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Naqada II

Female figure with bird traits, Naqada II
Female figure with bird
traits. Naqada II period,
3500-3400 BCE.
Brooklyn Museum
The most important sites are Hierakonpolis, Naqada, el-Amra, Ma-hasna, Abydos,  Matmar, Gerza, and Minshat Abu Oman Most characteristic of this  phase is the expansion to the north—Naqada II, emerging from the  regions of Naqada I, gradually led to the cultural unification of all  Egypt. The expansion into the northern part of Middle Egypt began  in  Naqada IIC;  the  expansion  into  the  Delta  was  no  later  than  Naqada II Dl. It was primarily a territorial occupation, secondarily  securing  trade  routes  to  the  east.  The  basic  principles  of  the  equipment  of  Egyptian  graves  originated  in  this  period,  with  the  quantity and quality of grave goods reflecting the growing Naqada  cultures  social  stratification.  Separate  necropolises  appeared,  containing exclusively large and rich graves. Graves of the elite are  known from Abydos, Minshat Abu Omar, Diospolis Parva, and Hierakonpolis, testifying about social development and the creation  of centers of authority. Although buildings are not well known from  the  period,  the  models  of  houses  discovered  in  graves  depict  rectangular  brick  buildings,  with  wooden  beams  (lintels)  over  the  doors. New kinds of pottery were made of tempered silt. Decorated  pottery had scenes of birds and animals, triangles symbolizing the  desert, and plants. Others with the portrayal of boats with human  figures  may  point  to  the  existence  of  rituals  that  involve  the  leaders/chiefs  of  clans/tribes.  The  oldest  preserved  Egyptian  wall  painting,  at  Hierakonpolis,  may  therefore  be  confirmed,  since  it  shows  hunting,  triumph,  and  rites  associated  with  boats.  Such  scenes in a grave context suggest the beginnings of the custom of  "taking" symbolic and real events of life into the next world.


Conical mace heads were replaced by pear-shaped mace heads,  which, beginning in mid-Naqada II, become symbols of authority— one  of  the  attributes  of  power  in  Egypt's  royal  iconography.  The  production  of copper  increased  in  importance, as  did  that  of  gold  and  silver.  In  general,  metal  was  sought  after,  probably  a  sign  of  status.  Flint  was  still  the  most  important  material  for  tool  pro- duction,  but  techniques  had  advanced;  in  addition  to  traditional  tools made from flakes, a new technique appeared—production of  long  blades,  later  processed  by  bifacial  retouching  (ripple-flake).  The  number  of  personal  adornments  of  bone,  ivory,  and  semiprecious  stones  increased  markedly,  as  did  bracelets,  rings,  beads,  pendants,  and  amulets.  The  rich  material  culture  indicates  that  groups  of  highly  specialized  craftsmen  existed.  Centers  of  production, such as Hierakonpolis, plus a relatively small number  of workshops distributed products throughout the elite. There, the majority of craftsmen also lived. The cities soon  played  a  central  role  for  the  larger  surrounding  territory.  For  example, Naqada (Eg., Nubt, "city of gold") developed significantly  in this period, based on trade in gold and copper from mines in the  Eastern  Desert.  Changes  in  the  environment  and  in  society  also  transformed Hierakonpolis (Eg., Nekhen), regarded by the ancients  as the capital of the Upper Egyptian state, into a major political and  economic  center.  Naqada is  equidistant  (about  100  kilometers/64  miles in a straight line) from Hierakonpolis and Abydos, and other  important  population  centers  were  grouped  in  their  immediate  vi- cinity.  Strong  economic  centers  of  local  authority  arose  and  trade  was  conducted  in  every  direction.  Contacts  with  the  Levant  are  indicated by small quantities of Palestinian pottery in Upper Egypt,  as  well  as  by the  presence  of  Naqada II  products  in  the  Palestine  region. Contacts with Sumer and Elam are yet debatable. Although  raw materials (obsidian, lapis lazuli), products (cylinder seals), and  certain art motifs (a hero strangling a lion) of Mesopotamia or Elarn  appeared, their presence in Egypt may be the result of a series of  indirect  trade  contacts,  not  from  regular  exchange.  Sources  have  been  identified,  other  than  those  previously  supposed, for  at  least  some of the imported goods. For example, obsidian tools were re- garded  as proof of connections between the Nile Valley and  the Near East, but new analyses have shown beyond a doubt that that  obsidian was acquired in Ethiopia. Contacts to the south are better  confirmed:  found  in  Upper  Egypt  was  pottery  characteristic  of  Nubian Group A (made of silt, with a large number of admixtures,  and  decorated  with  ornaments  filled  with  white).  Many  Gerzean  period products were also found in Nubia.

