MYSTIC MOUNTAINS AND SACRED CAVES: RE-EXAMINING MINOAN EXTRA-

URBAN SANCTUARIES

by

ISABELLE TONIA SAUVÉ

B.A. (hons), Trent University, 2021

A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR

THE DEGREE OF

MASTER OF ARTS

in

THE FACULTY OF GRADUATE AND POSTDOCTORAL STUDIES

(Classical and Near Eastern Archaeology)

THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA

(Vancouver)

May 2023

© Isabelle Tonia Sauvé, 2023

The following individuals certify that they have read, and recommend to the Faculty of Graduate
and Postdoctoral Studies for acceptance, the thesis entitled:

Mystic Mountains and Sacred Caves: Re-Examining Minoan Extra-Urban Sanctuaries

submitted by Isabelle Tonia Sauvé in partial fulfilment of the requirements for

the degree of Master of Arts

in Classical and Near Eastern Archaeology

Examining Committee:

Kevin Fisher, Associate Professor, Ancient Mediterranean and Near Eastern Studies, UBC

Supervisor

Megan Daniels, Assistant Professor, Ancient Mediterranean and Near Eastern Studies, UBC

Supervisory Committee Member

Robert Cousland, Professor, Ancient Mediterranean and Near Eastern Studies, UBC

Additional Examiner

ii
 Abstract

This thesis explores the functions and social organization of the Minoan Neopalatial peak and

cave sanctuaries. Despite the large body of scholarship on this subject, there is much deliberation

concerning the differences in architecture, the functions, and the social organization of both

types of sanctuaries. Many scholars believe that the peak and cave sanctuaries were used for a

range of ritual activities, where male and female worshippers were segregated in different

spaces. While previous studies have only taken an aggregated approach to extra-urban

sanctuaries, this study analyzes individual sites to provide a more a detailed and holistic

approach to these types of sites. This study also positions itself in current gender scholarship in

the field, challenging previous assumptions made about gender in the Minoan world. Instead, I

use an inclusive feminist framework to approach gender in a more nuanced way.

Using socio-spatial analysis, I examine the sanctuaries of Petsophas, Juktas, and Psychro

to understand the architectural and social distinctions between the two types of sanctuaries and

how they relate to differences in function. I also attempt to identify the groups of people using

these two types of sanctuaries and determine whether they differ according to gender. Socio-

spatial analysis is a useful tool to examine how the built environment can influence social

behavior. Architecture can encode meanings that communicate social information to its users.

This includes information about whether a space is private or public, high or low status, and male

or female. The artifact assemblages found within architectural remains also provide insights into

the activities taking place in certain spaces as well as the social identities of those performing the

activities.

The analysis of the architectural remains and artifact distributions of Petsophas, Juktas,

and Psychro demonstrate that while the architecture between peak and cave sanctuaries differs,

iii
they were used for the same ritual functions including votive depositing, pouring of libations,

and ritual sacrifice or feasting. This study also demonstrates that the sanctuaries were not gender

segregated, but rather that male and female worshippers participated together in ritual.

iv
 Lay Summary

This thesis explores the Minoan Neopalatial peak and cave sanctuaries on the island of Crete

(1750-1580 BCE). By looking at the architectural remains and the artifacts from three different

sites, I attempt to understand the differences in the architecture between these two types of

sanctuaries, what they were used for, and who they were being used by. Earlier research has

suggested that the peak and cave sanctuaries were used for ritual activities, where male and

female visitors were segregated in different spaces at the sites. However, there is still much

debate about these interpretations and studies have not looked at individual sites in detail to

support these arguments. Therefore, I re-examine the sanctuaries to investigate these claims and

to challenge assumptions made about gender, demonstrating that while the architecture between

peak and cave sanctuaries differs, they were used for the same ritual functions and were not

gendered segregated.

v
 Preface

This thesis is original, unpublished, independent work by the author, Isabelle Tonia Sauvé.

vi
 Table of Contents

Abstract .………………………………………………………………………………… iii

Lay Summary …………………………………………………………………………… v

Preface …………………………………………………………………………………… vi

Table of Contents .……………………………………………………………………… vii

List of Tables …………………………………………………………………………… ix

List of Figures…………………………………………………………………………… x

Acknowledgements……………………………………………………………………… xi

Chapter 1 – Introduction ……………………………………………………………… 1

Research Objectives.……………………………………………………………… 2
A Background on Peak and Cave Sanctuaries …………………………………… 2
Chronological Context …………………………………………………… 3
Location…………………………………………………………………… 4
Peak Sanctuaries…………………………………………………… 4
Cave Sanctuaries...………………………………………………… 6
Architecture ………………………………………………………………. 7
Peak Sanctuaries …………………………………………………. 7
Cave Sanctuaries …………………………………………………. 8
Artifact Assemblage ……………………………………………………… 9
Thesis Outline...…………………………………………………………………… 13

Chapter 2 – Previous Scholarship ……………………………………………………… 15

Functions of the Extra-Urban Sanctuaries ………………………………………… 15

Ritual Functions …………………………………………………………… 15
Social Organization and Gender Segregation……………………………… 18
Extra-Urban Sanctuaries and the Palaces .………………………………… 22

Chapter 3 – Theory and Methods ……………………………………………………… 24

Investigating Architecture: Theories in Architectural Analysis .…………………. 24

Methods: Access Analysis ………………………………………………………… 28
Investigating Identities: Theories in Feminist and Gender Archaeology …………. 30
Theory in Practice: Theoretical Frameworks Applied in this Study ……………… 32
Defining Minoan Gender .………………………………………………… 33
Gendering Artifacts and Material Feminism ……………………………… 35

vii
Chapter 4 – A Study of Three Minoan Extra-Urban Sanctuaries……………………. 37

Petsophas Peak Sanctuary…………………………………………………………. 37

The Site: Architectural Remains…………………………………………… 38
The Finds: Artifact Assemblage…………………………………………… 41
Juktas Peak Sanctuary……………………………………………………………… 42
The Site: Architectural Remains…………………………………………… 43
The Finds: Artifact Assemblage…………………………………………… 45
Pyschro Cave ……………………………………………………………………… 47
The Site: Architectural Remains…………………………………………… 48
The Finds: Artifact Assemblage…………………………………………… 50

Chapter 5 – A Discussion of the Spatial and Social Organization of the Minoan

Extra-Urban Sanctuaries………………………………………………………………… 52

The Spatial Organization of the Extra-Urban Sanctuaries: An Examination of

Syntactic and Fixed Feature Elements …………………………………………… 52
Peak Sanctuaries…………………………………………………………… 54
Cave Sanctuaries ………………………………………………………… 59
The Social Organization of the Extra-Urban Sanctuaries: An Examination of
Semi-Fixed Feature Elements……………………………………………………… 62
The Function of the Peak and Cave Sanctuaries Revisited ………………. 62
Social Identities and the Extra-Urban Sanctuaries: Did Gender Matter…… 65
Social Identities and the Extra-Urban Sanctuaries: What About Status,
Wealth, and Age? …………………………………………………………. 69

Chapter 6 – Conclusion ………………………………………………………………… 72

Tables and Figures ……………………………………………………………………… 76

References ..……………………………………………………………………………… 95

viii
 List of Tables

Table 1 Chronology of the architectural phases of Crete …………………………. 76

Table 2 Architectural and syntactic characteristics of interactions………………… 89

Table 3 Syntactic measures for Petsophas…………………………………………. 90

Table 4 Syntactic measures for Juktas……………………………………………… 90

Table 5 Syntactic measures for Psychro …………………………………………… 91

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 List of Figures

Figure 1 Map of Crete ……………………………………………………………… 77

Figure 2 Clay figurines from Petsophas …………………………………………… 78

Figure 3 Bronze and lead figurines from Psychro …………………………………. 79

Figure 4 Sacred Grove Fresco ……………………………………………………… 80

Figure 5 Justified access graph for Petsophas ……………………………………… 81

Figure 6 Justified access graph for Juktas…………………………………………… 82

Figure 7 Justified access graph for Psychro…………………………………………. 83

Figure 8 Architectural plan of Petsophas …………………………………………… 84

Figure 9 Evans’ architectural plan of Juktas………………………………………… 85

Figure 10 Architectural plan of Juktas ………………………………………………. 86

Figure 11 Plan of Psychro …………………………………………………………… 87

Figure 12 Section plan of Psychro …………………………………………………… 88

Figure 13 Wounded Woman Fresco from Xeste 3…………………………………… 92

Figure 14 Boxing Boys Fresco from Akrotiri………………………………………… 93

Figure 15 Procession Fresco from Knossos ………………………………………… 94

x
 Acknowledgements

This thesis would not have been possible without the help and support I’ve received from a

number of wonderful people. First, I would like to thank my supervisor, Dr. Kevin Fisher, for his

continual support, encouragement, and mentorship throughout this process. I would also like to

thank my second reader, Dr. Megan Daniels, for her impeccable insights and assistance in

refining my research and writing. In addition, thank you to Dr. Katherine Huemoeller for our

many discussions about gender and helping me shape my thesis to take a more modern and

nuanced approach. I also offer my gratitude to the Social Sciences and Humanities Research

Council of Canada and the UBC AMNE Department for offering me generous scholarships that

helped me fund my degree.

I want to also thank my fellow students, friends, and previous mentors for their kindness

and support throughout not only this process, but over the last two years. Thank you for

celebrating every milestone and success with me and motivating me to make it to the finish line.

I would like to acknowledge Dr. Rodney Fitzsimons who first sparked my interest in the Minoan

civilization and encouraged me to pursue my passion for architectural studies. Thank you to Dr.

Michelle Bauer, who has not only been an amazing friend during my time at UBC, but also

someone I look up to for advice and support while navigating graduate school. I am grateful for

our movie night and bubble tea hangouts and will cherish those moments always.

Finally, I want to give a heartfelt thank you to my parents, my brother Ben, and my

partner Rory, who have shown me continual love, support, and patience throughout my degree.

Thank you for always supporting my dreams and being with me on every step of my journey.

Thank you all, I could not have achieved this without you.

xi
 Chapter 1 – Introduction

This chapter will introduce the topic of this study, present the main research objectives, and

provide a brief background on the chronological and archaeological contexts of the study.

Subsequently, an outline of the following chapters will be provided.

Minoan Neopalatial peak and cave sanctuaries have long been a topic of interest among

scholars due to their intriguing architectural remains, rich assemblage of artifacts, and ritual

functions. Much consideration has been given to the categorization of these sites, their location

in the Cretan landscape, and their relationship to the Minoan palaces. However, peak sanctuaries

have typically received more attention in scholarship and when cave sanctuaries are studied, they

are placed in a homogenous category along with peak sanctuaries. While these sites have similar

artifact assemblages, very little focus has been given to their possible differences in architectural

design and functions in the Minoan ritual sphere.

In addition, despite the large body of scholarship dedicated to this subject, there is still

much deliberation concerning the identities of the worshippers and the social organization of

both types of sanctuaries. Gender has been at the forefront of this debate as the primary category

of identity influencing the social organization of these sites. This notion has not only been

prompted by the presence of human figurines and other gendered objects at these extra-urban

sanctuaries, but also larger approaches to gender in the Aegean Bronze Age. Since the early

twentieth century, a structuralist approach has been taken to Minoan gender, where males and

females were thought to be segregated in every aspect of society including both the domestic and

ritual spheres. The idea that males and females practiced ritual in separate spaces, performed

separate activities, and used different objects has been mainly informed by Minoan iconography

1
in conjunction with gendered artifacts and urban architectural remains. As a result, many of these

assumptions have been projected onto the Minoan extra-urban sanctuaries without providing a

nuanced and holistic approach to the data.

The aim of this thesis is to re-examine the architecture and artifact assemblages of the

extra-urban sanctuaries to provide new perspectives into their architectural designs, use, and

social organization. Architectural remains provide a wealth of knowledge about various elements

of ancient societies. The relationship between architecture and behaviour has been rigorously

studied within various disciplines, with a strong focus on the ways in which social meanings are

communicated in the built environment (Sanders 1990: 43; Rapoport 1990). These meanings

include those related to economics, politics, religious ideologies, and aspects of social identities.

Therefore, architectural analysis is guiding the study of the sanctuaries to help identify various

aspects of Minoan ritual environments.

Research Objectives

The objectives of this study are: (1) to examine the architectural and social distinctions between

the two types of sanctuaries, how they relate to differences in function and how they were

experienced; (2) to identify the groups of people using these two types of sanctuaries and

determine whether they differ according to gender. Put simply, what can the way the spaces are

used and organized tell us about who is using them?

A Background on Peak and Cave Sanctuaries

Minoan peak and cave sanctuaries from the Neopalatial period are examined for this study.

These extra-urban sanctuaries both have unique characteristics in terms of location and

architecture while containing similar artifact assemblages.

2
Chronological Context

Following the way in which he arranged the chronology for the Neolithic period on Crete, Sir

Arthur Evans divided the Bronze Age into three periods: Early, Middle, and Late (Hood 1971:

35). Evans used the term “Minoan” for his chronological system, referring to the three periods as

Early Minoan (EM), Middle Minoan (MM), and Late Minoan (LM). The three main periods

were further divided into three sub-stages, resulting in a total of nine distinct chronological

periods. Furthermore, it was found that these nine periods could again be divided on the basis of

changes in pottery in earlier and later phases (Hood 1971: 35). In some cases, earlier phases of

the nine periods were designated “A” and “B” was used for the later phases (Hood 1971: 35).

After Evans’ death, the Late Minoan III B period was further subdivided into LM III B1 and B2,

however it is now referred to Late Minoan III B and C (Hood 1971: 35). Evans’ chronological

framework was largely influenced by his conceptualization regarding the development of the

Minoan civilization. He envisioned an archetypal narrative of development, maturity, climax,

and decline (McEnroe 2010: 6). Although Evans’ narrative has been substantially modified, his

basic chronological stages are still used by modern scholars.

Currently there are two different chronologies for Cretan Bronze Age. The “lower”

chronology, put forth by Warren and Hankey (1989), is based on the relative dating of objects

from both Minoan and foreign contexts (McEnroe 2010: 6). The “higher” chronology, proposed

by Manning (1995, 2014), is based on absolute dating using dendrochronology and radiocarbon

dating. The differences between the two chronological systems are shown in Table 1. For the

purpose of this thesis, the “higher” chronology will be used as this study focuses mainly on the

broader periods rather than exact dates.

3
 This thesis focuses specifically on the Neopalatial period (MM IIIB – LM IB). This

period followed the destructions at the end of the Protopalatial period, which resulted in almost

all the large sites being destroyed in Crete. During the Neopalatial period, the population on

Crete increased significantly, leading to the appearance of settlements across the countryside of

the island and new building and expansion at many sites (Rehak and Younger 1998: 141). These

expansions are not only apparent in domestic and palatial contexts, but also in extra-urban

sanctuaries. Although the number of peak and cave sanctuaries seems to decline in the

Neopalatial period, the remaining sites demonstrate the appearance of new and more elaborate

structures as well as more prestigious artifact assemblages (Marinatos 1997: 116). Many scholars

have theorized that socio-political factors relating to the re-emergence of palatial centers may

have influenced the organization of Minoan religion, resulting in changes to cult spaces and

practices previously established in the Prepalatial and Protopalatial periods (Marinatos 1997:

116). For this reason, the Neopalatial period was chosen for this study as it demonstrates a more

structured organization and use of the extra-urban sanctuaries, allowing a clearer insight into the

socio-political aspects of Minoan religion.

Location

Peak Sanctuaries

From the Prepalatial period until the Neopalatial period, peak sanctuaries were frequently used as

locations of worship outside major city centres (Soetens et al. 2001). As their name suggests,

peak sanctuaries were situated within the mountains on Crete. However, not all these sanctuaries

were necessarily built on the summits, rather some were built on various parts of mountain

ridges. The altitude of the peak sanctuaries varies greatly, with the lowest being around 200 m

above sea level and the highest being over 1000 m (Peatfield 1983: 274). As important places of

4
worship, these sites were easily visible and accessible from ancient settlements. The proximity

and accessibility of these sites is demonstrated by Faure and Rutkowski, whose studies found

that walking times from villages up to these sites average about one hour (as cited in Peatfield

1983: 275). In fact, it appears that the proximity to the surrounding settlement(s) may have

influenced the particular mountain peaks chosen by the Minoans for these sanctuaries. For

instance, Petsophas is located on the lowest of the three ridges of the mountain, yet this is the

ridge which has the clearest view of the nearby town. The view of the town is blocked by lower

platforms and cliffs on the other summits (Peatfield 1983: 275). Similarly, the sanctuaries at Zou

and Etia are not situated on the highest points, but rather are on summits that overlook the nearby

villages (Peatfield 1983: 275). From the spectacular viewpoints of the sites, peak sanctuaries

were often inter-visible between other mountain ranges. This is especially true in east Crete,

where the peak sanctuaries are closely clustered together within the landscape (Peatfield 1983:

276).

