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Wednesday, 4 December 2013

The Appropriation of the Cosmati and Cosmatesque

The Roman Medieval Cosmati works of the tenth to the thirteenth century may have been an innovation in church ornamentation for the period, but the material and content presented in the patterns are appropriated from years past. The Roman craftsmen repurposed ancient stones like porphyry, serpentine, and Carrera marble from ruined sites, using the stones in the laying of floors at Christian houses of worship. The patterns in the floors, though laden with Christian symbolism, were also based upon Classical philosophies involving the Platonic and Aristotelian elements and the cosmos. In this post, I will discuss the significance of appropriated material and concepts in Medieval Cosmati pavements, and then consider the Victorian revival of the Cosmatesque in the United Kingdom.

The spolia used in Medieval Roman pavements were not transported from afar-- the stones were taken from ruined Classical sites. For the Classical construction to be possible, the stones travelled a great distance, including porphyry from modern-day Egypt. Egyptian porphyry was used in pagan houses of worship, and later re-purposed in locations like Santi Quattro Coronati (4th century pagan origins, 6th century Christian conversion, 12th century completion), and at the height of Cosmati creation, moved as far away as London in the laying of the Westminster pavement (13th century completion).[1] Serpentine is found mostly in mainland Greece, linking the famous baldachin of St. Peter’s the home of Classical philosophy. This transaction of materials makes the interchange of ideologies more plausible. The following images and analyses serve as examples of exchange of material and cultural goods.

Cosmati Pavement in the San Silvestro Chapel at Santi Quattro Coronati, Rome

St. Silvestro Chapel at Santi Quattro Coronati (SQC), Rome: SQC is home to two Cosmati pavements: one within the main basilica, the other within the St. Silvestro Chapel. The pavement in the St. Silvestro Chapel predates that of the main basilica and has a several symbolic features placed within the spolia stones. The prominent shape in this pattern is the quincunx (one form surrounded by four so that the four make the corners of a square). The three here could represent the Trinity, which is alluded to by the white cross in the quincunx nearest the entrance. The white marble may represent peace or purity, but perhaps it is more likely that it represents Christ at the centre of the universe, as suggested by the quincunx at the Westminster pavement. The abundant use of porphyry is perhaps a reference to royalty,

as in the divine royalty of Christ, or the royalty of Constantine who is portrayed in the chapel’s famous mosaic.[2]

Westminster Abbey Cosmati Pavement

Westminster Abbey, London: As mentioned in the SQC analysis, the quincunx is often thought to be a representation of the universe. This is due an inscription that once was inset around the Westminster pavement describing it as “the eternal pattern of the universe.”[3] This inscription is the only one of its kind, making the Westminster pavement the only labelled Cosmati work. Scholars like Lindy Grant, Richard Mortimer, and Richard Foster have greatly elaborated on pattern, but to sum up their studies, the quincunx represents the four Platonic elements in the exterior orbs, and the Aristotelian fifth element, aether, in the centre. These elements were considered constants in universe. As science and religion often overlapped in the Middle Ages, the quincunx and the elements that make up the universe also had a religious interpretation, one in which God replaced aether and the four elements would be the four Evangelists. In the case of SQC, perhaps the four arms represent the Four Crowned Martyrs.

Large quincunx roundel of the Sistine Chapel Cosmati pavement

Sistine Chapel

Sistine Chapel at St. Peter’s Basilica, Vatican City: Like the pavements of SQC and Westminster, the Sistine Chapel pavement features a quincunx. The pavement seen here is under Michelangelo’s famous ceiling, but do note that there is another pavement in the Stanza della Signatura which features the cross keys of St. Peter. This pavement is significant as it sits under the image of God creating Adam, which is consistent with the cosmological reference made by the Westminster inscription. Additionally, the nine rings that make up the roundels of the larger quincunx (seen above) are perhaps another reference to the heavens, particularly the nine levels of Purgatory so famously written about by Dante.

This theory needs further investigation on my part, but considering the nine layers and Dante’s Purgatorio certainly makes an intriguing query.

Monreale Cathedral, Sicily: Lastly I would like to examine the pavement at the Monreale Cathedral in Sicily. Although not part of Rome, Sicily and Naples were part of the Holy See.[4] This connection with Rome made for many shared cultural practices, but the lifestyle in the south was different from that of Rome as Sicily was influenced by Muslim culture until the Normans conquered in 1072, which led to the structure we see today.[5] The original worship centre of Monreale was a small church. The structure as it can be seen today was built by King William II in the early twelfth century (circa 1174). The Roman

quincunx is present at Monreale, but the Islamic muqarna has become the more featured geometric form. In many eastern cultures, the eight-pointed star represents protection, spiritual enlightenment, resurrection, rebirth, infinity and abundance.[6] In Islam there are seven hells and eight paradises, perhaps making the muqarna a symbol of paradise.[7] Christianity uses the number eight in art and design because after the flooding of the world and Noah’s ark, eight people were saved in this “mass baptism,” thus resulting in eight-sided baptisteries and churches.[8] As discussed in former posts, the number 8 is also infinity when turned upon its side.

