Showing posts with label 8th century. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 8th century. Show all posts

Sunday, February 21, 2021

Dull and Drab is Right Out

Not long ago I was watching a video featuring an ongoing and very interesting "medieval reproduction" project in south-western Germany, not far from the Swiss border. The project is called Campus Galli, and the idea is to replicate, using "authentic 9th century methods", a medieval monastery, modeled after the famous 9th century Kloster plan found in the library of St Gall. In principle, I am very much in favour of the idea, in fact I would love to participate in this project and lend my skills to the cause, my mention of it here is because of a very disturbing stereotype which I saw reinforced by said video. At the same time it serves as a springboard into the broader topic of the myriad misconceptions of medieval dress in general.


A "screenshot" taken from the film
One could not get a much bleaker image than this. 



This scene is very sad in so many ways, and it would seem that most of them have been deliberately employed to maximise modern misconceptions and ingrained stereotypes of life in the early (and even later) Middle Ages. Shot in the early morning, before the sun has lent its rays to fully illuminate the landscape, on a day in which spring has yet to lend its fresh and invigorating lushness to the still barren trees, this scene has all of the hallmarks of a cold, bleak, hardscrabble, and miserable existence.

I am not sure what planet these "reenactors" are supposed to be from, but if they think they are emulating 8th or 9th Carolingian styles, they are very sadly mistaken. Honestly, I often think modern people confuse the Middle Ages with the Late Neolithic period. The look of those in the video is much closer to Ötzi than to anything from three hundred years after the end of "Classical Rome". This might strike some as a very bold statement, but in this blog-post I wish to present contemporary literary and pictorial evidence to substantiate my claim.

As with any new topic, it is often helpful and very useful to step back a bit and get some historical context of what came immediately before the time in question. In this case, we can begin with the 5th and 6th,  centuries, three to four hundred years before the 9th, - our main point of discussion. From the 6th century, we find a couple of very detailed mosaics in Ravenna, Italy showing detailed depictions of garments. 


6th century mosaic of San Apollinare Nuovo, Ravenna
The "Three Kings" shown with multi-coloured and 
patterned garments

6th century mosaic of San Vitale, Ravenna
Court Ladies with multi-coloured and patterned 
garments, and the queen with the above Three Kings
embroidered onto her dress. 



Lets be clear from the beginning, these pictures are portraying people "of the court", not artisans, merchants, or peasants, but it is still important to demonstrate that people were wearing colourful and patterned clothing at this time. So often, modern concepts of even royalty and nobility, are assumed to have worn and are depicted wearing plain woven, even if coloured, clothing. It has also been a universal reality that the lower classes ape, to the best of their ability, the clothing of their superiors. The infamous 12th - 14th century "sumptuary laws" of Europe (Actually ancient Greece and Rome already had these) were intended to prevent people from exhibiting dress and wealth considered "above their station", but such laws would not have been needed if people were not practicing the "offending" behaviour. Roman records are full of such offenses, and there is no reason to believe that humanity suddenly changed their habits in this regard, at the "fall" of the Roman Empire. The many re-writings of these laws in the 13 and 14th century surely attests to the fact that there must have been a good share of scoff-laws, prompting the authorities to repeatedly attempt to thwart and curtail the offending behavior.



A consular diptych of Manlius Boethius from 487AD
This panel is loaded with things it can teach. First, the figure
shows us that "Roman" clothing was not plain woven fabric,
but was actually patterned. (Damasks and Brocades) the 
small painted figures on the obverse tell us that they were of 
colours, such as purple, red, and blue. (not white) The fact that
we have a Roman consular diptych from 7 years after the death
of the last Western Roman emperor tells us that the Roman
way of life did not suddenly end with the "fall" of Rome. (in
fact, the use of these continued in fashion in the realm of the
former Empire past the middle of the 6th century)



The rich have always tended to outwardly flaunt their wealth and power, the aristocracy of early medieval Europe was just as flamboyant about their show of wealth as someone "cruising" around in his Bugatti is today. The troves of gold and jeweled broaches and "fibulae" which are found in almost every museum housing medieval collections are some of the only surviving physical evidence of this fact, but there are other sources which give us a hint of the fashions and taste for opulence of the times.

It was written of the famed goldsmith, St Eloy, Foy, or Eligius, as he is variously known, not long after he died in 660, that "...he was used to wearing gold and gems on his clothes having belts composed of gold and gems and elegantly jeweled purses, linens covered with red metal and golden sacs hemmed with gold and all of the most precious fabrics including all of silk." I love this passage, as it very eloquently dashes the generally held notion of early medieval dress, to smithereens. An earlier passage in the same manuscript says, "Daily did he not rip golden bracelets, jewelled purses and other gold and gems from himself so that he might succor the miserable? "



BNF Lat. 12048 Fol 1v 8 jh

Dublin, Trinity Coll. Lib. MS A. I fol 202v um 800

No gems or jewels here, but these two 8th century works of
art depict both pattern and colour in clothing, The top
portrays Mary in a gold brocaded dress, and the bottom,
from the Book of Kells, the Temptation of Christ
who is wearing multi-coloured and patterned
garments. All of the other figures wear
multi-coloured clothing as well. (no drab white and grey)



