When it comes to analyzing ancient art and architecture, one must also study the time period and location of their discovery in order to truly comprehend how they functioned in previous civilizations. While ancient ruins began to be discovered by modern archeologists, their placement and site locations often lent a hand in helping decipher what their purpose for creation was. Consequently, rulers, in both ancient and modern times, used the landscape they dictated over to best show their dominion over art and nature. Location became important to both properly display pieces to the most number of spectators, to remind spectators of important or pivotal aspects of the rulers society, or to help orientate the instability of the urban landscape.
King Djoser was one of the first known rulers of Egypt to command monumental architecture to be constructed in his name. The plan for the funerary complex was structured on a level ground that incorporated the existing court of Serdab, the North Palace, and the large court of Saqqara. The result was a gigantic funerary temple a six stepped mastaba made of limestone, towering over 200 feet in the air, and incorporated into the living quarters of the Egyptian monarch. The remaining structure is example of geometry at it its simplest and most pure, with walls were left plain, except for some fluted columns.
Djosers tomb stands powerfully over the Saqqara surroundings. The stepped pyramid was the first monumental structure made of stone, yet fit in easily with the completed mud-brick surroundings and limestone enclosure wall. The pyramid itself is worked into a landscape that was already in use and fortified with mud brick substructure. Yet, in its completion, the entire landscape seamlessly would have flowed together, giving the emperor a grand palace and tomb that built itself within the established architecture at the time, while also dominating it with an immense new stone Pyramid.
In Persia (modern day Iran), over the 6th century BC, power and opportunity, because of their Near East location, brought the rulers a vast empire to plenty of wealth. Cyrus II, referred to as Cyrus the Great, was noted for the drastic expansion of Persia after the beginning of his rule in 559 BC. In honor of this achievement, his predecessor, Darius, commissioned the construction of a grand ceremonial complex. As the city selected, Susa, sat in the middle of the dessert, Darius had to import materials and labors for the massive project. Consequently, the result was a mishmash of nearby aesthetics, Greek, Egyptian and Mesopotamian. Ironically, this fit the Persian capital well, seeing as part of its success lied in the geographic center Persia played between these other civilizations. Completed by Xerxes, Darius son, sometime in the first half of the 5th century BC, the massive complex was assembled on a gigantic grid, over 300 feet square, raised 40 feet above the ground, surrounded by 72 columns, supporting a colossal roof.
An equally massive stairway was needed to reach the raised hall, and was an area travelers were forced to hike past. Consequently, the attention was paid to show elaborate panels depicting exotic animals and gift bearing pilgrims carved along the walls surface. Painted in scarlet, purple, and even gold leaf for Dairus crown, the panels would have been apt representations of the various cultures meeting at Persepolis to build the hall (Stokstad, 90). As spectators climbed the stairs to the massive hall, they were met with this same visual allegory carved in stone, only they too become the pilgrim who has trekked to up the stairway in tribute. Thus, the monument in itself as a tribute to Darius, Cyrus, and Persia itself, as the desert oasis would have symbolized power, wealth and intelligence in itself. The entirety of the complex, added that it magnificently emerged from the will of one emperor shows how far these men would go to cement the legacy of their society and themselves.
These two works of site specific architecture both leant a hand in reconfiguring the society in which they were built. While one was built into the urban surroundings, with the other was constructed to create a new sense stylishly urbane, both were created with the purpose of exemplifying the artistic aptitude of the rulers people. This would become most apparent to visitors, who would be expected to marvel at the technological and artistic achievements in urban planning, and, as a result, marvel at the kingdom behind them.
Using two specific objects or monuments as case studies, discuss the role of art in constructing authority (political, social, or religious).
Since the beginning of time, it seems, art has been used to convey a visual signal of authority, which transfers from the person who creates (or commissions) to those who later observe it. The manner in which one commands authority, however, is somewhat murky. The most common practice is to use religious iconography, tied into a sense of overwhelming proportions or materials. Combined, the two create awe in the spectator, as they are lured to the magnificence of the monument, both what it represents and what it physically is.
In an era dominated by images in both television and the internet, it may be hard to imagine how pivotal the renderings on religious buildings would be for the spectators of the era. In a way, images were used to show prove of devotion, one only has to looks at the Sarcophagus of Junius Bassus, for example. Monumental stone had been used previously thought to convey a sense of spiritual importance. In the Sarcophagus of Junius Bassus, completed in 359 CE, the immensely sized marble tomb, measuring 4 by 8 feet, informs the viewer not only of the deceased but, more importantly, hope for spiritual redemption. Like the doors, this too is divided between imagery from the Old and New Testaments, carved in relief form and circling the tomb.
