An Interdisciplinary Look at the Relationship between Early Christian and Hindu Art

Jesus alongside Ganesha, the son of Shiva and the Hindu "remover of obstacles"

Something that I have always heard as an undergraduate at UAB is that art is related to a variety of subjects and that the humanities do not exist in a vacuum. So, I was not shocked when I found links between art and sociology while studying sociologist Pitrim Sorokin; however, I was pleasantly surprised when I found culturally-based connections between Early Christian and Hindu art in my study of him, having been surrounded by a Christian society my entire life and being interested in Hindu art as my area of focus for art history.

Pitrim Sorokin

In his work Social and Cultural Dynamics (1937), Pitrim Sorokin proposed the classification of societies based on their cultural mentalities, which he saw as being manifested in the art and architecture of cultures throughout time. A society, at any given time, could have a primarily sensate culture, which is defined by its characteristic belief that true reality is material and the pursuit of science, technology, and hedonistic achievements; an ideational culture, which is defined by its characteristic belief that true reality is transcendent and the pursuit of supersensory philosophies; and an idealistic or integral society that merges the two cultures’ principle beliefs and assumes true reality to be a mixture of both the tangible and supersensory. With these categories in mind, I found that Early Christian and Hindu art share similarities that are rooted in their common adherence to the “ideal type” (a concept that derives from sociologist Max Weber’s research) of an ideational cultural mentality. By this I mean that they similarly correspond to typical “courses of conduct” of what is designated as the ideal type of a particular categorization – in this case, the ideational cultural mentality. This correspondence to the ideal type is particularly evident in their manner of decorating, their effort to immerse the viewer in the supersensory, and their endeavor to diverge from reality in their attempt, as Sorkin claimed, to “represent things more nearly as they are in God, or nearer to their source."

The mentalities that these two cultures share is what Sorokin deems “ascetic ideationalism,” in which individuals seek to satisfy themselves by minimizing carnal needs and by supplementing themselves with a complete detachment from the sensate, “illusory” world and themselves. Here are some examples of how this mentality is similarly revealed through art:

Above and below: Illustrations from the Book of Kells (c. 800 CE)

My first example is an Irish manuscript (keep in mind that Ireland and India are about 8,000 km apart) produced in the ninth century by Early Christian artists. The “Book of Kells,” a religious tome that that contained the four Gospels of the New Testament alongside dense, complex geometric patterning and interlacing, swirling motifs that submerge figures of humans and animals throughout the manuscript, appears to attempt to immerse the reader in its abstracted illustrations and dissolve the self. The density of decoration, when juxtaposed with Christian symbolism, removes the viewer-reader from his or her physical space in the sensate world through encouraging meditation on the complicated ornamentation over anything else. As the figures in the images are swallowed up by the decoration, so too is the observer. The abstraction of “reality” renounces the physical world for the “true reality” of the spiritual “realm” that the “Book of Kells” depicts, something conveyed as complicated and luxurious, but not something tangible or even three-dimensional. The figures of people and religious entities in the manuscript are similarly flattened and non-human as evidence of their separation from the sensate world.

An example of a copper Sri Yantra

Though not as overtly complicated, Hindu yantras accomplish similar ends. These images, typically composed of multiple concentric forms within a square with clear demarcations of the cardinal directions, are related to the typical floor plan of a Hindu temple due to their association with the divine. The geometric shapes that appear within yantras emanating from the central point (or bindu) signify unity between all forms. Though used for a variety of purposes, the primary goal of the yantra is for the user to meditate and thus achieve a greater understanding of the metaphysical by letting one’s self go within the process. In particular, the Sri Chakra, which includes a representation of Shiva, is intended to show the totality of the chronology of existence, along with the user's own unity with the cosmos. The usage of abstract forms within all yantras encourages viewers not to dwell on the physical reality but rather on what is beyond the illusion. By following the patterns with one’s eyes, and thus one’s thoughts, individual consciousness is believed to attune itself to the consciousness of the universe – a belief that was adapted to later Buddhist thought and endured in relation to their mandalas. In this unity, the self is dissolved into the ultimate reality.

