March 13, 2014 § Leave a comment
Dimitri Nakassis brought to my attention that Pyla-Koutsopetria Archaeological Project Alumnus, Michael Brown, had published an article in Annual of the British School at Athens on the political geography of southeast Cyprus in the Late Cypriot period. The article derives from his dissertation which focused on the settlement landscape of southeast Cyprus in the Late Bronze Age and has already informed our analysis of the Pyla littoral.
Brown beings with a discussion of the Gialias River valley that flows from the Troodos foothills north of Larnaka to the east coast at Enkomi. His article become more interesting for readers of this blog when he takes on the fraught task of undermining the political orthodoxy that the prominent, Late Bronze Age site of atop the Kokkinokremos plateau was somehow associated with the arrival of Aegean settlers.
Vassos Karageorghis, Pyla-Kokkinokremos’s most recent excavator, has tirelessly advanced this interpretation of the site and while scholars have generally met this analysis with skepticism, the impressive location of Kokkinokremos, its casemate style architecture, and seemingly abrupt appearance in the Late Cypriot IIC period (and equally abrupt disappearance around 1200 BC) has underscored the unusual nature of this site. From the perspective of political geography, its location is curious as it represents one of three large settlement sites on Larnaka bay alongside Hala Sultan Tekke and Bronze Age Kition. It remains difficult to understand the political or economic circumstances that allowed two contemporary settlement to develop very close to each other (Hala Sultan Tekke and Kition) and a third some 10 km to the east.
Brown focused some significant attention on the area around Pyla-Kokkinokremos and followed our general arguments from various PKAP publications: the main asset available for the development of Pyla littoral and Pyla-Kokkinokremos was likely the presence of a now-infilled embayment that formed a natural harbor at the site. Moreover, for the Bronze Age Brown has pointed out that there is evidence for earlier settlement in vicinity of Pyla-Kokkinokremos at the sites of Steno, Pyla-Stavro, and Verghies. Each of these smaller, less monumental sites, demonstrated a population who may have already availed themselves to some of the environmental assets of the region.
For Brown, the catalyst for the development of the monumental site of Pyla-Kokkinokremos was the maritime connections available through the natural embayment at the base of the plateau. Without entirely dismissing site’s fortified character, he gently suggests that the casemate wall was more architecturally imposing than militarily robust. There is evidence – albeit unpublished and only obliquely mentioned in this article (“although possibly not an uninterrupted ‘fortification’”) – that the casemate walls had openings to the exterior of the settlement. Brown noted that this would not have detracted from the appearance of the walls at the site, but would have reduced their quality as fortification. Perhaps, then, the wall around Kokkinokremos was more of a mark of civic identity in the region and its orientation toward the sea.
The maritime orientation of the site perhaps indicated strong connections with the Levant. Brown concludes his article with a discussion of Alashiya, a word that might refer to part of Cyprus in Syrian and Babylonian texts. While not all scholars agree that Alashiya refers to Cyprus, Alashiya was noted as a source of copper. Brown offers the interesting observation that the site of Pyla-Kokkinokremos is only 10 km from the copper mining area around Troulli which was exploited at least as late as the Roman period and maybe as early as the Bronze Age. Perhaps, then, the location of Kokkinokremos allowed the community to engage productively with metallurgical resources, avoid the concentration of economic and political power at Kition and Hala Sultan Tekke.
Brown’s article summarizes a raft of interpretations of the Pyla littoral that both developed during and informed the interpretation of this region that will appear in the monograph describing our work in the wider Pyla microregion. It is good to see some of Michael’s work in print and I hope we can incorporate citations to this article in our volume.
January 30, 2014 § 2 Comments
One of the trickiest things about having a blog is making the decisions about how far one can stray from the main themes or topics that my audience expects. Every now and then, I feel the overwhelming urge to blog about something unrelated to Mediterranean archaeology, teaching, or academic life, and recently I’ve had to itch to blog about my audiophile habits. This is in part because I’ve been riding my bike on a magnetic trainer indoors this winter. This is boring, but I do have plenty of blank time to relax and think about random things.