The style of the sarcophagus is rather interesting, as the workmanship is superb and delicately rendered from a single slab of marble. This work, however, casts its figures practically in full relief, projecting the figures forward, creating depth and shadowing that surrounds the carvings. This tomb was meant to be seen and not buried. With three sides of the work in high contrast relief, the structure would have sat nicely against a wall, and given spectators opportunity to run the narrative gamut depicted in each of the constructed vignettes, separated by typically roman columns.
In the end, the viewer is met with something that is timeless. While Bassuss body has fallen to dust, the principles he believed in are as alive and active as the sculpture that stands still through time. The ideas become timeless artifacts of both the religious principle, as well as the religiosity of the man worthy of such a grand tomb.
On St. Marys Cathedral in Hildesheim, Germany, relief carving was also used to convey biblical stories to the masses. Only this time it was undertaken by the religious authority of the town. Two immense bronze doors, showing sixteen relief panels, were commissioned by Bishop Bernward in 1059. Each door stood towering, vertical and imposing, and immediately draws the eyes of the spectator. Upon each door are a series of vignettes, all pivotal moments in biblical history. These are divided into eight panels, and two registers. When read from the top left panel down, then right, and up again, in an exaggerated U shape, one is visually told the creation and fall of Man, the infancy of Jesus Christ through his crucifixion, and finally ending in the uppermost right panel with his resurrection.
Clearly Bishop Bernward knew the visual importance of these narratives from the bible, as the instances are the cornerstones of old the New Testament narratives. In making them larger than life, and visually imposing over the spectator, the stories are imbued with an added sense of importance, longevity, and scope. They seem larger than life simply due to the size of the doors, their cumbersome and cold bronze, and their purpose as entrance into the spiritual safe house.
In the end, both the sarcophagus and towering bronze doors in Hildensheim depict two similar, but contradictory methods of using imagery to convey importance or power. Additionally, while Bassuss tomb serves as a more personal homage to self importance and spirituality, than the Hildensheim doors, both use a rigid medium, covered with the icons of Old and New Testaments to give sanctuary to those held within. They suggest that in religion, and the artistic rendering thereof, one can find peace for all eternity and for this reason, the religious practices should be marveled, respected, and adhered to.
How do images make space sacred Using the examples of two specific religious structures from two different cultural traditions, discuss the role of imagery in shaping the different religious functions of each building, such as commemorating events of sacred history, teaching religious doctrine, defining the religious community, or facilitating communication with the divine.
In an era when literacy was scarce, yet faith was high, there was an increasing need to establish religious authority to spectators through visual means. Important narratives in biblical texts could be rendered in pictures and told verbally, and allowed to foster in the imagination of the faithful. As a result, there was an increasing desire to mark spaces and objects with religious icons, to both imbue them with spirituality and to attract the spiritually faithful. The two examples selected here demonstrate how creating religious structures could transition from cozy and secluded caverns to elaborately decorated architectural feats.
The interior of the Synagogues at Dura-Europos in Syria is covered in wall paintings from the Old Testament. While its hard to establish how much of the walls were truly covered in narrative scenes, the recovered portions of the synagogue, which was destroyed in 256 CE, show the shrine to many beliefs, from Jewish and Christian, to Greek and Roman. This could be due to the shuffling rule that fostered in Syria at the time, causing the original synagogue to change religious purpose with each invading force.
Still the Dura-Europos demonstrates allows modern scholars an ancient understanding of Jewish worship, which would happen intimately in the homes. The excavated wall included a niche for Torah scrolls, a spot for a menorah, and scenes from the old testament (such as Abraham sacrificing Isaac) covering the plaster walls in enriching, warm tones. The setting would have been common in many Jewish homes of the time, alluding to the importance of the religious text in the home, as well as the visual reminder of stories from said test. These were private works of art to be enjoyed in the most cherished setting possible at the time, the family home. The intimate setting for both worship and reflection is a stark contrast to later notions of what church and religion should be in the Christian society, when these became public events to be shared in glamously decorated buildings.
Venice had been under Byzantine rule for over three centuries when Constantinople allowed it trading sovereignty between the East and West. Consequently, the city became a place of great wealth and increased, power, and cultural exposure. When a new church was to be constructed in the eleventh century, architects found inspiration in the Byzantine domed churches.
