Echoes of the Renaissance

Tassos Papacostas Echoes of the Renaissance in the eastern conines of the stato da mar: Architectural evidence from Venetian Cyprus Writing about an aspect of Renaissance art, however obscure, in a journal devoted primarily to things Byzantine may seem odd. Yet the geographical focus of the brief investigation that follows provides ample justiication: Cyprus, the area in question, was a land of primarily Byzantine traditions throughout the medieval and post-medieval period. Moreover, the colloquium at which the communication forming the basis of the present discussion was delivered (Helsinki, 3 October 2008) was devoted to Encounters between East and West in the Byzantine World.1 Within this speciic context the examination of a particular western artistic current in an eastern land of established Byzantine pedigree is both legitimate and desirable. I hope to show below that it can also be highly rewarding. Background Manifestations of the Italian Renaissance in the art and architecture of the eastern half of the Mediterranean, beyond the shores of the Adriatic, are commonly associated with 16th and 17th-century Crete and with good reason: the island produced a vast body of pictorial art, at least one artist of in1 136 I wish to thank wholeheartedly the organisers, Björn Forsén, Mika Hakkarainen, and the Finnish Society for Byzantine Studies for their kind invitation. Part of the research for this paper was carried out in Venice during the summer of 2007, made possible through a research award from the Gladys Krieble Delmas Foundation (New York) for which I am grateful; I am also most grateful to the Istituto Ellenico di studi bizantini e post-bizantini of Venice and its director, Prof. Chryssa Maltezou, for their hospitality during my stay there. EchoEs of thE REnaissancE in thE EastERn confinEs of thE stato da maR ternational fame, Domenikos Theotokopoulos (El Greco, 1541-1614), and was home to a rich architectural heritage from the period in question that has, sadly, only partially survived. By the time the new trends coming out of Tuscany started having an impact in the city of Venice itself in the mid15th century, Crete had already formed part of the stato da mar for several centuries (since the aftermath of the Fourth crusade) and it maintained the same status long after (until the surrender of Candia in 1669). This allowed Renaissance elements to reach not only its cities but also remote areas of the countryside and to leave their mark in both public monuments (e.g. loggie of Candia/Herakleion and Rethymnon; Bembo, Priuli and Morosini fountains in the former and Rimondi fountain in the latter city) and ecclesiastical structures (e.g. monasteries of Arkadi near Rethymnon and of the Holy Trinity at Akrotiri, church of Prophet Elijah at Perivolia) as well as in domestic architecture.2 The picture obtaining on Cyprus, the largest island that Venice controlled in this period, is markedly different. Cyprus is not known for its Renaissance architecture, despite propitious economic and social conditions prevailing during most of the 16th century and up to its fall to the Ottomans in 1570/71. This may be due to a combination of factors: irstly, the island experienced Venetian rule for only a short period of time compared to Crete, lasting barely a century (1473-1570/71) and, crucially, ending at the very moment when the Renaissance was beginning to make an impact on the output of other Venetian-held territories, not least through architectural treatises published and disseminated in the course of the second half of the 16th century, such as those of Serlio (I sette libri dell’architettura, irst volume 1537, complete edition 1584) and Palladio (I quattro libri dell’architettura, 1570); indeed, most of the relevant monuments on Crete were erected in the later 16th century and in the irst half of the 17th. Secondly, very little survives of its contemporary urban fabric that would have contained the vast majority of architectural inter2 Fatourou-Hesychaki (1983), Dimacopoulos (1977) and (1995) 317 n.18 with further bibliography, and several articles in Gratziou (2007); the standard work of reference is of course still Gerola (1905-32). 137 tassos PaPacostas ventions, especially in the capital Nicosia and the main port, Famagusta. Destruction occurred as a result of the Ottoman sieges of both cities, of subsequent neglect, and of seismic activity that is well documented for the early modern period. A careful look at a representative sample of the little that has survived, however, can be both fruitful and instructive. The principal aim of the following discussion is to do precisely that while at the same time examining the state of the question. It does not purport to be an exhaustive survey, which would of course require a much lengthier treatment. It will nevertheless attempt to posit some preliminary thoughts about the nature and interpretation of the evidence in order to rouse a rather sedate ield. Before embarking on this, however, a word of caution about the use of the term ‘Renaissance’ is required: of course the style of architecture and decoration in the various parts of Italy, and not least in Venice, did not change overnight. What we conveniently call ‘Renaissance’ today, that is the intentional evocation of antique models, very often coexisted with the older traditions of each region, not only within the same city but sometimes also within the same structure. The same is true of Cyprus with a further layer of complexity, in the sense that not all elements and trends with a suspected or obvious Italian afiliation in this period are necessarily classiiable under the Renaissance label. Below only those with strong claims to such an identity will be considered. Venetian Cyprus and the Renaissance Camille Enlart in the 1890s entitled his seminal work on the architectural heritage of Cyprus, the irst major treatment of its kind for the island, L’art gothique et la renaissance en Chypre.3 It is signiicant that the erudite French scholar of Gothic architecture chose to expand the chronological 3 138 Enlart (1899) 1:65-66; see Papacostas (2006) 516-17, with earlier bibliography. EchoEs of thE REnaissancE in thE EastERn confinEs of thE stato da maR and stylistic coverage of his work and include in its title the Renaissance, although only a tiny proportion of the monuments examined therein can be classiied or include elements that can be identiied as its products; they certainly caught his attention. A full century later one of the very few publications that touched again upon the question of the Renaissance on the island (albeit in a very general manner) was the section entitled ‘Relections of the Renaissance in Cyprus’ included in the catalogue accompanying the Byzantine Medieval Cyprus exhibition held in 1997-98 at Thessalonike and Nicosia.4 Despite its title, however, both