Journal articles on the topic 'Greek-byzantine element'

Leguminous plants were a crucially important element in the Mediterranean diet, and, as such, these plants were second only to cereals. It is also important to note that according to medical writings preserved from antiquity and the early Byzantine period they were considered to be an accessible source of substances which could be applied in therapeutics. One of the most commonly mentioned legumes was the chickpea. The source material demonstrates that the medicinal properties of the chickpea and its therapeutic use were discussed by Greek physicians as early as in the fourth century BC. It seems that the plant was a readily accessible medicament and thus used in therapy also by those who could not afford costly medicines. The authors argue, however, that the medical theory concerning its role in therapeutics evolved into a fully developed form only in the first century AD (thanks to Dioscorides) and was not modified by Galen. The doctrine of these two physicians became part of the medical encyclopaedias of the early Byzantine period. The presented material also illustrates the fact that a significant number of medicinal Recipes which involved using the chickpea were formulated between the second century BC and the second century AD. Byzantine physicians avidly used these formulas in their practice, but failed to develop them in a significantly innovative way. The surviving medical writings make it possible to conclude that the chickpea was believed to be a highly effective medicine and as such worthy of cultivation, which only testifies to the general popularity of the plant. Medical writings may serve as a proof that the chickpea remained a key element in the Mediterranean diet throughout the period from the fourth century BC to the seventh century AD. The analysed material demonstrates the use of the same basic varieties of the erebinthos throughout the period, even though some local variants were also identified. The consistency of the data also suggests that the scale and methods of cultivation of this plant remained unchanged. The culinary uses of the chickpea must also have been the same throughout the period, given that the writers discussed similar uses of the plant as a foodstuff.

The concept of the divine energies (energeiai) is commonly associated with the late Byzantine theologian Gregory Palamas. In fact, however, it has biblical origins and figures prominently in Greek patristic theology from at least the fourth century. Here I briefly trace its history beginning with the Pauline usage of energeia and continuing through the Cappadocian Fathers, Dionysius the Areopagite, Maximus the Confessor, and Gregory Palamas. I argue that the divine processions in Dionysius function much as do the divine energies in the Cappadocians, although Dionysius enriches the concept by setting it within the context of a Neoplatonic pattern of procession and return. Dionysius’s own work was in need of a further synthesis in that he does not explain the relationship between the divine processions and the divine logoi, the “divine and good acts of will” by which God creates. Maximus the Confessor then introduced a further element into this complex tradition through his argument that certain “natural energies” must necessarily accompany any nature. I argue that the real importance of Palamas from the standpoint of the history of philosophy lies not in originating the concept of the divine energies, but in using it to synthesize these disparate elements from the Cappadocians, Dionysius, and Maximus.

Many unresolved questions related to post-Byzantine church chanting present obstacles to understanding some aspects of church music since the 19th century. One of those problems concerns the need for strict definitions of criteria according to which a church melody is classified as "melos" (Serb. napev). In this article the actual classifications of new Greek and Serbian chants are given. The most important Greek theoretical sources (theoretikon) are taken into consideration, as well as writings in which Serbian theoreticians and chanters explain the classification of hymns in Serbian church singing. The terminology related to "melos" in Greek and Serbian church chanting practice is critically examined. Attention is also drawn to elements common to new Greek (neumatic) and Serbian (staff notation) "melos". This article is an introduction to more detailed research whose aim will be to establish similarities and distinctions between the two church singing traditions that have the same origins in Byzantine church music.

AbstractThis study proposes a new interpretation of the texts of two late ancient or early Byzantine papyrus amulets that refer to conflict with “headless” entities (PGM P 5a–b). Based on the identification of parallels in the Byzantine and later Greek tradition, a traditional incantation motif can be identified, targeting fever, which is analogized as a judicial crisis. An appendix publishes or republishes the relevant texts with translations. The complex career of the motif attested by the papyri and the Byzantine texts is also applied to illustrate the workings of the Greek tradition of incantations, in particular the mechanism by which elements of a received repertoire are re-combined, modified, and augmented for changing contexts, a process comparable to folkloric composition. The judicial motif can further be contextualized among beliefs about the supernatural, including the divinization of fever itself and the crediting of a broad cast of powers, including John the Baptist along with other holies, angels, and demons, with its infliction and relief.

The article explores the impact of Byzantines on Istrian Humanism and Renaissance. In the introduction author describes the alienation of the territories which used to be Eastern and Western part of the Roman Empire and, congruently, the fate of the classical (particularly Greek) heritage in the Dark and Middle Ages in those territories. This is followed by a description of the historical events that led to rapprochement of the East and West, with particular emphasis on the Byzantine exodus to Italy. The author then provides a methodological framework by analyzing the main aspects of „rediscovering” Greek cultural heritage and the influence of the Byzantine immigrants on them. The author than turns to Istria, providing, first, a short summary of Istrian contacts with the Greek cultural heritage throughout history and then the settlement of the Byzantines in Istria. The main part of the article follows, containing a detailed analysis of the described elements of „rediscovering” Greek cultural heritage – interest in Greek language, literature, culture and philosophy (particularly Neoplatonism), in translations, the editing and publishing of Greek classics, as well as in the presence of the idea of a common European identity based on a common ancient heritage, and the voices advocating for the formation of a united Christian European front against the Ottomans.

AbstractThe emigrant Byzantine humanist Theodorus Gaza (c. 1400 -1475) is well known as a teacher of Greek in various Italian cities, as a copyist of Greek manuscripts, and as a translator of Greek philosophical works into Latin. His undertakings as a translator of Latin works into Greek, among which his version of Cicero’s De senectute deserves mention, have gone relatively unnoticed. In this article we rediscover a largely forgotten translation of Cic. Fam. 1.1, despite it having been printed independently twice (Paris 1542 and 1548) and having been included as an example of translation in the oft reprinted manual of rhetorical exercises, Elementa rhetoricae (first printed in Basel in 1541), by the Lutheran Joachim Camerarius.

Abstract Traditionally, scholarship has seen the history of the diaconiae, charitable foundations in the city of Rome, in line with the alleged general trends in Roman history in the early Middle Ages, i.e. the gradual “Romanization” of formerly “Greek” elements of Byzantine origin, and the “papalization” of secular (state and private) initiatives, both taking place primarily in the mid-8th century. Although the diaconiae had come under papal control as late as the 9th and eventually the 10th centuries, this paper argues that this development took place not as an abandonment of private forms of endowments prominent in Byzantine Rome, but namely through the appropriation of “post-Byzantine” aristocratic endowment practice by the popes around the turn of the 9th century.

<p>THE INFLUENCE OF THE BYZANTINE CRIMINAL LAW IN THE CODE OF DUSAN. 1349-1354 </p><p>Stefan Dušan enacted the <em>Code of Dušan</em> in 1349. Its dispositions must be considered in relation with two Byzantine compilations that constituted the imperiale tripartite codification: the so-called <em>Law of Justinian</em> and to the <em>Abridged syntagma</em>. The Byzantine juridical influence must be considered very relevant in criminal law: public pain system, legal action <em>ex officio</em> by state, pain of death, physical punishments and mutilations, were juridical concepts and institutions unknown to Slav people before their convert to Christianity, and their introduction must be connected to the Byzantine religious, cultural and juridical influence. Considering the difference with Slav customary law (even if some elements derivating from it were preserved) and the connections with Greek-Roman compilations it can be underlined Dušan’s attempt to create and introduce in his empire a Byzantine legal system.</p>

AbstractIn 1349 Stefan Dušan enacted a code that was part of a tripartite codification with the Abridged syntagma and the so-called Law of Justinian. The Serbian emperor introduced in his empire a Byzantine legal system, even if elements of Slavic customary law were preserved. Physical mutilations and punishments, death penalty, public penal system, personal liability were unknown to the Slav populations and have to be connected to the Greek-Roman law influence. This influence is evident both in civil and criminal law and in this sense the dispositions of the Code of Dušan must be connected to the two other Byzantine compilations. Dušan's attempt failed just a few years after his death because of the fall of the Serbian empire due to the Ottoman advance.

In which ways was Medieval and Byzantine History embedded in the Greek national narrative in the first life steps of the Greek state during the 19th century? In which ways has it been related to the emerging nationalism in the Balkans, and to relationships with the West and the countries of south-eastern Europe during the Balkan Wars, the First and Second World Wars, and especially the Cold War, until today? In which ways does Byzantium correlate with the notion of Greekness, and what place does it occupy in Neo-Hellenic identity and culture? Moreover, which role does it play in history teaching, and what kind of reactions does any endeavour of revision or reformation provoke? To answer the above questions I performed a comparative analysis on the following categories of sources: (a) Greek national and European historiography, (b) School history curricula and textbooks, (c) Public history sources, (d) The new History Curriculum for primary and secondary school classes, and (e) The principles and guidelines of international organizations such as the Council of Europe. In the first three sections of this paper, I provide an overview of the conformation and integration of the Byzantine period in Greek national historiography, in association with the dominant European philosophical and historical perspectives during the era of modernity, as well as the evolving national politics, foreign affairs, prevailing ideological schemas and the role of history teaching in shaping the common identity of the Neo-Hellenic society throughout the 19th and 20th centuries. The fourth section briefly deals with the current situation in history teaching in Greek schools, while the fifth section critically presents the innovative elements and features of the new History Curriculum, which, to some degree, aspires to be considered a paradigm shift in the teaching of Medieval History in school education. Finally, I summarize and draw several conclusions.

The need to negotiate and resolve ethno-nationalistic aspirations on the part of dependent and subject communities of faith-believers is a complex issue. The Ottoman Empire formed a classic case in this context. This article is a historical-political reflection on a small group of Christians within the broader Arab and ‘Greek’ Christian milieu that once formed the backbone of the earlier Byzantine and later Ottoman empires. The native Arab Orthodox of Palestine in the twilight years of the Ottoman Empire found themselves in a struggle between their religious affiliations with Mediterranean Greek Orthodoxy and Western Christendom as opposed to the then ascendant star of nationalist pan-Arabism in the Middle East. The supersession of the Ottoman Empire by the British colonial Mandatory system in Palestine and the loss of imperial Russian support for the Arab Orthodox in the Holy Land naturally meant that they relied more on social and political cooperation with their fellow Palestinian Muslims. This was to counter the dominance extended by the ethnic Greek ecclesiastical hierarchy in the Holy Land over the historically Arab Orthodox Patriarchate of Jerusalem with support from elements within the Greek Republic and the British Mandatory authorities.

