B
Secular Inscriptions
Mina Moraitou
The presence of inscriptions on objects has
been one of the defining characteristics of
Islamic art from the very beginning ( see
Komaroff, p. 258 ). Writing as a form of dec-
oration appears in every form of artistic
expression, from architecture and luxury
goods to objects of everyday use. The tradi-
tion of inscriptions, whether on buildings or
objects, was not an Islamic innovation, how-
ever, but was carried over from the Late
Antique world. This practice grew in extent
and frequency, and from the seventh to the
tenth century inscriptions communicated a
variety of messages — informative or bene-
dictory, in both public and private contexts.
Secular inscriptions reveal historical facts
about the objects they decorate. Following
established formulas, they may convey for-
mal political messages glorifying a ruler. An
early example is a column capital with a
lengthy inscription concerning the building
of a water reservoir for the Umayyad palace
of al-Muwaqqar. Stating that it was commis-
sioned by the caliph Yazid II ( r. 720 – 24 ) and
supervised by ‘Abdallah, the son of Süleyman,
it includes blessings for the ruler.1 Similar
factual information is found carved on mile-
stones of the Umayyad period as well as
woven into textiles.2 Numerous tiraz textiles
throughout the Abbasid and Fatimid periods
have inscriptions whose contents follow a
specific and relatively consistent pattern: the
invocation to God is followed by wishes for
long life or victory for the caliph; then
comes detailed information on the type of
workshop that made the textile, including its
location and sometimes the name of the
supervisor. A date is customarily included at
the end ( cat. nos. 173, 176 ). Other, less offi-
237
i slam
cial inscriptions also disclose historical facts
about the creation of the works, often hon-
oring the owner or the maker. Examples can
be found on objects made of glass ( cat.
no. 174 ), ivory,3 and metalwork, an early
example of the last being a vessel from the
State Hermitage Museum, Saint Petersburg
( cat. no. 169 ).
Epigraphic bands are often central to the
decoration. For example, a vessel in the Holy
Monastery of Saint Catherine, Sinai ( cat.
no. 38 ), prominently displays the phrase “In
the name of God the blessing of God to the
owner.” A piece of furniture in the Benaki
Museum, Athens, also features an inscription
( cat. no. 162 ), while two inscriptions are the
only decoration on a reed mat from Tiberias
( today’s Tabariya; cat. no. 185 ). In the case of
ceramics, the content of the inscriptions
ranges from blessings and historical informa-
tion to popular sayings ( cat. no. 175).4 Follow­
ing Christian prototypes, the inscriptions on
oil lamps often reveal different kinds of con-
tent ( cat. no. 126c, e – g, and Schick, p. 186 ).
The prevailing form of epigraphy was an
austere angular script with clear vertical and
horizontal lines, called Kufic. During the
ninth century one form of this script took
on a particularly decorative aspect, with cer-
tain letters terminating in half-palmettes or
leaf forms that integrated words into the
broader decorative scheme ( cat. no. 179 ).
This type of calligraphy, which reached its
peak in the Fatimid period, was the begin-
ning of a great tradition of writing on
objects of art, utilizing all the decorative
potential of the Arabic alphabet.
173A – C. Fragments of the So-Called
Marwan Tiraz
Eastern Mediterranean or Central Asia, 8th century
Weft-faced compound twill weave ( samit ) in polychrome
silk; inscription embroidered in yellow silk in Ifriqiya
( modern Tunisia )
Condition: All the fragments are pieces from one silk
textile, conserved.
A. Three Fragments of a Tiraz Inscribed with the
Name of the Caliph Marwan
( 1314-1888 ) 30.3  × 50.7 cm ( 11 15/16 × 19 15/16  in. )
( 1385-1888 ) 5.5  × 45 cm ( 2 3/16 × 17 11/16  in. )
( T.13-1960 ) 15.2  × 21.5 cm ( 6 × 8 7/16  in. )
Inscribed: In Arabic, ‫ىف طراز افريقية‬ . . . ‫اهلل مرو[ ا ]ن امري املؤ‬
( . . . [ the servant of ] God Marwan commander of the
[ faithful ] . . . in the tiraz of Ifriqiya )
Provenance: ( 1314-1888 and 1385-1888 ) Purchased from
Reverend Greville J. Chester ( 1830 – 1892 ) in 1888;
( T.13-1960 ) in the collection of John Charles Robinson
( 1824 – 1913 ) until 1889; gifted to the Manchester
Whitworth Institute (now the Whitworth Art Gallery) in
1889; acquired by the Victoria and Albert Museum by
exchange in 1960.