Since I am quoting contemporary writings, I will jump ahead to the 9th century, which is the time that this cloister projects strives to emulate, and mention another juicy tidbit from a later 9th century story written by Notker the Stammerer, a monk of St Gall (of all places) about Charlemagne, for his great-grandson Louis II. In one part of the story, Notker, relates an incident in which Charles was on a mission to the Italian city of Fruili to initiate the instalment of a new bishop. (The previous one had just passed on to the Other-World.) After Charles and his court had been there "for a short time", one day, just as a local festivities were ending, he proposed to his Frankish courtiers and the local Italian nobility, that they should go hunting, dressed "'in the very clothes that we are wearing'". (It must be here mentioned, that the most illustrious and prudent Charles had a particular disdain for out-of-place pomp and pretension, and this part of the story was included as a mater of pointing out that fact.) It seems that the Italians took particular pleasure in spending large sums on their clothing (this has been going on for a long time) and, as Notker relates, they "...strutted in robes made of pheasant-skins and silk; or of the necks, backs and tails of peacocks in their first plumage. Some were decorated with purple and lemon-coloured ribbons; some were wrapped round with cloaks and some in ermine robes..." (Ermine is a fur and in the Louvre, there is a famous portrait of Louis XIV regally draped in such a robe.)





Vat Barb Lat 587 fol 4v 9jh
A 9th century work, now in the Vatican, shows 
St Cecilia, and two other martyr saints dressed
in much the manner described by Notker. Notice,
in particular, the ermine lining of St Cecilia's cloak. 



So far, we have seen examples which are applicable to royalty and the nobility, but in our age, when people are not only concerned with the fashions of the elite, our readers may raise the objection that these descriptions do not apply to the garments of artisans and working class people. Fortunately, there is some fragmentary evidence to counter that as well. In a medieval treatise on the applied arts, which is an Ottonian era compilations of earlier writings done by "Theophilus" comes a description of making gilded silver leaf to use, among other things, for textile work. "Narrow strips are also cut from this sheet and they are twisted around silk in spinning. Gold fringes are woven from them in the homes of the poor, just as among the rich they are woven of pure gold."

Wow, here we have several little morsels that crush our collective notion of medieval persons of lower classes. First of all, that they would have silk at all, is perhaps staggering to most modern readers, and that they would further embellish their fabrics with gilded thread flies completely in the face of the notion of anyone except a lord or lady wearing dull, drab browns, greys, and dingy white clothing.

Another passage from near the end of Notker's story of Charlemagne, helps to clarify the attire of the various classes of the Frankish population in the 9th century. It seems that at Easter, the emperor was accustomed to give out gifts, as is written of him, "On that day, it was his practice to make presents to each and every one of those who served in the palace or did duty in the royal court. He would order belts, leg coverings and precious garments [earlier in the text described as being made of silk] brought from all parts of his vast empire to be given to some of his nobles; the lower orders would get Frisian cloaks of various colours; his grooms, cooks and kitchen-attendants got clothes of linen and wool and knives according to their needs." (I believe the "knives" here is a mis-translation of some sort of garment or fabric, lost to posterity, that was probably decorated in some way by cutting, as Notker is here only describing clothing and types of fabric, so "knives" does not really fit in this context.) 

Here it does not say that the clothing given to the lowest order of servants was or was not coloured, but in other passages from this manuscript we learn that the "Frisian cloaks of various colours" were "striped", and were garments held in "high esteem" in a broad part of the world, serving as a "luxury" trade item and even being sent to the Middle East as gifts from the emperor, thus the mentioning of cloaks "of various colours" is used to denote theses particular specialty garments. 


From a small Italian chapel, Known as 
Santa Maria di Torba, comes this 8th or 9th
century fragment of a fresco. In it are depicted 
a crowd of people who seem to be wearing the
type of "Frisian" robes described by Notker.
In addition to being striped, this fragment also
informs us that the stripes were further 
embellished with patterns and thus more of an
explanation as to why they would be 
held in high esteem. 





Staatsbibliothek Bamberg MS Msc.Patr.61 fol 41v 4. V. 8jh

From an 8th century  manuscript, produced in Montecassino,
comes another image of a man wearing a striped garment.
is this another reference to these "Frisian Cloaks"?
or simply the fact that anyone weaving fabric can use different
coloured threads and produce stripes, which are more interesting
than solid colours




In medieval art, it is very common to see renditions of people dressed in clothing of solid colour, and later medieval inventories, when people bothered to mention such things at all, often refer to textile objects by a singular colour. However, this in no way implies that, from a detail-specific point of view,  these objects were in fact unadorned or plain. Below is a picture of part of a book, whose cover is compiled of remnants of a brocade-woven fabric. If one were to be somewhat specific about it, they would say it is "red with a lighter red pattern." but it could also be very easily described as simply being "red". We have already seen the consular diptych in which the coloured images of figures are painted in solid colours, but on the very same object, the carved figures show a proliferation of pattern. Many artists seem to have not seen the point of adding both pattern and colour in the same rendition. In addition, the smaller the scale a figure was, the less likely it would be to embellish, for the simple economy of time and skill.



