Alberti’s Window

I recently read George MacDonald’s novel Lilith, which caused me to think about the Jewish legend of Lilith, Adam’s first wife. Legend holds that Lilith was God’s first, unsuccessful attempt at creating a female companion for Adam. This dreadful attempt resulted in a female demon who attempts to corrupt the human race through lust.

One of the best sources for the Lilith story is a medieval text called Alphabet of Ben-Sira (c. 10th century AD). According to this text, Lilith was made from the earth at the same time as Adam. Lilith was an independent woman. Since she and Adam were created the same way, Lilith refused to acknowledge Adam’s superiority (was she the first feminist? ha!). Eventually she left Eden to consort with demons that live in the Red Sea. When making a second female companion for Adam, God made Eve out of Adam’s rib so there would be no question of superiority.¹ Some sources also refer to Lilith as a half-woman, half-serpent. Filled with jealousy for Eve, Lilith reportedly took on the form of a serpent in order to provoke the Fall of Man (as recorded in Genesis).² You can read a little more about the Lilith legend and history here.

The story of Lilith has inspired artists for many centuries. In the Middle Ages, many artists included a half-female serpent in depictions of the Temptation of Adam and Eve.³ One Renaissance example of the half-serpent Lilith is by Michelangelo, found on the Sistine Chapel ceiling. In the late 19th century, Dante Gabriel Rossetti wrote a poem about Lilith and also painted a scene of the seductress combing her golden hair (Lady Lilith, painted 1868-69, shown to the left). Scholars agree that this painting was inspired by the description of Lilith in Goethe’s Faust (Walpurgisnacht scene).²

The most interesting article I’ve read about Lilith is by Virginia Tuttle. She argues that Hieronymous Bosch’s Garden of Earthly Delights (1505-1510, left panel of altarpiece shown below) actually includes a depiction of Adam and Lilith, not Adam and Eve. I have always wondered why there are demonic beasts in the foreground of this Garden of Eden scene (it doesn’t seem too paradisaical, does it? Although, one can’t take Bosch too seriously; this whole altarpiece is a little absurd.). However, if one considers this woman to be Lilith instead of Eve, the presence of demonic beasts makes sense.

Tuttle also convincingly argues that this left panel scene does not conform to the iconography of traditional Creation of Eve scenes. Traditionally, Adam is shown asleep or lying on his side, so that Eve easily can be created out of his rib. In other triptychs, Bosch follows this traditional iconographic format (see details in his Last Judgment triptych and Haywain triptych). However, in the Garden of Earthly Delights, Tuttle argues that it appears Lilith has been “raised up from the earth, as if she were created independently and immediately following Adam’s creation.”² I think this is a convincing argument and I recommend that people read Tuttle’s article (it can be found in JSTOR). My only reservation about this argument is that it doesn’t seem to be widely accepted. This article was written almost twenty years ago, but recent art history texts continue to label this panel as Creation of Eve. Does anyone know of (or have) criticisms for this argument?

What do other people think?

1 To read a synopsis Lilith story in the Alphabet of Ben-Sira, see Virginia Tuttle, “Lilith in Bosch’s ‘Garden of Earthly Delights,” Simiolus 15, no. 2 (1985): 123.-24.

2 Jeffrey M. Hoffeld, “Adam’s Two Wives,” The Metropolitan Museum of Art Bulletin, New Series 26, no. 10 (June 1968): 434.

3 For Medieval examples, see Ibid., 430-40.
4 Virginia M. Allen, “‘One Strangling Golden Hair’: Dante Gabriel Rossetti’s Lady Lilith,” The Art Bulletin 66, no. 2 (June 1984): 286.

5 Tuttle, 123.

There has been some controversy and debate regarding a small wooden crucifix that has been attributed to Michelangelo. This crucifix made its public debut at the end of last year, and was recently bought by the Italian state for $4.2 million.

Like some experts mentioned in this recent article, I’m skeptical that this is an actual work by Michelangelo. Vasari’s biography doesn’t mention anything about the artist making small wooden statues.

I’d be interested in learning more about the people who advised the Italian government to buy this piece. If this statue isn’t by Michelangelo, the Italian state has spent an unnecessary amount of money for this small, but pretty, statue.

When I was in college, one of my professors explained her theory that art is cyclical in nature. Over the centuries, there are certain themes and styles in art that keep emerging and fading in popularity. I have often thought about this theory in regards to the Classical and Baroque styles. Although this theory can apply to different types of art, I am in the mood for looking at sculpture, so I’ll only mostly use sculptural examples.

In early Greece, the serene, harmonious Classical style pervaded the artistic scene:

Polykleitos, “Spear-bearer” (Doryphoros), original dated c. 450-440 BC.

