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From Spolia to Showcase: A 1st-Century BC Decree in Motion

Nicolas C. Nicolaides

In 1816, “Monsieur Mertrud” a French merchant and antiquities dealer resident in Athens, discovered a 1st-century BC marble stele inscribed with a decree honoring ephebes and their superintendent (kosmetes), reused as spolia in the wall of a house (Fig. 1). In 1821 the stele was acquired by Percy Clinton Smythe, sixth Viscount Strangford (1780–1855), British ambassador at Constantinople (İstanbul), and entered the British Museum in 1864. Tracing the stele’s movement from Athens to Constantinople and London, this post emphasizes the role of Levantine Frank intermediaries in reshaping the modern afterlives of classical objects through pragmatic negotiations that operated between local households, diplomatic networks, and state museums.

Fig. 1. Fragment of the marble block from Athens bearing an inscription that comprises two decrees honoring ephebes and their superintendent (ca. 38–40 BC). London, BM 1864,0220.21. © The Trustees of the British Museum. Shared under a CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 licence.

Levantine Franks and Antiquities in Ottoman Athens

André Mertrud, locally known as Mousandreas (a corrupted form of “Monsieur Andreas”), was a French physician, merchant, and antiquities dealer who settled in Athens in 1788 following his marriage to Marguerite Cayrac, herself of Levantine Frank descent (Krakovitch 1985, p. 55–56). Their grand residence, located—according to Manolis Korres (2010, p. 125–128)—at the intersection of modern Adrianou and Navarchou Nikodemou Streets and depicted by Otto Magnus von Stackelberg (1786–1837), reflected the family’s wealth and social standing (Fig. 2). The building shown in Stackelberg’s lithograph, long misidentified as the Logotheti mansion, was identified by Bankel (1986, p. 167, 202) as the Mertrud house on the basis of Haller von Hallerstein’s architectural plans and drawings of the same property. The Mertrud residence likely functioned as a space of antiquarian display comparable to other elite households and foreign consulates in Athens (Petsalis-Diomidis 2018, p. 43).

The Mertruds’ involvement in antiquities drew them into the politics of collecting, as reflected in a 1802 letter by Giovanni-Battista Lusieri (1755–1821), agent of Lord Elgin (1766–1841). In this letter, Lusieri complained that “Monsieur Mertrout [sic]” obstructed the removal of the Parthenon marbles by cutting off the water supply required to wash them (Smith 1916, p. 230).

Fig. 2. Otto Magnus von Stackelberg. Athens. Interior of a Greek house. Stackelberg 1834, pl. 5. Courtesy American School of Classical Studies at Athens, Gennadius Library.

Strangford and the Decree

Despite André Mertrud’s earlier resistance to Elgin’s enterprise, the family’s later actions reveal a pragmatic recalibration rather than ideological opposition, as his descendants later sold the stele, and possibly other ancient artifacts, to one of Elgin’s successors, Lord Strangford. François Pouqueville, French consul at Ali Pasha’s court in Janina (Ioannina), records that the stele had been reused as spolia in the house of “Stamataki-Hadgi” before being discovered and transcribed by Monsieur Mertrud in 1816 (Pouqueville 1820, p. 105). Panagiotis Eustratiades (1815–1888), Ephor General of Antiquities, identifies “Stamataki-Hadgi” as Stamatios Kodras and locates the house on Deka Street, west of the Metropolitan Cathedral (Malouchou 2019, p. 64, n. 25). Pouqueville’s 1820 publication (Fig. 3) transformed the stele from a locally embedded object into a textualized artifact circulating within Western scholarly networks, likely increasing interest, and in 1821 the family sold the stele to Strangford’s agent, Luigi Canquitz of Smyrna (İzmir) (St Clair 2022, p. 250; TNA; Kew FO 352/15 B, 444). Canquitz’s name points to Levantine Frank origins, underscoring the existence of a transregional network of Levantine Frank settlers active in the antiquities trade.

Fig. 3. The stele’s inscribed text as published by Pouqueville in his Voyage dans la Grèce vol. 4, Paris, 1820, p. 105, No XVI. Original copy held by the National Library of the Netherlands.

After Strangford’s death, many of his antiquities entered the British Museum in 1864, among them the Strangford Apollo, an archaic kouros from the island of Anaphi (Fig. 4), and the Strangford Shield, a marble copy of the shield from Pheidias’ statue of Athena Parthenos in the Parthenon. While Strangford’s collection exemplifies the consolidation of antiquities within imperial institutions, the same decades witnessed a parallel redefinition of ancient material within Greece itself.

Fig. 4. The Strangford Apollo (ca. 490 BC). London, BM 1864,0220.1. © The Trustees of the British Museum. Shared under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 licence.

From Commodities to Symbols of Nationhood

The Greek Enlightenment and the War of Independence fundamentally reshaped perceptions of antiquities. Intellectuals such as Adamantios Koraïs (1748–1833) framed ancient material culture as a cornerstone of national regeneration, while successive revolutionary governments sought to regulate its circulation. Yet ambiguities persisted in practice regarding the status of antiquities, particularly in the blurred boundary between patriotic donation and continued commercial exchange. As Alexia Petsalis-Diomidis (2018, p. 43) observes in the case of Nikolaos Phlogaïtis (1799–1867), a Greek revolutionary and jurist, whose newly acquired collection of sixty vases was donated to the National Museum, founded in 1829 by Governor Ioannis Kapodistrias (1776–1831) on Aegina (Fig. 5). By contrast, André Mertrud’s son Bartholomée sold more than one hundred vases to the same institution in 1831 (Petrakos 2015, p. 46–47, docs. 515–516). This juxtaposition may suggest differing modes of national commitment shaped by distinct social trajectories: on the one hand, an altruistic gesture aligned with emerging ideals of national patrimony; on the other, a Levantine Frank identity grounded in long-standing commercial practice and pragmatic engagement with state institutions. The latter interpretation is consistent with the Mertrud family’s broader activities in early independent Athens, including Petros Mertrud’s advisory role in 1831 to Sophie de Marbois-Lebrun, Duchess of Plaisance (1785–1854), on land acquisitions in the city (Kampouroglou 1923–1925, p. 207).

Fig. 5. The Kapodistrian Orphanage, Aegina (1828–1829), where the National Library and the Archaeological Museum were also housed. Photograph by John Rigas, CC BY-SA 4.0.

Conclusion

The trajectory of this 1st-century BC stele, from spolia in an Athenian house to a British Museum artifact, encapsulates the shifting meanings of antiquities in the late Ottoman and early modern Mediterranean. Mediated by Franco-Athenian families, Levantine agents, and diplomatic networks, the object’s movement reflects the transformation of ancient material from commodity to institutionalized heritage. In this context, the Mertruds emerge as key intermediaries, whose antiquarian and commercial strategies illuminate the entanglement of commerce, politics, and identity at the threshold of Greek independence.

Acknowledgments

This research was largely conducted at the Gennadius Library of the American School of Classical Studies at Athens, supported by the 2023–2024 Kathryn and Peter Yatrakis Fellowship. I am grateful to Maria Georgopoulou and Irini Solomonidi for their guidance, and to the library staff for their support and hospitality. I also thank Joshua Williams, whose enthusiasm for epigraphy first introduced me to the field, and Matthew Peebles for comments on an earlier draft. For scholarly advice and other support, I thank Jackson Noah Miller, and Mercedes Volait.

Sources

Hansgeorg Bankel (ed.), Carl Haller von Hallerstein in Griechenland, 1810–1817: Architekt, Zeichner, Bauforscher. Berlin, Dietrich Reimer Verlag, 1986.

Dimitrios G. Kampouroglou, Μελέται καί ἔρευναι: ὉἍγιος Ἠλίας τοῦ σταροπάζαρου καὶ ἡ θυρεοκόσμητος τοι χογραφίατου, Τὰ Ἀττικά, Ἡ Δούκισσα τῆς Πλακεντίας [Studies and Research: Saint Elias of the Staropazaro and Its Heraldic Wall Painting]; Attica; The Duchess of Plaisance], Athens, Hestia, 1923–1925.

Odile Krakovitch (ed.), Consulats de France en Grèce et en Turquie : Correspondance des consuls d’Athènes et Nègrepont (1684–1791). Mémoires et documents des consulats de Grèce et de Turquie (1740–1870), Paris, Archives Nationales, 1985.

Vasileios C. Petrakos, Ημερολόγιο Αρχαιολογικό. Τα χρόνια του Καποδίστρια. 1828–1832 3 [Archaeological Journal. The Years of Kapodistrias, 1828–1832 vol. 3], Athens, Hē en Athēnais Archaiologikē Hetaireia, 2015.

François C. H. L. Pouqueville, Voyage dans la Grèce, volume 4, Paris, Firmin Didot, Père et Fils, 1820.

Otto Magnus von Stackelberg, La Grèce : Vues pittoresques et topographiques, Paris, 1834.

References

Manolis Korres, “Πολεοδομικός ιστός – Οδικό δίκτυο και οικοδομικές νησίδες επί των χαρτών Fauvel και Κλεάνθους-Schaubert” [Urban Fabric: Street Network and Building Blocks in the Maps of Fauvel and Kleanthes–Schaubert], in Αττικής οδοί 2. Οι πρώτοι χάρτες της πόλεως των Αθηνών [Attic Roads 2: The First Maps of the City of Athens], ed. M. Korres, Athens, Melissa, 2010, p. 120–153.

Georgia E. Malouchou, “Οἰκίες τῶν παλαιῶν Ἀθηνῶν τῶν πρὸ τῆς Ἐπαναστάσεως χρόνων Σημείωμα” [Houses of Old Athens in the Years before the Revolution], Γραμμάτειον 8, p. 61–66, 2019.

Alexia Petsalis-Diomidis, “Local Engagements with Ancient Greek Vases in Ottoman and Revolutionary Greece, c. 1800–1833,” in Classics in extremis: The Edges of Classical Reception, ed. E. Richardson, London, Bloomsbury, 2018, p. 35–58.

Arthur H. Smith, “Lord Elgin and his collection,” The Journal of Hellenic Studies 36, 1916. p. 163–372.

William St. Clair, Who Saved the Parthenon? A New History of the Acropolis Before, During and After the Greek Revolution, Cambridge, Open Book publishers, 2022.

From the Albaycín to the Private Museum: The Fortuny Azulejo and its Residences

Élodie Baillot

The so-called Fortuny azulejo is a lusterware tile panel of very large dimensions, dated from the early 15th century and probably produced in Málaga under the reign of the Nasrid King Yusuf III, who ruled over the kingdom of Granada from 1376 to 1417 (Fig. 1). This magnificent tile panel has been known since its purchase in 1871 in Granada by the Spanish painter Mariano Fortuny y Marsal (1838-1974). Fortuny who had won the Prix de Rome in 1857 had settled in the Eternal city before relocating in Paris where he enjoyed considerable success while initiating his partnership with the art dealer Albert Goupil. In 1870, Fortuny left for a two-year stay in Granada in order to find new sources of inspiration. During his Andalusian stay he purchased several objects that have become iconic Islamic artefacts, most of them now preserved in private and public museums. Amongst these artefacts is the large lusterware tile panel. According to what he confided to friends at the time, he did not purchase the panel from an antiquarian or a collector but most likely from a small shopkeeper based in the Albaycín district, the Arab quarter of Granada, where the tile panel had been reused as a lintel for the door of the shop.

Fig. 1. Lusterware tile panel, Málaga, 15th century, 90 x 46 cm, Madrid, Instituto Valencia de Don Juan.

A small fragment, very similar in design, was also acquired by Fortuny at the same time. It belongs now to the Louvre (OA 6694) and suggests that there were originally two panels forming a pair, probably coming from the Alhambra palace even though there is no tangible evidence of such a provenance. Before entering Fortuny’s collection, the azulejo had probably already lived a life of reuse and undergone relocation and decontextualization.