Staatsbibliothek Bamberg Msc.Bibl.95 inside cover, before 1012

Late 10th century, or earlier, fabric fragments re-used as a cover
for a book. In fact, there are two different fabrics here, the 
second, red, with yellow and white stripes and white dots.




I say "many artists" but certainly not all. At the same time I saw the video which inspired this blog-post, I was just finishing up my Turn-of-the-Millennium-Casket and had been studying the artwork of a late 10th century manuscript in which two of the artists (There were four or five working on it) seem to have relished in the depiction, albeit in a "short-hand" sort of  impressionistic way, of the patterns and colours of textiles. Nearly every figure in the entire manuscript has some indication of ornamented fabric for their clothing. Further, all of their clothes are blues, reds, yellows, greens, purples, etc, nothing drab about any of them. In fact, I have never seen a medieval manuscript with any figure even closely approaching the manner or (lack of) colour of dress depicted in the Campus Gali video. (Save for someone who had just received a new white "baptismal robe")

I have now been studying the art of medieval manuscripts for more than twelve years and what I have seen from 8th and 9th century works coincides with the meager descriptions in the writing from the same period which I have come across. A couple sentences from which have already been quoted; in another passage, this time from Einhard's story of Charlemagne, we find more information about the "Frankish" dress, which should be relevant to the Campus Gali project. He says that King Charles "...wore the national—that is to say, the Frankish dress. His shirts and drawers were of linen, then came a tunic with a silken fringe, and hose. His legs were cross-gartered and his feet enclosed in shoes. In winter-time he defended his shoulders and chest with a jerkin made of the skins of otters and ermine. He was clad in a blue cloak, and always wore a sword, with the hilt and belt of either gold or silver. Occasionally, too, he used a jewelled sword, but this was only on the great festivals..." 



BSB clm 14000 fol 5v um 870
Not Charlemagne, but his grand-son Charles
the Bald.
Here we have the red hose and the cris-
cross laces of the leggings along with the gilded
shoes, all mentioned in the writings. In this
Illustration, the king's cloak is of a jeweled shimmering
gold and purple variety. Doubtless it also would
have a pattern to it, but the artist left it off to better
capture the shimmer of the silk and gold





Notker elaborates on this description further in the following manner, "Now the dress and equipment of the old Franks was as follows: Their boots were gilt on the outside and decorated with laces three cubits long. The thongs round the legs were red, and under them they wore upon their legs and thighs linen of the same colour, artistically embroidered. The laces stretched above these linen garments and above the crossed thongs, sometimes under them and sometimes over them, now in front of the leg and now behind. Then came a rich linen shirt and then a buckled sword-belt. ... The last part of their dress was a white or blue cloak in the shape of a double square; so that when it was placed upon the shoulders it touched the feet in front and behind, but at the side hardly came down to the knees..." Here we have a slightly more detailed description, and a hint of ornament with the mention of "gilt" boots and leggings "artistically embroidered", but this still does not tell the half of a description as a modern person would like. In reading medieval writings, by nature at best very terse in their details, it is important to read "between the lines" as well. At the end of the paragraph, part of which was just quoted, Notker ends by stating, "...I myself am lazy and slower than a tortoise, and so never got into Frankland; but I saw the King of the Franks in the monastery of Saint Gall, glittering in the dress that I have described." This "glittering in the dress" line gives us a much better clue as to the reality of the kings garments. What is simply described, both by Notker and Einhard as a "blue cloak" would have been, in fact, a cloak of blue damask worked with a design of gold thread and for a king, doubtless further embellished with pearls and or gems as portrayed in the above picture of Charles the Bald. As we saw from Thophilus, a person such as a king's fabric would have been worked with "pure gold" and a less well off person's cloak would have been made with the gilded silver foil. An even less expensive, though certainly not plain and unadorned method, could have simply been made with yellow thread replacing the gold. Here, then, we have a range of possibilities of ornamentation of a garment, according to the amount one has to spend and the status of the wearer, but never being a simple "blanket" of uncoloured, undecorated fabric as shown in the subject video. (notice, also, that the cloak "touched the feet in front and behind" and so was long enough to actually keep someone warm, and furthermore would have almost completely concealed whatever other garments were below.) Another snippet of revealing information comes from a part of Notker's story where he is relating Charlemagne's grandson's (Charles the bald, pictured above) attitude toward soldiers exhibiting undue pomp in their manner of dress, whilst preparing to engage in battle. "...If any of his servants, ignorant of this rule, [to wear only "linen and wool"] happened to meet him with silk or silver or gold upon his person, he would receive a reprimand of the following kind and would depart a better and a wiser man. “Here’s a blaze of gold and silver and scarlet! Why, you wretched fellow, can’t you be satisfied with perishing yourself in battle if Fate so decides? Must you also give your wealth into the hands of the enemy...?" "The offense, here is not that the garments are ornamented, but that they are made and decorated with very costly products; silk, along with silver and gold were the primary "treasures" which were taken as "war booty". The fact that opposing armies would despoil one another of these possessions further attests to their manner of wearing their material wealth.


Book-binding Staatsbibliothek Bamberg.

This much worn piece of brocade-woven fabric
comes from the 9th century and is made from
silk, though it has long-since lost the luster
which rendered it so valuable in the first place.
Most of the yellow threads have been worn 
away as well. Very likely, however, this is
a remnant of someone's worn-out garment that 
still contained sections which were in good
enough condition to be recycled.