exhibition and catalogue only dealt with panel painting in the Venetian and Ottoman periods, and with ceramics imported to the island from Italy, some with decoration inspired by contemporary pictorial art in the peninsula. No wider discussion of the manifestations of the Renaissance in either architecture or any other ield was included. Renaissance art and architecture in Cyprus are usually mentioned in the scholarly literature only in the context of the fortiications put up at Nicosia and Famagusta by the Venetian authorities, and in relation to painting, especially monumental, where a strong current combining Palaeologan elements with Italian inluence produced a number of important fresco cycles.5 Outside the study of pictorial art there has been very little progress indeed in the course of the entire 20th century; the reasons for this are related on the one hand to the perception of the Venetian period in historiography, and on the other to the dominating presence of the gargantuan fortiication works that have monopolized attention, at least insofar as the architectural output is concerned. Historians of the 19th and most of the 20th century have not been kind to the period of Venetian domination. Until recently it was consistently depicted in the darkest colours. Although, curiously, this has not affected attempts to assess its artistic legacy (excluding architecture), it has condi4 5 Βυζαντινή μεσαιωνική Κύπρος 207-264. Frigerio-Zeniou (1998) 235-36; Wartburg (2003) with earlier bibliography. 139 tassos PaPacostas tioned the placing of the latter within its wider socio-cultural context. More recent research, however, primarily by Benjamin Arbel, has redressed the balance, convincingly arguing for demographic and economic growth.6 The textual and material evidence strongly suggests that this was accompanied by a healthy religious and cultural life, with vibrant literary, artistic and building activity evidenced by the number of surviving manuscripts, fresco cycles, panel paintings and religious buildings in both villages and monasteries. The comprehensive treatment of the island’s extraordinary literary production in the same period by Gilles Grivaud has shown that both poetry and historiography witnessed an unprecedented although shortlived lourishing in the last decades of Venetian rule, and that the point of reference was unquestionably Italy (the relevant chapter is aptly entitled ‘An astonishing but belated Renaissance’); David Holton’s studies have reached similar conclusions.7 The prevailing interest in Antiquity found a distant echo in practices related to everyday life, such as onomastics: names that had hitherto been rarely if ever used were given in the second half of the 15th and in the 16th century at least to children of families maintaining ties with Italy and belonging to the upper strata of Cypriot society; Hector, Hercules and Jason became particularly popular.8 Another manifestation of the same trend is the increasing interest in the island’s antiquities, witnessed by the archaeological investigations carried out in the mid-16th century by Cypriots educated in Italy and by Venetians visiting or posted to the island.9 With the above observations in mind, it is high time to cast a fresh look at the architecture and architectural decoration of the period. As noted above, the cities of Nicosia and Famagusta were provided with 6 7 8 9 140 Arbel (1995) and (1998); Papacostas (forthcoming). Grivaud (1996) 1109-1204 and (2009) 219-99; Holton (1992) and (1998/1999). See for example Hector Langlois, Hector Laze, Hector and Jason Lusignan, Hector and Jason Nores, Hercules and Jason Flory, Hercules Boussat, but also Hannibal Babin, Phoebus Lusignan, and Caesar, Livio and Medea Podocataro; the patterns of name-giving in this period require of course a detailed study. The above sample has been culled from the tables accompanying Collenberg (1995) and (1984). The evidence from funerary inscriptions is too fragmentary to be of much use in this respect: see the comprehensive corpus by Imhaus (2004). Calvelli (2009: 140-55); see also Hermary (1985) and Grivaud (1986). EchoEs of thE REnaissancE in thE EastERn confinEs of thE stato da maR vast new defences by the Venetian authorities. Their construction was necessitated by the persistent Ottoman threat and the state and character of the antiquated older fortiications that could not withstand an attack using gunpowder artillery. It also represents a huge effort and investment by the Republic to defend its distant possession, consistently allocating important funds and dispatching well-known engineers to oversee the works, including Michele Sanmicheli with his nephews Giangirolamo Sanmicheli and Luigi Brugnoli, Ercole Martinengo, Sforza Pallavicino, Bernardo Sagredo, Giulio and Ascanio Savorgnan.10 The elaboration of adequate responses to the topographical peculiarities of each city and to developments in military technology is thought to have turned Venetian Cyprus into a testing ground for the development of new types of defences, the circular fortiications of Nicosia (1567) being often cited as a pioneering experiment that served as model for those of Palmanova in Friuli (1593).11 It is important to note, however, that the architecture of these walls, bastions and torrioni is primarily functional and does not lend itself to a treatment that might make use of the new architectural and decorative vocabulary. Only with elements such as gateways could any architectural pretensions come to the fore (as in Michele Sanmicheli’s gates of Verona). As we shall see below, it must have been precisely through these that the Renaissance irst appeared in architecture on Cyprus, towards the end of the 15th century. There may be earlier and sporadic signs of a change in the iconography and style of sculptural decoration, best seen in small-scale artefacts such as carved heraldic panels and funerary slabs which are not, however, securely dated. The supremacy of the ubiquitous earlier type of lat engraved tombstone with incised efigies and inscriptions (known mostly from the churches of Nicosia and Famagusta) was being challenged perhaps as early as the middle of the 15th century, well before the integration of Cyprus into 10 11 Perbellini (1973) and (1986); Menno (1986); Grivaud and Patapiou (1996) 141-83; Patapiou (1999); Coureas, Grivaud and Schabel (forthcoming). Wartburg (2002a) 36 and (2002b) 506. 