Monday, 15 April 2013

The Medieval 21st Century


    As an artist I often look back upon my practice and training. I think about what being a professional artist entails and how do these roles correlate with my traditional academic training in the history of art. One aspect of contemporary practice that specifically comes to mind in this instance is the concept of creating a ‘brand.’ Artists are always thinking about their place in the art world. This is especially true when comparing ourselves to other artists, both past and present. Thoughts or queries that often ruminate in our minds are: how am I different from everyone else, am I just appropriating and redistributing other artist’s concepts in a new medium, and finally, what can I do to make myself recognisable?  In other words, artists strive to make their names synonymous to a certain style, which is reflected in their work. They yearn to be remembered and emulated in the art world amongst what philosophers such as Pierre Bourdieu would consider the social or cultural elite.

     The interesting point of this self-reflection for the sake of recognition is the fact that we as artists  don’t consider how our goals would manifest on a larger scale outside of ourselves. What if our mental ruminations actually came to fruition, but were magnified to immense proportions? What socio-cultural mark would it leave and how long would it last? An example of a long lasting recognisability made via the creation of a specific artistic brand is the Islamic visual programme.


Figure 1 Manuscript
Figure 2 Ceramic Tile
                                   
     The decorative arts within the Islamic cultural realm have transitive qualities that are able to pass from one motif to another regardless of the continuums of time and space. These qualities are immutable facets of visual representation that have defined the essence of Islamic art and the socio-political or religious meanings they embody. The potential timeless nature of Islamic decoration is a distinctive aspect in which, generally speaking, the models of non-figurative artistic representation remain within a similar realm. This realm allowed Islamic art to be recognised based upon its ornamental programme.[i] This statement does not relegate Islamic art as a static cultural art form, but rather, it suggests that the patterns of decoration within Islamic art are interconnected, and this confluence allows for a visual representation of Islam irrespective of the current dominant regime. It is this thread of recognition that also allows for the ornamental programme to hold a certain level of multivalent characteristics that remain within the socio-cultural ideologies of the different people of Islam.

Figure 3 Ceramic with Phoenix
Figure 4 Textile with Phoenix
         
     The visual programme of the Islamic culture can be traced back to the beginning of Islam and more specifically to the Umayyad caliphate. Oleg Grabar, in describing the architectural realm in the beginning of Islam, noted that the formation of an Islamic architectural language took place within a world that already had a tremendous amount of architectural wealth, which also had a considerable amount of fluidity concerning the meanings attributed to its forms and techniques.[ii] A ‘….component in the making of Islamic architecture is Islam itself. The remarkable point here is that in its formative moments Islam neither required nor desired an architectural identification.’[iii] However, as Islam grew as a culture and religion, so did its need to properly represent itself within the cultural world stage it inhabited. Thus according to Oleg Grabar,

[t]he reasons for the rapidity and success with which a definable Islamic architectural tradition was formed are to be sought primarily in the necessity—so amazingly seen by rulers like ‘Umar, ‘Abd al-Malik, al-Walīd, and by their provincial governors—to make visible the physical reality of Islam as something different from what surrounded it and yet understandable as Islamic….which is how a culturally definable architecture creates itself…it illustrates what the culture chose and what it rejected and thus suggests something of its own image which the culture sought to project.[iv]

It may be interpreted that the establishment of Islam’s image as a regime, by way of its visual and material culture, progressed along the same lines as Islam’s socio-political and cultural formation. It may also be inferred that the artistic realm of object production and manuscript illumination was in a similar circumstance of establishment as the architectural world during the formation of Islam’s adaptation of an aesthetic form of identification. This process may be seen in the development and eventual actualisation of the Ilkhanid dynasty as a powerful Islamic regime.

       The Ilkhanids were descendents of the Khan dynasty of Mongol China, ‘[t]he Mongol invasions of the Islamic world began in 1221 with the conquest of eastern Iran. A more devastating wave of conquest, however, came with Genghis Khan's grandson Hülegü, when Mongol forces subjugated all of Iran and by 1258 had also taken Baghdad, thus bringing to an end the cAbbasid caliphate (750–1258).’[v]  The official establishment of the Il-khans in Persia was 1258 CE, and from the previous period of Iran, they inherited a repertory of different building types, materials, techniques and forms of construction that were already developed.[vi] ‘During the Ilkhanid period, the decorative arts—textiles, pottery, metalwork, jewelry, and manuscript illumination and illustration—continued along and further developed established lines,’ and with this inheritance of different artistic and architectural techniques the Ilkhanids, who primarily lived in tents, were able to establish their own aesthetic, which was translated from text to architecture and objects.[vii]

