The Francois Vase

The Francois Vase, made by Ergotimos, painted by Kleitias, 570 BCE,

As you can see, this large volute krater has been reconstructed. It may perhaps have been smashed by thieves looking for gold or silver, thus leaving this exceedingly fine piece in ruins. It was discovered in the 19th century in pieces, painstakingly put back together by archaeologists, only to be smashed again by some peevish guard. As such, it could stand as a symbol for much of ancient art, which so often comes to us tattered and torn.

However, symbols like that are rarely interesting in and of themselves, and this piece is, in fact, most interesting, in and of itself, both as a whole and for the great variety of mythic material it conveys. Though the variety is outstanding - the number of scenes portrayed is, I believe, far greater than for any other piece of pottery - the skill and the craftsmanship is even more impressive. This is a truly beautiful work of art.

A krater is a pot used to mix wine with water; the Greeks rarely drank wine without diluting it at least somewhat. At their symposia (drinking parties), someone would be designated to mix the wine and a steward, presumably, would then dip bowls into the krater to retrieve the wine and water mixture for service. It is called a volute krater because the handles resemble the volutes found on Ionic capitals atop the columns of Greek temples.

It is difficult to know, or even speculate, why particular myths are shown on a krater such as this. The abundance of stories, though, must testify to something, if only the opulence of the piece itself. Also, this is one of those pieces in which most of the characters are named, so that identification is all the easier. It seems to me as if these pictures, and the stories they represent, might have led to some mighty fine conversation, as long as the wine wasn't diluted too much.

Most of the images are displayed around the belly on registers or friezes, with a pronounced horizontal frame. Some of these horizontally oriented images are delightfully ithyphallic. On the handles, by contrast, are images arranged vertically, including some of the most striking images we have from the Ancient world. One of these is a celebrated potnia theron - that is, Artemis as mistress of the beasts. Another is a truly tragic image of Ajax carrying the dead body of his companion in arms, Achilles, where the straining muscles of the one contrast vividly with the inert lifelessness of the other.

Some of the many mythological scenes depicted on this vase include the crane dance of Theseus, a slithery dance which he choreographs and performs after slaying the Minotaur; the Calydonian boar hunt, in which Greek heroes try to rid a forest of a marauding boar and are bested by a woman; the marriage of Peleus and Thetis, which is the real beginning of the Trojan War; and the return of Hephaestus to Olympus after being thrown out by his father, Zeus, and his mother, Hera, who are upset at having a lame child. He avenges himself upon them by sending Hera a golden throne from which she can not escape. All is made well again when Dionysus gets him drunk and brings him back to Olympus where, as compensation, he is given Aphrodite as wife. All is not, as we know, however, made well for long, as Aphrodite jumps into the sack with Ares.

Moschophoros

The Moschophoros ("the calf-bearer," 570-60 BCE) is a delightful work showing a young man bringing a calf to sacrifice, probably for Athena. The motif is fairly common in Greek art, and was adopted by Christians later. His archaic smile is somewhat less delightful than that of the Peplos kore, though both the eye sockets (originally filled) and broken chin may set that off somewhat. His face and staring reveals a dedication to purpose somewhat belied by the almost whimsical style.

The legs of the animal and the arms of the man form a clearly delineated X pattern, which delightfully integrates naturalistic with geometric forms and unites animal and human in harmonious design.

Ajax and Achilles at Dice, Exekias

Ajax and Achilles at Dice, Exekias, 540-530 BCE

Here is our Ajax again, on the right, but in a scene far more pleasant and enjoyable than either running off the battlefield carrying the corpse of Achilles or planting his sword in the ground to end his own life. He is playing a game with Achilles-we may call it dice, but it might be chess, or checkers, or what have you-both men ready for battle-they are in a tent at Troy-but intently engaged on the problem before them on the gaming board. The artist has linked the game that absorbs these warriors with the war raging outside. The elaborate refinery both of the garments these soldiers wear and of the execution itself, by that great black-figure painter Exekias, is especially notable. For me, the intensity of their concentration on their game mimics, or calls to mind, the intensity of the artist at work in creating such exquisite patterns.

