When the Mycenaean world suddenly came to an end c. 1200,
the palaces, literacy, and the whole tradition of monumental art and
architecture all went up in smoke. Yet
pottery continued to be made, though of much lower quality. Indeed, in the period that followed, called
the Dark Age (ca. 1200-900), pottery is the only constant in the archaeological
record. This period of cultural
impoverishment, the Dark Age, in which there was really nothing in the way of
representational art, lasted for three centuries. Then an amazing thing happened. Starting around 900 BC, Greek culture
underwent a rebirth, a renaissance. The
pottery improved, with Athens as a major center of production. A faster potter’s wheel, the compass, and the
multiple brush were among the technical innovations. The resulting “Geometric”
style is characterized by the use of triangles and rectangles, by circles and
semicircles drawn with the new compass and multiple brush in dark paint on a
light background. Human figures reappear
on vases.
Foreshadowing this renaissance is the famous centaur found
in Lefkandi, Euboea, in 1969. The excavators
considered their find to be “the most remarkable work of Greek sculpture yet
known from that Dark Age that followed the collapse of the Mycenaean
civilization and that preceded the artistic revival of the eighth and seventh
centuries BC” (V. R. Desborough, R. V. Nicholls, and M. Popham, “A Euboean
Centaur,” The Annual of the British
School at Athens, 65 (1970) 24). Made
of terracotta, it is about fourteen inches tall. The artist used the potter’s wheel to make
the hollow, cylindrical body but formed the human torso and the legs by
hand. The hole in front is one of two
vents to insure proper firing in the kiln.
Despite its large ears, the face has a human look. There are holes the ears and nostrils. The holes for the eyes may have held inlays
of bone or stone. His missing left hand
may have held a branch or a tree over his left shoulder (note that there was an
attachment there)—this is suggested by later representations of centaurs. Tree branches are their weapons of
choice. There is a deep incision below
his left knee. As for the paint on his
body, “the necklet-like bands at the neck, the panel of lattice-hatching on the
chest and the mitra-like striped reserved area on the human abdomen, along with
the zigzags, dog-tooth triangles and reserved lozenges on the animal body, are
all probably to be seen as more decorative than representational in function” [Desborough
et al. 25]). The decoration recalls the patterns used in late Protogeometric and early Geometric pottery.
Was this a figure from myth? Can we call it a centaur? If so, was it a generic centaur? Or was it perhaps Chiron, tutor to numerous
heroes? Jeffrey Hurwit thought so (The Art and Culture of Early Greece,
1100-480 BC [1985] 61. The gash below
the knee, he argued, could be an allusion to the story, preserved by
Apollodorus (Library 2.5.4), that
Heracles once gave Chiron an unhealable wound in the knee with one of his
poisoned arrows (it was to end his suffering from this wound that Chiron ended
up giving away his immortality). In any
case, the Lefkandi Centaur “is not only the first masterpiece of early Greek sculpture,
it is also the first indication that the Greeks, who always told heroic tales,
would eventually become obsessed by the urge to illustrate them and superintend
a revolutionary change in the meaning of images.”
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