A life in the studio: the artist-collector’s object

In 1871, the lusterware tile panel joined the painter’s collection who was also a collector. It marked a turning point insofar as the artist’s notoriety reflected on his collection which he completed over time with exceptionally rare pieces. Fortuny spent two years in Granada before returning to Rome in 1872 where his collection was to be displayed in his studio which was also a major hub of artistic sociability in the 1860s-1870s. As an artist, Fortuny considered his collection as a source of inspiration and study as can be seen in several paintings and photographs depicting the place. The azulejo occupies a prominent place in this setting, hanging on a wall surrounded by tapestries and lusterware plates (Fig. 2). The panel was probably framed by Fortuny to facilitate the display on the wall’s studio and the comparison with his own orientalist paintings. The artist was also known for his attempts at recreation of medieval artistic techniques which he experimented while in Granada, specifically the lusterware and forge techniques. He was very much interested in collecting these objects to emulate medieval artists and craftsmanship. For the Alhambra vase, one of the most famous artefacts of his collection acquired near Granada, he designed and forged a bronze base decorated with lion heads.

Fig. 2. View of Fortuny’s workshop in Rome, from Fortuny (1838-1874), Bologna, G. Maylender, 1933 (reproduced by Élodie Baillot).

A destiny determined by auctions

Fig. 3. The Fortuny azulejo, from Atelier de Fortuny : œuvre posthume, objets d’art et de curiosités […], Paris, Hôtel Drouot, 26 avril 1875, Paris, impr. J. Claye, 1875, p. 100.

After the artist’s very sudden death in 1874, the destiny of the lusterware tile panel was again at stake during the sale of his collection a year later in Paris. It is known that the azulejo was highly coveted since it was reported by Spanish collector and art historian Juan Facundo Riaño, advisor to the South Kensington Museum, to its director Henry Cole, as absolutely unique. In view of the sale, organized by Baron Jean-Charles Davillier, a friend of Fortuny, collector and historian of lusterware ceramics, the translation of the Arabic inscription on the azulejo was entrusted to orientalist Charles Schefer, whose version connected the object to the reign of King Yusuf III and allowed a more precise dating (Fig. 3). This enhanced the value of the azulejo and Baron Davillier, who wrote the catalogue entries of Fortuny’s ceramic collection, even drew a symbolic parallel between the deceased Spanish painter and King Yusuf III who was known for embellishing the Alhambra palace and excelling as a poet and artist. Even though the inscription is dedicated to the Nasrid King, Fortuny’s last ownership of the azulejo largely overshadowed any other provenance in the shaping of the object’s history and critical fortune. Since Fortuny bought it in 1871, it is commonly referred to as the Fortuny azulejo.

The object was then purchased by Baron Davillier for 1 950 francs , allegedly on behalf of Fortuny’s widow who kept the azulejo in her collection. Even if the terms of the arrangement between the two parties remain unknown, it testifies to the sentimental attachment of the Fortuny’s family to the object. In comparison, the so-called Alhambra vase was bought by Russian collector Alexandre Basilewsky for 30 000 francs. This sale marked an important step in the “aestheticization of value” (Boltanski, Esquerre, 2017) of the azulejo not only because it fetched a significant price but also because the sale catalogue was conceived as a historiographical overview on lusterware ceramics, a field of research in which Davillier was a pioneer. As a matter of fact, Davillier probably capitalized on the success of the sale to give his research new relevance.

The museum object

The azulejo seems to have remained in Fortuny’s widow collection for several years before being sold at an unknown date to Maurice de Talleyrand-Périgord, Duke de Dino. Neither the price and the reasons of acquisition, nor under what conditions it was displayed while Dino owned it, are known. In any case, the collection of the Duke de Dino, one of the most important collections of arms and armors of the time, was sold after his death in 1894.

Considering the growing fame of Davillier’s publications since 1875, the Fortuny azulejo had become a masterwork from the Nasrid period and a brilliant artistic expression of Muslim Spain. It was commonly attributed by most scholars to a workshop in Málaga, where the Alhambra vase could have been produced too. This more accurate understanding of the technique and time of production of the object was even reinforced by the aura his previous owner, Fortuny, had gained since he had been elevated as the artistic genius of Spanish contemporary painting.

During the 1894 sale of the Duke de Dino’s collection, the azulejo was acquired by Guillermo de Osma y Scull and his wife, Adela Crooke y Guzmán, Countess of Valencia de Don Juan. This purchase is the result of the effectiveness of a loyal network of agents able to secure the object they were willing to buy at any cost. Some serious rivals were also on the line for the acquisition such as the South Kensington Museum, the Berlin Kunstgewerbemuseum and some major collectors. Guillermo de Osma and Adela Crooke y Guzmán managed to refrain Frederick Du Cane Godman from bidding after an arrangement with him. To deal with British collector George Salting, they let the bidding rise until he withdrew, ultimately acquiring the azulejo for 19 500 francs. To cover this considerable sum, Osma had to join forces with his father-in-law Juan Crooke y Navarrot, Count of Valencia de Don Juan.

The Fortuny azulejo thus entered a new private collection but this collection bears a specific meaning since the Counts of Valencia de Don Juan built a residence to house a museum and institute dedicated to the history of Spain and its arts that they created in 1916 (Fig. 4). The historicist neo-Moorish architecture and decoration of the building, located on Fortuny Street in Madrid, were designed as a setting alluding to the style of the objects exhibited inside.

Fig. 4. The initial location of the Fortuny azulejo at the Instituto Valencia de Don Juan. AIVDJ, Carpeta 401, Carrera San Jerónimo, interiores, salón principal (between 1894 and 1914) (Reproduced by Élodie Baillot).
Fig. 5. Current display of the azulejo in the Instituto Valencia de Don Juan (Photograph by Élodie Baillot, 2018)

Within the palace, the azulejo has a prominent place and stands today in a display case dedicated to Nasrid ceramics (Fig. 5). It faces another one of the few exemplars of the so-called Alhambra vases and embodies the reappropriation of the study of the material culture of Muslim Spain in which most of the successive directors of the Instituto Valencia de Don Juan distinguished themselves. The azulejo also illustrates the patriotic commitment of its last owners dedicated to the preservation and study of Spanish heritage. This aspect is even more tangible with the gift they made of their collection and institute to the Spanish nation. Since its purchase in 1894, the azulejo has not left Spain and is never loaned. An exception was made in 2018 for Mariano Fortuny y Marsal retrospective exhibition held at the Prado Museum, in Madrid.

Bibliography

Atelier de Fortuny : œuvre posthume, objets d’art et de curiosité, armes, faïences hispano-moresques, étoffes et broderies, bronzes orientaux, coffrets d’ivoire, etc…. dont la vente aura lieu les 26 avril et jours suivants…hôtel Drouot. Notices par MM. Édouard de Beaumont (armes), B[ar]on Davillier (faïences), A. Dupont-Auberville (étoffes), Paris, impr. J. Claye, 1875.

Élodie Baillot, « De palais à institut : architecture, décors et arts décoratifs espagnols à l’Instituto de Valencia de Don Juan », in Sandra Costa, Dominique Poulot, Mercedes Volait (eds.), The Period rooms. Allestimenti storici tra arte, collezionismo e museologia, Bologna, Bononia University Press, 2016, p. 179-188.

Élodie Baillot, Le baron Davillier. Un travailleur de la curiosité, Paris, Éditions de la Sorbonne, 2024.

Javier Barón (ed.), Fortuny (1838-1874), cat. exp. (Madrid, Museo del Prado, 21 de noviembre de 2017-18 de marzo de 2018), Madrid, Museo nacional del Prado, 2018.

Luc Boltanski, Arnaud Esquerre, Enrichissement : une critique de la marchandise, Paris, Gallimard, 2017.

A Moving Embroidery: From 1796 Vienna to Present-day Sofia

Artemis Yagou

The embroidery is so exquisite, so rich in colour and detail, that it seems to capture a moment of profound spiritual drama. The focus of this post is no ordinary textile, it is a magnificent ecclesiastical embroidery with a complex trajectory, involving various people, localities, and beliefs. (Fig. 1) It is an Epitaphios, a large veil depicting the body of the crucified Christ, traditionally carried in procession during the Orthodox Good Friday services. 168 centimetres wide and 130 centimetres tall, crafted from silk, shimmering gold threads, and sparkling silver sequins, it is set against a rose-coloured silk background that catches the light, creating dramatic reflections and shadows. The background creates a harmonious contrast to the shapes and colours of the embroidered parts, in particular the human figures: the mourning Virgin Mary and Maria Magdalene, the disciples and angels surrounding the body of Christ. Above them, a large cross with the symbols of the martyrdom (crown of thorns, lance, and sponge) dominates the centre of the composition. This central theme is surrounded by a large arch; there are also five smaller arches with heads of angels; above the main arch, the sun and the moon can be discerned among clouds.  The figures of the four Evangelists are enclosed in Baroque-style medallions on the left and right sections of the Epitaphios. (Fig. 2) Above these, there are four miniature representations, to the right Jerusalem and the Resurrection and to the left the Golgotha and the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, where the Holy Grave lies. Various liturgical objects, such as hanging oil-lamps and myrrh containers complement the scene. Finally, a border with an elaborate, highly stylised floral decoration in Baroque style encloses the whole synthesis.

Fig. 1. The 1796 Epitaphios embroidered by Marina Ruheland in Vienna. Sofia, National Museum of History. Photo by the author.
Fig. 2. Detail of the 1796 Epitaphios top right corner. Sofia, National Museum of History. Photo by the author.

The art of ecclesiastic embroidery was practiced widely in professional workshops situated in bustling urban centres of the Ottoman Empire, such as Istanbul, Trebizond, Thessaloniki, Ioannina, and Adrianople; some works still survive in churches and museums in Greece and elsewhere. This Epitaphios however, as the signature and Latin inscription embroidered at its lower right part show, was made in Vienna by Marina Ruheland in 1796. Marina Ruheland belonged to a family of professional embroiderers and her exceptional skills were highly valued. Thanks to Ruheland’s reputation, members of the flourishing Greek communities of the Habsburg Empire as well as wealthy Greeks from the Ottoman Empire were regular patrons of her workshop, commissioning works to be dedicated to churches or monasteries. In this case, the donor’s identity is revealed by an embroidered inscription in Greek at the lower part of the object: “The present Epitaphios was dedicated to the St Athanasios metropolitan church of Ioannina by Mr Panagiotis Hadji Nikou for the salvation of his soul, year 1796.” The artefact was a custom-made product, commissioned by Panagiotis Hadji Nikou, an important personality of eighteenth-century Greek diaspora. A surviving portrait of Hadji Nikou shows him as a sumptuously dressed, solemn, and imposing figure. (Fig. 3) His family originated from Konitsa, but he was born in Ioannina in 1709. Hadji Nikou was successfully involved in the fur and leather trade in Moldavia and Wallachia, and event­ually settled in Braşov, in the Habsburg-controlled Principality of Transylvania, where he died in his late eighties in 1796 or 1797. He supported the Greek community of Braşov but also his native Epirus through various generous donations and endowments. His grave is preserved in the cemetery of the Greek Orthodox church of the Holy Trinity in Braşov, where he had also donated a Vienna-made Epitaphios in 1777.

Fig. 3. Portrait of wealthy benefactor Panagiotis Hadji Nikou, Church of the Holy Trinity in Braşov, painter unknown. Photo by the author.