What can be concluded from the medieval Cosmati works is that both material and content are spolia. The same can be said for Victorian adaptation of Cosmati-style pavements known as the Cosmatesque. One of the most highly-recognized Victorian Cosmatesque pavements is that of Durham Cathedral. The material of the choir and high altar pavements are predominately sandstone, but the pattern includes a multitude of geometric forms borrowed from pavements created before its time. The pavement was laid by Sir Gilbert Scott in 1870 during a renovation of the cathedral, which also included alterations to the towers, foundation, and smaller damages to the structure.

Cosmati works have long been a favourite of mine for their intricate patterns and bold colours, but what is truly incredible is the long history of exchange of materials, content, and craft of the pavements. The exchange of material is evidence of long-standing economic agreement between a multitude of cultures, but the patterns of the pavement express a cultural exchange. The geometric symbolism is a tradition of religious and scientific understanding passed down from ancient times, to medieval scholars and in turn, craftsman, and later adapted by Victorian patrons in their great refurbishment. The Westminster inscription reveals that the quincunx pattern is best called the "eternal pattern of the universe," but the process of creating these pavements reveals a pattern of cultural exchange.

View of the Victorian Cosmatesque Pavement

http://stutenzeehistoryblog.blogspot.com/2012/10/cosmati-mosaics-recycled-art.html

Cosmati Mosaics: Recycled Art

In the 12th and the 13th century, an Italian family business elevated recycling to an art form. Named for Cosmas, the founding father of the enterprise, they are collectively known as the Cosmati. Using ancient art buried in the rubble of Rome, they created outstanding works of art.

by +Lucas Dié on History

The size of the city of Rome was an indicator to its importance in the world at any given time. During its heydays, it had the size appropriate for the most important city in Europe and maybe the world. When Rome lost its status as a power center to Constantinople and Ravenna respectively, people and businesses moved out and things started to crumble. By the 12th century, rubble from the Roman metropolis was widely used as building material for the provincial little town Rome had become.

The Cosmati family specialized in collecting rare materials such as marble in various colors, red and green porphyry, pink granite and any other colored stones. Cutting and polishing these finds, they set them in intricately designed patterned decorations and mosaics into columns, floors, altars, memorials, and permanently installed church furniture.

Taking their inspiration from Byzantine art as well as from Islamic art, they developed abstract patterns to adorn flat and curved surfaces. The work of laying flat surfaces was much easier than in the more elaborate mosaic style favored by Byzantine artists on curved surfaces. True mastery of the art is therefore shown in the smaller artworks on columns and in cupolas rather than in the design of a floor or a flat wall.

The earliest piece attributable to a member of the family dates to 1190 and may be found in a church near Fabieri in Italy. Individually attributable works of art for members of the Cosmati family continue from there on for a hundred years in and around Rome. The art form is mainly restricted to ecclesiastical buildings as its pricing was a matter for state budget rather than private sponsorship. The business floundered after the Pope was kidnapped by the French and made prisoner at Avignon in 1305. While the French held the papacy to ransom for a hundred years, Rome played Sleeping Beauty and the Cosmati family lost its livelihood.

The name of Cosmati Art was first coined by Italian historian Della Valle in 1791. He found a document pertinent to the building of the cathedral in Orvieto which mentioned Giacomo di Cosmate Romano by name as the artisan doing the inlay work in the building. Assuming that all the known artwork of the same style was executed by members of the same family of artisans, he coined the term Cosmati art.

Later historians found over 50 artists doing this kind of work; they were members of seven families of artisans in the trade. The term for the artwork was re-coined to Cosmatesque Art to cover all the artists, while Cosmati Art now only refers to works securely attributed to members of the Cosmati family. It has to be stated that it does not mean by far that ancestral Cosmas was really the inventor of the art form.

The use of different stones in floors over time led to uneven floors as harder stones would be virtually unaffected by wear and tear while softer ones would wear out and form tripping holes. The floors had to be repaired often since then and were often disfigured by the rank amateurs who did the repair work. Don’t judge the master artists on how their floors look after centuries of dragging feet. Judge them instead on the work they left behind on columns and walls.

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

Cosmati FloorsWe visit many churches in Italy because they embody lots of history and art.  Although most have sculpture,wall and ceiling frescoes, or paintings by noted artists, lately I’ve been drawn to the colorful floor pavements known as Cosmati.

Santa Maria in Trastevere, Roma. Medieval pavement re-laid 19th c.