Despite the intervisibility of some peak sanctuaries, these sites are generally unequally

distributed across Crete (Soetens et al. 2001: 2). The majority of peak sanctuaries are located in

central and east Crete, and only three sanctuaries are in west (Soetens et al. 2001: 2) (Figure 1).

The number of peak sanctuaries dating between the Prepalatial to Neopalatial periods has varied

greatly, with numbers ranging between 25 to 30 sites over the past few decades (Nowicki 2008:

1). This disparity is largely due to debate amongst scholars concerning the characterizations of

peak sanctuaries (Peatfield 2009: 251). As a result of this debate, there are only 20 sites that have

officially been identified as peak sanctuaries and which appear on all published lists of such sites

(Nowicki 2008: 1).

5
Caves

In earlier periods, caves were originally used as places of habitation, later transformed into cult

spaces and shrine areas. According to speleologists, there are around 2,000 grottoes, caverns, and

cavities in the rocks across Crete (Rutkowski 1996: 9). Although there are 34 or 36 caves which

were used for human activity, only 16 of these can definitively be identified as cult places.

However, Rutkowski (1996: 9) speculates that another 20 were “most probably cult places.”

Despite the numbers presented by Rutkowski, there are only seven caves which are thoroughly

published and are consistently listed as confirmed sanctuaries in use from the Protopalatial

period until the Neopalatial period: Psychro, Phaneromeni, Skotino, Liliano, Arkalochori,

Kamares, and Mameloukou (Jones 1999: 3). Like Minoan peak sanctuaries, the cave sanctuaries

are also unevenly distributed across the landscape. The majority of the sacred caves are located

in central and east Crete (Figure 1). Again, the disparity in the numbers of total cave sanctuaries

can be attributed to debate regarding the identification of caves with cultic functions as well as

due to spotty publication of sites (Jones 1999: 3).

The types of cave sanctuaries found on Crete can be categorized into three basic groups:

1) rock shelters; 2) grottoes with uncomplicated interiors that all resemble one another; 3) great

caves with multiple complex chambers and passages (Rutkowski 1996: 47). Rock shelters are

typically shallow, naturally formed structures with an overhang creating coverage (Rutkowski

1996: 47). Grottoes with uncomplicated interiors are usually smaller caves with fewer chambers

and passages. Their ceilings can be low, and the depth of the cave may be shallower than the

third type. The third type of cave sanctuary are grottoes which have multiple inner chambers

with branching passages. These caves are normally quite large and spacious, with more natural

features which allow the division of spaces within the interior (e.g., upper and lower chambers)

6
(Rutkowski 1996: 48). Apart from these characteristics, natural elements such as stalagmites,

stalactites, and water sources are also frequently found in cave sanctuaries (Rutkowski 1996: 49;

Bradley 2000: 100). Unlike peak sanctuaries, cave sanctuaries have a low degree of accessibility

and visibility within the landscape (Nixon 2009: 272). Due to their subterranean locations and

other natural camouflaging features, cave sanctuaries are not inter-visible and cannot be seen

from nearby settlements. Cretan caves are also typically dark, with minimal openings and thus

limited vistas which allow views of the outside world (Day 2019: 381).

Architecture

Peak Sanctuaries

The architectural remains at peak sanctuaries vary, with many sites having few visible remains

(Peatfield 1983: 277). The surviving remains that are most common at these sites are temenos

walls surrounding the sanctuary (Rutkowski 1996: 11). These walls are also a useful indicator for

determining the size and the defined area of the peak sanctuary when no other discernable

remains are present (Rutkowski 1996: 11). Temenos walls were often constructed of large

stones, intermixed with smaller stones, resembling the later cyclopean-style walls in the Aegean

(Rutkowski 1996: 75). The size of the temenos area was usually small, rarely exceeding 600 sq

m., although some peak sanctuary sites such as Juktas, Traostalos, and Kophinas were an

exception and had larger temenos areas (Rutkowski 1996: 73). The shape of the temenos areas

also seem to vary among the peak sanctuaries as there is evidence for oval, rectangular, and

irregular shaped cult spaces (Rutkowski 1996: 75).

Apart from temenos walls, some peak sanctuaries have architectural remains of buildings

within the temenos area. It appears that there were different types of buildings in each sanctuary,

ranging from multi-room structures to smaller shrines (Rutkowski 1996: 76). Many of the

7
structures found in explored peak sanctuaries have only two or three rooms (Rutkowski 1996:

11). However, certain peak sanctuaries appear to have had more complex and elaborate

architecture, such as larger structures consisting of more than three rooms (Rutkowski 1996: 11).

Unfortunately, little is known about the development and construction of the peak sanctuary

buildings, despite there being documentation of the remains since the nineteenth century. In

recent scholarship, it is thought that these cult buildings only appeared in the MM III phase of

the sanctuaries, although it is possible that some date to earlier periods (Rutkowski 1996: 76).

Finally, architectural features such as terraces, altars, and benches have also been uncovered at

some sites (Rutkowski 1996: 11). Terracing is evident at peak sanctuaries as a method of

creating defined areas, leveling the ground, and expanding the surface area of the site. Likewise,

altars are recognized as part of the cult equipment associated with Minoan sanctuaries, likely

used in cult practices such as sacrifice and votive offerings (Jones 1999; Briault 2009). Various

types of altars were used at these sites including long, step-like altars, rectangular stone altars,

fire altars, eschara-type altars, incurved altars, and natural stones used as altars (Rutkowski 1996:

76). Similarly, benches have also been associated with cult activities, specifically ritual feasting

(Jones 1999: 33).

Caves

As with those of peak sanctuaries, the architectural remains in cave sanctuaries also vary greatly.

Architectural finds that have been excavated at cave sites are extremely sparse, with many sites

having no evidence of remains (Rutkowski 1996: 10) According to Rutkowski (1996: 10), “the

structures made in the grottoes must always have been of only minor significance, since the

grotto interiors themselves were sufficiently mysterious enough to provide the right atmosphere.”

Indeed, the natural features of the caves, such as the stalagmites and stalactites, create different

8
defined spaces and passages (Rutkowski 1996: 54). However, some caves demonstrate the

presence of small structures, usually only consisting of one or two rooms. These structures were

likely built around the sacred space in order to separate it from the rest of the cave (Rutkowski

1996: 54). Other architectural features include altars, terraces, and wall partitions (Rutkowski

1996: 55; Cromarty 2008: 47). Some altars were constructed from stone whereas other altars

were merely natural rock formations that had been adapted for use (Rutkowski 1996: 55).

Terracing was also utilized in caves to create more even surfaces and to delineate spaces of

different levels.

Artifact Assemblage

Despite the differences in their locations and structural features, peak and cave sanctuaries share

similar artifact assemblages. In an aggregated view, the artifacts found at both types of sites fall

into nine categories: 1) human and 2) animal figurines in clay; 3) coarse and 4) fine pottery;

objects made of 5) bronze and 6) other metals; 7) stone tables and altars 8) votive human limbs,

and 9) ashes (Jones 1999: 5). Based on these categories, the sole artifacts which appear to

differentiate peak sanctuaries from cave sanctuaries are clay human figurines, votive human

limbs, and stone tables (Jones 1999: 5). On the other hand, animal figurines, bronze objects,

objects made of other metals, pottery, and ashes are found at both types of sites (Jones 1999: 5).

However, it must be noted that the differences in the artifact assemblages between the two types

of sites are not completely straightforward and there are exceptions.

Clay human figurines have been documented at all peak sanctuaries whereas the only

cave with reported clay human figurines is Pyschro (Jones 1999: 5). The clay human figurines

demonstrate considerable variation, as both male and female figurines with different manners of

dress, hairstyles, and poses appear at these sites (Figure 2) (Cromarty 2008: 76). The typical

9
female figurines represent women in bell-shaped dresses and tight bodices, either with their

breasts exposed or with a low neckline, and with headdresses (Rutkowski 1996: 86; Morris 2009:

181). Although the dresses differ somewhat based on distinct local style (Cromarty 2008: 76), it

is the headdresses and hair of the female figurines which demonstrate the most variation

(Rutkowski 1996: 85). The male figurines seem to be more uniform and are typically depicted

with a loincloth, codpiece, and a belted weapon (Cromarty 2008: 76; Morris 2009: 181). All the

figurines are standing in an erect position, with different arm poses. The most common pose is

both hands raised as if in supplication whereas other poses include one hand raised above the

head and a hand raised at the height of the forehead (the “Minoan salute”) (Rukowski 1996: 87).

There are also some poses which are distinct based on the gender of the figurine. Two common

gestures of the male figurines are to have one or both fists clasped to the chest or to have the

arms outstretched (Cromarty 2008: 76). A gesture associated exclusively with female figurines is

the arms crossed over the belly and breasts (Marinatos 1993: 117). The quality of construction

also differs among the figurines, as some are more detailed and ornate while others are simplistic

and crudely made (Marinatos 1993: 117; Morris 2009: 184).

Moreover, while votive human limbs are distinctly found at peak sanctuaries, they are not

present at all sites (Jones 1999: 6). However, it is unclear whether votive body parts were offered

only at a few peak sanctuaries or if the presence-absence pattern is a result of artifact survival,

discrepancies in excavation, or looting (Jones 1999: 6). These votives were also constructed of

clay and depict detached parts of the human body such as legs, feet, arms, hands, torsos with

genitalia, and vertically split bodies (Morris and Peatfield 2014: 54). Many examples of votive

limbs have perforated holes, indicating they may have been strung and perhaps worn by

worshipers or hung at the sites (Cromarty 2008: 77). In addition to votive limbs, stone

10
libation/offering tables (and altars to a somewhat less certain extent) are more likely to be found

in peak sanctuaries than sacred caves (Jones 1999: 11). While caves have been known to have

stone altars, the distinction between them and offering tables is unclear in various publications

(Jones 1999: 11).

Animal figurines, by contrast, are present in the artifact assemblages from both peak

sanctuaries and sacred caves. These figurines also range in size and quality of construction

(Zeimbeki 2004: 351). The assortment of animals known to be depicted by these figurines

includes bulls, oxen, cows, rams, pigs, sheep, goats, agrimi, dogs, birds, snakes, weasels,

tortoises, and beetles (Jones 1999: 7). Although animal figurines make up a part of both peak and

cave sanctuaries artifact assemblages, the number of figurines tends to be much higher at the

peak sanctuaries whereas only a few figurines have been reported from caves (Jones 1999: 7).

Apart from figurines made of clay, bronze human figurines are reported from both types

of sanctuaries. However, bronze figurines are not especially common in peak sanctuaries and are

in fact more associated with sacred caves (Hitchcock 1997: 119; Jones 1999: 7; Morris 2017:

569). The bronze human figurines depict both males and females with variety of dress and

hairstyles similar to those seen in the terracotta figurines (Figure 3). The female figurines are

represented with a slender bodice and prominent breasts and the men wear loincloths (Morris

2017: 569). Although there is an overlap in the poses seen among the bronze and clay figurines,

there are also some differences. The most common gesture of the male terracotta figurines, and

less commonly in some female figurines, is the so-called “Minoan salute” (Hitchcock 1997: 113;

Morris 2017: 671). The hand-to-chest is another common gesture among both the clay and

bronze figurines. Morris (2017: 671) notes that while the Minoan salute is seen among the clay

figurines, it is far less common than in the bronze figurines. The reason for this is still uncertain,

11
but may be due to differences in dating, function, or ritual equipment hierarchy (Morris 2017:

672). The ratios of bronze and clay male and female figurines present in the peak and cave

sanctuaries will be discussed later in Chapter 2.

In addition to figurines, votive objects made of bronze and other metals have been

uncovered from peak and cave sanctuaries. The other main metals that appear to have been used

to manufacture items are gold and silver. As with the bronze figurines, metal objects are more

commonly found in sacred caves (Jones 1999: 7). The bronze items, which are frequently part of

the artifact assemblage at both types of sites, include double axes, knives, daggers, and personal

toilet items such as tweezers and razors (Jones 1999: 8-9). Gold double axes, jewelry, a vase-rim

cover, and votive swords are known from sites such as Arkalochori, Phaneromeni, Traostalos,

Juktas, Psychro, and Plagia (Jones 1999: 9). Likewise, double axes, a hoop-ring, and a seal made

of silver were also uncovered in Arkalochori cave. The general lack of other metal finds in the

two types of sanctuaries may once again be due to the scarcity of the original artifact deposits,

recycling of the materials, or looting (Jones 1999: 9).

Not surprisingly, one of the most abundant finds reported from the peak sanctuaries and

sacred caves is pottery. A range of fine and coarse type vessels has been uncovered, consisting of

vases, miniature vases, jugs, cups, bowls, cooking pots, rhyta, and lamps (Jones 1999: 10).

Compared to the sacred caves, fine and coarse ware pouring vessels as well as cooking pots are

more likely to be found at peak sanctuaries. Interestingly, the cave sanctuaries have yielded a

large number of specialized ceramic vases. Stone vessels have also been discovered from both

types of sanctuaries, such as stone vases and stone lamps. Other than pottery, other clay and

stone artifacts are present in both cave and peak sanctuaries. Small clay balls, small model boats,

12
detailed building models, horns of consecration, and seal stones have also been uncovered (Jones

1999: 11).

Finally, the last types of material that make up the assemblage present at peak and cave

sanctuaries are ashes and faunal remains. Previously, the presence of ash layers at cults sites was

seen as direct evidence for burnt sacrifice ritual (Cromary 2008: 65). More recently, it appears

that not all ash deposits were directly associated with faunal remains and may indicate other

activities. This is especially worth considering as there are ash deposits at sites where no animal

remains were found (Cromarty 2008: 65). Instances of ritual use of fire as a method for purging,

cleansing, and purifying may provide an alternate explanation. Some figurines from peak

sanctuaries have shown traces of burning and breakage (Cromarty 2008: 65). Fires used for

cooking are also a probability, as there is other evidence for ritual feasting in both peak and cave

sanctuaries. Ashes, from the remains of pyres or cooking fires, and animal bones have been

reported from various peak and cave sanctuaries (Jones 1999: 12). Sheep and goats are the main

species found in sanctuary assemblages, as demonstrated by a study conducted by Cromarty

(2008: 64) on Minoan ritual sites.

Thesis Outline

Chapter 2 discusses previous scholarship on the functions and social organization of the extra-

urban sanctuaries, specifically emphasizing previous assumptions regarding gender as a category

of analysis. Chapter 3 provides the theoretical frameworks of space syntax and the methodology

behind access analysis. In this chapter, the theoretical frameworks of gender and feminist theory

used to approach the topic of gender in this study are also presented. Chapter 4 provides three

case studies of extra-urban sanctuaries (Petsophas, Juktas, and Psychro), including the

application of access analysis and discussion of the architecture and artifacts of each of these

13
sites. In Chapter 5, the results of the access analysis are discussed. It is in this chapter that the

functions and social organization of the extra-urban sanctuaries are re-visited. Finally, Chapter 6

presents the conclusions of the study, suggesting future aims and research avenues.

14
 Chapter 2 – Previous Scholarship

The purpose of this chapter is to discuss previous scholarship on the Minoan Neopalatial peak

and cave sanctuaries. This will include a discussion regarding the hypothesized functions of the

peak sanctuaries and sacred caves as well as previous scholarly interpretations relating to the

social organization of the sites.

Functions of the Extra-Urban Sanctuaries

In light of the architectural remains and artifact assemblages found at the peak and cave

sanctuaries, it is believed that these sites were principally used for ritual functions, hosting a

variety of cult practices. In addition to the religious nature of the sanctuaries, a number of

scholars (Marinatos 1997; Hitchcock 1997; Peatfield 1987; Rutkowski 1996) have discussed the

peak and cave sanctuaries in relation to the Minoan socio-political landscape. This discussion

includes speculation regarding gendered activities and divisions in association with the

organization and functions of the sites. Others (Peatfield 1983; Rutkowski 1986; Marinatos

1993) have also proposed connections between the sanctuaries and the palatial administrative

centres across Crete. Whatever the case, it is apparent that these sites were significant in the

Minoan religious landscape, playing an important role in the transmission of ritual, perhaps to

certain groups within the population.

Ritual Functions

As the term “sanctuary” suggests, it is proposed that the Cretan peak and cave sanctuaries

functioned primarily as sacred places for ritual activity. This claim is largely supported by the

abundance of architectural remains and artifacts associated with Minoan religion.

15
 One of the main activities thought to take place in the Neopalatial peak and cave

sanctuaries was the offering of votives in the form of human, animal, and limb figurines. Less

frequently, votives in the form of weapons, personal grooming items, jewelry, and other clay

objects were deposited as well (Jones 1999: 11). The notion that Minoan worshippers travelled to

the sanctuaries to deposit figurines and other objects as offerings to the venerated deities has

been widely accepted by scholars (Morris 2009; Murphy 2018; Peatfield and Morris 2012). By

studying the materiality and condition of these objects, Murphy (2018: 1) found that these

figurines would have “underwent a period of display” between their arrival and the time of their

fragmentation, indicating their use as votives by visitors (Murphy 2018: 1).