Figure 5 Ceiling of Uljaytu Tomb


Figure 6  Decorated Page from Qur'an

     An example of this translation can be seen in the tomb of Uljaytu where ‘[m]any of the strapwork panels closely resemble contemporary manuscript illumination, suggesting that Ilkhanid designers provided patterns used on different scales in architecture and manuscripts.’[viii]  Nandini Bagchee suggests that the interior walls of the mausoleum of Uljaytu were presented in a page like manner where each plane was isolated by a series of frames, which was reminiscent of the complex network of interlaced pattern that could be found on the page of a Qur’an.[ix] The close analogies between the depictions of architecture with the interlaced ornament of the Qur’an and the paintings of contemporary manuscripts, such as the ‘Great Mongol Shahnama’, with the actual fragmentary remains of architectural complexes, suggest that the manuscripts accurately depict the architectural style of the Ilkhanid buildings.[x] In some cases, an example of this analogy may be seen in the friezes of Takht-i Sulayman, which included tiles with inscriptions taken from the Shahnama as well as more generic hunting scenes.[xi]

Figure 7 Hunting Scene on Ceramic Tile
Figure 8 Hunting Scene in Manuscript

     The dissemination and use of the same patterns amongst different artistic modes of production enabled a visually cohesive representation of the Ilkhanids, which could be recognised by the Islamic population within the current Ilkhanid dynasty as well as future regimes. Moreover, according to Mohammad Khazaie, the ‘….decorative motifs were transferred from the arts of the book particularly Qur'an manuscripts, to other arts. The materials, techniques and functions might differ, but the designs remained the same. This direct connection between the artists of the book and those practicing other decorative arts…has continued until the present day.’[xii] This visual continuum was not solely due to the ideology of l’art pour l’art; instead it was partially indebted to the tastes and ideals involved with patronage.[xiii] Sheila Blair cites Jean Aubin’s insightful research by stating, ‘…much of what is commonly called Ilkhanid architecture or painting was underwritten not by Mongols or their noyan but by native Iranian counsellors who guided the Mongols’ pretensions and inspired their tastes.’[xiv] An example of such a patron was Rashid al-Din, who was the politically powerful and wealthy vizier of the Ilkhanid ruler Uljaytu.

      The records of al-Din’s life and accomplishments mirror the stage upon which he and other courtly figures of the Ilkhanid dynasty were not only establishing themselves, but also the reputation of their dynasty based upon the scale of the patronage during the time.[xv] Sheila Blair notes that ‘[t]he model of patronage established by the highest members of the Ilkhanid court in north-western Iran was copied by other notables elsewhere in Iran in this and the following generation.’[xvi] A wealth of patrons, a visual programme and similar artistic models, upon which the decoration of objects, manuscripts and architecture were derived, allowed for a dispersal of a visually amalgamated artistic repertoire that represented the Ilkhanids and their tastes. Furthermore, ‘[a]fter the death of the last Ilkhanid ruler of the united dynasty in 1335, the empire disintegrated and a number of local dynasties came to power in Iraq and Iran, each emulating the style set by the Ilkhanids,’ which supports the aforementioned suggestion that the Islamic artistic style was built upon, and continuously evolved from, artistic genres of the past.[xvii] An example of a successive dynasty, which drew from the ideology of intertwining a visual programme on different art forms, as a reflection of the potency of their regime, was the Timurid dynasty. It was ‘through the creation of a variety of objects—books, decorative works, metalware, woodwork—[that] Timur’s image was further developed and amplified.’[xviii] With the formation of a visually cohesive empire, through the projects of the kitabkhana, Timur was able to dominate the aesthetic vocabulary of his regime, thus creating an association of beauty and strength to the Timurid dynasty, which was partially indebted to the artistic innovations of the Ilkhanids.[xix]

Figure 9 Illustration of Vegetal Motif
Figure 10 Engraved Stone-Vegetal Motif

   The symbolism of Islamic decoration is multivalent. Even though there is not a concrete definition, or manner in which to see the use of ornament, it possesses a cultural meaning that can be identified as Islamic for a certain period of time due to its flexible nature. The length of time to which definitions may be ascribed is not definite, which leaves it open to suggestions of scholars, like me, who may deem the symbolism to be either finite or infinite depending on the context in which the decoration is applied. For this post, one certainty may be claimed amongst this abyss of ambiguity.  The use of specific decorative themes throughout the artistic programmes of objects, manuscripts and architecture had socio-political implications, which identified and amalgamated the positions of Islamic regimes.

