Through huge swaths of the archaeological record we have pottery. It enters the record in the Neolithic, and marks the point where humans are able to make a stew (woven baskets carry water with difficulty and burn when held over a fire). They mark the transition to an agricultural economy, with storage of perishables and the making of beer.
The first thing Jaques Coustou noticed when he dove on the wrecks near “The Island of Rabbits” just beyond the harbor of Iraklion was amphorae. They are visible now in a nearby museum; the jugs carrying Cretan wines and other trade goods. And you can tell, instantly, that you are looking at two different eras. The same transport jugs for most probably the same trade goods are distinctly 2nd century AD (enough that I was able to guess without seeing the museum placard first), and as distinctly a different era for a second ship (this one Byzantine).
The pottery forms the most distinct sequencing for most archaeology. Like tree rings it doesnt have an inherent date; it has to be lined up by other methods, from carbon dates of the residue of a wine to the inclusion of a scarab bearing the name of a recorded Pharaoh in the assembage. This makes things interesting for the amatuer, as most of the literature will place an event or occupation or find within the context of the pottery culture; “Proto-Geometric” or “Late Helladic phase II.” And of course there is constant adjustment and argument about where to stick these arbitrary demarkations, and how appropriate they are when applied to trading, polyglot, evolving cultures where pottery of numerous sequences may co-exist and be found in a single assemblage.
One is often tempted to draw too much from the pots. But like Herodotus, it is because that may be most of what we have. One can look back through the history of the field and recognize the way previous eras had viewed the artistic changes through their own lenses. It is too easy even today to reach for “brutal,” or “a crude copy of...” when trying to describe a style. But what alternative do we have to applying our own aesthetic reaction? There are not (despite some valient attempts in the past) easy ways to create metrics for art.
As I strolled though the National I was presented with a series of galleries moving from Post-Mycenaean out to the full glory of the Attic. And if you look through other galleries you can go from Neolithic Cycladian pottery (which has odd similarties to the much, much later proto-gemometric), through Minoan and the rightly-celebrated Kameres Ware (which made its way to Egypt and Syria and the Greek Mainland), and then the Mycenaean transition. And, yes, my reaction is not untypical for the cultural preconceptions I live within; that the first products of the Mycenae workshops were crude reproductions of the High Minoan. There was a Mycenae octopus that reminded me strikingly of anime art done by amatuer fans; tracing the lines without understanding their purpose.
But this is reading intent that may not have been there. Aesthetic intents aside, these were mostly commercial productions and as a long-time theatre person I understand too well how market forces and practical constraints influence the final result. The one thing that is very distinct is when the Mycenae move in the art turns more bloody. The Minoans were fabulous at capturing the line of a bird in flight or a waving frond of sea lilly but the Mycenae were focused on the clash of wills and strength of limbs; a focus on the athletic, martial body that has a visible culmination in the red-figure ware.
So, yes, you look at the proto-geometric and it hard not to think of art that has lost the equivalent of the guilds and academies and is reduced, first to crude attempts to continue, then gives up and goes for equally crude and terribly simplistic geometric scribbles. And then the geometric figures get more complicated and refinments like rulers come in, and what was an idea turns into an oppressive meme, the style taking over, until the entire pot is covered with obsessive tiny details. But in the background, the desire to do figure work is still there. At first all they can handle are silhouettes, and then they start scratching into the black silhouettes to describe muscles and cloth folds and other details in a sort of reverse cartooning.
But this is not fair. It is an impression I, a product of the classical Western art tradition, share with the Renaissance and later artists who celebrated most when their Greek idols came closest to realism. It might not have been until the turn of the century that a new apreciation (as part of that era’s Orientalizing phase), of the free-flowing styalization of the Minoan returned.
And here’s a little personal observation. I learned when trying to draw cartoons that the ruler is not the “better” or “more evolved” approach. A free-hand line has more life and looks better and often describes the world better. And is harder and takes more experience (experience with a ruler, even).
Well, these are very old discussions. Suffice to say that there are distinct changes and there are many fascinating socioogical ideas when can propose from them. And those exist because ceramics are constant and durable. Linear A and B exist for us now because the fires that swept through their respective civilizations baked the soft, malleable, ever-so-handy clay used to make tally marks into nearly indestructable ceramics.
And here’s the thing. At home, I drink from plastic. I cook with metal. My goods come in cans or, again, more plastic. Sure, there are some parallels; plastic comes from a natural substance that is collected and processed. Except petroleum distilllates are a long distance from the clay of a river bank. Anyone can make clay. It takes a hell of a lot more than a village to make plastics; it takes a large-scale industrial civilization.
Plastics last. Regretttably so. There is not a spot on the ocean today where you cant find some. But in what ways will plastics serve future generations of archaeologists?
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