Placing his order again to a Viennese workshop in 1796 was a strategic decision. It not only guaranteed craftsmanship of the highest quality, but was also aligned with the sophisticated Baroque fashion of the time and, furthermore, could serve as a lasting monument to the donor’s wealth and piety. Commissioning a Vienna Epitaphios was compatible with Hadji Nikou’s profile as a hard-working and successful man who had amassed a great fortune away from his homeland. It was the ultimate status symbol, seamlessly blending his professional success with his spiritual devotion to his homeland. When the Epitaphios would reach its intended destination, the church of St Athanasios in Ioannina, it would constitute an enduring tribute to Hadji Nikou’s high social standing. However, given that he died either in late 1796, the year when the embroidery was completed, or very soon after, it is questionable whether the artefact ever reached the Ioannina church to which it was dedicated and where it was meant to be placed. The object is currently held at the National Museum of History in Sofia (Inv. No. 29237). According to the museum’s documentation, it originated from the St Naum Monastery in Ohrid (today in North Macedonia). How and when the embroidery travelled from Vienna to Ohrid and eventually reached the Bulgarian museum in Sofia is unclear.

Embroideries were particularly apposite as donations because they enjoyed increased visibility during religious services, which were among the best-attended gatherings by Orthodox Christians in the Ottoman Empire. Although the 1796 embroidery is a unique, bespoke item produced for a specific customer, it also acquired a broader, public character, due to its use in the communal space of the church. Despite its high cost and splendid features, it would be accessible to the wider group of ordinary people that constituted the congregation. The representations of figures in particular emphasised emotions and helped cultivate a deep spiritual bond with the viewers of the work. (Fig. 4)

Fig. 4. Expressively embroidered figures could generate strong emotions among viewers. Detail of the 1796 Epitaphios. Photo by the author.

The practice of object dedication to a church bestowed great prestige upon the donors and was directly connected with their personal honour and status in the community. In the second half of the eighteenth century, charity was established as one of the values of the bourgeoisie. The increasing popularity and diffusion among Greek Orthodox commissioners of embroideries made outside their local communities manifested in particular openness and a desire for renewal. Religious art is by definition conservative, as it expresses dogma and serves worship, but at the same time it can be innovative to some degree by following the trends of secular art and is transformed through them. All forms of ecclesiastical vestments and embroideries are subject to fashions and trends – in a different way than secular clothes but within the same general framework. Although inherited styles were still prevailing in eighteenth century ecclesiastical art, donations imported from the West contributed to the movement of ideas and the assimilation of novel features, thus encouraging the cultural osmosis of traditional and new elements.

The Epitaphios of 1796 is a profound material document capturing the impact of things that move and become carriers of diverse meanings. For the donor, the hybrid nature of this object reflected complex strategies of adaptation and social positioning. He can be perceived as an individual moving not only across physical borders, but also transgressing mental and psychological barriers and embracing the latest fashion while at the same time securing his spiritual legacy. In the community, this opulent work would be accessible to everyone and members of the congregation could forge a powerful emotional connection with it. The superb artefact would serve the spiritual needs of the community and animate the imagination of its members. The Epitaphios of 1796 is therefore an artefact that moved across different territories and cultures and brings together diverse spheres of human activity, such as religion, commerce, and art. Embodying multilayered historical evidence, this object is a powerful material testimony where­ devotion, wealth, and craftsmanship merge. Last but not least, this Epitaphios is a moving object in the sense of evoking strong emotions today, of touching and inspiring us.

References

Athanassios E. Karathanassis, L’hellénisme en Transylvanie: L’activité culturelle, nationale et religieuse des compagnies commerciales helléniques de Sibiu et de Brașov aux XVIIIe–XIXe siècles, Thessaloniki: Institute for Balkan Studies, 1989.

Ralitsa Rousseva (ed.), ‘145. Epitaphios’, National Museum of History: Catalogue, Sofia: National Museum of History/Plovdiv: Pygmalion Publishers, 2006, p. 143–144.

Manolis G. Varvounis and Nadia Macha-Bizoumi, ‘Συνέχειες και Ασυνέχειες στην Ελληνική Παράδοση των Ιερατικών Αμφίων (19ος–20ος αι.)’ [Continuities and Discontinuities in the Greek Tradition of Hieratic Vestments (19th–20th c.)], Proceedings of the 5th European Conference on Neohellenic Studies of the European Society of Neohellenic Studies, Thessaloniki, 2–5 October 2014, Athens: Evropaiki Etaireia Neoellinikon Spoudon, 2015, p. 125–146.

Eleni Vlachopoulou-Karabina, ‘Ο Άγνωστος Επιτάφιος του Ιερού Μητροπολιτικού ναού Αγίου Αθανασίου Ιωαννίνων, Εργαστήριο Βιέννης, 1796’ [The Unknown Epitaphios of the Holy Metropolitan Church of St. Athanasios of Ioannina, Vienna Workshop, 1796], Epirotika Chronika 33, 1998–1999, p. 243–249.

Artemis Yagou, Products, Users, and Popular Luxury in Early Modern Greece, London and New York: Routledge, 2024.

Diasporic Heritage in Plural: Objects from ‘Home’ at the Greek Egyptian Associations in Athens

Eftychia Mylona & Irakleitos Souyioultzoglou

In 1933, the Greeks from Egypt and Sudan (Σύλλογος των εξ Αιγύπτου και Σουδάν Ελλήνων) founded their association in Athens. From its early years, the association collected objects from Egypt, and eventually became a custodian of memorabilia (photographs, documents, athletic trophies) of the once-flourishing Greek communities in the country. Over time, and as the collection expanded, its premises were transformed into a place of curated memory; entire walls are now covered with showcases, with separate compartments dedicated to a specific community in Egypt (Fig. 1). Within each, contents are carefully arranged to highlight historical transitions and cultural resilience:  in the background, photographs that depict athletic activities and Greek clubs in Egypt serve as symbolic foundations of the contemporary diasporic identity. As the visitor’s gaze shifts to the foreground, it captures more recent memorabilia, which stand as links between past and present, and indicators of a persistent social milieu that resisted displacement.

Fig. 1. Permanent display of sports memorabilia from the Port-Said and Port-Tawfiq communities at the premises of the Association of Greeks from Egypt. Photo: Irakleitos Souyioultzoglou, September 2024.

Following Timothy Mitchell’s conceptualisation of the exhibition as a symbolic space that (re)produces meaning and stereotypes within the collective imaginary (Mitchell, 1988), photographs and sports memorabilia are here examined as constitutive elements of an ad hoc sociocultural setting that conveys the prevailing narrative of the Greek communities in Egypt.

In February 2024, the Athletic Association of Greeks from Egypt (Αθλητικός Σύλλογος Αιγυπτιωτών Ελλήνων – ΑΣΑΕ) and the Association of Greeks from Port Said and Port Fuad organised an exhibition dedicated to the communal life of Greeks in the cities of the Suez Canal. Well before its opening, a series of social media posts advertised the exhibition as an opportunity for Greeks who had spent their childhood in the region to reunite and rekindle nostalgic memories—particularly memories related to their involvement in athletic clubs and participation in sporting events. This nostalgic framing extended into the event itself: in his opening speech, the president of the association introduced the interpretive lens through which visitors were invited to experience the exhibition: its purpose, he stated, was to “showcase the vitality of the Greek community in the past, in cities that are now in the hands of the Egyptians.”

Indeed, as the visitors walked past the displays, the room filled with nostalgic sighs, enthusiastic exclamations, recalling of names, and narratives from childhoods once lived in Egypt. Clearly, the event fulfilled its aim: by placing together and carefully arranging objects invested with symbolic meaning, it turned realia into a “lieu de mémoire” (Nora, 1989) that, beyond its material substance, stands as a container of the community’s collective memory — which, in turn, serves as a common denominator of the community’s persistent and distinct identity (Fig. 2).

Fig. 2. A glimpse into the exhibition celebrating the athletic performance of Greeks in Egypt. Photo: Irakleitos Souyioultzoglou, February 2024

The exhibition adheres to a symbolic pattern of rendering space into a heterotopic representation of the, by now shuttered, Greek communal space in Egypt. The lounge of the Association of Greeks from Egypt (Σύνδεσμος Αιγυπτιωτών Ελλήνων – ΣΑΕ) —where Greek objects from Egypt and Egyptian handcrafted objects have been carefully arranged together — stands as another example of the imaginary reconstruction of ‘home’.

Much like in temporary exhibitions, sports memorabilia displayed across two walls of the large hall serve as identifiers of a long-standing tradition—one that first emerged ‘at home’ and continues in Greece. They demarcate material identities and the ways in which Greeks conceptualise and perform their post-diasporic heritage after their departure from Egypt (Fig. 3).

Fig 3. Showcases from the permanent display of sports memorabilia at the premises of the Association of Greeks from Egypt. Photo: Irakleitos Souyioultzoglou, September 2024

Sports constitute a symbolic space where discourses on nationhood and cultural identities intersect (Lichtenstein, 2015). For the Greeks in Egypt, such activities encompassed collective conceptualisations that defined the essence and the boundaries of Greekness in diaspora. Sports (along with other communal activities, such as scouting and school excursions) aimed to reinforce community bonds, played a central role in sustaining a distinct “Greek identity” (Ελληνική Κοινότητα Αλεξανδρείας, Λογοδοσία έτους 1965, 25-26), and became part of a strategy to counter the gradual “egyptianisation” of social life and the subsequent fear of assimilation.

The first sports clubs in Egypt emerged in the early 20th century (Jacob, 2011). The Egyptian Yacht Club in Alexandria was established in 1901, followed by the creation of the Egyptian Athletic Federation in 1910. Around the same time, Greeks began forming their own associations: the Nautical Club of Alexandria (1909), and later those in Cairo and Port Said (1927). The Greek Athletic Associations of Port Fuad (1932) and Port Said (1949) developed a strong presence in football and basketball, enriching the community’s sporting life.

The establishment of athletic clubs was considered as a critical step towards communal coherence, and was strongly supported by the community leadership. Accordingly, athletic successes were interpreted as a proof of the community’s vitality and evidence of virtues supposedly embedded in the community itself—discipline, dedication, and persistence in the face of hardship. Thus, sports memorabilia substantiated metaphors of moral and physical strength. The abolition of Capitulations (1937) and, subsequently, the 1956 Suez Canal Crisis and the Arab–Israeli wars, placed foreign communities under a legal and social framework that stripped away their privileged status and gradually led to their displacement. After most Greeks left Egypt, sports memorabilia, as prominent symbols of achievement, were transported to Athens and housed in the associations they established there—the most prominent being the Hellenic Nautical Club of Greeks from Egypt (Ελληνικός Ναυτικός Όμιλος Αιγυπτιωτών – ΕΝΟΑ), and the Association of Greeks from Egypt.

As Anna Pechurina (2020, 67) observes, in the context of migration, objects play a vital role in (re)constructing and (re)inventing the feeling of being at home. Once removed from their original setting, use, and ownership, these so-called “diasporic objects” take on new layers of meaning and significance as they are re-situated within different social spaces. Therefore, sports memorabilia, as “victorious objects,” embody migrants’ connections to their communal heritage and distant homeland. They serve both as reminders of physical separation from these places and experiences (Pechurina), and as material instantiations of collective belonging that symbolically reproduce a sense of “home.”

In the sports clubs and associations founded in Greece, former athletes assumed new roles as trainers for younger generations, and new victories soon followed. Trophies and medals were conveniently placed and proudly displayed alongside those transported from Egypt. Their display constitutes a performative act of continuity, and reconstitutes communal life in a different social setting. These objects publicly affirm that the values and shared memories of the community were re-embedded in a new environment.