What are they?Cosmati floors, also called Cosmatesco or Cosmatesque, are a particular form of what archeologists, architects and art historians call opus sectile (cut work) where pieces of stone are cut to whatever size and shape is required to create geometric patterns when fitted together.  Roman and Byzantine mosaics, termed opus tessellatum, are pictures and designs created from small, more or less uniform size pieces of colored stone and glass called tesserae.  The progression from mosaic to Cosmatesque reflects both technical discoveries and evolved tastes in decoration.

Pompeiian mosaic above and floor below.

On its way toward opus sectile, a countertop in Herculaneum, 1st century.

The characteristics of Cosmati work include: 1) Complex assemblies of simple shapes like triangles and squares in repetitive designs, often featuring red and green stone;

Santa Maria in Trastevere.

Santa Maria in Cosmedin, Roma.(Cosmedin derives from the Greek word for

decorate, kosmoún.)

2) Interweaving, sinuous ribbons (known as guilloché) filled with geometric patterns, that link large circles; 

S.M. in Cosmedin.

San Giovanni in Laterano, Roma.

S.M. in Trastevere

3) A large circular stone surrounded by four smaller rounds, unified by ribbons—a pattern called aquincunx; 

San Benedetto in Piscinula, said to be the only 12th-century Cosmatesco floor in Rome

 that has never been re-laid.  Note the small size of the white marble pieces

 compared to the repaired floors in the photos below.

San Crisogono, Trastevere, Roma.

San Giovanni in Laterano.

4) Wide bands of white marble between the colored features to make them stand out;

San Crisogono, above and below.

5) Peripheral infill and rectangular sections of fantastically varied patterns using stones of many colors.

S. Maria in Cosmedin, above and below.

San Giovanni in Laterano.

Why are they called Cosmati?In the later 12th century an artisan in decorative stone near Rome named Lorenzo di Tebaldo adapted Byzantine and ancient Roman styles of geometric floor design to produce a distinctive style.  At least, he and several further generations of his family were credited by 19th-century art historians with developing the style, which was named Cosmatesque after Lorenzo’s grandson, Cosma—apparently Cosma’s name appeared on many of the works studied at that time.  Despite later scholarship that has brought to light the earlier workshops of Magister Paulus (from about AD 1100) and other early marblers (marmorari), and the existence of older work in Sicily, for better or worse the collective name for artists in this arresting art form is now Cosmati. (Cosma himself was apparently named for Saint Cosma, not for the Greek word that means decoration.)

Church of the Martorana, Palermo. AD 1143.

S. Benedetto in Piscinula, Roma. 12th century.

Why did Cosmati work develop in Rome?In medieval times when the Cosmati were at work, their marble and other stone came from the ruined temples and buildings of ancient Rome.  The extraordinary disks that mark their work come from salvaged columns carefully sliced.  Buried statues, fallen slabs and inscription panels were dug up and turned into millions of pattern pieces and frames.  Aside from creamy whites, the primary stones used were both green and reddish purple porphyry, though yellow  giallo antico and many other colored marbles show up as well.   The designs and patterns used are very similar to those found in Constantinople and other Byzantine sites.  It is thought that Eastern mosaic craftsmen brought in to decorate the Monastery of Monte Cassino south of Rome in the late 11th century may have inspired the style that became known as Cosmati work.  So perhaps it’s no coincidence that Magister Paulus had his workshop nearby in Ferentino.

S. Maria in Trastevere, porphyry disk.

San Crisogono. Granite disk, red and green porphyry and giallo

antico .

Is all Cosmati work in Italy?No, though most is south of the Alps.  But in the last few years an extraordinary Cosmati floor in Westminster Abbey in London has been restored.  It was originally installed in 1268 by a Roman marbler named Pietro Oderisi, who may have brought most of the pattern stones with him pre-cut for efficiency.  One big difference from the typical Italian work is that instead of white background framing marble, the Westminster floor uses dark Purbeck marble from the south of England.   Uniquely, the Great Pavement at Westminster also came with inlaid brass inscriptions.   Aside from the date and dedication it provides a chronology for the end of the world and reveals

some of the symbolism entailed in the stone patterns.  More about the floor restoration and its cosmic patterns and symbolism can be found at the Abbey website and elsewhere on YouTube.

Views of the Great Pavement in Westminster Abbey.

Photos ©Dean and Chapter, Westminster Abbey.

Why do I like this patterned work so much?  I’ve always been a sucker for color, so I love the beautiful stone combinations spilling across the floor.  The swirling ribbons and unexpected complexity of the fillings make a concise orderliness on the large scale from an otherwise chaotic diversity of small designs.  In some ways it reminds me of a Baroque fugue in which small musical segments swirl together to create a satisfying and perhaps profound unity.  Beyond

those esthetic charms, having worked with marble and granite I appreciate the labor, skill and precision embodied in those millions of hand-cut, hand-set and hand-polished rocks, most of which had a previous life in some Imperial Roman monument or statue.  It is some of the most pleasing and exquisite recycling you’re likely to find anywhere.

