BMCR 2009.03.28, Cynthia S. Colburn, Reading a Dynamic Canvas

Cynthia S. Colburn, Maura K. Heyn (ed.), Reading a Dynamic Canvas:
Adornment in the Ancient Mediterranean World.  Newcastle:  Cambridge
Scholars, 2008.  Pp. x, 230.  ISBN 9781847184061.  L34.99.

Reviewed by Kelly Olson, University of Western Ontario ([email protected])
Word count:  2424 words
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[Authors and titles of chapters are listed at the end of the review.]

This volume is different from current offerings on ancient
costume,[[1]] as it focuses wholly on archaeological evidence (3).
Originally an AIA panel (Montreal 2006), the papers cover a wide
geographical and cultural span, from the ancient Near East to Roman
Britain, and are penned by an international group of archaeologists and
art historians. "The volume's ultimate contribution is to make
archeological evidence central to arguments regarding adornment and
identity" (3).

As the Introduction (by Cynthia S. Colburn and Maura K. Heyn) states,
dress historians use three types of evidence: actual adorned bodies
(which are rare); items of adornment divorced from bodies; and visual
representations of adornment (3-4). The last two are used to great
advantage in this volume. One of the major themes to emerge is "the
power of bodily adornment in negotiating social status...Adornment
may...be used to enhance or define one's social value by highlighting
unequal access to political, economic, or ideological sources of power"
(4). Another theme is the power of dress in religious communities or in
the context of ritual activities, although the close connection between
dress and status is also relevant here (5).

The first chapter (Cynthia S. Colburn) is entitled "Exotica and the
body in the Minoan and Mycenean worlds." This chapter concerns Bronze
Age imports (2500-1200 BCE) brought into the Greek world to adorn the
body, some as finished products, some as raw materials, and some as
prestige technologies (such as granulation; 13). Colburn is careful to
note the funerary context of most of the artifacts, which, as she
points out, makes it difficult to know whether the articles of
adornment were worn in life or formulated specifically for the grave
(14-15; it was usually the former, to judge both by ethnographic
parallels and the evidence of wear or repair). In any case, burying the
dead with these objects shows such items were socially significant
(15). Colburn looks at visual representations of bodily ornaments from
Crete (27-32), Thera (32-36), and the mainland (36-38), and notes that
such items were similar to high-status objects among established
Eastern elites. Thus the objects may have been associated with 'a
well-established elite visual vocabulary' (40).

Chapter Two (Anne P. Chapin) is "The Lady of the Landscape: an
investigation of Aegean costuming and the Xeste 3 frescoes." She points
out that little is known of the costumes of Minoan, Mycenaean and
Cycladic peoples of the Bronze Age, and uses artistic images of
clothing to investigate constructions of identity (48). The goal of
this chapter is to place the fresco conventionally known as 'The Lady
of the Landscape' (Akrotiri, Thera, about 1650-1600 BCE) into a
"broader iconographic, cultural, and religious perspective" (50). She
notes that these figures present important new evidence for Aegean
costuming: the pictorial decoration on the lady's skirt is unusual and
rare, for example (49). Chapin also gives here a valuable typology of
women's Neopalatial costume with drawings and discussion (59-69), in
which she details and describes various belts, skirts, and blouses.
Female Aegean costuming traditions were "elaborate and varied" (68),
and most Aegean costumes differed from classical Greek draped clothing
in that strips of cloth were cut and sewn to fashion form-fitting
clothing. She concludes that (77) dress and jewelry identify the Lady
of the Landscape as a member of a social elite, but not as a divine
personage or goddess; in fact she has a relatively minor role to play
in the painted ritual landscape of Xeste 3 (78). This very detailed
look at the women in the fresco would have benefited from larger
reproductions of the paintings in question-- but that is a minor
quibble.

In Chapter Three, entitled "Fabric patterns as symbols of status in the
Near East and early Greece," Eleanor Guralnick looks at the
Neo-Assyrian empire (883-626 BC) and ancient Greece (8th-6th C BC).
Interestingly, decorated garments in Near Eastern art tend on the whole
to indicate holders of secular power (84) -- not even genies or heroes
dress as elaborately as the king. There is a "clear relationship
between status and garment decoration" in art (95), and complexity in
clothing embellishment decreases as distance from the king increases.
Thus the sheer quantity of decoration on the king's clothing in Near
Eastern art emphasizes his authority, as in the relief of Assurnasirpal
II, 883-859 BC, at Nimrud (90). In Athenian art, by contrast, patterned
fabrics were popular in the 8th-7th centuries BC, but they occur almost
exclusively on deities and mythological figures (104-08). By the 6th
century BC, decorated clothing had ceased to be a symbol of special
status (110), and no longer distinguished divine personages from
ordinary mortals. Guralnick puts this down to the rise of democratic
values and economic prosperity (110), an intriguing notion, although
some scholars would disagree with her[[2]]. It is a shame that
considerations of space rendered this section so short, as the topic is
both interesting and complex, and could benefit from further scholarly
inquiry. Guralnick concludes by stating that after the Persian wars in
the early fifth century, decorated clothing disappears from Greek art
"rather completely" (111), a change that "reaffirms the important role
that clothing has in constructing and reinforcing ideologies."