Victoria and Albert Museum, London ( 1314-1888,
1385-1888 )
Victoria and Albert Museum, London, given by the
Whitworth Art Gallery, Manchester ( T.13-1960 )
B. Inscribed Fragments of the So-Called
Marwan Tiraz
Both pieces, 8.9 × 10.2 cm ( 3 1/2 × 4 in. )
Inscribed: In Arabic, . . . ‫الر‬ . . . ‫امر‬ . . . ‫ [من ]ـين مما‬
( [ faithful ], what was ordered [ to be made by ] . . . al-R
[ or al-Z ] )
Provenance: Gift of Pratt Institute; to Brooklyn
Museum, 1941.
Brooklyn Museum, New York, Gift of Pratt Institute
( 41.1265 )
C. Fragment of the So-Called Marwan Tiraz
14 × 13.3 cm ( 5 1/2 × 5 1/4  in. )
Provenance: Collection of John Charles Robinson
( 1824 – 1913 ) until 1889; gifted to the Manchester Whitworth
Institute (now the Whitworth Art Gallery) in 1889.
The Whitworth Art Gallery, The University of
Manchester ( T.8496 )
238 byzantium and islam: ag e of transition
T hese silk fragments, divided among dif-
ferent collections, are among the earliest
examples of tiraz production. They are
united by an inscription identifying the tiraz
embroidered in yellow silk. Section A, the
largest, consists of three fragments. The
inscription on the first piece mentions the
name of the caliph Marwan, followed by the
typical title “commander of the faithful.”
Below the inscription is a band subdivided
in three parts: a chain of hearts between two
rows of pearls on a green-and-red back-
ground interrupted by squares.1 The second
piece is inscribed with the name of a tiraz
workshop in Ifriqiya ( modern Tunisia ).
Together with fragment C and the third and
smallest piece of A, they display an arrange-
ment of composite medallions made up of a
scrolling design with white dots that looks
like a pearl border, a series of stylized
bunches of grapes, and, in the center, a
rosette of heart-shaped motifs. The medal-
lions are separated by rosettes with a quatre-
foil design. The fragments of B belong to a
Fig. 94. Digital reconstruction of Marwan Tiraz; the
inscription is not included in the reconstruction.
section that was once between two of the
above-mentioned pieces ( fig. 94 ). The
inscription completes the word al-mu’minin
( faithful ) and ends with the first letter of a
name, probably the supervisor of the work-
shop. The use of the caliph’s name assigns the
textile to the period of either Marwan ibn
al-Hakam ( Marwan I; r. 684 – 85 ) or Marwan
ibn Muhammad ( Marwan II; r. 744 – 50 ).
Most likely it dates from the time of the lat-
ter, since the former reigned for only one
year. These fragments constitute one of the
two earliest dated Islamic textiles; the other
also bears the name of Marwan.2
Identifying the place of production is a
complicated matter. Little is known about
tiraz workshops in the Umayyad period,
although some references in the sources sug-
gest the existence of such institutions.3
While no specific mention of a weaving
center in Umayyad Tunisia exists, it has been
suggested that a pre-Islamic tradition in the
area may have continued after the Arab con-
quests.4 Whether woven in Ifriqiya or not,
the place-name is significant because it indi-
cates where the textile was embroidered.