The replacement of diasporic objects into a new social setting and their blending with objects that do not share the same territorial or historical origin, contributes to the symbolic construction of a new “home,” through the creation of fresh layers of memory. By evoking collective memories and materialising a longstanding tradition of communal activities, the memorabilia stand as reminders of practices that forged a sense of belonging and a shared ethnic/social identity — recognisable both within and outside the boundaries of the community of Greeks from Egypt.

References

William C. Jacob, Working Out Egypt: Effendi Masculinity and Subject Formation in Colonial Modernity, 1870–1940, Cairo: AUC, 2011.

Tatjana Lichtenstein, “‘An Athlete Like a Soldier Must Not Retreat’: Zionists, Sport, and Belonging in Interwar Czechoslovakia.” Shofar: An Interdisciplinary Journal of Jewish Studies 34, no. 1, 2015, p. 1-26

Timothy Mitchell,Colonizing Egypt. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988

Pierre Nora, “Between Memory and History: Les Lieux de Mémoire,” Representations, no. 26, Special Issue: Memory and Counter-Memory, 1989, p.7-24.

Anna Pechurina. “Researching identities through material possessions: The case of diasporic objects,”  Current Sociology 68, no. 5, 2020, p. 669–683.

Ελληνική Κοινότητα Αλεξανδρείας. Λογοδοσία Έτους 1965. ELIA Archive.

L’aller et retour d’une Galerie Renaissance de Moret-sur-Loing

Dominique Casajus

Une « Maison dite de François Ier ou Hôtel de Chabouillé, dans la cour de l’Hôtel de ville » fait l’objet d’une notice dans la base Mérimée sous la référence PA00087141. Le monument ainsi répertorié n’a pas toujours occupé le lieu qui est le sien depuis 1956, derrière la mairie de Moret-sur-Loing, au sud de la forêt de Fontainebleau. Il représente l’état actuel d’un édifice datant du début du XVIe siècle (certaines sources avancent la date de 1527) qui a connu plusieurs déplacements. On doit son édification première à Nicolas Chabouillé, riche bourgeois exerçant à Moret les fonctions de procureur du roi, comme galerie servant à relier les deux bâtiments d’un hôtel acquis une dizaine d’années plus tôt : un bâtiment entre rue et cour, dont subsiste encore, au 40 rue Grande, un élément de pan de bois ; un bâtiment entre cour et jardin, dont quelques ornements sont encore visibles. Il pourvut également la façade intérieure du bâtiment entre rue et cour d’ornements en harmonie avec la galerie.

La description la plus ancienne de cette galerie est livrée par un manuscrit du début du XIXe siècle dû à un certain Louis-Antoine Piffault, que le catalogue des Archives départementales de Seine-et-Marne présente comme un « ancien fabricien de l’église de Moret, avant la révolution ». Elle a été reprise et amplifiée par l’érudit morétain Georges Lioret. La galerie se composait à l’origine de trois arcades soutenant un étage, et à gauche desquelles une porte surmontée d’une fenêtre donnait sur un escalier. À la base de l’étage, courait une frise partagée en quatre compartiments. Dans les deux compartiments extrêmes, dont l’un surmontait à gauche la porte donnant sur l’escalier, et l’autre l’arcade la plus à droite, on voyait des putti se livrant à des jeux bachiques. Sous l’un de ces deux compartiments, on lisait une sentence sur le libellé de laquelle les sources divergent mais qui pourrait avoir été : Quid juvat annosam et mestam producere vitam (À quoi bon prolonger une vie chargée d’ans et de chagrins ?).

Des deux compartiments du milieu, le plus à gauche renfermait trois couronnes de feuillages entourant des bustes que les déprédations de la Révolution avaient rendues illisibles déjà à l’époque de Piffault. L’autre contenait un médaillon fait de cercles concentriques sur le pourtour duquel on lisait une sentence tirée du psaume CXIII : Non nobis domine – Non nobis – Sed nomini tuo da gloriam (Ce n’est pas à nous, Seigneur, ce n’est pas à nous, mais c’est à toi que revient la gloire). Des deux côtés du médaillon, deux génies ailés portaient des écussons, l’un aux armes de France, l’autre, selon Georges Lioret, indéchiffrable. Au-dessus de la frise, les arcades faisaient place à des baies à claire-voie, scandées de bandeaux et meneaux ornés de sujets mythologiques. L’ensemble était surmonté d’une autre sentence latine : Qui scit frenare linguam sensumque domare fortior est qui frangit viribus urbes (Qui sait réfréner sa langue et dompter ses sens est plus fort que celui qui s’empare des villes par la force).

Fig. 1. Charles Renoux, Maison dite de François Ier à Moret avant son transfert à Paris, 1822
(CD92 / Musée du Domaine départemental de Sceaux. Photographie Pascal Lemaître)

Un tableau de Charles Renoux (Fig. 1) donne une idée de ce qu’était devenue la galerie en 1820. Les fenêtres à claire voie de l’étage étaient alors partiellement obturées, les arcades du rez-de-chaussée l’étaient totalement. On discerne les bas-reliefs surmontant la porte donnant sur l’escalier, et une partie de ceux qui se trouvent au-dessus de l’arcade de droite. Ayant cessé depuis près d’un siècle d’être la propriété des Chabouillé, l’ensemble du logis était divisé entre deux ménages qui louaient la galerie à un certain Ambroise Colson, tonnelier. Celui-ci en avait fait sa remise et avait construit un hangar dans la cour. Sur la gauche du tableau, on peut voir la porte à deux vantaux servant d’entrée à la façade intérieure du bâtiment situé entre rue et cour.

Fig. 2. La façade François Ier, d’après Nicolas Xavier Willemin, Monuments français inédits, pour servir à l’histoire des arts…, Paris, 1839, t. 2, planches 227 et 228. (Bibliothèque nationale de France).

Sans doute inspirées du tableau de Renoux (ainsi que d’une aquarelle d’Antoine-Laurent Castellan conservée au château de Fontainebleau), deux gravures plus tardives prétendent représenter l’état originel de la frise. La première, due à Nicolas Xavier Willemin et publiée en 1839 (Fig. 2), montre les deux compartiments les plus à gauche, ainsi que les éléments ornant la porte à deux vantaux du bâtiment entre rue et cour ; parmi ces éléments, on peut lire la sentence : Jeune gouvernement suit le vent. La seconde, œuvre d’Eugène Sadoux datant vraisemblablement de la deuxième moitié du XIXe siècle (Fig. 3), permet de voir les putti s’ébattant sur les deux compartiments extrêmes, mais, pour le reste de la frise, elle n’est pas d’une fidélité totale. C’est que ces deux gravures ont été exécutées après que la façade eut subi des vicissitudes qui l’ont notablement transformée.

Fig. 3. Eugène Sadoux, Maison dite de François Ier à Moret (CD92/ Musée du Domaine départemental de Sceaux. Photographe Benoît Chain). La gravure prétend représenter la façade telle qu’elle était à Moret, mais la porte donnant sur l’escalier en est absente et les cercles concentriques au-dessus de l’arcade du milieu sont devenus une couronne végétale.

Car le colonel de Brack, actionnaire d’une société possédant des terrains entre l’avenue des Champs-Élysées et le cours la Reine (aujourd’hui cours Albert 1er), à Paris, en avait fait l’acquisition en 1822. Il comptait la faire démonter pour la remonter à Paris et en orner un hôtel encore à construire qu’il devait habiter avec la tragédienne Mademoiselle Mars. Dûment numérotées, les pierres quittèrent Moret le 1er décembre 1822, et le bâtiment fut achevé en 1826, avec, donnant sur le cours la Reine, une nouvelle version de la façade venue de Moret.

On avait ajouté une travée aveugle à droite de la façade et la travée la plus à gauche était devenue aveugle elle aussi puisque la porte donnant à l’origine sur un escalier n’avait plus de raison d’être, l’escalier lui-même étant resté en place à Moret, où il se trouve toujours. L’ajout de cette travée nécessitait qu’un cinquième compartiment vînt compléter la frise qui courait à la base de l’étage. Les deux compartiments contenant les putti furent conservés mais le plus à droite surmontait désormais la nouvelle travée aveugle et non plus l’une des arcades. Les bustes mutilés surmontant l’arcade de gauche furent remplacés par trois bustes portant les mentions : « Louis XII année 1499 », « Anne de Bretagne année 1499 », « François II année 1539 ». Les cercles concentriques du compartiment suivant devinrent une couronne végétale à l’intérieur de laquelle on apposa un buste portant la mention « Marguerite de Navarre année [les sources ne donnent pas la date qui suivait, et qui est aujourd’hui effacée] ». Le compartiment surmontant l’arcade de droite fut meublé de trois bustes portant les mentions : « Henri II année 1547 », « Diane de Poitiers année 1515 » et « François Ier année 1515 ». Si les restaurateurs ont voulu garder la tonalité Renaissance de l’ensemble, on voit que deux de ces dates sont postérieures à la date probable de la construction de la galerie originelle.

Fig. 4. Anonyme, La maison dite de François Ier, à l’angle de la rue Bayard et du cours La Reine, à Paris (début du XXe siècle) (Musée Carnavalet)

On éleva également sur la gauche de la façade un pilastre semblable à ceux qui séparaient les arcades, ce qui était aussi un ajout puisque le tableau de Renoux montre que la galerie se raccordait directement sur sa gauche au bâtiment qui lui était perpendiculaire. Quant à la porte à deux vantaux et aux ornements qui la surmontaient, sa partie basse fut installée dans le vestibule de l’hôtel, et son couronnement devint un motif décoratif dans la cour d’entrée. C’est certainement la raison pour laquelle ces ornements apparaissent comme dispersées sur la gravure de Willemin : ils l’étaient bel à bien à l’époque où il l’a exécutée. Du reste, on peut penser que, bien que prétendant représenter la façade telle qu’elle était encore à Moret, sa gravure, tout comme celle de Sadoux, doit autant à ce qu’il avait sous les yeux à Paris qu’à ce qu’il avait pu voir chez Renoux et Castellan.

À peine leur hôtel achevé, le colonel et la tragédienne, ruinés, durent le mettre en vente. Ils espérèrent que la duchesse d’Angoulême l’achèterait pour son neveu le duc de Bordeaux mais l’affaire ne se fit pas et la maison ne fut vendue qu’en 1829 à un certain Charles Buchère, qui la laissa plus ou moins à l’abandon. Elle changea ensuite plusieurs fois de mains jusqu’à ce que son dernier propriétaire, le comte d’Ussel, la cède en 1955 à un promoteur qui souhaitait construire à son emplacement un immeuble de bureaux. La vente se fit sous la condition que la façade retournerait, aux frais de l’acquéreur, à la ville de Moret.

La ville accepta le don mais le remontage était à sa charge. L’emplacement d’origine n’étant plus disponible, on remonta le monument dans la cour de l’Hôtel de Ville. Si l’ensemble des pierres composant la façade fut rapatrié, on ne remonta pas la travée ajoutée à Paris, de sorte que, sous sa forme actuelle, la galerie comporte comme à l’origine trois arcades flanquées sur la gauche d’une travée désormais aveugle. Comme l’un des cinq compartiments parisiens composant la frise de l’étage était de trop, on sacrifia celui qui surmontait à Paris la travée aveugle de droite. La porte à deux battants donnant à l’origine sur la façade intérieure du bâtiment entre rue et cour fut rétablie dans son orientation primitive, mais comme porte fictive puisque cette façade n’est plus qu’un pan de mur. Des sentences qui agrémentaient l’ensemble, ne subsiste que le Qui sit frenare, etc. et, au-dessus de l’arcade la plus à droite, la séquence vvat-annosam-et-m–t——–producere, seul débris subsistant du Qui juvat annosam, etc.

Fig. 5. La façade François Ier dans son état actuel. 25 novembre 2025 (Photographie D. Casajus). À gauche, le pan de mur avec la porte à deux vantaux.

