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Figure 1. Post-Byzantine, School of Crete: Head of the Virgin, ca. 1600. Tempera on wood, 17 x 13.5 x
1.5 cm. Princeton University Art Museum, gift of Anne Angleton Hyde (2010-231)
Toward a Definition of “Post-Byzantine” Art:
The Angleton Collection at the Princeton University
Art Museum
Emi ly L. S pratt
In 2010 six icons were donated to the Princeton University
Art Museum by Ann Angleton Hyde in memory of her
father, Phocas Angleton (1911–1997).1 Categorized as “Post-
Byzantine,” the icons belong to a large group of religious
paintings that derive from the Byzantine tradition but were
executed in the early modern period. Dating between the
sixteenth and the nineteenth century, the icons exemplify
the survival and transformation of Byzantine art following
the dissolution of the empire and the final fall of Constanti-
nople in 1453.2 The Museum’s icon additions, which were
painted in different regions ruled by various powers, all
within the Greek-speaking territories of the former empire,
underscore the socio-religious complexity of the early
­modern Mediterranean world and the significant role of
Post-Byzantine art within it.3
On account of the wide range in the dates of production
and various provenances of the Angleton icons, a study of
selected paintings from the group may contribute to a more
nuanced understanding of what is meant by “Post-­Byzantine”
art.4 To date, the term has been vaguely employed to
describe a period — the centuries of art that followed the fall
of the capital — or to define the style of Orthodox art pro-
duced after 1453 with little acknowledgment of the parallel
and diverse artistic trends that developed across Orthodox
communities in disparate environments.5 Rather than dis-
miss the term “Post-Byzantine,” as has even been suggested,
let us bring precision to what it connotes. I propose that
Post-Byzantine art be defined as the Orthodox Christian art
produced in the early modern period that stems from the
cultural traditions of late Byzantium. Characterized by its
stylistic and iconographic flexibility, it simultaneously adheres
to, if not promotes, the doctrinal tenets of Orthodoxy.6
In this article, I focus on four outstanding icons in the
acquisition: a small Cretan work of the Virgin (fig.  1); a
Baroque-framed Saint Nicholas from the Ionian Islands (see
fig.  8); a carved icon of Saint Anthony from mainland
Greece (see fig. 11); and an elaborate rendition of the scene
of the Communion of the Apostles, possibly from the
Cyclades (see fig. 14).7 These icons from the Angleton Col-
lection are notable for their distinctive styles, underscoring
their manufacture in different regions of what constitutes
modern-day Greece. The finely painted icon of the Virgin,
a product of the famous School of Crete, is representative of
one of the painting styles that would come to widely influ-
ence icon workshops in the Greek-speaking Venetian ter-
ritories and even those in the Orthodox communities of the
Ottoman-held regions. Closely related to this work is the
icon of Saint Nicholas, which reflects the popularity of
emulating the style of the Cretan school of painting, par-
ticularly in the Ionian Islands. By contrast, the icon of Saint
Anthony, which was most likely produced on the Ottoman
mainland, is rendered in a more conservative Byzantine
style; it is notable for the design of its ornate engaged frame,
which was popular in the eighteenth century in different
contexts. Finally, the early-nineteenth-century Holy Com-
munion of the Apostles demonstrates the ongoing appeal of
the style promulgated by the School of Crete in painting as
late as the period of the Greek state’s formation (1821).8
Between East and West: The Cretan
School of Painting and the Icon of
the Head of the Virgin
After the Ottoman conquest of Constantinople, the artistic
center of the eastern Orthodox world was repositioned from
the shores of the Bosporus to the coasts of Crete, an island
that had been under Venetian rule since 1211. At the cross-
roads of the Mediterranean, Crete had already gained rec-
ognition as an important center of icon painting in the late
Middle Ages.9 By the turn of the seventeenth century, when
the Princeton icon of the Virgin was painted, new patterns
of cultural exchange had already been firmly established on
account of Venetian commerce. East–West cultural interac-
tions, which followed the direction of trade routes, are
clearly evidenced in the stylistic diversity of Cretan art. For
example, the International Gothic style, which was popular
in fourteenth- and fifteenth-century Western medieval
painting, was widely influential in Crete from the fifteenth
to the seventeenth century.10 The softened features, long
flowing lines, and delicacy in execution of this late medieval
style could blend magnificently with the increasingly nat­
uralistic, chromatically rich, and emotionally moving art
3

Figure 2. Attributed to Nikolaos Tzafouris, Post-Byzantine, School
of Crete: Virgin and Child, late 15th century. Tempera on wood,
56.5 x 45 cm, 106 x 85 cm (framed). P. Canellopoulos Collection,
1st Ephorate of Prehistoric and Classical Antiquities, Athens (E 24)
that characterizes the aesthetics of the Palaeologan dynasty
(1260–1453) of the late Byzantine Empire.
Indeed, this richly blended style continued to hold sway
on Crete throughout the period of the island’s Venetian rule
(1211–1669). The stylistic openness of this art, so character-
istic of the Cretan workshops, enabled the production of icons
that could function in Orthodox and/or Catholic environ-
ments in accordance with the devotional needs of their
beholders.11 Produced on speculation and even according to
buyer specifications in the maniera latina or the maniera greca
(the Latin or Greek styles), icons from Crete were easily dis­
seminated along Venetian trade routes that extended from
the Cretan port of Candia to Venice, Flanders, and beyond.12
The Princeton icon of the head of the Virgin is an excel-
lent example of the effects of cultural exchange in Crete.
Executed in what scholars have called the Italo-Cretan style,
the work follows Gothic models of the Virgin while main-
taining Byzantine features.13 The particular almond shape of
the Madonna’s eyes and the burgundy coloring of her
maphorion (hooded mantle) suggest that the artist was oper-
ating within the Byzantine artistic tradition, whereas the use
4 5
of attenuated lines and softened features suggest Gothic
influence. The Princeton icon is similar in style to the well-
known Western iconographic type of the Virgin Madre
della Consolazione that was popularized in Crete during the
second half of the fifteenth century and remained in demand
throughout the period. It demonstrates that Italian late
Gothic models held much appeal on the island and were
easily translated into the idiom of the Byzantine icon.14
A late-fifteenth-century example of this iconographic
type attributed to the Cretan artist Nikolaos Tzafouris, now
in the Canellopoulos Collection in Athens, closely resem-
bles the Princeton head of the Virgin in style (fig. 2).15 The
gentle, yet meticulous, rendering of the Madonna’s gold-
bordered, star-crossed maphorion and semi-diaphanous
ivory veil casts subtle, harmonious shadows across her face.
These elements can also be detected in the Princeton head
of the Virgin although they appear coarser on account of
the icon’s somewhat deteriorated state of preservation.
Other indications of the Cretan production of the
Prince­ton icon include the absence of a stretched linen can-
vas to treat the board and the type of underpainting used to
build up the painted surface of the panel. Unlike Italian
paintings, which have greenish undertones, Byzantine icons
were typically painted on a rosy brown ground.16 This is
particularly apparent in the Princeton icon of the Virgin, as
an abrasive cleaning has stripped the work of its original
chromatic brilliance and over-revealed the pinkish brown
undercoat in the face and neck of the Madonna. Incised
lines are also visible; they create stark light-and-dark con-
trasts on the Virgin’s face that would not have been visible
when the work was originally produced. These incisions
acted as preliminary guidelines for the artist as he painted
the icon from an anthivolo (imprinted cartoon).17 This was a
common practice in the production of icons, as is attested in
the will of the Cretan painter Andreas Ritzos, who made
explicit reference to the bequeathal of his model books
­containing multiple cartoons.18
It is unfortunate that an early attempt to restore the icon
removed all but traces of the more delicate paint layers that
indicate the original sophistication of the composition. The
blatantly visible hatch marks on the Virgin’s veil would
have been subtle hints of the fabric’s intricate texture, and
the folds of her tunic, now thick lines of washed-out red,
are indications of the artist’s acute attention to naturalistic
details. Still striking, the gold-decorated border of the Vir-
gin’s mantle reflects the workshop’s acquaintance with the
technique of mordant gilding.19 Considering that there has
been little investigation of the use of mordant gilding in
Byzantine and Post-Byzantine art compared to its practice
in Western European contexts, this observation is important
to underscore.20 The complicated scroll pattern of the
century with an intact molding suggests the original display
of the Prince­ton composition (fig. 4).28 While moldings are
well attested in Western medieval and Renaissance con-
texts, they were also popular design features in Byzantine
and Post-Byzantine art.29
The icon of the Virgin is a particularly small example of
an ultra-cropped bust portrait of the Madonna that lacks an
accompanying representation of the Christ child (see
fig. 1).30 Similar portraits of the Virgin, depicting only the
area from her head to the upper portion of her shoulders,
are known in larger dimensions and were produced in Crete
during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.31 A close
comparison is found in the Museum of Icons at the Hellenic
Figure 3. Conservator Norman Muller removing the waxed linen Institute of Byzantine and Post-Byzantine Studies in Venice
encasement of the Head of the Virgin shown in figure 1 (fig. 5).32 Although nearly twice the size of the Princeton
icon, the Venice head of the Virgin also lacks space for the
border would have been applied, in gold, to the still-wet inclusion of a fully delineated halo and prominently features
egg-yolk–based red paint of the maphorion and then left to the Madonna on a gold background only to the upper sec-
dry. While the gold surfaces on the icon have been severely tion of her shoulders.33 Another icon of the Mother of God,
worn, the border of the Virgin’s mantle has remained intact close in size to the Venice painting, in Corfu, resembles the
enough to indicate the fine execution of details that once Princeton composition in style and similarly features the
lent to the exceptional delicacy of the icon.21 Typically
­decorated with a pseudo-Arabic design, contemporary rep-
resentations of the border of the Virgin’s maphorion are
often found to mimic the calligraphy on Islamic textiles; by
contrast, the mantle of the Princeton Madonna boasts an
elegant Renaissance-inspired scroll pattern.22
While preliminary examination of the work suggested
that the diminutive head of the Virgin might have been cut
out of a larger composition, conservation of the work has
demonstrated otherwise.23 The icon was acquired by the
Museum in a waxed linen encasement that obscured its
edges, and only removal of the covering could help clarify
whether the work was an integral composition.24 To this
end, Norman Muller, conservator at the Princeton Univer-
sity Art Museum, carefully detached the encasement, which
surprisingly exposed the icon’s finished sides, conclusively
determining that the work retains its original dimensions
(fig. 3).25
Furthermore, the raised bead of gesso around the perim-
eter of the painting and the exposed wood surrounding the
painted surface reveal that a molding was once attached to
the panel.26 The barely visible mitered lines at the two left
corners of the Princeton icon also confirm that the work
was first produced with four applied strips of wood.27 Unlike
icons from the Byzantine period, which were often carved
out from the panel itself — a tradition that continued to
some extent in Post-Byzantine artistic practices, as the
Figure 4. Michail Avramis, Post-Byzantine, Ionian Islands
Prince­ton icon of Saint Anthony illustrates (see fig. 11) —  workshop: Virgin, Hope of All, 1622. Tempera on wood,
the head of the Virgin would have featured a molding. An 105 x 80 cm. Antivouniotissa Museum, Corfu, 21st Ephorate
icon of the Virgin, Hope of All, from the early seventeenth of Byzantine Antiquities (24)

Figure 5. Post-Byzantine, School of Crete: Head of the Virgin, early
17th century. Tempera on wood, 41 x 34 cm. Museum of Icons,
Hellenic Institute of Byzantine and Post-Byzantine Studies, Venice (36)
Virgin with a halo (fig. 6).34 The gold scroll pattern on the
tunic of the Corfu Virgin also finds parallels with the deco-
rative border on the Virgin’s cloak in the Princeton paint-
ing, although the overall composition of the Corfiote work
is rendered in a more rigid fashion.