Byzantine workshops, from the fourth
century, produced woven goods to meet the
demand for luxury textiles ( cat. nos. 101,
102 ),5 often imitating imports from Iran or
farther east. Individual designs on the
Marwan fragments such as quatrefoils, heart-
shaped motifs, and rosettes are familiar in the
eastern Mediterranean, but pearl-beaded
borders and roundels are more typical of
textiles influenced by Sasanian models and
are particularly associated with costumes of
the court.6 Textiles were commonly trans-
ported from one place to another as a prod-
uct of trade or gift exchange. Although the
general layout of the design is reminiscent of
Sasanian textiles, certain examples from
Central Asia also share motifs, possibly tip-
ping the balance toward the East.7 ( See the
scientific analysis by Ana Cabrera below for
similarly ambiguous results. ) mm
A  silk textile, probably woven in
Byzantium or Central Asia, was
exported to Tunisia, embroidered during the
reign of Marwan II ( r. 744 – 50 ), and subse-
quently taken to Egypt, where it dressed the
body of someone lying in a grave at Panopolis
( Akhmim ).The fragments of this textile found
their way into at least four different interna-
tional institutions on different continents,
and there is anecdotal evidence of further
fragments known in other collections. The
2 The origin of the name Fustat is still subject to
debate. It may come from the Arabic word for tent,
in reference to ‘Amr ibn al-‘As’s first camp. The
second, more accepted hypothesis is that the name is
the Arabization of the Latin fossatum ( ditch ). See
Kubiak 1987, p. 11; Jomier 1965, p. 957. Historically,
the settlement of Fustat is referred to as Misr al-
Fustat or Fustat-Misr, meaning “the city of tents.”
See Jomier 1965, pp. 957 – 58.
3 Jomier 1965, p. 959.
4 The most significant excavations are those led by
Ali Bahgat for the Museum of Islamic Art, Cairo
( 1912 – 25 ); George T. Scanlon for the American
Research Center in Egypt ( 1964 – 81 ); Waseeda
University, Japan ( 1978 – 84 ); and Roland-Pierre
Gayraud for the Institut Français d’Archéologie
Orientale ( 1985 – present ).
5 Kubiak 1987, p. 17.
Secular Inscriptions
Mina Moraitou
1 Godart 2009, p. 144.
2 Milestones were placed on roads to indicate the
distance from cities. For a recent publication with a
discussion of the formula used for inscriptions in the
early years of Islam, see Bacharach 2010, p. 7.
3 For glass objects, see Carboni and Whitehouse 2001,
p. 87. For an ivory pyx from Aden datable between
778 and 784, see Shalem 2005; for ivory caskets from
tenth-century Umayyad Spain, see Blair 2005.
4 It is worth mentioning that an important group of
inscribed ceramics is represented by the opaque
white-glazed wares from Iraq, which, in addition to
naming the owners or makers, display good wishes
and blessings.
Faith, Religion, and the Material Culture
of Early Islam
Finbarr B. Flood
1 E. James 2008, pp. 26 – 27.
2 In The Decline of the West, a book published in the
aftermath of Germany’s defeat in World War I, for
example, the German historian Oswald Spengler
made the startling suggestion that the Roman
emperor Diocletian ( r. 284 – 305 ) was the first caliph
and the Pantheon the first mosque ( Spengler
1926 – 28, vol. 1, p. 72, vol. 2, p. 178 ).
3 P. Brown 1984; Kennedy 1985b; Fowden 1993,
pp. 141 – 42; Foss 1997; Silberman 2001; Sizgorich
2004, p. 12; Hoyland 2007, pp. 591 – 92; O. Grabar
2008; Milwright 2009, pp. 30 – 41.
4 Rubin 1986.
5 For a convenient overview, see al-Ghabban et al.
2010; Finster 2010.
6 For example, Hubal, the idol of the Ka‘ba, is said to
have been a statue of a man executed in red agate
that had been brought from southern Syria or Iraq
and supplied with a golden hand to replace a lost
original; see Lecker 1993; King 2002b; Hawting
2006. For the general religious background, see
Fowden 1999.
7 King 2002a; King 2004.
8 For a summary of these developments, see Kennedy
1986, 2007.
9 Elad 1995, pp. 23 – 24, 33; Foss 2002; J. Johns 2003,
pp. 418 – 23; Hoyland 2006, pp. 399 – 403; Heidemann
2010, pp. 156 – 65.
10 Hoyland 1997a, pp. 82 – 87; J. Johns 2003, pp. 424 – 33;
Hoyland 2006; Halevi 2007, pp. 14 – 17; Milwright
2009, pp. 24 – 29.