     So what does the creation of a recognisable visual repertoire suggest to contemporary artists and art historians? To me, it is a reminder of the cyclicality of time and how we inevitably will always look to our past in order to justify our own place in the present. We yearn to create a new pathway to timeless recognition, much like the Islamic regimes of the Middle Ages, but only on a smaller scale. Does this make the 21st century reflective of the medieval? Maybe. We are digitalising medieval manuscripts as a means to preserve and share the recorded knowledge during Middle Ages. This technological endeavour not only bridges the past with the present, but also may create more of a need for artists and intellects alike to find a manner in which to outwardly define ourselves, so that the 21st century won’t be forgotten in the dark abyss of time in the far future.


~Shandra



[i] The ornamental programme of Islamic art did, and continues to, change stylistically, but the basis of geometric and vegetal ornamentation has generally remained recognisable.
[ii] Oleg Grabar, "Architecture," in The Legacy of Islam, by Joseph Schacht, Clifford Edmund Bosworth, and Thomas Walker Arnold (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1974), 247.
[iii] Ibid, 247-248
[iv] Ibid, 250-251
[v] Suzan Yalman and Linda Kamaroff, "The Art of the Ilkhanid Period (1256–1353)," Heilbrunn Timeline of Art History. New York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2000–., October 2001, accessed March 28, 2012, http://www.metmuseum.org/toah/hd/ilkh/hd_ilkh.htm.
[vi] Sheila Blair, Jonathan Bloom, and Richard Ettinghausen, "Architecture in Iran and Central Asia under the Ilkhanids and Their Successors," in The Art and Architecture of Islam 1250-1800 (New Haven [Conn.: Yale University Press, 1994), 5.
[vii]Suzan Yalman and Linda Kamaroff, "The Art of the Ilkhanid Period (1256–1353)," Heilbrunn Timeline of Art History. New York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2000–., October 2001, accessed March 28, 2012, http://www.metmuseum.org/toah/hd/ilkh/hd_ilkh.htm.
[viii] Sheila Blair, Jonathan Bloom, and Richard Ettinghausen, "Architecture in Iran and Central Asia under the Ilkhanids and Their Successors," in The Art and Architecture of Islam 1250-1800 (New Haven [Conn.: Yale University Press, 1994), 8.
[ix] Nandini Bagchee, "Book Illumination and Architectural Decoration: The Mausoleum of Uljaytu in Sultaniyya" (thesis, Massachusetts Institute of Technology, 2000), 47, accessed April 2, 2012, http://dspace.mit.edu.
[x] Sheila Blair, "Patterns of Patronage and Production in Ilkhanid Iran: The Case of Rashid Al-Din," in The Court of the Il-Khans: 1290-1340 : [the Barakat Trust Conference on Islamic Art and History, St. John College, Oxford, Saturday, 28 May 1994], by Julian Raby and Teresa Fitzherbert (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996), 46.
[xi] Stefano Carboni and Qamar Adamjee, "Takht-i Sulayman and Tile Work in the Ilkhanid Period," Heilbrunn Timeline of Art History. New York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2000–, October 2003, accessed March 28, 2012, http://www.metmuseum.org/toah/hd/khan7/hd_khan7.htm.
[xii] Mohammad Khazaie, "The Qur'an Manuscripts from Early Islamic Iran (10th to MID-13th AD)," The International Journal of Humanities 9, no. 2 (Spring 2002): 45.
[xiii] l’art pour l’art is a term that was originally coined by nineteenth century French philosopher Victor Cousin. It is based upon an ideology that art is made irrespective of politics or social justification.
[xiv] Sheila Blair, "Patterns of Patronage and Production in Ilkhanid Iran: The Case of Rashid Al-Din," in The Court of the Il-Khans: 1290-1340 : [the Barakat Trust Conference on Islamic Art and History, St. John College, Oxford, Saturday, 28 May 1994], by Julian Raby and Teresa Fitzherbert (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996), 39.
[xv] Further information about the endowment of Rashid al-Din’s atelier endowment can be found in: D. Fairchild. Ruggles, Islamic Art and Visual Culture: An Anthology of Sources (Malden, MA: Wiley-Blackwell, 2011), 35-38.
[xvi] Sheila Blair, "Patterns of Patronage and Production in Ilkhanid Iran: The Case of Rashid Al-Din," in The Court of the Il-Khans: 1290-1340 : [the Barakat Trust Conference on Islamic Art and History, St. John College, Oxford, Saturday, 28 May 1994], by Julian Raby and Teresa Fitzherbert (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996), 54
[xvii] Suzan Yalman and Linda Kamaroff, "The Art of the Ilkhanid Period (1256–1353)," Heilbrunn Timeline of Art History. New York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2000–., October 2001, accessed March 28, 2012, http://www.metmuseum.org/toah/hd/ilkh/hd_ilkh.htm.
[xviii] Thomas W. Lentz, "The Kitabkhana and the Dissemination of the Timurid Vision," in Timur and the Princely Vision: Persian Art and Culture in the Fifteenth Century : [exhibition... Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, Smithsonian Institution, Washington, DC, April 16 - July 6, 1989 ...] (Washington, DC: Smithsonian Institution Pr., 1989), 43.
[xix] Thomas W. Lentz, "The Kitabkhana and the Dissemination of the Timurid Vision," in Timur and the Princely Vision: Persian Art and Culture in the Fifteenth Century : [exhibition... Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, Smithsonian Institution, Washington, DC, April 16 - July 6, 1989 ...] (Washington, DC: Smithsonian Institution Pr., 1989), 159-237; Linda Komaroff and Stefano Carboni, The Legacy of Genghis Khan: Courtly Art and Culture in Western Asia, 1256-1353 (New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2002), 225. 