The past few weeks, I’ve been staring at this crazy pair of old speakers that I think I acquired from a graduate student buddy. They are Realistic Nova 10 speakers. They were introduced in 1981 and have 8 inch drivers paired with extended range tweeters and a 8 inch passive radiators in sealed cabinets. They’re not big and not unattractive in that vintage kind of way. They sound sort of like crap, with a pretty shrill upper midrange and almost no bass extension. Presumably the passive radiators was an effort to compensate for that, but even with the passive radiators these speakers only extend down to 80 Hz! The tweeters are super live and harsh even when driven by a Peachtree Decco with a tube stage. This is all bad, but they were free and their main job is to provide enough of a din to prevent me from noticing that my legs and lungs hurt while churning out stationary miles on the bike. In other words, they serve a purpose.
They are a far cry from my “grown up system” in my living room which features more exotic equipment from Audio Research and Zu, and not nearly as refined as my office system at home with a vintage Marantz 2235B and a pair of lovely Energy bookshelf speakers. (My office at work has a sweet little NAD 312 (the last iteration of the 3020) driving a pair of Pioneer SP-BS41s and a little Vali headphone amp from Schiit). This got me thinking about how these completely different system could exist side-by-side in the same house. The gear ranges from the early 1980s (the Realistic speakers and the Marantz) to the 1990s (the Energy bookshelf speakers and the NAD) and rather more recently. The points of origin range from Japan (Marantz, Realistic) to China (Marantz) to the U.S.A. (Zu, Audio Research) and Canada (Energy). Despite all of this stereo equipment being “disposable” consumer goods, they nevertheless present a diverse, diachronic, and functional assemblage.
As I’ve been spinning out the miles on my bike, I started to wonder about how this kind of diversity in an assemblage could inform how I think about pottery in 7th century Cyprus. The 7th century has traditionally been seen as a period of decline, but recent scholarship has suggested that this perspective misrepresents the persistent vitality of the island. In particular, scholars have recognized that high-quality consumer goods (so to speak) like Cypriot Red Slip pottery continued to be produced and circulated on the island well into the late 7th century (and perhaps later) as did more pedestrian types like Dhiorios cooking pots from kilns in western Cyprus (that circulated widely in the region) or Late Roman Type 1 amphoras and their decedents produced either on the island or in nearby Cilicia in Asia Minor.
What is even more striking is that Marcus Rautman and others have identified rather crude handmade vessels in the same contexts as more “international” objects like Cypriot Red Slip. At first, we might be inclined to argue that these handmade vessels reflect a general decline in the quality of material culture associated with these periods, but their existence alongside more refined objects like Cypriot Red Slip suggests that the 7th century consumer continued to have access to finer quality vessels, but chose for whatever reason to select relatively poorly made vessels. The obvious (if partial) answer is that economic problems in the 7th century led to a decline in the market for high quality red slipped wares, but not its complete collapse. This is not too dissimilar to my decision to use the Realistic Nova 10 speakers on my basement system. They were free and (I’ve been told that) the (very) local economy could not support more stereo equipment at this juncture.
Fair enough. The result was an assemblage of equipment that is functionally similar, but, nevertheless, represents a diverse set of economic circumstances that accounts for relatively modest gear interspersed with somewhat more expensive and refined equipment.
January 27, 2014 § Leave a comment
This past week I’ve been catching up on some of my reading on 7th and 8th century Cyprus for an article on settlement in the these centuries that I’m preparing for an edited volume. I’ve particularly enjoy three contributions by Luca Zavagno from 2011, 2012, and 2013. Read together, they provide a short-book-like overview of the pressing issues in understand the social, economic, and political situation on the island during a tremendously tumultuous period in its history.