In fact, a passage from the will of Charlemagne specifically points out the medieval attitude to what was or was not "valuable", in the instructions given for the distribution of his property after his death. "...He desired further that there should be added to this third part of the total sum, which like the other parts consists of gold and silver, all vessels and utensils of brass, iron or other metals, with arms, clothes and all other moveable articles, whether of value or not, which are employed for various purposes; as for instance curtains, coverlets, tapestries, woollen-cloths, dressed-skins, harnesses, and whatever else is found at that date in his store chamber or wardrobe: so that in this way the subdivisions of that part may be larger, and the distribution of alms find its way to a larger number." In this will, the division of his wealth into thirds had been limited to gold, silver, jewels, and silks. To this last third was added everything else "weather of value or not". It is interesting that even three silver and one gold table were not counted in the "treasures" but were special enough to be added as an addendum to the list of distributed items. In addition, he had "books" of a "great quantity in his library", which were neither part of the "treasure" or the more utilitarian items to be added to the last lot. In short, I am comparing what constituted "valuable possessions" and the details thereof, in the medieval mind, with our modern notion of possessions, where an estate inventory can even list something as mundane as a "box of miscellaneous clothing" or a "set of screwdrivers". 

The whole topic of class dress, national dress, and generation-specific dress becomes quite complicated, and is rendered more so by the human tendency to find great prejudice in minute and subtle details as a way of distinguishing one group of people from another. This is pointed out well by  several contemporary writers, but I will again quote Einhrad, and his mention of the lands and peoples in conflict with the Franks of the 9th century. "Of...all the barbarous and fierce nations lying between the Rhine, ..., and the Danube, who speak much the same language, but in character and dress are very unlike..." Unfortunately, no mention is made of what differences there were in their dress, or what distinguished them from that of the Franks, for that mater. More of this same minute judgemental distinction shows up again in part of the already mentioned passage about Charlemagne's dress. "...He disliked foreign garments, however beautiful, and would never consent to wear them, except once at Rome on the request of Pope Hadrian, and once again upon the entreaty of his successor, Pope Leo, when he wore a long tunic and cloak, and put on shoes made after the Roman fashion." "foreign" here, is obviously in reference to the fashions of "Rome", or what modern writers would term "Byzantine." (see the above 9th century illustration of St Cecilia) The funny thing is, for all of these distinctions, real or imagined,  through the lens of 1200 years of by-gone history, whatever subtleties existed in their minds has been almost completely erased in ours. It is rather like two people arguing, in 1955, of the design differences between a Ford and a Chevrolet. In the 21st century they both look very much the same, with both obviously coming from the same time period, even though fans of one car or the other would be very quick to point out the supposed superior design elements of whichever vehicle they favoured. 

The question even becomes more blurred with further reading of both Einhard and Notker, because it turns out that Charlemagne did not always and only wear the above-mentioned "national dress" of the Franks, but, "On festal days he walked in procession in a garment of gold cloth, with jewelled boots and a golden girdle to his cloak, and distinguished further by a diadem of gold and precious stones. But on other days his dress differed little from that of the common people." (Einhard) and, "The most glorious Charles used to go to lauds at night in a long and flowing cloak..."(Notker) This leaves us to wonder exactly how different the "foreign" dress that he refused to wear actually was, and what differences there really were. (probably, mostly, the wearing of leggings) To muddy the waters a bit more, comes this bit of exaggeration of comparison of two groups of "knights" in the telling of the exploits of an over-pompous bishop who hosted a feast for some of the king's men, after a botched mass. "When the mass was thus scrambled through his guests passed into his hall, which was decorated with many-coloured carpets, and tapestries of all kinds; and there a magnificent banquet, served in gold and silver and jewelled vessels, was provided, calculated to tickle the appetite of the fastidious or the well-fed. The bishop himself sat on the softest of cushions, clad in precious silks and wearing the imperial purple, so that he seemed a king except for the [lack of] sceptre and the title. He was surrounded by troops of rich knights, in comparison with whom the officers of the palace (nobles though they were) of the unconquered Charles seemed to themselves most mean." Here, "mean" is to say that they looked less wealthy by comparison. Again, this is probably somewhat akin to an 80 year old man and a 90 year old man arguing about which of them looks older, in the presence of a 20 year old kid. To the kid, they both look so ancient that he cannot see any difference. (And the 90 year old sees no difference between a youth of 18 or 25) These differences which are being discussed here are primarily things that would have only been visible to those living in the times and cultures from which they came. I rather imagine that most of the differences were in the types of weave to the cloth, or the types of accessorising ornament that was added to them. The majority of silk would have been imported, either from the Eastern Roman Empire or from the Middle East, at this time, and therefore, weather it was a king in England, Francia, or Italy, the weave and pattern of the cloth would have been much the same. The primary differences, then, could have been the way in which regional fashions made changes in the "cut", and "fitting" of these garments. 