Although the trend for Gothic models in Cretan painting
had mostly diminished by the seventeenth century, the Ven-
ice icon has remarkable similarities in style and subject mat-
ter to an even larger representation of the head of the Virgin
which again includes her halo, attributed to the master artist
Emmanuel Lambardos (1580–1640), who has been associated
with several icons of this type (fig. 7).35 The Venice head of
the Virgin and the portrait icons associated with Emmanuel
Lambardos were typically part of a three-piece icon set
depicting the Virgin and John the Baptist as intercessors
flanking Christ. Known as the deesis, this was a popular icon-
ographic grouping.36 Unfortunately, few complete sets have
remained intact. Two icons of a seventeenth-­century com-
pilation from Crete, today in the State Hermitage Museum
in St. Petersburg, include a bust-length portrait of Christ,
which would have formed the center of the deesis group,
and a painting of the Virgin whose head turns to the right,
and thus would have been placed on the left of the Savior.37
The missing portrait of Saint John the Baptist in this group
that would have been positioned on the right side of Christ
6 7
would have depicted the forerunner leaning left toward the
center panel. Indeed, this is the typical presentation of the
intercession of John the Baptist and the Virgin Mary in both
integral and multipart compositions of the scene.38
The interpretive complication that arises with the P
­ rinceton
head of the Virgin as part of a deesis group is that she atypi-
cally leans leftward, indicating that she cannot be placed in
her prestigious position on the left of Christ, as she would
appear from the perspective of the viewer (see fig.  1). It
should be noted that from the point of view of the Savior,
the Virgin is on the hierarchically appropriate side. Although
the Princeton head of the Virgin is stylistically related to the
multipart deesis groups that were popularized in Crete, this
major iconographic difference in the direction of the
Mother of God’s pose excludes the icon’s identification as
part of a standard intercession group.
The theological interpretation of the deesis and the broad
usage of the term itself, particularly as scholarship has dem-
onstrated during the Byzantine period, does, however, go
beyond the meaning of the traditional three-figure group of
the Virgin and Saint John the Baptist flanking Christ.39
Figure 6. Post-Byzantine, Ionian Islands workshop:
Indeed, the deesis usually appears either as an independent Virgin Mary, ca. 1600(?). Tempera on wood, 29 x 22 x
unit in a variety of contexts or as part of a complex, multi- 1.5 cm. Antivouniotissa Museum, Corfu, 21st Ephorate
part composition, such as in the “Great Deesis” as it is of Byzantine Antiquities (134)
depicted on the iconostasis (icon screen) of a Post-­Byzantine
church.40 As an elaboration of the commemoration or inter-
cession prayer, the latter type of deesis also includes angels, Figure 7. Attributed to Emmanuel Lambardos (1580–
1640), Post-Byzantine, School of Crete: Bust of the Mother
prophets, and saints. Deesis scenes of only two figures,
of God, ca. 1600. Tempera on wood, 56.5 x 42.5 cm. AXIA
arrangements that include the replacement of one of the East Christian and Islamic Art, London (no. 61)
canonical holy persons, usually Saint John the Forerunner,
and compositions of the standard triad along with other
saints, underscore a degree of flexibility in the interpretation of a closely cropped portrait of the Virgin that leans leftward both the Byzantine and Renaissance traditions, yet they lack
of this scene.41 as a part of a deesis group.43 Although different trends in the extreme cropping and unique positioning of the head of
An exceptional early Byzantine icon, now in Kiev, Cretan painting reflect the stylistic diversity of the school in the Virgin encountered in the Princeton painting. The
depicting Saint John the Forerunner between Christ and its amalgamation of Eastern and Western visual idioms, the appearance of the figure of the Virgin turned leftward may
the Mother of God, illustrates that there is a remote possi- commercialization of icons typically produced in large therefore be on account of the use of a reversed anthivolo of
bility that the Princeton head of the Virgin was part of a less quantities to accommodate market demand during this a deesis Virgin, as iconographic models were often flipped,
standardized deesis compilation.42 The Virgin’s presence on period also reinforced the conventionalization of iconogra- either accidentally or intentionally.47 Therefore, it is most
the right side of the group may thus be legitimized as she is phy.44 With the Princeton icon’s strong stylistic affinity to likely that the Princeton painting copied the deesis type of
hierarchically in the correct position relative to Christ. It is the Madre della Consolazione type, a date of manufacture Virgin in form, yet functioned not as a part of an icon group
therefore possible to theorize that as long as the Princeton in the late sixteenth or early seventeenth century seems but as a stand-alone image intended for personal devotion.48
head of the Virgin originally appeared appropriately related likely for the Princeton head. The iconography of the paint-
to the other figures in a deesis compilation, her leftward ing, however, situates it in the context of seventeenth-­
From Crete to the Ionian Islands:
leaning posture and, by association, her placement on the century multipart deesis scenes. I would therefore propose
Post-Byzantine Art in the Venetian
right side of a group could be justified. that the icon was produced about 1600, a date that also
Territories and the Icon of Saint
Nevertheless, considering both the socio-historical con- acknowledges the work’s high quality of execution in the
Nicholas
text of the Cretan school of painting and the much later Italo-Cretan style.45
production of the Princeton icon than the singular deesis The dimensions of the Princeton icon, significantly Although the loss of Crete in 1669 to the Ottomans marked
composition in Kiev, it seems unlikely that the Princeton smaller than the aforementioned deesis paintings, make it the official end of the Cretan school of painting, its influ-
head of the Virgin would have functioned in this manner. likely that the composition was used for private devotional ence continued predominantly in the Greek-speaking
To my knowledge, there are no other examples from Crete purposes.46 Depictions solely of the Virgin were popular in Venetian-held territories and within the Greek community

Figure 8. Post-Byzantine, Ionian Islands (Corfu?) workshop: Saint Nicholas, mid- to
late 17th century. Gilding and tempera on wood, 35 x 23.5 cm, 48 x 34.5 cm (framed).