Economically, Zavagno goes to great lengths to demonstrate that Cyprus was hardly in the state of economic collapse or stagnation during the 7th century. While the Persian wars, revolt of Heraclius, Arab conquests, and subsequent raids on the island disrupted economic activity to some extent, the basic economic structure of the island and its relationship with neighboring regions survived intact. He details the fragmentary evidence for economic ties to Asia Minor, the Levant, and Egypt throughout the 7th century and argues that these reflect the persistence of longstanding patterns of economic connectivity. The difficulty in recognizing these patterns stems not from their absence, but from the difficulties in consistently identifying and dating ceramics from these periods. In an extensive 2011 treatment of coinage on the island in Byzantion, Zavagno demonstrated that not only did the Cypriot economy continue to function into the 7th century, but it continued to be monetized with a range of both local and region, official and irregular currency appearing on the island suggesting both markets, trade, and small scale exchange continued on the island.
These, of course, observations are not new, but our struggle to identify consistently the archaeological evidence for activity during the 7th century has shaped how we understand settlement in Cyprus for decades. One of the strengths of Zavagno’s work is that he synthesizes the fragmentary evidence for settlement activity across the island. The reconstruction of buildings at Salamis-Constantia, evidence from Paphos, Polis, Soli and Kourion, and difficult, but widely accept evidence from architectural change on the Karpas peninsula paints an increasingly expansive picture of settlement throughout the 7th century. The evidence for fortification at Salamis, Paphos, and Amathus as well as the less well-understood sites along the Kyrenia range suggests that there was some effort to invest in defense of vulnerable populations after the raids of the 640s and 650s. Finally, Zavagno deals with the tricky issues of an Arab garrison stationed at Paphos. It would be interesting to understand how this garrison was supplied and whether it was large enough to influence the structure of local settlement.
Along similar lines, Zavagno argued that Cyprus played a key role in Byzantine military strategy in the region, and it would be interesting to consider how this might have influence settlement. If we understand the “busy countryside” of the 6th century as at least partly the result of Cypriot agricultural products moving north through the Aegean to troops stationed on the Danubian frontier, then we might want to reflect on how the strategic requirements of the fleet and troops moved to Cyprus as a staging area influences local markets and production patterns.
The most significant political issue in Zavagno’s work is the exact nature of the famed “condominium” which evidently stipulated that both Arabs and the Byzantines could govern and extract taxes from the island. In his 2011/2012 contribution to Dumbarton Oaks Papers, Zavagno makes clear that our understanding of the 7th century and the condominium is inexorably linked to the current political situation on the island. One might take this even further to argue that sorting out the 7th and 8th century on the island is a product of the narrative of nationalism that looks to Late Antiquity as a seminal moment in the formation of national identity. To be fair, much of this derives from the West where scholars have looked to the fall of the Roman Empire and the Early Middle Ages for the rise in both ethnic communities and polities that formed keys aspects of national myths.
The relationship between political hegemony on the island, related economic relationships, and settlement remains a difficult and open area question. The continued prosperity of the church, the ability of the two states to collect tax revenue, and the persistence of local elites suggested that the political situation did not adversely affect the economic realities of the island and this has meaning for how we understand the productive environment of Cyprus and, in turn, settlement. Luca Zavagno’s work has moved us closer to sorting out the economic, political, and settlement structure of the island during this tumultuous and opaque era.
January 20, 2014 § 5 Comments
Over the next two months, I’ve been asked to write an essay on settlement in 7th and 8th century Cyprus. My work at Polis-Chrysochous and at the site of Pyla-Koutsopetria puts me in a good position to think broadly of this transitional period with two specific points of reference.
The coastal site of Pyla-Koutsopetria appears to go into steep decline after the middle of the 7th century coinciding, it would seem, increased activity of the Arab fleet in middle decades of the 7th. During the 5th-7th century, there is every indication that the site was prosperous coastal emporium. The almost complete absence of material dating to the 8th or 9th centuries would seem to indicate that the site no long constituted a substantial locus of settlement on the south coast of the island. Of course, it is possible that the population simply moved to the east or west of our survey area or declined as the small embayment present infilled or larger economic demand for the agricultural produce in the area declined. In other words, we have no evidence that the decline of the site related directly to the activity of the Arab fleet.