Ce monument composite est classé Monument historique depuis 2002 comme l’avait été sa version parisienne jusqu’à son démontage. La ville de Moret s’en enorgueillit comme d’un bâtiment Renaissance, sans trop s’appesantir sur les contributions que le XIXe et le XXe siècles lui ont ajoutées.

Références

Albert Bray, « Maison Chabouillé, dite Maison de François Ier », Notre Canton, 1956, avril à décembre, p. 162-167.

Albert Bray, « Le retour à Moret de la “maison de François Ier “», Les Monuments historiques de la France, 1958, 1, p. 42-46.

Dominique Casajus, « Petit excursus philologique sur un monument de Moret », Revue des Amis de Moret et de sa Région, 252, 2025, p. 26-29.

Georges Lioret, La Maison de Moret dite de François Ier, Fontainebleau, Maurice Bourges Imprimeur, 1910.

Louis-Antoine Piffault, Description historique de la ville de Moret, de son canton, de son commerce et de ses environs, s. d., Archives départementales de Seine-et-Marne 1MI1970 (microfilm).

The Circuitous Journey of the Greek Knitting Sheath

Flavia Nessi-Yazitzoglou

During the 19th and 20th centuries, Greece found itself at the crossroads of numerous influences and traditions regarding knitting techniques, coming from both the East and the West. A close look at the history of sock knitting using a set of four or five needles brings to attention the fact that in northern Greece pastoral women still knitted in the Eastern way, an archaic method descending from the Arab world used for making heavy handspun woollen socks, whereas on the islands women were knitting with the yarn wrapped around the neck or pinned to the bodice, which were still old-fashioned knitting postures, in order to produce more refined cotton or handspun monochrome silk stockings. In Europe already by the 18th century cottage-industry knitters were knitting in a more professional way using knitting sheaths, small every-day tools that consist of a wooden or metal staff usually between 25 – 35 cm long that serves to immobilize one of the knitting needles during the sock knitting work.

Yet, the arrival of these tools in Greece came much later on, in the 19th century at a time when their use was declining in Europe. The industrialization of yarn processing and the arrival of novel women’s magazines designed to explain all the available stitches with practical instructions announced the emergence of new ways of knitting in Greece. Rapidity and precision of execution in a more scientific type of knitting suddenly became new features that prompted Greek knitters to adopt European knitting sheaths that they christened kaltsovelona [καλτσοβελόνα, sock needle] or kaltsoxylo [καλτσόξυλο, sock stick], clearly referencing their use in producing socks.

On the Ionian Islands, to the contrary, the knitting sheath went by the name rokoxylo [ροκόξυλο] or kaltsounoroka [καλτσουνόροκα] designating a type of wooden distaff used for making socks, which adds yet another dimension to the tool. A parallel can be drawn between the Ionian knitting sheaths in the shape of standing women and small hand distaffs from Calabria, which bear a striking resemblance to one another even though the two tools are different in nature. (Fig. 1)

Fig. 1. Hand distaff in the shape of a standing woman, three pieces, Calabria, early 20th century, carved-in-the-round coloured fruitwood, h. 29.7 cm, Mucem Museum of European and Mediterranean Civilisations, Marseille

The oldest knitting sheaths found in Greece date back to about 1830-1850 and appear to be extremely valuable silver-plated objects, that flaunt the craftsmanship of professional silversmiths. They were found mainly on the Ionian Islands, although we cannot validate they correspond to what was a local production, or if they were imported from Epirus instead, a region which was famed for the excellence of its silversmithing. Perhaps the Vlach tradesmen with their very efficient commercial network contributed to the introduction of these precious objects from Central Europe to Greece through the Balkan roads as seems to confirm some Slavic inscriptions found on certain tools. (Fig. 2) But the silver-plated neoclassical Ionian sheaths were from the very start intended as elegant embroidery tools designed for the needlework of upper-class ladies.

Fig. 2. Extension sheaths (details), Left: inscribed and dated AΣΣ 1839 [ASS 1839], Right: Serbian, inscribed with three names.Silver-plated slender tube type, h. 29 cm B, h. 39.5 cm (private collections).

However, the majority of Greek knitting sheaths are wood-carved tools probably introduced in Greece at the end of 19th century by sailors who were famous for their prowess in woodworking. Due to the absence of any satisfactory written sources, researchers can merely speculate on its beginnings, yet it is quite certain that the emergence of these tools in insular Greece issued from commercial trade along the Italian and British shipping routes as suggested by the similarities between the fish models on certain British knitting sheaths, mainly produced in Wales and Scotland, and their Greek counterparts. (Fig. 3)

Fig. 3. Knitting sheath in the shape of a fish, Greek, inscribed and dated Εριφὐλη Λ. Κομνηνού 1909 [Erifyli L. Komninou 1909], chip-carved wood, h. 29.5 cm (private collection).

According to the account offered by Gerassimos Papatrechas, one of the last woodcarvers of Xiromero, we know that the sheaths were also called filakissia (φυλακίσσια), “prison-made,” which in turn informs as to the origin of their production. Thousands of identical models of tools have been  carved by inmates in Greek prisons over a 50 to 60-year period (c. 1890/1900-1950). It is most likely in prison that Greek craftsmen came into contact with European sailors and shared their common knowledge in order to develop the prototypes of these new tools gradually advancing towards the implementation of their own innovations. For example, the Corfu prison fashioned its own kind of engraved stamp bearing the name of the establishment, ΚΕΡΚΥΡΑ [Corfu], a sort of registered trademark that testified to the authenticity and origin of its entire output. It undoubtedly answered to a pragmatic necessity to supply homemakers from all over Greece with practical implements. (Fig. 4)

Fig. 4. The Greek Convict Prison at Nauplia by R. Hardie, Surgeon, R.N., sketches, from The Illustrated London News (18 October 1890).

In Corfu we found another category of wood-carved knitting sheaths, different from the more elaborate models produced at the same time for the islanders, which corresponded to the first local attempt to create a tourist souvenir industry for travellers on the Grand Tour. They were distinguished by the classic ΚΕΡΚΥΡΑ prison stamp with multilingual inscriptions. (Fig. 5)

Fig. 5. Knitting sheath in the shape of a blade, mid-20th century, relief-carved and carved-in-the-round wood, Front and reverse sides depicting a woman in traditional costume, the Tree of Life and the emblem of Corfu, inscribed Ricordo / Souvenir DU CORFU / ΠΙΣΤΙΣ ΕΡΩΣ ΕΛΠΙΣ [Faith love hope;  ΑΙΚΑΤΕΡΙΝΗ ΠΑΔΟΒΑ [Aikaterini Padova], h. 32 cm (private collection)

Greek carved wooden knitting sheaths, through their beauty and diversity of sculptural decoration, reveal the complexity of their usage. If in Europe the variations in form of those tools reflected mainly regional specificities, in Greece the spectrum of morphological differences corresponded to another logic, that is to morph into clever “multitasking” tools used to measure, draw and calibrate, not to mention their role in various small-scale weaving techniques such as braiding, finger looping and card weaving which were instrumental in carrying out the domestic handiwork that clothed the family. (Fig. 6)

Fig. 6. Drawings of a woman table-braiding and finger-loop braiding by Nikos Angelidis, 2019, black pencil on paper (private collection).

According to their morphology acquired through the carving process the Greek sheaths could be employed in a variety of ways, depending on whether women were using the upper or lower part of the tool. In general, the upper part of the tool was carved in the round and pierced to accommodate a needle for knitting, and the lower half of the tool was immobilized, either under the armpit or in the waistband of the apron. But the upper part of the instrument could also be used as a handle and its lower section could be used as a weaving sword or beater. Yet there are other case scenarios in which the sheath served as an autonomous tool, free of a grip, thus allowing it to be propelled by its own weight under the effect of the rotation of twisting thread in plaiting, braiding and knotting techniques, or else it could slide along the surface of a fabric to trace or mark sewing measurements.

The Greek knitting sheaths were more innovative in their conception than their fellow European models. By combining several distinct functions in one instrument, they allied tradition with modernity by bringing technological advances to ancestral know-how.

References

Angeliki Hatzimichali, La sculpture sur bois, Collection de l’Hellénisme contemporain, Athens, 1950.

Kitsos A. Makris, Λαϊκά και μεταβυζαντινά ξυλόγλυπτα [Popular and Post-Byzantine Greek woodcarving], Athens: National Organization of Greek Handicrafts, 1962.

James Norbury, Traditional Knitting Patterns: From Scandinavia, the British Isles, France, Italy and Other European Countries, New York: Dover, 1973.

Irena Turnau, “La bonneterie en Europe, du XVIe au XVIIIe siècle,”  Annales. Économies, sociétés, civilisations 26, no. 5, 1971, p. 1118-1132.

Irena Turnau, “History of Folk Knitting in Europe: A Framework for Research,” Textile History 17, no. 2, 1986, p. 167-180.    

From the Kaveri river to the West, back and forth: a museum born out of a translocated Hindu deity of origins

Virginie Olivier, Charlotte Schmid, Edmond de Taillac

I felt the time had come to collect all such mutilated and neglected pieces of art in stone and bronze and house them in a safe place in a palace at Tanjore [Thanjavur] in order to protect and preserve the remnants of our artistic inheritance from the ravages of time and the hands alike of the irreverent vandal and the unscrupulous pedlar in art-ware

T. K. Palaniappan 1982 (1953)

In 1951, a Chola dynasty museum, the “Thanjavur Art Gallery and Museum,” was born in the heart of the Tamil country, out of a striking statue spotted in a suburb of the city (Fig. 1). The size and refinement of this four-faced, four-armed god statue suggested a glorious past that was romanticized in the story of its discovery. The statue, which stopped being worshipped under unknown circumstances, was rescued from a canal in which the Kaveri river flowed; the valley of the latter defined the territory of the most famous dynasty of the Tamil country, the Cholas, in whose honor the museum was created. This representation of a rather peculiar deity was thus spared exile and became a catalyst for a museum offering neglected or stolen works of art the chance of a new life, as suggested by R. Davis (2018).

When the statue’s rediscovery sparked the interest of the North Indian Calcutta museum, local resistance prompted the then District Collector, T. K. Palaniappan, to propose a Thanjavur museum for housing high-quality, abandoned works of such type. Both the account of the discovery and local advocacy played a key role in instigating the creation of a museum around a statue that remains enigmatic even today and retains its unique aura.

The statue stands today at the centre of the Thanjavur Art Gallery and Museum’s central hall (Fig. 1), and is surrounded by 9th-13th century Chola sculptures. The label of the museum identifies it as “Brahma (the creator with four faces);” its faces turned in the four cardinal directions are actually apt to mark the birth of a place, and to symbolise the splendour of Chola art. However the scattering, since 1926, of pieces with the same iconography and workmanship, all from Thanjavur’s vicinity, have imbued this statue with emblematic significance far beyond its physical attributes (Figs. 2-5). The history of those pieces reveals complex dynamics, which combine colonial and post-colonial ties with the West, regional tensions within the young Indian nation, and the role of a French “comptoir,” namely Pondicherry, in amplifying the statue’s value. The latter clearly derived from the financial and symbolic prestige that translocation, as defined by Bénédicte Savoy (2024, p. 11-12), has conferred on the members of the group to which it belongs, a set of ten statues identified so far.

Fig. 1. The Brahmā-Śiva at the Thanjavur Art Gallery (no. 16), photo by Babu (N. Ramaswamy).

This group of ten from Thanjavur, carved from the same granite, exhibits a unique 9th-10th century style and iconography (Figs. 1–5). The four-headed, four-armed god sits on a lotus-throne, holding a lotus and rosary, with one hand in a fearlessness gesture and the other resting on his thigh. While the attributes suggest Brahmā, a third eye on the multiple foreheads of the statue is characteristic of Śiva (Fig. 2). Its presence raises identification questions, leading us to refer to these statues as Brahmā-Śiva.

