals it is clear she regards this as unusual (1977, 276–280); her interpretation is not universally shared ( Hurwit 1979, addendum ).

Decisions

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Fig. 2. Left top: an example of a silver shallow cup with gold rim and handle, from Vapheio ( no. 7 ). Left bottom: an exploded diagram showing the main components required to manufacture this vessel type. Right: further examples of silver shallow cups with gold rim and handle, from top to bottom: Mycenae Circle A: V ( no. 6 ), Mycenae Tomb 84 ( no. 5 ), Kazarma ( no. 3 ). Drawing by author, photographs by author and M. Łapińska/P. Jurkowska ( top and middle right ).

visually distinct standardised variants.17 This variant’s key features are: 1) a shallow silver bowl; 2) a wide gold rim; 3) a single gold handle; 4) matched decoration on the handle and rim.18 Three were recovered from Mycenae, in Circle A Grave I ( ANM 212 ),19 Circle A Grave V ( ANM 786–787 ),20 and Chamber Tomb 84 ( ANM 3147 ).21 The others were found in Dendra Chamber Tomb 10 ( ANM 8761 ) 22 and the Vapheio ( ANM 1875 ),23 Kazarma24 and Berbati 25 tholoi. Table 1 gives details of their dating,26 preservation and distinguishing features. The data has been drawn

from the vessels’ publications, my own observations and those of E.N. Davis. The Kazarma cup ( no. 3 ) 27 is not yet published; the information used here is based upon E.N. Davis’ and my own visual analysis, both conducted whilst the cup remained inside its display case in the Nauplion Museum.28 Owing to this and the variability in preservation, aspects of the analysis were restricted to a subset of the vessels; this is clearly flagged for each circumstance. These seven cups shared three manufacturing processes: 1) their bowl was produced by hammering

17 Aulsebrook 2018a. This variant may have been used as a lamp ( Dickinson 1977, 85 ). 18 A similar cup from Kokla with a gold bowl ( Demakopoulou, Aulsebrook 2018, 125–128, no. 1, figs. 10–12 ) is not included here. 19 Karo 1930, 69, no. 212; Davis 1977, 247–248, no. 97, fig. 194. 20 Karo 1930, 142, nos. 786–787; Davis 1977, 157–159, no. 46, fig. 124. 21 Tsountas 1896; Davis 1977, 296–297, no. 129; Xenaki-Sakellariou 1985, 240, no. A3147, pl. 115. 22 Persson 1942, 90–91, no. 39; Davis 1977, 271–273, no. 112, fig. 221. 23 Tsountas 1889, 153; Davis 1977, 260–261, no. 107.

24 Protonotariou-Deilaki 1969, 4; Davis 1977, 311–312, no. 137, fig. 252. 25 Santillo Frizell 1984, 30, no. 21, fig. 25 right. 26 For contextual dating: Mycenae Grave I and V ( Dickinson 1977, 48–50; Graziadio 1991, 432–433 ); Kazarma ( Dickinson 1977, 27, 62; Mountjoy 1993, 11 ); Vapheio ( Mountjoy 1993, 10 ) although recent publications suggest a later date ( Chapin et al. 2014, 145 ); Berbati ( Santillo Frizell 1984 ), Mycenae Chamber Tomb 84 ( Xenaki-Sakellariou 1985, 238–241 ); Dendra Chamber Tomb 10 ( Persson 1942, 95 ). 27 These numbers refer to Table 1. 28 Davis 1977, 311, n. 654.

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Tab. 1. The date and preservation status of the seven cups in this study with an overview of the crafting decisions made during their manufacture, divided by component. LOCATION

DATE ( LH )

PRESERVATION

RIM

HANDLE

BODY

DECORATION

BASE

1. Berbati Tholos

II– IIIA1

Handle and rim fragment

?

Gilded on outside and edges Raised edges Rivet attachment

Hammered from silver

Cast decoration Whorl shell on rim with cross ribbing on inner edge Double whorl shell on handle

?

2. Dendra Tomb 10

IIIA1

Flattened, restored

Gilded cast copper core Attached with 8 gilded rivets, spaced to coincide with decoration

Cast core gilded on upper surface Rivet attachment

Hammered from silver

Cast decoration Whorl shell on rim Double whorl shell on handle

Flat base

3. Kazarma Tholos

I–II

Damaged and corroded

Gilded cast silver core( ? ) Attached with 10 rivets Special feature: spout

Cast core gilded on upper surface and edges 2 upper rivets, 1 lower rivet

Hammered from silver

Cast decoration Whorl shell on rim with cross ribbing on inner edge Double whorl shell on handle with cross ribbed midrib

Flat base

4. Mycenae Circle A: I

IIA

Handle and rim

Gilded cast copper core Attached with 8 silver rivets

Formed from silver plate 2 upper rivets ( to rim ), 1 lower rivet; silver

Hammered from silver

Chased decoration Row of leaves with two concentric circles on rim

?

5. Mycenae Tomb 84

II–IIIA

Crushed, corroded

Gilded cast copper core Attached with 9 gilded rivets

Gilded cast copper core 2 upper rivets, 1 lower rivet; silver with large round heads

Hammered from silver

Cast decoration Whorl shell decoration

Offset flat foot

I

Damaged, base restored

Gilded cast silver core Attached with 6 gilded rivets

Cast solid gold 3 upper rivets, 1 lower rivet; gold with large round heads

Hammered from silver Special feature: convex wall

Cast decoration Row of leaves with cross ribbed moulding on rim

?

Gilded cast copper core Attached with 11 silver rivets

Cast copper core gilded on upper surface and silvered on lower surface 2 upper rivets, 1 lower rivet; silver with large round heads

Hammered from silvered copper

Cast decoration Whorl shell on rim with cross ribbing on inner edge Double whorl shell on handle with cross ribbed midrib

Flat base

6. Mycenae Circle A: V

7. Vapheio Tholos

IIA/ ( B? )

Complete

( a combination of forging, sinking and raising ) a billet into shape;29 2) all had a separate secondary rim attached with rivets; 3) their decorative motifs were incorporated into the rim or handle prior to gilding to aid the gold’s mechanical attachment. Despite their apparent visual similarity there was variation in the production method for the rims and handles, the number of components, the materials used, the decorative motifs and the process of assembly. An overview of their manufacture is shown in Figure 2. Note the wide range of procedures required, including the employment of very dissimilar methods such as casting and various hammering techniques, that called for different levels of skill and artistry. It is not necessarily certain that this diversity in technique points towards the direct involvement

of multiple persons ( beyond those required as assistants )30 especially if we follow the traditional interpretation of a single individual producing a bespoke object. One of the main benefits of cross-craft analysis is the ability to look beyond the specifics of particular processes to examine the overarching framework used to structure decisions. Certain techniques require greater investment of time or material resources, with minimal or sometimes no visual difference to the outcome. A consistent patterning for such choices may indicate control by a single individual or entity, even if it cannot prove how many crafters were involved. Table 1 also lists the crafting choices for each cup. The most common protocol was identified and the alternative choices compared with regard to material cost and time. Calculation of the former was based

29 See Clarke 2013, 41–51 for an overview of hammering techniques and the distinctive aims and methods associated with each of them; see Clarke 2013, 59–61 for the argument

that vessels were formed directly from billets, not pre-hammered sheet. 30 To tend furnaces and pump bellows, for instance.

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upon the confirmed use of a material value hierarchy to structure metalware production; the three metals relevant to this study were ranked ( from highest to lowest ): gold, silver, copper alloys.31 The calculation of time was based on the need to perform fewer or additional steps. Each major component is discussed in turn. Rim

Details available for all except Kazarma ( no. 3 )32 and Berbati ( no. 1 ) cups. Common Protocol: gilded cast copper secondary rim held by rivets33 with gilded heads. • Grave V ( no. 6 ): silver core ( +cost ) • Grave I ( no. 4 ): rivet heads ungilded ( -cost -time ) • Vapheio ( no. 7 ): rivet heads ungilded ( -cost -time ) • Dendra ( no. 2 ): rivets spaced to merge with decoration (+time) The rivet number was linked to the rim diameter; larger rims were fastened with more.34 The secondary rim diameter was determined by that of the bowl. Previous research indicates that when producing vessels with a low wall and wide diameter, crafters focused upon obtaining a consistent wall height,35 inevitably leading to greater variation in the diameter. Therefore variation in rim diameter and rivet number is likely to stem from the need to balance wall height and thickness rather than concerns over time or material cost. Handle

Limited details for Berbati ( no. 1 ), Dendra ( no. 2 ), Kazarma ( no. 3 ) and Grave I ( no. 4 ) cups. Common Protocol: partially gilded cast ( silver? ) 36 core held to body by three silver rivets. • Tomb 84 ( no. 5 ): fully gilded ( +cost +time ); copper alloy core ( -cost ) • Dendra ( no. 2 ): not gilded on edges ( -cost -time ); riveted to rim, not wall ( neutral ) • Vapheio ( no. 7 ): silvered inside ( +time ); copper alloy core ( -cost ) • Grave V (no. 6): solid gold (+cost); four gold rivets ( +cost +time )

31 Aulsebrook 2012, 137–139. 32 The secondary rim on the Kazarma vessel appears to consist of a gilded silver core, but there are also possible traces of copper alloy corrosion; detailed study outside the case is required to make a secure determination. 33 The metal used for the gilded rivets could not be determined without damaging the gilding. 34 From smallest to largest rim diameter: Grave V ( no. 6 ) 10.3 cm (6 rivets); Grave I (no. 4) 11 cm (8 rivets); Dendra (no. 2) 11.5 cm

• Grave I (no. 4): hammered silver (neutral); ungilded (-cost -time); riveted to rim, not wall (neutral) Bowl and Foot

Limited details for Berbati ( no. 1 ), Grave I ( no. 4 ) and Grave V ( no. 6 ) cups. Common Protocol: bowl hammered from silver with flat base. • Vapheio (no. 7): silvered copper bowl (-cost +time) • Tomb 84 ( no. 5 ): offset foot ( +time ) Decoration

Details available for all. Common Protocol: Cast whorl shell with cross-ribbing on inner edge of rim, doubled on handle with crossribbed midrib. • Grave V ( no. 6 ): foliate motif ( neutral ) • Grave I ( no. 4 ): foliate motif ( neutral ); chased ( neutral ) Summary The results are summarised in Table 2. Several trends are evident.37 1) The producer( s ) of the Vapheio example ( no. 7 ) took decisions that reduced its material cost with little to no visual impact, whilst accepting a commensurate increase in time. 2) The producer( s ) of the Grave I cup ( no. 4 ) also took decisions that reduced its material cost as well as its manufacture time, resulting in a significant visual difference to the handle. Their choices were inconsistent as the rim was gilded but not the handle. It is tempting to speculate that this handle was a replacement but there is no supporting evidence 38 and its manufacture fitted into an overall pattern of avoiding complex casting, which negated one of its chief benefits: incorporating the decoration into the mould. It probably also influenced the choice of motif, which is easier to emboss than whorl shells. 3) The producer( s ) of the Grave V cup ( no. 6 ) took decisions that increased the material cost with little to no visual impact. These decisions were

35 36

37 38

( 8 rivets ); Tomb 84 ( no. 5 ) 11.5 cm ( 9 rivets ); Vapheio ( no. 7 ) 11.9 cm ( 11 rivets ). And vice versa for taller vessels ( Aulsebrook 2012, 187 ). Copper alloy was identified on the Tomb 84 ( no. 5 ) and Vapheio ( no. 7 ) examples but the location of the gilding on the other handles and the silvering of the inside of the Vapheio handle suggest the core was usually silver. The comparative lack of evidence for the Berbati and Kazarma cups has obscured any possible trends for these vessels. Compare Davis 1977, 196.

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Tab. 2. The implications for the material cost ( C ) and time expenditure ( T ) due to the crafting choices for each vessel. + = increase, – = decrease. Grey denotes no visual difference to the common protocol, orange a minor impact and red a significant impact. Black indicates the absence of relevant information. BERBATI ( NO. 1 ) C

T

DENDRA ( NO. 2 )

KAZARMA ( NO. 3 )

MYCENAE GRAVE I ( NO. 4 )

MYCENAE TOMB 84 ( NO. 5 )

MYCENAE GRAVE V ( NO. 6 )

VAPHEIO ( NO. 7 )

C

C

C

C

C

C

T

T

T

T

T

T

RIM

+

Manufacture

+

Attachment

−

−

BODY

Manufacture

−

+

−

+

HANDLE

Manufacture

−

−

Attachment

inconsistent; given that solid cast gold was used for the handle, why was the rim not also cast in gold, rather than in silver that was then gilded? This was the only cup where casting in silver or gold was used for components larger than rivets, and that did not incorporate copper alloy.39 4) The results for the Dendra ( no. 2 ) and Tomb 84 ( no. 5 ) cups are mixed and suggest no overall strategy for material cost or time was in place.

−

−

+−

+

+

−

+

+

The results indicate that three cups ( Grave V (no. 6), Vapheio (no. 7) and Grave I (no. 4)) were produced under an overall strategy that considered material cost and time expenditure. The avoidance of complex casting on the latter strongly indicates that these decisions, at least, were taken within the workshop, rather than being applied by a controlling entity. It may be significant that the Grave V cup ( no. 6 ) was one of the earliest to be deposited and, given the appearance of heirlooms in the shaft grave assemblages,40 may be even older than this date suggests. Perhaps the use of more frugal techniques developed over time, as did the practice of a gold exterior and silver interior on the handle. The fact that three cups show signs of an overall strategy in place whereas two certainly do not potentially weakens the argument for a single workshop origin. Another minor crafting detail also

speaks against this; the whorl shell ornament varies in height on the Dendra ( no. 2 ), Vapheio ( no. 7 ) and Tomb 84 ( no. 5 ) cups,41 even though a reusable stamp was probably employed to produce the decoration on each vessel.42 The lack of an overall strategy on the Dendra ( no. 2 ) and Tomb 84 ( no. 5 ) cups, and possibly also the mixing of cast solid gold and gilded elements on the Grave V cup ( no. 6 ), does suggest the relatively free involvement of multiple persons, although the traditional model of a single crafter producing a bespoke object and able to follow their own idiosyncrasies, an example of M. Kuijpers’s “virtuoso” crafters, cannot be ruled out.43 However, these cups’ characteristics better fit M. Kuijpers’s “masters” category; they are distinctive objects produced with great care and attention to aesthetics, but not original or unique.44 Their production also incorporated relatively simple and repetitive tasks, such as casting rivets, which may have been considered especially suited to training apprentices.45 This possible compartmentalisation of roles may be supported by evidence from the Linear B records. As well as separate designations for ‘gold-worker’ and ‘( bronze- )smith’,46 the manufacturers of specific object types are listed, such as ‘diadem/headband-maker’,47 and ko-wi-ro-wo-ko ( producers of hollow things, perhaps hollow-ware meaning vessels ).48 Specialist roles

39 Unless used for the rim rivets but this is unlikely as there are no signs of copper corrosion. 40 Aulsebrook 2017, 40. 41 Davis 1977, 297. 42 Compare Demakopoulou, Aulsebrook 2018, 126. 43 Kuijpers 2018, 563.

44 Kuijpers 2018, 563. 45 A teaching technique known as selective assistance ( Ferguson 2008, 52 ). 46 Aura Jorro 1985, 307–308, 409–410. 47 Aura Jorro 1985, 90. 48 Bennet 2008, 157.

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Fig. 3. Examples of the Late Bronze Age Aegean use of metal foils. A: funerary scale pans; B: gilded ornament; C: gold foil rosette; D: wooden box with decorated gilded panels; E: tinned kylix; F: foil inlays for a metal vessel. Photographs by author except F ( Y. Galanakis ).

are only given for textile and metal workers.49 However, it must be borne in mind that the Linear B archives only reflect the interests of the palace and were not meant to provide an accurate description of the capabilities of each individual, solely their importance to the palatial authorities in the context of that specific moment.

Case Study Two: Distribution across Crafts

The second case study considers a typical topic for cross-craft analysis: the shared use of a single material across multiple production industries. By approaching metalworking as a collection of related but distinct crafts it becomes easier to isolate and concentrate on a single specific aspect and its relevant characteristics, rather than addressing generalities. Here, the focus is upon metal foils in the Late Bronze Age Aegean.50

49 Nosch 2016, 224. 50 No single definition exists for ‘foil’; in this paper, foil is defined as thin metal sheet that can be manipulated and shaped using soft tools ( of bone or wood ), thus not exceeding c. 0.5 mm in thickness ( although this varies between metals ). Many publications use ‘sheet’, ‘plate’ or ‘leaf ’. ‘Leaf ’ should be reserved for foils too thin to support their weight and are rarely found prior to the middle of the 1st millennium BC ( Oddy 1982, 732–733 ), probably due to inherent difficulties in making and handling them.

Before discussing these it is important to note that, during this period, the employment of certain metallurgical techniques was apparently confined to particular classes of metalwork. One especially overt example is granulation. This technique ( Fig. 1 ) was particularly associated with jewellery. The earliest known example in the Aegean is the bee pendant from Mallia51 and granulation was mainly used to decorate relief beads, pendants and finger rings.52 Despite the recovery of many decorated gold vessels from Late Bronze Age Aegean contexts, none of them were ornamented using granulation. Yet there is no reason to believe that its appearance was considered undesirable on metalware as there are examples decorated in a manner reminiscent of its effect.53 In contrast, metal sheets and foils were utilised for numerous purposes ( Fig. 3 ). They acted as the starting component for techniques such as granulation.54 Sometimes they were used independently of other

51 Demargne 1930, 411–413, pl. XIX; Konstantinidi 2001, 16. 52 Konstantinidi-Syvridi et al. 2014, 343. 53 Including a small jar from Mycenae, with a repoussé foliate spray on the shoulder resembling granulation ( Karo 1930, 95, no. 391; Davis 1977, 176–179, no. 61 ), and an earlier silver ewer from Kato Zakro with vertical lines of small gold studs ( Platon 1971, 87; Davis 1977, 102, no. 13, figs. 76, 77 ). 54 Konstantinidi-Syvridi et al. 2014, 344.

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107

materials, such as for gold hollow beads 55 and gold foil funerary ornaments.56 They were also used in conjunction with other materials, including glass,57 stone,58 wood,59 clay,60 ivory,61 bone,62 faïence 63 and other metals,64 to cover objects varying from different forms of jewellery to weapons, boxes, vessels and furniture. The variation in scale is striking. Almost all known examples were of gilding with only rare exceptions,65 apart from the widespread phenomenon of tinning ceramic vessels.66 We must therefore consider how a variety of crafters working in very different industries accessed metal foils. Was their manufacture a specialised form of production taking place within a single type of workshop environment with distribution as needed? Or were they produced across multiple different workshops, including those that primarily focused upon materials other than metal, as and when required? Perhaps there was a mixture of these two approaches? The answer rests in part upon the nature of metal foil production; if it depended upon highly skilled workers then a specialised environment seems more likely. Unfortunately, we have no direct evidence from the Late Bronze Age Aegean. Old and Middle Kingdom Egyptian tomb paintings show their production through beating the metal over a flat stone or wooden block,67 and the Aegean process was probably similar.68 The task may have required much time,69 and, although annealing may have been needed, there is no a priori reason that points to the need for a specialist workshop or particularly specialist knowledge.70

The use of foil has been particularly associated with multimedia workshops, known from several palatial sites, apparently associated with jewellery manufacture 71 and containing evidence both for component production and assembling composite objects.72 Spools of gold wire found in such contexts may represent processed raw material awaiting use.73 Whether foil was produced in these workshops remains uncertain. The metals available during this period that can be relatively easily made into foil are gold, silver, electrum and tin. The former in particular is generally considered to have been a high-status material with special significance for the political economy 74 that may have been subjected to sumptuary control.75 Therefore, although low-skilled or ad-hoc labour may have been suitable for foil production, the value of the metal involved may have cautioned against such an approach or at least suggests the task took place under strict supervision. Discussions concerning the organisation of metallurgy have rarely extended to the production of tinned ceramics. Produced by covering ceramic vessels with tin foil using an organic binder to aid attachment,76 analysis has indicated that their manufacture was not standardised. Some are indistinguishable from ordinary ceramic vessels, with well-finished surfaces expected of unpainted finewares.77 Some were smoothed with no technical slip or final polish.78 A number were rather poorly made with highly visible manufacturing defects, such as lopsidedness,79

55 Konstantinidi-Syvridi et al. 2014, 346; also the hollow bezel of gold signet rings ( Becker 2015, 75, Type III ). 56 Probably mainly for attachment to clothing ( Dickinson 1977, 75 ); more elaborate objects include the gold balances from Grave III in Circle A at Mycenae ( Karo 1930, 53–56, nos. 70, 81, 82 and 91, fig. 13, pl. XXXIV ). 57 Tournavitou 1997, 212. 58 Including stone vessels ( Warren 1969, 162 ). 59 Shelmerdine 2012, 688. 60 Such as a gilded clay conulus from Chamber Tomb 515 at Mycenae ( Wace 1932, 58, 218 ). 61 Such as a partially gilded ivory bowl from Chamber Tomb 10 at Dendra ( Persson 1942, 91 ). 62 Papadimitriou et al. 2016. 63 Such as faïence vessels ( Foster 1979, 131–132 ). 64 As commonly found on metalware ( Davis 1977 ). 65 For example, a tin-lined pyxis was found in Tomb I at the Athens Agora ( Immerwahr 1971, 166, I-16 ). 66 All published examples were coated with tin only, except a jug from Kalapodi which had a separate gold foil piece around the base of its neck as well ( Dimaki, Parageorgiou 2015, 854, fig. 7 ). Analysis of two sherds from Athens suggest tin-lead alloy foils were also used ( Noll et al. 1980, 35–37; Noll, Heimann 2016, 194–195 ), although not confirmed elsewhere. 67 Andrews 1996, 86. 68 Konstantinidi 2001, 13.

69 Papadimitriou et al. 2016, 255; Hickman 2012, 526. 70 Pure gold can be hammered into leaf without annealing ( Hodges 1989, 95 ); however all gold in this period was actually an alloy ( usually containing silver, sometimes copper and iron above trace levels ) as pure gold is almost never found natively and contemporary refining techniques could not produce pure gold either ( Evely 2000, 401 ). When carrying out replication studies, it has been necessary to anneal the gold to achieve the desired thickness ( Papadimitriou et al. 2016, 255 ). The temperatures required can be reached in a domestic hearth and, by following a set protocol cycling hammering and annealing, low-skilled labour could have still been used. 71 Tournavitou 1997; Dakouri-Hild 2012, 472. 72 Dakouri-Hild 2012, 474. 73 Dakouri-Hild 2012, 474. These also functioned as jewellery ( Becker 2015, 78, n. 47 ). 74 Parkinson et al. 2013, 417. 75 Dakouri-Hild 2012, 476. 76 Aulsebrook 2018b, 77; Gillis 1991–1992, 27–28; Gillis 1994; Gillis, Bohm 1994, 219–220; Noll et al. 1980, 30; Noll, Heimann 2016, 193; Pantelidou 1971, 435; 1975, 173. 77 Examples are known from Athens Tomb III ( Immerwahr 1971 ), Asine ( Mountjoy 1996 ) and Argos ( Papadimitriou 2001 ). 78 Including many examples from Athens Tomb III ( Immerwahr 1966, 382 ). 79 Dimaki, Papageorgiou 2015, 850.

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implying they could be seconds.80 Several sites, including Asine 81 and Nauplion,82 yielded vessels painted before being tinned; certain vases from Varkiza-Vari in Attica had noticeably worn paint,83 indicating they were in use for some time prior to tinning. This variability must be accounted for when considering who tinned ceramics. Potters would be the most obvious candidate, especially since some vessels were prematurely diverted from the usual production routine.84 However, potters would have been otherwise unfamiliar with metal foils. A very small number of tinned ceramics have been discovered at the pottery workshop of Petsas House at Mycenae; more may come to light but as the current known quantity is relatively low in comparison to the total ceramic assemblage it is uncertain whether they represent a special order, were used for some purpose on site or if the extent of their presence was related to the specific point in the cycle of production that had been reached when the facility was destroyed.85 Jewellers are another possibility and probably were the most familiar with handling metal foils. Certain scholars have assumed that they produced their own.86 However, it might be expected that most jewellers would have little experience of handling larger-scale objects such as tinned stirrup jars, alabastra or jugs,87 unless they also added foils to other artefacts such as metalware and furniture. Should we consider metallurgists? Foils were frequently used on certain types of metal objects such as vessels and weapons; it seems logical to assume that they were applied by metalworkers within a metallurgical workshop, although this cannot currently be proved. A tinned sherd was reportedly recovered near evidence for metallurgical activity at the Knossian Unexplored Mansion,88 but the traces were destroyed by an acid bath before confirmatory analysis could take place.89 We should also question whether significant expertise was required to produce tinned ceramics. Archaeologists tend to ascribe object production to specialists and pay relatively little heed to other types of crafting.90 Tinned ceramics were apparently pri-

80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87

Aulsebrook 2018b, 88. Mountjoy 1996, 64–66.

Currently on display in the Nauplion Museum. Polychronakou-Sgouritsa 1988, 60–61, 67, 69–70; see also Pantelidou 1975, 174. Aulsebrook 2018b, 87. Shelton, pers. comm. Tournavitou 1997, 211. Aulsebrook 2018b, 84–87.

marily intended for funerary contexts, and therefore the quality of the finish may have been a secondary consideration. The foil covering was fragile and would not have withstood prolonged handling,91 implying there would have been little opportunity for close scrutiny. The patchiness of the surviving tin means the quality of the finish cannot be determined and therefore the overall skill cannot be assessed. In one replication study the process of coating simpler shapes was reported to be relatively easy.92 Perhaps, as with foil production, the main ‘cost’ in creating a tinned vessel, aside from material, was time rather than skill. Their fragility also indicates that long-distance trade of tinned ceramics was unfeasible; they were being produced locally. Yet tinned ceramics are known from multiple sites which have not yielded any contemporary evidence that justifies interpreting them as political centres, nor did they later develop palaces. Further evidence that metal foils were reaching lower-order sites as a semi-product rather than only as a component of finished goods can be found at the Kazarma tholos tomb, where tiny fragments of gold have been interpreted as detritus from the manufacture of sheet ornaments at the tomb itself.93 Although we are not yet able to reconstruct the organisation of metal foil production during this period in detail, the cross-craft analysis approach has revealed several important characteristics that future models must take into consideration. The task did not require specialist skill or facilities but it was labour-intensive and made use of costly materials. This may indicate the use of low-skilled or ad-hoc labour; it is unlikely that highly skilled metallurgists would have been ordinarily co-opted into its manufacture. However, it probably took place under strict supervision due to the cost of the materials involved, and would have been a suitable candidate for ta-ra-si-ja.94 Taken together, this indicates that foil production would have been an ideal selective assistance task for metallurgical apprentices, allowing them to develop aspects such as their hand-eye coordination and a feel for working with metals. It would have been less useful for apprentices training for other specialisms,

88 89 90 91

Popham et al. 1984, 262. Popham, Catling 1974, 208, n. 9. Kuijpers 2018, 550–553. Holmberg 1983, 384; Gillis 1991–1992, 28; Gillis, Bohm

1994, 226. 92 Gillis, Bohm 1999, 224. 93 Konstantinidi 2001, 236 94 Killen 2015, 817.

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as its physicality would not translate to working at a small scale. Perhaps therefore a metallurgy workshop is the most probable location. There is no need to insist upon a one-size-fits-all model especially as, although metal foils have primarily been considered in the light of their use to manufacture high value goods that were probably subject to sumptuary controls, it appears that they also reached lower-order sites as a semi-product. Thus our interpretation of foil production must be able to account for its appearance in a wide variety of crafts as well as in a number of contexts beyond palatial workshops. Conclusions

The suggestion put forward in this paper, namely to use cross-craft analysis to investigate variability within a single material industry, is not intended to replace current methods of study but to provide another tool through which questions regarding the organisation of crafting can be approached. The experimental nature of this paper means that it has been possible to raise several important points with regard to Late Bronze Age Aegean metallurgy, even if more work is needed to reach concrete conclusions. One of these is the sheer variability that is subsumed under this single umbrella term. Already we can see in Aegean scholarship some recognition of this complexity, with a tacit acknowledgement of a divide between jewellery manufacturers and other metallurgists based mainly on the appearance of multimedia palatial workshops. Further investigation of the linkages between these two is sure to be fruitful.

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Both case studies, especially the first, raised issues concerning the compartmentalisation of roles within metallurgy. Although we should expect that the producers of prestige objects, such as the ones discussed in the first case study, would have had an excellent grasp of their craft, it is unrealistic to presume that each one had equally mastered every element. In the cup from Grave I ( no. 4 ), we can see a strategy was imposed to avoid a possible weakness in ability or knowledge by compensating with other techniques. Related to this is the problem of skill. The manufacture of certain objects or components, although drawing upon metallurgical techniques, did not necessarily require specialist knowledge or expertise. Even though it may be difficult to identify apprentices in the archaeological record, because their efforts were probably often recycled or reworked immediately,95 this cross-craft approach has enabled the identification of tasks suitable for teaching through selective assistance. It has also highlighted the need to understand the use of metal semi-products outside of traditional metallurgical production. Exploring intra-craft variability, and the crosslinkages between different techniques and practitioners within a craft, has the potential to significantly improve our understanding of production, one of the cornerstones of every society, to at least the same extent as has been achieved through more traditional cross-craft analyses. Although metallurgy is particularly suited to the application of this ‘intracross-craft’ approach, due to its extensive variability, this technique should also prove beneficial when used to investigate other manufacturing industries.

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Papadimitriou N. ( 2001 ) T. 164 – an early LH built chamber tomb from Argos, BSA 96, 41–79. Papadimitriou N., Konstantinidi-Syvridi E.M., Goumas A. ( 2016 ) Technological study and interpretation of rhomboid accessories from Grave Circle A, Mycenae, in: J. Driessen ed., Ra-pi-ne-u: Studies on the Mycenaean World Offered to Robert Laffineur for his 70th Birthday, Aegis 10, Louvain-la-Neuve, 245–262. Parkinson W.A., Nakassis D., Galaty M.L. ( 2013 ) Crafts, specialists and markets in Mycenaean Greece. Introduction, AJA 117, 413–422. Persson A.W. ( 1942 ) New Tombs at Dendra, near Midea, Skrifter utgivna av Kungliga Humanistiska Vetenskapssamfundet i Lund 34, Lund. Platon N. ( 1971 ) Zakros. The Discovery of a Lost Palace of Ancient Crete, New York. Polychronakou-Sgouritsa N. ( 1988 [1995] ) To Mykinaíko nekrotafeío tis Várkizas/Váris ( Το Μυκηναίκο νεκροταφείο της Βάρκιζας/Βάρης ), ArchDelt 43Α, 1–108. Popham M., Betts J.H., Cameron M., Catling H.W., Evely D., Higgins R.A., Smyth D. ( 1984 ) The Minoan Unexplored Mansion at Knossos, BSA Suppl. 17, Oxford. Popham M., Catling H.W. ( 1974 ) Sellopoulo Tombs 3 and 4, two Late Minoan graves near Knossos, BSA 69, 195–257. Protonotariou-Deilaki E. ( 1969 ) Tholotós táfos Kazármas ( Θολωτός τάφος Καζάρμας ), AAA 2, 3–6. Rebay-Salisbury K., Brysbaert A., Foxhall L. ( 2014 ) Material crossovers: introduction, in: K. RebaySalisbury, A. Brysbaert, L. Foxhall eds., Knowledge Networks and Craft Traditions in the Ancient World. Material Crossovers, Routledge Studies in Archaeology 13, New York and Abingdon, 1–7. Santillo Frizell B. ( 1984 ) The tholos tomb at Berbati, OpAth 15, 25–44. Shelmerdine C.W. ( 2012 ) Mycenaean furniture and vessels: text and image, in: M.-L. Nosch, R. Laffineur eds., KOSMOS: Jewellery, Adornment and Textiles in the Aegean Bronze Age, Proceedings of the 13th International Aegean Conference/13e Rencontre égéenne internationale, University of Copenhagen, Danish National Research Foundation’s Centre for Textile Research, 21–26 April 2010, Aegaeum 33, Leuven and Liège, 685–695. Thomas N.R. ( 2012 ) Adorning with the brush and burin: cross-craft in Aegean ivory, fresco,

and inlaid metal, in: M.-L. Nosch, R. Laffineur eds., KOSMOS: Jewellery, Adornment and Textiles in the Aegean Bronze Age, Proceedings of the 13th International Aegean Conference/13e Rencontre égéenne internationale, University of Copenhagen, Danish National Research Foundation’s Centre for Textile Research, 21–26 April 2010, Aegaeum 33, Leuven and Liège, 755–764. Tournavitou I. ( 1997 ) Jewellers moulds and jewellers workshops in Mycenaean Greece. An archaeological utopia, in: C. Gillis, C. Risberg, B. Sjöberg eds., Trade and Production in Premonetary Greece: Production and the Craftsman, Proceedings of the 4th and 5th International Workshops, Athens 1994 and 1995, SIMA-PB 143, Jonsered, 209–256. Tsountas C. ( 1889 [1890] ) Érevnai en ti Lakonikí kai o táfos tou Vafeioú ( Έρευναι εν τη Λακωνική και ο τάφος του Βαφειού ), ArchEph 28, 129–172. Tsountas C. ( 1896 ) Graptí Stíli ek Mykinón ( Γραπτή Στήλη εκ Μυκηνών ), ΑrchΕph 35, 1–22. Ulanowska A. (2018) Textiles in cross-craft interactions. Tracing the impact of textile technology on the Bronze Age Aegean art, in: B. Gediga, A. Grossman, W. Piotrowski eds., Inspiracje i Funkcje Sztuki Pradziejowej i Wczesnośredniowiecznej, Biskupińskie prace archeologiczne 13 / Prace Komisji Archeologicznej 22, Biskupin and Wrocław, 243–263. Untracht O. ( 1968 ) Metal Techniques for Craftsmen, New York. Vaessen R. ( 2014 ) Craftsmanship at Athens in the 11th century BCE: improvisation, networking and pottery making, in: K. Rebay-Salisbury, A. Brysbaert, L. Foxhall eds., Knowledge Networks and Craft Traditions in the Ancient World. Material Crossovers, Routledge Studies in Archaeology 13, New York and Abingdon, 127–146. Vickers M. ( 1985 ) Artful crafts: the influence of metalwork on Athenian painted pottery, JHS 15, 108–128. Wace A.J.B. ( 1932 ) Chamber Tombs at Mycenae, Archaeologia 82, Oxford. Warren P. ( 1969 ) Minoan Stone Vases, Cambridge Classical Studies, Cambridge. Xenaki-Sakellariou A. ( 1985 ) Oi Thalamotoí Táfoi ton Mykinón, Anaskafís Chr. Tsoúnta ( 1887–1898 ) ( Οι Θαλαμωτοί Τάφοι των Μυκηνών, Ανασκαφής Χρ. Τσούντα ( 1887–1898 ) ), Paris.

Sofia Antonello

Ca’ Foscari University of Venice https://orcid.org/0000-0001-7335-8132

MYCENAEAN PICTORIAL STYLE POTTERY AND WALL PAINTINGS—TWO DISTINCT ART FORMS1

Abstract: The Pictorial Style characterises the final stages of Mycenaean pottery ( LH IIIA1–IIIC ),

and it was used to illustrate narrative scenes, depicted mostly on kraters. The vessels were painted with chariots, warriors, animals and more complex images, and that is why some scholars saw the frescoes in Mycenaean palaces as the source of inspiration for this ceramic style. However, the link between the Mycenaean Pictorial Style pottery and the wall paintings has not been clearly established. Some motifs have a compositional scheme similar to that of the wall paintings, but details of the figures differ. Painters of kraters in the Pictorial Style used several subjects that are represented in the Mycenaean frescoes too, but in a distinctive manner, and with a different communicative purpose. The aim of the present paper is to demonstrate that the Pictorial Style is a separate art form from the frescoes, by making an iconographic comparison based on several examples on vases, frescoes, and also seals. Keywords: Pictorial Style, frescoes, pottery, iconographic comparison, Mycenaean.