Roberto

Santa Maria in Trastevere.

http://www.pleiade.org/col_geal/aux_armes-symbolism-notes.htmlAux armes · symbolism: notes

And when Thyself with shining Foot shall pass

Among the Guests Star-scatter'd on the Grass,

And in thy joyous Errand reach the Spot

Where I made one — turn down an empty Glass!

LXXV: Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám. Translation: Edward FitzGerald (First edition, 1859).

Notes

1. The pattern exhibited in the earlier arms (see Symbolism: Fig. b) has been in widespread use throughout the Islamic world[a] from early-medieval times and in later European Jewish documents. Notwithstanding the then ardent and vicious hostility of many Christians towards the Islam and Judaism, this origin was no barrier to its adoption in thirteenth century England and Italy, most notably in ecclesiastical art and architecture. Significant early examples of the pattern in medieval Europe include:

The tomb of Henry III, Westminster Abbey (c.1291)

The ‘Seven Stars’ badge resembles a stellate motif to be found in several of the Cosmati roundels on the plinth of the tomb of Henry III. Although the implicit geometry of this motif is congruent with that of the badge, its elemental composition is not identical: the roundel (Fig. 1) shows a circumscribed portion of an extended plane of abutted hexagrams, instead of an aliquot part as in the badge (Fig. 2).

The pattern of the tesserae is shown in Fig. 1 in grey, with the motif coloured: the stars are set in rhombille tiles3 on a contrasting ground composed of equilateral and isosceles triangular elements. This illustration somewhat amends the irregular geometry of the actual work — although as the plinth was readily accessible to generations of relic-seeking pilgrims, who have stripped it of much of the accessible decoration, these flaws may be the result of inept restoration rather than the original work.

The Cosmati pavements, Westminster Abbey.[b,c]

The Cosmati pavement before the High Altar in Westminster Abbey is the most splendid example of opus sectile work north of the Alps. A Latin inscription added after the death of Henry III in 1272 records that “In [1268] … the third King Henry, the city, Odoricus and the Abbot [Richard de Ware] put these porphyry stones together”. After nearly six hundred years of constant use it was hidden in obscurity for almost a hundred and fifty years, until it was revealed in 2008: thus showing the precursor of the plinth motif (Fig. 3b).

There is a similar and contemporaneous pavement in the adjoining Chapel of Edward the Confessor (which was built above the Saint's original crypt and tomb to contain his new monument in 1269). Both the pavement and monument are recorded as being the work of Peter the Roman. The consistent workmanship and artistry in all these works support the compelling presumption that Odoricus, Peter the Roman and Pietro di Oderisio were one and the same person.

A pattern in an alternative rendering of the arms (see Symbolism: Fig. d) is also found in the Westminster pavement (Fig. 3c) and in the Mausoleo del cardinale De Braye, Orvieto.

On hexagrams

The extensive use of hexagrams in the pavements and monuments of Westminster Abbey may now seem incongruous to a Christian setting, particularly since both Henry III and Edward I were zealously anti-semitic. Amongst his numerous oppressions, Henry extorted exclusive and onerous taxes from the Jewish community and later, with the Edict of Expulsion of 1290, his son expelled all Jews from the kingdom and expropriated their property. Nor are the emblems unique as Christian hexagrams, six-pointed stars were common motifs in medieval cathedrals§1 and churches throughout western Europe. In contrast, the hexagram or Megan David ( דוד מגן , properly the ‘Shield of David’ but more commonly known as the ‘Star of David’) was not seen as a Jewish symbol in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. Hence when Henry III decreed that all Jews within his realm wore a “badge of shame” this was cruelly and sardonically prescribed as the profile of the Mosaic Tablets of the Law and not the then unrecognised Megan David. Thus it is implausible that the presence of hexagrams in the pavements then evoked Judaic antecedents. Although lacking the geometric subtlety of their precursors the redolent Islamic inspiration for the pattern is now plain, yet during that time this too was obscure and esoteric. Not that the hatred and bigotry these medieval rulers felt towards Islam was any less implacable than theirs for Judaism: rather, they were probably ignorant of and utterly indifferent to the provenance of such esoteric decorations.

The earliest evidence of the symbol in a Jewish context is in the architectural ornamentation of a fourth or fifth century synagogue in Capernaum, Galilee — which was evidently built over an earlier synagogue, perhaps contemporaneous with Jesus (Luke 7:1–10). However its there use may have been merely decorative, since it is interspersed amongst other ancient geometric patterns, such as meanders and pentangles. The historical record of Judaism in the following five centuries is empty of references to the symbol: it is next recorded in rabbinical manuscripts and in codices from the early-eleventh century, ostensibly as a Kabbalistic symbol — firstly in a carpet page of the Leningrad Codex of 1008, the oldest extent manuscript of the Hebrew Bible. By then it is usually seen in the form of the Megan David, but its first recorded use as an explicit emblem of Jewish identity followed much later, in 1354, when the Holy Roman Emperor Charles IV granted the Jewish community of Prague the right to display a flag bearing a single six-pointed star. However it was not until the seventeenth century, again in central and eastern Europe, that the widespread use of the Megan David as a distinctly Judaic symbol emerged. This latter tradition was probably the inspiration for its adoption by the Zionist movement, following the advocacy of a flag with seven hexagrams by the preeminent early Zionist Theodore Herzl (1860–1904), although his design was not used.