Figures:
[1] http://7junipers.com/log/category/eras/medieval
[2] "Frieze tile with phoenix [Iran] (12.49.4)". In Heilbrunn Timeline of Art History. New York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2000–. http://www.metmuseum.org/toah/works-of-art/12.49.4 (October 2006).
[3] Linda Komaroff and Stefano Carboni, The Legacy of Genghis Khan: Courtly Art and Culture in Western Asia, 1256-1353 (New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2002).
[4] Ibid.
[5] Sheila Blair and Jonathan Bloom, "Oljeitu Tomb," digital image, MIT Libraries, Aga Khan Visual Archive, 1984, accessed April 17, 2012, http://archnet.org.
[6] Colin F. Baker, Qur'an Manuscripts: Calligraphy, Illumination, Design (London: British Library, 2007).
[7]"Frieze tile with two hunters [Iran (probably Takht-i Sulayman)] (10.9.1)". In Heilbrunn Timeline of Art History. New York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2000–. http://www.metmuseum.org/toah/works-of-art/10.9.1 (October 2006)
[8] http://www.metmuseum.org/Collections/search-the-collections/140005537
[9] Thomas W. Lentz, "The Kitabkhana and the Dissemination of the Timurid Vision," in Timur and the Princely Vision: Persian Art and Culture in the Fifteenth Century : [exhibition... Arthur M. Sackler Gallery, Smithsonian Institution, Washington, DC, April 16 - July 6, 1989 ...] (Washington, DC: Smithsonian Institution Pr., 1989).
[10] Ibid.

<a href="http://www.hypersmash.com">www.Hypersmash.com</a>

Monday, 8 April 2013

Dome of the Rock: A Multi-Cultural Cosmological Symbol



Though Dome of the Rock is a Muslim holy site, the location has served as a place of worship to Jews, Romans, and thirteenth century Crusaders. Having had several cultures present at the site allows for multiple interpretations of the religious, geometric, and cosmological qualities of the building. This abbreviated analysis of Dome of the Rock will include an examination of the octagonal shape of the building, the floor plan, the spherical dome, and the potential meanings behind each feature. A study of these features shows not only an exchange between the cultures that resided on the historic esplanade of Temple Mount, but also a translation of scientific and religious material from several centuries and societies. The Muslim interpretation of these geometric qualities will primarily be deliberated, but as the features are borrowed from earlier buildings and ideologies, an analysis from other cultural perspectives is also necessary to fully comprehend the possible religious and scientific philosophies represented in geometric forms.