This is an open access publication made available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International Licence. Sympozjum Egejskie: Papers in Aegean Archaeology 3, ed. by S. Aulsebrook, K. Żebrowska, A. Ulanowska, and K. Lewartowski, WSA 3 ( Turnhout: Brepols, 2022 ), pp. 113–126. 10.1484/M.WSA-EB.5.128956

Introduction

The Mycenaean vases in the Pictorial Style are some of the most fascinating objects of art to have been produced by Aegean artists. The adjective “pictorial” was employed for the first time by A. Furumark, in his work of 1941, to indicate a particular category of painted Mycenaean ceramics decorated with chariots, human figures, real and imaginary animals, which differed from the more widespread ceramics with floral decorations and abstract motifs.2 Early examples decorated in this style date from the end of Late

Helladic ( LH ) IIIA1, and they continued to be produced up until LH IIIC.3 They are distinctive in the narrative character of their decoration, which usually fills the broadest part of the surface of the body of amphoroid kraters. In the early phase ( LH IIIA1 ), the preferred subjects were mainly fish and birds, images borrowed from Minoan ceramics.4 Later on ( LH IIIA2–IIIB ), the scenes most often used featured humans engaging in various activities, including chariot processions.5 During this phase, Mycenaean

1 This paper is the outcome of a study prompted by a course on Aegean frescoes held by Prof. P.M. Militello at the Italian School of Archaeology in Athens in autumn 2017. I wish to thank Prof. Militello for his precious advice. I would also like to express my gratitude to the conference organisers, Kazimierz Lewartowski, Agata Ulanowska and Katarzyna Żebrowska, for the fruitful time spent together. 2 Furumark 1941, passim; motifs deriving from the earlier Minoan ceramic tradition: figs. 32, 33, 38. See also Åkerström 1987, 71–85.

3 Mountjoy 1993, 73; cf. Vermeule, Karageorghis 1982, 3; Rutter 2010, 418. On the other hand, J.H. Crouwel and C.E. Morris ( 1996, 217 ) place the start of the style in LH I. 4 Åkerström 1987, 114–115; cf. Crouwel, Morris 1995, 181–182; Crouwel, Morris 1996, 217–219. 5 Åkerström 1987, 116–117; cf. Mountjoy 1993, 73; Crouwel, Morris 1996, 219.

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vases were standardised and produced in large quantities, mainly for export to the East and Cyprus.6 A period of decline at the start of LH IIIC ( LH IIIC Middle ) was followed by a return to the production of vases in the Pictorial Style. The principal subjects of their decoration were humans and the natural world, represented by goats, deer, lions and imaginary creatures.7 Unlike those of the earlier phases, the ceramics of LH IIIC were characterised by regionalism. The end of the period is marked by an impoverishment of the adopted ceramic forms, and pictorial decoration ultimately disappears altogether.8 There is no general consensus on the relationship between the decoration on vases in the Mycenaean Pictorial Style and wall paintings. Some scholars see the themes depicted on both media as part of the artistic repertoire of Mycenaean culture. They identify links between the vases and various other forms, such as seals and ivory and metal artefacts, as well as the frescoes too. A. Furumark claims, for instance, that the subjects represented on the vases belong to the set of themes common to Minoan-Mycenaean art.9 E. Vermeule and V. Karageorghis suggest that the link between the Pictorial Style and the frescoes concerns subject more than style. They do not deny a possible relationship between the two art forms, but prefer to emphasise the need to look at other media too, such as metal artefacts and glyptics.10 Y. Sakellarakis believes that a close resemblance to the frescoes can be found for some scenes on the vases, but adds that this does not necessarily indicate a connection between the two art forms. This scholar also states that the repertoire of Mycenaean motifs is common to all the various art forms.11 K. Lewartowski sees no similarity between the Pictorial Style and the Mycenaean frescoes. This scholar compares a krater decorated with a chariot from Mycenae with the fresco from Tiryns to emphasise how differently the same subject is depicted. The painters of the vases had borrowed some ideas for their composition, but

the product they created responded to very different artistic conventions.12 Instead, other scholars claim that the decoration on the vases in the Pictorial Style was inspired by the frescoes in the palaces. According to S. Immerwahr, the origins of the Pictorial Style can be traced back to Late Minoan frescoes like the “Palanquin” ( Charioteer ) or the Campstool frescoes.13 J.H. Crouwel and C.E. Morris are of the same opinion, and recognise the Minoan frescoes as the source of the representations of the chariot on the vases.14 On the other hand, P. Mountjoy writes that, while it is generally accepted that the motifs were adapted from the frescoes of continental Greece, no specific parallels have been identified.15 More recent contributions have suggested that the vases in the Mycenaean Pictorial Style and the frescoes are linked both by their style and by the themes they depict.16 The two art forms have even been described as two modes of expression of the same artistic technique—painting.17 So, are there features of the decoration on the kraters that point to a connection with the art of the frescoes? The aim of this work is to see whether a genuine link exists between these two art forms. The first part of the paper describes some of the themes shared by the decoration on the vases and the wall paintings. Then I focus on the criteria applied to identify the connections between the iconographies used for both the frescoes and the glyptics, and how they can be utilised to compare the vases in the Pictorial Style with cult scenes and wall paintings. The paper ends with a few concluding remarks.

6 Vermeule, Karageorghis 1982, 8; cf. Steel 1998, 286; van Wijngaarden 2002, 261; Crouwel, Morris 1996, 219. The vases found at burial sites on Cyprus are much better preserved than those unearthed in the continental Mycenaean region, especially in the towns ( Sakellarakis 1992, 11 ). Analyses of the clay have demonstrated that these vases were made in the Argolis, especially at Berbati (Papadopoulos 2011, 167–178; Papadopoulos 2018, 525 ). 7 Mountjoy 1993, 99; cf. Rutter 2010, 421. 8 Rutter 2010, 420–421. 9 Furumark 1941, 430. 10 Vermeule, Karageorghis 1982, 1, 5. 11 Sakellarakis 1992, 11. 12 Lewartowski 1992, 93–97.

13 Immerwahr 1990, 149–151, Kn nos. 25, 26. 14 Crouwel, Morris 1995, 181–182; cf. Crouwel, Morris 1996, 217–218. 15 Mountjoy 1993, 73. 16 Papadopoulos 2018, 531. 17 Pliatsika 2018, 545. 18 Other parallels have been drawn between the frescoes and some single representations on vases, as in the case of the “Window Krater” from Kourion, which depicts female figures at a window ( Vermeule, Karageorghis 1982, 17–18, 196, no. III.12; Immerwahr 1990, 128, 201, Th no. 2; cf. Papadopoulos 2018, 526 ) and of the rhyton from Ugarit, with spearmen ( Vermeule, Karageorghis 1982, 44, 202, no. V.36; Papadopoulos 2018, 526 ).

Vases and Frescoes: Similarities and Differences

Scholars who see a link between the two art forms have identified some subjects as conveying certain particularly evident similarities, specifically the chariot, soldiers and animals.18 Some of the examples proposed

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Fig. 1a. Chariot on the fragment of krater from Enkomi ( modified by the author from: Vermeule, Karageorghis 1982, III.21 ); 1b. Chariot Procession on a fragment from Ugarit ( modified by the author from: Vermeule, Karageorghis 1982, IV.50 ); 1c. Chariot on the fragment from Aptera ( modified by the author from: Vermeule, Karageorghis 1982, V.19 ); 1d. Chariot on the “Mycenaean Parasol Krater” ( modified by the author from: Crouwel 1991, fig. 2 A 5 ); 1e. Chariot fresco from Knossos ( modified by the author from: Immerwahr 1990, fig. 27 ); 1f. Chariot fresco from Tiryns ( modified by the author from: Rodenwaldt 1912, pl. XII ).

by scholars to describe the parallelism between the two art forms are taken up and discussed below.19 The Chariot

The chariot is the subject most often represented on kraters in the Pictorial Style.20 We can find it on vases

19 The corpus of vases in the Pictorial Style, published by E. Vermeule and V. Karageorghis in 1982, groups together fragments found in continental Greece, Cyprus, the Dodecanese and the Near East ( Vermeule, Karageorghis 1982; cf. Rystedt 2006, 9 ). In addition to this publication, there are more recent studies on the material coming from Mycenae ( Crouwel 1991 ), and from other sites in continental Greece ( for the site of Berbati see Åkerström 1987; for the site of Tiryns see Güntner 2000; in general, see Mountjoy 1999; Rystedt, Wells 2006; Deger-Jalkotzy, Zavadil 2007 ). The book published by S. Immerwahr in 1990 covers the majority of the Aegean frescoes ( Immerwahr 1990 ), to which we can add the more recent studies and latest discoveries ( Morgan 2005; Chapin 2014; Brecoulaki et al. 2015 ).

dating from the Early III to the Late Pictorial ( LH IIIA1–IIIC ) periods 21 and on frescoes from the Palace of Knossos 22 and the Mycenaean palaces dating from LH IIIA1 to IIIB.23 Scholars have drawn comparisons between the vases decorated with chariots and

20 The variations in the representation of the chariot reflect real structural changes in the chariots of the time. See Vermeule, Karageorghis 1982, 181–187; Åkerström 1987, 123–128; Morris 2006, 100, fig. 1. For a catalogue of the material and Aegean iconographic representations of the chariot in the Bronze Age, see Crouwel 1981. 21 For the complete chronology, see Vermeule, Karageorghis 1982, 3. 22 Immerwahr 1990, Kn no. 25, fig. 27. 23 From Mycenae: Tournavitou 2015, 151–152, figs. 12–13; Tournavitou 2017, WH F 64, pl. 18. From Tiryns: Rodenwaldt 1912, 98, fig. 40, 110, fig. 140, pl. XII; cf. Immerwahr 1990, Ti no. 6, pls. 68–70; Morgan 2005, 30–31.

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fragments of frescoes both from Knossos (Late Minoan ( LM ) II–IIIA2 early )24 and from Tiryns ( LH IIIB ).25 On a fragment of amphoroid krater from Enkomi ( Fig. 1a ), dating from late LH IIIA1, there is a procession with a dual-chariot containing a charioteer and a passenger; it is followed by an individual with a long robe and a sword, and by a man holding an object that may be a sunshade. The chariot box is square and it is decorated with trefoil and large spots.26 On a fragment from Ugarit ( Fig. 1b ), which dates from late LH IIIA2, there is a similar procession with a chariot drawn by two horses and carrying three passengers.27 In this case, the box is square and decorated with spots. A fragment found at Aptera ( Crete ) ( Fig. 1c ), dated to LH IIIB1, shows four passengers on a chariot consisting of two apparently separate elements: the box and the wheel.28 The “Mycenaean Parasol Krater” ( Fig. 1d ), dated to LH IIIB, still shows a part of the decoration of a chariot fitted with a sunshade.29 During the subsequent period ( LH IIIC ), however, chariots were even depicted without parapets ( the side panels ).30 Of the fresco from Knossos that depicts a chariot ( Fig. 1e ), only a few fragments of the rear part, the top and the front portion of the box remain. Its reconstruction enables us to see a form similar to that of the chariot on the krater from Enkomi,31 albeit with different proportions and decorative details. The chariot in the fresco from Tiryns 32 ( Fig. 1f ) is very similar to that of the fresco from Knossos, and the reconstruction reveals a compositional formula similar to the one used on the vases: two figures dressed in long tunics, seen in profile standing up straight on the chariot drawn by a horse that moves from left to right. The elements used in representations of chariots on the frescoes and vases are the same; the decoration on the vases is just more stylised. However, the chariot motif on vases follows its own stylistic evolution during the course of the various periods, that is not comparable with that of the frescoes. On the oldest

24 Cameron 1967, 330; cf. Immerwahr 1990, 149; Crouwel, Morris 1995, 181. 25 Rodenwaldt 1912, 98, fig. 40, 110, fig. 140, pl. XII; cf. Immerwahr 1990, Ti no. 6, pls. 68–70; Morgan 2005, 30–31. 26 Vermeule, Karageorghis 1982, 21–22, no. III.21; cf. Cassola Guida, Zucconi Galli Fonseca 1992, 165, no. 77. 27 Vermeule, Karageorghis 1982, no. IV.50; cf. Cassola Guida, Zucconi Galli Fonseca 1992, 166, no. 78. 28 Vermeule, Karageorghis 1982, nos. V.19; cf. Cassola Guida, Zucconi Galli Fonseca 1992, 167, no. 80. 29 Crouwel 1991, 13–15, fig. 2 A 5.

vases ( LH IIIA ), we can see early experiments with the chariot-horse motif, and the subsequent development of a strong convention. During the subsequent period ( LH IIIB ), the classic iconography changes, however, shifting to a more stylised representation in which the various parts of the chariot have become mere decorative motifs. Finally, in LH IIIC, the iconography changes again, and includes not only floral fillers but also animals, and especially armed soldiers.33 This evolution is nowhere to be seen in the depictions of chariots in the frescoes and may provide an argument in support of the autonomy of the Mycenaean Pictorial Style. The Warriors

The example most often used to demonstrate the link between the frescoes and the Pictorial Style on the subject of warriors is the so-called “Warrior Vase” (Fig. 2a) found inside the Mycenaean citadel, and dated to LH IIIC Middle.34 The artist who made the vase seems to be the same as the one who painted the stele (Fig. 2b) found in a chamber tomb at Mycenae, decorated with five warriors and painted using the fresco technique.35 In fact, the two artefacts are very similar in terms of their subject, composition, and polychrome technique. On the topic of warriors, it is also interesting to compare the piece from the fresco from Orchomenos ( Fig. 2c ),36 which is dated to LH IIIA2, with the small fragment from the edge of a krater from Tiryns, dated to LH IIIB2 ( Fig. 2d ).37 The latter shows two warriors: one carries a shield in the shape of a figure-of-eight, while the other’s shield is tower-shaped; both sport boar tusk helmets and spears. The picture on the krater can also be compared with the miniature fresco ( Fig. 2e ) from Room 5 of the West House at Akrotiri (Late Cycladic I ).38 In all three representations, similar marching warriors are depicted, equipped with boar tusk helmets, spears and, in two of these representations, they are also armed with large shields.

30 Vermeule, Karageorghis 1982, 125–127, nos. XI.16, XI.28; cf. Cassola Guida 1973, no. 84; Cassola Guida, Zucconi Galli Fonseca 1992, no. 103. 31 Vermeule, Karageorghis 1982, 21–22, no. III.21. 32 Rodenwaldt 1912, 98, fig. 49, 110, fig. 140, pl. XII. 33 Rystedt 2006. 34 Immerwahr 1990, 149–151. For a description of the vase and relevant bibliography, see Sakellarakis 1992, 36–37. 35 Vermeule, Karageorghis 1982, 130–134, nos. XI.42–43; cf. Crouwel 2007, 74–75; Pliatsika 2018, 535–536. 36 Spyropoulos 2015, 361–363. 37 Vermeule, Karageorghis 1982, 229, no. X.19.1. 38 Marinatos 1999, colour pl. 7; see also Warren 1979.

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Fig. 2a. The “Warrior Vase” from Mycenae ( modified by the author from: Sakellarakis 1992, fig. 32 ); 2b. Warriors on the stele from Mycenae ( modified by the author from: Åkerström 1987, fig. 102 ); 2c. Warriors fresco from Orchomenos ( modified by the author from: Spyropoulos 2015 ); 2d. Warriors on the fragment of krater from Tiryns ( modified by the author from: Vermeule, Karageorghis 1982, X.19.1 ); 2e. Miniature fresco from the West House at Akrotiri ( modified by the author from: Marinatos 1999, colour pl. 7 ); 2f. Warrior and horse on a fragment from Mycenae ( modified by the author from: Pliatsika 2018, fig. 4 ); 2g. Warriors and horse fresco from Mycenae ( modified by the author from: Immerwahr 1990, pl. 64 ).

A fragment of a LH IIIC vase from Mycenae ( Fig. 2f ) shows a warrior with greaves and a short tunic who is preparing his horse for battle. The warrior’s position behind his horse is the same as that of a warrior depicted on a fresco from Mycenae ( Fig. 2g ) ( LH IIIA–B1 ).39 The resemblances between the depictions of warriors include the paratactic positioning of warriors

marching or preparing their horses, and details of their armour, such as the boar tusk helmets, which are faithfully reproduced, despite the far smaller size of the object being decorated. Generally speaking, for the kraters with scenes of men-at-arms, it is necessary to consider two elements. First, the choice of this topic appears late, during the collapse of palatial society at the end of the Bronze Age.40 Second, most

39 Immerwahr 1990, 123–124, 192, pl. 64, My no. 10; cf. Pliatsika 2018, 538–539, fig. 4.

40 Papadopoulos 2018, 530.

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Fig. 3a. Deer on the krater from Enkomi ( modified by the author from: Vermeule, Karageorghis 1982, V.54 ); 3b. Deer fresco from Tiryns ( modified by the author from: Immerwahr 1990, fig. 36 ); 3c. Griffins on the bell krater from Enkomi ( modified by the author from: Vermeule, Karageorghis 1982, V.27 ); 3d. The short side ( C ) of the Ayia Triada sarcophagus ( modified by the author from: Militello 1998, pl. 15B ).

of the vases decorated with warrior figures were found in continental Greece,41 which leads us to presume that the battle scenes were intended more for the internal market, and were therefore more strongly influenced by local tastes.42 After the fall of the Mycenaean citadels, it seems that the vases were made not only by specialists in the sector, but also by craftsmen who produced other forms of art, such as frescoes,43 because of a shortage of work in their own areas of expertise.44 This helps to explain why the vases with representations of warriors bear a strong resemblance to the frescoes.

41 Vermeule, Karageorghis 1982, 216–217, 222–223. 42 Papadopoulos 2018, 530–531. 43 See, for instance, the iconography of the chariot on the ivory artefact found at Thebes, dated to the 13th century BC ( Aravantinos 2010, 62–63 ). 44 Rutter 1992, 65.

The Animals

Most of the non-schematically rendered depictions of animals that decorated the walls of the Aegean palaces, such as griffins,45 deer 46 and bulls,47 can be compared with animals in the decoration on some vases.48 A similarity has been traced between the deer on the fresco from Tiryns ( LH IIIB2 )49 ( Fig. 3b ) and some kraters found at Enkomi ( Fig. 3a ), belonging to the first half of the 13th century BC.50 The deer on the fresco and on the vases are similar in terms of their position ( some have their head turned to look behind them, while others bend forwards ) and the repeated geometric motif decorating their bodies.

45 In the so-called “Throne Rooms” at Knossos and Pylos: Evans 1935, pl. XXXIII; Lang 1969, 38–39 C 64, pl. P. 46 Lang 1969, 1 C 2, 2 C 2, pl. 131. 47 Shaw 1996, pls. B–D. 48 Åkerström 1987, 116–117; Mountjoy 1993, 83. 49 Rodenwaldt 1912, 199–122; cf. Immerwahr 1990, 149, Ti no. 7, fig. 36. 50 Vermeule, Karageorghis 1982, 49, nos. V.53–55.

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The bell krater from Enkomi 51 ( LH IIIB1 ) ( Fig. 3c ) is decorated with two different types of imaginary animals: two griffins on one side, two sphinxes on the other. The griffin on the right draws a chariot carrying two men. This iconography has been compared with that of the Ayia Triada sarcophagus ( LM IIIA2 Early ): on the short side ( C ) there are two female figures on a chariot drawn by griffins ( Fig. 3d ).52 Although the scene on the sarcophagus is more detailed, the two compositions are quite similar. Nonetheless, it is reasonable to say that simply identifying the presence of the same subjects is not enough to demonstrate a link between the two art forms in question.

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employed in the various art forms, which were closely related to one another.57 If the scenes depicted on the vases were inspired by the frescoes, the kraters might serve ( like the seals ) as ‘missing links’, facilitating our interpretation of the wall paintings and conveying palatial iconographies. To test this hypothesis, I consider three kraters in the Pictorial Style decorated with cult scenes—subjects that usually convey palatial iconographies. The Cult Scenes

To determine whether or not the Mycenaean Pictorial Style is derived from frescoes, the method employed to study the relationship between glyptics and Minoan Neopalatial frescoes can be applied. As F. Blakolmer demonstrated, the figures and scenes carved on the seals often represented single scenes drawn from narrative friezes forming part of the frescoes.53 This claim finds proof in the fresco from Room 14 at Ayia Triada, in which two scenes—one of a baetylus, and one of a goddess feeding goats—are precisely reflected in the representations on several seals.54 In this case, seal and fresco not only share the same iconography, but are also comparable in terms of the details and composition. For instance, the seal from Chania that depicts a goddess feeding a goat alongside her is comparable with the fresco from Ayia Triada in terms of the accurate rendering of the goddess’ dress and the presence of the same animal, depicted in an almost identical manner.55 F. Blakolmer demonstrated that: 1 ) the seals can be used like pieces of a puzzle, helping us to understand and reconstruct what the broader repertoire of Neopalatial Cretan frescoes depicted; 2 ) these objects convey iconographic and iconic messages created by the Knossian elites;56 and 3 ) during the Aegean Bronze Age, an official iconography was

Three vases—all from Cyprus—show cult scenes that are almost unique within the panorama of the Pictorial Style.58 Judging from their rarity, it may be assumed that they were made to order for a given buyer. The painter’s dedication to the preparation of such works might therefore have included conducting a more accurate search for iconographic details that would satisfy the customer.59 The first is the so-called “Shrine Krater” ( Fig. 4a ), found in Tomb 13 at the necropolis of KalavasosAyios Dhimitrios, near the southern coast of Cyprus. The vase has been dated to LH IIIA2.60 Its decoration shows a religious scene, which seems to be a chariot moving towards a divinity or priestess in her shrine. Both sides of the vase show an architectural construction consisting of a main chamber and an antechamber, and there are horns of consecration on the roof of both. Inside the main room is a seated female figure, and there are two round objects hanging from the ceiling.61 The structure of the tripartite shrine is of Minoan-Mycenaean origin and it is well-represented in the Grandstand Fresco from Knossos ( Fig. 4b ), in the relief rhyton from Kato Zakros ( Fig. 4c ) and on five golden plaques discovered in Shaft Graves III and IV at Mycenae (Fig. 4d).62 The sanctuary depicted on the “Shrine Krater” may recall a building that actually existed on Cyprus itself, like the sanctuaries at Myrtou-Pigadhes, Kouklia-Palaepaphos and Area II at Kition, where horns of consecration were found.63 The tripartite sanctuary is depicted in some frescoes too. For instance, a fragment of fresco found in the Pylos Palace ( Fig. 4e ), that is dated to the same period

51 Vermeule, Karageorghis 1982, 43, 202, no. V.27. 52 Militello 1998, 306–308, pls. 15A-B; La Rosa 1999. 53 Narrative friezes can also be found on some vases, as in the case of the “Harvest Vase” from Ayia Triada. Here again, seals have been found that depict single scenes drawn from a larger picture ( Blakolmer 2010, 103–105 ). 54 Blakolmer 2012, 94–96. 55 Militello 1998, pls. 3A, 4; CMS V1A 175.

56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63

Pictorial Style Vessels and Seals: Different Communicative Purposes

Blakolmer 2012, 97–98. Blakolmer 2010, 98. Papadopoulos 2018, 526–527. Steel 1998, 294. Steel 1994, 201. Steel 1994, 205–208; cf. Steel 2006, 148, fig. 1, 152. Shaw 1978; cf. Gesell 1985, 29. Steel 1994, 211; cf. Fisher 2006–2007, 85; Steel 2018, 584–586.

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Fig. 4a. The “Shrine Krater” ( modified by the author from: Steel 2006, fig. 1 ); 4b. The Grandstand Fresco from Knossos ( modified by the author from: Evans 1930, pl. XVI ); 4c. Relief rhyton from Kato Zakros ( modified by the author from: Shaw 1978, fig. 8 ); 4d. Gold plaque from Mycenae ( modified by the author from: Shaw 1978, fig. 1 ); 4e. Fragment of fresco from Pylos ( modified by the author from: Lang 1969, pl. R 8 A 3 ); 4f. Seal with women in procession ( CMS II,8 268 ); 4g. Fragment of fresco from Mycenae ( modified by the author from: Shaw 1996, pl. A 9 ); 4h. Pyxis found at Ayia Triada ( modified by the author from: Halbherr 1903, 42, fig. 36 ).

Fig. 5a. The “Homage Krater” ( modified by the author from: Karageorghis 1958, fig. 3 ); 5b. Procession fresco from Thebes ( modified by the author from: Immerwahr 1990, pl. XXI ); 5c. The gold ring from Tiryns ( CMS I 179 ); 5d. The gold ring from Mycenae ( CMS I 101 ).

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Fig. 6a. The “Procession Krater” ( modified by the author from: Steel 2006, fig. 7 ); 6b. The Small Procession from Ayia Triada ( modified by the author from: Militello 1998, pl. 10A ); 6c. Procession fresco from Knossos ( modified by the author from: Evans 1928, fig. 45 ).

as this vase, shows an architectural structure and horns of consecration.64 On the Grandstand Fresco at the Palace of Knossos ( Fig. 4b ), there are female figures seated on either side of the sanctuary.65 Seated female figures in a religious setting, though not specifically inside an architectural structure, are often to be seen on glyptic iconography as in the case of a Neopalatial seal found at Knossos ( Fig. 4f ), with its figure on the right seated in a building that has horns of consecration above it.66 Other seals often depict women in procession towards a building with horns of consecration.67 A fragment of fresco from Mycenae ( Fig. 4g )68 and a pyxis found at Ayia Triada ( Fig. 4h )69 give us an idea of what the objects hanging from the ceiling of the shrine depicted on the vase might be; they are probably festoons. The decoration on the vase combines MinoanMycenaean iconographic elements ( the tripartite sanctuary ) with popular art ( the chariot typical of the Pictorial Style ). Instead of helping us to understand

the story of the frescoes, it seems to tell a completely new, different story. The architectural construction depicted on the vases also seems to be a simplified version. It is worth noting the association of the chariot with the sanctuary and its female element ( as a divinity seated or as figures in a procession ), the latter being fairly common on glyptic iconography. The second krater is the “Homage Krater” (Fig. 5a) that was found at Aradippou, near Larnaca, and then exhibited in 1907 in the Louvre ( Département des Antiquités Orientales ).70 It is representative of the transition between the Early and the Middle Pictorial Style ( LH IIIA1 Late ).71 It shows a female figure, who is sitting on a throne in this case, and there are no architectural elements to define the space around her. On either side of the krater there are two procession scenes. On side A, there are two figures wearing long robes, and a male figure with a long stick moves towards another figure in a long robe who is sitting on a throne. A bird is perched on the back of the throne.72

64 Lang 1969, pl. R 8 A 3. 65 Evans 1930, pl. XVI; cf. Immerwahr 1990, 65, Kn no. 15. 66 CMS II,8 268. All references to seals are drawn from the Corpus der minoischen und mykenischen Siegel and CMS Arachne ( https://arachne.uni-koeln.de/browser/index.php?view[layout]= siegel, accessed 28.04.2019 ). 67 For example: CMS I 86, 108, 191.

68 Shaw 1996, pl. A 9. 69 Halbherr 1903, 42, fig. 36; cf. Evans 1921, 494 n. 4; Rutkowski 1977, pl. XXIII. 70 Pottier 1907, 232–234. 71 Vermeule, Karageorghis 1982, 23–24, no. III.29. 72 Karageorghis 1958, 386 n. 41, pl. 99, figs. 3–4.

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In the frescoes, such as the procession from Thebes ( LH IIIA )73 ( Fig. 5b ), the composition consists of characters carrying gifts and without the seated figure.74 The gold ring from Tiryns ( LH II ) ( Fig. 5c ) shows four lion-headed daemons holding libation jugs and moving towards a female figure seated on a throne, which again features a bird perched on the back.75 Another gold ring discovered at Mycenae ( LH I–II ) ( Fig. 5d ) is decorated with a scene even more similar to the one on the krater concerned; it shows a male character ( interpreted as a young king ) holding a stick in his hand, who comes before a larger-sized female figure seated on a stool, who is presumably a divinity.76 The scene on the krater seems to find parallels in glyptic iconography, given the presence of the character seated on a throne. Although no frescoes with a throne scene are preserved, they might have existed, for example at Mycenae. Scenes of processions of soldiers or the faithful moving towards a seated divinity are also a common theme in Near Eastern art.77 The third krater ( Fig. 6a ) showing a cult scene was found in Tomb 21, to the south-west of Building XI in the NE area of the settlement at Kalavasos-Ayios Dhimitrios. It displays a procession of almost identical female figures.78 This subject is characteristic of Mycenaean art and well-represented by the fresco of the Small Procession at Ayia Triada ( Fig. 6b ), attributed to LM IIIA1,79 but also by the frescoes of processions discovered at Knossos ( Fig. 6c ) and Thebes ( Fig. 5b ),80 though the figures carry gifts in these latter cases. As mentioned earlier, female figures in procession are amply represented on Aegean glyptics.81 The only element that the vase and the frescoes have in common is the in-profile positioning of the female figures in the procession, who stand in a neat line, one behind the other. The theme depicted on the krater and on the walls seems to be the same, but it is difficult to establish that the fresco was the source of inspiration. Overall, in some cases the scenes on the seals have precise details in common with the frescoes. The same cannot be said when comparing the figures on the vases in the Pictorial Style with the frescoes. Returning to the points made by F. Blakolmer, it is not possible to say that the scenes represented on the vases

73 Keramopoulos 1909, pls. I–III, 2–3; cf. Immerwahr 1990, 106, 111, 115–117, Th no.1, pl. XXI.221–227. 74 As in a frieze from Tiryns, see Immerwahr 1990, pl. 55. 75 CMS I 179. 76 CMS I 101. 77 Vermeule, Karageorghis 1982, 24. 78 South 2006, 140, 142, fig. 11. 79 Militello 1998, 309–320, pl. 10 A.

help us to decipher the frescoes, or vice versa. It could be argued, however, that the presence of certain similar scenes on seals, vases and frescoes is proof of the Pictorial Style being part of a broader iconographic language.

Conclusions

To sum up, it appears that the similarities between the decoration on the vases in the Mycenaean Pictorial Style and the scenes represented on the frescoes only apply to certain topics. Moreover, the images painted on these vases do not help us to interpret the scenes depicted in the frescoes. The figures on the vases are generally stylised, almost in a sort of Cubist ante litteram style.82 One of the few notable exceptions is the “Warrior Vase”, possibly the only vase in the Pictorial Style that is genuinely comparable with the frescoes in terms of its realistic details. The decoration on this vase goes to show that a more elaborate style could have been employed on other vases too, but their painters opted to take a different approach instead. It is important to contextualise the three media involved in the iconographic comparisons considered above: vases in the Pictorial Style, frescoes and seals. The vases were made for both internal and overseas markets and considered in the latter case as status symbols, whereas the frescoes were representations of local power and authority.83 The seals, on which there are some scenes similar to those depicted on the vases, were portable items like the vases, but their iconographic similarity to the frescoes is stronger than the resemblance between the frescoes and the vases. The traditionally held view, according to which the motifs on the seals served as a distinctive sign of their owners,84 has since been questioned. It is now generally believed that, at the time of their production, the choices made by the artists were more important than those of the buyer.85 In fact, if all owners of seals had chosen a specific image, the seals would show a greater variety of themes.86 In this case, the carvers of the seals probably drew inspiration for their work directly from the palatial art par excellence, the frescoes.

80 81 82 83 84 85 86

Evans 1928, 723, fig. 45; Lang 1969, 221–227, pl. O. See notes 72–73. Lewartowski 1992, 95. Papadopoulos 2018, 529–531. Weingarten 1988, 110–114. Panagiotopoulos 2010, 305. Panagiotopoulos 2010, 305–307.

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Comparing the details on the kraters in the Pictorial Style and the frescoes ( as a hypothetical source of inspiration ), the only characteristic shared by the frescoes and vases is that both make use of certain similar scenes. Some scholars believe that pattern books containing whole scenes, types of figures and ornamental elements were used in the production of these vessels,87 but to explain the appearance of similar subjects on different pictorial media it is enough to consider the presence of an iconographic culture that influenced all the various art forms. As F. Blakolmer demonstrated in comparing seals with Minoan Neopalatial frescoes, the iconographic culture of the time spread to various objects, and involved the use of different artistic techniques, but communicated through the same subject. Instead of speaking of an influence exerted by the iconographies of the frescoes on the representations on the vases in the Mycenaean Pictorial Style, it would seem more appropriate to speak of the presence of iconographic themes characteristic of the culture, and consequently of Mycenaean figurative arts in general, which developed differently depending on the communicative purpose of the work of art in question. In the case of

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seals, the object’s communicative purpose was more similar to that of the iconography communicated through the frescoes, while this was not required for the vases decorated in the Pictorial Style. It has been suggested that the flourishing of the Pictorial Style may correlate with a new tradition adopted by a social class that used these pictorial subjects to represent itself. It would consequently have adhered to the iconographic culture of its time. 88 While on Cyprus this social class would coincide with that of the elite,89 we cannot assume that the people who owned these vases on the Greek mainland were all elite.90 As a result, not only were the iconographies of Pictorial Style vases distinguishable from the previous Minoan and Mycenaean vessel-making traditions for their narrative decoration, they also possessed an important communicative value, so much so that it was used conspicuously in two distant and different social arenas. In short, it can be said that the Mycenaean Pictorial Style and the frescoes are two different art forms with diverse purposes that drew on the iconographic culture of the same period for their pictorial repertoire.

Bibliography

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Christina Aamodt

Independent Researcher https://orcid.org/0000-0002-4786-3028

PRACTICES FOR AVERTING EVIL AND THE NOTION OF RITUAL PROTECTION IN MYCENAEAN CULT PERFORMANCE1

Abstract: The belief that malevolent spirits, vengeful divinities or the envy of other individuals can

be the source of harm and misfortune, and that individuals are therefore in need of ritual protection, is a concept that is present in many ancient and modern cultures. The interference of evil forces is manifested, among other possibilities, as illness, misfortune or death when referring to human beings and as destruction when referring to objects. In order to protect from such misfortune and danger, specific practices, symbols and objects imbued with protective qualities are employed. In Mycenaean Greece proof for the existence of apotropaic imagery is fragmentary and tentative. The notion of ritual protection, however, can be supported by evidence for the performance of specific practices and actions, usually involving symbols with religious associations. This paper focuses on particular actions that could have had an apotropaic or protective role during the performance of cult practices in order to examine the concept of apotropaism in Mycenaean culture.

Keywords: apotropaism, ritual protection, Mycenaean, cult performance.

This is an open access publication made available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International Licence. Sympozjum Egejskie: Papers in Aegean Archaeology 3, ed. by S. Aulsebrook, K. Żebrowska, A. Ulanowska, and K. Lewartowski, WSA 3 ( Turnhout: Brepols, 2022 ), pp. 127–140. 10.1484/M.WSA-EB.5.128957

Introduction

The belief that individuals are susceptible to harm caused by ‘evil’ and are therefore in need of ritual protection is a concept that is present in many ancient and modern cultures. The threat from evil can be manifested, among other possibilities, as illness, misfortune or death when referring to human beings and as destruction when referring to objects. It can be the result of the action of malevolent spirits, vengeful divinities or of other individuals, whose envy can consciously or unconsciously cause harm.2 In Ancient Greece, the cause of sudden and unexplained misfortune was often attributed to the “evil eye”, a medium

through which feelings of envy and jealousy manifested themselves in a form of harm, a belief that survives to the present day.3 Vulnerable individuals, such as infants or pregnant women, were particularly at risk of injury.4 To protect from such dangers, apotropaic symbols and practices were employed. Apotropaism, then, refers to the power attributed to symbols, images, objects or practices to repel evil forces and protect from harm.5 The symbolic implications of objects and actions have a vital role in apotropaic practices. As communicative acts, such practices are often arbitrated by materiality, by objects or actions that have left

1 I would like to thank the editors for their help with the publication of this article and the reviewers for their valuable comments and suggestions. Any shortfalls remain my own. 2 Dundes 1981, 258; Karagianni 2010, 33.