Whether or not Islam took the pattern from a Judaic emblem (if then it was ever such) is unknown. It is likely that it was an independent invention of Persian artists, as one of the prolific range of advanced geometric patterns derived from the sophisticated mathematics of the medieval Persian Schools.[d] Earlier still, the Shatkona (a hexagram) was common in the cosmological iconography of Hinduism and Buddhism, but its origins are lost in Indic antiquity. An identical figure is also to be found on many of the

late seventh century stone lanterns (dai-dōrō) on the approach path (sandō) in the Japanese Shinto shrine of Jingū.

Despite this evident widespead usage, the display of multiple hexagrams in extended patterns remained peculiar to Islam and, later and more rarely, Christianity.

As part of a pervasive revolt against reason, the late-twentieth century saw a proliferation of delusional conspiracy theories.§2 In some, the hexagram is ascribed to purported secret societies such as the successors to the Illuminati and a mishmash of crypto-satanic cults. This appears to be founded on a combination of specious numerology — 666 is the “Number of the Beast” in Revelation 13:18 — an ill-informed obsession with the iconography of Freemasonry§3 and blatant anti-Semitism.

See:

Cosmatesque Hexagrams: a photographic collection of magnificent architectural art.

Dr. Ze'ev Goldman (2010). Magen David Symbol Research from the 1st to the 11th century C.E.

Star of David blog: the Star of David, its history, meanings and usage in various cultures.

The papal funeral and sepulchral monuments in San Francesco alla Rocca, Viterbo.

The tomb of Henry III was commissioned by his son and successor, Edward I, who would have been familiar with the novelty and slendour of the works of the Cosmati school, both from the Westminster pavements and, perhaps, in a notable Italian example: namely, the funeral monument to Pope Clement IV in San Francesco alla Rocca (q.v.) in Viterbo, which was completed in 1270 and exhibits Pietro di Oderisio's characteristic Cosmati decoration. Edward passed through Italy on his return from the Ninth Crusade in 1273. His itinerary[e] is known to have included a brief stay in Rome followed by a prolonged stay at the Papal Court in Orvieto. Although unrecorded, it is likely that — a least for short periods — he was also in Sutri and Viterbo, then the only substantial towns between them on the Via Cassia. Rome and Orvieto are some seventy-five miles apart and a winter journey to Orvieto must then have taken at least three days. As a devout Christian, his stay in Viterbo would plausibly have entailed a pilgrimage to the recent papal monument. Furthermore, it seems improbable that he would not have visited the site of the death of Henry of Almain, his cousin and close friend from childhood, who had been murdered there during Mass in the Chiesa di San Silvestro less than two years before.[f]

2. The significance of all symbolism is mutable. An astronomical interpretation may seem obvious to us, but in other times and other places other connotations were evoked: apart from those few scholars familiar with the works of Ptolemy and Aristotle, the science of astronomy was unknown in medieval England and although such emblems denoted the starry heavens, they would then have been endowed with a predominantly religious significance. Now an array of stars with an inverse pattern recalling the

molecular bonding pattern of carbon rings may seem a doubly-apt emblem for a member of a carbon-based life form assembled from the ‘stardust’ or debris of successive supernovæ.[g]

Les gens ont des étoiles qui ne sont pas les mêmes. Pour les uns, qui voyagent, les étoiles sont des guides. Pour d'autres elles ne sont rien que de petites lumières. Pour d'autres qui sont savants elles sont des problèmes.

People have stars that are not the same. For some, who are travellers, the stars are guides. For others they are no more than little lights. For others, who are scholars, they are problems.

Antoine de Saint-Exupéry (1943). Le Petit Prince.

3. The intrinsic geometry in the arms as shown in Figures b & d and the ‘Seven Stars’ badge is a rhombille tessellation, as it is reducible to an isohedral periodic tiling of identical 60° rhombi in a Euclidean plane (Fig. 2). The pattern of the arms in Figure b also has an equal areal distribution of the two colours, with hexagons in blue and hexagrams in white (for clarity, these are shown in blue and gold in figure 2).