141 tassos PaPacostas the Venetian empire, by slabs in low relief.12 The earliest example may be an undated specimen from Nicosia (Fig. 1). It commemorates the death of James Urri (Iacobus Urrius), who issued from one of the most prominent families of 15th-century Cyprus and has been identiied with the homonymous oficer of the kingdom assassinated in 1457; Urri, like many leading igures of his time, had links with Italy, as in his youth he had been a student at Padua (1415-19) while later on he was appointed ambassador to Venice.13 If the identiication is correct, something that is far from certain, then Urri’s Italian connections may have been instrumental in the choice of style. The arms of the family appear on a shield in the centre of the fragmentary slab encircled by a competently carved wreath in relief from which stem pairs of ribbons on each side; an open book above bears the engraved Latin inscription, while the lower part of the slab is missing. This type of composition subsequently became popular for such funerary monuments and several examples survive from the 16th century.14 The arms-in-wreath iconography is also known from contemporary funerary slabs elsewhere in the Latin-ruled parts of the eastern Mediterranean: a specimen dated to 1505 was recently excavated in the city of Rhodes (Martinus de Rossca) where the earliest known examples of the type date to 1476 (Iacobus de Prioli) and 1499 (Tommaso Provana). Considering that in Italy the motif spreads in the second half of the 15th century15 the proposed early date of the Cypriot slab (1457) is exceptionally noteworthy; for the very same reason it also raises suspicions that the tombstone may in fact belong to a later namesake of James Urri. This suspicion is strengthened by the fact that the next dated (and admittedly badly preserved) example known from the island does not occur until the year 1513 (?), more than half a century lat12 13 14 15 142 Greenhill (1976) 1:43. Imhaus (2004) no.291; Collenberg (1984) 632. See Imhaus (2004) nos. 50, 53, 133, 134, 213, 263, 264, 390, 505, 533, 565, 737, for comparable examples; fragments of other slabs in various states of preservation published in the same corpus may belong to the same type (nos. 157, 274, 392, 523, 529). Kasdagli and Katsou (2007) 97-99; Colucci (2003) 50-51. EchoEs of thE REnaissancE in thE EastERn confinEs of thE stato da maR er.16 The issue requires further investigation, as additional prosopographical research on the Urri may clarify the identiication and thus shed light on the dating. A relief plaque of uncertain function and origin now in the church of Saint Marina at Tersephanou near Larnaca presents similar problems of identiication and dating. It displays on a shield held by crudely carved winged putti the arms of the Podocataro, another well-known clan of the period related to the Urri. The undated (fragmentary?) Latin inscription along the lower frame of the panel names Peter Podocataro who has been identiied with the owner of the ief of Tersephanou (d. c.1467/68) attested in contemporary sources and often sent on missions abroad, including Venice in 1453 (Fig. 2).17 The Podocataro maintained close links with Italy and Peter’s four out of ive brothers studied in Padua and pursued careers in the Latin church (Louis becoming cardinal in 1500) or as diplomats.18 The iconography of the Tersephanou panel, despite the particularly clumsy execution, recalls Renaissance models (e.g. Pietro Lombardo’s much more elaborate funerary slab of Alvise Diedo at Santi Giovanni e Paolo in Venice) and, if the accepted dating in the middle of the 15th century is correct, testiies to their introduction to the island at an early stage, not long after their appearance in the Veneto.19 These models must have reached Cyprus through portable artefacts such as books, drawings, painted panels or small carved objects that could be easily transported across the sea. The Podocataro panel shows their adoption by local craftsmen who were not adequately trained to produce this type of work. The Urri slab, on the other hand, suggests that in the same period, or more likely by the end of the century, the 16 17 18 19 Imhaus (2004) no. 53; Collenberg (1984) 632 lists another James Urri, attested towards the end of the 15th century. Imhaus (2004) no.708. Peter’s mother was Joanna Urri, sister of the afore-mentioned James Urri; another Peter Podocataro, belonging to a later generation, is attested in the 1520s and ’30s: Mas Latrie (1852-61) 3:498 and Sanuto, Diarii 50:11, 54:171, 56:307-9, 56:724. Collenberg (1993) 167-72. Enlart (1925) 133; Vaivre (2006) 454. On putti in Venetian architectural decoration see Ceriana (2003) 127-30. 143 tassos PaPacostas island boasted accomplished stone carvers who were capable of producing work of a good standard.20 Whether these were locally trained cannot be ascertained at present. Famagusta: the Sea Gate Following these modest and perhaps uncertain yet not entirely inauspicious beginnings in small-scale works, the earliest surviving and securely dated example of Renaissance architecture on Cyprus is the well-preserved Sea Gate at Famagusta, whose architect remains unknown. In the wake of a devastating earthquake that struck the island in 1491 the Republic resolved to restore and reconigure the city’s fortiications. Work started immediately, as the inscription bearing the year 1491 over the gateway into the citadel shows.21 The nearby Sea Gate was inished ive years later, in 1496 under Niccolò Priuli, captain of Famagusta (Figs. 3-4).22 The design of its outer gateway, with an archway under a pediment crowning a panel with the lion of Saint Mark (which has lost its wings), is strongly reminiscent in its constituent elements of the Porta dell’Arsenale in Venice, completed in 1460 (Figs. 5-6). The latter represents one of the earliest manifestations of the new ‘all’antica’ style in the lagoon and its lower part was modelled on the Roman triumphal arch of the Sergii at Pola (Pula in Istria), substituting the latter’s Corinthian capitals with 11th/12th-century Veneto-Byzantine spolia (perhaps from Torcello). It has been shown that the Venetian oficials behind the commission of the Arsenale project shared an interest in classical antiquity and may therefore be partly responsible for the choice of design; the identity of the architect, however (long thought to have been Antonio Gambello), remains uncertain, although the Florentine Filarete (Antonio di 20 21 22 144 The local gypsum used for the Urri and most related slabs conirms their manufacture within the island; see Morisseau (2004) 48. Imhaus (2004) no.715. Enlart (1899) 2:620; Jeffery (1908) 938 and (1918) 110-11; Imhaus (2004) no.718. The gate stands within the precinct of the port and is inaccessible. EchoEs of thE REnaissancE in thE EastERn confinEs of thE stato da maR Pietro Averlino) has been tentatively linked to it.23 The austere yet elegant Famagusta gateway is a simpliied version, stripping the Arsenale design down to its bare essentials, with sparse ornamentation, forsaking the elaborate cornices and lanking paired columns of antique inspiration, but keeping the lion of Saint Mark above, in the substantial marble-clad attic storey under the pediment. The latter, with a blind oculus where the Arsenale has a shell in relief, was not provided with a