The subject of article is the history of the musical and poetic composition of the Christmas sticheron “Σήμερον ὁ Χριστός” by Johann Damascene with the Gospel quotation “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, and good will toward men” (Lk. 2:14), as well as the circle of associated stichera in Byzantine, Old Russian and Kiev-Lithuanian traditions. The musical text of the hymns is represented in Greek manuscripts by Chartres, Coislin and middle-Byzantine neumes; Old Russian chant books were analyzed using znamenny neumes and singer notation; and Kiev manuscripts — using Kievan five-line notation records. The melody of the Christmas sticheron emphasizes the importance of the Gospel quotation with long melismatic musical fragments of the quotation itself and the previous sentence. This sticheron became a model for several hymns to Epiphany, Purification of the Most Holy Mother of God, Annunciation and Entry into the Temple of the Most Holy Mother of God, the majority of which were excluded from liturgical use. There are various ways of creating a new sticheron based on the model: prosomoion may be a calque or an independent composition with certain elements of model tune. The latter case of the sticheron to the Entry into the Temple “Σήμερον τῷ ναῷ προσάγεται” has its own musical text history in three traditions, independent from that of the model. Chants of Old Russian manuscripts of 11th—14th centuries are similar to those of a Byzantine origin, but in the 15th—17th centuries the music of these two traditions has developed in different ways. The Kievan chant tradition, similar to both Old Russian and Byzantine ones, is a point of intersection of chant cultures.

"Michael Psellos exposed his theory on intellect in two major texts: De omnifaria doctrina and Philosophica minora. Psellos’ theory is based on different philosophical sources, including, first and foremost, Proclus’ texts. The younger contemporary of Psellos, Georgian philosopher Ioane Petritsi, who was trained in Byzantine philosophical school and was well acquainted with ancient Greek philosophical tradition, also commented on Proclus and his theory of intellect. For Proclus, Psellos and Petritsi intellect is an important entity because it embraces Forms and is, therefore, a basis for all kinds of beings. The aim of this paper is to analyze Psellos’ and Petritsi’s theories of intellect and their interrelationship taking into consideration their dependence on the common philosophical sources, mainly Proclus’ Elements of theology. Keywords: intellect, soul, one, participation, being. "

AbstractWhile ostensibly aspects of poetics are best discussed within a purely literary perspective, in fact they can hardly be disconnected from their socio-cultural and religious frameworks. Al-Hārit ibn Sinān was a Christian scholar and writer who lived under Muslim rule towards the end of the ninth and apparently also the beginning of the tenth century, precisely at the time when the first fruits of the idea of the Qur‘ān's stylistic inimitability (i’ğāz) began to ripe. Although this concept played a role also in interfaith polemics throughout the Middle Ages, our author shows his temperance and restraint by praising the style of the Bible (he would appear not to have read the books of the Old Testament in the original Hebrew but demonstrated understanding and a feeling for the text through another Semitic language: Syriac), both because as a Christian living under Muslim rule he was loathe to arouse an overt controversy with the society in which he lived, and also because glorifying the style of Holy Scripture, which he had apparently inherited from the Syriac-Byzantine culture, was an important tendency in and of itself in both Jewish and Christian literature (in England, for example, upsurges of this tendency have occurred even in modern times). Nevertheless, we cannot ignore the fact that our author did compare the poetics of four cultures: that of the Hebrews, that of the Greek (or rather Greek-Byzantine, rūm), that of the Syriac elements and that of the Arabs. He even tries to prove, using somewhat specious arguments, that the Hebrew portions of the Bible contain rhymes. His positions thus deserve to be considered retrospectively also in an interfaith and intercultural context.

The desert mothers lived between monks in the fourth and fifth centuries. In Apofthegmata Patrum we have preserved same sayings and stories related to Amma Sarah, Amma Syncletica and Amma Theodora. The subject of this article is Meterikon, the new book published quite recently in Poland, which includes some 600 texts attributed to the mothers of the desert or addressed to them. The author of the collection was Byzantine monk Isaiah, who worked on it at the beginning of 13th century, conscious that no one had compiled “such a feminine book”. A Russian bishop found the Meterikon in Jerusalem in the middle of 19th century, and had a translation made of this “absolute rarity”, which would later be published in Greek as well as Russian. We do have now Italian, German and Polish translation. Meterikon presents spirituality of the desert mothers, which is the same like spiri­tuality of the desert fathers, but has its own special accents. Women on the desert consider themselves as brides of Jesus Christ, who is the centre, model and goal of their live. In the spiritual straggle, which is necessary on the desert, they tried to be brave as man and they showed that courage is not appropriate only for one gender. In the sayings of the desert mothers we so often find encouragement to the silence and meekness that we can tell about deep theology of silence in their thinking.

For the better part of the twentieth century, the quest for a ‘Greek’ continuity in the so-called revival of ancient drama in Greece was inextricably linked to what is termed and studied in this paper as a Ritual Quest. Rituality was understood in two forms: one was aesthetic and neoclassicist in its hermeneutic and performative codes, which were established and recycled ‐ and as such: ritualized ‐ in ancient tragedy productions of the National Theatre of Greece from the 1930s to the 1970s; the other, cultivated mainly during the 1980s, was cultural and centred around the idea that continuity can be traced and explored through the direct employment of Byzantine and folk ritual elements. Both aimed at eliciting the cohesive collective response of their spectators: their turning into a liminal ritual community. This was a community tied together under an ethnocentric identity, that of Greeks participating in a Greek (theatrical) phenomenon. At first through neoclassicism, then through folklore, this artistic phenomenon was seen as documenting a diachronic and essentially political modern Greek desideratum: continuity with the ancient past.Such developments were in tune with broader cultural movements in the period under study, which were reflected on the common imaginings of Antiquity in the modern Greek collective ‐ consciousness ‐ a sort of ‘Communal Hellenism’. The press reception of performances, apart from being a productive vehicle for the study of the productions as such, provides indispensable indexes to audience reception. Through the study of theatre reviews, we propose to explore the crucial shifts registered in the definition of Greekness and its dynamic connections to Antiquity.

The purpose of this research is a comparative description of the visual features of the national flags of Russia and Albania as symbols of diffusion of macroidentity, which is expressed in the contradictory vectors of their foreign policy and focus on both European and Asian macroidentity. Based on color semantics, the article analyzes the state flags of Russia and Albania, which, as in state symbols, reveal the features of the geopolitical positioning of states. The connection between the axial symbol of identity – the double-headed eagle – and the bifurcation (diffuseness) of political macroidentity is shown. The features common to the two states are shown: a tendency toward geopolitical isolationism, authoritarian state power, the dependence of the institution of the church on the state and statist atheism, the prevalence of corrupt practices, the emphasis on forced modernization and extraordinary technologies for overcoming situations of foreign political challenges. It is stated that in both countries there is a corruption of power, a sign of which is a fierce struggle for power during most of Byzantine history. It was determined that this struggle was not waged by political methods, but by force – a military coup, uprising or assassination of the current head of state. In the geopolitical position of Albania, this was due to Skannerberg’s attempt to combine two in one: Islamic and Orthodox identities, as well as situational adaptation of the country’s political elite to the next occupier: from 1443, i.e. the years of struggle against Turkish rule and until 1944 the coat of arms acquired alternately Turkish, Austrian, Greek, Italian and Soviet-Russian details. The coat of arms of the Russian Federation also contains Byzantine elements, which indicates a spiritual succession with the Byzantine Empire, however, with less borrowing.

The article aims to present and analyze those passages of the Hexameron (Šestodnev) in which ‘heretics’, ‘Manichaeans’, ‘pagans’ or ‘pagan Slavs’ are mentioned. The fragments are compared with their Greek counterparts (as long as these exist); the Old Bulgarian texts (especially those that can be considered original additions or loose compilations) are utilized for interpreting certain elements of heterodox doctrines common to Manichaeism, Paulicianism, Massalianism and Bogomilism. The Old Bulgarian translation/compilation by John Exarch supplies important information on the cosmology, theological doctrine and liturgical life of the Neo-Manichaeans within the Byzantine- Slavic world. The original additions and passages that can be seen as loose translations or compilations testify to the relevance of anti-dualist polemics even in the later periods of the Byzantine-Slavic religious community. The old Gnostic and Manichaean concepts, adapted by later dualist heresies (as e.g. Massalianism and Paulicianism), coupled with Trinitarian and Christological deviations from the official dogma, infiltrate the 1st Bulgarian Empire and provide a hospitable environment for the appearance of Bogomilism. In this sense, the Old Bulgarian Hexameron turns out to be an important source of information on the predecessors of the ‘Bulgarian heresy’. The original additions and loose translations/compilations of certain passages uncover some ‘common areas’ characteristic of all medieval Neo-Manichaean doctrines: the dualist creation myth, the belief in Satan as God’s ‘first-born son’ and the related Trinitarian and Christological departures from the prescribed dogma. Especially noteworthy is the passage referring to the Trisagion (Trisvetoe). The rejection of particular elements of the Liturgy of the Faithful attests to the dualists’ more diversified attitude towards the official ritual – not an indiscriminate renunciation, but the exclusion of those elements that were considered to praise the Old Testament God and to be irreconcilable with the Neo-Manichaean beliefs concerning creation and forgiveness. The mentioning of a Slavic pagan sun cult should be analyzed not only in connection with the charges against Manichaeans and Slavs concerning idolatry, but also in a wider context of the refutation of antique astrological beliefs and soothsaying practices. The comparison of particular lexemes, phrases and larger textual units in John Exarch’s Hexameron on the one hand and the Sermon Against the Heretics on the other makes it possible to conjecture that Cosmas the Priest was familiar with his predecessor’s work and made use of it when composing his own anti-heretic text.