 Dome of the Rock was created to promote the triumphant rule of Abd al-Malik, who began construction in 690 CE.[1] Prior to the architectural accomplishments of Malik, Temple Mount was home to a structure created by his predecessor, Umar.[2] The wooden structure of Umar was overshadowed by the Christian building below Temple Mount, the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.[3] With Islam on the rise, Malik’s empire required a building of grandeur and beauty that would compete with his rival rulers. Malik’s design incorporated Christian architectural features which were translated into Islamic symbols upon completion. The most notable borrowed form is the octagonal shape of the building, comparable to SS Sergius and Bacchus in Constantinople (526-37 CE) and San Vitale in Ravenna (526-47 CE).[4] The Christians' use of the number eight makes reference to several biblical events.  Firstly, the number eight could make reference to God creating the world. The Bible records in Genesis that the world was created in seven days, and the eighth day was the first day of celebrated life.[5] Genesis 21:4 also alludes to the number eight, stating: ‘When his son Isaac was eight days old, Abraham circumcised him, as God commanded him’.[6] Christ’s eternal divinity is also represented in the number eight turned on its side, creating the symbol for infinity.[7] Eight-sided Christian baptisteries are also common, perhaps making reference to the mass flooding of the world where Noah rescued eight people on his Ark.[8]

These Christian beliefs were likely overlooked by Malik, who preferred the use of geometric forms in iconoclasm and as a representation of balance. This idea is supported in Oleg Grabar’s analysis of Dome of the Rock, where he reveals that the octagonal exterior was used for the creation of a geometrically sound interior.[9] This geometric perfection was revealed in what was thought to be an imperfection, the non-symmetric locations of the columns within Dome of the Rock.[10] According to Grabar, ‘the sets of columns in the circular arcade are not symmetrical but are a few centimeters off from what their geometrically correct location would have been.’[11] The column placement is reaffirmed when consideration is given to a layout based on two crossing squares (see image, red lines).[12] This same scheme is used in the design of the dome (see image, blue lines).[13] K.A.C. Creswell, an architectural historian, was the first to realize the geometric implication of the layout.[14]



The crossing of the two squares is the Seal of Solomon.[15] It is geometrically sound as the squares are identical, overlapping at a forty-five degree angle.[16] The use of squares is as equally accepted as the use of triangles, creating the six-pointed Seal.[17] The use of the Seal of Solomon within the layout is representative of the Jewish, Christian, and Muslim presence at the site.[18] The use of the Seal in the design encourages the idea of a former palace or throne having been on the esplanade, but it may also serve an apotropaic function. The Seal originates from a design on a ring, given to Solomon by God.[19] The ring was meant to give Solomon the power to defeat the evils of Djinn, wicked spirits.[20] Evidence for the existence of this ring is sparse, but the use of the design at Dome of the Rock may have been in hopes to absorb the same powers the supposed ring possessed.[21] The repetitious use of the Seal in the creation of the dome and the layout signifies the Islamic appreciation for geometric perfection, and emphasizes the importance of this particular symbol in the Arab community. With the mix of cultures that have been present at Dome of the Rock it is difficult to pin point whether the use of the Seal is for geometric aesthetics or in honor of Solomon. It is perhaps best to assume that both the mythical event and the geometric pattern were of equal value being that the Seal allowed the wearer to control the elements of the spiritual world, while the pattern emphasizes balance and the coexisting of opposites much like the Chinese yin & yang. 

The use of the star pattern could also be a Christian symbol of Heaven, making the building a star fallen from the celestial realm. The dome is representative of the firmament, the divider between the waters of Heaven and earth. The firmament is described in Genesis 1:6-8 with God having stated,

‘Let there be a firmament in the midst of the waters, and let it divide the waters from the waters.’  Thus God made the firmament, and divided the waters which were under the firmament from the waters which were above the firmament; and it was so. And God called the firmament Heaven.’

The roundness of the firmament was also considered by Ptolemy, Aristotle, and Copernicus, who used this concept in the creation of a spherical universe, with the outer most layer containing stars.[22] With this in mind, it could be suggested that the dome of the structure is the biblical firmament and the eight-pointed star represents the stars as placed by the Greek philosophers. If the number eight is once again considered as a reference to infinity, the placement of the geometric star could be understood as the infinite existence of heaven, or 'paradise', which could also be hinted to in the iconoclastic choice of lush foliage mosaics on the interior walls.