Recent Pages:


·        Piya (744–714 BC)
·        Plutarch (c.46-120 CE)
·        Poultry in ancient Egypt
·        El Oman
·        Moerian
·        Tasa-Badari
·        Naqada I

Naqada I

Bone figure with lapis lazuli inlays, Naqada I
Bone figure with lapis
lazuli inlays,
Naqada I. British
Museum
The existence of a Lower Egyptian kingdom at this period is not probable, but head coverings similar to the Red Crown of Lower Egypt were worn by some figures in rock engravings and paintings (from both the Eastern and Western Deserts); they may be local chiefs. From this period come the first attempts at Egyptian faience and there was  some  slight  increase in copper objects—pins, needles, beads, bracelets, awls, and rings. Models made from cheap materials were deposited in graves (mace heads, knives,  boats). Trade intensified  in  all directions but objects  characteristic of Naqada I have been found mostly to the south in Nubia, very rarely to the northern region of the Delta and Sinai. The increase in trade was accompanied by social stratification, still progressing slowly, and the development of local elites.

Recent Pages:



·        Piya (744–714 BC)
·        Plutarch (c.46-120 CE)
·        Poultry in ancient Egypt
·        El Oman
·        Moerian
·        Tasa-Badari

Tasa-Badari

Ruins from Tasa-Badari
Ruins from Tasa-Badari
Discovered  by G.  Brunton, the  paucity of data made it impossible to determine whether Tasa was a  separate  culture, a preliminary phase, or a mutation of the Badarian culture (c.4300-3700 BCE).  Its  originality  was  manifested  in  the simple  pottery  (deep  bowls  and  pots)  of  brown  and  grey-black;  black  or  brownish-black polished beakers, decorated with incised lines filled  with  a  white  paste,  constitute  a  special  group. Tasa  may  have  occupied part of central and southern Egypt to the Armant (Erment) region,  whereas the Badari essentially occupied the northern part of Upper Egypt  (Matmar-Qau);  some  sites  in  the  South, in  the  Wadi  Hammamat,  and  on  the  Red  Sea coast  may  indicate  that  the  Badarian were relatively-mobile. The economy was based on crops  (wheat and barley), animal husbandry (goats, cattle, and sheep), and  hunting.  In  Hemmamiya  are  found  pear-shaped  grain  silos  (3  meters/10  feet  deep),  lined  with  mats  or  baskets,  and  nearby  are  'huts, fireplaces, and animal enclosures. The best-known artifactual  inventory  comes  from  the  graves,of  the  extramural  cemeteries,  where,  besides  pottery,  hollow-based  arrowheads  were  found,  as  well  as  saw-edged  sickle  blades,  stone  axes,  bone  needles,  pins,  awls, and combs; ivory bracelets, beads, rings, vessels, spoons, and  combs; cosmetic palettes, shell and stone beads, ear and nose studs, amulets, and clay boat models.
Copper was rare but  the  presence  of  turquoise  and  seashells  indicates  trade  contacts  along  the  Red  Sea  coast.  The  origin  of  the  Badarian  culture  is  unknown,  but  some  features  can  be  traced  to  Palestine  (ceramic  decoration  called  "rippling,"  crop  cultivation,  animal  husbandry),  the Western Desert oases (flint-tool techniques, animal husbandry),  and Nubia (pottery decorations, animal husbandry). The Badarians  seem to have combined various local traditions in forming the first  stage of Upper Egyptian culture.

Recent Pages:


·        Tell el-Maskhuta (Pithom)
·        Second Intermediate Period
·        Piya (744–714 BC)
·        Plutarch (c.46-120 CE)
·        Poultry in ancient Egypt
·        El Oman
·        Moerian

Moerian

Grain from Merimde Period
Grain from (Moerian culture)
Merimde Period
Distinguished by B. Ginter and J. K. Kozlow-ski, the Moerian culture  was  a  later  phase  of the Neolithic in the Faiyum (El-Faiyum) (c.4400-3800 BCE). It is characterized by a flint industry on blades  and  bladelets  that  were  struck  from  small  concretions,  affiliated with  the  Epi-Paleolithic  technological  tradition  of  the Western Desert. Two-thirds of the tools are backed blades, micro-retouched  blades  and  bladelets,  retouched  blades,  and  perforators.  Pottery,  tempered  with  organic  material  and  sand,  includes  hemispherical  bowls,  S-profile  vessels,  and  pots  with  cylindrical  necks.  The  Moerian  economy  was  based  on  animal  husbandry,  hunting,  and  fishing.

Bibliography and References:

  • Journal of the Anthropological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland, Volume 65. Anthropological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland. 1935. p. 27. Retrieved 17 June 2016.
  • Forde-Johnston, James L, Neolithic cultures of North Africa: aspects of one phase in the development of the African stone age cultures. University of California, (1959), p. 58. Retrieved 16 June 2016.
  • Hoffman (Michael A.): Egypt before the pharaohs. Taylor & Francis. (1980), p. 168.
  • Bassey Andah, Alex Okpoko, Thurstan Shaw, Paul Sinclair: The Archaeology of Africa: Food, Metals and Towns, Routledge USA (1993), pp. 211-214.
  • Shaw, Thurstan, The Archaeology of Africa: Food, Metals and Towns. Routledge, (1995), p. 212.
  • Bogucki, Peter I, The origins of human society. Wiley-Blackwell, (1999), p. 355.
  • Bard, Kathryn; Steven Blake Shubert, Encyclopedia of the archaeology of ancient Egypt. Routledge, (1999), p. 501.
  • Eiwanger, Josef, "Merimde Beni-salame". In Bard, Kathryn A. Encyclopedia of the Archaeology of Ancient Egypt. London/New York, (1999), pp. 501-505.
  • Brewer, Douglas J.; Emily Teeter, Egypt and the Egyptians. Cambridge University Press, (2007), p. 35.
  • "picture of the Merimde head". Auswaertiges-amt.de. Archived from the original on 2 March 2012. Retrieved 1 May 2012.

