Mantegna’s “Parnassus” is a Renaissance painting commissioned by Isabella d’Este around 1495-97.  It depicts the love affair between Mars and Venus.  In the painting they are central and far above everyone else, the obvious focal point of the piece.  Overall, the image is very naturalistic.  The single point perspective creates a depth of field and illusion of three dimensions that is characteristic of Renaissance art and a major departure from the flattened, almost formulaic images of the Gothic and Romanesque periods.

In the image itself we see Mars and Venus together, obviously as lovers (judging by their shared look, the intertwining of their arms, and the bed behind them).  Flanking them to their right is Cupid, who’s arrows are said to have the power to make anyone fall in love.  While it may be insignificant, it’s worth nothing that Venus is actually holding an arrow (in the same hand as the arm that is wrapped up with Mars) which even looks like it is embedded in her leg from where the viewer is standing.  This may be nothing, or it may be indicative of Cupid’s influence.  The tiny cherub himself is seen turned back to the side, gesturing in an almost threatening manner at Venus’ jilted husband, Vulcan, who stand naked and aggrieved by his forge.  Vulcan’s appearance at the side of the painting helps to tie Venus, Mars, and Cupid in with the scene depicted below them.

Vulcan is the god of the forge, fire, and volcanoes.  In the center of the bottom half of the scene are the nine muses, dancing and singing together.  It was believed by the ancient Greeks that the singing of the muses would cause great calamities, such as floods, earthquake, or volcanic eruptions.  This ties in nicely with an agitated Vulcan.

But on the right, in the foreground, the two nearest figures are Mercury and Pegasus.  Mercury was known to be one of the protectors of the lovers Mars and Venus, and it was believed that the calamities brought on by the Muses’ singing could be stopped only by the stomping of Pegasus’ hoof.  Note Pegasus’ raised leg, and the way that Mercury leans against him.  Then shift your view back up to the top of the painting.  On the left, Vulcan’s side, there are jagged, jutting cliffs and precipices and a darkened sky.  To the right, Mercury’s side, are softer hills with water and vegetation and a clear sky.  What’s truly interesting about this painting in particular and Renaissance art in general is the myriad layers of interpretation that can be applied, and the fact that these numerous, varying explanations and stories behind the art were often all done intentionally and interwoven to create that much deeper of a narrative and meaning.

In the dark, expansive catacombs beneath the streets of Rome one might find any number of oddities and hidden things.  From rats, to too-tight crawlspaces, to the long-dead Romans themselves.  But one thing that one might not expect to find is a nearly two thousand year old Jewish painting of the ark of the covenant.

This painting, which depicts the ark of the covenant (said to contain the law tablets given to Moses by god, along with several other holy instruments) and two menorahs dates back to the third century CE.  A time during which Rome still worshipped their old “pagan” pantheon.  Thus the reason for this drawing’s place in the catacombs.  At that time Judaism was not practiced openly in Rome, and instead it was observed in the darkness of the under-city.  If you look at the painting you will notice that it represents only symbols and ritual objects.  There is no narrative to be found here, nor are any figures depicted (specific or otherwise).

Fast forward two hundred years and you have this:

The mosaic floor of the Beth Alpha Synagogue.  Things in the second image have changed a great deal from those in the first.  For one thing, this mozaic is present in a synagogue, a jewish temple, thus indicating that Judaism was being practiced openly.  True, this open practice was likely due to the fact that the Beth Alpha is located in modern-day Israel, and not Rome, but it’s still a significant difference between this piece and the first, location aside.  Additionally, in the central panel we see a Jewish adaptation of the Greco-Roman zodiac.  Which suggests that in the region where Beth Alpha existed, paganism and judaism enjoyed a much more harmonious coexistence than they did in Rome.  Not only that, but if you look at the bottom panel of the second image you will notice another striking difference.  The bottom panel is a narrative.  It shows the “binding of Isaac”.  Whether this difference (from symbols and ritual objects only to a representation of individuals and stories) was the product of the passage of time or that of the difference in location is hard to say, but it is significant nonetheless.

Everyone (who doesn’t live under a rock) is familiar with the pop-culture idea of the Buddha figure.  A plump little man, sitting cross-legged, with a jolly looking smile on his face.  Much like this fellow here.

What most people don’t realize, is the myriad of ways in which Buddha has been depicted, and more importantly the significance and meaning behind those depictions.

As a matter of fact, the first depictions of Buddha weren’t even depictions of Buddha at all.  Fearing idolatry, original Buddhist artworks featured mere signs of Buddha’s passing, his foot-prints for example.