Based on the research of the last 15 years, the author proposes the following palette of possibilities for the emergence of new Slavonic liturgical services in the Middle Ages of Slavia Orthodoxa: 1.the writing original texts, i.e. texts created according to the model and the patterns of Byzantine hymnography but in which there are no direct textual borrowings; the translation of services from Greek without interference in the structure and imagery of the addressee; translation — re-elaboration, which can include borrowing from other translated or original services, turning into a compilation; (of course, processing and compilation can occur at a later stage using a translation of the borrowing) /2/ — in this case we are dealing with re-elaboration of the translation; adaptation, which can be: a) the specification of the common service to a particular saint of the same rank; b) turning a particular service into a common one; b) adaptation of a service to one saint for the commemoration of another one (sometimes with elements of re-elaboration) without necessarily coordinating with the type of sanctity of the new addressee. In conclusion, the following definition of the originality of ancient Slavic hymnography is proposed: we can call original hymnographic compositions, created specifically in memory of a specific saint and assigned to it, regardless of whether the composing chants are really the the product of an autonomous creative act or adaptation/actualization of already existing hymns.

AbstractHistoriographical texts are here read as literary compositions of their time, providing us with various elements of the process of identity construction or reconstruction. The first West Syrian historical texts were produced in the sixth century, when the history of what would become the Syrian Orthodox Church began. An examination of contemporary sources and myths of origins shows that the ethnic origins of the Abgarid dynasty played no part in Syrian 'ethnogenesis', but that there existed a notion of Syro-Mesopotamian origins, closely related to a supposed homeland, that of Aram. An acknowledged common ancestry going back to the Chaldean and Assyrian Empires relies on a common language more than a common homeland or sovereign. Whereas the Assyrians came to personify the ever-hostile Persian neighbour, a sort of stereotypical enemy, the Hellenistic kings were perceived as having effected a synthesis of the double Syro-Mesopotamian and Greek culture. The Seleucid era, as adopted by the Edessans, thus remained in use regardless of the prevailing political powers and is an assertion of independence and a strong local identity marker, being a rejection of the local Antiochene as well as the imperial Byzantine eras. The Syrian Orthodox also developed an innovative method of writing the history of their separated Church, producing a new genre consisting of lengthy chronicles written in several parts or columns, in which political and ecclesiastical history were kept separate. This Syrian Orthodox method of writing history is the only truly distinctive Syrian Orthodox literary genre.

History and origin of language borrowings in social vocabulary of Serbia and Montenegro to the beginnings of 20th centuryThe article presents the main sources of language borrowings which developed the Serbian vocabulary within the scope of broadly defined social relationships and encompasses the period of time from the main sources of language borrowings till the beginnings of the 20th century. First of all the form of addressing family leaders and the most important family structures, the form of addressing of political, military and church leaders, the nomenclature of social layers’ members, officers as well as administration units have been included in the social vocabulary. Except the example of ways such borrowings were included into the Serbian language the article also presents history and politics background and socio-cultural conditioning in which the contacts and inter-language meetings took place. Some medieval borrowings from roman languages (Latin, Dalmatian dialects, and then Romanian) and Greek-Byzantine, and Turkish have been presented. We have tried to describe a wide stream of Turkish influence (with limited Italian and Albanian influence. Later periods were characterized by: German, Hungarian, Russian and later French. The work constitutes sort of supplement to the article of P. Ivić (Domaći i strani elementi u terminologiјi društvenog, ekonomskog i pravnog života u srednjovekovnoј Srbiјi as well as Razvoј terminologiјe u јeziku srednjovekovnikh Srba) which describes the influence of examined lexemes on social lexis, the ways of their adaptation and geography in the Serbian language area including especially history as well as socio-political background.

Uhrusk is a small town located in eastern Poland, in the Lublin region, along the border river, the Bug. The temple is situated on the outskirts of the village, on a low hill, where there was a castle founded by Prince Daniel Halicki in the Middle Ages. The Orthodox church existed here before 1220, and for the first decades of its functioning it had the status of a council. Today, the existing church building was erected in 1849 as a Greek Catholic temple founded by the owner of local estate, Laura Kirsztejnowa. In 1915, the church was abandoned when the Orthodox residents of Uhrusk became refugees. In the years 1920-1927, it was renovated, due to significant losses suffered during the First World War and the Polish-Bolshevik war. The building was open again from 1920 to 1947, after which it was closed following the deportation of Orthodox Ukrainians as part of the “Wisła” Operation. At the end of the 1950s, the Orthodox church was restored for liturgical use as a branch of the parish in Włodawa. The style of the building is defined as classicist-Byzantine with neo-Romanesque and neo-Gothic elements. In 2017, on the initiative of the Dialog Foundation in Lublin, a general renovation of the temple building and its surroundings began. Studies conducted with the use of specialized diagnostic equipment in the form of a Picus 3 sonic tomograph were important for the dendrological inventory. Within the boundaries of the property, 11 trees are growing, at different ages and in a healthy state. On the basis of the material collected, possible directions for the restoration of the Orthodox church’s surroundings were presented.