Coming back down to the realm of the more "ordinary" people, notice the last line in the bit in which Charles' festive dress was described. "But on other days his dress differed little from that of the common people." I think if we read between the lines here, we can learn that the form of the common people's dress and perhaps even the basic colours, were what was "little different", much like a modern suit purchased for 100$ is visually very similar to one purchased for 2000$, the distinctions being in the quality of the product, the material used, and above all, in the mind of the owner and his peers. Assuming they are both the same colour. someone from another planet would most likely see no difference at all. 

The wealthy would have worn a tunic of well made linen, perhaps with a subtle pattern woven into it, and further decorated with silk embroidery, the "common" man would have a tunic made of less-fine linen or even wool, with less (but not necessarily no) embroidery also of wool or linen and probably more expressionistically rendered. The same would be true for the hose, or leggings, that each person wore underneath, and the cloak that they wore over everything; primarily differentiated in material, quality and workmanship, not in basic form.

Lastly, coming back to the topic of "sumptuary laws" even that topic gets a little muddied with a story at the very end of the surviving portion of Notker's tale. He was relating how Charles the Bald would go weekly to the baths, and upon stripping off all of his clothes, "...give everything that he took off, except his sword and belt, to his attendants. His liberality reached even to the lowest grades: insomuch that he once ordered all his attire to be given to one Stracholf, a glazier, and a servant of Saint Gall." If there was a rule about commoners not wearing the clothing of the nobility, what exactly was this glazier meant to do with them? In fact he did wear them, as the story goes, but some very envious people decided to waylay and rob him of his gifts. What became of him, sadly, is no longer known, because the manuscript ends there, the rest of it lost to the ravages of time... or else it was the worlds first "hanging suspense" ending? Incidentally, this little story also serves to dash another misconception from the Middle Ages. A "glazier" for those who do not know, is someone who installs window glass, yet most any book on the Middle Ages that I ever read says that there were no glass windows at that time.

Attempting to piece together the daily reality of a time 1200 years in the past is no easy task, and there are bound to be mistakes made. The cost of replicating history in extreme authenticity would also be exceptionally high, but it is no fault of the past that we moderns cannot or do not want to spend the money to decorate the re-created spaces with "gold and silver, and carpets and tapestries lining the walls", or any other number of ornaments and decorations to both space and person which once existed as ordinary, but now would be considered as opulent luxury. (consider that even 100 years ago no self-respecting man would go out without a felt hat, a jacket, and even a tie, but nowadays it seems to be, for some people at least, perfectly acceptable to go out in one's t-shirt, pajamas and even underwear [boxer shorts]; the hat, jacket and tie are thought of as pointless expenditure). 

Bellow, I have included some additional contemporary illustrations and commentary to more fully illustrate the reality of 8th and 9th century dress.


BNF Lat 1 Fol 423r M. 9jh

A group of prelates surround King Charles in this illumination
All the bishops are dressed in ornamented textiles, dyed with 
expensive colours and further adorned with gold and gems


9th century Fragment of a Ribbon
Museum of Los Angeles 

We already read about costly "ribbons of 
lemon-colour and purple
".




Perhaps Notker had something like this ribbon in mind? It has lost several of its pearls, and some of the embroidery has worn away or frayed, but enough is left to exhibit the undeniable exquisiteness of this small fragment which measures a mere 50mm in width. If one looks closely, the background fabric is knitted, meaning that the material is as fine as any modern, machine-made stocking. The figures in the above painting from the Bibliothèque Nationale are all shown with ribbons hanging from their robes. Given the opulence of their attire, these ribbons doubtless represent ones such as this, from the Los Angeles Museum. Medieval art usually only suggests the basic form, not the fine details.




10th century Ivory panels. Bode Museum

"Roundels" were a staple of medieval ornament for centuries. 
The 5th century diptych in this article has them, and they
continued in use even into the 14th century

5th century mosaic, Ravenna, Italy (Mosoleum of 
Galla Placidia)

This ceiling mosaic is a reproduction of a textile design

Fragment of 10th century textile, produced in Köln and
formerly a drapery in the St Gereon Church of that city

7th or 8th century "Samite" silk fragment.
This is the type of silk fabric imported from "the East"
and sold in markets all over Europe

7th or 8th century fresco fragment, Santa Maria, Antiqua, Rome
An artists representation of the same sort of roundel

7th or 8th c. Santa Maria Antiqua
Another example. Notice, also the 
partially gilded shoes

 BSB Clm 14345 fol 7r um 853

Sometimes Ornamentation was more of the geometric type


To add to the discussion of subtle differences in dress, perhaps here is one clue? The man shown leading Saul, (who was converted to Christianity and became St Paul) is wearing wrapped leggings, but his wrappings are not crisscrossed. Is this a shift in fashion, or the mode of a different region? Whatever the case, in the days of my youth, such a distinction would have been enough to get beat up for. Doubtless it would have been noted by 9th century people as well. 

BSB Clm 22311 fol 111r sp 9jh

St John, from the late 9th century


John is shown here with a roundel-ornamented cloak, but his cushion is decorated with another popular motif, the "quatrefoil". This design is ubiquitous with Gothic art, but this painting was produced nearly 200 years before the "invention" of the Gothic style; further, the design had already been around for at least 500 years at that time, and is quite common in "Carolingian" decoration.