3 Veikou 2008, 95. 4 Boric 2003, 60. 5 Boric 2003, 60.

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physical remains, which transfer signals and meaning.6 The power of symbols rests in their multivocality, their ability to condense meaning and communicate a variety of meanings, often ambiguous or contradictory, simultaneously.7 Apotropaic symbols are characterised as such usually because they consist of elements that create fear, such as unnatural or ferocious features, or because they have magico-religious connotations. Thus, in Near Eastern iconography, Humbaba, who fought malevolent forces, had grotesque features, while in Ancient Egypt the goddess Sekhmet, who protected from disease, was part lion, and Taweret, the protectress of mothers and children, was part hippopotamus.8 By incorporating in their substance the fierceness of these particular animals, the divinities enhanced their defensive role. In Archaic and Classical Greece, the famous Gorgo was the apotropaion par excellence, whose terrifying appearance was intensified by the presence of snakes for hair. Thus, it is the grotesqueness or ferocity of the image that will attract the glance of the enemy and divert it from the potential victim.9 Frontality is also an important element of apotropaism for obvious reasons.10 Gorgon, for example, was always depicted in full face, regardless of whether she was represented as a mask or as a full figure.11 Frontality is often combined with nudity, particularly female nudity, as for example in the motif of the Mistress of Animals in Near Eastern art. As a reference to sexuality, nudity enhances the potency of the female.12 The presence of the naked goddess on weapons such as shields, therefore, can be understood as a reference to the power of nudity to attract attention and distract the eye away from the person carrying such an image.13 Similarly, apotropaic properties were also attributed to male genitalia, a well-known example being the Hermaic stelai, often placed at liminal places, such as crossroads and boundaries.14 The concept of apotropaism in the Prehistoric Aegean is a subject that so far has attracted little attention, since reconstructing religious beliefs solely from archaeological evidence is an extremely difficult task that must be approached with caution. Nevertheless,

6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

Newell 2018, 10. Turner 1977, 185. Weingarten 2013, 371. Håland 2012, 123. Krzyszkowska 2016, 119. Vernant 1991, 112. N. Marinatos 2008, 10. N. Marinatos 2008, 11.

the imagery on a number of Minoan seals dated mostly to Middle Minoan II share many similarities with the apotropaic imagery of Archaic and Classical Greece. These images combine both frontality and grotesqueness and many scholars have been inclined to interpret them as having an apotropaic function.15 The depictions consist of faces or masks with bulging eyes, protruding teeth and prominent ears, as well as spiral motifs on either side of the face that may refer to flowing locks of hair. They present, therefore, striking similarities with the Archaic and Classical depictions of Gorgo and tempt one to interpret them as predecessors of the later gorgoneia.16 Moreover, the occasional association of such frontal faces with a phallic symbol, such as on CMS II,2 251 found in Tomb X at Mochlos, might have been aimed at enhancing the apotropaic potency of the depiction, in addition to being a reference to this life-giving force.17 Furthermore, it is quite possible that in the Prehistoric Aegean certain religious symbols were used to protect or to ward off evil, such as horns of consecration, figure-of-eight shields and double axes, symbols that are strongly associated with cult performance and sanctuaries. Their connection with sacred areas, therefore, is presumably a reference to their role in signifying the sanctity of the place, but could also suggest their use as a prophylactic measure.18 Also, apotropaic or protective qualities might have been attributed to certain images and creatures appearing in the iconography, if not exclusively then at least as part of their symbolism or function. The motif of the Master or Mistress of Animals, with its powerful and commanding pose, or the Minoan genius19 are the most obvious candidates. Finally, certain practices, such as foundation deposits and rituals, might have also had an apotropaic function as was the case in the Near East.20 The aim of this article, therefore, is to present the material evidence for the use of apotropaic symbols and objects in the context of cult performance on the Greek mainland during the Late Bronze Age. The evidence that will be discussed concerns the employment in cult of objects such as clay figures and masks with apotropaic or protective properties, the use of religious

14 15 16 17 18 19 20

Burkert 1997, 76. Morgan 1995; Krzyszkowska 2016, esp. 118. S. Marinatos 1927–1928; Krzyszkowska 2016, 118. Morgan 1995, 137. Krzyszkowska 2016, 116. Weingarten 2013, 374; Blakolmer 2015, 32. Krzyszkowska 2016, 116.

PRACTICES FOR AVERTING EVIL AND THE NOTION OF RITUAL PROTECTION

symbols in facial decoration as a reference to sacredness, and therefore ritual protection, and the production of sound as an apotropaic measure.

The Concept of Apotropaism and Ritual Protection in Mycenaean Greece

Mycenaean Greece so far lacks evidence for apotropaic symbolism similar to the Minoan, Egyptian or Near Eastern concept or with that which emerged during the historical period. Fierce and frightening figures do not occur in Mycenaean iconography and frontality is not common. So far, only three specimens of a frontal face occur on the mainland. They include the carnelian lentoid CMS V 431 ( Late Helladic ( LH ) IIIA2–IIIB1 ) from the tholos tomb of Karpophora at Nichoria and a lentoid sealstone ( 15th century BC ) uncovered in Room XIV at the West Gate of Midea.21 The latter is an unusual representation in the sense that it includes arms dangling on each side of the face and a possible snake encircling the head.22 The third example belongs to a private collection in Basel ( CMS X 145 ) and consists of a face surrounded by a minotaur in a contorted position ( LH II–IIIA1 ).23 Lacking a distinctive apotropaic iconography, ritual protection in Mycenaean Greece might have been achieved through symbolic actions and the use of sacred symbols and motifs associated with divinities. The association of female and animal clay figurines with liminal spaces, such as entrances, thresholds and hearths, or the connection between craft production and sanctuaries have been interpreted as actions with apotropaic or protective intentions.24 Moreover, some practices observed in relation to burial contexts, such

21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29

Demakopoulou et al. 2009, 11–12, fig. 11. Demakopoulou et al. 2009, 11–12; Krzyszkowska 2016, 121. Demakopoulou et al. 2009, 11. Killian 1988, 148; Whittaker 1997, 134; Lupack 1999, 34; Vetters 2011, esp. 43; 2015. Cavanagh, Mee 1998, 106. Gallou 2005, 90. Bohak 2015, 83. Iakovidis 1970, 312. For the use of amulets in Mycenaean Greece see Aamodt

( forthcoming ). 30 An actual crescent-shaped pendant was found accompanying a child burial at Eleusis ( Mylonas 1953–1954, 42–43 ), while a crescent forming part of a necklace was painted on a clay figurine ( Hughes-Brock 1999, 280 ). This shape was also associated with children in Egypt, while crescent amulets were common in Archaic and Classical Greece ( Pomadère 2012, 437 ). For figureof-eight beads and pendants see Nikolaidou 2020. 31 Iakovidis 1970, 312ff. For Near Eastern cylinder seals used as amulets see Kopanias 2012. Noteworthy is the gold pendant

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as the deliberate breakage of drinking vessels at the stomion of the tomb or the ‘ritual killing’ of objects, in addition to their symbolic meaning, might also have had an apotropaic function. The custom of smashing the kylikes used for the farewell toast to the dead at the stomion of tombs, then, in addition to being a typical rite of separation,25 symbolising the severing of the bonds between the living and the dead,26 might have also expressed an apotropaic element, to ward off evil, in this case death, and to avert the envy of the dead towards the living. On a personal level, ritual protection might have been attained with the use of adornments believed to have apotropaic or protective properties,27 due to their material, shape, decoration, inscription 28 and symbolic associations. In Mycenaean Greece, the presence in burial contexts of ornaments of a particular shape, provenance and/or decoration, worn around the neck of the deceased, suggests they were endorsed with protective qualities and used as amulets.29 These objects often consisted of crescent-shaped and figure-of-eight pendants,30 or exotic objects with foreign iconography and incomprehensible text, such as Egyptian scarabs and Near Eastern cylinder seals.31 Similarly, a protective function seems to have been applied to beads of a particular colour or shape, such as poppy-seeds and figure-of-eight shields,32 the latter most likely a reference to protection by a female warrior deity. Beads, particularly carnelian ones, have been attributed a protective character, since they are often found in connection to children, mostly in burial contexts,33 while this association is occasionally also indicated by iconographic representations.34 Prophylactic properties have also been attributed, by J. Maran, to amber beads and amber objects more

depicting the head of the Egyptian goddess Hathor, protectress of the dead, from Tholos Tomb VI at Pylos, dated to LH IIA (http://www.griffinwarrior.org/tholos-tombs/, accessed 29.05.2021). The goddess is depicted frontally, enhancing her protective/ apotropaic role. 32 Hughes-Brock 1999, 278, 280–281; Muskett 2009, 45. Beads of figure-of-eight shape were found, for example, in Grave 4 ( LH IIB ) in the Giannaki plot at Argos associated with a child ( Muskett 2009, 45 ), in a burial at the Kadmeion in Thebes and elsewhere ( Nikolaidou 2020, 190 ), while a figure-of-eight pendant worn around the neck is painted on the Midea clay figure ( Demakopoulou 1999; Pliatsika 2012, 616 ). 33 Hughes-Brock 1999, 278; Konstantinidi 2001, 8; Pomadère 2012, 436. 34 The red dots depicted on the veil of the girl on a fresco from Xeste 3 at Akrotiri and those on the dress of the young girl on the “theophoria” fresco at Mycenae, therefore, could represent carnelian beads and be a reference to this connection ( Jones 2003, 442; Muskett 2009, 45 ).

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Apotropaism and Ritual Protection in Mycenaean Cult Performance

Fig. 1. Type B figure from the Temple of the Cult Centre at Mycenae. Source: Zde, ‘Anthropomorphic figure, Mycenae, 1250– 1180 BC, AM Mycenae, 201594’. 2020, digital image. Available from Wikimedia Commons, https://commons.wikimedia.org/ wiki/File:Anthropomorphic_figure,_Mycenae,_1250-1180_ BC,_AM_Mycenae,_201594.jpg, used under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International licence (accessed: 02.12.2021).

generally, both of which were found in elite warrior burials from the Early Mycenaean period onwards.35 Amber has very particular inherent qualities: it is a shiny stone closely resembling gold, it is warmer than other stones and floats on water, it can be burned to release an aromatic scent and can be electrostatically charged when rubbed against cloth.36 Therefore amber, in the form of necklaces, belts, sword-beads or even unworked material, was part of the equipment of Mycenaean elite warriors in order to offer them magical protection both in life and death.37

35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42

Maran 2013. Whittaker 2011, 141; Maran 2013, 147. Maran 2013, 158. Taylour 1969, 92. Mylonas 1972, 29. Morris 1992, 209. Moore, Taylour 1999, 101. Rutkowski 1986, 179, 198.

In Mycenaean cult performance the necessity to ward off evil forces, which might interfere with the outcome of the ritual and the wish to protect and emphasise the sacredness of particular situations, might have been achieved with the use of specific equipment, symbols and actions. So far, the strongest indication for the notion of apotropaism in Mycenaean Greece are the so-called “idols” uncovered in the Temple of the Cult Centre at Mycenae, even though interpretations of their identity and function vary. The “idols” have been interpreted as deities,38 apotropaic figures paraded in order to avert evil,39 protective images of the ancestors 40 and cult celebrants performing ritual acts in perpetuity.41 Rutkowski has interpreted their painted faces as masks,42 while Whittaker suggests that they were decorated with additional attributes that would identify them with specific deities.43 However, there is little doubt that their terrible appearance was intentional and its objective was to scare, hence the painted face, the enormous lips, the crooked noses and the bulging eyes ( Fig. 1 ). Their use, therefore, must have been apotropaic, employed either as part of typical cult performance or as part of specific rites 44 that required the use of such figures. No parallel to these figures has been uncovered so far, perhaps with the exception of the so-called “Dame of Nichoria” uncovered inside the apsidal building Unit III-3, dated to LH IIIB2.45 The head of the “Dame” is very worn and has a terrifying appearance, which has led to the suggestion that its appearance was intended to repel.46 The careful modelling of the figure, however, rather indicates that its present battered state was not intentional but accidental.47 Moreover, the figure is more reminiscent of the “Lord of Asine” 48 rather than the “idols” of the Cult Centre. The clay snakes also found in the Temple of the Cult Centre might have had a similar function, apotropaic or protective. Noteworthy is the presence of a partly broken terracotta snake ( Phase VIII ) on the steps leading to Room 19, perhaps as a guardian of

43 Whittaker 2009, esp. 104. 44 Moore, Taylour 1999, 80. 45 Hughes-Brock 1992, 631, 655, pl.10.76; Richardson 2001, 41. 46 Richardson 2001, 41. 47 Richardson 2001, 41, fig. 41. 48 D’Agata 1996.

PRACTICES FOR AVERTING EVIL AND THE NOTION OF RITUAL PROTECTION

Fig. 2. Dancing figures, the right wearing a mask (highlighted in red), on a larnax from Tomb 10 from the cemetery of Mochlos on Crete ( after Soles, Davaras 1996, fig. 21 ).

Fig. 3. Dancing scene on the LH IIIC strainer jug from the cemetery at Kamini on Naxos (after Mastrapas 1996, figs. 1, 2).

the room’s contents.49 Actual specimens of clay snakes have been found so far only in the Temple. Parts of complexes have also been found at the sanctuary of Amyklaion, i.e. the hand of a female figure holding a kylix with a snake drinking from it and the head of a female figure wearing a polos hat with a wavy

49 Moore, Taylour 1999, 31. 50 Demakopoulou 1982, 55–56. 51 Rousioti 2001, 308, 311. However, this interpretation is strongly contested by Palaima ( 2000–2001 ). 52 Rodríguez Pérez 2015, 153. 53 Varias Garcia 2014, 187. 54 Moore, Taylour 1999, 105.

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line under it interpreted as a snake ( both of LH IIIB date ),50 suggesting that if the snake was an attribute of the goddess, like in Minoan Crete, it does not appear often. In the Linear B tablets from Thebes snakes seem to be included amongst other animals as recipients of wine, suggesting the possibility that snakes might have been considered as sacred.51 The serpent has ample symbolic connotations; it is connected to regeneration and fertility, it has a chthonic element, while it is often represented in Classical iconography as a guardian of a place or a treasure, 52 as also suggested by the myth of the serpent protecting the Acropolis of Athens.53 Finally, as was mentioned already, it has an apotropaic function as Medusa’s hair. The fact that the clay snakes found in the Temple were life-size and did not constitute part of figures,54 rather suggests their independent use in cult, perhaps as religious objects with an apotropaic or protective role. The concomitant presence in the Temple of the “idols” and the snakes, so far unique objects in Mycenaean culture and both with apotropaic references, was most certainly deliberate and would have intensified the apotropaic function of each other. Whatever the nature of the ritual acts performed in the Temple, it is possible that they included displaying the figures and snakes to the participants. In a dimly lit room, as the Temple was,55 both figures and snakes would have appeared terrifying. Moreover, their apotropaic function might have involved their display to the general public during processions, as a way to drive away evil and misfortune from the community.56 A function in averting evil or securing divine protection may be attributed to the use of masks and facial decoration in ritual practices. The concept of the mask as a means to transform the wearer and its use for ritual or symbolic purposes during the Mycenaean period can be inferred from the discovery of the funerary masks in Grave Circles A and B at Mycenae. With the exception of the few gold masks and costumes made of gold foil occurring in burial contexts 57 no other mask or costume has survived from either Minoan Crete or Mycenaean Greece.58 However, the fact that they have not survived does not presuppose their total absence, but the possibility that they were made of organic perishable materials. For example, the skulls of bulls

55 56 57 58

Moore, Taylour 1999, 97. Mylonas 1972, 29, 39. See, for example, Gallou 2004, 370; Hristova 2012.

The small mask uncovered in the East Shrine of Phylakopi made of gold foil most likely was applied to a statue ( Renfrew 1985, 302 ).

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found in the sanctuary of Enkomi on Cyprus ( Late Cypriot III ), from which the frontal part and the horns alone have survived, have been interpreted as masks worn during religious ceremonies.59 The evidence for the possible use of masks in Mycenaean cult is particularly fragmentary, consisting of a few representations, all with funerary connotations. The earliest example is depicted on a larnax from Tomb 10 ( Late Minoan (LM) IIIA1 ) from the cemetery of Mochlos on Crete and consists of two figures dancing with their hands on their waist, one of them wearing the mask of a jackal 60 ( Fig. 2 ). A strainer jug found at the cemetery of Kamini ( LH IIIC ) depicts eight figures dancing, some of them wearing the mask of a horse, a bird or a cat61 ( Fig. 3 ). A procession or a dance of three figures in boar or lion costumes decorates a rhyton from Kalavarda on Rhodes dating to LH IIIA2–IIIB.62 The identity of the figures, as animals or disguised humans, is debated. E. Vermeule and V. Karageorghis, for example, argue that the figures are human dancers, since both their feet and hands look more human than animal.63 Obviously, the scene is an unusual one, reminiscent of processions of genii and should perhaps be attributed to the fantastical realm. Finally, the use of masks in ritual may also be supported by the seal from Tomb B at Aplomata on Naxos ( LH IIIC ) depicting a cult officiant with the face of a bird.64 According to Foster, depictions of humans with bird heads and wings may be referring to possible costumed performances.65 Masked performances take place on liminal occasions 66 and, since death is such an occasion, the occurrence of disguised performances in such contexts would be a possibility. The use of masks in dances can be understood as part of the transmission of meaning—also a feature of dances—through the transformation of the wearer.67 Moreover, the connection between the display of masks and dancing in a funerary context could be a reference to the performance, during the burial, of rituals with an apotropaic character in order to exorcise evil, avert further death and strengthen the unity of the community, which has been disrupted. Facial decoration may also be connected to ritual protection. In Mycenaean Greece, in addition to the “idols” uncovered in the Temple at Mycenae, facial decoration has also been found on other figures.68

59 60 61 62

Karageorghis 1971, 263 contra Nys 1995. Soles, Davaras 1996, 213; Brysbaert 2000. Mastrapas 1996, 798–799. Vermeule, Karageorghis 1982, 154, pl. XII.17; Karantzali

1998, 96, pl. 10a. 63 Vermeule, Karageorghis 1982, 154. 64 Kardara 1977, 6.

Fig. 4. Figures from Rooms 32 ( left ) and 19 ( right ) of the Cult Centre at Mycenae. Source: Zde 'Female figure, Mycenae, 1250– 1180 BC, AM Mycenae, 201607' and 'Anthropomorphic figure, Mycenae, 1250–1180 BC, AM Mycenae, 201590'. 2020, digital images. Available at Wikimedia Commons, https://commons. wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Female_figure,_Mycenae,_1250-1180_ BC,_AM_Mycenae,_201607.jpg and https://commons. wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Anthropomorphic_figure,_Mycenae, _1250-1180_BC,_AM_Mycenae,_201590.jpg, used under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International licence (accessed 02.12.2021).

The decoration consists of rosettes as displayed, for example, on the Type A figure found in Room 19 of the Cult Centre, or the stucco head, the so-called Sphinx, uncovered by Tsountas on the acropolis of Mycenae.69 It also consists of lozenges, such as on the figure from Room 32, again from the Cult Centre, and the so-called “Lady M” from House M at Mycenae,70 while in some cases red paint was applied on the chin, nose and ear, for example on the aforementioned figure from Room 19 and the Lady of Phylakopi ( Fig. 4 ). The rosette specifically has been considered by some scholars as a motif with ritual and magical connotations, perhaps

65 66 67 68 69 70

Foster 2016, 75. Foster 2016, 69. Tonkin 1992, 225. Pliatsika 2012, 615. Rehak 2005, 271. Pliatsika 2012, 617.

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Fig. 5. The larnax from Episkopi on Crete depicting a figure holding a sistrum ( after https://interkriti.org/ crete/lassithi/ierapetra_museum.html, accessed 29.05.2021).

as a stellar symbol or as an attribute of the divinity.71 In Archaic Greece and Cyprus the motif was associated with demons and fantastical creatures.72 Moreover, the motif occurs also on masks used in rituals associated with Dionysos and seems to suggest supernatural powers. According to F. Blakolmer, the use of the motif as a body mark is related to ritual and can denote magical and supernatural power.73 Facial decoration of this kind, therefore, could have had a magical and protective property.74 However, inasmuch as there is direct evidence that painting was used to decorate figures as early as the Cycladic period,75 there is no iconographic representation that this practice was used by participants or officiants in Mycenaean cult performance and therefore its use must remain speculative.76 The occurrence of such a decoration on large figures, which are generally interpreted as representations of the divinity or cult images, is most likely a reference to their

71 72 73 74

Whittaker 2009, 101; Blakolmer 2012, 330. Blakolmer 2012, 330. Blakolmer 2012, 330.

For an examination of ceremonial facial decoration in the Prehistoric Aegean see Papaeuthimiou-Papanthimou 1997. 75 Papanthimou, Fappas 2012, 781. 76 The enthroned goddess and the mature woman depicted at Xeste 3 at Akrotiri ( Late Cycladic I ) have a crocus flower

sacredness and to their connection with the divinity. As such they might have functioned both as protective symbols of the figure itself and of the area where the figures were placed. An apotropaic function has also been ascribed by J. Younger to the use of musical instruments in ritual performance, with the aim to ward off evil spirits and summon the divinity.77 Instruments or objects that make a clanking or rattling sound would have been very appropriate for such a function. Indeed, rhythmical sound, particularly produced by percussion instruments, has the ability to intensify emotions, even arouse fear.78 Experiments have shown that animals perceive rattling sounds as a significant threat. It is possible then that the use of rattling sounds for protection in the process of ritualisation was incorporated in the performance of ritual and the sound was attributed the supernatural power to protect.79

painted on their cheek, which could support the practice of facial decoration ( Rehak 2005, 273 ). However, so far, no similar evidence has been discovered on the mainland. 77 Younger 1998, 49. 78 Kolotourou 2005, 185. 79 Kolotourou 2007, 81.

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Fig. 6. The rhyton from Kalavarda on Rhodes ( after Vermeule, Karageorghis 1982, fig. XII.17 ).

The existence of sistra in the Prehistoric Aegean is confirmed by iconographic representations and actual specimens uncovered on Minoan Crete, such as the Archanes sistrum.80 Depictions of possible Mycenaean sistra indicate that they were circular in shape with a handle 81 and occur on a LM IIIB larnax from Episkopi on Crete, on a rhyton from Kalavarda and a krater from Karpathos. On the larnax the figure holding the sistrum wears a long robe and holds an animal on a leash and a double axe, a clear reference to animal sacrifice (Fig. 5). The rhyton from Kalavarda depicts a procession of three animals ( lions or boars ) or disguised figures carrying objects, amongst them a kylix and a sistrum ( Fig. 6 ).82 The krater from Pigadia on Karpathos connects the sistrum with a pilgrim flask and two kylikes.83 Since both vessels are usually associated with ritual and are often found in funerary contexts, the scene most likely has ritual associations.84 All depictions, therefore, have a religious context and associate the sistrum with cult performance.85 A similar function to the sistrum might have been provided by a form of rattle made with beads, like a necklace, that was also used by the Egyptians. Its use

80 Younger 1998, 39. 81 Younger 1998, 38, n. 111; Kolotourou 2012, 214. 82 Vermeule, Karageorghis 1982, 154, pl. XII.17; Karantzali 1998, 96. 83 Wright 2004, 48. 84 Vermeule, Karageorghis 1982, 159. 85 An object similar to a sistrum is held by the enthroned goddess depicted on a gold ring of Minoan manufacture ( ring 4 ) from the

in Mycenaean cult could be inferred by depictions of women carrying necklaces made of beads, such as the “Mykenaia” fresco from the Cult Centre at Mycenae, and by the discovery of beads in sanctuaries, for example in Room 32 of the Cult Centre at Mycenae.86 Beads uncovered in shrines have been interpreted as offerings to the deities destined to adorn their figures,87 and indeed there is ample evidence to support this interpretation. Nevertheless, the additional use of necklaces for their rattling sounds should not be disregarded. Moreover, the fact that conical stone beads ( conuli or dress-weights ) fitted to the hem of skirts to weight the garment down would also make a noise through movement,88 seems to indicate that noise ( a clacking sound ) was desired and was most likely imbued with meaning. In addition to evoking the deity or announcing that the deity approaches, it might have had an apotropaic role to ward off evil and allow the deity to approach. Something similar occurs in the Christian Orthodox ritual today, where the sound produced by the twelve bells decorating the incense burner is believed to ward off demons. Clanking sounds had an apotropaic function during historical times, as seems to be suggested by the clanking of the shields by the Kouretes and Korybantes while dancing to cover Zeus’ cries.89 Moreover, the fact that in historical times bells were deposited as votives in sanctuaries and often accompanied child burials may be a reference to the magical and apotropaic quality attributed to the sound they produced.90 Conclusion

A clearly apotropaic iconography does not seem to have existed in Mycenaean culture, which makes the study of this subject a difficult task. With the exception of the “idols” from Mycenae, so far there is no other example for the application of grotesqueness for apotropaic use. Representations of possible masks do not display frightening features but consist of animal heads. Perhaps this mixing of two different species and the blurring of the borders between human and animal, as a grotesque and unnatural image, might have had an apotropaic function for the Mycenaeans.

86 87 88 89 90

Griffin Warrior Tomb at Pylos, which the excavators, however, have interpreted as a mirror ( Davis, Stocker 2016, 645 ). Taylour 1970, 277. Renfrew 1985, 372, 385, 408. Younger 1998, 49–50. Villing 2002, 289. Villing 2002, 290, 294–295.

PRACTICES FOR AVERTING EVIL AND THE NOTION OF RITUAL PROTECTION

Therefore, ritual protection seems to have been secured by the employment of symbols associated with the divinities, such as the association of liminal spaces with figurines. Personal protection appears to have been secured through the use of ornaments attributed with defensive qualities. During the performance of cult practices, evil forces that might disrupt or interfere with the outcome of the rituals could have been averted through particular acts, many of which would have left no physical traces, such as the delineation of an area with the use of liquid, for example the blood of a sacrificed animal, the use of incense to purify and drive away evil spirits and the articulation of prayers or incantations. Particular sounds, such as rattling and clanking, might also have been employed, while the use of fire and light to disperse darkness and whatever might lurk in it still would have had a strong apotropaic or protective symbolism. Specific gestures might also

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have been attributed with a protective or apotropaic meaning. The power of the gesture to protect or avert does not only relate to the reproduction of a powerful symbol, but also to its ability to divert and distract the eye away from the potential victim91 or action taking place. The performance of circle dances might have also had an apotropaic or protective character, since the fact that they demarcate a protected space, the inside of the circle, renders them with magicoreligious properties.92 The aim of this paper was to examine the concept of apotropaism and ritual protection in relation to Mycenaean cult performance as a first attempt to study this subject, which remains neglected. Therefore, it is far from being conclusive or a thorough treatment. It is hoped that future research will manage to throw more light on the particularly intriguing, but elusive, concept of apotropaism as it was expressed in Mycenaean culture.

Bibliography

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91 Merkouri 2010, 18. 92 Gioutsos 2010, 53, 55. For the performance of dancing in Mycenaean Greece see, among others, Aamodt 2014.

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1

Christofilis Maggidis,1 Efi Karantzali,2 Adrianos Psychas 3

President of the Mycenaean Foundation; Mycenae Lower Town Excavation https://orcid.org/0000-0002-7382-0646 2 Ephorate of Antiquities of Phthiotida and Eurytania 3 University of Athens; American Center for Archaeology at Mycenae

REASSESSING A PERIPHERAL GEOPOLITICAL VACUUM THE CASE FOR A MYCENAEAN PALACE-STATE IN THE SPERCHEIOS VALLEY REGION

Abstract: The region of the Spercheios valley in central Greece features certain environmental,

geomorphological, geopolitical and economic parameters that, if considered collectively, may be construed as diagnostic formative elements of Mycenaean palace-states. The Spercheios valley is wedged in-between Thessaly and Boeotia, thus delineating clear regional boundaries and dividing the regions of central and southern Greece. Due to its strategic geopolitical location at the crossroads between powerful Mycenaean palace-states, this region could exert control on land and sea routes and regulate local and interregional trade. The local hydrologic system forms a well-watered fertile valley, agronomically ideal for large-scale agriculture. Finally, the Homeric poems and Greek mythology traditionally connect the Spercheios River with Achilles and his kingdom in Phthia, thus preserving the collective memory of a palace-state in the region. Paradoxically, the archaeological map of the Spercheios region was rather incompatible with its geopolitical importance and economic potential, but recent archaeological finds indicate a region that may be moderately secluded but not isolated, combining local autonomy and self-sufficiency with interregional contacts. The new Mycenaean Spercheios-Valley Archaeological ( MY.SPE.AR. ) project ( 2018–2022 ) combines extensive and intensive archaeological survey, aerial reconnaissance, geophysical survey and targeted excavation to locate, identify and map the Mycenaean sites in the Spercheios valley. Geocumulative geospatial analysis and frequency/spatial distribution models are applied to explore interaction between environment and site distribution, trace contact patterns and hierarchical dynamics among sites and identify second order centres and possibly a first order administrative centre in the region, which would drastically change the political geography in the periphery of the Mycenaean world.

Keywords: Mycenaean, political geography, palace-state, Spercheios Valley, Lamia.

This is an open access publication made available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International Licence. Sympozjum Egejskie: Papers in Aegean Archaeology 3, ed. by S. Aulsebrook, K. Żebrowska, A. Ulanowska, and K. Lewartowski, WSA 3 ( Turnhout: Brepols, 2022 ), pp. 141–152. 10.1484/M.WSA-EB.5.128958

Introduction

The Mycenaean world ( Fig. 1 ) flourished in the 14th and the 13th century BC (c. 1420/1410–1200/1175 BC), a period known as Palatial Mycenaean or Late Helladic ( LH ) IIIA/B. This period is marked by regional centralisation of power, state formation and advanced socio-economic organisation, geared towards efficient

surplus, local production and overseas trade, both coordinated and regulated by the palace administration and sustained by palatial bureaucracy. In the homeland, the Mycenaean palaces were fortified into citadels, public works were carried out, agricultural production and farming were systematised; abroad, the

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Fig. 1. Map of the Mycenaean world.

Fig. 2. The Spercheios Valley, Phthiotida.

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Mycenaeans assumed control over the Minoan colonies and trade outposts in the Aegean and Eastern Mediterranean and further expanded to the east and west, thus firmly establishing their own trade network and successfully succeeding the Minoans in overseas trade.1 The effective regulation of production and organisation of socio-economic life by the palatial administration and a long period of prosperity and stability led to population growth, as indicated by the rapid increase in the number and size of Mycenaean settlements and cemeteries, and their geographical distribution in the homeland and overseas in the 13th century BC. Demographic growth, given the indigenous environmental circumscription and resource limitations, necessitated expansion and intensification of specialised agricultural production to meet basic needs and afford surplus for export. Land development, soil and water management, roads and bridges facilitating circulation and access to farmland, spatial organisation, property delineation and protection of land resources are essential parameters of systematic intensification and extensification of agriculture necessitated by a centralised economy. Consequently, land development and water management become vehicles of property claim that effectively transfer ancestral family, clan or community property rights to palatial management, control and eventually possession, thus transforming not only landscape but also the dynamics of the socio-economic structure ( from integrative to coercive ). Public works of grand scale, therefore, such as the drainage of the Kopais lake, the inner port of Pylos at Romanou, the river dam at Tiryns, the advanced network of highways, roads and bridges, palatial workshops, storerooms and Cyclopean fortifications, could only have been designed and realised by palatial authorities aiming to facilitate, intensify and protect production and trade, appropriate ownership and exert political power.2 The Mycenaean political geography comprises a network of several Mycenaean palace-states that emerged and flourished in the 14th–13th centuries BC at key inland, coastal or island locations in the Peloponnese ( Mycenae, Tiryns, Midea, Pylos, SpartaAgios Vasileios ), southern mainland Greece ( Athens, Thebes, Orchomenos, Glas, Iolkos) and Crete (Knossos, Chania ) ( Fig. 1 ). The cultural homogeneity and uni-

formity of Mycenaean material culture ( palatial architecture, ceramic styles, script and language, burial customs and religion ) with notable regional variations and local traditions, known as the Mycenaean koine ( 14th–13th century BC ), may be viewed either as the end result of a long, gradual and complex process of acculturation and homogenisation towards uniformity through ‘peer polity’ contacts of politically independent palace-states ( theory of political fragmentation ),3 or, alternatively, as a by-product of a certain degree of political unification of vassal palace-states under the rule of Mycenae ( empire theory ).4 Regional cultural differences, accordingly, may be viewed either as diagnostic margins of a gradual acculturation process or, alternatively, as a reaction of regional elites to an overarching authority that imposed uniformity and standardisation, in an attempt to identify their own hierarchical status and exert control over their respective territories.5

1 Shelmerdine 1997; Shelmerdine, Bennet 2008, 289–309; Maggidis 2007; 2009. 2 Maggidis 2007; 2009.

3 Dickinson 2019. 4 Kelder 2010; 2012, 42; Kelder, Waal 2019, 151. 5 Kelder, Waal 2019, 149–150, 156.

The Spercheios Valley Region

The region of the Spercheios valley in south-central Greece presents an enigmatic archaeological ‘paradox’ in the pattern of Mycenaean political geography ( Fig. 2 ). The current archaeological map of this region, which borders with powerful Mycenaean palace-states in Thessaly to the north and in Boeotia to the south, comprises very few scattered sites, thus displaying a peripheral geopolitical vacuum that is incompatible with the geopolitical importance and economic potential of the region, and at variance with the established Mycenaean modus operandi. This anomaly might be interpreted as an idiosyncratic deviation from standard practice, indicative perhaps of a peripheral socio-economic model different from the centralised structure of Mycenaean political organisation. It is more plausible, however, that this anomaly in the pattern is merely coincidental, resulting from erratic archaeological research and geological factors. Indeed, in the last two centuries, archaeological fieldwork was carried out sporadically in the Spercheios valley with rather poor results, partially because field research was often directed not at the surrounding hills—the habitual location of Mycenaean settlements—but at the modern valley floor. Consequently, it was hindered by local geological

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Fig. 3. Map of known Mycenaean sites in the Spercheios Valley ( 2018 ).

Fig. 4. The citadel of Akrolamia ( aerial ).

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processes, such as silting from the river that has buried ancient ruins, changed the landscape and transposed the shoreline by 12–15 km to the east at the delta, and, furthermore, sinking of the southern part of the valley floor by 10–20 m caused by the earthquake fault of Atalanti. In fact, the region of the Spercheios valley features certain environmental, geomorphological, agrarian and geopolitical parameters that, if considered collectively, may be construed as diagnostic formative elements of Mycenaean palace-states: 1) The Spercheios valley, stretching for some 80 km east-to-west, is wedged in-between Thessaly and Boeotia, thus dividing the regions of central and southern Greece and allowing only for a narrow shoreline passageway between them ( Figs. 1–3 ). Due to its key geopolitical location at the crossroads between powerful Mycenaean palace-states on either side ( Iolkos, Orchomenos, Thebes, Glas ) and other adjacent areas with strong Mycenaean presence ( Lokris, Euboea ), this region could exert control over land routes and regulate local and interregional trade. 2) The Spercheios valley, covering a flat area of 370 km2, is a secluded but not isolated region, as it is nearly land-locked, surrounded on three sides and protected by mountain ranges ( Mt. Othrys to the north, Mt. Oite to the south, Mt. Tymphrestos to the west ) that delineate clear regional boundaries, allowing, however, eastward access to the sea ( Maliakos Gulf ) ( Figs. 2–3 ). 3) The hydrologic system of the Spercheios River that meanders toward its delta-shaped outlet in the Maliakos Gulf, forms with its six tributaries a well-watered fertile valley with rich alluvial soil ( described by Homer as “large-lumped” or “ερίβωλος” Ιliad Ι.155, ΙΧ.363 ) and its own micro-climates. This valley is agronomically ideal for large-scale agriculture in terms of land size, irrigation, soil quality, and potential for intensification of cultivation and extensification of arable land, thus securing local autonomy, self-sufficiency and probably surplus ( Figs. 2–3 ). 4) The naturally fortified hill of Akrolamia offers a strategic location for a first or second order centre: it has a commanding view of the whole valley and the shoreline ( which was only 4 km east of

6 http://mycenaeanfoundation.com/spear-project. 7 Hope-Simpson, Lazenby 1959; Hope-Simpson 1981, maps C, H, J; Dakoronia 1978; 1982; 1986; 1990; 1991; 1994; 1999; 2007;

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Lamia in the 2nd millennium BC ), and controls all land routes between Phokis, Lokris, Boeotia and Thessaly, and sea routes in the Maliakos Gulf ( Fig. 4 ). 5) Finally, the Homeric poems, epic poetry and Greek mythology traditionally connect the Spercheios River ( ‘σπέρχω/-ομαι’ meaning ‘rush’ ) with Peleus, Achilles, and their kingdom in Phthia, thus preserving the collective memory of a palace-state in the region. MY.SPE.AR. Project ( 2018–2022 )

A new five-year field project, the Mycenaean Spercheios-Valley Archaeological project ( MY.SPE.AR. ) commenced in 2018 under the auspices and supervision of the local Ephorate of Antiquities with the collaboration of the Mycenaean Foundation, the Geophysics Lab of the Aristotelian University of Thessaloniki, the Architectural Design and Research Lab of the Democritus University of Thrace, the Archaeometry Lab of the University of the Peloponnese and the support of the Municipality of Lamia.6 The MY.SPE.AR. project aims to locate, identify, map and study the Mycenaean sites in the Spercheios valley as well as target key sites for systematic archaeological excavation through combined extensive and intensive archaeological survey, aerial reconnaissance ( drone and satellite photography ), geophysical survey ( Electrical Resistivity Tomography, Ground Penetrating Radar, Geomagnetometry ), targeted excavation, advanced archaeological science, Geographical Information Systems ( GIS ) and advanced digital technology. Preliminary Fieldwork Results

Earlier work by the local archaeological Ephorate located and partially uncovered a few Mycenaean sites ( Akrolamia, Frantzi, Lygaria, Valogourna ) and cemeteries ( Archani, Bikiorema, Vardates, Kompotades ).7 During the first two seasons of the MY.SPE.AR project ( 2018, 2019 ), several Mycenaean sites were located, recorded, and mapped in the Spercheios valley and on the surrounding mountains by means of extensive archaeological survey and aerial/satellite reconnaissance ( Fig. 3 ). Targeted intensive survey of select sites, combined with aerial and geophysical survey are

Karantzali 2013; 2018; Karantzali, McGeorge 2015; Papakonstantinou et al. 2015; Sakkas 2007; Stamoudi 2021.