Recent conservation and restoration work on the icon of the Virgin and Child which stood on the altar in the Church of St. Nicholas at Prijeko in Dubrovnik has enabled a new interpretation of this paining. The icon, painted on a panel made of poplar wood, features a centrally-placed Virgin holding the Child in her arms painted on a gold background between the two smaller figures of St. Peter and St. John the Baptist. The figures are painted in the manner of the fifteenth- and sixteenth-century Dubrovnik style, and represent a later intervention which significantly changed the original appearance and composition of the older icon by adding the two saints and touching up the Virgin’s clothes with Renaissance ornaments, all of which was performed by the well-known Dubrovnik painter Nikola Božidarević. It can be assumed that the icon originally featured a standing or seated Virgin and Child. The Virgin is depicted with her head slightly lowered and pointing to the Christ Child whom she is holding on her right side. The chubby boy is not seated on his mother’s lap but is reclining on his right side and leaningforward while his face is turned towards the spectator. He is dressed in a red sleeveless tunic with a simple neck-line which is embroidered with gold thread. The Child is leaning himself on the Virgin’s right hand which is holding him. He is firmly grasping her thumb with one hand and her index finger with the other in a very intimate nursing gesture while she, true to the Hodegitria scheme, is pointing at him with her left hand, which is raised to the level of her breasts. Such an almost-realistic depiction of Christ as a small child with tiny eyes, mouth and nose, drastically departs from the model which portrays him with the mature face of an adult, as was customary in icon painting. The Virgin is wearing a luxurious gold cloak which was repainted with large Renaissance-style flowers. Her head is covered with a traditional maphorion which forms a wide ring around it and is encircled by a nimbus which was bored into thegold background. Her skin tone is pink and lit diffusely, and was painted with almost no green shadows, which is typical of Byzantine painting. The Virgin’s face is striking and markedly oval. It is characterized by a silhouetted, long, thin nose which is connected to the eyebrows. The ridge of the nose is emphasized with a double edge and gently lit whilethe almond-shaped eyes with dark circles are set below the inky arches of the eyebrows. The Virgin’s cheeks are smooth and rosy while her lips are red. The plasticity of her round chin is emphasized by a crease below the lower lip and its shadow. The Virgin’s eyes, nose and mouth are outlined with a thick red line. Her hands are light pink in colour and haveelongated fingers and pronounced, round muscles on the wrists. The fingers are separated and the nails are outlined with precision. The deep, resounding hues of the colour red and the gilding, together with the pale pink skin tone of her face, create an impression of monumentality. The type of the reclining Christ Child has been identified in Byzantine iconography as the Anapeson. Its theological background lies in the emphasis of Christ’s dual nature: although the Christ Child is asleep, the Christ as God is always keeping watch over humans. The image was inspired by a phrase from Genesis 49: 9 about a sleeping lion to whom Christ is compared: the lion sleeps with his eyes open. The Anapeson is drowsy and awake at the same time, and therefore his eyes are not completely shut. Such a paradox is a theological anticipation of his “sleep” in the tomb and represents an allegory of his death and Resurrection. The position, gesture and clothes of the Anapeson in Byzantine art are not always the same. Most frequently, the ChristChild is not depicted lying in his mother’s arms but on an oval bed or pillow, resting his head on his hand, while the Virgin is kneeling by his side. Therefore, the Anapeson from Dubrovnik is unique thanks to the conspicuously humanized relationship between the figures which is particularly evident in Christ’s explicitly intimate gesture of grasping the fingers of his mother’s hand: his right hand is literally “inserting” itself in the space between the Virgin’s thumb and index finger. At the same time, the baring of his arms provided the painter with an opportunity to depict the pale tones of a child’s tender skin. The problem of the iconography of the Anapeson in the medieval painting at Dubrovnik is further complicated by a painting which was greatly venerated in Župa Dubrovačka as Santa Maria del Breno. It has not been preserved but an illustration of it was published in Gumppenberg’sfamous Atlas Marianus which shows the Virgin seated on a high-backed throne and holding the sleeping and reclining Child. The position of this Anapeson Christ does not correspond fully to the icon from the Church of St. Nicholas because the Child is lying on its back and his naked body is covered with the swaddling fabric. The icon of the Virgin and Child from Prijeko claims a special place in the corpus of Romanesque icons on the Adriatic through its monumentality and intimate character. The details of the striking and lively Virgin’s face, dominated by the pronounced and gently curved Cimabuesque nose joined to the shallow arches of her eyebrows, link her with the Benedictine Virgin at Zadar. Furthermore, based on the manner of painting characterized by the use of intense red for the shadows in the nose and eye area, together with the characteristic shape of the elongated, narrow eyes, this Virgin and Child should be brought into connection with the painter who is known as the Master of the Benedictine Virgin. The so-called Benedictine Virgin is an icon, now at the Benedictine Convent at Zadar, which depicts the Virgin seated on a throne with a red, ceremonial, imperial cushion, in a solemn scheme of the Kyriotissa, the heavenly queen holding the Christ Child on her lap. The throne is wooden and has a round back topped with wooden finials which can also be seen in the Byzantine Kahn Virgin and the Mellon Madonna, as well as in later Veneto-Cretan painting. The throne is set under a shallow ciborium arch which is rendered in relief and supportedby twisted colonettes and so the painting itself is sunk into the surface of the panel. A very similar scheme with a triumphal arch can be seen on Byzantine ivory diptychs with shallow ciborium arches and twisted colonettes. In its composition, the icon from Prijeko is a combination ofthe Kyr i ot i ss a and the Hodegitria, because the Virgin as the heavenly queen does not hold the Christ Child frontally before her but on her right-hand side while pointing at him as the road to salvation. He is seated on his mother’s arm and is supporting himself by pressing his crossed legsagainst her thigh which symbolizes his future Passion. He is wearing a formal classical costume with a red cloak over his shoulder. He is depicted in half profile which opens up the frontal view of the red clavus on his navy blue chiton.He is blessing with the two fingers of his right hand and at the same time reaching for the unusual flower rendered in pastiglia which the Virgin is raising in her left hand and offering to him. At the same time, she is holding the lower part of Christ’s body tightly with her right hand.Various scholars have dated the icon of the Benedictine Virgin to the early fourteenth century. While Gothic features are particularly evident in the costumes of the donors, the elements such as the modelling of the throne and the presence of the ceremonial cushion belong to the Byzantine style of the thirteenth century. The back of the icon of the Benedictine Virgin features the figure of St. Peter set within a border consisting of a lively and colourful vegetal scroll which could be understood as either Romanesque or Byzantine. However, St. Peter’s identifying titulus is written in Latin while that of the Virgin is in Greek. The figure of St. Peter was painted according to the Byzantine tradition: his striking and severe face is rendered linearly in a rigid composition, which is complemented by his classical contrapposto against a green-gray parapet wall, while the background is of dark green-blue colour. Equally Byzantine is themanner of depicting the drapery with flat, shallow folds filled with white lines at the bottom of the garment while, at the same time, the curved undulating hem of the cloak which falls down St. Peter’s right side is Gothic. The overall appearance of St. Peter is perhaps even more Byzantine than that of the Virgin. Such elements, together with the typically Byzantine costumes, speak clearly of a skilful artist who uses hybrid visual language consisting of Byzantine painting and elements of the Romanesque and Gothic. Of particular interest are the wide nimbuses surrounding the heads of the Virgin and Child (St. Peter has a flat one) which are rendered in relief and filled with a neat sequence of shallow blind archesexecuted in the pastiglia technique which, according to M. Frinta, originated in Cyprus. The Venetian and Byzantine elements of the Benedictine Virgin have already been pointed out in the scholarship. Apart from importing art works and artists such as painters and mosaic makers directly from Byzantium into Venice, what was the extent and nature of the Byzantineinfluence on Venetian artistic achievements in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries? We know that the art of Venice and the West alike were affected by the Fourth Crusade and the sack of Constantinople in 1204, and by the newly founded Latin Empire which lasted until 1261.The Venetians played a particularly significant political and administrative role in this Empire and the contemporary hybrid artistic style of the eastern Mediterranean, called Crusader Art and marked by the strong involvement of the Knights Templar, must have been disseminated through the established routes. In addition to Cyprus, Apulia and Sicily which served as stops for the artists and art works en route to Venice and Tuscany, another station must have been Dalmatia where eastern and western influences intermingled and complemented each other.However, it is interesting that the icon of the Benedictine Virgin, apart from negligible variations, imitates almost completely the iconographic scheme of the Madonna di Ripalta at Cerignola on the Italian side of the Adriatic, which has been dated to the early thirteenth century and whose provenance has been sought in the area between southern Italy (Campania) and Cyprus. Far more Byzantine is another Apulian icon, that of a fourteenth-century enthroned Virgin from the basilica of St. Nicholas at Bari with which the Benedictine Virgin from Zadar shares certain features such as the composition and posture of the figures, the depictionof donors and Christ’s costume. A similar scheme, which indicates a common source, can be seen on a series of icons of the enthroned Virgin from Tuscany. The icon of the Virgin and Child from Prijeko is very important for local Romanesque painting of the late thirteenth and early fourteenth century because it expands the oeuvre of the Master of the Benedictine Virgin. Anicon which is now at Toronto, in the University of Toronto Art Centre Malcove Collection, has also been attributed to this master. This small two-sided icon which might have been a diptych panel, as can be judged from its typology, depicts the Virgin with the Anapeson in the upper register while below is the scene from the martyrdom of St. Lawrence. The Virgin is flanked by the figures of saints: to the left is the figure of St. Francis while the saint on the right-hand side has been lost due to damage sustained to the icon. The busts of SS Peter and Paul are at the top.The physiognomies of the Virgin and Child correspond to those of the Benedictine Virgin and the Prijeko icon. The Anapeson, unlike the one at Dubrovnik, is wrapped in a rich, red cloak decorated with lumeggiature, which covers his entire body except the left fist and shin. On the basis of the upper register of this icon, it can be concluded that the Master of the Benedictine Virgin is equally adept at applying the repertoire and style of Byzantine and Western painting alike; the lower register of the icon with its descriptive depiction of the martyrdom of St.Lawrence is completely Byzantine in that it portrays the Roman emperor attending the saint’s torture as a crowned Byzantine ruler. Such unquestionable stylistic ambivalence – the presence of the elements from both Byzantine and Italian painting – can also be seen on the icons of theBenedictine and Prijeko Virgin and they point to a painter who works in a “combined style.” Perhaps he should be sought among the artists who are mentioned as pictores greci in Dubrovnik, Kotor and Zadar. The links between Dalmatian icons and Apulia and Tuscany have already been noted, but the analysis of these paintings should also contain the hitherto ignored segment of Sicilian and eastern Mediterranean Byzantinism, including Cyprus as the centre of Crusader Art. The question of the provenance of the Master of the Benedictine Virgin remains open although the icon of the Virgin and Child from Prijeko points to the possibility that he may have been active in Dalmatia.However, stylistic expressions of the two icons from Zadar and Dubrovnik, together with the one which is today at Toronto, clearly demonstrate the coalescing of cults and forms which arrived to the Adriatic shores fromfurther afield, well beyond the Adriatic, and which were influenced by the significant, hitherto unrecognized, role of the eastern Mediterranean.

This paper looks at the artistic design of the chapel of the Greek Catholic Seminary in Lviv that was created after the earlier church was destructed in the military events of 1918. Articles in press written after the ceremony of the consecration, the records of greeting speeches of the church leaders who attended the ceremony, and the essays of art critics provide an important insight into the iconographical programme of the chapel and its functioning as the scared space. Rare photographs of iconostasis and photo-fixations of different stages of the interior decoration supplement the narrative sources. Fragments of the iconostasis are stored in the funds of the National Museum in Lviv. These are the works of Petro Kholodnyi the Elder that managed to survive through the destruction of ‘risky’ artworks of 1952. The wall paintings were bleached during the Soviet period, and currently, they cannot be seen, which complicates the research. In this essay, I seek to reveal the initial intentions of the chapel’s patrons and to highlight how the restored interior serves their educational and ideological purposes. I shall discuss the use of symbols of early Christian or Ukrainian origin through the methodological lenses of Yu. Lotman’s theory on construction of interior spaces, semiospheres and their boundaries, A. Lidov’s concept of hierotopy. I shall address the use of particular symbols and signs and their role and provide explanatory texts from the Bible in order to trace their origin. Particular attention shall be paid to the patron’s understanding and articulation of the main purposes of sacral art and to the impact their understanding might have had on the artistic style. Thus, I shall focus on the use of the elements of Byzantine style in decoration of the chapel, for this style was of primary importance for church leaders and artists involved.