8th or 9th century Fresco, Santa Maria di Torba

A hint of what wall tapestries looked like in the 8th and 9th 
centuries


Staatsbibliothek Bamberg MS Msc.Lit.131, 9th century

There is no way to know if this little fragment was part of a 
wall hanging, or someone's garment, but either way, once again,
it demonstrates the complexity of early medieval textiles


Staatsbibliothek Bamberg MS Msc.Lit.142 fol 5v ca 990

This is a bit later than the period we are discussing, but 
relevant in several ways. The seated figure wears a
patterned silk robe, not a cloak, which is made of "shot silk"
Behind him is a textile wall hanging, with a geometric design
woven from four colours. (blue, white purple and gold)

9-11th century wooden box with bone overlay; Scandinavia

Inside is a collection of minor relics and fabric which was used
to wrap them.

On first glance, these fabrics look to be mundane white rags, but on closer inspection, we can see that nearly all of them have patterns woven into the cloth. Further more, three fragments are comprised of silk of extremely fine weave. There are also three fragments which have colour, including the most prominent one, which is a pattern woven from white and green threads. 

It is hard to say to what degree people wore plain woven fabric versus decoratively woven stuff, but is is safe to assume that even if one's garments were of a solid colour, they might very wall have had a pattern worked into the weave. Furthermore, many "plain" fabrics would have been worked over with embroidery and or trimmed with borders, fringes, tassels, ribbons, and so on. Whether a prince or a pauper, medieval people loved colour and design and would have used whatever means they had available to them, to decorate their surroundings. Even something as simple as embroidering stars or cutting out dots and sewing them one, would have been more interesting to them than walking around in monotonous clothing. 

When one thinks of the Middle Ages, monks dressed in brown or grey frocks come easily to mind, a very drab and boring sort of garment, for sure, but these were adopted (late in the Middle Ages) as a deliberate statement of distancing one's self from any sign of worldly wealth. If everyone were wearing clothing that looked like them, it would not have been much of a statement. 






Videre Scire


Monday, July 13, 2020

Fabeltier

There is doubtless no definitive, universally accepted reason why, but since the beginning of time, man has been inventing fantastic, made up creatures. Forty some years ago I even once read a book that proffers the view that the dinosaurs were actually living experiments in crossbreeding by an antediluvian society, for the purpose of gladiatorial type sports. Probably a very far-fetched notion, but the point is, that somehow, humans (myself included) have always had a fascination with making up fantastic creatures, known in German, as Fabelwesen or Fabeltieren.('en' makes a noun plural in German)




Fabeltier




Some eleven or twelve odd years ago, looking through a book, I came across a drawing of an early medieval decorative motif for some metal object, in the form of an unidentified, (to me) rather contorted, creature in a roundel. I found it fascinating and wound up drawing him myself. That led to to the concept of creating a carved chest somewhat following after the manner of a small casket in the MET, which has a series of roundels with animals. With this idea in mind, I began making up additional creatures that might suit the purpose.



My dabblings with Fabelwesen. Somehow, they seem to fit more
appealingly in a roundel. They are numbered in the order in which they
were drawn over a couple of days. Number one is the one that started it all
and I believe number three was at least partially inspired by an historical
creation as well; the rest were figments of my own imagination.
The little casket from the MET which was the second part of the inspiration
for this project



That chest is yet to materialise, but in the autumn of the year of this initial conceptualisation, the organisers of a local event asked me to do some demonstrating. I decided to try carving one of my creatures, which I had recently finished drawing. In my wood-rack were several planks of pine left from a project, and as it was rather soft, seemed like a good wood to make the carving "easy". (As it turns out, carving pine is not particularly easy, - no forgiveness in grain direction and it is easily dented - oak would have been a much better candidate)

The carving progressed slowly over the course of the one day event, and by the end of day, his head and part of his body were defined inside a circular perimeter, his tail was also fairly well finished. After that day, however, he spent more than a decade in storage, almost completely forgotten.

Recently, in need of some material for a project, I was rummaging in the storage and happened upon this unfinished work. As I had been trying to think what meaningful gift I could give to my friend, Steffen, for his birthday, this suddenly presented itself as a good candidate. I got the carving out and took it back to my shop. It took me parts of four days to complete him because I completely re-carved every last millimetre in order to get the background much deeper than it had been. I "took a picture" of the piece as it was, but like many times before, there was no memory card in the camera, so no picture of how he was at that stage.



By the time I realised there was no memory card in the camera, the carving
was almost complete. The exposed dark colour is due to the 12+ years of
waiting in the storage building to be finished. Another plank of timber
 partially covered it, resulting in the lighter coloured upper half.


As I like to do with this blog, a bit of historical context to these imaginary creatures is warranted. I have no idea of the origin, and have not found any pre-medieval examples that show a very close connection, though there no doubt are such prototypes. The Gundestrup Cauldron shows on the "exterior plate A", two lion/dog looking creatures. Perhaps this is part of the tradition that eventually was codified by the early Middle Ages. The earliest versions that I know of, come from the 7th and 8th centuries. I do not profess or pretend to be an expert on the topic, however; the purpose of the following is simply to show some examples of the evolution of one branch of the Fabeltier through the course of the Middle Ages.