290 byzantium and islam: ag e of transition
11 F. Donner 2002 – 3, p. 11; F. Donner 2010a. For a cri-
tique, see Elad 2002. There are analogies with recent
reconceptualizations of the nature of Late Antique
Judaism, its relationship to Christianity, and the con-
struction of “hard” confessional boundaries between
the two in the centuries before the advent of Islam;
see Boyarin 2004.
12 Latz 1958, pp. 85 – 86.
13 For a convenient description, see Creswell 1969,
vol. 1, pt. 1, pp. 65 – 132; O. Grabar 2006, pp. 76 – 96.
14 Soucek 1976; Chen 1980; Shani 1999; Flood 2001,
pp. 175 – 76.
15 Busse 1988; Khoury 1993.
16 For a convenient overview, see Necipoğlu 2008,
pp. 23 – 45.
17 Goitein 1950; Elad 1995, p. 53.
18 Elad 1995, pp. 23 – 24, 33; J. Johns 2003, pp. 418 – 23.
19 O. Grabar 1959; Rabbat 1989, 1993; Elad 1995, p. 52.
20 Elad 1995, pp. 51, 53 – 58; Shani 1999, pp. 176 – 78.
21 Van Ess 1992, pp. 95 – 103; O. Grabar 2006,
pp. 98 – 106.
22 The epigraphic program is reproduced in C. Kessler
1970; O. Grabar 1996, pp. 50 – 56; Whelan 1998,
pp. 3 – 8. For an in-depth discussion, see Necipoğlu
2008, pp. 45 – 57.
23 Griffith 1992, p. 127.
24 Bates 1986; Heidemann 2010.
25 Jamil 1999. See, however, Heidemann 2010,
pp. 178 – 82.
26 For an alternative identification, see Hoyland 2007,
pp. 593 – 96.
27 Muqaddasi 1967, p. 159; Fine 1999, p. 234.  A similar
sentiment is reflected in a hadith that calls upon
Muslims to assert the oneness of God verbally when
confronted with the sight of a church or synagogue;
see Kister 1989, p. 328.
28 Bashir 1991; Elad 1995, pp. 63, 66 – 76.
29 Sack 1996; Key Fowden 1999, 2002. Some of the
earliest dated Arabic inscriptions come from shrines
of the saint: Hoyland 2008, p. 55.  An undated early
mosque from the site of al-Bakhra’, near Palmyra,
similarly adjoins a church; see Genequand 2004a,
pp. 236 – 38. The development of Christian liturgical
and healing structures in or beside Pharaonic temples
in Egypt during the fifth and sixth centuries offers
interesting parallels; see Frankfurter 2008, p. 150.
30 The mosaic perhaps entailed a reference to the palm
tree described in Qur’an 19:23 – 26 as sheltering the
Virgin when she gave birth to Jesus; see Lavas 2001,
pp. 90 – 93; Avner 2006 – 7, pp. 549 – 51; Avner 2011.
31 The identification with God was an anthropomor-
phism later rejected as heterodox if not heretical; see
van Ess 1988; van Ess 1992, p. 98. The imprint on the
rock is today identified as the footprint of the
Prophet Muhammad, but seems to have acquired this
identity consistently only from the end of the elev-
enth century. The first such identification seems to
be that of Ibn al-‘Arabi ( d. 1148 ) ( 1998, vol. 4, p. 217 ).
32 Hoyland 1997b, p. 549; J. Johns 2003, pp. 426 – 29;
Hoyland 2006, pp. 396 – 97; Hoyland 2007, p. 594.
33 O. Grabar 2006, pp. 91 – 95.
34 Hoyland 1997b; Halevi 2007, pp. 14 – 42; Juvin 2010,
pp. 494 – 95, cat. nos. 284 – 286.
35 Elad 1992; Elad 1995, p. 21.
36 Flood 1999. A similar obsidian disk associated with
the Prophet is preserved today in a small shrine on
Jabal Harun, near Petra in Jordan, with visiting pil-
grims kissing and touching the stone in order to
absorb its baraka ( blessing ); see Fowden 2010, p. 568.
37 Nasir-I Khusrau 2001, p. 43.
38 Aksoy and Milstein 2000.
39 A painting of the Last Days and the footprint of the
Prophet existed in the Jerusalem Haram by the four-
teenth century but was conceivably executed earlier
( Elad 1995, pp. 57 – 58 ).