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employed to locate settlements associated with particular identified cemeteries ( e.g., Kompotades cemetery ) or vice-versa ( e.g., Frantzi settlement ) in order to study complete settlement/cemetery units and patterns. The project’s methodology validates the importance of the application of GIS and spatial analysis in archaeology.8 The idea lying behind this attempt is that the Mycenaeans would not have established their habitation sites randomly but would have followed environmental resources and/or predetermined criteria imposed by local ruling elites or palatial authorities, among which geomorphological, climatic and geological parameters played a key role. GIS-based geospatial analysis with a complex geocumulative approach, integrating archaeological, geomorphological, geological, geotectonic, paleo-environmental, hydrographic and paleo-climatic variables, will help explore interaction between environment and site distribution; statistical, frequency and spatial distribution models are applied to trace contact patterns and hierarchical dynamics among the sites, and to identify second order centres and possibly a first order administrative centre in the region. As a result, particular contact and settlement patterns have started emerging; by contrast with the spatial distribution of earlier Middle Helladic settlements on the valley floor, most Mycenaean settlements are either situated on low hills near the river ( e.g., Kompotades ), perimetrically around the valley ( at a safe elevation and distance for protection from repeated river flooding, e.g., Lygaria ), or strategically located on high ground to control mountain roads and have a commanding view of the valley below ( e.g., DioVouna ). The settlements in the valley must have been linked, as in later historical periods, with a peripheral ring road system with river crossings at particularly narrow junctures of the river ( e.g., Kompotades and Amouri ); at the same time, the navigable river could also have been used for fast and cost-effective transportation of people, commodities and large quantities of agricultural products from the hinterland eastward to the coast. The surrounding landscape, micro-climate, agricultural economy resources, topography of habitation-suited locations and road system for communication and transportation change little over time in an enclosed, land-locked, well-delineated and naturally protected region like the Spercheios valley.

Comparative study, therefore, of these parameters diachronically in later historical periods may prove to be enlightening for tracing the quantitative and qualitative characteristics of the Mycenaean modus operandi and pivotal for reconstructing the regional socio-political and economic organisation in the Mycenaean period.9 Application of diagnostic variables of Mycenaean geopolitics ( -scapes ),10 namely landscape ( physical environment ), finance-scape ( economy ), ethno-scape ( people, settlement systems, collective identity ), techno-scape ( technology, script, resources ), media-scape ( sea routes, road system, regional flow of information, interaction, communication ) and ideo-scape ( images, symbols, state ideology ) may reveal patterns of uniformity and regional variation and, potentially, regional centralisation of power. Contact patterns and hierarchical dynamics among the sites in the Spercheios valley may help identify second order centres on the basis of location, important architectural remains and portable wealth in mortuary contexts. At Lygaria, salvage excavations revealed a Mycenaean settlement with a megaron-shaped building and a paved road, dating to the LH IIIA–IIIB2/C period.11 The excavation of the cemetery at Kompotades revealed large Mycenaean chamber tombs, one of which yielded exquisite finds, imported luxury goods and artefacts of high social status. Such finds suggest that this region may have been moderately secluded but not isolated, combining local autonomy and self-sufficiency with interregional contacts.12 The associated settlement of this important cemetery, which is yet to be located, must have controlled the eastern gateway to the Spercheios valley south of the river. The Kompotades chamber tombs and wealthy burials of warriors in neighbouring Lokris attest to the presence and operation of local elites that were probably satellite and administratively subordinate to a central palatial authority. Our field research has targeted several key sites for stratigraphic test pits, trial trenches and systematic excavation, including a potential candidate for a regional first order administrative centre at the ancient citadel of Lamia ( Akrolamia ) ( Fig. 4 ), which was tentatively identified on the basis of geopolitical and topographical parameters, promising geophysical data ( 2018, 2019 ) ( Fig. 5 ), old and recent test pits ( 1974, 1986, 2019 ) that yielded Mycenaean wall

8 Malaperdas et al. ( forthcoming )a; Malaperdas et al. ( forthcoming )b. 9 Kase 1972; Kase et al. 1991.

10 Galaty et al. 2014. 11 Papakonstantinou et al. 2015; Karantzali 2013. 12 Karantzali, McGeorge 2015; Karantzali 2018.

REASSESSING A PERIPHERAL GEOPOLITICAL VACUUM

Fig. 5. Geophysical survey in the Akrolamia ( ERT ).

Fig. 6. Test Pits 1–3 in the Akrolamia ( 1974, 1986, 2019 ).

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remains on the hill top ( Fig. 6 ) 13 and ceramic evidence ( fine Mycenaean pottery, imported and locally made ) in the area of the modern theatre (south slope).14 The test pits that were cut into the flattened summit of the hill to the depth of -2.5/3 m revealed Mycenaean structures and a Middle Helladic grave ( Fig. 6 ). The site was continuously occupied from prehistoric to modern times and has been repeatedly disturbed in places. If verified by further systematic excavation, however, the presence of a regional administrative Mycenaean centre on the Akrolamia, once controlling land trade routes, commanding access to the shore and regulating regional agricultural production, would drastically change the known political geography in the periphery of the Mycenaean world.

Select sites will be scanned with a terrestrial

LIDAR scanner to produce digital ground plans, site cross-sections and a 3D site model. The GIS geodatabase will eventually integrate a 3D digital reconstruc-

The key component for data storage, archiving and management, as well as for understanding, studying and publishing, is the GIS geodatabase that combines several feature datasets, which include both vector and raster data; most of the vector data are administrative and interpretative, while the raster data are the products of georeferenced geophysical measurement. These spatial and non-spatial interfaces include geological, geotectonic, geomorphological, hydrologic, archaeological and topographic maps ( based on digitised Hellenic Military Geographical Service maps ), satellite photos, terrain aerial photos, Total Station/ DGPS points, geophysical survey data ( subsurface architectural features detected by remote sensing), architectural remains and archaeological contexts, features and finds ( catalogued and embedded with their geodetic coordinates, photos and drawings ). The GIS database is designed to investigate the dynamics between cultural remains and natural environment, palaeoenvironmental, archaeozoological and archaeobotanical issues, ancient economy and environment, spatial re-organisation and landscape adaptation, systematic modification of farmland to domestic and industrial space, water management and use of natural resources; furthermore, it will facilitate the study of horizontal spatial distribution of finds and vertical stratigraphic sequence of layers, and enable the digital reconstruction of structures.15

tion of the potential Mycenaean building complex at the citadel of Akrolamia. All excavated architectural structures of select sites, including buildings, walls, floors, deposits, graves, gates and roads will be scanned by means of a 3D Terrestrial LIDAR site scanner. The site scanner shoots millions of georeferenced points from many different angles and locations to compose a highly accurate ( 5 mm ) georectified ground plan, thousands of cross-sections of orthogonal axial tomography and a ‘walk-through’ rotating 3D model of the site, which forms the basis for 3D digital reconstruction. The whole site will be scanned in order to digitally recreate the precise terrain and background for the 3D site model, which will then form the basis for the georeferenced 3D digital model of the ancient landscape. Furthermore, many types of artefacts and ecofacts, such as fresco fragments, figurines, ivory objects, lithics, weapons, tools, seal-stones, jewellery, pottery and human and animal bones, bear micro-traces of use and wear, tool-marks, brush strokes, colour pigments and traces of trauma which are only visible through digitisation and 3D modelling. These select finds will be scanned by means of a NextEngine 3D object scanner. These 3D modelled objects will be embedded in the GIS geodatabase to facilitate visualisation of their spatial distribution and their contextual association with architecture. Both the GIS geodatabase and the 3D digital site model will be hosted on the websites of the Mycenaean Foundation and the Archaeometry Lab of the University of the Peloponnese, thus becoming pioneer research platforms for scholars and valuable teaching/ learning tools. Both digital projects will facilitate our archaeological research in the region immensely and will accompany and enhance the printed publications of our archaeological fieldwork. Furthermore, these digital projects will become a ground-breaking, live, dynamic and interactive digital publication above and beyond the printed volumes, as they will be continuously maintained, modified and expanded by our students and archaeologists to incorporate new data, new evidence from our renewed future excavations and

13 Chourmouziadis 1973–1974; Dakoronia 1986; 2007. 14 Stamoudi 2021.

15 Malaperdas et al. ( forthcoming )a; Malaperdas et al. ( forthcoming )b.

Digital Applications and Laboratory Analysis

REASSESSING A PERIPHERAL GEOPOLITICAL VACUUM

new scholarly interpretations. Therefore, in the near future we will be able to digitally publish our new finds in real time and unveil our theoretical reconstructions and interpretations to the academic community immediately, a revolutionary approach for direct dissemination of archaeological discoveries. Archaeometric lab analysis currently conducted on sediment samples from the citadel of Akrolamia and on deep-core samples from the valley floor aims to trace and date changes of the course of the Spercheios River and the shoreline, and ascertain their location in the 13th century BC; furthermore, XRF analysis will be employed for provenancing using select pottery sherds, fresco fragments and Mycenaean glass. Finally, the stratigraphic sequences of the excavated trenches will be digitally illustrated, correlated and integrated into the overall site stratification sequence ( Harris Matrix software ) to facilitate the study of stratigraphy, the architectural and contextual analysis of the excavated structures and the pottery study.

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Conclusion

This new project is expected to locate, identify, record and map the Mycenaean sites in the Spercheios valley, study their spatial distribution, contact patterns, hierarchical dynamics and interaction with their environment, and identify and excavate second order centres and possibly a first order administrative centre in the region. The ultimate goal is to address this enigmatic geopolitical vacuum in the Spercheios valley, ascertain, potentially, the presence of a so-far-missing Mycenaean palace-state in the area and, if found, examine its formation process, structure and operation and, finally, re-assess the political geography in the periphery of the Mycenaean world. This project, therefore, by combining archaeological science with traditional classics may overcome the challenge to juxtapose historical reality with myth.

Bibliography

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economy, and the Eastern Mediterranean worldsystem, in: G. Touchais, R. Laffineur, F. Rougemont eds., PHYSIS. L’environnement naturel et la relation homme-milieu dans le monde égéen protohistorique, Actes de la 14e Rencontre égéenne internationale, Paris, Institut National d’Histoire de l’Art ( INHA ), 11–14 décembre 2012, Aegaeum 37, Leuven and Liège, 449–454. Hope Simpson R. ( 1981 ) Mycenaean Greece, Park Ridge. Hope Simpson R., Lazenby J.F. ( 1959 ) The Kingdom of Peleus and Achilles, Antiquity 33:130, 102–105. Κarantzali Ε. (2013) Mycenaeans within the Spercheios Valley: the inhabitations at Frantzis and Lygaria, in: G. Graziado, R. Guglielmino, V. Lenuzza, S. Vitale eds., Filikí Synavlía ( Φιλική Συναυλία ). Studies in Mediterranean Archaeology for Mario Benzi, BAR-IS 2460, Oxford, 139–153. Κarantzali Ε. ( 2018 ) I próti chrísi tou nekrotafeíou ston profíti Ilía stis Kompotádes Fthiótidas katá tin Ysteroelladikí período ( Η πρώτη χρήση του νεκροταφείου στον προφήτη Ηλία στις Κομποτάδες Φθιώτιδας κατά την Υστεροελλαδική περίοδο ), in: M.F. Papakonstantinou, Ch. Kritzas, I.P. Touratsoglou eds., Pýrra – Melétes gia tin archaiología stin Kentrikí Elláda pros timín tis Fanourías Dakorónia ( Πύρρα – Μελέτες για την αρχαιολογία στην Κεντρική Ελλάδα προς τιμήν της Φανουρίας Δακορώνια ) Α: Proïstorikoí Chrónoi ( Προϊστορικοί Χρόνοι ), Athens, 93–134. Karantzali E., McGeorge T. ( 2015 ) I diachronikí chrísi tou nekrotafeíou ston Profíti Ilía stis Kompotádes Fthiótidas: Mia próti proséngisi me vási ta evrímata tou táfou IV ( Η διαχρονική χρήση του νεκροταφείου στον Προφήτη Ηλία στις Κομποτάδες Φθιώτιδας: Μια πρώτη προσέγγιση με βάση τα ευρήματα του τάφου IV ), in: I.E. Makris ed., Fthiotikí Istoría. Praktiká 5ou Synedríou Fthiotikís Istorías ( Istoría, Archaiología, Laografía ), 16–18 Aprilíou 2010 ( Φθιωτική Ιστορία. Πρακτικά 5ου Συνεδρίου Φθιωτικής Ιστορίας ( Ιστορία, Αρχαιολογία, Λαογραφία ), 16–18 Απριλίου 2010 ), Lamia, 53–95. Kase E.W. ( 1972 ) A Surface Exploration in Search of Mycenaean Roads in Nomos Fokidhos and Nomos Fthiotidhos. Unpublished PhD thesis, Loyola University, Chicago. Kase E.W., Szemler G.J., Wilkie N.C., Wallace P.W. eds. ( 1991 ) The Great Isthmus Corridor Route: Explorations of the Phokis-Doris Expedition I. Publications in Ancient Studies 3, Dunbuque. Kelder J.M. ( 2010 ) The Kingdom of Mycenae. A Great Kingdom in the Late Bronze Age Aegean, Bethesda.

Kelder J.M. ( 2012 [2013] ) Ahhiyawa and the world of the Great Kings: a re-evaluation of Mycenaean political structures, Talanta 44, 41–52. Kelder J.M., Waal W.J.I. ( 2019 ) Epilogue: Kings and Great Kings in the Aegean and beyond, in: J. Kelder, W. Waal eds., From “ LUGAL.GAL” to “Wanax”- Kingship and Political Organisation in the Late Bronze Age Aegean, Leiden, 149–160. Maggidis C. (2007) Mycenae abroad: Mycenaean foreign policy, the Anatolian frontier, and the theory of overextension – reconstructing an integrated causal nexus for the decline and fall of the Mycenaean world, in: P. Kousoulis, K. Magliveras eds., Moving Across Borders: Foreign Relations, Religion and Cultural Interactions in the Ancient Mediterranean. Orientalia Lovaniensia Analecta 159, Louvain, 71–98. Maggidis C. ( 2009 ) Mycenaean overextension and the dynamics of the palatial systems collapse, in: D. Danielidou ed., Dóron: Timitikós Tómos gia ton Kathigití Spýro Iakovídi ( Δώρον: Τιμητικός Τόμος για τον Καθηγητή Σπύρο Ιακωβίδη ), Academy of Athens Monograph Series 6, Athens, 397–418. Malaperdas G., Panagiotidis V., Maggidis C., Zacharias N. ( forthcoming( a ) ) GPS technology in field survey: the Mycenaean Spercheios-Valley Archaeogeophysical Project ( MY.SPE.AR. Project 2018–2022 ), in: CAA International Conference: Computer Applications & Quantitative Applications in Archaeology, Krakow 2019, Krakow. Malaperdas G., Maggidis C., Zacharias N. ( forthcoming( b ) ) Field surveying, geostatistical and GIS methods in archaeology. The Mycenaean Spercheios-Valley Archaeo-geophysical Project 2018–2022, in: Proceedings of the 43rd International Symposium on Archaeometry, Lisbon. Papakonstantinou M.F., Karantzali Ε., Froussou E., Papastathopoulou A., Titeli F., Psarogianni K., Tsoka A., Bartsoka A., Kourotseka N., Boutsidis C., Giannakopoulou I. ( 2015 ), Néa Sidirodromikí Grammí. Lygariá Lamías, thési ‘Palaiochória’ ( Νέα Σιδηροδρομική Γραμμή. Λυγαριά Λαμίας, θέση «Παλαιοχώρια» ), in: M.F. Papakonstantinou ed., Kath’ odón... Archaiótites kai Dimósia Érga sti Fthiótida 2004–2014 ( Kαθ’ οδόν… Αρχαιότητες και Δημόσια Έργα στη Φθιώτιδα, 2004–2014 ), Lamia, 85–88. Sakkas D. ( 2007 ) I Ýsteri Epochí tou Chalkoú stin koiláda tou Spercheioú epí ti vásei tis kerameikís ( Η Ύστερη Εποχή του Χαλκού στην κοιλάδα του Σπερχειού επί τη βάσει της κεραμεικής ), in: I. Makris, A. Karanastasis eds., Fthiotikí Istoría: Praktiká tou 3ou Synedríou Fthiotikís Istorías

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( Istoría-Archaiología-Laografía ), Lamía, 4–6 Noemvríou 2005 ( Φθιωτική Ιστορία: Πρακτικά του 3ου Συνεδρίου Φθιωτικής Ιστορίας ( ΙστορίαΑρχαιολογία-Λαογραφία ), Λαμία, 4–6 Νοεμβρίου 2005 ), Lamia, 113–125. Shelmerdine C.W. ( 1997 ) Review of Aegean prehistory VI, the palatial Bronze Age of the southern and central Greek mainland, AJA 101, 537–585. Shelmerdine C.W., Bennet J. ( 2008 ) Economy and administration, in: C.W. Shelmerdine ed., The Cambridge Companion to the Aegean Bronze Age, Cambridge, 289–309.

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Stephanie Aulsebrook

Faculty of Archaeology, University of Warsaw, Poland https://orcid.org/0000-0002-0534-270X

ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL

AN IN-DEPTH LOOK AT HOW OBJECTS ENTERED AEGEAN LATE BRONZE AGE WELLS1

Abstract: This paper forms part of a broader project to examine the few known Aegean Late Bronze

Age hoards from the perspective of their context. The Orchomenos Hoard, a group of over 100 bronzes, was reportedly recovered from a well and is the only Aegean Late Bronze Age hoard claimed to have been found in such. In order to understand the implications of this unique context it is first necessary to investigate how and why objects entered wells during this period. In this paper a number of Aegean Late Bronze Age wells are examined to identify patterns in the way that objects entered wells, to aid in the interpretation of the Orchomenos Hoard if further information about the circumstances of its deposition comes to light. Using the interpretative framework for well deposition set out by Penelope Mountjoy as a starting point, issues arising from previous theories and trends observed in this study are discussed, including the role of wells in ritual practice, the impact of earthquakes on wells and the use of wells for burials and the deposition of metalwork. The findings suggest that the Orchomenos Hoard was probably deliberately deposited but not as a religious offering, and that information concerning its position within the stratigraphy of the well would be of paramount importance for its interpretation.

Keywords: well, hoard, deposition, earthquake, Aegean Late Bronze Age, ritual.

This is an open access publication made available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International Licence. Sympozjum Egejskie: Papers in Aegean Archaeology 3, ed. by S. Aulsebrook, K. Żebrowska, A. Ulanowska, and K. Lewartowski, WSA 3 ( Turnhout: Brepols, 2022 ), pp. 153–166. 10.1484/M.WSA-EB.5.128959

Introduction

The majority of Aegean hoards ascribed to the Late Bronze Age ( LBA ) were uncovered by early excavators or were chance finds, with little contextual information available to aid interpretation. Instead scholars have, in the main, relied upon their contents and analogies with hoarding practices across the rest of Prehistoric Europe to guide their interpretation. Unfortunately this can be highly problematic. It is beyond the scope

of this paper to discuss the issues with the previous approaches taken to Aegean LBA hoards.2 However, it is clear that context has been relegated to a secondary consideration in the interpretation of hoarding activities during this period, and therefore even when such information is available it has often not been adequately explored as a potential source of further evidence.3

1 I would like to thank the organisers for inviting me to participate in the Sympozjum Egejskie conference in 2019 and to contribute to this volume. My thanks are also due to the anonymous reviewer and editors for their feedback and suggested improvements. Dr Elizabeth French kindly lent me her pottery expertise and Dr Yannis Fappas very helpfully shared with me some informa-

tion concerning the Orchomenos hoard. All remaining faults and omissions are my own responsibility. 2 An article dedicated to this topic is currently in preparation by the author. 3 See Mason, Aulsebrook forthcoming.

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The subject of this paper has been inspired by the Orchomenos Hoard, the only known Aegean LBA hoard said to have been found in a well.4 The Orchomenos Hoard first appears in the archaeological literature in 1970; the hoard itself had been found much earlier but had been mislaid shortly after its discovery, and lay forgotten within the Chaeronea Museum until rediscovered by Th. Spyropoulos.5 It consists of 106 objects,6 which includes mainly fragments of tools, weapons and vessels as well as other miscellaneous pieces, and was interpreted as a “founders’ hoard” by Th. Spyropoulos, because he believed the fragmented objects were intended for recycling. A group of scholars later proposed an alternative theory: that this was instead a “utilitarian” hoard, because well deposits should be considered non-retrievable; they also linked it to the Iron Age phenomenon of discarding votives in wells.7 Elsewhere across Prehistoric Europe, many hoards have been discovered in association with water and this has formed a significant component of their interpretation as offerings to the divine.8 If further information about the circumstances surrounding the recovery of the Orchomenos Hoard comes to light, it is important to understand how such evidence can be used to interpret the process of its deposition and perhaps even why it came to be there. An examination of how objects entered Aegean LBA wells therefore forms the basis of the remainder of this paper. It must be emphasised, however, that our current knowledge of the Orchomenos Hoard is partial and may be incorrect.9 Thus the relevance of this paper to the Orchomenos Hoard is simply unknowable at present, but, as I hope to demonstrate, the topic of how objects entered wells is nevertheless a fruitful subject.

Fig. 1. Schematic diagram of a typical Aegean LBA well ( drawing by author ).

Water is essential for many purposes; as a beverage or a base for beverages, to hydrate animals, to irrigate crops, for various industrial processes, to wash and clean. The well is a relatively simple technology that,

geology permitting, enables access to water in areas with low rainfall where there is no suitable natural surface source. Well construction may be driven by desire rather than necessity; for instance to provide a water source conveniently close to an area of heavy use. The well shaft would have had to have been wide enough to accommodate the digger and, unless dug into very hard clay or rock, the walls would have been lined with masonry or wood ( steined ).10 This can provide handholds. In most examples from this period only the upper section, where the shaft cut through soil and softer strata, was lined ( Fig. 1 ). Although access to the water required some form of vessel and a method of lowering and raising it, there is no functional reason why other objects and material should enter. Most wells have a well head, a construction surrounding the top that limits the entry of unwanted material and acts as a safety barrier. The bucket would usually be of perishable material, such as leather or wood, to reduce weight, and conical in shape to facilitate submersion.11

4 Depositional circumstances for other Aegean LBA hoards include, amongst others, secretion within a wall ( Tsountas 1891, 25) and burial in the ground (Schliemann 1878, 111–112; Stubbings 1954, 292 ). 5 Spyropoulos 1970. The hoard has never been published. It is on display at the Archaeological Museum of Chaeronea. 6 Th. Spyropoulos states that it contained 102 objects, but the museum records contradict this ( my thanks to Dr Yannis Fappas for this information ). Later publications follow the latter except Kleitsas 2013.

7 Knapp et al. 1988, 248–249. 8 See Brück 2011, especially 389, for an overview of this concept. 9 It is not explicitly stated that the hoard was found in a LBA well. A. Evans noted that the process of sinking modern wells at Poros brought to light fragments of silver vessels and ceramics, which he believed came from a Late Minoan ( LM ) II tomb ( 1928, 235 ), and it is possible that the Orchomenos Hoard was found in similar circumstances. 10 Hodge 2000, 30. 11 Hodge 2000, 31.

An Overview of Aegean Late Bronze Age Wells

AN IN-DEPTH LOOK AT HOW OBJECTS ENTERED LATE BRONZE AGE WELLS

Fig. 2. Map showing Aegean sites with LBA wells discussed in this overview.

Fig. 3. Skeletal remains in situ within the well beneath the Cyclopean Terrace Building. Image courtesy of E. French ( supplied by R. Andrews ).

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It may seem that surprisingly few wells are known from this period, given the importance of securing a good water supply for settlements, but there were many other possibilities in use at this time, including spring chambers or fountain houses, cisterns and other forms of water supply.12 Most known wells are concentrated at a few sites. Figure 2 shows the sites discussed in this section.13 Mycenae

The Rhyton Well, excavated in 1920 by A. Wace,14 was named after stone rhyta fragments discovered within its fill. Three levels were distinguished. From the highest point of the well head until 6 m below, the only finds were sherds and a crushed lead vessel. Between 6 m and 7.75 m down a collection of objects were found including the rhyta fragments, part of an alabaster cup and small glass, stone and ivory artefacts, some broken. Below this the hard limestone gave way to a soft reddish conglomerate and, although excavation continued until 9 m down, no further finds came to light. The water table was not reached. Almost all the pottery found dated to Late Helladic ( LH ) IIIB2, suggesting it was sourced from elsewhere around the site and deposited over a short period of time. Petsas House, north-west of the citadel, seems to have functioned as a residence, a craft production zone and a storage area for finished goods.15 The well was in Room Π, interpreted as the main potting area. Water is required for various tasks during ceramic production, such as refining clay and thinning clay into slips. Excavation continued down to 12.35 m; the deposit contained debris from the LH IIIA2 destruction of Petsas House, such as burnt mudbrick and fresco fragments, as well as two thousand restorable ceramic vessels ( some of which join to sherds found in the storage area ), animal bones, clay and other small ceramic, stone, ivory and glass finds. The material entered the well as part of a clean-up operation and sat above the remains of the collapsed well head. This process was only partially completed and the structure was never

12 As the usage and lifecycle of these other types of water supply are not directly comparable to wells, they are not included in this overview. See Loader 1995, 100–103 for more information. 13 Please note this is not intended to act as an exhaustive survey but a general overview concentrating on the most informative contexts. 14 Lamb, Wace 1919/1920–1920/1921, 200–209; Wace et al. 1921–1923, 1–2. 15 Shelton 2015. 16 Shelton pers. comm. 17 Shelton pers. comm. Although their presence as deliberate offerings cannot be ruled out ( Price et al. 2021, 89 ).

rebuilt.16 The animal bones were probably mainly derived from the household midden, although articulated dog skeletons, possible earthquake victims, were found at the bottom of the deposit.17 A well was discovered beneath the foundations of the South Room in the Cyclopean Terrace Building during 1953.18 It was at least 6.25 m deep; the bottom was not found although the excavation reached the typical winter level for the water table. The uniform nature of the pottery suggested that the well had been filled as part of a single operation early in LH IIIB. It contained 10 skeletons, including females and males, adults and children (Fig. 3). Another skeleton, of a woman in her 20s, was found directly above the shaft,19 which was buried under a heavy fill of large limestone boulders, smaller rocks and earth mixed with typical household debris that lay 3 m deep and formed the foundations for the Cyclopean Terrace Building. She was accompanied by the skeleton of a large dog, suggested to have had a similar size and frame to a Great Dane; other dog skulls were present in the heavy fill and the well. Also found were small metal objects, such as jewellery and a pair of tweezers. There was no evidence to suggest that the bodies had been laid out or that the pottery in the fill was intended as grave goods; this implies that the metal objects may have been carried or worn at the time that these people died, rather than added later as mortuary gifts. It was noted that, despite their apparent youth, six of the skeletons exhibited slight arthritic changes to their lumbar vertebrae. Athens

The contents of four wells on the Athenian acropolis south slope were published by P. Mountjoy.20 Excavated by N. Platon from 1963–1964, these were located behind the Stoa of Eumenes; the majority of the material dated to LH IIB–IIIA1.21 Well E,22 the deepest, was filled in two stages; sherds more than 10 m below the surface did not join with those above this level. However, apart from the fact that the largest pieces of Mycenaean

18 Wace 1954, 273–274, 287–289. 19 In the accompanying report, two other skeletons of females in their 20s ( 80 and 81 Myc ) are mentioned, which were said to have been excavated in 1952 ( Wace 1954, 273, 288 ). These remains were in fact found in the similar foundation fill in the adjacent North Room of the Cyclopean Terrace Building in 1950, and were not in the vicinity of the well as stated in the text. 20 Μountjoy 1981. 21 Μountjoy 1981, 13. 22 Μountjoy 1981, 17–31.

AN IN-DEPTH LOOK AT HOW OBJECTS ENTERED LATE BRONZE AGE WELLS

fineware were found below 12.5 m and there were clear changes in soil colour,23 the character of the fill was similar throughout. Well ST,24 which had been disturbed by the construction of the stoa, contained little pottery but was otherwise similar to the others; it also contained some shell and was 5 m deep. Well Z 25 was 6.4 m deep and its upper fill had been disturbed. It contained many sherds including a fragment of a vessel mended in antiquity. The fourth well, Well H,26 contained fewer sherds than E and Z and also held shell, animal bone and ash. The material in these four wells is similar and seems to have been contemporary. P. Mountjoy argued that their contents, especially the many goblets and complete or almost complete pots, indicated a domestic origin such as a pantry rather than a midden.27 This seems plausible although the presence of animal bone, ash, earth and shell implies that material from one or more middens was also present. It has been suggested that the reason why these four shafts were sunk close to each other was that three were soundings and only one, Well E, reached water.28 Given that Well E was more than twice the depth of the others, it is not clear why they would have been abandoned prematurely. Moreover, unless the other shafts were left open, this would imply that Well E had a relatively short use life because of its similar fill.29 Another four LBA wells were excavated in the vicinity of the later Athenian Agora. Well K 6:1,30 now to the north of the Temple of Ares, was only 2.2 m deep, but water was still present from c. 1.4 m onwards. One intact coarseware jug was found 1.6 m from the top; the rest of the fill contained only sherds including pieces of a conical rhyton.31 Slightly larger, at 4.75 m deep, was Well H 11:2.32 This contained an intact LH IIIC jug and a handful of other sherds from 3.65 m down. On the north-west slope of the acropolis, 35 m downslope from the Fountain House, was Well V 24:1.33 It had a depth of 6.2 m and still

23 24 25 26 27 28 29

Μountjoy 1981, 77. Μountjoy 1981, 31–33. Μountjoy 1981, 34–45. Μountjoy 1981, 45–51. Μountjoy 1981, 77–78. Μountjoy 1981, 79.

N. Platon questioned whether these were wells due to similarities with a feature dug into a hillside at Zakro, which he argued was not intended to access water ( Μountjoy 1981, 77 ). However, the placement of a well on higher ground is advantageous as it limits contamination opportunities; its efficacy is dependent upon its local geology and groundwater flow, not the surface morphology. 30 Immerwahr 1971, 253–254.

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contained water. The majority of its fill consisted of unstratified LH IIIB sherds, including fragments of a conical rhyton, although a pithos and a crumpled piece of lead sheeting were suggested to be associated with its use. Small fragmented ceramic and stone artefacts were also found. The fourth well, S 27:7,34 was located 100 m south-west of the previous example in an area used for wells from the Neolithic onwards. The upper part of the shaft had collapsed.35 This well was 6.25 m deep; from the top to 1.25 m down the fill was mixed and contained sherds dating from the Neolithic to the Byzantine Period. Below this the fill consisted only of Mycenaean sherds, and fragments of small vessels, including LH IIIC material, have been suggested as evidence of the well’s use. Argos

Carefully excavated as part of a rescue operation, approximately 250 m south-west of the Deiras cemetery, this well 36 was lined with dry rubble masonry and was 7.35 m deep. There were three discernable layers. The top 1.6 m was filled with soil with few sherds. Below this to 4 m deep was a stony layer with many LH IIIC Early sherds. Further down were 20 individuals, male and female, without grave goods, and multiple animal skeletons, including horse, pig and dog. Knossos

Multiple wells have been uncovered at Knossos although few details have been published, especially concerning their fill.37 Three certainly contained LBA material, although two were constructed before then. The Gypsades Well,38 south of the Palace, was discovered in 1913 near ruined buildings. It contained two distinct deposits, the lower containing Middle Minoan ( MM ) III pottery and the upper LM IA pottery. A well was inserted into the south-west corner of the pavement of the Eastern Portico of the Hall of the Double Axes,39 during a period of construction

31 Apart from the pottery and small finds, the fill of these four wells is not described. 32 Immerwahr 1971, 254–255. 33 Immerwahr 1971, 255–259. 34 Immerwahr 1971, 259–261. 35 It was not stated whether collapse debris was visible in the fill. 36 Kritzas 1976–1978. 37 A. Evans did not give dates for two other Minoan wells, which have not been further studied ( 1935, 222, 256 ). These are not necessarily LBA as wells dating from the Early Bronze Age to the present day are found around the Knossian landscape. 38 Evans 1921, 595; 1928, 549; Hood, Smyth 1981, 56, no. 291; Hatzaki 2007, 162, 175. 39 Evans 1930, 225.

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and renovation near the end of MM III, according to A. Evans. The majority of its contents are LM I, suggesting it was not used for long. The remainder date to the end of MM II and LM IIIB. Just north of the South-West House was a well with an almost pure LM II fill.40 It probably served the former which was one of a group of seven houses immediately south-west of the Palace, all abandoned during LM I. This area was not subsequently remodelled. Palaikastro

At Palaikastro two wells were excavated and have been published with excellent attention to detail, enabling a thorough reconstruction of their lifecycle.41 Located in an area otherwise abandoned after LM IA, both were in use during LM IB. The bottom of Well 576 contained over 50 waterrelated vessels, some bone and broken stone tools, and was overlain by architectural debris apparently derived from the LM IB fire destruction. Two LM IB–II jugs above this suggests a possible limited reuse of the well, but these were covered by a single dump of further debris separated in time from the first by at least one rainy season. This second dump included architectural features such as horns of consecration. Carcasses or partial carcasses had been thrown in and covered, as well as bones gnawed by dogs. Another period of use followed, with a second primary deposit formed of near complete LM IIIA1 water jars. Much bone was then deposited, including several whole dogs, followed by architectural debris already exposed to the elements for some time prior to deposition; its accompanying pottery had been broken before it entered the well. There were also animal bones derived in part from large oxen and equids. The well was abandoned during LM IIIA2, when only a small quantity of pottery was washed in, before more architectural debris and eight dog skeletons were deposited. The final layers were mixed, consisting of wash, architectural debris, kitchen refuse, charcoal, animal bones with butchery marks and stacks of conical cups. It was eventually deliberately sealed with clay containing small LM IIIA2 sherds. Well 605’s primary deposit of LM IB cups, jugs and jars, accompanied by an entire dog skeleton, was

40 Popham 1977, 186; A. Evans ( 1928, 390 ) describes this area but does not mention the well. 41 MacGillivray et al. 2007. 42 Atkinson et al. 1904, 20, 27, 58, 68, 160, figs. 10, 59 ( TU section ). 43 One broken cylinder, removed from the well, is illustrated ( Atkinson et al. 1904, fig. 51 ).

covered by a slow seepage of sand and clay, that became covered by layers of fine clay and small pebbles probably washed in at intervals. Above was a layer of architectural debris likely derived from the LM IB destruction. After this material gradually accumulated, three similar layers were identified containing mainly soil, sherds, pebbles, stone and carbon. The lowest two dated to LM IIIA1 and the upper contained LM IIIA2 sherds. The stone lining was rebuilt during LM IIIA2 and the final layer consisted of further wash, pottery and burnt mudbrick. Phylakopi

This well, on the west side of the courtyard fronting the Mycenaean Palace, differs significantly in terms of its construction. Excavated in the late 19th century,42 it was lined with large hollow cylinders, diameter 0.75 m and height 1 m, made of earthenware and connected by sockets.43 Integrated into these cylinders were handholds, to facilitate access in and out of the well. The well was cleared to a depth of 9 m, although the base was not reached. It was filled with broken pottery for several metres. Only one sherd was illustrated,44 which came from a LH IIIC Middle jug.45 The construction of the well and Palace may be contemporary, in LH IIIA.46 Characteristics of Aegean LBA Well Deposits

P. Mountjoy 47 identified three forms of well deposit: 1) whole pots, usually water jars, related to the well’s use and in a primary context; 2 ) a gradual fill of rubbish that builds stratigraphically up the shaft; 3 ) a deliberate fill of rubbish, brought in from elsewhere and deposited in a single operation. All three are found in the wells under discussion and in certain cases, such as Palaikastro Well 576, they are present within a single well. Each type can be linked to a range of motivations. The primary context relates to the active use of the well for its intended purpose. The apparent lack of other detritus, as exemplified by the Palaikastro archaeobotanical evidence, indicates that they were not considered to be waste receptacles when in use. The Phylakopi example highlights that the likelihood

44 Atkinson et al. 1904, fig. 125. 45 This identification was kindly made for me by Dr Elizabeth French. 46 Renfrew et al. 2007, 6, 36. 47 Mountjoy 1993, 121.