However, a short time later, the calm Classical style was disrupted by a taste for more dramatic, diagonal compositions in the Hellenistic period. In addition, relief sculptures were carved more deeply (some sculptures were practically in-the-round, almost jumping off of the relief wall) so that intense shadows could be cast:

Athena Battling Alkyoneos, Detail of the Gigantomachy Freize from the Altar of Zeus (Pergamon, Turkey, c. 175 BC).

The cycle between serenity and drama began again centuries later, when the Classical style became revived during the Renaissance:

Michelangelo, David, 1501-04

And only a century later, the Baroque period began as the artistic scene once again favored diagonal, dramatic compositions and subject matter:

Bernini, David, 1623

With the discovery of Pompeii in 1748, the interest in Classicism began the cycle all over again. This interest brought about the Neoclassical movement:

Antonio Canova, Pauline Borghese as Venus, 1808

The Romantic movement began about the same time and can be interpreted as a continuation of this cycle. In a way, the Romantics reacted against Neoclassicism by favoring drama and emotion over the serenity. This painting by Géricault focuses on dramatic subject matter by depicting a real-life event of shipwrecked passengers that were on the boat “Medusa.” A shortage of lifeboats caused 150 passengers to build a raft, and survivors resorted to cannibalism in order to stay alive on the open sea. (You can read more of the story here.) Can you see how this subject matter is dramatic? To heighten the drama, Gericault depicted an emotional moment when the survivors spot their rescue ship in the distance. Géricault even follows the same dramatic diagonal compositions that were favored in earlier dramatic styles:

Géricault, Raft of the “Medusa”, 1818-19

Since the Neoclassical/Romantic periods, the artistic continuum really hasn’t seen another revival of the serene/dramatic styles. There have been some slight interest in traditional subject matter, such as the Regionalism movement (think of American Gothic). I guess Regionalism could be considered a continuation of serenity and tradition, if one is willing to categorize abstractionism (the style the Regionalists rejected) as dramatic. Hmm.

I’m curious to see if art will ever return back to this cycle. Since the 19th and 20th centuries, art has just exploded into different types of media and styles. Have we left traditional cycles altogether? It is interesting to think about what art will be like in a hundred years or so.

What do you think about the future of art? Have you observed any other types of artistic cycles besides this one?

Unfortunately, it was necessary for me to not think about art for the past ten days or so. To get my art history groove going again, I thought I’d post a little bit about Neolithic art.

In the Near East, the Neolithic period began about 8000 BC, whereas in Europe it began around 4000 BC. There are a couple of different ways to define the Neolithic period. Initially, the Neolithic (“New Stone”) Age was characterized by the development of two types of artifacts: stone polished tools and pottery. However, the Neolithic period is also different from the Mesolithic period in terms of food production; Neolithic peoples produced food (i.e. farming and stock raising) whereas Mesolithic people were food gatherers.

One of the great monuments from the Neolithic period is Stonehenge. Since I have already written a little about Stonehenge here, I want to focus this post on two of the earliest experiments in urban living, the cities Jericho and Çatal Hüyük (Turkey).

Jericho was a flourishing Neolithic city that covered about ten acres in 8000 BC. By about 7500 BC, this town housed about two thousand people and was surrounded by a thick five-foot-wall.¹ A large circular stone tower (shown in this photograph to the left) was built into this wall that originally stood twenty-eight feet high. The tower is thirty-three feet in diameter and also houses an inner stairway. Considering the primitive types of stone tools that were used at this time, this tower is a significant achievement. Unfortunately, not enough of this site has been excavated to determine if this tower belonged to a series of towers.² It will be interesting to learn if this tower is part of a series of towers that surrounded the city.

Çatal Hüyük is a Neolithic town that was located at the base of a volcano, next to a major trading route. The city inhabitants would trade obsidian, a volcanic rock that could be shaped into sharp tools. I think Çatal Hüyük is especially interesting because the city layout and plan do not contain any type of street! Instead, all of the houses adjoin each other. In order to get inside a house, one would climb through an opening on the roof. Interior and exterior ladders and stairs were used to get from one place to another. You can see a restored side view of Çatal Hüyük here.

For me, the most fascinating thing about Çatal Hüyük is a painting that is located in one of the shrines of the city. Radiocarbon dating places this painting around 6150 BC. This painting is probably the world’s first landscape. The rectangular shapes in the foreground probably are houses (shown in aerial perspective), representing the city Çatal Hüyük. The background depicts an erupting volcano, which archaeologists have identified as the mountain Hasan Dağ.³ Because the painting is located in a shrine, it is thought that it contains some kind of religious significance (as opposed to relating a historical event connected to a volcanic eruption). If the painting is ever proven to be connected to a true historical event, the mural will not be considered a true landscape anymore.

