Clarke, 'Domestic and Divine: Roman Mosaics in the House of Dionysos', Bryn Mawr Classical Review 9510
URL = http://hegel.lib.ncsu.edu/stacks/serials/bmcr/bmcr-9510-clarke-domestic
@@@@95.10.18, Kondoleon, Domestic and Divine
Christine Kondoleon, Domestic and Divine: Roman Mosaics in the
House of Dionysos. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1994.
Pp. x, 359. $65.00. ISBN 0-8014-3058-5.
Reviewed by John R. Clarke -- University of Texas
clarke@mail.utexas.edu
The author's stated aim in this ambitious and lavishly
illustrated book is to demonstrate the ways in which the mosaics
of the House of Dionysos at Paphos, Crete, reveal the
relationships between patron and mosaic artists, between the
inhabitants and their guests, and between the public and the
private spheres. In short, her approach is to write a social
history of the house. For reasons that will become apparent, the
book ends up being instead a closely-argued iconographical study:
very solid, at times brilliant, and eminently useful.
The House of Dionysos was discovered at Kato Paphos Village on
the southwest coast of Cyprus; K. Nicolau excavated it between
1962 and 1974. It was a private house of more than 40 rooms in
what was a residential area of the Roman town. Although
originally it was dated on the basis of the style of the mosaics
to the late third century C.E., J. Hayes's subsequent analysis of
pottery finds sealed under the mosaics gave a sound terminus
post quem of the early second century, whereas a deposit of
amphorae provided a terminus ante quem of 200 C.E. The
author suggests that mosaics were in place when an earthquake
destroyed the house in the late second century.
The plan of the house includes features such as a large
peristyle and triclinium, and a fish pond (piscina) that were
common in the houses of the pro-Roman cultured elite in the Greek
east. The most unfortunate circumstance of the excavation is
that the walls had been robbed out to such an extent that there
is no clear indication where doorways were located. Kondoleon
remarks that not a single entrance was marked on the excavator's
1965 plan. The closest parallels for the layout are in the North
African houses of the second and third centuries; in these
houses, as in the House of Dionysos, there is no axis of
vestibulum-atrium-tablinum but instead direct entrance to the
peristyle from the entryway located on it: these are "courtyard
palaces" rather than the domus-with-peristyle.
Since the decoration changes according to the relative
importance of the space, from beaten earth for the humblest
spaces to magnificent mosaics for the most public ones, it is
possible--even in the absence of walls and doors--to reconstruct
possible itineraries for the ancient viewer. Kondoleon locates
the entryway, for instance, on the basis of mosaics with the
apotropaic "KAICY" and the greeting of "XAIPEI"; she demonstrates
how the peristyle panel with the images of Dionysos's gift of
wine to Ikarios introduces the triclinium, itself decorated with
a threshold panel representing the triumph of Dionysos. Vintage
scenes take up the whole central carpet of the triclinium. In
this connection the author notes that the triclinium of the House
of the Triumph of Dionysos at Antioch has the same subject for
the entrance panel and that the room itself is about the same
width (8.7 m at Antioch; 8.5 at Paphos). A second reception
area, consisting of rooms 8, 9, and 10 (Fig. 3), opens off the
peristyle's north portico; such a grouping of spaces of different
sizes around the peristyle is common in both North Africa and at
Pompeii.
Chapter 2, on the technique and style of both the mythological
and geometric mosaics, really discusses technique and style very
little. In all, the book analyzes sixteen framed figural
mosaics found in six rooms and on all four sides of the peristyle
along with five geometric mosaics in five rooms. There are two
styles: one employs thick, continuous lines and painterly light
and shadow; the other saw-tooth lines (which I would characterize
as dentilated). After identifying these two styles in very
general ways, the author drops stylistic analysis and goes on to
discuss not style but composition and iconography in the
Narcissus mosaic (30-40) and in the Phaedra and Hippolytus mosaic
(40-50). Kondoleon proposes that in general the mythological
mosaics should be attributed to Antiochene craftsmen or craftsmen
closely allied with them, whereas the decorative mosaics should
be attributed to western craftsmen because the motifs are
western.