4. The blazon is the prescriptive and definitive element of heraldry and any particular depiction of arms is subordinate to it: thus the potentiality for several distinct renderings of these arms is not in itself paradoxical. Even though renderings of the arms shown in Figures c & d were never used, the rules of priority and exclusivity of blazons preclude their later use as the arms of another and they remain exclusively available to the present bearer. Likewise, the subsequent independent use of the blazon Azure semé of Mullets of six points conjoined Argent is proscribed: since this would necessarily purport to subsume the prior blazon Azure semé of Mullets of six points appointé Argent (see Aux armes: notes: 3).

5. The term ‘Flower of Life’ is a twentieth century neologism of unknown origin. While the pattern itself is ancient, it has been the subject of a recent plethora of esoteric speculation about its supposed primeval ubiquity, remote antiquity and symbolic significance[h] and some rational scrutiny.[i] In reality, early examples are scarce and confined to the eastern Mediterranean and Mesopotamia, where the earliest datable specimen is from Nineveh c. 645 BC, as the extended pattern in an alabaster threshold from the palace of Ashurbanipal (King of Assyria, 668–627 BC). This bears a strong resemblance to a representation of a carpet, perhaps aptly given its original purpose (now in the Near Eastern Antiquities Collection of the Louvre, Paris). The earlier Osireion[j] in the temple of Seti I (1290–1279 BC) in Abydos exhibits several of the figures in its now customary form (Fig. 4): but the origin of these is uncertain. Purely geometric ornamentation is uncharacteristic of pharaonic temple architecture and the pattern is otherwise absent from Ancient Egypt. Adjacent to the largest of the figures are comparably incised

glyphs in Ancient Greek, which may suggest that the entire group is merely sophisticated griffiti.§4 The apparently random and non-canonical arrangement of the inscriptions on the facing stiles of a single portal in a lateral megalithic ‘arcade’, together with their height over 3 metres above the pavement level and the anomalous lightness of incision may be further evidence of their origin as griffiti — the subterranean Osireion was abandoned and silt-filled to a substantial depth throughout the Classical period, during which time the upper levels of the structure may have been readily accessible.

As for their symbolic significance, these, and the other extant early examples, display no known contemporaneous religious or sacred attributes. In Nineveh, and elsewhere, the pattern is clearly used as domestic decoration and while the Osireion figures are set in a religious structure, they are not integral to it: on the contrary, they are strikingly suggestive of the demonstrative or pedagogic diagrams of Ancient Greek mathematicians — here carved in stone rather than traced in sand — and are alien to their sacred setting. It seems the mystical and occult properties of the ‘Flower of Life’ are, like the name itself, figments of modern imaginations. Even so, bearing in mind the figure's simple but intricate beauty, perhaps such projections are understandable and innocent foibles.

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§1 The Great East Window of York Minster (1405–8) contains a medieval stained glass panel depicting Revelation 1:16. This incorporates a similar formation to the much earlier ‘seven-star’ Westminster motif, but with radial asterisms in place of the hexagrams of the latter.

§2 The present manifestation may be a reprise of an earlier benighted Europe:

A boundless, millennial promise made with boundless, prophet-like conviction to a number of rootless and desperate men in the midst of a society where traditional norms and relationships are disintegrating — here, it would seem, lay the source of that subterranean medieval fanaticism which has been studied in this book. It may be suggested here, too, lies the source of the giant fanaticisms which in our day have convulsed the world.

Norman Cohn (1970), The Pursuit of the Millennium: Revolutionary Millenarians and Mystical Anarchists of the Middle Ages. Paladin. p. 288.

See also: Norman Cohn (1967), Warrant for Genocide: the Myth of the Jewish world-conspiracy and the Protocols of the Elders of Zion. Eyre & Spottiswoode.

This is not to say that conspiracies have not and do not exist: nation states and corporations (and other sectional interests) have an evident mutual predilection for cooperation in the pursuit of their aims. This ubiquitous rent seeking is at least as old as the medieval Guilds; burgeoned with the growth of mercantilism in the sixteenth to late eighteenth centuries and dirigisme in the twentieth; and is now revenant and pestilential to freedom as ‘crony capitalism’. Rather, the notion that pervasive clandestine networks are covertly working towards nefarious global ends is plainly contrary to the evidence. Our shared propensity for error, which outweighs even our greed and capacity for iniquity, and a common limited understanding of the complexity of the world must constrain such endeavours. But their greatest flaw is that not all men and women are credulous and pliant, some act in an ethical and courageous manner: thus these hermetic realms are always insecure. Even so, the incoherent fears of some conspiracists are well-founded in several respects: the ambitions of aspiring oligarchies — but real rather than chimerical — with the complicity of political power may be enduring threats to freedom and property; and it is in the nature of political power that it is inimical to truth and resistant to its discovery and disclosure. Against such collusions, an Open Society under the Rule of Law is a better defence than fatuous speculation. Rigorous public scepticism and a close shave with Occam's Razor should suffice to frustrate these aims, whereas irrational concoctions and hydra-headed conspiracy theories serve to distract from genuine dangers.