Theoretically, the Byzantine Emperor was, just like in the times of the Roman Empire, chosen on the basis of his personal qualities and merits ? by the grace of God, of course. Practically, the factors which determined the ascension of a person to the throne were much more complex, the methods of gaining power being multifarious. In consequence, the political philosophy was confronted with the question of whether it is virtue (aret?) or origin (g?noz) that defines an Emperor. Independently of this rather theoretical question, however, and despite the claims that the personal qualities are decisive in the choice of the Emperor, the origin of the ruler played an important role in the consciousness of the Byzantines of all epochs. This is why great attention was paid to the creation of family trees, especially in the cases when the Emperor was of low origin (homo novus) or when it was for some reason necessary to strengthen his legitimacy. The choice of the genealogy was not random: since it carried a clear political message, it was of utmost importance with whom the Emperor in power would be associated and whose historical deeds or legendary personality would serve as a moral model. Also important is the fact that the search of a "good family" was as a rule triggered by the need to confirm one's own virtue. Thus, genealogies often reflect a certain system of values, usually emphasizing morality, courage in war, care for the welfare of the country, piety, etc. The choice of the archetype depended, of course, on the needs of the ruler for whom the genealogy was created. All this allows us to consider legendary genealogies as an expression of the imperial ideology. Notwithstanding their chronological diversity, the Byzantine imperial genealogies display very similar characteristics, i.e. they contain stereotypical elements, many of which had been established already in the first centuries of the Eastern Empire. In the early Byzantine period, when Christianity was still young, Emperors were frequently associated with pagan gods and semi gods, like Jupiter, Mars or Hercules. The Roman tradition of the eastern part of the Empire is also reflected in the fictive genealogies, so that the Emperors often chose Western Emperors or illustrious personalities and families of the Republican Era as their ancestors. The convention of establishing genealogical relations with the past rulers or their families (e.g. Claudius Gothicus, Trajan, the Flavii) served on one hand to create the impression of continuity and legitimacy, and on the other, to affirm the proclaimed system of values, since individual Roman Emperors had by that time become the prototypes of certain values (so Nerva stood for tranquility, Titus for philanthropy, Antoninus for high morality, Hadrian for justice and legality, Trajan for a successful military leader). In the same fashion, the creation of the family ties with persons from the Roman republican past, like the members of the family of the Scipios or Gnaeus Pompeius, was instrumental in the emphasizing of not only noble origin but also virtue. Interestingly enough, whereas the bonds with the Roman state are permanently evoked, the exempla from the Greek history play only a minor role in legendary genealogies (mostly Corinthians and Spartans, sometimes even mythical nations, like Homer's Pheacians). The central position of the Roman ideology is also reflected in the tendency to establish direct geographical connections between the origin of the ruler and either Rome itself or one of the Western provinces, so that the motif of migration is often found in the genealogies. On the other hand, Byzantine writers sometimes tended to boast with their knowledge of the history of the Ancient Orient, connecting famous personalities (like Artaxerxes) or dynasties (Achaemenids, Arsacids) with the Emperor whose genealogy they were composing. A special place in legendary genealogies is occupied by Constantine the Great. Almost as a rule, the genealogies postulate a kinship with him, often confirming it with the alleged physical resemblance. Depending on the purpose of the genealogy, certain purported features of Constantine's character were emphasized, so that he is alternately mentioned as a protector of the Christian faith, a triumphant military leader, or as a wise administrator of the Empire. Apart from that, the motifs of founding the new Capital and the migration of the Roman patrician families to Constantinople represent important topoi in this literary genre. The two most fascinating specimens of legendary genealogies in the Byzantine literature ? those of Basil I the Macedonian and Nikephoros III Botaneiates ? show that the choice of the elements of which the genealogy is composed (personality, family, dynasty) is at the same time a strong indication of the reason why it was composed in the first place. The genealogy of Basil the Macedonian was doubtlessly conceived by more than one person. It is quite certain that the idea to compose it originally came from Photios and was taken over by Basil's descendents ? his son Leo VI and his grandson Constantine VII Porphyrogennetos. The core of Basil's legendary genealogy is the story of his origin from the Parthian-Armenian dynasty of Arsacids (an indication of the Armenian origin of the founder of the Macedonian dynasty?). Constantine Porphyrogennetos elaborated this story further, describing in some detail the fate of Arsac's descendents, to whom Basil was allegedly related on his father's side, in the Byzantine Empire. This, of course, does not mean that he forgot to create connections between his grandfather and the standard legendary ancestors, like Constantine the Great (on Basil's mother's side) and Alexander the Great (the common ancestors of both Basil's parents). This apocryphal family tree certainly has its roots in the fact that the founder of the Macedonian dynasty was a parvenu of low origin, whose ascent to the throne was maculated by the murder of his predecessor and benefactor Michael III: apart from providing Basil with the noble origin, the genealogy was supposed to strengthen his right to the crown. One should keep in mind, though, that Basil's genealogy was written in the time of "Macedonian renaissance", so that its content is doubtlessly partly a product of the erudition of the compilers. In the course of time, legendary genealogies were enriched with new elements, stemming from the Byzantine history in the narrower sense of the word. The genealogy of Nikephoros III Botaneiates, compiled by Michael Attaleiates in the second half of the 11th century, is a good illustration to this. In contrast to Basil the Macedonian's genealogy, it is interwoven with real historical data, so that it cannot be called 'legendary' in its entirety. It would probably be more appropriate to call it a genealogy of both the Phokades and the Botaneiatai, since its core is made up of an invented story of the origin of the famous Byzantine family of Phokades, from which the family of Botaneiatai purportedly stems. The genealogy is clearly divided into three parts. In the first part, Attaleiates develops a theory according to which the Phokades are descendents of the Roman patrician families of Fabii and Scipios. The second part is devoted to the elaboration of the genealogical connection between the Phokades and the Botaneiatai, a tour deforce achieved by the claim that the latter are direct descendents of Nikephoros II Phokas, who is not only the central figure of this part in his capacity as an ancestor of Nikephoros III, but also as a model of a virtuous Emperor. Comparable to the habit of other writers to single out one or another characteristic trait of Constantine the Great according to their needs, Attaleiates concentrates on Nikephoros Phokas' military qualities, which are similar to those possessed by his "descendent" Botaneiates, and emphasizes the physical resemblance between the two rulers. In all likelihood, the part on the genealogy of the Phokades, as well as the story of Nikephoros Phokas, were taken over from an earlier tradition dealing with this renowned family, which Attaleiates implicitly mentions when he says that he had used 'an old book' and some other writings. As indicated above, the last, third, part of the genealogy, devoted to the deeds of Nikephoros Botaneiates' father and grandfather, does not fit the narrow definition of a legendary genealogy, despite the exaggerations Attaleiates uses in order to satisfy the demands of the genre. The description of Nikephoros Botaneiates' family tree represents merely an excursus within Attaleiates' History, but its composition has nevertheless an internal coherence and logic. Namely, all parts of the genealogy (the histories of the Fabii/Scipios, Phokades, and Botaneiatai) have one characteristic in common: the stories of the military deeds of the members of these families are used as an illustration of the military virtues of Nikephoros III. Since the hidden intention of the panegyric for Nikephoros III Botaneiates is to justify his usurpation of the throne, it is clear that a genealogy in this form ? especially the section pertaining to Nikephoros Phokas and his kinship with the usurper's father and grandfather ? represents a good basis for a legalistic interpretation of the coup d'?tat of 1078. The permeation of legendary genealogies with the Byzantine history is not confined only to individual Emperors which, like Nikephoros II Phokas, get assigned the role of the ancestor and moral model: some aristocratic families, most often the Phokades and the Doukai, also became moral exempla, serving to prove the reputation and the nobility of the ruler. As in the case of the Phokades, there is also a legendary tradition surrounding the family of Doukai, which made them a kind of model family: Being related to them became a measure of nobility, since it allowed the less prominent families to occupy a more distinguished place on the hierarchy of the Byzantine nobility. The prominence certain family names achieved ? mostly those of the families which created a dynasty ? led from the beginning of the 12th century until the fall of the Empire to free adoption and combination of more different surnames (mostly Doukai, Komnenoi, Angeloi, Palaiologoi, Kantakouzenoi, etc.). This, in turn, led to the creation of fictitious family trees. This kind of apocryphal construction of one's own origin was characteristic not only of the Byzantine culture but rather represented a very common phenomenon in the medieval world. In the medieval Serbia, for instance, its dissemination was fostered by the translation of the writings of the Byzantine chroniclers (Georgios Monachos, John Malalas, Constantine Manasses, and John Zonaras), so that legendary genealogies, written according to the Byzantine pattern, became an expression of the wish to include one's own history into the flow of the world history. Finally, a note on the reception of this genealogical line of thought. Parallel to the fictitious genealogies, there also existed a consciousness about them: Just like the development and the functional load of genealogies reveals a lot about the attitudes of the Byzantines towards power, so do the Byzantine writers who often criticize and ridicule the genealogies of individual Emperors. .

The present paper is based on materials of different genres and different styles of Ukrai- nian written monuments of the 16th and the 17th centuries (acts, court documents, wills, deeds, documents of church and school fraternities, chronicles, works of religious, polemi- cal and fiction, memos of scientific and educational literature, liturgical literature, episto- lary heritage, etc.) which are included in the source database of the Dictionary of Ukrainian language of the 16th century and the first half of the 17th century and its unique lexical card index, which is stored at the Ukrainian Language Department in the I. Krypiakevych Institute of Ukrainian Studies of the National Academy of Sciences of Ukraine (Lviv). The composition and structural organization of Church Slavonic lexemes meaning ‘God; God’s face’ as well as their origin and history are studied.It was found that the register of this vocabulary included more than fifty phonetic and graphic Church Slavonic elements expressing the concept of ‘God; God’s face’ different in word-forming structure. The main attention is paid to the etymological analysis of the studied tokens, which was primarily to clarify their semantic etymon. It is established that the analyzed Church Slavonicisms are mostly semantic loans from the Greek language, which preserved their semantics from ancient times to the Old Ukrainian period.It is observed that some studied tokens often act as core components of various two-, three-, or four-membered lexicalized phrases. The most active multifunctional core com- ponent was the token Lord. It is established that fixed phrases and phraseologisms are of different types in structure, mostly two-component noun + adjective phrases (sporadically, there are other lexical-grammatical models, too: “noun + noun”, “preposition + adjective”). Much less observable are three-component formations (“noun + verb + pronoun“, “verb + pronoun + noun“) and four-component models (“verb + preposition + pronoun + noun”).It was found that the Church Slavonic words attested in the Ukrainian memos of the 16th and the 17th centuries did not undergo significant semantic changes in the process of formation of religious vocabulary. Some Church Slavonicisms have gone through a partial semantic modification, and some have acquired new semantics due to fixed phrases. Some words that point to God’s face are characterized by polysemy and synonymy.The evolution of the analyzed Church Slavonicisms is different. Some of them have survived to our time and are actively used in the Ukrainian literary language or dialects, while others function only in a special area: in the church practice of the Byzantine rite (Orthodox Church of Ukraine, Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church).