horizontal cornice, and thus merges into the aforementioned panel, whereas its sloping cornices are supported on volute-shaped consoles. It has to be noted that the Venetian gate’s original appearance would have been less elaborate than its present state and thus somewhat closer to that of the Cypriot example: the prominent antique-looking inscription in the centre of the entablature (at Famagusta it appears in a simple rectangular tablet within a moulded frame), the statuary over the pediment, the naked winged victories illing the spandrels, and the enclosed terrace crowded with statues on high pedestals as well as the ancient lions lanking it are all later additions that alter signiicantly the overall appearance of the monument.24 At the Sea Gate the spandrels bear medallions, a common feature of Renaissance arches, real or blind, like those on the façade of Alberti’s inluential Tempio Malatestiano at Rimini from c.1450 and on Mauro Codussi’s Venetian Torre dell’Orologio on the piazza San Marco, built at the same time as the Famagusta gate (where they house the arms of Priuli), while the pilaster jambs crowned by moulded imposts rather than capitals as at the Arsenale are reminiscent of similarly restrained contemporary work in Venice (e.g. the nave piers in Codussi’s Santa Maria Formosa, also built in the 1490s). Venice had to source the dazzling white building stone used extensively in the architecture of this period, including the Porta dell’Arsenale, from 23 24 McAndrew (1980) 25, Concina (1984) 67-68. Howard (2002) 120; Concina (1984) 51-70; Fortini Brown (1996) 109. Jacopo de’ Barbari’s veduta of Venice (1500) shows the gate without these additions: Concina (1984) 78 ig.68. 145 tassos PaPacostas Fig.1: Limassol Castle, Cyprus Medieval Museum: tombstone of James Urri [Imhaus (2004) 1: pl.137 F.291] Fig.2: Tersephanou, Church of Saint Marina: armorial slab [Imhaus (2004) 1: pl.252 F.708] Fig.3: Famagusta, Sea Gate [drawing by George Jeffery: Jeffery (1908) 641 ig.13] Fig.4: Famagusta, Sea Gate [photo: courtesy of Allan Langdale] 146 EchoEs of thE REnaissancE in thE EastERn confinEs of thE stato da maR Fig.5: Venice, Porta dell’ Arsenale [drawing: Concina (1984) 53 ig.42] Fig.6: Venice, Porta dell’ Arsenale. Photo: T. Papacostas. Istria. Cyprus was in a similar position regarding marble, for the island’s soil is devoid of the sought after building material. Thus the slabs used under the pediment at the Sea Gate must be either spolia, possibly from nearby Salamis where they were imported in ancient times, or perhaps contemporary imports from Italy;25 the use of earlier architectural elements and building materials, which we shall encounter in later Renaissance buildings on Cyprus, would of course parallel the same practice at the Arsenale gate with regard to its column shafts and capitals. Indeed, the use of the latter is thought to be intentional and not the mere result of their (convenient?) availability in the lagoon area, for the project was highly signiicant as a conveyor of Venetian state ideology and a bold expression of the Repub25 Faucherre (2006) 317. 147 tassos PaPacostas lic’s prestige and commitment to its maritime empire.26 Similarly, the care with which material for the decoration of the Sea Gate at Famagusta was assembled demonstrates the effort that also went into this small but, like its Venetian precursor, highly symbolic project. For the gate marked not only the entrance into the city from the harbour, but also, by extension, to the entire Regno di Cipro. It is no accident that when the new fortiications of the island’s capital were erected several decades later, in 1567, the gate that led out of Nicosia towards Famagusta, the Porta Giuliana, received special treatment with an architecturally elaborate façade by Giulio Savorgnan, whereas the two other gates were much simpler affairs.27 The lion in high relief provides another type of evidence, crucial in the context of the present discussion: made from local limestone and therefore carved locally, it displays superb craftsmanship not paralleled in any other work of this type on Cyprus from this period, and conirms the presence of accomplished sculptors working for the Republic and possibly trained beyond the island’s shores.28 This evidence for local production of a high quality stands in sharp contrast to that provided by outstanding Renaissance works elsewhere in the eastern Mediterranean. A case in point is the exceptional funerary monument of the wealthy merchant Loukas Spandounes at Thessalonike, set up in the 5th-century basilica of Saint Demetrios: the constituent elements of the monumental tomb (sarcophagus, panels, pilasters and pointed tympanum with high quality decoration in low relief, ornamental sculpture) were manufactured at and imported from Venice, having been commissioned presumably by the family shortly after the death of Spandounes in 1481, and are attributed to the workshop of Pietro Lombardo.29 In Cyprus no evidence has survived for such wholesale importation of a monumental work of art that could have affected artistic 26 27 28 29 148 Lieberman (1991). Nicosia’s Porta Giuliana (now known as Famagusta Gate) is a copy of Savorgnan’s slightly earlier Porta di San Zorzi at Candia/Herakleion, demolished in the early 20th century: Dimacopoulos (1995) 210, Tzobanaki (1998) 23. Rizzi (1993-94) 314 and 321 no.10. Bouras (1973). EchoEs of thE REnaissancE in thE EastERn confinEs of thE stato da maR developments locally and that, moreover, was produced by one of the best known workshops of the Renaissance, while at Thessalonike the Venetian large-scale memorial had no impact whatsoever, which is of course not surprising in view of the historical circumstances: the city had already been under Ottoman rule for half a century by the time of the tomb’s installation, and the church itself was converted into a mosque a few years later.30 Domestic architecture The small number of residential structures that have come down to us conirm the pattern outlined above: they yield no evidence for an integrated design based on contemporary Italian models, their debt to the latter being restricted to individual elements of façade decoration. Nowhere on the island is there anything comparable to the late 16th / early 17th-century Cretan Retonda, a country house inspired from yet not slavishly copying Palladio’s iconic Villa Capra / La Rotonda outside Vicenza (begun 1566).31 It has to be stressed, however, that the evidence is so fragmentary that it does not allow irm conclusions. One may wonder, for example, what the ‘bellissimo palazzo’ built for Giovanni Badoer at Paphos may have looked like: marked on Leonida Attar’s map of Cyprus of 1542, it was already abandoned by the time Leonardo Donà visited the area in 1557 and is mentioned as such in the same period by Florio Bustron; its owner was presumably one of the homonymous members