§3 For instance, a widely held belief is that the emblems of the early United States incorporated esoteric Masonic symbols — in particular, the so-called ‘Eye of Providence’ on the Great Seal. This is demonstrably false: Freemasons arrogated the emblem from the young Republic in the late-eighteenth century, its prior masonic use is unrecorded. In late-medieval and renaissance Christian iconography, the ‘Eye’ inscribed within a triangle — as in the reverse of the Great Seal — was an explicit symbol of the Holy Trinity. It is from its later widespread appropriation as a quasi-religious symbol during the Enlightenment that the Great Seal derives.

Likewise, the emblems in these arms could be seen as nefarious by many adherents of conspiracy theories. It seems to them that eagles and stars are clandestine symbols of the ‘Illuminati’. Their spurious arguments, such as they are, rest on delusional fabrications erected on a slender base of apocryphal authorities and abstruse citations, such as:

Though thou exalt thyself as the eagle, and though thou set thy nest among the stars, thence will I bring thee down, saith the LORD. Obadiah 1:4.

Since the brazenly unrepentant bearer of these arms neither holds nor aspires to lofty rank and has no interstellar abode — other than on this beautiful wandering orb — he's content to trust in the beneficence of a just deity (having never “stoodest on the other side” against his brothers) and to withstand the rest.

§4 The letter forms in the inscriptions are Classical period Attic, except for the presence of a single digamma (Ϝ). The presence of this archaic Greek letter does not imply that the inscriptions date from pre-Classical times. Although the use of the literal digamma declined from the beginning of the Classical period, the glyph continued to signify the numeral 6 in the prevailing Milesian number system[k] during the Hellenistic period and late antiquity† and the use of digamma as a specific signifier in Greek geometric delination and in musical notation persisted into the early Christian period. The supposition that the glyphs are coeval and associated with the figures can only be tentative: however they do not form any recognizable word and together with the inclusion of digamma and their distinctive segmental paragraphical layout alongside the figures this suggests they may be an explicans in geometric notation. If so, this is a unique survivor. Thus there is no inconsistency in attributing the inscriptions to a later period. Obviously the inscriptions might be of an early date, since Greek mercenaries and travellers had access to Upper Egypt from about 664 BC,‡ but Greek contact with Egypt was only extensive following the conquests of Alexander in 332 BC. A precise date would be unsupported by the evidence.

† The post-Classical development of Greek uncial script produced an uncial digamma, which closely resembled the ligature for sigma-tau, stigma (ϛ). Later, its origins in digamma then long forgotten, this glyph was conflated with the ligature, which came to represent the numeral.

‡ The sixth century BC Greek mathematican Pythagoras is recorded has having made extensive travels throughout Egypt, particularly to many of its temples and religious foundations. Nonetheless the paucity of authenticated biographical detail and our total reliance on the accounts of later writers render any account that he visited the Osireion purely conjectural: as, thus, is any that considers these figures to be Pythagorean in origin.[l]

References

The Metropolitan Museum of Art. Geometric Patterns in Islamic Art. New York.

Keith Critchlow. Islamic Patterns: an analytic and cosmological approach. Thames and Hudson, 1976.

Paul Binski. The Cosmati at Westminster and the English Court Style. The Art Bulletin. Vol.72, No.1, March 1990.

Grant, Lindy & Richard Mortimer, eds. Westminster Abbey: The Cosmati Pavements. Courtauld Research Papers. No.3, 2002.

Peter J. Lu & Paul J. Steinhardt. Decagonal and Quasi-Crystalline Tilings in Medieval Islamic Architecture. Science 315, 1106 (2007). Abstract.

Henry Gough (1900). Itinerary of King Edward the First throughout his reign, A.D. 1272–1307. pp. 20–24.

Sir Maurice Powicke. The Thirteenth Century 1216–1307. Second edition pp. 225, 226. Oxford, 1962.

Qingzhu Yin, Stein B. Jacobsen & Katsuyuki Yamashita. Diverse supernova sources of pre-solar material inferred from molybdenum isotopes in meteorites. Nature 415, 881–883 (2002). Abstact | Full letter (131KB, PDF).

See also: Supernova: interstellar impact. Wikipedia.

Unknown author (2011). Flower of Life. Wikipedia.

Weisstein, Eric W. (2011). Flower of Life. Wolfram MathWorld.

See also: Stephen Wolfram (2002). A New Kind of Science. Wolfram Media. pp. 44 and 872.

Murray, Margaret Alice (1904). The Osireion at Abydos. Egyptian Research Account, ninth year, 1903. ETANA.

See also: Osireion. Wikipedia.

Nick Nicholas (2005). Numerals. Thesaurus Linguae Graecae. University of California.

William Smith, ed. (1873). A Dictionary of Greek and Roman biography and mythology: Pythagoras. Perseus Digital Library.

Diogenes Laërtius. Lives of the Eminent Philosophers: Book VIII: Pythagoras. Perseus Digital Library.