Polis-Chrysochous, or ancient Arsinoe, appears to have had a different history. On the one hand, there is some evidence that life at the site was disrupted in the mid-7th century including damage to at least one of the two prominent churches revealed through excavation. On the other hand, the church was modified extensively in the mid-7th century with architecturally sophisticated additions that did more than just restore the building to its earlier state. In fact, the addition of a narthex, a portico along the church’s south wall, and a barrel vaulted roof produced a building that echoed the design of well-known basilicas elsewhere on the island. The massive deposit of rubble and pottery associated with these modification establishes beyond a doubt a terminus post quem of the mid-7th century.
Using these two sites as points of reference, I think I can address the six major issues that influence how we talk about the 7th and 8th century on Cyprus in general and that directly impact what we can say about settlement.
1. Methods and Evidence: Survey, Excavation, Architecture, and Texts
First, there is the reality that our textual sources are problematic and fragmentary deriving from a range of genres, historiographic perspectives, and languages. They do not present a cohesive picture of the island provide much insight into larger issues of settlement. In fact, some sources suggest that the population of the island was nearly all sold into slavery and removed (e.g. the Soli inscription) whereas other inscriptions seem to indicate that the island remained reasonably prosperous despite Arab incursions. Archaeological evidence likewise follows this confusing pattern with excavated sites showing greater signs of continuity with 6th century activities than the landscape revealed by intensive survey. Architecture is even more revealing with several well-know churches preserving decoration datable to the 7th and 8th century. In the end, textual and archaeological evidence leave us with two different, mutually exclusive stories for this period of transition.
2. Ceramic chronology.
Part of the issue is the difficult nature of 7th and 8th century ceramics. Despite the significant amount of scholarship from the past decade that has pushed the date of well-know fine wares and transport amphora from the comfortable confines of the 6th century into the wild margins of the 8th, there has been little large scale reassessment of ceramic assemblages on the island. We have continued to note how individual “type fossils” like Late Roman 1 amphora or Cypriot Red Slip forms could date later than originally thought, but we have only begun to use this knowledge to imagine 7th or 8th century assemblages on the island (outside a few, well-known examples like the pottery workshops at Dhiorios or Marcus Rautman’s identification of hand-made pottery at Kopetria). Until the redating of major wares informs the visibility of locally produced or “common” wares on Cyprus, the 7th and 8th centuries will continue to be rather difficult to identify in surface survey and in more modest contexts where imported or fine ceramics are absent.
3. Definition and Diversity in Settlement
Whatever the shortcomings of the current state of our knowledge about the 7th and 8th century, it is clear that something changed in the nature of settlement on the island. The “crowded countryside” of Late Antique Cyprus gave way to a much less clearly occupied landscape. At the same time, there appears to have been changes to the urban landscape with activities at sites like Kourion showing dramatic reductions in scope and prosperity whereas at sites like Polis, Paphos, and Salamis-Constantia showing signs of continued settlement and the continued functioning of some urban institutions like the church, civic government, and markets.
What is missing from our understanding of settlement on the island is the link between these urban sites and the countryside. Elsewhere in the Byzantine world, the emergence of villages and village economies characterized the change in settlement pattern during this period. Urban areas saw contraction and fortification. Thus far there is little evidence for these phenomena on Cyprus suggesting that the primary organization of settlement and rural production functioned along different lines. Perhaps the intensely urbanized character of Roman and Late Roman Cyprus continued to shape the organization of settlement and rural activities in the Early Byzantine period. Perhaps new institutions like monasteries exerted a stronger influence on Cyprus than elsewhere.