Princeton University Art Museum, gift of Anne Angleton Hyde (2010-228)
of Venice itself.49 Just as artists from Constantinople had The icon of Saint Nicholas demonstrates the continued
begun to relocate to Crete well before the city’s fall, so the influence of this significant school of art, which was further
gradual subjugation of the strategically desirable island by developed by subsequent generations of artists on the Ionian
the Ottomans just two centuries later initiated an exodus of Islands (fig. 8). Conforming to standard representations of the
refugees, including icon painters, to other areas controlled saint, the Princeton Saint Nicholas is portrayed enthroned
by Venice.50 The Ionian Islands and Venice were the main with his right hand raised in benediction and his left hand
points of destination. Corfu, the most politically important holding the Gospel of John, opened to verse 10:9, the book
Ionian Island, quickly became the next major artistic center being supported on his knee.52 As the patron saint of sailors
of Post-Byzantine art in the Venetian colonies.51 Because and merchants, Saint Nicholas was widely popular in the
the Ionian Islands were inhabited by artists that had relo- Venetian sea-based colonies (the Stato da Mar) and is fre-
cated from Crete, it is not surprising that their art stems quently depicted on icons on account of his extraordinary
from the Cretan school of painting. acceptance into both the Orthodox and the Catholic Church.53
8 9
Although Saint Nicholas is usually represented on a the painter’s ability to operate in a more naturalistic Renais-
wooden throne with a raised back, the Princeton figure sits sance manner. It is precisely this combination of Western
on a simple marble seat. Rendered, to a degree, in the influences on the level of the particular that are incorpo-
Renaissance manner, the shape of the throne recalls the rated into overall Byzantine representational strategies and
entablature of a classically inspired Italian edifice more than that hint at the complex cultural interplay that was occur-
traditional Byzantine furniture. Depictions of thrones with ring during this period.56
sculptural details reminiscent of Venetian marble work are The similarity of the Princeton icon to the painting of
known from extant examples in Greece and Italy, such as an Saint Nicholas signed by Constantinos Palaeokapas — in
icon of Saint Nicholas signed by Constantinos Palaeokapas the depiction of the thrones and the physiognomies of the
in 1637 (fig. 9), from the Gonia Monastery in Crete, and a ­figures — underscores the influence of the artist from the
painting of the saint, now in Bologna, by Frangiskos Sarak- Cretan school of painting and suggests a mid- to late-­
enopoulos, from the third quarter of the sixteenth century.54 seventeenth-century date for the Princeton Saint Nicholas.
While the throne of the Princeton icon does not include any The more pastel-colored palette, the vibrancy of which is
representation of the human form, the delicately executed missing on account of the work’s overcleaning, and the
tassel-like reliefs framed in a frieze banded by a cornice and increased sense of delicacy in the composition, a result of
architrave in gray marble suggest a significant engagement
with Renaissance visual culture (see fig. 8).
The depiction of the throne with Saint Nicholas upon it
recedes naturalistically into the space of the painting,
revealing the artist’s attention to Western perspectival
techniques, as the icon appears much more like a window
realistically opening out onto the world. The effect is
maintained despite the Byzantine tradition of using of a
solid red ground and gold background which iconographi-
cally were never intended to make reference to the natural
world. Indeed, icons from Crete and the Ionian Islands
often emulate Western images, with space organized
according to the laws of perspective. Not until the eigh-
teenth century, however, are there some examples where
they are applied so comprehensively that the general
appearance of a composition loses its immediate identifica-
tion as a Byzantine or Post-­Byzantine object.
Attired in a gray-white floral-patterned omophorion
(shoulder dressing) with crosses bordered by red lines, a red
phelonion (chasuble) with a green lining, and a golden epi-
trachelion (stole) and epigonateion (a rhombic-shaped panel
that hangs near the knee) embellished with tassels and jew-
els, Saint Nicholas appears as an Orthodox prelate.55 Unfor-
tunately, the chromatic brilliance of the work has been
largely lost on account of an earlier abrasive cleaning. While
the artist was careful to depict all the abundant folds of the
vestments that would have been accorded such a high-rank-
ing clergyman, they appear here as stylized lines that freeze
the sense of movement in the drapery rather than as subtle
details that create a naturalistic effect. In this sense, they
recall the established Byzantine and Post-Byzantine styles
and may be interpreted as a visual device employed to
cement the saint in his esteemed position, firmly situating
him in space so that his devotee may directly reach him. Figure 9. Constantinos Palaeokapas (fl. 1635–40), Post-Byzantine,
Conversely, the gentle execution of Saint Nicholas’s deli- School of Crete: Saint Nicholas, 1637. Tempera on wood, 112 x 67 cm.
cately poised and carefully modeled hands are indicative of Gonia Monastery, Crete
the artist’s nuanced attention to detail, sometimes at the
expense of the overall form, however, indicate a prove-
nance in the Ionian Islands. It also should be noted that the
medium size of the Princeton icon, without the frame only
35 x 23.5 centimeters, compared to the large work by Pal-
aeokapas, which measures 112 x 67 centimeters, points to
the different functions of these paintings. The smaller
Prince­ton Saint Nicholas could have been produced for pri-
vate devotional purposes or for use on the proskynetarion
(icon stand or shrine) in a church or chapel. The larger
Palaeokapas icon may have been inserted into the central
register of an icon screen.57
The Venetian-inspired frame of the Princeton icon is
also suggestive of the Ionian Islands (see fig. 8). A very simi-
lar frame adorns a late-seventeenth-century icon of Saint
George in the Antivouniotissa Museum on Corfu (fig. 10),
and other examples may still be found in churches on Corfu
and Cephalonia.58 Examples of this type of scrolling foliate
frame in gold reflect the drastic development
Figure 10. Post-Byzantine, Ionian Islands workshop: framed Saint
George, late 17th century. Gilding and tempera on wood, 69 x 54 x
2.3 cm. Antivouniotissa Museum, Corfu, 21st Ephorate of Byzantine
Antiquities (33)
10
of the Venetian Sansovino type of frame away from its
architectural associations into a more Baroque form com-
plete with stylized foliage that conveys a sense of undulating
movement.59 Although the frame of the Princeton icon is
detachable in four parts, the perfect interlocking of the
scroll pattern where the pieces connect suggests that it was
intended for the painting. Given the popularity for framing
Post-Byzantine icons in the Baroque style on the Ionian
Islands, it is likely that this frame is original to the work.
Furthermore, the effaced cartouche on the bottom strip
may have once boasted a coat of arms. Indeed, representa-
tions of coats of arms are sometimes found in regions that
had been under Venetian control.60 If this was the case, it is
likely that the icon, along with its frame, was commissioned
for private devotion or as a votive offering.
Although the fascinating subject of the “framing” of
icons from a theological perspective lies outside the scope of
this paper, I would like to draw attention to changing con-
ceptions of the notion of containment in the development
of Post-Byzantine art. As artists were exposed to Renais-
sance modes of display, Byzantine theological concerns
regarding the inherent problem of enclosing what cannot
be delimited  —  sacred spaces and holy persons  —  were
diminished. In the context of the Ionian Islands, an icon’s
framing could be interpreted as an act of reverence by means
of adornment much in the same way as an icon’s encase-
ment in a metal revetment is perceived to enhance the
honor of a depicted holy person. In the Venetian-held
­territories, this type of frame also could hold a purely deco-
rative appeal, as contemporary fashions from Venice were
often emulated in the colonies.
It is usually assumed that Western artistic influence was
slow to reach the territories that Venice controlled; such a
notion thus lends to the characterization of Post-Byzantine Figure 11. Post-Byzantine, workshop on the Greek-speaking Ottoman mainland:
Saint Anthony, 18th century. Tempera on wood, 20 x 12.5 cm, 24 x 18.5 x 3 cm (framed).
art as retrograde. This observation, typically made in
Princeton University Art Museum, gift of Anne Angleton Hyde (2010-227)
descriptions of the use of medieval and Renaissance styles in
Post-Byzantine art, is misleading in conveying general pat-
terns of influence, but it may be true when only certain
Orthodox Art in the Ottoman
aspects of a work are considered.61 For example, when the Renais­sance, it was often used to adorn images intended for
Sphere: The Icons of Saint Anthony
frame and woodwork of the Saint Nicholas icon are also personal devotion. Two eighteenth-century icons in Athens
and the Holy Communion of the
evaluated, one finds that the role of Western influence on from the Andreadis Collection at the Benaki Museum
Apostles
this material can also reflect cultural exchanges of a more (figs.  12, 13) are closely related to the Princeton Saint
contemporary nature.62 In fact, the Baroque frame of the The small icon of the desert father Saint Anthony the Great Anthony. Each features a flat-banded border frame within
Princeton icon is consistent with current Venetian wood- is enclosed in an elaborate frame that is carved out of the which two Solomonic half-columns with bases are topped
carving trends, whereas the painting of Saint Nicholas that board itself (fig. 11).64 This framing method was utilized in by ornate foliated capitals that support an embellished arch
it contains reveals aspects of Renaissance influence in the Western medieval and Byzantine art and developed further with opened flowers in the spandrels.66 This rusticated and
details of the composition that are of a retrograde nature. in Renaissance and Post-Byzantine contexts. The engaged engaged version of Renaissance tabernacle frames in Post-
The patterns of influence encountered in Post-Byzantine frame of the Princeton Saint Anthony is of the tabernacle or Byzantine art was popular into the eighteenth century.67
art, however, are by no means fixed, as an icon from the aedicule type, which is more commonly known in Western Clearly a standard iconographic template in wood
Angleton Collection that was produced in Ottoman terri- Europe and derives from architectural models such as wall ­work­shops of the period, this type of icon board is of inter-
tory demonstrates.63 niches.65 A common type of freestanding frame in the est for its association with different regions of the former
11
Figure 12. Post-Byzantine, Ionian Islands workshop: Saint
Onouphrios and Saint Paphnoutios, early 18th century. Tempera on
wood, 34.5 x 27.4 x 3.4 cm. Rena Andreadis Collection, Benaki
Museum, Athens (69)
Byzantine territories. On account of the style and technical
execution of their paintings, the icon of Saint Onouphrios
and Saint Paphnoutios has been traced to the Ionian Islands
and that of Saint Panteleimon to a workshop on the Otto-
man mainland in what constitutes southern modern-day
Greece.68 The fine alternating rosette motif of the punched
halo and the painting style of the Princeton Saint Anthony,
however, point to its likely production in the Greek-­
speaking Ottoman mainland (see fig. 11).69
The iconography of the Princeton painting is by no
means atypical: the saint is presented in a full-length pose
holding a wooden staff and a scroll inscribed with an apo-
phthegma (aphorism) on escaping the snares of the devil
through humility as is set forth in the Hermeneia (painter’s
manual) of Dionysios of Fourna.70 Analysis of the icon
under black lights in the Princeton conservation laboratory
revealed that the composition has been slightly touched up;
this can be seen with the naked eye where the red ground
of the painting has overtaken the saint’s left shoe. There is
no doubt that the artist was aware of the Cretan style of
12
Figure 13. Post-Byzantine, workshop on the southern Greek-
speaking Ottoman mainland: Saint Panteleimon, third quarter of the
18th century. Tempera on wood, 40 x 32 x 3 cm. Rena Andreadis
Collection, Benaki Museum, Athens (70)
painting and could follow standard iconographic formulas
although he was not trained to fully articulate them. For
example, the delicate highlighting of the drapery near the
saint’s knee is skillful in its execution but misplaced, as it is
too high in relation to the proportions of the figure.