Yet as time went on, these iconoclastic tendencies lessened, and we begin to see images of the Buddha himself.  One such image is that of the “Seated Buddha at Gandhara”

This image is quite a break from tradition.  The kingdom of Gandhara existed in what is present day Pakistan.  Therefore, it was one of the westernmost parts of India.  This geographical position opened Gandhara to heavy western influence.  Thus, the style of this piece is quite different from main-stream Indian tradition.  Specifically, Gandharan art was heavily influenced by Roman tradition.  For example, the sculpture is much more naturalistic than its earlier and contemporary counterparts.  Note the detail in the robes, hair, hands and even the face.  The robes and face in particular are reminiscent of certain Roman styles.  But while the style may be Roman, it is certainly Indian in subject matter.

This statue is meant to represent Buddha giving his sermon at the deer park in Sarnath.  Behind his head is the “wheel of Darma” or the “wheel of law”, which according to Buddhist tradition he set in motion with his Sarnath sermon.  At the base of the statue is an image of bodhisattvas, who are learning from him, and they are flanked by a pair of lions, representative of Buddha’s royal origins.

The “Seated Buddha at Sarnath,” shares some commanalities, but also a number of differences.

Like the figure from Gandhara, this piece is likewise depicting Buddha’s first sermon at Sarnath.  We see the Bodhisattvas on the base, in the learning scene, and behind Buddha there is the Wheel of Darma.  However, in this piece, we also see the mudra (or hand-sign) which indicates teaching or instruction.  However, unlike the Gandharan piece, this is much more traditionally Indian in style.  All non-essential decoration is removed, thus no fancy and detailed robes.  The face is depicted in a meditative, trance-like state, as opposed to the Apollonian face of the Gandharan figure.

The Temple of Portunus was a product of the Republican Period of Roman architecture.  Unlike the Greeks, who favored remote settings for their holy places (e.g. the Oracle of Delphi), the Romans favored urban areas.  In a city setting many people could attend temples without having to make long (sometimes perilous) trips to their locations.  Thus, with Roman and Etruscan temple building we see an urbanization of religion (at least western religion) which is a trend that continues in the west even today.

When we look at the temple itself the Greek influence is readily apparent.  For example, we see use of the Ionic order in the temple’s columns.  In fact it could be argued that the very presence and prominence of the columns themselves is rather Greek.  Consider the purpose of the columns which wrap around the temple (those not on the porch).  These are engaged columns, which essentially means that they have no purpose other than the aesthetic.  They are carved into the wall.  They are not load-bearing, they offer no structural support, they merely serve to capture the Greek aesthetic of the columns surrounding the interior of the temple.

And yet there are some important differences between Roman and Greek temples.  The most important of all is the entrance.  Greek temples featured a stereobate, a staircase which wrapped about the entirety of the temple.  The Romans (and Etruscans) dispensed with this.  Instead of a stereobate, their temples featured a single staircase at the front of the building.  Additionally, they dispensed with the opithodomos.  Essentially, as seen below, a basic Roman temple, such as Portunus, looks like a simplified version of your average Greek temple.

Greek Temple

Roman Temple

Here I would like to examine the portrait of Akhenaten with his family, and compare it to the statue of Manaure and a Queen.

Since they are each depicting what is basically the same thing (a king and queen of Eygpt) they are perfect for a side by side comparison.

Menaure and Queen came first chronologically, so

In the Lascaux Cave in France there are a series of paintings dating back to sometime between 15,000 BCE and 13,000 BCE.  Hundreds of miles away, in a corner of present-day Turkey, there exist the remains of an ancient settlement, one of the first “permanent” settlements ever established by man.  It is known as Catal Hoyuk, and it dates back to a time around 6,000 BCE.  Now of course, the question becomes, what might these two things, separated by hundreds upon hundreds of miles and thousands upon thousands of years, have in common?  Why mention them both together?

The answer is “bull”.

In both locations we see images of bulls.  What’s more, in both cases the bull seems to have been given an almost mystical significance.  For instance, Lascaux is an underground cave system.  It is difficult to access and would not have been the ideal location for a public mural.  Also, researchers have discovered that the images at Lascaux were likely created over a period of dozens, or even hundreds, of years.  All of this points to the caves having some religious or spiritual purpose, thus suggesting that the bull, which is a strong motif of the Lascaux cave paintings, was revered in some way.

Then in Catal Hoyuk, thousands of years later, we see this same thing again.  Bull-headed wall ornaments of a presumably ceremonial nature.

The real question is whether this is merely coincidence, or possibly indication of some ancient connection between the two.  True, the bull is a common enough animal, but consider this; Catal Hoyuk is closer in time to present day than it is to Lascaux.  Even if the bull was a relatively universal animal, worshiped by numerous cultures, this still suggests that over a period of roughly 9,000 years, mankind had hardly changed his worshiping practices.  In the 8,000 years since then, we’ve come a long way.