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Fig. 4. The interior of the spring-chamber neighbouring the Caravanserai at Knossos. After Evans 1928, fig. 61.

of cleaning should not be overlooked. This calls into question the idea that a well was a context from which objects could not be subsequently retrieved.48 The gradual build-up of a fill implies abandonment without the need to make immediate re-use of the space occupied by the well. Possible explanations are discussed in the next section. Palaikastro Well 576 indicates that such abandoned wells were regarded as convenient places to dump small groups of unwanted items. Such actions, although deliberate, should be separated from large-scale debris or rubbish clearances that were part of a single operation, as found in wells at Mycenae, Argos, Athens and Palaikastro. This type of deposition might be stimulated by the need to fill the well and/or the need to remove debris. Before embarking on a more detailed discussion of this, I will first summarise some of the other patterns that have appeared in this study.

48 Contra Knapp et al. 1988, 248–249. 49 Ray 2019, 267.

Ritual Significance of Wells

As mentioned above, the concept of a link between water and divine forces is common in the scholarship of Prehistoric Europe, and has even been described as a “panhuman” paradigm.49 Several wells in this study contained objects associated with ritual. The Rhyton Well at Mycenae was named for the stone rhyta fragments found in its fill. Rhyta fragments were also found in the Palaikastro wells and Wells K 6:1 and V 24:1 at Athens. Amongst the debris in Palaikastro Well 576 were horns of consecration, an architectural feature linked to ritual buildings. Coupled with the finds of agrimi horns and entire dog skeletons, a ritual deposition of hunting paraphernalia was given as a possible explanation.50 Ritual artefacts are not confined to LBA wells. A. Evans remarked that the Upper East Well,51 located in the Knossian Palace’s eastern wing just west of the

50 MacGillivray et al. 2007, 195. Although the stratification does not support this interpretation. 51 Evans 1921, 175; Momigliano 1989, 113–126, 350–358; 1991, 155–163.

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Court of the Stone Spout, contained numerous examples of ‘sheep bells’.52 Although their function remains open to interpretation, they are thought to have had a ritual purpose.53 A related LBA example used to demonstrate water’s ritual significance is the subterranean spring-chamber that served the neighbouring Caravanserai just outside the Knossian Palace ( Fig. 4 ).54 Water naturally welled up through a laid pebble floor surrounded by niches and ledges, probably for lamps. Significant wear to the slab bordering the water implies extensive use. Debris blocked the spring at the end of LM IIB. Its conversion to a shrine occurred in LM IIIB. Stone lamps were discarded outside and the interior used for food offerings; other evidence includes a female figure and incense burners. However, there is no proof that the spring was considered sacred whilst in use; the stone lamps indicate a high-status environment, not necessarily a sacred one. That the chamber came back into use simultaneously with the Caravanserai may indicate that it was chosen for convenience, rather than its previous function. There is, therefore, no evidence for offerings during the use of LBA wells. Ritual material formed part of the fill that entered after abandonment and was mixed with secular objects. This approach is consistent with the treatment of Mycenaean figurine fragments.55 Ritualised deposition of whole water-related vessels cannot be ruled out, but there is no reason to favour this above the likelihood of accidental loss. Burial in Wells

Two LBA wells, at Argos and at Mycenae ( beneath the Cyclopean Terrace Building ), contained human remains. Although rare, other formal and informal well burials are known from the Early Bronze Age ( EBA ) to the Hellenistic Period.56 A formal Middle Helladic burial in the Athenian Agora ( I 9:2 ), of a crouched adult male with two pots,

52 Evans 1921, 175, fig. 124. 53 Morris, Peatfield 1990, 30–33, who suggest the sheep bells in the Upper East Well were a foundation deposit, but there is no published evidence to support this theory. 54 Evans 1928, 124–139, 343. 55 Tzonou-Herbst 2009. 56 C. Bourbou and P. Themelis ( 2010, 112 ) describe the find of human bones in wells as a “relatively common feature of ancient Greek mortuary practices” although they only give five Bronze and Iron Age examples. 57 Immerwahr 1971, 52–53, 92–93. 58 Heermance, Lord 1897. A second similar but damaged pair were located nearby. 59 Bourbou, Themelis 2010; Liston, Rotroff 2013.

was in a specially added side chamber at the base of a well.57 Immerwahr draws a parallel with an earlier example, near Old Corinth, where two side chambers at the bottom of a well contained EBA burials with grave goods.58 Hellenistic Athens and Messene provide intermediate cases, where neonates placed in pots were deposited in disused wells.59 However, the informality of the Mycenae and Argos burials are more akin to the Early Helladic II well near Old Corinth that contained between 20 and 30 individuals as well as many reconstructable pots related to eating, drinking and pouring activities.60 Explanations for this phenomenon range from catastrophic events to social exclusion.61 What cannot be in doubt is that these wells were used not for burial but for the deposition of human remains, in a manner consistent with the treatment of debris and refuse as found in other Aegean LBA wells. There are similarities between the young woman laid out above the well under the Cyclopean Terrace Building and Grave XLI at the Athens Agora, a secondary burial of a middle-aged male in the mouth of a disused well ( N 14:3 ) with a single LH IIIB–C kylix as a mortuary offering.62 Deposition of Dogs in Wells

Four wells under study here, at Palaikastro, Petsas House and beneath the Cyclopean Terrace Building, contained whole dog carcasses. Others reportedly contained animal bone but further information is unavailable. Dogs are found in Minoan and Mycenaean material culture, being depicted on frescoes,63 metalwork 64 and seals.65 Dogs also accompanied the dead, certainly from LH/LM III onwards,66 although they were probably not intended as companions.67 The presence of an entire dog skeleton within the primary deposit in Palaikastro Well 605 has been suggested as a deliberate poisoning attempt.68 Although the thought of drinking water previously in contact

60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68

Rambach 2015, 568–569. Papadopoulos 2000; Kritzas 1976–1978. Immerwahr 1971, 104, 128, 247 especially n. 1. For example, see Marinatos, Morgan 2005.

Such as the four goblets from the Mycenae Acropolis Treasure ( Thomas 1938–1939 ). See especially Dimopoulou 2010, 97. Day 1984, 22–25 gives a catalogue of such practices on LBA and Iron Age Crete and Mainland Greece. Y. Hamilakis argues that the term ‘dog burial’ is misleading as often only part of the corpse is deposited, frequently with little care ( 1996, 161 ). MacGillivray et al. 2007, 224, although it is also accepted that the dog may have fallen in.

AN IN-DEPTH LOOK AT HOW OBJECTS ENTERED LATE BRONZE AGE WELLS

with a corpse is stomach-churning, especially a human corpse, the physical effects are often minor; the World Health Organisation warns of gastroenteritis or food poisoning syndrome as the most probable outcomes, unless the corpse carries infectious disease.69 However, this was not likely to have been understood during the Late Bronze Age. Furthermore, the psychological effects can be severe and such actions are attested in history and are still prevalent today.70 Evidence from Hellenistic Greece suggests that dogs were sacrificed and deposited in wells as a purification rite, but this is associated specifically with the burial of foetuses, neonates and infants.71 Deliberate ritual deposition is possible, although there is no evidence that provides an explanation for the selection of dogs. Their apparently frequent presence as entire carcasses may simply reflect their size, abundance and possibly a more limited, compared to other animals, culturally acceptable range of uses for their corpses. It is notable that the Petsas House well contained both articulated dog skeletons at the bottom, with no clear evidence for postmortem interference, and further dog bones within the material apparently derived from a midden that do show signs of carcass processing.72

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may have entered then, just as the example from the Rhyton Well was within a deliberate fill. The well beneath the Cyclopean Terrace Building at Mycenae contained a pair of tweezers, two rings and fragments of a brooch. These were probably the personal effects of the people deposited within the well, and carried on their person at death. This group was not buried in accordance with normal Mycenaean practices and therefore the corpses were not prepared for burial in the usual fashion. The relative lack of metalwork in comparison to other materials, like ceramic, is not surprising. It should be expected that metalwork was less likely to have entered middens and would have been selectively retrieved from debris if found due to its recyclability and residual value.78 Why Fill a Well?

Three wells were reported to have contained metalwork. Crushed lead vessels (or sheeting) were found in the Rhyton Well at Mycenae and Well V 24:1 at Athens. S. Immerwahr hypothesised, for the latter, that the lead was connected to the well’s use, due to similar finds in the Athenian Mycenaean Fountain House.73 Lead sheeting appeared throughout the Fountain House fill, especially near the bottom; O. Broneer suggested they were covers for vessels manufactured from perishable materials.74 One weighed 12 kg,75 making this theory unlikely.76 Although a primary deposit of LH IIIB2 and IIIC Early vases was at the bottom, the majority dated to LH IIIC Middle and were deliberately deposited as a single operation.77 The lead

A well represents a significant investment of time, labour and resources, and, by providing a source of fresh water, performs an important service. It is unlikely, therefore, that one would have been abandoned and filled without good reason. Multiple explanations have been offered, tailored to the evidence from individual wells when possible. Hostile action was considered one plausible explanation for the strata just above the primary contexts of both wells at Palaikastro,79 as their deposition coincided with a violent episode in LM IB. It was suggested that the well beneath the Cyclopean Terrace Building was in the way of future development, and thus retired from use, or alternatively not considered sufficiently productive and the area redesignated for a different function.80 A similar abandonment pattern due to the needs of redevelopment is visible around the Palace of Knossos.81 Changing circumstances could make a well obsolete, as at Petsas House. The Athenian Mycenaean Fountain House, which sacrificed ease of access for protection, was probably similarly abandoned once this requirement had passed.

69 World Health Organisation 2019. 70 Fear of such attacks is historically attested, for example in Thucydides’ History of the Peloponnesian War II XLVIII the Athenians accused their enemies of poisoning their water supply after disease broke out. See Britt 2015 for a modern example. 71 Bourbou, Themelis 2010, 113, 116–117; Liston, Rotroff 2013, 67–68. 72 Price et al. 2021, 8. The authors stress that the consumption of dog meat need not be automatically ascribed to ritual activity and may well be due to cultural preference (Price et al. 2021, 83). 73 Immerwahr 1971, 259. 74 Broneer 1939, 415–416, fig. 100.

75 Broneer 1939, 415. 76 See Aulsebrook 2015, 205 for an overview of suggested lead vessel functions. 77 Mountjoy 1993, 132. Also in the fill was a curved gold tube, c. 0.055 m by 0.003 m ( Broneer 1939, 414, fig. 99b ), small enough to have been accidentally overlooked. 78 Aulsebrook 2017; lead was treated differently to other metals in several ways and this might relate to its restricted utility and lower emic value perception ( Aulsebrook 2012, 137–139, 314 ). 79 MacGillivray et al. 2007, 12, 224. 80 Wace 1954, 273–274. 81 For example, Evans 1935, 66.

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Unproductive wells can be deepened to improve their capacity. Climatic change can be a factor in the dynamics of groundwater and the level of the water table,82 which may have diminished the productivity of previously effective wells or even dried them up completely. Earthquakes can also play a role. Wells and Earthquakes

up, either temporarily or permanently; 2 ) the well may have become contaminated, again either temporarily or permanently; 3 ) damage to buildings created debris that needed to be relocated. The first two reasons may, therefore, provide an explanation for why a community would deliberately destroy an important resource just at the moment when they are already experiencing other difficulties after an earthquake, rather than simply needing to find somewhere to store debris. Unfortunately, it is impossible to prove whether a well was filled after being affected by earthquake as subsequent ground movement may have occurred.

Earthquakes have a significant impact on their surrounding geology, which may affect the behaviour of water underground including the level of the water table. This provides a mechanism through which earthquakes can disrupt the existing well network. Modern case studies provide an indication of the changes possible. Long-term monitoring of Japanese wells revealed their water levels rose or dropped in response to earthquakes, with a unique trajectory of change for each well that covered a range of time scales, from hours to days, sometimes beginning before the main seismic event took place.83 Within a few hours of the 1998 Pymantuning Earthquake, in north-west Pennsylvania, local residents reported that multiple wells dried up and new springs formed; indeed, along one ridge the water table fell by up to 100 feet ( 30.48 m ) whereas within the adjacent valley it rose as much as 62 feet ( 18.90 m ).84 Many similar examples have been studied.85 The earthquake’s magnitude and the distance between its epicentre and the well had no direct correlation with the severity of the changes.86 As well as disrupting the water level, earthquakes can have other, potentially more catastrophic, effects. The ground movement can introduce contaminants, possibly including dangerous bacteria and toxic chemicals from the surrounding geology; these sometimes make the water visibly cloudy. Today, not only are many courses of action available to mitigate these impacts, such as disinfecting the well or temporarily boiling the water,87 we also have a greater understanding of what has happened, how it can be remedied and how long to wait before a well is safely functional again. Prehistoric societies did not have access to this information and, given that drinking contaminated water can be fatal, it is reasonable to suppose that a precautionary approach was adopted even in cases of disruption or contamination that would have naturally resolved themselves over time. Earthquakes therefore provide three reasons why a well may have been filled: 1 ) the well may have dried

The purpose of this paper was to find and investigate patterns concerning the entry of objects into Aegean LBA wells, to help understand the reported presence of a hoard of metalwork in a well at Orchomenos. Comparison with contemporary wells indicates that it is more likely that the hoard was deliberately deposited, rather than being lost or as a corollary of other clearance processes, as metals ( excepting lead ) very rarely entered Aegean LBA wells except in unusual circumstances. The likelihood that it was a religious offering made during the use of the well seems low, as there is no evidence for this practice. It is more likely that it was intended to be retrieved, which would have been possible given that access into such wells was facilitated for cleaning as indicated by the deliberate inclusion of handholds in the Phylakopi well and lack of contamination in the primary contexts at Palaikastro. At this stage there is little more that can be said about the Orchomenos Hoard unless further information regarding its deposition emerges. P. Mountjoy’s framework, which continues to be useful way of thinking about well deposition, shows that the position of the hoard within the well is of paramount importance in its interpretation. The ability to distinguish between primary and secondary contexts through stratification is a powerful tool for making sense of well deposition and enables us to understand the sometimes very complex history of these structures. During use Aegean LBA wells were kept quite clean with occasional losses of water-related vessels. Since debris is unlikely to have been moved a considerable distance and wells would have been sited, when possible, close to where the water was needed, the finds

82 Bouraoui et al. 1995. 83 King et al. 1999, 13073, 13075, 13077–13078. 84 Fleeger et al. 1999.

85 Gorokhovich 2005, 219–220. 86 King et al. 1999, 13075. 87 Alaska Department of Environmental Conservation 2018.

Conclusions

AN IN-DEPTH LOOK AT HOW OBJECTS ENTERED LATE BRONZE AGE WELLS

of ritual material may indicate that copious water was required at some religious locations. Abandonment could be temporary and refurbishment sometimes took place. Permanent abandonment was enacted for multiple reasons. Changing circumstances and redevelopment played a role. Hostile action is plausible but difficult to distinguish with certainty. Slow loss of productivity can be rectified by deepening a well, so it is perhaps more likely that sudden changes through seismic activity, and possible related episodes of contamination, led to abandonment. Given that an earthquake need not be especially large or close to have an impact, it is probable that at least some incidences of well contamination could have occurred without any warning for the residents and may have affected them days after the main seismic event took place.

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Once abandoned, wells were considered a permanent solution for depositing debris and unwanted material; there was no evidence for the attempted recovery of objects after deposition. Architectural debris, soil and ceramics were the most common fill components. Two wells were also utilised for the deposition of human remains outside of the formal mortuary sphere. Wells may have been used for the meaningful deposition of entire dog carcasses, but this cannot be confirmed without further work on the animal bone assemblages. The Orchomenos Hoard is thus far from the only mystery concerning the role of Aegean LBA wells and continued exploration of these phenomena is required to address these still unanswered questions.

Bibliography

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Rambach J. (2016) Early Helladic Romanos/Messenia: filling a well, in: E. Alram-Stern, F. Blakolmer, S. Deger-Jalkotzy, R. Laffineur, J. Weilhartner eds., METAPHYSIS: Ritual, Myth and Symbolism in the Aegean Bronze Age, Proceedings of the 15th International Aegean Conference, Vienna, Institute for Oriental and European Archaeology, Aegean and Anatolia Department, Austrian Academy of Sciences and Institute of Classical Archaeology, University of Vienna, 22–25 April 2014, Aegaeum 39, Leuven and Liège, 567–570. Ray C. ( 2019 ) Sacred wells across the Longue Durée, in: C. Ray, M. Fernández-Götz eds., Historical Ecologies, Heterarchies and Transtemporal Landscapes, Oxford, 265–286. Renfrew C., Brodie N., Morris C., Scarre C., Barber R.L.N., Cherry J.F., Davis J.L., Daykin A., Evans R.K., Morgan L., Mountjoy P.A., Vaughan S.J., Williams D., Winder N., Shepard Bailey A., Brice W., Cameron M., Dickinson O.T.P.K., French E., Gamble C., Hood M.S.F., Jones R.E., Maniatis Y., Musgrave J.H., Stos-Gale Z., Tite M.S., Vitaliano D. ( 2007 ) Excavations at Phylakopi in Melos 1974– 77, BSA Suppl. 42, London. Schliemann H. ( 1878 ) Mycenae: A Narrative of Researches and Discoveries at Mycenae and Tiryns, New York. Shelton K. ( 2015 ) Pottery and Petsas House: recent research on LH IIIA2 Mycenae, in: A.-L. Schallin, I. Tournavitou eds., Mycenaeans up to Date: the Archaeology of the North-Eastern Peloponnese – Current Concepts and New Directions, Acta Insti-

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Maria Katsimicha,1 Ioanna Moutafi,2 Tina Jakob 3 1

CAHAE, University of Manchester, UK https://orcid.org/0000-0001-9915-8243 2 Malcolm H. Wiener Laboratory for Archaeological Science, ASCSA, Greece 3 Department of Archaeology, Durham University, UK

INVESTIGATING THE ‘PERIPHERAL’ MYCENAEAN COMMUNITY

PRELIMINARY RESULTS OF THE BIOARCHAEOLOGICAL STUDY OF THE LH III KALLITHEA-RAMPANTANIA CEMETERY, ACHAEA1

Abstract: This preliminary study on the human skeletal remains from five tombs of the Late Helladic

( LH IIIA–IIIC ) Kallithea-Rampantania cemetery investigates aspects of the character of a Mycenaean ‘peripheral’ community by focusing on: ( a ) palaeodemography; ( b ) funerary practices; ( c ) palaeopathology; ( d ) contextualisation within the broader Late Bronze Age Achaean context. According to this preliminary analysis ( five tombs, MNI = 68 ), the demographic profile of KallitheaRampantania is fairly similar to that of neighbouring cemeteries, despite slight deviating patterns ( e.g., higher MNI per tomb, lower percentage of non-adults ). Combined with similarities in tomb and burial offering types, this is suggestive of a homogenous ‘crude’ nexus of localised funerary traditions and community organisation, without excluding expressions of idiosyncratic trends. Investigation of funerary practices was also attempted via element survival analysis. The distribution of specific pathological lesions, the lack of statistically significant differences between tombs and an overall young age-at-death, suggest relatively equal exposure to non-specific hardships potentially explained within the wider socio-economic context. Indications for a lower female dental health status were identified and possible explanations are discussed. Well-healed, small-sized cranial depression fractures, common in females and males, indicate practices affecting both sexes (sling-shot injuries, stone-throwing games during childhood?). In addition, a possible trepanation was identified.

Keywords: Late Bronze Age Achaea, Bioarchaeology, Palaeopathology.

This is an open access publication made available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International Licence. Sympozjum Egejskie: Papers in Aegean Archaeology 3, ed. by S. Aulsebrook, K. Żebrowska, A. Ulanowska, and K. Lewartowski, WSA 3 ( Turnhout: Brepols, 2022 ), pp. 167–184. 10.1484/M.WSA-EB.5.128960

Aims and Objectives

Adding to the existing bioarchaeological work in the region, this paper presents the results of the preliminary analysis of the human skeletal material from five tombs of the Late Helladic (LH) Kallithea-Rampantania

cemetery in Achaea, Peloponnese, Greece. Although included in the title of the paper, it must be emphasised that the term ‘peripheral’ is being used conventionally, reflecting how Mycenaean non-palatial

1 The authors would like to thank Prof. Thanasis Papadopoulos, excavator of the Kallithea-Rampantania cemetery, the Ephorate of Antiquities of Achaea for permission to study this material, the Malcolm H. Wiener Laboratory for Archaeological Science

of the American School of Classical Studies at Athens, where this study was conducted, and especially the laboratory coordinator, Dr Dimitris Michailidis, who generously offered help and advice during the analysis conducted by the first author.

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Fig. 1. Map of Achaea. On the left: Patras and Mt Panachaikon area with approximate position of the sites mentioned in this paper. On the right: location of Achaea on map of central-southern Greece. Map created with ArcMap 10.5.1 by Alexandra Katevaini.

sites are occasionally perceived.2 This study attempts to use the osteological record to further explore this characterisation by illustrating the complex and multifaceted nature of this site. This preliminary analysis focused on: ( a ) palaeodemography; ( b ) funerary practices; ( c ) palaeopathology ( the study of health and disease at population and—when possible—individual level ), and, more specifically, the identification of pronounced health differences between distinctive groups ( tombs, sexes, etc. ), and palaeopathological patterns or individual cases interpretable at social or everyday-life level. Contextualisation was attempted by taking into account the evidence from neighbouring sites and the current archaeological knowledge of Late Bronze Age Achaea.

2 This characterisation, however, should not and is not being used as a dismissive term, but rather as a classificatory one to differentiate between the ‘peripheral regions’ and the ones that have yielded positive evidence for the presence of a palatial complex ( palatial regions ). For the Mycenaean periphery concept, see indicatively Eder 2007; Arena 2015. For a brief discussion on the character of Mycenaean Achaea and the different views on how

Introduction: the Site within its Context

Kallithea-Rampantania ( KR ) is located a few kilometres south-west of the modern city of Patras. It consists of 23 ( excavated to present ) chamber tombs, and dates roughly from LH IIIA to LH IIIC ( c. 1390–1100 BC low chronology/c. 1445–1070 BC high chronology ).3 Burial offerings comprised mostly pottery vessels with some of the prevailing types being stirrup jars and askoi. Less common offerings were spindle whorls, beads and a limited number of seal stones. Metal finds are present but not abundant, with examples such as pins, tweezers and razors. Weaponry is mainly represented by knives/daggers and spearheads, with the exception of only two of the tombs of the cemetery ( A and B ) which yielded two of the so-called Achaean ‘warrior burials’ and contained, among other

it is being perceived in the literature, see Paschalidis 2018, 14–15 and the work cited there. Note, however, that C. Paschalidis himself disagrees with the characterisation ‘peripheral’ in the case of Achaea. 3 Low and high chronology adjusted after Shelmerdine 2008, 4, fig. 1.1, 5, tab. 1.2 and Boyd 2016, 200, tab. 13.1.

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This study focused on five of the KR tombs ( Τ, Υ, Φ, Χ, Ψ).7 The tombs were selected based on (a) the availability of the material and (b) the state of preservation. All tombs were used for multiple burials and, as a result, the skeletal assemblage is a combination of

primary and secondary deposits ( anakomides ), the latter often found in the form of piles or clusters of the remains of more than one individual, placed aside towards the walls of the chamber. Although none of these tombs presented evidence for plundering, the practice of multiple burials usually resulted in varying degrees of commingling and fragmentation of the remains, especially in the case of the secondary deposits. In Tomb X, whose material was studied in its entirety, a simplified version of the zonation method proposed by Knüsel and Outram8 was used to infer the Minimum Number of Individuals ( MNI ) interred in the tomb. For the rest of the tombs, a provisional MNI was estimated based on individual skulls 9 and compared against the MNI inferred from the femora, which were the element yielding the highest frequency in Tomb X. For sex and age estimation,10 the standards compiled by Buikstra and Ubelaker 11 were used for the primary burials, although, due to considerable underrepresentation of pelves, adult age was also estimated by molar attrition,12 whereas dental development stages were used for non-adult age estimation.13 In the case of the secondary deposits of the tombs, the demographic profile presented in this paper is an attempted reconstruction at the individual level ( individual skulls collected separately within each secondary deposit ). Because of that, sex and age estimation in these cases were based on cranial dimorphic traits and molar attrition respectively, following the aforementioned methods.

4 Papadopoulos 1976; 1977; 1978; 1980; 1997; 1998; 2002. For the KR ‘warrior burials’ see Yalouris 1960; for a general discussion on ‘warrior burials’ see Papadopoulos 1999; Deger-Jalkotzy 2006; Giannopoulos 2008, 201–252; for general discussion on Achaea during the period under study, see Giannopoulos 2008; Paschalidis 2018. 5 Indicatively Deger-Jalkotzy 2006; Giannopoulos 2008; Arena 2015. 6 Graff 2011 ( KL ); Moutafi 2015; 2021 ( Voudeni ); Jones 2017 ( Chalandritsa ); Paschalidis, McGeorge 2009; McGeorge 2018; Więckowski 2018 ( Klauss ). 7 The preliminary osteological analysis of three of these tombs ( Y, X, Ψ ) was undertaken as part of the first author’s MSc degree at the Department of Archaeology, Durham University, UK ( Katsimicha 2018 ). 8 Knüsel, Outram 2004. 9 Due to preservation as well as excavation conditions, in certain cases only the cranium or the calvarium was collected, whereas in others all or most of the skull was recovered. Because of that, the term ‘skull’ is conventionally used in this paper as representative of the total cranial remains corresponding to a single individual rather than a strict anatomical term, even if the facial bones are not present. The only exception to this can be found in the BRI ( Bone Representation Index ) section of the paper, where only individual crania were taken into account.

10 Sex categories used for this study: F ( female ), F? ( possible female ), M ( male ), M? ( possible male ), I ( indeterminate ); in a few cases, and when only the skull was available, a sixth category was added: ‘F ( or juvenile? )’, since—in the absence of pelvic parts or dentitions—there is no reliable way of differentiating a gracile female from a juvenile. Note, however, that for the discussion on palaeodemography, as well as the palaeopathological data, F, F? and F ( or juvenile? ) are pooled together; the same applies for M and M?. Due to a combination of methods used for the age estimation, age groups were defined as general age cohorts: nonadults; young adults ( ≤ 25 years ); young middle adults ( 25–35 years ); middle adults ( 35–45 years; corresponding to category 33–45 years of Brothwell 1981 ); older adults ( 45+ years ). The cohorts of the adult range mainly follow the molar attrition age estimation system used for this study ( see footnote 12 ), corresponding with some variation to the pelvic traits age estimation systems used in the case of primary burials ( footnote 11 ). 11 Sex estimation based on cranial and pelvic traits: Buikstra, Ubelaker 1994, 15–20 and the work cited there; also Bruzek 2002. Age estimation pelvic traits: Brooks, Suchey 1990; Lovejoy et al. 1985. Femoral mid-shaft circumference was also used as a supplementary method for sex estimation, mainly in the case of primary burials ( Black 1978 ). 12 Brothwell 1981, 72, fig. 3.9. 13 AlQahtani et al. 2010.

offerings, elaborate weapons (swords, decorated bronze greaves, etc. ). ‘Luxurious’ materials, such as gold, are almost completely absent.4 In terms of the spatial distribution of burial sites of the period in the area, KR seems to be part of a network of contemporary cemeteries and associated settlements, surrounding Mt Panachaikon ( Fig. 1 ), including the cemeteries of Voudeni, Chalandritsa, Klauss and Kallithea-Laganidia ( KL ), the latter being in very close proximity to KR. The tomb type ( chamber tomb ), general patterns of disposal of the dead and burial offerings distribution at KR are similar to its neighbouring cemeteries. This is not surprising since Achaea, although an integral part of the Mycenaean realm, is considered to be characterised by regionalistic trends both before and after the decline of the palatial system.5 The human skeletal remains of all of the aforementioned neighbouring sites have been fully or partially studied,6 a fact that facilitates appropriate comparisons in order to establish whether the cultural and funerary homogeneity of the region is further supported by the osteological record. Materials and Methods

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Fig. 2a. Sex distribution in all five tombs; b. Sex distribution per tomb; c. Age distribution ( of individuals that could be scored for ageing, N = 30 ) in all five tombs.

a.

b.

Non-adults

c.

Young adults – Young middle ≤ 25 yrs adults – 25–35 yrs

Middle adults – 35–45 yrs

Older adults – 45+ yrs

INVESTIGATING THE ‘PERIPHERAL’ MYCENAEAN COMMUNITY

In order to attempt a small-scale reconstruction of the burial practices, potential secondary treatment and the degree of bias introduced by taphonomy, skeletal element survival was explored through bone frequencies analysis based on the Bone Representation Index ( BRI ). BRI is used to “[measure] how many of an element are present in comparison with how many would be present if each [individual] of the MNI were represented by a complete [skeleton]”.14 E.g., if the estimated MNI = 10 and the MNE ( Minimum Number of Element ) for the femora of both sides is 20, the BRI value for femur is 100, as expressed in the following formula:15 BRI =

( MNE ) × 100 ( number of element( s ) in complete skeleton ) × MNI

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aetiological links with physiological stress and/or conditions indicating exposure to hardships, such as violence-related (?) trauma, insufficient or low-quality diet, non-specific infections etc., having, thus, the highest potential for a social interpretation.17 Statistically significant differences ( or their absence ) between different groups, where deemed necessary to be investigated, were tested using the Fisher’s exact test.18 Results and Discussion

A brief presentation of the preliminary results, followed by a discussion of the key observations, are presented below by research aspect. Palaeodemography19

Since reconstructing entire skeletons in order to holistically evaluate the health status at individual level is not usually possible in assemblages of commingled and fragmented remains, pathological changes were recorded as lesions instead of specific conditions that imply a fixed set of aetiologies ( e.g., diploë expansion instead of porotic hyperostosis ). For microscopic examination in order to differentiate between pathological and pseudopathological alterations, a Leica M10 Stereo Zoom microscope was used. For the palaeopathological analysis, emphasis was directed towards the cranial lesions (all five tombs) and dental pathologies ( dental sample of Tombs Y, X, Ψ ), the latter argued to be one of the most reliable social status indicators.16 The types of lesions included in the recording were the ones deemed to have the most direct

Sex estimation was hampered by certain biases ( e.g., poor preservation and high fragmentation of the os coxae ), which led to the sexing of the individuals in the secondary deposits to be based on the—occasionally highly fragmented—cranial remains.20 The preliminary analysis of five tombs in the cemetery produced an estimation of an overall MNI = 68 with an average of 13.6 individuals per tomb ( MNI per tomb: T = 15; Y = 11;21 Φ = 15;22 X = 12; Ψ = 15 ). The total sample presents a relatively balanced sex distribution (21 F/F?, 27 M/M?, 17 I; Fig. 2a, excluding the non-adults ). On the contrary, the breakdown of that distribution per tomb shows a highly uneven F:M ratio in certain tombs (e.g., 1:3 F:M ratio in Tombs Y and X; Fig. 2b ) and a much more balanced one in others ( e.g., 3:2 in Tomb T, 6:5 in Tomb Φ; 5:6 in Tomb Ψ ).

14 Robb 2016, 685, slightly paraphrased. 15 Formula presented in Robb 2016, 685 for the BRI originally introduced by Dodson, Wexlar 1979; see also Moutafi, Voutsaki 2016 for a brief description of this type of analysis and Moutafi 2021, 54–56 for a more detailed discussion and further references. 16 Cucina, Tiesler 2003. Also, Goodman, Rose 1991 specifically for enamel hypoplasia. The dental pathologies presented in this paper were recorded as present/absent with the exception of dental wear which was recorded using D. Brothwell’s ( 1981 ) method for molars, and B. Smith’s ( 1984 ) method for all other teeth. Values ≥ to Brothwell’s ( 1981 ) grade 3 for molars and ≥ to Smith’s ( 1984 ) grade 5 for all other teeth were recorded as ‘heavy wear’. Enamel hypoplasia ( EH ) rates were calculated after deducting teeth that were unsuitable ( characterised as ‘unobservable’ ) for EH detection due to preservation. In the case of caries, initial-stage neck caries lesions were excluded from the recording since they could not always be distinguished from post-mortem erosion. 17 See indicatively Goodman et al. 1988; Walker et al. 2009, 118–119 and the work cited there; Beatrice, Soler 2016. 18 Fisher’s exact was chosen based on its higher reliability with smaller sample sizes, at least in comparison to alternatives such

as the chi squared test, which is not reliable in samples 10mm ( pronounced )

Endocranial porosities ( pronounced )

Endocranial transitional bone

Maxillary sinusitis

Depression fractures

Other forms of trauma

T

40

6.67

26.67

0

0

46.67

33.33

0

Y

22.2

0

11,1

0

0

66.7

11.1

0

Φ

42.86

14.29

21.43

0

28.57

21.43

7.14

0

X

40

0

40

20

0

20

30

0

Ψ

66.7

33.3

13.3

13.3

13.3

0

13.3

13.3

b.

Enamel hypoplasia ( EH )

Heavy dental wear

Heavy and unequal dental wear

Caries ( total )

Advanced caries ( ≥ ½ of crown destroyed )

AMTL ( fully resorbed sockets )

Periapical lesions

Y

38.3

45.7

1

16

8.8

19.3

3

X

30.2

52

12

5.5

1.9

23.6

0.71

Ψ

42.9

34.4

11.5

4.1

3.1

22.7

4.6

Caries ( total )

Advanced caries ( ≥ ½ of crown destroyed )

AMTL ( fully resorbed sockets )

Periapical lesions

c.

Enamel hypoplasia ( EH )

Heavy dental wear

Heavy and unequal dental wear

F/F?

59.3

42.9

0

0

0

45.8

1.39

M/M?

32.2

42.6

4.1

11.8

6.6

20.3

5.47

Fig. 4a. Prevalence of cranial pathological lesions per tomb; all five tombs. True prevalence ( number of skulls bearing lesions/ number of skulls recorded; with no deduction of individuals where presence of lesions could not be recorded due to poor preservation ); endocranial transitional bone refers to occurrence of the lesion on the sagittal sulcus of the parietal bone( s ) and/or the cruciform eminence of the occipital bone. b. True prevalence of dental pathologies ( number of teeth or sockets bearing lesions/ total number of teeth or sockets respectively ); Tombs Y, X, Ψ; c. True prevalence of dental pathologies per sex group; Tombs Y, X, Ψ. AMTL = ante-mortem tooth loss.

INVESTIGATING THE ‘PERIPHERAL’ MYCENAEAN COMMUNITY

the two sexes, although females displayed higher prevalence in more categories than males. However, the dental lesions (Tombs Y, Χ, Ψ), indicated a lower female dental health status, with some rates, namely that of AMTL and EH, being statistically significantly higher than those of the males ( Fig. 4c ).51 Studies on earlier Mycenaean and Pre-Mycenaean populations have also suggested a lower female dental health status that has been associated with dietary factors ( e.g., higher consumption of cariogenic food ), backed up with isotopic studies pointing towards the possibility of restricted access of the female population to animal proteins, and, thus, a potential lower social status for women in Mycenaean communities.52 However, alternative explanations ( other than gender inequalities ) need to be considered, the most plausible being that the female dental record could be affected by sex-specific increased physiological stresses such as those of pregnancy. Modern clinical studies have suggested a positive correlation between pregnancy and an increased risk for caries,53 caries being one of the prevailing causes for AMTL.54 Furthermore, a potential older overall age-at-death for the female population ( as— so far—expressed in this sample ) would have also affected the prevalence rates of AMTL. The higher EH rates of the females are more difficult to explain. EH is an umbrella-term used to describe defects of the tooth enamel, reflecting disruptions in enamel formation caused by underlying pathological ( or nutritional or congenital ) conditions associated with infancy and early childhood.55 A higher prevalence in only one of the two sexes could point towards differential practices in the nursing of children ( e.g., different types of food/ratios of specific foods ) and weaning stress.56 For instance, according to certain ancient medical texts, influenced by the Galenic tradition, after a certain age excessive consumption of highly nutritious foods ( especially meat ) was not advisable for girls as it could lead to excessive blood production, which in turn could cause disease or could—undesirably—strengthen their ‘sexual urges’.57 This example, however, illustrates that, if a differenti-

51 Note, however, that the F/F? dental sample was very limited: recorded teeth = 29; recorded socket positions = 72 ( whereas M/M? recorded teeth = 136; socket positions = 128 ); because of this, future analysis integrating a larger F/F? sample is necessary to back up the reliability of the results produced so far. 52 Triantaphyllou et al. 2008, 3029; Schepartz et al. 2009; 2014; 2017; Papathanasiou et al. 2012; see also Petroutsa et al. 2009, 240; Iezzi 2015. 53 Indicatively Lukacs, Largaespada 2006. 54 Cucina, Tiesler 2003, 2.