Although the delineation of shadowed folds of drapery is a
common stylistic device found in Post-Byzantine art from
Crete and the Ionian Islands, the use of dark solid lines as
they appear in Saint Anthony’s cloak is associated with icons
from Veroia and its surrounding region (northern modern-
day mainland Greece).71
The complex socio-political circumstances of the Greek-
speaking former Byzantine territories under Ottoman con-
trol make it impossible to characterize the Post-­Byzantine
art produced there according to one style. For the purposes
of this study, however, consideration of the continued
influence of the School of Crete in some of these areas
should be underscored. The numerous commissions of
Cretan artists to paint in the monastic centers of Meteora
and Mount Athos demonstrate that Cretan painting gained
Figure 14. Post-Byzantine, Cycladic Islands workshop: Holy Communion of the
Apostles, second quarter of the 19th century. Tempera on wood, 37.5 x 23.5 cm.
Gift of Anne Angleton Hyde (2010-230)
influence on the Ottoman mainland. The portability of of mutual mercantile interests.73 Contact between Ortho-
small icons is another factor. Although the Princeton Saint dox communities in both the Venetian and the Ottoman
Anthony was most likely produced in a region under Otto- territories existed through family connections, the use of
man control, the work’s carving and aspects of the painting religious cult sites, and the movement of artists and their
style reflect artistic interaction with the territories under workshops across territories in different hegemonic circum-
Venetian rule. stances. Indeed, Venetian stylistic influence on art from the
Considering the political volatility of these areas as they Ottoman lands could have come from a variety of routes.74
moved from the hands of Latin to Ottoman overlords and The fourth icon from the Angleton donation dates to the
eventually to complete Ottoman rule (except in the case of second quarter of the nineteenth century and portrays the
Corfu), examining the artistic and cultural legacy of Byzan- subject of the Holy Communion of the Apostles (fig. 14).
tium under only Venetian or Ottoman domination is prob- Deviating from the standard iconography of the scene and
lematic.72 Furthermore, even though the two empires were embellished by an ornate tabernacle frame that is integral to
often at war, the links between them were vast on account the icon, this unusual icon highlights the limitations of
13

Figure 15. Post-Byzantine, Ionian Islands (Corfu?) workshop:
frame, 18th century(?). Tempera on wood, 137 x 88 cm., opening
79 x 61 cm. Antivouniotissa Museum, Corfu, 21st Ephorate of
Byzantine Antiquities (1401)
­ tilizing the political borders of the Ottoman or the Venetian
u
Empire to structure interpretations of the continued cultural
influence of Byzantium. The painting is rendered in a style
associated with the Ionian Islands; elements such as the natu-
ral sense of movement in the figures, emphasized by the art-
ist’s attention to light-to-dark effects in the d­ rapery, recall
the Palaeologan school of painting from the Byzantine
period. The use of a checkered ground was also a frequently
employed motif from the late seventeenth to the early nine-
teenth century in Post-Byzantine art from the  Ionian Islands.
The frame of the work, however, recalls the carving style of
the Greek-speaking northwestern Ottoman mainland.
Although the garlanded columns decorated with rosettes
in the capitals and bases along with the arched enclosure of
the painting have similarities with the features of the pre-
viously discussed engaged tabernacle frames, the pediment
of the Holy Communion of the Apostles is unusual. The best
14
comparison is, perhaps, the finely executed tabernacle frame
from Corfu, which may have been used as a private prosky-
netarion that has been uncritically dated to the eighteenth
century (fig. 15).75 The crown in the upper section of this
frame, along with the presence of jubilant horn-blowing
cherubim, suggests that the painting that was once placed
within it had a similarly triumphant connotation.76 Both
the Corfu frame and the Holy Communion of the Apostles
thus attest to the unique development of tabernacle frames
in Post-Byzantine art, a subject that has to date escaped
­scholarly attention.77
The Princeton icon recalls the woodworking style of an
eighteenth- or nineteenth-century Epirote iconostasis, and
there are good indications that the Holy Communion of the
Apostles was, in fact, part of an icon screen.78 Two wooden
slots can be observed on the sides of the icon, one of which
still retains half its wooden spline joint from where it was
sawed off (fig.  16). Considering the architectural associa-
tions of the frame with a temple and the subject of the
painting it shelters, it is more than likely that the Prince­ton
Holy Communion of the Apostles was designed for the upper,
centermost part of an iconostasis.
The iconography of the frame, according to Anastasia
Drandaki, curator of Byzantine art at the Benaki Museum,
Figure 16. Detail of sawed-off spline joint of the icon Holy
Communion of the Apostles shown in figure 14
Athens, may be related to the recognition of the neo-­
Hellenic state in 1832.79 In favor of this interpretation is the
prominent, centrally placed crown held by flanking cheru-
bim-like ­figures; the crown supports a large sun displayed
in the center of the frame’s pediment between lavish veg-
etal carvings (see fig.  14).80 The depiction of a crown, a
symbol usually associated with victory and sometimes with
the subject of Greek independence, in paintings, is perhaps
the best indication of the icon’s date.81 If this is the case, the
figures supporting the crown may be images of Nike, the
personification of victory in the Classical Greek tradition,
dressed appropriately in a short, belted chiton.82
Two surviving paintings of God in Judgment presiding
over the coronation ceremony of the newly elected leaders
of the Kingdom of Greece, King Otto and Queen Amalia,
along with representatives of the Great Powers (the United
Kingdom, France, and the Russian Empire), make a rele-
vant comparison to the Princeton icon.83 In both paintings
angels are presented crowning the state leaders and offering
victory wreathes to underscore God’s divine favor of Greek
independence from the Ottoman Empire. While the
Prince­ton icon remains devoid of representations of specific
persons, it makes reference to the independence movement
through its use of the emergent symbols of the newly
defined state. In conjunction with the presentation of what
I would interpret as a temple front adorned with celebratory
garlands, over which a new sun brilliantly rises, the sym-
bolic language of ancient Greece is also invoked, thus her-
alding an important component of the new symbolic idiom
in which the Greek state would cast its identity.84
What is also striking about this work is the choice of
subject in the painting. Clearly labeled θeίa μετάληψ[η] (Theia
Metalips[i], Holy Communion) in red, this image of Christ
and an angel offering the Eucharist to the apostles is unusual.
Scenes of the Holy Communion of the Apostles typically
feature either a double or a single representation of Christ
officiating over both the bread and the wine, but never paired
with an angel. While this may seem a complete deviation
from the standard iconography, interest in the subject of the
Eucharist is well attested in Post-Byzantine art.85 For exam-
ple, the innovative Cretan painter Michael Damaskinos
introduced a new icon type, the Allegory of the Holy Com-
munion, to the island of Corfu at the end of the sixteenth
century, and it gained mass appeal over the next two hun-
dred years. Although the Allegory of the Holy Communion
and the Holy Communion of the Apostles are distinct icon-
ographic types, both clearly feature the artos (raised bread)
that is offered in the Orthodox Communion as opposed to
the unleavened wafer utilized in the Catholic Eucharist.
Interest in the subject of the Orthodox Divine Liturgy in
Post-Byzantine art, particularly on the Ionian Islands during
the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, is not surprising
given the Catholicizing pressures that the Orthodox com-
munity faced under Venetian rule.86 While the degree of
Catholic proselytizing in the Venetian territories varied
greatly according to the region and period of the empire’s
rule, in the case of the Ionian Islands there was sustained
religious contention between the Eastern and Western
Churches that was observable on the popular level.87 It is in
this context that one finds a new development in the iconog­
raphy of the Corfiote (and also in some cases, Cephalonian)
iconostases: the incorporation of a scene referring to the
liturgy as it is performed in the Orthodox Church in the
upper, centermost part of the screen.88 Indeed, the promo-
tion of Orthodoxy was an important part of the emerging
Greek national identity.89 Given the neo-Hellenic associa-
tions of the frame, it is tempting to interpret the choice of
subject for the painting as an assertion of the continued
Orthodox liturgical tradition as the very core of the Greek
state, which provides the structure to shelter and, thus,
­triumphantly honor Orthodoxy.