Recent Pages:


·        Tell el-Maskhuta (Pithom)
·        Second Intermediate Period
·        Piya (744–714 BC)
·        Plutarch (c.46-120 CE)
·        Poultry in ancient Egypt
·        El Oman

El Oman

El Oman known from a large site, the El Omari culture (c.4600-4400 BCE) is at the outlet of the Wadi Hof, north of Helwan. It was named after its discoverer and was investigated by P. Bovier-Lapierre and F. Debono. Oval, round, and irregular pits were found, dug out from the wadi deposit or cut into the cliff and lined with  mats, clay, and wicker. The economy was based on the cultivation of wheat, barley, broad beans, peas, and flax; animal husbandry was based  on cattle, goats, sheep, and especially pigs. Fishing was important but hunting and gathering less so. Red pottery from two kinds of local clays was straw-tempered,  polished, and  smoothed, showing similarity to Palestinian Neolithic A and B.


Recent Pages:


·        Piramesse
·        Tell el-Maskhuta (Pithom)
·        Second Intermediate Period
·        Piya (744–714 BC)
·        Plutarch (c.46-120 CE)
·        Poultry in ancient Egypt

Poultry in ancient Egypt

Taking full advantage of the abundance of avian life  in their country, the ancient Egyptians' diet was enriched by birds,  especially delicious and highly nutritious migratory waterfowl. Just  how plentiful and comparatively easy water birds are to obtain in  Egypt  can  be  seen  from  the  fact  that  from  1979  to  1986,  by  a  conservative estimate, between 260,000 and 374,000 of them were  taken  annually  without firearms in the Nile Delta alone,  using  essentially ancient technology. Moreover, there is sound ecological  and other evidence indicating that four or five thousand years ago,  the available wildlife was far richer.

A mixed flock ofwaterbirds being trapped with clap-nets, including some pintails and European teal. A wall painting in the tomb of the twelfth dynasty nomarch Khnumhotep III at Beni Hasan.
A mixed flock ofwaterbirds being
trapped with clap-nets, including
some pintails and European teal.
A wall painting in the tomb of
the twelfth dynasty nomarch
Khnumhotep III at Beni Hasan.
By the middle of the first dynasty, as shown by a representation  on  a  gaming  disc  found  in  the  tomb  (no.  3035)  of  the  chancellor  Hemaka at  Saqqara,  and  now  in  the  Egyptian Museum,  Cairo,  fowlers had perfected the technique of employing large, rectangular  clapnets  to  capture  huge  numbers  of  these  migrants.  Most  of  this  hunting presumably took place in the then-extensive swamplands of  the  Delta,  but  probably  also  in  the  Faiyum (El-Faiyum).  Those  birds  not  immediately killed when caught were fattened, even force-fed, and  kept in a semidomesticated state until needed for food or sacrifice.Members of the aristocracy maintained, as did individual temples,  substantial  stocks  of  poultry  on  their  domains.  These  birds  had  considerable  economic  importance.  The  vast  repertoire  of  scenes  from daily life decorating the walls of tomb-chapels belonging to  the  elite  from the Old Kingdom onward  routinely  include  the  activities  of  busy  poultry  yards  and  aviaries.  These  places  are  shown  teeming  with  various  kinds  of  ducks,  geese,  cranes,  and  doves,  and  frequently  have  captions  giving  the  birds'  names  and  numbers. The famous fifth dynasty mastaba (tomb 60) of the high- ranking court official Tiy at Saqqara, for example, is noteworthy for  its wide assortment of vibrant aviculture and fowling compositions.  Such  birds  must  have  been  so  esteemed  as  table  fare,  that  tomb  owners evidently wished to eat them throughout eternity. Generous  numbers of waterfowl are carried as offerings by bearers featured in  tomb-chapels and temples spanning all eras, they appear among the  piles  of  victuals  heaped  before  the  deceased,  are  put  on  funerary  tables, are named in their extensive menus for the beyond, and are  mentioned in temple offering lists. There is some textual evidence  from the New Kingdom that birds were affordably priced in ancient  Egypt. However, the specially raised and force-fed poultry on view  in  tomb  scenes  were  undoubtedly  reserved  for  the  wealthy.  Curiously, the eggs seem to be absent as food in funerary contexts,  probably owing to a taboo.