177

ated diet for infant girls and boys was indeed applied in Mycenaean societies as well, this might not have been dictated by a—simplistically put—dichotomy between a higher male and lower female status, but potentially by much more complex cultural/ideological beliefs. Palaeopathology: Depression Fracture Pattern

When analysing cranial trauma, a pattern of wellhealed, small-sized ( rarely > 2–3 cm ) cranial depression fractures ( Fig. 5 ) was encountered in all five tombs ( see Fig. 4a for prevalence ). Although a type of blunt force trauma, due to their small size these depressions could not have been inflicted by a large weapon ( e.g., a club ). Instead, their appearance is consistent with sling-shot injuries that have been documented in other areas and chronological periods ( e.g., South America ).58 In the Bronze Age Aegean, there is no direct skeletal evidence for sling-shot injuries so far. However, there are indirect indications for the possible use of this kind of weapon. For instance, the rounded pebbles found in large numbers in Early Cycladic Panormos on Naxos have been interpreted as potential sling-shots.59 Although an interpretation of war-related trauma cannot be excluded, all fractures are very well-healed, indicating that sufficient time had passed after their infliction and prior to the death of the individuals. They were found on both males and females, being slightly more prevalent in the latter (F/F? = 33.33%; M/M? = 22.22%). All the above, in combination with the extremely low prevalence and advanced healing stage of all other traumatic lesions in the assemblage ( with only the one exception of a peri-mortem cutmark on a mandible from Tomb Ψ, which will not be discussed in this paper ), which are not supportive of an active engagement in warfare at populationlevel, suggest that an alternative explanation should be sought. A plausible scenario is that they were the result of stone-throwing games between children 60 of both sexes, a practice that was very popular in several areas of Greece even just a few decades ago.61

Indicatively Schultz et al. 1998, 298–303. Indicatively Dąbrowski et al. 2020. For an overview see King 2004, 96. Zimmerman et al. 1981. Angelopoulou 2008, 150–151; Berg 2019, 121, 124. Indicatively Jakob, Walser 2016. Other less plausible differential diagnoses, such as dermoid cysts, taphonomic alterations and non-metric traits will be further explored in the future. 61 Skiadas –.

55 56 57 58 59 60

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Fig. 5. Small-sized, cranial depression fracture on right parietal bone from Tomb Χ. Inferο-lateral view; lambdoid suture is to the left. Photograph: M. Katsimicha.

Palaeopathology: Individual Palaeopathological Cases

the possibility of a trepanation in order to treat the side effects of a cranial injury, even if that injury occurred earlier during the life of the individual, cannot be rejected. According to modern clinical studies “seizures can happen in one to five of every ten people who have had a traumatic brain injury and some may occur months or years after the injury”.63 What modern medicine would interpret as seizures, might have been perceived by a prehistoric population as caused by a supernatural agent. Trepanation for ‘magico-ritual’ reasons 64 is considered to be one of the prevailing causes for the practice in the past. The lesion is also found on the left parietal bone which is one of the most common trepanation areas 65 and on an area with no underlying muscle structures, thus avoiding muscle damage. Unfortunately, there is no way to decisively deduce if this case does indeed represent a trepanation ( or— if it does—its stage of healing ), since even the microscopic examination of the lesion was inconclusive due to the high degree of erosion of the area. Differential diagnoses include taphonomic alteration, biparietal thinning ( more common in elderly females ) 66 and mechanical, pressure-induced, postmortem breakage.67

62 Measurements of lesion: 65.69 mm × 55.41 mm; approximate position: 35.51 mm from lambdoid suture; 31.93 mm from coronal suture; 13.43 mm from sagittal suture. 63 Englander et al. 2014. 64 Aufderheide, Rodríguez-Martín 1998, 32.

65 Aufderheide, Rodríguez-Martín 1998, 33. 66 Cederlund et al. 1982. 67 Ortner 2003, 171; Liston et al. 2016, 153–154; Nikita 2017, 321.

A number of individual palaeopathological cases, which are not going to be discussed in detail in this paper, were identified during this analysis. One case of particular interest is that of a possible trepanation on one of the primary burials from Tomb Y ( Burial E, female of potentially advanced age ). The lesion occurs as a circular area on the postero-superior quarter of the left parietal bone. The outer table appears in a state of resorption, exposing the underlying diploë, also showing an advanced stage of resorption, leaving only the inner table present. The thickness of the bone gradually reduces towards the centre of the lesion ( missing due to taphonomic damage ). The thickness on the margins of the lesion is approximately 4.26 mm, gradually reducing to 1.29 mm towards the centre.62 The gradual ‘thinning’ towards the centre of the lesion, with exposure of the diploë, resembles resorption, and appears consistent with a trepanation by scraping. (Fig. 6a). The same individual presents two healed depression fractures on the right parietal bone, not matching the sling-shot injury pattern discussed above, since they are considerably larger ( Fig. 6b ). Therefore,

INVESTIGATING THE ‘PERIPHERAL’ MYCENAEAN COMMUNITY

179

however, three possible cases of trepanation using the same method are an indication that the occupants of the region were familiar with the technique and they opted to use the least risky method for the life of the individual ( scraping ).70 Preliminary Concluding Remarks

a.

b. Fig. 6a. Possible trepanation on left parietal bone of the skull of a female of potentially advanced age ( Primary Burial E ) from Tomb Y. Supero-posterior view; arrows mark the preserved outline of the lesion; the dotted line marks the expected outline of the lesion on the area taphonomically missing; the rectangle marks the potential perforation point; b. Right parietal bone, same individual. Supero-posterior view; arrows mark two depression fractures. Photographs: M. Katsimicha.

Keeping the differential diagnoses in mind, it should, however, be noted that a possible trepanation by scraping has also been reported in an elderly female at the neighbouring cemetery of KallitheaLaganidia.68 Another example has been recorded in a male from Klauss cemetery.69 The repetitive pattern of sex and age for the KL and KR cases may be random;

68 Identified by S. Fox; see Liston et al. 2016, 155; 157, figs. 1–2. 69 Paschalidis, McGeorge 2009, 106; 105, fig. 19. For the biological sex of the individual, which is not specified in the 2009

Through this study, we tried to investigate some aspects of the character of a Mycenaean ‘peripheral’ community by using the example of KallitheaRampantania and by employing the osteological record as a proxy. The analysis so far is supportive of Kallithea-Rampantania being part of a local network of contemporaneous cemeteries, both in terms of its palaeodemography and funerary practices, a fact consistent with the ‘regionalistic’ character of Late Bronze Age Achaea. This homogeneity, however, did leave room for idiosyncratic trends ( variation in sex distribution in parts or specific tombs in the cemeteries, higher average MNI per tomb, lower non-adult percentage at KR, etc. ), suggesting that each settlement is ‘playing by the rules’ of the local network whilst, simultaneously, maintaining a degree of distinctiveness expressed through subtle differences in the burial practices. The palaeopathological record is fairly consistent with what would have been expected for a prehistoric population and supportive of a relatively homogenous exposure of the occupants of all tombs to non-specific hardships. Similarly to previous studies on Mycenaean populations, the preliminary data so far point towards a lower female dental health status which, however, needs to be further investigated and, ideally, combined with isotopic studies for dietary reconstruction. Should our assumption be confirmed, a more holistic interpretive paradigm must be sought ( e.g., physiological stresses on the female population, culturally dictated differential practices in the upbringing of female children, etc. ) rather than an oversimplified approach based solely on gender inequalities. Palaeopathological patterns, such as the high prevalence of small-sized, well-healed cranial depression fractures, potentially provide an insight into aspects of everyday living within the KR community ( stone-throwing games amongst children? ). Lastly, the identification of a possible trepanation, along with the other examples of KL and Klauss, suggest that this part

publication, see Paschalidis 2018, 62, tab. titled ‘Tomb ΣΤ. Chronological chart of burials’, 485, tab. 1. 70 For scraping being the safest trepanation method, see indicatively Ortner 2003, 172; Liston et al. 2016, 154; Nikita 2017, 321.

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of Achaea was familiar with the technique at the time and the safest approach ( scraping ) was favoured. It should, however, be emphasised that much more thorough analyses on a larger, more representative sample, as well as consideration of temporal variation

( Palatial versus Postpalatial phases ), are needed in order for these tentative remarks to be further supported and for the multifaceted character of KallitheaRampantania to be more efficiently illuminated.

Abbreviations

AJPA: American Journal of Physical Anthropology

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Μυκηναϊκού Νεκροταφείου Καλλιθέας Πατρών ), Prakt 153, 83–87. Papadopoulos T.J. ( 1999 ) Warrior-graves in Achaean Mycenaean Cemeteries, in: R. Laffineur ed., POLEMOS: Le contexte guerrier en Egée à l’âge du Bronze. Actes de la 7e Rencontre égéenne internationale, Université de Liège, 14–17 avril 1998. Aegaeum 19, Liège and Austin, 267–274. Papadopoulos T.J. ( 2002 [2005] ) Anaskafí Kallithéas Patrón ( Ανασκαφή Καλλιθέας Πατρών ), Prakt 157, 61–63. Papathanasiou A., Schepartz L.A., Richards M.P., Malapani E. ( 2012 ) Bioarchaeological evidence for social differentiation in the health and diet of Mycenaean Pylos, in: N. Zacharias ed., Praktiká 2ou Symposíou ARC-RNT Archaiologikí Érevna kai Nées Technologíes ( Πρακτικά 2ου Συμποσίου ARC-RNT Αρχαιολογική Έρευνα και Νέες Τεχνολογίες ), Kalamata, 143–151. Paschalidis C. ( 2018 ) The Mycenaean Cemetery at Achaia Clauss near Patras: People, Material Remains and Culture in Context, Oxford. Paschalidis C., McGeorge P.J.P. ( 2009 ) Life and death in the periphery of the Mycenaean world at the end of the Late Bronze Age: the case of the Achaea Klauss Cemetery, in: E. Borgna, P. Càssola Guida eds., Dall’Egeo all’Adriatico: organizzazioni sociali, modi di scambio e interazione in età postpalaziale ( XII-XI sec. A.C. ). From the Aegean to the Adriatic: Social Organisations, Modes of Exchange and Interaction in Postpalatial Times ( 12th–11th BC ), Atti del Seminario internazionale ( Udine, 1–2 dicembre 2006 ), Studi e ricerche di protostoria mediterranea 8, Rome, 79–113. Petroutsa E.I., Richards M.P., Kolonas L., Manolis S.K. ( 2009 ) Isotope paleodietary analysis of humans and fauna from the Late Bronze Age site of Voudeni, in: L.A. Schepartz, S.C. Fox, C. Bourbou eds., New Directions in the Skeletal Biology of Greece, Hesperia Suppl. 43, Princeton, 237–243. Polychronakou-Sgouritsa N. ( 1987 [1994] ) Paidikés Tafés sti Mykinaïkí Elláda ( Παιδικές Ταφές στη Μυκηναϊκή Ελλάδα ), ArchDelt 42A, 8–29. Robb J. ( 2016 ) What can we really say about skeletal part representation, MNI and funerary ritual? A simulation approach, JAS: Reports 10, 684–692, http://dx.doi.org/10.1016/j.jasrep.2016.05.033, accessed: 12.11.2019. Schepartz L.A., Miller-Antonio S., Murphy J.M.A. ( 2009 ) Differential health among the Mycenaeans of Messenia: status, sex, and dental health at Pylos, in: L.A. Schepartz, S.C. Fox, C. Bourbou eds.,

INVESTIGATING THE ‘PERIPHERAL’ MYCENAEAN COMMUNITY

New Directions in the Skeletal Biology of Greece, Hesperia Suppl. 43, Princeton, 155–174. Schepartz L.A., Papathanasiou A., Miller-Antonio S., Stocker S.R., Davis J.L., Murphy J.M.A., Malapani E., Richards M. ( 2014; second ed. ) No seat at the table? Mycenaean women’s diet and health in Pylos, Greece, in: L.A. Schepartz ed., Anthropology à la Carte: the Evolution and Diversity of Human Diet, San Diego, 359–374. Schepartz L.A., Stocker S.R., Davis J.L., Papathanasiou A., Miller-Antonio S., Murphy J.M.A., Richards M., Malapani E. ( 2017 ) Mycenaean hierarchy and gender roles: diet and health inequalities in Late Bronze Age Pylos, Greece, in: H.D. Klaus, A.R. Harvey, M.N. Cohen eds., Bones of Complexity: Bioarchaeological Studies of Social Organisation and Skeletal Biology, Gainesville, 141–172. Schultz M., Carli-Thiele P., Schmidt-Schultz T.H., Kierdorf U., Kierdorf H., Teegen W.-R., Kreutz K. ( 1998 ) Enamel hypoplasias in archaeological skeletal remains, in: K.W. Alt, F.W. Rösing, M. Teschler-Nicola eds., Dental Anthropology: Fundamentals, Limits and Prospects, Vienna, 293–311. Shelmerdine C.W. ( 2008 ) Background, sources, and methods, in: C.W. Shelmerdine ed., The Cambridge Companion to the Aegean Bronze Age, Cambridge, 1–18. Shennan S. ( 1997; second ed. ) Quantifying archaeology, Edinburgh. Skiadas E. ( – ) O petropólemos stis geitoniés tis Athínas me nekroús kai travmatíes, pou éplitte kai ton tourismó! I symmachía enantíon ti astynomías... ( Ο πετροπόλεμος στις γειτονιές της Αθήνας με νεκρούς και τραυματίες, που έπληττε και τον τουρισμό! Η συμμαχία εναντίον τη αστυνομίας… ), https://www.mixanitouxronou.gr/ o-petropolemos-stis-geitonies-tis-athinas-me-

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nekrous-kai-travmaties-pou-eplitte-kai-tontourismo-i-symmaxia-enantion-ti-astynomias/, accessed: 29.11.2019. Smith B.H. ( 1984 ) Patterns of molar wear in huntergatherers and agriculturalists, AJPA 63:1: 39–56. Triantaphyllou S., Richards M.P., Zerner C., Voutsaki S. ( 2008 ) Isotopic dietary reconstruction of humans from Middle Bronze Age Lerna, Argolid, Greece, JAS 35:11, 3028–3034. Voutsaki S., Milka E., Triantaphyllou S., Zerner C. ( 2013 ) Middle Helladic Lerna: diet, economy, society, in: S. Voutsaki, S.M. Valamoti eds., Diet, Economy and Society in the Ancient Greek World, Pharos Sppl. 1, Leuven, 133–147. Walker P.L., Bathurst R.R., Richman R., Gjerdrum T., Andrushko V.A. ( 2009 ) The causes of porotic hyperostosis and cribra orbitalia: a reappraisal of the iron-deficiency-anemia hypothesis, AJPA 139:2, 109–125. Więckowski W. ( 2018 ) Human remains from Achaia Clauss – Bioarchaeological Observations, in: C. Paschalidis ed., The Mycenaean Cemetery at Achaia Clauss near Patras: People, Material Remains and Culture in Context, Oxford, 480–484. Wright J.C. (2008) Chamber tombs, family, and state in Mycenaean Greece, in: C. Gallou, M. Georgiadis, G.M. Meskett eds., Dioskouroi. Studies Presented to W.G. Cavanagh and C.B. Mee on the Anniversary of their 30-Year Joint Contribution to Aegean Archaeology, BAR-IS 1889, Oxford, 144–153. Yalouris N. ( 1960 ) Mykenische Bronzeschutzwaffen, AM 75, 42–67. Zimmerman M.R., Trinkaus E., Lemay M., Aufderheide A.C., Reyman T.A., Marrocco G.R., Shultes R.E., Coughlin E.A. ( 1981 ) Trauma and trephination in a Peruvian mummy, AJPA 55:4, 497–501.

Maria Psallida

National and Kapodistrian University of Athens, Greece https://orcid.org/0000-0002-7040-7485

FUNERARY PLACES IN EAST CRETE THE CASE OF THE LM III CEMETERY OF MYRSINI-ASPROPILIA, SITEIA1

Abstract: The present work focuses on the cemetery of Myrsini-Aspropilia in Siteia, 3 km east of

the cemetery of Mochlos-Limenaria, on the north coast of East Crete. The cemetery was excavated by N. Platon in 1959, who located and excavated 12 tombs ( chamber and pit tombs ) used over a period of time, from Late Minoan IIIA1 to IIIC. The excavation records of N. Platon are a valuable source of information about the tombs’ architecture, the burial finds and the deposition of the dead, while his drawings and photographs give evidence of the tombs’ setting and orientation, as well as grave good distribution. The study of the excavation records helps us reconstruct the funerary customs performed in the cemetery, from the stages of the prothesis and ekphora to the stages of interment and the re-opening of the tombs.

Keywords: Postpalatial period, chamber tombs, pits, funerary performance, burial container, grave

offerings.

This is an open access publication made available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International Licence. Sympozjum Egejskie: Papers in Aegean Archaeology 3, ed. by S. Aulsebrook, K. Żebrowska, A. Ulanowska, and K. Lewartowski, WSA 3 ( Turnhout: Brepols, 2022 ), pp. 185–196. 10.1484/M.WSA-EB.5.128961

Introduction

The site of Mysrini-Aspropilia lies on the north coast of East Crete, in the Siteia prefecture, between the bays of Mirabello and Siteia, east of the cemeteries of Mochlos and Tourloti, and north of the modern village (Fig. 1). The cemetery of Myrsini was uncovered during agricultural excavation work by a digger who accidentally unearthed a chamber tomb (Tomb A) containing a sarcophagus and a variety of vessels. Unfortunately, the initial positioning of the grave offerings is not known as the contents of the tomb had been disturbed by the owner of the field before the arrival of the

excavator onsite ( Fig. 2 ). The grounds were excavated by the Ephor of Antiquities of East Crete, N. Platon, in 1959. Twelve tombs ( Tombs A–IB ) were revealed in total, two of which had probably been looted, while some had been partially destroyed by the bulldozer. Previously, A. Kanta 2 studied the pottery associated with the cemetery as part of her thorough publication of the Late Minoan ( LM ) III pottery in Crete—specifically the material from Tombs Alpha, Beta, Delta, Epsilon, Eta and IA. More recently, R.A.K. Smith3 re-examined the chronology of the cemetery and

1 I would like to warmly thank the editors of this volume who gave me the opportunity to contribute to the conference. My deepest respect goes to Professor of Prehistoric Archaeology ( National and Kapodistrian University of Athens ), L. Platon, who provided all the necessary material ( excavation data, photographic archive, maps ) to study the Late Minoan III cemetery of MyrsiniAspropilia, as part of my dissertation. I would also like to thank

the members of my advisory committee, Professors P. Sgouritsa and E. Mantzourani, for their guidance, support and valuable advice. Finally, many thanks to Eleni Kallitsantsi, who undertook the proof reading of the English translation of the text. 2 Kanta 1980, 163–173. 3 Smith 2002.

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Fig. 1. 1:200 000 map of the Siteia area ( Hellenic Military Geographical Service ).

Fig. 2. Grave goods from Tomb Alpha ( photographic archive of L. Platon ).

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its vessels in his dissertation about the pottery of the neighbouring cemeteries of Mochlos and Myrsini, and has published several articles mainly about the finds from the cemetery of Myrsini, in comparison with the cemeteries of Mochlos.4 The present paper focuses on the funerary architecture of the cemetery, the distribution of the tombs and the funerary performance. The descriptions are based on the data retrieved from the study of the excavator’s archive, which includes not only the notebooks, but also the catalogues of finds and excavator’s drawings, with the aim of reconstructing not only the funerary realm of a Postpalatial society, but also explaining the cemetery’s diachronic use. Burial Architecture

The tombs are located on the west and north slopes of the hill, known as Aspropilia. They are arranged in three successive rows, exploiting the angle of the slope. Eleven of the tombs are chamber tombs and only one is a simple pit carved into the whitish bedrock, ‘kouskouras’, probably giving the name Aspropilia to the hill. Tomb ST was referred to by the excavator as a pit of irregular circular shape. The eastern half of the tomb is paved and the deceased was deposited on its floor. Paved floors have been found in chamber and tholos tombs at various sites on Crete and especially in West and Central Crete. Additionally, the topographical drawing of the cemetery shows that Tomb ST is a chamber tomb without a dromos 5 or with a destroyed dromos. All the tombs are orientated east–west with the entrance located at the east. The cemetery of MyrsiniAspropilia does not present any architectural particularities. The chamber tombs can be divided into two types: 1) small-sized chambers with a maximum area of 1.50 m2; 2) medium-sized chambers with a maximum area of 3 m2. Both types are characterised by a small and narrow dromos, with the exception of Tomb Theta. Stones of various sizes fill the dromos and also form a rubble wall which sometimes extends to the interior ( Tombs Alpha and Beta ) or the exterior of the chamber ( Tomb IB ) in the manner of a retaining wall. This is a characteristic architectural feature of the cemetery,

4 Smith 2012; 2017, 341–353; 2020, 282–299. 5 Chamber tombs without dromoi have been found in Central Crete, at sites such as Aggeliana, Episkopi-Christos and Keratokambos ( Psallida 2011, 226 ). 6 Paschalidis 2018, 86. 7 Psallida 2011, 226.

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unique to East Crete. A similar construction can be seen in mainland Greece, specifically in Chamber Tomb K of the Achaia Claus cemetery.6 The soft bedrock of the Myrsini-Aspropilia cemetery hill is likely to have caused stability issues, which in their turn imposed the construction of retaining walls in the interior of the chambers. The side-walls of the dromos were mostly cut vertically and only on one occasion did they converge towards the top. Most of the time, these narrow passages lead to the centre of the chamber where a small stomion stood without a threshold or pilasters. After the completion of each burial the doorway was blocked by the rubble stone masonry and the dromos leading to the chamber was backfilled. Behind the doorway the chamber was extended. All the chambers at Aspropilia have a roughly circular plan or an irregular rectangular one. The natural bedrock of the cemetery is responsible for the collapse of most of the chambers, while some were destroyed during agricultural works. Still, from studying the photographic archive of the excavator, one can see that the walls of the chambers converge as they rise, forming a dome-like roof. Most of the tombs of the Myrsini-Aspropilia cemetery contained sarcophagi: chest-shaped ( Fig. 3 ) and bathtub larnakes. Of the tombs, 36.4% contained chest-shaped larnakes and 18.2% had bathtub larnakes.7 The high percentage of clay coffins in Myrsini attests to a traditional burial practice as was used during the Prepalatial period in the Myrsini-Galana Charakia tholos tomb ( 25 clay coffins for primary burial inside the tomb ).8 Chest-shaped sarcophagi appeared in the Siteia district as early as the Middle Minoan ( MM ) II period.9 Only two tombs contained burial pithoi and on three occasions the dead were placed on the floor of the tomb. In the case of Tomb ST, the deceased was placed on the paved floor of the tomb, a domestic element that mirrors the world of the living.10 The excavator does not give much information about the osteological material found in the tombs, but it seems that the burial containers were used for individual burials, with the exception of the pithos in Tomb IB. It was found in an upright position and contained bones and skulls of at least four burials. Since the osteological material has not been studied as of yet, it is unknown if the pithos was used for primary

8 Vavouranakis 2014, 212. 9 Platon 2012, 166. 10 Dakouri-Hild 2016, 21. According to A. Dakouri-Hild, domestic elements in tombs such as well-prepared floors “situate the dead in an environment reminiscent of life”.

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Fig. 3. Tomb Epsilon, chest-shaped sarcophagus ( photographic archive of L. Platon ).

Fig. 4. Topographical map of the cemetery of Myrsini ( archive of L. Platon ).

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or secondary burials. It has to be noted though that funerary pithoi had been used for primary individual burials as collective coffins and as ossuaries since Early Minoan ( EM ) III–MM I ( 2100–1900 BC ).11 The dead were accompanied by a variety of grave offerings. Stirrup jars make up 24% of the clay vessels. Local drinking vessels, such as rounded handleless cups, pulled-rim bowls and trefoil jugs are also common.12 The existence of ritual vessels, such as conical rhyta, triton shells, ring-shaped vases, askoi, multiple vases and kalathoi in the majority of the tombs is noteworthy. Two of the tombs contained bronze weapons, along with other grave goods such as bronze and stone tools, vases, spindle whorls, beads and pins.

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The spatial organisation of the cemetery is governed by the date of construction of the tombs. The oldest tombs are dated to LM IIIA1, and are located in clusters ( a ) and ( c ) ( Tombs Alpha, Beta, Epsilon, IB and Delta ). Tombs Alpha, Beta and Epsilon lie on the west slope of the hill, while Tomb Delta is located in the west part of cluster ( a ). During the LM IIIA1 period Tomb IB of cluster ( c ) stood isolated. All these tombs continued in use into LM IIIC, except for tombs Delta and Epsilon which were abandoned after LM IIIB. The cemetery expanded during LM IIIA2–IIIB. Over that time, burial cluster ( b ) was cut, east of cluster ( a ), and comprised sparsely arranged tombs. Tombs Eta and Gamma were added to cluster ( a ). Tomb Eta

was cut in the open space between Tombs Epsilon and Alpha, but had limited use ( LM IIIA2/IIIB ). In LM IIIB there was a great increase in the number of newly carved tombs. All the aforementioned tombs were still in use and new ones were added. Tomb Gamma was built next to Tomb Alpha in cluster ( a ). Tomb IA was cut, and Tomb IB was no longer isolated. In LM IIIC, Tomb I was added to cluster ( c ). From the 12 tombs of the cemetery seven were still in use during LM IIIC, more than those used during LM IIIA1, a fact that indicates a significant increase of the population in the region of Myrsini. The differentiation in wealth between the tombs does not have a significant impact on the cemetery’s spatial organisation. Richly furnished tombs are mainly located in cluster ( a ) along with less wealthy tombs. Tombs Alpha and Beta are the richest tombs of the cemetery as they were used from early LM IIIA though to LM IIIC. Both tombs have rectangular chambers of medium size and a small dromos. In Tomb Alpha the deceased was placed on a wooden bier or on the floor of the chamber. Apart from this burial, N. Platon mentions a fragment of skull near the tomb’s entrance. The tomb contained a variety of grave offerings: quantities of clay vessels (amphoroid kraters, stirrup jars, jugs, pyxides, cups, rhyta), triton shells that would have been used as rhyta and two bronze weapons, namely a Naue II Group A2 sword and a spearhead.14 The bronze weapons characterise the tomb as a warrior tomb. Tomb Beta is also a warrior tomb with similar grave offerings, arranged in four groups inside the tomb. The deceased was placed in a chest-shaped sarcophagus accompanied by clay vessels, as well as a whetstone and two short swords of type D1g and type F2a ( Fig. 5 ).15 Except for a skull in the NE corner of the tomb, N. Platon makes no mention of the osteological material. Tomb Delta, which was totally destroyed, contained a chest-shaped sarcophagus with gabled lid decorated with lion-heads in relief. Among its numerous finds there was a ring vase of an unusual shape, unfortunately incomplete, where instead of a spout a small cup is attached to its top.16 According to R.A.K. Smith it is possible that this preserved ring vase was part of a larger vessel or of a multiple of such vessels, all communicating with each other through holes,17 acting as a rhyton or a kernos.18 One of the richest tombs

11 Vavouranakis 2014, 211. 12 Smith 2017, 343. 13 Unfortunately, cluster ( c ) is not shown on the original map provided by the excavator. N. Platon’s notebook was used to reconstruct the third cluster.

14 15 16 17 18

Distribution of the Tombs

The tombs are positioned in three rows, allowing a comfortable space for one to move between the rows as well as the individual tombs ( Fig. 4 ): 1) most of the tombs ( Tombs Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta, Epsilon and Eta ) have been cut on the north and west slope of the shallow hill at the lowest level; 2) east of the aforementioned cluster of tombs, at a higher level, another burial cluster is located on the west slope of the hill, namely Tombs Theta, Zeta and ST; 3) a third cluster of tombs, consisting of Tombs I, IA and IB, is located on the western slope of the hill.13

Basakos 2016, 24; Smith 2020, 293. Basakos 2016, 23. Smith 2011, 269. Smith 2011, 269–270. Smith 2011, 272.

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Fig. 5. Tomb Beta. Bronze weapons and stone tools ( photographic archive of L. Platon ).

Fig. 6. View of the Mochlos-Myrsini area from the west, with the Kastellos ridge in the background ( photo by author ).

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of cluster ( a ) is Tomb Eta, which contained a composite vase, an incense burner, kalathoi, cups and a bronze mirror. All the grave offerings were arranged outside the bathtub larnax of the tomb. Skeletal material is listed under the grave offerings and within the larnax. Tombs Gamma and Epsilon, found near Tombs Alpha and Eta, were less richly furnished. Tomb Gamma held a pithos burial with the grave offerings arranged around the pithos’ mouth.19 The deceased of Tomb Epsilon was placed in a chest-shaped sarcophagus in a contracted position, with a small stirrup jar on the chest of the dead.20 The tomb also contained bones and a skull outside but near the larnax. The poorest of the tombs, containing two to six vases, are gathered in cluster ( b ), while rich tombs such as IA and IB, along with the less rich Tomb I, are found next to each other in cluster ( c ). Tomb I, which contained a kalathos and a stirrup jar, was half destroyed during the construction of an aqueduct; as a result the actual number of grave offerings is unknown. The presence of a kalathos, an artefact connected to the procession of elaborate vessels,21 indicates that Tomb I was not of as modest background as one might initially presume. Tomb IA contained 20 clay vases, mainly stirrup jars and jugs, three triton shells, an amber bead, a bronze razor and a spindle whorl. Tomb IB is one of the richest tombs of the cemetery. It was furnished with stirrup jars, jugs, a composite vase, stone vases, a spindle whorl, bronze tweezers and pins. Notably, most of the grave offerings of Tomb IB come from the burial pithos and its lid, on which the grave offerings had been placed. One other factor, apart from the soft bedrock, that would have played a decisive role in the choice of the cemetery’s location was the site’s proximity to a settlement. The nearest known site to the cemetery of Aspropilia is the naturally defensive settlement of Myrsini Kastello/Ellinika, about 1.5 km NE of Aspropilia. Myrsini Kastello lies on the coastal plain of Mochlos, on a high ridge that rises from the sea and encloses the region of Mochlos-Myrsini from the east ( Fig. 6 ). K. Nowicki, during surface surveying on the hill of Myrsini Kastello/Ellinika, did not identify

any architectural ruins.22 Even so, he is of the opinion that the terraces that cover the summit and the southern slopes, if taken together with the scatter of potsherds, are indicative of the boundaries of the settlement. According to K. Nowicki, the settlement of Myrsini Kastello belongs to the group of settlements built above the sea on a summit of a naturally defended mountain overlooking the coastal plain.23 The site has not been excavated; however, K. Nowicki reports pottery fragments of the LM IIIC period and believes that the Postpalatial settlement was probably small.24 Based on its proximity to the sea and the view over the plain, it is possible that the site was inhabited from LM IIIA.25 The high cliff on the west, north and NE make the south slope of the hill the site’s only point of access,26 raising the defensive character of the area and allowing its habitation during LM IIIC, a period of time when most coastal sites had already been abandoned. However, any of the low hills that surround the coastal plain could have been used for settlement during the Postpalatial period.

19 The pithos seems to have been broken or sawn for the insertion of the burial, as shown by the excavator’s photograph. This is also the case for the pithos burials at Mochlos cemetery. R.A.K. Smith found the pithos in the Heraklion Museum, mentioning its elaborate decoration ( Smith 2020, 291 ). 20 According to N. Platon, the sarcophagus was decorated in a linear pattern. R.A.K. Smith discovered a chest larnax, most likely from Tomb Epsilon, in the Heraklion Museum ( Smith 2020, 290 ). 21 Paschalidis 2018, 456.

22 23 24 25

Funerary Performance

The cemetery of Myrsini-Aspropilia is dated to the Postpalatial period, which is characterised by great changes in funerary architecture. The most popular type of tomb is the chamber tomb with a small or long dromos and an entrance sealed with a rubble wall. Chamber and tholos tombs replaced the built tombs of the Pre- and Protopalatial periods, showing great similarities with tombs on the Greek Mainland. Tholos tombs of a medium or small size with a square or circular chamber, similar to the tombs of Knossos-Isopata, became popular during LM IIIB especially in the region of Siteia. LM IIIC is characterised by the geographical spread of the tholos tomb, which presents similarities not only to the tombs at Knossos but also to the tombs at Enkomi ( Cyprus ). The changes in funerary architecture are connected to changes in funerary performance and beliefs, which had probably begun in the Neopalatial period due to a tendency towards individualisation.27

Nowicki 2000, 103. Nowicki 2000, 104. Nowicki 2000, 103–104.

M. Tsipopoulou mentions that, except for LM IIIC–Early Geometric pottery, there are also MM sherds ( Tsipopoulou 2005, 229 ). 26 Nowicki 2000, 103. 27 Girella 2016, 208.

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Fig. 7. Grave offerings from Tomb Gamma ( photographic archive of L. Platon ).

According to D. Vavouranakis, every death is a blow to the grieving community.28 This social wound is treated through the funerary performance that revives social memories and asserts links to the past, ensuring the stability of the community in the future.29 As A. Dakouri-Hild mentions, funerary performance requires a stage and the attending members of the funeral,30 while rituals contribute to the maintenance and reinforcement of the communal memory. The next field of action is the construction and preparation of the tomb.31 According to D. Vavouranakis, chamber tombs placed emphasis on the dead body rather than the living participants, giving access only to the immediate family and kin.32 Any new tomb alters the mortuary landscape, respecting the existing tombs and, when possible, rearranging the paths between them. M.J. Boyd extensively describes the stages of the funerary cycle.33 Prothesis, the preparation and dressing of the dead, takes place within the settlement. It is possible that much of the work was done before the

procession,34 but some details were most likely added at the graveside. That is the case with Tomb Beta, where the presence of specific items may hint at cosmetic actions on the body within the grave. Specifically, south of the chest-shaped larnax a group of grave offerings was placed, including a chopper stone tool and a cosmetic palette along with a bronze razor. The razor was used for shaving and hair cutting, while the chopper stone tool and the palette was for powdering the red colour which was applied to the deceased.35 The following stage is ekphora, the procession, which begun at the settlement.36 The participants transported the dead body, probably on a bier, along with any items which would be placed in the tomb as grave offerings or vessels used for the ritual. It is difficult to reconstruct the route of the procession as it was not formalised and would have changed over time with the addition of new tombs, the re-use of old ones and the abandonment of others. Still, the arrangement of the tombs within the cemetery helps us identify

Vavouranakis 2002, 58. Vavouranakis 2002, 58; 2007, 64. Dakouri-Hild 2016, 13. Boyd 2016, 62. It is an experience which requires the audience to

33 Boyd 2016. 34 Boyd 2016, 62. 35 Papaefthimiou-Papanthimou 1997, 79. At the cemetery of Zafer Papoura a conical cup was found containing remains of red powder. C. Gillis suggested that the powder could also be used by the living to show their grief ( Gillis 1990, 150 ). 36 Boyd 2016, 65.

28 29 30 31

participate in the performance with all its senses so as to express its emotions. 32 Vavouranakis 2002, 155.