of that illustrious family that served on the island in the irst half of the 16th century and who was among the patrons of a contemporary icon from the village of Emba (not far from Paphos), on which the family arms appear (lanked by the initials Z.B.).32 30 31 32 Remains of an elevated tomb (brackets for a sarcophagus?) were reported in the north aisle of the Bedesten / Hodegetria of Nicosia, although the original appearance of the funerary monument is not known: Enlart (1899) 1:157. The Retonda was never completed: Fatourou-Hesychaki (1983) 122-24, with earlier bibliography. Giovanni Andrea is attested in 1520 and Giovanni Francesco in 1539-41: Calvelli (2009: 308-10) with relevant bibliography; for the icon, which bears two more heraldic em- 149 tassos PaPacostas A good example among the surviving structures and one of the most important Cypriot monuments displaying an awareness of contemporary developments, at least in its architectural decoration, is the upper loor of the two-storey residential wing along the northern edge of the courtyard in the monastery of Hagia Napa, to the south of Famagusta. Until at least the middle of the 18th century there survived a now lost carved dedicatory inscription, recorded by Alexander Drummond. It bore the date 1530, although to which part of the complex it pertained remains far from clear: the British consul does not reveal where exactly he saw it, whether loose in the courtyard or inserted onto a façade.33 There is thus no certainty that the structure in question was indeed put up in 1530, although there is little doubt that it does belong to this very period. Before commenting on the façades, two elements in the courtyard of the monastery call for attention as they may illustrate a strong desire to both display and imitate antique art, if (as seems likely) their date of manufacture or reuse falls within the period examined here: according to Annie Pralong, a boar’s head in Proconnesian marble serving as a fountain in front of the aforementioned domestic structure is very similar to a set of six recovered from the Saraçhane excavation in Istanbul and now at that city’s Archaeological Museum (Fig. 7).34 Saraçhane was of course the site of the ostentatious church of Saint Polyeuktos, commissioned by the aristocratic Anicia Juliana and built in 524-27. Whether the marble head was purchased from the same Constantinopolitan workshop that produced the Saint Polyeuktos boar heads in the 6th century in order to be used in a building on late antique Cyprus, or was brought to the island later, perhaps following the Fourth crusade and the export of architectural elements from the site of An- 33 34 150 blems, see Sophocleous (2000) 192-93. It was of course in these same years that another member of the family, Francesco Badoer, commissioned Palladio to build a villa at Fratta Polesine, near Rovigo (1557). Cobham (1908) 301-2; Imhaus (2004) no.727; Drummond (1754) 275, with a sketch showing the inscription under three armorial shields each lanked by the initials of its bearer: F.M., HIE.S. (presumably standing for Hieronymus de Salaseris, named in the inscription) and A.P. Pralong (1990) 239. EchoEs of thE REnaissancE in thE EastERn confinEs of thE stato da maR icia’s dilapidated church to Venice, is interesting in itself but not important in the context of the present discussion; what matters for our purposes is the appreciation and reuse of a piece of ancient sculpture in the 16th century. Similarly, the octagonal fountain basin under a domed and arched structure in the monastery’s courtyard represents an attempt to use antique models for inspiration (Figs. 8-9).35 Its sides are decorated with heavy garlands in crudely executed high relief and animal igures or human masks in a similarly poor style. The models must have been ancient works such as the sarcophagus used as part of a basin at the abbey of Bellapais in the foothills of the Kyrenia mountains, or, much nearer, the so-called Venus sarcophagus at Famagusta (Fig. 10), placed in the city’s main square between two ancient columns following its discovery in 1548.36 If the latter did indeed serve as a source of inspiration for the octagonal basin, then 1548 would provide a terminus post quem; other no longer surviving examples, however, may have also been available in the wider area. Most of the ornament on the ashlar façades of the Hagia Napa domestic wing is concentrated around the large arched windows of the upper loor (Fig. 11).37 Three share the same design without, however, being identical: over a cornice encircling the building at window sill level, their moulded jambs with imposts are framed by similarly moulded pilasters supporting elaborate detached colonnettes with a twisted lower half which extend to the height of the entire rise of the window arch, their Corinthian-inspired capitals carrying a cornice stretching across the width of each window (Fig. 12). There is variation in the idiosyncratic detail of both capitals and colonnettes, but also in the cornices and voussoir decoration, with various highly stylized loral motifs (the southernmost window, overlooking the courtyard, is the least ornamented). The overall arrangement is of course well known in Renaissance architecture, and the closest parallels are to be found, not surprisingly, on Venetian Crete: several architectural frames of 35 36 37 Enlart (1899) 2:517, 664. Calvelli (2009: 140-52). Enlart (1899) 2:661-65. 151 tassos PaPacostas Fig.7: Monastery of Hagia Napa: fountain with boar’s head. Photo: T. Papacostas. Fig.8: Monastery of Hagia Napa: octagonal fountain basin. Photo: T. Papacostas. Fig.9: Monastery of Hagia Napa: octagonal fountain basin [drawing by Camille Enlart: Enlart (1899) 2:664 ig.393] 152 EchoEs of thE REnaissancE in thE EastERn confinEs of thE stato da maR Fig.10: Famagusta: sarcophagus of Venus. Photo: T. Papacostas. doors and windows on house façades thought to date from the later 16th and the early 17th centuries, especially at Rethymnon, recall those at Hagia Napa, while a doorway from Chania has colonnettes with a spiral lower part, strikingly similar to the Cypriot example.38 These afinities of course suggest the possibility of itinerant masons and stone-carvers, and raise the question of artistic relations between the two islands in this period, an issue that requires further investigation. A fourth window of the same size above the gateway in the same structure was treated very differently, its jambs and voussoirs in pronounced diamond (or prismatic) rustication extending to a cornice over the arched opening (Fig. 13). In Venice this type of prominent bugnato was irst introduced at one of the earliest Renaissance buildings in the city, namely the 38 Dimacopoulos (1977) pl. 61, 113, 118 (Chania doorway: pl. 118.3). 