Introduction. In ancient mythology, the image of Hercules is one of the most popular, and his heroic cult is one of the most common. Having emerged from the “conglomerate of folk tales”, the image of Hercules was actively assimilated by the Greek and then Roman literary tradition. Hercules was a very popular hero among Greek tragic and especially comic poets. In Roman times, the final systematization of the image took place. The key role in this process was played by the works of Apollodorus “The Mythological Library” (2nd century BC), “Pictures” by Philostratus the Younger (2nd century BC) and “Description of Hellas” by Pausanias (2nd century BC). Within the framework of the classical tradition, the image of Hercules in Roman times was finally formed and unambiguous. Hercules is a hero, a demigod, the son of Zeus and Alcmene, who possessed amazing strength, who killed his children (and the children of his brother Iphicles) in an act of madness. He performed 12 labours at the request of Eurystheus. Hercules lived with the Lydian queen Omphale dressing in a woman’s dress. He was poisoned by his wife Deianira, burned at the stake on Mount Eta and ascended to Olympus, where he became the spouse of Hebe. Methods. The hermeneutic methodology, which ensured the correct understanding and interpretation of the text of the Suda dictionary and the ancient texts, on which this “antique” dictionary was based, is used in the article. The toolkit of the hermeneutic circle (pre-understanding and understanding of the text, interpretation of the whole based on knowledge of its parts) made it possible to highlight key elements (plots, signs and symbols) of the philosophical image of Hercules in the entries of the dictionary. Results. We can see a kind of “muscular Christianity”, when the strength of the body still corresponds to moral perfection and the withdrawal from the world does not contradict the active entry into the still polis institutions of urban life in Byzantine cities, among which the most important was the hippodrome and sports competitions. Christian authors actively used traditional sports metaphors and images of wrestling, but filled them with new Christian content. In the dictionary of the Suda, there is a kind of replacement of images that embody the samples of virtue. Hercules always loses to Job. It is indicative that the Christian rhetoric, relying on the philosophical symbolism of the apotheosis of Hercules, using the “sports” terminology of struggle, ignores the developed philosophical symbolism of Hercules, and fights against the mythological “fables” about Hercules. Using cynical and stoic terminology, Christian rhetoric opposes the comedic and dramatic image of Hercules, as Herodore of Heracles did in the 5th century BC. That is, the enemy is borrowed from Christian rhetoric along with philosophical symbols and terminology describing a difficult life full of trials as a virtue.

This paper is an attempt to show the similarity between the Serbian and Greek Post-Byzantine chanting traditions, especially those which relate to the scale organization of modes. Three teachers and reformers from Constantinople, Chrisantos, Gregorios and Chourmousios, established a fairly firm theoretical system for the first time during the long history of church chant. One of the main results of their reform, beside changes relating to neums, was the assignment of strict sizes to the intervals in the natural tonal system. There are three kinds of natural scales: diatonic, chromatic and encharmonic. They all have their place in the Greek Anastasimatarion chant book, whose first edition was prepared by Petar Peloponesios, and later edited by Ionnes Protopsaltes. The first, first plagal and forth plagal modes are diatonic in each of their melos, with very few exceptions; the second and second plagal are soft and hard chromatic, while the third and varis are encharmonic. It is important to note that the Greek chanter is very conscious of the scale foundation of the melody, so he begins to chant the apechima foremost, the intonation formula that comprehends all indisposed details to enter the adequate mode, i. e. melos. One mode could use one sort of scale for all groups of melodies - melos. However, in some modes there are different melos, whose scale organisation is not equal at all. That means that it is not proper to equate mode with scale, but rather to look for the specific scale's shape through the melodies that belong to the melos. The absence of formal Serbian church music theory and, especially, the very conservative way in which church melodies are learnt by ear and by heart, has caused significant gaps, which preclude an adequate approach to the essentional principals of Serbian chant. Over the years many Serbian chanters and musicians have noted down church melodies, especially those from the Octoechos, in F or in G, with the key defined as either major or minor. However, it ought to be said that Serbian chanters in the recent past, as well as those who take part in worship today, do not consciously connect the mode, melos or melody with scale progression, but rather with melodic patterns. In other words, neither in the 19th century nor today have Serbian chanters sung characteristic intonation formulae for their respective scale structures, when crossing from one mode to another. The reason this practice has already been mentioned: they learn complete melodies by heart, without thinking about their scale system. In this paper I looked for a proper methodology by which similarities and changes between Greek and Serbian chanting traditions could be discovered. The basis for my comparison was served by the main chant book in two, very popular versions: the Greek Anastasimatarion of Joannes Protopsaltes and the Serbian Octoechos by Stevan Mokranjac. In the analysis it was essential to abstract important data concerning differences between the natural and tempered tone systems, which originated in the natural neumatic and staff notation, respectively. Greek melodies were transcribed, but with additional sharp and flat signs to indicate the natural values of intervals. In contrast, most Serbian melos were transposed into the final tones of the respective Greek hymns. The comparison confirmed my original expectations. The scale progression of Serbian melodies correspond to the natural scale progression of Greek hymns of the first, first plagal - fifth, third, varis - the third plagal and eight modes. They have the main tones which appear at the end of melodic patterns along with other main tones which represent the framework of the melody. Obvious discrepances are present in the syllabic, so called eirmologic melos of the second, fourth and sixth modes. Serbian scribes of church melodies generally noted these hymns in major (IVth and VIth modes) or major-minor (IInd mode), whereas in neumatic chant soft chromatic is typical for melodies of the same modes (IInd and IInd plagal) and the scale known as legetos hymns (of the IVth mode). But if one tries to chant Serbian melodies of the IInd and VIth modes using the intervals of the chromatic scale, and the melodies of IVth mode with intervals of legetos scale, the resulting sound is surprising. The similarity between the two traditions appears more than obvious. As an excuse for such an experiment, Mokranjac's testimony about his chanters serve well: 'these melodies never give the major third its full height. They sing it a little lower, not because the mode could not encompass a major third but because it goes against the character of these melodies that stand as they are written down here, and as they are sung by all our older experienced singers'. By accepting the staff notation system, Serbian church melodies are graphically fixed in the tempered major-minor system. The process of learning them from notes, especially using intonation from a piano or other temperd instrument, has meant that the various sizes of intervals of the second and third have led to only two sizes in the tempered system. Despite the consequences arising from the use of the staff system, which evidently reflect modern Serbian chant practice, it is a fact that key melodic elements from the neumatic chant tradition of the Orthodox people in the Balkans have been preserved.

The article presents the Council of Chalcedon; its theological and historical context and its consequences. The author starts with the theological context of this Council. In that time the question of relation between humanity and divinity in Christ was discussed. Apollinarius of Laodicea taught that in the person of Christ there were two elements: the Logos and the body. The Logos replaced the soul. He propagated the formula mia physis tou theou logou sesarkomene. Others theologians were not agree with his opinion. Generally, there were two theological schools which worked on this matter: school of Alexandria and of Antioch. In the first one, the Christ was seen especially as God who became man. In the second one, He was seen as the man who was God’s Son. With other words, in Alexandria the starting point of reflection was the Divinity of Christ. In Antioch the starting of reflection was His humanity. The author mentioned Eutyches whose ideas on Christology produced a lot of trouble. In such a context, the Council of Chalcedon was organized (451). It was the proposal of Emperor Marcjan. The Council, after having condemned Eutyches and Dioskur of Alexandria because of their position on theological matter, proclaimed a new definition of the catholic faith. The base of this definition was the Letter of Pope Leo the Great Ad Flavianum. The most important point of this definition was the statement that Divinity and humanity meet in Christ, and both form one person. Such a declaration seems to be clear, but it did not satisfy Greek theologians. They did not want to accept the formula two natures (duo physeis) in one person, because in their opinion it signifies a separation between the Divinity and the humanity of Christ. They preferred to speak about mia physis tou Theou Logou sesarkomene. Surely, by the term physis they did not understand nature, but a being. While saying mia physis they did not mean one nature, but one being. In their conception, Jesus Christ was a Being in which met Divinity and humanity. Many theologians were suspicious of the term person (prosopon); they supposed that it had a modalistic meaning. The main opinion of Modalists is: there is only One God who appears sometimes as Father, sometimes as Son, sometime as Holy Spirit. There were also other reasons of contesting the definition of Chalcedon. It was known that that this definition was imposed by the Greek emperor, influenced by the Bishop of Rome (Pope). Many theologians, especially in monastic milieu, did not want to accept the intervention of the civil authorities in religious matter. They did not have a very good opinion about Latin theology. In the fifth century there were some anti-Hellenic tendencies in the eastern part of the Empire. Many Oriental theologians rejected the definition of Chalcedon because it was „a for­mula of Rom and Constantinople”. In such circumstances, a lot of Christians separated themselves from the Catholic Church, forming Monophysite Churches. Those who remained in unity with Rome and Constantinople, keeping the defini­tion of Chalcedon, were called Melchites. Another problem was the canon 28, which gave some privileges to the bishop see of Constantinople. Pope Leo the Great did not approve this canon. Anti-Hellenic tendencies were so strong that in the time of Islamic invasions the people of Palestine, Syria, and Egypt welcomed Arabic soldiers as liberators from Byzantine domination. It is to be said that Arabic authorities, after having taken power in a country, were friendly towards Monophysites and persecuted Melchites. So, the contestation of the definition of Chalcedon prepared the ground for the victory of Islam in the East. The article is ended by an observation of a French theologian Joseph Moingt: declaration that Divinity and humanity make union the person of Jesus Christ produced division not only in the Church, but also in the Roman Empire. This is one of great paradoxes in the history of Christianity.

The church of St Mary at Pula was rededicated to St Nicholas in 1583 when it was handed over for the use of the Greek Orthodox community of refugees from Crete and the Peloponnese. During the seventeenth and eighteenth century, various structures (the bell-tower, the narthex, the sacristy) were added along the eastern and northern sides of the church, several door and window openings were walled in, and the lintel and jambs of the main portal were replaced; however, the main architectural core has remained well-preserved. It has a single-cell structure of square ground plan with an eastern apse, which is semicircular in shape in the inside but polygonal on the outside. The dimensions of the church are based on a module of ten Byzantine feet (c. 31.25 cm); the church is 20 feet wide and 30 feet long, while a 10 foot square can fit into the apse. In the interior is a well-preserved triumphal arch. It is composed of a pair of marble columns with capitals which carry a large, central arch. The composite capitals possess an interesting detail: the centres of the capitals on opposing sides were left undecorated and so it can be concluded that these capitals were intended for insertion in a multi-apertured structure which was screened off with a transenna. Such capitals can be seen on large early Byzantine structures, and two similar capitals are placed in the atrium of the Basilica of Euphrasius at Poreč (mid-sixth century). This detail provides evidence about a technique used in the church’s construction, which made extensive use of prefabricated, often even imported elements of architectural decoration. The same type of marble used for the columns of the triumphal arch was used for the parts of the small trifore window set on the façade. In the scholarly literature to date, this trifore has been considered late medieval, but the carving details are identical to those on the parts of the triumphal arch and altar posts at the church of St Nicholas. The masonry of the wall also points to the fact that it had not been inserted in the sixth-century façade at a later date. In the centre of the apse is a marble block which belonged to an altar base, having four holes which still bear the lower parts of the small posts which originally carried the altar table. The remains of the altar can be seen on the photographs which document the restoration works in 1962. The altar remains were subsequently covered with a new altar structure which was removed during the works in 2000. In 1962, when the filling of the window in the south wall was removed, B. Marušić discovered a part of a marble post with a simple capital which he recognized as belonging to the aforementioned altar. Based on this data, a reconstruction of the altar has been proposed in a drawing. B. Marušić also discovered two stone transennae in the walled in-windows of the south wall, which were smaller than the original structure of the window opening and for this reason he suggested that they belonged to a later intervention. The transennae were removed and transported to the Archaeological Museum of Istria for safekeeping. During the 2000 works, fragments of identical transennae were also found in two apse windows, while a complete transenna was discovered in the walled-in window on the north face which was obscured by the addition of the bell-tower. Similar and identical transennae are found on the nearby chapel of Santa Maria Formosa, the remainder of a large basilica which was built in the mid-sixth century by the archbishop of Ravenna Maximian. In the vicinity of Pula, at least three more examples of similar transennae were found, all of which can be compared to the shape of a wooden window frame from the church of Sant’Apollinare in Classe at Ravenna. A number of arguments suggest that the aforementioned transennae belong to the first phase of the church of St Nicholas.