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193

possible pathways to the cemetery and each separate tomb. All the tombs have the same orientation and would have been accessed from the west, obliging the performers to follow the route dictated by the linear arrangement of the cemetery ( Fig. 4 ). Initially the procession would approach the tombs of cluster ( a ) ( Tombs Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Epsilon and Eta ) on the lower terrace of the hill. When cluster ( b ) was added the procession would have continued towards cluster (c) by passing by Tomb Theta or continuing to Tombs Theta, Zeta and ST before ascending to cluster ( c ). The long distance between Tombs Theta and Zeta could indicate a stop in the route of the procession. The participants at this focal point would have in view the tombs of cluster ( a ) to the west and cluster ( c ) to the east. The route of the procession serves the need of the community to reinforce social cohesion by keeping the memory of the past strong and alive. The third stage of the funerary cycle is the funeral. The size of the chambers along with the container and the grave offerings did not always allow for the presence of a big number of mourners inside the burial chamber, despite the fact that there is evidence suggesting that earlier burials were pushed to the side before the funeral. We do know however that such rituals were performed inside or outside the burial chamber as the presence of large vessels associated with the distribution and consumption of liquids ( stirrup jars, jugs and amphoras ) and smaller ones used for drinking and pouring purposes ( cups, pulled-rim bowls and rhyta ) are indicative of such practices. With bigger tombs, such as Tombs Alpha, Beta, IA and IB, the ceremony could have taken place inside the chamber whereas this would not have been the case for small and shallow graves. The chamber was built only to accommodate the deceased and the grave offerings, and not the presence of the mourners. In the case of a smaller burial chamber the funerary ritual would take place in the dromos near the stomion with the participants being only those closest to the deceased. Such is the case for Tomb Theta, where the roof is so low that it does not allow the presence of standing mourners inside its chamber. On the other hand, the stomion and the dromos near the stomion of this tomb are wide enough to allow for the funerary ceremony and the presence of a limited number of mourners in

linear procession. The deceased was placed in a burial container on the north or east side of the chamber or on the floor of the tomb. Most of the individuals buried in sarcophagi received offerings of feasting vessels along with libation ones, such as rhyta 37 and triton shells. This standardised set, including drinking and libation vessels, also accompanied the interment on the floor in Tomb Alpha. The only pithos burial (Tomb Gamma) was accompanied by drinking vessels ( Fig. 7 ). In the case of Tomb IB offerings on the lid of the pithos, used for secondary or consecutive primary burials, suggest similar actions ( feasting and libations ) to honour the dead. Tomb IB is the only tomb in which the container was used for multiple burials, while an isolated interment was made on the floor of the chamber. Notably, bones from earlier burials were placed along the eastern side of the chamber. It seems that it was important for the community to gather and honour certain people separately, probably those that were of important social standing in the community. Tomb IB, standing on a prominent location on the highest terrace of the cemetery and isolated during the LM IIIA1 period, was possibly the last focal point of the procession after passing the other tombs and before returning to the settlement. When the funerary ritual inside the chamber finished, the items used during the funerary performance along with personal objects were placed around the burial container or the inhumations on the floor as grave offerings, heaped at the back or at the sides of the chamber. These objects were intended for use in the afterlife, while symbolic ones, such as weapons, bronze tools and rhyta, were also meant to remind the community of the social role of the deceased. The last stage of the funerary performance was the sealing of the tomb. The tomb would be opened in the future to receive a new burial, relocating the earlier ones so as to create space and to facilitate movement within the tomb.

37 R. Koehl suggests that the graves containing rhyta belonged to priests ( Koehl 2006, 321 ). However, the presence of ritual vessels, such as rhyta, triton shells, kalathoi, askoi and ringshaped vases in the majority of the tombs at Myrsini indicate that their use was not confined by social restrictions but they were widely used during funerary performance as part of their

mortuary tradition. R.A.K. Smith also stresses that 80% of the wellpreserved tombs at Myrsini contained cultic equipment ( Smith 2011, 272 ) to be attributed to the social status of the deceased. As he suggests, the majority of the Myrsini community had access to ritual equipment ( Smith 2020, 294 ).

Population: Managing Social Cohesion over Time

N. Platon’s notebooks can provide limited information about the skeletal material. The continuous use of the majority of the Myrsini tombs, however, as well as the

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presence of secondary burials suggest that they were used for multiple burials. Tombs Alpha and Beta, two of the cemetery’s richest tombs, housed bronze weaponry, tools, kraters and clay rhyta associated with male burials.38 Among the finds of Tomb Alpha was a clay pyxis with lid, an item typically linked to female burials.39 The presence of a feeding bottle and a bronze mirror in Tomb Eta also indicate that it too was probably used for child and female burials. Spindle whorls ( Tombs IA and IB ), interpreted as being used for wool spinning,40 have been associated with female burials. Finally, according to the excavator’s notebook, Tomb Theta was also used for a child burial.41 The use of the tombs for multiple burials is a striking feature of the cemetery, with the richest tombs of the cemetery never ceasing to be used. LM IIIC is the period when the cemetery of Myrsini booms. However, the neighbouring cemetery of Mochlos ceased to be used during LM IIIB. It is possible that part of the Mochliot community moved to the more secure settlement of Myrsini,42 whereupon they re-organised their lives to exploit the features of this landscape. In LM IIIC, the deceased are accompanied to their graves by special items such as bronze weapons, while imports from Palaikastro probably continued in LM IIIC, indicating the presence of a flourishing settlement. Earlier graves are still in use, new ones are cut and there is no change in burial practices, which include drinking vessels with long-standing local traditions such as the pulled-rim bowls. The majority of grave offerings have a ritual function,43 such as their use in a funerary performance to strengthen the social cohesion of the community following the loss of a member. The combination of the multiple burials and the quantities of ritual vessels suggest the presence and preservation of strong kinship ties.44 These ties made it impossible for the living to abandon their ancestors’ burial ground, particularly in this troubled period when the north coast of East Crete was nearly abandoned, a movement that began in the last decades of LM IIIB. The continuous use of former cemeteries, as is the case at Myrsini-Aspropilia, transforms the graves to symbols of continuity ensuring a permanent

connection to the land.45 Whatever provoked the shift in population and alterations in the settlement pattern of eastern Crete, either external or internal menace, insecurity provoked by the collapse of the Mycenaean security system or a combination of environmental changes and “exogenous dynamics of various nature”,46 LM IIIC Myrsini was characterised by prosperity and growth, fuelled by social cohesion and the integration of newcomers into the community. A stark contrast to Mochlos, which was abandoned from the middle of LM IIIB after the collapse of Knossos and a probable change to Mochliot society.47

38 D’Agata 2015, 93; 2020, 304. 39 D’Agata 2020, 308. A pyxis with a lid was the container for jewellery, needles and bronze tools, which is why it became “a marker of a specifically female identity”. It is the only object that can be ascribed solely to female burials ( D’Agata 2020, 312 ). 40 Paschalidis 2018, 436. 41 N. Platon mentions that among the finds there was a child’s tooth outside the larnax. 42 Soles 2008, 204.

43 R.A.K. Smith notes the widespread distribution of ritual equipment at Myrsini-Aspropilia ( Smith 2020, 296 ). 44 S. Triantaphyllou and S. Andreou maintain that the clustering of interments and the presence of multiple and/or secondary burials provide information about the ties between member groups ( Triantaphyllou, Andreou 2020, 179 ). 45 Angeletopoulos 2016, 2. 46 Langohr 2017, 25. 47 Soles 2008, 205.

Conclusions

Myrsini is one of the few excavated cemeteries of East Crete, particularly in the region of Siteia, which dates from the Late Final Palatial period ( LM IIIA1 ) to LM IIIC. It has the typical features of a Postpalatial cemetery, consisting mainly of chamber tombs without the peculiarities found in the cemeteries of Central and Western Crete ( benches, pilasters ). There is a preference for the use of the larnax, which was the popular burial container in the region of Siteia. The majority of the tombs were richly furnished with quantities of vessels of various types, while imports from the mainland were minimal. The equal distribution of the grave offerings in the tombs indicates that the settlement never stopped flourishing, especially in LM IIIC when two of the tombs were furnished with bronze weapons. The cemetery was expanded during LM IIIB. The limited number of imports indicate that the inhabitants of Myrsini were mainly engaged in agriculture and stockbreeding. Even today the economy of the modern village is based on agricultural production with olives and grapes being its main products. However, the flourishing of Myrsini in LM IIIB and LM IIIC cannot be attributed only to the exploitation of the fertile plain, but it is also the result of new settlers coming in probably from Mochlos. The agricultural economy of Myrsini gave access to special items to the majority of its inhabitants. Four out of 12 tombs stand out because of their offerings.

FUNERARY PLACES IN EAST CRETE. THE CASE OF THE LM III CEMETERY MYRSINI-ASPROPILIA

Tombs Alpha and Beta contain bronze weapons, mainly swords. The fact that new grave goods are introduced as offerings probably relates to the shift in population. The newcomers from Mochlos, having experience of long-distance maritime trade, brought access to items coming from the mainland ( swords of types F, D and Naue II and stirrup jars ). The appearance of swords in the graves could also indicate the appearance of a new social class, a warrior elite, which would use pre-existing graves to retain the social cohesion of the settlement, and perform ritual ceremonies to honour the previous inhabitants of the tombs. Tombs Delta, Beta and IB form the boundaries of the cemetery. What is striking in the case of Tomb IB is the use of the lower part of a pithos for multiple burials. The pithos contained bones, grave offerings and parts of the pithos itself and was covered by its lid. A group of vessels along with other parts of the pithos were placed on the lid. We can assume that the pithos was cut to

195

fit multiple, probably secondary, burials with some of their offerings and the set on the lid used for posthumous ceremonies. The cemetery’s long-term use reflects strong kin ties and the need to preserve them over time. With few exceptions, the overall homogeneous grave offerings denote a devotion to certain funerary practices to honour the dead and their ancestors. Finally, the multiple and the secondary burials, along with the great number of ritual vessels in the tombs of Myrsini, indicate a population that valued kinship and the funerary ceremony as essential to the settlement’s survival, especially after the collapse of Knossos and the population movement towards Myrsini. The funerary performance, this sensory experience, gave the inhabitants, old and new ones, the opportunity to be integrated into a new society which continued to live peacefully and in prosperity through LM IIIC.

Bibliography

Angeletopoulos I. ( 2016 ) Funerary monuments and landscape: the example of the Middle Helladic tumuli in Messenia, in: E. Papadopoulou-Chrysikopoulou, V. Chrysikopoulos, G. Christakopoulou eds., ACHAIOS: Studies Presented to Professor Thanasis I. Papadopoulos, Oxford, 1–11. Basakos D.G. ( 2016 ) Warriors in movement: warrior burials in Eastern Crete during Late Minoan IIIC, in: E. Papadopoulou-Chrysikopoulou, V. Chrysikopoulos, G. Christakopoulou eds., ACHAIOS: Studies Presented to Professor Thanasis I. Papadopoulos, Oxford, 23–32. Boyd M.J. ( 2016 ) Field of actions in Mycenaean funerary practices, in: A. Dakouri-Hild, M.J. Boyd eds., Staging Death: Funerary Performance, Architecture and Landscape in the Aegean, Berlin and Boston, 57–87. D’Agata A.L. ( 2015 ) Funerary behaviour and social identities in LM III Crete: the evidence from the chamber tombs at Ligortyno, SMEA NS 1, 57–103. D’Agata A.L. ( 2020 ) Funerary practices, female identities, and the clay pyxis in Late Minoan III Crete, in: J.M.A. Murphy ed., Death in Late Bronze Age Greece. Variations on a Theme, Oxford, 300–312. Dakouri-Hild A. ( 2016 ) Getting to funerary place in a fairly short stretch of time: death and performance in Prehistoric Aegean, in: A. DakouriHild, M.J. Boyd eds., Staging Death: Funerary

Performance, Architecture and Landscape in the Aegean, Berlin and Boston, 11–31. Gillis C. ( 1990 ) Minoan Conical Cups: Form, Function and Significance, SIMA 89, Göteborg. Girella L. ( 2016 ) Aspects of ritual and changes in funerary practices between MM II and LM I on Crete, in: E. Alram-Stern, F. Blakolmer, S. DegerJalkotzy, R. Laffineur, J. Weilhartner eds., METAPHYSIS: Ritual, Myth and Symbolism in the Aegean Bronze Age, Proceedings of the 15th International Aegean Conference, Vienna, Institute for Oriental and European Archaeology, Aegean and Anatolia Department, Austrian Academy of Sciences and Institute of Classical Archaeology, University of Vienna, 22–25 April 2014, Aegaeum 39, Leuven and Liège, 201–211. Kanta A. ( 1980 ) The Late Minoan III Period in Crete: a Study of Sites, Pottery and their Distribution, SIMA 58, Göteborg. Koehl R.B. ( 2006 ) Aegean Bronze Age Rhyta, Prehistory Monographs 19, Philadelphia. Langohr C. ( 2017 ) The Late Minoan IIIB phase on Crete: the state of play and future perspectives, in: C. Langohr ed., How Long is a Century? Late Minoan IIIB Pottery: Relative Chronology and Regional Differences, Aegis 12, Louvain-la-Neuve, 11–35.

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Nowicki K. ( 2000 ) Defensible Sites in Crete, c. 1200– 800 B.C. ( LM IIIB/IIIC through Early Geometric ), Aegaeum 21, Liège. Nowicki K. ( 2011 ) Settlement in crisis: the end of the LM/LH IIIB and early IIIC in Crete and other south Aegean islands, in: A. Mazarakis Ainian ed., The “Dark Ages” Revisited. Acts of an International Symposium in Memory of William D.E. Coulson, University of Thessaly, Volos, 14–17 June 2007 I, Volos, 435–450. Papaefthimiou-Papanthimou A. ( 1997 ) Teletourgikós kallopismós sto Proïstorikó Aigaío ( Τελετουργικός καλλωπισμός στο Προϊστορικό Αιγαίο ), Thessaloniki. Paschalidis C. ( 2018 ) The Mycenaean Cemetery at Achaia Clauss near Patras. People, Material Remains and Culture in Context, Oxford. Platon L. ( 2012 ) New evidence on the origin of the Late Minoan III chest-shaped larnax, in: E. Mantzourani, P.P. Betancourt eds., PHILISTOR, Studies in Honor of Kostis Davaras, Philadelphia, 161–168. Psallida M. ( 2011 ) Ta nekrotafeía stin Anatolikí Kríti katá tin YM III período: Topografía, kterísmata, tafikés praktikés ( Τα νεκροταφεία στην Ανατολική Κρήτη κατά την ΥΜ ΙΙΙ περίοδο: Τοπογραφία, κτερίσματα, ταφικές πρακτικές ). Unpublished PhD thesis., National and Kapodistrian University of Athens. Smith R.A.K. ( 2002 ) The Tombs of Mochlos and Myrsini: Pottery and Cultural Regionalism in Late Minoan III Crete. Unpublished PhD thesis, Bryn Mawr College. Smith R.A.K. ( 2010 ) Mochlos IIB. Period IV. The Mycenaean Settlement and Cemetery. The Pottery, Prehistory Monographs 27, Philadelphia.

Smith R.A.K. ( 2011 ) A unique Late Minoan III ringshaped vase from the Myrsini-Aspropilia cemetery, in: W. Gauß, M. Lindblom, R.A.K. Smith, J.C. Wright eds., Our Cups are Full: Pottery and Society in the Aegean Bronze Age. Papers Presented to Jeremy B. Rutter on the Occasion of his 65th Birthday, Oxford, 267–273. Smith R.A.K. ( 2017 ) Late Minoan IIIB pottery from the cemetery at Myrsini-Aspropilia, in: C. Langohr ed., How Long is a Century? Late Minoan IIIB Pottery: Relative Chronology and Regional Differences, Aegis 12, Louvain-la-Neuve, 341–353. Smith R.A.K. ( 2020 ) The Late Minoan III cemeteries of Mochlos and Myrsini, in: J.M.A. Murphy ed., Death in Late Bronze Age Greece. Variations on a Theme, Oxford, 282–299. Soles J.S. ( 2008 ) Mochlos IIA. Period IV. The Mycenaean Settlement and Cemetery. The Sites, Prehistory Monographs 23, Philadelphia. Triantaphyllou S., Andreou S. ( 2020 ) Claiming social identities in the mortuary landscape of the Late Bronze Age communities of Macedonia, in: J.M.A. Murphy ed., Death in Late Bronze Age Greece. Variations on a Theme, Oxford, 171–197. Tsipopoulou M. ( 2005 ) I Anatolikí Kríti stin Próimi Epochí tou Sidírou ( Η Ανατολική Κρήτη στην Πρώιμη Εποχή του Σιδήρου ), Herakleion. Vavouranakis G. ( 2002 ) Funerary Landscapes East of Lasithi, Crete, in the Bronze Age. Unpublished PhD thesis, University of Sheffield. Vavouranakis G. ( 2007 ) Funerary Landscapes East of Lasithi, Crete, in the Bronze Age, BAR-IS 1606, Oxford. Vavourankis G. ( 2014 ) Funerary pithoi in Bronze Age Crete: their introduction and significance at the threshold of Minoan Palatial Society, AJA 118:2, 197–222.

Ulrike Berndt

Independent Researcher https://orcid.org/0000-0003-4062-7716

CHANGES IN RELIGIOUS RITUAL IN MYCENAEAN GREECE

COMMUNICATIVE MEMORY AND THE POSTPALATIAL PERIOD

Abstract: This paper evaluates the question of cult continuity during the Bronze Age–Iron Age tran-

sition in Greece from the perspective of collective memory. The various definitions of cult continuity are discussed, along with the evidence for continuity and discontinuity in the archaeological material. The change in the socio-political structure following the collapse of the Mycenaean palace system massively affected religious expression in the following Postpalatial period, with some—but not all—elements gradually vanishing out of cult practice. Using Jan Vansina’s and Jan Assmann’s model of communicative and cultural memory and the concept of a break between those two forms of collective remembering ( the so called “floating gap” ), it can be shown that the choice of what to remember and how to remember it plays a significant role in the process that led from the Mycenaean to the Greek religion of the historic periods, as well as how the wider societal process corresponds to the changes apparent in religious ritual during that time.

Keywords: cult continuity, memory, ritual, Postpalatial period, change.

This is an open access publication made available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International Licence. Sympozjum Egejskie: Papers in Aegean Archaeology 3, ed. by S. Aulsebrook, K. Żebrowska, A. Ulanowska, and K. Lewartowski, WSA 3 ( Turnhout: Brepols, 2022 ), pp. 197–206. 10.1484/M.WSA-EB.5.128962

Concepts of Cult Continuity

Religion is one of the many areas on which the collapse of the Mycenaean palace system and the subsequent end of the Mycenaean culture had a significant impact. Over the years, many scholars have commented upon the differences between Mycenaean religion and the Greek religion of Classical Antiquity, although the degree of continuity to be expected between these periods has been judged very differently.1 The problem with the term is threefold: it can denote the continuity of religious ideas and concepts ( like the names of gods ), the continuity of specific ritual acts and the continuous use of individual cult sites.

Continuity of concepts is very difficult to prove in the absence of written sources. However, the names of the deities already indicate that there cannot have been a clean break between the Late Bronze Age and the historical periods of Greece, since the names of most Olympian and a handful of minor deities already appear in the Linear B tablets. A certain amount of variation remains: some later deities are missing, while a number of Mycenaean deities have vanished by the time the epic poets began writing or only survive as epithets of other gods.2 Due to the nature of the tablets as administrative records, it is also impossible

1 E.g., Lemos 2002, 221–224; Dickinson 2006, 219–221; Kyrieleis 2006, 62. See also Sourvinou-Inwood 1989 for further discussion of this subject.

2 Hiller 2011, 183–188, 205.

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to say whether the Mycenaean Greeks had the same set of associations for a given deity as the Greeks of later periods ( and it should also be kept in mind that they deal with the rites carried out by the elite, which need not be the same as those of the majority of the people).3 Nonetheless, the presence of the same names is sufficient to argue against complete discontinuity.4 Religious ritual is also difficult to observe in archaeological contexts, and archaeologists usually rely on evidence for repeated, formalised actions in the material to do so.5 The end of the Postpalatial period holds particular interest in this regard; one of the most prominent features of Mycenaean religion are the small female clay figurines found in their hundreds and thousands at many Mycenaean sites, which in general go out of use during the Late Postpalatial period, although M. Vetters has highlighted in recent years that there are fluctuations in the Mycenaean figurine spectrum starting even earlier, with the palatial collapse.6 Types closely associated with elite symbolism like chariots or thrones vanish almost immediately at the end of Late Helladic ( LH ) IIIB. The more common female figurines have often been called part of a popular belief system, although recent studies have shown that they were often produced in palatially operated workshops and were therefore probably part of a religious system that the palace had an interest in spreading and maintaining.7 The same mechanism has been suspected of being at the root of the widespread distribution of relief beads with religious symbolism, made from vitreous materials ( or more rarely from gold ).8 Both relief beads and the ‘standard’ types of female figurines fade out of existence during LH IIIC Late, while zoomorphic figurines remain popular into the Protogeometric period and beyond, although their decoration changes.9

The Protogeometric period is also marked by several new elements of religious expression; evidence for animal sacrifice increases 10 and horse figurines gain in popularity compared to the Late Bronze Age ( LBA ), when they appeared very rarely ( Fig. 1 ).11 In Geometric sanctuaries bronze tripods of increasingly monumental size start appearing.12 Due to changing modes of dress, bronze pins also start to appear more frequently in Geometric sanctuaries ( Fig. 2 ),13 although it should be noted that the idea of offering textiles and/or clothes is already attested for Mycenaean Greece.14 In terms of the continuous occupation of sites, there seems to be a pattern of sanctuaries in ( mostly ) fortified settlements being abandoned more quickly and more permanently than their rural counterparts, although the following list is by no means exhaustive and there are sanctuaries that do not fit this pattern ( e.g., Ayia Irini on Kea ). The only sanctuary sites ( to my knowledge ) that are currently thought to have been in use continuously from the Bronze Age onwards are the sanctuary on Mount Lykaion in Arcadia—in historical times a sanctuary of Zeus 15—and the sanctuary of Apollon of Abai near modern Kalapodi.16 Another site for which continuous occupation is discussed is the sanctuary of Ayia Irini on Kea, where a Middle Helladic building was re-used until the Hellenistic period, although doubt has been expressed regarding the unbroken continuity of this use.17 Even in these cases, the form that worship took over the centuries significantly varied, from the construction of a second cult building ( the North Temple ) at Kalapodi18 to the re-use of the head of an older, female clay sculpture during the Late Geometric and Early Archaic phases at Ayia Irini, when it was possibly taken to represent Dionysos.19

Hiller 2011, 170–171. Dickinson 2006, 223. Renfrew 1985, 17. Vetters 2011a, 320, 326–327. Vetters 2011b, 31–32; Vetters 2016, 38, 41–42, 46–47. Eder 2016, 177, with further references. Dickinson 2006, 73 ( relief beads ); Vetters 2011c, 279–280,

Submycenaean period, while the rest are dated to LH IIIC ( see also Felsch 2007, catalogue numbers 203–206. Number 202 was not counted, since its identification as a pin is doubtful. Numbers 199–201 are likely hair pins ). Nosch, Perna 2001, 473–475, 477. Romano, Voyatzis 2014, 631. Niemeier 2016, 3–7, contra R. Felsch, who identifies the sanctuary at Kalapodi with the sanctuary of Artemis Elaphebolos at Hyampolis ( e.g., in Felsch 2007, 553 ). Both authors base their identifications on inscriptions found in the vicinity of, and at the site itself—for a detailed discussion see Prignitz 2014. S. Prignitz himself favours Niemeier’s interpretation, since all the inscriptions found in the sanctuary name only Apollon, not Artemis ( Prignitz 2014, 146 ). Lemos 2002, 223; see Morgan 1999, 296 for a comment on the question of unbroken continuity. Niemeier 2016, 13–14. Caskey 1981, 128–130, 132–133.

3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

286–287. For the stylistic development of the Early Iron Age ( EIA ) clay figurines see, e.g., Heilmeyer 1972. See, e.g., Marakas 2010, 117. All figures are based on the catalogue of finds used in my PhD thesis ( Berndt 2020 ); the numbers were derived from the published find catalogues of the referenced sites. Morgan 1996, 55–57; Marakas 2010, 177. Kilian-Dirlmeier 1984, 284–285, 288–289; although 8thcentury pins are often oversized and therefore may not have been worn ( Coldstream 2003, 333–334 ). In Figure 2, two of the pins from the Bronze Age phase of Kalapodi date to the

14 15 16

17 18 19

CHANGES IN RELIGIOUS RITUAL IN MYCENAEAN GREECE

Horse figurines

Other quadrupeds

1

110

Aigina Midea, Megaron Area

4

Midea, Shrine Area

3

Phylakopi

199

29

Isthmia

1

Kalapodi

1

14

Olympia

273

325

Samos

12

75

Tegea

2

Fig. 1. Prevalence of horse and other quadruped figurines in LBA and EIA sanctuaries in Greece ( LBA sites chequered ) ( Berndt 2020 ). Bronze pins Kalapodi_BA

4

Midea, Shrine Area

1

Mycenae, Temple Complex

1

Phylakopi

2

Isthmia

1

Kalapodi_IA

13

Olympia

19

Tegea

1

Fig. 2. Prevalence of bronze dress pins in LBA and EIA sanctuaries in Greece ( LBA sites chequered ) ( Berndt 2020 ).

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The sanctuary of Aphaia on Aigina and the Amyklaion near Sparta, as well as the sanctuary of Zeus on Mount Hymettos in Attica, show gaps in occupation during the very end of the Bronze Age and into the Protogeometric period. These gaps vary slightly in length; the sanctuary of Aphaia was abandoned in LH IIIC Middle and does not show evidence of any kind of activity before the Late Protogeometric period, with cult only securely attested again in the Late Geometric period.20 The length of the hiatus at the Amyklaion is unclear, although it should be no more than 150 years, possibly much shorter than that.21 Mount Hymettos likewise seems to have been abandoned towards the end of the Bronze Age, with cult taken up again in the Late Protogeometric period.22 In contrast, at the sanctuary of Apollon Maleatas near Epidauros the hiatus was longer, and the construction of the new altar of the 9th century BC exactly on the spot of its Early Mycenaean predecessor may have been guided by practical rather than ritual considerations, since it makes use of the former altar terrace, the foundation wall of which was evidently still visible.23 In other cases with evidence of a long hiatus between the latest Bronze Age and the later Geometric or historical occupation, mythological importance may have been attached to the ruins, even if no unbroken oral tradition about the remains was available (in which case we are not necessarily talking about cult continuity—more about a renewed use of the same site, engendered by the association of ( new ) culturally significant stories with the material remains ).24 Whether the foundation of the Protogeometric and Geometric sanctuaries is based on the knowledge about the prior significance of the site is therefore not an easy question to answer and needs to be discussed on a case-by-case basis.25 I would argue for this knowledge being present at the Amyklaion and Mount Hymettos due to the comparatively short breaks in occupation, although it is possible that the revival of cult at the Amyklaion came about in conjunction with the introduction of a new cult; Apollon—

20 21 22 23 24 25

Pilafidis-Williams 1998, 4, 159–160. Morgan 1996, 49. Langdon 1976, 53–56; Marakas 2010, 48–49. Lambrinoudakis 1981, 59, 61–62; Kyrieleis 2006, 63. Cosmopoulos 2016, 268, 270.

For a far more extensive discussion of that topic and the processes that guided the foundation of sanctuaries ( and whether the re-use of older features was intentional or not ) see Cosmopoulos 2016. 26 Morgan 1996, 49; see also Niemeier 2016, 24 for a similar argument regarding the construction of the North Temple at Kalapodi.

historically attested at the sanctuary—does not appear in Mycenaean sources, while the hero venerated alongside him ( Hyakinthos ) bears a pre-Greek name, and therefore his cult may have been the older one.26 What was going on at the sanctuary of Aphaia is more difficult to judge. Similarities in iconography between the Mycenaean kourotrophoi at the site and Near Eastern-inspired plaques of women holding their breasts found predominantly in its Early Archaic strata have been noted, although this would constitute a hiatus in depictions of this hypothetical kourotrophostype goddess of around 500 years, which seems very long.27 Several possibilities could be suggested to explain this gap: a lack of iconographic representation of the deity during the Geometric period, a reintroduction of the kourotrophos aspect during the time when many of the Mycenaean votive figurines were cleared away in preparation for the construction of the first stone altar 28 or the installation of a completely new cult in the Late Geometric period, which mirrors aspects of the older one by chance. The problem is further complicated by a lack of clear evidence of a cult in the Protogeometric period, although the location of the site on a hilltop and away from settlements, combined with a lack of buildings on the site, could be used to argue that whatever activity was going on during that time, it was probably at least partially religious in nature.29 In contrast, the settlement sanctuaries—or built shrines—seem to be abandoned in LH IIIC at the latest. Two cult areas from Midea present some difficulties; in the Megaron Area, evidence of cult is scant for LH IIIC ( but somewhat well-attested during LH IIIB ),30 while the LH IIIC layers in the Shrine Area were disturbed by Roman building activities and it is therefore unclear whether they continued to be in use as cult rooms.31 Activities at the Cult Centre at Mycenae seem to have stopped entirely at the end of LH IIIB in conjunction with the conflagration that destroyed the palace, although parts of it likely went out of use even earlier ( the Room with the Fresco Complex and possibly the

27 Sinn 1988, 150–154. 28 Pilafidis-Williams 1998, 4. 29 Pilafidis-Williams 1998, 4, 160; see pages 125–129 for her argument on the identification of the Mycenaean sanctuary, which also includes its location and the lack of other structures in the vicinity ( contra Cosmopoulos 2016, 259, who is sceptical about the presence of cult in the Bronze Age due to the lack of architectural remains and the origin of the finds in secondary contexts ). 30 Walberg 2007, 68, 197–198. 31 Walberg 2007, 63, 196–197.

CHANGES IN RELIGIOUS RITUAL IN MYCENAEAN GREECE

Temple Complex ).32 Its successor as a cult building was likely the West Complex.33 At Phylakopi 34 and Tiryns,35 the end of the attested cult buildings coincides with the abandonment of the settlements at the end of LH IIIC Middle and LH IIIC Late respectively. The sanctuary at Phylakopi saw some alterations before that, after a destructive event at the beginning of LH IIIC Middle. Among them was the blocking of the southern half of the West Shrine, including its back room.36 It is noteworthy that neither the West Complex 37 nor the final phases of the sanctuary at Phylakopi show evidence of the continued use of the large female figures that were present on both sites during LH IIIB ( or at least in parts of the Cult Centre at Mycenae ) ( Fig. 3 ), although those figures still appear in Tiryns’ succession of cult rooms until the very end ( Room 110a, dated to LH IIIC Late ).38 They are also missing in the sanctuary of Aphaia on Aigina ( Fig. 3 ). Therefore, this process is not only a change in religious ideas, but it also reflects a change in settlement patterns, since most of these sites were abandoned entirely at the end of the Bronze Age. It also is a step away from the small built shrines of the Mycenaean period, which has often been interpreted as a step towards greater inclusivity and/or a new role for the rural sanctuaries in facilitating regional and inter-regional contact, since Protogeometric rural sanctuaries tend to be founded in the plains as opposed to their older counterparts, which were often situated on mountaintops. Alternatively, there could have also been a change in devotional practice, e.g. fewer votive offerings and more animal sacrifice, or—if we understand built shrines as something akin to modern chapels, where people go for private devotions—it could mean that this kind of personal religious practice was shifted to the home or an otherwise less formalised context.39 Therefore, what do we mean when we talk about cult continuity? Are we talking about the continuous use of a site as a sanctuary? Do we require that the same rituals are carried out at the same sites and that the same deity is venerated? In such a case, the answer to the question of cult continuity between the LBA and the EIA must be answered in the negative, since even

32 Moore, Taylour 1999, 3, tab. 1 ; see Albers 1994, 31–32, 38, 50; Wardle 2003, 322–324 and Wardle 2015, 579, 590–593 for a discussion of the complex history of the Cult Centre. 33 French et al. 2011, 18–19, 56. 34 Renfrew 1985, 86, tab. 3.3 , 87. 35 Kilian 1981, 53–56. 36 Renfrew 1985, 378–381.

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Fig. 3. Chronological distribution of female figures ( E.B. French Type A ) from LBA sanctuaries in Greece ( Berndt 2020 ).

sites without a hiatus show signs of changes in ritual over the centuries.40 Even if new material elements appear in a cult, it does not necessarily tell us anything about the significance that they are given. They do not automatically denote a change in ritual, since they can be adapted into the existing cult practice. Nor does a new element in general say anything about a change in the underlying belief system, or imply that an imported element is given the same meaning as in its culture of origin.41 For a modern comparison, think of how the second Vaticanum changed Catholic liturgy, but no major dogmas of the faith. Alternatively, as a third option, the ritual practice may remain the same but be given a new meaning by the people responsible for carrying out the rituals—ultimately, the material remains are the remains of activities expressing shared ( religious or social ) values and ideas, which we cannot grasp directly in the archaeological record.42 Cult continuity can, therefore, be understood as simply a continuous development without major breaks or sudden changes

37 The West Complex only yielded two bird askoi from Room XXXIV ( dated to LH IIIC ), in terms of finds with potential ritual use ( French et al. 2011, 2, 42, 56 ). 38 Kilian 1981, 55–56. 39 Marakas 2010, 73, 78, 80, 85–86; see also Albers 1994, 122. 40 See also Cosmopoulos 2016, 269. 41 Sourvinou-Inwood 1989, 52–53. 42 Cosmopoulos 2016, 254.

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in between, although the respective end points of this development may look quite different.43 If, however, we define cult continuity as an unbroken line of religious traditions, we run into the problem that religious traditions can and do change gradually over time, as they are adapted to fit new socio-political frameworks or physical changes in the environment, to name just two alternatives. No tradition—especially if transmitted without the help of writing—is truly stable, even if its followers usually believe it to be.44 Therefore, when do we consider a change to be sufficiently significant to speak of a ‘new’ cult? Do we draw a dividing line at some point roughly in the middle, or do we—more sensibly—only accept sudden and major changes as a break in continuity? In line with proposing to look for sudden changes, archaeologists would then need to look for ‘ritual objects’, vessel types, figurines, etc. that go out of use suddenly, and/or for breaks in occupation at sanctuary sites, although we need to bear in mind that not every ritual act leaves a material trace. Regardless of whether things change suddenly or gradually, the when and where of the change remains interesting: is it regional, local or does it affect the whole culture? What other societal developments can be observed at the same time and how do they potentially influence the religious sphere? As outlined above, the major changes between the LBA and the EIA take place right at the transition from one period to the other, during the Postpalatial and Protogeometric periods. This coincides with the end of the Mycenaean culture as a whole, around 150 years after the collapse of the palatial system, and is part of a series of changes, which— as already mentioned—also introduced new forms of dress 45 ( as well as new forms of burial, although the prevalence of cremation burials is less universal than originally believed ).46 Collective Memory and the End of the Bronze Age

A good way to handle these problems can be found in the theory of collective memory as proposed by J. Vansina and J. Assmann. Collective memory in general can be defined as the shared memories of

43 Compare also Sourvinou-Inwood 1989, 56; Dickinson 2006, 219–221. 44 Sourvinou-Inwood 1989, 52–53; Morgan 1999, 371. 45 Dickinson 2006, 76–77. 46 Lemos 2002, 186–187. 47 Burke 1989, 105–107; Alcock 2002, 15–17. 48 Assmann 2000, 21, 49–50, 52.

a social group, even though they will obviously vary in their details between individuals. They influence the perception and future actions of this group in similar ways and usually centre around events that are felt to be significant for the identity or values of the group, although it should be stressed that historically only the memories held important by the dominant group in society—i.e. the political elite—are those that are ‘visible’ in the form of writing, tales or inscriptions, etc.47 J. Vansina and, after him, J. Assmann then break this general idea down into communicative memory— the kind of information that is informally passed on in families, kin groups, village communities and the like—and cultural memory, which is handed down in writing ( if available ), myth and ritual, and comprises the most central memories of the overall social group.48 As time goes on, increasingly more of the content of communicative memory becomes lost, and only things that are deemed particularly meaningful for the present pass into cultural memory, which can be described as a more general knowledge of the past. Without the help of writing and a historical record, it is often imagined as some form of mythical past without a specified distance from the present. J. Vansina called the period during which the last of communicative memory becomes lost the “floating gap”, since it moves along as each new generation ages. Communicative memory usually does not reach back more than three to four generations, or 80`–100 years.49 The main takeaway from this line of reasoning is that collective memory is a selection process and, as such, it always involves the choosing of what should be remembered, because it has a relevance to the group’s present and/or benefits the current power structures. Conversely, social forgetting involves the loss of a memory’s meaning, so that it is no longer communicated within the group ( meaning that only information that was part of the group’s collective memory to begin with can be forgotten ).50 It is thus mostly a normal by-product of the ongoing selection process of communicative—and to a lesser extent cultural— memory,51 although it can also be a result of intentional distortion, leading to loss/erasure or change of information and forcing a specific narrative that benefits the people in charge.52 In either case, the

49 Vansina 1985, 21, 24, 168, 183, 185, 192–193, 197. 50 Flaig 1999, 34–35, 41–42. 51 Flaig 1999, 50, 55–56, 84, with further examples for that selection process. 52 For detailed discussions, see Schudson 1995; Baumeister, Hastings 1997.