The icon’s delicate style of painting, associated with the
continued influence of the School of Crete, in disjunction
with the rather roughly rendered frame, more akin to the
elaborate wood carvings from Epirus, suggests that the icon
is neither from the Ionian Islands nor from the northern
part of the Ottoman mainland. Given the refugee move-
ment of artists out of Crete after the Ottoman occupation
not only to the Ionian Islands but also to the Cyclades, the
Cycladic Islands are a potential site for the production of the
Princeton Holy Communion of the Apostles. In the Cyclades,
Cretan art was transformed into a local idiom that also
encompassed features more traditionally associated with the
Ottoman mainland, a phenomenon that may account for
the unusual combination of styles in the painting.90 Further-
more, given the nationalist symbolism of the Princeton
icon’s engaged frame, it is likely to have been conceived in
an area within the borders of the newly founded Greek
state, such as the Cyclades.91
“Post-Byzantine” Art Revisited:
Concluding Remarks on Byzantine
Artistic Continuities in the Early
Modern Period
During the early modern period, the commercialized
­pro­duction of icons from the Venetian-controlled island of
Crete was recognized across the Mediterranean and even in
markets as far north as Flanders. As new patterns of cultural
exchange emerged, particularly in the Venetian-held terri-
tories, mercantile conditions ripened for Cretan icons to
exert influence on the development of stylistic trends in
15
both Eastern and Western devotional images. That icons
could be produced en masse does not mean that they were
necessarily generic or had lost, by consequence, their poten-
tial religious functions.92 Even though icons are by nature
formulaic, the most typical examples of Post-­Byzantine art
reveal uniqueness in their complex amalgamations of styles
and subjects. By 1669, the fall of Crete, when Western taste
in Post-Byzantine art was declining and, thus, the lucrative
commissions for it were dwindling, the production of icons
for Orthodox patrons continued unhindered. The contin-
ued manufacture of Post-Byzantine art despite changes in
demand from foreign markets and the loss of Byzantium’s
political autonomy underscores one way in which the Byz-
antine tradition was maintained by Orthodox communities.
At a time of political fragmentation in the Orthodox world,
as the former Byzantine territories were constantly divided
and placed under either Latin or Ottoman rule, the role of
icons as visual markers of Orthodox allegiance was critical.
Geographically spread between and beyond the shift-
ing Ottoman and Venetians worlds, and chronologically
suspended, uneasily, from the decline of Byzantium to the
Balkan independence movements, Post-Byzantine art inher-
ently defies boundaries and has remained, not surprisingly,
undefined. My attempt to articulate a specific meaning as
to what is meant by “Post-Byzantine” art can by no means
be comprehensive, given the complicated nature of this
material, yet the establishment of a template by which the
cultural and artistic legacy of Byzantium may be measured
is not futile. Most commonly assessed in isolation, “Post-
Byzantine” art could be better understood within a broader
NOTES
I would like to thank J. Michael Padgett, curator of ancient art at the Princeton
University Art Museum, for offering me this exciting opportunity to study the
Angleton Collection. His support and advice on the project were invaluable.
Anastasia Drandaki, curator of the Byzantine collection at the Benaki Museum,
Athens, kindly reviewed this article and provided me with many suggestions on
the interpretations of the icons. I would also like to express my gratitude to ­Sharon
Gerstel, professor of Byzantine art at the University of California, Los Angeles,
for her many helpful comments on the project, and to Patricia Fortini Brown,
professor of Renaissance art history at Princeton University, for her direction on
the article. Diamando Rigakou, director of the 21st Byzantine Ephorate in Corfu,
provided welcome assistance, as did Janet Rauscher, associate editor at the Princ-
eton University Art Museum. I am especially grateful for the meticulous com-
ments and excellent suggestions provided to me on the final draft by copy editor
Sharon Herson. I thank Norman Muller of the Art Museum for working with
me on the research of the icons’ preservation history; Anastasia Sakellariadi, Hel-
lenic Studies Post-Doctoral Fellow at Princeton, for her editing assistance and
advice on the imagery associated with Greek independence; and Yanni Petsopou-
los, owner of the AXIA Art Consultants, Ltd., in London for his comments on
the Prince­ton head of the Virgin. Finally, I want to acknowledge and thank Mrs.
Ann Angleton Hyde for discussing the history of the collection and her father’s
life at length with me. I am indebted to all who assisted me on this project.
16
material culture if clarity were brought to the meaning of the
term. Rather than only pointing out limitations, or search-
ing for other words to convey what Post-Byzantine already
implies, let us establish a useful definition of it.93
While stemming from the late Byzantine tradition, Post-
Byzantine art is best characterized by its receptivity to stylis-
tic and iconographic innovation. It is therefore essential not
to typecast Post-Byzantine art as being representative of a
singular style when a variety of schools of painting coexisted
with drastically different aesthetic values.94 The art pro-
duced in the areas under Venetian domination reveals an
interest in and reaction to contemporary politics and cul-
tural trends in its mixed style and nuanced subject matter.
As we have seen, exposure to Renaissance art and culture
had a significant impact on stylistic developments. By con-
trast, icons from Ottoman-controlled mainland Greece are
more likely to reveal their ties to the regional styles that
existed in these areas during the Byzantine Empire. These
characteristics, however, are not fixed, and it is precisely
such flexibility that makes this material so unique.
Post-Byzantine art thus reflects innovation and continuity,
although it is the former quality by which the progression of
art through history has, by and large, been measured, and the
latter that has led to this material’s exclusion from the canon.95
In the context of both the Venetian and Ottoman hegemo-
nies, Post-Byzantine art is consistently faithful to Orthodox
doctrinal tenets, and it is in this capacity, from within its own
tradition, that this material should be defined, not disre-
garded, in order to contribute to our understanding of the
religious and artistic complexity of the early modern world.
1. Notice of this donation first appeared in J. Michael Padgett and Emily Spratt,
“New Acquisitions,” Princeton University Art Museum Magazine (Fall 2011):
14. The donation also included a wooden bread stamp. Originally from
Cephalonia, Phocas Angleton, the collector of the icons, was a businessman,
philanthropist, and theologian with strong ties to the Orthodox Church.
2. For a concise discussion on the waning political influence of Byzantium, see
Nevra Necipoglu, “The Shrinking Empire and the Byzantine Dilemma
between East and West after the Fourth Crusade,” in Byzantium between the
Ottomans and the Latins: Politics and Society in the Late Empire (Cambridge: Cam-
bridge University Press, 2009), 18–41. On the artistic legacy of Byzantine art
during this period, see Helen C. Evans, ed., Byzantium: Faith and Power
(1261–1557), exh. cat. (New York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2004).
3. For the purposes of this study, I will occasionally invoke the imperfect, yet
useful, linguistic marker of identity, “Greek-speaking regions,” to define the
Orthodox populations that are found in territories with changing political
allegiance in order to avoid the nationalistic and anachronistic description of
these places according to notions of the nation-state of Greece.
4. To date, the most comprehensive discussion of the problematic use of the
term “Post-Byzantine” in the history of art has been by Olga Gratziou, in a
conference on the fall of Constantinople and the period following Byzan-
tium’s decline as a state. While scholars have criticized the term and
highlighted the difficulties in describing the Orthodox art produced post-
1453, there has been no consideration of the use-value of creating an exact
definition of it. I first proposed a version of this definition of Post-Byzantine
art in my master’s thesis, “The Allegory of the Holy Communion: An Inves-
tigation of a Post-Byzantine Icon Type that Developed on the Ionian Islands
during the Period of the Venetian Hegemony” (University of California, Los
Angeles, Fall 2007), and further developed the concept in a recent conference
paper: “Defining ‘Post-Byzantium’: Historiographic Considerations on the
Legacy of an Empire and the Role of Formalism in Description of Its Art,” in
Mis/re/presentation, November 13, 2010, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor.
On the problematic usage of the term, see Olga Gratziou, “Μεταβυζαντινή
Τέχνη: Χρονολογικός προσδιορισμός ή εννοιολογική κατηγορία” [Post-Byzan-
tine Art: Chronological Designation or Conceptual Category?], in 1453: Η
άλωση της Κωνσταντινούπολης και η μετάβαση από τους μεσαιωνικούς στους
νεώτερους χρόνους [The Fall of Constantinople and the Transition from the
Medieval to the Modern Period], ed. Tonia Kiousopoulou (Heraklion:
Πανεπιστημιακές εκδόσεις Κρήτης [Crete University Press], 2005), 183–96;
Slobodan Ćurčić, “The ‘Absence of Byzantium’ — The Role of a Name,”
Nea Estia 82, no. 164 (Sept. 2008); and Linda Safran, “‘Byzantine’ Art in Post-
Byzantine South Italy,” Common Knowledge 18, no. 3 (Fall 2012): 485–504.
5. The concept of “Post-Byzantine” as a period marker fails to acknowledge
either a specific chronology or the political orientation of the places it
describes. For the classic account of this nebulously defined period, see Nico-
lai Iorga, Byzance après Byzance (Bucharest: Institut d’études byzantines, 1981).