AbstractThe creation of the Norman kingdom of Sicily was complemented by the development of a unique court milieu encompassing elements from the Latin West, Byzantium, and the Islamic world. The churches of Palermo, in particular, became the focus of a sophisticated project of experimentation and combination of different artistic traditions, to convey an artificial image of equilibrium among élites and communities of three different denominations: Latin, Greek-Byzantine, and Arabo-Christian. Through the creation and subversion of architectural boundaries, the promotion of certain forms of visual hybridity, the transgression of artistic media, and the articulation of new liminal spaces, the Norman rulers transformed their churches and cathedrals into an ideal stage for performing their liturgy of kingship, and conveying the message of a multi-faceted religious system unified and harmonized only through the king, as supreme head of the Church and vicar of Christ.

Abstract The article analyzes the processes of Greek-Latin dialogue, ethno-cultural Cypriot-Latin integration, the formation of the Cypriot mentality in the kingdom of the crusaders in Cyprus in the XIII–XVth centuries. The author emphasizes that the political, social and economic development of the state inevitably entailed the need for dialogue between different ethnic groups and the formation of a new social and cultural community in Cyprus. In the XIII century mutual understanding and cooperation between the two ethnic groups were greatly obstructed due to distrust and fear of the conquerors towards the conquered). The subdued, in turn, needed to learn how to live with the conquerors, how to recognize them, while at the same time preserving their own traditions, language and Orthodox faith. The Orthodox church was the most important institute, that consolidated and preserved the Greek community in the Frankish Cyprus. The situation begins to change no earlier than in the middle of the XIVth century. The Greeks themselves begin to seek common ground with the conquerors. The first example of a deep Greek-Latin cooperation is the family of the famous Cypriot chronicler Leontios Machiras. The merchants and craftsmen as a whole were more mobile, pragmatic and ready for integration. The Frankish nobility, on the contrary, was closed for a long time and prevented the formation of an elite among the indigenous population. The Cypriot-Genoese war of 1373–1374 contributed to overcome the bias and prejudice of the Latin nobility towards the Greeks. Military and human losses as well as the political struggle at the royal court lead to a decrease in the number of Cypriot nobility. Replenishment of its ranks with new members was possible from the local population. The process of anoblation of some local Greek families begins in the end of the XIVth century and continues during the XVth century. At first, the penetration of the Greeks into the Latin nobility begins at the level of personal contacts, personal trust of the kings and of the Latin nobility towards some representatives of other ethnic groups and only then this process reaches social, juridical and political spheres. In parallel, there is a community that identifies itself as «Cypriots» forming during that time. In this case the ethnic origin doesn’t play a paramount role. A «Cypriot» means a citizenship of the Cypriot kingdom, place of birth and submission to the king. At the same time theGreek-Cypriots keep their Byzantine identity. The Greek language that penetrates into the Latin society, the Orthodox faith and historical memory helped them in this respect. The Greek-Cypriots accept the Latin society and power, considering the history of the Kingdom of Cyprus as part of the Byzantine world, and the continuation of the Crusader Kingdom of Jerusalem. Based on the analysis of manuscript collections, education, theatre, and influence of the Italian Renaissance on the royal court the author concludes, that the perception of elements of a foreign culture and their incorporation into their own lead to a change in both the Greeks and the Latins of Cyprus not only in consciousness, mentality, but also in the subconsciousness, at the psychological level. Over the long years of Latin rule the Greeks adopted a feeling of impossibility to change the situation, the need to accept the Latin conquest of the island and adapt to it. The Latins, for their part, never regarded the conquered territory as a colony, which they simply exploited. They strongly demonstrate and prove that this is their land, which they defended as their own. Such a policy increased the confidence of the local population in the new government, forced it to rally around it, and engage in a dialogue and cooperation with it. Thus, Cyprus gives a brilliant example of a deep interpenetration, infiltration and integration of Latin and Greek cultures in the XIV–XVth centuries.