I like the interpretation of the scene as one that shows Achilles with his friend during the time after he has pulled away from the Greeks, because of Agamemnon's insult. I am not sure, however, why, in that case, Achilles would be wearing his helmet. This interpretation, though, does a lot to help us find suggestive forebodings in the image.

The scene is widely reproduced, yet difficult to capture. It really needs to be understood, as so many of these vase paintings do, in the context of the entire amphora. Their two shields, for example, have been placed behind them at such an angle as to extend up into the handles of the vase. This acknowledgment of the shape, form, and physical presence of the vase qua vase in the image itself is one of the glories of this sort of art. Similarly, their spears also point to the tops of the handles above. Furthermore, each of their backs curves in a way that echoes the curve of the vase. These characters are both at Troy and on a vase painting. And they seem to know it. Take a look at a close up of Ajax's face, where intensity of human thought combines with patterned elegance of design.

It is one of the great features of Greek art to explore consciousness. This work exemplifies that concern.

Ajax Contemplating Suicide, Exekias

Ajax Contemplates Suicide, Exekias, around 540 BCE.

This is a deeply tragic scene, rendered with an exquisite sense of pain and loss, conveyed by every element of the figure. Ajax, whom last we met valiantly carrying the dead body of his great friend, Achilles, is preparing to take his own life. Here he is, having been rebuked, he feels, by his fellow Greeks, who have awarded the magnificent armor made for Achilles by Hephaestus to Odysseus instead of to him, thus rewarding brains over brawn; he is finding a way to fix his sword to the ground so that he can fall on it. His shield lies over to the side, abandoned. Even the palm tree looks dejected. Although the image works well seen close up, I think it is important to see how it fits within the entire frame of the amphora.

...[A]rtists began to explore the implications of conclusive action before it occurs. With sensitive foreboding worthy of a Solon, Exekias, the greatest black-figure vase painter, suggested the results of action not yet taken as well as the preparatory state of mind of the actor. On a famous vase of about 540 B.C., now in Boulogne, Exekias showed Ajax planning suicide, his energies entirely focused on fixing the sword into the ground prior to impaling himself; the heavy body perched precariously on tiny feet hints not only at the instability of Ajax’s mind but also at his imminent fall on the fatal blade (Richard Brilliant, Arts of the Ancient Greeks, McGraw-Hill, New York, 1973, p 73)

Dionysus Cylix, Exekias

This Cylix by Exekias, which is dated around 540-30 BCE, is one of my favorites. And why not? My own personal preferences for subject matter in works of art are for boats or (and) nudes. The boat here is exquisite, as is everything else.

The story illustrated here is from the Homeric Hymn to Dionysus. It seems the new god, a mere lad, is kidnapped by some dim pirates who fail to recognize the god's potent powers. The new god Dionysus takes command of the ship, has the spars bear grape vines (for wine), and when the frightened sailors jump ship, they turn into dolphins, flippers and all.

And there they are, all around the curve of the bowl, echoing both the lines of the boat and the round shape of the cylix itself. And there are seven of them, just as there are seven new clusters of grapes growing from the vine emerging from the mast. And there is Dionysus himself, setting a fine example by drinking as he enjoys his little sail, lying, relaxed, on deck.

However we look at the scene, there is no distinction between sea and sky, no horizon. It is a justly famous work.

This work, according to Gardner's Art Through the Ages,

...heralds the beginning of a revolution in the world of art... In his drawing of the boat’s sail, Exekias does not show a traditional and conventional symbol that ‘reads’ as a sail, but a sail as a sail would actually look, bellying out and filled with wind. It is an image of the action of the wind itself, the wind made palpable as a force, and it must have come from a new awareness of the physical presence of nature. This awareness is abroad; it is in the Ionian speculation about the physical constitution of the world, and in the reality-charged poetry of Homer…(112)

The estimable Raymond Schoder shows us more:

The whole is nearly integrated with conscious care for balance and subtle interrelationships. The grape clusters above match the dolphins swimming below, and the two on the sides harmoniously complete the inner circle of objects parallel to the outer rim. Curvature of sail and boat counterbalance one another around the center and the varied lines of the dolphins in relation to the rest add to the rhythmic symmetry. The ship’s mast forms an axis around which all is unified. A mysterious, timeless effect is achieved by the monotone background—unreal in color and in omission of distinction between sea and sky. Our eyes are intrigued by this cunning play of lines, our minds challenged by the problems set for interpretation and analysis. Few works in the whole range of Greek art have so much to elicit our awe, admiration, and delight.

