Allison Grenda

Paper: "Rethinking Abandonment Narratives in Early Byzantine Towns"

In primary sources by Byzantine authors (for example, the Chronicle of Monemvasia) and secondary literature by 20th-century scholars (see Mango 1980), a narrative of the widescale "abandonment" of cities on the Greek mainland during the Early Byzantine period has been long promoted and accepted. Recent archaeological excavations, however, have begun to tell a different story, one not of abandonment but instead of resilience, adaptation, and cross-cultural interfacing. Using examples from Sparta and Athens, this paper will critically analyze the term "abandonment" and suggest ways to move beyond the totalizing implications of this model in order to better understand cities in crisis and the nuanced responses of their citizens.

Panel: "Epiros: The Other Western Rome"

Paper: "Syncretism, Imperial Intentionality, and the Forbidden Image: Cultural Adoption in Thirteenth-Century Epiros"

Abstract: As the capital of the newly-formed Despotate of Epiros, the city of Arta needed a proper imperial church. In the mid-thirteenth century, the despot Michael II Komnenos Doukas (r. 1230-1266/8) patronized the Church of the Parigoritissa, which was later heavily renovated by his son, Nikephoros Komnenos Doukas (r. 1266/8-1296/8). The church's design represents the geopolitical position of Arta - and, by extension, the Despotate of Epiros - on the border between the Latin West and Byzantine East. Blending elements characteristic of both Byzantine and Latin church design, it most curiously features a carving of the Agnus Dei (Lamb of God), an iconography which was banned at the Council of Trullo in 692 C.E. and not seen thereafter in the Byzantine canon. Placing the Agnus Dei in conversation with images from Arta and other Latin-Byzantine contact zones around the Mediterranean, I intend to query the imperial intentionality of the Agnus Dei's inclusion in the church. While the motivations behind the despots' use of the Agnus Dei have recently been the subject of debate (see Fundić 2022 and Agrigoroaei 2023), the comparative method I undertake here will specifically emphasize the uniqueness of the situation in Arta, deepening our understanding of Epirote cultural positioning and, more broadly, demonstrating that the study of cross-cultural interaction must be far from a one-size-fits-all approach.

Paper: "A Byzantine Gnadenstuhl: The Reception of a Western Iconography in Rural Venetian Crete"

Abstract: Thus far, art historical studies of cross-cultural interaction in medieval Europe have tended to focus more on Byzantine influences in the Latin West than western influences in the Byzantine East. Furthermore, the study of cultural exchange has typically concentrated on the metropole, concerning itself with large cities and their diverse populations and/or foreign travellers rather than rural village life. This paper seeks to tackle each of these issues by investigating the transplant of a prominent western European iconography, the Gnadenstuhl, to a rural village church in late 14th-century Crete. While the Gnadenstuhl is found widely across medieval western Europe, the Church of the Panagia in Roustika contains the only documented example of the image in the eastern Mediterranean, prompting questions about its import and reception. Three main lines of inquiry drive this study: 1) how the Gnadenstuhl arrived in Roustika, including who was responsible for its inclusion in the Church of the Panagia; 2) how it interacted with the rest of the church’s visual program; and 3) how this foreign iconography was received by the church’s parishioners. Drawing on the growing body of research on Byzantine rural villages, this study suggests that despite its foreign origins, the Gnadenstuhl may have been not only well-accepted by Roustika’s parishioners as a devotional tool, but in fact uniquely situated to connect with this specific audience.

After the Slavs sacked Athens in 582 C.E., we know little about what life was like there. The narrative by scholars thus far is that the city must have been largely destroyed in this event, leading to a "Dark Age" that represents the end of Athens' historical significance. However, a closer look at the archaeological and architectural evidence reveals a different story. This paper reconstructs the built environment of seventh-century Athens. In a time characterized by modern scholars as “obscure,” “dark,” and “insignificant,” what can the urban landscape illuminate about the city of Athens? Above all, it refutes the stereotype of a "Dark Age" and proves that the town was occupied, fully functioning, and embarking on large-scale building campaigns, even after a catastrophic event. Therefore, this characterization of seventh-century Athens as a "Dark Age" must be revised, and with it, the very concept of a "Dark Age."