153 tassos PaPacostas Fig.11: Monastery of Hagia Napa: residential building. Photo: T. Papacostas. Fig.12: Monastery of Hagia Napa: residential building window [drawing by Camille Enlart: Enlart (1899) 2:663 ig.392] 154 EchoEs of thE REnaissancE in thE EastERn confinEs of thE stato da maR Fig.13: Monastery of Hagia Napa: residential building window with diamond rustication. Photo: T. Papacostas. Fig.14: Venice, Ca’ del Duca: portion of rusticated façade. Photo: T. Papacostas. 155 tassos PaPacostas Ca’ del Duca, an uninished palace on the Grand Canal begun in c.1460 and attributed to either Filarete or Bartolomeo Bon (Fig. 14). It nevertheless did not have much success in the lagoon in this early period, although employed in important projects such as the lateral façade of the Palazzo Ducale on the Rio della Canonica in the 1480s (basement masonry).39 On Cyprus there is only one surviving example of its extensive use over an entire wall. This is a ruinous short segment of an elaborate façade at Famagusta, possibly belonging to one of the city’s loggias according to Enlart, who attributed its construction to Italian masons.40 It is pierced by an archway that was originally lanked by detached columns on high pedestals with Tuscan-type capitals on which stood lions holding armorial shields under a cornice on ornate closely spaced consoles (Fig. 15). Elsewhere on Cyprus rustication occurs only around openings, as at Hagia Napa: on a severe but exceptionally well-built façade at Famagusta, part of a domestic complex surviving as a mere disembowelled shell, the diamond rustication around the arched doorway and the two high rectangular window openings is slightly truncated (Fig. 16).41 At the western end of the nearby former royal palace precinct a bare L-shaped façade that probably looked over an internal courtyard is all that is left of a massive twostorey structure, presumably of a utilitarian rather than residential function (Fig. 17).42 Whether it dates from the same building campaign as the façade on the square, discussed below (1550s), remains unclear. Its only adornment over the vast expanse of plain wall surface is provided by the rustication around the rectangular openings, prismatic for the three doorways and lat for the regularly but widely spaced high windows of both levels. At Kyrenia the upper level of the north range in the fortress has a door and small windows also framed with badly preserved rusticated masonry, albeit in this case rounded and lat (Fig. 18).43 None of these examples is securely 39 40 41 42 43 156 Howard (2002) 120-22; Ceriana (2003) 109-113; Wolters (2000) 68-72. Enlart (1899) 2:623, 626-27. Enlart (1899) 2:647-48; Imhaus (1997). Enlart (1899) 2:645-46; Jeffery (1930) 8. Jeffery (1918) 314. EchoEs of thE REnaissancE in thE EastERn confinEs of thE stato da maR Fig.15: Famagusta: ‘loggia’ façade [drawing by Camille Enlart: Enlart (1899) 2:625 ig.377] Fig.16: Famagusta: house façade. Photo: T. Papacostas. Fig.17: Famagusta, Royal palace: façade of western range. Photo: T. Papacostas. Fig.18: Kyrenia Castle: rustication on north wing façade. Photo: T. Papacostas. 157 tassos PaPacostas dated, and their often unsatisfactory state of preservation combined with the lack of documentation and archaeological evidence renders the task even more dificult. What they do show, however, is that a characteristic and often costly element of Renaissance façade decoration reached the island and was used in various buildings, both public and private, most notably at Famagusta. At Nicosia the (sporadic) evidence is of a different type, as it consists mainly of relatively elaborately moulded and decorated window frames, with rusticated masonry much less common.44 As the relevant surviving monuments are once more very few and ill dated, it is not clear whether this is due to accidents of survival or any real divergence in the architectural practices and traditions of the island’s two major urban centres. The most prominent examples occur on two façades in the heart of the city. One is to be found to the east of the Latin cathedral of Saint Sophia. Restored in the 1920s (the missing upper part of the irst loor façade was rebuilt and the rest of the structure restored), it has housed a small museum of medieval architectural fragments ever since (Fig. 19).45 The ornamentation is once more reserved for the openings. Those of the upper storey have a moulded frame and protruding sills or shallow balconies carried on three comparatively large consoles ending in small volutes, their sides decorated with an imaginative array of human igures, animals and loral motifs in low relief (Fig. 20). Comparative material is to be found on another façade, next to the northern chapel of Saint Mary of the Augustinians and probably belonging to the monastic compound (Fig. 21).46 Here the narrow windows of the upper level also have prominently moulded frames and deep sills on consoles of a design reminiscent of that of the previous example, although with only two in each case. Each of these windows, however, is also crowned by a heavy pediment whose horizontal cornice, joined by the sloping cornices, extends 44 45 46 158 An example is shown among the sketches of Nicosia doorways in Jeffery (1900) 132. Enlart (1899) 2:544-45; Jeffery (1900) 134, (1918) 93-94 and (1929). Enlart (1899) 1:163, 2:545; Jeffery (1900) 134 and (1918) 41-42. EchoEs of thE REnaissancE in thE EastERn confinEs of thE stato da maR along the entire façade to form a continuous moulding (Fig. 22). The pediment itself is carried on consoles of the same design as those under the sill, although somewhat smaller in size. The style of the ornamentation on the two Nicosia façades is the only element that may help their dating, and it appears to suggest a later rather than an early date, perhaps towards the end of Venetian rule on the island.47 The quality of their carving is satisfactory without being exceptional. For better work from the same period one has to turn to fragments such as the marble balcony bracket (?) of unknown provenance, decorated with vine scrolls in relief and lying in the inner courtyard of the citadel at Famagusta among other architectural disjecta membra that await proper attention and study (Fig. 23). Yet again, as in the case of the armorial and funerary slabs mentioned earlier, these elements of façade decoration conirm the range of craftsmanship available to patrons and, by extension, the substantial demand for their skills that the small quantity of surviving material does not immediately disclose. Famagusta: the Palazzo del Provveditore It is in the urban environment of 16th-century Famagusta that the best known example of Renaissance architecture on the island stands: this is the new portico façade of the old Royal Palace on the city’s main square, opposite the 14th-century Latin cathedral of Saint Nicholas, usually referred to as the Palazzo del Provveditore (Fig. 24). The armorial shield on the keystone of the central archway provides the approximate date: it belongs to Giovanni Renier, who served as captain of Famagusta in 1552-54 and later as luogotenente in 1558-60, and whose interest in the island’s antiquities is attested by his acquisition and despatch to Venice of the well known sarcophagus of the Amazons (4th century B.C.), discovered in 1557 at the 47 Enlart’s dating of the Augustinian façade in the third quarter of the 15th century, based on the documented patronage of the Latin archbishop of Nicosia William Goneme for this foundation, appears to be far too early. 