Dome of the Rock’s floor plan has more recently been examined in drawings by Alain George of the University of Edinburgh. His geometric analysis, which was used to compare Dome of the Rock to the third manuscript page of the Sanaa Qur’an (right), embraces the geometric pattern known as The Breath of the Compassionate (below on the Sanaa Qur'an and the Dome of the Rock floor plan).[23] This name was given to the pattern by the Great Master Ibn al-Arabi (1165-1240), who used this design to depict the creation of the universe through the unity of the elements.[24] The four elements are exemplified in each corner of the crossing squares, the four circles, and the four legs of the cross created in the center.[25] The number four is also symbolic of the four seasons, and the four cardinal directions which are represented in the four entrances of Dome of the Rock.  The four seasons are of importance because the number twelve is also prevalent in the design. Twelve columns circle around the Rock, perhaps as a representation of the twelve months of the year, a number designated by the zodiac. Therefore, since the geometric pattern embraces the concept of the elements, the calendar, and mythical stories of Creation, it is an idyllic Medieval representation of the cosmos. This pattern is also most mandala-like having included the use of both circles and squares.


                          

This analysis is a fraction of the story. So what is the meaning behind the geometry at Dome of the Rock? I believe there may be connections to Sumerian and Babylonian cosmology as well, but all theories are speculative as there is no primary documentation that makes a direct reference to sacred geometry within the architectural layout. It is possible that centuries of exchange of religious and scientific ideologies were documented, and perhaps were in the hands of Abd al-Malik at the time of construction, allowing for today's scholars to make cross-cultural analyses of the design. What we are left with is a multitude of theories from varying cultural backgrounds, perhaps making Dome of the Rock a true 'navel of the world' as suggested in medieval T-O cartography.

~Emily



[1] Grabar, Oleg. The Dome of the Rock. Cambridge, MA: Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 2006,
 pg 44.
[2] Henry Luttikhuizen and James Snyder, "Islam and the Middle East," in Snyder's Medieval Art, by Dorothy Verkerk, 2nd ed. (Saddle River, NJ: Pearson Education, 2006), pg. 220. Note that the first actual structure was a work of Umar, and likely an oblong building made of wood.
[3] Ibid.
[4] David Talbot Rice, Islamic Art. (New York: Praeger, 1965), pg. 11.
[5] Hilary Richardson, "Number and Symbol in Early Christian Art," The Royal Society of Antiquaries of Ireland 114 (1984): pg. 28-47.
[6] "Genesis 21:4." In The Holy Bible. Paterson, NJ: St. Anthony Guild Press, 1952.
[7] Ibid.
[8] Ibid.
[9] Grabar, 74.
[10] Ibid.
[11]Grabar, 75.
[12] Ibid.
[13] Ibid.
[14] Grabar, 76. Creswell’s drawing is taken from Grabar’s book as well. Do note it has been enhanced with colour in order to display the use of the Seal of Solomon.
[15] Daud Sutton, Islamic Design: A Genius for Geometry (Somerset: Wooden Books, 2007), pg. 8.
[16] Ibid.
[17] Ibid.
[18] Grabar, 36.
[19] J. MoG. Dawkins, "The Seal of Solomon," The Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society of Great Britain and Ireland, no. 2 (October 1944): pg. 147, accessed July 19, 2012.
[20] Ibid.
[21] The association of apotropaic qualities is heightened when consideration is given to magic squares. Geometry specialist, Keith Critchlow notes that the Seal of Solomon design is a common outcome in 9x9 magic squares, which emphasize the symmetry between even and odd numbers. Keith Critchlow, Islamic Patterns: An Analytical and Cosmological Approach (New York: Schocken Books, 1976), pg. 54-55.
[22] Edward Grant, Planets, Stars, and Orbs: The Medieval Cosmos, 1200-1687(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994), pg. 308.
[23] Alain George, The Rise of Islamic Calligraphy (London: Saqi, 2010), pg. 80. See Sutton, pg. 8 for The Breath of the Compassionate.
[24] Sutton, 8.
[25] Also included in George’s design is the versica piscis, the Christian ‘bladder of the fish,’ which represents the uniting of two forms. Priya Hemenway, The Secret Code: The Mysterious Formula That Rules Art, Nature and Science (Köln: Evergreen, 2008), pg. 50.