Also see Lowell Clucas, ed., The Byzantine Legacy in Eastern Europe (Boulder:
East European Monographs, distributed by Columbia University Press, 1988).
6. Since the term “Post-Byzantine” art remains inconclusively defined, it could
in fact refer to any Orthodox art produced after 1453; nevertheless, I think it
is useful to distinguish a period for which this term is most relevant. By the
time of the Balkan independence movements, I would argue, Orthodox
communities were negotiating a different relationship with the legacy of
Byzantium than had existed in the early modern period, one that was much
affected by nationalism. The term “neo-Byzantine” art has been utilized by
some scholars in southeastern Europe to describe modern Orthodox art,
albeit uncritically. Olga Gratziou has also pointed out this problem of asso-
ciating Post-Byzantine art with a precise period; see her “Μεταβυζαντινή
Τέχνη,” 196.
7. The icons are catalogued in the Princeton University Art Museum as
­accession nos. 2010-231, 2010-228, 2010-227, and 2010-230.
8. The year 1821 marks the beginning of the Greek Revolution; the First Hel-
lenic Republic was proclaimed in 1822, and ten years later Greece gained
recognition as the independent Kingdom of Greece.
9. Concerns over the impending fall of the Byzantine capital to the Ottomans
led to the gradual relocation of most Constantinopolitan artists to the more
politically secure environment of Crete. For an excellent overview of how
these changing political circumstances affected the artists, see Maria Vassilaki,
“Religious Art under Foreign Rule: The Case of the Painter,” in The Greek
World under Ottoman and Western Domination: 15th–19th Centuries, ed. P ­ aschalis
Kitromilides et al., conference proceedings (New York: Alexander S. O ­ nassis
Public Benefit Foundation, 2008), 80–89.
10. Although many of the Western influences in Post-Byzantine art are in fact
retrograde, this phenomenon may have more to do with the status of Gothic
images as holy cult objects that held religious appeal for painters from Crete.
It was not uncommon for Post-Byzantine artists to also have been monks or
priests. The influence of Italian Mannerism would later become an impor-
tant trend in Cretan art.
11. I would argue that even Post-Byzantine icons intended for Catholic patrons
generally do not betray the doctrinal tenets of Orthodoxy, although artists
were receptive to depicting scenes outside the canon of Byzantine
iconography.
12. M. Cattapan, “Nuovi elenchi e documenti dei pittori in Creta dal 1300 al
1500,” Thesaurismata 9 (1972): 211–13. Orders for icons were also requested
in forma alla greca or in forma alla latina (in the Greek or Latin form). See
Robin Cormack, Painting the Soul: Icons, Death Masks, and Shrouds (London:
Reaktion Books, 1997), 214.
13. See Manolis Chatzidakis, Icônes de Saint-Georges des Grecs et de la Collection de
l’Institut (Venice: N. Pozza, 1962), 17–19. A rich bibliography exists on the
use of the term “Italo-Cretan.” See the following essays by Manolis
Chatzidakis: “Essaie sur l’école dite ‘italogrecque’ précédé d’une note sur les
rapports de l’art vénitien avec l’art crétois jusqu’à 1500,” in Venezia e il
Levante fino al secolo XV, ed. A. Pertusi (Florence: L. S. Olschki, 1974),
72–81; “Les débuts de l’école crétoise et la question de l’école dite italo-
grecque,” in Μνημόσυνον Σοφίας Ἀντωνιάδη [In memory of Sofia Antoniadis]
(Venice: Hellenic Institute for Byzantine and Post-Byzantine Studies, 1974),
169–211; “La peinture des ‘Madonneri’ ou ‘veneto-crétoise’ et sa destina-
tion,” in Venezia, centro di mediazione tra oriente e occidente (secoli XV–XVI):
Aspetti e problemi, vol. 2, ed. H. G. Beck, M. Manoussacas, and A. Pertusi
(Florence: L. S. Olschki, 1977), 674–90.
14. Many commissions for this type of devotional image that attest to the popu-
larity of the subject have been preserved in the Venetian archives. See
Angelos Delivorrias et al., eds., From Byzantium to Modern Greece: Hellenic Art
in Adversity (New York: Alexander S. Onassis Public Benefit Foundation,
2005), cat. no. 10 (Icon of the Virgin Madre della Consolazione, by Anastasia
Drandaki).
15. Myrtali Acheimastou-Potamianou, ed., Holy Image, Holy Space: Icons and
Frescoes from Greece (Athens: Byzantine Museum, 1988), 136 and 211–12, cat.
no. 53 (Virgin and Child).
16. On Italian methods of panel painting, see the Renaissance text by Cennino
Cennini, The Craftsman’s Handbook [Il libro dell’arte], trans. Daniel V. Thomp-
son (New York: Dover, 1954). Compare with the eighteenth-century
treatise that reveals much of what is known about Byzantine painting prac-
tices: Dionysios of Fourna, The “Painter’s Manual” of Dionysios of Fourna,
trans. Paul Hetherington (London: Sagittarius Press, 1974).
17. Artists worked from model books and used anthivola (imprinted cartoons) to
guide the structural layout of their compositions. For a general discussion of
this subject, see Robert Scheller, Exemplum: Model-book Drawings and the
Practice of Artistic Transmission in the Middle Ages (ca. 900–ca. 1470) (Amster-
dam: Amsterdam University Press, 1995); and Ernst Kitzinger, “The Role of
Miniature Painting in Mural Decoration,” in The Place of Book Illumination in
Byzantine Art, ed. Kurt Weitzmann et al., 99–142 (Princeton: Art Museum,
Princeton University, 1975).
18. See Chryssanthi Baltogianni, “Η Κοίμηση του Ανδρέου Ρίτζου του Λονδίνου
και η εξάρτησή της από τη ζωγραφική και τα ιδεολογικά ρεύματα του 14ου
αιώνα” [The London Dormition by Andreas Ritzos and the Dependence on
Painting and Ideological Currents of the 14th Century], in Ευφρόσυνον:
Αφιέρωμα στον Μανώλη Χατζιδάκη [Jubilation: Tribute to Manolis Chatzida-
kis], ed. Evangelia Kypraiou, 2 vols. (Athens: Ταμείο Αρχαιολογικών Πόρων
και Απαλλοτριώσεων [Archaeological Resources Receipts Fund], 1992),
1:345–53.
19. I thank Norman Muller for pointing this out to me.
20. Basic aspects of an icon’s manufacture, which tell us so much about the
provenance of an object or its maker’s artistic training, are often overlooked
in art-historical studies on this material; therefore, I have highlighted some
of these points here. A pioneering study on the practice of mordant gilding
was recently carried out in Thessaly. See Olga Katsibiri and Russell F. Howe,
“Micro-Analytical Study of the Mordant Gilding Technique in Three Post-
Byzantine Churches in Thessalia, Greece,” in Ninth International Conference
on NDT of Art, Jerusalem, Israel, May 25–30, 2008 [available online at www.
afir.org.ro/sica/refe/2008_Katsibiri.pdf]; Olga Katsibiri, Investigation of the
Technique and Materials Used for Mordant Gilding on Byzantine and Post-­
Byzantine Icons and Wall Paintings (M. Phil., University of Northumbria at
Newcastle, 2002).
21. It remains undetermined whether the icon was once adorned with a
revetment.
22. The use of pseudo-Arabic script in Italian Renaissance paintings is also well
known. See Rosamond Mack, “Oriental Script in Italian Paintings,” in
Bazaar to Piazza: Islamic Trade and Italian Art, 1300–1600 (Berkeley: Univer-
sity of California Press, 2002), 51–71. An excellent account of Venice’s
interaction with the East and the effects on material culture is given by
Deborah Howard, “Venice, the Bazaar of Europe,” in Bellini and the East,
ed. Caroline Campbell and Alan Chong (London: National Gallery Com-
pany, 2005), 12–35. While there has been much recent interest in the
connection of Renaissance Italy with the East, studies of this subject by
Renaissance art historians have largely neglected consideration of the art
produced by Christians in the Islamic world.
23. Padgett and Spratt, “New Acquisitions,” 14.
17
24. A waxed linen encasement was employed in an earlier conservation effort to
keep moisture out of the wood and to prevent the panel from warping.
25. I thank Norman Muller for examining the work and explaining its state of
conservation to me in great depth.
26. Gesso would have been applied to the panel and its frame, followed by boll,
gold leaf, and paint. I thank Norman Muller for describing this to me in detail.
27. The frames of icons suffering from woodworm infestation are often removed
in attempts to preserve the painting from deterioration. Considering that
evidence of woodworms is apparent on the left side of the unpainted portion
of the Princeton head of the Virgin, one might speculate whether the
removal of the frame occurred at the same time as the work’s overcleaning.
I am grateful to Yanni Petsopoulous for this assessment.
28. Stamatios Chondrogiannis et al., The Antivouniotissa Museum, Corfu, trans.
Deborah Brown Kazazis (Thessaloniki: Hellenic Ministry of Culture and
Tourism, 2010), 181, cat. no. 24 (The Virgin, Hope of All, Enthroned).
29. See Timothy Newbery et al., eds., Italian Renaissance Frames (New York:
The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1990), 13–14.