In her discussion of the Narcissus mosaic the illustrations do
not serve the author's arguments well; room 1 is not fully
indicated in the drawing (Fig. 4) and there is no way of
understanding its orientation from the photograph reproduced in
figure 10, where the pieces are not joined.
The discussion of the Phaedra and Hippolytus mosaic of room 7
traces the iconography rather than questions of style; her search
for parallels convinces the author that the workshop used model
books with figures excerpted from the (Antiochene) original.
Room 8 appears here to introduce a geometric motif--the
lozenge and star--that "does not easily fall into either the
eastern or western groups. . . perhaps because it is so
diffused." The multiple-design of room 14, in contrast, has very
western roots, particularly in mosaics of the Rhone Valley: the
best parallel is from Ouzouer-sur-Trezee in Loiret (fig. 36).
(Kondoleon's "multiple-design" is her translation of "a decor
multiple" or "Vielmustermosaiken" 66.)
In her consideration of borders, here the meander and the
twisted ribbon, Kondoleon points out that they are closer in
spirit to Ostian than to Antiochene examples (80), asking a
question that becomes a leitmotif of the entire book: "What was
the nature of east-west exchanges?" This is particularly
difficult to answer in the case of ornament in the House of
Dioynsos. Because the house's ornament shows a decided
predilection for western compositions, perhaps transmitted via
North Africa, Kondoleon concludes that the artists were ". . .
steeped in the Hellenism of the Antiochene milieu, . . . but also
abreast of stylistic developments in the west" (84).
Despite the author's stated intention to interpret the House
of Dionysos in the context of patron, artist, and ancient
visitor, the principal value of the book lies in its astute and
erudite iconographical analyses. No future study can afford to
ignore her investigation of the following representations:
Narcissus (room 1); the Seasons (2); the peacock (3); Pyramos and
Thisbe (4); Poseidon and Amymone (4); Apollo and Daphne (4);
Dionysos giving the gift of wine to Ikarios (4); Akme (4); the
Triumph of Dionysos (5); the inhabited vine scroll (5); Phaedra
and Hippolytos (7); xenia (gifts of food for guests) and
apophoreta (non-food gifts for guests) (9); Ganymede (10);
scenes of hunt in the amphitheater, especially the silvae
(11, 12, and 13).
Kondoleon begins with the entry area, rooms 1, 2, and 3. She
repeats the notion, introduced earlier, that the pool Narcissus
looks in the pseudo emblema of room 1 called up in the
viewers' minds the basins and fountains in other parts of the
house (84). She proposes that room 2 was the original entrance;
it has a Seasons mosaic flanked by the words "XAIPEI" and
"KAICY". The Seasons mosaic includes in its center an
unidentified male bust. Parallels with North Africa prompt
Kondoleon to identify him as Annus. In an interesting
discussion, Kondoleon hypothesizes that the Dionysiac pageants of
the Seasons and the Year, like the one recounted in Athenaeus,
Deipn. 5.198a-b, were consciously called up in this
domestic decoration to encode tryphe (105-106). As for
the Greek words that flank the Seasons mosaics, their sense is
both salutatory and apotropaic. The author makes the mosaic of
room 2 carry a multiplicity of meanings: it is both a celebration
of the earth's fertility and an expression of domestic luxury; at
the same time it served to welcome guests and to guard the
threshold from malevolent forces (109). The peacock in room 3 is
essentially apotropaic, the "eyes" of its feathers warding off
the Evil Eye.
The mosaic of xenia interlaced into a "cushion" pattern
in room 9 appears also in North Africa where it adorns dining
rooms; the Ganymede of 10 relates to dining by analogy with the
House of the Buffet Supper in Antioch, where the guest is to
associate Zeus's cupbearer with the host's repast (142). By
associating the Ganymede mosaic with the xenia and
apophoreta of room 9 Kondoleon solves the function of this
suite: it is a smaller entertainment area than that provided by
triclinium 5 (145-146).