When images are carefully executed and paint is still extant, it is  sometimes possible to recognize the precise species  depicted.  Some  of  these  fowl  also  appear  as  standard  hieroglyphs.  Frequently  identified  table  birds  are  bean  goose  (Anser fabalis) or graylag goose (Anser anser), r-? and sr; white- fronted  goose  (Anser  albifrons  and  Anser  erythropus),  jrp;  Egyptian  goose  (Alopochen  ae.gyptia.cus),  smn;  ruddy  shelduck  (Tadoma ferruginea), bsbs?; pintail (Anas acuta), zt and hp; turtle  dove  (Streptopelia  turtur)  and  palm  dove  (Streptopelia  senegalensis), mnwt and 'by, common crane (Grus grus), i^yt, 'jw,  and  g^,  and  demoiselle  crane  (Anfhropoides  virgo),  wd\  Other  valuable birds sometimes kept for food include swan (Cygnus sp.),  di-idn?;  wigeon  (Anas  penelope),  wsyt;  European  teal  (Anas  crecca), probably sr and s; quail (Cotumix cotumix), p'rt;

coot  (Fulica  atra),  wh't;  and  possibly  pigeons  (Columba  sp.).  Pigeon cotes, a customary feature of the Upper Egyptian landscape  well  into  the  present  century,  probably  did  not  exist  during  dynastic times, and are first attested in the archaeological record  during the Greco-Roman period.

The impression one derives from pictorial and written sources  of which kinds of poultry were viewed as desirable for dining is  confirmed  through  zooarchaeological  studies  on  bones  from  cemeteries and settlement sites. Burials of well-to-do people often  had  mummified  victuals.  A  sumptuous  funerary  repast  prepared  for Tutankhamun during  the  eighteenth dynasty,  found  near  his  tomb (no. 62) in the Valley of the Kings, consisted of one brant  goose (Branta bemicia), one white-fronted goose, two bean geese,  four  teals,  two  shovelers  (Anas  clypeata),  one  gadwall  (Anas  strepera),  and  two  ducks  that  were  not  identified.  In  the  intact  eighteenth dynasty tomb of the architect Kha at Thebes (tomb 8),  the  deceased  was  interred  with  a  large  amphora  filled  with  eviscerated  poultry,  reportedly  preserved  with  salt.  Theban  tomb  paintings show birds being processed in this manner and stored in  similar tall jars.

Although Egyptian avicultuialists doubtless experienced some  success breeding these birds, owing to the sheer  abundance  of  waterfowl  in  the  wild  and  ease  of  obtaining  them,  there  was  not  a  strong  incentive  for  captive  propagation.  Nevertheless, the growing demand for table geese eventually led to  the complete domestication of a goose, probably the graylag, by the  time  of  the  New Kingdom.  The  Egyptian  goose  occasionally  appears in avi-cultural scenes, but only during the Old and Middle  Kingdoms.  By  the  early  eighteenth  dynasty, this  large  indigenous  duck  had  risen  in  distinction,  becoming  sacrosanct  to  Amun,  the  powerful god of the city of Thebes. It was surely for this reason that  this  species  was  kept  as  a  pet  by  some  Theban  notables,  and  is  displayed quietly sitting near them in their decorated tomb-chapels,  even accompanying them on fowling expeditions, despite the bird's  infamously  aggressive  behavior.  Otherwise,  domestic  poultry  evidently played a small role in Egyptian religious belief.



Today's  most  characteristic  farmyard  bird,  the  chicken  (or  red  jungle fowl. Callus gallus), was unknown to the ancient Egyptians  until  the  nineteenth  dynasty,  and  then  only  as  a  marvel  imported  from Southeast Asia by way of the Near East. The chicken did not  become commonplace along the banks of the Nile until at least the  Ptolemaic  period.  Classical  writers,  such  as  Diodorus  Siculus  (I,  74), in the middle of the first century BCE, mention the large-scale  artificial  incubation  of  poultry  eggs  by  Egyptian  avi-culturalists.  Presumably, the practice of constructing hatcheries first developed  during  the  Late  period.  It  is  also  possible  that  the  eggs  of  other  species,  such  as  the  sacred  ibis  (Tlireskiomis  aethiopicus),  were  incubated  to  supply  the  popular  and  burgeoning  animal-cult  industry  with  birds  used  as  votive  offerings.  The  earliest  archaeological evidence for these installations comes from the sixth  century CE. Hatcheries like this were still being used in some small  villages of Upper Egypt as recently as the late 1950s.

Recent Pages:


·        Philae
·        Piety in Ancient Egypt
·        Piramesse
·        Tell el-Maskhuta (Pithom)
·        Second Intermediate Period
·        Piya (744–714 BC)
·        Plutarch (c.46-120 CE)

Portraiture in ancient Egypt

Egyptian death mask from the 18th dynasty. Louvre, Paris
Egyptian death mask from the
18th dynasty. Louvre, Paris
The  origins  of  portraiture in  ancient  Egypt  no  doubt lie in the belief in eternal life. In the early phases of Egyptian history known collectively as the Predynastic period,  there  were  attempts  to  preserve  the  body.  In  the Old Kingdom, the cadaver was wrapped in linen that was stiffened with  resin or plaster. Lifelike details were molded or modeled, creating a  sculpture  from  the  body.  Throughout  Egyptian  history,  the  ever- increasing elaboration of funerary equipment reveals the desire to  prepare  the  deceased  for  eternity;  tomb  sculptures  represent  a  personal  ideological  imperative  that  preserves  the  identity  of  the  deceased as a self-presentation of a virtuous life, both to the deities  and to humans.