40 Arabic Papyri 2008, n.p., inv. no. 513.
41 Flood 2006; Gonnella 2010. The form and location
recall those of the scorpion-men of ancient
Mesopotamian art and literature, hybrid creatures
that guarded the entrances to magical landscapes; see
Reiner 1987, pp. 28 – 29.
42 Flood 2006, pp. 150 – 51.
43 Kitzinger 1954, pp. 147 – 48;Vikan 1984;Vikan 1989;
Vikan 2010, pp. 23 – 24, 31 – 33.
44 Thanks to a passing reference in a satirical text, we
know that this practice was established by the tenth
century: see Bosworth 1976, vol. 1, pp. 86, 88; vol. 2,
p. 199.
45 Walmsley and Damgaard 2005; Walmsley 2007;
Cytryn-Silverman 2009.
46 J. Johns 1999, pp. 88 – 93.
47 Ibid., pp. 109 – 10.
48 Whelan 1998, p. 13; Guidetti 2010b, pp. 345 – 46,
349 – 50; F. Donner 2010b.
49 Meier 1981.
50 Flood 2001, pp. 184 – 92.
51 Creswell 1969, vol. 1, pt. 1, pp. 142 – 213.
52 The transformation into mosques of two churches at
Umm al-Jimal in northern Jordan during the
Umayyad period may have resulted from the conver-
sion of some of the town’s inhabitants; see Lenzen
2003, p. 86.
53 In Jerusalem, for example, a palace complex outside
the southern wall of the Haram al-Sharif appears to
have been connected by a bridge to al-Aqsa Mosque;
see Ben-Dov 1971, pp. 43 – 44.
54 Whelan 1986.
55 Sauvaget 1947, pp. 145 – 49; O. Grabar 1987b,
pp. 118 – 19; Flood 2001, pp. 181 – 83, 192 – 93.
56 Flood 2001, pp. 218 – 19; George 2009, pp. 97 – 98.
57 Rabbat 2003; Bowersock 2006, pp. 72 – 89.
58 A reading supported by the medieval identification
of similar scenes in the rebuilt Mosque of the
Prophet at Medina as depictions of the palaces and
trees of paradise: see Finster 1970 – 71; Brisch 1988.
59 Duval 2003b, pp. 243 – 45.
60 Flood 2001, pp. 15 – 41.
61 The Ethiopians were Miaphysites, and there are indi-
cations of a preference for aniconic decoration
( including mosaics ) in the Miaphysite churches of
Syria and the Jazira in both the pre- and Early
Islamic periods; see M. Mango 1977; King 1980; King
2004, p. 221.
62 Stauffer 1991, pp. 35 – 53.
63 Flood 2001, pp. 63 – 65, 189 – 90.
64 Déroche 2004a, p. 263; Kister 2008, pp. 330 – 31;
Zadeh 2009, p. 453; George 2010, pp. 52 – 53, 86.
65 Paret 1981, pp. 213 – 72; van Reenen 1990.
66 Ibn Rustah 1892, p. 66; Soucek 2003, p. 299.
67 In addition, the presence of an automaton featuring
moving snakes and squawking birds at the entrance
to the Umayyad mosque in Damascus and the talis-
manic scorpion-man at the gate of the Great
Mosque of Hims suggest a contextual approach
marked by greater latitude in the treatment of exte-
rior space; see Flood 2001, pp. 118 – 31.
68 Fowden 2004a, pp. 285, 289.
69 Examples include the eventual replacement of the
cross on Umayyad coinage and the occlusion of
images of animate creatures from the otherwise
common vocabulary of church and mosque orna-
ment or Bible and Qur’an illumination.
70 The horizontal arrangement of represented columns
in Qur’anic manuscripts ( cat. no. 189 ), defying their
structural logic as columns in a way entirely appro-
priate to their function as chapter dividers, is another
case in point.
71 O. Grabar 1987b, pp. 89, 130, reiterated in George
2010, p. 83.
72 See Bierman 1998, pp. 17 – 20, 31 – 48.
73 Déroche 2002, p. 616; Déroche 2003, pp. 258, 260.
See also Déroche 2004a, pp. 263 – 64, on how com-