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memory will still be present for a while, but since it is not actively used any longer, at some point it will exit the pool of patterns that constitute collective memory. Whatever chronological system is used, this means that memory of the Palatial period and the collapse of the palace system was still part of communicative memory during LH IIIC Early and—probably— LH IIIC Middle, but fading in LH IIIC Late. Matching the changes described above to the model of communicative memory, such changes occur precisely during the time when one would expect the memories of the Palatial period to be either transferred into cultural memory or become lost due to the floating gap. The palatial past seems to be an important reference point during LH IIIC Early, especially for the new elite; we also see it consciously alluded to in the construction of new structures over the former megaron buildings at Tiryns and Midea, for example, and likewise the Tiryns Treasure contains a number of palatially made objects, among them the well-known gold signet ring with the seated goddess.53 However, by LH IIIC Late it apparently has lost its value when it comes to supporting local identities and aristocratic ambitions, as seen, for instance, in the shift of settlement patterns already discussed. One area that would have been particularly affected by this is the religious sphere, with all of its remnants of palatially mandated ideas. Consequently, and gradually, new forms of ritual expression are found by a process of shifting the emphasis away from older, obsolete forms and giving new meanings to objects that are already in existence ( which often also double as displays of status, e.g. horse figurines and tripods ).54 In contrast, objects without close palatial associations—like the bull figurines—survive relatively unchanged. Shifting trade routes and new settlements gaining in wealth and importance also means changing inter-regional networks,55 which could affect which sanctuaries are still frequently visited. The Protogeometric sanctuaries close to major inland routes may reflect a need for a communal and regional identity since the former settlement structures of the palatial past, centred around their respective citadels, had lost their unifying potential. I would, therefore, argue that we see cult continuity in the loosest sense of the word, since there does

53 54 55 56

Walberg 1995, 87–89; Maran 2001, 115, 119; 2011, 172–174. Morgan 1999, 391–392. Dickinson 2006, 67–69.

As far as can be reconstructed, Mycenaeans—or at least the palatial elite—used ( perfumed ) oil and honey for libations, while

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not seem to have been an abrupt break where new deities and/or rituals were introduced at the expense of the older ones. Other aspects—of the cult practice in particular—change over time, some of these owing to their close association with the palace system, others due to factors unrelated to the religious sphere, like the aforementioned change in dress. A Mycenaean Greek time-travelling to the Geometric period would certainly be able to identify when worship was taking place, and would recognise names of deities and individual acts, such as libation ( although they would probably wonder about the liquids being used ).56 Likewise, the act of offering objects to the gods would be familiar, although the object in question would not look the same, and the words and gestures accompanying the offering might be different. They would notice further differences in the absence of certain things, like the figurines, yet other elements would probably be somewhat unusual or entirely new to them. A Greek from the Geometric period suddenly transported to the Archaic period would likely be much less surprised by the details of religion and ritual, since they were already past the major cultural threshold of the palatial system collapse. Consequently, the main changes that can be observed seem to be a kind of ripple effect from this collapse, which only comes to full effect after knowledge from the palatial past has passed out of communicative memory, but failed to pass into cultural memory due to new socio-political circumstances, for which these ideas were no longer relevant. As mentioned, elements already present during the Mycenaean period—like the dedication of horse figurines—gained traction during those times, in conjunction with the development of new forms of status expression, but also new concepts of how society should function ( thus, the relocation of sanctuaries to the more accessible plains ). The concept of cultural and communicative memory is, therefore, very well-suited to explain these changes which happened at the very end of the Bronze Age, and it helps to clarify the difficult question of cult ( and cultural, to an extent ) continuity between the Mycenaean period and the beginning of the Protogeometric period.

later Greeks tended to use wine, with oil and honey being mostly relegated to the cult of the dead. Ancient writers also noted that they are the oldest forms of libation ( Yamagata 1995, 67; Bendall 2007, 260 ).

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Bibliography

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Thérèse Claeys

UCLouvain, Louvain-la-Neuve, Belgium https://orcid.org/0000-0003-4765-862X

BETWEEN HERITAGE PRESERVATION AND PUBLIC APPRECIATION RE-EVALUATING REBURIAL STRATEGIES1

Abstract: Heritage sites are intended to be bearers of messages from past populations and hence

their safeguarding forms a societal duty. Likewise, their disclosure and accessibility to the public is a fundamental right. And here is the challenge for archaeological site management: finding a proper equilibrium between these duties and rights. Within the panel of strategies for preservation interventions, permanent reburial—the long-term backfilling of excavated remains—has been regarded with scepticism for various reasons. If this solution is indeed meant to provide optimal protection, it also entirely eradicates accessibility, visibility and hence the public enjoyment of an archaeological site. But should this be so? On the basis of case studies from Greece and worldwide, this paper argues for the implementation of a series of sustainable and well-planned creative solutions for the long-term reburial of archaeological remains. These creative reburials open up promising avenues for solving the alleged dichotomy between site preservation and public presentation.

Keywords: archaeological site management; reburial; creative solutions; sustainability.

This is an open access publication made available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International Licence. Sympozjum Egejskie: Papers in Aegean Archaeology 3, ed. by S. Aulsebrook, K. Żebrowska, A. Ulanowska, and K. Lewartowski, WSA 3 ( Turnhout: Brepols, 2022 ), pp. 207–220. 10.1484/M.WSA-EB.5.128963

Introduction

Similar to natural resources, archaeological heritage is a finite, non-renewable and irreplaceable resource.2 The progressive acknowledgement of these limitations arose concomitantly with the growing recognition that the archaeological record is being destroyed at an alarming rate, partly by the acceleration of various

natural processes ( e.g., sea level rise and desertification ) and partly by human action ( e.g., mass tourism, real estate development and the archaeological process which is itself inherently destructive ). Since the second half of the 20th century, this awareness has spurred the development of a body of legal instruments 3 as well as

1 This paper is part of my doctoral research conducted at UCLouvain and was made possible thanks to the support of a FRESH ( F.R.S.FNRS ) grant. This study greatly benefited from the critical input and invaluable suggestions of both my PhD supervisors, Prof. Jan Driessen, at UCLouvain, and Dr Eleni-Eva Toumbakari, at the Directorate for the Restoration of Ancient Monuments Department at the Greek Ministry of Culture. I am also thankful to the anonymous reviewer and the editors for their helpful comments on earlier drafts of this paper. 2 Comer 2014, 128–129. 3 Beside international conventions dealing with the protection of cultural heritage in general ( e.g., the Athens Charter of 1931 and the International Charter for the Conservation and Restoration of

Monuments and Sites of 1964, also known as the Venice Charter ), the first binding legal instrument to address the protection of archaeological heritage was adopted in 1969 with the European Convention on the Protection of the Archaeological Heritage, also known as the London Convention. Its revision gave birth to the European Convention on the Protection of the Archaeological Heritage of 1992 ( also known as the Malta or Valletta Convention ). These last two instruments are only supranational documents. It is not until 1990 that an international binding document for the protection of archaeological heritage was developed with the Charter for the Protection and Management of the Archaeological Heritage, also known as the Lausanne Charter of 1990.

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the implementation of various management initiatives and technical physical interventions worldwide, aimed at safeguarding archaeological heritage. These conservation ethics also gave impetus to the emergence of a new scientific discipline, archaeological heritage management.4 Since then, the safeguarding of archaeological sites is commonly acknowledged as a fundamental duty. Likewise, the disclosure of archaeological sites to and their access by the general public has recently been recognised as forming a fundamental right.5 Indeed, the emergence of community or public archaeology as a new field of archaeological practice during the last 30 years has significantly contributed to the emphasis on the social and ethical responsibility of archaeologists towards the public.6 Achieving a proper balance between public rights and preservation duties represents “one of the great conundrums of modern archaeological site management”. 7 Within the range of in situ preservation interventions likely to comply with this sensitive equilibrium, the strategy of permanent reburial, i.e. the long-term backfilling of excavated remains, has often met with resistance despite its apparent multiple preservation benefits. This paper explores the rationale behind reburial and its diverse forms. By proposing a typological review of creative cases both in Greece and worldwide, it seeks to counter the common objections against protective reburials.

To avoid confusion, a brief word on terminology first. In the literature and within the legal framework, the terms “backfilling” and “reburial” often seem to be used interchangeably 8 as they share a common rationale, which is to return the archaeological material to a stable underground environment. The terms, however, cover two quite distinct sets of practice, each with its own specific advantages and disadvantages. Backfilling should be understood as the act of covering excavation

remains with soil ( an intuitive conservation practice, commonly implemented in-between two excavation seasons for instance ). In contrast, reburial should be understood as a more methodological, designed approach with its own specialised techniques and materials, rather than a mere post-excavation expedient.9 Covering archaeological sites is not a new practice. And, as discussed by M. Demas, backfilling ( rather than “reburying” ) “has been practised as an ‘intuitive preservation strategy’ for as long as archaeological sites have been excavated”. 10 The beneficial effects of intentionally covering can be empirically deduced from the protective action of the natural burial of archaeological remains. Incidentally, Thorne associates stratified archaeological deposits with “microcosmic cases of site burial”. He clarifies this analogy by stating that “each succeeding occupation or each succeeding flooding episode buries the preceding deposits and to some extent, protects the earlier, lower occupational levels from changes that may be the results of physical and chemical processes on the land surface”.11 The logic behind intentional site reburial relies on the same preservation principle. Indeed, archaeological work, as “a subtractive process that is both destructive and irreversible”,12 necessarily disrupts the site’s physiochemical equilibrium by exposing the original remains to a new, different, variable and external environment. This further accelerates processes of alteration and deterioration.13 The removal of the superimposed natural layers, which is the destruction of the protective burial environment, not only exposes archaeological features to a new hostile physical and natural environment ( i.e. thermal and moisture fluctuations, freeze-thaw cycles, salt crystallisation, biological colonisation ) but also potentially exposes them to anthropic hazards ( i.e. vandalism, pollution, theft ). To mitigate these deterioration processes, reburial allows the re-establishment of a stable environment, similar to that which existed prior to the exposure of the remains. This preservation measure, of course, does

4 See e.g., the influential journal Conservation and Management of Archaeological Sites ( since 1995 ) and the publications by the Getty Conservation Institute ( since 1987 ), in particular the authoritative anthology Sullivan, Mackay 2012. 5 Public access to archaeological sites is an important principle of both the Valletta Convention of 1992 and the Council of Europe Framework Convention on the Value of Cultural Heritage for Society, also known as the Faro Convention of 2005. The Charter for the Interpretation and Presentation of Cultural Heritage Sites, also known as the ENAME Charter of 2007, takes this a step further by advocating access to heritage sites, both at the physical but also at the intellectual level by means of interpretation and presentation programmes.

6 Timoney 2008, 21. 7 Sullivan, Mackay 2012, 743. 8 The Athens Charter of 1931 ( Conclusion VI ) is the first and only international binding document that explicitly refers to the concept of reburial, yet without further defining it. 9 These definitions were inspired by the outcome of the colloquium Reburial of Archaeological Sites organised by the Getty Conservation Institute, the National Park Service ( Intermountain Region ) and ICCROM at Sante Fe in 2003 ( Agnew et al. 2004, 133–135 ). 10 Demas 2004, 137. 11 Thorne 1989, 1. 12 Matero 2006, 55. 13 Pedeli, Pulga 2013, 18.

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not entirely stop the deterioration mechanisms but it significantly slows them down. Furthermore, within the classification of physical conservation interventions as discussed by B.M. Feilden,14 reburial techniques rank amongst the least invasive measures. Indeed, contrary to other in situ preservation interventions, reburial is utterly reversible, meaning that it permits further excavation but also other conservation and presentation strategies once techniques have improved and/or financial resources become available.15 In this regard, reburial also allows bypassing the expected costs of more advanced and intrusive preservation techniques. M. Demas, using a museum analogy, states that “reburial represents a form of long-term ‘storage’ for archaeological sites—the site’s integrity and values held in safekeeping for future use”.16 The same author also describes reburial as “one of the most flexible strategies available to decision-makers”.17 Indeed, reburial measures can come in diverse forms in terms of time span, surface coverage and complexity.18 Reburial can be either temporary or long-term, depending on whether the intervention occurs between excavation campaigns or is undertaken when excavation and study of a site has come to its logical conclusion in terms of information yield. Reburial may also be solicited as a temporary preservation measure while a site is awaiting the implementation of a conservation plan and its opening to the public. This dichotomy between temporary and permanent reburial is, however, largely theoretical since, in practice, provisional measures may become permanent in the long haul. The reburial of the Elizabethan Rose Theatre in 1989 in London, England, for example, was originally designed to protect the site from physical damage during the timespan needed for the construction of the office block above it, but 30 years later the system is still in place.19 In terms of surface selection, reburial can be either total or partial if the measure is only applied to some of the most vulnerable areas of a site. At the Bronze

Age archaeological site of Malia on Crete, for example, quite a few areas have been permanently reburied and these include, among others, Quartier Nu,20 the southernmost rooms of Houses Delta Beta 21 and Delta Gamma,22 re-buried under the modern dig house,23 Bâtiment Dessenne 24 ( south-west of the Palace ) and Maisons Sud ( south of the Palace ).25 In terms of design, reburial can range from the simple covering of remains with filling materials up to ground level, to the installation of more sophisticated systems. These usually include a separating material ( commonly geosynthetic materials rather than standard plastic sheeting to allow for the flow of moisture ) 26 and/or a horizon marker ( e.g., modern coins ) between the archaeological remains and the materials used in the backfill. Their purpose is twofold: to prevent co-mingling of buried and reburied soils and facilitate future removal in case of re-excavation.27 In some cases, specialised materials are introduced in the reburial matrix to serve specific purposes. In the case of the Rose Theatre in London, a “leaky-pipe” irrigation system had to be introduced in the first reburial system to maintain the waterlogged and anaerobic conditions for the preservation of wooden remains.28 Capping material can also be introduced, in particular to protect reburied remains from ongoing construction work and to allow pedestrian traffic over the site. Given the rich diversity of reburial programmes in terms of methodological and technical designs, the absence of international standardised guidelines concerning their implementation is somewhat surprising. There is a clear gap in the legal framework, which also stresses the absence of a ‘one-solution-fits-all’ model when it comes to heritage preservation. The suitability of each intervention needs to be discussed on a case-by-case basis within a multifactorial approach.29 Reburial as a strategy should not depart from such rules either. M. Demas’ pioneering work on archaeological site reburial 30 stresses a management-driven reflection prior to any reburial intervention.

14 Feilden 1994, 8–9 classifies conservation approaches into seven ascending stages depending on their degree of intervention: ( 1 ) prevention of deterioration; ( 2 ) preservation of the existing state; ( 3 ) consolidation of the fabric; ( 4 ) restoration; ( 5 ) rehabilitation; ( 6 ) reproduction; ( 7 ) reconstruction. Within this classification, reburial and backfilling techniques would rank as a second-stage intervention. 15 Cooke 2007, 110. 16 Demas 2004, 143. 17 Demas 2004, 142. 18 What follows is partially inspired by Demas 2004, 142. 19 Wainwright 1989; Corfield 2004; 2012.

20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30

Driessen, Farnoux 1994, 471–477. Demargne, Gallet de Santerre 1953, 48–52. Demargne, Gallet de Santerre 1953, 52–54. See the plan in Bradfer-Burdet, Pomadère 2011, fig. 9.3. Devolder, Caloi 2019. Chapouthier et al. 1962, 13–17. Pedeli, Pulga 2013, 113. Pedeli, Pulga 2013, 113. Corfield 2004, 307–308. Mason 2002. Demas 2004.

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Indeed, in the absence of a well-informed vision, reburial can be counter-effective or even destructive. Issues that can potentially threaten the long-term success and inherent benefits of reburial include whether filling material needs to be imported in the absence of a nearby soil dump. Additional efforts such as these may diminish the cost benefits of reburial strategies in favour of other in situ preservation interventions. Moreover, careless layering and compaction of fillings and separators within the reburial matrix can cause structural problems ( e.g., if the geotextile creates too much tension on walls or if the fill is not uniform and contains air bubbles ).31 Likewise, a careless selection of chemically and/or physically unstable filling materials can jeopardise the safeguarding of reburied remains (e.g., the use of hygroscopic filling materials that retain a harmful high moisture content within the reburial environment ). The most severe damage to reburied remains, however, is caused by an absence of postburial monitoring. Frequent monitoring is not only necessary to control biological growth, but it is also essential to assess the behaviour of geosynthetic materials 32 and of the entire reburial system over time within site-specific environmental and geological conditions. Since the late 1980s, there is a growing body of scholarly literature addressing these management constraints while filling the observed gaps in the statutory framework, with contributors ranging from authors concerned by technical and methodological aspects of the design of reburial systems,33 those specifically interested in the performance of modern filling and separator materials,34 to those assessing the impact of natural burial conditions on the deterioration rate of archaeological artefacts and features.35 Some published studies are also specifically devoted to large-scale reburial projects and their long-term evaluation.36 Few scholars, however, have attempted

31 Pedeli, Pulga 2013, 113. 32 Cooke 2007, 108 questions the ethics of the introduction of materials alien to the original fabric and is concerned that we may “in the future be left managing the legacy of the use of geosynthetic materials on archaeological sites, in the same way that we are currently managing the legacy of the indiscriminate use of concrete at archaeological sites”. 33 See, e.g., Thorne 1989; Nickens 1999/2001; Demas 2004; Pedeli, Pulga 2013; Perez Mejia 2014; Historic England 2016. 34 See, e.g., Demas et al. 1993; Canti, Davis 1999; Kavazanjian 2004. 35 See, e.g., Mathewson 1989; Corfield 1996; Zaman, Viles 2012. 36 See, e.g., Ashurst et al. 1989; Demas et al. 1996; GoodburnBrown, Hughes 1996; Getty Conservation Institute

to propose compensatory alternatives to counter one of the most commonly invoked objections to reburial measures, namely the deprivation of physical and visual access to the original ruins. It is usually assumed that the academic and public use-value of archaeological sites in particular plummets through reburial. Therefore the reluctance of several groups of stakeholders, including scholars and local communities, seems legitimate. Incidentally, this resistance is also echoed at the statutory level.37 Drawing upon such assumptions and the observed gap in scholarly and legal literature, I will discuss how the existence of creative solutions can help to maintain and even enhance the supposedly undermined value of reburied sites. A Taxonomical Appraisal of Creative Reburial Worldwide

In what follows, I draw upon a selection of reburied sites to propose a taxonomy of creative compensations allowing a visual experience of ‘hidden’ remains. For each type of intervention, assets are balanced against potential downside impacts on the significance and value of archaeological sites. These categories are evidently not mutually exclusive nor non-exhaustive. They also integrate measures that are not specific to reburied sites but can also be applied to the protection of any above-ground archaeological remains. The first category that we may discuss is that of ex situ compensation, a category that encompasses preservation attempts aimed at physically replicating parts of a reburied archaeological site and exhibiting these in a museum environment for the public. The display of the cast of the Laetoli hominid trackway at the Olduvai Museum, Tanzania, is a good example of this strategy 38 (Fig. 1a). While the original 3.6-million-yearold hominid trackway had to be reburied to ensure its

2000; 2011; Agnew, Demas 2004; Corfield 2004; 2012; Ford et al. 2004; Rivera et al. 2004; Bergstrand et al. 2005; Cooke 2007; Johnsen 2009. 37 Protective reburials do not receive consensus within the few binding legal instruments applicable to the protection of archaeological heritage: the Athens Charter of 1931 ( see Conclusion VI ) is the only charter that effectively and clearly advocates reburial intervention. The Lausanne Charter of 1990 ( see Article 6 ) only indirectly promotes the practice by stating that archaeological heritage should not be left exposed if it cannot be properly maintained. As for the Valletta Convention, it only encourages in situ preservation as the most preferable option without any further guidance ( see Article 4ii ). 38 Getty Conservation Institute 2000, 135–144.

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b.

Fig. 1a. Cast of the Laetoli Trackway, Olduvai Museum, Tanzania. Source: Dongyi Liu, ‘Olduvai Gorge Museum’. 2006, digital image. Available from: Flickr, https://www.flickr.com/photos/cokeeorg/334826412/in/photolist, used under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.0 Generic licence ( accessed: 02.02.2021 ); b. Reconstruction of the stratigraphy of ancient Road I, Acropolis Metro Station, Athens, Greece. Source: author, 2018.

safeguarding,39 an epoxy replica of the best-preserved part, measuring 4.25 m long, was created in 1995. It has since then been exhibited amidst interpretation boards and replicas of other artefacts at the Olduvai Museum, located about 30 km north of Laetoli.40 While this case study illustrates the relevance of replicas to ensure public access to reburied sites located in a remote setting, the technique can also be efficient in the protection and display of remains located in a dense and crowded urban environment, in particular when these remains were unearthed during construction work. For instance, replicas of the stratigraphy and artefacts excavated during the construction of the subway in Athens in the 1990s are now on permanent display behind glass windows in a number of metro stations ( Fig. 1b ).41 Some of these replicas are accompanied by panels aimed at informing the public about the history of the excavations and the remains. As argued by Fouseki, “the case study of the ‘Metro’ stations constitute an intermediate stage between a smallscale archaeological site which is preserved in situ and a proper ‘in situ museum’ that displays moveable objects in association with the architectural remains

aiming to contextualize the exhibition”. 42 Unlike the Laetoli trackway, the Athenian replicas were recreated in the direct vicinity of the original setting, meaning the interventions only required limited relocation and decontextualisation. However, in both case studies, the fragmentation of the original remains for preservation and presentation purposes impacted the site’s integrity while the replication compromised the value of authenticity 43 from a material, i.e. West European, perspective. The following categories deal with in situ compensation and here the first method to be discussed is that of partial reburial. While such an intervention can be defined in terms of spatial extension ( meaning only parts of a site are reburied ), it can also refer to stratigraphical extension, in the sense that the partial reburial leaves the upper parts of wall masonry exposed. Such a method allows the plan of a complex to remain legible while its fully excavated depth is concealed and protected. The technique is frequently used in the case of multi-layered sites to facilitate the readability of the remains. For instance, the confusing overlapping of two occupational phases at the Iberian

39 Soon after the excavations conducted in 1978–1979 by M. Leakey and her team, the trackway was reburied. However, due to the lack of monitoring and the inadequacy of the filling materials, by 1985 the reburial mound was overgrown by acacia trees. A completely new and well-informed reburial programme was then designed and implemented between 1993 and 1998 by the Getty Conservation Institute in collaboration with the Department of Antiquities of Tanzania. Since then, the reburial of the Laetoli hominid trackway has been closely monitored, first through the replication of the reburial environment near the trackway, providing a ‘window’ on its condition and, secondly,

thanks to re-excavations conducted in 1995 and 2011 ( Agnew, Demas 2004, 295; Getty Conservation Institute 2011 ). 40 Getty Conservation Institute 2000, 135–144. 41 Pitt 2011–2012. However, some original remains are also on display, e.g., the water pipes exhibited in the hall of the Evangelismos metro station. Those are enriched with the reconstruction of a section of a 1st century BC–1st century AD pottery kiln in an adjacent showcase ( Fouseki, Sandes 2009, 46 ). 42 Fouseki 2008, 450. 43 For some thoughts on the epistemology and evolution of the notion of authenticity with regard to international recommendations, see Jerome 2008.

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a.

b. Fig. 2a. Musealisation and partial reburials of the remains at the Iberian Oppidum at San Sebastià de la Guarda, Spain. Source: Palafrugell Cork Museum Image Bank, ‘The 15th century watchtower and the Iberian ruins of Sant Sebastià de la Guarda ( 6th–1st century BC ) in Llafranc’. 2020, digital image. Available from: https://visitmuseum.gencat.cat/en/conjunt-monumental-de-sant-sebastia-de-la-guarda, with the permission of the Government of Catalonia ( accessed: 02.02.2021 ); b. Ruins of Chetro Ketl in Chaco Canyon, New Mexico. The partially reburied remains are in the background. Source: National Park Service, ‘An image of the ruins of Chetro Ketl in Chaco Canyon ( New Mexico, United States ); shown is the complex’s great kiva’. 2007, digital image. Available from: Wikimedia Commons, https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Chaco_Canyon_Chetro_Ketl_great_kiva_plaza_NPS.jpg (in the public domain ) ( accessed: 02.02.2021 ).

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Fig. 3. The glass skylight of the Almoina Archaeological Museum, also used as a water basin, Valencia, Spain. Source: Joanbanjo, ‘Català: Exterior del centre arqueologic de l’Almoina, Valencia’. 2009, digital image. Available from: Wikimedia Commons, https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Centre_arqueològic_ de_l%27Almoina_de_València,_exterior.JPG, used under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported licence ( accessed: 02.02.2021 ).

Oppidum at San Sebastià de la Guarda in Palafrugell, Spain, persuaded site managers to rebury the older remains dating back to the 6th century BC, even if these were the best preserved 44 ( Fig. 2a ). Partial reburial also proves efficient in solving preservation issues caused by the creation of artificial terraces between adjoining rooms during the excavation process. This strategy was extensively applied at the Chaco Culture National Historical Park in New Mexico ( Fig. 2b ) where differential fills in partly reburied or excavated structures were causing lateral pressure, drainage issues and moisture infiltration into exposed walls. Considering the scale of the park ( which includes 4000 recorded sites dating from the 9th to the 12th century AD ), the decision to partially rebury selected sites was deemed as the most practical, effective and sustainable protection. Moreover, it replaced the repeated fabric treatments that had taken place from the 1950s through to the early 1980s.45 Despite its obvious preservation and interpretation benefits, the danger of this solution lies

in the precedence of one historical phase over another, which is strongly discouraged by international guidelines.46 Furthermore, this intentional selection of visible remains may affect the integrity of the narrative of the site if the reburied archaeological phases are not displayed through another medium ( e.g., an information panel ) to the public. Another in situ solution allowing the, albeit piecemeal, reading of reburied remains is that of subterranean showcases. Displaying remains through a protective glass acting as a window into the past is a strategy frequently implemented in urban settings ( yet rarely mentioned in print ) to facilitate the integration of archaeological remains into the urban fabric. The introduction of protective glass as a museological strategy to keep visitors at a distance from the remains justifies the classification of this measure as a “reburial strategy” rather than a “protective shelter”, although some authors integrate reburial measures into their taxonomy of protective coverings.47 Both

44 Burch et al. 2012, 65–67. 45 Ford et al. 2004.

46 See Article I of the Athens Charter of 1931 and Article 11 of the Venice Charter of 1964. 47 Pedeli, Pulga 2013, 53.

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a.

b. Fig. 4a. Outline of the plan of the House of Proclus, with differential paving, Athens, Greece. Source: author, 2018; b. Outline of the plan of the 18th century vicarage, using pebbles and kerbs, in front of the substantial remains of Saint Martin’s church at Wharram Percy, England. Source: kitmasterbloke, ‘Wharram Percy – abandoned Medieval village in North Yorkshire in the care of English Heritage, Church of St. Martin’. 2019, digital image. Available from: Flickr, https://www.flickr.com/photos/kitmasterbloke/48616104986/ in/photolist, used under Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic licence ( accessed: 02.02.2021 ).

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c. Fig. 4c. Outline of the Rose Theatre marked out by strips of coloured lights, London, England. Source: David Sim, ‘Lights showing where the Rose Theatre originally stood on the south bank in London’. 2008, digital image. Available from: Wikimedia Commons, https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Excavation_ of_the_Rose_Theatre,_Bankside,_London.jpg, used under Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic licence ( accessed: 02.02.2021 ).

strategies can also be combined, as is the case at the Almoina Archaeological Museum in Valencia, Spain ( Fig. 3 ). However, similarly to exhibition spaces lacking information panels, if the display cases fail to provide additional interpretation support, their educational potential is compromised. It is also obvious that such solutions require regular maintenance to avoid the opacification of the glass and the eventual loss of visual benefits. Another potential perverse effect, concomitant with any types of protective shelters constructed of transparent material, is the creation of a microclimate that can further damage reburied remains.48 A further technique that can be applied is known as mnemonic architecture. This category comprises all types of modern installation on top of reburied structures aimed at evoking or recalling either their plan ( 2D-installation ) or volume ( 3D-installation ). Twodimensional installations allow the appreciation of the scale and layout of archaeological structures while causing the least disturbance to the contemporary use

48 See, e.g., Çetin, İpekoğlu 2013 for the effects of condensation and overheating generated by protective glass structures.

of its environment. To make the archaeological legacy evident, architects and planners have been experimenting by using different textures and materials so that the archaeological outline stands out while still being harmoniously integrated in the contemporary fabric. Some of these contemporary designs make use of distinctive paving ( e.g. at the House of Proclus, dating to the late 4th–early 5th century AD, reburied under Dionysiou Areopagitou Street in Athens, Fig. 4a ), of natural features ( e.g. at the abandoned medieval village of Wharram Percy, England, Fig. 4b ) or apply a more technological solution ( e.g. at the Rose Theatre in London, England, where red rope-lights indicate the outline and location of the 16th-century theatre integrated into the basement of Rose Court, Fig. 4c ). The display of a plan of the reburied complex and/or of a two-dimensional reconstruction are strongly recommended to aid the reading of these modern installations. Among possible issues, the blending-in of these solutions with their surroundings can actually

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a.

b. Fig. 5a. Ghost structure at Franklin Court, Philadelphia, USA. Source: National Park Service, ‘Independence National Historical Park Franklin Court Ghost Structure’. n.d., digital image. Available from: Wikimedia Commons, https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Independence_National_Historical_ Park_Franklin_Court_Ghost_Structure.jpg ( in the public domain ) ( accessed: 02.02.2021 ); b. Ghost structure at the Roman villa of Sint Jansberg, Belgium. Source: Rijksdienst voor het Cultureel Erfgoed, ‘Archeologie/ Romeinse bouwkunst: Overzicht van visualisatie van Romeinse villa gelegen in het natuurgebied de Sint Jansberg’. 2006, digital image. Available from: Wikimedia Commons, https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Overzicht_van_visualisatie_van_Romeinse_villa_gelegen_ in_het_natuurgebied_de_Sint_Jansberg,--Archeoregio_5_-_Mook_-_20425911_-_RCE.jpg, used under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International licence ( accessed: 02.02.2021 ).

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result in these interventions going unnoticed at the pedestrian scale. Furthermore, they only provide a two-dimensional experience of the remains. Threedimensional installations evidently allow the overcoming of these limitations in terms of visibility and embodied experience. These refer to structures built on top of reburied remains reproducing their size, shape and elevation using modern materials. They are different from absolute reconstructions as they do not intend to replicate the original structure. Instead, they propose a modern re-interpretation through the materialisation of the three-dimensional outline of archaeological structures. Such installations are often dubbed “ghost structures” and renowned examples include the metal frames reproducing the volume of Benjamin Franklin’s home ( Fig. 5a ) in Philadelphia, USA.49 In the case of the Roman Villa of Sint Jansberg, Belgium ( Fig. 5b ), the outline of the complex is recreated by means of a steel mesh with reused stones coming from the archaeological spoil heaps. While the efforts to create a sustainable design in this case may be emphasised,50 the potential high maintenance costs of such ghost structures should not be forgotten. Moreover, they are necessarily more intrusive than two-dimensional installations. Such ghost structures are obviously only one possible interpretation of a past situation. The polysemy of the narrative of archaeological sites and their palimpsestic nature can, at this moment, best be displayed by means of digital technologies. Their advantage is that they transcend the spatial categorisation between in and ex situ visual compensations of hidden reburied sites. A discussion of the wide array of digital applications aimed at the visualisation of cultural heritage for public interpretation and presentation purposes falls beyond the scope of this paper, hence only a few of the advantages are covered here. Contrary to analogue copies, 3D replicas are non-invasive and completely reversible, they can easily

be updated following the progress of archaeological research and they enable a non-linear storytelling of the remains as well as a more interactive and immersive experience. It may be observed that the global pandemic and related lockdown episodes worldwide have caused a surge in the digital revolution, and its effects in the realm of cultural heritage are obvious. Cultural institutions have significantly expanded and diversified their online digital offer ( e.g., virtual tours, streaming content) to compensate for their forced closure.51 While there is broad consensus on the benefits of digital tools for the cultural heritage sector, their substitution of reality is also commonly considered undesirable.52 The SARS-CoV-2 pandemic has not only emphasised the benefits but also the challenges of digital technologies. Deprivation of a full cognitive and embedded engagement with heritage, the absence of social interactions 53 as well as the tendency to marginalise stakeholders for whom access to digital resources is limited 54 are but a few of the limits of Virtual Reality commonly reported. While examples of Virtual, Augmented and Mixed Reality for the display of in situ archaeological remains have surged since the early 2000s,55 it is surprising that their application for public accessibility to reburied sites remains, in contrast, quite limited.

49 The ghost structure is part of a complex, Franklin Court, designed by Venturi and Rauch. It also includes a museum built around the reburied archaeological remains of Franklin’s house. Those remain visible from the surface of the court through concrete “periscopes” ( Fitch 2001, 302–303 ). 50 The project, led by Marc Heritage Consultants with the Cultural Heritage Agency, was awarded the Ym van der Werf Prize in 2000 ( http://www.marc-heritage.nl/project-v16.html, accessed: 28.01.2021 ). 51 A UNESCO report, of April 2020, states that 89% of countries worldwide had partially or entirely closed their World Heritage sites to the public ( UNESCO 2020a, 1 ). An ICOM report of the same date observes that 95% of countries worldwide had partially or entirely closed their museums to the public. The same report

revealed that museums worldwide increased their digital activities by an average of 15% ( ICOM 2020, 2 ). ICOMOS reported that 27% of its ICOMOS National Commissions witnessed an increased use of digital technologies for the management of their tangible heritage ( ICOMOS 2020, 17 ). This statement was repeated by several speakers during the Webinar 3D Digital Cultural Heritage for Resilience, Recovery and Sustainability organised by the European Commission on May 27th, 2020. Vayanou et al. 2020. UNESCO reports that only 5% of museums in Africa and Small Island Developing States have been able to provide online content ( UNESCO 2020b, 4 ). Bekele et al. 2018, 4.

Conclusion

In this paper, I have tried to rationalise some innovative modes of display of reburied remains. Although none of these creative alternatives manages to provide a direct physical and tangible access to the original archaeological fabric, they do compensate for certain limitations by triggering a visual, even in some cases multisensory, engagement with reburied remains. They invite us to re-think and re-invent our interactions with archaeological sites and encourage us to take a step back from our western over-reliance on the

52

53 54 55

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materiality of ruins. Contemporary readings of the past can take an active role in increasing the public use value of reburied archaeological sites. Such interventions may also acquire a value of their own and therefore even encourage tourist ( i.e. economic ) benefits for the wider area. Even if they can never be a substitute for first-hand observations of archaeological evidence, the research value of reburied sites should not be seriously altered if compensatory ( 2D and 3D ) documentation initiatives are incorporated into the reburial process. Although the success of the selected case studies in effectively enhancing the legibility of the ‘hidden’ ruins remains arguable and should be assessed from the visitors’ perspective in follow-up studies, creative reburials such as these demonstrate a genuine effort to integrate not only academic (preservation ) but also public ( interpretation and presentation ) concerns

in the decision-making process for safeguarding archaeological heritage. Incidentally, this integrated management-driven approach is key to promoting archaeological site reburial as a viable protective measure rather than a mere make-shift solution. Such an integrated and well-informed approach indeed allows an easier mitigation of the constraints and negative impacts, partially arising from “false assumptions, misguided perceptions, economic and political pressures, and even indolence”, 56 that are commonly associated with reburial measures. When reburial of remains is envisioned prior to their excavation and the crucial need for public presentation in archaeology is fully embraced, it may be expected that these reburial strategies will then become successful at bridging the divide between site preservation and public appreciation.

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WARSAW STUDIES IN ARCHAEOLOGY All volumes in this series are evaluated by an Editorial Board, strictly on academic grounds, based on reports prepared by referees who have been commissioned by virtue of their specialism in the appropriate field. The Board ensures that the screening is done independently and without conflicts of interest. The definitive texts supplied by authors are also subject to review by the Board before being approved for publication. Further, the volumes are copyedited to conform to the publisher’s stylebook and to the best international academic standards in the field.

Titles in Preparation

Katarzyna Danys, Amphorae and Economy of the Fayum Oasis: Finds from the Monastery at Naqlun (5th–12th century CE) Zbigniew Polak and Michał Starski, Archaeological Finds from the Main Town in Gdańsk: A Catalogue from Excavations at Długi Targ-Powroźnicza-Ogarna City Quarter