These characters, here shown in an 8th century iteration, will continue
in the ever changing styles throughout the course of the medieval period


It is hard to say what they are, or if they were actually, originally intended to be a real animal and, over time, became so stylised as to become Fabeltieren. Whatever the earliest intentions, by the 8th century they were already canonised as decorative repertoire for almost any ornamental purpose.



Amiens BM MS Lescalopier 030 fol 10v 4. V. 12jh Weissenau


In this late 12th century manuscript, from Weissenau Abbey, God is depicted creating the animals and fish on the fifth day of creation. (Latin; "Dies V") The interesting thing is that the "animals" portrayed are all mythical creatures. The "sea dog" and flying "sea lion" both have faces similar to our character.




Kölner Diözesan- und Dombibliothek MS Cod 83ii Fol 146r
798 (Detail)

Petrischrein, Domschatzkammer Minden
Carolingian Enamel plate re-used in an 11th century reliquary

Sometimes these creatures take on more of the characteristics we would ascribe to our notion of "dragons" such as those shown in the last example above, but often both these and dragons are shown together. Generally, the dragons will have thicker and often split tails, as well as wings, whilst the other, unnamed guys have neither of those.

Sometimes they take on more lion-like features, whilst other representations have them more dog-looking. My Fabeltier is a nice mixture of the two, which is also often found, as is exemplified in the following French miniature of the late 12th century. (middle left)



Getty MS Ludwig XIV 2 fol 126r um 1170-80 Umkreis Paris

These creatures seem to be prevalent throughout Europe, with slight regional artistic nuances, but generally recognisable as stemming from the same tradition, they can be found in all types of surviving artworks from as far apart as Spain and Norway.






Anglo-Saxon Stone Fragment from Jedburgh, Scotland, 9-10th cent.

North Italian or French Capital, now in the Louvre, 11th cent.

From a former frieze of Cluny Abbey, 12th cent.

Schaffhausen, Stadtbibliothek, Ministerialbibliothek Ms Min. 15 fol 45v
ca. 1100

One of my favourite characteristics of a sub-group of these creatures are those with a propensity to bite something (fruits, flowers, vines - see the Jedburgh stone carving above) or even their own backs or tails. In my opinion, they work best in a rounded fatter form, such as that shown in the Cluny fries-fragment above.





(A not very good picture of a detail from the) Basler Antipendium (altar)
now in the Musee de Moyen Age (Museum of the Middle Ages) in Paris
1st decade of the 11th cent., gifted to Basel Cathedral by Emperor Henry II 

In this roundel, the creature is biting his foot, which is another version of the biting theme. This is the sort of image I had in mind when designing my creatures for the box.





Taking advantage of some nice afternoon light to have a look
at the progress of my own carving


Once my animal was carved it was down to thinking about how to finish off the whole thing as a stand-alone piece of art. I took a cue from 12-13th century ivory mirrors and put "ears" (stylised leaves) on the four corners. In all, I think it worked out good. Once it was all done, I rubbed it down with some abrasive leaves and linseed oil, then I put it in the sun to give it a bit of a "tan" in an attempt to eliminate the piebald effect from a decade of being half buried and half exposed. I should mention that Steffen's Christmas gift to me aided my carving of his birthday gift; he gave me some very narrow carving chisels which worked great for getting into the gap between the border and the feet and rump. (1.5mm)




My Fabeltier - finished and delivered











Monday, May 11, 2020

CNC Machine

CNC is an anagram for "[real] Carving Necessitates [carving] Chisels"
(Carving Necessitates Chisels)





In the last post, the roof and one leg of the chest had just been finished. That was more than four months ago. Wow, the time really flies! Even though nothing else has been posted, I have not been sitting idle on my medieval projects.







I finished up the legs around the end of January, but then went out of town to do a job, anyway, they did not seem significant enough to warrant their own post. When I returned, I sawed up some panels (by hand) to for the sides and then started carving here and there as time and work permitted. They will eventually be fit into grooves in the the posts, but I decided to do the carving before doing the mortises on the posts, so that I would not accidentally break off the shoulders whilst carving.



7th century box lid and corner posts

7th Century box, the carving is underway. In the background one can see a
print-out of a Langobard panel, in the Church of Santa Maria, Civita
 Castellana, in Italy which I based my panel on.

7th century box, completed front panel
this depicts a wild boar hunt

7th Century box, Front panel detail. I love the way the frantic activity
of the dogs have been portrayed, albeit in a rather impressionistic way.

In the original Lombard panel, there was one additional standing figure and the trees extended further to the right, over his head. The scene was nearly perfect for the format of my box, but if I had made it exact, that figure would have been cut in half. The solution was to space everything just a bit wider, eliminate the forth figure and then shorten the branches of the tree so they fit within the space. This still left an unsatisfactory void to the right of the last figure. Taking a clue from the original artist, who had too much space below the spear-man, and thus left that area uncarved, I did not carve the right-hand edge straight in order to not have too much blank field beside that figure.