Carvings along the walls of the Sun Temple of Modhera (1026 CE)

Yantras sometimes also serve as representations of Hindu deities – notably Kali or Shiva, as mentioned previously. Through representing these divine beings as non-figural, yantras separate the entities from the illusory, physical realm. In a similar fashion, the Sun Temple of Modhera also contains sculptures that do not reflect physical reality. While the sculptures of the temple appear fleshly and are articulated in a way that reflects the mastery of the artisans, the faces and body shapes of all the figures are uniform and abstracted. Their smooth forms and simplified facial features are unattainable by human standards and are posed in a limited number of stances that are repeated throughout both the exterior and the interior of the buildings at the temple. Per hierarchical proportion, the more significant figures of ādityas (sun deities) and vedi (goddesses,) set off in niches throughout the sabha mandapa (assembly hall) building, are larger than the human figures, which are so densely packed together that they appear to dissolve into patterning. This unrealistic state of being that the sculptural figures are in is complimented by the unnatural setting that they exist in. While they protrude into the landscape surrounding the temple, they occupy a space that does not reflect reality. The figures are placed against blank backgrounds in bands of related sculptures, which are stacked on top of each other. The divergence from reality can arguably be seen as an attempt to represent these deities “more nearly as they are in God, or nearer to their source” by depicting them as incompatible with the sensate world.

One of the Bucovina Painted Monasteries

The paintings on monasteries of Bucovina in Romania illustrate a similar divergence from reality. Built in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, the monasteries employ Byzantine-influenced paintings to convey religious stories. As the Byzantine style of art avoided realistic depictions of religious figures so as not to recall the sensate qualities of Greek and Roman “idols,” which were condemned by the church, the Byzantine figures are flattened, unshaded, and abstracted. This does not suggest a lack of skill, rather, a movement away from the celebration of the physical human body in favor of the non-physical. They are set in vividly colored backgrounds that are divorced from reality. The artists do not attempt to recreate the “illusory world,” rather, they cast the figures in a heavenly landscape and abstracted their appearances in order to separate them from the viewers. This, like the sculptures at the Sun Temple of Modhera, reflects a rejection of the sensate world in the favor of the spiritual, supersensory world. Not only that, but both the Sun Temple and the painted monasteries utilize figures as if they are patterns, folding into the fabric of this supersensory reality, much like what is seen in the “Book of Kells.” All of this indicates an artistic adherence to the ideal type of the ascetic ideational mentality within these sites.

This adherence to the ideal type of the ascetic ideational mentality reveals similarities between two cultures that are not often compared. In the future, I would like to do more research on why exactly these similarities exist – be it due to regional proximity between the Early Christians and the Hindus or derivations of Hindu thought in Abrahamic religions – who knows! There are many implications for this research that require further attention, and I hope my preliminary study inspires reactions from students in other fields.  -Sarah Faulkner

The Old Sacristy of San Lorenzo: A Study in Magnificence

Fig. 1

The Church of San Lorenzo in Florence, stamped everywhere with the power and authority of the Medici, constitutes one of the family’s great co-optings of their city’s public sphere. Before it was rebuilt in the 15^th century, the institution and place of the Church of San Lorenzo had been one of some importance to the city of Florence; it was the earliest church consecrated in the city, blessed by one of the church fathers, Ambrose, in 393. Its reconstruction, however, opened the venerable church to a new set of meanings, and families clamored to institute their legacy on this spot, with ultimately the Medici prevailing over them all. The Old Sacristy (fig. 1, 2, 3), adjoining the Church at its transept, was the site from which the family began to stake their own claim. Functioning as a dynastic mausoleum and personal chapel for the Medici, while intersecting with a locus of such public significance, the Old Sacristy reveals something about the nature of the intercourse between one family’s magnificence and the pride of the larger Florentine republic. In its forms and decorative programme, the Old Sacristy situated the magnificent ethic in a wider framework of civic pride, and ultimately proselytizing on behalf of the Medici’s assumption of political preeminence within their city. 