The  ancient  Egyptians  required  abstract  qualities  or  physical  correspondence,  and  often  both,  in  their  portraiture,  which  was  limited almost exclusively to sculpture. A pensive or contemplative  expression,  for  example,  is  a  frequent  component  of  a  lifelike  rendering.  Still  more  than  outward  appearance,  the  virtue  of  the  individual represented his or her reality. Foremost in the Egyptian  value  system  was  a  principle  known  as maat ("harmony,  cosmic  equilibrium"),  which  all  persons  were  expected  to  preserve.  Idealizing statues must have been portraits because they created a  necessary fiction; they revealed the admirable qualities, especially  the  adherence  to  maat,  by  which  the  deceased  wished  to  be  remembered.  They  are  the  three-dimensional  equivalents  of  the  paintings  of  the  judgment  of  the  dead  found  on  cartonnages  and  sarcophagi. In both sculpture and painting, the deceased is always  represented as a sinless, upstanding individual. Unlike later artists,  the Egyptian sculptor had little opportunity for personal expression  or  deviation  from  convention.  Many  strictures,  including  the  patron's wishes, controlled the portrait's content.

Tomb sculptures were private and directed primarily toward the  deities. Public statues, particularly of royalty, were erected in and  around temples and palaces to serve as the official images or self- presentations  to  both  mankind  and  the  theological  pantheon.  Although the context and purpose of public sculpture often explain  the variation in facial types, especially in royal statues, the aspects  or  character  traits  were  not  necessarily  different  between  private  and public statues. Furthermore, the official image of a ruler was  but  one  element  of  the  ideological  program  of  his  sculptures,  regardless  of  context.  His  dress,  insignias,  and  crowns—even  the  dazzling paint or luster of the highly polished stone—were critical  elements in the dramatic presentation of his stature.

A few scholars deny the existence of portraiture in Egyptian art,  claiming that idealizing sculptures cannot possibly be realistic and  that lifelike sculptures are formulaic or pastiches. Others insist that  any  lifelike  attributes,  particularly  in  the  facial features,  qualify  a  sculpture  as  portraiture.  To  be  a  portrait,  the  reasoning  goes,  an  image must be recognizable and unable to be confused with the representations of other individuals. Advocates of this argument do  not necessarily require complete verisimilitude. They admit stylistic  conventions—a unique configuration of the eyebrow or the outlines  of the eye—as markers of identity, along with more specific details  such as facial musculature. The problem with this interpretation is  that  it  implicitly  requires  a  physical  correspondence  between  the  subject  and  the  sculpture.  It  also  precludes  a  common  means  of  association by an individual with a group or, in the case of royal  portraits, with an earlier ruler. The genealogy of portraiture and the  association  of  an  individual  with  an  earlier  period  contain  a very  specific  political,  social,  or  theological  message.  Therefore,  the  continuation  of  a  portrait  type  may  indicate  a  desire  to  be  associated with a previous person or era rather than being proof of  physical  similarity.  Despite  the  denial  of  an  individual's  "real"  appearance,  sculptures—  as  well  as  paintings and  reliefs—of  this  type  are  portraits  because  they  reveal  the  qualities  by  which  the  person wished to be known.

There  are  other  factors  that  must  be  taken  into  account  when  considering a historical portrait in isolation. For example, a statue  can be identified with a particular individual in several ways. In its  original context or through an identifying inscription, the identity  would have been clear, regardless of the stylization, idealization, or  similarity to earlier representations. Then again, the great majority  of Egyptians would not have seen the pharaoh; hence, the degree of  realism  of  a  royal  statue  would  have  been  lost  on  them.  Furthermore,  most  sculptures  have  by  now  been  removed  from  their  settings,  and  many  either are  un-inscribed  or  have lost  their  original identifying text. Because the facial features of so many of  these  sculptures  are  non-individualized,  they  remain  anonymous.  Many sculptures were appropriated by later persons and transported  to distant locations. Sometimes they were recut and reinscribed for  the  new  owner,  but  occasionally  they  were  simply  reinscribed.  Because the original face was left untouched, the recognition factor  seems  irrelevant.  The  new  inscription  gave  the  sculpture  a  new  identity;

hence, its inner qualities now applied to the new owner. Even when  naturalistic details appear, the identity is often difficult to determine  without  an  inscription.  Although  these  works  seem  idealized,  stylized,  or  formulaic  to  us,  to  the  ancient  Egyptians  they  were  portraits  because  they  conformed  to  the  prevailing  style  that  was  appropriate for expressing the inner character of individuals or the  role that they fulfilled.

Thus,  three  different  types  of  portrait  are  found  in  ancient  Egyptian art: idealized and realistic portraits of real individuals and  depictions  of  Fictitious  or  nonspecific  individuals,  such  as  a  "foreigner."  The  third  category  combines  the  first  two  types  because it is a "study" of a more  general  nature,  often  with  a  seemingly  realistic  appearance.  Realism does not consist of surface appearance;  otherwise,  any  photograph  would  be  a  portrait.  What  makes  a  portrait is the artists elucidation of an emotional, psychological, or  intellectual  component,  an  inner  life  that  transcends  physical  correspondence.  Those  components  are  not  always  recognizable;  artists often transmit them in a personal code decipherable by no  one  else.  In  modern  times,  the  artist's  perception  becomes  the  defining  element  of  the  portrait.  This  luxury  of  personal  inter- pretation, however, was a freedom that the ancient Egyptian artist  did not enjoy.