Fig. 2. Detail of two of the heads of the Brahmā-Śiva of Kaṇṭiyūr, today exhibited in front of the old building of the District Collector Office, photo by V. Olivier.

This iconographic ambiguity has captivated Western audiences, reinforcing stereotypes of Eastern mysticism. Today, only five of the original group remain in India. Two are in Thanjavur: one in the Thanjavur Art Gallery and Museum (Fig. 1) and another in front of the District Collector’s colonial building (Fig. 2), originating from nearby Kaṇṭiyūr. A third Brahmā-Śiva is worshipped in Kaṇṭiyūr (Fig. 3), while a fourth stands in Centalai’s temple courtyard, one more settlement close to Thanjavur. The fifth, acquired by the National Museum in New Delhi in 1969, has an unclear provenance, but curator C. Sivaramamurti likely played a role in its transfer, given his earlier attempt to claim a similar statue for Calcutta’s museum.

Fig. 3. The Brahmā-Śiva of the temple of Kaṇṭiyūr, photo by C. Schmid.

The New Delhi Brahmā-Śiva reflects C. Sivaramamurti’s ongoing fascination with these statues, likely stimulated by Western interest. As curator of India’s pioneering museums in Madras and Calcutta, which were opened during the colonial period, and as director of the National Museum in New Delhi established after independence, Sivaramamurti would have known that five similar statues had been acquired by Western museums starting as early as 1926.

That very year, two sculptures were exported from India through a partnership between Gabriel Jouveau-Dubreuil (1885–1945), a French archaeologist living in Pondicherry and relying on a local Indian network based on his former students at the Colonial College in Pondicherry, as recently demonstrated by Edmond de Taillac, and Ching Tsai Loo (1880–1957), a Chinese art dealer based in Paris and New York. They collaborated with Joseph Hackin (1886–1941), a curator at the Musée Guimet, in a venture that blurred the lines between scientific research, colonial plunder, and exotic art trade – ensuing transactions were neither fully licit, nor completely illicit. This trio played a significant role in cultivating Western interest in Indian art, with Jouveau-Dubreuil becoming Loo’s acquisition agent for “des pièces (…) tout à fait exceptionnelles” (absolutely exceptional pieces) in 1924 (Letter from C. T. Loo to G. Jouveau-Dubreuil, dated July 9, 1924).

In the following years, the collaboration between Jouveau-Dubreuil, Hackin, and Loo led to a significant buildup of Indian art collections at the Musée Guimet and in the West, particularly in the United States, where the Chinese dealer operated a branch since 1915. Jouveau-Dubreuil would regularly ship sculptures from India to Paris, where Hackin would select pieces for the Musée Guimet or receive commissions of approximately one-third of revenues. C. T. Loo sold the other pieces to collectors and museums in the West.

In the second half of 1926, a batch including two Brahmā-Śiva reached Paris. “Nous avons eu successivement une épidémie de mères – puis une épidémie de Sivas à 4 têtes,” (we successively got an epidemic of mothers, followed by one of four-headed Sivas) writes G. Jouveau-Dubreuil to J. Hackin and C. T. Loo, on January 4, 1928.

None of the four-headed statues was selected for Guimet; and the pair of Brahmā-Śiva continued their journey to the United States, where the Albright-Knox Art Gallery in Buffalo, New York (Fig. 5), and the Metropolitan Museum of Art acquired them in 1927. The Detroit Institute of Arts bought a third Brahmā-Śiva in 1928. Mrs John D. Rockfeller donated a fourth one to the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston in 1942 (Fig. 4) ; the Worcester Art Museum bought a fifth from a New York Asian art dealer in 1964. The Brahmā-Śiva that can be admired today at the Cleveland Museum of Art (Fig. 5) illustrates how these sculptures’ westward journey from the Chola capital had dramatically increased their value—if only in financial terms. This is the statue initially acquired by the Buffalo Museum. It was auctioned in 2007 for $4 million-plus dollars, a price rarely attained by any Indian sculpture.

Fig. 4. The Brahmā-Śiva in the Boston Museum of Fine Arts (42.120), photo by C. Schmid.
Fig. 5. Brahmā-Śiva, 9th-10th c., Tamil Nadu. Cleveland Museum of Art, 2007.155. Leonard C. Hanna Jr. Fund, this work was accepted in honor of Stanislaw Czuma in recognition of his long service to the CMA. © Cleveland Museum of Art.

The Brahmā-Śiva who welcomes the visitor in the Thanjavur Art Gallery showcases the Chola dynasty’s global reach far beyond its native land. In the 1930s, the great historian K. A. Nilakanta Sastri, writing a history of the Cholas, emphasised the colonisation of South-East Asia, which the dynasty claimed to have instigated. Faced with a British colonising power, he highlighted the Indian colonial impact on the area. Thanks to him, but also thanks to the translocation of Chola statues, facilitated by more or less conscious or willing agents like Gabriel Jouveau-Dubreuil, “corsaire archéologique pour la France,” (archaeological raider for France) as the man characterised himself in a letter to Joseph Hackin dated May 28, 1931, and with the help of a well-organised Indian network, the art dealer C. T. Loo, museum curators and private collectors, galleries and auction houses, Chola art’s reputation spread worldwide. The translocation of the Brahmā-Śiva has, in turn, heightened awareness and appreciation of a unique heritage.

Sources

Archives du musée national des arts asiatiques-Guimet:

Gabriel Jouveau-Dubreuil, Correspondance 1926, 1927, 1928, file Gabriel Jouveau-Dubreuil.

Photographic archives, box titled: “Inde du Sud,”” Inde du Centre,” “Sculptures isolées.”

Références

Richard H. Davis, “New lives for Returned Images: The Family of Icons from Sripuranthan,” Marg 69, 2018, no. 3, p. 64–77.

Virginie Olivier, « Les Brahmā-Śiva de la région de Tanjore : un syncrétisme singulier aux origines inexpliquées », Arts Asiatiques 75, 2020, p. 5–26.

T. K. Palaniappan,  “A Year of Progress,” in The Divine Bronzes. The Thanjavur Art Gallery Bronze Sculptures, S. Rathnasabapathy (ed.), Thanjavur: Thanjavur Art Gallery Administration, 1982.

Bénédicte Savoy, À qui appartient la beauté, Paris : La Découverte, 2024..

Vie et survie de la veste kurde : des mises en patrimoines mouvantes et politisées

Marie-Laure Archambault-Küch

En août 1930, le délégué à Antioche du haut-commissaire de la France au Levant présente l’avancement de l’exposition de costumes prévue pour la section « ethnologie » du pavillon des États du Levant sous mandat, édifié pour l’Exposition coloniale de 1931 à Vincennes. Parmi les tenues est prévu un « costume de femme des tribus kurdes » composée d’un « chiroual [sic] » et d’une « veste noire avec des nombreux passements blancs ») (Fig. 1). La tenue, destinée à être exposée sur un mannequin, doit figurer dans la salle d’Alep aux côtés d’objets présentant un atelier de tréfilerie, des broderies, un tapis orné de monuments emblématiques d’Alep, comme sa citadelle et sa grande mosquée, et des costumes alaouites et turcomans. Ceux-ci doivent nourrir la dimension ethnographique de l’exposition, aux côtés d’instruments de chasse et de pêche ainsi que d’outils agricoles. 

Fig. 1. Extrait d’une lettre de M. Cahour, gouverneur par intérim du gouvernement de Lattaquié, 27 août 1930, Cabinet Ponsot, 1/SL/1572, Centre des Archives diplomatiques de Nantes.

Aucun élément technique ou esthétique des tenues kurdes n’est invoqué pour justifier ce choix. Le costume kurde est privilégié, à l’instar des autres pièces ethnographiques, pour « l’attrait pittoresque » et « l’intérêt scientifique » qu’il peut représenter. Pour préparer l’Exposition de Vincennes, les services mandataires mettent en place une commission spécifique au Vilayet (Gouvernorat) d’Alep, composée à la fois d’agents français et syriens, qui organisent une collecte au sein de ses campagnes, contrainte à la fois par des conditions politiques, pratiques et financières. Les dépenses accordées pour la région d’Alep prévoient 100 livres syriennes [soit 2000 francs] pour l’achat des costumes et 25 livres syriennes [soit 500 francs] pour les déplacements en voiture (Exposition coloniale de Paris (1926 à 1931)). S’y ajoutent, pour l’ensemble des pièces prévues pour l’État de Syrie, des frais de prise de vue et de déplacement de la commission, d’emballage et de transport de Damas vers Beyrouth, mais aussi de fabrication de mannequins. Ceux-ci font l’objet d’une attention particulière : malgré leur prix, ces « mannequins artistiques » doivent reproduire « les types caractéristiques des populations », y compris l’un représentant les « tribus kurdes » (Exposition coloniale de Paris (1926 à 1931)). Cette présentation sur mannequin est justifiée par le fait que sont exposés « non point des costumes ajustés, mais des costumes drapés », et parce que « la présentation sur support dans une vitrine n’offr[e] aucune espèce d’intérêt ni documentaire, ni pittoresque » (Exposition coloniale de Paris (1926 à 1931)). Tout, dans la préparation matérielle de l’exposition de costumes, favorise une vision figée et archaïque des traditions vestimentaires rurales, et des Kurdes en particulier.  

Les services mandataires n’ont pas conservé, semble-t-il, de photographies ou de dessins de ces costumes. Cependant, des pièces collectées par le commandant Pierre Rondot en 1935, dans le cadre de la constitution des collections du musée parisien d’Ethnographie, paraissent se rapprocher, par leur coupe et leur ornementation de la veste féminine kurde de l’Exposition coloniale. Pierre Rondot, agent des services de renseignements du Mandat, est considéré comme un précurseur des études kurdes. Il a été chargé par ce musée de constituer une collection « d’objets kurdes de Syrie » au sein de laquelle les pièces textiles occupent une place centrale.

Dans une lettre du 26 octobre 1935, il indique que la plupart des pièces proviennent « de la région d’Andivar [Ain Diwar] (sur le Tigre) », à la frontière avec la Turquie. Il ajoute que « malheureusement ce n’est pas encore la montagne Kurde (pratiquement inaccessible, puisqu’en Turquie) et beaucoup de ces objets ont subi des influences étrangères (Arabes de la plaine). » Cette idée des régions turques comme conservatoire d’une culture matérielle traditionnelle renvoie, selon Ahmet Aktürk (2017), aux moindres contacts que les Kurdes y entretiennent avec le monde extérieur.

La correspondance de Pierre Rondot permet d’entrevoir les conditions matérielles de circulation de ces vêtements : ils sont transportés dans une caisse et un sac « plombés » par les Douanes mandataires, et expédiés de Beyrouth à Marseille, puis vers Paris. Les plombs sur les contenants témoignent de la valeur, plus patrimoniale que financière, associée aux blouses et aux vestes kurdes. Par ces opérations matérielles, le costume kurde anatolien, en particulier le şal ū şapik, composé d’une veste et d’un pantalon large, cristallisent une identité construite largement en exil, après la Première Guerre mondiale. Les vêtements collectés et authentifiés n’ont pas vocation à refléter des pratiques vestimentaires réelles, mais à cerner une population par des marqueurs matériels identifiables (Fig. 2).

Fig. 2. Blouse de femme kurde, Musée du Quai Branly (n° Inventaire 71.1935.129.6).