Fig. 3

Fig. 2

First there is a matter of architectural form. Built between 1422 and 1428, The Old Sacristy represented the most comprehensive summation of designer Brunelleschi’s vision up until then, the harmony, logic, and forms he found poring over the classical architecture distilled into an idiosyncratic take on the sacristy that, as Manetti, his biographer remarks, was “of such character that it amazed everyone due to its new style,” [1] and that moreover, ultimately proved conducive to the pretensions of his Medici patrons, housing two generations of their dead. The exquisite balance achieved within the Old Sacristy is of note itself, but more meaningful, and as likely a cause for the awe registered by Manetti, is Brunelleschi’s deployment of the dome and its emulation of the all’antica mausoleum. This is all in accord with the Medici’s deep humanism, especially Cosimo Medici’s, steeped as he was in ancient texts.[2] But did Brunelleschi intend just a generic all’antica form, or did his dome not signify something more specific and localized? On the question of an ultimate prototype for Brunelleschi’s Sacristy, and whether reference to a certain prototype was intended as evident to all or just the keen and learned, there are a number of conjectures; here I think might be warranted some degree of potential compatibilism – that motivating the Sacristy’s form was possibly more than one source, with two in particular that correspond to the civic/private magnificence thematic, and accounts for the rare tholos (fig.4) lantern atop the dome.

Fig. 4

Howard Saalman has proposed two inspirations for the Old Sacristy, the tomb of Constantine and the Florentine Baptistry, each embodying a set of connotations that would have been in keeping with the Medici’s aspirations, and would both account for the tholos lantern, a detail otherwise found on no extant ancient mausoleum.[3] Likewise corresponding to the Sacristy in its domical plan, inclusion of the apostles in its decorative scheme, and raised, catalfaque platform of Giovanni di Bicci de Medici’s tomb at the center of the mausoleum, is Constantine’s original tomb in the Church of the Apostles in Constantinople. Available to Cosimo Medici and Brunelleschi only through Eusebius’ description of it, the text describing the lost sepulcher admits of an interpretive ambiguity that could have very well suggested to them that a lantern had sat atop its dome. Then, closer to home, there was the tholos lantern atop the Florentine Baptistry (fig. 5, 6), which had already provided bestowed on Brunelleschi a wellspring of ideas and formal principles, many of them applied to the Old Sacristy.  

Fig. 5

Fig. 6

These two possible inspirations, the Tomb of Constantine and the Florentine Baptistery, roughly correspond to poles of private and public association. The linkage to the tomb of Constantine on the one hand suggests that the Medici at this point already (and perhaps audaciously) conceived of themselves, the oligopolists turned oligarchs they were quickly becoming, on the model of the famous Christian Emperor, occupying a position of political leadership integrally tied to, indeed bulwarking, the authority of the Church. And whether or not the connection to the tomb of Constantine is to be believed, the all’antica classification remains valid, with all its attendant splendor. On the other hand, the correspondence with the Florentine Baptistery, connecting one family’s domicile for their dead to one of the Florence’s most potent emblems, suggests the dovetailing of one family’s private glories with the honor of the city. Whatever might be thought of the relatively esoteric connection to the tomb of Constantine, the emulation of the Florentine Baptistery, of a feature, the tholos lantern, unique to it, is all but undeniable.

The connection to the Florentine Baptistry is echoed in another of the Sacristy’s features, its bronze doors flanking the sacrasella and designed by Donatello (fig. 7, 8). This was a curious choice: an anomaly within a private chapel, the novelty was noted by contemporary Filarete in his account, who otherwise pays no mind to Donatello’s other work, the stucco reliefs over the aedicule and along the dome, for the Sacristy.[4] Where rich bronze doors like these, with figurated relief work, were typically situated in Quattrocento Florence were public spaces, not private chapels[5] – to name only the most poignant example, Ghiberti’s doors for the Florentine Baptistery.

Fig. 7

Fig. 8

The iconography of Donatello’s doors mirrors the marriage of private and public suggested by their very presence within the chapel. The door to the left of the sacresella is known simply as the Martyr’s Door due to its figures all holding palm branches, traditional symbols of martyrdom.[6] Only the identity of four amongst them is discernible: St. Stephen with stone in the crown of his head, St. Lawrence with gridiron, and Sts. Cosmas and Damian with their small medicine boxes.[7] Like the thematic cycle of the St. John along the tondi, the ranks of martyrs and elect would have been appropriate subjects for a funerary chapel,[8] and the Sts. Cosmas and Damian not only invoked the Medici family by way of patronymic (they were the medici, or doctor saints), but served as surrogate saints for Cosimo and Lorenzo Medici, who by this point had taken over the decoration of the Sacristy following their father, Giovanni’s death.