Master's Thesis, UC Davis Art History

During the barbarian sieges of the mid-first millennium C.E., the city of Athens in Greece was forced to shrink, moving inside its walls to defend from the invasion of the Slavs. This left the Athenian Agora, the bustling downtown marketplace which sat just outside the walls, abandoned for three centuries. Due to the Agora’s famed and dynamic history in the Classical Age, many scholars mark this period of abandonment as the official end of the Agora’s story. However, in the 10th century, at the economic height of the Byzantine Empire, Athens finally had the means to expand outside the walls once again, and this ushered in a new period of rebuilding in the Agora. 

This paper argues that the abandonment was not the end of the Agora’s history but merely a pause. It seeks to characterize the shift in domestic architecture from before and after the abandonment of the Agora, leading to a better understanding of Athenian, and specifically Christian-Athenian, identity at this time. Research conducted through archaeological excavation reports from the American School of Classical Studies in Athens reveals that the houses in these new neighborhoods were modest, relying more heavily on spolia and the in situ ruins of their ancestors than new architectural forms. In place of architectural innovation was a renewed emphasis on community, as homes grew close together and clustered around small neighborhood churches. While they may not be known for the inventive, extravagant architecture of their ancestors, the Byzantine Athenians should be acknowledged in the history of the Agora due to the simple accomplishment that they were there at all — attempting to rebuild, repopulate, and worship a new faith in an old city.

During the barbarian sieges of the mid-first millennium C.E., the city of Athens in modern-day Greece was forced to shrink, moving inside its walls to defend from the invasion of the Slavs. This left the Athenian Agora, the bustling downtown marketplace which sat just outside the walls, abandoned for three centuries. Due to the Agora’s famed and dynamic history in the Classical Age, many scholars mark this period of abandonment as the official end of the Agora’s story. However, in the 10th century, at the economic height of the Byzantine Empire, Athens finally had the means to expand outside the walls once again, and this ushered in a new period of rebuilding in the Agora.

This paper argues that the abandonment was not the end of the Agora’s history but merely a pause. It seeks to characterize the shift in domestic architecture from before and after the abandonment of the Agora, leading to a better understanding of Athenian, and specifically Christian-Athenian, identity at this time. Research conducted through archaeological excavation reports from the American School of Classical Studies in Athens reveals that the houses in these new neighborhoods were modest, relying more heavily on spolia and the in situ ruins of their ancestors than new architectural forms. In place of architectural innovation was a renewed emphasis on community, as homes grew close together and clustered around small neighborhood churches. While they may not be known for the inventive, extravagant architecture of their ancestors, the Byzantine Athenians should be acknowledged in the history of the Agora due to the simple accomplishment that they were there at all — attempting to rebuild, repopulate, and worship a new faith in an old city.

This paper was written for the UC Davis Art History graduate seminar "Cosmopolitanism and the Avant-Garde."

Outside of archaeologist Heinrich Schliemann's excavations at Troy and Mycenae, little attention has been paid to his role in the shaping of 19th-century Athens into the capital of the new Greek nation-state. As one of many German elites who immigrated to Athens in the wake of the Greek War of Independence, Schliemann actively sought a cityscape of myth, one which matched his antiquarian fantasies but ignored the 19th-century Greek vernacular and its medieval and modern history. Nothing is more evident of this self-appointed quest than Iliou Melathron ("The Palace of Troy"), Schliemann's opulent family home in the political center of Athens. This essay analyzes the mansion's eccentric architecture as an expression of Schliemann's personal myth-making. Further, it explores the nationalistic attitudes of Schliemann and his fellow Germans as they manifested their own Greek imagined community: one informed entirely by myth yet enacted on the streets of "New Athens."

This paper was written as the final project for the UC Davis graduate seminar "Museums and Culture: The South Kensington Phenomenon."

Abstract:
In the aftermath of the success of London's Great Exhibition of 1851, the decision was made by Parliament to use the profits to purchase 86 acres south of Hyde Park and turn it into a permanent collection of educational and artistic institutions for the public. The first of these was the South Kensington Museum, a trailblazing display of Britain’s manufactured achievements. First housed in an industrial-style complex, the museum (today known as the Victoria and Albert Museum) by 1867 had expanded into ornate galleries fronted by architect Francis Fowke’s monumental red brick façade. However, this building was not the only significant architectural development in the area. This paper explores the neighborhood of South Kensington as it grew into London's progressive cultural center, complete with museums, housing, and public infrastructure. In doing so, this neighborhood specifically advanced the educational mission of the South Kensington Museum. Linking itself to the museum through architectural references, South Kensington became the route of a nationalistic pilgrimage which sought to reform the taste of the British masses.