The question of colour in architecture offers many potential points of entry. Taking an historical standpoint, one could discuss the use of bright colour in ancient Greek and Roman architecture, the importance of brilliantly coloured mosaic and stained glass to sacred architecture in the Byzantine and medieval periods, and the primacy of colour in non-Western architectural traditions both ancient and modern. It would be possible to trace prohibitions against the use of applied colour, derived from late 18th century notions of architectural morality—ideals demanding authenticity, honesty and directness in the expression of structure, function and materials. This puritan strand could be pursued into the modern movement, to its quasi-pathological attachment to whiteness.1 It would also be possible to note a trend which ran counter to dominant modernist attitudes to colour, in the eclectic 'neon historicism' of so-called 'post-modernist' architecture. But while it would be remiss of me not to acknowledge the history of colour in architecture in passing, it has been well addressed elsewhere, and is in any case outside the scope of this paper.2 What is significant is that this history is marked throughout by many of the same, largely unspoken, prohibitions against colour that can be traced across other cultural realms—that which David Batchelor has described as a history of 'chromophobia'. As Batchelor writes; 'Chromophobia manifests itself in the many and varied attempts to purge colour from culture, to diminish its significance, to deny its complexity…. [T]his purging of colour is usually accomplished in one of two ways. In the first, colour is made out to be the property of some 'foreign' body—usually the feminine, the oriental, the primitive, the infantile, the vulgar, the queer or the pathological. In the second, colour is relegated to the realm of the superficial, the supplementary, the inessential or the cosmetic. In one, colour is regarded as alien and therefore dangerous; in the other it is perceived merely as a secondary quantity of experience, and thus unworthy or serious consideration.'3 Numerous examples of the attempt to 'purge' colour can be identified throughout the history of architecture in the modern period. The mode of chromophobia particular to architecture may be summarised thus: colour in architecture has been associated with illusion and frivolity, and thus with decoration—it has been seen as being excess or supplementary to 'real' architecture.4 Discussions of colour in architecture can never be completely distinguished from discussions of ornament, or of materials and materiality. Colour is not necessarily a problem in itself—it is acceptable, for instance, when it is inherent to the material or to its weathering process, as in the bright green of copper verdigris. It is the application of colour, in the form of paint or stain, that raises questions of authenticity. The importance of surface and colour have been consistently made subordinate to architectural form; and the idea that colour is acceptable in interiors but not exteriors is merely the expression of another hierarchy, linking and demoting the trivial, contingent, feminised interior in favour of universal, masculinized, heroic external form. In the modern period, a work of 'serious' Architecture (as opposed to vernacular, commercial, or 'popular' architecture) has most often either been white, or coloured in the subdued palette afforded by the inherent characteristics of 'natural' materials.5 This is nowhere more true than in institutional architecture generally, and museum architecture in particular. Museums and their stake in the neutral monochrome The museum as an institution has traditionally functioned as a symbol of the establishment and its authority, a symbolic role often expressed in conventionally monumental architecture. This monumentality has, in turn, been reinforced by prestigious materials: much of the dignity and status of institutional architecture is taken from materials valued for their expense, rarity, or durability.6 Museum buildings are required to last, and thus they must not only use enduring materials, but materials which demonstrate their durability by being self-finishing in their natural, apparently neutral, state. The very idea that 'natural' materials are also somehow 'neutral' opens onto another, more ideological investment that the museum has in avoiding colour. Museums have long held a stake in the idea of an objective stance, and maintained the pretence of an unmediated presentation of historical fact. The notion of the museum as 'white cube' embodies all of this—the idea of the white cube, with its aformal form and achromatic colour, signifies purity and transcendence. Just as the whiteness of modern architecture was a continuation of the hygienic whiteness of doctor's coat, bathroom tiles, and hospital walls, the whiteness of the museum signifies clinical objectivity.7 It also, perhaps more significantly, stands for the ideal of the tabula rasa, the clean slate upon which the documentary evidence of art, history, or any other metanarrative could be methodically examined and arranged. For the museum, abandoning the neutrality of its public presentation may also mean a symbolic abandonment of objectivity. It would mean, if not a surrender to partiality, at least the admission of partiality—and the renunciation of universal whiteness for the specificities of colour. In the modern period, applied colour can never be neutral, but is read as mask, disguise, or stain. In the postmodern period, the discourse of the 'new museology' has challenged and discredited many of the ideological complicities of the idea of the museum as 'white box', linked as they are with a suspiciously absolutist rhetoric of abstract purity. Museums have increasingly begun to render explicit their role in the re-presentation of history, and to work at recontextualising ideas and artefacts. But even if a critical and self-reflexive stance is now more common in museological practice, it has taken much longer to begin to inform museum architecture. It would be a very courageous museum indeed that was willing to cash in all of the chips of its cultural authority, of which prestigious monumental architecture is a particularly powerful source. Most museums are still, if not white, at least respectably neutral, inside and out. But not so the National Museum of Australia (NMA). This museum, in its polychromatic formal complexity, could hardly be further from a 'white cube' museum. The National Museum of Australia: flirting with the flippant The NMA is housed in a loud and gregarious building. From its controversial strategy of literally appropriating elements from other canonical modernist works, through the coded messages of the Braille patterns on its surface, to the device of the extruded string and red 'knot' which passes through and around the building's form, it is relentless in its challenge to conventional institutional architecture. This is nowhere more true than in its colouration—there is hardly a neutral tone in sight. For that matter, there is hardly a 'natural' material in sight either—the majority of the building is constructed from pre-formed aluminium panelling in grey, yellow, red and khaki, crossed in places by sweeping calligraphic symbols.8 The dramatic aerial loop at the museum's entry is white and bright orange. There are walls of black dimpled pre-formed concrete, blue painted poles (get it?), a 'Mexican wave' of multicoloured steel sheets, and of course the richly cacophonous Garden of Australia Dreams. There are also some deliberate plays on colour symbolism—Le Corbusier's gleaming white modernist classic, the Villa Savoye, is reversed and reconstituted in black, corrugated steel. The fact that this forms part of the Institute of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Studies is a hint of the building's clear, even dangerously frank, employment of colour symbolism. Given the architects previous work, we can safely assume that in this case, as elsewhere in the building, the choice of colours is calculated for maximum rhetorical effect. But I am less concerned here with the specific ploys of the architects than with the ways in which the building's reception has been conditioned by its employment of colour, specifically the ways in which it has been construed as populist. The NMA has polarised the architectural community in Australia. While much of the comment directed at the building has centred around its contravention of standards of taste and propriety in civic architecture, I would argue that this is only the symptom of a deeper reaction against its apparent frivolity, as signified most strongly by its colour. This is exemplified in a critique of the building by Stephen Frith, a respected Canberra academic. Concluding a polemical review in the Canberra Times, Frith asks: But why such tongue-lashings and breast-beatings over what has quickly established itself as a happy theme park to mediocrity? Surely its condoning of the ruthless kitsch of petty capitalism in its imagery and finishes provides for some spectre of merit? The problem becomes one of the civic domain in which architecture and its rhetoric is interpreted. For a supposedly public work, the museum is an intensely private building, privately encoded with in-jokes, and in the end hugely un-funny... The confection of cheap cladding and plasterboard is a spurious sideshow of magpie borrowings passing themselves off as cultural reference...9 Everything in this passage decries what Frith reads as the NMA's verisimilitude of popularity - the reference to theme-parks, sideshows, commercialism - a confection constructed with poor quality materials and finishes, which nevertheless flirts 'pretentiously' with the canon of modern architecture. To Frith the building reads not as a cheap and cheerful reflection of the Australian vernacular, but as a demeaning attempt to raise a laugh from the elite at the expense of the uncomprehending masses. His complaint is thus two-fold—that the building has insufficient gravitas, and that this is compounded rather than redeemed by the fact that it is not truly popular at all, but rather 'intensely private'. There is an important distinction to be made here, then, between 'populism' and 'popularity'. Populism has the negative connotation of deliberately seeking popular acceptance at the cost of quality, intellectual rigour, or formal aesthetic value. 'Popularity' still retains its more neutral modern sense, either of actual public involvement, or of things that are socially recognised as popular. In architecture, populism is already hedged about with prohibitions springing from the idea that a deliberately populist architecture is somehow fraudulent. A piece of serious, civic, monumental architecture should neither set out expressly to be popular, nor to look like it is, so the logic goes: if a work of high architecture happens to gain popular acclaim, then that is a happy accident. But there are significant reasons why such popularity must be seen to be incidental to other, more lofty concerns. Given that colour is seen to be 'popular', a highly coloured building is thus assumed to be 'lowering' itself in order to appeal to popular taste. Old systems of thought endure, and both museums and architecture are each subject to an unspoken hierarchy that still sees 'populism', if not actual popularity, as inferior. Conclusions: colour as the sign of a critical engagement But there is another possible reading of the NMA's apparent populism. I would argue that the building in fact presents and problematises the question of popularity in formal architectural terms. This leads to a proposition: that there is a 'look' of populism that exists independently of any intended or actual popularity, or even a connection with popular culture. I would argue that the NMA opens an elaborate play on this 'look' of the popular, and that it does so by manipulating certain key aesthetic devices: literal and figurative elements, visual jokes, non-orthogonal forms, and most significantly, bright and mixed colour. Such devices carry a weight of expectation and association, they cause a building to be read or socially recognised as being populist, largely as a result of pre-existing dichotomies between 'high' and 'low' art. In this conception the NMA, turning the modernist prohibition on its head, uses colour as the deliberately frivolous disguise of a profoundly serious intent. Rather than concealing the absence of meaning, it conceals an overabundance of meaning—a despairing accumulation of piled up allegories, codes and fragments. It is thus deeply ironic that the NMA has been read as a light, flippant, and populist confection, since I would argue that it could hardly be further from being those things. Rather than taking the usual path, of seeking cultural authority through allusion to traditional monumental architecture, the NMA makes perverse references to the seemingly trivial, commercial, and populist. The reasons why the architects might want the building to be (mis)read in this way are complex. But by renouncing the aesthetic trappings of a serious institution, the NMA reveals the very superficiality of such trappings. Furthermore, by renouncing the 'look of authority' in favour of colour, frivolity, and apparent populism, it introduces a note of doubt. Could the building, and thus the institution - a national museum, remember, charged with representing the nation and placed in the national capital - really be as flippant as it seems? Or is there some more subtle game afoot, a subversive questioning of accepted notions of Australian national history and national identity? I would argue that this is so. In the NMA, then, colour is the sign of a critical engagement. It positions the building itself as a discourse or discussion, not only of architectural colour as conferring inferiority and flippancy, but of a lack of colour as conferring authority and legitimacy. Of course, it is precisely because of architecture's history of chromophobia that colour can itself become a tool for subversiveness, provide an invitation to alternative readings, and collapse unspoken hierarchies. In this respect, the colour in and of the NMA provides an emblem of that which has long been marginalised in architecture, and in culture more generally. Notes 1. Mark Wigley writes that the primacy of whiteness in high modernist architecture (particularly the work of Le Corbusier) lies partly in the removal of decoration. '[The] erasure of decoration is portrayed [by Le Corbusier] as the necessary gesture of a civilized society. Indeed, civilization is defined as the elimination of the 'superfluous' in favour of the 'essential' and the paradigm of inessential surplus is decoration. Its removal liberates a new visual order. Echoing an argument at least as old as Western philosophy, Le Corbusier describes civilization as a gradual passage from the sensual to the intellectual, from the tactile to the visual. Decoration's 'caresses of the senses' are progressively abandoned in favour of the visual harmony of proportion.' Mark Wigley, White Walls, Designer Dresses: The Fashioning of Modern Architecture, MIT Press, Cambridge, Mass., 1995, pp. 2-3 2. See for example John Gage's superb and authoritative history of the use and meaning of colour, Colour and Meaning: Art, Science and Symbolism, Thames and Hudson, London, 1999. For a survey of the use of colour in architecture, see Tom Porter, Architectural Colour: A Design Guide to Using Colour on Buildings, Whitney Library of Design, New York, 1982, or the more recent Architectural Design Profile number 120: Colour in Architecture, AD, vol. 66, no 3/4, March/April 1996. These are only a few examples of the available literature. 3. David Batchelor, Chromophobia, Reaktion Books, London, 2000, pp. 22-23. 4. The notable exception to this - the architecture of schools is emblematic in itself: colour is appealing to children, so the logic would go, because they have undeveloped, 'primitive' tastes. 5. William Braham has perceptively examined the allure of 'natural' materials and colours in the modern period. He writes that 'the natural can only be understood as a somewhat flexible category of finishes, not by a single principle of use, manufacture, or appearance. The fact that a family of paint colours neutrals, ochres, and other earth colours fit within the definition of natural is only partly explained by their original manufacture with naturally occurring mineral compounds. Though they are opaque surface coatings, they resemble the tones produced in natural materials by weathering.' He goes on to say that the 'natural/neutral palette' is characterised by 'the difficult pursuit of authenticity', and this question goes indeed to the heart of the issue of colour in architecture. William W. Braham, 'A Wall of Books: The Gender of Natural Colours in Modern Architecture', JAE Journal of Architectural Education, vol. 53. No.1, September 1999, p. 10. 6. But perhaps more important than actual durability in institutional architecture is the appearance of durability, and this appearance is undermined by protective treatments like paint, whether coloured or not. Materials which are seen as flimsy or fragile may as well be coloured, so the logic goes, since they require constant re-painting anyway, and since it fits their low status. 7. Mark Wigley, White Walls, Designer Dresses: The Fashioning of Modern Architecture, MIT Press, Cambridge, Mass., 1995, p. 5. 8. Aluminium panelling is a new technology and a new material one that was unknown in the high modernist period but which is becoming increasingly ubiquitous today. The fact that aluminium panelling is coloured during the manufacturing process opens a new and interesting question: is this colour inherent, or is it simply applied earlier in the building process? Is it, in other words, an 'honest' or a 'dishonest' colour? Given that aluminium does have its own colour, and that it can be lacquered or anodised to retain that colour, it seems that the aluminium panelling of the NMA have been received as 'dishonest'. 9. Frith, 'A monument to lost opportunity', The Canberra Times, 20 March 2001 Citation reference for this article MLA Style Stead, Naomi. "White cubes and red knots" M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 5.3 (2002). [your date of access] < http://www.media-culture.org.au/0207/whitecubes.php>. Chicago Style Stead, Naomi, "White cubes and red knots" M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 5, no. 3 (2002), < http://www.media-culture.org.au/0207/whitecubes.php> ([your date of access]). APA Style Stead, Naomi. (2002) White cubes and red knots. M/C: A Journal of Media and Culture 5(3). < http://www.media-culture.org.au/0207/whitecubes.php> ([your date of access]).