Red line showing what would be a straight edge to the field



In carving this panel, I realised that there is a lot more detail than one notices at a glance. I also realised, that even though it looks "simple" it is technically nearly as complicated as any "classical" carving. There are many subtleties which are not readily obvious, but where details are important to the scene, they have been rendered with care, such as the horses' bridals and trappings. Another factor which greatly increases the complexity of the process is the depth to which the background is sunk. If this were shallow, it would be fairly easy and take much less time, but the ground is sunk, in the scale of my work, at about 7 to 9mm. It is not easy to remove and clean out corners and small places at that depth but this was a very common characteristic of early medieval relief sculpture so I followed it.

I considered posting about this panel once I had finished it, but decided that I could get the next one done fairly quickly. "After all", I thought, it was "just circles and flowers, mostly" (I never learn) which should be fairly easy to carve, right? It took me a lot more time, again in large part due to the depth of the grounding. This panel is patterned after a panel which is, or was, in Berlin, but came from Rome, originally. I have no idea if it survived the war because I can find no modern mention of it, the original of what I used (found on an internet archive site) was taken "before 1920".




7th Century box, back panel nearing completion. I draw the simpler elements
directly on the wood, but the birds, which are more complex, I drew on paper
and then pasted that to the timber.

The original from which I based my panel on (It is marble)

7th Century box, back panel. I chose this design for two reasons, number one,
I liked it, and number two, because it worked perfectly in the space that I had
to work with. I believe this was a large factor in determining a lot of original
medieval decoration, not so much in the supposed meaning that modern
art historians and analysers want to attach to them. 

It is true that some symbols and patterns had special or significant meaning, but artist have always worked with and influenced decorative trends. It is no accident that much art of the 6th through 10th century utilised interlacing straps and bands, because this was one of the stylistic trends of the times, but like most other elements of design, sooner or later,  even long-winded popular elements fall out of fashion and are discarded. I came across several early medieval panels, with designs similar to my box design, which had been re-purposed in the 16th and 17th century. Apparently the busyness of the grooved strap-work was offensive to 17th century taste, however, and the panels were ground flat enough to remove all or most of the grooves.


Detail of a defaced 8th century marble panel incorporated into a
17th century altar in Chur Cathedral, Switzerland
I chose this part because it most clearly shows that it formerly
had the two grooves dividing the strap into three lines.
Sadly much of the detail of other elements, not so easily imagined,
were also forever obliterated - all in the name of contemporary taste.


Because I believe there is no particularly significant or special meaning to the design of this panel, (It is ornament, for ornament's sake), I felt no reason to rigidly adhere to it. (Besides, I hate blind copying of anything) I did notice, however that there seemed to be some thought given to the layout of the original design, and possible evidence of a "screw-up" along the way. In the bottom row, the same basic bird is repeated, in the same position each time, but every one of them has its own details which sets him apart as unique from his neighbours. In the middle row, there is a deliberate act of alternation one fruit and one rosette, throughout that grouping. Each flower and fruit is again rendered unique to itself. The first has 8 pointed petals, the second 7 with alternating pointed and round, and the third has all rounded tips, again with 8 petals. Two more rosettes in the top row are also individual.

The top row is where some seeming randomness and lack of reason is found. It begins with a bird on the left and ends with a bird on the right. I believe that the artist was like me, and was a bit dyslexic and confused by odd and even numbered repeats. If one has an odd number of objects in a row, the first and last can be the same, but if there are an even number of repeats, then what is on one end, cannot be on the other, leaving a bit of asymmetry to the overall design. (I have made this mistake myself in trying to lay out patterns) It is my belief that the artist wanted to have a bird on either end of the design but was also intending to alternate bird and flower. He began by carving from the left side, at the bottom, following his plan, as he progressed, however, he made adjustments to it. I deduct this from the fact that the first two "fig leaves" in the bottom row, and the first one in the top row are simpler than the others. As he worked on the design, he realised that his scale was large enough to give the leaves more detail, and so he began doing so. When he got to the top row, for some reason, he skipped to the far end, and again carved a bird, forgetting that a rosette should finish up the row begun with a bird. Once the mistake was begun, there was no way of correcting it.

Since I am speculating and hypothesising, and there is no way to "prove" or disprove my theory, I will go one step further and point out the second from the left element, which is not a "rosette" as I have named the others. One would say that it is a "Cross" and so it may be, but it may also fall into the general "flower" designs, and was used because the artist could not think of any other variation on the rosette than what he had already used.

It is interesting, however, to see that both the "flower" element and the "cross" element go way back in history. I have found evidence for both of these motifs in Assyrian art from at least 2000 BC. It seems, according to what I have read, that the cross within a circle represented the rays of the sun as obscured by the moon in an eclipse. As time went on and artists did what artist do best, the design was modified to include circles or dots within the void created by the quadrants of the crossed arms, and then the dots gave way to swirls in Celtic art. I have seen many variations on this theme from Celtic, Assyrian, Dacian, Scythian, Etruscan and Greek art, all long before the adoption of this symbol as the central motif of the Christian religion.


Two Greek Vases, one showing Celtic influence in the cross ornament, the
inside of two Etruscan cups, and a Celtic metal ornament, all showing this
as a form of decoration from several hundred years BC

Cross-shaped ornament

Since by the early Middle Ages, this cross motif had been adopted by Christianity, this was an appropriate element to incorporate within a panel intended for a church, but was in no wise intended for anything other than decorative elements within the broader field of ornamental work. It was simply part of the contemporary artists repertoire.



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