It may also be that the massive disruptions to the population of Cyprus brought about by the Arab raids, captive taking expeditions, and forced migrations, transformed the otherwise persistent landscape of the countryside into one characterized by short term and contingent settlement as a response to the rapidly changing demographic situation. We know that short term settlements tend to be less visible in the countryside than long term habitation. So perhaps the issue of rural settlement on Cyprus is one of visibility rather than presence.
4. Trade, Connectivity, and the Local Production
Contextualizing much of the conversation about 7th and 8th century Cyprus is the nature of economic activity in the Eastern Mediterranean during these centuries. As scholars have begun to recognize that the political and military events in this period disrupted trade as much as caused it to decline, new models for understanding the Early Byzantine economy have emphasized the change in character as well as change in scale. If the Cypriot economy and settlement in the 6th century felt the influence of the annona trade between Egypt and Constantinople (e.g. the settlement at Peyia in southwest Cyprus being warehousing site) and the administrative reorganization that funneled the agricultural produce of Cyprus to the needs of the army at the frontiers (perhaps leading to the prosperity of the sites at Dreamer’s Bay and Pyla-Koutsopetria), then the economy and settlement of the 7th and 8th century perhaps responded to the more fluid and changing opportunities and political situation of those centuries. For example, the changing needs and power of the central government in Constantinople may have spurred the decline of sites that emerged in response to the command economy of Late Antiquity.
If the unsettled economic and political circumstances of the 7th and 8th century, may have led to more dynamic responses from Cypriots who looked to limit risk and maximize opportunities in more contingent ways. In other words, if we accept the possibility that rural settlement was less visible during these centuries (rather than absent), it may be that short-term settlement in a “contingent countryside” reflects a more situational approach to a more dynamic economy.
5. Administrative Structures: Church and State
The persistence of certain institutions on Cyprus – namely the church and the political and social apparatus of the Byzantine state – demonstrate that despite the the large scale disruptions to the Late Roman world, certain aspect of life continued on Cyprus relatively unchanged. Recent work on lead seals from Cyprus show that the ecclesiastical, administrative, and aristocratic hierarchies continued to function on the island. These structures demonstrate the persistence of official ties to the capital and to the underlying legal and social institutions that would maintain, say, the prestige of local aristocrats or the position of the church as an economic engine in the community.
So, if the contingent countryside reflects the instability of Mediterranean politics and economy, then the persistence of some activity in urban centers demonstrates the ongoing presence of traditional elites attempting to continue to perform their traditional function in particular dynamic environment. The reconstruction of churches at Soli, Paphos, Polis, and elsewhere suggest that the church continued to be able to marshal and deploy economic resources from communities. The reconstruction of aqueducts and perhaps some civic buildings at Salamis-Constantia shows that certain civic functions continued, albeit on a more modest scale. Finally, the apparent abandonment of the site Kourion may reflect the intervention of community leaders to relocate key institutions and salvage existing resources from the site.
6. Events: Invasions, Forced Migrations, and Settlements.
Finally, events have long shaped the master narrative of the decline in the Roman Mediterranean. The Arab raids of the middle decades of the 7th century, the loss of Egypt and Syria, and the so-called “condominium period” have long shaped our understanding of settlement, demography, and economy on the island. On the one hand, it is impossible not to see things like a substantial Arab fleet patrolling the waters off the island’s coast or the fundamental transformation of the large-scale economic unity of the Eastern Mediterranean impacting events on Cyprus. In fact, it would naive to somehow argue that these events did not impact life on the island.
On the other hand, punctuating the history of the island with these events undermines any understanding that sees Cypriot society as dynamic agents in their own history. By shifting our attention to patterns of activity on the island and prioritizing them in our analysis, we open the door to appreciating the strategies that communities and institutions used to adapt to changing times. It provides more than simply an answer to tired questions of “continuity and change” (that largely reside within a discourse of development toward nationalism) and allows us to focus our attention of the mechanisms that produced the seductive patterns that have meant so much to our understanding of the modern world.