Statue of Raherka and Meresankh. Raherka is depicted with realistic looking musculature
Statue of Raherka and Meresankh. Raherka is
depicted with realistic looking musculature
That  portraiture  resists  a  single,  all-purpose  definition  is  not  surprising, because it encompasses at least four sometimes opposing  impulses: the publics expectations, the subject's wishes, the artist's  vision,  and  artistic  conventions.  Despite  the  difficulties  of  interpretation, in very simple terms a portrait is a character study. It  probes beneath the surface and reveals not the full range of the indi- vidual's psyche but one or a few aspects, which differ according to  the needs that the portrait satisfies. Frequently a portrait is a labored  or  artificial  study,  especially  when  it  serves  an  official  or  public  purpose.  Most  often,  a  portrait  captures  a  passing  but  revelatory  mood and transfixes it for all time. Because the artist, subject, and  viewer  have  different  perceptions  of  the  finished  product,  some  scholars  have  rightly  questioned  the  validity  of  the  specific  label  "portraiture"  and  have  suggested  simply  "representation"  or  "approximation" as alternatives. "Likeness" is another option, if it  includes works that evoke the psychological or intellectual qualities  of the individual and not merely the physiognomic details.

Consequently,  portraiture  is  one  of  the  most  confusing,  ill- defined, and controversial terms in the study of ancient Egyptian art.  Part of the problem is the overemphasis on and misunderstanding of  realism,  which  generally  conforms  to  the  modern  expectation  of  anatomical  verisimilitude.  Realism,  however,  remains  the  greatest  obstacle  to  the  understanding  of  portraiture  and  is  the  focus  here.  Before the importance of realism to the Egyptological controversy  can  be  assessed,  some  general  observations  on  portraiture  are  necessary.

The  style  or  type  of  portrait  varies  according  to  the  intended  audience.  A  portrait  created  for  public  display  relies  heavily  on  physiognomy. Because the portrait is an official image, however— most  often  of  government,  business,  and  academic  persons—the  artist  acquiesces  to  formulaic  exigencies  and  endows  the  representations  with  heroic  qualities,  such  as  the  abilities  to  lead,  make difficult decisions, and endure crises. Individual qualities are  subordinated  to  expected  roles,  and  it  is  sometimes  questionable  whether correspondence exists. Realism thus serves an ideal or an  expectation, but it does not necessarily portray the individual. Realism is not an objective quality; it is  subjective  and mutable. The  realism  of  a  portrait  depends  on  the  viewers for whom it was created and the function that it served.

Correspondence  is  perhaps  more  evident  in  portraits  intended  for  the  subject's  personal  enjoyment  because  something  of  the  individual's inner qualities appear. Nonetheless, uncertainty about  the realism remains. The artist may defer to the patron's vanity by  subduing some features and emphasizing others. The subject may  specify the qualities to be expressed or the manner of representa- tion.  The  descendants  of  an  illustrious  ancestor  sometimes  commission a flattering portrait, as if to create an official image.

Because the majority of human representations in Egyptian art  appear to contemporary sensibilities as idealizing, generalizing, or  even  formulaic—slim,  youthful,  physically  appealing  figures  devoid  of  lifelike  features—  they  are  not  often  regarded  as  portraits.  By  contrast,  the  slightest  personal  flourish—a  furrowed  brow,  a  pensive  look,  a  distinctive  nose—supposedly  makes  the  representation the genuine item. Quite apart from the unwarranted  primacy  accorded  to  realism,  this  reductive  reasoning  is  unfortunate on at least two counts. It omits the many nuances of  realism,  and  it  completely  overlooks  an  intriguing  related  issue.  Why  are  lifelike  human  representations  generally  confined  to  sculptures of men? Although numerous exceptions exist, Egyptian  paintings  and  reliefs  of  both  men  and  women  are  usually  not  individualizing,  or  fall  within  the  category  discussed  above.  Not  until the Ptolemaic period do individualizing sculptures of women  appear  with  any  regulai-ity,  and  even  then  the  artist  depends  heavily on iconographic attributes to portray the identity  of  an  individual  queen.  Before  then,  that  women  are  generally  depicted  in  all  three  media  as  beautiful,  svelte,  young,  and  flawless  may  seem  an  enlightened  aesthetic,  but  an  equally  valid  interpretation  is  darker  and  pessimistic:  the  individuality  of  women was unimportant. The lack of evidence for individualizing  portraits of women is as much a social as an artistic commentary  because  it  demonstrates  that  their  role  was  limited  and  minimal.  The sculptures and reliefs of Hatshepsut illustrate this point well;  this female pharaoh is typically portrayed in the guise of a male.  The only compromise that convention allowed is Hatshepsut's very  occasional portrayal in female form in some of her portraits.