Le choix de ce type de vestes peut être rapproché de la stratégie mandataire vis-à-vis des « minorités » visant à accentuer la fragmentation de l’ordre politique et social syrien (Tejel 2008). Dans ce cadre, les Kurdes, principal groupe musulman non arabe de Syrie, constituent une source de frictions entre les élites sunnites locales et l’administration mandataire. Celle-ci adopte un positionnement ambigu vis-à-vis du mouvement national, soutenant le mouvement culturel kurde en Syrie et au Liban tout en cherchant à cantonner l’activité politique kurde dans la région de la Jazira (Aktürk 2017). Après la Première Guerre mondiale, la lutte nationaliste kurde, qui rassemble à la fois des individus d’origine anatolienne ayant fui le régime kémaliste et des populations implantées de longue date dans le nord de la Syrie, se cristallise dans ses dimensions politiques et culturelles.

Le şal ū şapik stabilise une identité pourtant hétérogène, les dialectes, appartenances religieuses et organisations sociales étant multiples au sein des populations kurdes de Syrie. Le choix des responsables mandataires du Pavillon syro-libanais de privilégier le costume kurde, aux côtés de tenues alaouite et turcomane, doit ainsi être lu au double prisme de la politique mandataire des minorités, et des significations politiques assignées aux vêtements traditionnels par les nationalistes kurdes en Syrie. La tradition vestimentaire, telle que donnée à voir par les acteurs mandataires, concerne prioritairement des communautés minoritaires, et non les populations arabes sunnites sédentaires.

Cette mise en patrimoine différenciée est reprise par certains acteurs syro-libanais de la société civile, comme en témoigne l’activité menée par Evelyne Bustros. D’une importante famille de la bourgeoisie grecque-orthodoxe de Beyrouth, Evelyne Bustros, née Tuéni, se réinstalle dans la capitale libanaise en 1931 après un long séjour en France. Écrivaine et figure de la vie mondaine, elle s’investit dans les mouvements féminin et patriotique libaniste. Engagée auprès de la Société de la Renaissance des femmes, elle fonde Syriban, une société de promotion de l’artisanat syro-libanais (Donovan 2023). Cette activité la conduit vers les vêtements. Dans ce cadre, elle conçoit une série de poupées incarnant des « types » par leurs costumes. Elle organise également un concours de costumes traditionnels sous forme de bal, afin de valoriser les tenues « orientales » (Proux 1931). Elle prépare par la suite une exposition de costumes pour l’Exposition universelle de 1939-1940 à New York, accompagnée de la publication d’un album de 25 costumes peints à l’aquarelle par le peintre Georges Cyr (Fig. 3).

Fig. 3. Kurd Street-Sweeper, Beyrouth, Evelyne Bustros, Georges Cyr, Lebanese and Syrian Costumes, Beyrouth : Imprimerie catholique, [1940], n.p. [vue 19]

L’un de ces types est légendé Balayeuse kurde, Beyrouth ; la légende qui l’accompagne indique « des matériaux et des broderies les plus riches, avec des couleurs éclatantes » (Bustros & Cyr 1940], n. p. [vue 5]). L’aquarelle donne à voir une femme effectivement richement habillée, avec une veste coupée à la façon d’un boléro, un tablier, une ceinture (zinnar) nouée autour de la taille et une robe elle aussi ornementée. Le boléro présente, dans sa passementerie et sa coupe des similitudes avec les exemples présentés ci-dessus. La valorisation par Evelyne Bustros et Georges Cyr de ces tenues est empreinte de romanesque et de fantaisie. Georges Cyr, peintre français établi au Liban à partir de 1934, emprunte à l’imaginaire des « types » ethniques développés par les photographes orientalistes au tournant du xxe siècle.

Quant à Evelyne Bustros, sa vision des costumes traditionnels régionaux, y compris de la veste féminine kurde, se caractérise par une grande ambiguïté. Actrice de l’entre-deux, imprégnée d’une certaine esthétique coloniale, mais désireuse de voir s’accomplir une émancipation nationale, elle se livre à un processus d’« auto-orientalisation » (Nachabe Taan 2020). L’exotisation du patrimoine vestimentaire a ici pour enjeu la construction d’un répertoire culturel à la fois national et transnational.

La dimension nationale se lit à travers la valorisation de la diversité vestimentaire supposément liée aux multiples communautés confessionnelles et ethniques. L’œcuménisme d’Evelyne Bustros, subtil, passe par la présentation d’une mosaïque religieuse diversifiée. Aux côtés de la balayeuse kurde, dans la collection d’aquarelles, les Alaouites et les Druzes sont identifiés comme tels, rappelant à son public international la diversité du Liban (Donovan 2023). Il s’agit d’une affirmation de ce qui est alors en train d’être formulé comme une spécificité libanaise. En même temps, la démarche entretient une profonde ambiguïté vis-à-vis des frontières nationales. Le choix des tenues renvoie à un patrimoine commun à l’ensemble du Bilād al-Shām. Comme l’atteste une coupure de presse montrant les costumes destinés à l’Exposition universelle de New York de 1939 portés par des jeunes femmes, la construction de ces tenues « traditionnelles » amalgame des éléments très divers issus d’un imaginaire d’héritages partagés (Fig. 4).

Fig. 4. Coupure de presse, journal inconnu, 1939. Archives de l’Université américaine de Beyrouth, Evelyne Bustros Collection, 1878-1971, A:305.4.1.

Enfin, l’observation de tenues conservées par le musée du Quai Branly invite à nuancer l’idée de particularismes culturels fixes et caractéristiques des minorités. D’une part, la veste kurde valorisée tant par les organisateurs mandataires de l’Exposition coloniale de 1931 que par Evelyne Bustros partage des caractéristiques avec des pièces identifiées comme issues des populations druzes (n° d’inventaire 71.1989.25.10.5), bédouines (n° d’inventaire 71.1933.84.16 et 71.1964.22.4), ou arabes sédentaires (n° d’inventaire 71.1989.25.40).

Fig. 5. Veste de femme kurde (Libadê), N° inventaire 71.1935.129.8, Musée du Quai Branly.

Les collections invitent aussi à se garder d’une vision du patrimoine vestimentaire comme l’héritage d’une tradition immémoriale qui ne connaitrait pas d’évolution. Une veste fabriquée par un tailleur kurde chrétien syrien est ainsi confectionnée « à l’aide d’une cotonnade d’importation de qualité inférieure » (n° d’inventaire 71.1935.129.8, Fig. 5), indiquant par là-même la multiplicité des circulations à l’œuvre dans la vie et la survie des objets vestimentaires considérés comme traditionnels.

Sources

Evelyne Bustros, Georges Cyr, Lebanese and Syrian Costumes, Beyrouth: Imprimerie catholique, s. d. [1940].

Collections du Musée du Quai-Branly.

Exposition coloniale de Paris (1926 à 1931), Centre des archives diplomatiques de Nantes, Cabinet Ponsot, 1/SL/1572.

Marcelle Proux, « Le bal des costumes régionaux s’est tenu mercredi, somptueux et brillant, dans les jardins d’été du Restaurant Français », L’Orient, Beyrouth, 29 mai 1931, p. 2.

Références

Ahmet S. Aktürk, « Fez, Brimmed Hat, and Kum û Destmal: Evolution of Kurdish National Identity from the Late Ottoman Empire to Modern Turkey and Syria », Journal of the Ottoman and Turkish Studies Association 4, no 1, 2017, p. 157‑187.

Joshua Donovan, « The Syro-Lebanese from ‘Syriban’: Nostalgia, Partition, and Coexistence in Eveline Bustros’ Imagined Homeland », Mashriq & Mahjar: Journal of Middle East & North African Migration Studies 10, n° 1, 2023, p. 107-136.

Asher Kaufman, « ‘Too Much French, but a Swell Exhibit’: Representing Lebanon at the New York World’s Fair 1939–1940 », British Journal of Middle Eastern Studies 35, no 1, 1 avril 2008, p. 59‑77.

Yasmine Nachabe Taan, Reading Marie al-Khazen’s photographs: gender, photography, Mandate Lebanon, New York: Bloomsbury Visual Arts, 2020.

Michelle Tolini Finamore, « Fashioning the Colonial at the Paris Expositions, 1925 and 1931 », Fashion Theory 7, n° 3-4, 2003, p. 345‑360.

Jordi Tejel, Syria’s Kurds: History, Politics and Society, New York: Routledge, 2008.

An Iznik Tile, Greek Collectors, and the Appreciation of Asia Minor Pottery

Mina Moraitou

An unusual Iznik tile displayed at the Benaki Museum has an interesting acquisition history that dates back to the late Ottoman era. Its journey, from Berlin, Alexandria, and finally Athens, reflects an interconnected story of European collecting, concepts on Ottoman art and cultural exchange in the modern period.

The 17th-century octagonal Iznik tile depicts a walled enclosure, within which a series of domed buildings are set around a large, prominent tree (fig. 1). The building on the left, surmounted by three crosses, most likely represents a church, while the building on the right seems to represent a mosque. The composition is framed by two large red tulips and four unclear characters between the upper branches of the tree. The tile belongs to a broader artistic tradition associated with pilgrimage, offering a visual representation of a holy site.

Fig. 1. Octagonal tile, Iznik, second half of the 17th century, diam. 32,5 cm. Benaki Museum 87.

As one traces the story of this tile, its origins can be found within the Ottoman Empire, where it was acquired by Dr Kurt Zander (1860-1926), a Berlin-based government councillor and avid collector. Zander’s fascination with Oriental art began during his extensive travels, starting in the late 1880s. In 1896, he permanently moved to Istanbul, where he served as director of the Ottoman Anatolian Railway and headed the Commission of the Baghdad Line. Like many European collectors of his time, Zander was captivated by the perceived “exoticism” of the Orient. The 19th century witnessed a surge of European interest in the East. With growing exposure through trade, travel, diplomacy, and military campaigns, Europeans increasingly recognized the cultural and artistic richness of lands beyond their own. Oriental art became highly admired, and collecting such objects became a fashionable pursuit among the European elite.

Dr Zander’s collection, which steadily expanded throughout his lifetime, was auctioned in 1914, a year before his death. In the opening pages of the auction catalogue, it was noted that his frequent travels to the Orient had allowed him to acquire many remarkable art objects at a time when such treasures were still undervalued by European collectors. In the auction catalogue the tile was described as a remarkable 16th-century octagonal tile with red, blue, and green decoration, representing an Armenian church (Collection Dr Kurt Zander 1914, n° 417, p. 16). This description is particularly intriguing because, unlike other items in catalogue, it was not attributed to Iznik nor was an alternative provenance suggested (fig. 2). The possible reason for this lies in the challenges faced by 19th-century art experts in identifying the origins of Iznik ceramics. At the time, attribution was often based on inscriptions, themes of decoration, or the location where a piece was discovered. Publications from that period reveal how scholars and collectors often misattributed ceramics, assuming multiple production centers, such as Kütahya, Damascus, Rhodes or Iran, for what we now recognize as Iznik ceramics. In reality, these wares were predominantly produced in the town of Iznik in western Anatolia, a major centre of ceramic production during the height of the Ottoman Empire. The misattribution of ceramics reflects the evolving understanding of Islamic art during the 19th century as Western scholars gradually uncovered the full complexity of Ottoman artistic traditions and cultural influences (Moraitou 2017).

Fig. 2: Illustration page from the auction catalogue of Dr Kurt Zander’s collection. Benaki Museum Library.

Following the sale, the story leads to Alexandria, where the tile became part of the collection of Michael Sinadinos, a prominent figure in the city’s thriving Greek community during the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Like many members of the Greek diaspora in Egypt, Sinadinos was deeply involved in trade and commerce. He also played a vital role in the cultural and social life of the Greek community, serving as president of the Greek Community of Alexandria from 1911 until his death in 1919. At the turn of the 20th century, Alexandria was a cosmopolitan city where cultural influences from Europe, the Middle East, and North Africa converged. Within this vibrant urban environment, wealthy foreign residents, including many Greeks, became important patrons of the arts. Sinadinos was no exception, and he amassed a collection of Iznik tiles, including the octagonal tile. Whether he acquired the tile directly from the auction in Berlin or through one of Alexandria’s many antique dealers remains unclear.