Ibid., (Trans. Robert Drew Hicks, 1925) and Vol.II. Loeb Classical Library. Harvard, 1925.

Glorious intentions‘Back in the 13th century the stones were chosen for their ability to take a polish and in candlelight the High Altar would have been alive with colour and have filled people with awe,’ says Vanessa.

‘Cosmati work was hugely fashionable in Italy in the 12th and 13th centuries and Abbot Richard de Ware had seen it at the Pope’s summer residence outside Rome. In Rome itself, almost every church you walk into you’ll see Cosmati floors and tombs with Cosmatesque decoration.’

Wanting a spectacular centrepiece for the Abbey and to reflect glory on King Henry III, Abbot de Ware commissioned a pavement from the Italian architect Odoricus. He and his craftsmen came to England in 1268 and brought with them a supply of stone, recycled from ancient Roman ruins, to cut into tesserae. ‘In the pavement are marbles and colourful limestones from all corners of the Roman empire – green porphyry from Greece, purple porphyry from Egypt, and travertine from Turkey – chosen for their beauty, colour and figure.’ Green porphyry in particular has small crosses within the stone, which gives it Christian connotations.

The unusual use of glass in a floor makes the Cosmati Pavement special, and uniquely its framework is made of dark grey Purbeck marble, not the typical snowy Carrara marble of Italy. ‘Purbeck marble is a truly English stone and would have been worked by English craftsmen, in collaboration with Italian craftsmen who cut the tesserae. They were all men at the top of their trade who knew their materials so

well,’ says Vanessa. ‘For me it is one of the finest examples of Cosmati work in the world – it’s so intricate and well made, and we’re so lucky that there’s been comparatively little restoration.’

ABOVE (left-right): Conservator Ned Schärer removes a patch of ugly cement; The central roundel is an exquisite travertine, Alabastro Fiorito, sourced from Pamukkale in Turkey.

- See more at: http://www.periodliving.co.uk/antiques-vintage/salvage/cosmati-pavement-westminster-abbey#sthash.KqKI3mRt.dpuf

http://eggshellmosaics.blogspot.com/2009/11/little-history.htmlApparently eggshell mosaics were popular in Renaissance (and slightly earlier) Italy. The artist/biographer Giorgio Vasari mentions eggshell mosaic (musaico di gusci d' uovo) in his Lives of the Artists (Architecture) in 1551. He specifically associates the technique with Gaddo Gaddi, a Florentine painter and mosaicist who lived from 1239-1312 or thereabouts. None of the mosaics seem to have survived.

On his departure from Arezzo, Gaddo went to Pisa, where he made, for a niche in the chapel of the Incoronata in the Duomo, the Ascension of Our Lady into Heaven, where Jesus Christ is awaiting her, with a richly appareled throne for her seat. This work was executed so well and so carefully for the time, that it is in an excellent state of preservation to-day. After this, Gaddo returned to Florence, intending to rest. Accordingly he amused himself in making some small mosaics, some of which are composed of egg-shells, with incredible diligence and patience, and a few of them, which are in the church of S. Giovanni at Florence, may still be seen. It is related that he made two of these for King Robert, but nothing more is known of the matter. This much must suffice for the mosaics of Gaddo Gaddi. - The Lives of the Painters, Sculptors & Architects, Volume 1 by Giorgio Vasari, A. B. Hinds, trans, 1900

Sometime in the 15th century, the painter Cennino Cennini wrote Il Libro dell' Arte, a sort of handbook of Renaissance art methods. He included a short section on creating a "mosaic with crushed eggshells, painted... take your plain white crushed eggshells, and lay them in over the figure which you have drawn; fill in and work as if they were colored... when you have laid in your figure, you set to painting it, section by section, with the regular colors from the little chest... just using a wash of the colors. And then, when it is dry, varnish, just as you varnish the other things on the panel." He's referring to work on glass, but you get the point. He goes on to describe the gilding of crushed eggshells.

It appears that the artists working with eggshell at the time intended to simulate the texture of mosaics and some of the aesthetic by blocking out distinct areas of color. With traditional mosaic, all properties of color, shading, etc. are dependent on selection and placement of available tesserae - the little pieces of stone, glass, tile etc that make up the mosaic. Individual areas of color are distinct and border each other sharply - there is no blending like there might be with paint.

The next reference I could find was in the May 1926 issue of Popular Science, where an artist used them to make decorative objects in the style of seashell encrusted boxes, etc that were popular at the time. Like the Italian masters, she painted her scenes after the eggshells were applied to the surface.

By the 1930’s articles mentioning eggshells appear, peaking in the 60’s and early 70s. So far I haven’t found a definitive “first” use of dyed eggshells for mosaics, but at some point a definite aesthetic emerged. Below is an example that showed up on ebay recently – this is the “classic” look of an eggshell mosaic.