However, based on the nature of the votive, it appears that human, animal, and body part

figurines each had a specific function. In the case of the human figurines, these may have been

placed at the sites as a representation of the worshippers themselves or as a performative medium

in the process of veneration. Votive figurines have been thought to represent the individual

worshippers who travelled to sanctuaries in order to participate in ritual ceremony (Peatfield and

Morris 2012: 233). The figurines may have functioned as part of a sensory and performative

prelude to the activities and were left as permanent reminders of the experiences of the day

(Peatfield and Morris 2012: 233). This interpretation is informed by analogies of modern-day

traditions of pilgrimage to mountain church chapels in Greece (Peatfield and Morris 2012: 233).

Cretan folklore also records accounts of pilgrimage festivals to the churches situated on Mount

Juktas and Kophinas where special food, clothing and offerings were brought by communities

(Peatfield and Morris 2012: 233). According to Morris (2009: 179), the figurines can also be

viewed as representations which allowed for the construction and projection of social identity

“through the selective and morphologically distinct presentation of the human form.” Thus,

16
individuals may have conveyed aspects of their identity within the social dynamics of the ritual

practices and cult spaces. The quality of materials, the quality of construction, and the social

meanings tied to the dress and hairstyles of the figurines could indicate the wealth and social

status of the worshipper (Murphy 2016; Zeimbeki 2004).

On the other hand, the votive body parts and animal figurines had a slightly different

ritual function at the sanctuaries. The interpretation that these votive limbs were used in healing

rituals or as offerings to deities as a request to cure ailments is popular among scholars

(Rutkowski 1986; Marinatos 1997; Jones 1999; Morris and Peatfield 2014). It is also not only

limbs that are offered, but there are votive torsos and heads which could encompass other parts

of the body with ailments such as eyes, ears, breasts, internal organs, and so on (Morris and

Peatfield 2014: 59). Regarding the animal figurines, it is thought that the Minoan worshippers

would place an animal figurine as a “sacrificial” offering to the deities in lieu of a live animal

(Cromarty 2008: 75). Other scholars believe that the animal votives were offered for specific

requests. For instance, Rutkowski (1986: 88) suggests that the bovine and ovicaprid animal

votives are associated with pastoralism and herd management. In this sense, the animal figurines

may have been used as part of a ritual to promote fertility of the herds or the production of food.

Building on similar concepts and comparing later Greek rituals, Jones (1999: 33) suggests that

the wild animals (i.e., deer, agrimi) may have been offered as requests for successful hunts, close

kin, or fertility. Likewise, other smaller animals and bugs may be linked to requests to ward off

pests that destroyed crops and food stores (Jones 1999: 33). A third explanation for the function

of these votives is that they were gifted to deities associated with particular animals as a form of

veneration (Cromarty 2008: 76).

17
 Apart from the deposition of votives, a number of other ritual activities took place in the

peak and cave sanctuaries, including the pouring of libations, animal sacrifice, and ritual

feastings. The occurrence of libation rituals at the peak and cave sanctuaries is apparent by the

presence of rhyta and libation tables (Marinatos 1993: 117; Jones 1999: 32). In addition to

libations, animal sacrifice is another ritual that has been proposed by scholars to take place at

peak and cave sanctuaries (Marinatos 1993; Peatfield 1983; Rutkowski 1986).

Social Organization and Gender Segregation

Aside from the religious functions of the peak and cave sanctuaries, there has been much interest

in the social dynamics associated with the ritual practices and the organization of the sacred

spaces. It has been theorized that ritual was used as a means of transmitting social identity and

status and therefore was highly linked to promoting specific social divisions (Marinatos 1993;

Hitchcock 1997; Morris 2009; Murphy 2018). Specifically, questions have arisen regarding how

gender influenced the social organization and activities of these sites. It appears views

surrounding gender and the extra-urban sanctuaries have been largely influenced by broader

interpretations of gender and ritual in Minoan society, taking a structuralist approach to gendered

roles and spaces. Originally developed by Levi Strauss (1963), structural theory is the view that

society is organized into binary oppositions. This thinking includes approaching gender as a

structural category of male/female with gender divisions in social, economic, and ideological

systems (Kwolek-Folland 1995: 4). In studies on ancient architecture, structuralist interpretations

are manifested as segregating male and female into separate spaces, often with women relegated

to private areas and men relegated to public areas (Bourdieu 2003[1971]; Kowlek-Folland 1995:

5).

18
 Structuralist interpretations towards Minoan gender and ritual space have been prevalent

since the early beginnings of Minoan scholarship. Envisioning a society similar to that of his

imperial Victorian upbringing, Sir Arthur Evans first introduced these views by designating

ritual and domestic space in the palace of Knossos as male/female (Evans 1921: 296). While

many of Evans’ interpretations regarding the palace of Knossos and Minoan society have been

disputed, the idea of gender ritual segregation remains predominant in Aegean Bronze Age

scholarship. Many recent scholars (Marinatos 1987, 1993; Hitchcock 1997; Driessen 2012) in the

field continue to argue for gender segregation in ritual spaces. In her 1987 article “Role and Sex

Division in Ritual Scenes of Aegean Art,” Marinatos argues that “the sexes almost never mingle

in the performance of ritual. Women and men are segregated and perform their cult activities

separately. This suggests that there were role divisions which were accentuated in the ritual

sphere” (23). Marinatos claims that the segregation of male and female individuals in the same

scenes, the depictions of males and females performing different tasks, and the depiction of

males and females with different objects represents social reality. Similarly, Driessen (2012)

argues that male and female ritual took place in separate spaces in domestic and palatial settings,

citing artistic depictions, spatial arrangement of the structures, and ethnographic analogies as

supporting evidence. Indeed, both scholars reference the Sacred Grove fresco and Grandstand

frescoes as iconographic evidence for gender segregation in Minoan rituals, despite uncertainty

in the accuracy of the reconstructed scenes (Figure 4).

In keeping with these views toward gender and ritual space, some scholars (Marinatos

1993; Watrous 1995; Hitchcock 1997) have proposed that Minoan extra-urban sanctuaries were

in fact gender segregated. These interpretations are based on the artifact assemblages which

contain both gendered and ungendered votive objects. Marinatos (1993: 125) believes that the

19
dedication of bronze weapons such as double axes, knives, and swords in cave sanctuaries

“betrays the presence of male warriors.” Based on the large number of weapons found at these

sites, she proposes that cave sanctuaries such as Arkalochori could have been used by a society

of warriors whose “insignia dignitatis” were swords, daggers, and double axes dedicated during

festivals or initiation rituals (Marinatos 1993: 125). In fact, Marinatos (1993: 125) observes a

connection between dedicating votive weapons in caves to the later Greek tradition of Cretan

warriors, the kouretes, who participated in special initiation rituals. While she recognizes the

presence of other participants in cave sanctuaries, Marinatos (1993: 125) explains that there may

have been “specialized social groups,” which determined the organization of space and the ritual

activities at these sites. Similarly, Watrous (1995: 96) proposes that male rites of passage took

place at peak sanctuaries citing votive weapons as evidence for male warrior rituals.

Following the notion that the human votive figurines represent individual worshippers,

Hitchcock (1997) has further argued that the distribution, poses, and quality of the figurines can

provide insight into the gender dynamics at the sanctuaries. In general, there are overall more

male figurines present in both peak and cave sanctuaries compared to female figurines, which

“reveals” engendered differences in social position (Hitchcock 1997: 116). In peak sanctuaries,

female figurines are less common, with one female figurine for every three male figurines

(Hitchcock 1997: 116). For Hitchcock (1997: 116), this ratio suggests that peak sanctuaries were

more associated with male ritual activities. However, in cave sanctuaries there is a high ratio of

female compared to male figurines. More than a quarter of female bronze figurines occur in cave

contexts, which seems to imply that female worship was more closely associated with cave

sanctuaries (Hitchcock 1997: 121). Likewise, the gestures of hands placed on the hips and hands

folded on the chest have been argued to be poses which were used as symbols of power and

20
authority among both male and female worshippers (Hitchcock 1997: 113). There are a higher

number of female figurines with these poses in cave contexts whereas there are more male

figurines with these poses in peak sanctuary contexts (Hitchcock 1997: 116). Although female

figurines are fewer in number, they have a larger variety of poses compared to male figurines.

According to Hitchcock (1997: 116) certain gestures may have been used by females in order to

define their own ideological spheres through gendered differences. Hitchcock (1997) also points

to disparities in the quality of the designs of the figurines which imply gender differences in

Minoan ritual. She argues that male figurines have more detailed facial expressions and clothing

in addition to being made of finer fabrics (Hitchcock 1997: 116). On the other hand, she claims

female figurines tend to be manufactured using courser fabrics and have simplified facial

expressions and clothing (Hitchcock 1997: 116). Overall, the uneven ratio in the distribution of

male and female figurines points to restricted access to specific ritual spaces only privy to certain

genders. The variation in quality of their designs also suggests restricted access between males

and females to certain materials, such as bronze, and levels of craftsmanship. In a wider view,

Hitchcock (1997) claims the differences in the number, quality, and design of the figurines

suggest divisions between all worshippers, expressing different degrees of wealth and status

regardless of gender. Yet, the variety of gestures among both female and male figurines indicates

different levels of status among individuals within gendered ritual spaces (Hitchcock 1997: 116).

Furthermore, the location and architecture of peak and cave sanctuaries are thought to be

indicative of gender divisions within the organization of Minoan ritual spaces. According to

Adams (2004: 32), the open visibility and accessible locations of the peak sanctuaries in

comparison to the concealed visibility and distant locations of the cave sanctuaries shows an

unequal dichotomy between the ritual spaces. The fact that peak sanctuaries are greater in

21
number and are readily accessible and visible signifies higher status among males (Haysom

2018: 24). On the contrary, cave sanctuaries are not visible and secluded in location. For cave

sanctuaries, the concealed visibility and locations represent the marginalization and lower status

of female worshippers (Hitchcock 1997: 127). The architecture at the peak and cave sanctuaries

also demonstrates considerable differences, considering that peak sanctuaries exhibit more

elaborate, multi-room buildings whereas the buildings in caves are smaller and more simplistic

(Rutkowski 1996). For Hitchcock (1997: 127), these differences in spatial organization between

the sites is telling of gender divisions. The architectural remains found in cave sanctuaries are

private and restrictive. Yet, the peak sanctuary architecture is generally open and dynamic,

creating a distinction between male and female status groups (Hitchcock 1997: 127). In this case,

there is a greater expenditure of wealth and energy in the architecture in male associated ritual

areas compared to female associated spaces.

Extra-Urban Sanctuaries and the Palaces

While peak and cave sanctuaries had existed since the Prepalatial period, they underwent a series

of changes during the Neopalatial period. During this time, there were fewer of these extra-urban

sanctuaries, but the select few that remained in use exhibit the appearance of new and elaborate

architecture as well prestigious artifacts. Interestingly, these changes occurred alongside the

development of new palace complexes that appear to have gained centralized authority across

Crete. For this reason, various scholars (Peatfield 1983; Rutkowski 1986; Marinatos 1993) have

drawn connections to these parallel changes and suggest that the emergence of palace centres

influenced the widespread change of the extra-urban sanctuaries. Rutkowski (1972) was the one

of the first to propose that the abandonment of many sanctuaries in conjunction with the

increased standardization and elaboration of the architecture and artifact assemblage of the

22
remaining few was a result of elite restriction of religious cult coming from the palaces. He

argues that the palace authority may have been represented by permanent priests who oversaw

the functions of the sanctuaries. Peatfield (1983: 277) largely agrees with Rutkowski, going even

further to suggest that a hierarchy developed among the peak sanctuaries as religion became

more centralized. Peatfield (1983: 227) therefore thinks that since Knossos was the centre of

religious control on Crete, Juktas became the focal sanctuary. Agreeing that the remaining

Neopalatial sanctuaries “show unambiguous palatial influence” and were likely “brought under

state control,” Marinatos (1993: 116) speculates that peasant and noble worshippers would now

be mixed in these sacred spaces. This interpretation relates to discussion regarding how social

identity may have directly shaped ritual practices and the organization of ritual space at these

sites.

In the next chapter, the theoretical and methodological frameworks that are used to

identify the social identities, ritual practices, and spatial organization of the extra-urban

sanctuaries are discussed.

23
 Chapter 3 – Theory and Methods

This chapter will discuss the theoretical approaches and methodologies used in this study to

analyze peak and cave sanctuaries within the Minoan sacred landscape. As mentioned in Chapter

one, there are two main objectives of this study. The first is to understand the architectural and

social distinctions between the two types of sanctuaries, particularly how they relate to

differences in function and experience. The second is to identify the groups of people using these

two types of sanctuaries and determine whether they differ according to gender. This chapter will

first look at the theories and methods of architectural analysis, which will allow us to investigate

the social dimensions of the architecture of the different sites. In the second part of the chapter,

theories of gender archaeology as well as the approach to gender in Minoan archeology will be

discussed. It is the theoretical frameworks rooted in gender archaeology, in conjunction with

architectural analysis, that will also aid in identifying and understanding the identities of the

individuals that used these sites.

Investigating Architecture: Theories in Architectural Analysis

The study and analysis of architecture has been influenced and shaped by multiple theories

which discuss the nature and function of the built environment within social systems. A

prominent theoretical framework that is frequently used with the application of space syntax is

the theory of structuration. The theory of structuration was developed by social theorist Anthony

Giddens and is based on the premise that the contexts of human social interactions in space are

essential to facilitating such interactions (Giddens 1984: 25). This theory emphasizes the role of

the built environment in stabilizing social life, where the spatial and architectural elements of

buildings can structure social systems and interactions (Giddens 1984). In this sense, the design

24
of places that humans interact with daily evokes and facilitates patterned behavioural responses.

However, agency is also recognized in which human beings are viewed as knowledgeable and

conscious actors that are able to monitor their own behaviour (Giddens 1984: 29). It is not only

the physical properties of the space itself that necessarily structure social interactions, but how

this space is interpreted by the humans using it. The theory of structuration thus also

encompasses the concept of the duality of structure, where structure and agency are deeply

entwined (Giddens 1984: 16). Giddens (1984: 25) explains that “structural properties of social

systems are both the medium and outcome of the practices which they recursively organize.”

While these structural properties can refer to aspects of social structures, such as to political

power, norms, and religious institutions, they can also refer to the physical structures. Therefore,

the built environment can both constrain and enable social action through its physical properties

and the embedded social meanings (Giddens 1984: 25).

Space syntax is a theoretical framework and analytical methodology developed by Hillier

and Hanson (1984). This type of architectural analysis is useful because architecture has a direct

relation to social interaction since it provides the physical conditions for patterns of activity,

including movement, avoidance, and encounter (Hiller and Hanson 1984: ix). As mentioned

above, it is observed that the built environment plays an important role in the reproduction and

facilitation of social systems (Giddens 1984). Hillier and Hanson (1984: ix) propose that rules

and laws embed meaning and order into a space, influencing the organization of social systems.

The authors explain, “the ordering of space in buildings is really about the ordering of relations

between people” (Hillier and Hanson 1984: 2). Order and meaning are manifested in the room

arrangement of a building, which allows different degrees of accessibility and visibility (Fisher

2009: 440). While some spaces will allow for high degrees of inclusion, others will create higher

25
degrees of exclusion. According to Fisher (2009: 440), the control of movement among certain

spaces by particular individuals or groups can reflect different levels of responsibilities, division

of labour, and hierarchies of status. Space syntax therefore also employs the study of semiotics to

investigate architecture (Hillier and Hanson 1984: 13). Semiotics emphasizes that behavioural

responses to the built environment, including social interactions, are reactions to coded meanings

of the built environment embedded by rules and laws (Sanders 1990: 46). Again, coded

meanings stem from the form and function of the structure, which act as signs and dictate the

types of activities and interactions that take place (Sanders 1990: 46). Moreover, access analysis,

derived from space syntax, can also help determine how the arrangement of spaces within built

environments can influence social systems. Access analysis involves “the representation of built

space as a graph and can be applied to building interiors to demonstrate how each space is

integrated with the rest of the spaces of the building” (Fisher 2009: 440). By understanding the

relationship of each space to the rest of the building, it is possible to determine the degree of

accessibility for each of the spaces in the structure. Again, the accessibility of different spaces

within a built environment can reflect social organization.