Tuesday, 2 April 2013

Of gender, scribes and academics


A number of the most recent posts on our blog have been concerned not only with women, but with women who were agents of high cultural productivity in the Middle Ages. I have been very glad to read about these cases and more so about the fact that the idea of writing medieval women does not seem like an anachronism anymore. It also made me consider how the scholarly discourse on any given topic is not exempt from preconceived ideas and how they may obstruct the way for new ideas and findings. To illustrate this point I have chosen the example of the scriptorium of the Cathedral in Essen, in the area that is today known as the Ruhr Area, in Germany. Recently, this area has experienced a transformation from the industrial to the commercial, from smoking chimneys to no-smoking signs. Despite being highly defined by the industrialisation period, the Ruhr Area’s roots go back to the Middle Ages. One of the most well known parts of its history is the Cathedral of Essen, which was used as the church of the Essen Abbey until the convent became secularised in the beginning of the 19th century. This convent of women, often from a noble background, was established in 845.
 
It became not only a centre of learning for women, but also played an important role in disseminating Christianity. However, I do not intend to give a full historical draft of the convent, but instead, I will point out one particular development from the 9th to the 10th century when the Abbey was not only home to numerous women, but also to an established and highly productive scriptorium. We owe this recognition to Katrinette Bodarwe, who gave convincing evidence for the scriptorium's existence by a comprehensive palaeographic analysis of all the surviving material. Its beginnings in the 9th century (first evidence dates from 874) can only be asserted with difficulty, especially as a fire in 946 destroyed part of the collection. However, shortly after the fire, in the second half of the 10th century, the scriptorium bloomed and became more productive as ever before, and as it would ever be.1
This might have been due to the pure necessity of re-establishing the library collection after the fire. However, it is also possible to see a connection to the highly active abbess of the abbey: Mathilde II, granddaughter of Otto the Great. Evidence shows that the Ottonian Abbess went beyond the general organisation of the daily life of the abbey, she established contacts from Rome to England and was patron to artefacts as the famous Otto-Mathilde Cross. Furthermore, the scriptorium also had its most flourishing phase during her reign. After the fire, the scriptorium did not only produce manuscripts for the basic needs of an abbey. Instead, evidence suggests that the scriptorium additionally worked on creating an extensive collection. The manuscripts that were created in the scriptorium of Essen in the second half of the 10th century are of a wide variety of texts, from liturgical to classical texts, many of which go beyond what would have been considered a necessity for the abbey. One might speculate here, that it was also one of Mathilde's political aims to have the abbey become a centre of learning under the Ottonian rule, an aim that was unfortunately not pursued by later abbesses.2

 However, my point here is neither to give a full account of Bodarwe's finding on the existence of the scriptorium in Essen nor to speculate about the role the Abbess might have had in its blooming, rather I want to point out that Bodarwe's argument, though generally accepted widely, also met resistance in the scholarly sphere. As important as the criticism of every new finding is, it struck me as interesting how estranging the argument for a female scriptorium in the early Middle Ages seems to have been at the beginning to some. And to my knowledge it is not the only case where the culturally productive medieval woman is met with resistance. For example, the nun and poet Hrotsvit has been discussed with regards to questioning her authenticity, and the actual gender of the author. Does an early medieval female author or female scribe bring unease to the established image of the medieval woman? The image of the past role of the women seems to need as much liberation of preconceived ideas as women of more modern times needed and unfortunately still need. And while without a doubt, new scholarship needs to withhold the 'hot seat' as much as the old, it seems noticeable that certain theories get called more into question than others. An older academic, not without recognising the irony, noted to me that the idea of writing an art historical PhD on pipe cleaner estranged him as much as his own thesis probably estranged others when he wrote it. It makes me wonder whether this is the normal circle of life within the academic discourse. Each field does constantly get expanded, reinvented, rediscovered, however, does this by necessity mean that the old cannot embrace the new? Is the estrangement unavoidable? I'd like to think not, but who knows what I will say one day about the most recent developments and position I will take towards new theories. Will I embrace the questioning of established images or will I rush to their defence?


1Bodarwé, Katrinette, Sanctimoniales litteratae. Schriftlichkeit und Bildung in den ottonischen Frauenkommunitäten Gandersheim, Essen und Quedlinburg (Münster; Aschendorff, 2004)
2 See Falk, Birgitta and von Hülsen-Esch, Andrea (eds.) Mathilde. Glanzzeit des Essener Frauenstift (Essen: Klartext, 2011) for a wider account of the activities of the Abbess.