January 16, 2014 § Leave a comment
I was pretty excited to discover that the most recent volume of the Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research was largely devoted to recent research on Iron Age Cyprus and edited by Derek Counts and Maria Iacovou. The introduction situates the contributions as fresh look at at Iron Age Cyprus in the spirit of the important 1997 volume of BASOR dedicated to the same issues, while at the same avoiding being a sequel or follow up to it. This reflects the remarkable dynamism of recent scholarship on Iron Age Cyprus that has continued to push beyond questions posed in 1997 as well as the growing quantity of data available for the study of this period.
For people who don’t regularly follow scholarship on Cyprus, the Iron Age is important, among other reasons, because it witnessed the formation of states centered on urban areas that shaped the political, cultural, and economic identity of the island for centuries even after these “city kingdoms” ceased to be autonomous entities. The important cities of Paphos, Salamis, Kition, and Amathus all appear to have consolidated as independent political units over the course of the Iron Age. Moreover, the relationship between the Iron Age polities and the kingdoms (we presume) of the Bronze Age remains obscure and the debates over continuity and discontinuity at various sites and among the polities on the island represents a contentious and significant issue in the understanding of Cyprioit antiquity. At the core of much of the debate is the ethnic character of the leading Iron Age cities on Cyprus and the “arrival of the Greeks” either at the end of Bronze Age or in the very early Iron Age. Considering the modern political issues at play on the island, issues of ethnic identity in antiquity have real modern implications.
Much of this larger narrative is in the background of the contributions to this volume. I wish it had appeared about 6 months earlier so I could have incorporated it into the discussion of the Iron Age at Pyla-Koutsopetria that appeared in the conclusion to our recently submitted monograph. Of particular significance is S. Fourrier’s work on the rural sanctuaries associated with Kition. She argues that the territorialization of Kition did not occur until the Classical period rather than during the earlier Iron Age and associated it with Kition’s conquest of Idalion in the 5th century. In other words, the territorial limits of the kingdom of Kition remains in flux and its control over the countryside and its resources was not fully established.
This challenges what I attempted to argue in the conclusions to the Pyla-Koutsopetria volume where I observe that the Iron Age site situated atop the prominent coastal ridge of Vigla might reflect the first phase in the expansion of Kition into its eastern hinterland.
View of the Iron Age site at Pyla-Vigla from the coastal plain.
I blogged about it here. I suggest that the scatter of Iron Age material across a number of units coincided with the well-know statue of Bes with a dedication to Reshef now in the Louvre with its Phoenician inscription. D. Counts has argued that this statue is a hybridized image that evokes certain aspect of Phoenician deities as well iconography common on Cyprus. From this same area, we also identified an assemblage of figurines probably dating, at earliest, to the Classical period along with a few sherds that are likely Cypro-Geometric in date.
She noted that many of the extraterritorial sanctuaries in the territory of Kition share characteristics of cults associated with Idalion. One of the key figures in the cult life of Idalion is Reshef and it is rather remarkable that Fourrier did not mention the statue of this deity from the area of Pyla. If we follow her argument, the presence of this statue from the coastal zone of Pyla might suggest that Idalion exerted some influence over this maritime zone. Complicating this is the possibility that some extra-urban areas like Pyla-Vigla formed part of a larger “homogeneous cultural region” where the iconography of the “Master of the Lion” (typically associated with Heracles-Milqart) intermixed with Phoenician influences derived from communities at Kition, Idalion, and elsewhere in the region.
Iron Age Material
The significance of this for our analysis of the Pyla-Vigla Iron Age component goes even further. Fourrier observed that extra-urban sanctuaries may have originated to serve the needs of local communities before becoming parts of territorialization strategies of the emerging Iron Age polities. The close relationship between some of these sites and earlier Late Bronze Age sites reflected both practical advantages of the location of Bronze Age sites and the availability of building material, as well as the efforts to connect with a shadowy, if physically present past. The site at Pyla-Koutsopetria certainly fits this pattern in that it stands in close proximity and visual range of the Late Bronze Age site of Pyla-Kokkinokremos.