But there is also much of practical value in Guralnick's chapter
concerning ancient garment production. Artistic evidence confirms both
that Near Eastern fabric patterns were imported into Greece (101, 110),
and that Greek-designed patterns were themselves very similar to Near
Eastern patterns, albeit with some new modifications. Guralnick also
notes that elaborate designs on ancient garments such as concentric
circles, rosettes, figure scenes, etc., likely went beyond the skill of
Greek or Near Eastern weavers and were probably executed on actual
clothing by other techniques (embroidery, applique/, dyeing, quilting,
etc). Rosettes on garments in Near Eastern art (98), for instance, may
have been metal attachments, perhaps of gold, sewn onto the garment
(86).

Chapter Four (Alexis Q. Castor) is "Grave garb: Archaic and classical
Macedonian funerary costume," the subject of which is Archaic and
Classical Macedonian female mortuary jewelry (116). Castor discourses
on "the potential of jewelry as a document that contributes new
insights into social history" (116). There are limitations to the study
of Macedonian mortuary practices; most notably, the publication of
finds is sparse, and the diverse contributory cultures make ethnic
identification of grave goods difficult (118-19). In addition, most
grave clothing has vanished; scraps of metal fastenings or jewelry can
be found, but even these are missing in the Archaic/Classical period
graves (see below). Interestingly, in the 6th century, graves display
profligate expense in funerary garb (116); some rich graves combine
modern with outmoded pieces. The 5th century however sees a more
restrained mortuary style in Macedonia (ibid), although there is no
evidence of a widespread economic downturn at this time (117). Perhaps
in this century "political and social displays...shifted away from the
cemetery venue" (134). Or perhaps the elite in the 5th century decided
to distinguish themselves with a different type of burial ritual (such
as marble grave markers; 137). In Classical times, almost all the
Macedonian jewelry found is similar to that represented on 5th century
Attic vases (138), and Macedonian ornaments from this period provide
rare and welcome secure chronological and regional evidence for Greek
jewelry types (140). Perhaps women wore more jewelry in daily life, but
"in art and in the grave, this restrained costume conveyed essential
ideas of female fashion" (139). There are also fascinating practical
observations here. For instance, jewelry in a grave does not always
indicate a female burial. To label one as such is "misleading" or at
the very least "skim[s] over significant nuances" (118-19).[[3]] Castor
also asks whether can we distinguish between ornaments that have a
purely funerary use and those worn in life. Some pieces (like
facemasks) are obviously only for the grave (124); other pieces need
close examination to determine a domestic or a funerary context.

Chapter 5 is "'Fashioning' initiates: dress at the Mysteries" (Laura
Gawlinski). Gawlinski points out that clothing could indicate not only
gender, age, wealth, etc., but also mood and situation, "marking the
difference between festival and mourning, or even sacred and profane"
(146). Furthermore, Greek and Roman cult practice offered "a unique
venue for public display," because the gatherings were social and
cultic (146). She covers several themes of the use of dress: to
highlight a portion of the initiation ceremony; to draw attention to
special individuals; to separate out various groups; and to mark out a
person as someone who has undergone initiation (ibid). Dress was an
important part of initiation but it is not always easy to assess the
physical attire with which initiates were adorned; specific items
varied from cult to cult and varied within each cult over time (150).
She covers such articles of initiates' clothing for which we have
information: wreaths (151-4); leaf-shaped lamellae (154); and veils
(155). The cultic hierarchy itself was also marked out by clothing: the
dadouchos  and the hierophant wore special costumes, for instance; as
did the Ten and the sacred women (161). Items of adornment were also
used after initiation to mark the persons off as initiates (164):
lamellae, purple fillets (165), and iron rings (165-6). We must not
forget that meetings of mystery cults were still communal activities
and gave the women involved a chance for social display (157); thus
Gawlinski also covers female clothing in the text of the regulations of
the Mysteries of Andania (156-61). The position of women is reflected
in what each was legally allowed to wear at the rituals (158). Women
were also not allowed to wear makeup, plait their hair, or wear shoes
unless they were of felt or sacrificial leather (158-59). Gawlinski
stresses that no single purpose lies behind all the rules (such as the
limitation of female public display; 159). The magical powers of
binding and knotting may perhaps have influenced the rules on hair, the
ban on shoes stemmed perhaps from a fear of dirt passing between
secular and sacred boundaries (among other possibilities; 160).
Gawlinski states such rules seem proscriptive but are also very much
prescriptive, designed to help clothing communicate status (160-61).

