From the soaring spires of early modern European churches to elaborate buildings made from mud in western Africa to moveable longhouses found in the Eastern Woodlands of North America to cliff dwellings and adobe apartment houses in the southwest of the modern-day United States, the buildings that people inhabited—and the art that they used for decoration and prayer—reflected the ways that different communities organized their lives.
Of course, variation in art and architecture should hardly come as a surprise. As the distinguished art histo-
Zuni girl with jar (Library of Congress)
Rian Vincent Scully wrote, “[t]he shape of architecture is the shape of the earth as it is modified by the structures of mankind. Out of that relationship, human beings fashion an environment for themselves, a space to live in, suggested by their patterns of life and constructed around whatever symbols of reality seem important to them.” So it comes as no surprise that during the early modern period, art and architecture represented local cultures and tastes.
Consider, for a moment, the buildings that a visitor would encounter in different situations. In England the Reformation had led to the dissolution of monasteries but did not necessitate the destruction of church spires, such as that at St. Paul’s in London, which could be seen from far away. By contrast, the residents of an Iroquois village inhabited longhouses that could be taken apart and moved; situated in a clearing, they would have been visible to those who came near, but other than the smoke trailing from domestic fires, they could not have been seen by someone far away. The adobe apartments built by Pueblo peoples in the Southwest often sat atop mesas and, as a result, were exposed to the eroding force of wind, but residents maintained them for generations despite the fact that they were in plain view of any potential enemies. The Maya, Aztecs, and Inca built great cities, often hauling heavy stones through miles of dense forest to locations where they could build pyramids, ball courts, and public plazas; travelers today to Tikal, Chichen Itza, Palenque, and Machu Picchu can find the remains of great ceremonial centers. Early modern travelers in Africa marveled at great buildings made out of mud, and those buildings also survived for generations because they were constantly maintained. Renaissance architects across Europe created memorable churches and residences, such as those inhabited by elite citizens of Venice; their dwellings were situated not on roads but on canals, and the fapade pointing toward the water was normally the most elaborate surface of the entire building. Architecture also reflected shifting political realities. In the west of Ireland, for example, the Anglo-Normans had built fortified towers when they arrived in the 11th century; by the 16th century, although tensions remained between the Protestant English and the native Catholic Irish, the architects of Portumna Castle designed a fortified house, not a castle, that would become the residence of the local English lord.
The shift in architectural style signified a stark departure in the prevailing political structure. In this sense, building styles reflected what existed on the ground, not merely in theory. A fortified house surrounded by a low wall, perhaps with rose bushes planted in the garden, sent a very different message than a castle with imposing walls and perhaps a moat.
Art, too, reflected regional differences. Many art history students today study the works of great Renaissance painters and sculptors such as Michelangelo and Leonardo da Vinci or the glittering gold-leaf mosaics to be found in medieval and early modern churches across Europe. But art existed everywhere and reflected local artists’ and artisans’ skills. Polychrome pottery styles developed by ZuNi and Hopi offered testimony to the designs favored in those communities. Enormous sculpted heads found in forested regions of Mexico testify to the Olmecs’ obsession with one form of artistic expression. The Aztecs, according to the Spanish who conquered them, created elaborate cities with ornate temples filled with precious icons that the invaders melted down in order to transport the gold more easily to Europe. Only in recent years have archaeologists cracked the code of much Mayan art; when they did so they discovered the ways that artistic depictions of self-mutilation reflected a monarch’s way of divining how to govern.
Long before 1492, individuals in the four continents bordering the Atlantic had developed their own artistic styles. At times, sculptors and painters depicted historical events. The style of such works differed from one location to another. Europeans often claimed that the Native Americans and Africans they met lacked civilization. But it is impossible to come to such a conclusion when looking at the artistic productions of these people. Few European potters had the skill and knowledge to create the kinds of incised pots that could be found in American communities like Acoma.
The subject matter of artists’ productions reflected their larger culture. Craftsmen who carved the interiors of European churches or who illustrated manuscripts often depicted the monsters that many believed roamed the territory beyond the edges of the known world. Such creations, including beautiful renderings of sea monsters common in marginalia, show how larger ideas penetrated the consciousness of artists and their patrons. The survival of these images reveals the power of both the imagination and artistic conventions, especially when European painters and engravers depicted Native Americans in poses that resembled those common in ancient Greece and Rome.
In the wake of the 1492 voyage of Christopher Columbus and the long-distance journeys from western Europe around Africa and India to the Spice Islands, artistic styles traveled along with itinerants. When colonizers decided to establish settlements, they did not normally adopt the housing styles of the indigenous peoples they encountered. Instead, they imported styles they knew well. In places the juxtaposition could be jarring, as it still is at Acoma Pueblo, where an enormous Spanish mission-style church dominates the skyline, surrounded by one - to two-storey adobe houses. Europeans were so bent on maintaining their own styles of architecture that they did so even when adaptation to local building ideas would have made great sense. The English in the West Indies in the early 17th century, for example, suffered in houses with thick walls and glass windows when they could have lived more easily if they had built dwellings with shutters that let cooling breezes through in the evening. The rise of the printing press also facilitated the spread of artistic styles. Samuel Purchas could inform his readers about Mexico because he could show them pictures of that society preserved on a codex that traveled across the Atlantic.
Further reading: Fernand Braudel and Michel Mol-lat du Jourdin, eds., Le Monde de Jacques Cartier (Paris: Berger-Levrault, 1984); John S. Henderson, The World of the Ancient Maya, 2nd ed. (Ithaca, N. Y.: Cornell University Press, 1997); Peter Humfrey, Painting in Renaissance Venice (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 1995); Joy Kenseth, ed., The Age of the Marvelous (Hanover, N. H.: Hood Museum of Art/Dartmouth College, 1991); Jay A. Levenson, ed., Circa 1492: Art in the Age of Exploration (Washington, D. C., and New Haven, Conn.: National Gallery of Art/Yale University Press, 1991); Linda Schele and Mary Ellen Miller, The Blood of Kings: Dynasty and Ritual in Maya Art (New York: George Braziller, 1986); Vincent Scully, Architecture: The Natural and the Manmade (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1991); Eveyln Welch, Art and Society in Italy, 1350-1500 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1997).
World History