It is the other door, however, to the right of the sacrasella, the so-called “Apostle’s Door,” and its uppermost two panels that belies the contemporary circumstances motivating the Sacristy’s decorative program. To the left are St. John the Baptist and St. John the Evangelist (fig. 9). This was an unusual pairing: John the Baptist had never made an appearance in any Medici imagery until now, but his introduction, and concurrently, the implications of Florence’s own patron saint, conjoined with the Medici’s patron saint is clear enough.[9] To the right of the two Johns, are Sts. Peter and Paul, traditional symbols of the papacy (fig. 9).[10]

Fig. 9

The contiguity of on the left side, an image that joins Medici and Florence through the representation of their respective saints, with, on the right, a symbol of the papacy, bears in turn on decoration of the Sacrasella ceiling, attributed to Pesello, situated behind the doors (fig. 10), the astronomic map memorializing then the perhaps most momentous achievement of the Medici within the annals of Florence. The date mapped out – according to one school of interpretation – is that of July 6, 1439, the Day of Union, when Florence was thronged with festivities following the conclusion of the Council of Ferrara-Florence when the Articles of Union were signed. These events had largely been made possible through the patronage of the Medici; Pope Eugenius IV, who presided over the attempt to renew union with the Greek Church, had fetched Cosimo from exile in 1434 when the Pope had fled his enemies in Rome for Florence. The Council, begun in 1438, dragged on to little effect over a year in Ferrera, and the provision of amenities for the representatives of the Greek Church had gone over budget; subsequently Cosimo negotiated the Council’s relocation to Florence, where he took on the task of bankrolling it. In doing so Cosimo was fulfilling the aspirations and hope apparently held by many for their city. A prophecy written by Fra Antonio de Rieti in 1422 reads “. . .The Florentine lily is seen putting out ever more beautiful branches, flwoers and leaves until it covered all of Italy . . . [and] the Pope would fly to the protection of the lily, that is, of Florence.”[11] Just below the sacrasella dome, vines and lilies threaten to overgrow their borders, likely a nod to Rieti’s then-famous words. Considered in conjunction with the scheme of the rest of the Old Sacritsty, the sacrasella dome thus completes the dialectic of magnificence espoused therein: private and public forms and functions intertwine the family's personal, dynastic glory with the honors that their power  bestowed upon the whole city, articulating that magnificence did not just consist in personal virtue, a keen and discerning eye for expenditures, but was a civic virtue as well, that would hoist Florence to a position of international significance.  -Stewart Adams

Fig. 10

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[1] Howard Saalman, Filippo Brunelleschi: The Buildings (University Park, PA: Pennsylvania State UP, 1993), 123.

[2] For another interpretation of the Old Sacristy, as it relates to Cosimo’s impressive body of Hermetic knowledge see Gabirel Blumenthanl, “Science of the Magi: The Old Sacristy of San Lorenz and The Medici,” Notes in the History of Art  6, no. 1 (Fall 1986): 1-11.

[3] Ibid., 128, 140.

[4] John T Paoletti,"Donatello's Bronze Doors for the Old Sacristy of San Lorenzo," Artibus Et Historiae 11, no. 21 (1990): 58.

[5] Ibid., 53, 58.

[6] Ibid., 44

[7] Ibid.

[8] Ibid., 61

[9] Ibid.

[10] Ibid..

[11] Patricia Fortini Brown, "Laetentur Caeli: The Council of Florence and the Astronomical Fresco in the Old Sacristy," Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes 44 (1981): 180.

Is Isis still Egyptian in Greece and Rome?

Isis (seated right) welcoming the Greek Heroine, Temple of Isis, Pompeii

Two very important aspects of Ancient Egyptian culture is art and the gods. Ancient Egyptians used art to portray their rulers, show their everyday lives, and to worship their gods. When most people think of Ancient Egyptians their minds usually go to the pyramids. While the pyramids are architectural masterpieces; what is even more intriguing is the art found inside the pyramids in my opinion. The insides of most pyramids, which are in essence tombs, often have depictions of the deceased and of the gods. Ancient Egyptians, throughout the majority of their history, practiced a polytheistic religion. The gods and goddesses were pivotal influences in their lives. Much of the Egyptian traditions and deities have been borrowed by the Greeks and the Romans. Isis in particular has many temples dedicated to her in Greece and Rome, including the Temple of Isis in Pompeii and the Temple of Isis in Delos. The Greeks moved into Egypt around 332 BC. They were immediately awed by the Egyptian monuments and architecture. The Romans entered Egypt much later, around 30 BC. They both entered Egypt towards the end of the Late Period. By this time, Isis was a well established goddess and widely worshipped. The Greeks and the Romans were fascinated by the Egyptian gods and goddesses. They created many paintings and sculptures honoring Egyptian deities. The Egyptian goddess Isis was very popular with the Greeks and Romans and they adopted her as one of their own deities. When they did this, they happened to make several key changes to her appearance. 