There are a lot of other interesting things about the shrines at Çatal Hüyük. The rooms are decorated with bucrania (bovine skulls), which is considered to be a symbol of male fertility. I wonder if in the imagery of the erupting volcano also could be connected to male fertility.⁴

1 Fred S. Kleiner and Christin J. Mamiya, Gardner’s Art Through the Ages: A Global History, 13 ed. (Cengage Learning EMEA, 2008), 25.

2 Ibid.

3 Ibid., 27.

4 I have found a couple of online sources which think that the volcano is related to female fertility and a “Volcano Goddess.” In a relatively recent publication, Carl J. Becker briefly mentioned that the erupting volcano is connected to the female fertility; he described the eruption of volcanic ash as similar to human birth. (See Carl J. Becker, A Modern Theory of Language Evolution, iUniverse, 2004, 241; found online here). However, since in ancient times the imagery of rain was connected with semen and ejaculation, I wonder if volcanic lava could also be a similar reference for this prehistoric mural. I would be interested to know if anyone has any information or more speculation regarding male fertility and this mural.

Last night I went to Seattle University to hear W. J. T. Mitchell speak. I remember studying writings by Mitchell as a grad student, and I was intrigued by his lecture title, “The War of Images: 9/11 to the Present.” The lecture was interesting and I was struck by Mitchell’s persona; he was approachable and seemed to be constantly thinking and reviewing new ideas.

A large part of Mitchell’s work revolves around the discussion of words and images – how words and images are different, what words are used to describe images, etc. I was not surprised in this lecture, therefore, to see that Mitchell was interested in the examining the word “terror” and the metaphoric war that is currently being waged on the emotion signified by that word. (How are you supposed to fight an emotion?)

During the lecture Mitchell showed many pictures that have been distributed and displayed as a result from the “war on terror.” I was living out-of-the-country when the Abu Grahib photos began to emerge, so I had to read a little more about them after the lecture. These images of prisoners being tortured and abused led to an internal investigation within the US Army. It is thought by many that this “Hooded Man” depiction will always be remembered as the iconic photograph for the war in Iraq:

Mitchell showed different places and instances where this Abu Ghraib photograph has emerged and reemerged as part of the discourse on the war. As a counter-message, reproductions of the “Hooded Man” appeared in a silkscreen format that parodies the current iPod ads:

Mitchell briefly suggested that in addition to decrying the war in these iRaq posters, another counter-message is created by referencing the iPod – the iPod is related to self-pleasure. Although we didn’t end up discussing any narratives or ideas created by this contradicting image of self-pleasure and torture, I think it’s an interesting idea. (Does anyone want to further this idea or suggest a narrative?) In addition to self-pleasure, I think that the iPods also embody self-absorption; one seems to shut out the world when iPod buds are in their ears. It’s interesting to think about this poster in regards to the criticisms of self-absorption that have been heaped upon the Bush administration and America since the inception of this war.

I was surprised that Mitchell showed only a few pictures of Saddam Hussein, not for political reasons but for historical comprehensiveness (my bias as a historian is apparent!). The first photograph, shown right at the beginning of the lecture, was an equestrian statue of Hussein. As a historian, I think of the equestrian statue tradition as connected with antiquity. I wondered if by selecting this photograph Mitchell was historicizing Hussein’s role in the war, perhaps suggesting that Hussein’s role in the war is dated and passé, like this statuary tradition. I also thought this equestrian statue seemed very irrelevant and out-of-place with the other images shown in the presentation; the other images were more contemporary and often used Photoshop technology. It was interesting to think about what kind of statements about the war and Hussein’s role could be derived from a “dated” and perhaps “irrelevant” image. Interestingly, though, the last image in the presentation was also of Saddam Hussein, this time a photograph of the leader soon after his capture. By depicting Saddam’s medical examination by an Army doctor, I think this photograph was supposed to show the concern of the Americans for their prisoner. However, Mitchell pointed out that this photograph actually a degrading and humiliating depiction of Saddam:

It didn’t take long for people to criticize the American government through this photograph. In Mitchell’s presentation, a caption included with this photo (no doubt found by Mitchell on the internet, but I can’t find where), said “The search for weapons of mass destruction continues…”

I felt like this was a fitting photograph for the end of the lecture. Since I felt the inclusion of the equestrian statue dated and historicized Saddam, I liked that Mitchell included an active, more contemporary photograph of Saddam at the end of the presentation. Although Saddam was not responsible for the 9/11 attacks, I felt that his historical role with the (ongoing) Iraq invasion was better represented with this final photograph. To me, it was appropriate to view this photograph and caption while Mitchell explained that the war on terror (and the war of images) still continues today.