If we accept Fourrier’s argument for the late development of Kition’s territorialization, then we might be wise to narrate the history of Iron Age activity at the site of Pyla-Vigla in a different way. It seems probable that the site originated as a settlement in the shadow of the long abandoned Late Bronze Age site of Pyla-Kokkinokremos in the Cypro-Geometric Period. By the Cypro-Archaic period, the site appeared as part of the larger Mesoria community with its complex and hybridized cultural identity and perhaps had a relationship with the nearby inland site of Idalion. With the territorialization of Kition in the 5th century, the site develops even further and shows signs of ongoing cult activity as well as expansion. This activity persists throughout the Hellenistic period and into the Roman era before declining in Late Antiquity.
January 6, 2014 § Leave a comment
There is an old Norwegian folk saying that circulates in these parts. This wisdom divides the world into hedgehogs and squirrels.
The hedgehog lives in the comfortable world of a relatively temperate hedge protected from the elements, with a steady diet of grubs, and the secure knowledge that it can simply roll up into a ball to escape its enemies.
The squirrel, on the other hand, lives out on the limbs of trees and has to survive both the summer heat and the winter cold without benefit of the comfortable hedge. To survive winter, the squirrel has to “diversify its bonds” by hiding nuts in various places. If it can’t find its nuts or they’re buried under deep snow, the squirrel will scavenge for any kind of food. At other times, the squirrel has been known to seek out its neighbors and packs of three or four squirrels have been known to take down rabbits, cats, and even small dogs. The point of this folk saying is that the hedgehog live a life of comfort because of the security of their hedge, but the squirrel has to constantly adapt to new challenges. Or something like that.
I am obviously a squirrel and I feel like I live on the precarious and exposed limbs of trees. As a result, I have done all I can to diversify my production this semester. I have no idea whether any of these papers will come to anything and matter, but since I don’t have a comfortable hedge, this is what they look like:
1. 3D Models and Disciplinary Practice in Mediterranean Archaeology. This is a 20 minute paper for Eric Poehler’s Digital Archaeological Practice: A Workshop on the use of Technology in the Field next month at the University of Massachusetts. The paper will consider how the practice of collecting 3D data with photography (trench side structure-from-motion imaging) could impact disciplinary practices. It will continue to develop some ideas that I first articulated in a longish paper that I delivered here at UND in 2010 and then refined a bit for a paper that I gave at last year’s AIA (on YouTubes here), plus some new ideas gleaned from the 3D Thursday project.
2. Teaching History in a Scale-Up Classroom. I learned this fall that the paper Cody Stanley and I submitted to the History Teacher on our experiences teaching in the Scale-Up classroom received a “revise and resubmit”. This was good news since it was the first effort on our part to write something like this. The bad news is, of course, that now we have to revise it and there is an April deadline.
3. Settlement on Cyprus in the 7th and 8th Centuries. I was invited to contribute an article to an edited volume on the Early Byzantine transition across the Mediterranean that evolved from a conference held in 2011 at the University of Cyprus. The island of Cyprus is interesting in that it did not follow some of the patterns seen elsewhere in the Mediterranean. For example, there is relatively little evidence for urban contraction or the construction of fortified places across the island (with a few, well-known exceptions) and recent work at Polis, for example, has suggested that the disruptions associated with the mid-7th century may have been relatively brief and followed by a period of rebuilding. This paper needs a good bit of thought and work and will benefit from the help of my collaborators both at PKAP and Polis on Cyprus.
4. Man Camps at the SAAs. At the end of April, I’m giving a paper on my work with the North Dakota Man Camp Project at the Society for American Archaeology annual meeting in Austin. The paper is titled “The North Dakota Man Camp Project: The Archaeology of Workforce Housing in the Bakken Oil Patch of North Dakota” and it should draw heavily from our almost-ready-for-primetime article which should appear as an advanced working draft on this blog soon! More than that, I hope to get to do a little research on workforce housing in the most recent Texas oil boom.