30. Other icons of this subject with similar dimensions are known, although rare.
31. See Maria Kazanaki-Lappa, ed., Arte bizantina e postbizantina a Venezia:
Museo di icone dell’Istituto ellenico di studi bizantini e postbizantini di Venezia
(Trevisi: Eurocromlibri, 2009), 102, cat. no. 36 (Testa della Vergine).
32. Ibid.
33. The work measures 41 x 34 cm.
34. The halo of the Virgin in the Corfu icon also features a bordering band of
punched rosettes. Although it has been dated to about 1600, I would date the
icon a century later, if not more. See Chondrogiannis et al., The Anti-
vouniotissa Museum, 250–51, cat. no. 134 (Virgin Mary).
35. Yanni Petsopoulos, ed., East Christian Art, exh. cat. (London: Axia, 1987),
74–75, cat. no. 61 (Bust of the Mother of God); Theano Chatzidakis et al.,
L’Art des icônes en Crete et dans les îsles après Byzance, exh. cat., Palais des
Beaux-arts (Charleroi, 1982), cat. no. 30. The work was sold to a private
collector in London during the 1970s. Also see Nano Chatzidakis, Da Candia
a Venezia, icone greche in Italia, XV–XVI secolo, exh. cat., Museo Correr,
Venice (Athens: Fondazione per la cultura greca, 1993).
36. The literal meaning of the term deesis is “entreaty”; scholars have used the
word to describe compositions of the Virgin Mary and John the Baptist
flanking and gesturing toward Christ. It may also be used to describe images
of the Virgin or a donor presenting a petition or simply to connote the
Mother of God praying. See Alexander P. Kazhdan, ed., Oxford Dictionary of
Byzantium (New York: Oxford University Press, 1991), 599–600 ­(“Deesis”).
I am very grateful to Anastasia Drandaki for suggesting the iconographic
connection of the Princeton head of the Virgin with the multipart represen-
tations of the deesis.
37. See Manolis Borboudakis, ed., Icons of the Cretan School, from Candia to
­Moscow and St. Petersburg (Heraklion: Ministry of Culture, Crete, 2004),
cat. nos. 15 and 16 (Christ and the Virgin, respectively). I have described the
positions of these figures and their postures as seen by the viewer of the
paintings.
38. For an excellent discussion of Post-Byzantine deesis scenes as represented in
integral, not multipart, compositions, see Doula Mouriki, “A Deesis Icon in
the Art Museum,” Record of the Art Museum, Princeton University 27, no. 1
(1968): 13–28.
39. See Anthony Cutler, “Under the Sign of the Deesis: On the Question of
Representativeness in Medieval Art and Literature,” Dumbarton Oaks Papers
41 (1987): 145–54.
40. Mouriki, “A Deesis Icon,” 16.
41. Cutler, “Under the Sign of the Deesis,” 146.
42. Kurt Weitzmann, The Monastery of St. Catherine at Mount Sinai: The Icons
(Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1976), 34–35, pls. XIV, LVII.
43. One of the largest repositories of Post-Byzantine portrait icons of the Virgin
may be found in the Tsakyroglou Collection. Even in this group, one does
not find any representations of the Virgin turning leftward as she does in the
Princeton icon. On this collection, see Agapi Karakatsani, Εικόνες, Συλλογή
Γεωργίου Τσακύρογλου [Icons: The Collection of George Tsakyroglou] ­(Athens:
Μέλισσα [Melissa], 1980).
44. Mouriki, “A Deesis Icon,” 21–22.
45. I thank Yanni Petsopoulos for his opinion on the dating of this work, with
which I am in agreement.
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46. I have been unable to locate any icons of the Virgin with the same iconog-
raphy (head of the Madonna leaning leftward) that were or were not part of
a deesis group.
47. See Anastasia Drandaki, “Four Icons from Veria [sic] and Their Painter,
c. 1400,” Benaki Museum 6 (2006): 77–91.
48. Although it is not completely impossible that the Princeton head of the
Virgin was a part of a deesis group, if part of a larger arrangement, the
unusual placement of the icon on the right of Christ (from the viewer’s
perspective) would have been truly exceptional.
49. Unfortunately, most scholars who write about Post-Byzantine art do not
look beyond the Cretan school of art. The negative aesthetic bias toward
later Post-Byzantine art in the Greek-speaking regions has led to a lack of
scholarship on this material although there are notable exceptions. See, for
example, Panayiotis Vokotopoulos, Εικόνες της Κέρκυρας [Icons of Corfu]
(Athens: Μορφωτικό Ίδρυμα Εθνικής Τραπέζης Εθνική Τράπεζα της Ελλάδος
[Cultural Foundation of the National Bank of Greece], 1990) and Anastasia
Drandaki, Greek Icons: 14th–18th Century: The Rena Andreadis Collection
(Milan: Skira, 2002).
50. See Maria Konstantoudaki-Kitromilidou, “Τάσεις και κυριότεροι εκπρόσωποι
της ζωγραφικής εικόνων στην Κρήτη, την Κύπρο και τα Επτάνησα μετά την
Άλωση” [Trends and Main Representatives of Icon Painting in Crete,
Cyprus, and the Ionian Islands after the Fall], in Βενετοκρατούμενη Ελλάδα
[Grecia durante la venetocrazia / Greece during the Venetian Period], ed. Chryssa
Maltezou, 2 vols. (Ελληνικό Ινστιτούτο Βυζαντινών και Μεταβυζαντινών
Σπουδών Βενετίας [Hellenic Institute of Byzantine and Post-Byzantine
­Studies, Venice], 2010), 1:493–534.
51. See the chart reflecting the distribution of painters according to periods and
districts, reproduced in Vassilaki, “Religious Art under Foreign Rule, the
Case of the Painter” (as in note 9 above), 90.
52. The presentation of this text is standardized in representations of Saint
­Nicholas. It reads: Eἶπεν ὁ Κύριος: ἐγώ εἰμί ἡ θύρα: δι΄ ἐμοῦ ἐάν τις εἰσέλθῃ,
σωθήσεται, καὶ εἰσελεύσεται . . .) [The Lord said: “I am the door: by me if any
man enters in, he shall be saved. . . .]. I am using the translation offered in
Drandaki, Greek Icons.
53. See Edward G. Clare, St. Nicholas, His Legends and Iconography (Florence:
L. S. Olschki, 1985), 9. Also see the recent exhibition catalogue on this sub-
ject: Michele Bacci, San Nicola: splendori d’arte d’Oriente e d’Occidente (Milan:
Skira, 2006).
54. See Borboudakis, Icons of the Cretan School, 520–21, cat. no. 167 (Saint
­Nicholas) and Chryssa Maltezou, ed., Il contributo veneziano nella formazione
del gusto dei greci (XV–XVII sec.): Atti del convegno, Venezia, 2–3 giugno 2000
(Venice: Istituto ellenico di studi bizantini e postbizantini di Venezia, 2001),
174, cat. no. 42.
55. Although the omophorion decorated with gray-white flora is more common
in late-seventeenth- to early-eighteenth-century icons, this type of patterning
is known to have been employed on Cretan icons from the mid-seventeenth
century and may be found on works such as the icon of Saint George and
Saint Demetrios now in the Veroia Collection. See Thanasis Papazotos,
“The Work of an Unknown Painter in Veroia,” Makedonika 1979, 174–76;
Borboudakis, Icons of the Cretan School, 176.
56. Discussion of this type of cultural interaction has been largely disregarded on
account of its peripheral status in relation to the Renaissance center of Venice.
57. I thank Anastasia Drandaki for discussing these critical points with me.
58. See Chondrogiannis et al., The Antivouniotissa Museum (as in note 28 above),
153.
59. On Italian Renaissance and Baroque frames, see Paul Mitchell and Lynn
Roberts, Frameworks: Form, Function & Ornament in European Portrait Frames
(London: P. Mitchell in association with Merrell Holberton, 1996), 64–78.
60. See the example of the icon of Saint Barnabas resting his feet on the island of
Cyprus, from the Holy Monastery of Machaira: Veronica della Dora, “Win-
dows on Heaven (and Earth): The Poetics and Politics of Post-­Byzantine
‘Cartographical Icons’,” Journal of Medieval Religious Cultures 38, no.  1
(2012): 84–112, especially 92. For a late-fifteenth-century example of a Post-­
Byzantine icon with a coat of arms, see Maria Vassilaki, “Some Cretan Icons
in the Walters Art Gallery,” Journal of the Walters Art Gallery 48 (1990): 75–92.
61. The complexities surrounding the concept of influence and reception in
Renaissance art have been well summarized by Thomas DaCosta Kaufmann.
See his “Hermeneutics in the History of Art: Remarks on the Reception of
Dürer in the Sixteenth and Early Seventeenth Centuries,” in New Perspectives
on the Art of Renaissance Nuremberg; Five Essays, ed. J. C. Smith (Austin,
1985), 22–39, especially 24.
62. A more critical examination of the question of Western influence and its
reception in Post-Byzantine art is needed.
63. On the problematic nature of assessing “influence” in the history of art, see
Michael Baxandall, Patterns of Intention: On the Historical Explanation of Pictures
(New Haven: Yale University Press, 1985), 58–62.
64. He is also known as Anthony of Egypt or Anthony of the Desert. On the life
of Saint Anthony the Great, see Robert Gregg, Athanasius, the Life of Antony
and the Letter to Marcellinus (New York: Paulist Press, 1980).