However, there are elements of the built-environment other than spatial arrangement that

communicate coded meanings which should be considered. While access analysis examines the

connection of spaces, it does not consider the interior decoration and the various features and

artifacts that play an essential role in influencing social interaction (Fisher 2009: 443). These

elements play a role in the representation of human territories, demonstrating the occupancy and

personal meaning of a space to certain groups of individuals. According to Fisher (2009: 443),

“occupants mark these territories in different ways in order to convey verbal and nonverbal

messages of ownership or control as well as other social information related to display and

26
identity.” Rapoport’s (1990) nonverbal communication approach can be used, along with access

analysis, as a framework to understand the other ways in which the built environment encodes

meanings that affect human behavior and social interaction. For Rapoport (1990) verbal and

nonverbal messages encoded by various elements of the built environment provide cues to

inform visitors of proper and expected behaviour. These cues inform individuals as to what type

of context they are in, including “who does what, where, when, how, and including or excluding

whom” (Rapoport 1990: 59). Put simply, these cues indicate whether a context is public or

private, high or low in status, male or female, formal or casual (Fisher 2009: 443). Rapoport

(1990: 87-101) therefore identifies three elements of architecture that encode and communicate

messages: 1) fixed feature elements; 2) semi-fixed feature elements; 3) non-fixed feature

elements. Fixed feature elements are permanent architectural fixtures such as walls and floors.

Semi-fixed feature elements are changeable features which include furnishings and portable

artifacts. Lastly, non-fixed feature elements consist of the physical and verbal expressions of the

building’s users including language, clothing, and expressions. It is these three elements which

combine to convey social information and create contexts for social interaction. Therefore, in

addition to analyzing the results of the access analysis, the fixed and semi-fixed feature elements

of the extra-urban sanctuaries will also be examined. The fixed feature elements can help

understand the spatial and social organization of the sites, indicating whether spaces were used

for public or private functions. Likewise, the semi-fixed feature elements can provide insights

into the nature of the interactions that might have taken place in certain spaces as well as the

social identities of users. Specifically, the distribution of gendered and ungendered artifact

assemblages within different contexts of the extra-urban can help us understand how visitors

“marked their territories” to communicate whether space was male and/or female.

27
Methods: Access Analysis

To better understand how the peak and cave sanctuaries were used and organized, access

analysis will be conducted on the sanctuaries of Petsophas, Juktas, and Psychro. The degrees of

control and access among the spaces in the architecture at the sites were determined, revealing

the ways in which these rooms may have been used in relation to the overall functions of the

structures. The degree of control and access can indicate the types of social activity that took

place in certain rooms and reflect the potential social organization within the buildings.

In order to demonstrate how each space is integrated into the rest of the spaces of the

sanctuary buildings and analyze accessibility, justified access graphs will be created for each

building. The unit of analysis is “bounded space,” which is defined by areas in the structure that

are surrounded by borders or limits, such as walls (Fisher 2009: 440). The bounded spaces in all

three sites are divided into convex spaces, which Fisher (2009: 440) explains are “the fewest and

most square spaces that can fit into a bounded space such that a straight line can be drawn

between any two points within a convex space without passing through its boundary.” Dividing

rooms into convex spaces is useful as it reveals the arrangement of the space and the paths of

movement through different types of space. On the justified access graphs for the sanctuaries of

Petsophas, Juktas, and Pyschro, each convex space is represented as a circle and the paths of

accessibility are represented by lines that connect the circles (Figures 5, 6, and 7). The carrier,

which is the outside of the building, is represented by a circle with an ‘x’ through it and it is the

point of origin for the graphs. Each space is assigned a degree of depth, which is how many steps

each room is located from the carrier. The justified access graphs will be subsequently

constructed by arranging all spaces of the same depth in horizontal rows above the point of

origin, which in this case is the is the carrier.

28
 To conduct space syntax analysis, one must calculate a number of “syntactic properties”

including the depth, control value (CV), and relative asymmetry (RA) of each of the rooms

(Fisher 2009: 441). The depth of each space from the exterior is determined using the justified

access graph, which determines how accessible a space is to visitors, thus providing insight into

potential rooms for social interaction (Fisher 2009: 441). The control value is the measure of

control a space has over its adjacent neighbours. To calculate the control value, each space is

given a value of 1 which is divided equally among the neighbouring spaces to which the room

had direct access. These values are then totaled for each space. The higher the value, the more

control the space has over the adjoining spaces. Relative asymmetry is a measure of the degree

of accessibility a space has from any other space in the building. Fisher (2009: 441) also defines

this as “a measure of integration and global relations,” meaning a measure of a space’s

relationship to the rest of the spatial configuration within a structure. To calculate the RA value,

the mean depth is calculated, which is the measure of how deep a space is in relation to all the

other spaces in the building. This calculation is made by first adding up the number of spaces at

each depth from the space in question. Then the number of spaces at each depth is multiplied by

the value of the depth. These totals are then added together and divided by the total number of

spaces on the level in question minus one (the original space). Therefore, the equation to get the

mean depth is MD= ∑𝑑𝑘/𝑘 − 1, where ∑𝑑𝑘 is the sum of the depth values for each of the k

spaces and k is the number of spaces of the floor level (Fisher 2009: 441). Thus, RA = 2(MD

− 1)/𝑘 − 2, where k is the number of spaces of the floor level (Fisher 2009: 441). The RA

values are then standardized to provide a value between 0 and 1, with a higher value suggesting

less accessibility or integration. Afterwards, it is necessary to convert the RA values to real

relative asymmetry (RRA) values. Doing so allows comparisons between structures with

29
different numbers of spaces (Fisher 2009: 441). To convert the RA values into RRA values, the

RA value is divided by its D-value (provided in Hillier and Hansen 1984: Table 3). Combined,

these variables of control, integration, and depth can be used to determine which rooms are most

significant in structuring space in a building, providing insight into potential locations for

particular types of social interaction. Specifically, the social interactions between male and

females are examined in this study. For this reason, theoretical frameworks rooted in feminist

and gender archaeology are used to approach the topic of gender in conjunction with

architectural analysis. These theoretical frameworks are discussed below.

Investigating Identities: Theories in Feminist and Gender Archaeology

One of the main theoretical tenets within feminist and gender archaeology is the critique of

assumptions and biases towards gender in order to create an accurate representation of the past.

This tenet includes two main points of criticism which rose from the different waves of feminist

thought: critique of the patriarchy and critique of the Western structuralist male-female binary.

For the purposes of this study, the critique of the Western structuralist male-female binary will

be discussed along with Spencer-Wood’s (2011) “feminist inclusive both/and thinking.”

Specifically, Spencer-Wood’s (2011) work will be used as a guiding theoretical framework for

this study.

The critique of “the universal construction of gender in modern Western binary

oppositions” is one of the main criticisms within feminist and gender archaeology (Spencer-

Wood 2011: 21). This critique has more recently developed out of third-wave postmodern

feminism and fits within the strand of gender theory. This critique aims to challenge the idea that

gender is solely a male-female binary and that this view of gender is universal across cultures.

This conceptualization of gender is born out of structuralist and Western perspectives on gender

30
roles and identities. In fact, Moen (2019: 215) observes that this gender binary is traceable to

nineteenth-century ideals. She explains that the stereotype is still pervasive in academia “because

it fits so well with our own ideas of the home as a female sphere, which are themselves a product

of the nineteenth-century industrialised urbanisation process” (Moen 2019: 215). The criticism of

the male-female binary largely relates to the critique of the patriarchy, as patriarchal ideology

delineates rigid gender identities and activities for not only women but also men. Yet, many

gender theory scholars recognize that this these structuralist views are not the norm and that the

viewing gender as either/or between masculine and feminine is restrictive (Moen 2019: 217).

A theoretical perspective based on this critique is Spencer-Wood’s (2011: 21) “feminist

inclusive both/and thinking.” This perspective critiques the either/or thinking of male-female

binaries as well as Deetz’s (1988) argument that binary thinking is biologically influenced (as

cited in Spencer-Wood 2011: 21). This theoretical framework focuses on three areas of analysis.

The first is that both/and thinking does not create gender-exclusive categories of analysis and

aims to study all the roles and activities that different genders participated in. For instance, this

theory can be used to analyze the contributions of women and men in both the private and public

spheres respectively. It also analyzes men and women as polythetic sets and not monolithic

homogenous categories. In the former, the members share some, but not all experiences,

identities, and beliefs (Spencer-Wood 2011: 21). Finally, both/and thinking allows analyses of

the constructions and performances of a range of fluid intersecting identities (Spencer-Wood

2011: 22). Plural and fluid identities can be composed of an intersecting set of social dimensions

including gender, race, class, ethnicity, age, religion, and so on (Spencer-Wood 2011: 22).

According to Spencer-Wood (2011: 22),

Each social dimension can be modeled as a range of values in a spectrum, replacing the
proliferation of categories with a model of continuous variation, permitting endless

31
 fluidity of recombinations and permutations. Complex identities are constructed as the
intersection point of values along the spectra of many social dimensions. A person
constructs situationally changing multiple identities to affiliate with different social
groups by foregrounding one or a combination of identities and backgrounding others.

This conception of gender identity fits into the main tenets of third-wave feminist diversity

theory and gender theory. Therefore, Spencer-Wood’s theoretical perspective deconstructs rigid

male-female roles and recognizes that gender can take on different forms in combination with

various other aspects of identity.

Theory in Practice: Theoretical Frameworks Applied in This Study

Following the strand of postfeminist gender theory, this study will be using Spencer-Wood’s

(2011) feminist inclusive both/and thinking theoretical framework. This theoretical perspective

aligns closely with the research objectives of this study as it aims to identify the groups of people

using these two types of sanctuaries and determine whether they differ according to gender and

status. Gender was chosen as the main analytical category for studying the identities of Minoan

worshippers at these sanctuaries due to several previous studies and interpretations concerning

gender in Minoan ritual (Marinatos 1993; Hitchcock 1997). It is acknowledged that it may not

have been the primary social dimension dictating social organization and structures in Minoan

society. However, while gender is one of the main categories used for analysis, this study does

not put emphasis on identifying specifically female ritual spaces at the expense of male ritual

spaces and vice versa. Rather, it is the intent to approach Minoan gender using an inclusive

framework where gender is socially constructed and therefore can encompass a range of

differences and social dimensions. Moreover, by using this framework, it is the intention to avoid

projecting Western binaries on Minoan gender and instead attempt to understand the Minoan

gender in its own cultural and social context. Therefore, the analysis of the material culture and

32
spaces from these sanctuaries does not necessarily assume the Western structuralist view that

“male” and “female” activities and spaces must be separate, but attempts to explore how certain

gender identities affect spatial organization. This includes the possibility of exclusive

segregation, inclusive mixed interaction, or both within the two types of sanctuaries. Finally, by

engaging with the concept of intersectionality as well as viewing different genders as polythetic

sets, using this theoretical framework also allows this study to consider how experiences and

social dimensions, such as status, are affected by gender categories themselves. As a result,

different gender categories, or even certain individuals within the same gender category, may

have differing access to certain spaces, objects, and quality of object manufacturing. This

concept will be especially useful when analyzing votive objects deposited at the sanctuaries.

Defining Minoan Gender

For the purposes of this paper, Minoan gender identities are categorized as “male” or “female”.

These categories are based on consistent differences perceived by scholars between groups of

individuals in Minoan iconography. These differences related to gender and sexuality observed

among individuals in Minoan art is “recognized as a personal and sociocultural negotiation of the

circumstance of [biological] equipment” (German 2000: 95). As a result, scholars (German 2000;

Chapin 2009; Newman 2017) have examined a combination of both biological and material

elements to identify gender. Biological elements are first used to define sex depicted in Minoan

art. The presence of genitalia and breasts is used as the main indicator of biological sex

(Newman 2017: 216). While female genitals are absent from Minoan art, breasts are depicted

instead (Newman 2017: 216). On the other hand, the male sex can be determined by the

depiction of male genitalia and overall musculature (German 2000: 105). For instance, Chapin

(2009: 172) looks at the shoulder width relative to height and thickness of waist, curvature of the

33
spine, softness of the belly, and the muscular development of male figures. Likewise, scholars

also attempt to determine and define gender in Minoan art using visible elements such as

clothing, hairstyle, jewelry, posture, and skin tone (Newman 2017: 215). Female figures tend

wear a skirt and tight bodice that exposes the breasts, have elaborate hairstyles with hair

adornments, and have white skin (Younger 2016: 576). Yet male figures are typically dressed in

a kilt or breech cloth with a codpiece and have red skin (Rehak 1996, as cited in Newman 2017:

218). Altogether, these elements converge to create layers of gender performativity (Alberti

2013: 102). This concept is influenced by Butler’s (1990) “theory of performativity”, which

argues that the production of sex and gender is achieved through a process which she calls

performativity. This is the ongoing process of culturally sanctioned social performance, such as

those associated with dress, gesture, and movement, that occur on the surface of the body to

produce gender and sex. For many Minoan scholars, it is a combination of biological

characteristics, skin colour, and other visible material characteristics that produce the perceived

differences between “male” and “female” individuals.

However, not all agree with these categorizations and believe that the performative

elements listed above are not always consistent or straightforward (Alberti 2013; Newman

2017). Alberti (2013) and Newman (2017) argue that there are figures in Minoan art who are

depicted with a mix of “male” and “female” characteristics and therefore likely represent degrees

of fluidity in Minoan gender. While there are certainly figures which cannot be definitively

identified in Minoan iconography, there is no consensus as to whom or what these figures

represent. Nonetheless, it is not the purpose of this study to investigate and/or revise the ways in

which gender is identified and understood in Minoan society. The aim of this study is merely to

re-examine the claims made by scholars such Marinatos (1987, 1993), Hitchcock (1997), and

34
Driessen (2012) relating to gender and ritual space, where gender has been understood and

classified as “male” and “female.” Therefore, this study will be using the same categories and

associated criteria as such scholars. This usage will hopefully provide a contextualized analysis

of the social organization of ritual spaces within the body of established research.

Gendering Artifacts and Material Feminism

In addition to utilizing gender theoretical frameworks to approach the topic of gender in a

Minoan context, approaches based in gender theory will also be used in the analysis of the peak

and cave sanctuaries, with particular emphasis on the material culture from these sites. The

guiding theoretical framework which will be used to study the gendered aspects of the artifacts

found at these sites is material feminism. Viewing gender as a socially constructed category,

material feminist theory analyzes material culture as an active influence in the construction and

negotiation of gender as well as its intersections with other social dimensions (Spencer-Wood

2011: 19). This theory largely developed from Butler’s performance theory and queer theory,

which both propose that repeated, material processes or representations on the body are used to

express and produce gender and sexual identities (Alberti 2013: 93). In early archaeological

theorizations of material feminist theory, material culture was viewed merely as a product of a

cultural behaviour or ideology (Spencer-Wood 2011: 19). However, now scholars are

recognizing that material culture in fact also plays an active role in shaping social behaviour and

constructing identities (Sørensen 2007: 75; Spencer-Wood 2011: 19). Sørensen (2007: 75)

reiterates this point, explaining “material culture is therefore not just a source for finding

representations of gender; rather, it is in itself implicated in the construction of gender at

different levels.” It is through material “things” and their associated activities that gender is

enacted and becomes a significant aspect of personal and social life (Sørensen 2007: 83).

35
Therefore, artifacts such as representational art, tools, jewelry, clothing, pottery, and so on have

the potential to represent multiple dimensions of gender within past cultures. Yet, it must be

recognized that material construction of gender, that is, the use of objects, always involves

negotiation and sometimes subversion (Sørensen 2000: 90). Objects have a fluidity of meaning

and may embody multiple meanings for different people (Sørensen 2000: 90). The interpretation

of the meaning of material objects therefore must be based upon acknowledging them as

participants in contexts and understanding that “meaning is neither absolute nor exclusive”

(Sørensen 2000: 90). Our analyses of material culture in relation to gender then must always aim

to identify context as well as meaning. For this study, the classification of artifacts from the

Minoan extra-urban sanctuaries as “gendered” is based on iconographical and burial evidence

put forth by previous scholars. The multiple contexts in which objects are associated with male

or female individuals can be used as a basis to gender certain artifacts. This will be discussed in

more detail in Chapter five. In the following chapter, I now provide an overview of the artifact

assemblages and architectural remains of three sanctuaries used as the data set for my analysis.

36
 Chapter 4 – A Study of Three Minoan Extra Urban Sanctuaries

This chapter presents three case studies of Minoan extra-urban sanctuaries: the Petsophas and

Juktas peak sanctuaries, and the Psychro cave sanctuary. The three selected case studies provide

useful and more complete examples of both types of extra-urban sanctuaries, demonstrating a

wide range of well-preserved features. Additionally, Petsophas, Juktas, and Psychro are all sites

that have been extensively excavated and published compared to the vast majority of other

Minoan sanctuaries. Together, these case studies comprise a valuable dataset for a socio-spatial

analysis of Minoan peak and cave sanctuaries. The architectural remains of all three case studies

will be examined in conjunction with the artifact assemblages, with the aim to better understand

the functions and social organization of each type of site. The purpose of this chapter is to

provide an overview of the geographical context, the construction history, the architectural

remains, and the artifact assemblages of each selected sanctuary.