The  third  portrait  type  is  the  most  intensely  personal,  a  representation intended neither as an official image nor as a private  commission,  but  as  an  independent  work.  It  is  a  category  that  either did not exist or was rare in ancient Egypt. The artist is free  of  constraints  and  expectations  and  endows  the  portrait  with  whatever  qualities  and  sensations  come  to  mind.  Because  these  images  are  occasionally  unflattering  to  the  individual,  they  may  seem  more  honest  and  realistic.  For  example,  caricatures,  espe- cially the political and social varieties, are freighted with prejudice.  Nonetheless,  the  majority  of  "independent"  portraits  are  more  benign,  and  on  first  consideration  they  are  ostensibly  the  most  important  of  the  three  types  because  they  represent  a  personal,  unbound, and therefore objective response; but they are no more  realistic than portraits commissioned as official images or as more  private  and  personal  works.  The  representations  of  the  same  individual are subjective aesthetic responses that may differ from  one artist to the next. Which portrait is the most realistic? Whether  physical  or  internal,  realism  in  portraiture  is  not  an  empirical,  objective  quality  grounded  in  consensus.  It  is  an  ethos,  a  preference,  or  an  interpretation,  an  ever-shifting  variable,  whose  validity and  expression  depend  on  the  audience,  the  subject,  and  the artist.

Few ancient Egyptian portraits are free of stylization. The best  illustration consists of the plaster masks found in the workshop of  the  sculptor  Thutmose  at  Tell  el-Amama,  the  capital  of  the  eighteenth dynasty pharaoh Akhenaten. Some of the masks seem  unretouched,  but  the  majority  are  reworked  or  stylized  to  fit  the  prevailing artistic style. Although part of the individual's outward  appearance  is  preserved,  the  alterations  suggest  that  realism  was  not  as  important  as  the  assimilation  of  the  individual  with  the  pharaoh by adopting his official style.

Stylization occurs in even the most seemingly realistic portraits.  From  the  fourth  dynasty  come  numerous  sculptures  known  as  "reserve  heads,"  which  display  highly  individualizing  features.  Among  the  most  "realistic"  of  all  Old  Kingdom  artistic  works,  these  sculptures  are  regarded  as  true  portraits.  In  one  case,  evidence exists for their anatomical veracity: the hooked nose on the head of Prince Nofer, now  in the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, recurs among his tomb reliefs.  The  function  of  the  reserve  heads  has  been  debated,  but  it  is  generally agreed  that they  preserve  the deceased's  vital character.  Interestingly enough, that character or inner life is less in evidence  than  the  meticulous  surface  treatment.  However,  on  a  related  sculpture, the bust of Ankhkhaef, also in Boston, both the internal  and external aspects are revealed. The significant point is that on all  these  realistic  heads,  stylization  is  also  crucial.  The  eyes  and  the  eyebrows are rendered in an artificial manner that is not lifelike but  is a traditional aesthetic style. The awkward proportions of some of  the heads, the peculiar treatment of their mouths, and their overall  ungainly  appearance  indicates  stylization  or  at  least  suggests  that  the heads are not completely lifelike.

Because the mummies of numerous kings survive, a comparison  between  their  heads  and  their  artistic  representations  is  often  instructive. The aquiline  noses  of  the  mummies  of  the  nineteenth  dynasty pharaohs Sety I and Ramesses II are prominent throughout  not only their sculptures but also their paintings and reliefs, which  are among the most individualizing royal representations in these  two media. Nonetheless, they display the same stylization around  the eyes found in the reserve heads.

Even  the  most  anatomically  detailed  Egyptian  representations  can  be  deceptive,  sometimes  they  are  almost  caricatures.  The  idealizing  images  of  the  deceased  as  slim  and  athletic  have  their  counterpart in remarkably corpulent figures such as the renowned  Old Kingdom statues of Kaiaperu in the Egyptian Museum, Cairo,  and of Hemi-unu in the Pelizaeus Museum, Hildesheim. Although  physical  correspondence  is  a  possibility,  these  statues  may  have  been  shaped  by  a  class  distinction.  Both  persons  held  important  positions that freed them from need and from hard manual labor.  Their  dramatic  bodily  presence  may  have  been  a  visual  conceit  manifesting their affluence. At the opposite extreme, the depictions  in painting and relief of pot-bellied fishermen, emaciated and lame  cowherds,  bald  and  bewhiskered  laborers,  and  carefully  observed  foreigners  are  probably  more  genre  figures  born  of  social  commentary than actual individuals. The famous relief of the queen  of  Punt  from  Hatshepsut's  temple  at  Deir  el-Bahri  and  the  innumerable  scenes  of  other  foreigners  are  meticulous  in  their  detail;  yet  it  is  the  peculiarity  of  the  subject  matter,  its  non- Egyptian otherness, that captured the artist's attention. The image of  the queen of Punt may seem at first to be extraordinarily realistic,  but  it  could  well  be  a  caricature.  Unless  the  artist  accompanied  Hatshepsut's  expedition  to  Punt,  he  would  have  relied  on  eyewitness  reports,  which  no  matter  how  reliable  would  have  resulted  in  exaggeration  and  stylization.  Likewise,  for  all  their  ostensible realism, the representations of foreigners surely served as conventions or stereotypes;  they  are  not  necessarily  realistic  portraits  of  actual,  historical  foreigners simply because they seem to be individualizing.