159 tassos PaPacostas Fig.19: Nicosia, Lapidary Museum: façade [drawing by Camille Enlart: Enlart (1899) 2:545 ig.339] Fig.20: Nicosia, Lapidary Museum: consoles on the west façade. Photo: T. Papacostas. Fig.21: Nicosia, Saint Mary of the Augustinians: residential building [drawing by Camille Enlart: Enlart (1899) 2:546 ig.340] Fig.22: Nicosia, Saint Mary of the Augustinians: window of residential building. Photo: T. Papacostas. 160 EchoEs of thE REnaissancE in thE EastERn confinEs of thE stato da maR Famagusta, Citadel: marble fragment. Photo: T. Papacostas. Fig.23: Famagusta, Citadel: marble fragment. Photo: T. Papacostas. Fig.24: Famagusta, Royal palace: façade on the square. Photo: T. Papacostas. 161 tassos PaPacostas ancient site of Soli (now in the Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna).48 The surviving façade consists of three bays in lat rusticated masonry pierced by arches on imposts and divided by engaged granite columns in second use (most probably from Salamis) crowned with Tuscan capitals and supporting an entablature.49 In the 1920s the original design was attributed to Michele Sanmicheli, who was later credited with that of the loggia at Rethymnon too, although the Famagusta façade was thought to have been executed by his nephew Giangirolamo who died on Cyprus in 1558/59 and was probably buried in the city.50 This attribution was received with considerable scepticism, on account of the inconclusive evidence that is largely conined to Giorgio Vasari’s statement that Michele Sanmicheli visited Cyprus.51 Whether true or not, there is little doubt that the Famagusta façade is closely related to contemporary work in Italy. Its tripartite arched arrangement recalls that of Roman triumphal arches that became ubiquitous in the Renaissance. An almost contemporary example from Venice is provided by the Fortezza di Sant’Andrea (begun 1543), due to none other than Sanmicheli himself, who was in charge of fortiications on both the terra ferma and the stato da mar since 1535.52 The principal difference (besides of course their function) lies in the masonry treatment: the robust fortress gateway has rough rustication that extends over the curving surface of the engaged columns, quite appropriate in view of the structure’s military character; nevertheless, its frieze bears triglyphs and decorated metopes (Fig. 25). The original appearance of the frieze at Famagusta, on the other hand, is not known. By the early 20th century only its protruding segment with a triglyph over the northernmost engaged column and a smaller por48 49 50 51 52 162 Jeffery (1918) 158; Hill (1940-52) 3:859 n.1; Vaivre (2006) 450. On Renier’s dates see Arbel (1995) 534-35, and on his involvement with the sarcophagus, Calvelli (2009: 154). Enlart (1899) 2:646-47. Jeffery (1930); Langenskiöld (1938) 20, 167-68; Hill (1940-52) 3:859-60; Perbellini (1973) 44-45; Dimacopoulos (1974). Dimacopoulos (1995) 210; neither the Rethymnon loggia nor the Famagusta façade appear among Sanmicheli’s works in the latest comprehensive treatment of his output: Davies and Hemsoll (2004). Howard (2002) 166-69, Davies and Hemsoll (2004) 253-57. EchoEs of thE REnaissancE in thE EastERn confinEs of thE stato da maR Fig.25: Venice, Fortezza di Sant’Andrea: monumental gateway. Photo: T. Papacostas. Fig.26: Famagusta, Royal palace: façade on the square. Drawing by Camille Enlart: Enlart (1899) 2:646 ig.386. 163 tassos PaPacostas tion at the other extremity of the structure survived (Fig. 26). The current unadorned double course of masonry over the architrave is the result of modern restoration that also had the cornice crowning the portico directly above the column capitals moved over the added frieze.53 The construction of the monumental façade on Famagusta’s main square must be part of the latter’s reorganization in this period, when the aforementioned sarcophagus of Venus was also installed across the piazza (1548), between two ancient granite columns that were probably erected at the same time obviously in imitation of the two columns of the piazzetta in Venice (as in other cities of the Venetian empire), and are similar to those used on the portico façade.54 It is worth noting that this piece of civil architecture, the foremost example of the Italian ‘all’antica’ style of the period on Cyprus, was erected at a time when the impact of the Renaissance was becoming increasingly noticeable in other domains on the island, and most notably in its literary production. Modes of transmission The channels through which new ideas from Italy may have reached Cyprus have been alluded to above. Although there is no evidence for architectural treatises circulating on the island and no individual architect is explicitly associated with any structure of a non-military nature (the dubious case of Sanmicheli and the Famagusta façade aside), the names of several engineers who worked on fortiication projects are known and have already been mentioned above. And it is a well attested fact that engineers and architects involved with the design and construction of military works often turned their attention to both domestic and ecclesiastical structures; 53 54 164 This is clearly seen on views of the structure before c.1930: see for example Enlart (1899) 2:646 ig.386 and (1920) photo facing p.156, Jeffery (1930) frontispiece. Calvelli (2009: 140-42). Only a few years earlier Cyprus was represented as Venus on the façade of Jacopo Sansovino’s Loggetta at the foot of the campanile of San Marco (begun in 1538) in the heart of the civic and religious centre of Venice: Howard (1987) 28-35. EchoEs of thE REnaissancE in thE EastERn confinEs of thE stato da maR indeed, many were also sculptors and/or painters. In the second half of the 15th century the Sienese Francesco di Giorgio Martini was hydraulic and military engineer in Siena and Naples respectively, but also architect of the Maddona del Calcinaio at Cortona and master of the cathedral works at Siena; Antonio Gambello is known to have worked on both the façade of San Zaccaria in Venice and the fortiications of Nauplion; later Michele Sanmicheli built palazzi and chapels in Venice and Verona as well as fortiications in the latter and in the stato da mar;55 the examples can be multiplied. It is thus not dificult to imagine that the engineers dispatched