Petsophas Peak Sanctuary

The peak sanctuary of Petsophas is situated on a mountain range near the plain and bay of

Palaikastro (Bosanquet et al. 1902/1903: 356). The peak after which the sanctuary was named is

the highest of the three main summits of this ridge, at a height of 270 m. The sanctuary itself lies

about 10-15 m down the southern slope of this peak and provides a dominating view of the

ancient settlement of Palaikastro to the south. Although the ancient path is unknown, the

sanctuary can be accessed from a modern path on the north-east slope (Bosanquet et al.

1902/1903: 356; Rutkowski 1991: 17). Like many other peak sanctuaries, Petsophas is close in

proximity to the surrounding settlement as it can be reached by foot in half an hour from

Palaikastro via the north-east slope (Rutkowski 1991: 17).

37
 The site was first excavated by Myres in 1902 and was later briefly explored by Davaras

in 1971. Although Myres’ work on the Petsophas excavations was brief, his preliminary report

(Bosanquet et al. 1902/1903) provides one of the most in-depth descriptions of a peak sanctuary

(Rutkowski 1991: 14). Nonetheless, like many excavations undertaken in the early twentieth

century, some details from Myres’ work are unclear (Rutkowski 1991: 14). This includes

uncertainties regarding parts of the building plan as well as the date of construction for certain

rooms and/or features. For this reason, there are inconsistencies between Myres’ original

architectural plan of the site and those re-created by later scholars. These issues will be addressed

in the discussion of the architectural history and physical remains of the site below. For a more

accurate picture of the Petsophas remains, the architectural plan created by Rutkowski (1991) is

primarily used in this study (Figure 8).

The Site: Architectural Remains

The remains of the Petsophas sanctuary lies close to a cluster of natural rocks scattered along the

slopes of the mountain in the northwest. During Myres’ exploration of the site, he uncovered

limestone terrace walls (A, B, C, D and E, on Figure 8), which surrounded the main area of the

sanctuary (Bosanquet et al. 1902/1903: 357). Rutkowski (1991: 17) speculates that the terrace

walls B, K, C, D as well as the wall A, B were likely built earlier during the MM I period. The

outer southwest wall of this terrace (C, D) is built of large and roughly dressed stones, preserved

up to a height of 1.95 m, and at its widest point, is 2 m thick (Rutkowski 1991: 17). It is probable

that this wall was longer, as traces of the wall suggest its original length was 13.20 m. The

terrace area enclosed by wall C, D is up to c. 130 m2 and described by Myres as an artificially

built-up platform (Bosanquet et al. 1902/1903: 357; Rutkowski 1991: 17). The entrance into the

terrace was located on the northern side of the structure, near wall E, where remains of steps

38
were discovered. However, it is uncertain as to whether these steps were from the MM I

construction phase or were a later addition (Rutkowski 1991: 19). Similarly, the later re-building

of the terrace has made its original appearance in the earlier period difficult to reconstruct and as

a result, two possible reconstructions have been put forth (Rutkowski 1991: 19). The first

possible reconstruction posits that the terrace walls were of a moderate height and that there was

likely an altar or altars within the enclosed area. Although no evidence of an altar has been found

in the terraced area, this reconstruction is informed by the presence of ashes and by analogies

with other peak sanctuaries (Rutkowski 1991: 19). Additionally, it is evident that cult activities

took place within the structure, indicated by the numerous votive offerings found beneath the

floor of the later constructions. The second potential reconstruction is also based on analogies of

cult places near EM and MM period tombs that were often open, roofless structures (called

sacred screens). Similarly, the terrace area of the Petsophas peak sanctuary may have been

surrounded by a low wall with an open roof (Rutkowski 1991: 20). However, Rutkowski (1991:

20) claims that Room 5, in the northwest end of the structure, was either a terrace or a sacred

screen with low walls.

Later during MM III/LM I or LM I, another phase of construction took place, resulting in

the rebuilding and modification of the previous structure. During this phase, wall D, F was

erected whereas the eastern 4 m of the façade wall was demolished. Outside wall D, F, within the

former area of the terrace and bordered by wall D, E in the south, a natural “trough” of 0.5 m

deep was formed (Bosanquet et al. 1902/1903: 357). The newly rebuilt structure had two rooms,

although Rutkowski claims there is a possibility of an existence of a third room in the north close

to the rocks (1991: 20). Room 1, situated in the southwest part of the building, was fairly large

with dimensions of 6.3 x 6.5 m and was rectangular in shape. In this room, Myres (Bosanquet et

39
al. 1902/1903: 359) uncovered a floor made of rough, unshaped schist slabs in the northwest part

as well as a plaster floor in the southwest part. In the southwest part of Room 1, there was also a

bench made of unworked, whitewashed plastered stones that ran at least 6.6 m alongside wall C,

D. Remains of the bench are still evident, demonstrating that it was 0.25 m high and a had a

width that varied from 0.2-0.4 m wide. Due to the building’s construction on the slope of the

mountain, wall B, C and the floor in Room 1 are not level and slope up to the north. To the north

of Room 1 was Room 2, which could be accessed by a stepped entrance in walls L and M.

Unfortunately, this dividing wall between the two rooms in only preserved in the western part,

with the nature of the wall in section N, F still being unclear. It is likely, however, that since rock

is filling this space, the wall may have extended to this area (Rutkowski 1991: 20). Room 2, also

rectangular in shape, was smaller than Room 1 with a width of only 2.10 m. The walls of this

room are poorly preserved and rocks protrude in the middle (‘a’ in Figure 8) and northeast parts.

Access to this room was likely on the northeast side, yet the entrance to the sanctuary building

has not been found (Rutkowski 1991: 20). It is in both of these rooms that Myres found votive

offerings within the various stratigraphic layers. Likewise, the area adjoining the building to the

west (Area 7) was utilized for ritual functions, as indicated by finds. It is still uncertain as to

whether area 7 was an enclosed room or a terrace (Rutkowski 1991: 21). On the east side of the

building a small terrace is present (terrace 8), and further down to the south, two main terraces

(10 and 11) faced the façade of the building. Based on other analogies, it is on one of these

terraces that an altar was likely present (Rutkowski 1991: 21). Overall, the Petsophas sanctuary

is relatively small compared to some of the other known sanctuaries, with a total area of 700 m2.

40
The Finds: Artifact Assemblage

According to Myres (Bosanquet et al. 1902/1903: 357), the area inside the terrace walls A, B, C,

D and E is where a deposit of clay animal figurines first appeared. Only one object is reported to

have been found in Room 1 by Myres (Bosanquet et al. 1902/1903: 360), which was a serpentine

pedestal lamp. Upon excavating the area near the later constructed wall D-F, Myres uncovered

three distinct layers (Bosanquet et al. 1902/1903: 357). The first layer contained brown soil full

of shattered pottery and figurines and the second layer was undisturbed, consisting of ashes,

charcoal, and many figurines. Myres (Bosanquet et al. 1902/1903: 357) stated in his report that

this “black layer had every appearance of having originated in a large bonfire, into which the figurines

had been thrown.” Unfortunately, the third layer in the area beside wall D, F did not yield any finds.

Although neither Myres (Bosanquet et al. 1902/1903) nor Rutkowski (1991) discuss the

stratigraphy or distribution of the artifacts within the site in great detail, it appears that the artifact

assemblage from Petsophas includes the following objects: terracotta human figurines; terracotta

animal figurines; fine pottery; coarse pottery; miniature vases; terracotta balls; terracotta beetles;

votive limbs; ashes; stone tables; stone vases (Jones 1999: 77). However, the finds that date to the

Neopalatial period only include clay human figurines, inscribed stone offering tables, and the

serpentine lamp noted above (Jones 1999: 77). Both Myres (Bosanquet et al. 1902/1903) and

Rutkowski (1991) provide a detailed discussion on the manufacture, form, and visual details of the

clay figurines.

A total of 21 votive male figurines (only 6 are complete) and 7 female figurines (plus an

additional 8 fragments) were uncovered at Petsophas (Rutkowski 1991: 22). The figurines are rather

small, with the male figurines measuring 15 to 17 cm and the female figurines measuring 10 to 14 cm.

Both groups of figurines vary in quality of construction, with the female figurines having more

41
elaborate decoration. Some were constructed using “well levigated clay” and others were made of

coarse, gritty clay (Rutkowski 1991: 22). The figurines were usually created using several pieces of

clay that were connected through the use of clay pegs (Rutkowski 1991: 30; Morris 2009: 181).

Other details were mainly formed with rolled clay strips and pellets (Rutkowski 1991: 30; Morris

2009: 181). Rutkowski (1991) categorized the figurines into different groups based on form and

other traits, ranging from “simple” to “advanced”. He identified 9 groups of male figurine types

(Group A-I) and 3 groups of female figurine types (Group 1-3). The male figurines typically

depict an exposed flat chest, wearing a loincloth, a codpiece, a belted weapon, and shoes

(Rutkowski 1991: 26). The female figurines typically have bell-shaped dresses and tight bodices,

with their breasts exposed, and with an oval hat (Rutkowski 1991: 30). Generally, the face for

both groups was schematized, showing very little detail or differentiation. Both male and female

figurines were painted using black, white, various shades of brown, and light or dark red (Rutkowski

1991: 21). However, Rutkowski claims that “in juxtaposition with the male figurines, the female ones

are more simplified, even in the most outstanding instances.” All the figurines are standing in an

erect position, with different arm poses. Common poses include both hands raised as if in

supplication, one hand raised above the head, a hand raised at the height of the forehead (the

“Minoan salute”), or hands folded and touching the chest (Rukowski 1991: 55).

Juktas Peak Sanctuary

Located 13 km south-west of Knossos, the Juktas peak sanctuary is found on Mount Juktas, a

mountain that rises to 811 m above sea-level and has two peaks of which Psili Korphi is the

highest (Karetsou 1980: 137). Mount Juktas dominates much of the landscape as it is also west

of the ancient settlement of Archanes and can be seen from the port of Candia and from the west

side from Tylissos (Evans 1921: 155; Karetsou 1980: 137). From the peak sanctuary itself there

42
is an impressive view of Knossos, the plain of Candia, mount Ida, the island of Dia, and the cliffs

of Melos (Evans 1921: 155; Karetsou 1980: 137).

Sir Arthur Evans first explored the site in 1909, where he found the remains of a MM

peak sanctuary situated on Psili Korphi (Evans 1921). The Juktas peak sanctuary was later

thoroughly excavated by Alexandra Karetsou between 1974 and 1984 (Karetsou 1980; Cromarty

2008: 34). Although Evans has originally published a plan of excavation in 1921 (Figure 9), the

later architectural plans produced by Karetsou (1980) will be used for this study (Figure 10).

Karetsou’s (1980) published plans resulted in a more complete view of the site as the later

excavations uncovered further remains and clarified some of Evans’s previous work.

The Site: Architectural Remains

The Juktas peak sanctuary is enclosed by a large temenos wall consisting of huge rough-hewn

blocks, which Evans described as “cyclopean” in size and manner of construction (1921: 155).

The wall runs along the ridge to the north and south of the sanctuary, following closely the edge

of the peak (Evans 1921: 157). The wall is about 100 m long on the east side and stands at a

height of about 5 m (Evans 1921: 156). A mountain path leads up to the temenos wall where an

entrance into the temenos area is situated in the north side of the wall (Evans 1921: 157). Within

the enclosed temenos area, Evans reported various architectural remains, including a series of

areas that he called the “priest’s house” (Figure 9) (Karetsou 1980: 138). According to Evans,

these areas were entered from the south by a ramp, first leading into a large area that had traces

of a floor (B1) (Evans 1921: 157). Two additional areas (B2 and C) are connected to B1. Area

B2, which is smaller and narrower, was accessed through a doorway in the southeast corner of

B1 and had evidence of a plastered wall. Area C, slightly larger in size, was accessed through a

doorway in the northwest corner of B1 and had remains of a white plaster floor (Evans 1921;

43
157). However, the excavations undertaken by Karetsou (1980: 138) revealed that the area of the

“priest’s house” is the main part of an open-air sanctuary instead consisting of two stepped

terraces (Terrace I and II) that are oriented north-south and accessed via the ramp in the south

mentioned above (Figure 10). To the west of Terraces I and II, there is a long altar that was

constructed over a series of deep fissures in the bedrock (Karetsou 1980: 138).

A series of five rooms was uncovered to the east of Terrace II, with the three

southernmost abutting the retaining wall of Terrace II, and a possible sixth room to the north

(Karetsou 1980: 141). The rooms are arranged in a row that runs south to north. Although there

is a small staircase connecting with the ramp in the south, no evidence of a southern entrance to

these rooms has been found. It appears the Rooms III, IV, and V could be accessed from the

outside by openings in the west whereas Rooms I and II must have been entered from an

unknown entrance in the south. Based on the finds from these rooms, Karetsou (1980: 147)

suggests that they “played an auxiliary part in the worship of the shrine.” Likewise, Karetsou

(1980: 145) uncovered part of a third terrace to the east of the rooms, which is connected to their

external walls. Running approximately the same length of the series of rooms, Terrace III was

constructed in the same manner as Terraces I and II. Additionally, a long, narrow bench was

discovered 0.45 m above the level of Terrace III, formed by the connection of the external wall

of the rooms with its wider foundation (Karetsou 1980: 145). Karetsou (1980: 145) reported that

hundreds of votive offerings were found below the bench, suggesting that the bench was used to

display votives.

Based on the dating of pottery sherds, the Terraces were built at the end of the

Protopalatial period or at the beginning of the Neopalatial period (Karetsou 1980: 145). During

the Neopalatial period, the sanctuary witnessed expansion and modifications, and the

44
architecture became monumental (Karetsou 1980: 145). For instance, the five rooms east of the

terraces were remodelled, resulting in a new room arrangement. Rooms III and IV, which were a

single area with a central column, became separated by a wall where the column was situated.

Additionally, the doorway that connected Rooms IV and V was blocked up. It was also during

the Neopalatial period that the Cyclopean wall surrounding the sanctuary is believed to have

been erected (Karetsou 1980: 151) For these reasons, Karetsou (1980: 145) explains,

…that the peak sanctuary of Juktas has all the typical characteristics suggesting that it
was the public open-air sanctuary of the Knossos area in the Old Palace period. In the
MM III period, however, with the foundation of the new palaces, the connection of the
sanctuary with the Palace of Knossos becomes clearer…

Therefore, although the Juktas sanctuary was in use as early as the Prepalatial period, it is

evident that, like many other Minoan peak sanctuaries, the Neopalatial period was a time of

elevated activity at the site.

The Finds: Artifact Assemblage

As one of the largest and most elaborate extra-urban sanctuaries on Crete, the Juktas peak

sanctuary has yielded a rich assemblage of finds. Beginning with the finds from the altar,

Karetsou (1980: 145) reported that a stone offering table from the first phase of the sanctuary

was built into the altar. Close to the altar, a kernos and a group of bronze double axes dating to

the Old Palace period were found. From the step of the altar, there were small votive offering

tables, a stone offering table inscribed with Linear A, bronze human figurines, clay figurines, and

votive clay heads (Karetsou 1980: 146). The Old Palace period stratum from the altar contained

numerous clay human figurines, clay s-shaped objects, clay heads of bulls, clay snake figurines,

and other clay animal figurines. Karetsou (1980: 146) notes that of the clay human figurines, the

majority of the figurines were male whereas there were very few female figurines. Of the finds

found in the chasm near the altar, there were fragments of lower legs from human figurines.

45
 The artifacts found in Terrace II include a gold amulet, around 300 clay human figurines,

multiple stone offering tables, dozens of clay animal figurines, and various “other votive objects”

(Karetsou 1980: 147). As mentioned above, the finds from the series of rooms next to Terrace II

suggest their auxiliary function. In Room I, the finds consisted of an alabaster cup with Linear A

script, an alabaster offering table, and an alabaster kernos. In Room II, a clay sealing depicting a

bull’s head with a star symbol between the horns was found. The following objects were

discovered in Room III: a lead human figurine; a bronze sheet in the shape of a bird; stone votive

offerings; clay human figurines; seal stones; and a two-handled vessel with plant decorations and

rim appliqués (Karetsou 1980: 147). In Room V, there was a cache of LM IA conical cups

(Rutkowski 1996: 79). In addition to the above finds, other artifacts that were uncovered from

Juktas include course and fine pottery (kalathoi, cooking pots, dishes, storage pithoi, cups, jugs,

bowls), ashes, horns of consecration, jewelry, bronze votive weapons (swords, daggers, tools),

and real weapons (Rutkowski 1996: 78; Jones 1999: 65).