Isis' appearance is quite different from how she was traditionally depicted in Egypt. Some of the most noticeable changes is that her skin tone lightened considerably, and she wears Greek/Roman dress. What would be the purpose of the ancient Greeks and Romans adopting a foreign goddess and then completely changing her appearance? Now, the Greeks did start this new tradition. The Greeks were in Egypt first, and the Romans were known to copy Greek paintings and sculptures. Also, some would argue that there is no ill intent when one culture changes the appearance of another cultures' adopted deity. Perhaps the Greeks and Romans changed her appearance to better fit into her society. The Ancient Greeks and Romans were huge fans of aesthetics. They often depicted Isis as an ideal Greek/Roman woman. They could have depicted her this way to better assimilate her into their society. Another option is that they found her appearance too primitive and wanted to make her appear more “civilized”. Regardless of the reason, the real question is whether or not these images of Isis, in the Greek and Roman context, should be considered depictions of her at all.

Isis did not start to truly gain popularity until the New Kingdom. However, by the Late Period Egypt she was still very relevant. Her widespread popularity is most likely one of the reasons the Greeks and Romans became so interested in her. One of the reasons Isis is so influential is because she is the sister-wife of Osiris. According to mythology, Osiris and Isis, along with their siblings Seth and Nephthys, are the children of Geb and Nut.  Isis is considered a powerful mother goddess in Egyptian mythology. She is also associated with mourning and magic. Isis was associated with being the mother of the pharaohs as well. 

Iconographically speaking, Isis was a very prominent figure. Isis is often represented in her anthropomorphic form. She is seen as a woman with a long white sheath dress. She is also often seen crowned with the sign for throne in hieroglyphs. She sometimes wears a necklace and is seen with an ankh. Also, in many reliefs and images, Isis is seen in her mourning state, with her hands upraised in lamentation, or outstretched across the deceased. One of the most common ways Isis is depicted in art is with her wings. Her arms turn into wings, and she often seen half kneeling with her wings outstretched on either side of her. This image is one that has often be popularized and used to describe the goddess.This association with wings could be due to Isis’ status as an avian goddess. However, the Ancient Greeks and Romans depict Isis in a very different manner. Honestly, she is almost unrecognizable. She is often depicted in long white robes and perhaps a snake. What is most shocking is her skin tone difference. She is always white with Greek/Roman features. Traditionally, Isis’ complexions ranges from olive to a deep brown; which is a definite difference to how the Greeks and Romans depicted her.

One important question, that a lot of art historians don’t think about, is whether or not we should acknowledge these depictions of Isis in the Greek and Roman context. It is important to consider that most art historians would argue that this is merely a depiction of Isis. However, when the transformation is so drastic it does raise question. In my opinion, I appreciate the Greek and Roman depictions of Isis as works of art and vital pieces of ancient history. However, I do not think these depictions should be glorified or even acknowledged as actual depictions of Isis. There needs to be a clear distinction that they are Greek and Roman depictions of her, and not traditionally accurate representations of this great Egyptian goddess. -Kristin Davis

References:

Aldred, Cyril. Egyptian Art. New York: Oxford UP, 1980. 

Robins, Gay. The Art of Ancient Egypt. Cambridge, MA: Harvard UP, 1997.

“Roman Egypt”, accessed October 19, 2016, http://www.metmuseum.org/toah/hd/regy/hd_regy.htm

"When the Greeks Ruled Egypt”, accessed October 19, 2016, http://www.artic.edu/exhibition/when-greeks-ruled-egypt

Wilkinson, Richard H. The Complete Gods and Goddesses of Ancient Egypt. New York: Thames 

& Hudson, 2003.