Still, not every secondary character is formulaic. From the tomb  of Horemheb at Saqqara come  several  reliefs  depicting  stock  figures  such  as mourners,  some  of  whom  have  anatomical  details  (receding hairlines, everted navels) that are unparalleled in similar  scenes  and  probably  indicate  actual  persons.  These  surprising  individual  flourishes  in  ancillary  figures  provide  much  of  the  liveliness of Egyptian art and serve as reminders of the profit to be  gained  from  close  study  of  even  the  most  formulaic  or  repetitive  phenomena.

Realism  can  be  misleading  also  among  representations  of  historical persons. The well-known statues of Senwosret III and his  late twelfth dynasty successors in various collections, for example,  have very lifelike, careworn faces, lacking the usual stylization of  the eyebrows and eyes. Most remarkably, indications of advanced  age are manifest in these statues as never before. Nonetheless, their  expressions  and  appearances  seem  to  be  idealizations,  evincing  a  quality or aspect of the king that was part of his official image, his  self-presentation to deities and the public. Although the rulers of the  waning  twelfth  dynasty  may  have  had  family  resemblances  that  were  accurately  rendered in  their  sculptures,  the  close  similarities  between the sculptures of Senwosret III and his successors indicate  that more than genealogy is at work. Actually, the rudiments of the  style  successfully  exploited  by  Senwosret  III  first  appear  in  the  reign  of  Senwosret  II.  A  new  ideology  expresses  itself  in  the  ponderous,  haggard  faces,  which  have  their  analogy  in  several  pensive didactic texts related to kingship.

The phenomenon of appropriation is the clearest indication that  physical  correspondence  was  not  essential  for  portraiture.  In  the  thirteenth dynasty and about a millennium later in the twenty-fifth  dynasty,  private  persons  followed  the  late  twelfth  dynasty  royal  style. The physiognomy of these nonroyal persons obviously had no  importance in their self-presentation. Their borrowing or adaptation  of the official image of earlier kings allowed them to share some of  the  ideological  aspects  inherent  in  the  royal  sculptures.  Similarly,  portraits of the early Ptolemaic rulers are often hard to distinguish  from those of the thirtieth dynasty. This similarity may have been a  deliberate  royal policy to link the  Ptolemies  with  Egypt's  past  or,  alternatively,  the  continuation  of  a  stylistic  convention.  The  type  was then copied by private individuals, who commissioned portraits  that demonstrated a desire to be associated with the royal house.

Exactly the same process recurs throughout Egyptian art, royal  and nonroyal, not only in sculpture but also in painting and relief.  Once a new official royal style was established,  it  became  the  archetype  among  kings  and  commoners,  who made their own modifications through successive generations.  Among  many  examples,  there  are  a  Thutmosid  and  a  Ramessid  style.  Sometimes  the  official  image  had  an  antiquarian  aura.  Because  Ahmose  and  Amenhotpe  I,  the  first  two  kings  of  the  eighteenth  dynasty,  restored  native  rule  after  the  Hyksos  domination  and  saw  themselves  as  the  heirs  of  Nebhepetre  Montuhotpe,  the  late  eleventh  dynasty  pharaoh  who  reunified  the  country after a period of civil strife, they depicted themselves in his  image. Many pharaohs, particularly Ramesses II of the nineteenth  dynasty,  appropriated  the  sphinxes  and  other  sculptures  of  much  earlier  kings;  sometimes  the  only  alterations  were  not  to  the  face  but to the identifying cartouche.

In  many  respects,  portraits  filled  a  general  role.  It  was  not  necessarily  just  the  facial  features  of  an  individual  that  mattered,  but  rather  the  role  that  was  fulfilled.  When  the  pharaoh  died,  the  portrait  could  be  reused  acceptably  by  his  successor  because  it  represented the ideals of kingship and not merely the actual features  of  the  individual  ruler.  New  portrait  types  developed  in  order  to  show  a  ruler's  desire—such  as  association  with  the  previous  pharaoh and the promotion of a dynasty—rather than his features.  The  representation  of  women  in  Egyptian  art  follows  a  similar  pattern: their continual idealization indicates the limited social role  of the eternally youthful, slim, beautiful woman.  Portraiture enabled the Egyptians to promote themselves to their  deities  and  their  fellows  alike  in  a  desired  or  prescribed  manner.  The evidence for "realistic" representations of individuals needs to  be treated with the utmost caution, because they potentially account  for  the  most  stylized  type.  Idealizing  images  at  least  portray  an  individual in a specific role, and as a consequence they should not  be misleading to the modern onlooker.

Recent Pages:


·        Philae
·        Piety in Ancient Egypt
·        Piramesse
·        Tell el-Maskhuta (Pithom)
·        Second Intermediate Period
·        Piya (744–714 BC)
·        Plutarch (c.46-120 CE)