Although neither Evans (1921) nor Karetsou (1980) discuss the clay human figurines

within their reports, the catalogue of finds reveals that the figurines are quite similar to those

found at the Petsophas sanctuary and other peak sanctuary sites. Made using the same

manufacturing techniques, these clay figurines also range in quality, do not exceed 10 or 20 cm

in height, are decorated using the same paint colours, and demonstrate a variety of arm poses

(Rutkowski 1996: 85; Morris 2009: 181). Again, the women are depicted wearing bell-shaped

dresses, wearing jackets with exposed breasts, and with oval hats on their heads (Rutkowski

1996: 85; Morris 2009: 182). The men, like those from Petsophas, depict an exposed flat chest,

wearing a loincloth, a codpiece, a belted weapon, and shoes (Morris 2009: 182).

46
Psychro Cave

The Psychro Cave lies in the northern face of the Dictean mountain range, located in the Lasithi

region (Watrous and Widenor 1996: 17). The cave is situated at an altitude of 1025 m, only 200

m higher than the Lasithi plateau (Rutkowski and Nowicki 1996: 10). Directly below the cave on

the southern end of Lasithi plain is the village of Psychro and to the north of the cave one can see

the site of Karphi (Watrous and Widenor 1996: 17). The Psychro Cave is fairly accessible, taking

only about 30 minutes to walk along a mountain path from the village of Psychro up to the cave

(Rutkowski and Nowicki 1996: 10).

The first scholars to work at the Psychro cave were Hazzidakis and Halbherr, who

excavated the entrance in 1886. Subsequently, Evans dug at the rear of the upper chamber in

1896 followed by Demarge in 1897 (Watrous and Widenor 1996: 17). However, Hogarth was the

first archaeologist to systematically excavate most of the cave. His excavations began in May of

1899 and lasted three weeks (Rutkowski and Nowicki 1996: 10). Hogarth first started digging in

the upper chamber of the cave and then turned his attention to the lower chamber. He then

directed his workers to dig the mud floor in the subterranean pool where large numbers of votive

objects were found (Watrous and Widenor 1996: 18). After three weeks, Hogarth stopped his

excavations with the intention of returning for a second season. Unfortunately, Hogarth never

returned to the site and parts of the Psychro Cave still have not been completely excavated

(Watrous and Widenor 1996: 18). For the purposes of this study, the plan of the Psychro Cave

drawn by Nowicki in 1986 is used (Figure 11) (Rutkowski and Nowicki 1996: 10). This plan is

based on the later visits to the cave by Rutkowski and Nowicki (1996) to review the material left

by Hogarth at the end of the nineteenth century. Therefore, this later plan provides a more

accurate and detailed plan of the site in comparison to Hogarth’s original drawings.

47
The Site: Architectural Remains

The Psychro Cave consists of three main areas: a terrace in front of the cave’s entrance, a

vestibule called the “Upper Cave”, and a large chamber called the “Lower Cave” (Figure 11)

(Rutkowski and Nowicki 1996: 10). The terrace, 40 x 15 m in size, lies directly east of the cave

entrance and is built of Cyclopean masonry (Watrous and Widenor 1996: 17). From the mouth of

the cave, one enters the Upper Cave that is “oblong and irregular in shape,” with dimensions of

ca. 25 m wide and 20 m deep (Rutkowski and Nowicki 1996: 10; Watrous and Widenor 1996:

17). The floor is level in the southern part of and gradually slopes in the north, which is 2 m

lower than the area to the south. A narrow depression runs along the western wall of the Upper

Cave and a small cluster of stalagmites is seen in the northeastern side (Rutkowski and Nowicki

1996: 10). In the northwestern bay of the Upper Cave, Hogarth found remains of what he

described as a temenos wall: “squared blocks, not in situ, lying thickly just inside the cave mouth

probably attested the former existence of an unmortared enclosure wall defining the eastern limit

of the holy area” (Hogarth 1899/1900: 98). However, this wall was destroyed due to falling rocks

from the ceiling. An additional structure constructed of roughly squared blocks, 0.9 m high, 0.9

m long, and 0.4 m wide was found parallel to the western wall of the Upper Cave (Rutkowski

and Nowicki 1996: 11). It is likely that this was an altar that may have had painted stucco

decoration. Pieces of marble paving-slabs were also uncovered near the altar (Rutkowski and

Nowicki 1996: 11). Likewise, the remains of another, later temenos wall were also discovered in

the north bay of the Upper Cave. This temenos wall, roughly rectangular in shape and around 7.4

m2, lies slightly north of the altar (Rutkowski and Nowicki 1996: 14). The wall, constructed in

cyclopean style, was 2 m thick and ran along the western wall of the Upper Cave. The wall had

narrow entrance into the temenos area within which the floor was paved with squared blocks.

48
 From the Upper Cave, one descends into the Lower Cave via a steep slope (Figure 12).

The entrance into the Lower Cave, which is 18 m wide and 5 high, is located in the southeastern

area of the Upper Cave (Rutkowski and Nowicki 1996: 16). The Lower Cave itself is about 80 m

long, 38 m wide, and 5 m to 12 m high. Upon descending into the Lower Cave, one first enters a

wide, well-lit chamber (Chamber 1) that slopes downwards with a small bay in the east. In the

southern end of Chamber 1, there is access to a chamber full of stalagmites and natural pillars

(Chamber 2). Chamber 2 consists of two other distinct spaces as one goes deeper into the cave.

Descending into Chamber 2, one enters “a narrow gallery that is squeezed between the cave wall

on the left and a row of columns on the right” (Rutkowski and Nowicki 1996: 16). This gallery

in Chamber 2 then leads into a small space through numerous pillars and stalagmites. This part

of Chamber 2 connects to Chamber 3 through a narrow entrance on the east side that can only be

accessed by squeezing through pillars and stalagmites. Chamber 3 consists of a small, dark area

that is 10 x 5.5 m in size and 5 m high (Rutkowski and Nowicki 1996: 16). Leaving Chamber 3,

one enters Chamber 4 which mostly consists of a pool of water that extends over an area of 10 x

15 m in the very southwestern corner of the cave.

The dating of the stratigraphic layers and finds from this site has revealed that the

Psychro cave had long and continual periods of use. The Upper Cave was first used as a place of

habitation in the Neolithic and Early Minoan periods, as was the case with various other cave

sites on Crete (Rutkowski and Nowicki 1996: 18). As the local population began to create

settlements in the surrounding landscape, the cave then became used for a burial ground in the

EM II-III period. Although nothing is known of the cave’s use during the MM I-II period, it is

evident that the use of the Psychro cave for ritual purposes started at the end of the MM IIb

period (Rutkowski and Nowicki 1996: 18). It is during the MM III to the LM I period that ritual

49
activities likely occurred both in the entirety of the Upper Cave and the Lower Cave. According

to Rutkowski and Nowicki (1996: 18), “the cave became a very well-known and recognized cult

place of more than local significance during the Middle Minoan III – Late Minoan I period

which was a time of political and/or social unification in Crete.” The temenos wall and the altar

in the northwestern bay of the Upper Cave were built at the beginning of the MM III period and

used until the LM III period (Rutkowski and Nowicki 1996: 11). However, during the LM III it

appears that the focus of ritual activity shifted to the north bay of the Upper Cave, when the later

temenos wall in this area was constructed. The Psychro cave remained a site for ritual from the

LM III period until the late Archaic period. Despite its disuse for some time afterwards, the cave

was used for ritual again during Roman times and in the Byzantine period (Rutkowski and

Nowicki 1996: 11).

The Finds: Artifact Assemblage

Psychro cave is one of the Cretan cave sanctuaries with the largest and most diverse assemblage

of artifacts. As Hogarth began to excavate in the northwest bay of the Upper Cave, four main

layers of occupation were discovered. In the stratum dating to the MM IIb to the LM III periods,

Hogarth uncovered Kamares pottery sherds, clay cups, and bronze objects (Rutkowski 1991: 11).

Within the temenos area and next to the altar, an inscribed offering table and 30 fragments of

other receptacles were found. Other finds next this altar included plain cups, fragments of MM

III fruit stands, and lamps (Rutkowski 1991: 11). In the Lower Cave, most of the finds were

discovered in vertical crevices of the stalactites in Chambers 2 and 4 as well as in the pool itself

(Hogarth 1902; Rutkowski 1991: 17). The crevices often contained bronze votive objects such as

model blades, fibulae, and double axes. Other finds found in the stalactites and in the pool

include bronze human figurines, animal figurines, engraved gems, rings, pins, blades, razors,

50
tweezers, and knives (Rutkowski 1991: 17). A total of 210 weapons and tools were discovered,

both real weapons and votive/ceremonial ones. Such objects consisted of swords, daggers,

knives, chisels, a saw, a toothed sickle, and spear/arrow heads (Rutkowski 1991: 17). Other

pottery forms found were jugs, amphorae, bowls, pithoi, basins, a krater, and a rhyton (Jones

1999: 80).

A mix of bronze and clay human figurines were discovered in the Psychro cave. In total,

23 male figurines, 12 female figurines, and child figurine were found in the Lower Cave

(Rutkowski 1991: 17). Watrous and Widenor (1996) provide a catalogue of the finds from

Psychro, including descriptions of the clay figurines found. From these descriptions, the male

and female figurines also appear to have been manufactured using the same techniques stated

above and differ in quality of manufacture. The clay female and male figurines are depicted

wearing the same clothing and adornments as those from Petsophas and Juktas, decorated with

black, brown, white, and red paint. While Watrous and Widenor (1996) do not include the

bronze figurines in their catalogue of finds, Morris (2017: 569) explains that the bronze male and

female figurines depict same exposed anatomical features, clothes and adornments as seen in the

clay figurines. However, bronze figurines were manufactured by solid cast using the lost wax

technique (Morris 2017: 569). These objects often have an uneven, rough, and bubbly texture

due to the use of an alloy lacking in tin, which, as a result, did not flow well (Morris 2017: 569).

Having discussed the various sanctuaries and their finds, I turn now to an analysis of their

spatial configuration and architectural features, exploring the socio-spatial organization of such

sites.

51
 Chapter 5 – A Discussion of the Spatial and Social Organization of the

Minoan Extra-Urban Sanctuaries

This chapter presents the results of the access analysis conducted upon the Petsophas, Juktas, and

Psychro Minoan sanctuaries, discussing how the architecture and respective finds provide insight

into the spatial and social organization of peak and cave sanctuaries. The fixed-feature elements

are first examined, which includes the syntactic characteristics and the architectural features of

the sites. According to Fisher (2009: 446), these elements directly affect spatial organization as

they play a vital role in the creation of contexts of interaction. Therefore, the fixed-feature

elements can indicate whether spaces were used for public or private functions. Furthermore, the

semi-fixed feature elements are also considered, which include the artifact assemblages from

these sites. Similarly, semi-fixed feature elements play a role in the nature of the interactions that

might have taken place in certain spaces (Fisher 2009: 446). As a result, artifacts can reveal

whether spaces were public or private as well as what specific activities took place. Additionally,

semi-fixed feature elements can provide insight into the personal or group identities of the users

of the sanctuaries. This can be helpful in determining the social organization of the sanctuaries

and whether gender was an organizing factor as suggested by previous scholars (Marinatos 1987,

1993; Hitchcock 1997).

The Spatial Organization of the Extra-Urban Sanctuaries: An Examination of Syntactic

and Fixed-Feature Elements

Using the methodology outlined by Fisher (2009: 446-448), by combining the syntactic values

and examining the fixed features of a building, it is possible to measure interaction potential.

This term refers to which spaces are most likely to host social interaction. The RRA value

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indicates how accessible a space is from other spaces whereas the CV indicates which spaces are

“likely to be local foci for interaction” (Fisher 2009: 446). The depth of a space from the exterior

indicates how accessible the space is to a visitor entering the building. However, the degree of

accessibility of a space must also consider whether such space is on the main route from the

exterior and whether it has wide doorways. Fisher (2009: 448) categorizes the different

combination of values into three different types of rooms. He explains that a space that facilitates

informal and transitory gatherings would have to be easily accessible to encourage chance

interactions and therefore would have a low RRA value and a medium to high CV. These spaces

do not have to be large in size as they are considered “movement spaces” and function as spaces

that allow individuals to move from one space to another (Fisher 2009: 447). As a result, these

spaces tend to be narrow, rectangular hallways (Fisher 2009: 447). A space that is used for

“public-inclusive occasions” would have a medium to high CV, a low RRA value, and a low

depth value. These types of occasions often require multiple interconnected spaces, which then

provide access to spaces used for ancillary activities to the event or as storage areas for the

equipment for the event (Fisher 2009: 447). This type of space is also likely to have important

fixed-or semi fixed -feature elements, be large in size to accommodate a large number of visitors,

and be on the main axial route to easily include visitors (Fisher 2009: 448). Finally, a space used

for “private-exclusive occasions” would have a low CV value, a medium to high RRA value, and

a high depth value (Fisher 2009: 448). These types of spaces can either be connected to a public-

inclusive occasion room or can be isolated within the building to allow for more privacy and not

be subjected to intrusion (Fisher 2009: 448). A summary of the architectural and syntactic

characteristics of types of social interaction are shown in Table 2.

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Peak Sanctuaries

The results of the access analysis for Petsophas and Juktas have provided some valuable insights

into the spatial organization of Minoan peak sanctuaries (Tables 3 and 4). It is evident from

syntactic measures and the justified access graphs that the peak sanctuaries are fairly permeable

from the outside as various spaces are directly accessible from the carrier (Figures 5 and 6). For

both the peak sanctuaries, almost half of the total rooms are directly accessible from the carrier

(n=3 for Petsophas; n=5 for Juktas). This seems to suggest that the peak sanctuaries were well

integrated into the natural surrounding area and allowed multiple groups of visitors to enter the

sanctuary at a given time, creating an overall sense of inclusion within the structure. This is also

supported by the fact that the spaces that fall into the category of public-inclusive gatherings are

directly accessible from the carrier. Rather than using multiple entrances to “filter” specific

groups of people into different areas of the sanctuary, as shown by Fisher (2009: 451) in the case

of the Ashlar Building at Enkomi, the multiple entrances in the peak sanctuaries lead almost

directly to the main areas of public activity. Additionally, such spaces are on the main axial

routes and have low depth values which demonstrate that they were deliberately arranged to

allow for easy access from the carrier. Furthermore, the carrier itself appears to be an important

space for public-inclusive gatherings. At both Petsophas and Juktas, the carrier is categorized as

a public-inclusive gathering space as it has the highest CV (n=2.5 for Petsophas; n=3 for Juktas),

the lowest RRA (n=0.573 for Petsophas; n=0.602 for Juktas), and the lowest depth measure (n=0

for both). The carrier in both sites also has important fixed-feature elements denoting its function

as a public space. In both Petsophas and Juktas, the carrier is a space which has natural crevices

where visitors could deposit votive offerings. The carrier in Petsophas is also where the altar

would supposedly be located (Rutkowski 1991).

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 Moreover, the results of the access analysis reveal that Petsophas and Juktas have a

relatively equal number of both public-inclusive and private-exclusive gathering type spaces. At

Petsophas, the carrier and Room 1 fall into the category of public-inclusive spaces (n=2) whereas

Rooms 2, 3, and 4 can be categorized as private-exclusive spaces (n=3). At Juktas, the carrier

and Room 1 can be definitively categorized as public-inclusive spaces (n=2) whereas Terrace II,

and Rooms II, IIIB, IV, and V are private-exclusive spaces (n=5). However, while Terrace I and

Terrace III could be placed in either category, they appear to be more suitable for public-

inclusive gatherings due to their other fixed-feature elements such as the size of the spaces, the

natural crevices used for votive deposit, and the altar in Terrace I. Overall, the public-inclusive

spaces are the focus of activity as they are well integrated into the structure, are easily accessible,

and contain most of the communal fixed-feature elements. It is exclusively in these rooms where

the altars, crevices, and evidence of bonfires are located. By placing the public-inclusive rooms

directly on the axial route and close to the outside, movement is deliberately controlled and

directed towards these communal spaces. Likewise, these rooms act as a nexus of movement by

controlling access to surrounding rooms, forcing visitors to move through these spaces in order

to enter private-exclusive spaces. This arrangement thus creates the context for social interaction

and places the focus on community activities in these spaces. On the other hand, while there are

private-exclusive spaces in the peak sanctuaries which could indicate deliberate social exclusion,

the context of such spaces indicates other functions. In some cases, the private-exclusive spaces

appear to be more suited for storage rather than proper private-gathering spaces. This is indicated

by the fact that some of these room types are directly accessible from the carrier and do not

connect to any other rooms within the structure. This is the case for Room 3 at Petsophas and

Rooms IIIb, IV, and V at Juktas. According to Palyvou (2009: 77), “storage requires

55
unobstructed yet controlled contact with the entrance of the house for obvious reasons.” As

storage magazines, the above spaces are adequate for allowing quick and direct access to those

who need to obtain stored goods to supplement the public events. Yet, they are also private

enough that these spaces do not inhibit the flow of movement throughout the structure and

ensuring that other visitors would not enter. In fact, Karetsou (1981:147) inferred this to be the

function of Rooms III, IV, and V at Juktas, claiming that they played “an auxiliary part in the

worship of the shrine.”