The next step in the tile’s journey came with the inheritance of the Sinadinos tiles by his daughter, Maria, who was married to Alexandros Benakis a member of the Benaki family and an avid admirer of ceramics. His collection in Alexandria, which included both Chinese ceramics and around 100 pieces of Iznik pottery, became one of the foundations of what would later become the Benaki Museum’s Islamic collection. After his death in 1922, the tile was exhibited in Egypt’s first exhibition of Islamic art, which showcased items primarily from private collections (Migeon 1925, no. 4, p. 7; Migeon 1925, pl. 25). The exhibition, which opened to the public in 1925, was modelled on similar exhibitions in London and Paris. Around half of the exhibits were ceramics, and the catalogue noted that the selection of ceramics from Asia Minor—mostly Iznik—was particularly memorable (fig. 3 & 4).

Fig. 3 (Left), Pierre Racine, Exposition d’art musulman, Alexandria 1925 (Benaki Museum – Photographic Archives). Fig. 4 (Right), Cover of the exhibition’s catalogue (Benaki Museum – Library).

During the early 20th century, Greek collectors had developed a strong appreciation for Iznik ceramics. Although it may seem unusual for Greeks to be attracted to Ottoman art, some collectors, particularly those living in cosmopolitan centres like Alexandria, adopted the tastes of their European counterparts, who had long be fascinated by the arts of Asia. The familiarity and admiration for Iznik designs among Greek collectors could be traced back to the influence of these motifs on 19th-century Greek art, such as textiles, architectural decoration or woodwork.

After 1926 Antonis Benakis, Alexandros’ older brother and founder of the Benaki Museum, gradually relocated to Athens with the family’s art collection. Antonis had plans to establish a museum in Athens, and Iznik ceramics were one of the highlights of this vision. In a 1927 letter to George Eumorfopoulos, a leading collector of Chinese art, Antonis mentioned that the ceramics his late brother Alexandros had gathered would form the core of the museum he was planning and intended to donate to the Greek nation. When the museum opened in 1931, the tile was part of the Islamic collection, which was housed in two galleries on the ground floor and today it is exhibited among the rest of the Iznik collection at the Benaki Museum of Islamic Art.

References

Collection Dr. Kurt Zander geh. Regierungsrat Berlin: Art Mahométan tapis persans faïences et arts textiles de l’Orient, manuscrits persans. Sculptures Grecques et Romaines terres cuites. Amsterdam: Frederik Muller, 1914.

Gaston Migeon, Exposition d’art musulman, Les Amis de l’art, exhibition catalogue, Alexandria : Grammata, 1925.

Gaston Migeon, Exposition d’art musulman, Les Amis de l’art, album, Paris : Albert Morancé, 1925.

Mina Moraitou, Iznik a fascination with ceramics, exhibition catalogue, Athens : Benaki Museum, 2017.


From Mosque to Mosque, from Mosque to Museum: Moving Minbars during Restoration

Dina Ishak Bakhoum

The protagonist of this story is the minbar (pulpit) of the mosque/madrasa of Tatar al-Ḥijaziyya (Fig. 1), now housed at the Museum of Islamic Art in Cairo (known earlier as the Museum of Arab Art). The story of its journey to the museum is not on display to visitors, who may assume that it directly came from its original mosque. Its account, narrated here, did not however start by attempting to trace its motion to the museum, but it began with a research on the restoration of a different minbar, namely that of the Mamluk mosque of al-Mu’ayyad Shaykh (1415-1420) in Cairo.

Fig. 1. The minbar of Tatar al- Ḥigaziyya (1360) at the Museum of Islamic Art, Cairo. Photo: Dina Ishak Bakhoum, 2017.

The Comité de conservation des monuments de l’art arabe (1881-1950s; hereafter Comité) was established in Egypt under the Ministry of Awqāf (religious endowments) to work on inventorying and restoring the country’s Islamic art and architecture. Among the elements restored by the Comité are minbars. Minbars are placed on the right side of the miḥrāb, a concave niche indicating the prayer orientation towards Mecca (a.k.a the qibla orientation). They are composed of two side flanks (initially having no side doors, but since the Burgī Mamluk period (1382-1517) with side doors) and a front portal leading to a staircase that ends with a platform covered with a canopy where the preacher would stand to deliver the Friday sermon. The flanks show different decorative motifs, predominantly the star pattern, whose polygons were either intricately carved or inlaid using a technique referred to as “Persian mosaics” and showing a variety of floral and geometric schemes.

The minbars of several mosques were, prior to the Comité’s interventions, in a deteriorated state due to natural as well as human factors, including vandalism, leading to the loss of some of their decorative and structural elements. Towards the end of the nineteenth century, the Comité began restoring the mosque of al-Mu’ayyad Shaykh (Fig. 2), a Mamluk Sultan who ruled Egypt between 1412 and 1421. After the most urgent and major restorations were completed, work began on the mosque’s wooden minbar.

Fig. 2. The Mamluk Mosque of al-Mu’ayyad Shaykh (1415-1420) (Photo: Matjaž Kačičnik, 2013).

The condition of the minbar of al-Mu’ayyad Shaykh prior to its restoration was described in an 1890 Comité report as follows:

[L]e minbar en bois est remarquable par ses incrustations d’ivoire ; il sera nettoyé et réparé, car il a été barbouillé de couleurs comme les murs. Il est regrettable que les deux vantaux de la porte d’escalier et les deux portes des flancs du minbar aient disparu, elles auront sans doute été soustraites et vendues ; il en est de même des panneaux intérieurs de la balustrade de l’escalier dont il ne reste que trois. (Bulletin of the Comité 1890, p. 75).

The report does not include any photographs of the minbar. As this monumental mosque had gained the attention of numerous artists and photographers / photographic studios (Pascal Coste, P. Dittrich, Pascal Sébah, Beniamino Facchinelli, Maison Bonfils, G. Legekian &Co, K.A.C. Creswell and others), several photographs of the mosque showing its qibla riwāq and a minbar can be found in different collections around the world. Few photographs show the condition of the minbar prior to restoration and match the Comité’s description of its state prior to intervention (Fig. 3).

Fig. 3. Pascal Sébah, [prior to 1886], Silver print. Bibliothèque de Genève, fonds Max van Berchem, GGF 117 (AL-QAHIRA).

Those who are familiar with the mosque of al-Mu’ayyad and who pay attention to the minbar(s) that appears in many of these photographs would recognize that in fact some do not show the original minbar of the mosque (Fig. 4). Where was the original minbar when these photographs were taken? Why was another minbar placed in the mosque? To which mosque did this other minbar belong? Where is it located now?

Fig. 4. G. Lekegian & C°, Mosquée Sultan El-Moayed (intérieur) N° 392. Silver print, [ca. 1891-1892]. K.A.C. Creswell Collection of Photographs of Islamic Architecture, Rare Books and Special Collections Library, the American University in Cairo, Album 24.

While archival research reveals detailed information on the restoration of the minbar of al-Mu’ayyad Shaykh (Comité archive, folders of monument no. 190), no information could be found regarding the other minbar that is seen in some photographs. The restoration of the minbar of al-Mu’ayyad Shaykh required that its elements be disassembled to carry out the necessary interventions as was the case for other minbars. It is possible that the Comité and the Awqāf took the decision to temporarily place a different minbar in the mosque to be used during the sermons, while the original one was being restored. While as noted, no written archival documents were found to confirm this information, the photographs may be the only evidence for this intervention in this mosque. Nevertheless, the research shows that this kind of intervention was carried out in other circumstances. For example, when the minbar of the mosque of al-Dashṭūṭī (1506) was disassembled for restoration in 1913, another minbar was taken from the mosque of Ulmas (1329-1330) (precisely the small minbar from the tomb of the mosque) and was placed temporarily in the mosque of al-Dashṭūṭī to accommodate the needs of the worship (Comité archive, folders of monument no. 12). In contrast, no photographs documenting this move were found.

Considering the great number of views dated from the early 1890s depicting the mosque of al-Mu’ayyad Shaykh with its temporary minbar make one wonder whether its move to the mosque had been made for the sake of photography, after the major restorations of the mosque’s qibla riwāq were completed?

After restoration and reassembly, the minbar of al-Mu’ayyad Shaykh regained its original location (Fig. 5). Where did the other minbar go? It can be found today in the Museum of Islamic Art in Cairo, where it is attributed to the mosque of Tatar al-Ḥijaziyya (1360). One can only speculate why it was not brought back to its original location, possibly because of the building’s poor state of conservation at that time and the existence of another minbar on the site. While again no records were found as to when, how and why it was moved from the mosque of al-Mu’ayyad Shaykh to the museum, the research concludes that it must have entered the museum’s collection after the reassembly of al-Mu’yyad Shaykh’s minbar sometime after 1892 and prior to 1895 since it features in the 1895 Catalogue sommaire des monuments exposés dans le Musée national de l’art arabe written by Max Herz, the Comité’s chief architect at the time.

Fig. 5. K.A.C. Creswell, [The minbar of the mosque of al-Mu’ayyad Shaykh, after restoration]. Silver print, undated [possibly between 1916 and 1921 or later]. K.A.C. Creswell Collection of Photographs of Islamic Architecture, Rare Books and Special Collections Library, the American University in Cairo, Album 24.

Architectural elements and the so called “movable objects” of historic buildings are pre-dominantly restored in situ. Nevertheless, the process often requires their dismantling/disassembling and then their reconstruction/reassembly on site as was the case with the minbar of al-Mu’ayyad Shaykh. In other circumstances, however, dismantled/disassembled objects are moved from one place to another and experience unexpected journeys such as the minbar of Tatar al-Ḥijaziyya, making it a wandering minbar. During the Comité’s work, not only movable objects travelled, but also some architectural elements, such as the upper pavilion of the minaret of the mosque of Qānībāy al-Sharqasī (1441-2) (A Wandering Pavilion 2023). How many more unexpected journeys of objects and elements that moved in the context of the Comité’s restorations are still to be discovered and explored? This will be for another post.

References

Dina Ishak Bakhoum,  “The Restorations of the Comité de Conservation des Monuments de l’Art Arabe in Egypt: “Conservation” or “Reinvention” of monuments? / Les restaurations du Comité de conservation des monuments de l’art arabe en Égypte : “conservation” ou “réinvention” des monuments ?” PhD diss., Leiden University / Université Paris 1 Panthéon-Sorbonne, 2021.

Dina [Ishak] Bakhoum, “A Wandering Pavilion. جوسق متحرك”, in La fabrique du Caire moderne, 27 juin 2023.

“Examen de la Mosquée El Mouyyad (plan Grand bey n° 190),” Bulletin du Comité de conservation des monuments de l’art arabe, 1890, p. 69-77.

Gloria Sergine Ohan Karnouk, “Cairene Bahri Mamluk Minbars: with a Provisional Typology and Catalogue.” M.A. thesis, The American University in Cairo, 1977.

Gloria S. Karnouk, “Form and Ornament of the Cairene Baḥrī Minbar [avec 6 planches],” Annales Islamologiques 17, 1981, p. 113-139.

Miriam Kühn, Mamlukische Minbare. Islamische Predigtkanzeln in Ägypten, Syrien, Libanon, Israel und den Palästinensischen Autonomiegebieten zwischen 1250 und 1517. Mamluk Studies 19, Göttingen: V&R unipress/[Bonn]: Bonn University Press, 2019.