...[W]e can enjoy the smaller refinements of drawing in the god’s fine robe, the ship’s rigging and graceful shape, the snout on the prow and curving high stern, the white dolphins along the side, and the gay, lively ones swimming freely to and fro. Altogether, this is one of the most delightful art works surviving from the ancient world (Schoder, #14).

And, remember, it was an object to be used. It held wine. It was held in the hand, raised to the lips. People drank from it. How cool would that be?

The ship is set at an angle to the handles of the cup it decorates. As the drinker drained his cup, he would notice the painting and, turning the vessel in his hand to see it more clearly, would make the wine swirl around so that the image would seem to be emerging from beneath the wine-dark sea itself. The subtly calculated balance of forms and the lyrical mood of this cup interior are unmatched in the whole of Greek art (Woodford, 1984, 25-6).

Ajax Carrying Achilles - The Francois Vase

Ajax Carrying the Corpse of Achilles, Kleitias, The Francois Vase, 570-560 BCE

The overwhelming impression I get from Archaic Art is the influence of Homer. I can't prove it, but I feel the artists here, like Kleitias, responding to the vividness, the life, the sensory details, and above all to the narrative drive of the great epics. Here, in a scene anticipated by the entire Iliad, but which will occur after the epic ends, Ajax, second only in valor and strength to Achilles, carries the body of his dead comrade off the battlefield.

The dead body is heavy and stiff. The hair hangs morbidly down. The eyes are dead. Ajax, in contrast, moves valiantly, struggling on his still active limbs, to manage the bulk of his old friend's dead weight, his eyes lively with intense effort.

Black-figure technique, which evolved about this time, gave artists more control than ever before over not only the contours but over every element in the picture. The muscles strain, the bodies flex and tense, and the faces express the struggle the characters undergo, helping, indeed, to create those characters.

The Francois Vase is a large and richly decorated volute krater from the early to mid 6th century. Such a vase would have been used to mix wine with water at a celebration or symposium, perhaps, given that much of the decoration for this vase is devoted to the wedding of Pelus and Thetis, the parents of our dead hero, a wedding.

Here, from Book Seven of the Iliad, something about Ajax in better days:

[287] Then Hektor said, "Ajax, heaven has granted you stature and strength, and judgment; and in wielding the spear you excel all others of the Achaeans. Let us for this day cease fighting; hereafter we will fight anew till a daimôn decides between us, and give victory to one or to the other; night is now falling, and the behests of night may not be well gainsaid. Gladden, then, the hearts of the Achaeans at your ships, and more especially those of your own followers and clansmen, while I, in the great city of King Priam, bring comfort to the Trojans and their women, who vie with one another in their prayers directed at me. Let us, moreover, exchange presents that it may be said among the Achaeans and Trojans, ‘They fought with might and main, but were reconciled and parted in friendship.’ [303] On this he gave Ajax a silver-studded sword with its sheath and leathern Balearic, and in return Ajax gave him a belt dyed with purple. Thus they parted, the one going to the host of the Achaeans, and the other to that of the Trojans, who rejoiced when they saw their hero come to them safe and unharmed from the strong hands of mighty Ajax. They led him, therefore, to the city as one that had been saved beyond their hopes. On the other side the Achaeans brought Ajax elated with victory to Agamemnon. [313] When they reached the quarters of the son of Atreus, Agamemnon sacrificed for them a five-year-old bull in honor of Zeus the son of Kronos. They flayed the carcass, made it ready, and divided it into joints; these they cut carefully up into smaller pieces, putting them on the spits, roasting them sufficiently, and then drawing them off. When they had done all this and had prepared the feast, they ate it, and every man had his full and equal share, so that all were satisfied, and King Agamemnon gave Ajax some slices cut lengthwise down the loin, as a mark of special honor. As soon as they had had enough to cat and drink, old Nestor whose counsel was ever truest began to speak; with all sincerity and goodwill,

The Rampin Horseman

The Rampin Horseman, 575-550 BCE

The familiar archaic smile is never more welcome than here, where the formulaic elements seem to spring out with energetic vitality. His eyes and eyelids and his smiling mouth are shaped to echo each other. The rhythmic patterns of his face so keenly image an actual face with all its expressive and moving parts, without any suggestion of portraiture, or even genuine emotion. Portraits are (apparently) a long way away. He wears a leafy wreath to signify his recent victory.