to report or work on the fortiications of Cyprus would have possibly engaged in other activities too, or may have had a signiicant input in some of the island’s architectural production. Further research in the Venetian archives may bring to light concrete evidence for their involvement in speciic civic or other commissions. Another possible conveyor of the latest developments is the cohort of Cypriots who visited, studied, or were trained in Italy. The case of Leonida Attar, best known for the detailed map of his native island, is particularly noteworthy as he went to Venice where he is attested as a bridge engineer in the 1540s, worked for Michele Sanmicheli there, and upon his return to Cyprus was employed under the latter’s nephew Giangirolamo at both Famagusta and Kyrenia.56 His professional experience in Venice would have allowed him to become acquainted with the latest trends in architecture. Similarly, the numerous Cypriot students of the university of Padua would have become familiar with not only the scholarship but also the spirit and visual culture of the times.57 On the island itself archaeological discoveries such as those reported in 1557 by Leonardo Donà would have triggered interest in the island’s past, while Venetians with a proven interest in antiquity and its remains, such as the aforementioned Giovanni Matteo Bembo who set up the Venus sarcophagus on Famagusta’s main square and 55 56 57 Heydenreich (1996) 137-39; Steriotou (1993) 492; Davies and Hemsoll (2004). Cavazzana Romanelli and Grivaud (2006) 25-28. Maltezou (1996); Grivaud (2009) 40-41. 165 tassos PaPacostas Giovanni Renier who acquired the sarcophagus of the Amazons discovered by Hieronimo Attar (probably Leonida Attar’s brother), may have also played a role in this trend.58 Although it is doubtful that this had any direct impact on contemporary architecture beyond the predictable use of spolia, what is absolutely clear is that it was pivotal in the refashioning of urban space, as seen in Famagusta’s main square but also at Nicosia, where in the square before the old royal palace an ancient granite column was erected on a stepped hexagonal base bearing an inscription and heraldic emblems.59 The way forward The style of the Renaissance, as represented by the Palazzo del Provveditore and the small number of structures mentioned above, although increasingly visible in the buildings of 16th-century Cyprus, did not monopolize the choices of patrons and architects or master masons. Far from this, it coexisted with other traditions, demonstrating that during the period in question the island’s architectural output was marked by an astonishing diversity of styles and forms, betraying a vibrant architectural scene. A particularly telling example is that of the Bedesten, Nicosia’s Orthodox cathedral dedicated to the Virgin Hodegetria: at some unrecorded date in the course of the 16th century, perhaps shortly before 1570 when the city fell to the Ottomans, the church was extensively refurbished and a new façade was built along the north aisle, facing the Latin cathedral (Fig. 27).60 Although some of its decorative vocabulary displays ‘contamination’ by Renaissance elements, the overall conception and layout as expressed primarily by the three portals, in particular the easternmost that faces the porch of Saint Sophia, is boldly Gothic and intentionally refers to the latter’s ar58 59 60 166 Grivaud (1986); Cavazzana Romanelli and Grivaud (2006) 24-25; Calvelli (2009: 15255). Jeffery (1918) 59-60; Imhaus (2004) no.702. Plagnieux and Soulard (2006) with earlier bibliography. EchoEs of thE REnaissancE in thE EastERn confinEs of thE stato da maR chitecture with which it establishes a visual dialogue that is as intriguing as it is striking. Was this the result of a living and resilient architectural tradition that had grown roots on the island after its introduction in the early days of the Lusignan kingdom and that could not be displaced by the more recent ‘all’antica’ style, even in such an important commission? Was it a conscious evocation of a defunct older style hallowed by age and earlier usage in prestigious religious buildings? Or was it perhaps a combination of both? The Fig.27: Nicosia, Bedesten / Hodegetria: north portal seen through the porch of answer is far from clear. Other strucSaint Sophia. Photo: T. Papacostas. tures put up in this period, especially church buildings outside the cities, although occasionally iniltrated by the new vocabulary of architectural decoration, adhere to even older Byzantine practices, in this case clearly as a result of a living tradition maintained (or at least best seen today) in rural areas where it was never seriously challenged. The architectural fermentation and experimentation that was taking place on 16th-century Cyprus was disrupted by the Ottoman conquest. The most signiicant effect of this momentous event on the island’s architectural output is that it severed its ties with Italy and thus prevented Renaissance architecture from gaining a strong foothold, as it did on Crete in the course of the following decades (or as Gothic architecture had done several centuries earlier). Despite the differences between the two islands noted above, future research on the built environment of Cyprus in this period will have 167 tassos PaPacostas to consider possible links with Crete, well known and repeatedly discussed as far as the two islands’ fortiications are concerned. Domestic architecture is the obvious domain to focus on, but architectural and sculptural decoration as well as funerary monuments may provide further insights. The question of the craftsmen’s training is another issue to be explored. Here the material from Rhodes may also prove illuminating. On Cyprus itself a largely neglected aspect of architectural production requires further study. Religious buildings, by far the most voluminous category surviving from this period, have attracted little attention so far;61 yet their contribution to this debate is bound to be critical, even if in the current state of our knowledge there never appears to have existed on the island a monument of the signiicance of the Cretan Arkadi, with its façade inspired by Serlian prototypes. What is absolutely clear (and neither a new evaluation, nor a surprising one) is that Cyprus was at the receiving end: elements of Renaissance architecture appeared on the island solely as a result of its multi-layered connections with Italy in the 15th and 16th centuries. The prevailing circumstances offered little scope for any original contribution to the evolution of ‘all’antica’ architecture through the potential elaboration of a local interpretation, perhaps informed by local precedent as well as views about the island’s own ancient past; there simply was not enough time to generate such a process. 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