According to Fisher (2009: 444, citing Rapoport 1990), fixed-feature elements of the

built environment also help encode and communicate messages to inhabitants and visitors

regarding social behaviors. Aside from the spatial arrangement of rooms within a building, these

“permanent architectural components integral to a building’s structure, including walls and

floors” influence the way in which the built environment is used and experienced (Fisher 2009:

444). In the broader context of Minoan architecture, Palyvou (2018: 50) also identifies floors,

walls, and roofs as important boundaries that “are immediately understood as partaking in the

creation of architectural space – that is, the three planes that encapsulate the human body in

action.” In Minoan peak sanctuaries, these fixed-feature elements appear to create an inclusive

social environment by opening up boundaries and making space more accessible not only

physically, but also in terms of visual perception, sound and smell. The boundaries of the peak

sanctuaries are opened up primarily by the lack of roofs on the built structure and the use of

open-air spaces (Rutkowski 1986: 81). The lack of roofs in these structures inherently provides a

sense of openness as it allows in plenty of light. In past built environments, the manipulation of

light and darkness were often utilized to “intimidate, impress, control and enrich” (Dowd 2019:

194). Attested elsewhere in ancient architecture, light is frequently used to illuminate important

56
spaces, especially those in ritual contexts, granting visitors the ability to fully see the surrounding

architecture and emphasize significant features (Dowd 2019: 194). The lack of roofs also does

not close off other spaces and therefore does not restrict awareness of activities happening in

other parts of the sanctuary. With open-air spaces, one may be able to sense the activities

occurring in other rooms, especially as it is evident that public activities such as large bonfires

occurred, where the light, smell, and noise of the crowds could carry over into other rooms.

Likewise, the entryways in the peak sanctuaries also provide insight to the spatial and

social organization of the sites. For Palyvou (2018: 55) “openings determine the degree and

character of the control of penetration” into spaces. Interestingly, the peak sanctuary buildings

did not have physical doors as indicated by the absence of doorjambs in the entryways of the

rooms. As a result, access could not be controlled by closing off certain spaces to create

exclusivity and privacy. This is unlike the use of pier-and-door partitions as a “mutable barrier”

in Minoan halls, where movement through central rooms could be restricted simply by closing

off the space (Letesson 2013: 117). Instead, not only could visitors in the peak sanctuaries easily

access other spaces, but they could also partially see and hear the activities occurring from other

rooms. As well, unrestricted movement and access throughout the structure provides more

contexts for social interaction and “chance encounters,” creating an inclusive social environment

(Fisher 2009: 447). Similarly, the use of terraces in certain spaces instead of built-up walls

contributes to a sense of inclusivity since there are few boundaries to control or delineate these

areas. Visitors situated in one terrace would be able to directly see, hear, and access the adjacent

terrace. As with the lack of roofs, the absence of proper doors and built-up walls allows light,

sound, and smell to penetrate within different spaces and draws attention to the activities

occurring within them.

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To understand sensory experiences in built environments, Fisher (2009: 448) integrates the use

of isovists, isovist fields, and viewsheds within access analysis to examine the potential range of

visibility in a given room. Isovists are defined as the set of all points visible from a specific

location in a space. Taking a step further, isovist fields involve broadening the extent of the

isovist to include the maximum number of visible points from a space (Fisher 2009: 449).

Although typically applied to landscapes, viewsheds can also be used in the built environment. A

viewshed “appears as a polygon extending 100° on either side of a central axis that projects

forward from the center of the viewer and taking in the entire 200° horizontal sweep of human

binocular vision” (Fisher 2009: 450). While this study does not have the scope to incorporate

such components in the analysis, a potential area of study could be directed to identifying isovist

fields and viewsheds in peak sanctuaries and how the above fixed-feature elements impact

visibility. Lastly, the importance of the types of floors used in these sites should be considered.

The floor treatment in a building plays an active role in structuring behaviour, as it can

encourage movement or promote stagnation, that is momentary pause, within a space (Palyvou

2018: 54). Of the four different categories of floor treatments known in Minoan architecture, the

peak sanctuaries use a “neutral” treatment which consists of floors made of beaten soil, a

plastered floor, a mosaic floor, or patterned pavement (Palyvou 2018: 54). In contrast, a

“delimiting floor, which is the most common type of floor in Minoan architecture, consists of

rectangular slabs surrounded by concentric zones of similar rectangular slabs (Palyvou 2018:

54). According to Palyvou (2018: 54), it is neutral flooring that invites movement whereas the

intricate details of delimiting flooring, for example, causes one to pause and look down in a

space. Thus, the presence of neutral flooring in private-exclusive rooms creates contexts for

58
social interaction by promoting movement to other spaces in the structure, emphasizing the use

of these sites for public-inclusive occasions.

Cave Sanctuaries

The results of the access analysis for Psychro have broadened our understanding of the spatial

organization of Minoan cave sanctuaries, especially in comparison to the peak sanctuaries on

Crete, which have typically garnered more attention in scholarship. Specifically, access analysis

of the Minoan peak and cave sanctuaries has been rare due to the inherent difficulties with

applying rules about convex to a built environment that is of natural formation. Therefore, this

study is innovative for its application of access analysis to such sites. The syntactic measures and

justified access graph for Psychro reveal that cave sanctuaries are not very permeable from the

outside (Table 5 and Figure 7). Unlike Petsophas and Juktas which have multiple entrances from

the carrier, there is only one main entrance for the Psychro cave. As a result, one may expect that

access and movement within the sanctuary was highly restricted. However, it appears that most

spaces are on the main axial route and therefore were easily accessible and well-integrated within

the cave. In this case, even the private-exclusive rooms at a higher depth level would have been

fairly accessible to visitors. This layout is especially significant considering that the number of

private-exclusive spaces (n=4) than public-inclusive spaces (n=3) is almost equal. The rooms

that are categorized as private-exclusive are Rooms 1b, 2b, 3, and 4. The public-inclusive rooms

are Room 1a, 1c, and 2a. In Psychro, the private-exclusive rooms are almost always connected to

“gathering” spaces (Rooms 1d and 1e; however, Room 1b and 2b could also be classified as

gathering spaces). These spaces are typically narrow and do not have the space to accommodate

multiple people, thereby encouraging the movement of visitors along the main axial route (Fisher

2009: 447). Therefore, by being connected to such spaces, visitors are directed towards the

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private-exclusive rooms, making them relatively well-integrated and easily accessible.

Furthermore, it is the use of multiple gathering type spaces within the sanctuary that ensures

consistent movement between rooms. In Minoan architecture, gathering-type spaces (or

corridors) “provide a controlled and directional flow of movement and function as connectors a

much as separators” (Palyvou 2018: 74). Instead of public-inclusive and private-exclusive rooms

being completely separated within the Psychro cave, these gathering spaces deter stagnant

activity and provide access to all spaces on the main route. Additionally, there are two categories

of corridors: (a) main corridors that connect the entrance to all the main rooms in the building;

and (b) secondary corridors that serve spaces off the main route regardless of the entrance

(Palyvou 2018: 74). The cave uses mainly thick line corridors creating a direct flow of

movement that produces contexts for social interactions/chance-encounters since there are few

thin line corridors to bypass the main route. Consequently, the sanctuary becomes more spatially

and socially inclusive as all visitors must pass through the same entrance, corridors, and rooms to

reach the further private-exclusive spaces (Rooms 3 and 4). Lastly, the relatively direct route and

lack of off-shooting auxiliary spaces in the cave creates an inclusive environment through its

sensory impact. As visitors travel down a single path, they may be able to see and hear activity

occurring further down the passage, especially as they directly approached larger spaces.

Furthermore, fixed-feature elements such as walls, roofs, and doors must also be

examined to understand the spatial organization of a structure. Caves constitute a unique form of

architecture as the natural features create a pre-determined structure. However, it is evident at

Psychro that additional modifications were made, such as the construction of a terrace and

temenos walls. The construction of the terrace in front of the entrance to the cave is interesting as

it creates a space for a controlled gathering by funnelling visitors into this area instead of

60
allowing them to move freely about the carrier. Based on its medium CV, high RRA, low depth,

and narrow size, the terrace is best suited as a gathering space thereby generating contexts for

momentary social interaction. It is possible that the terrace may have been used to control how

many could enter the cave without excluding those outside by facilitating social encounters

beforehand. Upon entering the cave into Room 1a, visitors would encounter a temenos wall in

the north-west part of the room. Despite Room 1a being best suited for public-inclusive

gatherings, the temenos creates a division of space by separating the altar from the rest of Room

1a. Yet, Rutkowski (1986: 54) notes that when walls were erected in caves, they were always

built around cult objects with the purpose of “separating the most holy spot from the rest of the

grotto.” Therefore, it is likely that this division is due to the sacredness of the ritual space rather

than reflecting divisions related to social organization. Room 1a also contains communal fixed-

feature elements that reflect its function for hosting inclusive social events. The fixed-feature

elements in Room 1a include a stone altar, evidence of bonfires, and crevices where votives were

deposited. Other noteworthy fixed-features elements are the roof and entryways of the cave. In

contrast to the peak sanctuaries that have open-air structures, cave sanctuaries have a naturally

closed roof. The natural roof provides defined boundaries to the structure, creating an overall

sense of privacy and enclosure. This sense of privacy is also supplemented by the fact there is a

lack of visibility and lighting within the sanctuary due to the closed roof. It is difficult to see both

the outside from within the cave and the interior structure. The combination of darkness and

enclosed space has specific sensory effects that impact the way in which the space is experienced

and how visitors interact socially. Caves are the ultimate “darkscape,” where reduced vision

leads to heightened auditory, olfactory, and haptic experiences (Dowd 2019:199). The need for

personal space also increases in dark and confined spaces, and therefore the “enforced closeness

61
in caves can lead to stronger responses in an individual and between people” (Dowd 2019: 199).

While the roof creates privacy, it also encourages social interaction by constraining the space. On

the other hand, the absence of doors and built walls reduces the boundaries in the cave

sanctuaries. Since there is no way to separate or close off spaces, the interior spatial arrangement

is more inclusive as visitors could move freely and access any room. This unrestricted and direct

access into the structure means that sound, smell, and light could travel throughout the cave and

enable visitors to be aware of activities happening in different spaces.

The Social Organization of the Extra-Urban Sanctuaries: An Examination of the Semi-

Fixed Feature Elements

In addition to fixed-feature elements, semi-fixed feature elements play an important role in

encoding and communicating information to inhabitants and visitors, influencing the way in

which space is used and socially organized (Fisher 2009: 445). Semi-fixed feature elements are

defined as objects which are more easily changeable, such as furnishings and portable artifacts

(Rapoport 1990: 89). The presence of semi-fixed feature elements in a space can help us identify

the specific types of social interaction and activities that may have taken place (Fisher 2009:

446). According to Fisher (2009: 446) these are also “precisely the sorts of items that the

inhabitants of a building might use as territorial markers or to personalize space, providing

possible insights into the personal or group identities of a space’s occupants.” Put simply, the

artifacts and furnishings found in the peak and cave sanctuaries can help us identity what these

sites were being used for and by whom.

The Function of the Peak and Cave Sanctuaries Revisited

In Chapter 1, it was mentioned that previous scholarship on the Minoan extra-urban sanctuaries

has demonstrated that these sites were likely used for ritual functions, hosting a variety of cult

62
activities. The analysis of the types of artifacts deposited at Petsophas, Juktas, and Psychro and

their spatial distribution supports these interpretations. Furthermore, it has demonstrated that

despite their differences in spatial organization, the same types of social interactions and ritual

activities took place at both the peak and cave sanctuaries.

The semi-fixed feature elements suggest that the dedication of votives, ritual sacrifice

and/or feasting, and pouring of libations were occurring at both types of sites. The presence of

clay and/or bronze anthropomorphic figurines, bronze weaponry, jewelry, and other

miscellaneous objects indicates that visitors to the sanctuaries were depositing such items as

votives (Morris 2009; Murphy 2018; Peatfield and Morris 2012). Although it was previously

speculated that the figurines were deliberately broken in sacrificial ceremonies, by studying the

materiality and condition of these objects, Murphy (2018: 1) found that most figurines were not

of poor quality such that they would have broken immediately. Rather, these figurines would

have “underwent a period of display” between their arrival and the time of their fragmentation,

indicating their use as votives by visitors (Murphy 2018: 1). Similarly, an examination of the

wear and thickness of the blades on weapons has shown that they were purely decorative, thus

made to be displayed as votives (Rutkowski 1986: 58; Jones 1999: 8).

The occurrence of libation rituals at the peak and cave sanctuaries is apparent by the

presence of rhyta and libation tables (Karetsou 1981; Jones 1999). Rhyta are vessels which were

specially designed for pouring liquids and their ritual function is suggested by the elaboration in

design and decoration (Cromarty 2008: 71). The design of libation tables also indicates their use

in receiving liquids as the table surfaces have one or more shallow bowl-like depressions

(Cromarty 2008: 71). The appearance of similar specialized rhyta and Linear A inscribed libation

63
tables from various sites reveals that libations were part of a standardized, institutional practice

(Jones 1999: 32).

Finally, ritual sacrifice and/or feasting is another activity that appears to have taken place

at peak and cave sanctuaries (Marinatos 1993; Peatfield 1983; Rutkowski 1986). Although the

presence of ash deposits and faunal remains cannot be definitive of animal sacrifice in all

contexts, altars may indicate the occurrence of such activity. Cromarty (2008: 66) argues that

convincing evidence for sacrificial activities includes the presence of altars in association with

faunal remains. Juktas and Psychro have both yielded evidence of altars with deposits of

“incontrovertible Minoan faunal remains” (Cromarty 2008: 66). Whether animal sacrifice was

indeed part of the ritual activities at both types of sanctuaries, it is probable that cooking and

eating as part ritual feasting transpired (Marinatos 1993; Cromarty 2008; D’Agata and Hermary

2012). The presence of ashes and faunal remains along with a wide range of pottery used for

cooking, storage, serving, drinking, and dining supports this interpretation (Jones 1999: 14;

Borgna 2004: 259). Marinatos (1993: 118) also suggests that the rooms in both types of

sanctuaries, especially those with benches, likely served as dining areas. As mentioned in

Chapter 4, a stone bench was found in Room 1 at Petsophas where its widest width (0.4 m) could

support seating (Rutkowski 1990). This room also has paved flooring and the use of elaborate

floor treatment in this space may suggest its function as a place for ritual feasting. It is not

inconceivable that ritual feasting or dining took place in these extra-urban sanctuaries as there is

evidence of such activities in Minoan palaces, tombs, and domestic contexts across Crete

(D’Agata and Hermary 2012). For instance, evidence for ritual feasting has been reported at sites

such as at Phaistos, Chania. Multiple sites also yield a parallel assemblage of ashes, faunal

64
remains, and pottery such as cups, jugs, and cooking pots associated with dining activities

(Marinatos 1993: 98; Cromarty 2008: 92; Borgna 2004: 259).

The spatial distribution of the semi-fixed features provides insights into the specific

locations of these various activities within the structures as well as the contexts of social

interactions. Based on the distribution of the ashes, animal bones, and pottery, it is evident that

ritual sacrifice/feasting and pouring of libations took place in the public-inclusive rooms. For

instance, at Juktas ashes, animal bones, and conical cups, and more pottery forms were found in

Terrace I. At Psychro, pottery, libation tables, ash, and animal bones were found in Room 1a. It

is therefore likely that ritual feasting, sacrifice, and pouring of libations were public and

inclusive events, where large groups of visitors would participate in the ceremonies. This is

heavily supported by not only the finds, but also the communal fixed feature elements, the

arrangement of the rooms in the larger structure, and the size of the rooms. On the other hand, it

appears that votive depositing occurred in both public and private spaces. At Petsophas, many of

the votive figurines and other objects were found in Room 3, which is categorized as a private-

exclusive room and is clearly separated from the other spaces. At Juktas, while votives were

found in Terrace I and Room I, they were also found in Rooms II, III, IV, and V. In Psychro

cave, large quantities of votives were discovered in Rooms 3 and 4 as well as in the public-

inclusive Rooms 1a and 2a. Therefore, votive depositing was likely an activity that a visitor to

the sanctuaries could participate in communally or do privately on one’s own.

Social Identities and the Extra-Urban Sanctuaries: Did Gender Matter?