His torso is sleek and impressive (here its a cast); it marks a literal turn away from the predominant frontal view. The tilt of his head is engaging, and helps set off the energy in the linear and geometrical patterns of those facial features. He is on parade, but turns slightly to glimpse something that might be us.

A fine instance of the fully developed archaic style... [I]t has been found to belong to a marble now in the Acropolis Museum in Athens, and seemingly as part of a group of two horsemen—perhaps the Dioscuri Castor and Pollux (sons of Zeus and Leda) or possibly particular Athenian nobles of the sixth century. In any case, the artist has made every effort to represent the knights with impressive dignity. “The face is personal and expressive, with a pleasing humane refinement. The strong, clear lines of the nose, arching eyebrows, almond-shaped eyes, firm chin, and slightly pursed lips produce a manly air which the ornate treatment of hair and beard embellishes without softening. A formal rhythm is maintained in the pattern of parted hair and beard. Traces remain of the paint which originally set off the eyes, lips, beard, hair, and wreath of ivy from the snowy Parian marble (Raymond V. Schoder, S.J, Masterpieces of Greek Art, New York Graphic Society, #19).

So, it might originally have been the Rampin Horsemen, possibly the Dioscuri, Castor and Polydeuces, who, after Polydeuces dies, take turns living and dying day by day; twins who will never live a day together again.

And I saw Leda, she who bore her husband,
Tyndareus, two stalwart sons: Castor,
horse-tamer, and the boxer Polydeuces.
The earth, giver of grain, now covers both.
But Zeus gave them a special dignity;
for each of them, though under the earth, is dead
one day, but lives the next, in turn. Those brothers
were gifted by their fate with godlike honor. The Odyssey Bk. 11, trans. Mandelbaum, 223)

Kleobis & Biton

Kleobis and Biton, around 580 BCE

The story, from Herodotus 1.31, celebrates the somewhat peculiar notion of happiness the Greeks, those supreme ironists, seemed to enjoy. When their chariot breaks down, the boys harness themselves to it in order to take their mother the longish distance to the temple. Once there, grateful to them for their efforts, she prays, as they lie sleeping off their strenuous efforts. She prays that the gods grant her boys the boon of dying happy. She goes out to find them both dead. Now that's irony.

She knows that they died happy, though we can imagine her sentiments may have been a bit confused at the moment.

The normal approach of Archaic artists to the representation of human consciousness is perhaps best typified in the kouroi, which were produced throughout the entire period and are among its most representative products. Most kouros figures seem to have been funerary or votive statues commemorating, in fact re-embodying, men who had died young and were thought to have a continuing existence beyond the grave as heroes…. The mutability of life which so haunted the Archaic lyric poets—irrational reversal of fortune, the inscrutability of injustice, natural disaster, the decrepitude of old age—had no further hold on them. Their powerful, ox-like images at Delphi were undoubtedly intended to embody this blissful fate and are, in a way, images of wish-fulfillment, like the cosmologies of the Milesians, which transcend the imperfect world of everyday experience and are unaffected by its travails. The ‘archaic smile’ which characterizes many of the kouroi is not so much an emotion as a symbol, for they are beyond emotion in the ordinary sense of the word” (Pollitt, 6-7, 9).

Jerome J. Pollitt, Art and Experience in Classical Greece. Cambridge University Press, 1972.

I think it is important to note here that the artist has taken pains to assure that the figures are fully human around back, as well; this seems of great interest to some, and is indeed an important element in the development of Greek sculpture since it means that although the frontal pose remains, the figure is a consistent whole front and back.