65. See Christine Powell and Zoë Allen, Italian Renaissance Frames at the V & A:
A Technical Study (Oxford: Butterworth-Heinemann, 2010), 32–33; New-
berry et al., Italian Renaissance Frames (as in note 29 above), 24; Paul Mitchell
and Lynn Roberts, A History of European Picture Frames (London: P. Mitchell
Ltd., 1996), 15–20; Timothy Newberry, Frames in the Robert Lehman Collec-
tion, The Metropolitan Museum of Art (Princeton: Princeton University Press,
2007), 26–27. There was also a recent exhibition on this subject at the
National Gallery of Art (without catalogue): Tabernacle Frames from the Samuel
H. Kress Collection at the National Gallery of Art, National Gallery of Art,
Washington, D.C., July 7–September 9, 2007.
66. These features are integral to the icons discussed here.
67. Drandaki, Greek Icons, 266–69, cat. nos. 69 (Saint Onouphrios and Saint
Paphnoutios) and 70 (Saint Panteleimon).
68. Ibid.
69. I thank Anastasia Drandaki for offering this assessment of the work.
70. Dionysios of Fourna states that Saint Anthony should be painted with this
inscribed scroll (The “Painter’s Manual” of Dionysios of Fourna, 86).
71. Even during the late Byzantine period, artists from Veroia employed the use
of particularly heavy black lines in their icon paintings. See Thanasis Papazo-
tos, Byzantine Icons of Verroia [sic], trans. John Davis (Athens: Akritas, 1995).
72. Unfortunately, this has been the trend in scholarship as little consideration is
given to the period after the Cretan school of painting.
73. This has been demonstrated particularly well in the case of Crete. See Molly
Greene, A Shared World: Christians and Muslims in the Early Modern Mediter-
ranean World (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2000).
74. I thank Anastasia Drandaki for underscoring the importance of this point to me.
75. See Chondrogiannis et al., The Antivouniotissa Museum, Corfu, 264–65.
76. Unfortunately, we will never know the subject of the painting that the frame
held.
77. To the best of my knowledge, the use of this frame type in Post-Byzantine
art has not been previously recognized. This is not surprising given that Post-
Byzantine art is typically evaluated by Byzantinists and not by Renaissance
art historians. Rarely is there consideration of this material from the perspec-
tives of both fields. Indeed, the history of Renaissance, Ottoman, and
Byzantine art should all factor into the analysis of Post-Byzantine art.
78. Note the nail that is in the back of the icon holding the remaining spline
joint in place.
79. I am very grateful to Anastasia Drandaki for her evaluation of this icon.
80. Michael Padgett has suggested that this vegetal motif may represent grapes,
in which case they may symbolically refer to the Eucharist. I think there is
also a possibility that they are pomegranates and relate to the themes of
immortality and resurrection. The symbolism of either fruit would comple-
ment the subject of the icon in relation to the formation of the new Hellenic
state and the role of Orthodoxy in it. See George Ferguson, Signs and Sym-
bols in Christian Art (London: Oxford University Press, 1961), 31–32 and 37.
81. The stylistic presentation of this crown is related to the long tradition of
coronation imagery in Christian art. See ibid., 166.
82. It is interesting that in the Corfu frame the figures are cherubim and in the
Princeton frame they appear as Nike figures. I thank Emil Nankov, classical
archaeologist and assistant director at the American Research Center in
Sofia, for his consultation on the interpretation of the Nike figures.
83. Both paintings are from the famous series commissioned by General Makri-
giannis, one by Dimitrios Zografos and the other by Panagiotis Zografos.
They date between 1836 and 1839 and may now be located in the National
Historical Museum of Athens (inv. no.  3750) and the Gennadius Library
(no. 19), respectively. See Euthymia Papaspyrou-Karadimitriou and Maria
Ladas-Minotos, The National Historical Museum (Athens: Historical and
Ethnological Society of Greece, 1990), 37. For the series of paintings by
Panagiotis Zografos in the Gennadius Library, see the outdated book: Karin
Aridas, Giorgos Aridas, and Elke Erb, Freiheit oder Tod: Bilder des Panagiotis
Zografos über den Kampf der Griechen gegen die türkische Fremdherrschaft 1821 bis
1830; mit Auszügen aus den Memoiren d. Generals Makrygiannis (Leipzig [u.a.]:
Kiepenheuer, 1982).
84. The archway of the temple front may also be interpreted as a triumphal arch.
85. Spratt, “The Allegory of the Holy Communion.”
86. See D. D. Triantafillopoulos, “Θρησκευτικοί ανταγωνισμοί στo πεδίο της
θρησκευτικής τέχνης. Η περίπτωση των Ιονίων Νήσων (13ος–18ος αι.)” [Reli-
gious Antagonism in the Field of Religious Art: The Case of the Ionian
Islands, 13th–18th Centuries], in Βαλκάνια και Ανατολική Μεσόγειος, 12ος–17ος
αιώνες: πρακτικά του Διεθνούς Συμποσίου στη μνήμη Δ. Α. Ζακυθηνού: Αθήνα,
14–15 Ιανουαρίου 1994 [The Balkans and the Eastern Mediterranean, 12th–
17th Centuries: Proceedings of the International Symposium in Memory of
D. A. Zakythinos, Athens, January 14–15, 1994] (Athens: Εθνικό Ίδρυμα
Ερευνών. Ινστιτούτο Βυζαντινών Ερευνών [Foundation of Ethnographic
Studies: Institute of Byzantine Studies], 1998), 217–41.
87. Spratt, “The Allegory of the Holy Communion.”
88. Ibid.
89. It is interesting to note that the role of religion in Greek nationalism has had
a tremendous impact on the historiography of Post-Byzantine art. This sub-
ject requires further analysis. On the relationship between Orthodoxy and
nationalism, see Benjamin Fortna et al., eds., State-Nationalisms in the Otto-
man Empire, Greece and Turkey: Orthodox and Muslims, 1830–1945 (New York:
Routledge, 2013). Also see Paraskeuas Matalas, Έθνος και ορθοδοξία: οι
περιπέτειες μιας σχέσης: από το “ελλαδικό” στο βουλγαρικό σχίσμα [Nation and
Orthodoxy: The Adventures of a Relationship: From the “Helladic” to the
Bulgarian Schism] (Πανεπιστημιακές εκδόσεις Κρήτης [Crete University
Press], Heraklion, 2002); E. Skopetea, Το “Πρότυπο Βασίλειο” και η Μεγάλη
Ιδέα [The “Model Kingdom” and the Great Idea] (Athens: Polytypo, 1988).
90. The Skordiles family, in particular, is associated with the style of painting
that developed on the Cyclades, which was a local derivative of the Cre-
tan school of painting. See Manolis Chatzidakis and Eugenia Drakopoulou,
Έλληνες ζωγράφοι μετά την άλωση (1450–1830) [Greek Painters after the Fall],
2 vols. (Athens: Center for Neohellenic Studies, 1997), 2:355–59. Unfortu-
nately, there is little scholarship to date on Post-Byzantine Cycladic art. I
am thankful to Anastasia Drandaki for emphasizing to me the connection
between the Princeton Holy Communion of the Apostles and the Cyclades.
91. The types of subjects and styles incorporated into the Princeton Holy Com-
munion of the Apostles would hold particular appeal to modern Greek
painters such as Demetrios Pelekasis (1881–1973), who found inspiration in
the flexibility of Post-Byzantine art to pay homage to the Byzantine tradition
and to refer to contemporary socio-religious issues. See Yiannis Rigopoulos,
Δημήτριος Σπυρίδωνος Πελεκάσης – Ζωγράφος 1881–1973 [Demetrios Spyrido-
nas Pelekasis — Painter, 1881–1973] (Athens: Πλατυφόρος [Platyforos], 2001).
On the continued influence of Byzantine and Post-Byzantine art in the
modern period, see the recent exhibition catalogue from the Museum of
Contemporary Art in Andros: Christos Margaritis, ed., Ιστορώντας την
Υπέρβαση, Από την παράδοση του Βυζαντίου στη νεώτερη τέχνη [Depicting
Transcendence from Byzantine Tradition to Modern Art] (Athens: Μικρή
Aρκτος [Mikri Arktos], Basil and Elise Goulandris Foundation, Museum of
Contemporary Art, Andros, 2013).
92. Unfortunately, strong biases against the aesthetics of Post-Byzantine art have
fostered its exclusion from the canon of art history.
93. While Olga Gratziou, Slobodan Ćurčić, and Linda Safran have articulated
perceptive and important criticisms of Byzantine and Post-Byzantine termi-
nology, a positivistic approach to this material may also be of use to the field.
See the publications by these scholars cited in note 4 above.
94. The idea of a uniform Post-Byzantine style derives from the equally prob-
lematic notion that there is also a single Byzantine style. The interpretation
of Byzantine art as a fixed “Greek” style with negative connotations was first
espoused by Vasari in the context of the Florentine Renaissance and his
description of the art of Cimabue. See Giorgio Vasari, Lives of the Artists,
trans. George Bull, vol. 1 (Harmondsworth: Penguin Books, 1965), 50–51.
95. For this reason, it is not surprising that Post-Byzantine art from the Ottoman
territories has received less scholarly attention than that produced in the
Venetian colonies.
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