The artifact assemblages from the peak and cave sanctuaries consist of “gendered” and

“ungendered” objects. It is important to note that these categories are based on a modern etic

perspective, rather than implying intent on the individuals who created such artifacts. While

65
some semi-fixed feature elements can tentatively be gendered on the basis of iconographic and

burial evidence, there are some artifacts in which the identity of the user cannot be easily

discerned. There is a consensus in current scholarship that anthropomorphic votive figurines,

weapons, and hair adornments were associated with specific genders. On the other hand, jewelry,

pottery, and animal figurines cannot be easily gendered in the Minoan archaeological record. The

distribution of both gendered and ungendered semi-fixed feature elements within various spaces

of the peak and cave sanctuaries can reveal patterns relating to social organization and whether

gender played a primary role in shaping them.

As discussed in Chapter 3, the anthropomorphic figurines from the extra-urban

sanctuaries are thought to directly reflect the social identity of the worshippers who deposited

them (Morris 2009; Morris and Peatfield 2012). As result, these objects can be associated with

specific genders based on their likeness to male or female individuals, identified by a set of

attributes such as anatomy, clothing, hairstyles, and adornments. Votive weapons, on the other

hand, are attributed to males based on iconographic and burial evidence. In Minoan art, it is male

figures who are most frequently depicted using weapons such as swords, daggers, and spears

(Papadopoulos 2012: 649; Poole 2020: 92). In her survey of Aegean Bronze Age art, Poole

(2020: 86) found that out of a total of 161 scenes with weapons, 150 (93%) depicted male

individuals handling weaponry. This pattern is also seen among the assemblage of human

figurines from the extra-urban sanctuaries, where only the male figurines are depicted with

swords or daggers (Morris 2009). Additionally, the presence of bronze weapons in male burials

(dubbed “warrior” burials) has led scholars to designate weapons as objects used primarily by

men in Minoan society (Molloy 2012: 120). Yet, hair adornments, such as hair pins, are

associated with females as demonstrated by iconographic and burial evidence. In Minoan art,

66
female figures are frequently depicted with beads or other types of adornment in their hair. For

instance, scholars (Rehak 2009: 13; Günkel-Maschek 2012: 361) have noted that the seated

figure in the Wounded Woman fresco at Xeste 3 wears hairpins: one near her forehead shaped

like an olive branch and one shaped like a lily near the nape of her neck (Figure 13). According

to Verduci and Davis (2015: 61) hair pins are typically associated with female burials, with the

hair pins found near the skull or in pyxides. In the archaeological record, fibulae and hairpins are

undistinguishable and hairpins are often mistaken for fibulae used to fasten clothing (Verduci

and Davis 2015: 61).

Despite the association of hairpins with women, jewelry such as necklaces, rings,

bracelets, and earrings appear to have been worn by both males and females. In Minoan

iconography, both male and female figures are depicted wearing jewelry (Poole 2020: 84, 93).

An example of male figures with jewellery is the Boxing Boys fresco from Akrotiri, where blue

beads are seen on the arms of the left male boxer (Figure 14) (Poole 2020: 84). Jewelry is also

found in burials belonging to both men and women as well as those of children (Verduci and

Davis 2015: 59). For instance, gold jewelry has been commonly attested in child and infant

graves across the Mediterranean, perhaps signifying a ritual purpose or to represent status

(Verduci and Davis 2015: 59). As a result, jewelry cannot be used to identify specific social

identities in Minoan sites due to its association with many social groups. Pottery is another group

of artifacts which cannot be definitively gendered. Based on the iconographic evidence from

Crete, Poole (2020: 96) observes that vessels and container are objects “which seem to be held

by both genders in a more even distribution.” Pottery also makes up the assemblage of grave

goods for both male and female individuals across Crete (Hatzaki 2012: 312). While scholars

(Willets 1962, as cited in Koehl 1986; Koehl 1986) have assumed that ritual feasting was an

67
activity for the male elite, these interpretations are largely influenced by later Greek analogies

for which we have written records. Therefore, these interpretations cannot be taken as evidence

of pottery representing male users in ritual contexts. Finally, there are no iconographic

representations of male or female individuals with animal figurines, nor are animal figurines

included in the assemblage of grave goods. Therefore, these objects are classified as ungendered.

The distribution of the artifact assemblages at Petsophas, Juktas, and Psychro reveals that

gendered votives were found together in both private-exclusive and public-inclusive type rooms.

The artifact distribution also shows that gendered and ungendered objects were always deposited

together in both types of rooms. At Petsophas, Myres (Bosanquet et al. 1902/1903: 357)

documented that both male and female figurines were found in Room 3 with a mix of ashes and

shattered pottery. At Juktas, Karetsou’s (1980) excavations found male and female figurines

together in Terrace I, Terrace II, and Room III. The human figurines in Terrace I were also

deposited with animal figurines whereas a gold amulet accompanied the human figurines in

Terrace II. In Room III, Karetsou (1980) also found pottery and seal stones. In the Psychro cave,

a mix of male and female figurines were uncovered in Room 2a, a public-inclusive space, and

Room 4, a private-exclusive space. It is in these rooms that pottery and jewelry were also

deposited. Other gendered votive objects were also found together in the same spaces within the

sanctuaries. For instance, at Psychro, it was reported that bronze weapons and fibulae and/or

hairpins were found together in crevices from Room 2a. Overall, the spatial distribution of the

artifacts strongly suggests that male and female worshippers were using the same spaces within

both types of sanctuaries. The appearance of gendered and ungendered artifacts together in

private-exclusive spaces indicates that these rooms were also not gender-specific, as with the

communal areas of worship. This is also supported by the fact the extra-urban sanctuaries do not

68
seem to be designed to segregate individuals or restrict access to parts of the structure, as shown

by the syntactic characteristics and fixed-feature elements.

Social Identities and the Extra-Urban Sanctuaries: What about Status, Wealth, and Age?

Moreover, it is important to touch upon other aspects of the artifact assemblages that have been

brought up by previous scholars, such as object quantity and the timing of activities/deposits.

These aspects reveal that some categories of identities other than gender may have influenced the

social organization of these sites. Some scholars (Karetsou 1980; Rutkowski 1991; Marinatos

1993; Hitchcock 1997) have observed that ratios of male and female figurines are unequal, with

male figurines being found in larger numbers at sites. Hitchcock (1997) specifically argues that

this uneven ratio means that there was a hierarchy between the genders and therefore they were

segregated in ritual, with men using peak sanctuaries and women using caves. While there does

seem to be a pattern of male figurines outnumbering female figurines, there are multiple issues

with relying on this quantitative data to understand social identities at these sites. First, many

extra-urban sanctuaries across Crete have not been systematically excavated or fully published,

thus there is a large gap in the dataset for these artifact assemblages (Jones 1999). Even when

excavations have been fully published, many are missing information about the exact number of

finds. Secondly, the number of figurines may solely reflect the nature of preservation at the sites.

An absence of finds does not mean absence of human activity. Lastly, there are other overlooked

aspects of the figurines that could provide insights into gender and other intersections of identity.

The figurines demonstrate large discrepancies in degrees of quality of manufacture and detail.

While the male figurines appear to outnumber the female ones, it is the female figurines which

tend to be better constructed, made of better material, and have more decoration and detail in the

facial features, hair, adornments, and clothing patterns (Morris 2009, 2017). It is possible then

69
that the number of figurines is not a reflection of gender hierarchies, but rather differences

relating to status and wealth.

Another issue put forth by scholars is the timing of visitation and activities at the extra-

urban sanctuaries. As discussed in Chapter 2, Marinatos (1993) believes that peak and cave

sanctuaries may have been used for special gendered initiation ceremonies and/or visited during

major and seasonal festivals. If one were to support this interpretation, it could be argued that

male and female worshippers were using the same sanctuaries but at different times. As a result,

the distribution of gendered artifacts would still be mixed but would not reflect social reality.

Although Marinatos (1987, 1993) proposes the segregation of men and women in the ritual

sphere, iconographic evidence depicts male and female worshippers participating together in

ritual activities. In her study of procession scenes, Poole (2020: 154) found that 12% of these

scenes depict both male and female individuals engaging in a variety of ritual activities,

including carrying gifts towards an altar-like structure and pouring libations (Figure 15).

Therefore, while we cannot rule out the possibility that male and female worshippers visited the

sanctuaries at different times, the spatial syntactic measures, the artifact distribution, and the

iconographic evidence seems to suggest otherwise. Instead, it may be the case that the

sanctuaries were socially and spatially organized based on other categories of identity such as

wealth, status, or age. This is worth contemplating, especially since the anthropomorphic

figurines reflect discrepancies in access to craftsmanship and in elaboration of costumes. Indeed,

such aspects of identity have been considered as principles for structuring Minoan society, as

demonstrated by different iconographical and burial evidence. Regarding age, Driessen (2015: 9)

explains that "age sets evidently crisscross social groupings based on kinship and descent and

can become strong corporate units with a strong collective identity.” Age in Minoan society has

70
been studied by scholars such as Rehak (2007) and Chapin (2009) who have noted different age

groups of figures from frescoes on Akrotiri. Likewise, material evidence from Crete potentially

points to status, class, and wealth as factors for determining social structure. Based on the

intergenerational use of tombs and the discrepancies in the burial goods between tombs within

the same cemetery, many scholars have reconstructed a birth-ascribed ranking system for

Minoan society (Driessen 2015: 12). Poole (2020) has even noted differences in rank or status

between figures of the same gender in Minoan art. For instance, there are many scenes which

depict a male or female figure sitting at a higher register and being presented by items by smaller

and less elaborately dressed figures of the same gender. The variation seen in the elaboration of

female costumes in frescoes and glyptics may also point to social structures determined by

wealth or status. Nonetheless, while a detailed examination of other intersections of identity is

outside the scope of this study, future research on the extra-urban sanctuaries should re-consider

gender as the primary category of analysis for understanding social stratifications in Minoan

society.

71
 Chapter 6 – Conclusion

The study of the architectural remains and artifact assemblages of the Minoan Neopalatial peak

and cave sanctuaries provides valuable insight into the experience, functions, and social

organization of these sites. Many scholars (Rutkowski 1986; Peatfield 1987; Marinatos 1993;

Hitchcock 1997; Jones 1999; Cromarty 2008) have discussed the potential functions and social

organization of these sites. Yet, previous scholarship has mainly focused on peak sanctuaries

with the tendency to group cave and peak sanctuaries together in one homogenous category. As a

result, there have been very few detailed analyses of cave sanctuaries. For these reasons, the

research objectives of this thesis were twofold: 1) to examine the architectural and social

distinctions between the two types of sanctuaries and how they relate to differences in function

and how they were experienced; and 2) to identify the groups of people using these two types of

sanctuaries and determine whether they differ according to gender.

As shown by the results of the access analysis, it is evident that the built environment of

peak and cave sanctuaries differs. The structures of the peak sanctuaries are more accessible and

open, allowing visitors to move freely throughout. Rather, the structures of the cave sanctuaries

are more enclosed and restrictive, being less accessible to visitors. However, despite difference

in architecture, both types of sanctuaries appear to have had the same functions. The spatial

arrangement of the structures from both types of sites demonstrates a focus on public-inclusive

spaces and thus seems to have mainly facilitated communal, group activities. The artifact

assemblages of these sanctuaries additionally point to the occurrence of ritual activities,

including votive deposition, pouring of libations, and ritual sacrifice or feasting. Moreover, in

terms of social organization, the peak and cave sanctuaries were likely used by both male and

72
female worshippers who participated in ritual activities together. The presence of both artifact

groups in different types of rooms suggests that gender activities were occurring in all parts of

the sanctuary structures, not just the areas that hosted public ceremonies. While we cannot

definitively say that these uses were always simultaneous, it is evident that the spaces themselves

were not gender specific. The collective and communal nature of the activities occurring in the

extra-urban sanctuaries may be related to wider social practices on Crete during the Neopalatial

period. Driessen and Letesson (2023: 11) have proposed that communal gatherings for special

occasions, such as ritual feasting, in vernacular architectural settings “served as a key mechanism

to achieve integration and social cohesion” and helped to maintain a collective ethos. It is these

processes that may have aided in transforming Minoan society into a homogenous ideological

and hierarchical structure, where aspects of identity such as wealth, status or age took primacy

(Driessen and Letesson 2023).

Therefore, in contrast to the arguments of previous scholars such as Marinatos (1993) and

Hitchcock (1997), males and females were not segregated at these sites and in fact both used

public and private spaces. It is clear from the data of these sites, as well as supplementary

iconographic evidence, that gender segregation and social stratifications related to gender were

not necessarily a socially reality in ritual contexts. Instead, previous interpretations regarding the

social organization of these sites seem to be following general assumptions made about gender in

Minoan society, influenced by desired narratives and bias from Western gender ideologies.

Rather, the archaeological data from the peak and cave sanctuaries reflect a complex ritual

environment, where multiple aspects of identity other than gender may have come into play. As a

result of these complexities reflected in the material culture, gender as the primary category of

73
analysis should be re-considered, with focus being directed to other intersections of identity such

as wealth and age.

This study demonstrates the value of using architectural analysis as a means for exploring

sites and understanding their social and ritual aspects. By examining the architectural remains

and the artifact assemblages of three different sites in more detail, this study has provided a more

rigorous and detailed approach to Minoan extra-urban sanctuaries. This type of study has been

particularly lacking in the field, as many studies dedicated to this topic approach the sanctuaries

with an aggregated view rather than focusing on specific individual sites.

While this study was effective in exploring the functions and social organization of the

extra-urban sanctuaries, various improvements could be made in the future. A future approach

would be to re-examine the parameters in which Minoan gender is viewed and problematize

gender as a male/female binary. Newer studies in the field have discussed the problems with

using the typical male/female categorizations when viewing Minoan art (Alberti 2013; Newman

2017). These scholars call for a more nuanced approach to gender, seeing Minoan gender as fluid

and unrestricted by Western gender ideologies. It is clear from the results of this study that

gender and its other intersecting dimensions are more complex than previously thought and do

not fall into clear structuralist categories relating to activities and space. Another limitation of

this study is the lack of quantitative data for the artifact assemblages as well as detailed accounts

of where artifacts were specifically found during excavations. As mentioned in Chapter 1, the

excavations and publication of extra-urban sanctuaries have been ongoing since the early

twentieth century, when archaeology was in its infancy. For this reason, the data are incomplete

and are at times very unclear even when published. Lastly, this study presented a limited scope

of sites and therefore cannot provide a complete assessment of Minoan extra-urban sanctuaries.

74
It would therefore be beneficial for future avenues of research on this topic to expand the scope

of sites and do a fuller quantitative analysis. Sites such as the peak sanctuaries of Vrysinas and

Kophinas and the cave of Skoteino have started to be more extensively excavated in recent years

(Haysom 2015). These sites have yielded impressive finds from the Neopalatial period that

resemble assemblages from other extra-urban sanctuaries and therefore may be worth adding to

future data sets. Finally, further studies should de-center gender as a primary category of analysis

and focus instead on other aspects of identity that may have a role in the fabric of the

organization of the sanctuaries. This focus on other aspects of identity will hopefully allow for a

more nuanced view of the social dynamics of Minoan ritual not only at the extra-urban

sanctuaries, but perhaps in the larger ritual landscape of Crete.

75
 Tables and Figures

Table 1. Chronology of the architectural phases of Crete (McEnroe 2010: Table 1.1).

76
Figure 1. Map of Crete showing sites from various time periods (McEnroe 2010: Figure 1.1).

77
Figure 2. Terracotta figurines from Petsophas. The sizes of the figurines range from 0.1 m to 0.2

m in height (Rutkowski 1986: 85).

78
Figure 3. Bronze and lead figurines from Psychro (Hogarth 1899/1900: Plate X).

79
Figure 4. Reconstruction of the Sacred Grove Fresco from Knossos (Driessen 2012: Figure 3).

80
Figure 5. Justified access graph for Petsophas peak sanctuary.

81
Figure 6. Justified access graph for Juktas peak sanctuary.

82
Figure 7. Justified access graph for Psychro cave.

83
Figure 8. Architectural plan of Petsophas (Rutkowski 1986: Figure 90).

84
Figure 9. Evan’s architectural plan of Juktas (Evans 1921: Figure 114).

85
Figure 10. Architectural plan of Juktas. Dark areas indicate bedrock. Blue arrows indicate

entrances. Yellow squares indicate doorways (modified from Karetsou 1981: Figure 5).

86
Figure 11. Plan of Psychro cave (modified from Rutkowski and Nowicki 1996: Figure 7).

87
Figure 12. Section plan of Psychro cave (Rutkowski and Nowicki 1996: Figure 5).

88
Table 2. Architectural and syntactic characteristics of types of interactions (Fisher 2009: Table

2).

89
Table 3. Syntactic measures of Petsophas.

Table 4. Syntactic measures of Juktas.

90
Table 5. Syntactic measures for Psychro.

91
Figure 13. Wounded Woman Fresco from Xeste 3 (modified from Rehak 1999: Figure 4).

92
Figure 14. Boxing Boys Fresco from Akrotiri (Chapin 2007: Figure 12.6).

93
Figure 15. Reconstruction of the Procession Fresco from Knossos (Evans 1928: Plate XXV).

94
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