The four mythological panels of the peristyle's west portico
become a prelude to a banquet, and despite some parallels with
Antiochene pavements, all the panels are Paphian inventions. For
Kondoleon they constitute an ad-hoc creation, an attempt of an
eastern artist and/or client to reconcile an available western
model based on Ovid's tale with his local knowledge of the legend
(156).
Kondoleon's discussion of the complex icongraphical
combinations and permutations of Pyramos and Thisbe, Poseidon and
Amymone, and Apollo and Daphne serve to demonstrate how hard it
is to construct a genealogy for a given representation of a myth.
Much of what we know has to do with accidents of preservation.
New finds could change the picture we have at present of the
sources, the movement of workshop and/or patternbooks, and the
hybridization of imagery such as we find in the House of
Dionysos. Kondoleon's analysis of the unique representation of
Dionysos, Akme, Ikarios, and "The First Wine-Drinkers" shows that
the artist went beyond ordinary narrative to create a gloss on
the myth: the dignified drinkers, Akme (personification of
temperance) and Dionysos to the left contrast with the inebriated
shepherds to the right. These groups frame the figure of Ikarios
in the center (174-184). The author, then, reads a "local
mentality" in the selection, interpretation, and combination of
themes of the west portico, proposing that the concept of water
as a geographical theme unites the three disparate myths by
relating them to the adjacent large pool (189); she also suggests
that they allude to the "civilized" practice of drinking wine
mixed with water (190).
The author devotes Chapter 6 to the representation of the
Triumph of Dionysos which adorns the threshold of the triclinium,
concluding that the characters in the triumph attest to the use
of graphic designs from model books (191 and 220). She depends
heavily on Matz's typology for sarcophagi, yet must conclude that
the Paphos Triumph follows no strict model; it seems plausible
that sculptors' cartoons provided patterns used by mosaicists,
yet among mosaic representations it is only the Paphian Triumph
that reflects the exotic Indian Triumph, with dark-skinned
captives (219). For Kondoleon, "the Triumph of Dionysos reflects
a process, known in sculpture, whereby the artist combines
conventional figure types, rather than follows a single model"
(220). The Dioscuri panels that flank the Triumph panel
represent the divine twins in contemporary military uniforms
rather than in Phrygian costume. In addition to this
militarization of the divinities--a fairly common feature in the
period--they become apotropaic protectors of the most important
room in the house. Yet even here we are in the realm of
hypothesis, and the author admits that ". . .in an attempt to
determine the significance of the Dioscuri in the Paphian house,
the discussion has covered a wide chronological span and embraced
a diversity of traditions" (228-229).
The triclinium's arbor carpet, the subject of the following
chapter, reveals the surprisingly close parallels to a North
African type produced from the mid-second to fifth centuries,
with the difference that the Paphian pavement employs upright
vines rather than ones growing from craters placed diagonally
(241-243). Kondoleon sees this use of two types of vine
compositions as a "conflation" of eastern and western traditions
(253), for upright vine plantings and the addition of rural
figures distinguish the Paphian vine carpet as an original--and
precocious--product of the Severan period (253 and 269).
In Chapter 8 the author investigates the hunting scenes
occupying the other three sides of the peristyle. Unusual for
the period, she sees them anticipating the large-scale hunting
carpets of Antioch by two centuries. In all there are six
hunters and eighteen beasts in three porticoes, divided among
eleven distinct scenes where venatores pursue and attack
exotic beasts. In an effort to illuminate their composition,
Kondoleon compares the panels with the black-and-white mosaic
from Castel Porziano (Italy)--even though it is arranged in two
registers and the panels are quite long. She also finds
parallels in the amphitheater mosaic from Zliten, the
frigidarium mosaic of the Terme dei Sette Sapienti at
Ostia, and mosaics from Kos and Orbe (Switzerland).