The good thing about being a squirrel is that I never get bored snerking around the same old hedge eating grubs, but, on the other hand, maintaining diversity is exhausting! Wish me luck!
December 18, 2013 § Leave a comment
After a two week hiatus to work on the preliminary report from our work in the man camps, I’ve been able to return to my preliminary report on our work at the South Basilica at Polis-Chrysochous on Cyprus. I’ve managed to pull together much of the work that we’ve done over the past few study seasons into a single document and have begun to shuffle the various parts into some kind of rational order. In the process of doing this, I always discover little issues that require additional research or documentation. This week I had to think more carefully about the narthex and apse of the South Basilica. So today, I’ll amuse you with a brief discussion considering the arrangement of the narthex. Next week, I’ll muse on the apse.
We have assigned the narthex to the second phase of the building on the basis of its relationship to the south portico. Material from beneath the south portico is contemporary with material associated with what we believe to be a foundation cut along the west wall of the narthex. This material is all 7th century and seems to date to about a half-century or so later than the first phase of the building. The challenge, then, is that we have to imagine the first phase of the basilica at Polis without a narthex.
Churches without narthexes are rare on Cyprus. There are, however, two from the nearby site of Peyia. The Baptistery Basilica at Peyia lacks a narthex, but the irregular west wall of the church hints that the epikopeion complex to the west made it impossible to construct a narthex in the narrow space. A similar concession to space probably accounts for the rather irregular shape of the narthex at the Chrysopolitissa basilica in Paphos. For the Baptistery Church at Peyia, the location of the baptistery to the south of this building hints that this building may not have been a typical church and was arranged to serve the needs of the baptismal rite rather than the standard liturgy.
To the east of this church stood the Central Basilica at Peyia. This church has generally been dated to the 6th century and perhaps the reign of Justinian owing to its centrally placed ambo and use of Proconnesian marble. In place of a traditional narthex, this church had a small, but elaborate atrium. The location of the earlier Baptistery Basilica to the west may have made it difficult to build both an atrium and a narthex for this church. The decision, then, was to include an open atrium rather than traditional enclosed narthex spanning the western side of the building.
(From Maguire 2012)
View of the Baptistery and Central Basilica from the West
The decision to forego a traditional narthex in the relatively elaborate Central Basilica may suggest that the narthex was not an absolute requirement for liturgical practices on Cyprus.
Other examples of churches on Cyprus without narthexes are relatively rare. On the Karpas the two churches at Aphendrika (the Asomatos and Panayia) may have lacked narthexes in their earliest phase as perhaps did the church at Bedestan in Nicosia, but short of systematic excavation this will remain an open question. The earliest phase of the basilica at Maroni-Petrera appears to have lacked a narthex, but the early (5th c?) date of this building and its generally irregular shape makes it difficult to associate with other churches on the island in general.
The absence of a narthex in the first phase of the South Basilica appears to be a genuine anomaly on Cyprus. The presence of a major road some 10 m to the west of the basilica’s west wall might have left an informal open space near its western entrances making the formal, covered space of a narthex unnecessary. It is interesting that the addition of the narthex coincided with the addition of the south portico which opened onto what may have been a walled courtyard to the south of the building. A tiny fragment of wall that leans against the eastern most wall of the south portico dates the east wall of the courtyard to after the construction of the south portico.
So, perhaps the first phase of the church simply relied upon open space or a roughly enclosed courtyard to the west of the church that some time later was replaced with a formal narthex. The courtyard, as a result, was shifted to the south of the church and complemented with the south portico. It is tempting to see the atrium or open courtyard as serving an important function. If our reconstruction is correct, the south atrium would have opened onto a major east-west road through the neighborhood. The newly constructed narthex would have provided access to this courtyard or atrium through the southwest room which linked the narthex to the south portico. Paradoxically, then, the need for an open space around the basilica may have been more important than the somewhat more formal and covered narthex.