In "Sacerdotal activities and Parthian dress in Roman Palmyra," Maura
K. Heyn examines dress worn by men in the funerary sculpture of Palmyra
(170), reliefs which were powerful symbols of prestige (173), and which
in part depict banqueters. Heyn distinguishes between those figures
wearing 'Greco-Roman dress' (tunic and cloak) and those in 'Parthian
dress' (long belted tunic worn over loose trousers; 170). Often males
in Greco-Roman dress and those in Parthian dress are depicted on the
same relief (173), and Heyn is interested in why an individual would
have chosen one type of costume over the other in funerary sculpture.
Parthian dress does offer a great opportunity for decorative display,
but Heyn postulates that wealth was not the principal motivation in
choosing the costume (177-8). Her hypothesis is that certain types of
dress in these reliefs signaled the participation of the deceased in
the ritual activities of the city (172), and thinks that Palmyrene
dress in these reliefs may be priestly dress (judging from comparative
dress on terracotta tokens called tesserae; 183). Thus she cautiously
concludes that the funerary banquets are ritual banquets (187, 190).

Judith Rosten in "Appearance, diversity, and identity in Roman Britain"
notes that items associated with personal adornment form more than 50%
of excavation small finds, and "to ignore these is to waste a vast body
of potentially highly informative data" (195). The sites used are
several sites linked by the same road in the modern-day county of
Hertfordshire, no more than 30 km apart; thus all the settlements would
have had access to the same goods (199). Of her sites, Gorhambury and
Verulamium are both 'high-status' sites, i.e., the former is a villa,
the latter a municipium. Bladock, Braughing, and Dunstable are smaller
towns where Roman influence might perhaps be less evident (205). Rosten
correctly observes (197) that given movement between sites, deposition
of artifacts is not limited to those who lived there, and also notes
that apart from hairpins made of bone, ancient adornment consisted
largely of metal articles, the ownership of which implies a degree of
wealth (200). She comes to several fascinating conclusions here
concerning the same object found in differing quantities on the
different sites. For instance, traditional British female dress
required metal brooches; thus the few instances of brooch finds at the
high-status sites may mean that here Roman female dress was the more
prevalent fashion -- a style which did not require brooches. There are
high numerous brooch finds at the smaller sites of Bladock and
Braughing (207), the lower-status sites. Dunstable on the other hand
was a poor agricultural community and not even brooches are in evidence
here -- cheap and practical hairpins instead predominate. Rosten also
analyzes toilet implements at the sites (nail cleaners, combs, cosmetic
grinders, etc), concluding that the same range of grooming practices
took place at all five settlements (210).

A couple of minor quibbles: why are references cited in toto both in
the footnotes and again at the end of the chapter? A bibliography at
the end of the book would have sufficed, with elegant author-date
citations in-text. And there is a touch too much postmodern jargon
floating about: 'negotiate identity' is a favorite phrase, but what
does it mean, exactly? On the whole, though, here is little to
criticize in this volume, which examines not only purely archaeological
evidence for ancient adornment, a new and different approach to dress
in antiquity, but also ornament from places on the outskirts of
mainland Greece and Italy; again, something all too rarely studied.
There is much of value here for historians of ancient costume.

Table of Contents:

List of Figures
List of Tables
Map of the Aegean and Near East
Introduction: Bodily Adornment and Identity (Cynthia S. Colburn and
Maura K. Heyn)
Chapter One: Exotica and the Body in the Minoan and Mycenaean Worlds
(Cynthia S. Colburn)
Chapter Two: The Lady of the Landscape: An Investigation of Aegean
Costuming and the Xeste 3 Frescoes (Anne P. Chapin)
Chapter Three: Fabric Patterns as Symbols of Status in the Near East
and Early Greece (Eleanor Guralnick)
Chapter Four: Grave Garb: Archaic and Classical Macedonian Funerary
Costume (Alexis Q. Castor)
Chapter Five: "Fashioning" Initiates: Dress at the Mysteries (Laura
Gawlinski)
Chapter Six: Sacerdotal Activities and Parthian Dress in Roman Palmyra
(Maura K. Heyn)
Chapter Seven: Appearance, Diversity, and Identity in Roman Britain
(Judith Rosten)
List of Contributors
Index
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Notes:


1.   For example, Sebesta, J. L., and L. Bonfante, eds. 1994. The World
of Roman Costume. Madison, Wis. : University of Wisconsin Press; J.
Edmondson and A. Keith, eds., 2008. Roman Dress and the Fabrics of
Roman Culture. Toronto: Univ. of Toronto Press.

2.   Hero Granger-Taylor, for example: "The approach that expects to
see an impact on clothing from a single historical event is usually a
mistaken one and is especially mistaken if applied to the Ancient
World, when tradition ruled dress to an extent unknown in modern
Europe" (Weaving clothes to shape in the ancient world: the tunic and
toga of the Arringatore. Textile History 13.1 [1982]: 20).

3.   On this topic, see P. Treherne. 1995. The warrior's beauty: the
masculine body and self-identity in pre-modern Europe. Journal of
European Archaeology 3.1: 105-44.