Since the Paphian hunts do not conform to accepted notions of
eastern stylistic development for either the second or third
century Kondoleon concludes that "Probably they were concocted in
response to the patron's desire for fashionable Roman themes and
styles. The mosaicists, prompted by the patron and undoubtedly
inspired by the actual games performed in the Cypriot
amphitheaters, combined such classical devices as multiple frames
and narrative illustrations with the idea of a figure carpet."
(281) She argues for a much earlier adoption of the
figure-carpet style in the eastern provinces than Lavin allows
(289).
In her investigation of the hunting scenes' iconography,
Kondoleon proposes that unique features of the Paphian hunts
suggest that actual performances were the inspiration for the
patron's selection (290). The spectacle represented would have
been a silva in the amphitheater (303-305). She compares
the hunting scenes in the House of Dionysos with the mosaic of
Magerius' munus in his house in Smirat, Tunisia (306).
This chapter is a highlight of the book; the author's most
brilliant point concerns the relationship of spectacle to mosaic
iconography; she convincingly argues that we may be looking at
the recording of a munus in many unusual juxtapositions;
Martial describes in De spectaculis pantomimic
performances in imperial ludi where beasts interact
violently with condemned criminals forced to act out myths such
as Prometheus, or Pasiphae and the Dictaean bull (310-313). The
author makes a convincing case for the spectacles of the
amphitheater producing a Roman version of "seeing is believing"
through such theatrical displays of wide variety of subjects from
myth.
Kondoleon concludes that the mosaics of the House of Dionysos
provide us with a new appreciation for the "veritable cornucopia
of literary and artistic references that leapt at the ancient
visitor." (315) I would simply want to investigate this
assertion from the point of view of reception; I would ask: Whose
cornucopia is it? Is it a cornucopia that I, an art historian
with a knowledge of visual and textual representation that both
precedes and postdates the actual mosaics of the House of
Dionysos, construct? Is it the cornucopia of the highly-educated
visitor to that house in 200 C.E.? Or is it the artist's
cornucopia? The patron's?
Constructing a profile of the patron is quite difficult:
Kondoleon goes a long way toward doing so in her demonstration
that the house in its plan and pavements reflects a trend for
provincial notables in the Greek east to express their
Romanitas in the selection of design elements for their
homes (320), and in comparing this trend with the mania for
villas-in-miniature that Zanker notes in post-earthquake Pompeii.
She sees in the peristyle hunts the patron's association not only
with munera, but also the luxury of keeping wild beasts on
wealthy estates. Finally, Kondoleon astutely notes that domestic
pavements, like epigraphic habits, are indicators of Romanization
and the prestige associated with it (322).
No book can deliver all that it promises, and I hope I am not
faulting the author unfairly by pointing out that this is
primarily an excellent iconographic study that also attempts
honestly to address larger issues that cannot be conclusively
solved using the evidence of this particular house and its mosaic
pavements. For one thing, unlike many houses at Pompeii, we have
no epigraphical evidence for the patron, nor a prosopography for
Paphos. For another, we are dealing with a leveled building:
there is very little of the architecture of the house--not even
clear indications of doorways--so that discussion of viewing and
walking patterns must be tentative. Furthermore, the associated
wall and ceiling painting is gone. It is to her credit that
Kondoleon has not let these accidents of preservation keep her
from pursuing the important issues that go beyond
motif-hunting-and-interpretation that characterizes less
distinguished books on ancient Roman mosaics. She forces us to
think beyond the representation to its meaning both for the
ancient viewer and in the broader context of ancient artistic
influence and exchange.
A few minor criticisms of a mechanical nature: the photographs
are generally very good; however, any photograph labeled "after"
is usually poor, the worst being the Pyramos and Thisbe from the
House of Lucretius Fronto (fig. 92) taken after a bad photograph
of Rizzo 1929. There is no list of figures--a useful tool that
should have been included. The reference in note 43, page 250 to
Pompeii I, 7, 1 as the House of the Ephebe is incorrect; this is
the House of Paquius Proculus. There are quite a few errors in
the bibliography, including in the date and titles of two of my
own books.