Topped with five huge domes, in a Greek Cross, San Marco created five distinct areas with incredible vertical axis looming over the practitioners (Stokstad, 325). Marble and golden mosaics cover the vaulted walls, demonstrating the immense wealth of the time. Even the shape of the building itself lends to the idea that the structure is religiously sound in the eyes of God. Additionally, the church, in its immense size, could fit entire communities inside for service, where the intended reaction was one of sublime awe at the magnificence of the church, while also overwhelmed by the spiritual scope of the beautiful mosaic ceilings. As one looked up to see faces of the Saints and Jesus gazing downward, one would also be struck with a sense of insignificance in the grand scheme of life and death.
This of course contradicts the notion of private religious servitude as found in the Dura-Europos, but the San Marco church also created a community of followers who all believed, practice, and shared a unified faith, mainly because of a communal space of shared images and iconography. This, added with the semblance the Churchs (or Gods) monumental will in creating such a spectacularly large and imposing structure, only added the church in helping instruct its Divine will to the masses.
Consider the relationship between text and imagery in at least two different objects or monuments. How do the formal arrangement and content of the figural, decorative and inscribed elements affect the message of the whole
Standing over 60 feet tall, the Arch of Constantine is a work of geometric marvel, both vertically imposing it also demonstrates a wise use of curves and balance. With a width of 75 feet, and a depth of over 20 feet, the arch is visually dominating from all perspectives. It provokes a sense of dominion over nature in the use of geometry and size, suggesting that the creators could achieve anything. The work is enhanced only more based on its location. The arch stands proudly over the same road emperors used when marching into the city in Triumph. These celebrations of successful warfare were common in the Roman civilization that quickly expanded nearly the entirety of Europe, and into Africa and the Near East.
The arch is also decorated, heavily, with carvings, historic friezes, and messages noting the triumph of the arch and of Constantine himself. Consequently, the arch becomes that of monument for both the successes of Rome, but as much, that of Constantine, that united Christianity with the Roman Empire. The text in particular speaks to both the Christian and more secular Roman audience. While the original letters that sat in the Arch have been lost, their recesses remain, showing a carving of the same text. In it, Constantine is hailed as the inspired by the divine, and because of the greatness of his mind, he delivered the state from the tyrant (Storage). This text is coupled with reliefs of sacrifices to Roman gods Apollo and Diana, medallions of the sun and moon rising, and a main freeze around the perimeter of the arch, depicting Constantines victorious battles and return Rome. Yet the text remains vague, and suggests that Constantine was on a crusade of sorts, committing the work of God to rid the state of the tyrannous Devil.
This self aggrandizing was common with Roman emporias, but later Constantine united Rome with the Christian church under the belief that the two forces, combined, could rule the world through domination of art, iconography, geometry, and war. All these elements are evident in the Arch, which soon become elements associated with both ancient Rome and the power of faith in Christianity. Thus, whenever any forces, Roman or challenging, marched through the archway to Roman, they levity and history of their footsteps would be reinforced. While not necessarily holy ground, Constantine, through the union of Roman geometric principles and vaguely spiritual text, gives the archway spiritual heft.
On the other hand, the Lindisfarne Gospels demonstrate a different type of unity of text and image. Instead of placing text in place of mass absorption, the text and image found themselves united in Latin manuscripts of the Gospels of Matthew, mark, Luke and John. Produced in the era after Roman rule of Brittan, the Gospels depict typical script of the medieval era. The letters are highly decorated, and matched with the portraits of Evangelicals, rendered flatly, without care for depth or humanistic representation. This may have been a reflex against the highly geometric and realist aesthetics of Rome, or more simply, a simplified two dimensional rendering without care for dimension or perspective. What was more important than the image was the text, which combined the aboriginal Celtic themes with that of Christian text and religious schooling. In uniting the two, much like the arch of Constantine, the Gospels demonstrate how visually iconographic Celtic and British imagery could meld with Christian text to create something that appeared organic and natural for those raised only on the theology of the time.
Thus, it becomes apparent how text can be used to decipher imagery or to enhance it. In both cases of the Constantine Arch and the Lindisfarne Gospels, the principles of Christianity are married to the standard artistic principles of the region, whether geometric sculpture design or Celtic script and knots. In uniting the two, Christianity is given added importance to the local culture and accepted as a natural aspect thereof.
Categories:
0 comments:
Post a Comment